I. br FOUR hundred years ago a tangled waste br Lay sleeping on the west Atlantic's side; br Their devious ways the Old World's millions traced br Content, and loved, and labored, dared and died. br While students still believed the charts they conned, br And revelled in their thriftless ignorance, br Nor dreamed of other lands that lay beyond br Old Ocean's dense, indefinite expanse. br II. br BUT deep within her heart old Nature knew br That she had once arrayed, at Earth's behest, br Another offspring, fine and fair to view,— br The chosen suckling of the mother's breast. br The child was wrapped in vestments soft and fine, br Each fold a work of Nature's matchless art; br The mother looked on it with love divine, br And strained the loved one closely to her heart. br And there it lay, and with the warmth grew strong br And hearty, by the salt sea breezes fanned, br Till Time with mellowing touches passed along, br And changed the infant to a mighty land. br III. br BUT men knew naught of this, till there arose br That mighty mariner, the Genoese, br Who dared to try, in spite of fears and foes, br The unknown fortunes of unsounded seas.