Classic Poem

From San Domingo's crowded whart
Fernandez' vessel bore,
To seek in unknown lands afar
The Indian's golden ore.

And hid among the freighted casks,
Where none might see or know,
Was one of Spain's immortal men,
Three hundred years ago!

But when the fading town and land
Had dropped below the sea,
He met the captain face to face,
And not a fear had he!

“What villain thou?” Fernandez cried,
“And wherefore serve us so?”
“To be thy follower,” he replied
Three hundred years ago.

He wore a manly form and face,
A courage firm and bold,
His words fell on his comrades' hearts.
Like precious drops of gold.

They saw not his ambitious soul;
He spoke it not—for lo!
He stood among the common ranks
Three hundred years ago.

But when Fernandez' vessel lay
At golden Darien,
A murmur, born of discontent,
Grew loud among the men:

And with the word there came the act;
And with the sudden blow
They raised Balboa from the ranks,
Three hundred years ago.

And while he took command beneath
The banner of his lord,
A mighty purpose grasped his soul,
As he had grasped the sword.

He saw the mountain's fair blue height
Whence golden waters flow;
Then with his men he scaled the crags,
Three hundred years ago.

He led them up through tangled brakes,
The rivulet's sliding bed,
And through the storm of poisoned darts
From many an ambush shed.

He gained the turret crag—alone—
And wept! to see below,
An ocean, boundless and unknown.
Three hundred years ago.

And while he raised upon that height
The banner of his lord,
The mighty purpose grasped him still,
As still he grasped his sword.

Then down he rushed with all his men,
As headlong rivers flow,
And plunged breast-deep into the sea,
Three hundred years ago.

And while he held above his head
The conquering flag of Spain,
He waved his gleaming sword, and smote
The waters of the main:

For Rome! for Leon! and Castile!
Thrice gave the cleaving blow;
And thus Balboa claimed the sea,
Three hundred years ago.