Juan Ponce de Leon, by the Devil led,
With years weighed down and crammed with antique lore,
Seeing age branch his stubby locks still more,
The far seas scoured to find Health's Fountain-head.

Haunted by fruitless dream his vessels sped
Three years the glaucous solitudes to explore,
Until, heart-sickening the Bermudan shore,
Beneath Floridian skies enchantments spread.

Then the Conquistador his madness blessed,
And with enfeebled hand his pennon pressed
In that bright earth which opened for his tomb.

Old man, most happy thou: thy fortune sooth
Is deathlike, but thy dream bears beauty's bloom,
For Fame has given thee immortal youth.