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A Dream of Ponce de Leon
I. A STORY of Ponce de Leon, | |
| A voyager, withered and old, | |
| Who came to the sunny Antilles, | |
| In quest of a country of gold. | |
| He was wafted past islands of spices, | 5 |
| As bright as the Emerald seas, | |
| Where all the forests seem singing, | |
| So thick were the birds on the trees; | |
| The sea was as clear as the azure, | |
| And so deep and so pure was the sky | 10 |
| That the jasper-walled city seemed shining | |
| Just out of the reach of the eye. | |
| By day his light canvas he shifted, | |
| And rounded strange harbors and bars; | |
| By night, on the full tides he drifted, | 15 |
| ’Neath the low-hanging lamps of the stars. | |
| Near the glimmering gates of the sunset, | |
| In the twilight empurpled and dim, | |
| The sailors uplifted their voices, | |
| And sang to the Virgin a hymn. | 20 |
| “Thank the Lord!” said De Leon, the sailor, | |
| At the close of the rounded refrain; | |
| “Thank the Lord, the Almighty, who blesses | |
| The ocean-swept banner of Spain! | |
| The shadowy world is behind us, | 25 |
| The shining Cipango, before; | |
| Each morning the sun rises brighter | |
| On ocean, and island, and shore. | |
| And still shall our spirits grow lighter, | |
| As prospects more glowing enfold; | 30 |
| Then on, merry men! to Cipango, | |
| To the west, and the regions of gold.” | |
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II. There came to De Leon, the sailor, | |
| Some Indian sages, who told | |
| Of a region so bright that the waters | 35 |
| Were sprinkled with islands of gold. | |
| And they added: “The leafy Bimini, | |
| A fair land of grottos and bowers, | |
| Is there; and a wonderful fountain | |
| Upsprings from its gardens of flowers. | 40 |
| That fountain gives life to the dying, | |
| And youth to the aged restores; | |
| They flourish in beauty eternal, | |
| Who set but their foot on its shores!” | |
| Then answered De Leon, the sailor: | 45 |
| “I am withered, and wrinkled, and old; | |
| I would rather discover that fountain, | |
| Than a country of diamonds and gold.” | |
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III. Away sailed De Leon, the sailor; | |
| Away with a wonderful glee, | 50 |
| Till the birds were more rare in the azure, | |
| The dolphins more rare in the sea. | |
| Away from the shady Bahamas, | |
| Over waters no sailor had seen, | |
| Till again on his wondering vision, | 55 |
| Rose clustering islands of green. | |
| Still onward he sped till the breezes | |
| Were laden with odors, and lo! | |
| A country embedded with flowers, | |
| A country with rivers aglow! | 60 |
| More bright than the sunny Antilles, | |
| More fair than the shady Azores. | |
| “Thank the Lord!” said De Leon, the sailor, | |
| As feasted his eye on the shores, | |
| “We have come to a region, my brothers, | 65 |
| More lovely than earth, of a truth; | |
| And here is the life-giving fountain,— | |
| The beautiful fountain of youth.” | |
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IV. Then landed De Leon, the sailor, | |
| Unfurled his old banner, and sung; | 70 |
| But he felt very wrinkled and withered, | |
| All around was so fresh and so young. | |
| The palms, ever-verdant, were blooming, | |
| Their blossoms e’en margined the seas; | |
| O’er the streams of the forests bright flowers | 75 |
| Hung deep from the branches of trees. | |
| “Praise the Lord!” sung De Leon, the sailor; | |
| His heart was with rapture aflame; | |
| And he said: “Be the name of this region | |
| By Florida given to fame. | 80 |
| ’T is a fair, a delectable country, | |
| More lovely than earth, of a truth; | |
| I soon shall partake of the fountain,— | |
| The beautiful fountain of youth!” | |
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V. But wandered De Leon, the sailor, | 85 |
| In search of that fountain in vain; | |
| No waters were there to restore him | |
| To freshness and beauty again. | |
| And his anchor he lifted, and murmured, | |
| As the tears gathered fast in his eye, | 90 |
| “I must leave this fair land of the flowers, | |
| Go back o’er the ocean, and die.” | |
| Then back by the dreary Tortugas, | |
| And back by the shady Azores, | |
| He was borne on the storm-smitten waters | 95 |
| To the calm of his own native shores. | |
| And that he grew older and older, | |
| His footsteps enfeebled gave proof, | |
| Still he thirsted in dreams for the fountain, | |
| The beautiful fountain of youth. * * * * * | 100 |
VI. One day the old sailor lay dying | |
| On the shores of a tropical isle, | |
| And his heart was enkindled with rapture, | |
| And his face lighted up with a smile. | |
| He thought of the sunny Antilles, | 105 |
| He thought of the shady Azores, | |
| He thought of the dreamy Bahamas, | |
| He thought of fair Florida’s shores. | |
| And, when in his mind he passed over | |
| His wonderful travels of old, | 110 |
| He thought of the heavenly country, | |
| Of the city of jasper and gold. | |
| “Thank the Lord!” said De Leon, the sailor, | |
| “Thank the Lord for the light of the truth, | |
| I now am approaching the fountain, | 115 |
| The beautiful Fountain of Youth.” | |
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VII. The cabin was silent: at twilight | |
| They heard the birds singing a psalm, | |
| And the wind of the ocean low sighing | |
| Through groves of the orange and palm. | 120 |
| The sailor still lay on his pallet, | |
| ’Neath the low-hanging vines of the roof; | |
| His soul had gone forth to discover | |
| The beautiful Fountain of Youth. | |
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