# The Lusiads (tr. Mickle)/Book II

THE
L U S I A D.
BOOK II.
THE fervent lustre of the evening ray Behind the western hills now died away, And night ascending from the dim-browed east, The twilight gloom with deeper shades increas'd; When GAMA heard the creaking of the oar, And mark'd the white waves lengthening from the shore. In many a skiff the eager natives came, Their semblance friendship, but deceit their aim. And now by GAMA's anchor'd ships they ride, And, Hail! illustrious chief, their leader cried, Your fame already these our regions own, How your bold prows from worlds to us unknown
Have braved the horrors of the southern main, Where storms and darkness hold their endless reign, Whose whelmy waves our westward prows have barr'd From oldest times, and ne'er before were dar'd By boldest leader: Earnest to behold The wondrous hero of a toil so bold, To you the sovereign of these islands sends The holy vows of peace, and hails you friends. If friendship you accept, whate'er kind heaven In various bounty to these shores has given, Whate'er your wants, your wants shall here supply, And safe in port your gallant fleet shall lie; Safe from the dangers of the faithless tide, And sudden bursting storms, by you untry'd; Yours every bounty of the fertile shore, Till balmy rest your wearied strength restore. Or, if your toils and ardent hopes demand The various treasures of the Indian strand, The fragrant cinnamon, the glowing clove, And all the riches of the spicy grove; Or drugs of power the fever's rage to bound, And give soft languor to the smarting wound; Or if the splendor of the diamond's rays, The sapphire's azure, or the ruby's blaze, Invite your sails to search the eastern world, Here may these sails in happy hour be furl'd: For here the splendid treasures of the mine, And richest offspring of the field, combine
To give each boon that human want requires, And every gem that lofty pride desires: Then here, a potent king your generous friend, Here let your per'lous toils and wandering searches end.
He said: brave GAMA smiles with heart sincere, And prays the herald to the king to bear The thanks of grateful joy: But now, he cries, The blackening evening veils the coast and skies, And through these rocks unknown forbids to steer; Yet, when the streaks of milky dawn appear Edging the eastern wave with silver hoar, My ready prows shall gladly point to shore; Assured of friendship, and a kind retreat, Assured and proffer'd by a king so great. Yet, mindful still of what his hopes had cheer'd, That here his nation's holy shrines were rear'd,
He asks, if certain as the pilot told, Messiah's lore had flourished there of old, And flourished still? The herald mark'd with joy The pious wish, and watchful to decoy, Messiah here, he cries, has altars more Than all the various shrines of other lore. O'erjoyed, brave VASCO heard the pleasing tale, Yet fear'd that fraud its viper-sting might veil Beneath the glitter of a shew so fair; He half believes the tale, and arms against the snare.
With GAMA sail'd a bold advent'rous band, Whose headlong rage had urg'd the guilty hand: Stern justice for their crimes had ask'd their blood, And pale in chains condemn'd to death they stood; But, sav'd by GAMA from the shameful death, The bread of peace had seal'd their plighted faith,
The desolate coast, when ordered, to explore, And dare each danger of the hostile shore: From this bold band he chose the subtlest two, The port, the city, and its strength to view, To mark if fraud its secret head betrayed, Or if the rites of heaven were there displayed. With costly gifts, as of their truth secure, The pledge that GAMA deem'd their faith was pure, These two, his heralds, to the king he sends: The faithless Moors depart as smiling friends. Now thro' the wave they cut their foamy way, Their cheerful songs resounding through the bay: And now on shore the wondering natives greet, And fondly hail the strangers from the fleet. The prince their gifts with friendly vows receives, And joyful welcome to the Lusians gives; Where'er they pass, the joyful tumult bends, And through the town the glad applause attends. But he whose cheeks with youth immortal shone, The god whose wondrous birth two mothers own,
Whose rage had still the wandering fleet annoyed, Now in the town his guileful rage employed. A Christian priest he seem'd; a sumptuous shrine He rear'd, and tended with the rites divine: O'er the fair altar waved the cross on high, Upheld by angels leaning from the sky; Descending o'er the Virgin's sacred head So white, so pure, the holy spirit spread The dove-like pictured wings, so pure, so white; And, hovering o'er the chosen twelve, alight The tongues of hallowed fire. Amazed, opprest, With sacred awe their troubled looks confest The inspiring godhead, and the prophet's glow, Which gave each language from their lips to flow Where thus the guileful power his magic wrought, DE GAMA's heralds by the guides are brought: On bended knees low to the earth they fall, And to the Lord of heaven in transport call; While the feign'd priest awakes the censer's fire, And clouds of incense round the shrine aspire. With cheerful welcome, here caress'd, they stay, Till bright Aurora, messenger of day,
Walk'd forth; and now the sun's resplendent rays, Yet half emerging o'er the waters, blaze, When to the fleet the Moorish oars again Dash the curl'd waves, and waft the guileful train: The lofty decks they mount. With joy elate, Their friendly welcome at the palace-gate, The king's sincerity, the people's care, And treasures of the coast the spies declare: Nor past untold what most their joys inspired, What most to hear the valiant chief desired, That their glad eyes had seen the rites divine, Their country's worship, and the sacred shrine. The pleasing tale the joyful GAMA hears; Dark fraud no more his gen’rous bosom fears: As friends sincere, himself sincere, he gives The hand of welcome, and the Moors receives. And now, as conscious of the destin'd prey, The faithless race, with smiles and gestures gay, Their skiffs forsaking, GAMA's ships ascend, And deep to strike the treacherous blow attend. On shore the truthless monarch arms his bands, And for the fleet's approach impatient stands: That soon as anchor'd in the port they rode Brave GAMA's decks might reek with Lusian blood: Thus weening to revenge Mozambic’s fate, And give full surfeit to the Moorish hate; And now, their bowsprits bending to the bay The joyful crew the ponderous anchors weigh,
Their shouts the while resounding. To the gale With eager hands they spread the fore-mast sail. But love's fair queen the secret fraud beheld: Swift as an arrow o'er the battle-field, From heaven she darted to the watery plain, And call'd the sea-born nymphs, a lovely train, From Nereus sprung; the ready nymphs obey, Proud of her kindred birth, and own her sway.
She tells what ruin threats her fav'rite race; Unwonted ardour glows on every face; With keen rapidity they bound away, Dash'd by their silver limbs, the billows grey Foam round: Fair Doto, fir'd with rage divine, Darts through the wave; and onward o'er the brine The lovely Nyse and Nerine spring With all the vehemence and speed of wing.
The curving billows to their breasts divide, And give a yielding passage through the tide. With furious speed the goddess rush'd before; Her beauteous form a joyful triton bore, Whose eager face, with glowing rapture fired, Betray'd the pride which such a task inspired. And now arriv'd, where to the whistling wind The warlike navy's bending masts reclin'd, As through the billows rush'd the speedy prows, The nymphs, dividing, each her station chose. Against the leader's prow, her lovely breast With more than mortal force the goddess prest; The ship recoiling trembles on the tide, The nymphs in help pour round on every side, From the dread bar the threaten'd keels to save; The ship bounds up, half lifted from the wave, And, trembling, hovers o'er the watery grave. As when alarm'd, to save the hoarded grain, The care-earned store for winter's dreary reign, So toil, so tug, so pant, the labouring emmet train, So toil'd the nymphs, and strain'd their panting force To turn the navy from its fatal course:
Back, back the ship recedes; in vain the crew With shouts on shouts their various toils renew; In vain each nerve, each nautic art they strain, And the rough wind distends the sail in vain: Enraged, the sailors see their labours crost; From side to side the reeling helm is tost: High on the poop the skilful master stands; Sudden he shrieks aloud, and spreads his hands—— A lurking rock its dreadful rifts betrays, And right before the prow its ridge displays; Loud shrieks of horror from the yard-arms rise, And a dire general yell invades the skies. The Moors start, fear-struck, at the horrid sound, As if the rage of combat roar'd around. Pale are their lips, each look in wild amaze The horror of detected guilt betrays. Pierc'd by the glance of GAMA's awful eyes The conscious pilot quits the helm and flies, From the high deck he plunges in the brine; His mates their safety to the waves consign; Dash'd by their plunging falls on every side Foams and boils up around the rolling tide. Thus the hoarse tenants of the sylvan lake, A Lycian race of old, to flight betake;
At every sound they dread Latona's hate, And doubled vengeance of their former fate;
All sudden plunging leave the margin green, And but their heads above the pool are seen. So plung'd the Moors, when, horrid to behold! From the bar'd rock's dread jaws the billows roll'd, Opening in instant fate the fleet to whelm, When ready VASCO caught the staggering helm: Swift as his lofty voice resounds aloud, The ponderous anchors dash the whitening flood, And round his vessel, nodding o'er the tide, His other ships, bound by their anchors, ride. And now revolving in his piercing thought These various scenes with hidden import fraught; The boastful pilot's self-accusing flight, The former treason of the Moorish spite; How headlong to the rock the furious wind, The boiling current, and their art combin'd; Yet though the groaning blast the canvas swell'd, Some wondrous cause, unknown, their speed withheld: Amaz'd, with hands high rais'd, and sparkling eyes, A miracle! the raptur'd GAMA cries,
A miracle! O hail thou sacred sign, Thou pledge illustrious of the care divine! Ah! fraudful malice! how shall wisdom's care Escape the poison of thy gilded snare! The front of honesty, the saintly shew, The smile of friendship, and the holy vow; All, all conjoin'd our easy faith to gain, To whelm us, shipwreck'd, in the ruthless main; But where our prudence no deceit could spy, There, heavenly guardian, there thy watchful eye Beheld our danger: still, O still prevent, Where human foresight fails, the dire intent, The lurking treason of the smiling foe; And let our toils, our days of lengthening woe, Our weary wanderings end. If still for thee, To spread thy rites, our toils and vows agree, On India's strand thy sacred shrines to rear, Oh, let some friendly land of rest appear! If for thine honour we these toils have dar'd, These toils let India's long-sought shore reward.
So spoke the chief: The pious accents move The gentle bosom of celestial love: The beauteous queen to heaven now darts away; In vain the weeping nymphs implore her stay: Behind her now the morning star she leaves, And the sixth heaven her lovely form receives. Her radiant eyes such living splendors cast, The sparkling stars were brighten'd as she past; The frozen pole with sudden streamlets flow'd, And as the burning zone with fervor glow'd. And now, confest before the throne of Jove, In all her charms appears the queen of love: Flush'd by the ardour of her rapid flight Through fields of æther and the realms of light, Bright as the blushes of the roseate morn, New blooming tints her glowing cheeks adorn; And all that pride of beauteous grace she wore, As when in Ida's bower she stood of yore,
When every charm and every hope of joy Enraptured and allured the Trojan boy. Ah! had that hunter, whose unhappy fate The human visage lost by Dian's hate, Had he beheld this fairer goddess move Not hounds had slain him, but the fires of love. Adown her neck, more white than virgin snow, Of softest hue the golden tresses flow; Her heaving breasts of purer, softer white, Than snow hills glistening in the moon's pale light, Except where covered by the sash, were bare, And love, unseen, smil'd soft, and panted there. Nor less the zone the god's fond zeal employs, The zone awakes the flames of secret joys.
As ivy tendrils, round her limbs divine Their spreading arms the young desires entwine: Below her waist, and quivering on the gale, Of thinnest texture flows the silken veil: (Ah! where the lucid curtain dimly shows, With doubled fires the roving fancy glows!) The hand of modesty the foldings threw, Nor all conceal'd, nor all was given to view. Yet her deep grief her lovely face betrays, Though on her cheek the soft smile faltering plays. All heaven was mov'd—as when some damsel coy, Hurt by the rudeness of the amorous boy, Offended chides and smiles; with angry mien Thus mixt with smiles, advanc'd the plaintive queen; And thus: O Thunderer! O potent Sire! Shall I in vain thy kind regard require! Alas! and cherish still the fond deceit, That yet on me thy kindest smiles await! Ah heaven! and must that valour which I love Awake the vengeance and the rage of Jove! Yet mov'd with pity for my fav'rite race I speak, though frowning on thine awful face
I mark the tenor of the dread decree, That to thy wrath consigns my sons and me. Yes! let stern Bacchus bless thy partial care, His be the triumph, and be mine despair. The bold advent'rous sons of Tagos clime I loved—alas! that love is now their crime: O happy they, and prosp'rous gales their fate, Had I pursued them with relentless hate! Yes! let my woeful sighs in vain implore, Yes! let them perish on some barb'rous shore, For I have loved them—Here, the swelling sigh And pearly tear-drop rushing in her eye, As morning dew hangs trembling on the rose, Though fond to speak, her farther speech oppose— Her lips, then moving, as the pause of woe Were now to give the voice of grief to flow: When kindled by those charms, whose woes might move, And melt the prowling tiger's rage to love. The thundering god her weeping sorrows ey'd, And sudden threw his awful state aside: With that mild look which stills the driving storm, When black roll'd clouds the face of heaven deform; With that mild visage and benignant mien Which to the sky restores the blue serene, Her snowy neck and glowing cheek he prest, And wip'd her tears, and clasped her to his breast: Yet she, still sighing, dropt the trickling tear, As the chid nursling mov'd with pride and fear,
Still sighs and moans, though fondled and carest; Till thus great Jove the fates decrees confest: O thou, my daughter, still belov'd as fair, Vain are thy fears, thy heroes claim my care: No power of gods could e'er my heart incline, Like one fond smile, one powerful tear of thine. Wide o'er the eastern shores shalt thou behold
Thy flags far-streaming, and thy thunders roll'd; While nobler triumphs shall thy nation crown, Than those of Roman or of Greek renown.
If by mine aid the sapient Greek could brave The Ogygian seas, nor sink a deathless slave; If through th' Illyrian shelves Antenor bore, Till safe he landed on Timavus' shore; If, by his fate, the pious Trojan led, Safe through Charybdis's barking whirlpools sped: Shall thy bold heroes, by my care disclaim'd, Be left to perish, who, to worlds unnam'd By vaunting Rome, pursue their dauntless way? No—soon shalt thou with ravish'd eyes survey, From stream to stream their lofty cities spread, And their proud turrets rear the warlike head: The stern-brow'd Turk shall bend the suppliant knee, And Indian monarchs, now secure and free, Beneath thy potent monarch's yoke shall bend, And thy just laws wide o'er the east extend.
Thy chief, who now in error's circling maze, For India's shore through shelves and tempests strays; That chief shalt thou behold, with lordly pride, O'er Neptune's trembling realm triumphant ride. O wondrous fate! when not a breathing gale Shall curl the billows, or distend the sail, The waves shall boil and tremble, aw'd with dread, And own the terror o'er their empire spread. That hostile coast, with various streams supplied, Whose treacherous sons the fountain's gifts deny'd; That coast shalt thou behold his port supply, Where oft thy weary fleets in rest shall lie. Each shore which weav'd for him the snares of death, To him these shores shall pledge their offer'd faith; To him their haughty lords shall lowly bend, And yield him tribute for the name of friend. The Red-sea wave shall darken in the shade Of thy broad sails, in frequent pomp display'd; Thine eyes shall see the golden Ormuz' shore, Twice thine, twice conquered, while the furious Moor,
Amazed, shall view his arrows backward driven, Showered on his legions by the hand of heaven. Though twice assailed by many a vengeful band, Unconquered still shall Dio's ramparts stand; Such prowess there shall raise the Lusian name That Mars shall tremble for his blighted fame; There shall the Moors, blaspheming, sink in death, And curse their Prophet with their parting breath.
Where Goa's warlike ramparts frown on high, Pleas'd shalt thou see thy Lusian banners fly; The Pagan tribes in chains shall crowd her gate, While the sublime shall tower in regal state, The fatal scourge, the dread of all who dare Against thy sons to plan the future war. Though few thy troops who Conanour sustain, The foe, though numerous, shall assault in vain. Great Calicut, for potent hosts renown'd, By Lisboa's sons assail'd shall strew the ground: What floods on floods of vengeful hosts shall wage On Cochin's walls their swift-repeated rage; In vain: a Lusian hero shall oppose His dauntless bosom, and disperse the foes,
As high-swell'd waves, that thunder'd to the shock, Disperse in feeble streamlets from the rock. When blackening broad and far o'er Actium's tide Augustus' fleets the slave of love defy'd, When that fallen warrior to the combat led The bravest troops in Bactrian Scythia bred, With Asian legions, and, his shameful bane, The Egyptian queen attendant in the train; Though Mars raged high, and all his fury pour'd, Till with the storm the boiling surges roar'd, Yet shall thine eyes more dreadful scenes behold, On burning surges burning surges roll'd, The sheets of fire far billowing o'er the brine, While I my thunder to thy sons resign. Thus many a sea shall blaze, and many a shore Resound the horror of the combat's roar, While thy bold prows triumphant ride along By trembling China to the isles unsung
By ancient bard, by ancient chief unknown, Till ocean's utmost shore thy bondage own.
Thus from the Ganges to the Gadian strand, From the most northern wave to southmost land That land decreed to bear the injured name Of Magalhaens, the Lusian pride and shame; From all that vast, tho' crown'd with heroes old, Who with the gods were demi-gods enroll'd: From all that vast no equal heroes shine To match in arms, O lovely daughter, thine.
So spake the awful ruler of the skies, And Maia's son swift at his mandate flies: His charge, from treason and Mombassa's king The weary fleet in friendly port to bring, And, while in sleep the brave DE GAMA lay, To warn, and fair the shore of rest display. Fleet through the yielding air Cyllenius glides, As to the light the nimble air divides. The mystic helmet on his head he wore, And in his hand the fatal rod he bore;
That rod, of power to wake the silent dead, Or o'er the lids of care soft slumbers shed. And now, attended by the herald fame, To fair Melinda's gate conceal'd he came; And soon loud rumour echoed through the town, How from the western world, from waves unknown, A noble band had reach'd the Æthiop shore, Through seas and dangers never dared before: The godlike dread attempt their wonder fires, Their generous wonder fond regard inspires, And all the city glows their aid to give, To view the heroes, and their wants relieve.
'Twas now the solemn hour when midnight reigns, And dimly twinkling o'er the ethereal plains, The starry host, by gloomy silence led, O'er earth and sea a glimmering paleness shed;
When to the fleet, which hemm'd with dangers lay, The silver-wing'd Cyllenius darts away. Each care was now in soft oblivion steep'd, The Watch alone accustom'd vigils kept; E'en GAMA, wearied by the day's alarms, Forgets his cares, reclined in slumber's arms. Scarce had he closed his careful eyes in rest, When Maia's son in vision stood confest: And fly, he cried, O Lusitanian, fly; Here guile and treason every nerve apply: An impious king for thee the toil prepares,
An impious people weaves a thousand snares: Oh fly these shores, unfurl the gather'd sail, Lo, Heaven, thy guide, commands the rising gale; Hark, loud it rustles, see, the gentle tide Invites thy prows; the winds thy lingering chide. Here such dire welcome is for thee prepared As Diomed's unhappy strangers shared; His hapless guests at silent midnight bled, On their torn limbs his snorting coursers fed, Oh fly, or here with strangers' blood imbrew'd Busiris' altars thou shalt find renew'd: Amidst his slaughter'd guests his altars stood Obscene with gore, and bark'd with human blood: Then thou, beloved of heaven, my counsel hear; Right by the coast thine onward journey steer, Till where the sun of noon no shade begets, But day with night in equal tenor sets. A sovereign there, of generous faith unstain'd, With ancient bounty, and with joy unfeign'd Your glad arrival on his shore shall greet, And soothe with every care your weary fleet.
And when again for India's golden strand Before the prosperous gale your sails expand, A skilful pilot oft in danger try'd, Of heart sincere, shall prove your faithful guide.
Thus Hermes spoke, and as his flight he takes Melting in ambient air, DE GAMA wakes. Chill'd with amaze he stood, when through the night With sudden ray appear'd the bursting light; The winds loud whizzing through the cordage sigh'd—— Spread, spread the sail, the raptured VASCO cried; Aloft, aloft, this, this the gale of heaven; By heaven our guide, th' auspicious sign is given; Mine eyes beheld the messenger divine; O fly, he cried, and give the favouring sign, Here treason lurks.——Swift as the captain spake The mariners spring bounding to the deck, And now with shouts far-echoing o'er the sea, Proud of their strength the ponderous anchors weigh. When heaven again its guardian care display'd; Above the wave rose many a Moorish head—— Conceal'd by night they gently swam along, And with their weapons sawed the cables strong,
That by the swelling currents whirl'd and tost, The navy's wrecks might strew the rocky coast: But now discover'd, every nerve they ply, And dive, and swift as frighten'd vermin fly.
Now through the silver waves that curling rose, And gently murmur'd round the sloping prows, The gallant fleet before the steady wind Sweeps on, and leaves long foamy tracts behind; While as they sail the joyful crew relate Their wondrous safety from impending fate; And every bosom feels how sweet the joy When dangers past the grateful tongue employ.
The sun had now his annual journey run, And blazing forth another course begun, When smoothly gliding o'er the hoary tide Two sloops afar the watchful master spied; Their Moorish make the seaman's art display'd; Here GAMA weens to force the pilot's aid: One, base with fear, to certain shipwreck flew; The keel dash'd on the shore, escap'd the crew. The other bravely trusts the generous foe, And yields, ere slaughter struck the lifted blow, Ere Vulcan's thunders bellowed. Yet again The captain's prudence and his wish were vain; No pilot here his wandering course to guide, No lip to tell where rolls the Indian tide;
The voyage calm, or perilous, or afar, Beneath what heaven, or which the guiding star: Yet this they told, that by the neighbouring bay A potent monarch reign'd, whose pious sway For truth and noblest bounty far renown'd, Still with the stranger's grateful praise was crown'd. O'erjoyed, brave GAMA heard the tale, which seal'd The sacred truth that Maia's son reveal'd; And bids the pilot, warn'd by heaven his guide, For fair Melinda turn the helm aside.
'Twas now the jovial season, when the morn From Taurus flames, when Amalthea's horn O'er hill and dale the rose-crown'd Flora pours, And scatters corn and wine, and fruits and flowers. Right to the port their course the fleet pursued,
And the glad dawn that sacred day renewed, When with the spoils of vanquish'd death adorn'd, To heaven the victor of the tomb return'd. And soon Melinda's shore the sailors spy; From every mast the purple streamers fly; Rich-figured tap'stry now supplies the sail. The gold and scarlet tremble in the gale; The standard broad its brilliant hues bewrays, And floating on the wind wide-billowing plays; Shrill through the air the quivering trumpet sounds, And the rough drum the rousing march rebounds.
As thus regardful of the sacred day The festive navy cut the watery way, Melinda's sons the shore in thousands crowd, And offering joyful welcome shout aloud: And truth the voice inspired. Unawed by fear, With warlike pomp adorn'd, himself sincere, Now in the port the generous GAMA rides; His stately vessels range their pitchy sides Around their chief; the bowsprits nod the head, And the barb'd anchors gripe the harbour's bed. Strait to the king, as friends to generous friends, A captive Moor the valiant GAMA sends. The Lusian fame the king already knew, What gulfs unknown the fleet had labour'd through, What shelves, what tempests dared. His liberal mind Exults the captain's manly trust to find; With that ennobling worth, whose fond employ Befriends the brave, the monarch owns his joy, Entreats the leader and his weary band To taste the dews of sweet repose on land, And all the riches of his cultured fields Obedient to the nod of GAMA yields. His care, meanwhile their present want attends, And various fowl, and various fruits he sends; The oxen low, the fleecy lambkins bleat, And rural sounds are echoed through the fleet. His gifts with joy the valiant chief receives, And gifts in turn, confirming friendship, gives.
Here the proud scarlet darts its ardent rays, And here the purple and the orange blaze: O'er these profuse the branching coral spread, The coral wondrous in its watery bed; Soft there it creeps, in curving branches thrown; In air it hardens to a precious stone. With these an herald, on whose melting tongue The copious rhet'ric of Arabia hung, He sends, his wants and purpose to reveal, And holy vows of lasting peace to seal. The monarch sits amid his splendid bands, Before the regal throne the herald stands, And thus, as eloquence his lips inspired, O king! he cries, for sacred truth admired, Ordain'd by heaven to bend the stubborn knees Of haughtiest nations to thy just decrees; Fear'd as thou art, yet sent by heaven to prove That empire's strength results from public love: To thee, O king, for friendly aid we come; Nor lawless robbers o'er the deep we roam: No lust of gold could e'er our breasts inflame To scatter fire and slaughter where we came;
Nor sword, nor spear our harmless hands employ To seize the careless, or the weak destroy. At our most potent monarch's dread command We spread the sail from lordly Europe's strand: Through seas unknown, through gulfs untry'd before, We force our journey to the Indian shore.
Alas, what rancour fires the human breast! By what stern tribes are Afric's shores possest! How many a wile they try'd, how many a snare! Not wisdom sav'd us, 'twas the heaven's own care: Not harbours only, e'en the barren sands A place of rest deny'd our weary bands: From us, alas, what harm could prudence fear! From us so few, their numerous friends so near! While thus from shore to cruel shore long driven, To thee conducted by a guide from heaven, We come, O monarch, of thy truth assured, Of hospitable rites by heaven secured; Such rites as old Alcinous' palace graced, When lorn Ulysses sat his favour'd guest. Nor deem, O king, that cold suspicion taints Our valiant leader, or his wish prevents: Great is our monarch, and his dread command To our brave captain interdicts the land Till Indian earth he tread: What nobler cause Than loyal faith can wake thy fond applause,
O thou, who knowest the ever-pressing weight Of kingly office, and the cares of state! And hear, ye conscious heavens, if GAMA's heart Forget thy kindness, or from truth depart, The sacred light shall perish from the sun, And rivers to the sea shall cease to run.
He spoke; a murmur of applause succeeds, And each with wonder own'd the val'rous deeds Of that bold race, whose flowing vanes had wav'd Beneath so many a sky, so many an ocean brav'd. Nor less the king their loyal faith reveres, And Lisboa's lord in awful state appears, Whose least command on farthest shores obey'd, His sovereign grandeur to the world display'd. Elate with joy, uprose the royal Moor, And smiling, thus,—O welcome to my shore! If yet in you the fear of treason dwell, Far from your thoughts th' ungenerous fear expel: Still with the brave, the brave will honour find, And equal ardour will their friendship bind. But those who spurn'd you, men alone in shew, Rude as the bestial herd, no worth they know; Such dwell not here: and since your laws require Obedience strict, I yield my fond desire. Though much I wish'd your chief to grace my board, Fair be his duty to his sovereign lord: Yet when the morn walks forth with dewy feet My barge shall waft me to the warlike fleet; There shall my longing eyes the heroes view, And holy vows the mutual peace renew.
What from the blustering winds and lengthening tide Your ships have suffer'd, shall be here supply'd. Arms and provisions I myself will send, And, great of skill, a pilot shall attend.
So spoke the king: And now, with purpled ray, Beneath the shining wave the god of day Retiring, left the evening shades to spread; And to the fleet the joyful herald sped: To find such friends each breast with rapture glows, The feast is kindled, and the goblet flows; The trembling comet's imitated rays Bound to the skies, and trail a sparkling blaze: The vaulting bombs awake their sleeping fire, And, like the Cyclops' bolts, to heaven aspire: The bombardiers their roaring engines ply, And earth and ocean thunder to the sky. The trump and fife's shrill clarion far around The glorious music of the fight resound. Nor less the joy Melinda's sons display, The sulphur bursts in many an ardent ray, And to the heaven ascends in whizzing gyres, And ocean flames with artificial fires. In festive war the sea and land engage, And echoing shouts confess the joyful rage. So past the night: and now, with silvery ray, The star of morning ushers in the day.
The shadows fly before the roseate hours, And the chill dew hangs glittering on the flowers: The pruning hook or humble spade to wield, The cheerful labourer hastens to the field; When to the fleet with many a sounding oar, The monarch sails; the natives crowd the shore. Their various robes in one bright splendor join, The purple blazes, and the gold-stripes shine; Nor as stern warriors with the quivering lance, Or moon-arch'd bow, Melinda's sons advance; Green boughs of palm with joyful hands they wave, An omen of the meed that crowns the brave. Fair was the show the royal barge display'd, With many a flag of glistening silk array'd, Whose various hues, as waving thro' the bay, Return'd the lustre of the rising day: And onward as they came, in sovereign state The mighty king amid his princes sate: His robes the pomp of Eastern splendor shew, A proud tiara decks his lordly brow: The various tissue shines in every fold, The silken lustre and the rays of gold. His purple mantle boasts the dye of Tyre, And in the sun-beam glows with living fire. A golden chain, the skilful artist's pride, Hung from his neck; and glittering by his side The dagger's hilt of star-bright diamond shone, The girding baldric burns with precious stone;
And precious stone in studs of gold enchased, The shaggy velvet of his buskins graced: Wide o'er his head, of various silks inlaid, A fair umbrella cast a grateful shade. A band of menials, bending o'er the prow, Of horn-wreath'd round the crooked trumpets blow; And each attendant barge aloud rebounds A barbarous discord of rejoicing sounds. With equal pomp the captain leaves the fleet, Melinda's monarch on the tide to greet: His barge nods on amidst a splendid train, Himself adorn'd in all the pride of Spain: With fair embroidery shone his armed breast, For polish'd steel supply'd the warrior's vest; His sleeves, beneath, were silk of paly blue, Above, more loose, the purple's brightest hue Hung as a scarf, in equal gatherings roll'd, With golden buttons and with loops of gold: Bright in the sun the polish'd radiance burns, And the dimm'd eye-ball from the lustre turns. Of crimson satin, dazzling to behold, His cassock swell'd in many a curving fold; The make was Gallic, but the lively bloom Confest the labour of Venetia's loom:
Gold was his sword, and warlike trousers laced With thongs of gold his manly legs embraced: With graceful mien his cap aslant was turn'd; The velvet cap a nodding plume adorn'd. His noble aspect, and the purple's ray, Amidst his train the gallant chief bewray. The various vestments of the warrior train, Like flowers of various colours on the plain, Attract the pleased beholders wondering eye, And with the splendor of the rainbow vie. Now GAMA's bands the quivering trumpet blow, Thick o'er the wave the crowding barges row, The Moorish flags the curling waters sweep, The Lusian mortars thunder o'er the deep; Again the fiery roar heaven's concave tears, The Moors astonish'd stop their wounded ears: Again loud thunders rattle o'er the bay, And clouds of smoke wide-rolling blot the day; The captain's barge the generous king ascends, His arms the chief enfold; the captain bends, A reverence to the scepter'd grandeur due: In silent awe the monarch's wondering view Is fixt on VASCO's noble mien; the while His thoughts with wonder weigh the hero's toil,
Esteem and friendship with his wonder rise, And free to GAMA all his kingdom lies. Though never son of Lusus' race before Had met his eye, or trod Melinda's shore, To him familiar was the mighty name, And much his talk extols the Lusian fame; How through the vast of Afric's wildest bound Their deathless feats in gallant arms resound; When that fair land where Hesper's offspring reign'd, Their valour's prize the Lusian youth obtain'd. Much still he talk'd, enraptured of the theme, Though but the faint vibrations of their fame To him had echoed. Pleased his warmth to view, Convinced his promise and his heart were true, The illustrious GAMA thus his soul exprest, And own'd the joy that laboured in his breast: Oh thou, benign, of all the tribes alone, Who feel the rigour of the burning zone, Whose piety, with mercy's gentle eye Beholds our wants, and gives the wish'd supply; Our navy driven from many a barbarous coast, On many a tempest-harrowed ocean tosst, At last with thee a kindly refuge finds, Safe from the fury of the howling winds. O generous king, may he whose mandate rolls The circling heavens, and human pride controls, May the great Spirit to thy breast return, That needful aid, bestowed on us forlorn!
And while yon sun emits his rays divine, And while the stars in midnight azure shine, Where'er my sails are stretch'd the world around, Thy praise shall brighten, and thy name resound.
He spoke; the painted barges swept the flood, Where, proudly gay, the anchored navy rode; Earnest the king the lordly fleet surveys; The mortars thunder, and the trumpets raise Their martial sounds Melinda's sons to greet; Melinda's sons with timbrels hail the fleet. And now no more the sulphury tempest roars; The boatmen leaning on the rested oars Breathe short; the barges now at anchor moor'd, The king, while silence listen'd round, implored The glories of the Lusian wars to hear, Whose faintest echoes long had pleased his ear: Their various triumphs on the Afric shore O'er those who hold the son of Hagar's lore, Fond he demands, and now demands again Their various triumphs on the western main: Again, ere readiest answer found a place, He asks the story of the Lusian race; What god was founder of the mighty line, Beneath what heaven their land, what shores adjoin; And what their climate, where the sinking day Gives the last glimpse of twilight's silvery ray.
But most, O chief, the zealous monarch cries, What raging seas you braved, what louring skies; What tribes, what rites you saw; what savage hate On our rude Afric proved your hapless fate: Oh tell, for lo, the chilly dawning star Yet rides before the morning's purple car; And o'er the wave the sun's bold coursers raise Their flaming fronts, and give the opening blaze; Soft on the glassy wave the zephyrs sleep, And the still billows holy silence keep. Nor less are we, undaunted chief, prepared To hear thy nation's gallant deeds declared; Nor think, tho' scorch'd beneath the car of day, Our minds too dull the debt of praise to pay; Melinda's sons the test of greatness know, And on the Lusian race the palm bestow.
If Titan's giant brood with impious arms Shook high Olympus' brow with rude alarms; If Theseus and Pirithous dared invade The dismal horrors of the Stygian shade, Nor less your glory, nor your boldness less, That thus exploring Neptune's last recess Contemn his waves and tempests! If the thirst To live in fame, though famed for deeds accurst,
Could urge the caitiff, who to win a name Gave Dian's temple to the wasting flame: If such the ardour to attain renown, How bright the lustre of the hero's crown, Whose deeds of fair emprise his honours raise, And bind his brows, like thine, with deathless bays!
                   END OF THE SECOND BOOK.