The Swan, sweet melodist, in death he sings,The milder Swan here spreads his silver wings.Here Orpheus' Lyre, the melancholy Hare,And here the watchful Dragon's eye-balls glare;And Theseus' ship, oh, less renown'd than thine,Shall ever o'er these skies illustrious shine.Beneath this radiant firmament beholdThe various planets in their orbits roll'd:{323}Here, in cold twilight, hoary Saturn rides;Here Jove shines mild, here fiery Mars presides;Apollo here, enthron'd in light, appearsThe eye of heav'n, emblazer of the spheres;Beneath him beauteous glows the Queen of Love—The proudest hearts her sacred influence prove;Here Hermes, fam'd for eloquence divine,And here Diana's various faces shine;Lowest she rides, and, through the shadowy night,Pours on the glist'ning earth her silver light.These various orbs, behold, in various speedPursue the journeys at their birth decreed.Now, from the centre far impell'd they fly,Now, nearer earth they sail a lower sky,A shorten'd course: Such are their laws impress'dBy God's dread will,[631]that will for ever best.{324}"The yellow earth, the centre of the whole,There lordly rests sustain'd on either pole.The limpid air enfolds in soft embraceThe pond'rous orb, and brightens o'er her face.Here, softly floating o'er th' aërial blue,Fringed with the purple and the golden hue,The fleecy clouds their swelling sides display;From whence, fermented by the sulph'rous ray,The lightnings blaze, and heat spreads wide and rare;And now, in fierce embrace with frozen air,{325}Their wombs, compress'd, soon feel parturient throws,And white wing'd gales bear wide the teeming snows.Thus, cold and heat their warring empires hold,Averse yet mingling, each by each controll'd,The highest air and ocean's bed they pierce,And earth's dark centre feels their struggles fierce."The seat of man, the earth's fair breast, behold;Here wood-crown'd islands wave their locks of gold.Here spread wide continents their bosoms green,And hoary Ocean heaves his breast between.Yet, not th' inconstant ocean's furious tideMay fix the dreadful bounds of human pride.What madd'ning seas between these nations roar!Yet Lusus' hero-race shall visit ev'ry shore.What thousand tribes, whom various customs sway,And various rites, these countless shores display!Queen of the world, supreme in shining arms,Hers ev'ry art, and hers all wisdom's charms,Each nation's tribute round her foot-stool spread,Here Christian Europe[632]lifts the regal head.Afric behold,[633]alas, what alter'd view!Her lands uncultur'd, and her son's untrue;Ungraced with all that sweetens human life,Savage and fierce they roam in brutal strife;Eager they grasp the gifts which culture yields,Yet, naked roam their own neglected fields.Lo, here enrich'd with hills of golden ore,Monomotapa's empire hems the shore.There round the Cape, great Afric's dreadful bound,Array'd in storms (by you first compass'd round),Unnumber'd tribes as bestial grazers stray,By laws unform'd, unform'd by reason's sway:{326}Far inward stretch the mournful sterile dales,Where, on the parch'd hill-side, pale Famine wails.On gold in vain the naked savage treads;Low, clay-built huts, behold, and reedy sheds,Their dreary towns. Gonzalo's zeal shall glow[634]To these dark minds the path of light to show:His toils to humanize the barb'rous mindShall, with the martyr's palms, his holy temples bind.Great Naya,[635]too, shall glorious here displayHis God's dread might: behold, in black array,Num'rous and thick as when in evil hourThe feather'd race whole harvest fields devour,So thick, so num'rous round Sofála's towersHer barb'rous hordes remotest Africa pours:In vain; Heav'n's vengeance on their souls impress'd,They fly, wide scatter'd as the driving mist.Lo, Quama there, and there the fertile NileCurs'd with that gorging fiend, the crocodile,Wind their long way: the parent lake behold,Great Nilus' fount, unseen, unknown of old,From whence, diffusing plenty as he glides,Wide Abyssinia's realm the stream divides.In Abyssinia Heav'n's own altars blaze,[636]And hallow'd anthems chant Messiah's praise.{327}In Nile's wide breast the isle of Měrŏē see!Near these rude shores a hero sprung from thee,Thy son, braveGama,[637]shall his lineage showIn glorious triumphs o'er the paynim[638]foe.There by the rapid Ob her friendly breastMelinda spreads, thy place of grateful rest.Cape Aromata there the gulf defends,Where by the Red Sea wave great Afric ends.Illustrious Suez, seat of heroes old,Fam'd Hierapolis, high-tower'd, behold.Here Egypt's shelter'd fleets at anchor ride,And hence, in squadrons, sweep the eastern tide.And lo, the waves that aw'd by Moses' rod,While the dry bottom Israel's armies trod,On either hand roll'd back their frothy might,And stood, like hoary rocks, in cloudy height.Here Asia, rich in ev'ry precious mine,In realms immense, begins her western line.{328}Sinai behold, whose trembling cliffs of yoreIn fire and darkness, deep pavilion'd, boreThe Hebrews' God, while day, with awful brow,Gleam'd pale on Israel's wand'ring tents below.The pilgrim now the lonely hill ascends,And, when the ev'ning raven homeward bends,Before the virgin-martyr's tomb[639]he paysHis mournful vespers, and his vows of praise.Jidda behold, and Aden's parch'd domainGirt by Arzira's rock, where never rainYet fell from heav'n; where never from the daleThe crystal riv'let murmur'd to the vale.The three Arabias here their breasts unfold,Here breathing incense, here a rocky wold;O'er Dofar's plain the richest incense breathes,That round the sacred shrine its vapour wreathes;Here the proud war-steed glories in his force,As, fleeter than the gale, he holds the course.Here, with his spouse and household lodg'd in wains,The Arab's camp shifts, wand'ring o'er the plains,The merchant's dread, what time from eastern soilHis burthen'd camels seek the land of Nile.Here Rosalgate and Farthac stretch their arms,And point to Ormuz, fam'd for war's alarms;Ormuz, decreed full oft to quake with dreadBeneath the Lusian heroes' hostile tread,Shall see the Turkish moons,[640]with slaughter gor'd,Shrink from the lightning of De Branco's sword.[641]{329}There on the gulf that laves the Persian shore,Far through the surges bends Cape Asabore.There Barem's isle;[642]her rocks with diamonds blaze,And emulate Aurora's glitt'ring rays.From Barem's shore Euphrates' flood is seen,And Tigris' waters, through the waves of greenIn yellowy currents many a league extend,As with the darker waves averse they blend.Lo, Persia there her empire wide unfolds!In tented camp his state the monarch holds:Her warrior sons disdain the arms of fire,[643]And, with the pointed steel, to fame aspire;Their springy shoulders stretching to the blow,Their sweepy sabres hew the shrieking foe.There Gerum's isle the hoary ruin wearsWhere Time has trod:[644]there shall the dreadful spearsOf Sousa and Menezes strew the shoreWith Persian sabres, and embathe with gore.Carpella's cape, and sad Carmania's strand,There, parch'd and bare, their dreary wastes expand.A fairer landscape here delights the view;From these green hills beneath the clouds of blue,The Indus and the Ganges roll the wave,And many a smiling field propitious lave.{330}Luxurious here, Ulcinda's harvests smile,And here, disdainful of the seaman's toil,The whirling tides of Jaquet furious roar;Alike their rage when swelling to the shore,Or, tumbling backward to the deep, they forceThe boiling fury of their gulfy course:Against their headlong rage nor oars nor sails,The stemming prow alone, hard toil'd, prevails.Cambaya here begins her wide domain;A thousand cities here shall own the reignOf Lisboa's monarchs. He who first shall crownThy labours,Gama,[645]here shall boast his own.The length'ning sea that washes India's strandAnd laves the cape that points to Ceylon's land(The Taprobanian isle,[646]renown'd of yore),Shall see his ensigns blaze from shore to shore.Behold how many a realm, array'd in green,The Ganges' shore and Indus' bank between!Here tribes unnumber'd, and of various lore,With woful penance fiend-like shapes adore;Some Macon's orgies;[647]all confess the swayOf rites that shun, like trembling ghosts, the day.Narsinga's fair domain behold; of yoreHere shone the gilded towers of Meliapore.Here India's angels, weeping o'er the tombWhere Thomas sleeps,[648]implore the day to come,The day foretold, when India's utmost shoreAgain shall hear Messiah's blissful lore.{331}By Indus' banks the holy prophet trod,And Ganges heard him preach the Saviour-God;{332}Where pale disease erewhile the cheek consum'd,Health, at his word, in ruddy fragrance bloom'd;The grave's dark womb his awful voice obey'd,And to the cheerful day restor'd the dead;By heavenly power he rear'd the sacred shrine,And gain'd the nations by his life divine.The priests of Brahma's hidden rites beheld,And envy's bitt'rest gall their bosom's swell'd.A thousand deathful snares in vain they spread;When now the chief who wore the triple thread,[649]{333}Fir'd by the rage that gnaws the conscious breastOf holy fraud, when worth shines forth confess'd,Hell he invokes, nor hell in vain he sues;His son's life-gore his wither'd hands imbrues;{334}Then, bold assuming the vindictive ire,And all the passions of the woful sire,Weeping, he bends before the Indian throne,Arraigns the holy man, and wails his son:A band of hoary priests attest the deed,And India's king condemns the seer to bleed.Inspir'd by Heav'n the holy victim stands,And o'er the murder'd corse extends his hands:'In God's dread power, thou slaughter'd youth, arise,And name,thy murderer,' aloud he cries.When, dread to view, the deep wounds instant close,And, fresh in life, the slaughter'd youth arose,And nam'd his treach'rous sire. The conscious airQuiver'd, and awful horror raised the hairOn ev'ry head. From Thomas India's kingThe holy sprinkling of the living springReceives, and wide o'er all his regal boundsThe God of Thomas ev'ry tongue resounds.Long taught the holy seer the words of life;The priests of Brahma still to deeds of strife(So boil'd their ire) the blinded herd impell'd,And high, to deathful rage, their rancour swell'd.'Twas on a day, when melting on his tongueHeav'n's offer'd mercies glow'd, the impious throng,Rising in madd'ning tempest, round him shower'dThe splinter'd flint; in vain the flint was pour'd:But Heav'n had now his finish'd labours seal'd;His angel guards withdraw the etherial shield;A Brahmin's javelin tears his holy breast——Ah Heav'n, what woes the widow'd land express'd!Thee, Thomas, thee, the plaintive Ganges mourn'd,[650]And Indus' banks the murm'ring moan return'd;{335}O'er ev'ry valley where thy footsteps stray'd,The hollow winds the gliding sighs convey'd.What woes the mournful face of India wore,These woes in living pangs his people bore.His sons, to whose illumin'd minds he gaveTo view the ray that shines beyond the grave,His pastoral sons bedew'd his corse with tears,While high triumphant through the heav'nly spheres,With songs of joy, the smiling angels wingHis raptur'd spirit to the eternal King.O you, the followers of the holy seer,Foredoom'd the shrines of Heav'n's own lore to rear,You, sent by Heav'n his labours to renew,Like him, ye Lusians, simplest Truth pursue.[651]{336}Vain is the impious toil, with borrow'd grace,To deck one feature of her angel face;{337}Behind the veil's broad glare she glides away,And leaves a rotten form, of lifeless, painted clay."Much have you view'd of future Lusian reign;Broad empires yet, and kingdoms wide, remain,Scenes of your future toils and glorious sway—And lo, how wide expands the Gangic bay!Narsinga here in num'rous legions bold,And here Oryxa boasts her cloth of gold.
Nor may the fleetest hawk, untir'd, exploreWhere end the ricy groves that crown the shore.There view what woes demand your pious aid!On beds and litters, o'er the margin laid,The dying[652]lift their hollow eyes, and craveSome pitying hand to hurl them in the wave.Thus Heav'n (they deem), though vilest guilt they boreUnwept, unchanged, will view that guilt no more.There, eastward, Arracan her line extends;And Pegu's mighty empire southward bends:Pegu, whose sons (so held old faith) confess'dA dog their sire;[653]their deeds the tale attest.A pious queen their horrid rage restrain'd;[654]Yet, still their fury Nature's God arraign'd.{338}Ah, mark the thunders rolling o'er the sky;Yes, bath'd in gore, shall rank pollution lie."Where to the morn the towers of Tava shine,Begins great Siam's empire's far-stretch'd line.On Queda's fields the genial rays inspireThe richest gust of spicery's fragrant fire.Malacca's castled harbour here survey,The wealthful seat foredoom'd of Lusian sway.Here to their port the Lusian fleets shall steer,From ev'ry shore far round assembling hereThe fragrant treasures of the eastern world:Here from the shore by rolling earthquakes hurl'd,Through waves all foam, Sumatra's isle was riv'n,And, mid white whirlpools, down the ocean driv'n.[655]To this fair isle, the golden Chersonese,Some deem the sapient monarch plough'd the seas;Ophir its Tyrian name.[656]In whirling roarsHow fierce the tide boils down these clasping shores!High from the strait the length'ning coast afarIts moonlike curve points to the northern star,Opening its bosom to the silver rayWhen fair Aurora pours the infant day.Patane and Pam, and nameless nations more,Who rear their tents on Menam's winding shore,Their vassal tribute yield to Siam's throne;And thousands more,[657]of laws, of names unknown,{339}That vast of land inhabit. Proud and bold,Proud of their numbers, here the Laos holdThe far-spread lawns; the skirting hills obeyThe barb'rous Avas', and the Brahma's sway.Lo, distant far, another mountain chainRears its rude cliffs, the Guio's dread domain;Here brutaliz'd the human form is seen,The manners fiend-like as the brutal mien:With frothing jaws they suck the human blood,And gnaw the reeking limbs,[658]their sweetest food;{340}Horrid, with figur'd seams of burning steel,Their wolf-like frowns their ruthless lust reveal.Cambaya there the blue-tinged Mecon laves,Mecon the eastern Nile, whose swelling waves,'Captain of rivers' nam'd, o'er many a clime,In annual period, pour their fatt'ning slime.The simple natives of these lawns believeThat other worlds the souls of beasts receive;[659]{341}Where the fierce murd'rer-wolf, to pains decreed,Sees the mild lamb enjoy the heav'nly mead.Oh gentle Mecon,[660]on thy friendly shoreLong shall the muse her sweetest off'rings pour!When tyrant ire, chaf'd by the blended lustOf pride outrageous, and revenge unjust,Shall on the guiltless exile burst their rage,And madd'ning tempests on their side engage,Preserv'd by Heav'n the song of Lusian fame,The song, OVasco, sacred to thy name,Wet from the whelming surge, shall triumph o'erThe fate of shipwreck on the Mecon's shore,Here rest secure as on the muse's breast!Happy the deathless song, the bard, alas, unblest!"Chiampa there her fragrant coast extends,There Cochin-China's cultur'd land ascends:From Anam Bay begins the ancient reignOf China's beauteous art-adorn'd domain;{342}Wide from the burning to the frozen skies,O'erflow'd with wealth, the potent empire lies.Here, ere the cannon's rage in Europe roar'd,[661]The cannon's thunder on the foe was pour'd:{343}And here the trembling needle sought the north,Ere Time in Europe brought the wonder forth.{344}No more let Egypt boast her mountain pyres;To prouder fame yon bounding wall aspires,{345}A prouder boast of regal power displaysThan all the world beheld in ancient days.{346}
Immense the northern wastes their horrors spread;[662]In frost and snow the seas and shores are clad.{347}These shores forsake, to future ages due:A world of islands claims thy happier view,Where lavish Nature all her bounty pours,And flowers and fruits of ev'ry fragrance showers.Japan behold; beneath the globe's broad faceNorthward she sinks, the nether seas embraceHer eastern bounds; what glorious fruitage there,IllustriousGama, shall thy labours bear!How bright a silver mine![663]when Heav'n's own loreFrom pagan dross shall purify her ore."Beneath the spreading wings of purple morn,Behold what isles these glist'ning seas adorn!'Mid hundreds yet unnam'd, Ternate behold!By day, her hills in pitchy clouds inroll'd,By night, like rolling waves, the sheets of fireBlaze o'er the seas, and high to heav'n aspire.For Lusian hands here blooms the fragrant clove,But Lusian blood shall sprinkle ev'ry grove.The golden birds that ever sail the skiesHere to the sun display their shining dyes,Each want supplied, on air they ever soar;The ground they touch not[664]till they breathe no more.{348}Here Banda's isles their fair embroid'ry spreadOf various fruitage, azure, white, and red;And birds of ev'ry beauteous plume displayTheir glitt'ring radiance, as, from spray to spray,From bower to bower, on busy wings they rove,To seize the tribute of the spicy grove.Borneo here expands her ample breast,By Nature's hand in woods of camphor dress'd;The precious liquid, weeping from the trees,Glows warm with health, the balsam of disease.Fair are Timora's dales with groves array'd,Each riv'let murmurs in the fragrant shade,And, in its crystal breast, displays the bowersOf Sanders, blest with health-restoring powers.Where to the south the world's broad surface bends,Lo, Sunda's realm her spreading arms extends.From hence the pilgrim brings the wondrous tale,[665]A river groaning through a dreary dale(For all is stone around) converts to stoneWhate'er of verdure in its breast is thrown.Lo, gleaming blue, o'er fair Sumatra's skies,Another mountain's trembling flames arise;Here from the trees the gum[666]all fragrance swells,And softest oil a wondrous fountain wells.Nor these alone the happy isle bestows,Fine is her gold, her silk resplendent glows.Wide forests there beneath Maldivia's tide[667]From with'ring air their wondrous fruitage hide.{349}The green-hair'd Nereids, tend the bow'ry dells,Whose wondrous fruitage poison's rage expels.In Ceylon, lo, how high yon mountain's brows!The sailing clouds its middle height enclose.Holy the hill is deem'd, the hallow'd treadOf sainted footstep[668]marks its rocky head.Lav'd by the Red Sea gulf, Socotra's bowersThere boast the tardy aloe's beauteous flowers.On Afric's strand, foredoom'd to Lusian sway,Behold these isles, and rocks of dusky gray;From cells unknown here bounteous ocean poursThe fragrant amber on the sandy shores.And lo, the Island of the Moon[669]displaysHer vernal lawns, and num'rous peaceful bays:The halcyons[670]hov'ring o'er the bays are seen,And lowing herds adorn the vales of green."Thus, from the cape where sail was ne'er unfurl'd,Till thine, auspicious, sought the eastern world,To utmost wave, where first the morning starSheds the pale lustre of her silver car,Thine eyes have view'd the empires and the isles,The world immense, that crowns thy glorious toils—That world where ev'ry boon is shower'd from Heav'n,Now to the West, by thee, great chief, is giv'n.[671]{350}"And still, O blest, thy peerless honours grow,New op'ning views the smiling fates bestow.With alter'd face the moving globe behold;There ruddy ev'ning sheds her beams of gold.While now, on Afric's bosom faintly dieThe last pale glimpses of the twilight sky,Bright o'er the wide Atlantic rides the morn,And dawning rays another world adorn:To farthest north that world enormous bends,And cold, beneath the southern pole-star ends.Near either pole[672]the barb'rous hunter, dress'dIn skins of bears, explores the frozen waste:Where smiles the genial sun with kinder rays,Proud cities tower, and gold-roof'd temples blaze.This golden empire, by the heav'n's decree,Is due, Castile, O favour'd power, to thee!Even now, Columbus o'er the hoary tidePursues the ev'ning sun, his navy's guide.Yet, shall the kindred Lusian share the reign,What time this world shall own the yoke of Spain.The first bold hero[673]who to India's shoresThrough vanquish'd waves thy open'd path explores,Driv'n by the winds of heav'n from Afric's strand,Shall fix the holy cross on yon fair land.That mighty realm, for purple wood renown'd,Shall stretch the Lusian empire's western bound.Fir'd by thy fame, and with his king in ire,To match thy deeds shall Magalhaens aspire.[674]{351}In all but loyalty, of Lusian soul,No fear, no danger shall his toils control.{352}Along these regions, from the burning zoneTo deepest south, he dares the course unknown.While, to the kingdoms of the rising day,To rival thee he holds the western way,A land of giants[675]shall his eyes behold,Of camel strength, surpassing human mould:{353}And, onward still, thy fame his proud heart's guideHaunting him unappeas'd, the dreary tideBeneath the southern star's cold gleam he braves,And stems the whirls of land-surrounded waves.For ever sacred to the hero's fame,These foaming straits shall bear his deathless name.Through these dread jaws of rock he presses on,Another ocean's breast, immense, unknown,Beneath the south's cold wings, unmeasur'd, wide,Receives his vessels; through the dreary tideIn darkling shades, where never man beforeHeard the waves howl, he dares the nameless shore."Thus far, O favour'd Lusians, bounteous Heav'nYour nation's glories to your view has giv'n.What ensigns, blazing to the morn, pursueThe path of heroes, open'd first by you!Still be it yours the first in fame to shine:Thus shall your brides new chaplets still entwine,With laurels ever new your brows enfold,And braid your wavy locks with radiant gold."How calm the waves, how mild the balmy gale!The halcyons call; ye Lusians, spread the sail;Old ocean, now appeas'd, shall rage no more.Haste, point the bowsprit to your native shore:Soon shall the transports of the natal soilO'erwhelm, in bounding joy, the thoughts of ev'ry toil."The goddess spake[676]; andVascowav'd his hand,And soon the joyful heroes crowd the strand.{354}The lofty ships with deepen'd burthens proveThe various bounties of the Isle of Love.{355}Nor leave the youths their lovely brides behind,In wedded bands, while time glides on, conjoin'd;Fair as immortal fame in smiles array'd,In bridal smiles, attends each lovely maid.{356}O'er India's sea, wing'd on by balmy galesThat whisper'd peace, soft swell'd the steady sails:Smooth as on wing unmov'd the eagle flies,When to his eyrie cliff he sails the skies,Swift o'er the gentle billows of the tide,So smooth, so soft, the prows ofGamaglide;And now their native fields, for ever dear,In all their wild transporting charms appear;And Tago's bosom, while his banks repeatThe sounding peals of joy, receives the fleet.With orient titles and immortal fameThe hero band adorn their monarch's name;Sceptres and crowns beneath his feet they lay,And the wide East is doom'd to Lusian sway.[677]Enough, my muse, thy wearied wing no moreMust to the seat of Jove triumphant soar.Chill'd by my nation's cold neglect, thy firesGlow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.Yet thou, Sebastian, thou, my king, attend;Behold what glories on thy throne descend!Shall haughty Gaul or sterner Albion boastThat all the Lusian fame in thee is lost!Oh, be it thine these glories to renew,And John's bold path and Pedro's course pursue:[678]Snatch from the tyrant-noble's hand the sword,And be the rights of humankind restor'd.The statesman prelate to his vows confine,Alone auspicious at the holy shrine;The priest, in whose meek heart Heav'n pours its fires,Alone to Heav'n, not earth's vain pomp, aspires.Nor let the muse, great king, on Tago's shore,In dying notes the barb'rous age deplore.{357}The king or hero to the muse unjustSinks as the nameless slave, extinct in dust.But such the deeds thy radiant morn portends,Aw'd by thy frown ev'n now old Atlas bendsHis hoary head, and Ampeluza's fieldsExpect thy sounding steeds and rattling shields.And shall these deeds unsung, unknown, expire!Oh, would thy smiles relume my fainting ire!I, then inspir'd, the wond'ring world should seeGreat Ammon's warlike son reviv'd in thee;Reviv'd, unenvied[679]of the muse's flameThat o'er the world resounds Pelides'[680]name.{358}"O let th' Iambic Muse revenge that wrongWhich cannot slumber in thy sheets of lead;Let thy abused honour crie as longAs there be quills to write, or eyes to reade:On his rank name let thine own votes be turn'd,Oh may that man that hath the Muses scorn'dAlive, nor dead, be ever of a Muse adorn'd."
THE END.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.