Are these the honors they reserve for me, Chains for the man who gave new worlds to Spain! Rest here, my swelling heart!--O kings, O queens, Patrons of monsters, and their progeny, Authors of wrong, and slaves to fortune merely! Why was I seated by my prince's side, Honor'd, caress'd like some first peer of Spain? Was it that I might fall most suddenly From honor's summit to the sink of scandal? 'Tis done, 'tis done!--what madness is ambition! What is there in that little breath of men, Which they call Fame, that should induce the brave To forfeit ease and that domestic bliss Which is the lot of happy ignorance, Less glorious aims, and dull humility?-- Whoe'er thou art that shalt aspire to honor, And on the strength and vigor of the mind Vainly depending, court a monarch's favor, Pointing the way to vast extended empire; First count your pay to be ingratitude, Then chains and prisons, and disgrace like mine! Each wretched pilot now shall spread his sails, And treading in my footsteps, hail new worlds, Which, but for me, had still been empty visions. PHILIP FRENEAU. On November 7, 1504, Columbus landed in Spain after a fourth voyage to America, during which he had endured sufferings and privations almost beyond description. He was a broken man, and the last blow was the death of Isabella, nineteen days after he reached Seville. Her death left him without patron or protector, and the last eighteen months of his life were spent in sickness and poverty. He died at Valladolid, May 20, 1506. COLUMBUS DYING [May 20, 1506] Hark! do I hear again the roar Of the tides by the Indies sweeping down? Or is it the surge from the viewless shore That swells to bear me to my crown? Life is hollow and cold and drear With smiles that darken and hopes that flee; And, far from its winds that faint and veer, I am ready to sail the vaster sea! Lord, Thou knowest I love Thee best; And that scorning peril and toil and pain, I held my way to the mystic West, Glory for Thee and Thy Church to gain. And Thou didst lead me, only Thou, Cheering my heart in cloud and calm, Till the dawn my glad, victorious prow Greeted Thine isles of bloom and balm. And then, O gracious, glorious Lord, I saw Thy face, and all heaven came nigh And my soul was lost in that rich reward, And ravished with hope of the bliss on high, So, I can meet the sovereign's frown-- My dear Queen gone--with a large disdain; For the time will come when his chief renown Will be that I sailed from his realm of Spain. I have found new Lands--a World, maybe, Whose splendor will yet the Old outshine; And life and death are alike to me, For earth will honor, and heaven is mine Is mine!--What songs of sweet accord! What billows that nearer, gentler roll! Is mine!--Into Thy hands, O Lord, Into Thy hands I give my soul!