The Lusiad, or, Portugals Historicall Poem :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Lusiad, or, Portugals Historicall Poem

Written In the Portingall Language By Luis de Camoens; And Now newly put into English by Richard Fanshaw

Fanshawe, Richard (1608-1666)

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[Spaine gaue me noble Birth: Coimbra, Arts]

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[dedication]

Out of the Satyr of Petronius Arbiter, pag 48.

TORQUATO TASSO. in his 6 Part. fol. 47.

THE LVSIAD OF Lewis Camoens.

Second Canto.

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Second Canto.

1

Now was the glorious Guilder of the Pole,
Who into hours distinguishes the Day,
Come to his temp'rate and desired Gole,
From Mortals hiding his celestial Ray;
And God Nocturnus to descending Sol
Of Thetys's private Chamber turn'd the Kay:
When to the ships the faithless People row'd
Which were new-anchor'd in Mombassa's Road.

2

Amongst them One (who had it in command
To Sugar o're the poyson) thus began.
Undaunted Captain, That with Keel hast span'd
The spaces of the briny Ocean;
The noble King of this renowned Land
At thy arrival is an o'rejoy'd Man:
The sum and heighth of whose Ambition is,
But to behold and serve thee with what's his.

3

And, for he longs indeed thy Face to see,
As One's, whose name Fame glories to repeat;
Within the Barr, without suspition, Thee
With all thy ships to come; he doth intreat.
Also, because thy Men must wearied beee
Through so long Toyle, and so excessive great,
He says, thou maist refresh them on the shore
Which humane Nature doth delight in more.

4

Moreover, if thou seek for Merchandize
Produc't by the Auriferous Levant;
Cloves, Cinnamon, and other burning Spyce;
Or any good or salutiferous Plant;
Or, if thou seek bright Stones of endless price,
The flaming Ruby, and hard Adamant:
Hence thou may'st All in such abundance beare,
That thou may'st bound thy wish and Voyage Here.

5

The Captaine by the Bearer did return
His humble thanks unto the King, and said;
Because the Sun already did adjourn
His Royal pleasure was not streight obayd:
But at the first disclosing of the Morn,
Whereby the Anchors might be safely weigh'd,
With all assurance he would Enter, since
He was oblig'd to more for such a Prince.

6

He asks him afterward, if in the Isle
Are Christians, as the Pilot certify'de;
The subtle Messenger, (who smelt the Wile)
Most of the Isle believe in Christ, reply'de.
With this, all jealousie he did exile,
And wise suggestion of the soul decride
In the strange Captaine; Resting now secure,
In a false Nation, and a Sect impure.

7

Yet, out of such as (having been condemn'd
For faults and horrid mischiefs done at home)
Had their lives giv'n them onely to the end
For desp'rate services with Him to come,
Two of the prime and craftiest Heads, to send
With the deceiptful Moores, he pick't: By whom
To spye the Town, and what their strength might be,
And note those Christians, whom he yearns to see.

8

And He by them sent presents to the King,
Through which the Friendship to himself pretended
Might be soft, pure, and without wavering,
Nothing of which was by the King intended.
Now was the wicked and perfidious Ging.
Gone from the ships, and through the waves contended.
The two of the Armada, with a faign'd
Alacrity, on shore were entertain'd.

9

And when they had delivered to the King
The Presents, with the message, which they brought,
They walkt the Town: But no discovering
The half of what to have observ'd they thought.
For the suspitious Moors, not every thing
Would shew to them, which They to see besought.
“Where malice reigns, there Jealousie doth nest,
“Which doth suppose it in Anothers Brest.

10

But He, who hath perpetual Youth, and Mirth
In his plump Cheeks, ruddy with blood and wine,
And from two mothers took his wond'rous birth;
Who for the ships spun all this snare so fine;
Disguis'd into a Creature of the Earth,
Was in a House within the City's line,
Feigning himself a man of Christian lore,
And deckt an Altar where he did adore.

11

On It, the picture of that Shape he plac't
In which the Holy Spirit did alight:
The picture of the Dove (so white, so chast)
On the Blest Virgin's head, so chaste, so white.
The Sacred Twelve sate figur'd all aghast,
More wondring at themselves, then at the sight;
As Those, who knew, what onely did inspire
Their various Tongues, was those faln Tongues Of Fire.

12

The two Companions (carried by design
Where Bacchus was in this deceitful guize)
Their knees devoutly to the Earth incline,
And raise their hearts to Him That's in the skyes.
Gums of the oderiferous and divine
Panchaya; Gums, in which the Phenix dyes,
Lyeus burnt: from whence it doth insue,
That the false God came to adore the true.

13

Here entertained and carest that night,
With all good Treatment, and Reception fair,
Were the two Christians: heedless of the slight
By which with holy shew deceiv'd they were.
But when the Sun displayd his glorious light
(Having dispatcht before him through the Ayre
Old Tython's youthful Consort, to proclame
With Blushes to the world her Gallant came.)

14

The Moors return, who to the City went,
With Orders from the King for entring There:
With them, the Couple whom the Captain sent,
To whom the King appear'd a Friend sincere.
So that (assur'd there is no Evil meant
To Portingalls, which he should need to feare,
And that Christ hath some Sheep amongst those Wolves)
To enter the salt River he resolves.

15

His own Envoyees say, they saw on shore
Religious Altars, and a holy Priest;
That they were nobly treated, and did snore
Till fair Aurora left her rosie nest,
Nor ought but joy, and wellcome more, and more,
By King, or People, could they see exprest:
So that to doubt a thing so fair, and cleer,
No ground of reason did to them appeer.

16

Therefore the noble Gama did receive
With open arms the Moors That came aboard:
For wariest minds 'tis easie to deceive
When words and deeds so seemingly accord.
His Ship is cram'd with faithless folk, who leave
The Boats which brought them, ty'de to't with long Cord.
Blithe they are all, as Those that understand
They have the Prey as sure as in their hand.

17

Weapons, and Ammunition of the War,
They have on Land prepared secretly;
That, when the Ships are anchor'd past the Bar,
They may invade them, bold, and suddainly,
And, by this treachery, resolv'd they are
To ruine Those of Lusus totally;
Making them (unexpected) to pay, so,
The score which they in Mozambique owe.

18

Hoysting the holding Anchors, the ships Men
In the accustom'd Nautick clamour joyn'd.
To thrid the Barr's Land-marke they bord it then,
Giving the fore-sails onely to the Wind.
But fair Dione (never absent, when
The gallant Folk need her in any kind)
Seeing so neer so cruel a surprize,
From Heav'n to th'Ocean like an Arrow flyes.

19

She calls together Nereus's snowy daughters,
With all the azure Flock That haunts the deeps;
(For, being born from the salt-Sea, the Waters
In her obedience as their Queen she keeps)
And, telling them the Cause that thither brought her,
With all in Squadrons to that part she sweeps
Where the ships are, to warn them come, no nigh,
Or they shall perish fundamentally.

20

Now through the Ocean in great haste they flunder,
Raising the white foam with their silver Tayles.
Cloto with bosom breaks the waves in sunder,
And, with more fury then of custom, sayles;
Nise runs up an end, Nerine (younger)
Leaps o're them, frizled with her touching Scales:
The crooked Billows (yielding) make a lane
For the feard Nymphs to post it through the Maine.

21

Upon a Triton's back, with kindled Face,
The beauteous Ericyna furious rode.
He, to whose fortune fell so great a grace,
Feels not the Rider, proud of his fair load.
Now were they almost come upon the place
Where a stiff gale the warlike Navy blow'd.
Here they devide, and in an instant cast
Themselves about the Ships advancing fast.

22

The Goddess, with a party of the rest,
Lays her self plum against the Am'ral's Prow,
Stopping her progress with such main contest
That the swoln sayl the Wind in vain doth blow.
To the hard Oak she rivets her soft Brest,
Forcing the strong ship back again to go.
Others (beleagu'ring) lift it from the Wave,
It from the Bar of Enemies to save.

23

As to their Store-House when the Houswife Ants,
Carrying th'unequal Burthens plac't with slight
To their small shoulders (left cold Winter's wants
Surprize them helpless) exercise their might;
This tugs, that shoves, one runs, another pants;
Strength far above their size, they All unite:
So toyl the Nymphs, to snatch and to defend
The men of Lusus from a dismal end.

24

The ship (inforced contre) goes back, back,
In spight of those she carries, who with Cries
Handle the Sayls. They fume, their wits they lack;
From side to side the shifted Rudder flyes.
The skillful Master from the Poop doth crack
His Lungs in vain, for in the Sea he spyes
A horrid Rock just just before the Ship,
Threatning a Wreck should she advance a step.

25

Here the rude saylors raise a Cry indeed,
As they are busie at their work. The More
This hideous clamour strikes with such a dread,
As when in horrid fight the Cannons roar.
From them the cause of all this fury's hid:
Nor whom t'approach know They, or what t'implore.
They think their treacherie is made appeer,
And that for it they must be punisht heer.

26

Loe! in the twinckling of an Eye some dart
Themselves into their speedy Boats agin:
Others betake them to their swimming Art,
Making the Sea leap up as they plump in.
They vaut o're the ship-sides from ev'ry part,
So mainly are they frighted with the dyn:
Advent'ring rather to the Ocean, so,
Then to the hands of a provoked Foe.

27

As Froggs (in ancient Ages Lycian-Folkes,
Confin'd to live in Water, they deny'de)
If, basking heedless on the Banks, or Rocks,
Some Person on the suddain they have spy'de,
Skip back again, and fill the Pond with croakes,
Flying the danger which they have descride;
And (scaping to their Sanctuary known)
Shew above Water their black heads alone.

28

So fly the Moors. And so the Pilot (who
To this great peril had misled the Ships)
Thinking his Treason was discovered too,
Into the briny water, flying, skips.
But that fixt Rock to scape and to exchue,
Which the sweet life might drive out of their lipps,
The Admiral threw streight an anchor out;
And close to her the others likewise do't.

29

Th'observing Gama, seeing the great fright
And unexpected of the Moors; withal
The Pilot's suddain and accusing flight,
Found what the bruitish Folke hatcht in their gall:
And seeing, how in spight of wind, in spight
Of Tyde (both with him) and in spight of all
Their Art, the Ship would not advance a head
(Holding it for a miracle) thus fed.

30

O great, undreamt of, strange deliverance!
O Miracle most cleer and evident!
O fraud discover'd by blind Ignorance!
O faithless Foes, and Men dev'lishly bent!
“What Care, what Wisdom, is of suffisance
“The stroake of Secret mischief to prevent,
“Unless the Sov'raign Guardian from on high
“Supply the strength of frail Humanity?

31

Well into Us hath Providence infus'd
What little safety in these Ports is known:
Well have we found how much we were abus'd
With shows of Friendship, and Religion.
But since to humane Prudence is refus'd
To pierce intents, and where such masks are on;
O thou (Guardian Divine) to guard Him daigne,
Who without Thee doth guard himselfe in vain.

32

And since thy heart is toucht with so great Ruth
For a poor People wandring on the Seas,
As of thy goodness (whence alone it doth
Proceed) to save us from such Wolves as these;
Unto some Haven now, where there is Truth,
Resolve to lead us for a little Ease;
Or shew us to the long desired Coast,
If for thy honour we desire it most.

33

These pious words the fair Dione heard
And (to compassion being mov'd thereby)
Goes from among the Nymphs, who sad appear'd
That they must loose so soon her company.
Now doth she pierce the Stars; now in the therd
Sphere, she is entertain'd: whence by and by
(Having repos'd her) she doth forward move
Towards the Sixt, where is her Father Jove.

34

And (ruffled with her motion) now so fair,
So fresh, so gay, so lovely is her looke;
That Starrs, and Heav'n, and circumfused Ayre,
And All That see her are with passion took.
Her Eyes (the Nests of Cupid whom she bare)
Breath'd such quick Spirits, and such fire they strook;
They burn the World again like Phaeton,
And to the torrid turn the frigid Zone.

35

And (to bewitch her Sov'raign Sire the more,
Whose dearling she was always, and his joy.)
She comes to Jove, as she had done of yore
In the Idean Grove to Him of Troy.
The Huntsman who the Horns (transformed) wore,
For seeing thus that other Goddess coy;
Had he seen this, had ne're been torn asunder
By his own doggs: But di'de of love, and wonder.

36

The golden Tresses on her shoulders fell,
Whose whiteness smuts the Fleece of nnfaln Snow:
Her Breasts (and those ev'n their own milk excel)
Playd with by unseen Cupid, trembling go:
Her Cesto's white doth mounting flames expel,
Which, that Boy kindling, those white bellows blow:
Of this fair Pyle the Pillars smooth, and round,
Desires, like Ivy, have about them wound.

37

Those parts, of which Shame is the natural Screen,
In a thin Veile of Sarcenet she doth fold;
Not wholly shewd, nor wholly left unseen,
Not Prodigal, nor niggard, of that Gold.
But this transparent Curtain draws between,
To double the desire, by being control'd.
Now Heav'n is fill'd with jealousie, and love:
This mov'd in Mars, in Vulcan that did move.

38

And then, discov'ring in her Angels face
A Sadness temper'd with a little smile,
Like some nice Dame, who by the rude embrace
Of heedless Lover got a bruise, or soyl;
She's pleas'd and angry in one instant space,
And one while chides, and laughs another while:
So spake the Goddess who admits no Peer
Less sad, then Minion, to her Father deer.

39

O pow'rful Father, I had always thought
That, for such things on which my heart were set,
Kinde I should finde thee, affable, and soft,
Though some Opposer should the same regret.
But since I see, without neglect, or fault
Of mine, thy love is bated in the heat;
What remedy? let Bacchus have his will:
In fine, his luck was good, and mine is ill.

40

This People (who are mine, for whom I pore
These tears out, which I see in vain distill)
The more I love, I seem to hate the more;
Thou being resolv'd to break me of my will.
For Them I weep to thee, for them implore,
And 'gainst my Fate in fine am fighting still.
Well then, because I love them they're misus'd,
I'l hate them, then they will be better us'd.

41

But let them dye by bruitish Peoples hands;
For since I was --- and heer with pearly drops
(As when the morning's-dew on Roses stands)
Making a salt Parenthesis, she stops:
As if her words obey'd not her commands,
Through melting pity of the mens mishaps.
Then (going to proceed where she gave o're)
The mighty Thund'rer lets her say no more.

42

And, mov'd by that dumb Rhet'rick (which would move
A Tygers flinty Breast) with the same Face
Of cheerfulness, with which he doth remove
The Clowds from that of Heav'n, and Tempests chace,
He wipes her Tears, and (kindling with nevv love)
Kisses her Cheek, her vvhite Neck doth embrace.
Who, had he hated Portugal before,
Would novv have lov'd it meerly on her score.

43

And (pressing her lov'd face vvith his) She burst
Into fresh Tears, and faster then before:
As vvhen, a child being beat by mother curst,
The more one moans it, it vvill sob the more.
Novv, to allay this Passion, He is forc't
To tell her much vvhich he till then forbore:
And, vvith these vvords, out of the secret vvomb
Of pregnant Fate, rips many things to come.

44

Fair daughter mine, fear no adversitie
Which to thy Lusitanians may betide;
Nor Any, to have greater povv're vvith me
Then the svveet Tears vvhich from these cleer Springs glide
For, let me tell thee (daughter) thou shalt see
Both Greeks and Romans (so much magnify'de)
Forfeit their ancient Honours by the New
Acts, vvhich this People in the East shall do.

45

For if the Eloquent Ulysses fled,
The Sirens Song, and dire Calypso's spell;
And if Antenor with his ship did thred
Th' Illyrian-Sleeve, and reacht Timauus's Well;
And if 'twixt Scylla, and Charibdis dread,
Pious Eneas with his Navy fell:
How much worse dangers pass Thine dayly over,
Who, sayling round the world, new worlds discover?

46

Thou shalt see (daughter) Cities, and strong Ports,
And lofty Walls, which These shall build, and found;
Thou shalt see warlike Turks, and their proud Forts,
By These destroy'd and level'd with the ground:
The Indian Kings (secure in their free Courts)
By a more potent King Thou shalt see bound.
He, in conclusion holding All in awe,
Unto that Land shall give a better Law.

47

This very Man, who now, through so much fright
And misty Errour, stumbles to the Ynd,
Thou shalt see Neptune tremble at his sight,
Curling his waves without a breath of wind.
O wonderful, nor seen by mortal Wight,
The Winds lockt up, and yet a Storm to find:
O valiant People, and for great things made,
Who makes the Elements themselves afraide.

48

That Land, which water late to Him deny'de,
Thou shalt behold it a commodious Port,
Where in their way to rest them shall abide
The Ships that (weary) from the West resort.
All this wyl'd Coast in fine (which now hath try'de
By wicked trechery to cut him short)
Shall pay him Tribute; knowing they must down,
If they withstand the Lusitanian Crown.

49

And Thou shalt see the Erythrean, lose
It's native red, and pale with Terrour look:
And see the potent Kingdom of Ormuse
Twice taken, twice subdu'de unto their yoak:
And see the furious Moor stand in a Muze
With his reverberated Arrows strook:
That he may learn, if against Thine he fight;
His Treacherie on his own pate shall light.

50

The famous Fort of Dio Thou shalt see,
Being twice besieg'd, thy People twice defend.
There will their prowess manifested be,
There will their name in Arms to Heav'n extend,
There will they bring great Mars under their Lee
With deeds which, told, would set the Hayr on end.
There will the falling Moor blaspheming ban,
And dam with his last breath the Alcoran.

51

Thou shalt see GOA taken from the Moor,
GOA, That by her loss at last shall gain;
When, on the wings of Conquest made to soare,
Shee, as the Queen Of All The East shall raign.
The stubborn Gentiles (who the Sun adore)
High and triumplant then, she shall restrain
With a rough Bitt, and All who in that Land
Against thy People dare to lift a Hand.

52

Slenderly mann'd, and in poor order put;
Thou shalt see held the Fort of Cananowr;
And shalt see won the City. Calicut,
In People infinite, boundless in pow'r;
And in Cochin shalt see such honor got
By one, shall stand in battail like a Tow'r,
That never Lyre a Victor did resound,
Who so deserv'd to be with Lawrel crown'd.

53

Never was so Leucate of a flame
With shocking Fleets, when gilding with their Trim
The Actian waves) Hence young Octavius came,
Bringing Italian pow'rs along with Him;
Thence Anthony (with a fresh Victor's name
Barbarians from the Orient, from Nyle's brim,
And from the farthest Bactria; and (the bane
Of All!) th'Egyptian Mistress in the Traine.

54

As thou shalt see the Sea, and neighb'ring Shores,
Fire with thy Peoples Battails. Who, in bands
Shall coupled lead Idolaters with Mores
(Triumphing over many Tongues and Lands)
And (Golden Chersonesus's pretious stores
To farthest China conquer'd by their hands
With the East's outmost Islands, in the end
Make all the Ocean to their Tagus bend.

55

In so much (daughter mine) that, at the rate
This Nation's valour passes humane bound,
The World hath not to match them in debate,
From silver Ganges, to th'Herculean Sound;
Nor, from the Northern Ocean, to that straight
Which the affronted Lusitanian found;
Though all the ancient Hero's (deifide)
Should rise again to have the mastry try'de.

56

This having said, his consecrated Poast
(The son of May) down to the Earth he sends,
To finde some peaceful Port upon that Coast
Where the Armada may repose with Frends.
And (left the valiant Captain should be lost,
If longer time he at Mombassa spends)
He gives his Legate farther in command
To shew him in his sleep that friendly Land.

57

Now swift Cyllenius cuts it through the Ayre:
Now to the Earth his winged feet declin'd.
Badge of his office, the black Rod he bare:
This Hell's sad Pris'ners doth release, and bind:
This lays asleep the Eye opprest with Care:
Whisking with this he doth outstrip the Wind:
His Hat of maintenance upon his Crown:
And thus he comes into Melinde's Town.

58

With him he carries Fame, that she may tell
The Lusitanian prowess, and rare parts:
“For an illustrious Name is a strange Spell
“To attract Love, and good Report hath darts.
Thus he prepares their way with a sweet smell,
And takes up lodgings in the Peoples hearts.
Now all Melinde is on fire, to see
What kind of men these valiant souls should bee.

59

From thence he parteth to Mombassa straight,
Where, what to do, the Ships uncertain stand;
To bid them, without question or debate,
Leave that Foes Harbour, and suspected Land.
“For wicked plottings of infernal hate
“In vain are Force and Courage to withstand:
“In vain, to extricate our selves, is Wit,
“If Heav'n do not both prompt, and second, it.

60

Now sable Night had finisht half her Race,
And in the Heav'n the Stars with borrow'd light
Supply'd the Moon's, as She her Brother's, place;
And sleeping now was Mortals whole delight.
Th'illustrious Captain (who had all that space
Been kept awake about the last day's fright)
Gave then to his tyr'd Eys a little sleep:
The rest by Quarters did their Watches keep:

61

When in a Vision he did Hermes see.
And fly (he bid him) Lusitanian fly
The Ambush of a wicked King, which Hee
Hath laid, to make thee yet obscurely dye:
Fly, for the wind and Heav'n Both favour Thee.
Thou hast the Ocean calm, serene the skye,
And not far of another King, to frend,
On whose reality thou mayst depend.

62

Look for no better entertainment here,
Then what was giv'n by Thracian Diomed;
Whose Horses (us'd to bloody Provendere)
He with the Bodies of his strangers fed.
Th' infamous Altars of Busiris (where
His Guests inhumane humane offrings bled)
Unless thou quit it, look for in this place:
Fly a perfidious and a cruel Race.

63

Steer straight alongst the Coast, and thou shalt light
Upon a Countrey where more Truth resides;
Close there, where burning Sol at constant hight
The night and day with equal line divides.
Then shall a King receive with much delight
Thee, and thy men; and give to you (besides
Safety, and Treatment worthy of a King)
One, who the Fleet shall unto India bring.

64

Thus Hermes; and the Captain (parting) woke.
He, rowz'd out of his Nest in a great fright,
Perceives the circumfused darkness broke
With a shot Ray and stream of divine light.
And (seeing it imports Him, and his Folke,
From that infamous Land to take their flight)
Commands the Master, with a spirit new,
To hoyse the sayles unto the Wind that blew.

65

Set sayl (he cride) set saile to the large Wind:
Heav'n is our Guide, and God our course directs.
These Eys saw the Express, he was so kind
To send from his high Court to guard our steps:
At this, the Mariners before, behind,
As with one motion spring upon the Decks.
They towe the Anchors in to the ship-side
With that rude strength which is the Sea-mans pride.

66

The self-same time they did their Anchors weigh,
(Hid in the mask of night) the trech'rous More
Sawing their Cables husht and silent lay,
So to destroy them being run ashore.
The Christians (though there shone not the least Ray,
Yet) in their heads the Eyes of Lynces wore.
The other, finding how they were awake,
With Wings, and not with Oares, away did make.

67

But now did the sharp Keels go cutting through
The liquid Element of silver pure:
The Wind ('twas a side-wind) gently it blew
With motion calm, and steddy, and secure.
Discoursing, on their dangers past they chew
As they sayl on: for 'tis not easie sure.
To pass in silence a deliverance
So great, and brought about as 'twere by chance.

68

The burning Sun had finisht one Career,
Began another, of his annual Race;
When, as far off as they could ken, appeer
Two Vessels creeping on the Water's face.
Knowing they must be Moors, who coast it there,
Forthwith ours veer their Sayles to give those chace.
One (as more nimble, or as frighted more)
To save her People ran herself ashore.

69

Her Fellow (not so light to make away)
Into the hands of those of Lusus falls,
Without or Mars to board her; or, to play
On her bruiz'd sides black Vulcan's horrid Balls:
For (she being weakly man'd, nor built for Fray)
At sight of his own Men the Master falls.
His courage, and his sayles (His wisest course)
Had he resisted, he had far'd the vvorse.

70

Then Gama (who did this but to procure
A Pilot for the Indies so long sought)
Amongst those Moors thought to have found one sure,
But found he was deceived in that thought.
There's not a man of them, That can assure
Under what part 'tis of the heav'nly Vault.
This All can tell him; That Melinde's nigh,
Where he may finde a Pilot certainly.

71

The goodness of that King the Moors extol,
His bounteous nature, and his Breast sincere,
The greatness like the goodness of his Soule,
With other parts, which win him love, and feare.
The Captain easily believes the whole,
Concurring with that very Charactere.
Hermes had given in his sleep before:
So goes, bid by the dream, and by the More.

72

That gladsome season 'twas, in which returns
Into Europa's Ravisher the Sun;
Putting new lights in both his gilded Horns
Whilst Flora pours out Amalthea's one.
And now that glorious Planet turn'd the Morn's
Red finger, to that moving Feast; whereon
He, who was dead the soul-sick world to heal,
To it's Redemption rose to put the Seal:

73

When, to that distance from the which their Eys
Might reach Melinde, the Armada came;
Adorn'd with Tapistrie triumphant-wise,
As that day's holiness it well became.
The Standart trembles, and the Streamer flyes,
The Scarlet-Wast-cloaths at a distance flame,
The Drums and Timbrels sound. Thus they that Bar,
Like Christians enter, and like Men Of War.

74

With People hid is the Melindian shore,
That come to see the joyful Fleet. More kind
Are These, more humane, and of truth have more,
Then Those of all the Countreys left behind.
The Lusitanian Navy drops, before,
The heavy Anchors, which fast rooting find.
One, of the Moors they took, is sent on Land:
To let the King their coming understand.

75

The King (who was already by report
Of those of Lusus's gallantry possest)
The Captain's so frank entrie in his Port
Takes as a favour from so brave a Guest:
And with true heart, and in most courteous sort
(Both individual from a noble Brest)
Bids the man pray them much to come on Land,
Where they shall have his Realms at their command.

76

Th'offer as real is as it appears,
The words full of unfeign'd Sinceritie,
Which the King sent the noble Cavaleers,
Who had past so much Land, and so much Sea.
He sends them more, Live-sheep aboard, fat Steers,
And Poultry cram'd by Houswifes industrie,
With all such Fruit as then in season was:
And the good will the Present did surpass.

77

The well-pleas'd Moor, who with this Errand went,
The Captain pleas'd receiv'd, with what he brought;
And instantly another Present sent
Unto the King, far fetcht, and dearly bought:
Illustrious Scarlet (colour of content)
Brancht Coral fine, for Nobles greatly sought:
Of double nature under water soft
And velvet-horn'd, hard-pen'd when 'tis aloft.

78

Sends more, one dext'rous in th' Arabick-Tongue,
To treat a firm League with the Royal More,
Excusing him he did not leave his strong
And lofty Ships, to kiss his hand on shore.
Unto the noble King, led through a Throng
Presents himself the fit Ambassadore;
And with these words (which Pallas herself dips
In her own Nectar) disunites his lips.

79

Most high and mighty King, to whom the pure
And incorrupted Justice from Above
Gave, to restrain the rough and haughty Moor;
Nor more to force his Feare, then win his love:
As to the strongest Port, and most secure
Of all the East, Hither we flye; to prove
What Fame reports, and find in It and Thee,
A certain Port in our necessitie.

80

We are not Men, who, spying a weak Town
Or careless, as we pass along the shore;
Murther the Folks, and burn the Houses down;
To make a booty of their thirsted store:
But (by a King we have, of high renown,
Sent from fair EUROPE, never to give o're
Our compassing the World, till we have found
The wealthy India) thither are we bound.

81

How stony yet some Race of People was!
What barb'rous guize! what stile of a Man-Hater!
To bar not their Ports onely (let that pass)
But the cold Hospitalitie of Water!
To whom have we done wrong? wherein (alas!)
Have we discover d such a savage nature,
To make so many of so few afraid?
That Traps and Pitfals should for us be made.

82

But Thou (O gracious King) from whom, to have
True dealing we are sure; and hope, we may
That certain help too, which Alcinous gave
Unto the wandring Prince of Ithaga:
To Thee secure we come, as boldly crave
Of Thee, conducted by the Son of May:
For, since Joves Harbinger was ours; 'tis cleare,
Thy Heart is large, is humane, is sincere.

83

Nor think (O King) out noble Chiefe declin'd
Coming, to see and serve thee pers'nally,
For any thing he scrupled of unkind;
Or hollow dealing possible in Thee:
But the true reason, why he stayd behind,
Was, that in all he might obedient be
Unto his King; who gave him this command
In Port, or Roade, never to go on Land.

84

And, because subjects are the self-same Thing
With Members governed by the Head, or Crown;
Thou, bearing here the Office of a King,
Wouldst not that Any disobey'd his own.
But, he doth promise an acknowledging
Of thy great Grace and favours now bestown,
With all That can by Him and His be done,
So long as Rivers to the Sea shall run.

85

Thus He harangu'd: And, with one Voice, the whole
Presence (comparing notes there where they stand)
The matchless courage of the men extol,
Who traverse so much Sea and so much Land.
But the wise King (revolving in his Soul
The Portingalls's obedience to command)
In Scales of wonder and of rev'rence weigh'd
A King, who so far off could be obeyd.

86

Then answers (gracious) with a Brow serene
Th' Ambassadour, to whom inclin'd he seem'd.
Wipe all suspition from your Bosoms cleane;
Let no cold Fear be harbour'd there, or teem'd:
For such your worths are, and your deeds have been,
To make you over all the world esteem'd.
And They who injur'd you, We will be bold,
Know not what price Vertue and Honor hold.

87

That all your People do not come on shore
Observing the respect due to our Port,
Though in our own regard it grieve us sore,
Yet our esteem of them is greater for't.
For if your Rules permit it not, no more
Shall we permit, that (onely to comport
With our desires) such loyal excellence
Should lose it self, or suffer Violence.

88

But when to morrows light shall come, to greet
And shew, the World; with our own Barges, Wee
Shall go in person to the warlike Fleet,
Which we so many days have long'd to see.
And, if it need any convenience meet,
Through shatt'ring storms, and keeping long at Sea,
A Pilot it may have, and Victnals here,
And Ammunition, with intention cleere.

89

This was his language, And Latona's Boy
Into the Ocean div'd. The Messenger
(Returning with this Embassie of joy)
To the Armada rows with merry cheer.
Out of all Breasts is banisht black Annoy,
Seeing the proper remedie is here
To find the Land whereof they sayl in quest:
So all that night they keep a double Feast.

90

There wants not there the artificial star
Like trembling Comet (nor less cause of wonder)
The Gunners do their Part, making the Ayre,
Water, and Earth, resound with Mortalls's Thunder.
The Cyclopps (practising for t'other War
On JOVE) with Bullets rend the Clowds in sunder.
Others on lofty Cornets (singing) playd:
And These with Musick did the Spheares invade.

91

They answer from the shore at the same time
With Squibs that crack amongst the Rout: In gyres
The whizzing Vapours up to Heaven climbe:
Th'imprison'd Powder with a bounce expires:
Heaven's brazen Vault ecchoes the Voyces's chyme:
The Sea's cleer Glass reflects the joyful fires:
The Earth is not behind them. In this sort
Both sport in earnest, and Both fight in sport.

92

But now the restless Heav'n, wheeling about,
To their day-labours mortals doth incite;
And Memnon's mother (fair Appollo's scout)
Sets bounds to sleep by her arriving light;
With her approach dull shadows, Put to rout,
In a cold sweat upon the Flowers light;
When the Melindian King (embarqued) plide
To see the Ships That in his Harbour ride.

93

The shores are crown'd with people (of a fire
To be Spectators onely of the show)
The Scarlet Coates flame with the dye of Tyre:
The glossie Silks with all May's flow'rs do blow.
Instead of Arrows (part of Warr's Attire)
And of the horn'd Moon-imitating Bow;
Palm in their hands, in sign of Peace, they bear:
Which on their Heads victorious Heroes wear.

94

In a Canóe (which was both long and broad,
And glissend in the Sun with Cov'rings, made
Of mixed Silks) Melinde's King is row'd:
Wayted by Princes 'mongst their own obay'd.
In rich Attire (according to the mode
And custom of that Land) he comes arayd.
Upon his Head he weares a Terbant, roll'd,
Of silk and Cotton, with a Crown of gold.

95

A Roabe, of Scarlet-damask, (high-extold
By Them, and worth the wearing of a King)
About his Neck a Collar of pure gold:
The work worth twice the substance of the Thing.
A Velvet sheath a dagger keen did hold,
With Diamond-hilt, hang'd by a golden string.
Sandals of Velvet on his Feet he wore,
With gold and pearl imbroydred richly o're.

96

O're Him a round Silk-Canopy he had
Advanc't aloft upon a gilded Pole;
With which a Boy behind to burn forbad
Or trouble the Great King, the beams of Sol.
Musick ith'Prow, so merry that 'twas mad,
Grating the Eare with a harsh noise. The whole
Consort, is onely crooked Horns, wreath'd round,
Which keep no time, but make a dismal sound.

97

No less adorn'd, the Lusitanian
From the Armada in his Boats doth dance,
To meet Him of Melinde with a Train
Whom much their cloaths, but more their deeds advance:
Gama comes clad after the use of Spain,
But wears a Cassock ala mode de France:
The Stuff, a Florence-Satin; and the dye,
A perfect Crimson, glorious in their Eye.

98

The Sleeves have golden Loops, which the Sun-shine
Makes too too bright and slippry for the Eyes:
His close Camp-Trowzes lac't with the same myne,
Which Fortune to so many men denyes:
Poynts likewise of the same, and Tagging fine,
With which his Doublet to his Hose he tyes.
A Sword of massive Gold, in Hanger tyde:
A Cap and Plume; the Cap set a toe side.

99

Mong'st his Camrades, the noble Tyrian dye
(Not liv'ry-wise, but) sparcled here, and there,
The sev'ral Colours recreate the Eye:
So do the diff'rent Fashions which they weare.
Such their inamel'd Cloathes Varietie
(Compriz'd in one survey) as doth appear
The painted Bow, in water-colours laid,
Of Juno's Minion, the Thaumantian Mayd.

100

The ratling Trumpets, now, their joy augment
As, other times, they had their courage done.
The Moorish Boats cover'd the Sea, and went
Sweeping the Water with their silks Anon.
The Clowds of Heav'n the thund'ring Cannon rent,
And with new Clowds of Smoak put out the Sun.
Before the Blow the winged lightning flies:
The Moors's hands stop their Eares, the lids their Eyes.

101

Into the Captain's Boate the King doth come
(Folding him in his Arms) And He agin
With such respect and rev'rence, as become,
Doth both receive, and speak unto, the King.
A while with wonder and Amazement, dumb,
The Moor on Gama stands considering,
As He That highly doth esteem the Man
Who came so far to seek the Indian Stran.

102

Then makes him a large proffer, of whate're
To do him good his Kingdom can afford;
And that he freely would demand it there
As his own goods, if ought he lackt aboard.
Adds, though till now he saw the Lusians ne're
Yet he from Fame had heard much of their Sword;
And how, in other Parts of Affrica,
They have had wars with People of his way.

103

And how through all that spacious Land resown
The glorious Actions of that Nation,
When they therein did gain that Kingdom's Crown,
Where the Hesperides of old did won.
And most of That, which to the King was known
(Although the least the Portingalls had done)
He spread out thin in words, and magnifide:
But to the King de Gama thus reply'de.

104

O great and gracious King, who dost (alone)
The Lusitanian People's sad estate,
(By Neptune's rage, and adverse Fortune, thrown
Into so many streights) Commiserate:
The King Of Kings (who, from th'eternal Throne,
Turning Heav'n round, did the round Earth create,
Since Mercy is his chiefest Attribute)
Reward thee for it, for We cannot do't.

105

Thou onely, of all Those Apollo blacks,
In peace receiv'st us from the Ocean vast:
In Thee, from peril of Eolian Wracks,
We find a Refuge kind, syncere, and fast.
Whilst the Sun lights, whilst Night his presence lacks,
In Heav'n's blew Meade whilst Stars take their repast,
Where're I go, in either Hemisphere,
Thy Name, and Praises, shall be founded there.

106

This humbly said, towards the Fleet they row,
(The King requesting that he now may see't).
Ship after Ship about it round they go:
That he of All may note all he thinks meet.
Lame Vulcan walks on Lynstocks to and fro,
With which the Guns salute him from the Fleet.
The Trumpets play unto him in shril notes:
The Moors with Cornets answer from the Boates.

107

But when the gen'rous King had ceast to Noate
All That he would, nor heard with little wonder
Th'unusual Instrument with the wide Throate
That speaks so big, and tears the Clowds in sunder;
He bids them (in the Sea anch'ring the Boate)
Suspend their Oars, as they had done their thunder:
That he may know at large of brave De Game
Those things, which lightly he had heard from Fame.

108

The Moor doth into sev'ral questions run,
With gust inquiring, sometimes of the great
And famous Wars between our Nation,
And Those who do believe in Mahomet.
Now of the Land we dwell in, which the Sun
Bids last good night, when he makes hast to set;
Now, of the Nations which therewith confine;
Now of his ploughing through the Gulphs of Brine.

109

But rather, valiant Captain (quoth the King)
Make us a full and orderly narration
Under what Part of the Celestial Ring,
Under what Clyme ye have your Habitation;
Also your ancient Generation's spring,
And, of a Realm so potent the Foundation;
With the successes of your Warrs: For (though
I know them not) that they were vast I know.

110

Tell us besides, of all that tedious maze
Through which thou hast been tost with angry flaws
On the salt Seas, observing the strange ways
Of our rude Affrick, and the barb'rous Laws.
Tell; For the Horse of the new Sun, the Day's
Imbroydered Coasts with golden traces draws,
Postilion'd by the Morn: The Wind's asleep,
And the curst Billowes couch upon the Deep.

111

And if the Winds and Seas are husht, to hear
The story thou shalt tell: no less are Wee.
Who would not lend your Acts a greedy Eare?
Who hath not heard of Lusus's Progenie?
Sol (who the Brain of man doth purge and cleer)
Drives not his Coach thus nigh us as you see,
To have Melindians thought so dull a Breed,
As not to value an Heroick deed.

112

A daring War the haughty Gyants made
Upon Olympus permanent and pure:
Rash Theseus, and Perithous, did invade
Grim Pluto's Kingdom horrid and obscure.
If such high Boys as these the world hath had,
'Tis not less hard, nor will less Fame procure,
Then the attempting Heav'n and Hell by Them,
That others should attempt the Watry Ream.

113

Diana's Temple built by Tesiphon
(Rare Architect!) Horostratus burnt down:
To be talkt of, though for a Thing ill done,
And dye defam'd, rather then live unknown.
If on so false, and vile Foundation,
The sweet desire deceives us of Renown;
How much more lawful is't to seek a name
By deeds deserving everlasting Fame?

End of the second Canto.