Portala's Cross

Pious Portala, journeying by land, Reared high a cross upon the heathen strand, Then far away Dragged his slow caravan to Monterey.

The mountains whispered to the valleys, "good!" The sun, slow sinking in the western flood, Baptized in blood The holy standard of the Brotherhood.

The timid fog crept in across the sea, Drew near, embraced it, and streamed far and free, Saying: "O ye Gentiles and Heathen, this is truly He!"

All this the Heathen saw; and when once more The holy Fathers touched the lonely shore— Then covered o'er With shells and gifts—the cross their witness bore.