Illustrious monarch of Iberia's soil, Too long I wait permission to depart; Sick of delays, I beg thy list'ning ear — Shine forth the patron and the prince of art.
While yet Columbus breathes the vital air, Grant his request to pass the western main: Reserve this glory for thy native soil, And what must please thee more — for thy own reign.
Of this huge globe, how small a part we know — Does heaven their worlds to western suns deny?— How disproportion'd to the mighty deep The lands that yet in human prospect lie!
Does Cynthia, when to western skies arriv'd, Spend her sweet beam upon the barren main, And ne'er illume with midnight splendor, she, The natives dancing on the lightsome green?—
Should the vast circuit of the world contain Such wastes of ocean, and such scanty land?— ‘ Tis reason's voice that bids me think not so, I think more nobly of the Almighty hand.
Does yon’ fair lamp trace half the circle round To light the waves and monsters of the seas?— No — be there must beyond the billowy waste Islands, and men, and animals, and trees.
An unremitting flame my breast inspires To seek new lands amidst the barren waves, Where falling low, the source of day descends, And the blue sea his evening visage laves.
Hear, in his tragic lay, Cordova's sage: “The time shall come, when numerous years are past, “The ocean shall dissolve the bands of things, “And an extended region rise at last;
“And Typhis shall disclose the mighty land “Far, far away, where none have rov'd before; “Nor shall the world's remotest region be “Gibraltar's rock, or Thule's savage shore. "
Fir'd at the theme, I languish to depart, Supply the barque, and bid Columbus sail, He fears no storms upon the untravell'd deep; Reason shall steer, and skill disarm the gale.
Nor does he dread to lose the intended course, Though far from land the reeling galley stray, And skies above, and gulphy seas below Be the sole objects seen for many a day.
Think not that Nature has unveil'd in vain The mystic magnet to the mortal eye: So late have we the guiding needle plann'd Only to sail beneath our native sky?
Ere this was found, the ruling power of all Found for our use an ocean in the land, Its breadth so small we could not wander long, Nor long be absent from the neighbouring strand.
Short was the course, and guided by the stars, But stars no more shall point our daring way; The Bear shall sink, and every guard be drown'd, And great Arcturus scarce escape the sea,
When southward we shall steer — O grant my wish. Supply the barque, and bid Columbus sail, He dreads no tempests on the untravell'd deep, Reason shall steer, and shall disarm the gale.
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