He failed. He reached to grasp Hesperides,
To track the footsteps of the sun, that flies
Toward some far-western couch, and watch it rise,--
But fell on unknown sand-reefs, chains, disease.
He won. With splendid daring, from the seas'
Hard, niggard fist he plucked the prize,
And gave a virgin world to Europe's eyes,
Where gold-dust choked the streams, and spice the breeze.
He failed fulfillment of the task he planned,
And dropped a weary head on empty hand,
Unconscious of the vaster deed he'd done;
But royal legacy to Ferdinand
He left: a key to doorways gilt with sun,--
And proudest title of "World-father" won!
