Down in the darkness till earth-crust doth part,
Is the gold of the unwrought mine; Deep in recess of the lowliest heart
Rare diamonds of genius may shine. And as from its earth-bed pure gold is revealed,
To work out the projects of man, So promptings of genius, unraveled, unsealed,
Are but links in eternity's plan.

Onward, aye on o'er the fathomless brine,
From the far Castilian land; 'Neath an ardent sun, 'neath a pale moonshine,
With prow to the halcyon strand. On from the jeers of a skeptical crowd
To the goal of his long life dream; On, on from the taunts of the wisdom-proud
To the summit of vast brain scheme.

On with the aid of a womanly wit,
Which served the high-set purpose well; For the squadron's glittering sails were lit
Through fair Hispania's Isabel. Who had stooped her head, with its regal crown,
And soothed with pity's shapely hand, As to grim Suspicion's withering frown
She raised the sceptre of the land.

Shifting of compass, strange lights in the sky,
Strange birds on a wandering wing; "On, Oh my comrades! the guerdon is nigh;
Fresh life to my pulses doth spring. Trust me, my comrades! nor wild water-wraith,
Nor phantom his passage e'er bars Whose rudder is set with a firm-bound faith
In that Power who created the stars."

On through the drift-weed; Lo! tranquil blue seas;
With breath of a balmier air; On, hoisting their sails to the landward breeze,
On, ridding their spirits of care. Light through the darkness! bright beacons ahead!
And the mariner's sails are furled, For the errand of genius hath aptly sped,
On the rim of a great New World.

In raiment of splendor the ground he hath trod;
He looks from the sky to the main; He planteth the Cross in the name of his God,
His standard in token of Spain. And on through the cycles, in Temple of Fame,
Though nations and systems decay, The laurels which lustre Columbus' proud name
In freshness shall blossom for aye.