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- 8778
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:09.931Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
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- 8710
- text
- CHAPTER LXII.
They Encounter Gold-Hunters
Now, northward coasting along Kolumbo’s Western shore, whence came the
same wild forest-sounds, as from the Eastern; and where we landed not,
to seek among those wrangling tribes;—after many, many days, we spied
prow after prow, before the wind all northward bound: sails
wide-spread, and paddles plying: scaring the fish from before them.
Their inmates answered not our earnest hail.
But as they sped, with frantic glee, in one long chorus thus they
sang:—
We rovers bold,
To the land of Gold,
Over bowling billows are gliding:
Eager to toil,
For the golden spoil,
And every hardship biding.
See! See!
Before our prows’ resistless dashes,
The gold-fish fly in golden flashes!
’Neath a sun of gold,
We rovers bold,
On the golden land are gaining;
And every night,
We steer aright,
By golden stars unwaning!
All fires burn a golden glare:
No locks so bright as golden hair!
All orange groves have golden gushings:
All mornings dawn with golden flushings!
In a shower of gold, say fables old,
A maiden was won by the god of gold!
In golden goblets wine is beaming:
On golden couches kings are dreaming!
The Golden Rule dries many tears!
The Golden Number rules the spheres!
Gold, gold it is, that sways the nations:
Gold! gold! the center of all rotations!
On golden axles worlds are turning:
With phosphorescence seas are burning!
All fire-flies flame with golden gleamings:
Gold-hunters’ hearts with golden dreamings!
With golden arrows kings are slain:
With gold we’ll buy a freeman’s name!
In toilsome trades, for scanty earnings,
At home we’ve slaved, with stifled yearnings:
No light! no hope! Oh, heavy woe!
When nights fled fast, and days dragged slow.
But joyful now, with eager eye,
Fast to the Promised Land we fly:
Where in deep mines,
The treasure shines;
Or down in beds of golden streams,
The gold-flakes glance in golden gleams!
How we long to sift,
That yellow drift!
Rivers! Rivers! cease your going!
Sand-bars! rise, and stay the tide!
’Till we’ve gained the golden flowing;
And in the golden haven ride!
“Quick, quick, my lord,” cried Yoomy, “let us follow them; and from the
golden waters where she lies, our Yillah may emerge.”
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