The Lusiad Part 5

Now, far from land, o'er Neptune's dread abode The Lusitanian fleet triumphant rode; Onward they traced the wide and lonesome main, Where changeful Proteus leads his scaly train; The dancing vanes before the zephyrs flow'd, And their bold keels the trackless ocean plough'd; Unplough'd before, the green-ting'd billows rose, And curl'd and whiten'd round the nodding prows.

When Jove, the G.o.d who with a thought controls The raging seas, and balances the poles, From heav'n beheld, and will'd, in sov'reign state, To fix the Eastern World's depending fate, Swift at his nod th' Olympian herald flies, And calls th' immortal senate of the skies; Where, from the sov'reign throne of earth and heav'n, Th' immutable decrees of fate are given.

Instant the regents of the spheres of light, And those who rule the paler orbs of night, With those, the G.o.ds whose delegated sway The burning South and frozen North obey; And they whose empires see the day-star rise, And evening Phbus leave the western skies, All instant pour'd along the milky road, Heaven's crystal pavements glitt'ring as they trod: And now, obedient to the dread command, Before their awful lord in order stand.

Sublime and dreadful on his regal throne, That glow'd with stars, and bright as lightning shone, Th' immortal Sire, who darts the thunder, sat, The crown and sceptre added solemn state; The crown, of heaven's own pearls, whose ardent rays, Flam'd round his brows, outshone the diamond's blaze: His breath such gales of vital fragrance shed, As might, with sudden life, inspire the dead: Supreme Control thron'd in his awful eyes Appear'd, and mark'd the monarch of the skies.

On seats that burn'd with pearl and ruddy gold, The subject G.o.ds their sov'reign lord enfold, Each in his rank, when with a voice that shook The tow'rs of heav'n, the world's dread ruler spoke:

"Immortal heirs of light, my purpose hear, My counsels ponder, and the Fates revere: Unless Oblivion o'er your minds has thrown Her dark blank shades, to you, ye G.o.ds, are known The Fate's decree, and ancient warlike fame Of that bold race which boasts of Lusus' name; That bold advent'rous race, the Fates declare, A potent empire in the East shall rear, Surpa.s.sing Babel's or the Persian fame, Proud Grecia's boast, or Rome's ill.u.s.trious name.

Oft from these brilliant seats have you beheld The sons of Lusus on the dusty field, Though few, triumphant o'er the num'rous Moors, Till, from the beauteous lawns on Tagus' sh.o.r.es They drove the cruel foe. And oft has heav'n Before their troops the proud Castilians driv'n; While Victory her eagle-wings display'd Where'er their warriors wav'd the shining blade, Nor rests unknown how Lusus' heroes stood When Rome's ambition dyed the world with blood; What glorious laurels Viriatus[79] gain'd, How oft his sword with Roman gore was stain'd; And what fair palms their martial ardour crown'd, When led to battle by the chief renown'd, Who[80] feign'd a daemon, in a deer conceal'd, To him the counsels of the G.o.ds reveal'd.

And now, ambitious to extend their sway Beyond their conquests on the southmost bay Of Afric's swarthy coast, on floating wood They brave the terrors of the dreary flood, Where only black-wing'd mists have hover'd o'er, Or driving clouds have sail'd the wave before; Beneath new skies they hold their dreadful way To reach the cradle of the new-born day: And Fate, whose mandates unrevok'd remain, Has will'd that long shall Lusus' offspring reign The lords of that wide sea, whose waves behold The sun come forth enthron'd in burning gold.

But now, the tedious length of winter past, Distress'd and weak, the heroes faint at last.

What gulfs they dar'd, you saw, what storms they brav'd, Beneath what various heav'ns their banners wav'd!

Now Mercy pleads, and soon the rising land To their glad eyes shall o'er the waves expand; As welcome friends the natives shall receive, With bounty feast them, and with joy relieve.

And, when refreshment shall their strength renew, Thence shall they turn, and their bold route pursue."

So spoke high Jove: the G.o.ds in silence heard, Then rising, each by turns his thoughts preferr'd: But chief was Bacchus of the adverse train; Fearful he was, nor fear'd his pride in vain, Should Lusus' race arrive on India's sh.o.r.e, His ancient honours would be known no more; No more in Nysa[81] should the native tell What kings, what mighty hosts before him fell.

The fertile vales beneath the rising sun He view'd as his, by right of victory won, And deem'd that ever in immortal song The Conqueror's t.i.tle should to him belong.

Yet Fate, he knew, had will'd, that loos'd from Spain Boldly advent'rous thro' the polar main, A warlike race should come, renown'd in arms, And shake the eastern world with war's alarms, Whose glorious conquests and eternal fame In black Oblivion's waves should whelm his name.

Urania-Venus,[82] queen of sacred love, Arose and fixed her asking eyes on Jove; Her eyes, well pleas'd, in Lusus' sons could trace A kindred likeness to the Roman race, For whom of old such kind regard she bore;[83]

The same their triumphs on Barbaria's sh.o.r.e, The same the ardour of their warlike flame, The manly music of their tongue the same:[84]

Affection thus the lovely G.o.ddess sway'd, Nor less what Fate's unblotted page display'd, Where'er this people should their empire raise, She knew her altars would unnumber'd blaze, And barb'rous nations at her holy shrine Be humaniz'd and taught her lore divine.

Her spreading honours thus the one inspir'd, And one the dread to lose his worship fir'd.

Their struggling factions shook th' Olympian state With all the clam'rous tempest of debate.

Thus, when the storm with sudden gust invades The ancient forest's deep and lofty shades, The bursting whirlwinds tear their rapid course, The shatter'd oaks crash, and with echoes hoa.r.s.e The mountains groan, while whirling on the blast The thick'ning leaves a gloomy darkness cast; Such was the tumult in the blest abodes, When Mars, high tow'ring o'er the rival G.o.ds, Stepp'd forth: stern sparkles from his eye-b.a.l.l.s glanc'd, And now, before the throne of Jove advanc'd, O'er his left shoulder his broad shield he throws, And lifts his helm[85] above his dreadful brows: Bold and enrag'd he stands, and, frowning round, Strikes his tall spear-staff on the sounding ground; Heav'n trembled, and the light turn'd pale[86]--such dread His fierce demeanour o'er Olympus spread-- When thus the warrior: "O Eternal Sire, Thine is the sceptre, thine the thunder's fire, Supreme dominion thine; then, Father, hear, Shall that bold race which once to thee was dear, Who, now fulfilling thy decrees of old, Through these wild waves their fearless journey hold, Shall that bold race no more thy care engage, But sink the victims of unhallow'd rage!

Did Bacchus yield to Reason's voice divine, Bacchus the cause of Lusus' sons would join, Lusus, the lov'd companion of his cares, His earthly toils, his dangers, and his wars: But envy still a foe to worth will prove, To worth, though guarded by the arm of Jove.

"Then thou, dread Lord of Fate, unmov'd remain, Nor let weak change thine awful counsels stain, For Lusus' race thy promis'd favour show; Swift as the arrow from Apollo's bow Let Maia's[87] son explore the wat'ry way, Where, spent with toil, with weary hopes, they stray; And safe to harbour, through the deep untried, Let him, empower'd, their wand'ring vessels guide; There let them hear of India's wish'd-for sh.o.r.e, And balmy rest their fainting strength restore."

He spoke: high Jove a.s.senting bow'd the head, And floating clouds of nectar'd fragrance shed: Then, lowly bending to th' Eternal Sire, Each in his duteous rank, the G.o.ds retire.

Whilst thus in heaven's bright palace fate was weigh'd Right onward still the brave Armada strayed: Right on they steer by Ethiopia's strand And pastoral Madagascar's[88] verdant land.

Before the balmy gales of cheerful spring, With heav'n their friend, they spread the canvas wing, The sky cerulean, and the breathing air, The lasting promise of a calm declare.

Behind them now the Cape of Praso[89] bends, Another ocean to their view extends, Where black-topp'd islands, to their longing eyes, Lav'd by the gentle waves,[90] in prospect rise.

But GAMA (captain of the vent'rous band, Of bold emprize, and born for high command, Whose martial fires, with prudence close allied, Ensur'd the smiles of fortune on his side) Bears off those sh.o.r.es which waste and wild appear'd, And eastward still for happier climates steer'd: When gath'ring round, and black'ning o'er the tide, A fleet of small canoes the pilot spied; Hoisting their sails of palm-tree leaves, inwove With curious art, a swarming crowd they move: Long were their boats, and sharp to bound along Through the dash'd waters, broad their oars and strong: The bending rowers on their features bore The swarthy marks of Phaeton's[91] fall of yore: When flaming lightnings scorch'd the banks of Po, And nations blacken'd in the dread o'erthrow.

Their garb, discover'd as approaching nigh, Was cotton strip'd with many a gaudy dye: 'Twas one whole piece beneath one arm confin'd, The rest hung loose and flutter'd on the wind; All, but one breast, above the loins was bare, And swelling turbans bound their jetty hair: Their arms were bearded darts and faulchions broad, And warlike music sounded as they row'd.

With joy the sailors saw the boats draw near, With joy beheld the human face appear: What nations these, their wond'ring thoughts explore, What rites they follow, and what G.o.d adore!

And now with hands and 'kerchiefs wav'd in air The barb'rous race their friendly mind declare.

Glad were the crew, and ween'd that happy day Should end their dangers and their toils repay.

The lofty masts the nimble youths ascend, The ropes they haul, and o'er the yard-arms bend; And now their bowsprits pointing to the sh.o.r.e, (A safe moon'd bay), with slacken'd sails they bore: With cheerful shouts they furl the gather'd sail That less and less flaps quiv'ring on the gale; The prows, their speed stopp'd, o'er the surges nod, The falling anchors dash the foaming flood; When, sudden as they stopp'd, the swarthy race, With smiles of friendly welcome on each face, The ship's high sides swift by the cordage climb: Ill.u.s.trious GAMA, with an air sublime, Soften'd by mild humanity, receives, And to their chief the hand of friendship gives, Bids spread the board, and, instant as he said, Along the deck the festive board is spread: The sparkling wine in crystal goblets glows, And round and round with cheerful welcome flows.

While thus the vine its sprightly glee inspires, From whence the fleet, the swarthy chief enquires, What seas they past, what 'vantage would attain, And what the sh.o.r.e their purpose hop'd to gain?

"From farthest west," the Lusian race reply, "To reach the golden Eastern sh.o.r.es we try.

Through that unbounded sea whose billows roll From the cold northern to the southern pole; And by the wide extent, the dreary vast Of Afric's bays, already have we past; And many a sky have seen, and many a sh.o.r.e, Where but sea monsters cut the waves before.

To spread the glories of our monarch's reign, For India's sh.o.r.e we brave the trackless main, Our glorious toil, and at his nod would brave The dismal gulfs of Acheron's[92] black wave.

And now, in turn, your race, your country tell, If on your lips fair truth delights to dwell To us, unconscious of the falsehood, show What of these seas and India's site you know."

"Rude are the natives here," the Moor replied; "Dark are their minds, and brute-desire their guide: But we, of alien blood, and strangers here, Nor hold their customs nor their laws revere.

From Abram's race our holy prophet sprung,[93]

An angel taught, and heaven inspir'd his tongue; His sacred rites and mandates we obey, And distant empires own his holy sway.

From isle to isle our trading vessels roam, Mozambique's harbour our commodious home.

If then your sails for India's sh.o.r.e expand, For sultry Ganges or Hydaspes'[94] strand, Here shall you find a pilot skill'd to guide Through all the dangers of the perilous tide, Though wide-spread shelves, and cruel rocks unseen, Lurk in the way, and whirlpools rage between.

Accept, meanwhile, what fruits these islands hold, And to the regent let your wish be told.

Then may your mates the needful stores provide, And all your various wants be here supplied."

So spake the Moor, and bearing smiles untrue And signs of friendship, with his bands withdrew.

O'erpower'd with joy unhop'd the sailors stood, To find such kindness on a sh.o.r.e so rude.

Now shooting o'er the flood his fervid blaze, The red-brow'd sun withdraws his beamy rays; Safe in the bay the crew forget their cares, And peaceful rest their wearied strength repairs.

Calm twilight now[95] his drowsy mantle spreads, And shade on shade, the gloom still deep'ning, sheds.

The moon, full orb'd, forsakes her wat'ry cave, And lifts her lovely head above the wave.

The snowy splendours of her modest ray Stream o'er the glist'ning waves, and quiv'ring play: Around her, glitt'ring on the heaven's arch'd brow, Unnumber'd stars, enclos'd in azure, glow, Thick as the dew-drops of the April dawn, Or May-flowers crowding o'er the daisy-lawn: The canvas whitens in the silvery beam, And with a mild pale red the pendants gleam: The masts' tall shadows tremble o'er the deep; The peaceful winds a holy silence keep; The watchman's carol, echo'd from the prows, Alone, at times, awakes the still repose.

Aurora now, with dewy l.u.s.tre bright, Appears, ascending on the rear of night.

With gentle hand, as seeming oft to pause, The purple curtains of the morn she draws; The sun comes forth, and soon the joyful crew, Each aiding each, their joyful tasks pursue.

Wide o'er the decks the spreading sails they throw; From each tall mast the waving streamers flow; All seems a festive holiday on board To welcome to the fleet the island's lord.

With equal joy the regent sails to meet, And brings fresh cates, his off'rings, to the fleet: For of his kindred race their line he deems, That savage race[96] who rush'd from Caspia's streams, And triumph'd o'er the East, and, Asia won, In proud Byzantium[97] fix'd their haughty throne.

Brave VASCO hails the chief with honest smiles, And gift for gift with liberal hand he piles.

His gifts, the boast of Europe's heart disclose, And sparkling red the wine of Tagus flows.

High on the shrouds the wond'ring sailors hung, To note the Moorish garb, and barb'rous tongue: Nor less the subtle Moor, with wonder fir'd, Their mien, their dress, and lordly ships admir'd: Much he enquires their king's, their country's name, And, if from Turkey's fertile sh.o.r.es they came?

What G.o.d they worshipp'd, what their sacred lore, What arms they wielded, and what armour wore?

To whom brave GAMA: "Nor of Hagar's blood Am I, nor plough from Ismael's sh.o.r.es the flood; From Europe's strand I trace the foamy way, To find the regions of the infant day.

The G.o.d we worship stretch'd yon heaven's high bow, And gave these swelling waves to roll below; The hemispheres of night and day He spread, He scoop'd each vale, and rear'd each mountain's head; His Word produc'd the nations of the earth, And gave the spirits of the sky their birth; On earth, by Him, his holy lore was given, On earth He came to raise mankind to heaven.

And now behold, what most your eyes desire, Our shining armour, and our arms of fire; For who has once in friendly peace beheld, Will dread to meet them on the battle field."

Straight as he spoke[98] the warlike stores display'd Their glorious show, where, tire on tire inlaid, Appear'd of glitt'ring steel the carabines, There the plum'd helms,[99] and pond'rous brigandines;[100]

O'er the broad bucklers sculptur'd orbs emboss'd The crooked faulchions, dreadful blades were cross'd: Here clasping greaves, and plated mail-quilts strong; The long-bows here, and rattling quivers hung, And like a grove the burnish'd spears were seen, With darts and halberts double-edged between; Here dread grenadoes and tremendous bombs, With deaths ten thousand lurking in their wombs, And far around, of brown and dusky red, The pointed piles of iron b.a.l.l.s were spread.

The bombardiers, now to the regent's view The thund'ring mortars and the cannon drew; Yet, at their leader's nod, the sons of flame (For brave and gen'rous ever are the same) Withheld their hands, nor gave the seeds of fire To rouse the thunders of the dreadful tire.

For GAMA'S soul disdain'd the pride of show Which acts the lion o'er the trembling roe.

His joy and wonder oft the Moor express'd, But rankling hate lay brooding in his breast; With smiles obedient to his will's control, He veils the purpose of his treach'rous soul: For pilots, conscious of the Indian strand, Brave VASCO sues, and bids the Moor command What bounteous gifts shall recompense their toils; The Moor prevents him with a.s.senting smiles, Resolved that deeds of death, not words of air, Shall first the hatred of his soul declare; Such sudden rage his rankling mind possess'd, When GAMA'S lips Messiah's name confess'd.[101]

Oh depth of Heaven's dread will, that ranc'rous hate On Heaven's best lov'd in ev'ry clime should wait!

Now, smiling round on all the wond'ring crew The Moor, attended by his bands, withdrew; His nimble barges soon approach'd the land, And shouts of joy receiv'd him on the strand.

From heaven's high dome the vintage-G.o.d[102] beheld (Whom nine long months his father's thigh conceal'd);[103]

Well pleas'd he mark'd the Moor's determin'd hate And thus his mind revolv'd in self-debate:--

"Has Heaven, indeed, such glorious lot ordain'd, By Lusus' race such conquests to be gain'd O'er warlike nations, and on India's sh.o.r.e, Where I, unrivall'd, claim'd the palm before?

I, sprung from Jove! And shall these wand'ring few, What Ammon's son[104] unconquer'd left, subdue Ammon's brave son who led the G.o.d of war His slave auxiliar at his thund'ring car?

Must these possess what Jove to him denied, Possess what never sooth'd the Roman pride?

Must these the victor's lordly flag display With hateful blaze beneath the rising day, My name dishonour'd, and my victories stain'd, O'erturn'd my altars, and my shrines profan'd?

No; be it mine to fan the Regent's hate; Occasion seiz'd commands the action's fate.

'Tis mine--this captain, now my dread no more, Shall never shake his spear on India's sh.o.r.e."

So spake the Power,[105] and with the lightning's flight For Afric darted thro' the fields of light.

His form divine he cloth'd in human shape,[106]

And rush'd impetuous o'er the rocky cape: In the dark semblance of a Moor he came For art and old experience known to fame: Him all his peers with humble deference heard, And all Mozambique and its prince rever'd: The prince in haste he sought, and thus express'd His guileful hate in friendly counsel dress'd:

"And to the regent of this isle alone Are these adventurers and their fraud unknown?

Has Fame conceal'd their rapine from his ear?