The cabin was silent: at twilight They heard the birds singing a psalm, And the wind of the ocean low sighing Through groves of the orange and palm. The sailor still lay on his pallet, 'Neath the low-hanging vines of the roof; His soul had gone forth to discover The beautiful Fountain of Youth. HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH. In March, 1521, De Leon led a large party to Florida and attempted to plant a colony there, but they were driven away by the Indians. De Leon himself was wounded in the thigh by an arrow. The wound was unskillfully treated, and the old adventurer died of it in Cuba shortly afterwards. PONCE DE LEON [1521] You that crossed the ocean old, Not from greed of Inca's gold, But to search by vale and mount, Wood and rock, the wizard fount Where Time's harm is well undone,-- Here's to Ponce de Leon, And your liegemen every one! Surely, still beneath the sun, In some region further west, You live on and have your rest, While the world goes spinning round, And the sky hears the resound Of a thousand shrill new fames, Which your jovial silence shames! Strength and joy your days endow, Youth's eyes glow beneath your brow; Wars and vigils are forgot, And the Scytheman threats you not. Tell us, of your knightly grace, Tell us, left you not some trace Leading to that wellspring true Where old souls their age renew? EDITH M. THOMAS. The Spaniards, meanwhile, had pushed on across the Caribbean Sea and founded Darien, whither, in 1510, came one Vasco Nuñez Balboa. He made numerous explorations, and, learning from the Indians that there was a great sea to the south, determined to search for it. He started from Darien September 1, 1513, and on the 25th reached the top of a mountain from which he first saw the Pacific. He gained the shore four days later, and, wading into the water, took possession of it for the King of Spain. BALBOA [September 25, 1513] With restless step of discontent, Day after day he fretting went Along the old accustomed ways That led to easeful length of days. But far beyond the fragrant shade Of orange groves his glances strayed To where the white horizon line Caught from the sea its silvery shine. He knew the taste of that salt spray, He knew the wind that blew that way; Ah, once again to mount and ride Upon that pulsing ocean tide,-- To find new lands of virgin gold, To wrest them from the savage hold, To conquer with the sword and brain Fresh fields and fair for royal Spain! This was the dream of wild desire That set his gallant heart on fire, And stirred with feverish discontent That soul for nobler issues meant. Sometimes his children's laughter brought A thrill that checked his restless thought; Sometimes a voice more tender yet Would soothe the fever and the fret.