The Lusiad Part 8

The monarch sits amid his splendid bands, Before the regal throne the herald stands, And thus, as eloquence his lips inspir'd, "O king," he cries, "for sacred truth admir'd, Ordain'd by heaven to bend the stubborn knees Of haughtiest nations to thy just decrees; Fear'd as thou art, yet sent by Heaven to prove That empire's strength results from public love: To thee, O king, for friendly aid we come; Nor lawless robbers o'er the deep we roam: No l.u.s.t of gold could e'er our b.r.e.a.s.t.s inflame To scatter fire and slaughter where we came; Nor sword, nor spear our harmless hands employ To seize the careless, or the weak destroy.

At our most potent monarch's dread command We spread the sail from lordly Europe's strand; Through seas unknown, through gulfs untried before, We force our journey to the Indian sh.o.r.e.

"Alas, what rancour fires the human breast!

By what stern tribes are Afric's sh.o.r.es possess'd!

How many a wile they tried, how many a snare!

Not wisdom sav'd us, 'twas the Heaven's own care: Not harbours only, e'en the barren sands A place of rest denied our weary bands: From us, alas, what harm could prudence fear!

From us so few, their num'rous friends so near!

While thus, from sh.o.r.e to cruel sh.o.r.e long driven, To thee conducted by a guide from heaven, We come, O monarch, of thy truth a.s.sur'd, Of hospitable rites by Heaven secur'd; Such rites[165] as old Alcinous' palace grac'd, When 'lorn Ulysses sat his favour'd guest.

Nor deem, O king, that cold Suspicion taints Our valiant leader, or his wish prevents; Great is our monarch, and his dread command To our brave captain interdicts the land Till Indian earth he tread. What n.o.bler cause Than loyal faith can wake thy fond applause, O thou, who knowest the ever-pressing weight Of kingly office,[166] and the cares of state!

And hear, ye conscious heavens, if GAMA'S heart Forget thy kindness, or from truth depart, The sacred light shall perish from the sun, And rivers to the sea shall cease to run."[167]

He spoke; a murmur of applause succeeds, And each with wonder own'd the val'rous deeds Of that bold race, whose flowing vanes had wav'd Beneath so many a sky, so many an ocean brav'd.

Nor less the king their loyal faith reveres, And Lisboa's lord in awful state appears, Whose least command on farthest sh.o.r.es obey'd, His sovereign grandeur to the world display'd.

Elate with joy, uprose the royal Moor, And smiling thus,--"O welcome to my sh.o.r.e!

If yet in you the fear of treason dwell, Far from your thoughts th' ungen'rous fear expel: Still with the brave, the brave will honour find, And equal ardour will their friendship bind.

But those who spurn'd you, men alone in show, Rude as the b.e.s.t.i.a.l herd, no worth they know; Such dwell not here: and since your laws require Obedience strict, I yield my fond desire.

Though much I wish'd your chief to grace my board, Fair be his duty to his sov'reign Lord: Yet when the morn walks forth with dewy feet My barge shall waft me to the warlike fleet; There shall my longing eyes the heroes view, And holy vows the mutual peace renew.

What from the bl.u.s.t'ring winds and length'ning tide Your ships have suffer'd, shall be here supplied.

Arms and provisions I myself will send, And, great of skill, a pilot shall attend."

So spoke the king: and now, with purpled ray, Beneath the shining wave the G.o.d of day Retiring, left the evening shades to spread; And to the fleet the joyful herald sped: To find such friends each breast with rapture glows, The feast is kindled, and the goblet flows; The trembling comet's imitated rays[168]

Bound to the skies, and trail a sparkling blaze: The vaulting bombs awake their sleeping fire, And, like the Cyclops' bolts, to heaven aspire: The bombardiers their roaring engines ply, And earth and ocean thunder to the sky.

The trump and fife's shrill clarion far around The glorious music of the fight resound; Nor less the joy Melinda's sons display, The sulphur bursts in many an ardent ray, And to the heaven ascends, in whizzing gyres, And ocean flames with artificial fires.

In festive war the sea and land engage, And echoing shouts confess the joyful rage.

So pa.s.s'd the night: and now, with silv'ry ray, The star of morning ushers in the day.

The shadows fly before the roseate hours, And the chill dew hangs glitt'ring on the flowers.

The pruning-hook or humble spade to wield, The cheerful lab'rer hastens to the field; When to the fleet, with many a sounding oar, The monarch sails; the natives crowd the sh.o.r.e; Their various robes in one bright splendour join, The purple blazes, and the gold stripes shine; Nor as stern warriors with the quiv'ring lance, Or moon-arch'd bow, Melinda's sons advance; Green boughs of palm with joyful hands they wave, An omen of the meed that crowns the brave: Fair was the show the royal barge display'd, With many a flag of glist'ning silk array'd, Whose various hues, as waving thro' the bay, Return'd the l.u.s.tre of the rising day: And, onward as they came, in sov'reign state The mighty king amid his princes sat: His robes the pomp of Eastern splendour show, A proud tiara decks his lordly brow: The various tissue shines in every fold, The silken l.u.s.tre and the rays of gold.

His purple mantle boasts the dye of Tyre,[169]

And in the sunbeam glows with living fire.

A golden chain, the skilful artist's pride, Hung from his neck; and glitt'ring by his side The dagger's hilt of star-bright diamond shone, The girding baldric[170] burns with precious stone; And precious stone in studs of gold enchas'd, The s.h.a.ggy velvet of his buskins grac'd: Wide o'er his head, of various silks inlaid, A fair umbrella cast a grateful shade.

A band of menials, bending o'er the prow, Of horn wreath'd round the crooked trumpets blow; And each attendant barge aloud rebounds A barb'rous discord of rejoicing sounds.

With equal pomp the captain leaves the fleet, Melinda's monarch on the tide to greet: His barge nods on amidst a splendid train, Himself adorn'd in[171] all the pride of Spain: With fair embroidery shone his armed breast, For polish'd steel supplied the warrior's vest; His sleeves, beneath, were silk of paly blue, Above, more loose, the purple's brightest hue Hung as a scarf in equal gath'rings roll'd, With golden b.u.t.tons and with loops of gold: Bright in the sun the polish'd radiance burns, And the dimm'd eyeball from the l.u.s.tre turns.

Of crimson satin, dazzling to behold, His ca.s.sock swell'd in many a curving fold; The make was Gallic, but the lively bloom Confess'd the labour of Venetia's loom.

Gold was his sword, and warlike trousers lac'd With thongs of gold his manly legs embrac'd.

With graceful mien his cap aslant was turn'd.

The velvet cap a nodding plume adorn'd.

His n.o.ble aspect, and the purple's ray, Amidst his train the gallant chief bewray.

The various vestments of the warrior train, Like flowers of various colours on the plain, Attract the pleas'd beholder's wond'ring eye, And with the splendour of the rainbow vie.

Now GAMA'S bands the quiv'ring trumpet blow, Thick o'er the wave the crowding barges row, The Moorish flags the curling waters sweep, The Lusian mortars thunder o'er the deep; Again the fiery roar heaven's concave tears, The Moors astonished stop their wounded ears; Again loud thunders rattle o'er the bay, And clouds of smoke wide-rolling blot the day; The captain's barge the gen'rous king ascends, His arms the chief enfold, the captain bends, (A rev'rence to the scepter'd grandeur due): In silent awe the monarch's wond'ring view Is fix'd on VASCO'S n.o.ble mien;[172] the while His thoughts with wonder weigh the hero's toil.

Esteem and friendship with his wonder rise, And free to GAMA all his kingdom lies.

Though never son of Lusus' race before Had met his eye, or trod Melinda's sh.o.r.e To him familiar was the mighty name, And much his talk extols the Lusian fame; How through the vast of Afric's wildest bound Their deathless feats in gallant arms resound; When that fair land where Hesper's offspring reign'd, Their valour's prize the Lusian youth obtain'd.

Much still he talk'd, enraptur'd of the theme, Though but the faint vibrations of their fame To him had echo'd. Pleas'd his warmth to view, Convinc'd his promise and his heart were true, The ill.u.s.trious GAMA thus his soul express'd And own'd the joy that labour'd in his breast: "Oh thou, benign, of all the tribes alone, Who feel the rigour of the burning zone, Whose piety, with Mercy's gentle eye Beholds our wants, and gives the wish'd supply, Our navy driven from many a barb'rous coast, On many a tempest-harrow'd ocean toss'd, At last with thee a kindly refuge finds, Safe from the fury of the howling winds.

O gen'rous king, may He whose mandate rolls The circling heavens, and human pride controls, May the Great Spirit to thy breast return That needful aid, bestow'd on us forlorn!

And while yon sun emits his rays divine, And while the stars in midnight azure shine, Where'er my sails are stretch'd the world around, Thy praise shall brighten, and thy name resound."

He spoke; the painted barges swept the flood, Where, proudly gay, the anchor'd navy rode; Earnest the king the lordly fleet surveys; The mortars thunder, and the trumpets raise Their martial sounds Melinda's sons to greet, Melinda's sons with timbrels hail the fleet.

And now, no more the sulphury tempest roars, The boatmen leaning on the rested oars Breathe short; the barges now at anchor moor'd, The king, while silence listen'd round, implor'd The glories of the Lusian wars to hear, Whose faintest echoes long had pleas'd his ear: Their various triumphs on the Afric sh.o.r.e O'er those who hold the son of Hagar's[173] lore.

Fond he demands, and now demands again Their various triumphs on the western main Again, ere readiest answer found a place, He asks the story of the Lusian race; What G.o.d was founder of the mighty line, Beneath what heaven their land, what sh.o.r.es adjoin; And what their climate, where the sinking day Gives the last glimpse of twilight's silv'ry ray.

"But most, O chief," the zealous monarch cries, "What raging seas you brav'd, what low'ring skies; What tribes, what rites you saw; what savage hate On our rude Afric prov'd your hapless fate: Oh tell, for lo, the chilly dawning star Yet rides before the morning's purple car; And o'er the wave the sun's bold coursers raise Their flaming fronts, and give the opening blaze; Soft on the gla.s.sy wave the zephyrs sleep, And the still billows holy silence keep.

Nor less are we, undaunted chief, prepar'd To hear thy nation's gallant deeds declar'd; Nor think, tho' scorch'd beneath the car of day, Our minds too dull the debt of praise to pay; Melinda's sons the test of greatness know, And on the Lusian race the palm bestow.

"If t.i.tan's giant brood with impious arms Shook high Olympus' brow with rude alarms; If Theseus and Pirithous dar'd invade The dismal horrors of the Stygian shade, Nor less your glory, nor your boldness less That thus exploring Neptune's last recess Contemns his waves and tempests. If the thirst To live in fame, though famed for deeds accurs'd, Could urge the caitiff, who to win a name Gave Dian's temple to the wasting flame:[174]

If such the ardour to attain renown, How bright the l.u.s.tre of the hero's crown, Whose deeds of fair emprize his honours raise, And bind his brows, like thine, with deathless bays!"

END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

BOOK III.

THE ARGUMENT.

Gama, in reply to the King of Melinda, describes the various countries of Europe; narrates the rise of the Portuguese nation. History of Portugal. Battle of Guimaraens. Egas offers himself with his wife and family for the honour of his country. Alonzo pardons him. Battle of Ourique against the Moors; great slaughter of the Moors. Alonzo proclaimed King of Portugal on the battle-field of Ourique. At Badajoz he is wounded and taken prisoner: resigns the kingdom to his son, Don Sancho. Hearing that thirteen Moorish kings, headed by the Emperor of Morocco, were besieging Sancho in Santarem, he hastens to deliver his son: gains a great battle, in which the Moorish Emperor is slain.

Victories of Sancho; capture of Sylves from the Moors, and of Tui from the King of Leon. Conquest of Alcazar de Sul by Alfonso II. Deposition of Sancho II. Is succeeded by Alphonso III., the conqueror of Algarve; succeeded by Dionysius, founder of the University of Coimbra. His son, Alfonso the Brave. Affecting story of the fair Inez, who is crowned Queen of Portugal after her a.s.sa.s.sination. Don Pedro, her husband, rendered desperate by the loss of his mistress, is succeeded by the weak and effeminate Ferdinand. His wife Eleonora, torn from the arms of her lawful husband, dishonours his reign.

Oh now, Calliope, thy potent aid!

What to the king th' ill.u.s.trious GAMA said Clothe in immortal verse. With sacred fire My breast, If e'er it loved thy lore, inspire: So may the patron[175] of the healing art, The G.o.d of day to thee consign his heart; From thee, the mother of his darling son,[176]

May never wand'ring thought to Daphne run: May never Clytia, nor Leucothoe's pride Henceforth with thee his changeful love divide.

Then aid, O fairest nymph, my fond desire, And give my verse the Lusian warlike fire: Fir'd by the song, the list'ning world shall know That Aganippe's streams from Tagus flow.

Oh, let no more the flowers of Pindus shine On thy fair breast, or round thy temples twine: On Tago's banks a richer chaplet blows, And with the tuneful G.o.d my bosom glows: I feel, I feel the mighty power infuse, And bathe my spirit in Aonian[177] dews!

Now silence woo'd the ill.u.s.trious chief's reply, And keen attention watch'd on every eye; When slowly turning with a modest grace, The n.o.ble VASCO rais'd his manly face; O mighty king (he cries), at thy[178] command The martial story of my native land I tell; but more my doubtful heart had joy'd Had other wars my praiseful lips employ'd.

When men the honours of their race commend, The doubts of strangers on the tale attend: Yet, though reluctance falter on my tongue, Though day would fail a narrative so long, Yet, well a.s.sur'd no fiction's glare can raise, Or give my country's fame a brighter praise; Though less, far less, whate'er my lips can say, Than truth must give it, I thy will obey.

Between that zone where endless winter reigns And that where flaming heat consumes the plains; Array'd in green, beneath indulgent skies, The queen of arts and arms, fair Europe lies.

Around her northern and her western sh.o.r.es, Throng'd with the finny race old ocean roars; The midland sea,[179] where tide ne'er swell'd the waves, Her richest lawns, the southern border, laves.

Against the rising morn, the northmost bound The whirling Tanais[180] parts from Asian ground, As tumbling from the Scythian mountains cold Their crooked way the rapid waters hold To dull Maeotis'[181] lake. Her eastern line More to the south, the Phrygian waves confine: Those waves, which, black with many a navy, bore The Grecian heroes to the Dardan sh.o.r.e; Where now the seaman, rapt in mournful joy, Explores in vain the sad remains of Troy.

Wide to the north beneath the pole she spreads; Here piles of mountains rear their rugged heads, Here winds on winds in endless tempests roll, The valleys sigh, the length'ning echoes howl.

On the rude cliffs, with frosty spangles grey, Weak as the twilight, gleams the solar ray; Each mountain's breast with snows eternal shines, The streams and seas eternal frost confines.

Here dwelt the num'rous Scythian tribes of old, A dreadful race! by victor ne'er controll'd, Whose pride maintain'd that theirs the sacred earth, Not that of Nile, which first gave man his birth.

Here dismal Lapland spreads a dreary wild, Here Norway's wastes, where harvest never smil'd, Whose groves of fir in gloomy horror frown, Nod o'er the rocks, and to the tempest groan.

Here Scandia's clime her rugged sh.o.r.es extends, And, far projected, through the ocean bends; Whose sons' dread footsteps yet Ausonia[182] wears, And yet proud Rome in mournful ruin bears.

When summer bursts stern winter's icy chain, Here the bold Swede, the Prussian, and the Dane Hoist the white sail and plough the foamy way, Cheer'd by whole months of one continual day: Between these sh.o.r.es and Tanais'[183] rushing tide Livonia's sons and Russia's hordes reside.

Stern as their clime the tribes, whose sires of yore The name, far dreaded, of Sarmatians bore.

Where, fam'd of old, th' Hercynian[184] forest lower'd, Oft seen in arms the Polish troops are pour'd Wide foraging the downs. The Saxon race, The Hungar dext'rous in the wild-boar chase, The various nations whom the Rhine's cold wave The Elbe, Amasis, and the Danube lave, Of various tongues, for various princes known, Their mighty lord the German emperor own.

Between the Danube and the lucid tide Where hapless h.e.l.le left her name,[185] and died: The dreadful G.o.d of battles' kindred race, Degenerate now, possess the hills of Thrace.

Mount Haemus[186] here, and Rhodope renown'd, And proud Byzantium,[187] long with empire crown'd; Their ancient pride, their ancient virtue fled, Low to the Turk now bend the servile head.

Here spread the fields of warlike Macedon, And here those happy lands where genius shone In all the arts, in all the Muses' charms, In all the pride of elegance and arms, Which to the heavens resounded Grecia's name, And left in every age a deathless fame.

The stern Dalmatians till the neighb'ring ground; And where Antenor anchor'd in the sound Proud Venice, as a queen, majestic towers, And o'er the trembling waves her thunder pours.

For learning glorious, glorious for the sword, While Rome's proud monarch reign'd the world's dread lord, Here Italy her beauteous landscapes shows; Around her sides his arms old ocean throws; The dashing waves the ramparts aid supply; The h.o.a.ry Alps high tow'ring to the sky, From sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e a rugged barrier spread, And lower destruction on the hostile tread.

But now no more her hostile spirit burns, There now the saint, in humble vespers mourns To Heaven more grateful than the pride of war, And all the triumphs of the victor's car.

Onward fair Gallia opens to the view Her groves of olive, and her vineyards blue: Wide spread her harvests o'er the scenes renown'd, Where Julius[188] proudly strode with laurel crown'd.

Here Seine, how fair when glist'ning to the moon!

Rolls his white wave, and here the cold Garoon; Here the deep Rhine the flow'ry margin laves, And here the rapid Rhone impervious raves.

Here the gruff mountains, faithless to the vows Of lost Pyrene[189] rear their cloudy brows; Whence, when of old the flames their woods devour'd, Streams of red gold and melted silver pour'd.

And now, as head of all the lordly train Of Europe's realms, appears ill.u.s.trious Spain.

Alas, what various fortunes has she known!