Columbus was a Navigator

that tarried in Italian Lands;

he built three Ships of timber felled

in Iberia to journey in;

Their Sails he wove of fabric fair,

of silver were their lanterns made,

Each Prow was fashioned like no other,

and The Cross upon all Banners laid.

In panoply of Royalty,

in chain-ed rings he Armored him;

his shining Pauldrons Scored with Holy Signs

to Ward all Wounds and harm from him;

His Arquebus was made of Iron,

its Missiles the Color of Ebony;

of Silver was his Habergeon,

his Scabbard of Chalcedony;

his Sword of Steel was valiant,

of night-black his tri-corner tall,

an Eagle-plume upon its crest,

upon his breast an Emerald.

Beneath the Moon and under Star

he wandered far from Eastern strands,

bewildered on enchanted waves

beyond the days of Mortal Lands.

From gnashing of the Serpents' Vice

where shadow lies on foamy hills,

from nether heats and Doldrums' waste

he turned in haste, and roving still

on starless waters far astray

at last he came to night of naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw

of shining shore nor Light he sought.

The winds of Wrath came driving him,

and blindly in the foam he fled

from West to East and errandless,

unheralded he Homeward sped.

There Saint Elmo's Fire came to Him,

and flame was in the darkness lit;

more bright than light of diamond

the Fire upon Her Raven's nest.

Christ's own Grace was bound on him

and crowned him with the Living Light

and dauntless then with burning brow

he turned his prow; and in the night

from New Worlds beyond the Sea

there strong and free a Storm arose,

a wind of power in Tropic-Lands;

by paths that seldom Mortal goes

his Ships it bore with biting breath

as might of Death across the Gray

and long forsaken Seas distressed;

from East to West he passed away.

Through the night he back was borne

on black and roaring waves that ran

o'er Leagues unlit and foundered shores

that drowned before the Days began,

until he heard on strands of Pearl

where ends the World the music long,

where ever-foaming billows roll

the yellow Gold and Jewels won.

He saw the New World silent rise

where twilight lies upon the knees

of Columbia, to North and South

beheld afar beyond the seas.

A Wanderer escaped from Night

to haven Jade he came at last,

to America the green and fair

where keen the air, where pale as glass

beneath the Hills of verdant Shores

a-glimmer in an Inlet sheer

the starlit towers of branching Palms

are mirrored on the Opal mere.

He tarried there from errantry,

and Melodies they taught to him,

and Chieftains old him marvels told,

and Tobacco bold they brought to him.

They clothed him then in flowers-bright,

and Waterfowl before him sent,

as Southward along the the Lowland coast

to hidden Land in awe he went.

He came unto the timeless Jungles

where shining fall the countless Years,

and endless Reigns the Spirit Great

in Western House on Mountain sheer;

and Words unheard were spoken then

of Folk of Men and Godly-kin,

beyond the World were Visions showed

forbid to those that dwell therein.

A Ship then new they built for him

of thatched Trees and of Mine-ed-glass

with shining Prow; no shaven oar

And sail she bore on silver mast:

the Moon it was as lantern light

and banner bright with Saint Elmo's Flame

to gleam thereon by Western nights

Herself was set, Who thither came

and wings Immortal made for him,

and laid on him undying Doom,

to sail the shoreless skies and come

behind the Sun and light of Moon.

From Purgatory's lofty hills

where softly silver fountains fall

his wings him bore, a wandering Light,

beyond the mighty Southern Wall.

From World's End there he turned away,

and yearned again to find afar

his Home through Shadows journeying,

and burning as an Island Star

on High above the Mists he came,

a distant flame before the Sun,

a wonder ere the waking Dawn

where Gold the Heav'nly waters run.

And over all the Earth he passed

and heard at last the weeping sore

of feathered Braves and of Native-maids

In Painful days, in Years to come.

But on him mighty Doom was laid,

till Moon should fade, an orb-ed Star

to pass, and tarry never more

On Hither shores where Mortals are;

for ever still a Herald on

an errand that should never rest

to guide His shining blade afar,

the lone Flame-bearer of the West.