POETRY.
THE DREAM OF THE SPANISH ADMIRAL.
A D. 1541.
IN slumber as the morning broke (It was our homeward voyage to Spain) Methought I gave a parting look At the New World beyond the main : The shores were low, and soft, and faint, Half purple mist and half firm land, On which the sunbeams seemed to paint The semblance of a foamy strand.
I dreamed I saw a hundred ships Where not a sail had glanced before, And for chained hands and livid lips I heard a new-born people roar. To every mast a flag was nailed, No lion crest but stripes and stars, And deep into the sea they sailed To wrestle with us, old in ware.
They clove our ranks, they clomb the towers Our loftiest galleons proudly bore : They struck with more than mortal powers, Till Spain herself could strike no more. And down the wind we drifted far, And to the shore our hulks were blown : The sea was thick with mast and spar, And Spain was shaken from her throne : And louder than the whirring brine, And louder than the cannon's roar, I heard a voice, "Vengeance is mine, I recompense for evermore!"
Now may St. James defend us still, And may the cavaliers of Spain Sail on and conquer whom they will, And teach me that my dream was vain.
SAMUEL DORMAN.
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