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As a rivulet running, sinking now, and now again to the

surface rising, A ceaseless thought, a varied train — lo, soul, to thee, thy

sight, they rise,
The plans, the voyages again, the expedition ;
Again Vasco de Gama sails forth,
Again the knowledge gain’d, the mariner's compass,
Lands found and nations born, thou born America,
For purpose vast, man's long probation fill's,
Thou rondure of the world at last accomplish'd.

5 O vast Rondure, swimming in space, Cover'd all over with visible power and beauty, Alternate light and day and the teeming spiritual darkness, Unspeakable high processions of sun and moon and

countless stars above, Below, the manifold grass and waters, animals, mountains,

trees, With inscrutable purpose, some hidden prophetic inten

tion, Now first it seems my thought begins to span thee. Down from the gardens of Asia descending radiating, Adam and Eve appear, then their myriad progeny after

them, Wandering, yearning, curious, with restless explorations, With questionings, baffled, formless, feverish, with never

happy hearts, With that sad incessant refrain, Wherefore unsatisfied soul?

and Whither O mocking life? Ah who shall soothe these feverish children? Who justify these restless explorations ? Who speak the secret of impassive earth? Who bind it to us? what is this separate Nature so un

natural? What is this earth to our affections ? (unloving earth,

without a throb to answer ours,

Cold earth, the place of graves.)
Yet soul be sure the first intent remains, and shall be car-

ried out,

Perhaps even now the time has arrived.
After the seas are all cross’d, (as they seem already

cross’d,) After the great captains and engineers have accomplish'd

their work, After the noble inventors, after the scientists, the chemist,

the geologist, ethnologist, Finally shall come the poet worthy that name, The true son of God shall come singing his songs. Then not your deeds only O voyagers, O scientists and

inventors, shall be justified, All these hearts as of fretted children shall be sooth'd, All affection shall be fully responded to, the secret shall be

told, All these separations and gaps shall be taken up and hook'd

and link'd together, The whole earth, this cold, impassive, voiceless earth, shall

be completely justified, Trinitas divine shall be gloriously accomplish'd and com

pacted by the true son of God, the poet, (He shall indeed pass the straits and conquer the moun

tains, He shall double the cape of Good Hope to some purpose,) Nature and Man shall be disjoin’d and diffused no more, The true son of God shall absolutely fuse them.

6 Year at whose wide-Aung door I sing ! Year of the purpose accomplish'd ! Year of the marriage of continents, climates and oceans ! (No mere doge of Venice now wedding the Adriatic,) see O year in you the vast terraqueous globe given and giving all,

Europe to Asia, Africa join’d, and they to the New World, The lands, geographies, dancing before you, holding a festi

· val garland, As brides and bridegrooms hand in hand. Passage to India! Cooling airs from Caucasus far, soothing cradle of man, The river Euphrates Aowing, the past lit up again. Lo soul, the retrospect brought forward, The old, most populous, wealthiest of earth's lands, The streams of the Indus and the Ganges and their many

affluents, (I my shores of America walking to-day behold, resuming

all) The tale of Alexander on his warlike marches suddenly

dying, On one side China and on the other side Persia and Arabia, To the south the great seas and the bay of Bengal, The Aowing literatures, tremendous epics, religions, castes, Old occult Brahma interminably far back, the tender and

junior Buddha, Central and southern empires and all their belongings, pos

sessors, The wars of Tamerlane, the reign of Aurungzebe, The traders, rulers, explorers, Moslems, Venetians, Byzan

tium, the Arabs, Portuguese, The first travelers famous yet, Marco Polo, Batouta the

Moor, Doubts to be solv'd, the map incognita, blanks to be fillid, The foot of man unstay'd, the hands never at rest, Thyself O soul that will not brook a challenge. The mediæval navigators rise before me, The world of 1492, with its awaken’d enterprise, Something swelling in humanity now like the sap of the

earth in spring, The sunset splendor of chivalry declining. And who art thou sad shade?

Gigantic, visionary, thyself a visionary,
With majestic limbs and pious beaming eyes,
Spreading around with every look of thine a golden world,
Enhuing it with gorgeous hues.
As the chief histrion,
Down to the footlights walks in some great scena,
Dominating the rest I see the Admiral himself,
(History's type of courage, action, faith,)
Behold him sail from Palos leading his little fleet,
His voyage behold, his return, his great fame,
His misfortunes, calumniators, behold him a prisoner,

chain'd, Behold his dejection, poverty, death. (Curious in time I stand, noting the efforts of heroes, Is the deferment long ? bitter the slander, poverty, death ? Lies the seed unreck’d for centuries in the ground ? lo, to

God's due occasion,
Uprising in the night, it sprouts, blooms,
And fills the earth with use and beauty.)

Passage indeed O soul to primal thought,
Not lands and seas alone, thy own clear freshness,
The young maturity of brood and bloom,
To realms of budding bibles.
O soul, repressless, I with thee and thou with me,
Thy circumnavigation of the world begin,
Of man, the voyage of his mind's return,
To reason's early paradise,
Back, back to wisdom's birth, to innocent intuitions,
Again with fair creation.

O we can wait no longer,
We too take ship O soul,
Joyous we too launch out on trackless seas,
Fearless for unknown shores on waves of ecstasy to sail,

Amid the wafting winds, (thou pressing me to thee, I thee

to me, O soul, Caroling free, singing our song of God, Chanting our chant of pleasant exploration. With laugh and many a kiss, (Let others deprecate, let others weep for sin, remorse,

humiliation) O soul thou pleasest me, I thee. Ah more than any priest O soul we too believe in God, But with the mystery of God we dare not dally. O soul thou pleasest me, I thee, Sailing these seas or on the hills, or waking in the night, Thoughts, silent thoughts, of Time and Space and Death,

like waters flowing, Bear me indeed as through the regions infinite, Whose air I breathe, whose ripples hear, lave me all over, Bathe me O God in thee, mounting to thee, I and my soul to range in range of thee. 0 Thou transcendent, Nameless, the fibre and the breath, Light of the light, shedding forth universes, thou centre of

them, Thou mightier centre of the true, the good, the loving, Thou moral, spiritual fountain affection's source

thou reservoir, (Opensive soul of me O thirst unsatisfied waitest

not there? Waitest not haply for us somewhere there the Comrade

perfect ?) Thou pulse

thou motive of the stars, suns, systems, That, circling, move in order, safe, harmonious, Athwart the shapeless vastnesses of space, How should I think, how breathe a single breath, how

speak, if, out of myself, I could not launch, to those, superior universes ?

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