Two fleets have sailed from Spain. The one would seek What lands uncharted ocean might conceal. Despised, condemned, and pitifully weak, It found a world for Leon and Castile. The other, mighty, arrogant, and vain, Sought to subdue a people who were free. Ask of the storm-gods where its galleons be, -- Whelmed 'neath the billows of the northern main! A third is threatened. On the westward track, Once gloriously traced, its vessels speed, With gold and crimson battle-flags unfurled. On Colon's course, but to Sidonia's wrack, Sure fated, if so need shall come to need, For Sons of Drake are lords of Colon's world. |