The Lusiad Part 6

Nor brought the groans of plunder'd nations here?

Yet still their hands the peaceful olive bore Whene'er they anchor'd on a foreign sh.o.r.e: But nor their seeming nor their oaths I trust, For Afric knows them b.l.o.o.d.y and unjust.

The nations sink beneath their lawless force, And fire and blood have mark'd their deadly course.

We too, unless kind Heav'n and thou prevent, Must fall the victims of their dire intent, And, gasping in the pangs of death, behold Our wives led captive, and our daughters sold.

By stealth they come, ere morrow dawn, to bring The healthful bev'rage from the living spring: Arm'd with his troops the captain will appear; For conscious fraud is ever p.r.o.ne to fear.

To meet them there select a trusty band, And, in close ambush, take thy silent stand; There wait, and sudden on the heedless foe Rush, and destroy them ere they dread the blow.

Or say, should some escape the secret snare, Saved by their fate, their valour, or their care, Yet their dread fall shall celebrate our isle, If Fate consent, and thou approve the guile.

Give then a pilot to their wand'ring fleet, Bold in his art, and tutor'd in deceit; Whose hand advent'rous shall their helms misguide, To hostile sh.o.r.es, or whelm them in the tide."

So spoke the G.o.d, in semblance of a sage Renown'd for counsel and the craft of age.

The prince with transport glowing in his face Approv'd, and caught him in a kind embrace: And instant at the word his bands prepare Their bearded darts and implements of war, That Lusus' sons might purple with their gore The crystal fountain which they sought on sh.o.r.e: And, still regardful of his dire intent, A skilful pilot to the bay he sent, Of honest mien, yet practised in deceit, Who far at distance on the beach should wait, And to the 'scaped, if some should 'scape the snare Should offer friendship and the pilot's care, But when at sea, on rocks should dash their pride, And whelm their lofty vanes beneath the tide.

Apollo[107] now had left his wat'ry bed, And o'er the mountains of Arabia spread His rays that glow'd with gold; when GAMA rose, And from his bands a trusty squadron chose: Three speedy barges brought their casks to fill From gurgling fountain, or the crystal rill: Full arm'd they came, for brave defence prepar'd, For martial care is ever on the guard: And secret warnings ever are imprest On wisdom such as wak'd in GAMA'S breast.

And now, as swiftly springing o'er the tide Advanc'd the boats, a troop of Moors they spied; O'er the pale sands the sable warriors crowd, And toss their threat'ning darts, and shout aloud.

Yet seeming artless, though they dar'd the fight, Their eager hope they plac'd in artful flight, To lead brave GAMA where, unseen by day, In dark-brow'd shades their silent ambush lay.

With scornful gestures o'er the beach they stride, And push their levell'd spears with barb'rous pride, Then fix the arrow to the bended bow, And strike their sounding shields, and dare the foe.

With gen'rous rage the Lusian race beheld, And each brave breast with indignation swell'd, To view such foes, like snarling dogs, display Their threat'ning tusks, and brave the sanguine fray: Together with a bound they spring to land, Unknown whose step first trod the hostile strand.

Thus, when to gain his beauteous charmer's smile, The youthful lover dares the b.l.o.o.d.y toil,[108]

Before the nodding bull's stern front he stands, He leaps, he wheels, he shouts, and waves his hands: The lordly brute disdains the stripling's rage, His nostrils smoke, and, eager to engage, His horned brows he levels with the ground, And shuts his flaming eyes, and wheeling round With dreadful bellowing rushes on the foe, And lays the boastful gaudy champion low.

Thus to the sight the sons of Lusus sprung, Nor slow to fall their ample vengeance hung: With sudden roar the carabines resound, And bursting echoes from the hills rebound; The lead flies hissing through the trembling air, And death's fell daemons through the flashes glare.

Where, up the land, a grove of palms enclose, And cast their shadows where the fountain flows, The lurking ambush from their treach'rous stand Beheld the combat burning on the strand: They see the flash with sudden lightnings flare, And the blue smoke slow rolling on the air: They see their warriors drop, and starting hear The ling'ring thunders bursting on their ear.

Amaz'd, appall'd, the treach'rous ambush fled, And rag'd,[109] and curs'd their birth, and quak'd with dread.

The bands that vaunting show'd their threaten'd might, With slaughter gor'd, precipitate in flight; Yet oft, though trembling, on the foe they turn Their eyes that red with l.u.s.t of vengeance burn: Aghast with fear, and stern with desperate rage The flying war with dreadful howls they wage, Flints, clods, and javelins hurling as they fly, As rage[110] and wild despair their hands supply: And, soon dispers'd, their bands attempt no more To guard the fountain or defend the sh.o.r.e: O'er the wide lawns no more their troops appear: Nor sleeps the vengeance of the victor here; To teach the nations what tremendous fate _From his right arm on perjur'd vows should wait, He seized the time to awe the Eastern world, And on the breach of faith his thunders hurl'd.

From his black ships the sudden lightnings blaze, And o'er old Ocean flash their dreadful rays: White clouds on clouds inroll'd the smoke ascends, The bursting tumult heaven's wide concave rends: The bays and caverns of the winding sh.o.r.e Repeat the cannon's and the mortar's roar: The bombs, far-flaming, hiss along the sky, And, whirring through the air, the bullets fly; The wounded air, with hollow deafen'd sound, Groans to the direful strife, and trembles round._

_Now from the Moorish town the sheets of fire, Wide blaze succeeding blaze, to heaven aspire.

Black rise the clouds of smoke, and by the gales Borne down, in streams hang hov'ring o'er the vales; And slowly floating round the mountain's head Their pitchy mantle o'er the landscape spread.

Unnumber'd sea-fowl rising from the sh.o.r.e, Beat round in whirls at every cannon's roar; Where o'er the smoke the masts' tall heads appear, Hov'ring they scream, then dart with sudden fear; On trembling wings far round and round they fly, And fill with dismal clang their native sky.

Thus fled in rout confus'd the treach'rous Moors From field to field_,[111] then, hast'ning to the sh.o.r.es, Some trust in boats their wealth and lives to save, And, wild with dread, they plunge into the wave; Some spread their arms to swim, and some beneath The whelming billows, struggling, pant for breath, Then whirl'd aloft their nostrils spout the brine; While show'ring still from many a carabine The leaden hail their sails and vessels tore, Till, struggling hard, they reach'd the neighb'ring sh.o.r.e: Due vengeance thus their perfidy repaid, And GAMA'S terrors to the East display'd.

Imbrown'd with dust a beaten pathway shows Where 'midst umbrageous palms the fountain flows; From thence, at will, they bear the liquid health; And now, sole masters of the island's wealth, With costly spoils and eastern robes adorn'd, The joyful victors to the fleet return'd.

With h.e.l.l's keen fires still for revenge athirst The regent burns, and weens, by fraud accurst, To strike a surer yet a secret blow, And in one general death to whelm the foe.

The promis'd pilot to the fleet he sends And deep repentance for his crime pretends.

Sincere the herald seems, and while he speaks, The winning tears steal down his h.o.a.ry cheeks.

Brave GAMA, touch'd with gen'rous woe, believes, And from his hand the pilot's hand receives: A dreadful gift! instructed to decoy, In gulfs to whelm them, or on rocks destroy.

The valiant chief, impatient of delay, For India now resumes the wat'ry way; Bids weigh the anchor and unfurl the sail, Spread full the canvas to the rising gale.

He spoke: and proudly o'er the foaming tide, Borne on the wind, the full-wing'd vessels ride; While as they rode before the bounding prows The lovely forms of sea-born nymphs arose.

The while brave VASCO'S unsuspecting mind Yet fear'd not ought the crafty Moor design'd: Much of the coast he asks, and much demands Of Afric's sh.o.r.es and India's spicy lands.

The crafty Moor by vengeful Bacchus taught Employ'd on deadly guile his baneful thought; In his dark mind he plann'd, on GAMA'S head Full to revenge Mozambique and the dead.

Yet all the chief demanded he reveal'd, Nor aught of truth, that truth he knew, conceal'

For thus he ween'd to gain his easy faith, And gain'd, betray to slavery or death.

And now, securely trusting to destroy, As erst false Sinon[112] snar'd the sons of Troy, "Behold, disclosing from the sky," he cries, "Far to the north, yon cloud-like isle arise: From ancient times the natives of the sh.o.r.e The blood-stain'd image on the cross adore."

Swift at the word, the joyful GAMA cried: "For that fair island turn the helm aside; O bring my vessels where the Christians dwell, And thy glad lips my grat.i.tude shall tell."

With sullen joy the treach'rous Moor complied, And for that island turn'd the helm aside.

For well Quiloa's[113] swarthy race he knew, Their laws and faith to Hagar's offspring true; Their strength in war, through all the nations round, Above Mozambique and her powers renown'd; He knew what hate the Christian name they bore, And hop'd that hate on VASCO'S bands to pour.

Right to the land the faithless pilot steers, Right to the land the glad Armada bears; But heavenly Love's fair queen,[114] whose watchful care Had ever been their guide, beheld the snare.

A sudden storm she rais'd: loud howl'd the blast, The yard-arms rattled, and each groaning mast Bended beneath the weight. Deep sunk the prows, And creaking ropes the creaking ropes oppose; In vain the pilot would the speed restrain, The captain shouts, the sailors toil in vain; Aslope and gliding on the leeward side, The bounding vessels cut the roaring tide: Soon far they pa.s.s'd; and now the slacken'd sail Trembles and bellies to the gentle gale: Now many a league before the tempest toss'd The treach'rous pilot sees his purpose cross'd: Yet vengeful still, and still intent on guile, Behold, he cries, yon dim emerging isle: There live the votaries of Messiah's lore In faithful peace, and friendship with the Moor.

Yet all was false, for there Messiah's name, Reviled and scorn'd, was only known by fame.

The grovelling natives there, a brutal herd, The sensual lore of Hagar's son[115] preferr'd.

With joy brave GAMA hears the artful tale, Bears to the harbour, and bids furl the sail.

Yet, watchful still, fair Love's celestial queen Prevents the danger with a hand unseen; Now past the bar his vent'rous vessel guides, And safe at anchor in the road he rides.

Between the isle and Ethiopia's land A narrow current laves each adverse strand; Close by the margin where the green tide flows, Full to the bay a lordly city rose; With fervid blaze the glowing evening pours Its purple splendours o'er the lofty towers; The lofty towers with milder l.u.s.tre gleam, And gently tremble in the gla.s.sy stream.

Here reign'd a h.o.a.ry king of ancient fame; Mombas the town, Mombas the island's name.

As when the pilgrim, who with weary pace Thro' lonely wastes untrod by human race, For many a day disconsolate has stray'd, The turf his bed, the wild-wood boughs his shade, O'erjoy'd beholds the cheerful seats of men In grateful prospect rising on his ken: So GAMA joy'd, who many a dreary day Had traced the vast, the lonesome, wat'ry way, Had seen new stars, unknown to Europe, rise, And brav'd the horrors of the polar skies: So joy'd his bounding heart when, proudly rear'd, The splendid city o'er the wave appear'd, Where Heaven's own lore, he trusted, was obey'd, And Holy Faith her sacred rites display'd.

And now, swift crowding through the horned bay, The Moorish barges wing'd their foamy way, To GAMA'S fleet with friendly smiles they bore The choicest products of their cultur'd sh.o.r.e.

But there fell rancour veil'd its serpent-head, Though festive roses o'er the gifts were spread.

For Bacchus, veil'd in human shape, was here, And pour'd his counsel in the sov'reign's ear.

O piteous lot of man's uncertain state!

What woes on Life's unhappy journey wait!

When joyful Hope would grasp its fond desire, The long-sought transports in the grasp expire.

By sea what treach'rous calms, what rushing storms, And death attendant in a thousand forms!

By land what strife, what plots of secret guile, How many a wound from many a treach'rous smile!

Oh where shall man escape his num'rous foes, And rest his weary head in safe repose!

END OF BOOK I.

BOOK II.

THE ARGUMENT.

Arrival of the expedition at Mombas. Bacchus plots their destruction by new artifices. They are deceived into the belief that the natives are, like themselves, Christians: Bacchus a.s.sumes the character of a priest, and worships the G.o.d of the Christians. At the invitation of the king of Mombas, GAMA enters the port, and reaches the place intended for his destruction. Venus, aided by the Nereids, effects their deliverance; and GAMA sails away, fearing treachery. Venus hastens to Olympus to seek Jove's aid. Jupiter a.s.sures her of the future glory of the Portuguese, and commands Mercury to conduct the expedition to Melinda. The King of Melinda asks from GAMA an historical account of his nation.

The fervent l.u.s.tre of the evening ray Behind the western hills now died away, And night, ascending from the dim-brow'd east, The twilight gloom with deeper shades increas'd, When GAMA heard the creaking of the oar, And mark'd the white waves length'ning from the sh.o.r.e.

In many a skiff the eager natives came, Their semblance friendship, but deceit their aim.

And now by GAMA'S anchor'd ships they ride, And "Hail, ill.u.s.trious chief!" their leader cried, "Your fame already these our regions own, How your bold prows from worlds to us unknown Have brav'd the horrors of the southern main, Where storms and darkness hold their endless reign, Whose whelmy waves our westward prows have barr'd From oldest times, and ne'er before were dar'd By boldest leader: earnest to behold The wondrous hero of a toil so bold, To you the sov'reign of these islands sends The holy vows of peace, and hails you friends.

If friendship you accept, whate'er kind Heaven In various bounty to these sh.o.r.es has given, Whate'er your wants, your wants shall here supply, And safe in port your gallant fleet shall lie; Safe from the dangers of the faithless tide, And sudden bursting storms, by you untried; Yours every bounty of the fertile sh.o.r.e, Till balmy rest your wearied strength restore.

Or, if your toils and ardent hopes demand The various treasures of the Indian strand, The fragrant cinnamon, the glowing clove, And all the riches of the spicy grove; Or drugs of power the fever's rage to bound, And give soft languor to the smarting wound; Or, if the splendour of the diamond's rays, The sapphire's azure, or the ruby's blaze, Invite your sails to search the Eastern world, Here may these sails in happy hour be furl'd: For here the splendid treasures of the mine, And richest offspring of the field combine To give each boon that human want requires, And every gem that lofty pride desires; Then here, a potent king your gen'rous friend, Here let your perilous toils and wandering searches[116] end."

He said: brave GAMA smiles with heart sincere, And prays the herald to the king to bear The thanks of grateful joy: "But now," he cries, "The black'ning evening veils the coast and skies, And thro' these rocks unknown forbids to steer; Yet, when the streaks of milky dawn appear, Edging the eastern wave with silver h.o.a.r, My ready prows shall gladly point to sh.o.r.e; a.s.sur'd of friendship, and a kind retreat, a.s.sur'd and proffer'd by a king so great."

Yet, mindful still of what his hopes had cheer'd, That here his nation's holy shrines were rear'd, He asks, if certain, as the pilot told, Messiah's lore had flourish'd there of old, And flourish'd still. The herald mark'd with joy The pious wish, and, watchful to decoy, "Messiah here," he cries, "has altars more Than all the various shrines of other lore."

O'erjoy'd, brave VASCO heard the pleasing tale, Yet fear'd that fraud its viper-sting might veil Beneath the glitter of a show so fair.

He half believes the tale, and arms against the snare.

With GAMA sail'd a bold advent'rous band,[117]

Whose headlong rage had urg'd the guilty hand: Stern Justice for their crimes had ask'd their blood, And pale, in chains condemn'd to death, they stood; But, sav'd by GAMA from the shameful death, The bread of peace had seal'd their plighted faith[117]

The desolate coast, when order'd, to explore, And dare each danger of the hostile sh.o.r.e: From this bold band he chose the subtlest two, The port, the city, and its strength to view, To mark if fraud its secret head betray'd, Or if the rites of Heaven were there display'd.

With costly gifts, as of their truth secure, The pledge that GAMA deem'd their faith was pure.

These two, his heralds, to the king he sends: The faithless Moors depart as smiling friends.