Classic Poem

P IZARRO 's crimes of perfidy and blood,
So largely due to training, time, and race,
Obscure the brilliance of the hero still;
Yet once, at least, immortally he stood,
Sublime in utterance, sublime in will,
While looking awful Peril in the face.

He calls his men, — worn out and sore depressed,
Yet presence answers quick their leader's word.
All further ventures would they now resign,
But lo! Pizarro traces with his sword,
Along drear Gallo's sand, the telling line
From west to east, and thus his band addressed:

" On that side, comrades, toil and hunger wait,
Battle and death — for some their lives must lose;
On this side, truly, safety lies, but ah!
On that, the riches of a splendid state;
On this, but poverty and Panama; —
Now, as becomes the brave Castilian, choose!

" As for myself, I go towards the south,
Let who will follow! " and he crossed that bound
Like Rubicon, immortal, though in sand.
Spurred by his doughty foot and daring mouth,
There followed thirteen of his little band; —
The die was cast — at length, Peru was found!

When powers that serve thee flag, since foiled so long,
Summon them, soul! Draw what Pizarro drew;
Point to that land of riches, this of lack;
Speak as he spake, then cross the line as strong,
Leaving poor Panama behind thy back,
To find, at last, the glory of Peru!