BOOK X.

THE ARGUMENT.

In the opening of this, the last canto, the poet resumes the allegory of

the Isle of Joy, or of Venus: the fair nymphs conduct their lovers to

their radiant palaces, where delicious wines sparkle in every cup.

Before the poet describes the song of a prophetic siren, who celebrates

the praise of the heroes who are destined in ennoble the name of their

country, he addresses himself to his muse in a tone of sorrow, which

touches us the more deeply when we reflect upon the unhappy situation to

which this great poet was at last reduced. In the song of the siren,

which follows, is afforded a prophetic view from the period of Gama's

expedition down to Camoëns' own times, in which Pacheco, and other

heroes of Portugal, pass in review before the eye of the reader. When

the siren has concluded her prophetic song, Thetis conducts Gama to the

top of a mountain and addresses him in a set speech. The poem concludes

with the poet's apostrophe to King Sebastian.

Far o'er the western ocean's distant bed

Apollo now his fiery coursers sped;

Far o'er the silver lake of Mexic[589] roll'd

His rapid chariot wheels of burning gold:

The eastern sky was left to dusky grey,

And o'er the last hot breath of parting day,

Cool o'er the sultry noon's remaining flame,

On gentle gales the grateful twilight came.

Dimpling the lucid pools, the fragrant breeze

Sighs o'er the lawns, and whispers thro' the trees;

Refresh'd, the lily rears the silver head,

And opening jasmines o'er the arbours spread.

Fair o'er the wave that gleam'd like distant snow,

Graceful arose the moon, serenely slow;

Not yet full orb'd, in clouded splendour dress'd,

Her married arms embrace her pregnant breast.

Sweet to his mate, recumbent o'er his young,

The nightingale his spousal anthem sung;

From ev'ry bower the holy chorus rose,

From ev'ry bower the rival anthem flows.

Translucent, twinkling through the upland grove,

In all her lustre shines the star of love;

Led by the sacred ray from ev'ry bower,

A joyful train, the wedded lovers pour:

Each with the youth above the rest approv'd,

Each with the nymph above the rest belov'd,

They seek the palace of the sov'reign dame;

High on a mountain glow'd the wondrous frame:

Of gold the towers, of gold the pillars shone,

The walls were crystal, starr'd with precious stone.

Amid the hall arose the festive board,

With nature's choicest gifts promiscuous stor'd:

So will'd the goddess to renew the smile

Of vital strength, long worn by days of toil.

On crystal chairs, that shin'd as lambent flame,

Each gallant youth attends his lovely dame;

Beneath a purple canopy of state

The beauteous goddess and the leader sat:

The banquet glows-- Not such the feast, when all

The pride of luxury in Egypt's hall

Before the love-sick Roman[590] spread the boast

Of ev'ry teeming sea and fertile coast.

Sacred to noblest worth and Virtue's ear,

Divine, as genial, was the banquet here;

The wine, the song, by sweet returns inspire,

Now wake the lover's, now the hero's fire.

On gold and silver from th' Atlantic main,

The sumptuous tribute of the sea's wide reign,

Of various savour, was the banquet pil'd;

Amid the fruitage mingling roses smil'd.

In cups of gold that shed a yellow light,

In silver, shining as the moon of night,

Amid the banquet flow'd the sparkling wine,

Nor gave Falernia's fields the parent vine:

Falernia's vintage, nor the fabled power

Of Jove's ambrosia in th' Olympian bower

To this compare not; wild, nor frantic fires,

Divinest transport this alone inspires.

The bev'rage, foaming o'er the goblet's breast,

The crystal fountain's cooling aid confess'd;[591]

The while, as circling flow'd the cheerful bowl,

Sapient discourse, the banquet of the soul,

Of richest argument and brightest glow,

Array'd in dimpling smiles, in easiest flow

Pour'd all its graces: nor in silence stood

The powers of music, such as erst subdued

The horrid frown of hell's profound domains,[592]

And sooth'd the tortur'd ghosts to slumber on their chains.

To music's sweetest chords, in loftiest vein,

An angel siren joins the vocal strain;

The silver roofs resound the living song,

The harp and organ's lofty mood prolong

The hallow'd warblings; list'ning Silence rides

The sky, and o'er the bridled winds presides;

In softest murmurs flows the glassy deep,

And each, lull'd in his shade, the bestials sleep.

The lofty song ascends the thrilling skies,

The song of godlike heroes yet to rise;

Jove gave the dream, whose glow the siren fir'd,

And present Jove the prophecy inspir'd.

Not he, the bard of love-sick Dido's board,

Nor he, the minstrel of Phæacia's lord,

Though fam'd in song, could touch the warbling string,

Or, with a voice so sweet, melodious sing.

And thou, my muse, O fairest of the train,

Calliope, inspire my closing strain.

No more the summer of my life remains,[593]

My autumn's length'ning ev'nings chill my veins;

Down the black stream of years by woes on woes

Wing'd on, I hasten to the tomb's repose,

The port whose deep, dark bottom shall detain

My anchor, never to be weigh'd again,

Never on other sea of life to steer

The human course.--Yet thou, O goddess, hear,

Yet let me live, though round my silver'd head

Misfortune's bitt'rest rage unpitying shed

Her coldest storms; yet, let me live to crown

The song that boasts my nation's proud renown.

Of godlike heroes sung the nymph divine,

Heroes whose deeds on GAMA'S crest shall shine;

Who through the seas, by GAMA first explor'd,

Shall bear the Lusian standard and the sword,

Till ev'ry coast where roars the orient main,

Blest in its sway, shall own the Lusian reign;

Till ev'ry pagan king his neck shall yield,

Or vanquish'd, gnaw the dust on battle-field.

"High Priest of Malabar," the goddess sung,

"Thy faith repent not, nor lament thy wrong;[594]

Though, for thy faith to Lusus' gen'rous race,

The raging zamoreem thy fields deface:

From Tagus, lo, the great Pacheco sails

To India, wafted on auspicious gales.

Soon as his crooked prow the tide shall press,

A new Achilles shall the tide confess;

His ship's strong sides shall groan beneath his weight,

And deeper waves receive the sacred freight.[595]

Soon as on India's strand he shakes his spear,

The burning east shall tremble, chill'd with fear;

Reeking with noble blood, Cambalao's stream

Shall blaze impurpled on the ev'ning beam;

Urg'd on by raging shame, the monarch brings,

Banded with all their powers, his vassal kings:

Narsinga's rocks their cruel thousands pour,

Bipur's stern king attends, and thine, Tanore:

To guard proud Calicut's imperial pride

All the wide North sweeps down its peopled tide:

Join'd are the sects that never touch'd before,

By land the pagan, and by sea the Moor.

O'er land, o'er sea the great Pacheco strews

The prostrate spearmen, and the founder'd proas.[596]

Submiss and silent, palsied with amaze,

Proud Malabar th' unnumber'd slain surveys:

Yet burns the monarch; to his shrine he speeds;

Dire howl the priests, the groaning victim bleeds;

The ground they stamp, and, from the dark abodes,

With tears and vows, they call th' infernal gods.

Enrag'd with dog-like madness, to behold

His temples and his towns in flames enroll'd,

Secure of promis'd victory, again

He fires the war, the lawns are heap'd with slain.

With stern reproach he brands his routed Nayres,

And for the dreadful field himself prepares;

His harness'd thousands to the fight he leads;

And rides exulting where the combat bleeds:

Amid his pomp his robes are sprinkled o'er,

And his proud face dash'd, with his menials' gore:[597]

From his high couch he leaps, and speeds to flight

On foot inglorious, in his army's sight.

Hell then he calls, and all the powers of hell,

The secret poison, and the chanted spell;

Vain as the spell the poison'd rage is shed,

For Heav'n defends the hero's sacred head.

Still fiercer from each wound the tyrant burns,

Still to the field with heavier force returns;

The seventh dread war he kindles; high in air

The hills dishonour'd lift their shoulders bare;

Their woods, roll'd down, now strew the river's side,

Now rise in mountain turrets o'er the tide;

Mountains of fire, and spires of bick'ring flame,

While either bank resounds the proud acclaim,

Come floating down, round Lusus' fleet to pour

Their sulph'rous entrails[598] in a burning shower.

Oh, vain the hope.--Let Rome her boast resign;

Her palms, Pacheco, never bloom'd like thine;

Nor Tiber's bridge,[599] nor Marathon's red field, }

Nor thine, Thermopylæ, such deeds beheld; }

Nor Fabius' arts such rushing storms repell'd. }

Swift as, repuls'd, the famish'd wolf returns

Fierce to the fold, and, wounded, fiercer burns;

So swift, so fierce, seven times, all India's might

Returns unnumber'd to the dreadful fight;

One hundred spears, seven times in dreadful stower,

Strews in the dust all India's raging power."

The lofty song (for paleness o'er her spread)

The nymph suspends, and bows the languid head;

Her falt'ring words are breathed on plaintive sighs:

"Ah, Belisarius, injur'd chief," she cries,

"Ah, wipe thy tears; in war thy rival see,

Injur'd Pacheco falls despoil'd like thee;

In him, in thee dishonour'd Virtue bleeds,

And Valour weeps to view her fairest deeds,--

Weeps o'er Pacheco, where, forlorn he lies

Low on an alms-house bed, and friendless dies.

Yet shall the muses plume his humble bier,

And ever o'er him pour th' immortal tear;

Though by the king, alone to thee unjust,

Thy head, great chief, was humbled in the dust,

Loud shall the muse indignant sound thy praise--

'Thou gav'st thy monarch's throne its proudest blaze.'

While round the world the sun's bright car shall ride,

So bright shall shine thy name's illustrious pride;

Thy monarch's glory, as the moon's pale beam,

Eclips'd by thine, shall shed a sickly gleam.

Such meed attends when soothing flatt'ry sways,

And blinded State its sacred trust betrays!"

Again the nymph exalts her brow, again

Her swelling voice resounds the lofty strain:

"Almeyda comes, the kingly name he bears,

Deputed royalty his standard rears:

In all the gen'rous rage of youthful fire

The warlike son attends the warlike sire.

Quiloa's blood-stain'd tyrant now shall feel

The righteous vengeance of the Lusian steel.

Another prince, by Lisbon's throne belov'd,

Shall bless the land, for faithful deeds approv'd.

Mombaz shall now her treason's meed behold,

When curling flames her proudest domes enfold:

Involv'd in smoke, loud crashing, low shall fall

The mounded temple and the castled wall.

O'er India's seas the young Almeyda pours,

Scorching the wither'd air, his iron show'rs;

Torn masts and rudders, hulks and canvas riv'n,

Month after month before his prows are driv'n;

But Heav'n's dread will, where clouds of darkness rest,

That awful will, which knows alone the best,

Now blunts his spear: Cambaya's squadrons join'd

With Egypt's fleets, in pagan rage combin'd,

Engrasp him round; red boils the stagg'ring flood,

Purpled with volleying flames and hot with blood:

Whirl'd by the cannon's rage, in shivers torn,

His thigh, far scattered, o'er the wave is borne.

Bound to the mast the godlike hero stands,[600]

Waves his proud sword, and cheers his woful bands.

Though winds and seas their wonted aid deny,

To yield he knows not, but he knows to die:

Another thunder tears his manly breast:

Oh fly, blest spirit, to thy heav'nly rest!

Hark! rolling on the groaning storm I hear,

Resistless vengeance thund'ring on the rear.

I see the transports of the furious sire,

As o'er the mangled corse his eyes flash fire.

Swift to the fight, with stern though weeping eyes,

Fix'd rage fierce burning in his breast, he flies;

Fierce as the bull that sees his rival rove

Free with the heifers through the mounded grove,

On oak or beech his madd'ning fury pours;

So pours Almeyda's rage on Dabul's towers.

His vanes wide waving o'er the Indian sky,

Before his prows the fleets of India fly;[601]

On Egypt's chief his mortars' dreadful tire

Shall vomit all the rage of prison'd fire:

Heads, limbs, and trunks shall choke the struggling tide,

Till, ev'ry surge with reeking crimson dy'd,

Around the young Almeyda's hapless urn

His conqueror's naked ghosts shall howl and mourn.

As meteors flashing through the darken'd air

I see the victors' whirling falchions glare;

Dark rolls the sulph'rous smoke o'er Dio's skies,

And shrieks of death, and shouts of conquest rise,

In one wide tumult blended. The rough roar

Shakes the brown tents on Ganges' trembling shore;

The waves of Indus from the banks recoil;

And matrons, howling on the strand of Nile,

By the pale moon, their absent sons deplore:

Long shall they wail; their sons return no more.

"Ah, strike the notes of woe!" the siren cries;

"A dreary vision swims before my eyes.

To Tagus' shore triumphant as he bends,

Low in the dust the hero's glory ends:

Though bended bow, nor thund'ring engine's hail,

Nor Egypt's sword, nor India's spear prevail,

Fall shall the chief before a naked foe,

Rough clubs and rude-hurl'ed stones shall strike the blow;

The Cape of Tempests shall his tomb supply,

And in the desert sands his bones shall lie,

No boastful trophy o'er his ashes rear'd:

Such Heav'n's dread will, and be that will rever'd!

"But lo, resplendent shines another star,"

Loud she resounds, "in all the blaze of war!

Great Cunia[602] guards Melinda's friendly shore,

And dyes her seas with Oja's hostile gore;

Lamo and Brava's tow'rs his vengeance tell:

Green Madagascar's flow'ry dales shall swell

His echo'd fame, till ocean's southmost bound

On isles and shores unknown his name resound.

"Another blaze, behold, of fire and arms!

Great Albuquerque awakes the dread alarms:

O'er Ormuz' walls his thund'ring flames he pours,

While Heav'n, the hero's guide, indignant show'rs

Their arrows backwards[603] on the Persian foe,

Tearing the breasts and arms that twang'd the bow.

Mountains of salt and fragrant gums in vain

Were spent untainted to embalm the slain.

Such heaps shall strew the seas and faithless strand

Of Gerum, Mazcate,[604] and Calayat's land,

Till faithless Ormuz own the Lusian sway,

And Barem's[605] pearls her yearly safety pay.

"What glorious palms on Goa's isle I see,[606]

Their blossoms spread, great Albuquerque, for thee!

Through castled walls the hero breaks his way,

And opens with his sword the dread array

Of Moors and pagans; through their depth he rides,

Through spears and show'ring fire the battle guides.

As bulls enrag'd, or lions smear'd with gore,

His bands sweep wide o'er Goa's purpled shore.

Nor eastward far though fair Malacca[607] lie,

Her groves embosom'd in the morning sky;

Though with her am'rous sons the valiant line

Of Java's isle in battle rank combine,

Though poison'd shafts their pond'rous quivers store;

Malacca's spicy groves and golden ore,

Great Albuquerque, thy dauntless toils shall crown!

Yet art thou stain'd."[608] Here, with a sighful frown,

The goddess paus'd, for much remain'd unsung,

But blotted with a humble soldier's wrong.

"Alas," she cries, "when war's dread horrors reign,

And thund'ring batteries rock the fiery plain,

When ghastly famine on a hostile soil,

When pale disease attends on weary toil,

When patient under all the soldier stands,

Detested be the rage which then demands

The humble soldier's blood, his only crime

The am'rous frailty of the youthful prime!

Incest's cold horror here no glow restrain'd,

Nor sacred nuptial bed was here profan'd,

Nor here unwelcome force the virgin seiz'd;

A slave, lascivious, in his fondling pleas'd,

Resigns her breast. Ah, stain to Lusian fame!

('Twas lust of blood, perhaps 'twas jealous flame;)

The leader's rage, unworthy of the brave,

Consigns the youthful soldier to the grave.

Not Ammon[609] thus Apelles' love repaid,

Great Ammon's bed resign'd the lovely maid;

Nor Cyrus thus reprov'd Araspas' fire;

Nor haughtier Carlo thus assum'd the sire,

Though iron Baldwin to his daughter's bower,

An ill-match'd lover, stole in secret hour:

With nobler rage the lofty monarch glow'd,

And Flandria's earldom on the knight bestow'd."[610]

Again the nymph the song of fame resounds:

"Lo, sweeping wide o'er Ethiopia's bounds,

Wide o'er Arabia's purple shore, on high

The Lusian ensigns blaze along the sky:

Mecca, aghast, beholds the standards shine,

And midnight horror shakes Medina's shrine;[611]

Th' unhallow'd altar bodes th' approaching foe,

Foredoom'd in dust its prophet's tomb to strew.

Nor Ceylon's isle, brave Soarez, shall withhold

Its incense, precious as the burnish'd gold,

What time o'er proud Columbo's loftiest spire

Thy flag shall blaze: Nor shall th' immortal lyre

Forget thy praise, Sequeyra! To the shore

Where Sheba's sapient queen the sceptre bore,[612]

Braving the Red Sea's dangers shalt thou force

To Abyssinia's realm thy novel course;

And isles, by jealous Nature long conceal'd,

Shall to the wond'ring world be now reveal'd.

Great Menez next the Lusian sword shall bear;

Menez, the dread of Afric, high shall rear

His victor lance, till deep shall Ormuz groan,

And tribute doubled her revolt atone.

"Now shines thy glory in meridian height"--

And loud her voice she rais'd--"O matchless knight!

Thou, thou, illustrious GAMA, thou shalt bring

The olive bough of peace, deputed king!

The lands by thee discover'd shall obey

Thy sceptred power, and bless thy regal sway.

But India's crimes, outrageous to the skies,

A length of these Saturnian days denies:

Snatch'd from thy golden throne,[613] the heav'ns shall claim

Thy deathless soul, the world thy deathless name.

"Now o'er the coast of faithless Malabar

Victorious Henry[614] pours the rage of war;

Nor less the youth a nobler strife shall wage,

Great victor of himself though green in age;

No restless slave of wanton am'rous fire,

No lust of gold shall taint his gen'rous ire.

While youth's bold pulse beats high, how brave the boy

Whom harlot-smiles nor pride of power decoy!

Immortal be his name! Nor less thy praise,

Great Mascarene,[615] shall future ages raise:

Though power, unjust, withhold the splendid ray

That dignifies the crest of sov'reign sway,

Thy deeds, great chief, on Bintam's humbled shore

(Deeds such as Asia never view'd before)

Shall give thy honest fame a brighter blaze

Than tyrant pomp in golden robes displays.

Though bold in war the fierce usurper shine,

Though Cutial's potent navy o'er the brine

Drive vanquish'd: though the Lusian Hector's sword

For him reap conquest, and confirm him lord;

Thy deeds, great peer, the wonder of thy foes,

Thy glorious chains unjust, and gen'rous woes,

Shall dim the fierce Sampayo's fairest fame,

And o'er his honours thine aloud proclaim.

Thy gen'rous woes! Ah gallant injur'd chief,

Not thy own sorrows give the sharpest grief.

Thou seest the Lusian name her honours stain,

And lust of gold her heroes' breasts profane;

Thou seest ambition lift the impious head,

Nor God's red arm, nor ling'ring justice dread;

O'er India's bounds thou seest these vultures prowl,

Full gorged with blood, and dreadless of control;

Thou seest and weepst thy country's blotted name,

The gen'rous sorrow thine, but not the shame.

Nor long the Lusian ensigns stain'd remain:

Great Nunio[616] comes, and razes every stain.

Though lofty Calè's warlike towers he rear;

Though haughty Melic groan beneath his spear;

All these, and Diu yielded to his name,

Are but th' embroid'ry of his nobler fame.

Far haughtier foes of Lusian race he braves;

The awful sword of justice high he waves:

Before his bar the injur'd Indian stands,

And justice boldly on his foe demands,

The Lusian foe; in wonder lost, the Moor

Beholds proud rapine's vulture grip restore;

Beholds the Lusian hands in fetters bound

By Lusian hands, and wound repaid for wound.

Oh, more shall thus by Nunio's worth be won,

Than conquest reaps from high-plum'd hosts o'erthrown.

Long shall the gen'rous Nunio's blissful sway

Command supreme. In Dio's hopeless day

The sov'reign toil the brave Noronha takes; }

Awed by his fame[617] the fierce-soul'd Rumien shakes, }

And Dio's open'd walls in sudden flight forsakes. }

A son of thine, O GAMA,[618] now shall hold

The helm of empire, prudent, wise, and bold:

Malacca sav'd and strengthen'd by his arms,

The banks of Tor shall echo his alarms;

His worth shall bless the kingdoms of the morn,

For all thy virtues shall his soul adorn.

When fate resigns thy hero to the skies,

A vet'ran, fam'd on Brazil's shore[619] shall rise:

The wide Atlantic and the Indian main,

By turns, shall own the terrors of his reign.

His aid the proud Cambayan king implores,

His potent aid Cambaya's king restores.

The dread Mogul with all his thousands flies,

And Dio's towers are Souza's well-earn'd prize.

Nor less the zamorim o'er blood-stain'd ground[620]

Shall speed his legions, torn with many a wound,

In headlong rout. Nor shall the boastful pride

Of India's navy, though the shaded tide

Around the squadron'd masts appear the down

Of some wide forest, other fate renown.

Loud rattling through the hills of Cape Camore[621]

I hear the tempest of the battle roar!

Clung to the splinter'd masts I see the dead

Badala's shore with horrid wreck bespread;

Baticala inflam'd by treach'rous hate,

Provokes the horrors of Badala's fate:

Her seas in blood, her skies enwrapt in fire,

Confess the sweeping storm of Souza's ire.

No hostile spear now rear'd on sea or strand,

The awful sceptre graces Souza's hand;

Peaceful he reigns, in counsel just and wise;

And glorious Castro now his throne supplies:

Castro, the boast of gen'rous fame, afar

From Dio's strand shall sway the glorious war.

Madd'ning with rage to view the Lusian band,

A troop so few, proud Dio's towers command,

The cruel Ethiop Moor to heav'n complains,

And the proud Persian's languid zeal arraigns.

The Rumien fierce, who boasts the name of Rome,[622]

With these conspires, and vows the Lusians' doom.

A thousand barb'rous nations join their powers

To bathe with Lusian blood the Dion towers.

Dark rolling sheets, forth belch'd from brazen wombs,

And bor'd, like show'ring clouds, with hailing bombs,

O'er Dio's sky spread the black shades of death;

The mine's dread earthquakes shake the ground beneath.

No hope, bold Mascarene,[623] mayst thou respire,

A glorious fall alone, thy just desire.

When lo, his gallant son brave Castro sends--

Ah heav'n, what fate the hapless youth attends!

In vain the terrors of his falchion glare:

The cavern'd mine bursts, high in pitchy air

Rampire and squadron whirl'd convulsive, borne

To heav'n, the hero dies in fragments torn.

His loftiest bough though fall'n, the gen'rous sire

His living hope devotes with Roman ire.

On wings of fury flies the brave Alvar

Through oceans howling with the wintry war,

Through skies of snow his brother's vengeance bears;

And, soon in arms, the valiant sire appears:

Before him vict'ry spreads her eagle wing

Wide sweeping o'er Cambaya's haughty king.

In vain his thund'ring coursers shake the ground,

Cambaya bleeding of his might's last wound

Sinks pale in dust: fierce Hydal-Kan[624] in vain

Wakes war on war; he bites his iron chain.

O'er Indus' banks, o'er Ganges' smiling vales,

No more the hind his plunder'd field bewails:

O'er ev'ry field, O Peace, thy blossoms glow,

The golden blossoms of thy olive bough;

Firm bas'd on wisest laws great Castro crowns,

And the wide East the Lusian empire owns.

"These warlike chiefs, the sons of thy renown,

And thousands more, O VASCO, doom'd to crown

Thy glorious toils, shall through these seas unfold

Their victor-standards blaz'd with Indian gold;

And in the bosom of our flow'ry isle,

Embath'd in joy shall o'er their labours smile.

Their nymphs like yours, their feast divine the same,

The raptur'd foretaste of immortal fame."

So sang the goddess, while the sister train

With joyful anthem close the sacred strain:

"Though Fortune from her whirling sphere bestow

Her gifts capricious in unconstant flow,

Yet laurell'd honour and immortal fame

Shall ever constant grace the Lusian name."

So sung the joyful chorus, while around

The silver roofs the lofty notes resound.

The song prophetic, and the sacred feast,

Now shed the glow of strength through ev'ry breast.

When with the grace and majesty divine,

Which round immortals when enamour'd shine,

To crown the banquet of their deathless fame,

To happy GAMA thus the sov'reign dame:

"O lov'd of Heav'n, what never man before,

What wand'ring science never might explore,

By Heav'n's high will, with mortal eyes to see

Great nature's face unveil'd, is given to thee.

Thou and thy warriors follow where I lead:

Firm be your steps, for arduous to the tread,

Through matted brakes of thorn and brier, bestrew'd

With splinter'd flint, winds the steep slipp'ry road."

She spake, and smiling caught the hero's hand,

And on the mountain's summit soon they stand;

A beauteous lawn with pearl enamell'd o'er,

Emerald and ruby, as the gods of yore

Had sported here. Here in the fragrant air

A wondrous globe appear'd, divinely fair!

Through ev'ry part the light transparent flow'd,

And in the centre, as the surface, glow'd.

The frame ethereal various orbs compose,

In whirling circles now they fell, now rose;

Yet never rose nor fell,[625] for still the same

Was ev'ry movement of the wondrous frame;

Each movement still beginning, still complete,

Its author's type, self-pois'd, perfection's seat.

Great VASCO, thrill'd with reverential awe,

And rapt with keen desire, the wonder saw.

The goddess mark'd the language of his eyes,

"And here," she cried, "thy largest wish suffice."

Great nature's fabric thou dost here behold,

Th' ethereal, pure, and elemental mould

In pattern shown complete, as nature's God

Ordain'd the world's great frame, His dread abode;

For ev'ry part the Power Divine pervades,

The sun's bright radiance, and the central shades;

Yet, let not haughty reason's bounded line

Explore the boundless God, or where define,

Where in Himself, in uncreated light

(While all His worlds around seem wrapp'd in night),

He holds His loftiest state.[626] By primal laws

Impos'd on Nature's birth (Himself the cause),

By her own ministry, through ev'ry maze,

Nature in all her walks, unseen, He sways.

These spheres behold;[627] the first in wide embrace

Surrounds the lesser orbs of various face;

The Empyrean this, the holiest heav'n

To the pure spirits of the bless'd is giv'n:

No mortal eye its splendid rays may bear,

No mortal bosom feel the raptures there.

The earth, in all her summer pride array'd,

To this might seem a drear sepulchral shade.

Unmov'd it stands; within its shining frame,

In motion swifter than the lightning's flame,

Swifter than sight the moving parts may spy,

Another sphere whirls round its rapid sky.

Hence motion darts its force,[628] impulsive draws,

And on the other orbs impresses laws;

The sun's bright car attentive to its force

Gives night and day, and shapes his yearly course;

Its force stupendous asks a pond'rous sphere

To poise its fury, and its weight to bear:

Slow moves that pond'rous orb; the stiff, slow pace

One step scarce gains, while wide his annual race

Two hundred times the sun triumphant rides;

The crystal heav'n is this, whose rigour guides

And binds the starry sphere:[629] That sphere behold,

With diamonds spangled, and emblaz'd with gold!

What radiant orbs that azure sky adorn,

Fair o'er the night in rapid motion borne!

Swift as they trace the heav'n's wide circling line,

Whirl'd on their proper axles, bright they shine.

Wide o'er this heav'n a golden belt displays

Twelve various forms; behold the glitt'ring blaze!

Through these the sun in annual journey towers,

And o'er each clime their various tempers pours;

In gold and silver of celestial mine

How rich far round the constellations shine!

Lo, bright emerging o'er the polar tides,

In shining frost the Northern Chariot rides;[630]

Mid treasur'd snows here gleams the grisly Bear,

And icy flakes incrust his shaggy hair.

Here fair Andromeda, of heav'n belov'd;

Her vengeful sire, and, by the gods reprov'd,

Beauteous Cassiope. Here, fierce and red, }

Portending storms, Orion lifts his head; }

And here the Dogs their raging fury shed. }

The Swan, sweet melodist, in death he sings,

The milder Swan here spreads his silver wings.

Here Orpheus' Lyre, the melancholy Hare,

And here the watchful Dragon's eye-balls glare;

And Theseus' ship, oh, less renown'd than thine,

Shall ever o'er these skies illustrious shine.

Beneath this radiant firmament behold

The various planets in their orbits roll'd:

Here, in cold twilight, hoary Saturn rides;

Here Jove shines mild, here fiery Mars presides;

Apollo here, enthron'd in light, appears

The eye of heav'n, emblazer of the spheres;

Beneath him beauteous glows the Queen of Love--

The proudest hearts her sacred influence prove;

Here Hermes, fam'd for eloquence divine,

And here Diana's various faces shine;

Lowest she rides, and, through the shadowy night,

Pours on the glist'ning earth her silver light.

These various orbs, behold, in various speed

Pursue the journeys at their birth decreed.

Now, from the centre far impell'd they fly,

Now, nearer earth they sail a lower sky,

A shorten'd course: Such are their laws impress'd

By God's dread will,[631] that will for ever best.

"The yellow earth, the centre of the whole,

There lordly rests sustain'd on either pole.

The limpid air enfolds in soft embrace

The pond'rous orb, and brightens o'er her face.

Here, softly floating o'er th' aërial blue,

Fringed with the purple and the golden hue,

The fleecy clouds their swelling sides display;

From whence, fermented by the sulph'rous ray,

The lightnings blaze, and heat spreads wide and rare;

And now, in fierce embrace with frozen air,

Their wombs, compress'd, soon feel parturient throws,

And white wing'd gales bear wide the teeming snows.

Thus, cold and heat their warring empires hold,

Averse yet mingling, each by each controll'd,

The highest air and ocean's bed they pierce,

And earth's dark centre feels their struggles fierce.

"The seat of man, the earth's fair breast, behold;

Here wood-crown'd islands wave their locks of gold.

Here spread wide continents their bosoms green,

And hoary Ocean heaves his breast between.

Yet, not th' inconstant ocean's furious tide

May fix the dreadful bounds of human pride.

What madd'ning seas between these nations roar!

Yet Lusus' hero-race shall visit ev'ry shore.

What thousand tribes, whom various customs sway,

And various rites, these countless shores display!

Queen of the world, supreme in shining arms,

Hers ev'ry art, and hers all wisdom's charms,

Each nation's tribute round her foot-stool spread,

Here Christian Europe[632] lifts the regal head.

Afric behold,[633] alas, what alter'd view!

Her lands uncultur'd, and her son's untrue;

Ungraced with all that sweetens human life,

Savage and fierce they roam in brutal strife;

Eager they grasp the gifts which culture yields,

Yet, naked roam their own neglected fields.

Lo, here enrich'd with hills of golden ore,

Monomotapa's empire hems the shore.

There round the Cape, great Afric's dreadful bound,

Array'd in storms (by you first compass'd round),

Unnumber'd tribes as bestial grazers stray,

By laws unform'd, unform'd by reason's sway:

Far inward stretch the mournful sterile dales,

Where, on the parch'd hill-side, pale Famine wails.

On gold in vain the naked savage treads;

Low, clay-built huts, behold, and reedy sheds,

Their dreary towns. Gonzalo's zeal shall glow[634]

To these dark minds the path of light to show:

His toils to humanize the barb'rous mind

Shall, with the martyr's palms, his holy temples bind.

Great Naya,[635] too, shall glorious here display

His God's dread might: behold, in black array,

Num'rous and thick as when in evil hour

The feather'd race whole harvest fields devour,

So thick, so num'rous round Sofála's towers

Her barb'rous hordes remotest Africa pours:

In vain; Heav'n's vengeance on their souls impress'd,

They fly, wide scatter'd as the driving mist.

Lo, Quama there, and there the fertile Nile

Curs'd with that gorging fiend, the crocodile,

Wind their long way: the parent lake behold,

Great Nilus' fount, unseen, unknown of old,

From whence, diffusing plenty as he glides,

Wide Abyssinia's realm the stream divides.

In Abyssinia Heav'n's own altars blaze,[636]

And hallow'd anthems chant Messiah's praise.

In Nile's wide breast the isle of M{)e}r{)o}{=e} see!

Near these rude shores a hero sprung from thee,

Thy son, brave GAMA,[637] shall his lineage show

In glorious triumphs o'er the paynim[638] foe.

There by the rapid Ob her friendly breast

Melinda spreads, thy place of grateful rest.

Cape Aromata there the gulf defends,

Where by the Red Sea wave great Afric ends.

Illustrious Suez, seat of heroes old,

Fam'd Hierapolis, high-tower'd, behold.

Here Egypt's shelter'd fleets at anchor ride,

And hence, in squadrons, sweep the eastern tide.

And lo, the waves that aw'd by Moses' rod,

While the dry bottom Israel's armies trod,

On either hand roll'd back their frothy might,

And stood, like hoary rocks, in cloudy height.

Here Asia, rich in ev'ry precious mine,

In realms immense, begins her western line.

Sinai behold, whose trembling cliffs of yore

In fire and darkness, deep pavilion'd, bore

The Hebrews' God, while day, with awful brow,

Gleam'd pale on Israel's wand'ring tents below.

The pilgrim now the lonely hill ascends,

And, when the ev'ning raven homeward bends,

Before the virgin-martyr's tomb[639] he pays

His mournful vespers, and his vows of praise.

Jidda behold, and Aden's parch'd domain

Girt by Arzira's rock, where never rain

Yet fell from heav'n; where never from the dale

The crystal riv'let murmur'd to the vale.

The three Arabias here their breasts unfold,

Here breathing incense, here a rocky wold;

O'er Dofar's plain the richest incense breathes,

That round the sacred shrine its vapour wreathes;

Here the proud war-steed glories in his force,

As, fleeter than the gale, he holds the course.

Here, with his spouse and household lodg'd in wains,

The Arab's camp shifts, wand'ring o'er the plains,

The merchant's dread, what time from eastern soil

His burthen'd camels seek the land of Nile.

Here Rosalgate and Farthac stretch their arms,

And point to Ormuz, fam'd for war's alarms;

Ormuz, decreed full oft to quake with dread

Beneath the Lusian heroes' hostile tread,

Shall see the Turkish moons,[640] with slaughter gor'd,

Shrink from the lightning of De Branco's sword.[641]

There on the gulf that laves the Persian shore,

Far through the surges bends Cape Asabore.

There Barem's isle;[642] her rocks with diamonds blaze,

And emulate Aurora's glitt'ring rays.

From Barem's shore Euphrates' flood is seen,

And Tigris' waters, through the waves of green

In yellowy currents many a league extend,

As with the darker waves averse they blend.

Lo, Persia there her empire wide unfolds!

In tented camp his state the monarch holds:

Her warrior sons disdain the arms of fire,[643]

And, with the pointed steel, to fame aspire;

Their springy shoulders stretching to the blow,

Their sweepy sabres hew the shrieking foe.

There Gerum's isle the hoary ruin wears

Where Time has trod:[644] there shall the dreadful spears

Of Sousa and Menezes strew the shore

With Persian sabres, and embathe with gore.

Carpella's cape, and sad Carmania's strand,

There, parch'd and bare, their dreary wastes expand.

A fairer landscape here delights the view;

From these green hills beneath the clouds of blue,

The Indus and the Ganges roll the wave,

And many a smiling field propitious lave.

Luxurious here, Ulcinda's harvests smile,

And here, disdainful of the seaman's toil,

The whirling tides of Jaquet furious roar;

Alike their rage when swelling to the shore,

Or, tumbling backward to the deep, they force

The boiling fury of their gulfy course:

Against their headlong rage nor oars nor sails,

The stemming prow alone, hard toil'd, prevails.

Cambaya here begins her wide domain;

A thousand cities here shall own the reign

Of Lisboa's monarchs. He who first shall crown

Thy labours, GAMA,[645] here shall boast his own.

The length'ning sea that washes India's strand

And laves the cape that points to Ceylon's land

(The Taprobanian isle,[646] renown'd of yore),

Shall see his ensigns blaze from shore to shore.

Behold how many a realm, array'd in green,

The Ganges' shore and Indus' bank between!

Here tribes unnumber'd, and of various lore,

With woful penance fiend-like shapes adore;

Some Macon's orgies;[647] all confess the sway

Of rites that shun, like trembling ghosts, the day.

Narsinga's fair domain behold; of yore

Here shone the gilded towers of Meliapore.

Here India's angels, weeping o'er the tomb

Where Thomas sleeps,[648] implore the day to come,

The day foretold, when India's utmost shore

Again shall hear Messiah's blissful lore.

By Indus' banks the holy prophet trod,

And Ganges heard him preach the Saviour-God;

Where pale disease erewhile the cheek consum'd,

Health, at his word, in ruddy fragrance bloom'd;

The grave's dark womb his awful voice obey'd,

And to the cheerful day restor'd the dead;

By heavenly power he rear'd the sacred shrine,

And gain'd the nations by his life divine.

The priests of Brahma's hidden rites beheld,

And envy's bitt'rest gall their bosom's swell'd.

A thousand deathful snares in vain they spread;

When now the chief who wore the triple thread,[649]

Fir'd by the rage that gnaws the conscious breast

Of holy fraud, when worth shines forth confess'd,

Hell he invokes, nor hell in vain he sues;

His son's life-gore his wither'd hands imbrues;

Then, bold assuming the vindictive ire,

And all the passions of the woful sire,

Weeping, he bends before the Indian throne,

Arraigns the holy man, and wails his son:

A band of hoary priests attest the deed,

And India's king condemns the seer to bleed.

Inspir'd by Heav'n the holy victim stands,

And o'er the murder'd corse extends his hands:

'In God's dread power, thou slaughter'd youth, arise,

And name,thy murderer,' aloud he cries.

When, dread to view, the deep wounds instant close,

And, fresh in life, the slaughter'd youth arose,

And nam'd his treach'rous sire. The conscious air

Quiver'd, and awful horror raised the hair

On ev'ry head. From Thomas India's king

The holy sprinkling of the living spring

Receives, and wide o'er all his regal bounds

The God of Thomas ev'ry tongue resounds.

Long taught the holy seer the words of life;

The priests of Brahma still to deeds of strife

(So boil'd their ire) the blinded herd impell'd,

And high, to deathful rage, their rancour swell'd.

'Twas on a day, when melting on his tongue

Heav'n's offer'd mercies glow'd, the impious throng,

Rising in madd'ning tempest, round him shower'd

The splinter'd flint; in vain the flint was pour'd:

But Heav'n had now his finish'd labours seal'd;

His angel guards withdraw the etherial shield;

A Brahmin's javelin tears his holy breast----

Ah Heav'n, what woes the widow'd land express'd!

Thee, Thomas, thee, the plaintive Ganges mourn'd,[650]

And Indus' banks the murm'ring moan return'd;

O'er ev'ry valley where thy footsteps stray'd,

The hollow winds the gliding sighs convey'd.

What woes the mournful face of India wore,

These woes in living pangs his people bore.

His sons, to whose illumin'd minds he gave

To view the ray that shines beyond the grave,

His pastoral sons bedew'd his corse with tears,

While high triumphant through the heav'nly spheres,

With songs of joy, the smiling angels wing

His raptur'd spirit to the eternal King.

O you, the followers of the holy seer,

Foredoom'd the shrines of Heav'n's own lore to rear,

You, sent by Heav'n his labours to renew,

Like him, ye Lusians, simplest Truth pursue.[651]

Vain is the impious toil, with borrow'd grace,

To deck one feature of her angel face;

Behind the veil's broad glare she glides away,

And leaves a rotten form, of lifeless, painted clay.

"Much have you view'd of future Lusian reign;

Broad empires yet, and kingdoms wide, remain,

Scenes of your future toils and glorious sway--

And lo, how wide expands the Gangic bay!

Narsinga here in num'rous legions bold,

And here Oryxa boasts her cloth of gold.

The Ganges here in many a stream divides, }

Diffusing plenty from his fatt'ning tides, }

As through Bengala's rip'ning vales he glides; }

Nor may the fleetest hawk, untir'd, explore

Where end the ricy groves that crown the shore.

There view what woes demand your pious aid!

On beds and litters, o'er the margin laid,

The dying[652] lift their hollow eyes, and crave

Some pitying hand to hurl them in the wave.

Thus Heav'n (they deem), though vilest guilt they bore

Unwept, unchanged, will view that guilt no more.

There, eastward, Arracan her line extends;

And Pegu's mighty empire southward bends:

Pegu, whose sons (so held old faith) confess'd

A dog their sire;[653] their deeds the tale attest.

A pious queen their horrid rage restrain'd;[654]

Yet, still their fury Nature's God arraign'd.

Ah, mark the thunders rolling o'er the sky;

Yes, bath'd in gore, shall rank pollution lie.

"Where to the morn the towers of Tava shine,

Begins great Siam's empire's far-stretch'd line.

On Queda's fields the genial rays inspire

The richest gust of spicery's fragrant fire.

Malacca's castled harbour here survey,

The wealthful seat foredoom'd of Lusian sway.

Here to their port the Lusian fleets shall steer,

From ev'ry shore far round assembling here

The fragrant treasures of the eastern world:

Here from the shore by rolling earthquakes hurl'd,

Through waves all foam, Sumatra's isle was riv'n,

And, mid white whirlpools, down the ocean driv'n.[655]

To this fair isle, the golden Chersonese,

Some deem the sapient monarch plough'd the seas;

Ophir its Tyrian name.[656] In whirling roars

How fierce the tide boils down these clasping shores!

High from the strait the length'ning coast afar

Its moonlike curve points to the northern star,

Opening its bosom to the silver ray

When fair Aurora pours the infant day.

Patane and Pam, and nameless nations more,

Who rear their tents on Menam's winding shore,

Their vassal tribute yield to Siam's throne;

And thousands more,[657] of laws, of names unknown,

That vast of land inhabit. Proud and bold,

Proud of their numbers, here the Laos hold

The far-spread lawns; the skirting hills obey

The barb'rous Avas', and the Brahma's sway.

Lo, distant far, another mountain chain

Rears its rude cliffs, the Guio's dread domain;

Here brutaliz'd the human form is seen,

The manners fiend-like as the brutal mien:

With frothing jaws they suck the human blood,

And gnaw the reeking limbs,[658] their sweetest food;

Horrid, with figur'd seams of burning steel,

Their wolf-like frowns their ruthless lust reveal.

Cambaya there the blue-tinged Mecon laves,

Mecon the eastern Nile, whose swelling waves,

'Captain of rivers' nam'd, o'er many a clime,

In annual period, pour their fatt'ning slime.

The simple natives of these lawns believe

That other worlds the souls of beasts receive;[659]

Where the fierce murd'rer-wolf, to pains decreed,

Sees the mild lamb enjoy the heav'nly mead.

Oh gentle Mecon,[660] on thy friendly shore

Long shall the muse her sweetest off'rings pour!

When tyrant ire, chaf'd by the blended lust

Of pride outrageous, and revenge unjust,

Shall on the guiltless exile burst their rage,

And madd'ning tempests on their side engage,

Preserv'd by Heav'n the song of Lusian fame,

The song, O VASCO, sacred to thy name,

Wet from the whelming surge, shall triumph o'er

The fate of shipwreck on the Mecon's shore,

Here rest secure as on the muse's breast!

Happy the deathless song, the bard, alas, unblest!

"Chiampa there her fragrant coast extends,

There Cochin-China's cultur'd land ascends:

From Anam Bay begins the ancient reign

Of China's beauteous art-adorn'd domain;

Wide from the burning to the frozen skies,

O'erflow'd with wealth, the potent empire lies.

Here, ere the cannon's rage in Europe roar'd,[661]

The cannon's thunder on the foe was pour'd:

And here the trembling needle sought the north,

Ere Time in Europe brought the wonder forth.

No more let Egypt boast her mountain pyres;

To prouder fame yon bounding wall aspires,

A prouder boast of regal power displays

Than all the world beheld in ancient days.

Not built, created seems the frowning mound; }

O'er loftiest mountain tops, and vales profound }

Extends the wondrous length, with warlike castles crown'd. }

Immense the northern wastes their horrors spread;[662]

In frost and snow the seas and shores are clad.

These shores forsake, to future ages due:

A world of islands claims thy happier view,

Where lavish Nature all her bounty pours,

And flowers and fruits of ev'ry fragrance showers.

Japan behold; beneath the globe's broad face

Northward she sinks, the nether seas embrace

Her eastern bounds; what glorious fruitage there,

Illustrious GAMA, shall thy labours bear!

How bright a silver mine![663] when Heav'n's own lore

From pagan dross shall purify her ore.

"Beneath the spreading wings of purple morn,

Behold what isles these glist'ning seas adorn!

'Mid hundreds yet unnam'd, Ternate behold!

By day, her hills in pitchy clouds inroll'd,

By night, like rolling waves, the sheets of fire

Blaze o'er the seas, and high to heav'n aspire.

For Lusian hands here blooms the fragrant clove,

But Lusian blood shall sprinkle ev'ry grove.

The golden birds that ever sail the skies

Here to the sun display their shining dyes,

Each want supplied, on air they ever soar;

The ground they touch not[664] till they breathe no more.

Here Banda's isles their fair embroid'ry spread

Of various fruitage, azure, white, and red;

And birds of ev'ry beauteous plume display

Their glitt'ring radiance, as, from spray to spray,

From bower to bower, on busy wings they rove,

To seize the tribute of the spicy grove.

Borneo here expands her ample breast,

By Nature's hand in woods of camphor dress'd;

The precious liquid, weeping from the trees,

Glows warm with health, the balsam of disease.

Fair are Timora's dales with groves array'd,

Each riv'let murmurs in the fragrant shade,

And, in its crystal breast, displays the bowers

Of Sanders, blest with health-restoring powers.

Where to the south the world's broad surface bends,

Lo, Sunda's realm her spreading arms extends.

From hence the pilgrim brings the wondrous tale,[665]

A river groaning through a dreary dale

(For all is stone around) converts to stone

Whate'er of verdure in its breast is thrown.

Lo, gleaming blue, o'er fair Sumatra's skies,

Another mountain's trembling flames arise;

Here from the trees the gum[666] all fragrance swells,

And softest oil a wondrous fountain wells.

Nor these alone the happy isle bestows,

Fine is her gold, her silk resplendent glows.

Wide forests there beneath Maldivia's tide[667]

From with'ring air their wondrous fruitage hide.

The green-hair'd Nereids, tend the bow'ry dells,

Whose wondrous fruitage poison's rage expels.

In Ceylon, lo, how high yon mountain's brows!

The sailing clouds its middle height enclose.

Holy the hill is deem'd, the hallow'd tread

Of sainted footstep[668] marks its rocky head.

Lav'd by the Red Sea gulf, Socotra's bowers

There boast the tardy aloe's beauteous flowers.

On Afric's strand, foredoom'd to Lusian sway,

Behold these isles, and rocks of dusky gray;

From cells unknown here bounteous ocean pours

The fragrant amber on the sandy shores.

And lo, the Island of the Moon[669] displays

Her vernal lawns, and num'rous peaceful bays:

The halcyons[670] hov'ring o'er the bays are seen,

And lowing herds adorn the vales of green.

"Thus, from the cape where sail was ne'er unfurl'd,

Till thine, auspicious, sought the eastern world,

To utmost wave, where first the morning star

Sheds the pale lustre of her silver car,

Thine eyes have view'd the empires and the isles,

The world immense, that crowns thy glorious toils--

That world where ev'ry boon is shower'd from Heav'n,

Now to the West, by thee, great chief, is giv'n.[671]

"And still, O blest, thy peerless honours grow,

New op'ning views the smiling fates bestow.

With alter'd face the moving globe behold;

There ruddy ev'ning sheds her beams of gold.

While now, on Afric's bosom faintly die

The last pale glimpses of the twilight sky,

Bright o'er the wide Atlantic rides the morn,

And dawning rays another world adorn:

To farthest north that world enormous bends,

And cold, beneath the southern pole-star ends.

Near either pole[672] the barb'rous hunter, dress'd

In skins of bears, explores the frozen waste:

Where smiles the genial sun with kinder rays,

Proud cities tower, and gold-roof'd temples blaze.

This golden empire, by the heav'n's decree,

Is due, Castile, O favour'd power, to thee!

Even now, Columbus o'er the hoary tide

Pursues the ev'ning sun, his navy's guide.

Yet, shall the kindred Lusian share the reign,

What time this world shall own the yoke of Spain.

The first bold hero[673] who to India's shores

Through vanquish'd waves thy open'd path explores,

Driv'n by the winds of heav'n from Afric's strand,

Shall fix the holy cross on yon fair land.

That mighty realm, for purple wood renown'd,

Shall stretch the Lusian empire's western bound.

Fir'd by thy fame, and with his king in ire,

To match thy deeds shall Magalhaens aspire.[674]

In all but loyalty, of Lusian soul,

No fear, no danger shall his toils control.

Along these regions, from the burning zone

To deepest south, he dares the course unknown.

While, to the kingdoms of the rising day,

To rival thee he holds the western way,

A land of giants[675] shall his eyes behold,

Of camel strength, surpassing human mould:

And, onward still, thy fame his proud heart's guide

Haunting him unappeas'd, the dreary tide

Beneath the southern star's cold gleam he braves,

And stems the whirls of land-surrounded waves.

For ever sacred to the hero's fame,

These foaming straits shall bear his deathless name.

Through these dread jaws of rock he presses on,

Another ocean's breast, immense, unknown,

Beneath the south's cold wings, unmeasur'd, wide,

Receives his vessels; through the dreary tide

In darkling shades, where never man before

Heard the waves howl, he dares the nameless shore.

"Thus far, O favour'd Lusians, bounteous Heav'n

Your nation's glories to your view has giv'n.

What ensigns, blazing to the morn, pursue

The path of heroes, open'd first by you!

Still be it yours the first in fame to shine:

Thus shall your brides new chaplets still entwine,

With laurels ever new your brows enfold,

And braid your wavy locks with radiant gold.

"How calm the waves, how mild the balmy gale!

The halcyons call; ye Lusians, spread the sail;

Old ocean, now appeas'd, shall rage no more.

Haste, point the bowsprit to your native shore:

Soon shall the transports of the natal soil

O'erwhelm, in bounding joy, the thoughts of ev'ry toil."

The goddess spake[676]; and VASCO wav'd his hand,

And soon the joyful heroes crowd the strand.

The lofty ships with deepen'd burthens prove

The various bounties of the Isle of Love.

Nor leave the youths their lovely brides behind,

In wedded bands, while time glides on, conjoin'd;

Fair as immortal fame in smiles array'd,

In bridal smiles, attends each lovely maid.

O'er India's sea, wing'd on by balmy gales

That whisper'd peace, soft swell'd the steady sails:

Smooth as on wing unmov'd the eagle flies,

When to his eyrie cliff he sails the skies,

Swift o'er the gentle billows of the tide,

So smooth, so soft, the prows of GAMA glide;

And now their native fields, for ever dear,

In all their wild transporting charms appear;

And Tago's bosom, while his banks repeat

The sounding peals of joy, receives the fleet.

With orient titles and immortal fame

The hero band adorn their monarch's name;

Sceptres and crowns beneath his feet they lay,

And the wide East is doom'd to Lusian sway.[677]

Enough, my muse, thy wearied wing no more

Must to the seat of Jove triumphant soar.

Chill'd by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires

Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.

Yet thou, Sebastian, thou, my king, attend;

Behold what glories on thy throne descend!

Shall haughty Gaul or sterner Albion boast

That all the Lusian fame in thee is lost!

Oh, be it thine these glories to renew,

And John's bold path and Pedro's course pursue:[678]

Snatch from the tyrant-noble's hand the sword,

And be the rights of humankind restor'd.

The statesman prelate to his vows confine,

Alone auspicious at the holy shrine;

The priest, in whose meek heart Heav'n pours its fires,

Alone to Heav'n, not earth's vain pomp, aspires.

Nor let the muse, great king, on Tago's shore,

In dying notes the barb'rous age deplore.

The king or hero to the muse unjust

Sinks as the nameless slave, extinct in dust.

But such the deeds thy radiant morn portends,

Aw'd by thy frown ev'n now old Atlas bends

His hoary head, and Ampeluza's fields

Expect thy sounding steeds and rattling shields.

And shall these deeds unsung, unknown, expire!

Oh, would thy smiles relume my fainting ire!

I, then inspir'd, the wond'ring world should see

Great Ammon's warlike son reviv'd in thee;

Reviv'd, unenvied[679] of the muse's flame

That o'er the world resounds Pelides'[680] name.

"O let th' Iambic Muse revenge that wrong

Which cannot slumber in thy sheets of lead;

Let thy abused honour crie as long

As there be quills to write, or eyes to reade:

On his rank name let thine own votes be turn'd,

_Oh may that man that hath the Muses scorn'd

Alive, nor dead, be ever of a Muse adorn'd_."

THE END.

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING

CROSS.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Poems of Luis de Camoëns, with Remarks on his Life and Writings._

By Lord Viscount Strangford. Fifth edition. London, 1808.

[2] The Cama{=o õ}. Formerly every well-regulated family in Spain

retained one of these terrible attendants. The infidelity of its

mistress was the only circumstance which could deprive it of life. This

odious distrust of female honour is ever characteristic of a barbarous

age.

[3] The laws of Portugal were peculiarly severe against those who

carried on a love-intrigue within the palace: they punished the offence

with death. Joam I. suffered one of his favourites to be burnt alive for

it.--_Ed._

[4] The Maekhaun, or Camboja.--_Ed._

[5] Thomas Moore Musgrave's translation of The Lusiad is in blank verse,

and is dedicated to the Earl of Chichester. I vol. 8vo. Murray; 1826.

[6] A document in the archives of the Portuguese India House, on which

Lord Strangford relies, places it in 1524, or the following year.--_Ed._

[7] The French translator gives us so fine a description of the person

of Camoëns, that it seems borrowed from the Fairy Tales. It is

universally agreed, however, that he was handsome, and had a most

engaging mien and address. He is thus described by Nicolas Antonio

"_Mediocri statura fuit, et carne plena, capillis usque ad croci colorem

flavescentibus, maxime in juventute. Eminebat ei frons, et medius nasus,

cætera longus, et in fine crassiusculus._"

[8] Castera tells us, "that posterity by no means enters into the

resentment of our poet, and that the Portuguese historians make glorious

mention of Barreto, who was a man of true merit." The Portuguese

historians, however, knew not what true merit was. The brutal,

uncommercial wars of Sampayo are by them mentioned as much more glorious

than the less bloody campaigns of a Nunio, which established commerce

and empire.

[9] Having named the Mecon, or Meekhaun, a river of Cochin China, he

says--

_Este recebera placido, e brando,

No seu regaço o Canto, que molhado_, etc.

Literally thus: "On his gentle hospitable bosom (_sic_ brando _poeticé_)

shall he receive the song, wet from woful unhappy shipwreck, escaped

from destroying tempests, from ravenous dangers, the effect of the

unjust sentence upon him, whose lyre shall be more renowned than

enriched." When Camoëns was commissary, he visited the islands of

Ternate, Timor, etc., described in the Lusiad.

[10] According to the Portuguese Life of Camoëns, prefixed to Gedron's

the best edition of his works, Diogo de Couto, the historian, one of the

company in this homeward voyage, wrote annotations upon the Lusiad,

under the eye of its author. But these, unhappily, have never appeared

in public.

[11] Cardinal Henry's patronage of learning and learned men is mentioned

with cordial esteem by the Portuguese writers. Happily they also tell us

what that learning was. It was to him the Romish Friars of the East

transmitted their childish forgeries of inscriptions and miracles. He

corresponded with them, directed their labours, and received the first

accounts of their success. Under his patronage it was discovered, that

St. Thomas ordered the Indians to worship the cross; and that the

Moorish tradition of Perimal (who, having embraced Mohammedanism,

divided his kingdom among his officers, whom he rendered tributary to

the Zamorim) was a malicious misrepresentation, for that Perimal, having

turned Christian, resigned his kingdom and became a monk. Such was the

learning patronized by Henry, under whose auspices that horrid tribunal,

the Inquisition, was erected at Lisbon, where he himself long presided

as Inquisitor-General. Nor was he content with this: he established an

Inquisition, also, at Goa, and sent a whole apparatus of holy fathers to

form a court of inquisitors, to suppress the Jews and reduce the native

Christians to the see of Rome. Nor must the treatment experienced by

Buchanan at Lisbon be here omitted. John III., earnest to promote the

cultivation of polite literature among his subjects, engaged Buchanan,

the most elegant Latinist, perhaps, of modern times, to teach philosophy

and the _belles lettres_ at Lisbon. But the design of the monarch was

soon frustrated by the clergy, at the head of whom was Henry, afterwards

king. Buchanan was committed to prison, because it was alleged that he

had eaten flesh in Lent, and because in his early youth, at St. Andrew's

in Scotland, he had written a satire against the Franciscans; for which,

however, ere he would venture to Lisbon, John had promised absolute

indemnity. John, with much difficulty, procured his release from a

loathsome jail, but could not effect his restoration as a teacher. No,

he only changed his prison, for Buchanan was sent to a monastery "to be

instructed by the monks," of the men of letters patronized by Henry.

These are thus characterized by their pupil Buchanan,--_nec inhumanis,

nec malis, sed omnis religionis ignaris_: "Not uncivilized, not

flagitious, but ignorant of every religion."

[12] According to Gedron, a second edition of the Lusiad appeared in the

same year with the first. There are two Italian and four Spanish

translations of it. A hundred years before Castera's version it appeared

in French. Thomas de Faria, Bp. of Targa in Africa, translated it into

Latin. Le P. Niceron says there were two other Latin translations. It is

translated, also, into Hebrew, with great elegance and spirit, by one

Luzzatto, a learned and ingenious Jew, author of several poems in that

language, who died in the Holy Land.

[13] This passage in inverted commas is cited, with the alteration of

the name only, from Langhorne's account of the life of William Collins.

[14] The drama and the epopoeia are in nothing so different as in

this--the subjects of the drama are inexhaustible, those of the epopoeia

are perhaps exhausted. He who chooses war, and warlike characters,

cannot appear as an original. It was well for the memory of Pope that he

did not write the epic poem he intended. It would have been only a copy

of Virgil. Camoëns and Milton have been happy in the novelty of their

subjects, and these they have exhausted. There cannot possibly be so

important a voyage as that which gave the eastern world to the western.

And, did even the story of Columbus afford materials equal to that of

Gama, the adventures of the hero, and the view of the extent of his

discoveries must now appear as servile copies of the Lusiad.

[15] See his Satyricon.--_Ed._

[16] See letters on Chivalry and Romance.

[17] The Lusiad is also rendered poetical by other fictions. The elegant

satire on King Sebastian, under the name of Acteon; and the prosopopoeia

of the populace of Portugal venting their murmurs upon the beach when

Gama sets sail, display the richness of our author's poetical genius,

and are not inferior to anything of the kind in the classics.

[18] Hence the great interest which we as Britons either do, or ought

to, feel in this noble epic. We are the successors of the Portuguese in

the possession and government of India; and therefore what interested

them must have for us, as the actual possessors, a double

interest.--_Ed._

[19] Castera was every way unequal to his task. He did not perceive his

author's beauties. He either suppresses or lowers the most poetical

passages, and substitutes French tinsel and impertinence in their place.

[20] Pope, Odyss. XX.

[21] Richard Fanshaw, Esq., afterwards Sir Richard, was English

Ambassador both at Madrid and Lisbon. He had a taste for literature, and

translated from the Italian several pieces which were of service in the

refinement of our poetry. Though his Lusiad, by the dedication of it to

William, Earl of Strafford, dated May 1, 1655, seems as if published by

himself, we are told by the editor of his Letters, that "during the

unsettled times of our anarchy, some of his MSS., falling by misfortune

into unskilful hands, were printed and published without his knowledge

or consent, and before he could give them his last finishing strokes:

such was his translation of the Lusiad." He can never have enough of

conceits, low allusions, and expressions. When gathering of flowers is

simply mentioned (C. 9, st. 24) he gives it, "gather'd flowers by

pecks;" and the Indian Regent is avaricious (C. 8, st. 95)--

_Meaning a better penny thence to get._

But enough of these have already appeared in the notes. It may be

necessary to add, that the version of Fanshaw, though the Lusiad very

particularly requires them, was given to the public without one note.

[22] Some liberties of a less poetical kind, however, require to be

mentioned. In Homer and Virgil's lists of slain warriors, Dryden and

Pope have omitted several names which would have rendered English

versification dull and tiresome. Several allusions to ancient history

and fable have for this reason been abridged; e.g. in the prayer of GAMA

(Book 6) the mention of Paul, "thou who deliveredst Paul and defendest

him from quicksands and wild waves--

_Das scyrtes arenosas e ondas feas_--"

is omitted. However excellent in the original, the prayer in English

would lose both its dignity and ardour. Nor let the critic, if he find

the meaning of Camoëns in some instances altered, imagine that he has

found a blunder in the translator. He who chooses to see a slight

alteration of this kind will find an instance, which will give him an

idea of others, in Canto 8, st. 48, and another in Canto 7, st. 41. It

was not to gratify the dull few, whose greatest pleasure in reading a

translation is to see what the author exactly says; it was to give a

poem that might live in the English language, which was the ambition of

the translator. And, for the same reason, he has not confined himself to

the Portuguese or Spanish pronunciation of proper names. Regardless,

therefore, of Spanish pronunciation, the translator has accented

Granáda, Evóra, etc. in the manner which seemed to him to give most

dignity to English versification. In the word Sofala he has even

rejected the authority of Milton, and followed the more sonorous usage

of Fanshaw. Thus Sir Richard: "Against Sofála's batter'd fort." Which is

the more sonorous there can be no dispute.

[23] Judges xviii. 7, 9, 27, 28.

[24] This ferocity of savage manners affords a philosophical account how

the most distant and inhospitable climes were first peopled. When a

Romulus erects a monarchy and makes war on his neighbours, some

naturally fly to the wilds. As their families increase, the stronger

commit depredations on the weaker; and thus from generation to

generation, they who either dread just punishment or unjust oppression,

fly farther and farther in search of that protection which is only to be

found in civilized society.

[25] The author of that voluminous work, _Histoire Philosophique et

Politique des Etablissements et du Commerce des Européens dans les deux

Indes_, is one of the many who assert that savage life is happier than

civil. His reasons are thus abridged: The savage has no care or fear for

the future; his hunting and fishing give him a certain subsistence. He

sleeps sound, and knows not the diseases of cities. He cannot want what

he does not desire, nor desire that which he does not know, and vexation

or grief do not enter his soul. He is not under the control of a

superior in his actions; in a word, says our author, the savage only

suffers the evils of nature.

If the civilized, he adds, enjoy the elegancies of life, have better

food, and are more comfortably defended against the change of seasons,

it is use which makes these things necessary, and they are purchased by

the painful labours of the multitude who are the basis of society. To

what outrages is not the man of civil life exposed? if he has property,

it is in danger; and government or authority is, according to our

author, the greatest of all evils. If there is a famine in North

America, the savage, led by the wind and the sun, can go to a better

clime; but in the horrors of famine, war, or pestilence, the ports and

barriers of civilized states place the subjects in a prison, where they

must perish. There still remains an infinite difference between the lot

of the civilized and the savage; a difference, all entirely to the

disadvantage of society, that injustice which reigns in the inequality

of fortunes and conditions.

[26] The innocent simplicity of the Americans in their conferences with

the Spaniards, and the horrid cruelties they suffered from them, divert

our view from their complete character. Almost everything was horrid in

their civil customs and religious rites. In some tribes, to cohabit with

their mothers, sisters, and daughters was esteemed the means of domestic

peace. In others, catamites were maintained in every village; they went

from house to house as they pleased, and it was unlawful to refuse them

what victuals they chose. In every tribe, the captives taken in war were

murdered with the most wanton cruelty, and afterwards devoured by the

victors. Their religious rites were, if possible, still more horrid. The

abominations of ancient Moloch were here outnumbered; children, virgins,

slaves, and captives bled on different altars, to appease their various

gods. If there was a scarcity of human victims, the priests announced

that the gods were dying of thirst for human blood. And, to prevent a

threatened famine, the kings of Mexico were obliged to make war on the

neighbouring states. The prisoners of either side died by the hand of

the priest. But the number of the Mexican sacrifices so greatly exceeded

those of other nations, that the Tlascalans, who were hunted down for

this purpose, readily joined Cortez with about 200,000 men, and enabled

him to make one great sacrifice of the Mexican nation. Who that views

Mexico, steeped in her own blood, can restrain the emotion which

whispers to him, This is the hand of Heaven!--By the number of these

sacred butcheries, one would think that cruelty was the greatest

amusement of Mexico. At the dedication of the temple of Vitzliputzli,

A.D. 1486, no less than 64,080 human victims were sacrificed in four

days. And, according to the best accounts, the annual sacrifices of

Mexico required several thousands. The skulls of the victims sometimes

were hung on strings which reached from tree to tree around their

temples, and sometimes were built up in towers and cemented with lime.

In some of these towers Andrew de Tapia one day counted 136,000 skulls.

During the war with Cortez they increased their usual sacrifices, till

priest and people were tired of their bloody religion.--See, for ample

justification of these statements, the _Histories of the Conquest of

Mexico and Peru_, by Prescott.--_Ed._

[27] Mahommed Ali Khan, Nawab of the Carnatic, declared, "I met the

British with that freedom of openness which they love, and I esteem it

my honour as well as security to be the ally of such a nation of

princes."

[28] Every man must follow his father's trade, and must marry a daughter

of the same occupation. Innumerable are their other barbarous

restrictions of genius and inclination.

[29] Extremity; for it were both highly unjust and impolitic in

government to allow importation in such a degree as might be destructive

of domestic agriculture.

[30] Even that warm admirer of savage happiness, the author of _Histoire

Philosophique et Politique des Etablissements_, confesses that the wild

Americans seem destitute of the feeling of love. When the heat of

passion, says he, is gratified, they lose all affection and attachment

for their women, whom they degrade to the most servile offices.--A

tender remembrance of the first endearments, a generous participation of

care and hope, the compassionate sentiments of honour; all these

delicate feelings, which arise into affection, and bind attachment, are

indeed, incompatible with the ferocious and gross sensations of

barbarians.

[31] It is a question still debated among medical writers, and by no

means yet decided, whether the disease referred to is of American

origin. We do not read, it is true, of any such disease in the pages of

the ancient classic writers; it has hence been inferred that it was

unknown to them.--_Ed._

[32] The degeneracy of the Roman literature preceded the fate of the

state, and the reason is obvious. The men of fortune grew frivolous, and

superficial in every branch of knowledge, and were therefore unable to

hold the reigns of empire. The degeneracy of literary taste is,

therefore, the surest proof of the general ignorance.

[33] The soldiers and navigators were the only considerable gainers by

their acquirements in the Indies. Agriculture and manufactures are the

natural strength of a nation; these received little or no increase in

Spain and Portugal by the great acquisitions of these crowns.

[34] Ariosto, who adopted the legends of the old romance, chose this

period for the subject of his Orlando Furioso. Paris besieged by the

Saracens, Orlando and the other Christian knights assemble in aid of

Charlemagne, who are opposed in their amours and in battle by Rodomont,

Ferraw, and other Saracen knights. That there was a noted Moorish

Spaniard, named Ferraw, a redoubted champion of that age, we have the

testimony of Marcus Antonius Sabellicus, a writer of note of the

fifteenth century.

[35] Small indeed in extent, but so rich in fertility, that it was

called _Medulla Hispanica_, "The marrow of Spain."--Vid. Resandii Antiq.

Lusit. l. iii.

[36] In propriety most certainly a crusade, though that term has never

before been applied to this war.

[37] The power of deposing, and of electing their kings, under certain

circumstances, is vested in the people by the statutes of Lamego.

[38] For the character of this prince, see the note, Bk. iii. p. 96.

[39] For anecdotes of this monarch, see the notes, Bk. iii. p. 99.

[40] This great prince was the natural son of Pedro the Just. Some years

after the murder of his beloved spouse, Inez de Castro (see Lusiad, Bk.

iii. p. 96), lest his father, whose severe temper he too well knew,

should force him into a disagreeable marriage, Don Pedro commenced an

amour with a Galician lady, who became the mother of John I., the

preserver of the Portuguese monarchy.

[41] The sons of John, who figure in history, were Edward, Juan,

Fernando, Pedro and Henry. Edward succeeded his father. Juan,

distinguished both in the camp and cabinet, in the reign of his brother

Edward had the honour to oppose the expedition against Tangier, which

was proposed by his brother Fernando, in whose perpetual captivity it

ended.

[42] The dominion of the Portuguese in the Indian seas cut the sinews of

the Egyptian and other Mohammedan powers.

[43] Flanders has been the school-mistress of husbandry to Europe. Sir

Charles Lisle, a royalist, resided in this country several years during

the Commonwealth; and after the Restoration, rendered England the

greatest service, by introducing the present system of agriculture.

Where trade increases, men's thoughts are set in action; hence the

increase of food which is wanted is supplied by a redoubled attention to

husbandry; and hence it was that agriculture was of old improved and

diffused by the Phoenician colonies.

[44] At the reduction of Ceuta in Africa, and in other engagements,

Prince Henry displayed military genius and valour of the first

magnitude. The important fortress of Ceuta was in a manner won by his

own sword.

[45] Nam, in Portuguese, a negative. It is now called by corruption Cape

Nun.

[46] Cape Bojador, from the Spanish, _bojar_, to compass or go about.

[47] Unluckily, he also left on this island two rabbits, whose young so

increased that in a few years it was found not habitable, every

vegetable being destroyed by the great increase of these animals.

[48] Madeira in Portuguese signifies timber.--_Ed._

[49] If one would trace the true character of Cortez and the Americans,

he must have recourse to the numerous Spanish writers, who were either

witnesses of the first wars, or soon after travelled in these countries.

[The reader cannot do better than refer to Prescott's _History of the

Conquest of Mexico and Peru_ for information on these points.--_Ed._] In

these he will find many anecdotes which afford a light not to be found

in our modern histories. Cortez set out to take gold by force, and not

by establishing any system of commerce with the natives, the only just

reason for effecting a settlement in a foreign country. He was asked by

various states, what commodities or drugs he wanted, and was promised

abundant supply. He and his Spaniards, he answered, had a disease at

their hearts, which nothing but gold could cure; and he received

intelligence that Mexico abounded with it. Under pretence of a friendly

conference, he made the Mexican emperor, Montezuma, his prisoner, and

ordered him to pay tribute to Charles V. Immense sums were paid, but the

demand was boundless. Tumults ensued. Cortez displayed amazing

generalship, and some millions of those who boasted of the greatness of

Montezuma were sacrificed to the disease of Cortez's heart. Pizarro,

however, in the barbarity of his character, far exceeded him. There is a

bright side to the character of Cortez, if we can forget that his

avarice was the cause of a most unjust and most bloody war; but Pizarro

is a character completely detestable, destitute of every spark of

generosity. He massacred the Peruvians because they were barbarians, and

he himself could not read. Atabalipa, the Peruvian Inca, amazed at the

art of reading, got a Spaniard to write the word Dios (God) on his

finger. On trying if the Spaniards agreed in what it signified, he

discovered that Pizarro could not read. And Pizarro, in revenge of the

contempt he perceived in the face of Atabalipa, ordered that prince to

be tried for his life, for having concubines, and being an idolater.

Atabalipa was condemned to be burned; but on submitting to baptism, he

was only hanged. See Prescott's _Conquest of Peru_.

[50] The difficulties he surmounted, and the assistance he received, are

sufficient proofs that an adventurer of inferior birth could never have

carried his designs into execution.

[51] Don Pedro was villainously accused of treacherous designs by his

illegitimate brother, the first Duke of Braganza. Henry left his town of

Sagrez to defend his brother at court, but in vain. Pedro, finding the

young king in the power of Braganza, fled, and soon after was killed in

defending himself against a party who were sent to seize him. His

innocence, after his death, was fully proved, and his nephew, Alonzo V.,

gave him an honourable burial.

[52] Henry, who undertook to extend the boundaries which ignorance had

given to the world, had extended them much beyond the sensible horizon

long ere Columbus appeared. Columbus indeed taught the Spaniards the use

of longitude and latitude in navigation, but that great mathematician,

Henry, was the author of that grand discovery, and of the _use_ of the

compass. Every alteration ascribed to Columbus, had almost fifty years

before been effected by Henry. Even Henry's idea of sailing to India was

adopted by Columbus. It was everywhere his proposal. When he arrived in

the West Indies he thought he had found the Ophir of Solomon, and thence

these islands received their general name, and on his return he told

John II. that he had been at the islands of India. To find the Spice

Islands of the East was his proposal at the court of Spain; and even on

his fourth and last voyage in 1502, three years after Gama's return, he

promised the King of Spain to find India by a westward passage. But

though great discoveries rewarded his toils, his first and last purpose

he never completed. It was reserved for Magalhaens to discover the

westward route to the Eastern world.

Gomara and other Spanish writers relate, that while Columbus lived in

Madeira, a pilot, the only survivor of a ship's crew, died at his house.

This pilot, they say, had been driven to the West Indies, or America, by

tempest, and on his death-bed communicated the journal of his voyage to

Columbus.

[53] Or Bethlehem, so named from the chapel.

[54] Now called St. Helen's.

[55] The voyage of Gama has been called merely a coasting one, and

therefore regarded as much less dangerous and heroical than that of

Columbus, or of Magalhaens. But this is one of the opinions hastily

taken up, and founded on ignorance. Columbus and Magalhaens undertook to

navigate unknown oceans, and so did Gama; with this difference, that the

ocean around the Cape of Good Hope, which Gama was to encounter, was

believed to be, and had been avoided by Diaz, as impassable. Prince

Henry suggested that the current of Cape Bojador might be avoided by

standing out to sea, and thus that Cape was first passed. Gama for this

reason did not coast, but stood out to sea for upwards of three months

of tempestuous weather. The tempests which afflicted Columbus and

Magalhaens are by their different historians described with

circumstances of less horror and danger than those which attacked Gama.

All the three commanders were endangered by mutiny; but none of their

crews, save Gama's, could urge the opinion of ages, and the example of a

living captain, that the dreadful ocean which they attempted was

impassable. Columbus and Magalhaens always found means, after detecting

a conspiracy, to keep the rest in hope; but Gama's men, when he put the

pilots in irons, continued in the utmost despair. Columbus was indeed

ill obeyed; Magalhaens sometimes little better; but nothing, save the

wonderful authority of Gama's command, could have led his crew through

the tempest which he surmounted ere he doubled the Cape of Good Hope.

Columbus, with _his_ crew, must have returned. The expedients which he

used to soothe them, would, under _his_ authority, have had no avail in

the tempest which Gama rode through. From every circumstance it is

evident that Gama had determined not to return, unless he found India.

Nothing less than such resolution to perish or attain his point could

have led him on.

[56] It afterwards appeared that the Moorish King of Mombas had been

informed of what happened at Mozambique, and intended to revenge it by

the total destruction of the fleet.

[57] Amerigo Vespucci, describing his voyage to America, says, "Having

passed the line, _e come desideroso d'essere autore che segnassi la

stella_--desirous to be the namer and discoverer of the Pole-star of the

other hemisphere, I lost my sleep many nights in contemplating the stars

of the other pole." He then laments, that as his instruments could not

discover any star of less motion then ten degrees, he had not the

satisfaction of giving a name to any one. But as he observed four stars,

in form of an almond, which had but little motion, he hoped in his next

voyage he should be able to mark them out.--All this is curious, and

affords a good comment on the temper of the man who had the art to

defraud Columbus, by giving his own name to America; of which he

challenged the discovery. Near fifty years before the voyage of Amerigo

Vespucci, the Portuguese had crossed the line; and Diaz fourteen, and

Gama nearly three years before, had doubled the Cape of Good Hope; had

discovered seven stars in the constellation of the south pole, and from

the appearance of the four most luminous, had given it the name of "The

Cross," a figure which it better resembles than that of an almond.

[58] Properly "Samudra-Rajah," King of the Sea, corrupted into

Zamorim.--_Ed._

[59] "Kotwâl" signifies Superintendent of the Police.--_Ed._

[60] Faria y Sousa.

[61] It was the custom of the first discoverers to erect crosses at

various places remarkable in their voyage. Gama erected six: one,

dedicated to St. Raphael, at the river of Good Signs; one to St. George,

at Mozambique; one to St. Stephen, at Melinda; one to St. Gabriel, at

Calicut; and one to St. Mary, at the island thence named, near

Anchediva.

[62] _The Lusiad_; in the original, Os Lusiadas, The Lusiads, from the

Latin name (_Lusitania_) of Portugal, derived from Lusus or Lysas, the

companion of Bacchus in his travels, who settled a colony in Lusitania,

See Plin. 1, iii. c. i.

[63] _Thro' seas where sail was never spread before._--M. Duperron de

Castera, who has given a French prose translation, or rather paraphrase,

of the Lusiad, has a long note on this passage, which, he tells us, must

not be understood literally. Our author, he says, could not be ignorant

that the African and Indian Oceans had been navigated before the times

of the Portuguese. The Phoenicians, whose fleets passed the straits of

Gibraltar, made frequent voyages in these seas, though they carefully

concealed the course of their navigation that other nations might not

become partakers of their lucrative traffic.--See the Periplus of Hanno,

in Cory's Ancient Fragments.--_Ed._

[64] _And all my country's wars._--He interweaves artfully the history

of Portugal.--VOLTAIRE.

[65] _To Holy Faith unnumber'd altars rear'd._--In no period of history

does human nature appear with more shocking, more diabolical features

than in the wars of Cortez, and the Spanish conquerors of South America.

Zeal for the Christian religion was esteemed, at the time of the

Portuguese grandeur, as the most cardinal virtue, and to propagate

Christianity and extirpate Mohammedanism were the most certain proofs of

that zeal. In all their expeditions this was professedly a principal

motive of the Lusitanian monarchs, and Camoëns understood the nature of

epic poetry too well to omit it.

[66] Ulysses, who is the subject of the Odyssey.

[67] The voyage of Æneas, described in the Æneid of Virgil.

[68] Alexander the Great, who claimed to be the son of Jupiter Ammon.

[69] Vasco de Gama is, in a great measure, though not exclusively, the

hero of the Lusiad.

[70] King Sebastian, who came to the throne in his minority. Though the

warm imagination of Camoëns anticipated the praises of the future hero,

the young monarch, like Virgil's Pollio, had not the happiness to fulfil

the prophecy. His endowments and enterprising genius promised, indeed, a

glorious reign. Ambitious of military laurels, he led a powerful army

into Africa, on purpose to replace Muley Hamet on the throne of Morocco,

from which he had been deposed by Muley Molucco. On the 4th of August,

1578, in the twenty-fifth year of his age, he gave battle to the usurper

on the plains of Alcazar. This was that memorable engagement, to which

the Moorish Emperor, extremely weakened by sickness, was carried in his

litter. By the impetuosity of the attack, the first line of the Moorish

infantry was broken, and the second disordered. Muley Molucco on this

mounted his horse, drew his sabre, and would have put himself at the

head of his troops, but was prevented by his attendants. His emotion of

mind was so great that he fell from his horse, and one of his guards

having caught him in his arms, conveyed him to his litter, where,

putting his finger on his lips to enjoin them silence, he immediately

expired. Hamet Taba stood by the curtains of the carriage, opened them

from time to time, and gave out orders as if he had received them from

the Emperor. Victory declared for the Moors, and the defeat of the

Portuguese was so total, that not above fifty of their whole army

escaped. Hieron de Mendoça and Sebastian de Mesa relate, that Don

Sebastian, after having two horses killed under him, was surrounded and

taken; but the party who had secured him, quarrelling among themselves

whose prisoner he was, a Moorish officer rode up and struck the king a

blow over the right eye, which brought him to the ground; when,

despairing of ransom, the others killed him. About twenty years after

this fatal defeat there appeared a stranger at Venice, who called

himself Sebastian, King of Portugal, whom he so perfectly resembled,

that the Portuguese of that city acknowledged him for their sovereign.

He underwent twenty-eight examinations before a committee of the nobles,

in which he gave a distinct account of the manner in which he had passed

his time from the fatal defeat at Alcazar. It was objected, that the

successor of Muley Molucco sent a corpse to Portugal which had been

owned as that of the king by the Portuguese nobility who survived the

battle. To this he replied, that his _valet de chambre_ had produced

that body to facilitate his escape, and that the nobility acted upon the

same motive, and Mesa and Baena confess, that some of this nobility,

after their return to Portugal acknowledged that the corpse was so

disfigured with wounds that it was impossible to know it. He showed

natural marks on his body, which many remembered on the person of the

king whose name he assumed. He entered into a minute detail of the

transactions that had passed between himself and the republic, and

mentioned the secrets of several conversations with the Venetian

ambassadors in the palace of Lisbon. He fell into the hands of the

Spaniards, who conducted him to Naples, where they treated him with the

most barbarous indignities. After they had often exposed him, mounted on

an ass, to the cruel insults of the brutal mob, he was shipped on board

a galley, as a slave. He was then carried to St. Lucar, from thence to a

castle in the heart of Castile, and never was heard of more. The

firmness of his behaviour, his singular modesty and heroical patience,

are mentioned with admiration by Le Clede. To the last he maintained the

truth of his assertions: a word never slipped from his lips which might

countenance the charge of imposture, or justify the cruelty of his

persecutors.

[71] Portugal, when Camoëns wrote his Lusiad, was at the zenith of its

power and splendour. The glorious successes which had attended the arms

of the Portuguese in Africa, had gained them the highest military

reputation. Their fleets covered the ocean. Their dominions and

settlements extended along the western and eastern sides of the vast

African continent. From the Red Sea to China and Japan, they were sole

masters of the riches of the East; and in America, the fertile and

extensive regions of Brazil completed their empire.

[72] Lusitania is the Latin name of a Roman province which comprised the

greater part of the modern kingdom of Portugal, besides a considerable

portion of Leon and Spanish Estremadura.--_Ed._

[73] _The sun._--Imitated, perhaps, from Rutilius, speaking of the Roman

Empire--

_Volvitur ipse tibi, qui conspicit omnia, Phoebus,

Atque tuis ortos in tua condit equos;_

or, more probably, from these lines of Buchanan, addressed to John III.

King of Portugal, the grandfather of Sebastian--

_Inque tuis Phoebus regnis oriensque cadensque

Vix longum fesso conderet axe diem.

Et quæcunque vago se circumvolvit Olympo

Affulget ratibus flamma ministra tuis._

[74] _i.e._ poetic. Aonia was the ancient name of Boeotia, in which

country was a fountain sacred to the Muses, whence Juvenal sings of a

poet--

"Enamoured of the woods, and fitted for drinking

At the fountains of the Aonides."

JUV. Sat. vii. 58.--_Ed._

[75] _To match the Twelve so long by bards renown'd._--The Twelve Peers

of France, often mentioned in the old romances. For the episode of

Magricio and his eleven companions, see the sixth Lusiad.

[76] Afonso in Portuguese. In the first edition Mickle had Alfonso,

which he altered to Alonzo in the second edition.

[77] _Thy grandsires._--John III. King of Portugal, celebrated for a

long and peaceful reign; and the Emperor Charles V., who was engaged in

almost continual wars.

[78] Some critics have condemned Virgil for stopping his narrative to

introduce even a short observation of his own. Milton's beautiful

complaint of his blindness has been blamed for the same reason, as being

no part of the subject of his poem. The address of Camoëns to Don

Sebastian at the conclusion of the tenth Lusiad has not escaped the same

censure; though in some measure undeservedly, as the poet has had the

art to interweave therein some part of the general argument of his poem.

[79] This brave Lusitanian, who was first a shepherd and a famous

hunter, and afterwards a captain of banditti, exasperated at the tyranny

of the Romans, encouraged his countrymen to revolt and shake off the

yoke. Being appointed general, he defeated Vetilius the prætor, who

commanded in Lusitania, or farther Spain. After this he defeated, in

three pitched battles, the prætors, C. Plautius Hypsæus and Claudius

Unimanus, though they led against him very numerous armies. For six

years he continued victorious, putting the Romans to flight wherever he

met them, and laying waste the countries of their allies. Having

obtained such advantages over the proconsul, Servilianus, that the only

choice which was left to the Roman army was death or slavery, the brave

Viriatus, instead of putting them all to the sword, as he could easily

have done, sent a deputation to the general, offering to conclude a

peace with him on this single condition, _That he should continue master

of the country now in his power, and that the Romans should remain

possessed of the rest of Spain_.

The proconsul, who expected nothing but death or slavery, thought these

very favourable and moderate terms, and without hesitation concluded a

peace, which was soon after ratified by the Roman senate and people.

Viriatus, by this treaty, completed the glorious design he had always in

view, which was to erect a kingdom in the vast country he had conquered

from the republic. And, had it not been for the treachery of the Romans,

he would have become, as Florus calls him, the Romulus of Spain.

The senate, desirous to revenge their late defeat, soon after this

peace, ordered Q. Servilius Cæpio to exasperate Viriatus, and force him,

by repeated affronts, to commit the first acts of hostility. But this

mean artifice did not succeed: Viriatus would not be provoked to a

breach of the peace. On this the Conscript Fathers, to the eternal

disgrace of their republic, ordered Cæpio to declare war, and to

proclaim Viriatus, who had given no provocation, an enemy to Rome. To

this baseness Cæpio added one still greater; he corrupted the

ambassadors whom Viriatus had sent to negotiate with him, who, at the

instigation of the Roman, treacherously murdered their protector and

general while he slept.--UNIV. HISTORY.

[80] Sertorius, who was invited by the Lusitanians to defend them

against the Romans. He had a tame white hind, which he had accustomed to

follow him, and from which he pretended to receive the instructions of

Diana. By this artifice he imposed upon the superstition of that people.

[81] _No more in Nysa._--An ancient city in India sacred to Bacchus.

[82] _Urania-Venus._--An Italian poet has given the following

description of the celestial Venus--

_Questa è vaga di Dio Venere bella

Vicina al Sole, e sopra ogni altra estella

Questa è quella beata, a cui s'inchina,

A cui si volge desiando amore,

Chiamata cui del Ciel rara e divina

Beltà che vien tra noi per nostro honore,

Per far le menti desiando al Cielo

Obliare l'altrui col proprio velo._--MARTEL.

[83] See the note in the Second Book on the following passage--

_As when in Ida's bower she stood of yore, etc._

[84] _The manly music of their tongue the same._--Camoëns says:

_E na lingoa, na qual quando imagina,

Com pouca corrupçao cré que he Latina._

Qualifications are never elegant in poetry. Fanshaw's translation and

the original both prove this:

----_their tongue

Which she thinks Latin, with small dross among._

[85] _i.e._ helmet.

[86]---- _and the light turn'd pale._--The thought in the original has

something in it wildly great, though it is not expressed in the happiest

manner of Camoëns--

_O ceo tremeo, e Apollo detorvado

Hum pauco a luz perdeo, como infiado._

[87] Mercury, the messenger of the gods.--_Ed._

[88] _And pastoral Madagascar._--Called by the ancient geographers,

Menuthia and Cerna Ethiopica; by the natives, the Island of the Moon;

and by the Portuguese, the Isle of St. Laurence, on whose festival they

discovered it.

[89] _Praso._--Name of a promontory near the Red Sea.--_Ed._

[90] _Lav'd by the gentle waves._--The original says, the sea showed

them new islands, which it encircled and laved. Thus rendered by

Fanshaw--

_Neptune disclos'd new isles which he did play

About, and with his billows danc't the hay._

[91] The historical foundation of the fable of Phaeton is this. Phaeton

was a young enterprising prince of Libya. Crossing the Mediterranean in

quest of adventures, he landed at Epirus, from whence he went to Italy

to see his intimate friend Cygnus. Phaeton was skilled in astrology,

from whence he arrogated to himself the title of the son of Apollo. One

day in the heat of summer, as he was riding along the banks of the Po,

his horses took fright at a clap of thunder, and plunged into the river,

where, together with their master, they perished. Cygnus, who was a

poet, celebrated the death of his friend in verse, from whence the

fable.--Vid. Plutarch, in Vit. Pyrr.

[92] _Acheron._--The river of Hades, or hell.--_Ed._

[93] _From Abram's race our holy prophet sprung._--Mohammed, who was

descended from Ishmael, the son of Abraham by Hagar.

[94] The Hydaspes was a tributary of the river Indus.--_Ed._

[95] _Calm twilight now._--Camoëns, in this passage, has imitated Homer

in the manner of Virgil: by diversifying the scene he has made the

description his own. The passage alluded to is in the eighth Iliad--

[Greek: Ôs d' hot' en ouranô astra phaeinên amphi amphi selênên

Phainet' ariprepea], etc.

Thus elegantly translated by Pope:--

_As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,

O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light,

When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,

And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene;

Around her throne the vivid planets roll,

And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole,

O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,

And tip with silver every mountain's head;

Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,

A flood of glory bursts from all the skies:

The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,

Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light._

[96] The Turks, or Osmanli Turcomans.--_Ed._

[97] Constantinople.

[98] _Straight as he spoke._--The description of the armoury, and

account which Vasco de Gama gives of his religion, consists, in the

original, of thirty-two lines, which M. Castera has reduced into the

following sentence: _Leur Governeur fait differentes questions au

Capitaine, qui pour le satisfaire lui explique en peu des mots la

Religion que les Portugais suivent, l'usage des armes dont ils se

servent dans la guerre, et le dessein qui les amène._

[99] _i.e._, helmets.

[100] Coats of mail.

[101] _When Gama's lips Messiah's name confess'd._--This, and the reason

of the Moor's hate, is entirely omitted by Castera. The original is, the

Moor conceived hatred, "knowing they were followers of the truth which

the Son of David taught." Thus rendered by Fanshaw:--