Columbus

BEHIND him lay the gray Azores,

Behind the Gates of Hercules;

Before him not the ghost of shores,

Before him only shoreless seas.

The good mate said: "Now we must pray,

For lo! the very stars are gone.

Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?"

"Why, say, 'Sail on! sail on! and on!' "

"My men grow mutinous day by day;

My men grow ghastly wan and weak."

The stout mate thought of home; a spray

Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek.

"What shall I say, brave Admiral, say,

If we sight naught but seas at dawn?"

"Why, you shall say at break of day,

'Sail on! sail on! and on!' "

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow,

Until at last the blanched mate said:

"Why, now not even God would know

Should I and all my men fall dead.

These very winds forget their way,

For God from these dead seas is gone.

Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say" --

He said, "Sail on! sail on! and on!"

They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:

"This mad sea shows his teeth tonight.

He curls his lip, he lies in wait,

With lifted teeth, as if to bite!

Brave Admiral, say but one good word:

What shall we do when hope is gone?"

The words leapt like a leaping sword:

"Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!"

Then pale and worn, he kept his deck,

And peered through darkness. Ah, that night

Of all dark nights! And then a speck --

A light! a light! at last a light!

It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!

It grew to be Time's burst of dawn.

He gained a world; he gave that world

Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"

Joaquin Miller

The Defence of the Alamo

SANTA ANA came storming, as a storm might come;

   There was rumble of cannon; there was rattle of blade;

There was cavalry, infantry, bugle and drum --

   Full seven thousand in pomp and parade.

The chivalry, flower of Mexico;

And a gaunt two hundred in the Alamo!

And thirty lay sick, and some were shot through;

   For the siege had been bitter, and bloody, and long.

"Surrender, or die!" -- "Men, what will you do?"

   And Travis, great Travis, drew sword, quick and strong;

Drew a line at his feet. . . . "Will you come" Will you go?

I die with my wounded, in the Alamo."

Then Bowie gasped, "Lead me over that line!"

   Then Crockett, one hand to the sick, one hand to his gun,

Crossed with him; then never a word or a sign

   Till all, sick or well, all, all save but one,

One man. Then a woman stepped, praying, and slow

Across; to die at her post in the Alamo.

Then that one coward fled, in the night, in that night

   When all men silently prayed and thought

Of home; of to-morrow; of God and the right,

   Till dawn; and with dawn came Travis's cannon-shot,

In answer to insolent Mexico,

From the old bell-tower of the Alamo.

Then came Santa Ana; a crescent of flame!

   Then the red escalade; then the fight hand to hand;

Such an unequal fight as never had name

   Since the Persian hordes butchered that doomed Spartan band.

All day -- all day and all night; and the morning? so slow,

Through the battle smoke mantling the Alamo.

Now silence! Such silence! Two thousand lay dead

   In a crescent outside! And within? Not a breath

Save the gasp of a woman, with gory gashed head,

   All alone, all alone there, waiting for death;

And she but a nurse. Yet when shall we know

Another like this of the Alamo?

Shout "Victory, victory, victory ho!"

   I say 'tis not always to the hosts that win!

I say that the victory, high or low,

   Is given the hero who grapples with sin,

Or legion or single; just asking to know

When duty fronts death in his Alamo.

Joaquin Miller