Short is thy life, if thou so soon must fade, Like angry Jonah's gourd at Nineveh, That, in a night, its bloomy branches spread, And perish'd with the day.-- Come, then, revive, sweet lovely Elm, lest I, Thro' vehemence of heat, like Jonah, wish to die. [42] First published in the June number of the _United States Magazine_, 1779, under the title, "The Dying Elm: An Irregular Ode." This earliest version was much changed in its later editions; the third stanza was added for the edition of 1786. It may be doubted if Freneau much improved the poem from its first draft, save by the additional stanza. Following are some of the lines as they stood originally: "Companion of my musing care;" "Like fainting flowers that die at noon;" "O gentle tree, no more decline;" "And flourish'd for a day;" "Come, then, revive, sweet shady elm, lest I." With two minor exceptions the text was unvaried for the later editions. COLUMBUS TO FERDINAND[43] Columbus was a considerable number of years engaged in soliciting the Court of Spain to fit him out, in order to discover a new continent, which he imagined existed somewhere in the western parts of the ocean. During his negotiations, he is here supposed to address king Ferdinand in the following Stanzas. Illustrious monarch of Iberia's soil, Too long I wait permission to depart; Sick of delays, I beg thy list'ning ear-- Shine forth the patron and the prince of art. While yet Columbus breathes the vital air, Grant his request to pass the western main: Reserve this glory for thy native soil, And what must please thee more--for thy own reign. Of this huge globe, how small a part we know-- Does heaven their worlds to western suns deny?-- How disproportion'd to the mighty deep The lands that yet in human prospect lie! Does Cynthia, when to western skies arriv'd, Spend her sweet beam upon the barren main, And ne'er illume with midnight splendor, she, The natives dancing on the lightsome green?-- Should the vast circuit of the world contain Such wastes of ocean, and such scanty land?-- 'Tis reason's voice that bids me think not so, I think more nobly of the Almighty hand. Does yon' fair lamp trace half the circle round To light the waves and monsters of the seas?-- No--be there must beyond the billowy waste Islands, and men, and animals, and trees. An unremitting flame my breast inspires To seek new lands amidst the barren waves, Where falling low, the source of day descends, And the blue sea his evening visage laves. Hear, in his tragic lay, Cordova's sage:[A] "_The time shall come, when numerous years are past, "The ocean shall dissolve the bands of things, "And an extended region rise at last;_