[t] _So Fortune smil’d, careless of sea or land!_
Among those, who went with Columbus, were many adventurers, and gentlemen of the court. Primero was the game then in fashion. See Vega, p. 2, lib. iii. c. 9.
[u] _Yet who but He undaunted could explore_
Many sighed and wept; and every hour seemed a year, says Herrera. I. i. 9 and 10.
[v] _While his dear boys—ah, on his neck they hung,_
‘But I was most afflicted, when I thought of my two sons, whom I had left behind me in a strange country….before I had done, or at least could be known to have done, any thing which might incline your highnesses to remember them. And though I comforted myself with the reflection that our Lord would not suffer so earnest an endeavour for the exaltation of his church to come to nothing, yet I considered that, on account of my unworthiness,’ &c.—F. Columbus, c. 37.
[w] _Roc of the West! to him all empire giv’n!_
Le Condor est le même oiseau que le Roc des Orientaux. Buffon. ‘By the Peruvians,’ says Vega, ‘he was antiently worshipped; and there were those who claimed their descent from him.’ In these degenerate days he still ranks above the Eagle.
[x] _High-hung in forests to the casing snows._
A custom not peculiar to the Western Hemisphere. The Tunguses of Siberia hang their dead on trees; ‘parceque la terre ne se laisse point ouvrir.’ Recherches Philos. sur les Americ. I. 140.
‘Aquella noche triste.’ The night, on which Cortes made his famous retreat from Mexico through the street of Tlacopan, still goes by the name of LA NOCHE TRISTE. HUMBOLDT.
[z] _By his white plume reveal’d and buskins white,_
It is said that Pizarro used to dress in this fashion; after Gonzalo, whom he had served under in Italy.
[a] _’Twas MERION’S self, covering with dreadful shade._
Now one, Now other, as their shape serv’d best his end.
Undoubtedly, says Herrera, the Infernal Spirit assumed various shapes in that region of the world.
The original passage is here translated at full length.
Then, inly gliding like a subtle flame, Thrice, with a cry that thrill’d the mortal frame, Call’d on the Spirit within. Disdaining flight, Calmly she rose, collecting all her might.[1] Dire was the dark encounter! Long unquell’d, Her sacred seat, sovereign and pure, she held. At length the great Foe binds her for his prize, And awful, as in death, the body lies! Not long to slumber! In an evil hour Inform’d and lifted by the unknown Power, It starts, it speaks’. “We live, we breathe no more!” &c.