The Lusiad Part 23

Behold, proud king, their signal in the sky, Near his meridian tower the sun rides high.

O'er Calicut no more the ev'ning shade Shall spread her peaceful wings, my wrath unstaid; Dire through the night her smoking dust shall gleam, Dire thro' the night shall shriek the female scream."

"Thy worth, great chief," the pale-lipp'd regent cries, "Thy worth we own: oh, may these woes suffice!

To thee each proof of India's wealth we send; Amba.s.sadors, of n.o.blest race, attend----"

Slow as he falter'd, GAMA caught the word, "On terms I talk not, and no truce afford: Captives enough shall reach the Lusian sh.o.r.e: Once you deceiv'd me, and I treat no more.

E'en now my faithful sailors, pale with rage, Gnaw their blue lips, impatient to engage; Rang'd by their brazen tubes, the thund'ring band Watch the first movement of my brother's hand; E'en now, impatient, o'er the dreadful tire They wave their eager canes betipp'd with fire; Methinks my brother's anguish'd look I see, The panting nostril and the trembling knee, While keen he eyes the sun. On hasty strides, Hurried along the deck, Coello chides His cold, slow ling'ring, and impatient cries, 'Oh, give the sign, illume the sacrifice, A brother's vengeance for a brother's blood----"

He spake; and stern the dreadful warrior stood; So seem'd the terrors of his awful nod, The monarch trembled as before a G.o.d; The treach'rous Moors sank down in faint dismay, And speechless at his feet the council lay: Abrupt, with outstretched arms, the monarch cries, "What yet----" but dar'd not meet the hero's eyes, "What yet may save!"[557]--Great VASCO stern rejoins, "Swift, undisputing, give th' appointed signs: High o'er thy loftiest tower my flag display, Me and my train swift to my fleet convey: Instant command--behold the sun rides high----"

He spake, and rapture glow'd in ev'ry eye; The Lusian standard o'er the palace flow'd, Swift o'er the bay the royal barges row'd.

A dreary gloom a sudden whirlwind threw; Amid the howling blast, enrag'd, withdrew The vanquish'd demon. Soon, in l.u.s.tre mild As April smiles, the sun auspicious smil'd: Elate with joy, the shouting thousands trod, And GAMA to his fleet triumphant rode.

Soft came the eastern gale on balmy wings: Each joyful sailor to his labour springs; Some o'er the bars their b.r.e.a.s.t.s robust recline, And, with firm tugs, the rollers[558] from the brine, Reluctant dragg'd, the slime-brown'd anchors raise; Each gliding rope some nimble hand obeys; Some bending o'er the yard-arm's length, on high, With nimble hands, the canvas wings untie; The flapping sails their wid'ning folds distend, And measur'd, echoing shouts their sweaty toils attend.

Nor had the captives lost the leader's care, Some to the sh.o.r.e the Indian barges bear; The n.o.blest few the chief detains, to own His glorious deeds before the Lusian throne; To own the conquest of the Indian sh.o.r.e: Nor wanted ev'ry proof of India's store.

What fruits in Ceylon's fragrant woods abound, With woods of cinnamon her hills are crown'd: Dry'd in its flower, the nut of Banda's grove, The burning pepper, and the sable clove; The clove, whose odour on the breathing gale, Far to the sea, Molucca's plains exhale; All these, provided by the faithful Moor, All these, and India's gems, the navy bore: The Moor attends, Mozaide, whose zealous care To GAMA'S eyes unveil'd each treach'rous snare:[559]

So burn'd his breast with Heav'n-illumin'd flame, And holy rev'rence of Messiah's name.

O, favour'd African, by Heaven's own light Call'd from the dreary shades of error's night!

What man may dare his seeming ills arraign, Or what the grace of Heaven's designs explain!

Far didst thou from thy friends a stranger roam, There wast thou call'd to thy celestial home.[560]

With rustling sound now swell'd the steady sail; The lofty masts reclining to the gale, On full-spread wings the navy springs away, And, far behind them, foams the ocean grey: Afar the less'ning hills of Gata fly, And mix their dim blue summits with the sky: Beneath the wave low sinks the spicy sh.o.r.e, And, roaring through the tide, each nodding prore Points to the Cape, great Nature's southmost bound, The Cape of Tempests, now of Hope renown'd.

Their glorious tale on Lisboa's sh.o.r.e to tell Inspires each bosom with a rapt'rous swell; Now through their b.r.e.a.s.t.s the chilly tremors glide, To dare once more the dangers dearly tried.-- Soon to the winds are these cold fears resign'd, And all their country rushes on the mind; How sweet to view their native land, how sweet The father, brother, and the bride to greet!

While list'ning round the h.o.a.ry parent's board The wond'ring kindred glow at ev'ry word; How sweet to tell what woes, what toils they bore, The tribes, and wonders of each various sh.o.r.e!

These thoughts, the traveller's lov'd reward, employ, And swell each bosom with unutter'd joy.[561]

The queen of love, by Heaven's eternal grace, The guardian G.o.ddess of the Lusian race; The queen of love, elate with joy, surveys Her heroes, happy, plough the wat'ry maze: Their dreary toils revolving in her thought, And all the woes by vengeful Bacchus wrought; These toils, these woes, her yearning cares employ, To bathe, and balsam in the streams of joy.

Amid the bosom of the wat'ry waste, Near where the bowers of Paradise were plac'd,[562]

An isle, array'd in all the pride of flowers, Of fruits, of fountains, and of fragrant bowers, She means to offer to their homeward prows, The place of glad repast and sweet repose; And there, before their raptur'd view, to raise The heav'n-topp'd column of their deathless praise.

The G.o.ddess now ascends her silver car, (Bright was its hue as love's translucent star); Beneath the reins the stately birds,[563] that sing Their sweet-ton'd death-song spread the snowy wing; The gentle winds beneath her chariot sigh, And virgin blushes purple o'er the sky: On milk-white pinions borne, her cooing doves Form playful circles round her as she moves; And now their beaks in fondling kisses join, In am'rous nods their fondling necks entwine.

O'er fair Idalia's bowers the G.o.ddess rode, And by her altars sought Idalia's G.o.d: The youthful bowyer of the heart was there; His falling kingdom claim'd his earnest care.[564]

His bands he musters, through the myrtle groves On buxom wings he trains the little loves.

Against the world, rebellious and astray, He means to lead them, and resume his sway: For base-born pa.s.sions, at his shrine, 'twas told, Each n.o.bler transport of the breast controll'd.

A young Actaeon,[565] scornful of his lore, Morn after morn pursues the foamy boar, In desert wilds, devoted to the chase; Each dear enchantment of the female face Spurn'd, and neglected. Him, enrag'd, he sees, And sweet, and dread his punishment decrees.

Before his ravish'd sight, in sweet surprise, Naked in all her charms, shall Dian rise; With love's fierce flames his frozen heart shall burn,[566]

Coldly his suit, the nymph, unmov'd, shall spurn.

Of these lov'd dogs that now his pa.s.sions sway, Ah, may he never fall the hapless prey!

Enrag'd, he sees a venal herd, the shame Of human race, a.s.sume the t.i.tled name;[567]

And each, for some base interest of his own, With Flatt'ry's manna'd lips a.s.sail the throne.

He sees the men, whom holiest sanctions bind To poverty, and love of human kind; While, soft as drop the dews of balmy May, Their words preach virtue, and her charms display, He sees with l.u.s.t of gold their eyes on fire, And ev'ry wish to lordly state aspire; He sees them trim the lamp at night's mid hour, To plan new laws to arm the regal power; Sleepless, at night's mid hour, to raze the laws, The sacred bulwarks of the people's cause, Fram'd ere the blood of hard-earn'd victory On their brave fathers' helm-hack'd swords was dry.

Nor these alone; each rank, debas'd and rude, Mean objects, worthless of their love, pursued: Their pa.s.sions thus rebellious to his lore, The G.o.d decrees to punish and restore.

The little loves, light hov'ring in the air, Tw.a.n.g their silk bow-strings, and their aims prepare: Some on th' immortal anvils point the dart, With power resistless to inflame the heart; Their arrow heads they tip with soft desires, And all the warmth of love's celestial fires; Some sprinkle o'er the shafts the tears of woe, Some store the quiver, some steel-spring the bow; Each chanting as he works the tuneful strain Of love's dear joys, of love's luxurious pain; Charm'd was the lay to conquer and refine, Divine the melody, the song divine.

Already, now, began the vengeful war, The witness of the G.o.d's benignant care; On the hard bosoms of the stubborn crowd[568]

An arrowy shower the bowyer train bestow'd; Pierced by the whizzing shafts, deep sighs the air, And answering sighs the wounds of love declare.

Though various featur'd, and of various hue, Each nymph seems loveliest in her lover's view; Fir'd by the darts, by novice archers sped, Ten thousand wild, fantastic loves are bred: In wildest dreams the rustic hind aspires, And haughtiest lords confess the humblest fires.

The snowy swans of love's celestial queen Now land her chariot on the sh.o.r.e of green; One knee display'd, she treads the flow'ry strand, The gather'd robe falls loosely from her hand; Half-seen her bosom heaves the living snow, And on her smiles the living roses glow.

The bowyer G.o.d,[569] whose subtle shafts ne'er fly Misaim'd, in vain, in vain on earth or sky, With rosy smiles the mother power receives; Around her climbing, thick as ivy leaves, The va.s.sal loves in fond contention join Who, first and most, shall kiss her hand divine.

Swift in her arms she caught her wanton boy, And, "Oh, my son," she cries, "my pride, my joy!

Against thy might the dreadful Typhon fail'd, Against thy shaft nor heav'n, nor Jove prevail'd; Unless thine arrow wake the young desires, My strength, my power, in vain each charm expires: My son, my hope, I claim thy powerful aid, Nor be the boon thy mother sues delay'd: Where'er--so will th' eternal fates--where'er The Lusian race the victor standards rear, There shall my hymns resound, my altars flame, And heav'nly Love her joyful lore proclaim.

My Lusian heroes, as my Romans, brave, Long toss'd, long hopeless on the storm-torn wave, Wearied and weak, at last on India's sh.o.r.e Arriv'd, new toils, repose denied, they bore; For Bacchus there with tenfold rage pursued My dauntless sons, but now his might subdued, Amid these raging seas, the scene of woes, Theirs shall be now the balm of sweet repose; Theirs ev'ry joy the n.o.blest heroes claim, The raptur'd foretaste of immortal fame.

Then, bend thy bow and wound the Nereid train, The lovely daughters of the azure main; And lead them, while they pant with am'rous fire, Right to the isle which all my smiles inspire: Soon shall my care that beauteous isle supply, Where Zephyr, breathing love, on Flora's lap shall sigh.

There let the nymphs the gallant heroes meet, And strew the pink and rose beneath their feet: In crystal halls the feast divine prolong, With wine nectareous and immortal song: Let every nymph the snow-white bed prepare, And, fairer far, resign her bosom there; There, to the greedy riotous embrace Resign each hidden charm with dearest grace.

Thus, from my native waves a hero line Shall rise, and o'er the East ill.u.s.trious shine;[570]

Thus, shall the rebel world thy prowess know, And what the boundless joys our friendly powers bestow."

She said; and smiling view'd her mighty boy; Swift to the chariot springs the G.o.d of joy; His ivory bow, and arrows tipp'd with gold, Blaz'd to the sun-beam as the chariot roll'd: Their silver harness shining to the day, The swans, on milk-white pinions, spring away, Smooth gliding o'er the clouds of lovely blue; And Fame[571] (so will'd the G.o.d) before them flew: A giant G.o.ddess, whose ungovern'd tongue With equal zeal proclaims or right or wrong; Oft had her lips the G.o.d of love blasphem'd, And oft with tenfold praise his conquests nam'd: A hundred eyes she rolls with ceaseless care, A thousand tongues what these behold declare: Fleet is her flight, the lightning's wing she rides, } And, though she shifts her colours swift as glides } The April rainbow, still the crowd she guides. } And now, aloft her wond'ring voice she rais'd, And, with a thousand glowing tongues, she prais'd The bold discoverers of the eastern world-- In gentle swells the list'ning surges curl'd, And murmur'd to the sounds of plaintive love Along the grottoes where the Nereids rove.

The drowsy power on whose smooth easy mien The smiles of wonder and delight are seen, Whose glossy, simp'ring eye bespeaks her name, Credulity, attends the G.o.ddess Fame.

Fir'd by the heroes' praise, the wat'ry G.o.ds,[572]

With ardent speed forsake their deep abodes; Their rage by vengeful Bacchus rais'd of late, Now stung remorse, and love succeeds to hate.

Ah, where remorse in female bosom bleeds, The tend'rest love in all its glow succeeds.

When fancy glows, how strong, O Love, thy power!

Nor slipp'd the eager G.o.d the happy hour; Swift fly his arrows o'er the billowy main, Wing'd with his fires, nor flies a shaft in vain: Thus, ere the face the lover's breast inspires, The voice of fame awakes the soft desires.

While from the bow-string start the shafts divine, His ivory moon's wide horns incessant join, Swift twinkling to the view: and wide he pours, Omnipotent in love, his arrowy showers.

E'en Thetis' self confess'd the tender smart, And pour'd the murmurs of the wounded heart: Soft o'er the billows pants the am'rous sigh; With wishful languor melting on each eye The love-sick nymphs explore the tardy sails That waft the heroes on the ling'ring gales.

Give way, ye lofty billows, low subside, Smooth as the level plain, your swelling pride, Lo, Venus comes! Oh, soft, ye surges, sleep, Smooth be the bosom of the azure deep, Lo, Venus comes! and in her vig'rous train She brings the healing balm of love-sick pain.

White as her swans,[573] and stately as they rear Their snowy crests when o'er the lake they steer, Slow moving on, behold, the fleet appears, And o'er the distant billow onward steers.

The beauteous Nereids, flush'd in all their charms, Surround the G.o.ddess of the soft alarms: Right to the isle she leads the smiling train, And all her arts her balmy lips explain; The fearful languor of the asking eye, The lovely blush of yielding modesty, The grieving look, the sigh, the fav'ring smile, And all th' endearments of the open wile, She taught the nymphs--in willing b.r.e.a.s.t.s that heav'd To hear her lore, her lore the nymphs receiv'd.

As now triumphant to their native sh.o.r.e Through the wide deep the joyful navy bore, Earnest the pilot's eyes sought cape or bay, For long was yet the various wat'ry way; Sought cape or isle, from whence their boats might bring The healthful bounty of the crystal spring: When sudden, all in nature's pride array'd, The Isle of Love its glowing breast display'd.

O'er the green bosom of the dewy lawn Soft blazing flow'd the silver of the dawn, The gentle waves the glowing l.u.s.tre share, Arabia's balm was sprinkled o'er the air.

Before the fleet, to catch the heroes' view, The floating isle fair Acidalia drew: Soon as the floating verdure caught their sight,[574]

She fix'd, unmov'd, the island of delight.

So when in child-birth of her Jove-sprung load, The sylvan G.o.ddess and the bowyer G.o.d, In friendly pity of Latona's woes,[575]

Amid the waves the Delian isle arose.

And now, led smoothly o'er the furrow'd tide, Right to the isle of joy the vessels glide: The bay they enter, where on ev'ry hand, Around them clasps the flower-enamell'd land; A safe retreat, where not a blast may shake Its flutt'ring pinions o'er the stilly lake.

With purple sh.e.l.ls, transfus'd as marble veins, The yellow sands celestial Venus stains.

With graceful pride three hills of softest green Rear their fair bosoms o'er the sylvan scene; Their sides embroider'd boast the rich array Of flow'ry shrubs in all the pride of May; The purple lotus and the snowy thorn, And yellow pod-flowers ev'ry slope adorn.

From the green summits of the leafy hills Descend, with murm'ring lapse, three limpid rills: Beneath the rose-trees loit'ring, slow they glide, Now, tumbles o'er some rock their crystal pride; Sonorous now, they roll adown the glade, Now, plaintive tinkle in the secret shade, Now, from the darkling grove, beneath the beam Of ruddy morn, like melted silver stream, Edging the painted margins of the bowers, And breathing liquid freshness on the flowers.

Here, bright reflected in the pool below, The vermeil apples tremble on the bough; Where o'er the yellow sands the waters sleep The primros'd banks, inverted, dew-drops weep; Where murm'ring o'er the pebbles purls the stream The silver trouts in playful curvings gleam.

Long thus, and various, ev'ry riv'let strays, Till closing, now, their long meand'ring maze, Where in a smiling vale the mountains end, Form'd in a crystal lake the waters blend:[576]

Fring'd was the border with a woodland shade, In ev'ry leaf of various green array'd, Each yellow-ting'd, each mingling tint between The dark ash-verdure and the silv'ry green.

The trees, now bending forward, slowly shake Their lofty honours o'er the crystal lake; Now, from the flood the graceful boughs retire With coy reserve, and now again admire Their various liv'ries, by the summer dress'd, Smooth-gloss'd and soften'd in the mirror's breast.

So, by her gla.s.s the wishful virgin stays, And, oft retiring, steals the ling'ring gaze.

A thousand boughs aloft to heav'n display Their fragrant apples, shining to the day; The orange here perfumes the buxom air, And boasts the golden hue of Daphne's hair.[577]

Near to the ground each spreading bough descends, Beneath her yellow load the citron bends; The fragrant lemon scents the cooly grove; Fair as (when rip'ning for the days of love) The virgin's b.r.e.a.s.t.s the gentle swell avow, So, the twin fruitage swell on every bough.

Wild forest-trees the mountain sides array'd With curling foliage and romantic shade: Here spreads the poplar, to Alcides dear; And dear to Phbus, ever verdant here, The laurel joins the bowers for ever green, The myrtle bowers belov'd of beauty's queen.

To Jove the oak his wide-spread branches rears; And high to heav'n the fragrant cedar bears; Where through the glades appear the cavern'd rocks, The lofty pine-tree waves her sable locks; Sacred to Cybele the whisp'ring pine Loves the wild grottoes where the white cliffs shine; Here towers the cypress, preacher to the wise, Less'ning from earth her spiral honours rise, Till, as a spear-point rear'd, the topmost spray Points to the Eden of eternal day.

Here round her fost'ring elm the smiling vine, In fond embraces, gives her arms to twine, The num'rous cl.u.s.ters pendant from the boughs, The green here glistens, here the purple glows; For, here the genial seasons of the year Danc'd hand in hand, no place for winter here; His grisly visage from the sh.o.r.e expell'd, United sway the smiling seasons held.

Around the swelling fruits of deep'ning red, Their snowy hues the fragrant blossoms spread; Between the bursting buds of lucid green The apple's ripe vermilion blush is seen; For here each gift Pomona's hand bestows In cultur'd garden, free, uncultur'd flows, The flavour sweeter, and the hue more fair, Than e'er was foster'd by the hand of care.

The cherry here in shining crimson glows; And, stain'd with lover's blood,[578] in pendent rows, The bending boughs the mulberries o'erload; The bending boughs caress'd by Zephyr nod.

The gen'rous peach, that strengthens in exile Far from his native earth, the Persian soil, The velvet peach, of softest glossy blue, Hangs by the pomegranate of orange hue, Whose open heart a brighter red displays Than that which sparkles in the ruby's blaze.

Here, trembling with their weight, the branches bear, Delicious as profuse, the tap'ring pear.

For thee, fair fruit, the songsters of the grove With hungry bills from bower to arbour rove.

Ah, if ambitious thou wilt own the care To grace the feast of heroes and the fair, Soft let the leaves, with grateful umbrage, hide The green-tinged orange of thy mellow side.

A thousand flowers of gold, of white and red, Far o'er the shadowy vale[579] their carpets spread, Of fairer tap'stry, and of richer bloom, Than ever glow'd in Persia's boasted loom: As glitt'ring rainbows o'er the verdure thrown, O'er every woodland walk th' embroid'ry shone.