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The Lusiad

or, the discovery of India. An Epic Poem. Translated from The Original Portuguese of Luis de Camohens [by W. J. Mickle]
  

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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
BOOK VIII.
 IX. 
 X. 


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BOOK VIII.

With eye unmoved the silent Catual view'd
The pictured sire with seeming life endued;
A verdant vine-bough waving in his right,
Smooth flowed his sweepy beard of glossy white,
When thus, as swift the Moor unfolds the word,
The valiant Paulus to the Indian Lord;
Bold though these figures frown, yet bolder far
These godlike heroes shined in ancient war.
In that hoar sire, of mien serene, august,
Lusus behold, no robber-chief unjust;

320

His cluster'd bough, the same which Bacchus bore ,
He waves, the emblem of his care of yore;
The friend of savage man, to Bacchus dear,
The son of Bacchus, or the bold compeer,
What time his yellow locks with vine-leaves curl'd,
The youthful god subdued the savage world,
Bade vineyards glisten o'er the dreary waste,
And humanized the nations as he past.
Lusus, the loved companion of the god,
In Spain's fair bosom fixt his last abode,
Our kingdom founded, and illustrious reign'd
In those fair lawns, the blest Elysium feign'd,

321

Where winding oft the Guadiana roves,
And Douro murmurs through the flowery groves.
Here with his bones he left his deathless fame,
And Lusitania's clime shall ever bear his name.
That other chief th'embroider'd silk displays,
Tost o'er the deep whole years of weary days
On Tago's banks at last his vows he paid:
To Wisdom's godlike power, the Jove-born Maid,
Who fired his lips with eloquence divine,
On Tago's banks he reared the hallowed shrine.
Ulysses he, though fated to destroy
On Asian ground the heaven-built towers of Troy,
On Europe's strand, more grateful to the skies,
He bade th' eternal walls of Lisbon rise.
But who that godlike terror of the plain,
Who strews the smoaking field with heaps of slain?

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What numerous legions fly in dire dismay,
Whose standards wide the eagle's wings display?
The Pagan asks; the brother Chief replies,
Unconquer'd deem'd, proud Rome's dread standard flies.
His crook thrown by, fired by his nation's woes,
The hero shepherd Viriatus rose;
His country saved proclaim'd his warlike fame,
And Rome's wide empire trembled at his name.
That generous pride which Rome to Pyrrhus bore ,
To him they shew'd not; for they fear'd him more.
Not on the field o'ercome by manly force,
Peaceful he slept, and now a murdered corse
By treason slain he lay. How stern, behold,
That other hero, firm, erect, and bold:
The power by which he boasted he devined,
Beside him pictur'd stands, the milk-white hind:
Injured by Rome, the stern Sertorius fled
To Tago's shore, and Lusus' offspring led;
Their worth he knew; in scatter'd flight he drove
The standards painted with the birds of Jove.
And lo, the flag whose shining colours own
The glorious Founder of the Lusian throne!

323

Some deem the warrior of Hungarian race,
Some from Loraine the godlike hero trace.
From Tagus' banks the haughty Moor expell'd,
Galicia's sons, and Leon's warriors quell'd,
To weeping Salem's ever-hallowed meads,
His warlike bands the holy Henry leads,
By holy war to sanctify his crown,
And to his latest race auspicious waft it down.
And who this awful Chief? aloud exclaims
The wondering Regent, o'er the field he flames
In dazzling steel, wheree'r he bends his course
The battle sinks beneath his headlong force;
Against his troops, though few, the numerous foes
In vain their spears and towery walls oppose.
With smoaking blood his armour sprinkled o'er,
High to the knees his courser paws in gore;
O'er crowns and blood-stain'd ensigns scatter'd round
He rides; his courser's brazen hoofs resound.
In that great chief, the second Gama cries,
The first Alonzo strikes thy wondering eyes.
From Lusus' realm the Pagan Moors he drove;
Heaven, whom he loved, bestow'd on him such love,

324

Beneath him, bleeding of its mortal wound,
The Moorish strength lay prostrate on the ground.
Nor Ammon's son, nor greater Julius dared
With troops so few, with hosts so numerous warr'd:
Fame saw his godlike deeds, and solemn swore,
To boast unmatch'd the Roman name no more.
Nor less shall Fame the subject heroes own:
Behold that hoary warrior's rageful frown!
On his young pupil's flight his burning eyes
He darts, and, Turn thy flying host, he cries,
Back to the field—The Veteran and the Boy
Back to the field exult with furious joy:
Their ranks mow'd down, the boastful foe recedes,
The vanquish'd triumph, and the victor bleeds.
Again, that mirror of unshaken faith,
Egaz behold, a chief self-doom'd to death.
Beneath Castilia's sword his monarch lay;
Homage he vow'd his helpless king should pay;
His haughty king relieved, the treaty spurns,
With conscious pride the noble Egaz burns;

325

His comely spouse and infant race he leads,
Himself the same, in sentenced felons' weeds,
Around their necks the knotted halters bound,
With naked feet they tread the flinty ground;
And prostrate now before Castilia's throne
Their offer'd lives their monarch's pride atone.
Ah! Rome no more thy generous consul boast,
Whose lorn submission saved his ruin'd host:
No father's woes assail'd his stedfast mind;
The dearest ties the Lusian chief resign'd.
There, by the stream, a Town besieged behold,
The Moorish tents the shatter'd walls infold,
Fierce as the lion from the covert springs,
When hunger gives his rage the whirlwind's wings;
From ambush, lo, the valiant Fuaz pours,
And whelms in sudden rout th' astonish'd Moors.
The Moorish king in captive chains he sends;
And low at Lisbon's throne the royal captive bends.
Fuaz again the artist's skill displays;
Far o'er the ocean shine his ensign's rays:

326

In crackling flames the Moorish galleys fly,
And the red blaze ascends the blushing sky:
O'er Avila's high steep the flames aspire,
And wrap the forests in a sheet of fire:
There seem the waves beneath the prows to boil;
And distant far around for many a mile
The glassy deep reflects the ruddy blaze;
Far on the edge the yellow light decays,
And blends with hovering blackness. Great and dread
Thus shone the day when first the combat bled,
The first our heroes battled on the main,
The glorious prelude of our naval reign,
Which now the waves beyond the burning zone,
And northern Greenland's frost-bound billows own.
Again behold brave Fuaz dares the fight!
O'erpower'd he sinks beneath the Moorish might;
Smiling in death the martyr-hero lies,
And lo, his soul triumphant mounts the skies.
Here now behold, in warlike pomp pourtray'd,
A foreign navy brings the pious aid.
Lo, marching from the decks the squadrons spread,
Strange their attire, their aspect firm and dread.
The holy Cross their ensigns bold display,
To Salem's aid they plough'd the watery way;

327

Yet first, the cause the same, on Tago's shore
They dye their maiden swords in Pagan gore.
Proud stood the Moor on Lisbon's warlike towers,
From Lisbon's walls they drive the Moorish powers:
Amid the thickest of the glorious fight,
Lo, Henry falls, a gallant German knight,
A martyr falls: That holy tomb behold,
There waves the blossom'd palm the boughs of gold:
O'er Henry's grave the sacred plant arose,
And from the leaves, heaven's gift, gay health redundant flows.
Aloft, unfurl; the valiant Paulus cries,
Instant new wars on new-spread ensigns rise.
In robes of white behold a priest advance!
His sword in splinters smites the Moorish lance:
Arronchez won revenges Lira's fall:
And lo, on fair Savilia's batter'd wall,
How boldly calm amid the crashing spears,
That hero-form the Lusian standard rears.
There bleeds the war on fair Vandalia's plain:
Lo, rushing through the Moors o'er hills of slain

328

The hero rides, and proves by genuine claim
The son of Egas , and his worth the same.
Pierced by his dart the standard-bearer dies;
Beneath his feet the Moorish standard lies:
High o'er the field, behold the glorious blaze!
The victor-youth the Lusian flag displays.
Lo, while the moon through midnight azure rides,
From the high wall adown his spear-staff glides
The dauntless Gerrald; in his left he bears
Two watchmen's heads, his right the faulchion rears;
The gate he opens, swift from ambush rise
His ready bands, the city falls his prize:
Evora still the grateful honour pays,
Her banner'd flag the mighty deed displays:
There frowns the hero; in his left he bears
The two cold heads, his right the faulchion rears.
Wrong'd by his king, and burning for revenge,
Behold his arms that proud Castilian change;

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The Moorish buckler on his breast he bears,
And leads the fiercest of the Pagan spears.
Abrantes falls beneath his raging force,
And now to Tagus bends his furious course.
Another fate he met on Tagus' shore,
Brave Lopez from his brows the laurels tore;
His bleeding army strew'd the thirsty ground,
And captive chains the rageful Leader bound.
Resplendant far that holy chief behold!
Aside he throws the sacred staff of gold
And wields the spear of steel. How bold advance
The numerous Moors, and with the rested lance
Hem round the trembling Lusians. Calm and bold
Still towers the priest, and lo, the skies unfold:
Cheer'd by the vision brighter than the day
The Lusians trample down the dread array
Of Hagar's legions: on the reeking plain
Low with their slaves four haughty kings lie slain.
In vain Alcazar rears her brazen walls,
Before his rushing host Alcazar falls.
There, by his altar, now the hero shines,
And with the warrior's palm his mitre twines.

310

That chief behold: though proud Castilia's host
He leads, his birth shall Tagus ever boast.
As a pent flood bursts headlong o'er the strand
So pours his fury o'er Algarbia's land:
Nor rampired town, nor castled rock afford
The refuge of defence from Payo's sword.
By night-veil'd art proud Sylves falls his prey,
And Tavila's high walls at middle day
Fearless he scales: her streets in blood deplore
The seven brave hunters murder'd by the Moor.
These three bold knights how dread! Thro' Spain and France
At just and tournay with the tilted lance
Victors they rode: Castilia's court beheld
Her peers o'erthrown; the peers with rancour swell'd:
The bravest of the Three their swords surround;
Brave Ribeir strews them vanquish'd o'er the ground.
Now let thy thoughts, all wonder and on fire,
That darling son of warlike Fame admire.

331

Prostrate at proud Castilia's monarch's feet
His land lies trembling: lo, the nobles meet:
Softly they seem to breathe, and forward bend
The servile neck; each eye distrusts his friend;
Fearful each tongue to speak; each bosom cold:
When colour'd with stern rage, erect and bold
The hero rises; Here no foreign throne
shall fix its base; my native king alone
Shall reign—Then rushing to the fight he leads;
Low vanquish'd in the dust Castilia bleeds.
Where proudest hope might deem it vain to dare,
God led him on, and crown'd the glorious war.
Though fierce as numerous are the hosts that dwell
By Betis' stream, these hosts before him fell.
The fight behold: while absent from his bands,
Prest on the step of flight his army stands,
To call the chief an herald speeds away:
Low on his knees the gallant chief survey!
He pours his soul, with lifted hands implores,
And heaven's assisting arm, inspired, adores.
Panting and pale the herald urges speed:
With holy trust of victory decreed,
Careless he answers, Nothing urgent calls:
And soon the bleeding foe before him falls.
To Numa thus the pale Patricians fled;
The hostile squadrons o'er the kingdom spread,

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They cry; unmoved the holy king replies,
And I, behold, am offering sacrifice!
Earnest I see thy wondering eyes enquire
Who this illustrious chief, his country's sire?
The Lusian Scipio well might speak his fame,
But nobler Nunio shines a greater name:
On earth's green bosom, or on ocean grey,
A greater never shall the Sun survey.
Known by the silver cross and sable shield
Two knights of Malta there command the field;
From Tago's banks they drive the fleecy prey,
And the tired ox lows on his weary way:
When, as the falcon through the forest glade
Darts on the leveret, from the brown-wood shade
Darts Roderic on their rear; in scatter'd flight
They leave the goodly herds the victor's right.

333

Again, behold, in gore he bathes his sword;
His captive friend, to liberty restor'd,
Glows to review the cause that wrought his woe,
The cause, his loyalty as taintless snow.
Here Treason's well-earn'd meed allures thine eyes,
Low groveling in the dust the Traytor dies;
Great Elvas gave the blow: Again, behold,
Chariot and steed in purple slaughter roll'd:
Great Elvas triumphs; wide o'er Xeres' plain
Around him reeks the noblest blood of Spain.
Here Lisbon's spacious harbour meets the view;
How vast the foe's, the Lusian fleet how few!
Casteel's proud war-ships, circling round, enclose
The Lusian galleys; through their thundering rows,
Fierce pressing on, Pereira fearless rides,
His hooked irons grasp the Amm'ral's sides:
Confusion maddens; on the dreadless knight
Castilia's navy pours its gather'd might:

334

Pereira dies, their self-devoted prey,
And safe the Lusian galleys speed away.
Lo, where the lemon-trees from yon green hill
Throw their cool shadows o'er the chrystal rill;
There twice two hundred fierce Castilian foes
Twice eight, forlorn, of Lusian race enclose:
Forlorn they seem; but taintless flow'd their blood
From those three hundred who of old withstood,
Withstood, and from a thousand Romans tore
The victor-wreath, what time the shepherd bore
The leader's staff of Lusus: equal flame
Inspired these few, their victory the same.
Though twenty lances brave each single spear,
Never the foes superior might to fear
Is our inheritance, our native right,
Well tried, well proved in many a dreadful fight.
That dauntless earl behold; on Libya's coast,
Far from the succour of the Lusian host,

335

Twice hard besieged he holds the Ceutan towers
Against the banded might of Afric's powers.
That other earl;—behold the port he bore,
So trod stern Mars on Thracia's hills of yore.
What groves of spears Alcazar's gates surround!
There Afric's nations blacken o'er the ground.
A thousand ensigns glittering to the day
The waining moon's slant silver horns display.
In vain their rage; no gate, no turret falls,
The brave De Vian guards Alcazar's walls.
In hopeless conflict lost, his king appears;
Amid the thickest of the Moorish spears
Plunges bold Vian: in the glorious strife
He dies, and dying saves his sovereign's life.
Illustrious, lo, two brother-heroes shine,
Their birth, their deeds, adorn the royal line;
To every king of princely Europe known ,
In every court the gallant Pedro shone.
The glorious Henry—kindling at his name
Behold my sailors' eyes all sparkle flame!

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Henry the chief, who first, by heaven inspired,
To deeds unknown before, the sailor fired,
The conscious sailor left the sight of shore,
And dared new oceans never ploughed before.

337

The various wealth of every distant land
He bade his fleets explore, his fleets command.
The ocean's great Discoverer he shines;
Nor less his honours in the martial lines:
The painted flag the cloud-wrapt siege displays,
There Ceuta's rocking wall its trust betrays.
Black yawns the breach; the point of many a spear
Gleams through the smoke; loud shouts astound the ear.
Whose step first trod the dreadful pass? whose sword
Hew'd its dark way, first with the foe begored?
'Twas thine, O glorious Henry, first to dare
The dreadful pass, and thine to close the war.

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Taught by his might, and humbled in her gore
The boastful pride of Afric tower'd no more.
Numerous though these, more numerous warriors shine
Th' illustrious glory of the Lusian line.
But ah, forlorn, what shame to barbarous pride!
Friendless the master of the pencil died;
Immortal fame his deathless labours gave;
Poor man, He sunk neglected to the grave!
The gallant Paulus faithful thus explain'd
The various deeds the pictured flags contain'd.
Still o'er and o'er, and still again untired,
The wondering Regent of the wars enquired;
Still wondering heard the various pleasing tale,
Till o'er the decks cold sighed the evening gale:
The falling darkness dimm'd the eastern shore,
And twilight hover'd o'er the billows hoar
Far to the west, when with his noble band
The thoughtful Regent sought his native strand.

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O'er the tall mountain-forest's waving boughs
Aslant the new moon's slender horns arose;
Near her pale chariot shone a twinkling star,
And, save the murmuring of the wave afar,
Deep-brooding silence reign'd; each labour closed,
In sleep's soft arms the sons of toil reposed.
And now no more the moon her glimpses shed,
A sudden black-wing'd cloud the sky o'erspread,
A sullen murmur through the woodland groan'd,
In woe-swoln sighs the hollow winds bemoan'd;
Borne on the plaintive gale a pattering shower,
Increased the horrors of the evil hour.
Thus when the great Earthshaker rocks the ground,
He gives the prelude in a dreary sound;
O'er Nature's face a horrid gloom he throws,
With dismal note the cock unusual crows,
A shrill-voiced howling trembles thro' the air
As passing ghosts were weeping in despair;
In dismal yells the dogs confess their fear,
And shivering own some dreadful presence near.
So lower'd the night, the sullen howl the same,
And mid the black-wing'd gloom stern Bacchus came;
The form and garb of Hagar's son he took,
The ghost-like aspect, and the threatening look.

340

Then o'er the pillow of a furious priest,
Whose burning zeal the Koran's lore profest,
Revealed he stood conspicuous in a dream,
His semblance shining as the moon's pale gleam:
And guard, he cries, my son, O timely guard,
Timely defeat the dreadful snare prepar'd:
And canst thou careless unaffected sleep,
While these stern lawless rovers of the deep
Fix on thy native shore a foreign throne,
Before whose steps thy latest race shall groan!
He spoke; cold horror shook the Moorish priest;
He wakes, but soon reclines in wonted rest:
An airy phantom of the slumbering brain
He deem'd the vision; when the Fiend again,
With sterner mien and fiercer accent spoke;
Oh faithless! worthy of the foreign yoke!
And knowest thou not thy prophet sent by heaven,
By whom the Koran's sacred lore was given,
God's chiefest gift to men: And must I leave
The bowers of Paradise, for you to grieve,
For you to watch, while thoughtless of your woe
Ye sleep, the careless victims of the foe;
The foe, whose rage will soon with cruel joy,
If unopposed, my sacred shrines destroy.
Then while kind heaven th' auspicious hour bestows,
Let every nerve their infant strength oppose.

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When softly ushered by the milky dawn
The sun first rises o'er the daisied lawn
His silver lustre, as the shining dew
Of radiance mild, unhurt the eye may view:
But when on high the noon-tide flaming rays
Give all the force of living fire to blaze,
A giddy darkness strikes the conquer'd sight,
That dares in all his glow the Lord of light.
Such, if on India's soil the tender shoot
Of these proud cedars fix the stubborn root,
Such shall your power before them sink decay'd,
And India's strength shall wither in their shade.
He spoke; and instant from his vot'ry's bed
Together with repose, the dæmon fled;

342

Again cold horror shook the zealot's frame,
And all his hatred of Messiah's name
Burn'd in his venom'd heart, while veil'd in night
Right to the palace sped the dæmon's flight.
Sleepless the king he found in dubious thought;
His conscious fraud a thousand terrors brought:
All gloomy as the hour, around him stand
With haggard looks the hoary magi band;
To trace what fates on India's wide domain
Attend the rovers from unheard of Spain,
Prepared in dark futurity to prove
The hell-taught rituals of infernal Jove:
Muttering their charms and spells of dreary sound,
With naked feet they beat the hollow ground;
Blue gleams the altar's flame along the walls,
With dismal hollow groans the victim falls;
With earnest eyes the priestly band explore
The entrails throbbing in the living gore.
And lo, permitted by the power divine,
The hovering dæmon gives the dreadful sign.

343

Here furious War her gleamy faulchion draws,
Here lean ribb'd Famine writhes her falling jaws;
Dire as the fiery pestilential star
Darting his eyes, high on his trophied car
Stern Tyranny sweeps wide o'er India's ground,
On vulture wings fierce Rapine hovers round;
Ills after ills, and India's fetter'd might,
Th' eternal yoke—loud shrieking at the sight
The starting wizards from the altar fly,
And silent horror glares in every eye:
Pale stands the Monarch, lost in cold dismay,
And now impatient waits the lingering day.
With gloomy aspect rose the lingering dawn,
And dropping tears flow'd slowly o'er the lawn;
The Moorish Priest with fear and vengeance fraught,
Soon as the light appear'd his kindred sought;

344

Appall'd and trembling with ungenerous fear,
In secret council met, his tale they hear;
As check'd by terror or impell'd by hate
Of various means they ponder and debate,
Against the Lusian train what arts employ,
By force to slaughter, or by fraud destroy;
Now black, now pale, their bearded cheeks appear,
As boiling rage prevail'd, or boding fear;
Beneath their shady brows their eye-balls roll,
Nor one soft gleam bespeaks the generous soul;
Through quivering lips they draw their panting breath,
While their dark fraud decrees the works of death;
Nor unresolved the power of gold to try
Swift to the lordly Catual's gate they hie—
Ah, what the wisdom, what the sleepless care
Efficient to avoid the traytor's snare!
What human power can give a king to know
The smiling aspect of the lurking foe!
So let the tyrant plead—the patriot king
Knows men, knows whence the patriot virtues spring;
From inward worth, from conscience firm and bold,
Not from the man whose honest name is sold,

345

He hopes that virtue, whose unalter'd weight
Stands fixt, unveering with the storms of state.
Lured was the Regent with the Moorish gold,
And now agreed their fraudful course to hold,
Swift to the king the Regent's steps they tread;
The king they found o'erwhelm'd in sacred dread.
The word they take, their ancient deeds relate,
Their ever faithful service of the state;
For ages long, from shore to distant shore
For thee our ready keels the traffic bore:

346

For thee we dared each horror of the wave;
Whate'er thy treasures boast our labours gave.
And wilt thou now confer our long-earn'd due,
Confer thy favour on a lawless crew?
The race they boast, as tygers of the wold
Bear their proud sway by justice uncontroull'd.
Yet for their crimes, expell'd that bloody home,
These, o'er the deep, rapacious plunderers roam.
Their deeds we know; round Afric's shores they came
And spread, where'er they past, devouring flame;
Mozambic's towers, enroll'd in sheets of fire,
Blazed to the sky, her own funereal pyre.
Imperial Calicut shall feel the same,
And these proud state-rooms feed the funeral flame;
While many a league far round, their joyful eyes
Shall mark old ocean reddening to the skies.
Such dreadful fates, o'er thee, O king, depend,
Yet with thy fall our fate shall never blend:
Ere o'er the east arise the second dawn
Our fleets, our nation from thy land withdrawn,
In other climes, beneath a kinder reign
Shall fix their port: yet may the threat be vain!
If wiser thou with us thy powers employ
Soon shall our powers the robber-crew destroy,
By their own arts and secret deeds o'ercome
Here shall they meet the fate escaped at home.

347

While thus the Priest detain'd the Monarch's ear,
His cheeks confest the quivering pulse of fear.
Unconscious of the worth that fires the brave,
In state a monarch, but in heart a slave,
He view'd brave Vasco and his generous train,
As his own passions stamp'd the conscious stain:
Nor less his rage the fraudful Regent fired;
And valiant Gama's fate was now conspired.
Ambassadors from India Gama sought,
And oaths of peace, for oaths of friendship brought;
The glorious tale, 'twas all he wish'd, to tell;
So Ilion's fate was seal'd when Hector fell.
Again convoked before the Indian throne,
The Monarch meets him with a rageful frown;
And own, he cries, the naked truth reveal,
Then shall my bounteous grace thy pardon seal.
Feign'd is the treaty thou pretend'st to bring,
No country owns thee, and thou own'st no king.
Thy life, long roving o'er the deep, I know,
A lawless robber, every man thy foe.
And think'st thou credit to thy tale to gain?
Mad were the sovereign, and the hope were vain,
Through ways unknown, from utmost western shore.
To bid his fleets the utmost east explore.

348

Great is thy monarch, so thy words declare;
But sumptuous gifts the proof of greatness bear:
Kings thus to kings their empire's grandeur shew;
Thus prove thy truth, thus we thy truth allow.
If not, what credence will the wise afford?
What monarch trust the wandering seaman's word?
No sumptuous gift Thou bring'st—Yet, though some crime
Has thrown thee banish'd from thy native clime,
(Such oft of old the hero's fate has been)
Here end thy toils, nor tempt new fates unseen:
Each land the brave man nobly calls his home:
Or if, bold pyrates, o'er the deep you roam,
Skill'd the dread storm to brave, O welcome here!
Fearless of death or shame confess sincere:
My Name shall then thy dread protection be,
My captain Thou, unrivall'd on the sea.
Oh now, ye Muses, sing what goddess fired
Gama's proud bosom, and his lips inspired.

349

Fair Acidalia, Love's celestial queen,
The goddess of the fearless, graceful mien,
Her graceful freedom on his look bestow'd,
And all collected in his bosom glow'd.
Sovereign, he cries, oft witness'd, well I know
The rageful falshood of the Moorish foe,
Their fraudful tales, from hatred bred, believed,
Thine ear is poison'd, and thine eye deceived.
What light, what shade the courtier's mirrour gives,
That light, that shade the guarded king receives.
Me hast thou view'd in colours not mine own,
Yet bold I promise shall my truth be known.
If o'er the seas a lawless pest I roam,
A blood-stain'd exile from my native home,
How many a fertile shore and beauteous isle,
Where Nature's gifts unclaim'd, unbounded smile,
Mad have I left, to dare the burning zone,
And all the horrors of the gulphs unknown
That roar beneath the axle of the world,
Where ne'er before was daring sail unfurl'd!
And have I left these beauteous shores behind,
And have I dared the rage of every wind,
That now breathed fire, and now came wing'd with frost,
Lured by the plunder of an unknown coast?

350

Not thus the robber leaves his certain prey
For the gay promise of a nameless day.
Dread and stupendous, more than death-doom'd man
Might hope to compas, more than wisdom plan,
To thee my toils, to thee my dangers rise:
Ah! Lisbon's kings behold with other eyes.
Where virtue calls, where glory leads the way
No dangers move them, and no toils dismay.
Long have the kings of Lusus' daring race
Resolved the limits of the deep to trace,
Beneath the morn to ride the farthest waves,
And pierce the farthest shore old Ocean laves.
Sprung from the Prince, before whose matchless power
The strength of Afric wither'd as a flower
Never to bloom again, great Henry shone,
Each gift of nature and of art his own;
Bold as his sire, by toils on toils untired,
To find the Indian shore his pride aspired.
Beneath the stars that round the Hydra shine,
And where fam'd Argo hangs the heavenly sign,
Where thirst and fever burn on every gale
The dauntless Henry rear'd the Lusian sail.
Embolden'd by the meed that crown'd his toils,
Beyond the wide-spread shores and numerous isles,

351

Where both the tropics pour the burning day,
Succeeding heroes forced th' exploring way;
That race which never view'd the Pleiad's car,
That barbarous race beneath the southern star,
Their eyes beheld—Dread roar'd the blast—the wave
Boils to the sky, the meeting whirlwinds rave
O'er the torn heavens; loud on their awe-struck ear
Great Nature seem'd to call, Approach not here—
At Lisbon's court they told their dread escape,
And from her raging tempests, named the Cape.
“Thou southmost point,” the joyful king exclaimed,
“Cape of Good Hope, be thou for ever named!
“Onward my fleets shall dare the dreadful way,
“And find the regions of the infant day.”
In vain the dark and ever-howling blast
Proclaimed, This ocean never shall be past;
Through that dread ocean, and the tempests' roar,
My king commanded, and my course I bore.
The pillar thus of deathless fame, begun
By other chiefs, beneath the rising sun

352

In thy great realm now to the skies I raise,
The deathless pillar of my nation's praise.
Through these wild seas no costly gift I brought;
Thy shore alone and friendly peace I sought.
And yet to thee the noblest gift I bring
The world can boast, the friendship of my King.
And mark the word, his greatness shall appear
When next my course to India's strand I steer,
Such proofs I'll bring as never man before
In deeds of strife or peaceful friendship bore.
Weigh now my words, my truth demands the light,
For truth shall ever boast, at last, resistless might.
Boldly the Hero spake with brow severe,
Of fraud alike unconscious as of fear:
His noble confidence with truth imprest
Sunk deep, unwelcome, in the Monarch's breast,
Nor wanting charms his avarice to gain
Appear'd the commerce of illustrious Spain.
Yet as the sick man loaths the bitter draught,
Though rich with health he knows the cup comes fraught;
His health without it, self-deceiv'd, he weighs,
Now hastes to quaff the drug, and now delays;
Reluctant thus as wavering passion veer'd,
The Indian Lord the dauntless Gama heard:

353

The Moorish threats yet sounding in his ear,
He acts with caution, and is led by fear.
With solemn pomp he bids his lords prepare
The friendly banquet, to the Regent's care
Commends brave Gama, and with pomp retires:
The Regent's hearths awake the social fires;
Wide o'er the board the royal feast is spread,
And fair embroidered shines De Gama's bed.
The Regent's palace high o'erlook'd the bay
Where Gama's black-ribb'd fleet at anchor lay.
Ah, why the voice of ire and bitter woe
O'er Tago's banks, ye nymphs of Tagus, shew;
The flowery garlands from your ringlets torn,
Why wandering wild with trembling steps forlorn!
The Dæmon's rage you saw, and markt his flight
To the dark mansions of eternal night:
You saw how howling through the shades beneath
He waked new horrors in the realms of death.
What trembling tempests shook the thrones of hell,
And groan'd along her caves, ye Muses, tell.
The rage of baffled fraud, and all the fire
Of powerless hate, with tenfold flames conspire;

354

From every eye the tawney lightnings glare,
And hell, illumined by the ghastly flare,
A drear blue gleam, in tenfold horror shews
Her darkling caverns; from his dungeon rose
Stern Mahomet, pale was his earthy hue,
And from his eye-balls flash'd the lightnings blue;
Convulsed with rage the dreadful Shade demands
The last assistance of th' infernal bands.
As when the whirlwinds, sudden bursting, bear
Th' autumnal leaves high floating through the air;
So rose the legions of th' infernal state,
Dark Fraud, base Art, fierce Rage, and burning Hate:
Wing'd by the Furies to the Indian strand
They bend; the Dæmon leads the dreadful band,
And in the bosoms of the raging Moors
All their collected living strength he pours.
One breast alone against his rage was steel'd,
Secure in spotless Truth's celestial shield.
One evening past, another evening closed,
The Regent still brave Gama's suit opposed;
The Lusian Chief his guarded guest detain'd,
With arts on arts, and vows of friendship feign'd.
His fraudful art, though veil'd in deep disguise,
Shone bright to Gama's manner-piercing eyes.

355

As in the sun's bright beam the gamesome boy
Plays with the shining steel or chrystal toy,
Swift and irregular, by sudden starts,
The living ray with viewless motion darts,
Swift o'er the wall, the floor, the roof, by turns
The sun-beam dances, and the radiance burns.
In quick succession thus a thousand views
The sapient Lusian's lively thought pursues;
Quick as the lightning every view revolves,
And, weighing all, fixt are his dread resolves.
O'er India's shore the sable night descends,
And Gama, now, secluded from his friends,

356

Detain'd a captive in the room of state,
Anticipates in thought to-morrow's fate;
For just Mozaide no generous care delays,
And Vasco's trust with friendly toils repays.
END OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.
 

Camoens immediately before, and in the former book, calls the ensign of Lusus a bough; here he calls it the green thyrsus of Bacchus,

O verde Tyrso foi de Bacco usado.

The thyrsus however was a javelin twisted with ivy-leaves, used in the sacrifices of Bacchus.

In this assertion our author has the authority of Strabo, a foundation sufficient for a poet. Nor are there wanting several Spanish writers, particularly Barbosa, who seriously affirm that Homer drew the fine description of Elysium, in his fourth Odyssey, from the beautiful valleys of Spain, where in one of his voyages, they say, he arrived. Egypt, however, seems to have a better title to this honour. The fable of Charon, and the judges of the poetical hell, are evidently borrowed from the Egyptian rites of burial, and are older than Homer. After a ferryman had conveyed the corpse over a lake, certain judges examined the life of the deceased, particularly his claim to the virtue of loyalty, and, according to the report, decreed or refused the honours of sepulture. The place of the Catacombs, according to Diodorus Siculus, was surrounded with deep canals, beautiful meadows, and a wilderness of groves. And it is universally known the greatest part of the Grecian fables were fabricated from the customs and opinions of Egypt. Several other nations have also claimed the honour of affording the idea of the fields of the Blessed. Even the Scotch challenge it. Many Grecian fables, says an author of that country, are evidently founded on the reports of the Phœnician sailors. That these navigators traded to the coasts of Britain is certain. In the middle of summer, the season when the ancients performed their voyages, for about six weeks there is no night over the Orkney islands; the disk of the sun during that time scarcely sinking below the horizon. This appearance, together with the calm which usually prevails at that season, and the beautiful verdure of the islands, could not fail to excite the admiration of the Tyrians; and their accounts of the place naturally afforded the idea that these islands were inhabited by the spirits of the Just. This, says our author, is countenanced by Homer, who places his islands of the Happy at the extremity of the ocean. That the fables of Scylla, the Gorgades, and several others, were founded on the accounts of navigators, seems probable; and on this supposition the Insulæ Fortunatæ, and Purpuraniæ, now the Canary and Madeira islands, also claim the honour of giving colours to the description of Elysium. The truth however appears to be this; That a place of happiness is reserved for the spirits of the Good is the natural suggestion of that anxiety and hope concerning the future, which animates the human breast. All the barbarous nations of Africa and America agree in placing their heaven in beautiful islands at an immense distance over the ocean. The idea is universal, and is natural to every nation in the state of barbarous simplicity.

Alluding to the fable of Neptune, Apollo, and Laomedon.

For some account of this tradition see the note p. 107. Antient traditions, however fabulous, have a good effect in poetry. Virgil has not scrupled to insert one, which required an apology. —Prisca fides facto, sed fama perennis. Spenser has given us the history of Brute and his descendants at full length in the Faerie Queene; and Milton, it is known, was so fond of that absurd legend, that he intended to write a poem on the subject; and by this fondness was induced to mention it as a truth in his introduction to the history of England.

Paulus de Gama.

When Pyrrhus king of Epirus was at war with the Romans, his physician offered to poison him. The senate rejected the proposal, and acquainted Pyrrhus of the designed treason. Florus remarks on the infamous assassination of Viriatus, that the Roman senate did him great honour; ut videretur aliter vinci non potuisse; it was a confession that they could not otherwise conquer him. Vid. Flor. l. 17. For a fuller account of this great man, see the note on p. 13.

See the note on p. 95.

King of Portugal. See p. 96, &c.

“Some, indeed, most writers say, that the queen (of whom see p. 96.) advancing with her army towards Guimaraez, the king, without waiting till his governor joined him, engaged them and was routed: but that afterwards the remains of his army being joined by the troops under the command of Egaz Munitz, engaged the army of the queen a second time, and gained a complete victory.” Univ. Hist.

See the same story, p. 99. Though history affords no authentic document of this transaction, tradition, the Poet's authority, is not silent. And the monument of Egaz in the monastery of Paco de Souza gives it countenance. Egaz and his family are there represented, in bas relief, in the attitude and garb, says Castera, as described by Camoens.

Sc. Posthumus, who, overpowered by the Samnites, submitted to the indignity of passing under the yoke or gallows.

The Alcaydes, or tributary Governors under the Miramolin or Emperor of Morocco, are often by the Spanish and Portuguese writers stiled kings. He who was surprized and taken prisoner by Don Fuaz Roupinho was named Gama. Fuaz, after having gained the first naval victory of the Portuguese, also experienced their first defeat. With one and twenty sail he attacked fifty-four large gallies of the Moors. The sea, says Brandan, which had lately furnished him with trophies, now supplied him with a tomb.

A navy of crusaders, mostly English. See p. 108.

This Legend is mentioned by some ancient Portuguese chronicles. Homer would have availed himself, as Camoens has done, of a tradition fo enthusiastical, and characteristic of the age. Henry was a native of Bonneville near Cologn. His tomb, says Castera, is still to be seen in the Monastery of St. Vincent, but without the palm.

Theotonius, prior of the regulars of St. Augustine of Conymbra. Some ancient Chronicles relate this circumstance as mentioned by Camoens. Modern writers assert, that he never quitted his breviary. Castera.

He was named Mem Moniz, and was son of Egas Moniz, celebrated for the surrender of himself and family to the king of Castile, as already mentioned.

“He was a man of rank, who, in order to avoid the legal punishment to which several crimes rendered him obnoxious, put himself at the head of a party of Freebooters. Tiring however of that life, he resolved to reconcile himself to his sovereign by some noble action. Full of this idea, one evening he entered Evora, which then belonged to the Moors. In the night he killed the centinels of one of the gates, which he opened to his companions, who soon became masters of the place. This exploit had its desired effect. The king pardoned Gerrald, and made him governor of Evora. A knight with a sword in one hand, and two heads in the other, from that time became the armorial bearing of the city.” Castera.

Don Pedro Fernando de Castro, injured by the family of Lara, and denied redress by the king of Castile, took the infamous revenge of bearing arms against his native country. At the head of a Moorish army he committed several outrages in Spain; but was totally defeated in Portugal.

“According to some ancient Portuguese histories, Don Matthew, Bishop of Lisbon, in the reign of Alonzo I. attempted to reduce Alcazar, then in possession of the Moors. His troops being suddenly surrounded by a numerous party of the enemy, were ready to fly, when, at the prayers of the Bishop, a venerable old man, cloathed in white, with a red cross on his breast, appeared in the air. The miracle dispelled the fears of the Portuguese; the Moors were defeated, and the conquest of Alcazar crowned the victory.” Castera.

“During a truce with the Moors, six cavaliers of the order of St. James were, while on a hunting party, surrounded and killed by a numerous body of the Moors. During the fight, in which the gentlemen sold their lives dear, a common carter, named Garcias Rodrigo, who chanced to pass that way, came generously to their assistance, and lost his life along with them. The Poet, in giving all seven the same title, shews us that virtue constitutes true nobility. Don Payo de Correa, grand master of the order of St. James, revenged the death of these brave unfortunates, by the sack of Tavila, where his just rage put the garrison to the sword.” Castera.

Nothing can give us a stronger picture of the romantic character of their age, than the manners of these champions, who were gentlemen of birth; and who, in the true spirit of knight-errantry, went about from court to court in quest of adventures. Their names were, Gonçalo Ribeiro; Ferdando Martinez de Santarene; and Vasco Anez, foster-brother to Mary, queen of Castile, daughter of Alonzo IV. of Portugal.

This line, the simplicity of which, I think, contains great dignity, is adopted from Fanshaw,

And I, ye see, am offering sacrifice.—

who has here catched the spirit of the original:

A quem lhe a dura nova estava dando,
Pois eu responde estou sacrificando.

i. e. To whom when they told the dreadful tidings, “And I, he replies, am sacrificing.” The piety of Numa was crowned with victory. Vid. Plut. in vit. Num.

Castera justly observes the happiness with which Camoens introduces the name of this truly great man. Il va, says he, le nommer tout à l'heure avec une adresse et une magnificence digne d'un si beau sujet.

These knights were first named knights Hospitallars of St. John of Jerusalem, afterwards knights of Rhodes, from whence they were driven to Messina, ere Malta was assigned to them, where they now remain. By their oath of knighthood they are bound to protect the Holy Sepulchre from the profanation of Infidels; and immediately on taking this oath, they retire to their colleges, where they live on their revenues in all the idleness of monkish luxury. Their original habit was black with a white cross; their arms Gules, a Cross, Argent.

Before John I. mounted the throne of Portugal, one Vasco Porcallo was governor of Villaviciosa. Roderic de Landroal and his friend Alvarez Cuytado, having discovered that he was in the interest of the king of Castile, drove him from his town and fortress. On the establishment of king John, Porcallo had the art to obtain the favour of that prince, but no sooner was he re-instated in the garrison, than he delivered it up to the Castilians; and plundered the house of Cuytado, whom, with his wife, he made prisoner; and under a numerous party, ordered to be sent to Olivença. Roderic de Landroal hearing of this, attacked and defeated the escort, and set his friend at liberty. Castera.

While the kingdom of Portugal was divided, some holding with John the newly elected king, and others with the king of Castile, Roderic Marin, governor of Campo-Major, declared for the latter. Fernando d'Elvas endeavoured to gain him to the interest of his native prince, and a conference, with the usual assurances of safety, was agreed to. Marin, at this meeting, seized upon Elvas, and sent him prisoner to his castle. Elvas having recovered his liberty, a few days after met his enemy in the field, whom in his turn he made captive; and the traiterous Marin, notwithstanding the endeavours of their captain to save his life, met the reward of his treason from the soldiers of Elvas. Partly from Castera.

A numerous fleet of the Castilians being on their way to lay siege to Lisbon, Ruy Pereyra, the Portuguse commander, seeing no possibility of victory, boldly attacked the Spanish admiral. The fury of his onset put the Castilians in disorder, and allowed the Portuguese galleys a safe escape. In this brave piece of service the gallant Pereyra lost his life. Castera.

Viriatus.

The Castilians having laid siege to Almada, a fortress on a mountain near Lisbon, the garrison, in the utmost distress for water, were obliged at times to make sallies to the bottom of the hill in quest of it. Seventeen Portuguese thus employed, were one day attacked by four hundred of the enemy. They made a brave defence and happy retreat into their fortress. Castera.

When Alonzo V. took Ceuta, Don Pedro de Menezes, was the only officer in the army who was willing to become governor of that fortress; which, on account of the uncertainty of succour from Portugal, and the earnest desire of the Moors to regain it, was deemed untenable. He gallantly defended his post in two severe sieges.

He was the natural son of Don Pedro de Menezes. Alonzo V. one day having rode out from Ceuta with a few attendants was attacked by a numerous party of the Moors, when De Vian, and some others under him, at the expence of their own lives, purchased the safe retreat of their sovereign.

The sons of John I. Don Pedro was called the Ulysses of his age, on account both of his eloquence and his voyages. He visited almost every court of Europe, but he principally distinguished himself in Germany, where, under the standards of the emperor Sigismond, he signalised his valour in the war against the Turks. Castera.

In pursuance of the reason assigned in the preface, the translator has here taken the liberty to make a transposition in the order of his author. In Camoens, Don Pedro de Menezes, and his son De Vian, conclude the description of the pictured ensigns. Don Henry, the greatest man perhaps that ever Portugal produced, has certainly the best title to close this procession of the Lusian heroes. And as he was the father of navigation, particularly of the voyage of Gama, to sum up the narrative with his encomium, it may be hoped has even some critical propriety. It remains now to make a few observations on this seeming episode of Camoens. The shield of Achilles has had many imitators, some in one degree, others in another. The imitation of Ariosto, in the XXXIII canto of his Orlando Furioso, is most fancifully ingenious; and on this undoubtedly the Portuguese poet had his eye. Pharamond king of France, having resolved to conquer Italy, desires the friendship of Arthur king of Britain. Arthur sends Merlin the magician to assist him with advice. Merlin by his supernatural art raises a sumptuous hall, on the sides of which all the future wars, unfortunate to the French in their invasions of Italy, are painted in colours exceeding the pencils of the greatest masters. A description of these pictures, an episode much longer than this of Camoens, is given to the heroine Bradamant, by the knight who kept the castle of Sir Tristram, the place where the inchanted hall remained. But though the poetry be pleasing, the whole fiction, unless to amuse the warlike lady, has nothing to do with the action of the poem. Unity of design however, is neither claimed by Ariosto in the exordium of his work, nor attempted in the execution. An examination therefore of the conduct of Homer and Virgil will be more applicable to Camoens. To give a landscape of the face of the country which is the scene of action, or to describe the heroes and their armour, are the becoming ornaments of an epic poem. Milton's beautiful description of Eden, and the admirable painting of the shield of Achilles, are like the embroidery of a suit of cloaths, a part of the subject, and injure not the gracefulness of the make; or in other words, destroy not the unity of the action. Yet let it be observed, that admirable as they are, the pictures on the shield of Achilles, considered by themselves, have no relation to the action of the Iliad. If six of the apartments may be said to rouse the hero to war, the other six may with equal justice be called an obvious admonition or a charge to turn husbandman. In that part of the Eneid where Virgil greatly improves upon his master, in the visions of his future race which Anchises gives to Eneas in Elysium, the business of the poem is admirably sustained, and the hero is inspired to encounter every danger on the view of so great a reward. The description of the shield of Eneas however is less connected with the conduct of the fable. Virgil indeed intended that his poem should contain all the honours of his country, and has therefore charged the shield of his hero with what parts of the Roman history were omitted in the vision of Elysium. But so foreign are these pictures to the war with Turnus, that the poet himself tells us Eneas was ignorant of the history which they contained.

Talia, per clypeum Vulcani, dona parentis
Miratur: rerumque ignarus imagine gaudet.

These observations, which the translator believes have escaped the critics, were suggested to him by the conduct of Camoens, whose design, like that of Virgil, was to write a poem which might contain all the triumphs of his country. As the shield of Eneas supplies what could not be introduced in the vision of Elysium, so the ensigns of Gama complete the purpose of the third and fourth Lusiads. The use of that long episode, the conversation with the king of Melinda, and its connection with the subject, have been already observed. The seeming episode of the pictures, while it fulfils the promise,

And all my country's wars the song adorn—

is also admirably connected with the conduct of the poem. The Indians naturally desire to be informed of the country, the history, and power of their foreign visitors, and Paulus sets it before their eyes. In every progression of the scenery the business of the poem advances. The regent and his attendants are struck with the warlike grandeur and power of the strangers, and to accept of their friendship, or to prevent the forerunners of so martial a nation to carry home the tidings of the discovery of India, becomes the great object of their consideration. And from the passions of the Indians and Moors, thus agitated, the great catastrophe of the Lusiad is both naturally and artfully produced.

As every reader is not a critic in poetry, to some perhaps the expressions

And the tired ox lows on his weary way—
------ loud shouts astound the ear—

And the abrupt speech of an enraged warrior, ascribed to a picture,

------ Here no foreign throne
Shall fix its base, my native king alone
Shall reign—

may appear as unwarrantable. This however, let them be assured, is the language of the genuine spirit of poetry, when the productions of the sister muse are the object of description. Let one very bold instance of this appear in the picture of the dance of the youths and maidens on the shield of Achilles, thus faithfully rendered by Mr. Pope;

Now all at once they rise, at once descend,
With well-taught feet: now shape, in oblique ways,
Confus'dly regular, the moving maze:
Now forth at once, too swift for sight they spring,
And undistinguish'd blend the flying ring:
So whirls a wheel, in giddy circles tost,
And rapid as it runs, the single spokes are lost.
The gazing multitudes admire around:
Two active tumblers in the center bound;
Now high, now low, their pliant limbs they bend:
And gen'ral songs the sprightly revel end.
Il. xviii.

Sometimes when describing a picture, poetry will say, the figures seem to move, to tremble, or to sing. Homer has once or twice, on the shield of his hero, given this hint how to understand him. But often to repeat the qualification were quite opposite to the bold and free spirit of poesy, which delights in personification, and in giving life and passion to every thing it describes. It is owing to the superior force of this spirit, together with the more beautiful colouring of its landscape-views, that the shield of Achilles, in poetical merit, so greatly excels the buckler of Eneas, though the divine workman of the latter, had the former as a pattern before him.

In the original,

Mas faltamlhes pincel, faltamlhes cores,
Honra, premio, favor, que as artes crião.

“But the pencil was wanting, colours were wanting, honour, reward, favour, the nourishers of the arts.” This seemed to the translator as an impropriety, and contrary to the purpose of the whole speech of Paulus, which was to give the Catual a high idea of Portugal. In the fate of the imaginary painter, the Lusian poet gives us the picture of his own, and resentment wrung this impropriety from him. The spirit of the complaint however is preserved in the translation. The couplet,

Immortal fame his deathless labours gave;
Poor man, He sunk neglected to the grave!

is not in the original. It is the sigh of indignation over the unworthy fate of the unhappy Camoens.

Mohammed, by all historians, is described as of a pale livid complexion, and trux aspectus et vox terribilis, of a fierce threatening aspect, voice, and demeanour.

“I deceive myself greatly, says Castera, if this simile is not the most noble and the most natural that can be found in any poem. It has been imitated by the Spanish comedian, the illustrious Lopez de Vega, in his comedy of Orpheus and Eurydice, Act I. Scene I.

Como mirar puede ser
El sol al amanecer,
I quando se enciende, no.”

Castera adds a very loose translation of these Spanish lines in French verse. The literal English is, As the sun may be beheld at its rising, but when illustriously kindled, cannot. Naked however as this is, the imitation of Camoens is evident. As Castera is so very bold in his encomium of this fine simile of the sun, it is but justice to add his translation of it, together with the original Portuguese, and the translation of Fanshaw. Thus the French translator.

Les yeux peuvent soûtenir la clarté du soleil naissant, mais lorsqu'il s'est avancé dans sa carriere lumineuse, & que ses rayons répandent les ardeurs du midi, on tacheroit en vain de l'envisager; un prompt aveuglement seroit le prix de cette audace. Thus elegantly in the original;

Em quanto he fraca a força desta gente,
Ordena como em tudo se resista,
Porque quando o Sol sae, facilmente
Se pode nelle por a aguda vista:
Porem depois que sobe claro, & ardente,
Se a agudeza dos olhos o conquista
Tao cega fica, quando ficareis,
Se raizes criar lhe nao tolheis.

And thus humbled by Fanshaw;

Now whilst this people's strength is not yet knit,
Think how ye may resist them by all ways.
For when the Sun is in his nonage yit,
Upon his morning beauty Men may gaze;
But let him once up to his zenith git,
He strikes them blind with his meridian rays;
So blind will ye be, if ye look not too't,
If ye permit these cedars to take root.

Or the Brahmins, the diviners of India Ammianus Marcellinus, l. 23, says, that the Persian Magi derived their knowledge from the Brachmanes of India. And Arrianus, l. 7. expresly gives the Brahmins the name of Magi. The Magi of India, says he, told Alexander on his pretensions to divinity, that In every thing he was like other men, except that he took less rest, and did more mischief. The Brahmins are never among modern writers called Magi.

This has an allusion to the truth of history. Barros relates, that an Augur being brought before the Zamorim, “Em hum vaso de agua l'he mostrara hunas naos, que vin ham de muy longe para a India, e que a gente d'ellas seria total destruiçam dos Mouros de aquellas partes. In a vessel of water he shewed him some ships which from a great distance came to India, the people of which would effect the utter subversion of the Moors.” Camoens has certainly chosen a more poetical method of describing this divination, a method in the spirit of Virgil; nor in this is he inferior to his great master. The supernatural flame which seizes on Lavinia, while assisting at the sacrifice, alone excepted, every other part of the augury of Latinus, and his dream in the Albunean forest, whither he went to consult his ancestor the god Faunus, in dignity and poetical colouring, cannot come in comparison with the divination of the Magi, and the appearance of the Dæmon in the dream of the Moorish priest.

This picture, it may perhaps be said, is but a bad compliment to the heroes of the Lusiad, and the fruits of their discovery. A little consideration however will vindicate Camoens. It is the Dæmon and the enemies of the Portuguese who procure this divination; every thing in it is dreadful, ón purpose to determine the Zamorim to destroy the fleet of Gama. In a former prophecy of the conquest of India, (when the Catual describes the sculpture of the royal palace) our poet has been careful to ascribe the happiest effects to the discovery of his heroes:

Beneath their sway majestic, wise, and mild,
Proud of her victors' laws thrice happier India smiled.

Would to God this may come to pass! But the prophecy of the Devil has hitherto, alas, been the true one.

In this short declamation, a seeming excrescence, the business of the poem in reality is carried on. The Zamorim, and his prime minister, the Catual, are artfully characterised in it; and the assertion

Lured was the Regent with the Moorish gold,

is happily introduced by the manly declamatory reflections which immediately precede it.

An explanation of the word Moor is here necessary. When the East afforded no more field for the sword of the conqueror, the Saracens, assisted by the Moors, who had embraced their religion, laid the finest countries in Europe in blood and desolation. As their various embarkations were from the empire of Morocco, the Europeans gave the name of Moors to all the professors of the Mohammedan religion. In the same manner the eastern nations blended all the armies of the Crusaders under one appellation, and the Franks, of whom the army of Godfrey was mostly composed, became their common name for all the inhabitants of the West. The appellation even reached China. When the Portuguese first arrived in that Empire, the Chinese softening the r into l, called both them and their cannon, by the name of Flanks, a name which is still retained at Canton, and other parts of the Chinese dominions. Before the arrival of Gama, as already observed, all the traffic of the East, from the Ethiopian side of Africa to China, was in the hands of Arabian Mohammedans, who, without incorporating with the pagan natives, had their colonies established in every country commodious for commerce. These the Portuguese called Moors; and at present the Mohammedans of India, are called the Moors of Hindostan by the latest of our English writers. The intelligence these Moors gave to one another, relative to the actions of Gama, the general terror with which they beheld the appearance of Europeans, whose rivalship they dreaded as the destruction of their power; the various frauds and arts they employed to prevent the return of one man of Gama's fleet to Europe, and their threat to withdraw from the dominions of the Zamorim, are all according to the truth of history. The speeches of the Zamorim and of Gama, which follow, are also founded in truth. They are only poetical paraphrases of the speeches ascribed by Osorius, to the Indian sovereign and the Portuguese admiral. Where the subject was so happily adapted to the epic Muse, to neglect it would have been reprehensible: and Camoens, not unjustly, thought, that the reality of his hero's adventures gave a dignity to his poem. When Gama, in his discourse with the king of Melinda, finishes the description of his voyage, he makes a spirited apostrophe to Homer and Virgil; and asserts, that the adventures which he had actually experienced, greatly exceeded all the wonders of their fables. Camoens also, in other parts of the poem, avails himself of the same assertion.

“As the Portuguese did not expect to find any people but savages beyond the Cape of Good Hope, they only brought with them some preserves and confections, with trinkets of coral, of glass, and other trifles. This opinion however deceived them. In Melinda and in Calicut they found civilized nations, where the arts flourished; who wanted nothing; who were possessed of all the refinements and delicacies on which we value ourselves. The king of Melinda had the generosity to be contented with the present which Gama made; but the Zamorim, with a disdainful eye, beheld the gifts which were offered to him. The present was thus: Four mantles of scarlet, six hats adorned with feathers, four chaplets of coral beads, twelve Turky carpets, seven drinking cups of brass, a chest of sugar, two barrels of oil, and two of honey.” Castera.

Castera derives Acidalia from ακηδης, which, he says, implies to act without fear or restraint. Acidalia, is one of the Names of Venus, in Virgil; derived from Acidalus, a fountain sacred to her in Bœotia.

John I.

Bartholomew Diaz, was the first who discovered the southmost point of Africa. He was driven back by the storms, which on these seas were thought always to continue, and which the learned of former ages, says Osorius, thought impassable. Diaz, when he related his voyage to John II. called the southmost point the Cape of Tempests. The expectation of the king, however, was kindled by the account, and with inexpressible joy, says the same author, he immediately named it the Cape of Good Hope.

Through horrid storms I lead to thee the dance.

Fanshaw.

The resemblance of this couplet to many passages in Homer, must be obvious to the intelligent critic.

Imitated from Virgil, who, by the same similie, describes the fluctuation of the thoughts of Eneas, on the eve of the Latian war:

------ Laomedontius heros
Cuncta videns, magno curarum fluctuat æstu,
Atque animum nunc huc celerem, nunc dividit illuc,
In partesque rapit varias, perque omnia versat.
Sicut aquæ tremulum labris ubi lumen ahenis
Sole repercussum, aut radiantis imagine Lunæ,
Omnia pervolitat late loca: jamque sub auras
Erigitur, summique ferit laquearia tecti.
This way and that he turns his anxious mind,
Thinks, and rejects the counsels he design'd;
Explores himself in vain, in every part,
And gives no rest to his distracted heart:
So when the sun by day or moon by night
Strike on the polish'd brass their trembling light,
The glitt'ring species here and there divide,
And cast their dubious beams from side to side;
Now on the walls, now on the pavement play,
And to the cieling flash the glaring day.

Ariosto has also adopted this similie in the eighth book of his Orlando Furioso:

Qual d'acqua chiara il tremolante lume
Dal Sol percossa, o da' notturni rai,
Per gli ampli tetti và con lango salto
A destra, ed a sinistra, e basso, ed alto.
So from a water clear, the trembling light
Of Phœbus, or the silver ray of night,
Along the spacious rooms with splendor plays,
Now high, now low, and shifts a thousand ways.
Hoole.

But the happiest circumstance belongs to Camoens. The velocity and various shiftings of the sun-beam, reflected from a piece of chrystal or polished steel in the hand of a boy, give a much stronger idea of the violent agitation and sudden shiftings of thought, than the image of the trembling light of the sun or moon reflected from a vessel of water. The brazen vessel however, and not the water, is only mentioned by Dryden. Nor must another inaccuracy pass unobserved. That the reflection of the moon flashed the glaring day is not countenanced by the original. The critic however, who, from the mention of these, will infer any disrespect to the name of Dryden, is, as critics often are, ignorant of the writer's meaning. A very different inference is intended: If so great a master as Dryden has erred, let the critic remember, that other translators are liable to fail, and that a few inaccuracies ought, by no means, to be produced as the specimens of any composition.

We have already seen the warm encomium paid by Tasso to his cotemporary, Camoens. That great poet, the ornament of Italy, has also testified his approbation by several imitations of the Lusiad. Virgil, in no instance, has more closely copied Homer, than Tasso has imitated the appearance of Bacchus, or the evil Dæmon, in the dream of the Moorish priest. The enchanter Ismeno thus appears to the sleeping Solyman:

Soliman' Solimano, i tuoi silenti
Riposi à miglior tempo homai riserva:
Che sotto il giogo de straniere genti
La patria, ove regnasti, ancor' e serva.
In questa terra dormi, e non rammenti,
Ch' insepolte de' tuoi l'ossa conserva?
Ove si gran' vestigio e del tuo scorno,
Tu neghittoso aspetti il novo giorno?

Thus elegantly translated by Mr. Hoole,

Oh! Solyman, regardless Chief, awake!
In happier hours thy grateful slumber take:
Beneath a foreign yoke thy subjects bend,
And strangers o'er thy land their rule extend:
Here dost thou sleep? here close thy careless eyes,
While uninterr'd each lov'd associate lies?
Here where thy fame has felt the hostile scorn,
Canst thou, unthinking, wait the rising morn?