PART I. (continued 3)

Fair Virgin of the world, America! Thou who so innocent to heaven display’st Thy bosom stored with plenty’s rich array, And brow of gentle youth! Thou, who so graced The tenderest and most lovely of the zones Of mother Earth to shine, shouldst be of fate The sweet delight and favour’d love it owns, That but pursues thee with relentless hate, Hear me! If ever was a time mine eyes, When scanning thy eventful history, Did not burst forth in tears; if could thy cries My heart e’er hear unmoved, from pity free And indignation; then let me disclaim’d Of virtue be eternally as held, And barbarous and wicked be one named As those who with such ruin thee assail’d. In the eternal book of life are borne, Written in blood, those cries, which then sent forth Thy lips to Heaven, such fury doom’d to mourn, And yet against my country call in wrath. Forbidding glory and success attend The fatal field of crimes. Will they ne’er cease? Will not the bitter expiation end Sufficed of three eventful centuries? We are not now those who on daring’s wing, Before the world, the Atlantic’s depths disdain’d, And from the silence found thee covering, That fiercely tore thee, bleeding and enchain’d! “No, ye are not the same. But my lament Is not for this to cease: I could forget The rigours which my conquerors relent, Their avarice with cruelties beset: The crime was of the age, and not of Spain. But when can I forget the evils sore Which I must miserably yet sustain? Among them one, come, see what I deplore, If horror will not you deter. From you, Your fatal ships first launch’d, the mortal pest, The poison that now desolates me flew. As in doom’d plains by ruthless foes oppress’d, As serpent that incessantly devours, So ever from your coming, to consume Has it raged o’er me. See here, how it lowers! And in the hidden place of death and gloom, Buries my children and my loves. Affords Your skill no remedy? O! ye, who call Yourselves as of America the lords, Have pity on my agony. See, fall Beneath your insane fury, not sufficed One generation, but a hundred slain! And I expiring, desolate, unprized, Beseech assistance, and beseech in vain.” Such were the cries that to Olympus rose, When in the fields of Albion found remote, Variola’s fell havocs to oppose, Kind Nature show’d the happy antidote. The docile mother of the herd was found Enrich’d with this great gift; there stored attent Where from her copious milky founts around She gives so many life and aliment. Jenner to mortals first the gift reveal’d: Thenceforward mothers to their hearts could press Their children without fear to lose them heal’d; Nor fear’d thenceforward in her loveliness The maiden, lest the fatal venom spoil Her cheek of roses, or her brow of snow. All Europe then is join’d in grateful toil, For gift so precious and immense to know, In praises loud to echo Jenner’s name; And altars to his skill to raise decrees, There to long ages hallowing his fame, Beside their tutelar divinities. Of such a glory at the radiant light, With noble emulation fill’d his breast, A Spaniard rose,—“Let not my country slight,” He cried, “on such a great occasion’s test, Her ancient magnanimity to employ. ’Tis fortune’s gift discovering it alone; That let an Englishman his right enjoy. Let Spain’s sublime and generous heart be shown, Giving her majesty more honour true, By carrying this treasure to the lands Which most the evil’s dire oppressions knew. There, for I feel a deity commands, There will I fly, and of the raging wave Will brave in bearing it the furious strife; America’s infested plains to save From death, as planting there the tree of life.” He spoke, and scarcely from his burning lip These echoes had beneficently flowed, When floating in the port, prepared the ship, To give commencement to so blest a road, Moved spreading her white canvas to the air. On his fate launch’d himself the aëronaut. Waves of the sea, in favouring calmness bear, As sacred, this deposit to be brought Through your serene and liquid fields. There goes Of thousand generations long the hope; Nor whelm it, nor let thunder it oppose; Arrest the lightning, with no storms to cope, Stay them until that from those fertile shores Come forth the prows, triumphant in their pride, That fraught remote with all their golden stores, With vice and curses also come allied. Honour to Balmis! O, heroic soul! That in such noble toil devotest thy breath, Go fearless to thy end. The dreadful roll Of ocean always hoarse, and threatening death; The fearful whirlpool’s all-devouring throat, The cavern’d rock’s black face, where dash’d by fate, Break the wreck’d barks, the dangers they denote Greatest are not most cruel thee that wait. From man expect them! Impious, envious man, In error wrapped and blind, will prove him bent, When hush’d against thee is the hurricane, To combat rough the generous intent. But firmly and secure press forward on; And hold in mind, when comes for strife the day, That without constant, anxious toil, can none Hope glory’s palms to seize, and bear away. At length thou comest; America salutes Her benefactor, and at once her veins The destined balm to purify deputes. A further generous ardour then regains Thy breast; and thou, obedient to the hand Divine that leads thee, turn’st the sounding prow Where Ganges rolls, and every Eastern land The gift may take. The Southern Ocean now Astonished sees thee, o’er her mighty breast Untiring passing. Luzon thee admires, Good always sowing on thy road impress’d: And as it China’s toilsome shore acquires, Confucius from his tomb of honour’d fame, If could his venerable form arise, To see it in glad wonder might exclaim, “’Twas worthy of my virtue, this emprise!” Right worthy was it of thee, mighty sage! Worthy of that divine and highest light, Which reason and which virtue erst array’d To shine in happier days, now quench’d in night. Thou, Balmis! never mayst return; nor grows In Europe now the sacred laurel meet With which to crown thee. There in calm repose, Where peace and independence a retreat May find, there rest thee! where thou mayst receive At length the august reward of deeds so blest. Nations immense shall come for thee to grieve, Raising in grateful hymns to Heaven address’d Thy name with fervorous zeal. And though now laid In the cold tomb’s dark precincts thou refuse To hear them, listen to them thus convey’d At least, as in the accents of my Muse.

Not with an easy hand wills Fate to give Nations, or heroes, power and renown: Triumphant Rome, whose empire to receive A hemisphere submissively bow’d down, Yielding itself in silent servitude, How often did she vanquish’d groan? repell’d As she her course of loftiness pursued! Her ground to Hannibal she scarcely held; Italian blood of Trevia the sands, And wavy Thrasymenus deeply dyed, And Roman matrons the victorious bands Of Cannæ nigh approaching them descried, As some portentous comet fearful lower. Who drove them thence? Who from the Capitol Turn’d on the throne, that founded Dido’s power, The clouds that threaten’d then o’er them to roll? Who in the fields of Zama, from the yoke They fear’d, with direful slaughter to set free, At length the sceptre of great Carthage broke, With which she held her sovereignty, the sea? Unswerving courage! that alone the shield That turns adversity’s sharp knife aside: To joy turns sorrow; bids despair to yield To glory, and of fortune learns to guide The dubious whirlwind, victory in its train; For a high-minded race commands its fate. O, Spain! my country! covering thy domain, The mourning shows how great thy suffering state; But still hope on, and with undaunted brow, From base dejection free, behold the walls Of thy own lofty Gades, which avow Thy strength, though fate them now awhile appals; Which though affrighted, blushing in their shame, As bathing them around the waves extend, Yet loud thy sons’ heroic deeds proclaim, Far on the sounding billows they defend. From the proud castled poop that crowns his high Indomitable ship, the Briton round Look’d, on his power and glory to rely, And boastful cried, “Companions renown’d! See, there they come: new trophies to attain Wait your unconquer’d arms; the feeble pines That Spain prepares for her defence in vain: Fate from our yoke exemption none assigns. We are the sons of Neptune. Do they dare To plough the waves before us? Call to mind Aboukir’s memorable day! to share Another such a triumph: let us find One moment as sufficing us to come, To conquer, and destroy them. Grant it me, Kind fate! and let us crown’d with laurels home Our wealthy Thames again returning see.” He spoke, and spread his sails. With swimming prows Opening the waves, they follow him elate, Conquerors of winds and waves. With dauntless brow The Spaniards view them, and in calmness wait, Contemning their fierce arrogance, and high Their bosoms beating with indignant rage. Just anger! sacred ardour! “There come nigh Those cruel foes, who hasten war to wage, And spill our blood, when we reposed secure Beneath the wings of peace. They who are led By avarice vile; who friendship’s laws abjure; Who in their endless tyranny o’erspread Would hold condemn’d the seas; who to unite, As brothers, pride and insolence of power With treachery and rapacity delight; Who”—but with mantle dark night brings the hour To enwrap the world. Wandering round the shrouds Are frightful shades, dire slaughter that portend And fearful expectations raise. Through opening clouds The day displays the field, where wildly blend Fury and death; and horrid Mars the scene Swells loud with shouts of war, upraised in air His standard high. To answer intervene From hollow brass the mortal roarings glare. The echo thunders, and the waves resound, Dashing themselves in rage to Afric’s shore: In conflict fly the ships to ships around, By rancour moved. Less violent its store Of heap’d-up ice in mountains, the South Pole Emits immense, loud thundering through the waves To glide, and on the adventurous seaman roll. Nor with less clamour loosen’d from their caves Rush the black tempests, when the East and North, Troubling the heavens enraged in furious war, And dire encounter, all their strength put forth, And shake the centre of the globe afar. Thrice the fierce islander advanced to break Our squadron’s wall, confiding in his might: Thrice by the Spanish force repulsed, to shake His hopes of victory he sees the fight. Who shall depict his fury and his rage, When with that flag before so proud he saw The flag of Spain invincible engage? ’Tis not to skill or valour to o’erawe, Solely he trusts to fortune for success. Doubling his ships, redoubling them again, From poop to prow, from side to side to press, In an unequal fight is made sustain Each Spanish ship a thousand, thousand fires; And they with equal breath that death receive So send it back. No, not to my desires, If heaven would grant it me, could I achieve The task that day’s heroic deeds to tell, Not with a hundred tongues; hid from the sun By smoke, Fame’s trumpet shall their praises swell, And bronze and marble for their names be won. At length the moment comes, when Death extends His pale and horrid hand, to signalize Great victims. Brave Alcedo to him bends, And nobly Moyua, with Castanios, dies. And Alcalà, Churruca, also ye! Of Betis and Guipuzcoa the pride. O! if Fate knew to spare, would it not be Enough to soothe, upon your brows allied Minerva’s olive with Mars’ laurels seen? From your illustrious and inquiring mind What could the world, or stars, their mysteries screen? Of your great course the traces left behind The Cyclades are full, nor less the seas Of far America. How seeks to mourn, New tears from her sad heart her grief to appease, The widow’d land such heroes from her torn; And still she sheds them o’er your cruel fate. O! that ye two could live, and I in place Of grief, of sorrowing song, to consecrate To you the funeral accents that I raise, Might have opposed my bosom to the stroke, And thus my useless life my country give! That I might thus your cruel lot revoke, To bear the wounds, so that ye two might live! And she might proudly raise her front anew, Victorious crown’d with rays of glory bright, Her course ’gainst arduous fortune to pursue, Triumphant in your wisdom and your might. Yet fell ye not, ye generous squadrons! there, Without revenge and slaughter. Spreading wide, Rivers of English blood your powers declare. And Albion also horror-struck descried Mountains of bodies weigh, a heavy pile, On her so proud Armada. Nelson, too! Terrible shade! O, think not, no, that vile My voice to name thee, e’er an insult threw On thy last sigh. As English I abhor, But hero I admire thee. O, thy fate! Of captive ships a crowd, the spoils of war, The Thames awaits, and now exults elate To hail with shouts the conqueror’s return! But only pale and cold beholds her Chief! Great lesson left for human pride to learn, And worthy holocaust for Spanish grief. Yet still the rage of Mars impels the arm Of destiny; mow’d down unnumber’d lives. By fury launch’d, voracious flames alarm; On every side planks burning. Loosely drives Each ship a fierce volcano; blazing high Through the wide air ’tis raised, and thrown again With horrid bursting in the seas to lie, Engulf’d. Do other havocs yet remain? Yes, for that Heaven, displeased to see such foes, Bids the inclement north winds rise to part The furious combatants, and day to close In stormy night. ’Tis order’d, and athwart They throw themselves the miserable barks, Lashing the waves on high with cruel wings. As each this new unequal combat marks For ruin, falls the mast, and over swings Trembling beneath the assault. The hulls divide, And where the gaping seams the waves invite, They enter, while the dying Spaniards cried, “O! that we were to perish, but in fight!” In that remorseless conflict, high in air, Then shining forth their glorious forms display’d The mighty champions, who of old to bear The trident and the spear, supreme had made Before the Iberian flag the nations bow. There Lauria, Trovar, and Bazan were seen, And Aviles, their brother heroes now Of Spain to welcome, and in death convene. “Come among us,” they cried, “among the brave You emulate. Already you have gain’d Your fair reward. The example that you gave Of valour, Spain in constancy sustain’d Her warriors shows, inciting to prepare For other conflicts they undaunted greet. Look to the city of Alcides! there Gravina, Alavà, and Escanio meet! Cisneros and a hundred more combine There in firm column, with proud hopes to bless Our native land. Come, fly ye here, and shine In heaven their stars of glory, and success.”