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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. 
BOOK VII.
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 


271

BOOK VII.

Hail glorious Chief! where never chief before
Forced his bold way, all hail on India's shore!
And hail, ye Lusian heroes, fair and wide
What groves of palm, to haughty Rome deny'd,
For you by Ganges' lengthening banks unfold!
What laurel forests on the shores of gold
For you their honours ever verdant rear,
Proud with their leaves to twine the Lusian spear!
Ah heaven! what fury Europe's sons controuls!
What self-consuming discord fires their souls!
'Gainst her own breast her sword Germania turns,
Through all her states fraternal rancour burns;

272

Some blindly wandering holy Faith disclaim,
And fierce through all wild rages civil flame.
High sound the titles of the English crown,
King of Jerusalem, his own renown!
Alas, delighted with an airy name,
The thin dim shadow of departed fame,
England's stern Monarch, sunk in soft repose,
Luxurious riots mid his northern snows:
Or if the starting burst of rage succeed,
His brethren are his foes, and Christians bleed;
While Hagar's brutal race his titles stain,
In weeping Salem unmolested reign,
And with their rites impure her holy shrines profane.
And thou, O Gaul, with gaudy trophies plumed,
Most Christian named; alas, in vain assumed!
What impious lust of empire steels thy breast
From their just Lords the Christian lands to wrest!

273

While Holy Faith's hereditary foes
Possess the treasures where Cynifio flows;
And all secure, behold their harvests smile
In waving gold along the banks of Nile.
And thou, O lost to glory, lost to fame,
Thou dark oblivion of thy ancient name,
By every vicious luxury debased,
Each noble passion from thy breast erased,
Nerveless in sloth, enfeebling arts thy boast,
Oh! Italy, how fallen, how low, how lost!

274

In vain to thee the call of glory sounds,
Thy sword alone thy own soft bosom wounds.
Ah, Europe's sons, ye brother-powers, in you
The fables old of Cadmus now are true:
Fierce rose the brothers from the dragon teeth,
And each fell crimson'd with a brother's death.
So fall the bravest of the Christian name,
While dogs unclean Messiah's lore blaspheme,

275

And howl their curses o'er the holy tomb,
As to the sword the Christian race they doom.
From age to age, from shore to distant shore,
By various princes led, their legions pour;
United all in one determined aim,
From every land to blot the Christian name.
Then wake, ye brother-powers, combined awake,
And from the foe the great example take.
If empire tempt ye, lo, the east expands,
Fair and immense her summer-garden lands:
Here boastful wealth displays her radiant store,
Pactol and Hermus' stream o'er golden ore,
Rowl their long way; but not for you they flow,
Their treasures blaze on the stern Soldan's brow:
For him Assyria plies the loom of gold,
And Afric's sons their deepest mines unfold
To give his throne to blaze—Ye western powers,
To throw the mimic bolt of Jove is yours,
Yours all the art to wield the arms of fire,
Then bid the thunders of the dreadful tire
Against the walls of dread Byzantium roar,
Till headlong driven from Europe's ravish'd shore
To their cold Scythian wilds, and dreary dens,
By Caspian mountains, and uncultured fens,
Their fathers' seats beyond the Wolgian lake,
The barbarous race of Saracen betake.

276

And hark, to you the woeful Greek exclaims;
The Georgian fathers and th' Armenian dames,
Their fairest offspring from their bosoms torn,
A dreadful tribute, loud imploring mourn.
Alas, in vain! their offspring captive led,
In Hagar's sons unhallow'd temples bred,
To rapine train'd, arise a brutal host,
The Christian terror, and the Turkish boast.
Yet sleep, ye powers of Europe, careless sleep,
To you in vain your eastern brethren weep;
Yet not in vain their woe-wrung tears shall sue,
Though small the Lusian realms, her legions few,
The guardian oft by heaven ordain'd before,
The Lusian race shall guard Messiah's lore.
When heaven decreed to crush the Moorish foe
Heaven gave the Lusian spear to strike the blow.
When heaven's own laws o'er Afric's shores were heard,
The sacred shrines the Lusian heroes rear'd;
Nor shall their zeal in Asia's bounds expire,
Asia subdued shall fume with hallowed fire.
When the red sun the Lusian shore forsakes,
And on the lap of deepest west awakes,

277

O'er the wild plains, beneath unincensed skies
The sun shall view the Lusian altars rise.
And could new worlds by human step be trod,
Those worlds should tremble at the Lusian nod.

278

And now their ensigns blazing o'er the tide
On India's shore the Lusian heroes ride.
High to the fleecy clouds resplendant far
Appear the regal towers of Malabar,

279

Imperial Calicut, the lordly seat
Of the first monarch of the Indian state.
Right to the port the valiant Gama bends,
With joyful shouts a fleet of boats attends:

180

Joyful their nets they leave and finny prey,
And crouding round the Lusians, point the way.
A herald now, by Vasco's high command
Sent to the monarch, treads the Indian strand;
The sacred staff he bears, in gold he shines,
And tells his office by majestic signs.
As to and fro, recumbent to the gale,
The harvest waves along the yellow dale,
So round the herald press the wondering throng,
Recumbent waving as they pour along,
And much his manly port and strange attire,
And much his fair and ruddy hue admire:
When speeding through the crowd with eager haste,
And honest smiles, a son of Afric prest:
Enrapt with joy the wondering herald hears
Castilia's manly tongue salute his ears.
What friendly angel from thy Tago's shore
Has led thee hither? cries the joyful Moor.
Then hand in hand, the pledge of faith, conjoin'd,
O joy beyond the dream of hope to find,
To hear a kindred voice, the Lusian cried,
Beyond unmeasured gulphs and seas untry'd;

281

Untry'd before our daring keels explored
Our fearless way—Oh heaven, what tempests roared,
While round the vast of Afric's southmost land
Our eastward bowsprits sought the Indian strand.
Amazed, o'erpower'd, the friendly stranger stood;
A passage open'd through the boundless flood,
The hope of ages, and the dread despair,
Accomplish'd now, and conquer'd—stiff his hair
Rose thrilling, while his labouring thoughts pursued
The dreadful course by Gama's fate subdued.
Homeward, with generous warmth o'erflow'd, he leads
The Lusian guest, and swift the feast succeeds;
The purple grape and golden fruitage smile;
And each choice viand of the Indian soil
Heapt o'er the board, the master's zeal declare;
The social feast the guest and master share:
The sacred pledge of eastern faith approved,
By wrath unalter'd, and by wrong unmoved.
Now to the fleet the joyful herald bends,
With earnest pace the heaven-sent friend attends:

282

Now down the river's sweepy stream they glide,
And now their pinnace cuts the briny tide:
The Moor, with transport sparkling in his eyes,
The well-known make of Gama's navy spies,
The bending bowsprit, and the mast so tall,
The sides black frowning as a castle wall,
The high-tower'd stern, the lordly nodding prore,
And the broad standard slowly waving o'er
The anchor's moony fangs. The skiff he leaves,
Brave Gama's deck his bounding step receives;
And, Hail, he cries: in transport Gama sprung,
And round his neck with friendly welcome hung;
Enrapt so distant o'er the dreadful main
To hear the music of the tongue of Spain.
And now beneath a painted shade of state
Beside the Ammiral the stranger sate.
Of India's clime, the natives, and the laws,
What monarch sways them, what religion awes?
Why from the tombs devoted to his sires
The son so far? the valiant Chief enquires.
In act to speak the stranger waves his hand,
The joyful crew in silent wonder stand,
Each gently pressing on with greedy ear,
As erst the bending forests stoopt to hear
In Rhodope, when Orpheus' heavenly strain,
Deplored his lost Eurydice in vain;

283

While with a mien that generous friendship won
From every heart, the Stranger thus begun:
Your glorious deeds, ye Lusians, well I know,
To neighbouring earth the vital air I owe;
Yet though my faith the Koran's lore revere;
So taught my sires; my birth at proud Tangier,
An hostile clime to Lisbon's awful name,
I glow enraptured o'er the Lusian fame;
Proud though your nation's warlike glories shine,
These proudest honours yield, O Chief, to thine;
Beneath thy dread atchievements low they fall,
And India's shore, discovered, crowns them all.
Won by your fame, by fond affection sway'd,
A friend I come, and offer friendship's aid.
As on my lips Castilia's language glows,
So from my tongue the speech of India flows:
Mozaide my name, in India's court beloved,
For honest deeds, but time shall speak, approved.
When India's Monarch greets his court again,
For now the banquet on the tented plain

284

And sylvan chace his careless hours employ;
When India's Lord shall hail, with wondering joy,
Your glad arrival on the spacious shore
Through oceans never plough'd by keel before,
Myself shall glad Interpreter attend,
Mine every office of the faithful friend.
Ah! but a stream, the labour of the oar,
Divides my birth-place from your native shore;
On shores unknown, in distant worlds, how sweet
The kindred tongue the kindred face to greet!
Such now my joy; and such, O heaven, be yours!
Yes, bounteous heaven, your glad success secures.
Till now impervious, heaven alone subdued
The various horrors of the trackless flood;
Heaven sent you here for some great work divine,
And heaven inspires my breast your sacred toils to join.
Vast are the shores of India's wealthful soil;
Southward sea-girt she forms a demi-isle:
His cavern'd cliffs with dark-brow'd forests crown'd,
Hemodian Taurus frowns her northern bound:
From Caspia's lake th' enormous mountain spreads,
And bending eastward rears a thousand heads;

285

Far to extremest sea the ridges thrown,
By various names through various tribes are known:
Here down the waste of Taurus' rocky side
Two infant rivers pour the chrystal tide,
Indus the one, and one the Ganges named,
Darkly of old through distant nations famed:
One eastward curving holds his crooked way,
One to the west gives his swoln tide to stray:
Declining southward many a land they lave,
And widely swelling roll the sea-like wave,
Till the twin offspring of the mountain sire
Both in the Indian deep ingulph'd expire:
Between these streams, fair smiling to the day,
The Indian lands their wide domains display,
And many a league, far to the south they bend,
From the broad region where the rivers end,
Till where the shores to Ceylon's isle oppose,
In conic form the Indian regions close.
To various laws the various tribes incline,
And various are the rites esteem'd divine:

286

Some as from heaven receive the Koran's lore,
Some the dread monsters of the wild adore;
Some bend to wood and stone the prostrate head,
And rear unhallow'd altars to the dead.
By Ganges' banks, as wild traditions tell,
Of old the tribes lived healthful by the smell;
No food they knew, such fragrant vapours rose
Rich from the flowery lawns where Ganges flows:
Here now the Delhian, and the fierce Patan
Feed their fair flocks; and here, an heathen clan,
Stern Decam's sons the fertile valleys till,
A clan, whose hope to shun eternal ill,
Whose trust from every stain of guilt to save,
Is fondly placed in Ganges' holy wave;
If to the stream the breathless corpse be given
They deem the spirit wings her way to heaven.
Here by the mouths, where hallowed Ganges ends,
Bengala's beauteous Eden wide extends,
Unrivall'd smile her fair luxurious vales:
And here Cambaya spreads her palmy dales;

287

A warlike realm, where still the martial race
From Porus famed of yore their lineage trace.
Narsinga here displays her spacious line,
In native gold her sons and ruby shine:
Alas, how vain! these gaudy sons of fear,
Trembling, bow down before each hostile spear.

288

And now behold;—and while he spoke he rose,
Now with extended arm the prospect shews,—
Behold these mountain-tops of various size
Blend their dim ridges with the fleecy skies;
Nature's rude wall, against the fierce Canar
They guard the fertile lawns of Malabar.
Here from the mountain to the surgy main,
Fair as a garden spreads the smiling plain:
And lo, the Empress of the Indian powers,
There lofty Calicut resplendent towers;
Her's every fragrance of the spicy shore,
Her's every gem of India's countless store:
Great Samoreem, her Lord's imperial style,
The mighty Lord of India's utmost soil:
To him the kings their duteous tribute pay,
And at his feet confess their borrow'd sway.
Yet higher tower'd the monarchs ancient boast,
Of old one sovereign ruled the spacious coast.

289

A votive train, who brought the Koran's lore,
What time great Perimal the sceptre bore,
From blest Arabia's groves to India came;
Life were their words, their eloquence a flame
Of holy zeal: fired by the powerful strain
The lofty monarch joins the faithful train,
And vows, at fair Medina's shrine, to close
His life's mild eve in prayer and sweet repose.
Gifts he prepares to deck the Prophet's tomb,
The glowing labours of the Indian loom,
Orixa's spices and Golconda's gems;
Yet, ere the fleet th' Arabian ocean stems,
His final care his potent regions claim,
Nor his the transport of a father's name;
His servants now the regal purple wear,
And high enthroned the golden sceptres bear.
Proud Cochim one, and one fair Chalé sways,
The spicy Isle another Lord obeys;
Coulam and Cananoor's luxurious fields,
And Cranganore to various Lords he yields.
While these and others thus the monarch graced,
A noble youth his care unmindful past:
Save Calicut, a city poor and small,
Though lordly now, no more remain'd to fall:

290

Grieved to behold such merit thus repay'd,
The sapient youth the king of kings he made,
And honour'd with the name, great Samoreem,
The lordly titled boast of power supreme.
And now great Perimal resigns his reign,
The blissful bowers of Paradise to gain:
Before the gale his gaudy navy flies,
And India sinks for ever from his eyes.
And soon to Calicut's commodious port
The fleets, deep-edging with the wave, resort:
Wide o'er the shore extend the warlike piles,
And all the landscape round luxurious smiles.
And now her flag to every gale unfurl'd,
She towers the Empress of the eastern world:
Such are the blessings sapient kings bestow,
And from thy stream such gifts, O Commerce, flow.
From that sage youth, who first reign'd king of kings,
He now who sways the tribes of India springs.
Various the tribes, all led by fables vain,
Their rites the dotage of the dreamful brain.
All, save where Nature whispers modest care,
Naked, they blacken in the sultry air.
The haughty nobles and the vulgar race
Never must join the conjugal embrace;

291

Nor may the stripling, nor the blooming maid,
Oh lost to joy, by cruel rites betray'd!
To spouse of other than their father's art,
At Love's connubial shrine unite the heart:
Nor may their sons, the genius and the view
Confined and fetter'd, other art pursue.
Vile were the stain, and deep the foul disgrace,
Should other tribe touch one of noble race;
A thousand rites, and washings o'er and o'er,
Can scarce his tainted purity restore.
Poleas the labouring lower clans are named:
By the proud Nayres the noble rank is claimed;
The toils of culture, and of art they scorn,
The warrior's plumes their haughty brows adorn;
The shining faulchion brandish'd in the right,
Their left arm wields the target in the fight;
Of danger scornful, ever arm'd they stand
Around the king, a stern barbarian band.
Whate'er in India holds the sacred name
Of piety or lore, the Brahmins claim:
In wildest rituals, vain and painful, lost,
Brahma their founder as a God they boast .

292

To crown their meal no meanest life expires,
Pulse, fruit, and herbs alone their board requires:
Alone in lewdness riotous and free,
No spousal ties with-hold, and no degree:

293

Lost to the heart-ties, to his neighbour's arms
The willing husband yields his spouse's charms:
In unendear'd embraces free they blend;
Yet but the husband's kindred may ascend

294

The nuptial couch: alas, too blest, they know
Nor jealousy's suspence, nor burning woe;
The bitter drops which oft from dear affection flow.

295

But should my lips each wond'rous scene unfold,
Which your glad eyes will soon amazed behold,
Oh, long before the various tale could run,
Deep in the west would sink yon eastern sun.

266

In few, all wealth from China to the Nile,
All balsams, fruit, and gold on India's bosom smile.
While thus the Moor his faithful tale reveal'd,
Wide o'er the coast the voice of Rumour swell'd;

297

As first some upland vapour seems to float
Small as the smoke of lonely shepherd cot,
Soon o'er the dales the rolling darkness spreads,
And wraps in hazy clouds the mountain heads,

298

The leafless forest and the utmost lea;
And wide its black wings hover o'er the sea:
The tear-dropt bough hangs weeping in the vale,
And distant navies rear the mist-wet sail.

299

So Fame increasing, loud and louder grew,
And to the sylvan camp resounding flew;
A lordly band, she cries, of warlike mien,
Of face and garb in India never seen,

300

Of tongue unknown, through gulphs undared before,
Unknown their aim, have reach'd the Indian shore.
To hail their Chief the Indian Lord prepares,
And to the fleet he sends his banner'd Nayres:
As to the bay the nobles press along,
The wondering city pours th'unnumber'd throng.
And now brave Gama and his splendid train,
Himself adorn'd in all the pride of Spain,
In gilded barges flowly bend to shore,
While to the lute the gently-falling oar
Now breaks the surges of the briny tide,
And now the strokes the cold fresh stream divide.
Pleased with the splendour of the Lusian band,
On every bank the crowded thousands stand.
Begirt with high-plumed nobles, by the flood
The first great Minister of India stood,

301

The Catual his name in India's tongue:
To Gama swift the lordly Regent sprung;
His open arms the valiant Chief enfold,
And now he lands him on the shore of gold:
With pomp unwonted India's nobles greet
The fearless heroes of the warlike fleet.
A couch on shoulders borne, in India's mode,
With gold the canopy and purple glow'd,
Receives the Lusian captain; equal rides
The lordly Catual, and onward guides,
While Gama's train, and thousands of the throng
Of India's sons, encircling pour along.
To hold discourse in various tongues they try;
In vain; the accents unremembered die
Instant as utter'd. Thus on Babel's plain
Each builder heard his mate, and heard in vain.
Gama the while, and India's second Lord,
Hold glad dialogues, as the various word
The faithful Moor unfolds. The city gate
They past, and onward, towered in sumptuous state,
Before them now the sacred temple rose;
The portals wide the sculptured shrines disclose.
The Chiefs advance, and, entered now, behold
The gods of wood, cold stone, and shining gold;
Various of figure, and of various face,
As the foul Demon will'd the likeness base.

302

Taught to behold the rays of godhead shine
Fair imaged in the human face divine,
With sacred horror thrill'd, the Lusians viewed
The monster forms, Chimera-like, and rude.
Here spreading horns an human visage bore;
So frown'd stern Jove in Lybia's fane of yore.
One body here two various faces rear'd;
So ancient Janus o'er his shrine appear'd.
An hundred arms another brandish'd wide;
So Titan's son the race of heaven defy'd.
And here a dog his snarling tusks display'd;
Anubis thus in Memphis' hallowed shade
Grinn'd horrible. With vile prostrations low
Before these shrines the blinded Indians bow.
And now again the splendid pomp proceeds;
To India's Lord the haughty Regent leads.

303

To view the glorious Leader of the fleet
Increasing thousands swell o'er every street;
High o'er the roofs the struggling youths ascend,
The hoary fathers o'er the portals bend,
The windows sparkle with the female blaze
Of eyes, of rubies, and the diamond's rays.
And now the train with solemn state and slow,
Approach the royal gate, through many a row
Of fragrant wood walks, and of balmy bowers,
Radiant with fruitage, ever gay with flowers.
Spacious the dome its pillar'd grandeur spread,
Nor to the burning day high tower'd the head;
The citron groves around the windows glow'd,
And branching palms their grateful shade bestow'd;
The mellow light a pleasing radiance cast;
The marble walls Dædalian sculpture graced.
Here India's fate, from darkest times of old,
The wondrous artist on the stone inroll'd;

304

Here o'er the meadows, by Hydaspes' stream,
In fair array the marshall'd legions seem:
A youth of gleeful eye the squadrons led,
Smooth was his cheek, and glow'd with purest red;
Around his spear the curling vine-leaves waved;
And by a streamlet of the river laved,
Behind her founder Nysa's walls were rear'd ;
So breathing life the ruddy god appear'd,
Had Semele beheld the smiling boy,
The mother's heart had proudly heav'd with joy.
Unnumber'd here were seen th'Assyrian throng,
That drank whole rivers as they march'd along:
Each eye seem'd earnest on their warrior queen,
High was her port, and furious was her mien;
Her valour only equall'd by her lust;
Fast by her side her courser paw'd the dust,
Her son's vile rival; reeking to the plain
Fell the hot sweat-drops as he champt the rein.
And here display'd, most glorious to behold,
The Grecian banners opening many a fold

305

Seem'd trembling on the gale; at distance far
The Ganges laved the wide-extended war.
Here the blue marble gives the helmets' gleam,
Here from the cuiras shoots the golden beam.
A proud-ey'd youth, with palms unnumber'd gay,
Of the bold veterans led the brown array;
Scornful of mortal birth enshrin'd he rode,
Call'd Jove his father , and assumed the god.
While dauntless Gama and his train survey'd
The sculptured walls, the lofty Regent said;
For nobler wars than these you wondering see
That ample space th' eternal fates decree:
Sacred to these th' unpictured wall remains,
Unconscious yet of vanquish'd India's chains.
Assured we know the awful day shall come,
Big with tremendous fate, and India's doom.
The sons of Brahma, by the god their sire
Taught to illume the dread divining fire,
From the drear mansions of the dark abodes
Awake the dead, or call th' infernal gods;
Then round the flame, while glimmering ghastly blue,
Behold the future scene arise to view.
The sons of Brahma in the magic hour
Beheld the foreign foe tremendous lour;

306

Unknown their tongue, their face, and strange attire,
And their bold eye-balls burn'd with warlike ire:
They saw the chief o'er prostrate India rear
The glittering terrors of his awful spear.
But swift behind these wintery days of woe
A spring of joy arose in liveliest glow,
Such gentle manners leagued with wisdom reign'd
In the dread victors, and their rage restrain'd.
Beneath their sway majestic, wise, and mild,
Proud of her victors' laws thrice happier India smiled.
So to the prophets of the Magi train
The visions rose, that never rose in vain.
The Regent ceased; and now with solemn pace
The Chiefs approach the regal hall of grace.
The tapstried walls with gold were pictured o'er,
And flowery velvet spread the marble floor.
In all the grandeur of the Indian state
High on a blazing couch the Monarch sate,
With starry gems the purple curtains shined,
And ruby flowers and golden foliage twined
Around the silver pillars: High o'er head
The golden canopy its radiance shed:
Of cloth of gold the sovereign's mantle shone,
And his high turban flamed with precious stone.

307

Sublime and awful was his sapient mien,
Lordly his posture, and his brow serene.
An hoary sire submiss on bended knee,
(Low bow'd his head,) in India's luxury,
A leaf , all fragrance to the glowing taste,
Before the king each little while replaced.
The patriarch Brahmin, soft and slow he rose,
Advancing now to lordly Gama bows,
And leads him to the throne; in silent state
The Monarch's nod assigns the Captain's seat;
The Lusian train in humbler distance stand:
Silent the Monarch eyes the foreign band
With awful mien; when valiant Gama broke
The solemn pause, and thus majestic spoke;
From where the crimson sun of evening laves
His blazing chariot in the western waves,
I come, the herald of a mighty King,
And holy vows of lasting friendship bring
To thee, O Monarch, for resounding Fame
Far to the west has borne thy princely name,
All India's sovereign thou! Nor deem I sue,
Great as thou art, the humble suppliant's due.
Whate'er from western Tagus to the Nile,
Inspires the monarch's wish, the merchants' toil,

308

From where the north-star gleams o'er seas of frost,
To Ethiopia's utmost burning coast,
Whate'er the sea, whate'er the land bestows,
In my great Monarch's realm unbounded flows.
Pleased thy high grandeur and renown to hear,
My Sovereign offers friendship's bands sincere:
Mutual he asks them, naked of disguise,
Then every bounty of the smiling skies
Shower'd on his shore and thine, in mutual flow,
Shall joyful Commerce on each shore bestow.
Our might in war, what vanquish'd nations fell,
Beneath our spear, let trembling Afric tell;
Survey my floating towers, and let thine ear,
Dread as it roars, our battle thunder hear.
If friendship then thy honest wish explore,
That dreadful thunder on thy foes shall roar.
Our banners o'er the crimson field shall sweep,
And our tall navies ride the foamy deep,
Till not a foe against thy land shall rear
Th' invading bowsprit, or the hostile spear;
My King, thy brother, thus thy wars shall join,
The glory his, the gainful harvest thine.
Brave Gama spake: the Pagan King replies,
From lands which now behold the morning rise,

309

While eve's dim clouds the Indian sky enfold,
Glorious to us an offer'd league we hold.
Yet shall our will in silence rest unknown,
Till what your laud, and who the King you own,
Our Council deeply weigh. Let joy the while,
And the glad feast the fleeting hours beguile.
Ah! to the wearied mariner, long tost
O'er briny waves, how sweet the long-sought coast!
The night now darkens; on the friendly shore
Let soft repose your wearied strength restore,
Assured an answer from our lips to bear,
Which, not displeased, your Sovereign Lord shall hear.
More now we add not—From the hall of state
Withdrawn, they now approach the Regent's gate;
The sumptuous banquet glows; all India's pride
Heap'd on the board the royal feast supplied.
Now o'er the dew-drops of the eastern lawn
Gleamed the pale radiance of the star of dawn,
The valiant Gama on his couch reposed,
And balmy rest each Lusian eye-lid closed;
When the high Catual, watchful to fulfill
The cautious mandates of his Sovereign's will,
In secret converse with the Moor retires,
And, earnest, much of Lusus' sons enquires;

310

What laws, what holy rites, what monarch sway'd
The warlike race? When thus the just Mozaide;
The land from whence these warriors well I know,
(To neighbouring earth my hapless birth I owe)
Illustrious Spain, along whose western shores
Grey-dappled eve the dying twilight pours.—
A wondrous prophet gave their holy lore,
The godlike Seer a virgin-mother bore,
Th' Eternal Spirit on the human race,
So be they taught, bestow'd such awful grace.
In war unmatch'd they rear the trophied crest:
What terrors oft have thrill'd my infant breast,
When their brave deeds my wondering fathers told;
How from the lawns, where, chrystalline and cold,
The Guadiana rowls his murmuring tide,
And those where purple by the Tago's side,
The lengthening vineyards glisten o'er the field,
Their warlike sires my routed sires expell'd:
Nor paused their rage; the furious seas they braved,
Nor loftiest walls, nor castled mountains saved;
Round Afric's thousand bays their navies rode,
And their proud armies o'er our armies trod.

311

Nor less, let Spain through all her kingdoms own,
O'er other foes their dauntless valour shone:
Let Gaul confess, her mountain ramparts wild,
Nature in vain the hoar Pyrenians piled.
No foreign lance could e'er their rage restrain,
Unconquer'd still the warrior race remain.
More would you hear, secure your care may trust
The answer of their lips, so nobly just,
Conscious of inward worth, of manners plain,
Their manly souls the gilded lye disdain.
Then let thine eyes their lordly might admire,
And mark the thunder of their arms of fire:
The shore with trembling hears the dreadful sound,
And rampired walls lie smoaking on the ground.
Speed to the fleet; their arts, their prudence weigh,
How wise in peace, in war how dread, survey.
With keen desire the craftful Pagan burn'd;
Soon as the morn in orient blaze return'd,
To view the fleet his splendid train prepares;
And now attended by the lordly Nayres,
The shore they cover, now the oarsmen sweep
The foamy surface of the azure deep:
And now brave Paulus gives the friendly hand,
And high on Gama's lofty deck they stand.

312

Bright to the day the purple sail-cloaths glow,
Wide to the gale the silken ensigns flow;
The pictured flags display the warlike strife;
Bold seem the heroes as inspired by life.
Here arm to arm the single combat strains,
Here burns the combat on the tented plains
General and fierce; the meeting lances thrust,
And the black blood seems smoaking on the dust.
With earnest eyes the wondering Regent views
The pictured warriors, and their history sues.
But now the ruddy juice, by Noah found,
In foaming goblets circled swiftly round,
And o'er the deck swift rose the festive board;
Yet, smiling oft, refrains the Indian Lord:
His faith forbade with other tribe to join
The sacred meal, esteem'd a rite divine.

313

In bold vibrations, thrilling on the ear,
The battle sounds the Lusian trumpets rear;
Loud burst the thunders of the arms of fire,
Slow round the sails the clouds of smoke aspire,
And rolling their dark volumes o'er the day
The Lusian war, in dreadful pomp, display.
In deepest thought the careful Regent weigh'd
The pomp and power at Gamas's nod bewray'd,
Yet seem'd alone in wonder to behold
The glorious heroes and the wars half told

314

In silent poesy—Swift from the board
High crown'd with wine, uprose the Indian Lord;
Both the bold Gamas, and their generous Peer,
The brave Coello, rose, prepared to hear
With meet attendance, or the meet reply:
Fixt and enquiring was the Regent's eye:
The warlike image of an hoary sire,
Whose name shall live till earth and time expire,
His wonder fixt; and more than human glow'd
The hero's look; his robes of Grecian mode;
A bough, his ensign, in his right he waved,
A leafy bough—But I, fond man depraved!
Where would I speed, as mad'ning in a dream,
Without your aid, ye Nymphs of Tago's stream!
Or yours, ye Dryads of Mondego's bowers!
Without your aid how vain my wearied powers!
Long yet and various lies my arduous way
Through louring tempests and a boundless sea.
Oh then, propitious hear your son implore,
And guide my vessel to the happy shore.
Ah! see how long what per'lous days, what woes
On many a foreign coast around me rose,
As dragg'd by Fortune's chariot wheels along
I sooth'd my sorrows with the warlike song;

315

Wide ocean's horrors lengthening now around,
And now my footsteps trod the hostile ground;
Yet midst each danger of tumultuous war
Your Lusian heroes ever claim'd my care:
As Canace of old, ere self-destroy'd,
One hand the pen, and one the sword employ'd.
Degraded now, by poverty abhorr'd,
The guest dependent at the Lordling's board:
Now blest with all the wealth fond hope could crave,
Soon I beheld that wealth beneath the wave
For ever lost; myself escaped alone,
On the wild shore all friendless, hopeless, thrown;
My life, like Judah's heaven-doom'd king of yore,
By miracle prolong'd; yet not the more
To end my sorrows: woes succeeding woes
Belied my earnest hopes of sweet repose:
In place of bays around my brows to shed
Their sacred honours, o'er my destined head
Foul Calumny proclaim'd the fraudful tale,
And left me mourning in a dreary jail.

316

Such was the meed, alas! on me bestow'd,
Bestow'd by those for whom my numbers glow'd,
By those who to my toils their laurel honours owed.
Ye gentle Nymphs of Tago's rosy bowers,
Ah, see what letter'd Patron-Lords are yours!
Dull as the herds that graze their flowery dales,
To them in vain the injured Muse bewails:
No fostering care their barb'rous hands bestow,
Though to the Muse their fairest fame they owe.
Ah, cold may prove the future Priest of Fame
Taught by my fate: yet will I not disclaim
Your smiles, ye Muses of Mondego's shade,
Be still my dearest joy your happy aid!
And hear my vow; Nor king, nor loftiest peer
Shall e'er from Me the song of flattery hear;
Nor crafty tyrant, who in office reigns,
Smiles on his king, and binds the land in chains;
His king's worst foe: Nor he whose raging ire,
And raging wants, to shape his course, conspire;
True to the clamours of the blinded crowd,
Their changeful Proteus, insolent and loud:
Nor he whose honest mien secures applause,
Grave though he seem, and father of the laws,
Who, but half-patriot, niggardly denies
Each other's merit, and witholds the prize:

317

Who spurns the Muse, nor feels the raptured strain,
Useless by him esteem'd, and idly vain:
For him, for these, no wreath my hand shall twine;
On other brows th' immortal rays shall shine:

318

He who the path of honour ever trod,
True to his King, his Country, and his God,
On his blest head my hands shall fix the crown
Wove of the deathless laurels of Renown.
END OF THE SEVENTH BOOK.
 

The constitution of Germany, observes Puffendorf, may be said to verify the fable of the Hydra, with this difference, that the heads of the German state bite and devour each other. At the time when Camoens wrote, the German empire was plunged into all the miseries of a religious war, the Catholics using every endeavour to rivet the chains of Popery, the adherents of Luther as strenuously endeavouring to shake them off.

This is a mistake. The title of King of Jerusalem was never assumed by the Kings of England. Robert, Duke of Normandy, son of William the Conqueror, was elected King of Jerusalem by the army in Syria, but declined it in hope of ascending the throne of England, which attempt was defeated. Regnier, Count d'Anjou, father of Margaret, queen of Henry VI. was flattered with the mock royalty of Naples, Cyprus, and Jerusalem, his armorial bearing for the latter, Luna, a cross potent, between four crosses Sol. Hen. VIII. filled the throne of England when our author wrote: his gothic luxury and conjugal brutality amply deserved the censure of the honest Poet.

The French Translator very cordially agrees with the Portuguese Poet in the strictures upon Germany, England, and Italy. But when his own country is touched upon, “Malgré Pestime, says he, que j'ai pour mon auteur, je ne craindrai pas de dire qu'il tombe ici dans une grande injustice: For all the regard I have for my Author, I will not hesitate to say, that here he has committed an enormous injustice.” All Europe besides however will witness the truth of the assertion, which stigmatizes the French politics with the lust of extending their monarchy.

A river in Africa.

However these severe reflections on modern Italy may displease the admirers of Italian manners, the picture on the whole is too just to admit of confutation. Never did the history of any court afford such instances of villainy and all the baseness of intrigue as that of the Popes. The faith and honour of gentlemen banished from the politics of the Vatican, every public virtue must of consequence decline among the higher ranks, while the lower, broken by oppression, sunk into the deepest poverty, and its attendant vices of meanness and pufillanimity. That this view of the lower ranks in the Pope's dominions is just, we have the indubitable testimony of an Addison, confirmed by the miserable depopulation of a province, which was once the finest and most populous of the Roman empire. It has long been the policy of the court of Spain, to encourage the luxury and effeminate dissipation of the Neapolitan nobility; and those of modern Venice resemble their warlike ancestors only in name. That Italy can boast many individuals of a different character, will by no means overthrow these general observations founded on the testimony of the most authentic Writers. Our Poet is besides justifiable, in his censures, for he only follows the severe reflections of the greatest of the Italian Poets. It were easy to give fifty instances, two or three however shall suffice. Dante in his sixth Canto, del Purg.

Abi, serva Italia, di dolore ostello,
Nave senza noccbiero in gran tempesta,
Non donna di provincie, ma bordello—

“Ah, slavish Italy, the Inn of dolour, a ship without a pilot in a horrid tempest, not the mistress of provinces, but a brothel.” Ariosto, Canto 17.

O d'ogni vitio fetida sentina
Dormi Italia imbriac—

“O inebriated Italy, thou sleepest the sink of every filthy vice.” And Petrarch;

Del' empia Babilonia, ond' è fuggita
Ogni vergogna, ond' ogni bene è fuori,
Albergo di dolor, madre d'errori
Son fuggit' io per allungar la vita.

“From the impious Babylon (the Papal court) from whence all shame and all good are fled, the Inn of dolour, the mother of errors, have I hastened away to prolong my life.”

A much admired Sonnet from the same Author shall close these citations.

SONNETTO.
La gola, e'l sonno, e l'otiose piume
Hanno del mondo ogni virtù sbandita;
Ond' è dal corso suo quasi smarrita
Nostra natura vinta dal costume:
Ed è si spento ogni benigno lume
Del ciel, per cui s'informa humana vita
Che per cosa mirabile s'addita
Chi vuol far d'Helicona nascer fiume
Qual vagbezza di lauro, qual di mirto?
Povera e nuda vai Filosofia,
Dice la turba al vil guadagno intesa.
Pochi compagni havrai per l'alta via;
Tanto ti prego più; gentile spirto,
Non lassar la magnanima tua impresa.

Though this elegant little Poem is general, yet as the Author and the friend to whom he addresses it, were Italians, that he had a particular regard to the state of their own country must be allowed. I have thus attempted it in English.

SONNET.
Ah! how, my friend, has foul-gorged Luxurie,
And bloated slumbers on the slothful down,
From the dull world all manly virtue thrown,
And slaved the age to custom's tyrannie!
The blessed lights so lost in darkness be,
Those lights by heaven to guide our minds bestown,
Mad were he deem'd who brought from Helicon
The hallowed water or the laurel tree.
Philosophy, ah! thou art cold and poor,
Exclaim the crowd, on sordid gain intent;
Few will attend thee on thy lofty road:
Yet I, my friend, would fire thy zeal the more;
Ah, gentle spirit, labour on unspent,
Crown thy fair toils, and win the smile of God.

It is supposed that this was addressed to a friend, engaged in some literary undertaking of importance and novelty.

Cadmus having slain the dragon which guarded the fountain of Dirce in Bœotia, sowed the teeth of the monster. A number of armed men immediately sprung up, and surrounded Cadmus in order to kill him. By the counsel of Minerva he threw a precious stone among them, in striving for which they slew one another. Only five survived, who afterwards assisted him to build the city of Thebes. Vid. Ovid. Met. IV.

The foundation of this fable appears to be thus: Cadmus having slain a famous Freebooter, who infested Bœotia, a number of his Banditti, not improperly called his teeth, attempted to revenge his death, but quarrelling about the presents which Cadmus sent them to distribute among themselves, they fell by the swords of each other.

Terrigenæ pereunt per mutua vulnera fratres.

Imitated from this fine passage in Lucan:

Quis furor, O Cives! quæ tanta licentia ferri,
Gentibus invisis Latium præbere cruorem?
Cumque superba foret Babylon spolianda trophæis
Ausoniis, umbraque erraret Crassus inulta,
Belligeri placuit nullos habitura triumphos?
Heu, quantum potuit terræ pelagique parari
Hoc, quem civiles bauserunt, sanguine, dextræ!

The Caspian sea, so called from the large river Volga or Wolga, which empties itself into it.

By this barbarous policy the tyranny of the Ottomans has been long sustained. The troops of the Turkish infantry and cavalry, known by the name of Janizaries and Spahis, are thus supported; and the scribes in office called Mufti, says Sandys, “are the sons of Christians (and those the most completely furnished by nature) taken in their childhood from their miserable parents by a levy made every five years, or oftener or seldomer, as occasion requireth.”

See the note on page 194.

Alludes to the discovery and conquest of the Brazils by the Portuguese.

If our former defences of the exuberant declamations of Camoens are allowed by the critic, we doubt not but the disgression, now concluded, will appear with peculiar propriety. The poet having brought his heroes to the shore of India, indulges himself with a review of the state of the western and eastern worlds; the latter of which is now, by the labour of his heroes, rendered accessible to the former. The purpose of his poem is also strictly kept in view. The West and the East he considers as two great empires, the one of the true religion, the other of a false. The professors of the true, disunited and destroying one another; the professors of the false one all combined to extirpate the other. He upbraids the professors of the true religion for their vices, particularly for their disunion and for deserting the interests of holy faith. His countrymen, however, he boasts, have been its defenders and planters, and, without the assistance of their brother powers, will plant it in Asia. This, as it is the purpose of his hero, is directly to the subject of the poem, and the honour, which heaven he says vouchsafed to his countrymen, in chusing them to defend and propagate its laws, is in the genuine spirit of that religious enthusiasm which breathes through the two great epic poems of Greece and Rome, and which gives an air of the most solemn importance to the Gierusalemme of Tasso.

Yet whatever liberties a poet may be allowed to take when he treats of the fabulous ages, any absurdity of opinion, where authentic history, and the state of modern nations afford the topic, must to the intelligent reader appear ridiculous, and therefore a blemish in a solemn poem. There are many, the translator is aware, to whom a serious and warm exhortation to a general crusade will appear as an absurdity, and a blemish of this kind. “The crusaders,” according to what M. Voltaire calls their true character, des brigands liguès pour venir, &c. “were a band of vagabond thieves who had agreed to ramble from the heart of Europe in order to desolate a country they had no right to, and massacre, in cold blood, a venerable prince more than fourscore years old, and his whole people, against whom they had no pretence of complaint.”

Yet however confidently Voltaire and others may please to talk, it will be no difficult matter to prove that the crusades were neither so unjustifiable, so impolitical, nor so unhappy in their consequences as the superficial readers of history are habituated to view them.

Were the Aborigines of all America to form one general confederacy against the descendants of those Europeans, who under that brutal conqueror Fernando Cortez, massacred upwards of forty millions of Mexicans, and other American natives, and were the confederates totally to dispossess the present possessors of an empire so unjustly acquired, no man, it is presumed, would pronounce that their combination and hostilities were against the law of nature or nations. Yet, whatever Voltaire may please to assert, this supposition is by no means unapplicable to the confederacy of the cross. A party of wandering Arabs are joined by the Turks or Turcomans, who inhabited the frozen wilds of mount Caucasus, and whose name signifies wanderers; these, incorporated with other banditti, from the deserts of Scythia, now called Tartary, overrun the regions of Syria, to which they had no title, whose inhabitants had given them no offence. They profess that they are commissioned by heaven to establish the religion of Mohammed by violence and the sword. In a few ages they subdue the finest countries around the Euphrates, and the Christian inhabitants, the rightful possessors, are treated with the brutal policy and cruelty of a Cortez. Bound by their creed to make war on the Christians, their ambition neglects no opportunity to extend their conquests; and already possessed of immense territory, their acknowledged purpose and their power threaten destruction to the Christian empire of the Greeks.

Having conquered and proselited Africa, from the Nile to the Straits of Gibraltar, the princes of that country, their tributaries and allies, combining in the great design to extirpate Christianity, turn their arms against Europe, and are successful: they establish kingdoms in Spain and Portugal; and France, Italy, and the western islands of the mediterranean, suffer by their excursions; while Hungary, Bohemia, Poland, and Italy itself, from its vicinage to Dalmatia, are immediately concerned in the impending fate of the Grecian empire. To these considerations let it be added, that several eastern Christians fled to Europe, and begging as pilgrims from country to country, implored the assistance of the Christian powers to dispossess the cruel and unjust usurpers of their lands. At this period the crusades commence. To suppose that the princes of Europe were so insensible to the danger which threatened them, as some modern writers who have touched upon that subject, appear to be, is to ascribe a degree of stupidity to them by no means applicable to their military character. Though superstition inflamed the multitude, we may be assured however, that several princes found it their political interest to fan the flames of that superstition; and accordingly we find that the princes of Spain and Portugal often greatly availed themselves of it. The immense resources which the Turks received from Egypt, and the neighbouring countries, which had not been attempted by Godfrey and the first crusaders, determined their successors to alter the plan of their operations. They began their hostilities in Spain and Portugal, and proceeded through Barbary to Egypt. By this new route of the crosses, the Spaniards and Portuguese were enabled not only to drive the Moors from Europe, but to give a fatal blow to their power in Africa. Nor was the safety of the Greek empire less necessary to Italy and the eastern kingdoms of Europe. Injuries, however, offered by the crusaders, who even seized the throne of Constantinople, upon which they placed an earl of Flanders, excited the resentment of the Greeks; and their aversion to the papal supremacy rendered them so jealous of the crusaders, that the successors of Godfrey, for want of auxiliary support, after about ninety years possession, were totally driven from their new-erected kingdom in the Holy Land. By the fall of the Greek empire, an event which followed, and which had been long foreseen, the Venetians, the Austrians, the Poles, and the Russians became the natural enemies of the Turks; and many desperate wars, attended with various success, have been continued to the present time. Not much above fifty years ago, their formidable efforts to possess themselves of the Venetian dominions alarmed all the Christian powers; and had it not been for the repeated defeats they received from prince Eugene, a great part of the Austrian territories must have yielded to their yoke. However overlooked, it requires but little political philosophy to perceive the security which would result to Europe were there a powerful and warlike kingdom on the eastern side of the Turkish empire. The western conquests of that fierce warrior Bajazet I. were interrupted by Tamerlane, and by the enemy they found in Kouli Khan, the enraged Porte was prevented from revenging the triumphs of Eugene. A few years ago we beheld them trample on the law of nations, send an ambassador to prison, and command the Russian empress to desert her allies. A war, which now continues, ensued. And however the foresight of the narrow politician may dread the rising power of the Russ, it is to be wished that the arms of Muscovy may fix such barriers to the Turkish empire as will for ever prevent their long meditated and often attempted design to possess themselves of the Venetian dominions, or to extend their conquests on the West, conquests which would render them the most dangerous power to the peace of Europe.

In a word, the crusades, a combination which tended to support the Greek empire for the security of the eastern, and to drive the enemy from the southern parts of Europe, can by no means deserve to be called a most singular monument of human folly, whatever the superstition of its promoters and conductors might be. And however the inutility and absurdity of their professed aim, to rescue the tomb of Christ, may excite the ridicule of the modern philosopher, it was a motive admirably adapted to the superstition of that age; and where it is necessary that an enemy should be restrained, an able politician will avail himself of the most powerful of all incitements to hostility, the superstitious or religious fervour of his army.

Having entered so far into the history of the crusades, it may not be improper to take a view of the happy consequences which flowed from them. “To these wild expeditions,” says Robertson, “the effect of superstition or folly, we owe the first gleams of light which tended to dispel barbarity and ignorance, and introduce any change in government or manners.” Constantinople, at that time the seat of elegance, of arts and commerce, was the principal rendezvous of the European armies. The Greek writers of that age speak of the Latins as the most ignorant barbarians; the Latins, on the other hand, talk with astonishment of the grandeur, elegance, and commerce of Constantinople. The most stupid barbarians, when they have the opportunity of comparison, are sensible of the superiority of civilized nations, and by an acquaintance with them begin to resemble their manners, and emulate their advantages. The fleets which attended the crosses introduced commerce, and the freedom of commercial cities into their mother countries. This, as Robertson observes, proved destructive to the feudal system, which had now degenerated into the most gloomy oppression, and introduced the plans of regular government. “This acquisition of liberty,” says the same most ingenious historian, “made such a happy change in the condition of all the members of communities as roused them from that stupidity and inaction into which they had been sunk by the wretchedness of their former state. The spirit of industry revived, commerce became an object of attention, and began to flourish. Population increased. Independence was established, and wealth flowed into cities which had long been the seat of poverty and oppression.”

Upon the whole it will be found, that the Portuguese poet talks of the political reasons of a crusade, with an accuracy in the philosophy of history, as superior to that of Voltaire as the poetical merit of the Lusiad surpasses that of the Henriade. And the critic in poetry must allow, that to suppose the discovery of Gama the completion of all the endeavours to overthrow the great enemies of the true religion gives a dignity to the poem, and an importance to the hero, similar to that which Voltaire, on the same supposition, allows to the subject of the Jerusalem of Tasso.

Lisbon itself was taken from the Moors, by the assistance of an English feet of crusaders. See the note, p. 108.

A Patriarch of Constantinople declared publickly to the Pope's legate. “That he would much rather behold the turban than the triple crown upon the great altar of Constantinople.”

This is according to the truth of history. While the messenger sent ashore by Gama was borne here and there, and carried off his feet by the throng, who understood not a word of his language, he was accosted in Spanish by a Moorish merchant, a native of Tunis, who, according to Osorius, had been the chief person with whom king Ferdinand had formerly contracted for military stores. He proved himself an honest agent, and of infinite service to Gama, with whom he returned to Portugal, where, according to Faria, he died in the Christian communion. He was named Monzaida.

To eat together was in the east looked upon as the inviolable pledge of protection. As a Persian nobleman was one day walking in his garden, a wretch in the utmost terror prostrated himself before him, and implored to be protected from the rage of a multitude who were in pursuit of him, to take his life. The nobleman took a peach, eat part of it, and gave the rest to the fugitive, assuring him of safety. As they approached the house, they met a crowd who carried the murdered corse of the nobleman's beloved son. The incensed populace demanded the murderer, who stood beside him, to be delivered to their fury. The father, though overwhelmed with grief and anger, replied, “We have eaten together, and I will not betray him.” He protected the murderer of his son from the fury of his domestics and neighbours, and in the night facilitated his escape.

The well-known fable of the descent of Orpheus to hell, and the second loss of his wife, is thus explained. Aëdoneus, king of Thesprotia, whose cruelty procured him the name of Pluto, tyrant of hell, having seized Eurydice, as she fled from his friend Aristæus, detained her as a captive. Orpheus having charmed the tyrant with his music, his wife was restored, on condition that he should not look upon her, till he had conducted her out of Thesprotia. Orpheus, on his journey, forfeited the condition, and irrecoverably lost his spouse.

The Great Mogul and other eastern sovereigns, attended with their courtiers, spend annually some months of the finest season in encampments in the field, in hunting parties, and military amusements.

Properly an immense chain of mountains, known by various names, Caucasus, Taurus, Hemodus, Paropamissus, Orontes, Imaus, &c. and from Imaus extended through Tartary to the sea of Kamchatka.

One Captain Knox, who published an account of Ceylon, in 1681, has the following curious passage. “This for certain, says he, I can affirm, that oftentimes the Devil doth cry with an audible voice in the night: It is very shrill, almost like the barking of a dog. This I have often heard myself, but never heard that he did any body any harm. Only this observation the inhabitants of the land have made of this voice, and I have made it also, that either just before, or very suddenly after this voice, the king always cuts off people. To believe that this is the voice of the Devil these reasons urge; because there is no creature known to the inhabitants that cries like it, and because it will on a sudden depart from one place, and make a noise in another, quicker than any fowl can fly, and because the very dogs will tremble when they hear it; and it is so counted by all the people.” —Knox, Hist. Ceyl. p. 78.

Pliny, imposed upon by some Greeks, who pretended to have been in India, relates this fable. Vid. Nat. Hist. Lib. 12.

Almost all the Indian nations attribute to the Ganges, the virtue of cleansing the soul from the stains of sin. They have such veneration for this river, that if any one in their presence were to throw any filth into the stream, an instant death would punish his audacity. As St. Thomas preached the faith in the east, it is probable that these ablutions are a gross imitation of that baptism, which he published. Castera.

Now called Gazarate. The inhabitants are ingenious, cultivate letters, and are said to be particularly happy in the agreeable Romance. According to ancient tradition, Porus was sovereign of this country. His memory is still preserved with an eclat, worthy of that valour and generosity which attracted the esteem of the great Alexander. Castera. This country was known to the ancients by the name of Gedrosia.

The laws of Narsinga oblige the women to throw themselves into the funeral pile, to be burnt with their deceased husbands. An infallible secret to prevent the desire of widowhood.

Castera from Barros, Dec. 4.

There are many accounts in different travellers of the performance of this most barbarous ceremony. The following one is selected as the most picturesque of any in the knowledge of the translator.

“At this time (1710) died the Prince of Marata, aged above eighty years. The ceremony of his funeral, where his forty-seven wives were burned with his corpse, was thus: A deep circular pit was digged in a field without the town; in the middle of the trench was erected a pile of wood, on the top of which, on a couch richly ornamented, lay the body of the deceased Prince in his finest robes. After numberless rituals performed by the Bramins, the pile was set on fire, and immediately the unhappy Ladies appeared, sparkling with jewels and adorned with flowers. These victims of this diabolical sacrifice walked several times about the burning pile, the heat whereof was felt at a considerable distance. The principal Lady then, holding the dagger of her late husband, thus addressed herself to the Prince his successor: Here, said she, is the dagger which the King made use of, to triumph over his enemies: beware never to employ it to other purpose, never to embrue it with the blood of your subjects. Govern them as a father, as he has done, and you shall live long and happy, as he did. Since he is no more, nothing can keep me longer in the world; all that remains for me is to follow him. With these words, she resigned the dagger into the Prince's hands, who took it from her without shewing the least sign of grief or compassion. The Princess now appeared agitated. One of her domestics, a Christian woman, had frequently talked with her on religion, and though she never renounced her idols, had made some impressions on her mind. Perhaps these impressions now revived. With a most expressive look she exclaimed, Alas! what is the end of human happiness! I know I shall plunge myself headlong into hell. On these words, a horror was visible on every countenance; when resuming her courage, she boldly turned her face to the burning pile, and calling upon her gods, flung herself into the midst of the flames. The second Lady was the sister of a Prince of the blood, who was present, and assisted at the detestable sacrifice. She advanced to her brother, and gave him the jewels, wherewith she was adorned. His passion gave way, he burst into tears, and fell upon her neck in the most tender embraces. She, however, remained unmoved, and, with a resolute countenance, sometimes viewed the pile, and sometimes the assistants. Then loudly exclaiming, Chiva, Chiva, the name of one of her idols, she precipitated herself into the flames, as the former had done. The other Ladies soon followed after, some decently composed, and some with the most bewildered, down-cast, sorrowful looks. One of them, shocked above the rest, ran to a Christian soldier, whom she beheld among the guards, and hanging about his neck, implored him to save her. The new convert, stunned with surprize, pushed the unfortunate Lady from him; and shrieking aloud she fell into the fiery trench. The soldier, all shivering with terror, immediately retired, and a delirious fever ended his life in the following night. Though many of the unhappy victims, discovered at first the utmost intrepidity, yet no sooner did they feel the flames, than they roared out in the most dreadful manner; and, weltering over each other, strove to gain the brim of the pit; but in vain: the assistants forced them back with their poles, and heaped new fuel upon them. The next day the Bramins gathered the bones, and threw them into the sea. The pit was levelled, a temple built on the spot, and the deceased Prince and his wives were reckoned among the Deities. To conclude, this detestable cruelty has the appearance of the free choice of the women. But that freedom is only specious; it is almost impossible to avoid it. If they do, they must lie under perpetual infamy, and the relations, who esteem themselves highly disgraced, leave no means untried to oblige them to it. Princesses, and Concubines of Princes, however, are the only persons from whom this species of suicide is expected. When women of inferior rank submit to this abominable custom, they are only urged to it by the impulse of a barbarous pride and vanity of ostentation.” Extracted from a letter from Father Martin, on the mission of Coromandel, to Father de Villete, of the Society of Jesus, published at Paris, in 1719.

Whatever Monzaida relates of the people and their manners, is confirmed by the histories of India, according to Barros, Castaneda, Maffeus, and Don Osorius. Our Author, in this, imitates Homer and Virgil, who are fond of every opportunity to introduce any curious custom or vestige of antiquity. Castera.

Antiquity has talked much, but knew little with certainty of the Brahmins, and their philosophy. Porphyry and others esteem them the same as the Gymnosophists of the Greeks, and divide them into several sects, the Samanæi, the Germanes, the Pramnæ, the Gymnetæ, &c. Their terrible penances are often mentioned by heathen authors, and by the earliest of the Christian fathers. The story of Calanus, who burnt himself in the camp of Alexander, is well known. The Brahmin Mandanis, however, deserves more honour: he rejected with scorn the gifts of the conqueror, and ridiculed his pretensions to divinity. Several ambassadors were sent by a king of India, a king of six hundred kings, to Augustus Cæsar. (Sueton. c. 21.) One of these, a Brahmin philosopher, burned himself at Athens. His life had been extremely prosperous, and he took this method, he said, to prevent a reverse of fortune. Amid a great concourse of people he entered the fire, naked, anointed, and laughing. The epitaph which he desired might be inscribed on his tomb, was, “Here rests Zarmanochagas, the Indian of Bargosa, who, according to the custom of his country, made himself immortal.” On the approach of age or disease, according to antiquity, they had recourse to this means, and it was on the advances of a distemper that Calanus amused Alexander with this exhibition of Indian philosophy. The custom of the wife being burned with the corpse of her deceased husband is also very antient. It is mentioned by Hierome, (Adv. Jov. l. i.) and several others. Postellus (de Orig. c. 13. et 15.) fancies that the Brahmins are descended of Abraham by Keturah, and named Brachmanes, quasi Abrahmanes. Pliny, l. vii. c. 2. relates, that the Indian philosophers called Gymnetæ, from the sun rising to his setting, by way of divination, kept their eyes unalterably fixed on the orb of that luminary. Besides these relations, which correspond with later accounts, the antients had innumerable fables. Pliny talks of men in India with dogs heads; others with only one leg, yet Achilleses for swiftness of foot; of a nation of pigmies; of some, (as already observed in these notes) who lived by the smell; of tribes who had only one eye in their forehead; and of some whose ears hung down to the ground. Others talked of fountains, in India, of liquid gold. But enough. Though Pliny, no doubt, had his admirers, these stories were ridiculed by some, and Horace genteely laughs at them in a single expression.

—Quæ loca fabulosus
Lambit Hydaspes.

From the earliest times the Indians have been divided into distinct tribes. The four principal ones are, the Brahmins, (who like the Levites among the Hebrews, are hereditary priests) the soldiers, the mechanics, and the labourers. As these tribes never intermarry, India may properly be said to contain four different nations. They will neither eat together, nor drink out of the same vessel. If they trespass in these or in many other similar points, they are held as polluted, rejected from their tribe, and are obliged to herd with a despised crew, called the Hallachores, who are the lowest of the community, the rabble of India. Among these only, says Scrafton, the popish missionaries have had any success. Urbano Cerri, in his account of the Catholic religion, mentions a Jesuit named Robertus de Nobili, who preached that every one ought to remain in his own tribe, and by that means made many converts. He also proposed to erect a seminary of Christian Brahmins. But the Holy See disapproved of this rational design, and defeated his labours. Jealousy of the secular arts of the Portuguese, was also a powerful preventive of the labours of their priests. A Spaniard being asked by an Indian king, how his Spanish majesty was able to subdue such immense countries as they boasted to belong to him: The Don honestly answered, “that he first sent priests to convert the people, and having thus gained a party of the natives, he sent fleets and soldiers, who with the assistance of the new proselites subdued the rest.” The truth of this confession, which has been often proved, will never be forgotten in the East. But if the bigotted adherence of the Indians to the rites of their tribes, and other causes, have been a bar to the propagation of Christianity among them, the same reasons have also prevented the success of Mohammedism, a religion much more palatable to the luxurious and ignorant. Though the Mogul, and almost all the princes of India, have these many centuries professed the religion of the Koran, Mr. Orme computes that all the Mohammedans of Hindostan do not exceed ten thousand; whereas the Indians, he says, amount to about an hundred millions.

Almost innumerable, and sometimes as whimsically absurd as the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, are the holy legends of India. The accounts of the god Brahma, or Brimha, are more various than those of any fable in the Grecian mythology. According to Father Bohours, in his life of Xavier, the Brahmins hold, that the Great God having a desire to become visible, became man. In this state he produced three sons, Mayso, Visnu, and Brahma; the first, born of his mouth, the second, of his breast, the third, of his belly. Being about to return to his invisibility, he assigned various departments to his three sons. To Brahma he gave the third heaven, with the superintendence of the rites of religion. Brahma having a desire for children, begot the Brahmins, who are the priests of India, and who are believed by the other tribes to be a race of demi-gods, who have the blood of heaven running in their veins. Other accounts say, that Brahma produced the priests from his head, the more ignoble tribes from his breast, thighs, and feet.

According to the learned Kircher's account of the theology of the Brahmins, the sole and supreme god Vistnou, formed the secondary god Brahma, out of a flower that floated on the surface of the great deep before the creation. And afterwards, in reward of the virtue, fidelity, and gratitude of Brahma, gave him power to create the universe.

According to the Danish missionaries , the First Being, say the Brahmins, begat Eternity, Eternity begat Tschinen, Tschinen begat Tschaddy, Tschaddy begat Putady, or the elementary world, Putady begat Sound, Sound begat Nature, Nature begat the great god Tschatatschinen, from whom Brahma was the fourth in a like descent. Brahma produced the soul, the soul produced the visible heaven, the heaven produced the air, the air the fire, the fire the water, and the water the earth. A legend something similar to this appears in Mr. Dow's Dissertation on the Brahmins, prefixed to his ingenious history of Hindostan.

This genealogical nonsense, however, is not confined to India. Hesiod's genealogy of the gods, though refined upon by the schools of Plato, is of the same class. The Jewish fables, foolish questions and genealogies, reproved by saint Paul, (epist. Tit.) were probably of this kind, for the Talmudical legends were not then sprung up. Binah, or Understanding, said the cabalists, begat Cochmah, or Wisdom, &c. till at last comes Milcah, the Kingdom, who begat Shekinah, the Divine Presence. In the same manner the Christian Gnostics, of the sect of Valentinus, held their Πληρωμα, and their thirty ages. Ampsiu and Auraan, they tell us, i. e. Profundity and Silence, begat Bacua and Tharthuu, Mind and Truth; these begat Ubucua and Thardeadie, Word and Life, and these Merexa and Atarbarba, Man and Church. The other conjunctions of their thirty Æones are of similar ingenuity. The prevalence of the same spirit of mythological allegory in such different nations, affords the philosopher a worthy field of speculation.

Almost as innumerable as their legends are the dreadful penances to which the religionists of India submit themselves for the expiation of sins. Some hold the transmigration of souls, and of consequence abstain from all animal food . Yet however austere in other respects, they freely abandon themselves to every species of letchery, some of them esteeming the most unnatural abominations as the privilege of their sanctity. The cow they venerate as sacred. If a dying man can lay hold of a cow's tail , and expire with it in his hands, his soul is sure to be purified, and perhaps will enjoy the signal favour to transmigrate into the body of one of those animals. The temples of India, which are numerous, are filled with innumerable idols of the most horrid figures. Brahma, in particular, appears in many forms: in one as a fat old man, sitting cross-legged, with four faces, and four hands. A species of the antient manicheeism of Persia is mixed with their religion, and the Destroyer, or the Frightful Demon, is worshipped by the authority of their sacred books. The first thing they meet in the morning, be it ass, hog, or dog, they worship during the course of the day. Scarcely more stupid were the Pelusians: Crepitus ventris inflati, says Hierome, Pelusiaca religio est. The Brahmins are allowed to eat nothing but what is cooked by themselves. Astrology is their principal study; yet, though they are mostly a despicable set of fortune-tellers, some of them are excellent moralists, and particularly inculcate the comprehensive virtue of humanity, which is enforced by the opinion, that Divine Beings often assume the habit of mendicants, in order to distinguish the charitable from the inhuman. The Malabrians have several traditions of the virtuous on these happy trials being translated into heaven; the best designed incitement to virtue, perhaps, which their religion contains. Besides the Brahmins, the principal sect of that vast region called India, there are several others, who are divided and subdivided, according to innumerable variations in every province. In Cambaya, the Banians, a sect who strictly abstain from all animal food, are numerous.

Such are the general accounts of the Indian opinions, which till lately have been received in Europe. Accounts much more to the honour of the Indian philosophy have within these few years been laid before the public, by some gentlemen, who, by conversing with some eminent Brahmins, have enjoyed the best opportunities of information. Yet these gentlemen do not agree among themselves. Colonel Dow confesses, that he finds himself obliged to differ from Mr. Holwell almost in every particular concerning the religion of the Hindoos “The Bedang or Shaster, the sacred book of the Brahmins, says Dow, contains various accounts of the creation, one philosophical, the others allegorical. These latter, says he, have afforded ample field for the invention of the Brahmins. From the many allegorical systems of creation contained in the Shasters, many different accounts of the cosmogony of the Hindoos have been promulgated in Europe, some travellers adopting one system, some another.” From this confession we are led to infer, that the different accounts given by our modern travellers, arise from their having conversed with different Brahmins; a circumstance by no means favourable to the opinion of the consistency of the moral and philosophically religious system, which we have been told is contained in the sacred books of India. If we cannot be so warm in our admiration of the religious philosophy of the Hindoos, as some late writers have been, some circumstances of that philosophy, as delivered by themselves, it is hoped, will exculpate our coolness.

The sacred books of the Hindoos are written in a dead language, the Sanscrita, which none but the Brahmins are allowed to study. So strict in this are they, says Mr. Dow, that only one Musselman was ever instructed in it, and his knowledge was obtained by fraud. Mahummud Akbar , emperor of India, though bred a Mohammedan, studied several religions. In the christian he was instructed by a Portuguese. But finding that of the Hindoos inaccessible, he had recourse to art. A boy of parts, named Feizi, was, as the orphan of a Brahmin, put under the care of one of the most eminent of these philosophers, and obtained full knowledge of their hidden religion. But the fraud being discovered, he was laid under the restraint of an oath, and it does not appear that he ever communicated the knowledge thus acquired.

True or false, this story, which is firmly believed in Hindostan, sufficiently shews the great care with which they conceal their tenets, of which even the Mohammedans, their masters, have little or no knowledge. Different from every other sect, the Brahmins admit of no proselites, a circumstance of unparallelled policy. Some may venerate, on this account, the wisdom and sacredness of their doctrines. For our part we cannot help being led, by this very cue, to suspect that there is something extremely absurd, frivolous, and childish, in what is thus religiously enveloped in the veil of darkness. Were analogy allowed us in proof, our suspicion would amount to an assertion. The sacred books, or Shasters, are divided into four Bedas; the first contains principally the science of divination, the second treats of religious and moral duties, the third the rites of religion, sacrifices, penances, &c. and the fourth, the knowledge of the Good Being; and contains, says our author, the whole science of theology and metaphysical philosophy.

Thus, according to Mr. Dow, the Brahmins avow, and their sacred book contains, that most despicable of all pretensions to learning, judicial astrology; that mother of superstition in every country, that engine of villany, by which the priests of India, and the gypsies of England, impose on the credulous and ignorant. Nor can we pass unobserved the rejection of the fourth Beda. By its subject it seems to be the most valuable of the whole, except the second. Yet the Brahmins, says Mr. Dow, have long rejected it, because the Mohammedan religion, they say, is borrowed from it. On the supposition, which they pretend, that their sacred books were dictated by divine authority, the rejection of any part is as unwarrantable as the reason for rejecting the fourth Beda is submissive and ridiculous. Another shrewd suspicion from this also arises. The Brahmins reject a fourth part of their sacred canon, and they have ever kept the whole most carefully concealed from the eyes of every enquirer. Who, that considers these circumstances, can heartily believe the pretended antiquity or the unadulterated text of the sacred records of India?

A philosopher, named Goutam, who lived about 4000 years ago, is acknowledged to have written many of the treatises which are held sacred by the Neadirsen sect; a sect, whose doctrines are professed by the generality of the Brahmins of Bengal, and of the northern provinces. “This philosopher, says Mr. Dow, supposes that the Deity never exerts the power of a providence, but that he remains in eternal rest, taking no concern neither in human affairs, nor in the course of the operations of Nature.” This may be called philosophy, but this article in the creed of Goutam is incompatible with the idea of religion, the philosophical definition of which is certainly thus, A dependence on the Creator, similar to that of a Child on his Father.

“The learned Brahmins says the Colonel, with one voice, deny the existence of inferior divinities. Their polytheism is only a symbolical worship of the divine attributes, and it is much to be doubted, whether the want of revelation and philosophy, those necessary purifiers of religion, ever involved any nation in gross idolatry, as many ignorant zealots have pretended.”..... “Under the name of Brimha, they worship the wisdom and creative power of God; under the appellation of Bishen, his providential and preserving quality; and under that of Shibah, that attribute which tends to destroy.”

“Shibah, says the same author, among many others, is known by the names of Mahoissur, the Great Demon; Bamdebo, the Frightful Spirit; and Mohilla, the Destroyer.”

The same authority also informs us, that they erect temples to Granesh, or Policy, whom they worship at the commencement of any design, represented with the head of an elephant with only one tooth. That they worship Kartic, or Fame; Cobere, or Wealth; Soorage, or the sun; Chunder, or the moon; the deities of water, fire, &c. besides an innumerable herd of local divinities . In another place, our author confesses that the vulgar revere all the elements, and receive as an article of belief every holy legend.

An account of the celebrated sect of the Brahmins, and an enquiry into their philosophy, are undoubtedly requisite in the notes of a Poem which celebrates the discovery of the Eastern World; of a poem where their rites and opinions are necessarily mentioned. To set the subject in the clearest and most just view, as far as his abilities will serve him, is the intention of the translator. The admirers of the Hindoos philosophy will therefore excuse him, should he venture to give his opinion against the apology for the polytheism of the Brahmins. To call it only a symbolical worship of the Divine Attributes, is only to present to us a specious shadow, which will vanish on the slightest touch of examination.

That the polytheism of Egypt, the worship of dogs, crocodiles, and onions, was only a symbolical worship of the divine attributes, has been often said, and with equal justice. For our part we can distinguish no difference between the worship of Janus with two faces, or of Brahma with four. The philosophers of Rome were as able to allegorise as those of India. The apology for the idolatry of the Brahmins is applicable to that of every nation, and, as an argument, falls nothing short of that of a learned Arab, who about the eleventh century wrote a treatise to prove that there never was such a thing as idolatry in the world, for that every man intended to worship some attribute of the divinity, which he believed to reside in his idol.

Nor is a sentiment of Mr. Dow inapplicable to this: “Let us rest assured, says he, that whatever the external ceremonies of religion may be, the self same infinite Being is the object of universal adoration.” Yet whatever the metaphysician may think of this ingenious refinement, the moral philosopher will be little pleased with it, when he considers that the vulgar, that is ninety-nine of every hundred, are utterly incapable of practising their idolatry, according to this philosophical definition. That the learned Brahmins with one voice assert there is but one Supreme God, has been acknowledged by almost all modern travellers. Xavier himself confesses this, and tells us from the authority of a Brahmin, that the ten commandments made a part of their hidden religion. But be their hidden religion what it will, the Brahmins, in public, worship and teach the worship of idols. To give an account both of the popular and what is called the philosophical religion of India, is the purpose of this essay. To abstract our view therefore from the popular practice of the country, and to indulge the spirit of encomium on the enlarged tenets of the learned few, is not here to be expected. To follow this method, a traveller may tell us there is no popery at Rome, or that the divine mission of Mohammed is denied at Constantinople, because at the one he conversed with a deistical Bishop, or at the other with a philosophical Mufti. However pleased therefore the metaphysician may be with ingenious refinement, the moralist will consider, that the question is not, how the philosopher may refine upon any system, but how the people will, of consequence, practise under its influence. And on this view alone, he will pronounce it reprehensible or commendable. That the religion of the Brahmins is highly reprehensible every moralist must allow, when he considers, that the most unworthy ideas of the Divinity, ideas destructive of morality, naturally arise from idol worship; and the vulgar, it is every where confessed, cannot avoid the abuse. What can he think of the piety of a poor superstitious Indian, when he worships the Great Dæmon, the Destroyer, and Frightful Spirit? Does he love what he worships? And can piety exist where the object of adoration is hated? What can the moralist think of the Indian, who, upon religious principles, drowns himself in the Ganges, or throws himself under the wheels of his pagod's chariot, to be crushed to death by the holy load? The duties we owe to our relatives in particular, and to society in general, the Author of Nature has imposed upon us by an indispensible canon. Yet these duties by the pious suicide are refused on the principles of the weakest superstition. Nor can the moralist view the dreadful austerities to which the Brahmin philosophers submit themselves in any other light. He who fixes his eyes on his nose till he can see in no other direction; he who clenches his fist till the nails grow out at the back of his hand; and he who twists his neck about, till his face is fixed unalterably backward; (three modes of penance mentioned by Mr. Dow) and he who drowns himself at once, equally incapacitate themselves for the duties of society Nor ought other parts of the Brahmin superstition, in our examination of their tenets and practises, to be here omitted. From the concurrent accounts of many travellers who understood their language, and conversed with the Brahmins, among many other most absurd rites, we are informed that they pay a superstitious regard, and ascribe great holiness to the ashes of burned cowdung; that they persuade the people that their idols eat and drink, and for this purpose extort contributions from the multitude; and for this purpose too, prostitution is enjoyned, and the price of it received from the hands of poor women. If all this is not gross idolatry, nothing ever transacted on earth can deserve the name.

If we may be allowed to digress a little from the subject of the Brahmins, the futility of our refined apology for idolatry will still appear in a stronger light. What will the definition avail in the ballance of morality, when all the inhuman, impure, and immoral rites of idolatry are laid in the other scale? Palestine, Tyre, and Carthage made their children “pass through the fire unto Moloch;” and human sacrifices have prevailed at one time or other in every land. No philosophers ever entertained sublimer ideas of the Divinity, and of the human soul, than the antient Druids. Yet what shall we think of the Wicker Man! A gigantic figure! the body, each leg and arm was a mast, to which an hundred or more human victims were bound with wicker. When there was a deficiency of malefactors or prisoners of war, the innocent helpless were seized, that the horrid sacrifice might be complete. When all the rites were performed, the sublime Druids gave the hecatomb to the flames, as an offering grateful to their gods, as the assurance of protection . In the most polished ages of antient Greece and Rome, the rites of religion were often highly immoral, basely impure. To mention any particular would be an insult to the scholar. Impurities which make the blood recoil, which, like Swift, make one detest the Yahoo species, are a part of the religious externals of many barbarous tribes. A citation from Baumgarten's travels, as quoted by Mr. Locke, here offers itself. “Insuper sanctum illum, quem eo loco [in Egypt] vidimus, publicitus apprimé commendari, eum esse hominem sanctum, divinum à integritate præcipuum; eo quod, nec fœminarum unquam esset, nec puerorum, sed tantummodo aselarum cuncubitor atque mularum.” Decency will allow no translation of this. In a word, where idolatry is practised, whether in the churches of Rome, or in the temples of Brahma, the consequences are felt, and a remedy is wanted: the vulgar are gross idolators; the wiser part see the cheat, and become almost indifferent to every tie of religion.

To all this let it be added, that as Mr. Holwell's and Mr. Dow's Brahmins did not give the same accounts of their hidden religion to these gentlemen; so it is an observation founded on experience, that the zealot of any sect, in giving an account of his religion to one who knows nothing about it, will give every circumstance the best gloss, and strain every feature, as much as possible, to a conformity to the ideas of his intelligent friend. In this manner Josephus, a man of great abilities, wrote his history of the Jews. He has altered, suppressed, glossed, and falsified, on purpose to adopt the manners and opinions of his countrymen, as much as possible, to the taste of the Greek and Roman philosophers. In the same manner, we believe, it may be asserted, that every jesuit behaves, when he defends popery in conversation with an intelligent dissenter from the church of Rome, who has the art to appear ignorant of the doctrines of the papacy, and of the writers of that communion. One may often meet with a sensible papist, who either from ignorance of the history of his own religion, or from prejudice in its favour, will very confidently deny the horrid cruelties, superstitions, and villanous arts of Holy Church; those intrigues and transactions which form the principal part of the history of Europe during six or seven monkish centuries. Yet what wise man will upon such evidence reject the testimony of ages. The allusion is apt, and the inference is the same. Every one, who is acquainted with the history of the human mind, knows what an alteration in the manners of that most bigotted people the Jews, was introduced by the Babylonian captivity. Before that period amazingly dull and stupid, after their return from Assyria they began to philosophize. The superstition and idolatry of the modern Brahmins have certainly, in the same manner, received great improvement of features from the conversation of Europeans, whose example, however otherwise vicious, could not fail to convince them of the absurdity of such mental weakness. The horrible custom of burning the wives with the corpse of the deceased husband, is now, says Mr. Dow, in disuse. From whence the late alteration? Not surely from any text of their hidden sacred canon, which they pretend to have enjoyed so many thousand years .

By the light of all these considerations it will appear, that the accounts of the superstition and idolatry of the Brahmins, which, till lately were received, were by no means without foundation. And indeed it were an unparallelled circumstance, were the concurrent testimony of the most authentic writers and intelligent travellers of the 16th and 17th centuries, to deserve no credit. The difference of the religious legends, by these writers ascribed to the Indians, is fairly accounted for by Mr. Dow; by whom also, as just cited, every charge of superstition is virtually confirmed.

Two cardinal points of the philosophy of the Brahmins remain to be mentioned. They hold that dissolutions of the universe, and new creations, at certain periods, shall succeed one another to all eternity . Of the human soul they say, that after various transmigrations and purifications, it shall be absorbed in the Deity and consciousness lost in bliss. By this unintelligible sublimity, we are put in mind of some of the reveries of a Shaftesbury or a Malebranche; but wild imaginations are the growth of every country.

Nor must the religious sect of the Fakier be omitted. These, according to Mr. Dow, are a set of sturdy beggars, who admit any ruffian of good parts, to join them; and, under pretence of religious pilgrimages, ramble about in armies of ten or twelve thousand men. The country people fly before them, leaving their goods and their wives, (who esteem it a holiness to be embraced by a Fakier) to the mercy and lust of these villains. The prayers of a Fakier are highly esteemed, and often implored, in cases of sterility. The wife and the Fakier retire together to prayer, a signal is left that the Fakier is with the lady, and a sound drubbing is the reward should the husband dare to interrupt their devotions.

We cannot finish this note, long as it is, without observing the vast similarity which obtains among all barbarous nations. When the Portuguese admiral, Pedro de Cabral, discovered the Brazils, he found a sect of religionists called Pages, who were venerated in the same manner as the Fakiers of India. “Hi quocunque veniunt, says Osorius, summo omnium plausu recipiuntur, &c. Wherever these come, they are received with the loudest acclamations, the ways are crowded, verses sung to the music of the country, and dances are performed before them. The most beautiful women, whether virgins or wives, are submitted to their embraces. Opiniuntur enim miseri, si illos placatos habuerint, omnia sibi feliciter eventura; for these wretched ignorants believe, that if they can please these men, every thing will happen well to them.”

To conclude: The writers who have treated of the mission of Xavier, relate, that there is extant in India the writings of a Malabar poet, who wrote nine hundred epigrams, each consisting of eight verses, in ridicule of the worship of the Brahmins, whom he treats with great asperity and contempt. Would any of our diligent enquirers after oriental learning favour the Public with an authentic account of the works of this poet of Malabar, he would undoubtedly confer a singular favour on the republic of letters.

See Phillips's Collection of their Letters published at London in 1717.

Though from the extracts given by Mr. Dow, the philosopher Goutam appears to have been a very Duns Scotus or Aquinas in metaphysics, the Pythagorean reason why the Brahmins abstain from animal food, is a convincing proof of their ignorance in natural philosophy. Some will let vermin over-run them; some of the Banians cover their mouth with a cloth, least they should suck in a gnat with their breath; and some carefully sweep the floor ere they tread upon it, lest they dislodge the soul of an insect. And yet they do not know that in the water they drink, and in every sallad they eat, they cause the death of innumerable living creatures.

Bohours.

This Akbar chose, as his last and best religion, to worship the sun. While he performed his public devoirs to that bright deity, he himself, by his own order, was worshipped by the crowd below.

See [illeg.]

Perimal, who, according to some of their holy legends, was the son of a cow, was worshipped as a god in the kingdom of Narsinga. Near the city of Preseti was a wood full of apes, esteemed of a divine race, and of the houshold of Perimal, in whom some thousands of the gods had taken refuge. In the city of Cidambaram was a stately temple erected to one of these apes, named Hanimant. Being threatened with some danger, Hanimant put himself at the head of many thousand of his brother gods, and led them to the sea side; where finding no ship, he took a leap into the ocean, and an island immediately rose under his feet. At every leap the miracle was repeated, and in this manner he brought his divine brotherhood all safe to the island of Ceylon. A tooth of Hanimant was kept there as a sacred relick, and many pilgrimages were made to visit it. In 1554, the Portuguese made a descent on that island, and among other things seized the holy tooth. The Indian princes (says Linschoten, c. 44.) offered 700,000 ducats in ransom, but by the persuasion of the archbishop, the Portuguese viceroy burned it in the presence of the Indian ambassadors. A Banian, however, had the art to persuade his countrymen that he was invisibly present when the Portuguese burnt the tooth, that he had secreted the holy one, and put another in its place, which was the one committed to the flames. His story was believed, says our author, and the king of Bisnagar gave him a great sum for a tooth which he produced as the sacred relick. The striking resemblance which this fable of the apes bears to the Egyptian mythology, which tells us that their gods had taken refuge in dogs, crocodiles, onions, frogs, and even in cloacis, is worthy of observation.

Abraham Roger, in particular. He lived fifteen years among the Brahmins, and was in intimate friendship with one of them, named Padmanaba. He returned to Holland in 1647, where he published his writings, which prove him to have been a learned man, and a diligent enquirer. Of his good sense let one sentiment bear testimony. “Can we believe, says he, that there is a generous spirit residing in a people who for two or three thousand years have placed the greatest degree of sanctity and prudence in half starving themselves, and in depriving themselves of the lawful conveniencies of life? Yet such austerities were the chief employments of the ancient Brachmanæ, and are now of the modern Bramines.”

To have represented the Devil on a neighbouring mountain, delighted with the yells and steam of this sacrifice, would have been an incident worthy of the Paradise Lost, and might have come in excellent place, had the great author continued the visions of the eleventh, in place of the far inferior narrative of the twelfth book.

Nay, a text of the sacred Shaster plainly encourages the horrid practice. “The woman who dies with her husband, shall enjoy life eternal with him in heaven.” Feeble minds, says Mr. Dow, misinterpreted this into a precept. To those however who are unskilled in casuistry, no admonition can be more obvious.

According to Joannes Oranus, the Brahmins of Agra say, that the world shall last four ages or worlds, three whereof are past. The first continued one million seven hundred and twenty-eight thousand years. Men in that world lived ten thousand years, were of enormous stature, and of great integrity. Thrice in that period did God visibly appear upon the earth. First in the form of a fish, that he might recover the book of Brahma (for almost the same legend, see Dow) which one Causacar had thrown into the sea. The second time in the form of a snail, (See Dow's account of the symbolical representations of Brahma) that he might make the earth dry and solid. The other time like a hog, to destroy one who called himself God, or as others say, to recover the earth from the sea, which had swallowed it. The second world lasted one million ninety-two thousand and six years, in which period men were as tall as before, but only lived a thousand years. In this, God appeared four times, once as a monstrous lion, with the lower parts of a woman, to repress the wickedness of a pretender to deity. Secondly, like a poor Brahmin, to punish the impiety of a king who had invented a method to fly to heaven. Thirdly, he came in the likeness of a man called Parcaram, to revenge the death of a poor religious man. And lastly in the likeness of one Ram, who slew Parcaram The third continued eight hundred and four thousand years, in which time God appeared twice. The fourth world shall endure four hundred thousand years, whereof only four thousand six hundred and ninety-two are elapsed. In this period God is to appear once, and some hold that he has already appeared in the person of the emperor Echebar, the fame Mahummud Akbar already mentioned. The wiser part of the Brahmins, says Oranus, decry the absurdity of these fables, yet support them before the multitude, lest their influence, their wealth and superstition, should vanish together. That these fables are very antient, we have the authority of Strabo, who tells us that Calanus told Onesicritus of a golden world, where the fountains streamed with milk, honey, wine, and oil, and where the wheat was as plentiful as dust; that God had in punishment of human wickedness altered it, and imposed a life of labour on men. Onesicritus was willing to hear farther, but one of the Brahmin penances being enjoyned as the condition, the Greek philosopher was contented with what he had heard.

Chimera, a monster slain by Bellerophon.

First, dire Chimera's conquest was enjoyn'd,
A mingled monster of no mortal kind;
Behind a dragon's fiery tail was spread,
A goat's rough body bore a lion's head;
Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire,
Her gaping throat emits infernal fire.
Pope's Il. vi.

Briareus.

In this instance, Camoens has with great art deviated from the truth of history. As it was the great purpose of his hero to propagate the law of heaven in the East, it would have been highly absurd to have represented Gama and his attendants as on their knees in a Pagan temple. This, however, was the case. “Gama, who had been told, says Osorius, that there were many Christians in India, conjectured that the temple, to which the Catual led him, was a Christian church. At their entrance they were met by four priests, who seemed to make crosses on their foreheads. The walls were painted with many images. In the middle was a little round chapel, in the wall of which, opposite to the entrance, stood an image which could hardly be discovered; Erat enim locus ita ab omni solis radio seclusus, ut vix aliquis malignæ lucis splendor in eum penetraret. The four priests ascending, some entered the chapel by a little brass door, and pointing to the benighted image, cried aloud, Mary, Mary. The Catual and his attendants prostrated themselves on the ground, while the Lusians on their bended knees adored the blessed virgin. Virginemque Dei matrem more nostris usitato venerantur.” Thus Osorius. Another writer says, that a Portuguese having some doubt exclaimed, If this be the Devil's image, I however worship God.

The description of the palace of the Zamorim, situated among aromatic groves, is according to history; the embellishment of the walls is in imitation of Virgil's description of the palace of king Latinus:

Tectum augustum, ingens, centum sublime columnis,
Urbe fuit supima, &c.
The palace built by Picus, vast and proud,
Supported by a hundred pillars stood
And round encompass'd with a rising wood.
The pile o'erlook'd the town, and drew the sight,
Surprised at once with reverence and delight.....
Above the portal, carved in cedar wood,
Placed in their ranks their godlike grandsires stood.
Old Saturn, with his crooked scythe on high;
And Italus, that led the colony:
And ancient Janus with his double face,
And bunch of keys, the porter of the place.
There stood Sabinus, planter of the vines,
On a short pruning hook his head reclines;
And studiously surveys his generous wines.
Then warlike kings who for their country fought,
And honourable wounds from battle brought.
Around the posts hung helmets, darts, and spears;
And captive chariots, axes, shields, and bars;
And broken beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars.
Above the rest, as chief of all the band
Was Picus placed, a buckler in his hand;
His other waved a long divining wand.
Girt in his Gabin gown the hero sate—
Dryd. En. vii.

This is in the perspective manner of the beautiful descriptions of the figures on the shield of Achilles. Il. xviii.

The Theban Bacchus, to whom the Greek fabulists ascribed the Indian expedition of Sesostris or Osiris king of Egypt.

The infamous passion of Semiramis for a horse, has all the air of a fable invented by the Greeks to signify the extreme libidiny of that queen. Her incestuous passion for her son Nynias, however, is confirmed by the testimony of the best authors. Shocked at such an horrid amour, Nynias ordered her to be put to death. Castera.

The bon mot of Olympias on this pretension of her son Alexander, was admired by the ancients. “This hot-headed youth, forsooth, cannot be at rest unless he embroil me in a quarrel with Juno.” Quint. Curt.

According to Osorius.

The Betel.

The tenor of this first conversation between the Zamorim and Gama, is according to the truth of history.

The enthusiasm with which Monzaida, a Moor, talks of the Portuguese, may perhaps to some appear unnatural. Camoens seems to be aware of this by giving a reason for that enthusiasm in the first speech of Mozaida to Gama;

Heaven sent you here for some great work divine,
And heaven inspires my breast your sacred toils to join.

And that this Moor did conceive a great affection to Gama, whose religion he embraced, and to whom he proved of the utmost service, is according to the truth of history.

Gen. ix. 20. And Noah began to be an husbandman, and he planted a vineyard, and he drank of the wine, &c.

The opinion of the sacredness of the table is very ancient in the East. It is plainly to be discovered in the history of Abraham. When Melchizedek, a king and priest, blessed Abraham, it is said, And he brought forth bread and wine and he blessed him. Gen. xiv. 18. The Patriarchs only drank wine, says Dr. Stukely, on their more solemn festivals, when they were said to rejoice before the Lord. Other customs of the Indians are mentioned by Camoens in this book. If a noble should touch a person of another another tribe,

A thousand rites, and washings o'er and o'er
Can scarce his tainted purity restore.

Nothing, says Osorius, but the death of the unhappy commoner can wipe off the pollution. Yet we are told by the same author, that Indian nobility cannot be forfeited, or even tarnished by the basest and greatest of crimes; nor can one of mean birth become great or noble by the most illustrious actions. The noblemen, says the same writer, adopt the children of their sisters, esteeming there can be no other certainty of the relationship of their heirs. But what above all may be called the characteristic of the Indian, is his total insensibility to the passion of Love;

Lost to the heart-ties, to his neighbour's arms
The willing husband yields his spouse's charms.

To some perhaps the feebleness of the constitutions of the Gentoos may account for this apothy; and to several circumstances may their feebleness be attributed. The men marry before fourteen and the women at about ten or eleven. Rice, their principal food, affords but little nourishment, and they are extremely averse to any manly exercise. It is better to sit than to walk, they say, to lie down than to sit, to sleep than to wake, and death is better than all. The unparallelled pusillanimity with which they have long submitted to the oppressions of a few Arabs, their Mohammedan masters, likewise, shews their deadness to every manly resentment. Yet, notwithstanding all this, though incapable of the passion of love, they prove the position, (for which physicians can easily account) that debility and letchery go hand in hand. Montesquieu, in enumerating his reasons why Christianity will never prevail in the East, advances, as one, the prohibition of polygamy, which he mentions as the appointment of nature, and necessary in these climates. Tristram Shandy tells us, that his father was a most excellent system-builder, was sure to make his Theory look well, though no man ever crucified the truth at such an unmerciful rate. With all due deference to the great genius of Montesquieu, his blunder here is rather ludicrous. In every country the births of males and females are nearly proportioned to each other. “Polygamy, says Mr. Dow, is permitted in Hindostan, but seldom practised; for they very rationally think, that one wife is sufficient for one man.” If in any country polygamy is the appointment of nature, the more athletic nations of Europe have the best claim. But the warlike independent spirit of the northern tribes, who viewed their princes as their companions in war, would never allow their leaders to appropriate eight hundred or a thousand of the finest women, each for his own particular luxury. Their natural ideas of liberty forbade it; while on the other hand the slavish Asiatics, who viewed their masters as beings of a superior rank, submitted to the lust of these masters, whose debility prompted the desire of unbounded variety. This history of polygamy will be found to be just. It is not the child of nature, it is the offspring of tyranny, and is only to be found where the most absolute tyranny subsists. Neither to the genial vigour of passion, but to raging, irritated debility, both the philosopher and physician will attribute the unblushing prevalence of some crimes, crimes which disgrace human nature, and which particularly characterise the depraved manners of the enfeebled East.

Though Camoens began his Lusiad in Portugal, almost the whole of it was written while on the ocean, while in Africa, and in India. See his Life.

Daughter of Eolus. Her father having thrown her incestuous child to the dogs, sent her a sword, with which she slew herself. In Ovid she writes an epistle to her husband-brother, where she thus describes herself;

Dextra tenet calamum, strictum tenet altera ferrum.

See the Life of Camoens.

Hezekiah. See Isaiah xxxviii.

This, and the whole paragraph from

Degraded now, by poverty abhorr'd—

Alludes to his fortunes in India. The latter circumstance relates particularly to the base and inhuman treatment he received on his return to Goa, after his unhappy shipwreck. See his Life.

Similarity of condition has produced similarity of sentiment in Camoens and Spenser. Each was the ornament of his country and of his age, and each was cruelly neglected by the Men of Power, who, in truth, were incapable to judge of their merit, or to relish their writings. We have seen several of the strictures of Camoens on the barbarous Nobility of Portugal. The similar complaints of Spenser will shew that neglect of Genius, however, was not confined to the court of Lisbon.

O Grief of griefs! O Gall of all good hearts!
To see that Virtue should despised be
Of such as first were raised for Virtue's parts,
And now broad spreading like an aged tree,
Let none shoot up that nigh them planted be.
O let not those of whom the Muse is scorned,
Alive or dead be by the Muse adorned.
Ruins of Time.

It is thought Lord Burleigh, who withheld the bounty intended by Queen Elisabeth, is here meant. But he is more clearly stigmatized in these remarkable lines, where the misery of dependence on Court-favour is painted in colours which must recal several strokes of the Lusiad to the mind of the Reader.

Full little knowest thou that hast not tried,
What hell it is, in suing long to bide;
To lose good days, that might be better spent,
To waste long nights in pensive discontent;
To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow,
To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow;
To have thy Princess' grace, yet want her peers;
To have thy asking, yet wait many years;
To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares,
To eat thy heart thro' comfortless despairs;
To fawn, to crowch, to wait, to ride, to run,
To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.
Mother Hubberd's Tale.

These lines exasperated still more the inelegant, the illiberal Burleigh. So true is the observation of Mr. Hughes, that, “even the sighs of a miserable man are sometimes resented as an affront by him that is the ocsion of them.”

The arrival of Gama in India—In several parts of the Lusiad the Portuguese Poet has given ample proof that he could catch the genuine spirit of Homer and Virgil. The seventh Lusiad throughout bears a striking resemblance to the seventh and eighth Æneid. Much of the action is naturally the same; Æneas lands it Italy, and Gama in India; but the conduct of Camoens, in his masterly imitation of his great master, particularly demands observation. Had Statius or Ovid described the landing or reception of Æneas, we should undoubtedly have been presented with pictures different from those of the pencil of Virgil. We should have seen much bustle and fire, and perhaps much smoke and false dignity. Yet if we may judge from the Odyssey, Homer, had he written the Æneid, would have written as the Roman Poet wrote, would have presented us with a calm majestic narrative, till every circumstance was explained, and then would have given the concluding books of hurry and fire. In this manner has Virgil written, and in this manner has Camoens followed him, as far as the different nature of his subject would allow. In Virgil, king Latinus is informed by prodigies and prophecy of the fate of his kingdom, and of the newlanded strangers. Æneas enters Latium. The dinner on the grass, and the prophecy of famine turned into a jest. He sends ambassadors to Latinus, whose palace is described. The embassy is received in a friendly manner. Juno, enraged, calls the assistance of the Fiends, and the truce is broken. Æneas, admonished in a dream, seeks the aid of Evander. The voyage up the Tyber, the court of Evander, and the sacrifices in which he was employed are particularly described. In all this there is no blaze of fire, no earnest hurry. These are judiciously reserved for their after and proper place. In the same manner Camoens lands his hero in India, and though in some circumstances the resemblance to Virgil is evident, yet he has followed him as a free imitator, who was conscious of his own strength, and not as a Copyist. He has not deserved that shrewd satire which Mr. Pope, not unjustly, throws on Virgil himself. “Had the galley of Sergestus been broken, says he, if the chariot of Eumelus had not been demolished? Or Mnestheus been cast from the helm, had not the other been thrown from his seat?” In a word, that calm dignity of poetical narrative which breathes through the seventh and eighth Æneid, is judiciously copied, as most proper for the subject; and with the hand of a master characteristically sustained throughout the seventh book of the Poem which celebrates the discovery of the Eastern World.