Statement of the subject. Invocation to the muses of the Tagus. Herald calls an assembly of the gods. Jupiter foretells the future conquests of the Portuguese. Bacchus, apprehensive that the Portuguese may eclipse the glory acquired by himself in the conquest of India, declares against them. Venus, who sees in the Portuguese her ancient Romans, promises to aid their enterprise. Mars induces Jupiter to support them, and Mercury is sent to direct their course. Gama, commander of the expedition, lands at Mozambique and Mombas. Opposition of the Moors, instigated by Bacchus. They grant Gama a pilot who designs treacherously to take them to Quiloa to ensure the destruction of the whole expedition.
Statement of the subject. Invocation to the muses of the Tagus. Herald calls an assembly of the gods. Jupiter foretells the future conquests of the Portuguese. Bacchus, apprehensive that the Portuguese may eclipse the glory acquired by himself in the conquest of India, declares against them. Venus, who sees in the Portuguese her ancient Romans, promises to aid their enterprise. Mars induces Jupiter to support them, and Mercury is sent to direct their course. Gama, commander of the expedition, lands at Mozambique and Mombas. Opposition of the Moors, instigated by Bacchus. They grant Gama a pilot who designs treacherously to take them to Quiloa to ensure the destruction of the whole expedition.
ARMS and the Heroes, who from Lisbon's shore,Thro' seas[63]where sail was never spread before,Beyond where Ceylon lifts her spicy breast,And waves her woods above the wat'ry waste,{2}With prowess more than human forc'd their wayTo the fair kingdoms of the rising day:What wars they wag'd, what seas, what dangers pass'd,What glorious empire crown'd their toils at last,Vent'rous I sing, on soaring pinions borne,And all my country's wars[64]the song adorn;What kings, what heroes of my native landThunder'd on Asia's and on Afric's strand:Illustrious shades, who levell'd in the dustThe idol-temples and the shrines of lust:And where, erewhile, foul demons were rever'd,To Holy Faith unnumber'd altars rear'd:[65]Illustrious names, with deathless laurels crown'd,While time rolls on in every clime renown'd!Let Fame with wonder name the Greek[66]no more,What lands he saw, what toils at sea he bore;Nor more the Trojan's wand'ring[67]voyage boast,What storms he brav'd on many a perilous coast:No more let Rome exult in Trajan's name,Nor Eastern conquests Ammon's[68]pride proclaim;A nobler hero's deeds demand my laysThan e'er adorn'd the song of ancient days,IllustriousGama,[69]whom the waves obey'd,And whose dread sword the fate of empire sway'd.{3}And you, fair nymphs of Tagus, parent stream,If e'er your meadows were my pastoral theme,While you have listen'd, and by moonshine seenMy footsteps wander o'er your banks of green,O come auspicious, and the song inspireWith all the boldness of your hero's fire:Deep and majestic let the numbers flow,And, rapt to heaven, with ardent fury glow,Unlike the verse that speaks the lover's grief,When heaving sighs afford their soft relief,And humble reeds bewail the shepherd's pain;But like the warlike trumpet be the strainTo rouse the hero's ire, and far around,With equal rage, your warriors' deeds resound.And thou,[70]O born the pledge of happier days,To guard our freedom and our glories raise,{4}Given to the world to spread Religion's sway,And pour o'er many a land the mental day,Thy future honours on thy shield behold,The cross and victor's wreath emboss'd in gold:At thy commanding frown we trust to see,The Turk and Arab bend the suppliant knee:Beneath the morn,[71]dread king, thine empire lies,When midnight veils thy Lusitanian[72]skies;{5}And when, descending in the western main,The sun[73]still rises on thy length'ning reign:Thou blooming scion of the noblest stem,Our nation's safety, and our age's gem,O young Sebastian, hasten to the primeOf manly youth, to Fame's high temple climb:Yet now attentive hear the Muse's layWhile thy green years to manhood speed away:The youthful terrors of thy brow suspend,And, oh, propitious to the song attend—The num'rous song, by patriot-passion fir'd,And by the glories of thy race inspir'd:To be the herald of my country's fameMy first ambition and my dearest aim:Nor conquests fabulous nor actions vain,The Muse's pastime, here adorn the strain:Orlando's fury, and Rugero's rage,And all the heroes of th' Aonian page,[74]The dreams of bards surpass'd the world shall view,And own their boldest fictions may be true;Surpass'd and dimm'd by the superior blazeOfGama'smighty deeds, which here bright Truth displays.Nor more let History boast her heroes old,Their glorious rivals here, dread prince, behold:Here shine the valiant Nunio's deeds unfeign'd,Whose single arm the falling state sustain'd;{6}Here fearless Egas' wars, and, Fuas, thine,To give full ardour to the song combine;But ardour equal to your martial ireDemands the thund'ring sounds of Homer's lyre.To match the Twelve so long by bards renown'd,[75]Here brave Magricio and his peers are crown'd(A glorious Twelve!) with deathless laurels, wonIn gallant arms before the English throne.Unmatch'd no more the Gallic Charles shall stand,Nor Cæsar's name the first of praise command:Of nobler acts the crown'd Alonzo[76]see,Thy valiant sires, to whom the bended kneeOf vanquish'd Afric bow'd. Nor less in fame,He who confin'd the rage of civil flame,The godlike John, beneath whose awful swordRebellion crouch'd, and trembling own'd him lordThose heroes, too, who thy bold flag unfurl'd,And spread thy banners o'er the Eastern world,Whose spears subdu'd the kingdoms of the morn,Their names and glorious wars the song adorn:The daringGama, whose unequall'd name(Proud monarch) shines o'er all of naval fame:Castro the bold, in arms a peerless knight,And stern Pacheco, dreadful in the fight:The two Almeydas, names for ever dear,By Tago's nymphs embalm'd with many a tear;Ah, still their early fate the nymphs shall mourn,And bathe with many a tear their hapless urn:Nor shall the godlike Albuquerque restrainThe Muse's fury; o'er the purpled plainThe Muse shall lead him in his thund'ring carAmidst his glorious brothers of the war,Whose fame in arms resounds from sky to sky,And bids their deeds the power of death defy.And while, to thee, I tune the duteous lay,Assume, O potent king, thine empire's sway;{7}With thy brave host through Afric march along,And give new triumphs to immortal song:On thee with earnest eyes the nations wait,And, cold with dread, the Moor expects his fate;The barb'rous mountaineer on Taurus' browsTo thy expected yoke his shoulder bows;Fair Thetis woos thee with her blue domain,Her nuptial son, and fondly yields her reign,And from the bow'rs of heav'n thy grandsires[77]seeTheir various virtues bloom afresh in thee;One for the joyful days of peace renown'd,And one with war's triumphant laurels crown'd:With joyful hands, to deck thy manly brow,They twine the laurel and the olive-bough;With joyful eyes a glorious throne they see,In Fame's eternal dome, reserv'd for thee.Yet, while thy youthful hand delays to wieldThe sceptre'd power, or thunder of the field,Here view thine Argonauts, in seas unknown,And all the terrors of the burning zone,Till their proud standards, rear'd in other skies,And all their conquests meet thy wond'ring[78]eyes.Now, far from land, o'er Neptune's dread abodeThe 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.{8}When Jove, the god who with a thought controlsThe 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 gods whose delegated swayThe burning South and frozen North obey;And they whose empires see the day-star rise,And evening Phœbus 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 eyesAppear'd, and mark'd the monarch of the skies.On seats that burn'd with pearl and ruddy gold,The subject gods their sov'reign lord enfold,Each in his rank, when with a voice that shookThe 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 thrownHer dark blank shades, to you, ye gods, are knownThe Fate's decree, and ancient warlike fameOf that bold race which boasts of Lusus' name;That bold advent'rous race, the Fates declare,A potent empire in the East shall rear,{9}Surpassing Babel's or the Persian fame,Proud Grecia's boast, or Rome's illustrious name.Oft from these brilliant seats have you beheldThe sons of Lusus on the dusty field,Though few, triumphant o'er the num'rous Moors,Till, from the beauteous lawns on Tagus' shoresThey drove the cruel foe. And oft has heav'nBefore their troops the proud Castilians driv'n;While Victory her eagle-wings display'dWhere'er their warriors wav'd the shining blade,Nor rests unknown how Lusus' heroes stoodWhen 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;{10}And what fair palms their martial ardour crown'd,When led to battle by the chief renown'd,Who[80]feign'd a dæmon, in a deer conceal'd,To him the counsels of the gods reveal'd.And now, ambitious to extend their swayBeyond their conquests on the southmost bayOf Afric's swarthy coast, on floating woodThey 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 wayTo reach the cradle of the new-born day:And Fate, whose mandates unrevok'd remain,Has will'd that long shall Lusus' offspring reignThe lords of that wide sea, whose waves beholdThe 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 landTo 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 gods 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 shore,His ancient honours would be known no more;{11}No more in Nysa[81]should the native tellWhat kings, what mighty hosts before him fell.The fertile vales beneath the rising sunHe view'd as his, by right of victory won,And deem'd that ever in immortal songThe Conqueror's title should to him belong.Yet Fate, he knew, had will'd, that loos'd from SpainBoldly 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 fameIn 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 traceA kindred likeness to the Roman race,For whom of old such kind regard she bore;[83]The same their triumphs on Barbaria's shore,The same the ardour of their warlike flame,The manly music of their tongue the same:[84]Affection thus the lovely goddess sway'd,Nor less what Fate's unblotted page display'd,{12}Where'er this people should their empire raise,She knew her altars would unnumber'd blaze,And barb'rous nations at her holy shrineBe 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 stateWith all the clam'rous tempest of debate.Thus, when the storm with sudden gust invadesThe ancient forest's deep and lofty shades,The bursting whirlwinds tear their rapid course,The shatter'd oaks crash, and with echoes hoarseThe mountains groan, while whirling on the blastThe thick'ning leaves a gloomy darkness cast;Such was the tumult in the blest abodes,When Mars, high tow'ring o'er the rival gods,Stepp'd forth: stern sparkles from his eye-balls 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 dreadHis 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:{13}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 bowLet 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 shore,And balmy rest their fainting strength restore."He spoke: high Jove assenting 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 gods retire.Whilst thus in heaven's bright palace fate was weigh'dRight onward still the brave Armada strayed:Right on they steer by Ethiopia's strandAnd 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.{14}ButGama(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 shores 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, inwoveWith curious art, a swarming crowd they move:Long were their boats, and sharp to bound alongThrough the dash'd waters, broad their oars and strong:The bending rowers on their features boreThe 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 God adore!And now with hands and 'kerchiefs wav'd in airThe barb'rous race their friendly mind declare.Glad were the crew, and ween'd that happy dayShould end their dangers and their toils repay.{15}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 shore,(A safe moon'd bay), with slacken'd sails they bore:With cheerful shouts they furl the gather'd sailThat 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:IllustriousGama, 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 shore their purpose hop'd to gain?"From farthest west," the Lusian race reply,"To reach the golden Eastern shores we try.Through that unbounded sea whose billows rollFrom the cold northern to the southern pole;And by the wide extent, the dreary vastOf Afric's bays, already have we past;And many a sky have seen, and many a shore,Where but sea monsters cut the waves before.To spread the glories of our monarch's reign,For India's shore we brave the trackless main,Our glorious toil, and at his nod would braveThe 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 dwellTo us, unconscious of the falsehood, showWhat of these seas and India's site you know."{16}"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 shore expand,For sultry Ganges or Hydaspes'[94]strand,Here shall you find a pilot skill'd to guideThrough 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 untrueAnd signs of friendship, with his bands withdrew.O'erpower'd with joy unhop'd the sailors stood,To find such kindness on a shore 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.{17}The moon, full orb'd, forsakes her wat'ry cave,And lifts her lovely head above the wave.The snowy splendours of her modest rayStream 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 lustre 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 boardTo 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,{18}And triumph'd o'er the East, and, Asia won,In proud Byzantium[97]fix'd their haughty throne.BraveVascohails 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 shores they came?What God they worshipp'd, what their sacred lore,What arms they wielded, and what armour wore?To whom braveGama: "Nor of Hagar's bloodAm I, nor plough from Ismael's shores the flood;From Europe's strand I trace the foamy way,To find the regions of the infant day.The God 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'dTheir glorious show, where, tire on tire inlaid,{19}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'dThe 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 balls were spread.The bombardiers, now to the regent's viewThe 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 fireTo rouse the thunders of the dreadful tire.ForGama'ssoul disdain'd the pride of showWhich 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,BraveVascosues, and bids the Moor commandWhat bounteous gifts shall recompense their toils;The Moor prevents him with assenting 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,WhenGama'slips Messiah's name confess'd.[101]{20}Oh depth of Heaven's dread will, that ranc'rous hateOn Heaven's best lov'd in ev'ry clime should wait!Now, smiling round on all the wond'ring crewThe 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-god[102]beheld(Whom nine long months his father's thigh conceal'd);[103]Well pleas'd he mark'd the Moor's determin'd hateAnd thus his mind revolv'd in self-debate:—"Has Heaven, indeed, such glorious lot ordain'd,By Lusus' race such conquests to be gain'dO'er warlike nations, and on India's shore,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, subdueAmmon's brave son who led the god of warHis 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 displayWith 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 shore."{21}So spake the Power,[105]and with the lightning's flightFor 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 cameFor 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'dHis guileful hate in friendly counsel dress'd:"And to the regent of this isle aloneAre these adventurers and their fraud unknown?Has Fame conceal'd their rapine from his ear?Nor brought the groans of plunder'd nations here?Yet still their hands the peaceful olive boreWhene'er they anchor'd on a foreign shore:But nor their seeming nor their oaths I trust,For Afric knows them bloody 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, beholdOur wives led captive, and our daughters sold.By stealth they come, ere morrow dawn, to bringThe healthful bev'rage from the living spring:Arm'd with his troops the captain will appear;For conscious fraud is ever prone 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 foeRush, 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.{22}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 shores, or whelm them in the tide."So spoke the god, in semblance of a sageRenown'd for counsel and the craft of age.The prince with transport glowing in his faceApprov'd, and caught him in a kind embrace:And instant at the word his bands prepareTheir bearded darts and implements of war,That Lusus' sons might purple with their goreThe crystal fountain which they sought on shore: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 snareShould 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 spreadHis rays that glow'd with gold; whenGamarose,And from his bands a trusty squadron chose:Three speedy barges brought their casks to fillFrom 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 imprestOn wisdom such as wak'd inGama'sbreast.And now, as swiftly springing o'er the tideAdvanc'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.{23}Yet seeming artless, though they dar'd the fight,Their eager hope they plac'd in artful flight,To lead braveGamawhere, 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, displayTheir 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 bloody 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 hornèd brows he levels with the ground,And shuts his flaming eyes, and wheeling roundWith 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 dæmons 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 standBeheld the combat burning on the strand:{24}They see the flash with sudden lightnings flare,And the blue smoke slow rolling on the air:They see their warriors drop, and starting hearThe 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 turnTheir eyes that red with lust of vengeance burn:Aghast with fear, and stern with desperate rageThe 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 moreTo guard the fountain or defend the shore:O'er the wide lawns no more their troops appear:Nor sleeps the vengeance of the victor here;To teach the nations what tremendous fateFrom 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 shoreRepeat the cannon's and the mortar's roar:{25}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 galesBorne down, in streams hang hov'ring o'er the vales;And slowly floating round the mountain's headTheir pitchy mantle o'er the landscape spread.Unnumber'd sea-fowl rising from the shore,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 MoorsFrom field to field,[111]then, hast'ning to the shores,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 beneathThe whelming billows, struggling, pant for breath,Then whirl'd aloft their nostrils spout the brine;While show'ring still from many a carabineThe leaden hail their sails and vessels tore,Till, struggling hard, they reach'd the neighb'ring shore:Due vengeance thus their perfidy repaid,AndGama'sterrors to the East display'd.Imbrown'd with dust a beaten pathway showsWhere '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 hell's keen fires still for revenge athirstThe regent burns, and weens, by fraud accurst,{26}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 sendsAnd deep repentance for his crime pretends.Sincere the herald seems, and while he speaks,The winning tears steal down his hoary cheeks.BraveGama, 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 prowsThe lovely forms of sea-born nymphs arose.The while braveVasco'sunsuspecting mindYet fear'd not ought the crafty Moor design'd:Much of the coast he asks, and much demandsOf Afric's shores and India's spicy lands.The crafty Moor by vengeful Bacchus taughtEmploy'd on deadly guile his baneful thought;In his dark mind he plann'd, onGama'sheadFull 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 shoreThe blood-stain'd image on the cross adore."Swift at the word, the joyfulGamacried:"For that fair island turn the helm aside;{27}O bring my vessels where the Christians dwell,And thy glad lips my gratitude 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 onVasco'sbands 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 careHad 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 mastBended 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;{28}Aslope and gliding on the leeward side,The bounding vessels cut the roaring tide:Soon far they pass'd; and now the slacken'd sailTrembles and bellies to the gentle gale:Now many a league before the tempest toss'dThe 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 loreIn 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 braveGamahears the artful tale,Bears to the harbour, and bids furl the sail.Yet, watchful still, fair Love's celestial queenPrevents 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 landA 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 poursIts purple splendours o'er the lofty towers;The lofty towers with milder lustre gleam,And gently tremble in the glassy stream.Here reign'd a hoary king of ancient fame;Mombas the town, Mombas the island's name.As when the pilgrim, who with weary paceThro' 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 menIn grateful prospect rising on his ken:SoGamajoy'd, who many a dreary dayHad traced the vast, the lonesome, wat'ry way,{29}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 hornèd bay,The Moorish barges wing'd their foamy way,ToGama'sfleet with friendly smiles they boreThe choicest products of their cultur'd shore.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.{30}