That was a glorious day That dawned on Barcelona. Banners filled The thronging towers, the old bells rung, and blasts Of lordly trumpets seemed to reach the sky Cerulean. All Spain had gathered there, And waited there his coming; Castilian knights, Gay cavaliers, hidalgos young, and e'en the old Puissant grandees of far Aragon, With glittering mail, and waving plumes, and all The peasant multitude with bannerets And charms and flowers. Beneath pavilions Of brocades of gold, the Court had met. The dual crowns of Leon old and proud Castile There waited him, the peasant mariner. The trumpets waited Near the open gates; the minstrels young and fair Upon the tapestried and arrased walls, And everywhere from all the happy provinces The wandering troubadours. Afar was heard A cry, a long acclaim. Afar was seen A proud and stately steed with nodding plumes, Bridled with gold, whose rider stately rode, And still afar a long and sinuous train Of silvery cavaliers. A shout arose, And all the city, all the vales and hills, With silver trumpets rung. He came, the Genoese, With reverent look and calm and lofty mien, And saw the wondering eyes and heard the cries And trumpet peals, as one who followed still Some Guide unseen. Before his steed Crowned Indians marched with lowly faces, And wondered at the new world that they saw; Gay parrots shouted from their gold-bound arms, And from their crests swept airy plumes. The sun Shone full in splendor on the scene, and here The old and new world met. But-- IV Hark! the heralds! How they thrill all hearts and fill all eyes with tears! The very air seems throbbing with delight; Hark! hark! they cry, in chorus all they cry:-- "_Á Castilla y á Leon, á Castilla y á Leon, Nuevo mundo dio Colon!_"