Geography, the world, is in it; The Great Sea, the brood of islands, Polynesia, the coast beyond; The coast you henceforth are facing--you Libertad! from your Western golden shores; The countries there, with their populations--the millions _en masse_, are curiously here; The swarming market-places--the temples, with idols ranged along the sides, or at the end--bronze, brahmin, and lama; The mandarin, farmer, merchant, mechanic, and fisherman; The singing-girl and the dancing-girl--the ecstatic person--the divine Buddha; The secluded Emperors--Confucius himself--the great poets and heroes--the warriors, the castes, all, Trooping up, crowding from all directions--from the Altay mountains, From Thibet--from the four winding and far-flowing rivers of China, From the Southern peninsulas, and the demi-continental islands--from Malaysia; These, and whatever belongs to them, palpable, show forth to me, and are seized by me, And I am seized by them, and friendlily held by them, Till, as here, them all I chant, Libertad! for themselves and for you. 5. For I too, raising my voice, join the ranks of this pageant; I am the chanter--I chant aloud over the pageant; I chant the world on my Western Sea; I chant, copious, the islands beyond, thick as stars in the sky; I chant the new empire, grander than any before--As in a vision it comes to me; I chant America, the Mistress--I chant a greater supremacy; I chant, projected, a thousand blooming cities yet, in time, on those groups of sea-islands; I chant my sail-ships and steam-ships threading the archipelagoes; I chant my stars and stripes fluttering in the wind; I chant commerce opening, the sleep of ages having done its work--races reborn, refreshed; Lives, works, resumed--The object I know not--but the old, the Asiatic, resumed, as it must be, Commencing from this day, surrounded by the world. And you, Libertad of the world! You shall sit in the middle, well-poised, thousands of years; As to-day, from one side, the Princes of Asia come to you; As to-morrow, from the other side, the Queen of England sends her eldest son to you. The sign is reversing, the orb is enclosed, The ring is circled, the journey is done; The box-lid is but perceptibly opened--nevertheless the perfume pours copiously out of the whole box. 6. Young Libertad! With the venerable Asia, the all-mother, Be considerate with her, now and ever, hot Libertad--for you are all; Bend your proud neck to the long-off mother, now sending messages over the archipelagoes to you: Bend your proud neck for once, young Libertad. 7.