The Lusiad Part 21

The Lusian Scipio well might speak his fame, But n.o.bler Nunio shines a greater name:[523]

On earth's green bosom, or on ocean grey, A greater never shall the sun survey.

"Known by the silver cross, and sable shield, Two Knights of Malta[524] there command the field; From Tago's banks they drive the fleecy prey, And the tir'd ox lows on his weary way: When, as the falcon through the forest glade Darts on the lev'ret, from the brown-wood shade Darts Roderic on their rear; in scatter'd flight They leave the goodly herds the victor's right.

Again, behold, in gore he bathes his sword; His captive friend,[525] to liberty restor'd, Glows to review the cause that wrought his woe, The cause, his loyalty, as taintless snow.

Here treason's well-earn'd meed allures thine eyes,[526]

Low, grovelling in the dust, the traitor dies; Great Elvas gave the blow. Again, behold, Chariot and steed in purple slaughter roll'd: Great Elvas triumphs; wide o'er Xeres' plain Around him reeks the n.o.blest blood of Spain.

"Here Lisbon's s.p.a.cious harbour meets the view: How vast the foe's, the Lusian fleet how few!

Castile's proud war-ships, circling round, enclose The Lusian galleys; through their thund'ring rows, Fierce pressing on, Pereira fearless rides, His hook'd irons grasp the adm'ral's sides: Confusion maddens: on the dreadless knight Castilia's navy pours its gather'd might: Pereira dies, their self-devoted prey, And safe the Lusian galleys speed away.[527]

"Lo, where the lemon-trees from yon green hill Throw their cool shadows o'er the crystal rill; There twice two hundred fierce Castilian foes Twice eight, forlorn, of Lusian race enclose; Forlorn they seem; but taintless flow'd their blood From those three hundred who of old withstood; Withstood, and from a thousand Romans tore The victor-wreath, what time the shepherd[528] bore The leader's staff of Lusus: equal flame Inspir'd these few,[529] their victory the same.

Though twenty lances brave each single spear, Never the foes superior might to fear Is our inheritance, our native right, Well tried, well prov'd in many a dreadful fight.

"That dauntless earl behold; on Libya's coast, Far from the succour of the Lusian host,[530]

Twice hard besieg'd, he holds the Ceutan towers Against the banded might of Afric's powers.

That other earl;[531]--behold the port he bore, So, trod stern Mars on Thracia's hills of yore.

What groves of spears Alcazar's gates surround!

There Afric's nations blacken o'er the ground.

A thousand ensigns, glitt'ring to the day, The waning moon's slant silver horns display.

In vain their rage; no gate, no turret falls, The brave De Vian guards Alcazar's walls.

In hopeless conflict lost his king appears; Amid the thickest of the Moorish spears Plunges bold Vian: in the glorious strife He dies, and dying saves his sov'reign's life.

"Ill.u.s.trious, lo, two brother-heroes shine,[532]

Their birth, their deeds, adorn the royal line; To ev'ry king of princely Europe known, In ev'ry court the gallant Pedro shone.

The glorious Henry[533]--kindling at his name Behold my sailors' eyes all sparkle flame!

Henry the chief, who first, by Heav'n inspir'd, To deeds unknown before, the sailor fir'd, The conscious sailor left the sight of sh.o.r.e, And dar'd new oceans, never plough'd before.

The various wealth of ev'ry distant land He bade his fleets explore, his fleets command.

The ocean's great discoverer he shines; Nor less his honours in the martial lines: The painted flag the cloud-wrapt siege displays, There Ceuta's rocking wall its trust betrays.

Black yawns the breach; the point of many a spear Gleams through the smoke; loud shouts astound the ear.

Whose step first trod the dreadful pa.s.s? Whose sword Hew'd its dark way, first with the foe begor'd?

'Twas thine, O glorious Henry, first to dare The dreadful pa.s.s, and thine to close the war.

Taught by his might, and humbled in her gore, The boastful pride of Afric tower'd no more.

"Num'rous though these, more num'rous warriors shine Th' ill.u.s.trious glory of the Lusian line.

But ah, forlorn, what shame to barb'rous pride![534]

Friendless the master of the pencil died; Immortal fame his deathless labours gave; Poor man, he sunk neglected to the grave!"

The gallant Paulus faithful thus explain'd The various deeds the pictur'd flags contain'd.

Still o'er and o'er, and still again untir'd, The wond'ring regent of the wars inquir'd: Still wond'ring, heard the various pleasing tale, Till o'er the decks cold sigh'd the ev'ning gale: The falling darkness dimm'd the eastern sh.o.r.e, And twilight hover'd o'er the billows h.o.a.r Far to the west, when, with his n.o.ble band, The thoughtful regent sought his native strand.

O'er the tall mountain-forest's waving boughs Aslant, the new moon's slender horns arose; Near her pale chariot shone a twinkling star, And, save the murm'ring of the wave afar, Deep-brooding silence reign'd; each labour clos'd, In sleep's soft arms the sons of toil repos'd.

And now, no more the moon her glimpses shed, A sudden, black-wing'd cloud the sky o'erspread, A sullen murmur through the woodland groan'd, In woe-swoll'n sighs the hollow winds bemoan'd: Borne on the plaintive gale, a patt'ring shower Increas'd the horrors of the evil hour.

Thus, when the G.o.d of earthquakes rocks the ground, He gives the prelude in a dreary sound; O'er nature's face a horrid gloom he throws, With dismal note the c.o.c.k unusual crows, A shrill-voic'd howling trembles thro' the air, As pa.s.sing ghosts were weeping in despair; In dismal yells the dogs confess their fear, And shiv'ring, own some dreadful presence near.

So, lower'd the night, the sullen howl the same, And, 'mid the black-wing'd gloom, stern Bacchus came; The form, and garb of Hagar's son he took, The ghost-like aspect, and the threat'ning look.[535]

Then, o'er the pillow of a furious priest, Whose burning zeal the Koran's lore profess'd, Reveal'd he stood, conspicuous in a dream, His semblance shining, as the moon's pale gleam: "And guard," he cries, "my son, O timely guard, Timely defeat the dreadful snare prepar'd: And canst thou, careless, unaffected, sleep, While these stern, lawless rovers of the deep Fix on thy native sh.o.r.e a foreign throne, Before whose steps thy latest race shall groan!"

He spoke; cold horror shook the Moorish priest; He wakes, but soon reclines in wonted rest: An airy phantom of the slumb'ring brain He deem'd the vision; when the fiend again, With sterner mien, and fiercer accent spoke: "Oh faithless! worthy of the foreign yoke!

And know'st thou not thy prophet sent by Heav'n, By whom the Koran's sacred lore was giv'n, G.o.d's chiefest gift to men: and must I leave The bowers of Paradise, for you to grieve, For you to watch, while, thoughtless of your woe, Ye sleep, the careless victims of the foe; The foe, whose rage will soon with cruel joy, If unoppos'd, my sacred shrines destroy?

Then, while kind Heav'n th'auspicious hour bestows, Let ev'ry nerve their infant strength oppose.

When, softly usher'd by the milky dawn, The sun first rises[536] o'er the daisied lawn, His silver l.u.s.tre, as the shining dew Of radiance mild, unhurt the eye may view: But, when on high the noon-tide flaming rays Give all the force of living fire to blaze, A giddy darkness strikes the conquer'd sight, That dares, in all his glow, the lord of light.

Such, if on India's soil the tender shoot Of these proud cedars fix the stubborn root, Such, shall your power before them sink decay'd.

And India's strength shall wither in their shade."

He spoke; and, instant from his vot'ry's bed Together with repose, the demon fled; Again cold horror shook the zealot's frame, And all his hatred of Messiah's name Burn'd in his venom'd heart, while, veil'd in night, Right to the palace sped the demon's flight.

Sleepless the king he found, in dubious thought; His conscious fraud a thousand terrors brought: All gloomy as the hour, around him stand, With haggard looks, the h.o.a.ry Magi band:[537]

To trace what fates on India's wide domain Attend the rovers from unheard-of Spain, Prepar'd, in dark futurity, to prove The h.e.l.l-taught rituals of infernal Jove: Mutt'ring their charms, and spells of dreary sound, With naked feet they beat the hollow ground; Blue gleams the altar's flame along the walls, With dismal, hollow groans the victim falls; With earnest eyes the priestly band explore The entrails, throbbing in the living gore.

And lo, permitted by the power divine, The hov'ring demon gives the dreadful sign.[538]

Here furious War her gleamy falchion draws, Here lean-ribb'd Famine writhes her falling jaws; Dire as the fiery pestilential star Darting his eyes, high on his trophied car, Stern Tyranny sweeps wide o'er India's ground; On vulture-wings fierce Rapine hovers round; Ills after ills, and India's fetter'd might, Th'eternal yoke.[539] Loud shrieking at the sight, The starting wizards from the altar fly, And silent horror glares in ev'ry eye: Pale stands the monarch, lost in cold dismay, And, now impatient, waits the ling'ring day.

With gloomy aspect rose the ling'ring dawn, And dropping tears flow'd slowly o'er the lawn; The Moorish priest, with fear and vengeance fraught, Soon as the light appear'd his kindred sought; Appall'd, and trembling with ungen'rous fear, In secret council met, his tale they hear; As, check'd by terror or impell'd by hate, Of various means they ponder and debate, Against the Lusian train what arts employ, By force to slaughter, or by fraud destroy; Now black, now pale, their bearded cheeks appear, As boiling rage prevails, or boding fear; Beneath their shady brows, their eye-b.a.l.l.s roll, Nor one soft gleam bespeaks the gen'rous soul; Through quiv'ring lips they draw their panting breath.

While their dark fraud decrees the works of death; Nor unresolv'd the power of gold to try Swift to the lordly catual's gate they hie.-- Ah, what the wisdom, what the sleepless care Efficient to avoid the traitor's snare; What human power can give a king to know The smiling aspect of the lurking foe!

So let the tyrant plead.[540]--The patriot king Knows men, knows whence the patriot virtues spring; From inward worth, from conscience firm and bold, (Not from the man whose honest name is sold), He hopes that virtue, whose unalter'd weight Stands fix'd, unveering with the storms of state.

Lur'd was the regent with the Moorish gold, And now agreed their fraudful course to hold, Swift to the king the regent's steps they tread; The king they found o'erwhelm'd in sacred dread.

The word they take, their ancient deeds relate, Their ever faithful service of the state;[541]

"For ages long, from sh.o.r.e to distant sh.o.r.e For thee our ready keels the traffic bore: For thee we dar'd each horror of the wave; Whate'er thy treasures boast our labours gave.

And wilt thou now confer our long-earn'd due, Confer thy favour on a lawless crew?

The race they boast, as tigers of the wold Bear that proud sway, by justice uncontroll'd.

Yet, for their crimes, expell'd that b.l.o.o.d.y home, These, o'er the deep, rapacious plund'rers roam.

Their deeds we know; round Afric's sh.o.r.es they came, And spread, where'er they pa.s.s'd, devouring flame; Mozambique's towers, enroll'd in sheets of fire, Blaz'd to the sky, her own funereal pyre.

Imperial Calicut shall feel the same, And these proud state-rooms feed the funeral flame; While many a league far round, their joyful eyes Shall mark old ocean reddening to the skies.

Such dreadful fates, o'er thee, O king, depend, Yet, with thy fall our fate shall never blend: Ere o'er the east arise the second dawn Our fleets, our nation from thy land withdrawn, In other climes, beneath a kinder reign Shall fix their port: yet may the threat be vain!

If wiser thou with us thy powers employ, Soon shall our powers the robber-crew destroy.

By their own arts and secret deeds o'ercome, Here shall they meet the fate escaped at home."

While thus the priest detain'd the monarch's ear, His cheeks confess'd the quiv'ring pulse of fear.

Unconscious of the worth that fires the brave, In state a monarch, but in heart a slave, He view'd brave VASCO, and his gen'rous train, As his own pa.s.sions stamp'd the conscious stain: Nor less his rage the fraudful regent fir'd; And valiant GAMA'S fate was now conspir'd.

Amba.s.sadors from India GAMA sought, And oaths of peace, for oaths of friendship brought; The glorious tale, 'twas all he wish'd, to tell; So Ilion's[542] fate was seal'd when Hector fell.

Again convok'd before the Indian throne, The monarch meets him with a rageful frown; "And own," he cries, "the naked truth reveal, Then shall my bounteous grace thy pardon seal.

Feign'd is the treaty thou pretend'st to bring: No country owns thee, and thou own'st no king.

Thy life, long roving o'er the deep, I know-- A lawless robber, every man thy foe.

And think'st thou credit to thy tale to gain?

Mad were the sov'reign, and the hope were vain, Through ways unknown, from utmost western sh.o.r.e, To bid his fleets the utmost east explore.

Great is thy monarch, so thy words declare; But sumptuous gifts the proof of greatness bear: Kings thus to kings their empire's grandeur show; Thus prove thy truth, thus we thy truth allow.

If not, what credence will the wise afford?

What monarch trust the wand'ring seaman's word?

No sumptuous gift thou bring'st.[543]--Yet, though some crime Has thrown thee, banish'd from thy native clime, (Such oft of old the hero's fate has been), Here end thy toils, nor tempt new fates unseen: Each land the brave man n.o.bly calls his home: Or if, bold pirates, o'er the deep you roam, Skill'd the dread storm to brave, O welcome here!

Fearless of death, or shame, confess sincere: My name shall then thy dread protection be, My captain thou, unrivall'd on the sea."

Oh now, ye Muses, sing what G.o.ddess fir'd GAMA'S proud bosom, and his lips inspir'd.

Fair Acidalia, love's celestial queen,[544]

The graceful G.o.ddess of the fearless mien, Her graceful freedom on his look bestow'd, And all collected in his bosom glow'd.

"Sov'reign," he cries, "oft witness'd, well I know The rageful falsehood of the Moorish foe: Their fraudful tales, from hatred bred, believ'd, Thine ear is poison'd, and thine eye deceiv'd.

What light, what shade the courtier's mirror gives, That light, that shade the guarded king receives.

Me hast thou view'd in colours not mine own, Yet, bold I promise shall my truth be known.

If o'er the seas a lawless pest I roam, A blood-stain'd exile from my native home, How many a fertile sh.o.r.e and beauteous isle, Where Nature's gifts, unclaim'd, unbounded, smile, Mad have I left, to dare the burning zone, And all the horrors of the gulfs unknown That roar beneath the axle of the world.

Where ne'er before was daring sail unfurl'd!

And have I left these beauteous sh.o.r.es behind, And have I dar'd the rage of ev'ry wind, That now breath'd fire, and now came wing'd with frost, Lur'd by the plunder of an unknown coast?