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1752–1832

PICTURE VII.

Philip Morin Freneau

Your yellow shells, and coral green. And gold, and silver — not yet seen, Have made such mischief in a woman's mind The queen could almost pillage from the crown,

And add some costly jewels of her own, Thus sending you that charming coast to find Where all these heavenly things abound, Queens in the west, and chiefs renown'd.

But then no great men take you by the hand, Nor are the nobles busied in your aid; The clergy have no relish for your scheme, And deem it madness — one archbishop said

You were bewilder'd in a paltry dream That led directly to undoubted ruin, Your own and other men's undoing:— And our confessor says it is not true,

And calls it heresy in you Thus to assert the world is round, And that Antipodes are found Held to the earth, we can n't tell how.—

But you shall sail; I heard the queen declare That mere geography is not her care;— And thus she bids me say, “Columbus, haste away,

“Hasten to Palos, and if you can find “Three barques, of structure suited to your mind, “Strait make a purchase in the royal name; “Equip them for the seas without delay,

“Since long the journey is ( we heard you say ) “To that rich country which we wish to claim.— “Let them be small — for know the crown is poor “Though basking in the sunshine of renown.

“Long wars have wasted us: the pride of Spain “Was ne'er before so high, nor purse so mean; “Giving us ten years’ war, the humbled Moor “Has left us little else but victory:

“Time must restore past splendor to our reign.”

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PICTURE VII. · Philip Morin Freneau · Poetry Cove