He found this wild, lost land. He drew His ship to shore. His ruthless crew, Like Romulus, laid lawless hand On meek brown maidens of the land, And in their bloody forays bore Red firebrands along the shore. III. The red men rose at night. They came, A firm, unflinching wall of flame; They swept, as sweeps some fateful sea O'er land of sand and level shore That howls in far, fierce agony. The red men swept that deep, dark shore As threshers sweep a threshing-floor. And yet beside the slain Don's door They left his daughter, as they fled: They spared her life, because she bore Their Chieftain's blood and name. The red And blood-stained hidden hoards of gold They hollowed from the stout ship's hold, And bore in many a slim canoe-- To where? The good priest only knew. IV. The course of life is like the sea: Men come and go; tides rise and fall; And that is all of history. The tide flows in, flows out to-day,-- And that is all that man may say; Man is, man was,--and that is all. Revenge at last came like a tide,-- 'Twas sweeping, deep, and terrible; The Christian found the land, and came To take possession in Christ's name. For every white man that had died I think a thousand red men fell,-- A Christian custom; and the land Lay lifeless as some burned-out brand. V. Ere while the slain Don's daughter grew A glorious thing, a flower of spring, A lithe slim reed, a sun-loved weed, A something more than mortal knew; A mystery of grace and face,-- A silent mystery that stood An empress in that sea-set wood, Supreme, imperial in her place. It might have been men's lust for gold,-- For all men knew that lawless crew Left hoards of gold in that ship's hold, That drew ships hence, and silent drew Strange Jasons to that steep wood shore, As if to seek that hidden store,-- I never either cared or knew. I say it might have been this gold That ever drew and strangely drew Strong men of land, strange men of sea, To seek this shore of mystery With all its wondrous tales untold: The gold or her, which of the two? It matters not; I never knew. But this I know, that as for me, Between that face and the hard fate That kept me ever from my own, As some wronged monarch from his throne, God's heaped-up gold of land or sea Had never weighed one feather's weight. Her home was on the wooded height,-- A woody home, a priest at prayer, A perfume in the fervid air, And angels watching her at night. I can but think upon the skies That bound that other Paradise. VI. Below a star-built arch, as grand As ever bended heaven spanned; Tall trees like mighty columns grew-- They loomed as if to pierce the blue, They reached as reaching heaven through.