The sudden sight of one who long hath roved In distant climes, the friend of youthful years; Returning bloom upon a cheek beloved, Th' imagined dead, for whom have poured our tears; Shelter to him that hath not where to lie; Sunlight, and mountain-air, and laughing Spring, To limbs escaped from dark captivity; The olive brand the dove with drooping wing Brought to the dwellers of the wand'ring Ark: Such joy was thine COLUMBUS, when thine eyes, Through many a peril past, first from thy bark Beheld the morning sun in glory rise Upon the land of hope — thy canvas furl'd, And proudly trod the earth — a new-found world! 1830.
