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THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.

Like oceans fresh from Chaos, on before The vessels three; when raged the deep and all Mad demons of the winds howl’d forth in glee, Columbus sent his prayer across the storm On wings of faith, and touch’d the realm of Peace- Deep call’d to deep, alluring him still on.

Last, brilliant birds, and musical, in throngs Flew near, fleet messengers of hope to him,

On waste of waters, over which had flown No form or breath of spirit-life save his,

Since morning stars first sang in golden choir—

The Maker’s voice called forth, Let there be light. Sublime, he rose, to speak and cheer his crew;

With lofty mein he bared his brow to Night,

Brooding o’er boundless seas, and parted thus From deeps abysmal by the trembling ships;

He fed their minds with hopes of richest Ind.

And Faith’s true bravery, when Silence wrapt Them and the world as in an endless tomb;

While pleasant winds from starry head-lands bathed Their brows, and fled, the demons of despair.

Lo! suddenly their deap calm broke in joy,

And blissful shout of land. Now Night’s thin veil Just hid from gaze a new and virgin world.

While stars their golden shadows cast they watch’d,

As Wonder, like a rainbow, clove the dark.

Yet perfumed-laden winds bore them no tales Of flower’d homes, and Beauty’s summer land.

And it was morn, when rose their gorgeous world;

As though the sun, more brilliant than when robed For common days, at midnight shone, and smote Mankind in awe; so to their wondering gaze The New World rose august in youth and bloom.

The epic grand Columbus gave to man,

Look’d on the gladsome wave all beautiful,

Crown’d by Heaven’s smile, serene in Heaven’s calm; Here, Death pass’d on, o’ercome by Beauty’s gaze, Nor touch’d this Eden, throned on purple waves. October’s golden haze, an autumn dream,

Stole o’er the virgin woods and dreamy world.

Columbus and his braves knelt on the sod;

They heard God’s rosy, fragrant silence breathe;

They kiss’d the earth, and lifted souls in prayer.

To muse alone he left his joyful crew,

And went some paces deeper in the glow Of fragrant woods. Approaching this deep joy,

He would all earthly sandals leave.

Hard by

A velvet plot of moss, that ne’er had thrill’d To human touch—this took his weary form,

While thrilling thought, and lofty hopes yet breathed Their music to his soul.