The Lusiad: Or, The Discovery of India: an Epic Poem

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THX

L U S I A D ;

OK

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA:

All i

EPIC POEM.

TBAVILATSD FROM THB PORTUOUBtl OF

LUIS DE CAMOENS.

WITH
AN HISTOBlCAIi INTBODUCTION AND NOTES.

BY

n^ILLIJM JULIUS MICKLE.

IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR

LACRINGTON, ALLEN, AND CO.

TEMPLE OP THE MUSES,
PIMSBURY-saUARB.

1809.

1

I

CAMOENS' LUSIAD.

XBANSLATBD BT

W. J. MJCKLE.

Harding and Wright, Printen,
St. John's Sqoare, Clerkenwdl.

ADVERTISEMENT.

It l^iicenihc pf^in^c^ olgeci ^ the Ediiar,
to 4if^ tAe present cd^ionjifthe^ Lusiad of thai
ma$s qf^ontvtfversy, tohicfy has loaded the pageo
of oU those which haoe preceded it. The gross
nnsftepfxscniaiims and uiyust criticisms^ on Co*
fftoens <^ Voltaire y and other foreign critics^
which remained unanswered at the time of the
first publication qf Mr. Miekl^s translation ff
the Zamadf called forth the seo^e animadvermns
whioh he has advanced in confutation of them t
these calwo^mous aspersions^ however ^ which were
then received as the true character of Cdmoens,
no longer^rffHire atteniian, since Jdr^-^Mickle^s

ADVERTISEMENT.

acute vindication of his author has so completely
exposed the fallacy of his adversary's arguments y
which J with the glittering and visionary theories
of their author J have f alien together^and the world
no longer withholds that applause from the Lusi-
tanian Homer which his excellence so highly
merits.

A judicious critic has observed^ such is the
sweetness and harmony of MickHs verse ^ that
the Lusiad has become brilliant by transfusion; to
what c(tuse, thereforcy but the excessive redun^
dancy of the not^y as well as to the overwhelming
load of conir&oerjsy and extraneous matter ^ which
have disfigured the pages of allformier editions,
can it be attributed, why the Lusiad of Mickle
has not hitherto attained thai degree qf popularity
which has been itcguired by the Iliad of Pope, or
the, Eneid ofDryden : in point qf poetical excels
lenee it far surpasses the latter, and in very few
instances does the former take precedence if it.
To rtmwe these objections has been^ the object of

ADVERTISEMENT.

the present Editor ; those notes which loaded the
page without elucidating the poem, have been re^
maoedy and such ordy retained as appeared neces^
saryfoT the illustration (fthe text.

W.C.

9

Mardi 1, 1807.

INTRODUCTION.

J.F a concatenation of events centered in one
great action, events which gave birth to the
present commercial system of the world; if
these be of the first importance in the civil his-
tory of mankind^ the Lusiad, of all other poems,
challenges the attention of the philosopher, the
politician, and the gentleman.

In contradistinction to the Iliad and jEneid,
the Paradise Lost has been called the Epic
Poem of Religion. In the same manner may
the Lusiad be named the Epic Poem of Com-,
merce. The happy completion of the most
important designs of Henry Duke of Viseo,
Prince of Portugal, to whom Europe owes
both Gama and Columbus, both the eastern and
the westera worlds, constitutes the subject of
this celebrated epic poem. .But before we pro-
ceed to the historical introduction necessary to*

VOL, I. a

II INTRODUCTTON.

elucidate a poem founded on such an important
period of histor)'^, some attention is due to the
opinion of those theorists in pohtical philoso-
phy, who laraept. that either India was ever dis-
covered /and who assert that the increase of
trade is big with the real misery of mankind,
and that commerce is only the parent of degene-
racy, and the nurse of every vice.

Much indeed may be urged on this side of
the question, but much also may be urged
against every institution relative to man. Im«
perfection, if not necessary to humanity, is at
least the certain attendant on every thing hu-'
man. Though some part of the traffic with
many countries resemble Solomon's importa-
tion of apes and peacocks ; though the super-
fluities of life, the baubles of the opulent, and
even the luxuries which enervate the irresolute
and administer disease, are introduced by the
intercourse of navigation ; the extent of the
benefits which attend it, are also to be consider-
ed, ere the man of cool reason will venture to
pronounce that the world is injured, and ren-
dered less virtuous and less happy by the in-*
crease of commerce.

iNTRODtJCTlCrtl. Ui

if a view of the state of mankind, where
commerce opens no intercourse between nation
and nation^ be neglected, unjust conclusions
will certainly follow. Where the state of bar-
barians and of countries under the different
degrees of civilization are candidly weighed^
we may reasonably expect a just decision. As
evidently as the appointment of nature gives
pasture to the herds, so evidently is man born
for society^ As every other animal is in its
natural state when in the situation which ''its
instinct requires; so man, when his reason
is eultivaled, is then,- and only then, in'
the* state proper to his nature. The life of
the naked savage, who feeds on acorns, and
sleeps like a beast in faisden^ is commonly calU
ed the natural state of man ; but if there be any
propriety in this assertion, his vation&l faculties
compose no part of his nature, and were given
not t6 be used. If the savage therefore live in '
a state contrary to the appointment of nature^ it
must 'follow that he is not so happy as nature
intended hiin^ to be. And a view of his true
char^ter will confitiii' this oonclcision. The
rQv^ies» the fi^iryi dreaUQsr4)f a Rousseau, may

a 2

IV INTRODUCTION.

figure the paradisiacal life of a Hottentot, but
it is only in such drearos that the superior hap-
piness of the barbarian exists. The savage, it
is true, is reluctant to leave his manner of hfe f
but unless we allow that he is a proper judge of
the modes of living, his attachment to his own^
by no. means proves that he is happier than he
might otherwise have been. His attachment
only exemplifies the amazing power of habit in,
reconciling the human breast to the most un*
comfortable situations. If the intercourse of
mankind in some instances be introductive of
vice, the want of it as certainly excludes the
exertion of the noblest virtues: and if the seeds
of virtue are indeed in the heart, they often lie-
dprmant, and even unknown to the savage pos*
sessor. I'he most beautiful description of a
tribe of savages, which we may be assured is
from real life, occurs in these words: and
the five spies of Dan ^' came to Laish, and sou}
the people that were there ^ how they dwelt care^
less after the manner of the Zidoniansy quiet and
secure, and titers was no magistrate in the land
that might put them to shame in any thing ?\ . .
And the spies said to their brethren, ^^ Arise, that

INTRODUCTION. V

we may go up against thenXyfor we have seen the
landf and behold it is very good .... and they
came unto Laisb, unto a people that were quiet
and secure J and they smote them with the edge of
the swordy and burnt the city with fire ; and
there was no deliverer j because it was far front
Zidon, and they had no business with any man J**
However the happy simplicity of this society
may please the man of fine ima^gination, the
true philosopher will view the men of Laish
with other eyes. However virtuous he may
suppose one generation, it requires an altera-
tion in human nature, to preserve the children
of the next in 'the same generous estrangement
from the /selfish passions, from those passion^
which are the parents of the acts of injustice.
When his wants are easily supplied, the man-
ners of the savage will be simple, and often hu-
mane, for the human heart is not vicious with-
out objects of temptation. But these will soon
occur ; he that gathers the greatest quantity of
fruit will be envied by the less industrious : the
uninformed mind seems insensible of the idea
of the right of possession which the labour of
acquirement gives. When want is pressings

yi IMTRODUCTION*

and the supply at hand., the only coiisideratiov
with such minds is the danger of $^ingit ; and
where there is no magistrate Jto put ioxiame in
any things depredation will sqqH display all its
horrors. Let it be even adn^itted tbattbe.inno*
oence of the men of L.ai$t could securethem from
the consequeiMses of their own unrestrained de^
sires ; could even this impossibility be sunnoaot*
ed, still they are a wretched prey to, the first inya>^
ders ; and because they have no business with anjr
njan, they will find no deliverer. While human
nature is the same, the fate of Laish.will alwayst
be the fate of the weak and defenceless ; and
thus the most amiable description of sarage life
raises in our minds the strongest imagery of
the misery and impossible continuance of such 9
state. But if the view of these innocent people
terminate in horror, with what contemplation
shall we behold the wilds of Afncaand Am^rioai
The tribes of America, it is true> have degrees of
policy greatly superior to any thing understood
by the men of Laish. Great masters of martial
oratory, their popular assemblies are schools
ppen to all their youth. In these they not only
learn the history of th^ir nation, sind what t]^

Ti&t'roduction; vil

have to fear from the strength and designs of
their enenniies, but they also imbibe tbe most
ardent spirit of war. The arts of stratagem
are their study^ and the most athletic exercises
of the field their employment and delight. And
what 4s their greatest praise^ they have magis-
trates to put to shame^ They inflict no corpo-
real punishment on their countrymen, it is
true, but a reprimand from an elder, delivered
in tbe assembly, is esteexned by them a deeper
clegradation, and severer punishment, than any
of those, too often most impoliticly adopted by
civilized nations. Yet, though possessed of
this advantage, an advantage impossible to exist
in a large commercial empire, and though mas«
ters of great martial policy, their condition,
upon the whole, is big with the most striking
demonstration of the misery and unnatural
state of such very imperfect civilization. Mid-
tipb/, and replenish the earthy is an injunction
of the best political philosophy ever given to
man. Nature has appointed man to cultivate
tbe earth, to increase in number by the food
which its culture gives, and by this increase of
brethren to remove somc^ ai^d to mitigate ali

▼iii INTRODUCTION.

the natural miseries of human life. But in di-4
rect opposition to this is the political state of
the wild Americans. Their lands, luxuriant in.
climate, are often desolate wastes, where thou-
sands of miles hardly support a few hundreds
of savage hunters. Attachment to their own
tribe constitutes their highest idea of virtue;,
but this virtue includes the most brutal deprai
vity, makes them esteem the man of every
other tribe as an enemy, as one with whom na--
ture had placed him in a state of .war, and had
commanded to destroy*. And to this prin-
ciple, their customs and ideas of honour serve,
as rituals and ministers. The cruelties prac-^
tised by the American savages on their prisoners
of war (and w^r is their chief employment)
convey every idea expressed by the word dia-i
bolical, and give a most shocking view of the

* This ferocity of savage manners affords a pliilosophical
account how the most distant and inhospitable climes were
first peopled^ When a Romulus erects a monarchy and
makes war on hb neighbours, some naturally fly to the wilds«
As their families increase, the stronger commit depredations
on the weaker ; and thus fix>m generation to generation, they
who either dread just punishment or unjust oppression, fly faiv
tlier and farther in search of that protection which is only to
be found in ciirilised society.

INTRODUCTION. IX

degradation of human nature^. But what pe*
culiarly completes the character of the savage
is his horrible supei'stition. In the most dis*
tant nations the savage is in this the same. The
terror of evil spirits continually haunts him ;
his God is beheld as a relentless tyrant, and is
worshipped often with cruel rites, always with
a heart full of horror and fear. In all the nu-
merous accounts of savage worship, one trace
of filial dependance is not to be found. The
yery reverse of that happy idea is the hell of

* XJnIess when compelled by European troops, tlie exchange

of prisoners is never practised by the American sava^^cs.

Sometimes, when a -savage loses a son in war, he adopts one
of tlie captives in his stead; but this seldom occui's; for the
death of tlie prisoner seems to give them much more satisfac-
tioo. The victim is tied to a tree, his teeth and nails are
4n\vn, burning wood is held to every tender part, his roasted
fingers arc put into the buwl of a pipe and smoaked by the
savages ; his tormentors witli horrid howls dance round him,
wounding him at every turn with their poniards ; his eyes are
at last tlirust out, and he is let loose to stagger about as his
torture impels him. As soon as he expires, his dissevered
limbs are boiled in the VTar-kettle^ and devoured by his exe>
cotiouers. And sucli is the power of custom and the ideas of
honour, that the imhappy sufferer under all this torment be*
trays no sign of tear or grief. On the contrary, he upbrai<ls his
executioners witli tiieir ignorance of tiie artof tormenting, and
boasts how many of their kindred had found tiieir grave in his
beUy, whom he had put to death in a much severer manner.

a 3

X INTRODUCTION.

the ignoraat mind. Nor is this barbarism cod^
'fined alone to those ignorant tribes^ whom we
call savages. The vulgar of every country
possess it in certain degrees, proportionated to
their opportunities of conversation with the
more enUghtened. All the virtues and cha-
rities, which either dignify human nature or
render it amiable, are cultivated and called,
forth into action by society. The savage life,
t)n the contrary, if we may be allowed the ex-
pression, instinctively narrows the mind; and
thus, by the exclusion of the nobler feelings,
prepares it, as a soil, ready for every vice.
Sordid disposition and base ferocity, together
with the most unhappy superstition, are every
where the proportionate attendants of ignorance
and severe want. And ignorance and want are
only removed by intercourse and the offices of
society. So self-evident are these positions,
that it requires an apology fur insisting upon
them; but the apology is at hand. He who
has read knows how many eminent writers*,

* The author of tiiat Yolmninoiis work, Histoire Philosophi-
se et Politique des EtaJhlisseniens et du Commerce des EuropSens
ions Ics deux Indes^ is one of the many who assert that the

INTHODUCTIOM. XI

and he who has conversed knows how many
respectable names, connect the idea of inno-

tavage is happier tfaaq the dvil life. His reasons are thus
abridged : the savage has no care or fear for tlie ftitore, h»
hunting and fishing give him a certain subsistence. He sleeps
soond, and knows not the diseases of cities. He cannot want
what he does not desire, nor desire tliat which he does not
know, and vexation or grief do nr)t enter his soul. He is not
under the control of a superior in his actions ; in a word, says
cor author, tiie savage only suffers the evils of nature.

If the civilized, he adds, enjoy tlie elegancies of life, have
better food, and are more comfortably defended against the
change of seasons, it is use which makes these tilings necessary,
and they are purchased by the painfiil labours of the multi-
tude who are the basis of society. To what outrages is not
the man of civil life exposed? If he has property, it is in dan-
ger ; and government or autliority is, according to this author,
the greatest of all evils. If there is a famine in the north of
America, thie savage, led by the wind and the sun, can go to a
better clime; but in the horrors of famine, war, or pestilence,
tlie ports and barriers of polished states place the subjects in a
)>ri66n, where they must perish — II resferoit enct^e — ^There still
remains an infinite difference between tlie lot of tiie civilized
and the savage ; a difference', toute entiere, all entirely to the
disadvantage of society, that injustice which reigns in the ine-
quality of fortunes and conditions. ** In fine, (says he) as thQ
wish for independence is one of the first instincts of man, he
who can join to the possession of this primitive right, the moral
security of a subsistence, (which we were just told the savage
4^uld do) is incomparably more happy than the rich man sur*
vovnded with laws, superiors, prejudices^ and fashions, which
endanger his liberty.'*

, Such are the sentiments of Abbe Raynal, a writer whose
spirited manner, and interesting subject, have acquired him

XU INTRODUCTION.

cence and happiness with the life of the salvage
and the unimproved rustic. To fix the cha-

many readers. As he is not singular in his estimate of savage
happiness, his arguments merit examination. And a view of
the fiill tendency of his assertions will sufficiently refute his
conclusions, Notliing can be more evident,, than that if habit
destroy the relish of the elegancies of life, habit also will de-
stroy the pleasure of hunting and fishing, when these are the
sole business of the savage. If the savage has no care and no
snperior, these very circumstances naturally brutalise his
mind, and render him vicious, fierce, and selfish. Nor is he
$0 free from care as some philosophers on tlieir couches of
down are apt to dream. Because hunting and fishing seem
pleasant to us, are they also a pleasure to the wretch who in
all seasons must follow tiiem for his daUy sustenance? It might
as well be maintained that a postillion, jaded with fdtigue^ and
shivering with wet and cold,, is extremely happy, because geiv-
tlemen ride on horseback for tlieir pleasure That we cannot
want what we do not desire, nor desire what we do not know,
are just positions ; but does it follow, tliat such a state is hap-
pier than that which brings the wishes and cares of civil life?
By no means : for according to this argument, insensibility and
happiness proceed in the same gradation, and of consequence
an oyster * is the happiest of all animals. The advcmtages asf

♦ And our author in reality goes as far, " Temoia cet Ecossoh, Wit-
ness that Scotchman, (says he) who being left alone on the isle of Fernandez,
was only unhappf while his memory remained; but when his natural
wants so engrossed him that he forgot hiscountry,hi8 language, his name, and
even the articulation of words, this European, at the end of four years, found
himself eased of the burden of social life, in having die happiness to lose
the use of refieciion, of those thoughts which led him back to (he past, or
taught him to dread the future." But this is as erroneous in fact, as such hap-
piness is false in philosophy. Alexander Selkirk fell into no such state of
)nppy ideotism. By his own account he acquired indeed the greatest tran-
quillity of mind, which arose fro.n religious submission to his fate. He had
with him a bible, some books of mathematics and practical divinity; the

INTRODUCTION. Xin

racter of the savage is therefore necessary » ere
we examine the assertioa, that ^^ it had been
happy for both the old and the new worlds^ if

cribed to the savage over the civilized life,, in the time of war
and famine, in the equality of rank, and security of liberty,
offer an outrage ta common sense, and are striking instances
that no paradox is too gross for the reveries of modem phiU)-
sophy . This author quite forgets what dangers the savages are
every where exposed to ; hew their lands, if of any value, are
sure to be seized by tlieir more powerful neighbours, and
millions of their persons enslaved by tiie more polished states.
He quite forgets the inftniie distance between the resources of
the social and savage life : between the comforts administered
by society to infirmity and old age, and the miserable state of
the savage when he can no longer pursue his hunting and
fishing* He also quite forgets the infimte difference betweea
the discourse of the savage hut, and the ccena deorum, tlie
friendship and conversation of refined and elevated under-
standings. But to philosophise is the contagion which infects
the esprits forts of the continent; and under tiie mania of

daily perusal of which boUi fortified his patience and amused Iris tedious hours.
And he professed that he feared he would never again be so good a Chris-
tian. In his domestic economy he shewed every exertion of an intelligent
mind. When Capt. Rogers found him in 1709, the accounts which he gave
Qf the springs and vegetables of the island, were of the greatest service to thQ
ship's company. And tlie Captain found him so ablea sailor, thathe immediate-
ly made him mate of hij ship. Having seen Capt Rogers's vessel at sea, he
made a fire in the night, in consequence of which a boat was sent to examine
the shore. He said, he had seen some Spaniards at different times land on
tlie island, but he had always fled from them, judging they would certainly
put him to death, in order to prevent any account which he might be able to
give of the South Seas. This is not the reasoning of the man who has for*<
gotten his name and his country. And even his amusements discover hu-
mour, and a mind by no means wra])t up iji dull or savage tranquillity. He
had taught a number of his tame goats and cats to dance on their hinder
Ipgs ; and he himself spng and danced abng with tiiem. This lie exhibited
to Capt. Rogers apd his company.

XIV INTRODUCTIOK.

the East and West Indies had never been dis^
covered." The bloodshed and the attendant
miseries which the unparalleled rapine and
cruelties of the Spaniards spread over the new
world, indeed disgrace human nature. The
great and flourishing empires of Mexico and
Peru, steeped in the blood of forty millions of
their sons, present a melancholy prospect,
which must excite the indignation of every
good heart. Yet such desolation is not the
certain consequence of discovery. And even
should we allow that the depravity of human
nature is so great, that the avarice of the mer>
chant and rapacity of the soldier will overwhelm
with misery every new discovered country, still

this disease, there is no wonder that common sense is so often
crncified. It is only the reputation of those who support
some opinions that will apologise for the labour of refuting
them. We may therefore, it is hoped, be forgiven, if, en
bagateUey vre smile at the triumph of oui* author, who tlins sums
up his arguments: '' AprSs toui^ un mot pent terminer ce grand
proc^9 — After all one word will decide this ^od dispute, so
strongly canvassed among philosophers : demand of the man of
civil life, if he is happy ? Demand of the savage if he is miser-
able ? If both answer, No, the dispute is determined." By no
means; for the beast that is contented to wallow in the mire, is
by this argument in a happier state than the man who has one
wish to satisfy, however reasonably he may hope to do it by
his industry and virtue.

.INTRODUCTION. XT

are there other, more comprehensive, views, to
be taken, ere we decide gainst the intercourse
introduced by navigation. When we weigh
the happiness of Europe in the scale of political
philosophy, we are' not to confine our eye to
the dreadful ravages of Attiia the Hun, or of
Alaric the Goth. If the waters of a stagnated
lake are disturbed by the spade when led into
new channels, we ought not to inveigh against
the alteration because the waters are foaled at
the first; we are to wait to see the streamlets
refine and spread beauty and utility through a
thousand vales which they never visited before^
Such were the conquests of Alexander; tempo-
rary evils, but civilization and happiness fol-
lowed in the bloody track. And though dis-
graced with every barbarity, happiness has also
followed the conquests of the Spaniards in the
other hemisphere. Though the villany of the
Jesuits defeated their schemes of civilization in
many countries, the labours of that society
have been crowned with a success in Paraguay
and in Canada, which reflects upon their indus-
try the greatest honour. The customs and
cruelties of many American tribes still disgrace

XVI INTRODUCTIOW.

human nature; but in Paraguay and Canada
the natives have been brought to relish the
blessings of society and the arts of virtuous
and civil life. If Mexico is not so populous as
it once was, neither is it so barbarous; the
shrieks of the human victim do not now resound
from temple to temple ; nor does the human
heart, held up reeking to the suii, imj>recat@
the vengeance of heaven on the guilty empire*.
And, however impolitically despotic the Spanish
governments may be, still do these colonics eti-

* The innocent simplicity of the Americans in fheir con-
ferences with the Spaniards, and the dreadful cruelties they
suffered, divert onr view from their complete character. But al-
most every thing was horrid in their civil customs and religions
rites. In some tribes, to cohabit with their motliers, sisters,
and daughters, was esteemed the means of domestic peace.
In others, catamites were maintained in every village ; these
wentfh>m house to house as they pleased, and it was nnlawfUI
to refiise them whatever victuals tliey chose. In every tribe
the captives taken in war were murdered with the most wan-
ton cruelty, and afVer\%'ard8 devoured by the victors. Thefr
religious rites were, if possible, still more horrid. The abomi-
nations of ancient Moloch were here outnumbered; children,
virgins, slaves, and captives, bled on difiercnt altars, to appease
tlieir various gods. If there was a scarcity of human victims,
tlie priests announced that the gods were dying of thirst for
human blood. And to prevent a threatened famine the kings
of Mexico were obliged to make war on the neighbouring
states, to supply the altars. The prisoners of either side died
by the hand of the priest. But the number of tlie Mexican

iNTRODUCTi'ON. XVn

joy the opportunities of improvement, which in
every age arise from the knowledge of com-
merce and of letters ; opportunities which were
never enjoyed under the dominion of Monte*
^uma and Atabalipa. But if we turn oar eyes
from this disgusting view of the barbarous su-
perstitions of the primitive inhabitants of South
Ameiica, to the present improved state of so«

qiicrifices so greatly exceeded those of other nations, that tiief
Tlascalans^ who were hunted down for this purpose, readily
joined Cortez with about '200,000 men, and fired by tlie most
fixed hatred, enabled him to make one great sacrifice of tha
Mexican nation. Without the assistance of these poti&nt
auxiliaries, Cortez never could have conquered Mexico. And
thus the barbarous cruelty of the Mexicans was the real cause
•f their very signal destruction. As the horrid scenes of gla-
diators amused ancient Rome, so their more horrid sacrifices
teem to have formed die chief entertainment of Mexico. At
the dedication of the temple of Vitznliputzli. A. D. I486,
64,080 human victims were sacrificed in four days. And, ac*
cording to the best accounts, their annual sacrifices i*eqiiired
several tliousands. The skulls of the victims sometimes were
hong on strings which reached from tree to treeronnd their tent-
pies, and sometimes were built up in towers and cemented with
lime. In some of these towers Andrew de Tapia one day
counted * 136,000 sknlls. When the Spaniards gave to the
Mexicans a pomi^oos display of the greatness of their monarch
Charles V. Montezuma's orators in return boasted of the power
of their emperor, and enumerated among the proofs of it, the
great number of his human sacrifices. He could easily con-

* By multiplyiag the numbers, no duubt, of the hocizontqil and perpea^
dicttlar row< into eacb othec^

tcviii introduction:

ciety in the North, what a glorious prospect
opens to our sight. Here formerly on the wild
lawn, perhaps twice in the year, a few savage
hunters kindled their evening fire, kindled it
more to protect them from evil spirits and
beasts of prey, than from the cold ; and with
their feet pointed to it, slept on the ground,.
Here now population spreads her thousands,
and society appears in all its blessings of mutual
help, and the mutual lights of intellectual ira*
provement.

Stubborn indeed must be the theorist, who

qaer that great people, the Tlascalans, they said, but he ehoosea
to preserve them to supply his altars. During the vnr ivith
the Spaniards they increased their usual sacrifices, till priest
and people were tired of their bloody religion. Frequent em<«
bassies fron^ difierent tribes complained to Cortex that they,
were weary of their rites, and intreated him to teach them his
law. And though the Peruvians, it is said, were more polialiedy
and did not sacrifice quite so many as the Mexicans, yet 200
children was the usual hecatomb for the health of the Ynca»
and a much larger one of all ranks honoured his obsequies.
The method of sacrificing was thus : ^ix priests laid the victim
on an altar, which was naiTOw at top, when Ave bending him
across, the sixth cut up his stomach with a sharp fiint, and
while he held up the heart reeking ^to tlie sun, the others,
tumbled the carcass down a flight of stairs near the altar, audi
immediately proceeded to the next sacrifice. Sec AcQsta,
Gomara, Careri, the letter^ of Cortez to Charles V. &c. &c.

INTRODUCTION/ XIX

will deny the improvement, virtue, and happi«
ness, which, in the result, the voyage of Colum-
bus has spread over the western world. The
happiness which Europe and Asia have received
from the intercourse with each other, cannot,
hitherto, it must be owned, be compared either
with the possession of it, or the source of its ia*^
crease established in America. Yet let the
man of the most melancholy views estimate all
the wars and depredations which are charged
upon the Portuguese and other European na-
tions, still will the eastern world appear consi«
derably advantaged by the voyage of Gama. If
seas of blood have been shed by the Portuguese,
nothing new was introduced into India. Wap
and depredation were no unheard-of strangers
on the banks of the Ganges ; nor could the na«
ture of the civil establishments of the eastera
nations secure a lasting peace. The ambitioa
of their native princes was only diverted into
new channels; into channels, which, in the natu*
ral course of human affairs, will certainly lead
to permanent governments, established on im-
proved laws and just dominion. Yet even ere
such governments are formed, is Asia no loser

XX INTRODUCTION.

by the arriral of Europeans. The horrid mas-
sacres and unbounded rapine which, according
to their own annals, followed the victories of
their Asian conquerors, were never equalled by
the worst of their European vanquishers. Nor
is the establishment of improved governments
in the east the dream of theory. The superio-
rity of the civil and military arts of the British,
notwithstanding the hateful character of some
individuak, is at this day beheld in India with
all the astonishment of admiration ; and admira-
tion is always followed, though often with re-
tarded steps, by the strong desire of similar
improvement. Long after the fall of the Ro-
man empire, the Roman laws were adopted
by nations which ancient Rome esteemed as
barbarous. And thus, in the course of ages,
the British laws, according to every test of pro-
bability, will, in India, have a most important
effect, will fulfil the prophecy of Camoens, and
transfer to the British the high compliment he
pays to his countrymen ;

Beneath their sway niigestic, wue, and mild,

Proud of her victor's laws, thrice happier India smiled*

INTRODUCTiaN. XXI

In former ages, and within these few years^
the fertile empire of India has exhibited every
scene of human misery, under the undistinguish*
ing ravages of their Mohammedan and native
princes ; ravages only equalled in European
history by those committed under Attila, sur^
named the scourge of God, and the destroyer
of nations. The ideas of patriotism and of ho.
nour were seldom known in the cabinets of the
eastern princes till the arrival of the Europeans.
Every species of assassination was the policy of
their courts, and every act of unrestrained ra«
pine and massacre followed the path of victory*
But some of the Portuguese governors, and
many of the English officers, have taught them»
that humanity to the conquered is the best, the
truest policy. The brutal ferocity of their own
conquerors is now the object of their greatest
dread; and the superiority of the British in
war has convinced their princes^, that an al«
Uance with the British is the surest guarantee
of their national peace and prosperity. While

' * Mohammed All Khan, Nabob of the Carnatic, declared,
^ I met the British \rith that freedom of opemiess which they
love, and I esteem it my honoar, as well as security, to be the
ally of such a nation of princes."

XXkl iKTRODUCTlOKi

the English East India Company are possessed
of their present greatness , it is in their powet
to diffiise over the East every blessing which
flows from the wisest and most humane policy «
Long ere the Europeans arrived, a failure of
the crop W rice, the principal food of India^
has spread the devastations of famine over the
populous plains of Bengal. And never, from
Ihe seven years famine of ancient Egypt to the
present day, was there a natural scarcity in any
Qoontry which did not enrich the proprietors
of the granaries. The Mohammedan princes
and Moorish traders have often added all the
honrors of an artificial to a natural famine. But
however some Portuguese or other governors
may .stand accused, much was left for the hu-^
manity of the ,more exalted policy- of an Albu-
querque or a Castro* And linder such Euro«
pean governors as these, the digresses of the
East have often been alleviated by a generosity
of conduct, and a train of resources formerly
unknown in Asia. Absurd and impracticable
were that schetniSt which would introduce the
British laws intp India, without the deepest re-^
gard to the manners and qircamstances peculiar

mTJtoDncTioK* xxm

to the people. But that spirit of liberty upon
which they are founded, and that security of
property which is their leading priuciple, must,
in time, have a wide and stupendous effect.
The abject spitit of Asiatic submission will be
taught to see, and to claim those rights of Qa-y
ture, of which the dispirited and passive Gen«
toos could, till lately, hardly form an idea. From
this, as naturally as the noon succeeds the dawn,
must the other blessings of civilization arise*
For though the four great, tribes of India are
iilmost inaccessible to the introduction of.othet
manners and of other literature than their own,
happily there is in human nature a propensity
to change. Nor may the political philosopher
be deemed an enthusiast, v^ho woujd boldly
propliesy , that unless the British be driven from
India, the general superiority which they bear
will, ere many generations shall have passed,
induce the most intelligent of India to break
the shackles of their absurd superstitions, and
lead them to partake of those advantages which
arise from the free scope and due cultivation of
the rational powers. In almost every instance
the Indian institutions are contrary to the feeU

XXit INTRODUCTION.

ings and wishes of nature*. And ignorance
and bigotry, their two chief pillars, can never
secure unalterable duration f . We have certain
proof, that the horrid custom of burning the
wives along with the body of the deceased hus-
band, has continued for upwards of 1 500 years ;
we are also certain, that within these twenty
years it has begun to fall into disuse. Toge-
ther with the alteration of this most striking
feature of Indian manners, other assimilations
to European sentiments have already taken
place. Nor can the obstinacy even of the con-
ceited Chinese always resist the desire of imi-

•

tating the Europeans, a people who in arts and
in arms are so greatly superior to themselves.
The use of the twenty-four letters, by which
we can express every language, appeared at
first as miraculous to the Chinese. Prejudice
cannot always deprive that people, who are not
deficient in selfish cunning, of the ease and ex-

* Every man must follow bis father's trade, and must marry
a daughter u^ the same occupation. Innumerable are their
other barbaroiis restrictions of genius and inclination.

t The impossibility of alteration in the religion of the Bra-
mins, (one of tlieir principal tenets) is an assertion against
facts. The high antiquity and unadulterated sameneasof their
religion, are impositions on Europe.

IlITRODUCTION. XXV

peditlon of an alphabet ; and it is easy to fore*,
see, that, in the course of a few centuries, some
alphabet will certainly take place of the 60,000
arbitrary marks, which now render the cultiva-
tion of the Chinese literature not only a labour
of the utmost difficulty, but even the attainment
of it impossible beyond a very limited degree*
And from the introduction of an alphabet, what
improvements may not be expected from the
laborious industry of the Chinese ! Though
most obstinately attached to their old customs,
yet there is a tide in the manners of nations
which is sudden and rapid, and which acts with
a kind of instinctive fury against ancient pre-
judice and absurdity. It was that nation of
merchants, the Phoenicians, which diffused the
use of letters through the ancient, and commerce
will undoubtedly diffuse the same blessings
through the modern world.

To this view of the political happiness, which
is sure to be introduced in proportion to civili-
zation, let thQ divine add, what may be reason-
ably expected, from such opportunity of the
increase of religion. A factory of merchants,
indeed, has seldom been found to be the school

VOL. I. b

>

XXn INTRODUCTION.

of piety; yet, when the general manners of a
people become assimilated to those of a more
rational worship, something more than ever
was produced by an infant mission, or the
neighbourhood of an infant colony, may then
be reasonably expected, and even foretold.

In estimating the political happiness of a
people, nothing is of greater importance than
their capacity of, and tendency to, improve-
ment. As a dead lake, to continue our former
allusion, will remain in the same state for ages
and ages, so would the bigotry and supersti-
tions of the East continue the same. But if
the lake is begun to be opened into a thousand
rivulets, who knows over what unnumbered
fields, barren before, they may diffuse the bless-
ings of fertility, and turn a dreary wilderness
•into a land of society and joy ?

In contrast to this, let the Golden Coast and
other immense regions of Africa be contem-
plated:

Afiric behold, alas, yftat altered view! .
Her lands unciiltared, and her sons mitnie;
Ungraced with all that sweetens fanman life^
Savage and ierce tiiey TOMD ia Wirtal fltriie;

INTRODUCTION. XXVil

Sager they ^usp the gifts which coltnre yields.

Yet naked roam their own neglected fields

Unnumbered tribes as bestial grazers stray.
By laws nnform'd, onibrm^d by Reason's sway.
Far inward stretch the moumfiil steril dales,
Where on the parch'd hill-side pale famine wails.

LUSIAD X.

Let us view what millions of these unhappy
savages are dragged from their native fields,
and cut off for ever from all the hopes and all
the rights to which human birth entitled them.
And who would hesitate to pronounce that ne«
gro the greatest of' patriots, who, by teaching
bis countrymen the arts of society, jdiould teach
them to defend themselves in the possession of
their fields, their families, and their own perso-i
nal liberties i

Evident however as it is, that the voyages of
Gama and Columbus have already carried a
superior degree of happiness, and the promise
of infinitely more, to the eastern and western
worlds; yet the advantages derived from the
discovery of these regions to Europe may per-
haps be denied. But let us view what Europe
was, ere the genius of Don Henry gave birth
to the spirit of modern discovery*

b 2

XXVlll INTRODUCTION.

Several ages before this period the feudal •
system had degenerated into the most absolute
tyranny. The barons exercised the most de-
spotic authority over their vassals, and every
scheme of public utility was rendered imprac-
ticable by their continual petty wars with each
other ; and to which they led their dependents
as dogs to the chase. Unable to read, or to
write hi^ own name, the chieftain was entirely
possessed by the most romantic opinion of mi-
litary glory, and the song of his domestic min-
strel constituted his highest idea of fame. The
classics slept on the shelves of the monasteries^
their dark, but happy asylum ; while the life of
the monks resembled that of the fattened beeves
which loaded their tables. . Real abilities. were
indeed possessed by a Duns Scotus, and a few
others ; but these were lost in the most trifling
subtleties of a sophistry, which they dignified
with the name of casuistical divinity. Whether
Adam and Eve were created with naveb, and
bow many thousand angels might at the same
instant dance upon the point of the finest needle
without jostling one another, were two of. the
Several topics of like importance which excited

introduction; xxix

the acumen and engaged the controversies of
the learned. While every branch of philoso-
phical, of rational investigation , was thus un-
pursued and unknown, commerce, incompatible
in itself with the feudal system, was equally
neglected and unimproved. Where the mind
is enlarged and enlightened by learning, plans
of commerce will rise into action; and these,
in return, will, from every part of the world,
bring new acquirements to philosophy and
science. The birth of learning and commerce
may be different, but their growth is mutual
and dependent upon each other. They not only
assist each other, but the same enlargement of
mind which is necessary for perfection in the
one, is also, necessary for perfection in the
other ; and the same causes impede, and are
alike destructive of both. The intercourse
of mankind is the parent of each. According
to the confinement or extent of intercourse,
barbarity or civilization proportionably prevail.
In the dark monkish ages, the intercourse of the
learned was as much impeded and confined as
that of the merchant. A few unwieldy vessels
coasted the shores of Europe ; and mendicant

XXX. IWTEODUCTION.

fnars and ignorant pilgrims carried a miserable
account of what was passing in the world from
monastery to monastery. What doctor bad
last disputed on the Peripatetic philosophy at
some university) or what new heresy had last
appeared, not only comprised the whole c^ their
literary intelligence, but was delivered with
little accuracy, and received with as little atten*
tion. While this thick cloud of, mental dark-
ness overspread the western world, was Don
Henry, Prince of Portugal, born ; born to set
mankind free from the feiik^ systeo}, and to
give to the whole world every advantage, every
light that may possibly be diffused by the in*
tercourse of unlimited commerce :

, —— — For then ftora ancient gloom emerg'd
The rising world of Trade : (he OeimiSi then.
Of Navigation, that in hopeless sloth
Had slamber'd on the vast Atlantic deep
For idle ages, starting, heard at last
Tlie Lositanian Prince, vrbo, heaveiHiispir'di
To love of useful glory rous'd mankind.
And in unbounded conmierce mixt the world. tuom.

In contrast to the melancholy view of human
nature, sunk in barbarism and benighted with
ignorance^ let the present state of Europe be

INTRODUCTION. XX Xt

impartially estimated. Yet though the great
increase of opulence and learning cannot be
denied, there are some who assert, that virtue
and happiness have as greatly declined. And
the immense overflow of riches, from the East
in particular, has been pronounced big with
destruction to the British empire* Every thing
human, it is true, has its dark as well as its
bright side ; but let these popular complaints
be examined, and it will be found, that modern
Europe, and the British empire iii a very par-
ticuiar manner, have received the greatest and
most solid advantages from the modern enlarged
system of commerce. The magic of the old
romances, which oould make the most withered,
deformed hag, appear as the most beautiful
virgin, is every day verified in popular decla*.
mation. Ancient day^ are there painted in the
most amiable simplicity, and the modern in the
most odious colours. Yet what man of fortune
in England now lives in that stupendous gross
luxury which every day was exhibited in the
Gothic castles of the old chieftains! Four or
five hundred knights and 'squires in the domes-
tic retinue of a warlike Earl was not uncommon.

XXXn INTRODUCTION.

nor was the pomp of embroidery inferior to tl)e'
profuse waste of their tables; in both instances
unequalled by all the mad excesses of the pre-
sent age.

While the Baron thus \\ved in all the wiiJ
glare of Gothic luxury, agriculture was almost
totally neglected, and his meaner vassals fared
harder, infinitely less comfortably, than the
meanest industrious labourers of England do
now. Where the lands are uncultivated, the
peasants, ill-clothed, ill-lodged, and poorly
fed, pass their miserable days in sloth and filth,
totally ignorant of every advantage, of every
comfort which nature lays at their feet. He
who passes from the trading towns and cultured
fields of England, to those remote villages of
Gotland or Ireland, which claim this descrip-
tion, is astonished at the comparative wretched*
ness of their destitute inhabitants; but few con*
sider, that these villages only exhibit a view of
what all Europe was, ere the spirit of commerce
difiused the blessings which naturally flow from
her improvements. In the Hebrides the failure
of a harvest almost depopulates an island.
Having little or no traffic to purchase grain, *

INTRODUCTION. XXXIU

numbers of the young and hale betake them-
selves to the continent in quest of employment
and food, leaving a few, less adventurous, be-
hind, to beget a new race, the heirs of the same
fortune. Yet, from the same cause, from the
want of trafEc, the kingdom of England has
often felt more dreadful effects than these.
Even in the days when her Henries and Edwards
plumed themselves with the trophies of France,
how often has famine spread all her horrors
over city and village ? Our modern histories
neglect ' this characteristical feature of an-
cient days; but the rude chronicles of these
ages inform us, that three or four times, in al-
most every reign of continuance, was England
thus visited. The failure of one crop was then
severely felt, and two bad harvests together
were almost insupportable. But commerce has
now opened another scene, and prevents in a
great measure the extremities which were for-
merly experienced under bad harvests; extre-
mities which were esteemed more dreadful visi-
tations of the wrath of heaven than the pesti-
lence itself. Yet modern London is not so
certainly defended against the latter, its ancient

b 3

XXXW IKTRODUCTIOK.

visitor in almost every reign, as the comftKm-*
wealth by the means of commerce, under a just
and humane governpoent, is secured against the
ravages of the former. If, from these great
outlines of the Iiappiness enjoyed by a com-
mercial over an uncommercial nation, we turn
our eyes tothe manners, the advantages will be
found no less in favour of the civilized.

Whoever is inclined to declaim on the vices
of the present age, let him read, and be con-
vinced, that the Gothic ages were less virtuous.
If the spirit of chivalry prevented eifeminacy^
it was the foster^&ther of a ferocity of manners,
now happily unknown. Rapacity, avarice, and
effeminacy are the vices ascribed to the incr^se
of commerce; and in some degree, it must be
confessed, they follow her steps. Yet infi«
nitely more dreadful, as every palatinate in
£urope often felt, were the effects of the two
first under the feudal lords^ than possibly can
be experienced under any system of trade.
The virtues and vices of human nature are the
same in every age : they only receive different
modifications, and lie dormant or ^re awaked
into action under different circumstances. The

INTRODUCTION. HXXV

feudal lord had it infinitely more in his power
to be rapacious than the merchant. And whatr'
ever avarice may attend the trader, his inter->
course with the rest of mankind lifts him greatly
above that brutish ferocity which actuates the
savage, often the rustic, and in general charac^
terises the ignorant part of mankind. I'he
abolition of the feudal system, a system of
absolute slavery, and that equality of mankind
which affords the protection of property, and
every other incitement to industry, are the
glorious gifts which the spirit of commerce,
called forth by Prince Henry of Portugal, has
bestowed upon Europe in general ; and, as if
directed by the manes of his mother, a daughter
of England, upon the British empire in parti-
cular. In the vice of effeminacy alone, per-
haps, do we exceed our ancestors; yet even
here we have infinitely the advantage over them.
The brutal ferocity of former ages is now lost,
and the general mind is humanised. The sa-
vage breast is the native soil of revenge; a vice,
of all others, ingratitude excepted, peculiarly
stamped with the character of bell. But the
mention of this was reserved for the character

xxxvi introduction;

of the savages of Europe. The savage of every
country is implacable when injured, but among
some, revenge has its measure. When an Ame-
rican Indian is murdered, his kindred pursue
the murderer, and as soon as blood has atoned
for blood, the wilds of America hear the hostile
parties join in their mutual lamentations over
the dead ; and as an oblivion of malice, the
murdered and the murderer are buried toge-
ther. But the measure of revenge, never to be
full, was left for the demi-savages of Europe.
The vassals of the feudal lord entered into his
quarrels with the most inexorable rage. Just
or unjust was no consideration of theirs. It
was a family feud ; no further inquiry was made ;
and from age to age, the parties, who never
injured each other, breathed nothing but mu-
tual rancour and revenge. And actions, sniU
able to this horrid spirit, every where confessed
its virulent influence. Such were the late days
of Europe, admired by the ignorant for the in*
nocence of manners. Resentment of injury in*
deed is natural; and there is a degree which is
honest, and though warm, far from inhuman.
But if it is the hard task of humanised virtue to

INTRODUCTION. XXXVH

preserve the feeling of an injury unmixed with
the slightest criminal wish of revenge, how im-
possible is it for the savage to attain the dig-
nity of forgiveness, the greatest ornament of
human nature ! As in individuals, a virtue will
rise into a vice, generosity into blind profusion,
and even mercy into criminal lenity, so civilised
manners will lead the opulent into effeminacy.
But let it be considered, this consequence is by
ho means the certain result of civilization. Ci-
vilization, on the contrary, provides the most
effectual barrier against this evil. Where clas-
sical literature prevails, the manly spirit which
it breathes must be diffused. Whenever fri-
volousness predominates, when refinement de>
generates into whatever enervates the mind,
literary ignorance is sure to complete the effe-
minate character. A mediocrity of virtues and
of talents is the lot of the great majority of man-
kind; and even this mediocrity, if cultivated
by a liberal education, will infallibly secure its
possessor against those excesses of effeminacy
which are really culpable. To be of plain
manners it is not necessary to be a clown, or to
wear coarse clothes ; nor is it necessary to lie

XXXviU INTRODUCTIOK.

on the ground and feed like the savage, to be
truly manly. The beggar, vho, behind the
hedge, divides his of&ls with his dog, has often
more of the real sensualist than he who dines at
an elegant table. Nor need we hesitate to as-
sert, that he who, unable to preserve a manly
elegance of manners, degenerates into the petit
niaUrey would have been, in any age or condi^
tion, equally insignificant and worthless. Some,
when they talk of the debauchery of the present
age, seem to think that the former were all in-»
nocence. But this is ignorance of human na^
ture. The debauchery of a barbarous age ia
gross and brutal ; that of a gloomy superstitious
one, secret, excessive, and murderous ; that of
a more polished one, not to make an apology,
much liappier for the fair sex *, and certainly

* Even that warm admirer of savage happiness, the aathor
«f the Histovre PhiUnopkique et Politique des EttAUaaemenif
&c. confesses, that the wild Americans seem destitute of tb9
feeling of love. — " In a little while, (says he) when the heat
of passion is gratified, they lose all affection and attachment
for tlieir women, whom they degrade to the most servile of-
fices." A tender remembrance of the firet endearments, a ge-
nerous participation of care and hope, the compassionate sen-
timents of honour, all those delicate feelings, which arise into
affection and blind attachment, are indeed incompatible with
the ferocious and gross sensations cf the barbarian of any
country.

INTRODUCTION. XXXlx

in no circumstjLiice so big with political unhap^
piness. If one disease has been imported from
Spanish America^ the most valuable medicines
have likewise been brought from these regions;
and distempers, which were thought invincible
by our forefathers, are now cured . If the luxu*
ries of the Indies usher disease to our tablesi
the consequence is not unknown; the wise
and the temperate receive no injury ; and in*
temperance has been the destroyer of mankind
in every age. The opulence of ancient Rome
produced a luxury of manners which proved
fatal to that mighty empire. But theefFemi<r
nate sensualists of those aages were men of np
intellectual cultivation. The enlarged ideas,
the generous and manly feelings inspired by^
liberal study, were utterly unknown to them*
Unformed by that wisdom which arises from
science and true philosophy, they were gross
barbarians, dressed in the mere outward tinsel
of civilization ^. Where the enthusiasm of mi-

* The degeneracy of the Roman literature preceded the
fiite of that empire, and the reason is obvious. The men of
fortoiie gnew lnyol6u8, and superficial in every branch of know-
ledge, and were therefore unable to hold the reins of empire.
A degeneracy of literary taste is, therefore, the surest proof
of (general declension.

ad introduction:

litary honour characterises the rank of gentle-
men, that nation will rise into empire. But no
sooner does conquest give a continued security j
than the mere soldier degenerates ; and the old
veterans are soon succeeded by a new genera-
tion, illiterate as their fathers, but destitute of
their virtues and experience. Polite literature
Hot only humanises the heart, but also wonder-
fully strengthens and enlarges the mind. Mo-
ral and political philosophy are its peculiar
provinces, and are never happily cultivated
without its assistance. But where ignorance
characterises the body of the nobility, the most
insipid dissipation, and the very idleness and
effeminacy of luxury, are sure to follow. Titles
and family are then the only merit ; and the
few men of business who surround the throne^
have it then in their power to aggrandise them-
s^elves by ri vetting the chains of slavery. A
stately grandeur is preserved, but it is only out-
ward ; all is decayed within, and on the first
storm the weak fabric falls to the dust. Thus
rose and thus fell the empire of Rome, and the
much wider one of Portugal. Though the in-
crease of wealth did indeed contribute to that
corruption of manners which unnerved the Por-

f

INTttODUCTION. xU

tuguese, certain it is, the wisdom of legislature
might have prevented every evil which Spain
and Portugal have experienced from their ac-
quisitions in the two Indies. Every evil which
they have suffered from their acquirements
arose from their general ignorance, an ignorance
which rendered them unable to investigate or
apprehend, even the first principles of civil and
commercial philosophy. And what other than
the total eclipse of their glory could be expected
from a nobility, rude and unlettered as those of
Portugal are described by the author of the
Lusiad, a court and nobility, who sealed the
truth of all his complaints against them, by suf-
fering that great man, the light of their age, to
die in an alms-house ! What but the fall of their
state could be expected from barbarians like
these ! Nor can the annals of mankind produce
one instance of the fall of empire, where the
character of the grandees was other than that
ascribed to his countrymen by Camoens.

THE

HISTORY

or TBK

DISCOVERY OF INDIA.

^ o lesson can be of greater national importance
thaa the history of the rise and the fall of a com-
mevcial empire. The view of what advantages were
ac()uired^ and of what might have been still added;,
the means by which such empire might have been
• continued, and the errors by which it was lost, are
, as particularly conspicuous in the naval and com«>
mercial history of Portugal, as if Providence had
intended to give a lasting example to mankind ; a
chart, where the course of the safe voyage is pointed
out; and where the shelves and rocks, and the sea-
sons of tempest, are discovered^ and foretold.

The history of Portugal, as a naval and commer-
cial power, begins with the enterprises of Prince
Henry. But as the improvements iatroduced by
this great man, and the completion of his designs,
are intimately connected with the political state of
his age and conatry, a concise view of the prdgreta

Xliv THE HISTORY OF

of the power^ and of the character of that kingdom,
will be necessary to elucidate the history of the
revival of commerce, and the subject of the Lusiad.
During the centuries, when the effeminated Ro-
man provinces of Europe were desolated by the
irruptions of northern or Scythian barbarians, the
Saracens, originally of the same race, a wandering
banditti of Asiatic Scythia, spread the same horrors
of brutal conquest over the finest countries of the
eastern world. The northern conquerors of the
finer provinces of Europe embraced the Christian
religion as professed by the monks, and, contented
with the luxuries of their new settlements, their
military spirit soon declined. Their ancient bro-
thers, the Saracens, on the other hand, having em-
braced the religion of Mohammed, their rage of
War received every addition which may possibly be
inspired by religious enthusiasm. Not only the
spoils of the vanquished, but their beloved paradise
itself, were to be obtained by their sabres, by ex-
tending the faith of their prophet by force of arms -
and usurpation of dominion. Strengthened and in-
spired by a commission which they esteemed divine,
the rapidity of their conquests far exceeded those of
the Goths and Vandals. A great majority of the
inhabitants of every country which they subdued
embraced their religion, imbibed their principles,
united in their views; and the professors of Mo-

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA. XW

hamtneclism became the most formidable combiaa-
tion that ever was leagued together against the rest
of mankind. Morocco and the adjacent countries,
at this time amazingly populous^ had now received
the doctrineaof the Koran» and incorporated with the
Saracens. And the Infidel arms spread slaughter
and desolation from the south of Spain to Italy and
the islands of the Mediterranean. All the rapine
and carnage committed by the Gothic conquerors
were now amply returned on their less warlike
posterity. In Spain» and the province now called
Portugal, the Mohammedans erected powerful king-
doms, and their lust of conquest threatened destruc-
tion to every Christian power. But a romantic
military spirit revived in Europe, under the auspices
of Charlemagne. Several religious military orders
were established. Celibacy,- the study of religion,
and the exercise of arms, were the conditions of
their vow, and the defence of their country and of
the faith, their ambition and sole purpose. He
who fell in battle was honoured and envied as a
martyr. And most wonderful victories crowned
the ardour of these religious warriors. The Moham-
medans, during the reign of Charlemagne, made a
most formidable irruption into Europe, and France
in particular felt the weight of their fury ; but the
honour which was paid to the knights who wore the
badge of the cross, drew the adventurous youth of

Xki TUB HISTORY Or

«¥eiy Chrtstiaii power to the standards pf that
political monarchy and in fact (a circumstance how«.
ever neglected by historians) gave birth to the
crnsadesy the beginning of which^ in propriety,
ovght to be dated from his reign. Few indeed are
the historians of this age, but enough remain to
prove, that though the writers of the old romance
have greatly disguised it, though they have given
full room to the wildest flights of imagination, and
have added the inexhaustible machinery of magic
to the adventures of their heroes, yet the origin of
their fictions was founded on historical facts'"'.
And, however this period may thus resemble the
fabulous ages of Greece, certain it is, that an Or*>
lando, a Rinaldo, a Rugero, and other celebrated
names in romance, acquired, great honour in the
-wars which were waged against the Saracens,
the invaders of Europe. In these romantic wars,
by which tihe power of the Mohammedans was
checked, several centuries elapsed, when Alonzo,
King of Castile, apprehensive that the whole force

* Ariotto, who adopted the legendi of the old romance, chois
this period for the subject of his Orlando Furioso. Pari s besieged
by the Saracens, Orlando and the other Christian knights assem-
ble in aid of Charlemagne, who are opposed in their amours and in
Mtle by Rodomont, Ferraw, and olher infidel knights. That
there was a noted Moorish Spaniard* named Fen*aw, a redoubt*
ed champion of that age, we have the testimony of Marcus
Autoniua SabelUeus, a writer «f note of the fifteenth eentary .

THE Di»cov&ftY or INDIA. xlyii

•f the Mohammedans of Spain and Morocco was
ready to fall upon him, prudentl}- imitated the
conduct of Charlemagne. He availed himself of
the spirit of chivalry, and demanded leave of Philip I.
of France, and of other princes, that volunteers
from their dominions might be allowed to distin-
guish themselves under his banners against the in*
fidels. His desire was no sooner known, than a
brave romantic- army thronged to his standards, and
Alonzo was victorious. Honours and endowments
were liberally distributed among the champions,
and to one of the bravest of them, to Henry *^ a
younger son of the Duke of Burgundy, he gave hu
daughter Teresa in marriage, with the sovereignty
of the countries south of Galicia in dowry, commis-
sioning him to extend his dominions by the expul-
sion of the Moors. Henry, who reigned by the
title of Count, improved every advantage which
offered. The two rich provinces of Entro Mhho e
Douro, and Tra ios Mantes, yielded to his arms;
great part of Beira was also subdued ; and the Moor*
ish King of Lamego became his tributary. Many
thousands of Christians, who had lived in miserable
subjection to the Moors, or in desolate independency
on the mountains, took shelter nnder the generous
protection of Count Henry. Great numbers also of
the Moors changed their religion, and chose rather
* See the note, page 12, vol. ii.

xlTlii THE HISTORY OP

to continue in the land where they were born^ un-
der a mild government, than be exposed to the se-
verities and injustice of their native governors. And
thus, on one of the mosf*^ beautiful and fertile spots
of the world, and in the finest climate, in conse*-
<quence of a crusade f against the Mohammedans,
-was established the sovereignty of Portugal, a so-
vereignty which in time spread its influence over
the world, and gave a new face to the manners of
.nations.

Count Henry, after a successful reign, was suc-
ceeded by his infant son Don Alonzo-Henry, who
having surmounted several dangers which threaten-
ed his youth X» became the first of the Portuguese
•kings. In 1139 the Moors of Spain and Barbary
united their forces to recover the dominions from
which they had been driven by the Christians.
According to the lowest accounts of the Portuguese
writers, the army of the Moors amounted to 400,000;
nor IS this number incredible, when we consider
what great armies they at other times brought to
the field; and that at this time they came to tak^ pos-

* Small iodeed in extent, but so rich in fertility, tbat it was
called Medulla Hupanica, The marrow qf Spain, Vid. Resandii
Antiq. Liuit. 1. iii.

f In propriety most certainly a crusade, though that term
baa never before been applied to tlus war.

X See the note, page 25, vol. ii.

THE WSCOVERY OF INDIA. xVlX

session of the lands which they expected to con*
quer. Don Alonzo, however, with a very small
army, gave them battle on the plains of Ourique, and
after a struggle of six hours, obtained a most glo-
rious and complete victory*, and which was crown-
ed with an event of the utmost importance. On the
field of battle Don Alonzo was proclaimed King of
Portugal by his victorious soldiers, and he in re*
turn conferred the rank of nobility on the whole
army. But the constitution of the monarchy was
not settled, nor was Alonzo invested with the regalia
•till six years after this memorable day. The go*
vernment the Portuguese had experienced under
the Spaniards and MoDrs> and the advantages which
they saw were derived from their own valour, had
taught them a love of liberty, which was not to be
complimented away in the joy of victory, or by the
shouts of tumult. Alonzo himself understood their
spirit too well to venture the least attempt to make
himself a despotic monarch ; nor did he discover
the least inclination to destroy that bold conscious-
ness of fifeedom which had enabled his army to
conquer, and to elect him their sovereign. After
six years spent in farther vie tori es> in extending
and securing his dominions, he called an assembly

* For an account of this battle, and the coronation of the
first king of Portugal, see the foregoing note, p. 25, vol. ii.

VOL. I, C

I

THB HISTORT OF

of the prelates, nobility, and commons, to meet at
Lamego. When the assembly opened, Alonzo ap-
peared seated on the throne, but without any other
mark of regal dignity. And ere he was crowned,
the constitution of the state was settled, and eighteen
statutes were solemnly confirmed by oath *, as the
charter of king and people ; statutes diametrically
opposite to the jus divinum of kings, to the princi- »
pies which inculcate and demand the unlimited
passive obedience of the subject.

Conscious of what they owed to their own valour^
the founders of the Portuguese monarchy transmit-
ted to their heirs those generous principles of li-
berty which complete and adorn the martial cha-
racter. The ardour of the volunteer, an ardour
unknown to the slave and the mercenary, added to
the most romantic ideas of military glory, charac-
terised the Portuguese under the reigns of their first
monarchs. Iii almost continual wars with the Moors,
this spirit, on which the existence of their kingdom
depended, rose higher and higher; and the desire
to extirpate Mohammed ism, the principle which
animate<i the wish of victory in every battle, seemed
to take deeper root in every age. Such were the
manners, and such the principles of the people who

* The power of deposiug, and of electing their kings, under
eertaiu circumstances, is vested in the people by the statutes
of Lamego. See the preceding note.

THE DISCOVERY O^ INDIA. ll

were governed by the saccessors of Alonzo the
First ; a succession of great men, who proved them-
selves worthy to reign over so military and enter^
prising a nation.

By a continued train of victories Portugal in-
creased considerably in strength, and the Portu*
guese had the honour to drive the Moors from
Europe. The invasions of these people were now
requited by successful expeditions into Africa.
And such was the manly spirit of these ages, that
the statutes of Lamego received additional articles
in favour of liberty; a convincing proof that the
general heroism of a people depends upon the
principles of freedom. Alonzo IV. ^ though not
an amiable character, was perhaps the greatest
warrior, politician, and monarch of his age. After
a reign of military splendor, he left his throne to
his son Pedro, who from his inflexible justice was
surnamed the Just, or> the Lover of Justice. The
ideas of equity and literature were now 'diffiised by
this great princef , who was himself a polite scholar,
and most accomplished gentleman. And Portugal
began to perceive the advantages of cultivated ta-
lents^ and to feel its superiority over the barbarous

* For the character of this prince, see the note, page 63,
▼o1. ii.

■f* For anecdotes of this monarch, see the notes, p. 66 and
68, vol. ii.

C 2

lii THE HISTOIIY OP .

politics of the ignorant Moors. The great Pedro^
however, was succeeded by a weak prince, and the
heroic spirit of the Portuguese seemed to exist no
more under his son Fernando, surnamed the Careless.
But the general character of the people was too
deeply impressed, to be obliterated by one inglo-
rious reign; and under John I. * all the virtues of
the Portuguese shone forth with redoubled lustre.
Happy for Portugal, his father bestowed a most
excellent education upon this prince, which added
to, and improving his great natural talents, render-
ed him one of the greatest of monarchs. Consci-
ous of the superiority which his own liberal educa-
tion gave him, he was assiduous to bestow the same
advantages upon his children; and he himself often
became their preceptor in the branches of science
and useful knowledge. Fortunate in all his affairs,
he was most of all fortunate in his family. He bad
many sons, and he lived to see them men, men of
parts and of action, whose only emulation was to
shew affection to his person, and to support his
administration by their great abilities.

♦ This great prince was the natural son of Pedro the Just.
Some years after the mutxier of his beloved spouse Inez de
Castro (of which see the text and notes, p. 56, &c. vol. ii.) lest
hi« father, whose severe temper he too well knew, should force
him into a disagreeable marriage, Don Pedro commenced an
amour with a Galician lady, who became the, mother of JohnT.
the preserver of the Portuguese monarchy. See the note,
p. 77, voL ii.

THE DlSCOVBlir OF INDIA. llU

There is something exceedingly pleasing in the
history of a ^Etmily which shews haman nature in
its most exalted virtues and most amiable colours;
and the tribute of veueratioM is spontaneously paid
to the father who distinguishes the different talents
of his children, and places them in the proper lines
of action. All the sons of John excelled in mili-
tary exercises, and in the literature of their age ;
Don Edward and Don Pedro* were particularly
educated for the cabinet, and the mathematical
genius of Don Henry, one of his youngest sons, re-
ceived every encouragement which a king and a
father could give, to ripen it into perfection and
.public utility.

History was well known to Prince. Henxy» and
his turn of mind peculiarly enabled him to make
political observations upon it. The wealth and
power of ancient Tyre and Carthage shewed him
what a maritime nation might hope ; and the flour-
ishing colonies of the Greeks were the frequent
topic of his conversation. Where the Grecian

* The sons of Joha, ivho figure in history, were Edward,
Juan, Feruando, Pedro, and Henry. Edward succeeded his
father, (for whose character see the note p. 99, vol. ii.) Juan,
distinguished both in the camp and cabinet, in the reigu of his
brother Edward had the honour to oppose the wild expediliflo
against Tangier, which was proposed by his brother Fernando,
in whose perpetual captivity it ended* Of Pedro afiterwenbb

l\r THB HISTORY OF

commerce^ confined as it was^ extended its infinence,
the deserts became cultivated fields, cities rose, and
men were drawn from the woods and caverns to
unite in society. The Romans, on the other hand,
when they destroyed Carthage, buried, in her ruins,
the fountain of civilization, of improvement, and
opulence. They extinguished the spirit of com-
merce ; the agriculture of the conquered nations^
Britannia alone ^, perhaps, excepted^ was totally
neglected. And thus, while the luxury of Rome
consumed the wealth of her provinces, her uncom*
mercial policy dried up the sources of its conti*
nuance. The egregious errors of the Romans, who
perceived not the true use oftheir distant conquests,
and the inexhaustible fountains. of opulence which
Phoenicia had established in her colonies, instructed
Prince Henry what gifts to bestow upon his country,
and, in the result, upon the whole world. Nor
were the inestimable advantages of commerce the
sole motivesf of Heniy. All the ardour which the
love of his country could awake, conspired to sti-
mulate the natural turn of his genius for the im-
provement of navigation,

4F The boooor of this is due to Agricola. He employed hit
legioni in cutting down forests and in clearing marshes. And
for several ages after bis time, the Romans drew iramensa
^oaatities of wheat from their British province.

THE DlSCOY£ItY OF INDIA. 1t

As the kingdom of Portugal had been wrested
from the Moors and established by conquest, so its
existence still depended on the superiority of the
force of arms ; and ere the birth of Henry, the su-
periority of the Portuguese navies had been of the
utmost consequence to the protection of the state.
Such were the circumstances which united to in*
spire the designs of Henry, all which were power*
fully enforced and invigorated by the religion of
that prince. The desire to extirpate Mohammedism
was patriotism in Portugal. It was the principle
which gave birth to, and supported their monarchy :
their kings avowed it, and Prince Henry, the piety
of whose heart cannot be questioned, always pro*
fessed, that to propagate the gospel was the great
purpose of his designs and enterprizes. And how-
ever this, in the event, was* neglected, certain it is,
Uiat the same principles inspired, and were always
professed by king Emmanuel, under whom the
eastern world was discovered by Gama* •

The crusades, to rescue the Holy Land from the infi-
dels,which had already been, however unregarded by
historians, of the greatest political service to Spain
and Portugal, began now to have some effect upon

* Neglected ID the idea of the commanders; the. idea of
Henry however was greatly fulfilled. For the dominion of the
Portuguese in the Indian sea cut the sinews of the Egyptian
and other Mohammedan powers.

Wi TUB BISTORT OF

the commerce of Europe. The Haas Towns had re-
ceived charters of liberty^ and had united together
for the protection of their trade against the nume-
rous pi rates of the Baltic. A people of Italy, known^
by the name of the Lombards^ had opened a lucra-
tive traffic with the ports of Egypt, from whence
they imported into Europe the riches of the East ;
and Bruges in Flanders, the mart between them and
the Hans Towns, was, in consequence, surrounded-
with the best agriculture of these ages"^: a certain
proof of the dependance of agriculture upon tlie ex*
tent of commerce. Yet though these gleams of tight,
as morning stars^ began to appear; it was not the
gross multitude, it was only the eye of a Henry
which could perceive what they prognosticated,
and it was only a genius like his which couhl pre-
vent them from again setting in the depths of night.
The Hans Towns were liable to be buried in the

* Flanders has been the sohool-mistress of husbandry to
Europe. Sir Charles Lisle, a royalist, resided in this country
fcveral years during the usurpation of the regicides ; and after
the Restoration, rendered England the greatest service, by in-
troducing the present system of agriculture. Where ti'ade
increa.se.«i, nien^s thoughts are set in action ; hence the increase
of food which is wanted, is supplied by a redoubled attention to
husbandry; and hence it wa« that agriculture was of old im-
proved and difiused by the Phoenician colonies. Some theo-
rists complain of the number of lives which are lost by nayiga-
tion, bat they totally forget that commerce is th« parent of
population.

THE DldCOVEKT OF INDIA. Ivii

▼ictories of a tyrant^ and the trade with Egypt was
exceedingly insecure and precarious. £urope was
still enveloped in the dark mists of ignorance^ and
though the mariner's compass was invented before
the birth of Henry, it was improved to no naval
advantage. Traffic still crept^ in an infant state,
along the coasts, nor were the construction of ships
adapted for other voyages. One successful tyrant
might have overwhelmed the system and extin-
guished the spirit of commerce, for it stood on a
much narrower and much feebler basis, than in the
da3rs of Phoenician and Grecian coloniisation. Yet
these mighty fabrics, many centuries before, had
been swallowed up in the desolations of unpolitical
conquest. A broader and more permanent founda*
tion of commerce than the world had yet seen, an
universal basis, was yet wanting to bless mankind,
and Henry Duke of Viseo was born to give it.

On purpose to promote his designs. Prince Henry
was by his father stationed the commander in chief
of the Portuguese forces in Africa. He had already,
in 1412, three years before the reduction of Ceuta*,

* At the reduction of Ceuta, and other engagements in
Africa, Prince Henry displayed a military genius and valour of
the first mai^niinde. The important fortress of Ceuta was in a
maimer won by his own sword. Yet though even possessed by
the enthusiasm of chivalry, his genius for uayigatiou prevailed,
and confined him to the rock ofSagrez.

C 3

Iviii THE HISTORT OP

sent a ship to make discoveries on the Barbary
coast. Cape Nam*, as its name intimates, was
then the Iff plus ultra of European navigation ; the
ship sent by Henry however passed it sixty leagues,
aud reached Cape Bojador. Encouraged by thi»
beginning, the Prince, while he was in Africa, ac-
quired whatever information^ the most inteUigent of
the Moors of Fez and Morocco could give. About
a league and one half from the Cape of St. Vincent
in the kingdom of Algarve, Don Henry had observed
a small, but commodious situation for a sea-port town.
On this spot, supposed the Promoruorium Sacrum of
the Romans, he built his town of Sagrez, by much
the best planned and fortified of any in Portu;^al.
Here, where the view of the ocean, says Faria, in-
spired his hopes and endeavours^ he erected his
arsenals, and built and harboured his ships. And
here, leaving the temporary bustle and cares of the
state to his father and brothers, he retired like a
philosopher from the world, on purpose to render
his studies of the. utmost importance to its happi-
ness. Having received all the light which could
be discovered in Africa, he continued unwearied in
his mathematical and geographical studies ; the art
of ship-building received very great improvement
under his direction, and the truth of his ideas of the
structure of the terraqueous globe are now confirm-

* Nam, in Portuguese, a negative.

THE DISCOYERY OF INDIA.

lix

ed. He it was who first suggested the use of the
compass, and of longitude and latitude in naviga-
tion, and how these might be ascertained by astro-
nomical observations; suggestions and discoveries
which would have held no second place among the
conjectures of a Bacon, or the improvements of a
Newton. Naval adveaturers were now invited from
all parts to the town of Sagrez, and in 141 8 Juan.
Gonsalez Zarco and Tristran Vaz set sail on an ex-
pedition of discovery, the circumstances of which
give us a striking picture of the state of navigation,
ere it was new-modelled by the genius of Henry.

Cape Bojador, so named from its extent % runs
about forty leagues to the westward, and for about
six leagues oif land there is a most violent current,
which dashing upon the shelves, makes a tempes-
tuous sea. This was deemed impassible, for it was
not considered, that by standing out to the ocean
the current might be avoided. To pass this for-*
midabie cape was the commission of Zarco and Vaz,
who were also ordered to proceed as far as they,
could to discover the African coast, which accord-
ing to the information given to Henry by the Moors
and Arabs, extended at least to the equinoctial linef .

* Forty leagues appeared as a vast distance to the sailors of
that age, who named this Cape Bctjador, fitnn the Spanish^
bojar, to compass or go about.

t It was known that the Arabian sea washed the eastbni!
side of Africa : it was surmised therefore that a southern ^to«*

Ix run HisnroRT of

Zarco and Vsz, however, lost their course in a
storm, and were driven to a little island, which, in
the joy of their deliverance, they named Puerto
Santo, or the Holy Haven. Nor was Prince Henry,
on their return, less joyful of their discovery, than
they had heen of their escape: a striking proof of
tile miserable state of navigation • for this island is
only about 160 leagues, the voyage now of three or
four days in moderate weather, from the promontory
of Sagrez.

The discoverers of Puerto Santo, accompanied by
Bartholomew Perestrello, were with three ships
sent out on farther trial. Perestrello, having sowed
some seeds, and left some cattle on Holy Haven,
returned to Portugal. But Zarco and Vaz directing
their course southward, in 1419, perceived some-

montory bonnded that iiontinent. And certain it is, from the
concorreat testimony of all the writers whoti'eat of Dob Hen-
ry's discoveries, that Africa wis supposed to terminate near to
the equinoctial line. The account of Marco Paolo*smap,which,
it' is said, placed the Southern Cape in its proper latitude, seems
tp have been propagated on purpose to discredit Prince Henry's
reputation. The story stands thus: Anthony Galvan relates,
that Fran, de Sousa Tavares told him that Don Ferdinand told
him that in 1526, he found, in the monastery of Acobaca, a
chart of Africa, 120 years old, which was said to have been
(Copied from one at Venice, which also was believed to have
been copied Atim one of Marco Paolo, which, according td
Ramusius, marked the Cape of Good Hope. Marco Paolo it
ttid to have travelled into India and China in the ftxurteenth
cealucy.

THE DISCOTJBXr OF INDIA. Ixt

thing like a cload on tbe water, and sailing towards
it, discovered an island covered with wood, which
from thence they named Madeira^. And this
rich and beautiful island, which soon yielded a con-
siderable revenue, was the first reward of the enter*
prizes of Prince Henry.

If the Duke of Viseo^s liberal ideas of establish-
ing colonies, those sinews of a commercial state, or
his yiews of African and Indian commerce, were
too reined to strike the gross multitude ; yet other
advantages resulting from his designs, one would
conclude, were self-evident. Nature calls upon
Portugal to be a maritime power, and her naval su-
periority over the Moors, was, in the time of Henry,
the surest defence of her existence as a kingdom.
Yet though all his labours tended to establish that
.naval superiority on the surest basis, though even
the religion of the age added its authority to the
clearest pelitical principles in favour of Henry; yet

* The discovery of Madeira by Prince Henry, was followed
by the first settlement of that island, since the days of Cartha*
Ionian commerce. The Azores, Canaries, and Cape de Verde
islands, were freqpiented by that trading people; but such was
the grossness of the Roman policy, that, after the fall of Car-
thage, the navigation to these parts ceased. One Macham, an
Englishman, it is said, (H<trru*t Voyages) buried bis mistress
ID Madeira, in 1344. Some vessels driven by tempest, had
perhaps, before the time of Don Henry, descried the Madeira
islands, but the regular navigation to them was unknown^ till
^stablisbed by thi9 great Prince. Vid. Faria, torn. 1. c» 1.

Izii THE HISTORY OF

were his enterprizes and bis expected discovenes
derided with all the insolence of ignorance, and all
the bitterness of popalar claoEkour. Barren deserts
like Lybia, it was said, were all that could be found,
and a thousand disadvantages, drawn from these
data, were foreseen and foretold. The great mind
and better knowledge of Henry, however, were not
thus to be shaken. Though twelve years from the
discovery of Madeira had elapsed in unsuccessful
endeavours to carry his navigation farther, he was
now more happy ; for one of his captains, named
Galianez, in 1434, passed the Cape of Bojador, till
then invincible; an action, says Faria, in the com-
mon opinion, not inferior to the labours of Hercules.
Galianez, the next year, accompanied by Gon-
salez Baldaya, carried his discoveries many leagues
farther. Having put two horsemen on shore, to
discover the face of the country, the adventurers,
after riding several hours, saw nineteen men armed
with javelins. The natives fled, and the two horse-
men pursued, till one of the Portuguese, being
wounded, lost the first blood that was sacrificed to
the new system of commerce. A small beginning,
a very small streamlet, some perhaps may exclaim,
but which soon swelled into oceans, and deluged the
eastern and western worlds. Let such philosophers,
however, be desired to point out the design of public
utility, which has been unpolluted by the depravity

THE DISCOVERT OF INDIA. 1X111

of the human passions. To suppose that heaven
itself could give an institution i^hich could not be
perverted, and to suppose no previous alteration in
human nature, is contradictory in proposition ; for
as human nature now exists, power cannot be equal-
ly possessed by all, and whenever the selfish or
vicious passions predominate, that power will cer-
tainly be abused. The cruelties therefore of Cor-
tez, and that more horrid barbarian Pizarro*, are

* Some eminent writers, both at home and abroad, have of
late endeavoured to soften the character of Cortez, and have
urged the necessity of war for the slaughters he committed.
These authors have also greatly softened the horrid features of
the Mexicans. If one, however, would trace the true character
of Cortez and the Americans, he must have recourse to the
numerous Spanish writem, who were either witnesses of the
first wars, or soon after travelled in those countries. In these
he will find many anecdotes which afibrd a ligiit, not to be
found in our modernised histories. In these it will be found,
that Cortez set out to take gold by force, and not by establish-
ing any system of commerce with the natives, the only just
reason of effecting a settlement in a foreign country. He was
asked by various states, what commodities or drugs he wanted,
and was promised abundant supply. He and his Spaniards, he
answered, had a disease at their hearts, which nothing but gold
conld cure ; and he received intelligence, that Mexico abound-
ed with it. Under pretence of a friendly conference, he made
Montezuma his prisoner, and ordered him to pay tribute to
Charles V. Immense sums were paid, but the demand was
boundless. Tumults ensued. Cortez displayed amazing ge-
neralship, and some millions of those, who in enumerating to
the Spaniards the greatness of Montezuma, boasted that his
yearly sacrifices consumed 90,000 men, were now sacrificed to

1X17 TAB HISTORY OF

no more to be charged apon Don Henry and Co-
lumbus^ than the villauies of the Jesuits and the
horrors of the Inquisition are to be ascribed to him,
whose precepts are summed up in the great com-
mand^ To do to your neighbour as yon would wish
your neighbour to do to you. But if it is still al-
ledged that he who plans a discovery ought to fore-
see the miseries which the vicious will engraft up-
on his enterprize^ let the objector be told, that the
miseries are uncertain, while the advantages are
real and sure; and that the true philosopher will
not confine his eye to the Spanish campaigns in
Mexico and Peru, but will extend his prospect to
all the inestimable benefits, all the improvements of
laws, opinions, and of manners, which have been

the disease of Cortez's heart. Pizarro, however, in the barba-
rity of his soal, far exceeded bim. There is a very bright side
of the character of Cortez. If we forget that his avarice was
the cau^e of a most unjust and most bloody war, in every other
respect he will appear as one of the greatest of heroes. But
Pizarro is a character completely detestable, destitute of every
spark of generosity. He massacred the Peruvians, he said,
because they were barbarians, and he himself could not read.
Atabaltpa, amazed at tiie ai*t of reading, got a Spaniard to writ€
the word Dius (the Spanish for God) on his finger. On trying
if the Spaniards agreed in what it signified, he discovered that
Pizarro could not read. And Pizarro, in revenge for the con*
tempt he perceived in the face of Atabalipa, ordered that
prince to be tried for his life, for having concubines, and l>eing
an idolater. Atabalipa was condemned to be burned; but on
submitting to baptisn, be was only hanged*

, THE t>ISCOVSRY OF INDIA. IXY

introduced by the intercourse of universal com-*
merce.

In 1440^ Anthony Gonsalez brought some Moors
prisoners to Lisbon. These he took two ~and forty
leagues beyond Cape Bojador^ and in 1442 he re->
turned to Africa with his captives. One Moor es-
caped from him> but ten blacks of Guinea and a
considerable quantity of gold dust were given in
ransom for two others. A rivulet at the place of
landing was named by Gonsalez, Rio del Oro, or
tiie River of Gold. And the islands of Adeget^
Arguim, and de las Oargaa, were now discovered.

These Guinea blacks, the first ever seen in Portu-
gal, and the gold dust, excited other passions beside
admiration. A company was formed at Lagos, un-
der the auspices of Prince Henry, to carry on a
traffic with the new discovered countries; and as
the Portuguese considered themselves in a state of
continual hostility with the Moors, about two hun-
dred of these people, inhabitants of the islands of
Nar and Tider, in 1 444, were brought prisoners to
Portagal. This was soon revenged. Gonzalo de
Cintra was the next year attacked by the Moors,
fourteen leagues beyond Rio del Oro, where with
seven of his men he was killed.

These hostile proceedings displeased Prince Henry,
and in 1446 Anthony Gonsalez and two other cap-
tains were sent to enter into a treaty of peace and

Ixvi THE HISTORY OF

traffic with the natives of Rio del Oro^ and also to
attempt their conversion. But these proposals were
rejected by the barbarians, one of whom, however,
came voluntarily to Portugal; and Juan Fernandez
remained with the natives, to observe their manners
and the products of the country. In the year fol-
lowing Fernandez was found in good health, and
brought home to Portugal. The account he gave
of the country and people affords a striking instance
of the misery of barbarians. The land, an open,
barren, sandy plain, where the wandering natives
were guided in their journeys by the stars and
flights of birds; their food, milk, lizards, locusts,
and such herbs as the soil produced without cul-
ture; and their only defence from the scorching
heat of the sun some miserable tents which they
pitched, as occasion required, on the burning sands.
In 1447 upwards of thirty ships followed the
route of traffic which was now opened ; and John
de Castilla obtained the infamy to stand the first on
the list of those names whose villanies have dis-
graced the spirit of commerce, and afforded the
loudest complaints against the progress of naviga-
tion. Dissatisfied with the value of his cargo, he
ungratefully seized twenty of the natives of Gomera,
(one of the Canaries) who had assisted him, and
with whom he was in friendly alliance, and brought
them as slaves to Portugal. But Prince Ilcury re*

THE DISCOVERT OF INDIA. IZVII

sented this outrage, and having given them some
valuable presents of clothes, restored the captives to
freedom and their native country.
. The conversion and reduction of the Canaries was
also this year attempted; but Spain having claimed
a right to these islands^, the expedition was dis-
continued. In the Canary islands was found a
feudal custom; the chief man or governor was gra*
tified with the first night of every bride in his
district.

In 1 448 Fernando Alonzo was sent ambassador to
the King of Cabo Verde with a treaty of trade and
conversion, which was defeated at that time by the
treachery of the natives. In 1449 the Azores were
discovered by Gonsalo Velio, and the coast sixty
leagues beyond Cape Verde was visited by the fleets
of Henry. It is also certain that some of his com-
manders passed the equinoctial line. It was the
custom of his sailors to leave his motto. Talent ds
BiEN Fairs, wherever they came; and in 1525
Loaya, a Spanish captain, found that device carved
on the bark of a tree in the isle of St. Matthew, in
the second degree of south latitude.

Prince Henry had now with the most inflexible

* Sometime before this period, Jon dt Betaneour, a French*
man, under the king of Castile, had made a settlement in the
Canaries, which had been discovered, it it said, about 1340, by
some Biscayneera.

Ixviii THE HISTORY OF

perseyerance prosecuted his discoyeries for upwards
of forty years. His father, John I. concurred with
him in his views, and gave him every assistance;
his brother. King Edward, during bis short reign,
was the same as his father had been ; nor was the
eleven years regency of his brother Don Pedro less
auspicious to him''^. But the misunderstanding be-*
tween Pedro and his nephew Alonzo V. who took
upon him the reins of government in his seven-
teenth year, retarded the designs of Henry, and
gave him much unhappiness f . At his town of
Sagrez, from whence he had not moved for many
years, except when called to court on some emer-
gency of state, Don Henry, now in his sixty-seventh
year, yielded to the stroke of fate, in the year of
jour Lord 1463, gratified with the certain prospect,
that the route to the eastern world would one day
crown the enterprises lo. which he had given birth.
He had the happiness to see the naval superiority

* The difficulties he surmounted, and the assistance he re-
ceived, are incontestible proofs, that an adventurer of inferior
birth conld never have carried his designs into execution.

f Don Pedro was villanously accused of treacherous designs
by his bastard brother, the first duke of Braganza. Henry left
his town of Sagrez, to defend his brother at court, but in vain.
Pedro, finding the young king in the power of Braganza, fled,
•nd soon after was killed in defending himself against a party
who were sent to seize him. His innocence, after his death,
Vas fiiily- proved, and his nephew Alonzo V. gave him an ho-
nourable burial.

THE IMSCOVfiftT OF INDIA* IxiX

of his country over the Moors established oa the
most solid basis, its trade greatly upon the increase,
and what he esteemed his greatest happiness, he
flattered himself that he had given a mortal wound
to Mohammed ism, and had opened the door to an
universal propagation of Christianity, and the civi-
lization of mankind. And to him, as to their pri**
mary author, are due all the inestimable advantages
which ever have flowed, or will flow from the dis-
covery of the greatest part of Africa, of the East
and West Indies. Every improvement in the state
and manners of these countries, or whatever country
may be yet discovered, is strictly due to him; nor
is the difference between the present state of Europe
and the monkish age in which he was boru, less the
result of his genius and toils. What is an Alexan*
der * crowned with trophies at the head of his army,
compared with a Henry contemplating the ocean
from his window on the rock of Sagrez ! The one
suggests the idea of the evil daemon, the other of a
.tutelary angel.

* It has been said by some French writers, that the con-
quests of Alexander were intended to civilize, and unite the
world in one grand interest; and that for this great purpose he
■built cities and established colonies in Asia. Those, however,
who have studied the true character of that vain-glorious con-
queror, the wild deliriumof his ambition, and his as uild fondness
of Asiatic manners, will allow this re6nement of design to hold
no place in the motives of the pretended son of Jupiter.

IZZ THE HISTOKT OF

From the year 1448, when Alonzo V. assumed
die power of government, till the end of his reign
in 147], little progress was made in maritime af-
fairs, and Cape Catharine was only added to the
former discoveries. But under his son John II.
the designs of Prince Henry were prosecuted with
renewed vigour. In 148 1 the Portuguese built a
fort on the Golden Coast, and the King of Portugal
ijook the title of Lord of Guinea. Bartholomew
Diaz, in 1 486, reached the river, which he named
del Infante, on the eastern side of Africa; but def-
ter red by the storms of that region from proceeding
farther, on his return he had the happiness to be the
discoverer of the promontory, unknown for many
ages, which bounds the south of Afric. This, from
the storms he there encountered, he named the
Cape qf Tempests; but John, elated with the promise
of India, which this discovery, as he justly deemed,
included, gave it the name of the Cape qf Good Hope.
The arts and valour of the Portuguese had now made
a great impression on the minds of the Africans.
The King of Congo, a dominion of great extent,
sent the sons of some of his principal officers to be
instructed in arts and religion; and ambassadors
from the King of Benin requested teachers to be
sent to his kingdom. On the return of these* his
subjects, the King and Queen of Congo,with 100,000
of their people, were baptized. An ambassador

TRB BISCOVfiHY OP INDIA. IxXI

also arrived from the Christian Emperor <Tf Abys-
siniaj and Pedro de Coviliam and Alonzo de Payva
were sent by land to penetrate into the East, that
they might acquire whatever intelligence might fa-
cilitate the desired navigation to 'India. Coviliam
and Payva parted at Toro in Arabia, and took dif-
ferent roats. The former having visited Conanor,
Calicut, and Goa in India, returned to Grand Cairo,
where he heard of the death of his companion.
Here also he met the Rabbi Abraham of Beja, who
was employed for the same purpose by king John,
Coviliam sent the Rabbi home with an account of
what countries he had seen, and he himself pro*
ceeded to Ormuz and Ethiopia, but as Camoens
expresses it.

to his native shore.

Eorich'd with knowledge, he returned no more.

Men, whose genius led them to maritime affairs,
began now to be possessed by an ardent ambition
to distinguish themselves; and the famous Columbus
offered his service to the King of Portugal. Every
one knows the discoveries of this great adventurer,
but his history is generally misunderstood *, It is

* Greatly misanderstood, even by the ingrenioas author of
tiie AecowU qf ihe European Seiikmentt in America, Having
mentioned the barbarous state of Europe^ ** Mathematical
learning (says he) was little valued or cultivated. The true
system of the heav^is was not dreamed of. There was ao

IXXit TfiB HirroBY oi»

by some believed, that hie ideas of the sphere of tht
earth gave birth to his opinion, th^t there must be

knowledge at all of the real form of the earth, and in general
the ideas of mankind were not extended beyond their sensibte
horizon. In this state of affairs Christopher Columbus, a na-
tive of Genoa, undertook to extend the boundaries which ig-
norance had given to the world. This man's design arose from
the just idea lie had formed of the figure of the earth." — But
this is all a mistake. Nor is the author of tlie Wstoire PhUo*'
sophique, &c. less unhappy. Misled by the common opinion
of Columbus, he has thus pompously clothed it in the dress of
imagination-«-(7n homme obscur, says he, pitu avance qti6 son
siecie, &c.— thus literally, ** An obscure man,. more advanced
than his cotemporaries in the knowledge of astronomy and na-
vigation, proposed to Spain, happy in her internal dominion, to
aggrandise herself abroad. Christopher Columbus felt, as if by
instinct, that there must he another continent, and that he
was to discover it. The Antipodes, treated by reason itself as a
chimera, and by superstition as error and impiety, were in the
eyes of this man of genius an incontestible truth. Full of this
idea, one of the grandest which could enter the human miud^

he proposed, &c. The ministers of this Princess (Isabel of

Spain) esteemed as a visionary, a man who pretended to dis-
cover a world ." But this dream of discovering a world
never entered the head of Columbus. And be it oars to restore
his due honours to the Prince of Portugal. By the most indu4
bitable and concurrent testimony of all tlie Portuguese histo-
rians of this period, Henry had undertaken to extend the
boundaries which ignorance had given to the world, and bad
extended them much bes'ond the sensible horizon, long ^ra
Columbus appeared.'' Columbus indeed taught the Spaniards
the use of longitude and latitude in navigation, but he himself
learned these among the Portuguese. £very alteration here
ascribed to Columbus, had alnK)fit fifty years before been eU
feoted by Henry. 'Even Henry's design of sailing to India was
adopted by Cplumbus. It was every whera his proposal. Whei^

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA.. Ixxiii

an immense unknown continent in the west*^ such
as America is now known to be; and that his pro^
posals were to go in search of it. But the simple
truth is^ Columbus^ who, as we have certain evi-
dence, acquired his skill in navigation among the
Portuguese, could be no stranger to the design long
meditated in that kingdom, of discovering a naval
route to India, which they endeavoured to find by
compassing the coast of Africa. According to an-
cient geographers and the opinion of that age, India
was supposed to be the next land to the west of

he arrived In the West Indies, he thoaght be bad found the
Ophir of Solomon *, and thence these islands received their
general name. And on his return he told John II. that he had
been at the islands of India. When he landed in Cuba, be en-
quired for Cipango, the name of Japan, according to Marco
Paolo, and by the mistake of the natives, who thought he skid.
Cibao, he was informed of the richest mines of Hispaniola.
And even on his fourth and last voyage, in 1502, three years
after Gama's return, he promised the king of Spain to find In-
dia by a westward passage. But though gi'eat discoveries re-
ivarded his toils, his first and last purpose he never completed.
It was reserved for Magalhaens to discover the westward route
to the Eastern World.

* Gomara, and other Spanish writers relate, that while Co-
lumbus lived in Madeira, a pilot, the only survivor of a ship's
crew, died at his house. This pilot, they say, had been driven
to the West Indies or America by tempest, and on his death-
bed communicated the journal of his voyage to Columbus. But
this story, as it stands at large, is involved in contradiction
without proof, and is every where esteemed a fable of malice.

« Peter Martyr, (who lived at that time tt the Court of Spain) Dec. 1. 1. 1.
VOL. I. d

Jxxiv THE HISTORY OF

Spain. And the idea of discovering a western pas-
sage to the East, is due to the genius of Columbus ;
but no more: to discover India and the adjacent
islands of spices, already famous over all Europe,
was every where the avowed and sole idea of Colum*
bus* A proposal of this kind to the king of Por-
tugal, whose fleets had already passed the Cape of
Good Hope, and who esteemed the route to India as
almost discovered, and in the power of his own sub-
jects, could at the court of Lisbon expect no success.
And the offered services of the foreigner were re-
jected, even with some degree of contempt. Co-
lumbus, however, met a more favourable reception
from Ferdinand and Isabella, the king and queen of
Castile. To interfere with the route or discoveries,
opened and enjoyed by another power, was at this
time esteemed contrary (o the laws of nations. Co-
lumbus, therefore, though the object was one, pro-
posed, as Magalhaens afterwards did for the same
reason, to steer the westward course, and having in
1 492 discovered some western islands^ in 1 493, on his
return to Spain, he put into the Tagus with great
tokens of the riches of his discovery. Some of the

* And so deeply had ancient geography fixed this idea, that
Sebastian Cabot's proposal to Henry VII. 1497, was to discover
Cathay, and thence India, by the north-west. See Hakluit,
torn. 3. p. 7. And Ramusius, Prefat. torn. 3. — Columbus en-
deavoured, first, to discover India directly by the west, and af-
terward, by the scmtb-weit.

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA. IxXV

Portuguese courtiers^ the same ungenerous minds
perhaps who advised the rejection of Columbus be-
cause he was a foreigner^ proposed the assassination
of that great man, thereby to conceai from Spain the
advantages of his navigation. But John, though
Columbus rather roughly upbraided him, looked
upon him now with a generous regret, and dismissed
him with honour. The king of Portugal, however,
was alarmed, lest the discoveries of Columbus should
interfere with those of his crown, and gave orders
to equip a war fleet to protect his rights. But
matters were adjusted by embassies, and that cele-
brated treaty by which Spain and Portugal divided
the western and eastern worlds between themselves.
The eastern half of the world was allotted for the
Portuguese, and the western for the Spanish naviga-
tion. A line from pole to pole, drawn an hundred
leagues to the west of the Azores, was their boun-
dary : and thus each nation had one hundred and
eighty degrees, within which they might establish
settlements and extend their discoveries. And a
Papal Bull, which, for obvious reasons, prohibited
the* propagation of the gospel in these bounds by the
subjects of any other state, confirmed this amicable
and extraordinary treaty.

Soon after this, while the thoughts of king John
were intent on the discovery of India, his prepara-
tions were interrupted by his death. But his earnest

d 2

Ixxvi

THE HISTORY OF

desires and great designs were inherited, together
with his crown, by his cousin Emmanuel. And in
1497, the year before Columbus made the voyage
which discovered the mouth of the river Oronoko,
Vasco de Gama sailed from the Tagus on the disco-
very of India.

Of this voyage, the subject, of the Lusiad, many
particulars are necessarily mentioned in the notes ;
we shall therefore only allude to these, but be more
explicit on the others, which are omitted by Ca-
moens, in obedience to the rules of the Epopoeia.

Notwithstanding the full torrent of popular cla-
mour against the undertaking, Emmanuel was de-
termined to prosecute the views of Prince Henry
and John IL Three sloops of war and a store ship,
manned with only 160 men, were fitted out; for
hostility was not the purpose of this humane expe-
dition. Vasco de Gama, a gentleman of good fa-
mily, who, in a war with the French, had given sig-
nal proofs of his naval skill, was combiissioned
admiral and general, and his brother Paul, for whom
he bore the sincerest affection, with his friend
Nicholas Coello, were at his request appointed to
command under him. All the enthusiasm of desire
to accomplish his end, joined with the greatest
heroism, the quickest penetration, and coolest pru-
dence, united to form the character of Gama. On
his appointment to the command, he declared to the

THE DISCOVERT OP INDIA. IxXVil

king that his mind had long aspired to this expedi-
tion. The king expressed great confidence in his
prudence and honour^ and gave him, with his own
hand^ the colours which he was to carry. On this
banner^ which bore the cross of the military order
of Christ, Gam a, with great enthusiasm to merit the
honours bestowed upon him, took the oath of
fidelity.

About four miles from Lisbon there is a chapel on
the sea side. To this, the day before their depar-
ture, Gama conducted the companions of his expe-
dition. He was to encounter an ocean untried, and
dreaded as unnavigable; and he knew the force of
the ties of religion on minds which are not inclined to
dispute its authority. The whole night was spent in
the chapel, in prayers for success, and in the rites of
their devotion. On the next day, when the adven-
turers marched to the ships, the shore of Belem*
presented one of the most solemn and affecting scenes
perhaps recorded in history. The beach was covered
with the inhabitants of Lisbon. A numerous pro-
cession of priests in their robes sung anthems and
oflfered up invocations to heaven. Every one be-
held the adventurers as brave innocent men going
to a dreadful execution, as rushing upon certain
death ; and the vast multitude caught the fire of de-

* Or Bethlehem, so named from the cbapeU

Ixxviii THE HISTORY O?

votion^ and joined aloud in the prayers for success^
The relatione, friends^ and acquaintance of the voy-
agers wept ; all were affected; the sigh was general;
Gama himself shed some manly tears on parting
with his friends ; but he hurried over the tender
scene^ and hastened aboard with all the ulacrity of
hope. Immediately he gave his sails to the wind,
and so much affected were the many thousands, who
beheld his departure, that they remained immove-
able on the shore till the fleet, under full sail, eva-
nished from their sight.

It was on the 8th of July when Gama left the
Tagus. The flag-ship was commanded by himself,
the second by his brother, the third by Coello, and
the store ship by Gonsalo Nunio. Several inter-
preters, skilled in the Ethiopian, Arabic, and other
oriental languages, went along with them. Ten
malefactors, men of abilities, whose sentences of
death were reversed, on condition of their obedience
to Gama in whatever embassies or dangers among
the barbarians he might think proper to employ
them, were also on board. The'fleet, favoured by
the weather, passed the Canary and Cape de Verde
islands ; but had now to encounter other fortune.
Sometimes stopped by dead calms, but for the most
part tost by tempests, which increased their violence
and horrors as they proceeded to the south. Thus
driven far to sea, they laboured through that wide

/

THE DISCOVERT OF INDIA. Ixxix

ocean which surrounds St. Helena, in seas, says
Faria, unknown to the Portuguese discoverers, none
of whom had sailed so far to the west. From the
28th of July, the day they passed the isle of St.
James, they had seen no shore; and now. on
November the 4th they were happily relieved by
the sight of land. The fleet anchored in a large
bay*, and Coello was sent in search of a river,
where they might take in wood and fresh water.
Having found one convenient for their purpose,
the fleet made toward it, and Gama, whose orders
were to acquaint himself with the manners of the
people wherever he touched, ordered a party of his
men to bring him some of the natives by force or
stratagem. One they caught as he was gathering
honey on the side of a mountain, and brought him
to the ships. He expressed the greatest indifference
for the gold and fine clothes which they shewed
him, but was greatly delighted with some glasses
and little brass bells. These with great joy he accept*
ed, and was set on shore ; and soon afler many of the
blacks came for, and were gratified with the like trifles;
and for which in return they gave great plenty of their
best provisions. None of Gama's interpreters, how-
ever, could understand a word of their language, or
receive any information of India. And the friendly

* Now called St. Heien'f.

IXXX THE fllSTOKY OP

intercourse between the fleet and the natives was
soon interrupted by the imprudence of Veloso*, a
young Portuguese, which occasioned a scuffle,
wherein t^ama's life was endangered. Gama and
some others were on shore taking the altitude of the
sun, when in consequence of Veloso's rashness they
were attacked by the blacks with -great fury. Ga-
ma defended himself with an oar, and received a
dart in his foot. Several others were likewise
wounded, and they found their safety in retreat.
The shot from the ships facilitated their escape, and
Gama esteeming it imprudent to waste his strength
in attempts entirely foreign to the design of his
voyage, weighed anchor, and steered in search of
the extremity of Afric.

In this part of the voyage, says Osorius, the he-
roism of Gama was greatly displayed. The waves
swelled like mountains in height, the ships seemed
now heaved up to the clouds, and now appeared as
precipitated by gulphy whirlpools to the bed of the
ocean. The winds were piercing cold, and so bois-
terous, that the pilot's voice could seldom be heard,
and a dismal, almost continual darkness, which at
that tempestuous season involves these seas, added
all its horrors. Sometimes the storm drove them
southward, at other times they were obliged to stand

# See the note, p. 142, vol. ii.

THE DISCOVERT OF INDIA.

]xxxi

on the tack^ and yield to its fury, preserving what
they had gained with the greatest difficulty.

With sach mad seas the daring Gama fought
For many a day, and many a dreadful night.
Incessant labouring round the stormy Cape,
By bold ambition led Thomson.

During any gloomy interyal of the storm, the sailors,
wearied out with fatigue, and abandoned to despair,
surrounded Gama, and implored him not to suffer him-
self, and those committed to his care, to perish by
so dreadful a death. The impossibility that men so
weakened should stand it much longer, and the
opinion that this ocean was torn by eternal tempests,
and therefore had hitherto been, and was impassable,
were urged. But Gama's resolution to proceed was
unalterable. A formidable conspiracy was then
formed against his life; but his brother discovered
it, and the courage and prudence of Gama defeated
its design *. He put the chief conspirators, and all

* The. voyage of Gama has been called merely a coasting
one, and therefore much less dangerous and heroical than that
of Columbus, or of Magalhaens. But this, it is presumed, is
one of the opinions hastily taken up, and founded on ignorance.
Columbus and Magalhaens undertook to navigate unknown
oceans, and so did Gama; with this difference, that the ocean
around the Cape of Good Hope,which Gama was to encounter,
was believed to be, and had been avoided by Diaz, as impass-
able. Prince Henry suggested that the current of Cape Bo-
jador might be avoided by standing to sea, and thus that cape
wasArtt passed. Gama for this reason did not coast, but

d 3

Ixxxii

THE HISTORY OF

the pilots, in irons, and he himself, his brother,
Coello, and some others, stood night and day to the

stood to sea for upwards of three months of tempestuous wea-
ther. The tempests which afflicted Columbus and Magalhaens,
are by the different historians described with circumstances
of less horror and danger than those which attacked Oama.
All the three commanders were endangered by mutiny ; but
none of their crews, save Gama^s, could urge the opinion of
ages, and the .example of a living captain, that the dreadful
ocean which they attempted was unnavigabie. Colombus and
Magalhaens always found means, after detecting a conspiracy,
to keep the rest in hope; but Gama's men, when he put the
pilots in irons, continued in the utmost despair. Columbus
was indeed ill obeyed; Magalhaens sometimes little better:
but nothing, save the wonderful authority of Gama's command,
could have led his crew through the tempest which he sur-
mounted ere he doubled the Cape of Good Hope. Columbus,
with his crew, must have returned. The expedients with which
he used to sooth them, would, under his authonty, have had
no avail in the tempest which Gama rode through. From every
circumstance it is evident that Gama had determined not to
return, unless he found India. Nothing less than such resolu-
tion to perish or attain his point could have led him on. But
Columbus, in-obeyed indeed, returned from the mouth of the
river Oronoko, before he had made a certain discovery whether
the land was isle or continent. When Gama met a strong
current off Ethiopia, he bore on, though driven from his course :
Columbus steering southward in search of continent, met great
currents. He imagined they were the rising of the sea towards
the canopy of heaven, which for aught he knew, say the au-
thors of the Universal History, they might touch towards the
south. He therefore turned his course, and steered to the west.
The passing Cif the straits of Magellan, however hazardous, was
.not attended with such danger as Gama experienced at the
Cape. The attempt to cross the Pacific was greatly daring,
but his yorage in that sea was happy. The navigation of the

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA. IxXXili

helms, and directed the course. At last, after hav-
ing many days, with unconquered mind, withstood
the tempest and an enraged mutiny, (molempcrfi*
di<z) the storm suddenly ceased, and they beheld
the Cape of Good' Hope.

On November the 20th, all the fleet doubled that
promontory, and steering northward, coasted along
a rich and beautiful shore, adorned with large fo-
rests and numberless herds of cattle. All was now
alacrity; the hope that they had surmounted every
danger revived their spirits, and the admiral was
beloved and admired. Mere, and at the bay,which
they named St. Bias, they took in provisions, and
beheld those beautiful rural scenes, described by
Camoens. And here the store sloop, now of no far-
straits of Magellan and the Pacific are in this country little
kno^vn ; but the course of Gama is at this day infinitely more
hazardous than that of Columbus. If Columbus found no pilots
to conduct him, but encoimtered his greatest dangers in sound-
ing his course among the numerous western islands, Gama
though in the Indian ocean assisted by pilots, had as great trials
of his valour, and much greater ones of his prudence. The
warlike strength, and deep treacherous arts •f the Moors, wer^
not found in the west. All was simplicity among the natives
there. The prudence and foresight of Gama and Columbus
were of the highest rate ; Magalhaens was in these sometimes
rather inferior. He lost his own, and the lives of the greatest
part of his cre\* , by hazarding a land engagement at the advice
of a judicial astrologer. See the note on this line ;

To match ihy daedt shall Magalhaens aspire,

LUSUD X.

IxxXiT THE HISTORY OF

ther service, was burnt by order of the admiral.
On December the 8th, a violent storm drove the
fleet from the sight of land, and carried them to that
dreadful current * which made the Moors deem it
impossible to double the Cape. Gama, however,
though unhappy in the time of navigating these
seas, was safely carried over the current by the
Tiolence of a tempest; and having recovered the
sight of land, as his safest course, he steered north*
ward along the coast. On the 10th of January they
descried, about 230 miles from their- last watering
place, some beautiful islands, with herds of cattle
frisking in the meadows. It was a profound calm,
and Gama stood near to land. The natives of this
place, which he named Terra de Natal, were better
dressed and more civilized than those they had
hitherto seen. An exchange of presents was made,
and the black king was so pleased with the polite-
ness of Gama, that he came aboard his ship to see
him. On the 15th of January, in the dusk of the
evening, they came to the mouth of a large river,
whose banks were shaded with trees loaded with
fruit. On the return of d^y they saw several little
boats with palm-tree leaves making towards them,
and the natives came aboard without hesitation or
fear. Gama received them kindly, gave them an

* This current runs between the Cape from thence named
Corrienteff, and the south-west extremity of Madagascar.

THE MSCOTERT OF INDIA. IXXXT

entertainment^ and some silken gaiments, Mrhich
they received with visible joy. Only one of them
however could speak a little broken Arabic. From
him Fernan Martinho learned, that not &r distant
was a country where ships, in shape and size like
Gama's, frequently resorted. Hitherto Garoa had
found only the rudest barbarians on the coasts of
Africa, alike ignorant of India and of the naval art.
The information he here received, that he was
drawing near to civilized countries, gave the adven-
turers great spirits, and the admiral named this
place The River of Good Signs.

Here, while Gama careened and refitted his ships,
the crews were attacked with a violent scurvy,
which carried off several of his men. Having
taken in fresh provisions, on the 2'Uh of February
he set sail, and on the first of March they descried
four islands on the coast of Mozambic. From one
of these they perceived seven vessels in full sail
bearing toward them. These knew Gama's ship by
the admiral's ensign, and made up. to her, saluting
her with loud huzzas and their instruments of mu-
sic. Gama received them aboard, and entertained
them with great kindness. The interpreters talked
with them in Arabic. The island, in which was
the principal harbour and trading town, they said,
was governed by a deputy of the king of Quiloa ;
and many Saracen merchants, they added, were

JxXXVi THE HISTORY OP

settled here, who traded with Arabia^ India, and
other parts of the world. Gama was overjoyed, and
the crew with uplifted hands returned thanks to
heaven.

Pleased with the presents which Gama sent him,
and imagining that the Portuguese were Moham*
medans from Morocco, Zacocia the governor, dress-
ed in rich embroidery, came to congratulate the
admiral on his arrival in the east. As he approach-
ed the ships in great pomp, Gama removed the
sick out of sight, and ordered all those in health to
attend above deck, armed in the Portuguese man-
ner ; for he foresaw what would happen when the
Mohammedans should discover their mistake. Dur-
ing the entertainment provided for them, Zacocia
seemed highly pleased, and asked several questions
about the arms and religion of the strangers. Gama
shewed them his arms, and explained the force of
his cannon, but he did i\ot affect to know much
about religion ; however he frankly promised to
shew him his books of devotion whenever a few
days refreshment should give him a more conveni-
ent time. In the meanwhile he intreated Zacocia
to send him some pilots, who might conduct him to
India. Two pilots were next day brought by the
governor, a treaty of peace was solemnly concluded,
and every office of mutual friendship seemed to
promise a lasting harmony. But it was soon inter-

THE PISCOV£RY O? l-NDIA. IxXlCVii

rupted. Zacocia^ as soon as he found the Portu-
guese were Christians, used every endeavour to
destroy them. The life of Gama was attempted.
One of the Moorish pilots deserted, and some of
the Portuguese, who were on shore to get fresh
water, were attacked by seven barks of the natives,
but were rescued by a timely assistance from the
ships.

Besides the hatred of the Christian name, inspired
by their religion, these Mohammedan Arabs had
other reasons to wish the destruction of Gama. Be-
fore this period, they were almost the only mer-
chants of the East. Though without any empire
in a mother country, they were bound together by
language and religion, and like the modern Jews,
were united together, though scattered over various
countries. Though they esteemed the current off
Cape Corrientes, and the tempestuous seas around
the Cape of Good Hope, as impassable^ they were
the sole masters of the Ethiopian, Arabian, and
Indian seas: and had colonies in every place con-
venient for trade on these coasts. This crafty
mercantile people clearly foresaw the consequences
of the arrival of Europeans, and every art was soon
exerted to prevent such formidable rivals from ef-
fecting any settlement in the East. To these Mo-
hammedan traders, the Portuguese, on account of
their religion, gave the name of Moors.

IxXXViii THE HISTORY OF

Immediately after the skirmish at the watering-
place, Gama, having one Moorish pilots set sail, but
was soon driven back to the same island by tempes-
tuous weather. He now resolved to take in fresh
water by force. The Moors perceived his intention,
about two thousand of whom rising from ambush,
attacked the Portuguese detachment. But the
prudence of Gama had not been asleep. His ships
were stationed with art, and his artillery not only
dispersed the hostile Moors, but reduced their
town, which was built of wood, into a heap of
ashes. Among some prisoners taken by Paulus de
Gama was a pilot, and Zacocia begging forgiveness
for his treachery, sent another, whose skill in navi-
gation he greatly commended.

A war with the Moors was now begun. Gama
perceived that their jealousy of European rivals
gave them nothing to expect but secret treachery
and open hostility; and he knew what numerous
colonies they had on every trading coast of the
East. To impress them therefore with the terror of
his arms on their first act of treachery was worthy
of a great commander. Nor was he remiss in his
attention to the chief pilot, who had been last sent.
He perceived in him a kind of anxious endeavour
to bear near some little islands, and suspecting there
were unseen rocks in that course, he confidently
charged the pilot with guilt, and ordered him to be

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA. IZXZIX

severely whipped. The punishment produced &
confession^ and promises of fidelity. And he now
advised Gama to stand for Quiloa^ which he assured
him was inhabited by Christians. Three Ethiopian
Christians had come aboard while at Zacocia's
island, and the current opinions of Prester John's
country inclined Gama to try if he could find a port,
where he might expect the assistance of a people of
his own religion. A violent storm, however, drove
the fleet from Quiloa, and being now near Mom*
baze, the pilot advised him to enter that harbour,
where, he said, there were also many Christians.

Thetrity of Mombaza is agreeably situated on an
island, formed by a river which empties itself into
the sea by two mouths. The buildings are lofty
and of firm stone, and the country abounds with
fruit trees and cattle. Gama, happy to find a har-
bour where every thing wore the appearance of
civilization, ordered the ships to cast anchor, which
was scarcely done, when a galley in which were
100 men in Turkish habit, armed with bucklers and
sabres, rowed up to the flag ship. All of these
seemed desirous to come aboard, but only four,
who by their dress seemed officers, were admitted;
nor were these allowed, till stript of their arms. As
soon as on board, they extolled the prudence of
Gama in refusing admittance to armed strangers ;
and by their behaviour seemed desirous to gain the

XC THE HISTORY OF

good Opinion of the adventurers. Their country,
they boasted, contained all the riches of India, and
their king, they professed, was ambitious of entering
into a friendly treaty with the Portuguese, with
whose renown he was well acquainted. And that
a conference with his majesty and the offices of
friendship might be rendered more convenient,
Gama was requested and advised to enter the har-
bour. As no place could be more commodious for
the recovery of the sick, and the whole fleet was
sickly, Gama resolved to enter the port ; and in the
meanwhile sent two of the pardoned criminals as an
embassy to the king. These the king treated with
the greatest kindness, ordered his officers to ishew
them the strength and opulence of his city; and on
their return to the navy, he sent a present to Gama
of the most valuable spices, of which he boasted
such abundance, that the Portuguese, he said, if
tliey regarded their own interest^ would seek for no
other India.

To make treaties of commerce was the business
of Gama; o^e so advantageous, and so desired by
the natives, was therefore not to be refused. Fully
satisfied by the report of his spies, he ordered to
weigh anchor, and enter the harbour. His own ship
led" the way, when a sudden violence of the tide
made Gama apprehensive of running aground. He
therefore ordered his sails to be furled and the an->

THE DISCOVERT OF INDIA. XCl

chors to be dropt, and gave a signal for the others
to follow his example. This manoeuvre^ and the cries
of the sailors in executing it^ alarmed the Mozambic
pilots. Conscious of their treachery^ they thought
their design was discovered, and leapt into the sea.
Some boats of Mombaza took them up, and refusing
to put them on board, set them safely on shore,
though the admiral repeatedly demanded the resto-
ration of the pilots. These circumstances, evident
proofs of treachery, were farther confirmed by the
behaviour of the king of Mombaza. In the middle
of the night Gama thought he heard some noise, and
on examination, found his ships surrounded by» a
great' number of Moors, who, in the utmost privacy,
endeavoured to cut his cables. But their scheme
was defeated ; and some Arabs, who remained on
board, confessed that no Christians were resident
either at Quiloa or Mombaza. The storm which
drove them from the one place, and their late escape
at the other, were now beheld as manifestations of
the divine favour; and* Gama, holding up his hands
to heaven, ascribed his safety to the care of Provi-
dence *. Two days, however, elapsed, before they
could get clear of the rocky bay of Mombaze, and
having now ventured to hoist their sails, they steered
for Melinda, a por.t, they had been told, where ma-

* It afterwards appeared, that the Moorish king of Mombaza
had been informed of what happened at Mozambic, and in«
tended to revenge it by the total destruction of the fleet.

XCli THE HISTORY OF

ny merchants from India resorted. In their way
thither they took a Moorish yesseJ, out of which
Gama selected fourteen prisoners, one of whom he
perceived by his mien to be a person of distinction.
By this Saracen Gama was informed » that he was
near Melinda, that the king was hospitable, and
celebrated for his faith, and that four ships from In-
dia, commanded by Christian masters, were in that
harbour. The Saracen also offered to go as Gama's
messenger to the king, and promised to procure him
an able pilot to conduct him to Calicut, the chief
port of India.

As the coast of Melinda appeared to be danger-
ous, Gama anchored at some distance from the city,
and unwilling to hazard any of his men, he landed
the Saracen on an island opposite to the town. This
was observed, and the stranger was brought before
the king, to whom he gave so favourable an account
of the politeness and humanity of Gama, that a pre-
sent of several sheep, and fruit of all sorts, was sent
by his majesty to the admiral, who had the happi-
ness to find the truth of what the prisoner had told
him confirmed by the masters of the four ships from
India. They were Christians from Cambaya. They
were transported with joy on the arrival of the Portu-
guese, and gave several useful instructions to the
admiral.

The city of Melinda was situated in a fertile plain^

THB DISCOVERY OP INDIA. XCIU

surrounded with gardens and groves of orange-trees*
whose flowers diffused a most grateful odour. The
pastures were covered with herds^ and the houses,
built of square stones* were both elegant and mag-
nificent. Desirous to make an alliance with such a
state* Gama requited the civility of the king with
the most grateful acknowledgments. He drew
nearer the shore* and urged his instructions as apo-
logy for not landing to wait upon his majesty in
person. The apology was accepted ; and the king*
whose a^e and infirmities prevented himself* sent
his son to congratulate Gama* and enter into a treaty
of friendship. The prince* who had sometime
governed under the direction of his father* came in
great pomp. His dress was royally magnificent*
the nobles who attended him displayed all the
riches of silk and embroidery* and the music of
Melinda resounded all over the bay. Gama* to ex-
press his regard* met him in the admiraPs barge. ,
The prince* as soon as he came up^ leapt into it* and
distinguishing the admiral by his habit* embraced
him with all the. intimacy of old friendship. In
their conversation* which was long and sprightly*
he discovered nothing of the barbarian* says Oso-
rius* but in every thing shewed an intelligence and
politeness worthy of his high rank. He accepted
the fourteen Moors* whom Gama gave to him* with
great pleasure. He seemed to view Gama with

XCIV THE HISTORY Of

eothusiasm^ and confesfied that the make of the
Portuguese ships, so much superior to what he had
seen^ conviaced him of the greatness of that people.
He gave Gama an able pilots named Melemo Can a,
to conduct him to Calicut; and requested, that on
his return to'£urope> he would carry an ambassador
with him to the court of Lisbon. During the few
days the fleet stayed at Melinda, the mutual friend-
ship increased^ and a treaty of alliance was con-
cluded. And now^ on April 22^ resigning the helm
to his skilful and honest pilot, Gama hoisted sail
and steered to the north. In a few days they pass-
sed the line, and the Portuguese with ecstasy beheld
the appearance of their native sky. Orion, Ursa
Major and Minor, and th^ other stars about the
northern pole, were now a more joyful discovery
than the south * pole had formerly been to them.

* A circumstance in the letters of Amerigo Vespucci de-
serves remark. Describing his voyage to America, having
past the line, says he *' e come detideroso tPeuere nutore che
tegnassi la stella— desirous to be the namer and discoverer of
the pole star of the other hemisphere, I lost my sleep many
nights in contemplating the stars of the other pole." He then
laments, that as his instruments could not discover any star of
less motion than ten degrees, he had not the satisfaction to give
a name to any one. But as he observed four stars, in form of an
almond, which had but little motion, he hoped in his next
voyage he should be able to mark them out.— All tliis is truly
curious, and affords a good comment on the temper of the man
who had the art to defraud Columbus, by giving his own name
to America, of which he challenged the discovery. N«ar fifty

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA. XC¥

Having passed the meridian^ the pilot now stood
directly to the east, through the Indian ocean ; and
after sailing about three weeks, he had the hap*
piaess to congratulate Gama on the view of the
mountains of India. Gama, transported with ec-
stasy, returned thanks to heaven, and ordered all his
prisoners to be set at liberty, that every heart
might taste of the joy of his successful voyage.

About two leagues from Calicut Gama ordered
the ships to anchor, and was soon surrounded by a
number of boats. By one of these he sent one of
the pardoned criminals to the city. The appearance
of unknown vessels on their coast brought immense
crowds around the stranger, who no sooner entered
Calicut, than he was lifted from his feet, and car-
ried hither and thither by the concourse. Though
the populace and the stranger were alike earnest to
be understood, their language was unintelligible to
each other, till, happy for Gama in the event, a
Moorish merchant accosted his messenger in th^
Spanish tongue. The next day this Moor, who
was named Monzaida, waited upon Gama on board

years before the voyage of Amerigo Vespucci the Porfugaese
had crossed the line ; and Diaz fourteen, and Gama near three
years before, bad doubled the Cape of Good Hope, had disco-
vered seven stars in the constellation of the south pole, and
from the appearance of the four most luminous, had given it
the name of The Cross, a figure which it better resembles than
that of an almond.

XCVl THE HISTOIIT OP

his ship. He was a native of Tunis^ and the chief
person, he said, with whom John II. had at that
port contracted for military stores. He was a man of
abilities and great intelligence of the world, and an
admirer of the Portuguese valour and honour. The
engaging behaviour of Gama heightened his esteem
into the sincerest attachment. He offered to be in-
terpreter for the admiral, and to serve him in what-
ever besides he could possibly befriend him. And
thus, by one of those unforeseen circumstances
which often decide the greatest events, Gama re-
ceived a friend, who soon rendered him the most
critical and important service.

At the first interview, Monzaida gave Gama the
fullest information of the clime, extent, customs,
religions, and various riches of India, the commerce
of the Moors, and the character of the sovereign.
Calicut was not only the imperial city, but the
greatest port. The king or Zamorim, who resided
here, was acknowledged as emperor by the neigh-
bouring princes; and as his revenue consisted
chiefly of duties on merchandize, he had always
encouraged the resort of foreigners to his harbours.

Pleased with this promising prospect, Gama sent
two of his officers with Monzaida to wait on the
Zamorim at his palace of Pandarene, a few miles
from the city. They were admitted to the royal
apartment, and delivered their embassy ; to which

TH^ BISCOVERY OF INDIA. XCvii

tile Zamorim replied^ that the arrival of the admiral
ofso great a prince as Eauqaaucl^ gave him inex-
pressible pleasure, and .that he would willingly em*
brace the offered alliance. In the meanwhile, as
their present station was extremely dangerons, he
advised them to bring the ships . nearer to Panda*
rene, and for this purpose he sent a pilot to the
fleet.

A few days.afier, the Zamorim serit his first mi*
nister, or Catual, attended by several of the Nayres^
or nobility, to conduct G^ma to the royal, palace.
As an interview with the Zamorim was absolutely
necessary to complete the purpose of his voyage,
Gama immiediately agreed to it, though the trea-
chery he had already experienced, since his arrival
in the eastern seas, shewed him the personal danger
which he thus hazarded. He gave the coqimand of
the ships during h&s absence to his brother Paulus
and his friend Coello ; and in the orders he left them
he displayed a heroism, superior to tha^ of Alej^an-
der when he crossed the Granicus. That of the
Macedonian was ferocious and frantic, the offspring
of vicious ambition ; that of Gama was the child of
the strongest: reason, and the most valorous mentd
dignity: it was the high pride of honour, a pride>
which the man, who in the fury of battle may be
able to rush on to the mouth of a cannon, may be
utterly incapable of, even in idea.

VOL. I, e

XCVili THE HMTOitY OF

The revenue of the Zamorim arose chiefly from
the traifiic of the Moors ; the vanous colonies of these
people were combined in one interest, and the jea-^
lousy and consternation which hts arrival in the
eastern seas had spread among them, were circnih-
fltances well known to Gama: and he knew also
what he had to e!q>ect both from their force and
tiieir fraud. But duty and honour required him to
complete the purpose of his voyage. He left pe-
remptory command, that if he was detained a pri«
flouer, or any attempt made upon his life, they
should take no step to save him, to give ear to no
message which might come in his name for such
purpose, and to enter into no negotiation on his be-
half^ Though they were to keep some boats near
the shore, to favour his escape if he perceired trea*
chery ere detained by force ; yet (he moment that
force rendered his e^ape impracticable^ they were
to set sail, and to carry the tidings of the discovery
of India to the King of Portugal For as this was
his only concern, he would suffer no risk that might
lose a man, or endanger the homeward Toyage,
Having left these unalterable orders, he went ashore
with the Catual/ attended only by twelve of his
own men, for he would riot weaken the navltl force;
though he knew that the potnp of attendance would
have been greatly in his favour' at the coort of
India.

THE msCOYERT OF INDIA. XCIX

As400Das.iie landed, he and the Catual were
carried iii great pomp, in sofas, upon men's shouU
ders, to the chief temple ; and from thence, amid
immense crowds, to the royal paiac^e. The apart-
ment and dress of the Zamorim were such as might
be expected from the luxury and wealth of India;
The eipperor lay reclined on a magnificent couch^
Mrronnded with his nobiHty and ministers of state.
Gama was introduced to him by a venerable old
man, the chief Bramin. His Majesty, by a gentle
nod, appointed the admiral to sit on one of the steps
of his sofa, and then demanded bis embassy* It was
ngalinst the custom of his country, Gama replied, to
deliver his instructions in a public assembly, he
therefore desired that the king and a few of his mi*
nisters would grant them a private audience. This
was complied with, and Gama; ia a noaaly speech,
set forth the greatness of his sovereign JBmmanuel,
the fame he had heard of the Zamorim, and the de-
sire he had to enter into an aHiance with so great a
prince; nor were the mutual advantages of such 'a
treaty omitted by the admiral. The Zamorim, in*
reply, professed great esteem for the friendship oC
the king of Portugal^ and declared his readiness i&
enter into a friendly alliance. He then ordered the-
Catual to. provide proper apartments for Gama ia
his house ; and having promised another conference^

e 2

C THE HISTO&Y OF

dismissed the admiral with all the . appearance of
sincerity.

Ayarkewas the mliqg. passion of this monarch;
he was haughty or. mean* bold or limoroas, as his
interest reae^r fell ia tbe balance of his judgment i
watering akid irrebolute whenever the scales seemed
doubtful which to-preiponderate^ He w^ pleased
with tiie.pronpect.of bringing the commerce of
Europe to his harb<)ur8» but he was akio influenced
by the threats of the M<)ors.

Three daya.eIa|Mse4 ere Gama was again permitted
to see the Zamorim^ At the second audience ho
presented the leitepand presents of Emmanuek The
letter was receiTed y[ith politeness^ but the presents
were Tiewed with, an eye of contempt. Gama be*
held it^«nd sakl he only came to discover the route
to India, and thecefore was not charged with va*
luable gi£^, ere the friendship of the state, where
they might ohuse to traffic, was known. Yet thai
indeed he brought the most valuable of all gifbf, the
oiler of the friendship of his sovereign, and the com*
merce of his country. He then entreated tbe king
not to reveal the contents of Emmanuel's letter to
the Moors, and the king with great seeming friend-
riiip desired Gama to gnard against the perfidy of
that people. And at this timci it is highly probable,
the Zamorim was sincere.
JBvery hour since the arrival of Gama, the Moors

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA. CI

had held secret conferences. That one man might
not return was their purpose ; and every method to
accomplish this was meditated « To influence the
king against the Portuguese, to assassinate Gama, to
raise a general insurrection, to destroy the foreign
navy, and to bribe the Catual, were determined.
And the Catual, in whose house Gama was lodged,
accepted the bribe, and entered into their interest.
Gama, however, was apprised of all these circum-
stances, by his faithful interpreter Monzaida^ whos«
affectioa to the foreign admiral the Moors hither-
to had not suspected. Thus informed, and hav«
ing obtained the faith of an alliance from the so*
vereign of the first port of India, Gama resolved to
elude the plots of the Moors; and accordingly, he*
fore the dawn, he set but for the sea shore, in hope
to escape by some of the boats which he had orders
ed to hover about the coast.

But the Moors were vigilant. His absence- was
immediately known ; and the Catual> by the king's
order, pursued and brought him back by force.
The Catual, however, for it was necessary for their
schemes to have the ships in their power, behaved
with great politeness to the admiral, though now-
detained as a prisonler, and still continued his spe«
cious promises to use all his interest in his behalf..

The eagerness of the Moors now contributed t6»

Cll THE HMTOft? OF

the safety of Gama, Their priacipal merchants
were admiited to a formal audience^ when one of
their orators accused the Portuguese as a nation of
faithless plunderers : Gama, he said, was an exiled
pirate, who had marked his course with depredation
^nd blood. If he were net a pirate, still there was
no excuse for giving such warlike foreigners any
footing in a country already supplied with all that
nature and commerce could give. He expatiated
^n the great services which the Moorish traden
had rendered to Calicut, or wherever they settled ;
and ended with a threat, that all the Moors would
'leave the Zamorim's ports, and find some other
settlements if he permitted these foreigners to hav«
any share in the commerce of his dominions.
. However staggered with these arguments and
threats, the Zamoriqi was not blind to the self-inte-
rest and malice of the Moors. He therefore order*
ed, tha^ the admiral shoul^ once more be brought
before him« In the ipeanwhile the Catual tried
)nany stratagen^s to get the ships into the harbour;
and ^t last, in the name of his master, made an ab*
solute demand that the sails and ruddera should be
delivered up, as the pledge of Gama's honesty. But
these demands were as absolutely refused by Gama»
wjiosent a letter to his brother by Monzaida, enforc-
ing his former orders in the strongest manner^ declar-

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA. CUI

lug that, hifi fs^jte gave him no coQcero, that he was
9nly unhappy lest the fraits of all their labours and
dangers fibould be lost. After two days spent in vain
altercation <with the. Catuali Gama was brought as a
prisoner before the king. The king repeated his
accusatJon, upbraided him with non-compliance to
|he requests of his minister; yet urged him, if he
Ifvere an exile or, pirate, to confe.ss freely, in which
case he proo^ised to take him into his service, and
highly, promote him on account of his abilities. But
Cama, who with great spirit had baffled all the stra-
tagems; of the. €atual« behaved with the same un-
^(ai^nted brayery before the king. He asserted his
innoceixce,, pointed out the malice of the Moors, and
the improbability of his piracy; boasted of the
safety of his fleet, offered (li^*^ life rather than his
sails and rudders, and concluded with threats in the
^ame of his sovereign. The Zamorim, during the
whole conference, eyed Gama with the keenest at-
tention^ and clearly perceived in bis unfaultering
mien the dignity- of truth, and the consciousness
that he was the admiral of a great monarch. In
their late address,. the Moors had treated the Za-
morim as somewhat dependant upon them, and he
saw that a commerce with other nations would cer-
^inly lessen their dangerous importance. His
avarice strongly desired the commerce of Portugal ;
and his pride was flattered in humbling the Moors..

qr THE HISTORY OF

After maoy proposals^ it was at last agrecfd; that of
Gama's twelve attendants^ he should lean^e seten lia^
hostages; that. what goods were aboard bSs Te^l?
should be landed, and that Gama should be safely
conducted to his ship; after which the treaty of
commerce and aHiance was to be finaliy settled.
And thus, when the assassination bf Gamsf'seebi^
inevitable, the Zamorim suddenly dropt the demand
of the sails and the ruddenr, reticued bim from hiii
determined enemies, and restored him to ]Ibert]f^
and the command of his ships.'

As soon as he was aboard * the goods wereiiniided;
accompanied by a letter frofn'G^ma^tdtfte iimcU
Tim, wherein he boldly comiplaitied of tHe» treachery
of the Catnal. The Zamoriin^ in answer, promisecf
to make enquiry, and to punish him if guilty i but
did nothing in the affair. Gama, who had Mw^ an-
chored nearer to the city, every daylsetit two'bif
three diftc^rent* persons on s6taiie bii^neiss to Calicut^
that as many of his men as possible might be ablef
to give some account of India. The Mctorsf, id the'
meanwhile, every day assaulted the ears of the'
king, who now* began to waver ; when Gama, who
had given every proof of his desire of peace and
friendship, sent another letter, iti which he re-
quested* the Zamorim to permit him to 'leave a con-
sul at Calicut, to manage the afiRiirs of king EihmaV

♦ Faria y Sousa.

Tire DISCOVERY OrW&!A4 <?^

Auel. Bat to this request^ the most reasonable' re-
sult of at commercial treaty, the Zamorim returned
a refusal full of rage aud indignation. 6ama, now-
fully master of the character of the Zamorim, re-
solved to treat a man of such an inconstant disho-
nourable disposition with a contemptuous silence.
Thi»contempt was felt by the king, who yielding to*
the advice of the Catuai and the entreaties of the-
Moors, seized the Pbrtuguese goods, and ordered two
of the seven- hostages-, the two who had the charge of
the cargo,, to be put in irons. The admiral remon-
strated by the means of Monzaida, but the king stilF
persisted \n his treacherous^ breach of royal faith.
Repeated solicitations-made him more haughty ; and^
it was now the dutv and interest of Gama to use-
force. He took a vessel in which 'were six Nay res,
or noblemen, and nineteen of their servants. The*
servants he set ashore to relate tho tidings; the no-
blemen he detained.. As sootr as the news had time-
to spread through the city, he hoisted his sails, and,,
though with a slow motion, seemed to proceed on-
his homeward voyage. Hie city was now in aiv
uproar; the friendly of- t^he captive noblemen sur-
rounded the palace, and loodly accused the policy
of the Moor». The king, in all the f^erplexed dtstres9
of a haughty, avaricious> weak prince,, sent after
6ama, delivered up all the hostages, and submitted
tt^hls'proposak; nay, solicited that aa agent should^

e 3>

«V1 THE HISTORY OF

be left, and eveu desceoded to tbe meaDDess of ^
palpable lie. The two factors, he said^ he had put
in irons, only to detain them till .he might write
letters to his brother. Emmanuel, and the goods he
had kept on shore that an agent might be sent to
dispose of them. Gama, however, perceived a
mysterious trilling, and, previous to any treaty, in-
sisted upon the restoration of the goods.

The day aAer this altercatiop, MoRzaida c^me
aboard the admiral's ship in great perturbation;
The Moors, he said, had raised great commotions,
and had enraged the king against the Portuguese..
The king's ships were getting ready, .and a nu-
merous Moorish fleet from Mecca was daily ex-
pected. To delay Gama till this force arrived, was
the purpose of the court aad of the Moors, who
were now confident of success* To this informa-
tion Monzaida added, that the Moors, suspecting
his attachment to Gama, had determined to assassi-
nate him. That he had narrowly escaped fyora
them; that it was impossibly for him to recoyer his
effects, and that/his only hopet was in the protection
of Gama, Gapia .rewarded him with the friendship
he meritedi took him with' him/ as he desired, to-^
Lisbon, and procured him a recompence for hi»
services.

' Almost immediately after Monzaida, seven boatt
arrived, loaded with the goods, and. demanded th^;

THE DISCOVERY OF IKDIA. CYU

restoration of the captive noblemeD. Gama took
the goods on board, but refused to examine if they
were entire, and also refused to deliver the prisoners.
He had been promised an ambassador to his so-
vereign, he said^ but had been so often deluded,
he coald trust such a faithless people no longer, and
lyould therefore carry the captives in his power, to
convince the king of Portugal what insults and in-
justice his ambassador and admiral had suffered
from the Zamorim of Calicut^ Having thus dis*
misled the Indians, he fired his cannon and
hoisted his sails. A calm, however, detained him
on the coast some days, and the Zamorim seizing
the opportunity, sent what vessels he could fit out,
twenty of a larger size, sixty in all, full of armed
men, to attack him* Though Gama's cannon were
well played, conEdent of their numbers, they press^*
ed on to board him,, when a sudden tempest, which
Gama's ships rede out in safety, miserably dispersed
the Indian fleet, and completed their ruin.

After this victory, the admiral made a halt at a^
little island near the shore, where he erected a
cross *, bearing the name and arms of his Portu*

* It was the castom of the first discoverers to erect crosses'
on places remarkable in their voya^. Gama erected six ; one,
dedicated to St. Raphael, at the river of Good Signs, one to St.
George, at Mo2ambic, one to St Stephen, at Melinda, one to
St. Gabriel, at Calicut, and one to St. Mary, at the islam!
the nee juuned, near Aochediv^^.

CVni THH H1ST0HY OF

gtiese majesty. And from this place^ by the hdnd-
of Monzaida, he wrote a letter to the Zamorim,*
"ivherein he gave a full and cirenmstantial account
of all the plots of the Catual and the Moors. . Still,
however, he professed his desire of a commerciar
treaty, and promised to represent the ZamoYim in
the best light to Emmanuel. The prisoners, he said,
should be kindly used, were only kept as ambassa-
dors to his sovereign, and should be returned to*
Itidia when they were enabled firom experience to
give an account of Portugal. The letter he sent by
one of the captives, who by this means obtained his
libertv.

The fame of Gama had now spread over the Indian
seas, and the Moors were every where intent on his
destruction. As he was near the shore of Anche-
diva, he beheld the appearance of a floating isle,
covered with trees, advance towards him. But his
prudence was not to be thus deceived. A bold pi-
rate, named Timoja, by linking together eight ves-
sels fuH of men, and covered with green boughs,
thought to board him by surprise. But Gama's
cannon made seven of them fly; the eighth, loaded
with fruits and provisions, he took. The beautiful
island of Anchediva now offered a convenient place
to careen his ships and refresh his men. While he
staid here, the first minister of Zabago, king ofGoa^
one of the most powerful princes of India, cam« on

THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA. clx'

boards and in the name of hi» master, congratulated'
the admiral in the ItaUan tongue. Provisions, arms,
and money "v<rere offered to Gama, and he was en-
treated to accept the^ frienidahip of Zabajo. The'
admiral was struck with admiration, the address and
abilities of the minister appeared so conspicuous.
He said he was an Italian by birth, but in sailing to'
Greece, had been taken by pirates, and after various
misfortanes, had been necessitated to enter into the-
service of a Mohammedan prince, the nobleness of
■^those disposition he commended in the highest
terms. Yet, with all his abilities, Gama perceived
an artful inquisitiveness, that nameless something
which does not accompany simple honesty. After
a long conference, Gama abruptly upbraided him
as a spy, and ordered him to be put to the torture —
and this soon brought a confession, that he was a
Polonian Jew by birth, and was sent to examine the
strength of the Portuguese by Zabajo, who was
mustering all his power to attack them. Gama on
this immediately set sail, and took the spy along
with him, who soon after was baptized, and named
Jasper de Gama, the admiral being his godfather*
He afterwards became of great service to Emma-
nuel.

Gama now stood westward through the Indian
ocean, and after being long delayed by calms, ar-
rived off Magadoxa, on the coast of Africa. This

ex THE I1I8TOAY OP

place was a priocipal part of the Moors; he there-
fore levelled the walls of the city with his cannon^,
and burned and destro^'ed all tbe. ships in the bar-*
hour. Soon after this he.. descried eight Moorish
vessels bearing down upon him ; his artillery^ how-
ever, soon made them use their oars in flight, nor
could Gama overtake any of them for want of wind.
He now reached the hospitable harbour of Melinda.
His men, almost worn out with fatigue and sickness,
here received^ a second time, every aaustance which
an accomplished and generous prince could bestow.
And having taken an ambassador on board, he
again gave his sails to the wind, in trust that he
might pass the Cape of Good Hope while the fa-
Tourable weather continued, for his acquaintance
with the eastern seas now siiggested to him, that the
tempestuous season was periodical. Soon after he
set sail, his brother's ship struck on a sand bank>
and was burnt by order of the admiral. His brother
and part of the crew he took into his own ship, tbe
rest he sent ou board of Coello; nor were more
hands now alive than were necessary to man the
two vessels which remained* Having taken in pro«>
visions at the i.sland of Zanzibar, where they were
kindly entertained by a Mohammedan prince of the
same sect with the king of Melinda, they safely
doubled the Cape of Good Hope on April 26, 1499^
%Bd continued till they reached the island of St..

THE DISCO Y£BY OF INDIA. CXl

lago in favourable T^^eatber. But a tempest here
separated the two ships^ and gave Gama and Coello
«n opportunity to $hew the goodness of their hearts,
in a manner which does honour to human nature.

The admiral was now near the Azores, whea
Paulus de Gama, long worn with iatigne and sick-
ness, was unable to endure the motion of the ship.
Vasco, therefore, put into the island of Tercera, in
bope of his brother's recovery* And such was his
affection, that rather than leave him, he gave the
command of his ship to one of his officers. But the
hope of recovery was vain. John de Sa proceeded
to Lisbon with the flag ship, while the admiral re-
mained behind to sooth the death bed of bis bro-
ther, and perform his funeral rites. Coello, in the,
mean while, landed at Lisbon, and hearing that
Gama was not arrived, imagined he might either be
shipwrecked, or beating about in distress. Without
seeing one of his family, he immediately set sail, on
purpose to bring relief to his friend ^nd. admiral.
But this generous design, more the effect of friend-
ship than of just consideration, was prevented by
an order from the king, ere his ship got out of th^
Tagusi

The particulars of the voys^ge were now diffused
by Coello, and the joy of the king was only equalled
by the admiration of the people. Yet while all the
nation waa fired with zeal to express their esteem of

CXH THB HISTORY AF, &C^

the happy admiraly he himself^ the man who wa»
such an enthusiast to the success of his voyage^ that
he would willingly haye sacrificed his life in Indis^
to secure that success, was now, in the con>pletto»
of it, a dejected mourner. The compliments of the
court and the shouts of the street were irksome to
him, for his brother, the companion of his toils and
dangers, was not there to share the joy. As soon
as he had waited on the king, be shut himself up in-
a lonely house near the sea side at Bethlehem, fron>
whence it- was some time eve be was drawn to'
mingle in pubHc Ytfe. •

During this important expeditioir, twa years and*
utmost two months elapsed. Of 1 60 men who wentr
out, only 55 retsrued. These were all rewarded
by the king. CoelFo was pensioned with 1 00 d ucatr
a year, and mad^ a fidalgo, or gentleman of the*
kiiig^s household, a degree of nobility in- PortugaL
The title of Don was annexed to the family of Vasco
de Gama ; he was appointed admiral of the eastern
seas, with an annual salary of 3000 ducats, and »
part of the king^s arms was added to his. Public
thanksgivrngs to heaven were celebrated thronghoul^
the churches of the kingdom, and feasts, interlude^
and chivalrous entertainments, the taste of that age^
demonstrated the joy of Portugal.

THE

LIFE

or

LUIS DE CAMOENS.

WfiftM the'g!oiy of the arms of Portugal had reach-
ed lis meridian splendour, nature, as if in pity of
tHe' Htierary nadeness' of that nation, produced one
gteat poet, to record 'the numberleits actions of high
9p\t\i peribrmed by his countrymen. Except Oso^
rios, the historians of Ponugalare little better than
dry joumalrsts. But it is not their inelegance which
rendered the poet necessary. It is the peculiar na-
ttire of poetrjrto give a colouring to heroic actions^
and to express an indignation against the breaches'
of honour, in a sphrift which at once seises* the heart
of the man of fbeling, and carries with it an instan-
taneous conviction. The brilliant actions of the*
Portuguese form the great 'hinge which o(»ened thei
door tl9 the most important alteration in the civil
history of mankind. And to place these actions in
l;^e light and enthusiasm of poetry, that enthusiasnv
which particularly assimilates the youthful breast to

CXIT THE LIF£ OF CAMOENS.

its own fires, was Luis de Camoens, the poet of Por-
tugal, born.

Different cities have claimed the honour of his
birth, and the time also of his nativity is involved
in some obscurity. But frequent allusions in his
poems infer Lisbon to have been his birth place^
and an entry in the register of the Portuguese India
House, proves it to have occurred in 1 52-^, or the
year following''^. His family was of considerabl«
note, and originally Spanish. In 1370, Vasco Perea
de Caamans, disgusted at ^he coprt of Castile, flfd
to that of Li8bon,where king Fej^dinand iramedia^lj,
admitted him into his council, and gave him thit-
lordships of Sardoal, Fujuuete, Marano^ AmendOy
and other considerable lands; a certain proof of the
eminence of his rank and abilities. la the war for
tlie succession^ which broke out on the death of Fer«
dinand, Caamans sided with the king of Castile, and
was killed in the battle of Aljabarrota. But though
John I. the victor, seized a great parj^ o^ his estate*

* la astigiiiiiff 1594-5 «s the sim of oar poe^s bSECii^ tiM edi-
tor maiit not omit statinip it to .have been the opiniou of the lata.
Mr. Mickle, that he was boro in the year 15171. As, however,^
this assertion rests upon the authority of N. Antonio and Ma-'
suel Correa, two frt^ds of Qamoens, wkboot any rtfertnce
to written document?, the editor hopes he shall nojt, incur th^
charge of presumption in having followed Lord Strangford^who,
in the memoirs prefixed to his I/nd^ip^s elegant version of
the ioimets af Camp»iis» has, u^oa the authority of P^uia^
placed it ia X5%\*

*TH£ LIFE OF CAMOENS. tXr

his widow, the daughter of Gousalo Tereyro, grand
master of the order of Christ, and general of the
Portuguese army, Vfgis not reduced beneath her rank.
She had three sons, who took the name of Camoens.
Xhe family of the eldest intermarried with the .first
mobility of Portugal, and even, according toCastera^
with the blood royal. But the family of the second
brother, whose fortune was slender, had the superior
honour to produce the author of the Lusiad.
. Early in his life the misfortpnes of the poet began*
In bis infancy, Simon Yaz de Camoens, his father,
commander of a vessel, was shipwrecked at Goa^i
'Sphere, with his life, the greatest part of bis fortune
was lost. His mother, however, Anne de Macedo
of Santarene, provided for the education of her son
Luis at the university of Coimbra. What he ac-*
quired there, his works discover: an intimacy with
the classics, equal to that of a Scaliger, but directed
by the taste of a Milton or a Pope.
, When he left the university, he appeared at
court. He was a polished scholar, and very hand«
some, possessing a most engaging mien and address^
with the finest complexion; which, added to
the natural ardour and gay vivacity of his dispo*
aition, rendered him an accomplished gentleman^
Courts are the scenes of intrigue, and intrigue was
&sbionable at Lisbon. But the particulars of the.
amours of Camoens rest unknown. This only ap*

CSri THE LIFE O^ CAMOENS;

pears : he had aspired above his rank, for he was
banished from the court ; and, in several of hfs
sonnets, he ascribes this misfortune to love.

He now retired to his mother's friends at Santa-
rene. Here he renewed his studies, and began his
Poem on the Discovery of India. John HI. at this
time prepared an armament against Africa. Ca«
moens, tired of his inactive obscure life, went to
Ceuta in this expedition, and greatly distinguished
his valour in several rencounters. In a naval en-
gagement with the Moors, in the straits of OibraU
tar, Camoens, in the conflict of boarding, wbeve be
was among the foremost, lost his right eye. Yet nei-
ther the hurry of actual service, nor the dissipation
of the camp, could stifle his genius. He continued
bis Lu^iadas, and several of his roost beautiful son-
nets were written in Africa, while, as he expresses it;

One band the pen, and one the sword employ M.

•

The fame of his- valour bad now reached the court,
and he obtained pemnsskm to reiiim to* Li«boiu
But while he solicited an establishment which he hwk
merited in the ranks of battle, the malignity of evit
tongues, as he calls it in one of his letters^ was inju-
riously poured upon him. Though - the bloom of
his early youth was effaced by several years resi-*
dence under the scorching heavens of Africa, and
though altered by the loss of an eye, his presence*

TUB LIFE OF CAMOfiNS, ' CXVll

•

gave u»ea9itiiess to the genlblemen of soitie families
of the first rank* where he had formerly visited*
Jealousy is the characteristic of the Spanish and
Portagttese; its resentment knows no bounds: and
Camoens now found' it prudent to banish himself
from his native country. Accordingly^ in 1553, he
sailed for India, with a resolution never to return.
As the.3hip left the T^gus, he exclaimed, in the
words of the sepulchral monument of Scipio Africa*
nus, Ingrata Patria, ndn possidetis ossa mea ! Un-
grateful country, thou shalt not possess my bones !
but he knew not what evils in the East would awake
the remembrance of his native fields.

When Camoens arrived in India, an expedition
was ready to sail to revenge the King of Cochin on
the King of Pimenta. Without any rest on shore
after his long voyage, he joined this armament, and
in the conquest of the Alagada islands, displayed
his usual bravery. But his modesty, perhaps, is
his greatest praise. In a sonnet he mentions this
expedition : we went to punish the king of Pimenta*
says he, e succedeones bem, and toe succeeded welL
When it is considered that the poet bore no ineon*
siderable share in the victory, no ode can conclude
more elegantly, more happily than thjs^

In the year folk>wing, he. attended Manuel, de
Vasconcello in an expedition to the Red Sea. Heie^
says Faria, as Camoens had no use for his sword, he

CX?i)l THE LIFE OF CAHOSMS.

4

employed his pen. Nor was hisactiTity confined
in the fleet or camp. He risited Mount Felix, and
the adjacent inhospitable regions of Africa^ which
he iBO strongly pictures in the Lusiad, and in one of
his little pieces, where he laments the absence of
bis mistress.

• When he returaed toGoa, he enjoyed a tranquil*
iity which enabled him to bestow his attention oh
his epic poem. But this serenity was interrupted,
perhaps by his own imprudence. Be wrote some
satires which gave offence, and, by onier of the
viceroy, Francisco Barreto, he was banished to
China.

Men of poor abilities are more conscious of their
embarrassment and errors than is commonly believ*
ed. When men of this kind are in power, they af«
feet great solemnity ; and every expression of the
most distant tendency to lessen their dignity, is held
as the greatest of crimes. Conscious also how se-
verely the man of genius can hurt their interest,
they bear an instinctive antipathy against him, are
uneasy even in his company, and, on the slightest
pretence, are happy to drive him from them. Ca-
moens was thus situated at Goa; and never was
there a fairei^ field for satire than the rulers of India
at this time afibrded. Yet, whatever esteem the
prudence of Camoensmay lose in our idea, the no-
bleness of his disposition will doubly gain. And,

so conscioas Tras he of his real integrity and inno-
cence^ that in one of his sonnets he, wishes no other
revenge on Barreto^ thaa that the cruelty of bis exila
should ever be remembered.

The accomplishments and manners of Camoens
soon found' him friends^ though under llie disgrace
of banishment. He was appointed commissary of
the estates of the defunct in the island of Macao;
on the coast of China. Here he continued his hm
feiad ; and here also^ after five years residence^ h^
acquired a fortune^ though small^ yet equal to his
wishes. Don Constantine de Braganza Was now
viceroy of India^ and Camoens^ desirous to return to
€roa^ resigned his charge. In a ship, freighted by
himself, he set sail, but was shipwrecked in the
gulph near the mouth of the fiver Mecon, in Cochin«
China. All he had acquired was lost in the wavest
his poems, which he held in one hand, while he
saved himself with the other, were all he found
himself possessed of, while he stood friendless on the
unknown shore. ' But the natives gave htm a most
humane reception t this he has immortalised in the
prophetic song in the tenth Lusiad ; and in the so*
Tenth he tells us, that here he lost the wealth which
Kitisfied his wishes:

Agora da esperan^aja adquirada, &c.

Now blest with all the wealth fond hope coald cra?e,
.Soon I beheld that wesltb beneath the wave

C^X XUU MfB fitP CAMOfiH 9.

MBBi^i^M

Forever lost ;-

My life, like Judah's heaven •doom'd king of yore»

By miracle prolong^—

On the banks of the Mecon, he wrote. hU b^uti*
fill paraphrase of the psaJm, "where the Jew9, io the
finest iJtraiji of poetry^- are represented as banging
their harps on* the willows, by the rivers, of B«^by<r
|oDj and .seeping their exile from tbw n^ati^e
ooqnliry* iHere CsuooeJis continued Yome ^pae; Ull
an Qppf>rtanUy offered to carry him to Goa. When
be arrived at that city^ Don Constantino deBra*
ganzat whose characteristic was politeness^ admitted
him into iatimate friei^shjp^ and Camoens fvas bap*
py till Count Redondo assumed the governments
Those who had formerly procured the bannshmeu^
of the satirist^ were silent wbile Constantino was in
power; but now they exerted all ibeir arts against
him. Bedondo, when he entered on c^ce,,pTe*
tended to be the friend of Camoens; yet, with the
most unfeeling indifFerence^ he suffered the inno«'
cent man to be thrown into the commo^ prison.
After all the delay of bringing witnesses, Camoens,
in a puMic trial, ftiUy refuted every accusation of
bis cooduct, while coqimissary at Macao, and his
enemies were loaded with ignominy and reproach.
But Camoens had some creditors; and these detain-
ed him in prison a considerable time, till the gentle-
men of Goa began to be ashamed, that a man of his

^r<

THE LIFE OF CAMOE^S. CXXl

Singular merit should experience such treatment
among them. He was set at liberty ; and again he
assumed the profession of arms^ and received the al-
lowance of a gefitleman volunteer, a character at
that time common in Portuguese India. Soon after,
Pedro Barreto, appointed governor of the fort at
Sofala, by high promises, alluVed the poet to attend
kim thither. The governor of a distant £[>rt, in a
barbarous country, shares, in some measure, the
fate of an exile. Yet, though the only motive of
Barreto was, in this unpleasant sttuation« to retain
the conversation of Camoeus at his table, it was his
least care to render the life of his guest agreeable.
Chagrined with his treatment, and a considerable
time having elapsed in vain dependence upon Bar-
reto, Camoens resolved to return to his native coun-
try. A ship, on the homeward voyage, at this time
ouched at Sofala, and several gentlemen who were
on board, were desirous that Can^ens should ac-
company them. Bat this the governor ungene-
rously endeavoured to prevent, and charged him
with a debt for board. Anthony de Cabral, how-
ever, and Hector de Sylveyra, paid the demand ;
and Camoens says Faria, and the honour of Bar-
reto, were sold together.

After an absence of sixteen years, Camoens, in
1569, returned to Lisbon, unhappy even in his arri-
val, for the pestilence then raged in that city, and

VOL. I. f

CXXU THB LIFE OF CAMOENS.

prevented his publication for three years. At last^
in 1572, he printed his Lusiad, which, in the open*
ing of the first book, in a most elegant turn of com*
pliment, he addressed to his prince, king Sebastian^
then in his eighteenth year. The king, says the
French translator^ was so pleased with his merit,
that he gave the author a pension of 4000 reals, on
condition that he should reside at court. But this
salary, says the same writer, was withdrawn by
cardinal Henry, who succeeded to the crown of
Portugal, lost by Sebastian at the battle of Alcazar.
But this story of the pension is very doubtful.
Correa, and other cotemporary authors, do not
mention it, though some late writers have given
credit to it. If Camoens, however, had a pension,
it is highly probable that Henry deprived him of it.
When Sebastian was devoted to the chase, his grand
uncle, the cardinal, presided at the council board,
and Camoens, in his address to the king, which
closes the Lusiad, advises him to exclude the clergy
from state affairs. It was easy to see that the car*
dinal was here intended. And Henry, besides, was
one of those statesmen who can perceive no benefit
resulting to the public from elegant literature. But
it ought also to be added in completion of his cha-
racter, that under the narrow views and weak hands
of this Henry, the kingdom of Portugal fell into ut-
ter ruin ; and on his death, which closed a short in-

TfiE LITE Of' CAM0BN9* C^ILXIU

gloricms reigix, the crown of Lisbon^ after a faint
struggle, was annexed to that of Madrid. Such was
the degeneracy of the Portuguese, a degeneracy
lamented in vain by Camoens, and whose observa-
tion of it was imputed to him as a crime.

Though the great patron of theological literature^
a species the reverse of that of Camoens, certain it
is, that the author of the Lusiad was utterly neg-
]ected by Henry, under whose inglorious reign he
died in all the misery of poverty. By some it is
said he died in an alms-house. It appears, however,
that he had not even the certainty of subsistence
which these houses provide. He had a black ser*
vant, who had grown old with him, and who had
long experienced his master's humanity. This
grateful Indian, a native of Java, who, according to
some writers, saved his master's life in the unhappy
shipwreck where he lost his effects, begged in the
streets of Lisbon for the only man in Portugal on
whom God had bestowed those talents, which have
a tendency to erect the spirit of a downward age.
To the eye of a careful observer, the fate of Camoens
throws great light on that of his country, and will
appear strictly connected with it. The same igno-
ranee, the same degenerated spirit, which suffered
Camoens to depend on his share of the alms begged
in the streets by his old hoary servant, the same
spirit which caused this^ sunk the kingdom of Por*

f 2

^XXiy THE LIFE OF CAMOEN^.

tugal into the most abject vassalage ever experU
enced by a conquered nation. While the grandees
of Portugal were blind to the ruin which impended
over thern^ Camoens beheld it with a pungency of
grief which hastened his end. In one of his letters
he has these remarkable words, " Em Jim accajberof
it vidUi e ven^ todos que fuy afeigoada^ a minho pa*
tria^* &c. '* I am ending the course of my life ; the
world will witness h<fW I have loved my country.
I have returned, not only to die in her bosom, but
to die with her/' In another letter, written a little
before his death, he thus, yet with dignity, com-
plains, '' Who has seen, on so small a theatre as my
poor bed, such a representation of the disappoint-
ments of fortune ? And I, as if she could not her-
self subdue me, I have yielded and become of her
party; for it were wild audacity to hope to sur<
mount such accumulated evils/'

In this unhappy situation, in 1579, the year
after the fatal defeat of Don Sebastian, died Luis
de Camoens, the greatest literary genius ever pro«
duced by Portugal ; in martial courage, and spirit
of honour, nothing inferior to her greatest he*
roes. And in a manner suitable to the poverty
in which he died was he buried. Soon after, how-
ev^^j, many epitaphs honoured his memory; the
greatness of his merit was universally confessed,
^d his Lusiad was translated into various laa-

TH£ LIFE or CAMOENS. CXXY

guages*. Nor ought it to be omitted^ that the
man so miserably neglected by the weak king Hen-
ry, was earnestly enquired after by Philip of Spain,
when he assumed the crown of Lisbon; When
Philip heard that Camoens was dead, both his
words and his countenance expressed his disap«
pointment and grief.

From the whole tenor of his life, and from that
spirit which glows throughout the Lusiad, it evi-
dently appears that the courage and manners of
Camoens flowed from true greatness and dignity of
6oul, Though his polished conversation was often
courted by the great, he appears so distant from
servility, that his imprudence in this respect is by
some highly. blamed. Yet the instances of it by no
means deserve that severity of censure with which
some writers have condemned him. Unconscious
of the feelings of a Camoens, they knew not that a

* According to Gedron, a second edition of the Lusiad ap«
peared in the same year with the first. There are two Italian
and four Spanish translations of it. An hundred years before
Castera's version, it appeared in French, Thomas de Faria,
bishop of Taipi iu Africa, translated it into Latin, and printed
it without either his own or the name of Camoens : a mean,
but vain, attempt to pass his version upon the public as an ori-
ginal. Le P. Niceron says, there were two other Latin trans-
lations. Tt is translated also into Hebrew, with great elegance
and spirit, by one Luzzetto^ a learned and ingenious Jew, au-
thor of several poems in that languagCj aod who, about thirty
years ago, died in the Holy Lan4>

eXXVl THE LIFE Of CABOEN9.

carelessness in securing the smiles of fortune, a^d
an open honesty of indignation, are almost insepa-
rable from the enthusiasm of fine imagination. The
truth is^ the man possessed of true genius feels bis
greatest happiness in the pursuits and excursions of
the mind, and therefore makes an estimate of things,
yery different from that of him whose unremitting
attention i& devoted to his. external interest. The
profusion of Camoens is also censured. Had he
dissipated the wealth he acquired at Macao, his
profusion indeed bad been criminal; but it does
not appear that he ever enjoyed anj" other opportu«
nity of acquiring .independence. But Camoens was
unfortunate, and the unfortunate man is viewed

tbroii<;h the dim shade his fate casts o'er him:

A shade that spreads its evening darkness o*er
His brightest yirtues, while it shews bis foiUea
Crowding and obvious as the midnight stars.
Which in the sunshine of prosperity
Never had been descried —

Yet, afler the strictest discussion, when all the
causes are weighed together, the misfortunes of
Camoens will appear the fault and disgrace of his
age and country, and not of the man. His talents
^would have secured him an apartment in the palace
of Augustus, but such talents area curse to. their
possessor in an illiterate nation. In a beautiful di-
gressive exclamation, at the end of the fifth Lusiad*

• «

THE LIFE OF CAM0EN8. .CXXVll

he gives us a striking view of the neglect which he
experienced. Having mentioned how the greatest
heroes of antiquity revered and cherished the Muse^
he thus characterises the nobility of his own age
and country :

Alas ! on Tago's hapless shore alone

The Muse is slighted, and her charms unknown*

For this, no Virgil here attunes the lyre.

No Homer here awaices the hero's fire.

Unheard, in vain their native poet sings.

And cold neglect weighs down the Muse's wings.

And what particularly seems to have touched him«-

£ven he whose veins the blood of Gama warms *
Walks by, unconscious of the Muse's charms :

• * The political evils impending over his country, which
Camoens almost alone foresaw, gave not, in their fulfilment^ •
fitronger proof of his superior abilities, than his prophecy of
Don Francisco de Gama —

Nem as Fiihas (h Tejo, que deixatsem
As iellas dourojino, e que o cantassem,

Ko Nymph qfTagus shall leave Iter golden embroidered weh, andeing
qf him — affords of his knowledge of men. Camoens was supe*
rior to a mean resentment^ he most undoubtedly perceived
that ignorance, unmannerly arrogance, and insignificance of .
abilities, which, eighteen, and thirty -eight yeai's after hit
death, disgraced the two viceroyalties of his hero's grandson.
Justice to the memory of Camoens^ and even to the cause of
polite literature itself, requires some short account of this no-
bleman, who appears to have treated our author with the most
mortifying neglect. He was named Don Francisco de Gama,
Count de Vidigueyra. Facts will best give his character ;
he had not one idea, that the elegant writer who immortalised
Wa ancestor had the least title to his countenance. Several

CXXviii THiE LlPfi OP CAMOENS.

Forbiffl no Muse shall leave her golden Boom,
No palm shall blossom, aiid no wreath shall Uopm.
Yet shall my labours and my cares be paid
By fame immortal .

In such an age^ and among cruch barbarous Bobility,
what but wretched neglect could be the fate of a

years after the death of Camoens, he was made vix^roy of In-
dia, by the king of Spain. Here he carried himself with snch
state, says Faria, that be was hated by all men. When he
entered upon his government, he bestowed every place in his
gift upon his parasites, who publicly sold them to the best bid-
ders. And though Cunnale, the pirate, who had disgracefully
defeated Don Luis de Game, the viceroy's brother, had sur-
rendered, upon the sole condition of life, to the brave Furtado,
Cunnale, his nepbesL Cinale, and forty Moors of rank, were
brought to Goa. But the Moora were no sooner landed, than
the lawless rabble tore them in pieces, and Cunnale and his
aephew were publicly beheaded, by ordev of the vicerey.
And thus, says Fana, govemnnent and the rabble w«at band in
hand in murder and the breach of faith. Over the priaoipal
gate of Goa stood a marble statue of Vasco de Gama. This, in
hatred of the grandson, the enraged inhabitants broke down, in
the night, and in the morning the quarters were found gibbeted
In the most public parts of the city. And thus the man who
despised the wreath witii which Camoens crowned his grand-
father, brought that grandfather's eHigies to the deepest insult
which can be offered to the memory of the deceased. Nor
were his own effigies happier. On his recal to Europe, the first
object that struck him,wben he went aboard the ship appointed
to carry him, was a fSgure hanging by the neck at the yardarm»
exactly like himself in feature and habit. He asked what it
meant; and was resohitely answered, U represents You, and
these are the mm who hung it up. Nor must another insult ht
omitted. After being a few days at sea, he was neeessitatecl
to return to the port from whence he had sailed, for fresh pro-
visions, for all his live stock, it was found, was poisoned.

THE LIFE OF CAMOENSr CXXlX

Camoens ! After all, however, if he was imprudent
on his first appearance at the court of John III. if
the honesty of his indignation led him into great
imprudence, as certainly it did, when at Goa he sa-
tirised the viceroy and the first Goths in power; yet
let it also be remembered, that " The gifts of imagi«
nation bring the heaviest task upon the vigilance of
reason; and to bear those faculties with unerring
rectitude or invariable propriety, requires a degree
of firmness and of cool attention, which doth not
always attend the higher gills of the mind. Yet
difficult as nature herself seems to hiive rendered the
task of regularity to genius, it is the supreme con-
solation of dullness and of folly to point with Gothic
triumph to those excesses which are the overflow-
ings of faculties they never enjoyed. Perfectly
unconscious that they are indebted to their stupi-
dity for the consistency of their conduct, they plume
themselves on an imaginary virtue, which has its
origin in what is really their disgrace. Let such, if
such dare approach the shrine of Camoens, with«
draw to a respectful distance ; and should they be^-
hold the ruins of genius^ or the weakness of an ex-
alted mind, let them be taught to lament, that na-
ture has left the noblest of her works imperfect*.'*

* This passage in inverted commas is cited, with the altera-
tion of the name only, from Dr. Langhorne's account of the life
of William Collins.

f 3

DISSERTATION

6ir THK

LUSIAD,

AND

OBSERVATIONS UPON EPIC POETRY.

VoLTAiEE, when he was in England^ previous to
the publication of his Henriade, published in English
an Essay on the Epic Poetry of the European na-
tions. In this he highly praised and severely at-
tacked the Lusiad. Yet this criticism, though most
superficial and erroneous^ lias been generally es-
teemed throughout Europej as the true character of
that poem. The great objections upon which he
condemns it^ are, an absurd mixture of Christian
and Pagan mythology, and a want of unity in th«
action and conduct. For the mixture of mythology,
a defence shall be offered^ and the wild exaggera^

CXXXli DISSERTATION ON THE LUSIAD.

tions of Voltaire exposed. And an examcn of the
conduct of the Lasiad will clearly evince, that the
Eneid itself is not more perfect in that connection
which is requisite to form one whole, according to
the strictest rules of epic unity *.

* As whatever bears the sanction of Voltaire's celebrated
name will be remembered, and hereafter appealed to as deci-
sive in the controversies of literary merit, if not circumstan-
tially refuted; it may not be amiss to expose the very slight
acquaintance that Voltaire possessed of this poem, which he
has in the above-mentioned essay so unjustly condemned. It
might reasonably be pi'esumed, that a critic should not only pos«
aess a correct knowledge of the language of that author, whose
production he essays to examine, but that be should also have
studied the literature of the country, and more particularly
that of the age, in which he lived ; yet so totally destitute was
Voltaire of both these requisites for forming a just conception
of the merits of Camoens, that when his Essay on Epic Poetry
was printing in London, he confessed to Col. Bladon, th«
translator of Csesar, to whom be shewed a proof sheet of it
whilst at press, that he had Aever seen the Lusiad, neither
could he read Portuguese, upon which the Colonel put Fan-
shaw's translation of it into his hands, and in less tlian a fort-
night Voltaire's critique made its appearance.

From a criticism on the Lusiad, formed upou such slight ac-
quaintance with so very imperfect a translation as that of Fan-
shaw's, much could not be expected; yet it might have been,
hoped, that according to hw knowledge of the subject, woiiid
have been the degree of censure that Voltaire would have cast
upon so celebrated a performance ; but, as if possessed by the
same spirit which impelled his pen to write such inconsistencies
against the Paradise Lost, (which he aifinnj to have beea takett
fi-om an Italian author who was never beard of) does be pn^
ceed to lavish his abuse upon the author of the Lusiad, But
so unfortunate is he in the charges which he brings forward.

DISSERTATION ON THE LV8IAD. CXZXIll

The term Epopceia is derived from the Greek
"Efl'oy, discourse, and hence the epic, may be ren-»
dered the narrative poem. In the fall latitude of

that every sacceediog assertion tends only to increase the
proofs of his ignorance of his author, as well as of the history of
the country in which he flourished. So superficial indeed was
his acquaintance with the Lnsiad, that both the poet and the
hero of it are misnamed by him, and as if completely to refute
himself, he makes Camoens, who was not then born, accom-
pany Gama in the expedition to India, and relate the circnm*
stances of the voyage, as though he had been an eye witness of
them. Numberless other instances might be here adduced,
if the preceding were not sufficient to prove the very superfi-
cial insight which Voltaire possessed of the Lusiad when he first
printed bis Essay on Epic Poetry ; and although some of these
blunders have been corrected in the late editions of that essay,
yet such unparalleled and groundless aspersions should not pass
unrecorded.

Upon consideration, however, that Sir Richard Fansbaw*f
harsh and unpoetical version of the Lusiad, in which there are
so many passages introduced that are not in the original, was
the only source whence Voltaire drew those unjust conclu-
sions, which he has advanced in his examination of it, we can-
not be surprised that be has condemned it upon circumstances
which have no place in the poem : so obscure indeed are many
parls of that version, that the present translator has, in several
instances, been obliged to have recourse to the original for
W elucidation of them, and notwithstanding the abnse of which
Mons. Voltaire is so very lavish, he appears to have been so
highly struck with the sublimity of particular passages of the
poem, even under the unfavourable view in which it was offer-
pi to hiin, that he admits the work to be full of the grandest
beauties, and to be the production of an uncommon genius,
whom he dignifies in another part of his writings with the title
ef the Pertogvese Virgil,

CZZ1UV DISSERTATION ON THB LUSIAD*

this definition, some Italian critics have contended,
that the poems of Dante .^nd Ariosto were epic.
But these consist of yarious detached actions, which
do not constitute one whole. In this manner Tele-
machus and the Faerie Queene are also epic poems.
A definition more restricted, however, a definition
descriptive of the noblest species of poetry, has
been given by Aristotle; and the greatest critics
have followed him, in appropriating to this species
the term of epopceia, or epic. The subject of the
epopoeia, according to that great father of criticism,
must be one. One action must be invariably pur-
sued, and heightened through different stages, till
the catastrophe close it in so complete a manner, that
any farther addition would only inform the reader
of what he already perceives. Yet in pursuing
this one end, collateral episodes not only give that
variety, so essential to good poetry, but, under judi-
cious management, assist in the most pleasing man-
ner to facilitate and produce the nnravelment, or
catastrophe. Thus the anger of Achilles is the
subject of the Iliad. He withdraws his assistance
from the Greeks. The efforts and distresses of the
Grecian <army in his absence, and the triumphs of
Hector, are the consequences of his rage. In the
ntmost danger of the Greeks, he permits his friend
I'atroclus to go to battle. Patroclus is killed by
Hector. Achilles, to revenge his fall, rushes to the

DISSERTATION ON THS tUSIAD. CXXZT

field. Hector is killed, the Trojans defeated, and
the rage of Achilles is soothed by the obsequies of
iiis friend. And thus also the subject of the Eneid
is one. The remains of the Trojan nation, to whom
a seat of empire is promised by the oracle, are re-
presented as endangered by a tempest at sea. They
land at Carthage. Eneas, their leader, relates the
fate of Troy to the hospitable queen ; but is ordered
by Jupiter to fulfil the prophecies, and go in search
of the promised seat of that empire, which was one
day to command the world. Eneas again sets sail ;
many adventures befal him. He at last lauds in
Italy, where prophecies of his arrival were acknow-
ledged. Hi6 fated bride, however, is betrothed to
Turnus. A war ensues, and the poem concludes with
the death of the rival of Eneas. In both these great
Poems, a machinery suitable to the allegorical reli-
gion of those times is preserved. Juno is the guai^^
dian of the Greeks, Venus of the Trojans. Narra-
tive poetry without fiction can never please. With-
out fiction it must want the marvellous, which is the
very soiil of poesy ; and hence a machinery is in-
dispensible in the epic poem. The conduct and
machinery of the Lusiad are as foHow t — ^The poem
opens with a Tiew of the Portuguese fleet before a
prosperous gale on the coast of Ethiopia. The
crews, however, are worn with labour, and their
safety depends upon their fortune in a friendly har-

CZZZVl DISSEftTATION ON THE LUSIAD*

bour. The gods of ancient or poetical mythology
are represented as in conncil. The fate of the
Eastern vrorld depends upon the success of the fleet..
But as we trace the machinery of the Lusiad^ let us
remember that, like the machinery of Homer and
Virgil, it is also allegorical. Jupiter, or the Lord
of Fate, pronounces that the Lusians shall be pros-
perous. Bacchus, the evil daemon or genius of
Alohammedism, who was worshipped in the East,
foreseeing that his empire ahd altars would be over-
turned, opposes Jove, or Fate. The celestial Venus,
or heavenly Love, pleads for the Lusians. Mars, or
diviae Fortitude, encourages the Lord of Fate to
remain unaltered ; and Maia's son, the Messenger
of Heaven, is sent to lead the navy to a friendly
harbour. The fleet arrives at Mozambic. Bacchus,
like Juno in the Eneid, raises a commotion against
the Lusians. A battle ensues, and the victorioun
fleet pursue their voyage, under the care of a
Moorish pilot, who advises them to enter the har-
bour of Quiloa. According to history, they at-
tempted this harbour, where their destruction would
have been inevitable ; but they were driven from
it by the violence of a sudden tempest. The poet,
in the true spirit of Homer and Virgil, ascribes this
to the celestial Venus,

whose watchful canf

Had ever been their guide-

OISSE&TATION ON THE LUSIAD. CXJULVU

Thej now arrive at Mombassa. The malice of the
evil daemon or genius of Mohammed ism, still excites
the arts of treachery against them. Hermes, the
messenger of heaven^ in a dream^ in the spirit of
Homer, warns the hero of the poem of his danger,
and commands him to steer for Melinda. There he
arrives, and is received by the prince in the most
friendly manner. Here the hero receives the first
certain intelligence or hope of India. The prince
of Melinda's admiration of the fortitude and prowess
of his guests, the first who had ever dared to pass
the unknown ocean by Cape Corrientes, artfully
prepares the reader for a long episode. The poem
of Virgil cohtains the* history of the Roman empire
to his own time. Camoens perceived this, and
trod in his steps. The history of Portugal, which
Gama relates to the king of Melinda, is not only
necessary to give their new ally an high idea of the
Lusian prowess and spirit, but also naturally leads
to, and accounts for the voyage of Gama: the event,
which, in its consequences, sums up the Portuguese
honours. It. is also requisite for Gama to tell the
rise of his nation to the kii^ of Melinda, as it is for
Eneas to relate to Dido the cause of his royage, the
destruction of Troy. Pleased with the falAe of
their nation, the king of Melinda vows lasting friend*
ship with the Lusians,* and gives them a faithful
pilot. As they tail across the great Indian ocean.

eZXXTltl DlSSEftTATlOU ON THfe LCSIAD.

the machinery is again employed. The evil ciet-
mon implores Neptune and the powers of the sea to
raise a tempest to destroy the fleet. The sailors on
the night watch fortify their courage by relating
the valiant acts of their countrymen ; and an epi-
sode, in the true poetical spirit of chivalry, is intro-
duced. Thus Achilles in his tent is represented as
singing to his lyre the praises of heroes. And in
the epic conduct, this narrative and the tales told by
Nestor, either to restrain or inflame the rage of the
Grecian chiefs, are certainly the same.

The accumulation of the tempest in the mean-
while is finely described. It now descends. Celes-
tial Venus perceives the danger of her fleet. She
is introduced by the appearance of her star, a stroke
of poetry which would have shined in the £neid«
The tempest is in its utmost rage.

The sky and ocean blending, each on fire,
Seem'd as all nature straggled to expire.
When now the silver star of Lo?e appeared;
Bright in her east her radiant front she reared ^
Fair through the horrid storm the gentle ray
Announced the promise of the cheerful day.
From her bright throne Celestial Love beheld
The tempest bu#h ^

And in the true spirit of Homer's allegory, she callfl
her nymphs, and by their ministry stills the tem-
pest. Gama now arrives in India. Every circiiDi«
ftance rifles from the preceding onie; and the.ceik»

DISSERTATION ON THE LV8IAD* CXXXIX

duct in every circumstaDce is as exactly Virgilian^
as any two tragedies may possibly be alike in adhe-
rence to the rules of the drama. Gama^ having
accomplished his purpose in India, sets sail for
Europe, and the machinery is for the last time em-
ployed « Venus, to reward her heroes, raises a
paradisaical island in the sea. Voltaire, in his
English essay, has said, that no nation but the Por-»
tuguese and Italians could be pleased with this fic-
tion. In the French he has suppressed this sentence^
but has compared it to a Dutch brothel allowed for
the sailors. Yet this idea of it is as false as it is
gross. Every thing in the island of Love resembles
the statue of Venus de Medicis. The description
is warm indeed, but it is chaste as the first loves of
Adam and Eve in Milton ; and entirely free from
that grossness, (see the note, p. 142, vol. iii.) often
tcr be found in Dante, Ariosto, Spenser, and in Mil*
ton himself. After the poet has explained the alle-
gory of the island of Love, the goddess of the ocean
gives her hand and commits her empire, to Gama«
whom she conducts to her palace, where, in a pro-
phetic song, he hears the actions of the heroes who
were to establish the Portuguese empire in the East,
In epic conduct nothing can be more masterly. The
funeral games in honour of Patroclus, after the Iliad
has turned upon its great hinge, the death of Heclon
axe. here most happily itnitated ; after the Lusiad haa

CXl DISSERTATION ON THE LUSIAD.

also turned apon its great hinge^ the discoyery of
India. Theconductisthesame^thoughnotone feature
is borrowed. Ulysses and Eneas are sent to visit th«
regions of the dead ; and Voltaire's hero must also
foe conveyed to hell and heaven. But how superior
is the spirit of Camoens! He parallels these striking
adventures by a new fiction of his own. Gama in
the island of Bliss^ and Eneas in hell^ are in epic
conduct exactly the jsame ; and in this unborrowing
eameness, he arifiilfy interweaves the history qf Portu^
gal: artfully, as Voltaire himself confesses. The
episode with the king of Melinda^ the description
of the painted ensigns, and the prophetic song, are
parallel in manner and purpose with the episode of
Dido, the shield of Eneas, and the vision in Elysium*
To appease the rage of Achilles, and to lay the
foundation of the Roman empire,, are the grand
purposes of the Iliad and Eneid ; the one effected
foy the death of Hector; the other by the alliance
of Latinus and Eneas, rendered certain by the death
of Tornus. In like manner, to establish the Portu-
guese Christian empire in the East, is the grand
design of the Lusiad, rendered certain by the happy
return of Gama. And thus, in the true spirit of the
epopocia, ends the Lusiad, a poem where every cir-
cumstance rises in just gradation, till the whole is
rammed up in the most perfect unity of epic aetion.
The machinery of Homer, (see the nolo at the end

DISSE11XA.TION ON THE LU8IAO. CXH

of Book VI.) contaiD9 a most perfect and masterly
allegory. To imitate the ancients was the prevail-
ing taste when Camoens wrote ; and their poetical
manners were every where adopted. That he es-
teemed his own as allegorical^ he assures us in the
end of the ninth book^ and in one of his letters.
But a proofs even more determinate, occurs in the
opening of the poem. Castera, the French transla-
tor, by his over refinement, has much misrepre-
sented the allegory of the Lusiad. Mars, who never
appears but once in the first book, h^ tells us, sig-
nifies Jesus Christ. This explanation, so open to
ridicule, is every where unnecessary ; and surely
never entered the thought of Camoens. It is evi-
dent, however, that he intended the guardian powers
of Christianity and Mohammedism under the two
principal personages of his machinery. Words
cannot be plainer :

Where'er this people should their empire raise.
She knew her ikHars should unnuraher'd blaze ;
And barbarous nations at her holy shrine
Be bumanis'd and taught her lore divine :
Her spreading honours thus the one inspir'd.
And one the dread to lose his worship fir'd.

And the same idea is on every opportunity repeated
and enforced. Pagan mythology had its Celestial,
as well as Terrestrial Venus*. The Celestial Ve-

* The Celestial Venus, according to Plato, was the daughter
of Ouranus, or Heaven, and thence called Urania. The pas-

Cidti BlflBRTATION <Mf THfi LUSIAD.'

nu8 is thereibre the most proper personage of that
mythology to figure Christianity. And Bacchus^
the conqueror of the Ea^t, is, in the ancient poetical
allegory, the most natural protector of the altars
of India. Whatever may be said against the use of
the ancient machinery in a modern poem, candour
must confess, that the allegory of Camoens, 'which
arms the genius of Mohanmiedism f against the ex-
pedition of his heroes, is both sublime and most
happily interesting. Hot must his choice of the
ancient poetical machinery be condemned without
examination. It has been the language of poetry
these three thousand years, and its allegory is per-
fectly understood. If not impossible, it will cer-
tainly be very difficult to find a new, or a better

tftge stands in the Symposion of that author as follows: iiav7fc
yap icfxtv on vx ifiv ayiv £^7o; Af goJirq* rttvJns it ^jmiq /xiv vo^;»
«<C AV *iv E^p* fffffi }f jvo t^wtt iw avaym %du E^7f i7vai. ttoi; ^ i
^i/o T» ^M ; q fuv yt vin v^ic-$vlf^, xai afjulw^, Ov^vv 3'i/ya7ttpf
nt ^ xM ov^nen MmofjLa^9fji,tv n it jtwlt^ Aiog xai Ausnif, mt in
ww/iufxaif iut>Mf4.n.

This Urania- Venus, according to Pausanius and other writera,
had samptuous temples in Athens, Phoenicia, 3c c. She was
painted in complete armour; her priestesses were virgins j and
no man was allowed to approach her shrine. Xenophon says,
die presided over the love of wisdom and virtue, which are the
pleasures of the soul, as the Terrestrial Venus presided over
the pleasures of the hody.

•f» For several collateral proofs, seethe note, p. 159, vol. ii.
and text in Lusiad VIII.,where Bacchus, the evil dsemon, takes
the form of M<diammed, and appears in « dream to a priest of
tlie Kerao.

X>I9811tTATIOM OH THE LUSIAD.' Cxllit

machinery for an epic poem. That of Tasso is
condemned by Boileau *, yet, that of Camoens may
plead the authority of that celebrated critic, and is
even vindicated, undesignedly, by Voltaire himself.
In an essay prefixed to his Henriade, Le mot d' Am^
phUrite, says he, dans noire poesie, ne signifie que la
Mer, ei non I' Epouse de Neptune — '* the word Am-
phitrite in our poetry signifies only the sea, and not
the wife of Neptune." And why may not the word
Venus in Camoens signify divine love, and not the
wife of Vulcan ? " Love," says Voltaire, in the
same essay, ''has his arrows, and Justice a balance,
in our most christian writings, in our paintings, in
our tapestry, without being esteemed as the least
mixture of Paganism/' And if this criticism has
justice in it, why not apply it to theLusiad, as well
as to the Henriade ? Candour will not only apply
it to the Lusiad, but it will also add the authority
of Boileau. He is giving rules for an epic poem :

Dant le veute ricit d* une longue action,

Se souiient par la fable, el vit de fiction*

La pour nous enchanter tout est mit en usag€:

Tout prendun corpty une ame^un esprit, un visage;

* On account of his magic. But magic was the popular be-
lief of Tas!»o'8 age, and has afforded him a fine machinery,
though his use of it is sometimes highly blameabfe ; as where
he makes an enchanter oppose the archangel Michael, armed
with the authority of the True God, &c. &c.

CXlir 1>ISSEBTATION ON T«£ tVmMM*

Ckaq^e vertu devient une dhiniie;
Minerve est la prudence y el Venus la beaute,
Ce n*estplus la vapeur guiproduH le fonnere,
Oest Jupiter armepowr ^ttyer la ierre.
Un wage terrAk Quxftux dw matehis,

Oest Neptune, en courroux, qui gourmande lesfots

Sans tous ces omemens le vers tombe en langueur;
La poetie est morig, 0U nmpe sans vigueur :
La poete n'esl plus qt^un oraieur tiu^f
Su^unfroid hisiorien d^wie fable insipide.

Every idea of these lines strongly defends the Lu-
siad. Yet, it must not be concealed, a distinction
follows which may appear against it. Boileau re-
quires a profane subject for the epic muse. But his
reason for it is not just :

De lafoi «P un Chretien Us mysteres terribles
D'omemens egayes ne sent point susceptibles,
Vevangile a Pesprit rCojfre de tons cotes
Sue penitence a /aire, et imirmens meritet:
Ei de vosfctions h melange coupable
Mime a ses verites donne Pair de la fable.

The tm^steres terriblet afford, indeed, no subject for
poetry. But the Bible offers to the muse something
besides penitence and merited tormerUs. The Paradise
Lost, and the works of the greatest painters, evince
this. Nor does this criticism, false as it is, contain
one argument which excludes the heroes of a Chris-
tian nation from being the subject of poetry. Mo-
dern subjects are indeed condemned by Boileau ;
and ancient fable, with it* Ulysses, Agamemnon,

maSBllTATION ON THS LUS1AD« CXtr

igcc«-*— 4if0ffu keureux semhlent nSspourks i9fr»<— are
recommended to the poet. Bat, happy for Camoenay
hb feelings directed him to another choice. For,
iii contradiotion of a thousand Boileaus, no compo-
sitions are so miserably uninteresting as our modem
poems, where the heroes of ancient fable are the
personages of the action. Unless, therefore, the
subject of Camoens may thus seem condemned by
the celebrated French critic, every other rule he
proposes is in favour of the machinery of the
Lusiad. And his own example proves, that he
thought the pagan machinery not improper in a
poem where the heroes* are modern. But there is
an essential distinction in the method of using it
And Camoens has strictly adhered to this essential
differeDce. The conduct of the epic poem is two-
fold ; the historical and allegorical. When pagan-
ism was the popular belief, Diomed might wound
^Mars orf Venus; but when the names of these
deities became merely allegorical, such also ought
to be the actions ascribed to them. And Camoens
has strictly adhered to this rule. Hts heroes are
Christians; and Santa Fe, Holy Faith, is often
mentioned in the historical parts where his heroes

* He uses the pagan mythology in his poem on the passage
of the Rhine by the French army, in 1672.

t thus it was the belief of the first ages of Christianity, that
the pagan gods were fallen angels, Milton, with admirable

VOL. I. g

CXivi PISSERTATION ON THB tUSlAD.

speak and act. But it is only in the allegorical
parts where the pagan or the poetical mythology is
introdaced. And in his machiAery^ as in his histo-
rical parts, there is no mixture of pagan and Chris-
tian personages. The deliverance of the Lusian
fleet, ascribed to the celestial Venus, so ridiculed
by Voltaire, is exactly according to the precepts of
Boileau. It is the historical opposition or concert
of Christian and pagan ideas which forms the ab-

jiidgment, has adopted this system. His Mammon, the archi-
tect of Pandaemonium, he also calls Vulcan :

Nor was his name unheard or unador'd
In ancient Greece, and in Ausonian land.
Men calPd him Mulciber $ and how he fell
From heav'B, they fabled, thrown by angry Jo v e ■
On Lemnos, th' Egean isle : Thus they relate
Erring; for he with this rebellious rout
_ Fell long before.

Moloch and Vulcan are therefore mentioned together with
great propriety in the Paradise Lost. The belief of the first
Christians, with respect to daemons, was unabated in the- age
of Camoens ; for the oracles of the pagan deities were then be-
lieved to have been given by evil spirits. Bacchus might there-
fore in a Christian poem of such ages, represent the evil dae-
mon ; and it was on this principle that Tasaofell no impropriety
in calling Pluto his king of hell, the grand foe qf mankindf and
making him talk of the birth of Christ. In like manner, when
Camoens says that the Christian altar raised (book ii.) to de-
ceive the Lusians, was the illusion of Bacchus; he says no more
than what was agreeable to the popular belief of the heathen
oracles, and no more than what poetry allows when a storm it
jMcribed to Neptune^ or arrows given to Cupid.

DISSERTATION ON THE LUSIADJ CXlvil

8urd^ and disfigures a poem. But this absurd op-
position or concert of personages has no place in
the Lusiad, though it is found in the greatest of mo-
dern poets. Prom Milton both the aHowable and
blameable- mixture of Christian and pagan ideas
may be folly exemplified. With great judgment,
he ranks the pagan deities among the fallen angefs.
When he alludes to pagan mythology, he sometimes
says, *' as fables feign ;'* and sometimes he mentions
these deities in the allegory of poetical style; ajs
thus.

When Bellona storms,

With all her battering engines bent to rase
Some capital city—

And thus, when Adam smiles on Eve ;

as Jupiter

On Juno smiles when he impregns the clouds
That shed May flowers

Here the personages are mentioned expressly in
their allegorical capacity, the use recommended by
Boileau. In the following the blameable mixture
occurn. He is describing paradise

Universal Pan

Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance
Led on th* eten al spring. N4i that fair field
Of Enna, ivhere Proserpin, gathering flowers.
Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy D^is
Was gathered : which cost Ceres all that pain

S2

exhriii onsssBTAYiON 6n Tim ttnthbt

To fleek her tfaroiigh the woild

Of Eden strive'

might with this Paradise

The mentioa of Pan, the Graces and Ho|in, is here
in the pure allegorical style of poetry. But the
story of Proserpine is not in allegory; it is mentioned
in the same manner of authenticity as the many
Scripture histories introduced into the Paradise Losti
When the angel brings Eve to Adam, she appears

in naked beanty moce adom^

More lovely than Pandora, whom the Gods
Endow'd with all their gifts, and O too like
In sad event, when to tk' UBWiser son
Of Japhet brought by Hermes she ensnAr'd
Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged
On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire.

Here we have the heathen gods, another origin of
evil^ and a whole string of fables^ alluded to as real
events, on a level with his subject*.

Nor is poetical use the only defence of our injured
•author. In- the age of Camoens, Bacchus Ivas es-
teetn^d a real daemon : and celestial Venns was con-
.sidered as the name by which the Ethnics express-
ed the divine Love. Bui if the cold hy pet-critic
will stiil blame our author for his allegory, let it be
repeated, that of all ChriBtian poets, Camoens is in

* Nor are these the only mstanees; the death of Hercules,
and several others in Milton, ftiU under the censure of an ii\iu-
dtcious mixture of sacred and profene mythology and history.

Plsas^TA1;ION oh tmx lusiar. cxHx

this the least repreheiuuble, Tbe hell, purgatory,
^nd paradise of Dante, fonn one continued unalle-
gorical texture of pagan and scriptural names, de-
scriptions, and ideas. Ariosto is continually in the
same fault. And, if it is a fault to use the ancient
poetical machinery in a poem where the heroes are
Christians, Voltaire himself has infinitely more of
the m^h^ coupabk than Camoens. The machinery
of his Henriade i^, as con&ss^ by himsyelf, upon the
idea of the pagan mythology: He cites Boileau,

Oest (fun scrupuJe vain iaUarmer sottement,
JBi vouloir aux UUewrspiaire sans agremeni,
Bien-^t Us dgfsndr^ni depeindre la prudsMX,
jPedonner a Themis ni bandeau, ni balance.,, ..«
Bt par-tout des discours, comme wi idolatrie,
Dans leurfaux tele iront ckasser Pallegorie,

$ut he suppresses the verses which immediately
follow, where the introduction of the true God is
prohibited by the critic,

JBtfaMeuifi ChritknSf i^^bms poini dans not songes^
Du BUu de vertUfenre un Dieu de mensonges.

Yet, the God of truth, according to the Christian
idea, in direct violation of this precept, is a consi-
derable personage in the pagan allegorical machi-
nery of the Henriade. But the couplet last citedj^
though as direct against the Henriade as if it had
been written to condemn it^ is not in the least de-
gree applicable to the machinery of the Lusiad ; a

cl Dissertation on the lusiad.

machinery infinitely superior in every respect to
that of Voltaire, thongh Camoens wrote at the revi-
val of learning, ere criticism had given her best
rnles to the modem Muse.

The poem of Camoens, ihdced, so fully vindicates
itself, that this defence of it perhaps may seem un-
necessary. Yet one consideration will vindicate
this defence. The poem is written in a language
unknown irt polite literature. Few are able to
judge of the original, -and the unjnst clamour raised
against it by Rapin * and Voltaire, has been re-
ceived in Europe as its true character. Lord Kaimes,
and other authors, have censured its mixture of pa-
gan and Christian mythology in 8uch terms^ as if

'f^ Rapin condemns Camoens for his want of perspicuity,
which charge he advances against him as his greatest blemish.
'Perhaps the old French version of the Lusiad may deserve this
character for obscurity which Rapin has cast upon it j butcer«
tain it is from hence, that Mons. Rapin never read the origi-
nal. Perspicuity, elegant s^mplieky, and the most natural
unstrained harmony, is the just Qi^ai^eri^tic of tha style of
Camoens. The appeal is to the world. And the first linguist
of the age has given the style of Camoens a very different cfia-
racter fvom that of Rapin : Camoensmm Lutilanum^ et0us poem
ailed venusla est, adeopolUa, tit n Ail esse possitjucundius; interdum
9erd, acleo ehta, grandihqua, ac tonora, ui nihil Jingi possii magrU'
ficentius, Jones, Poeseos Asiat. Comment.

We shall only add the suffrage of the great Montesquieu,who
obticrves, " Camoens recals to oiir minds the charms of the
Odyssey, and the magnificence of the Eiieid.''-^Spiritof Latva,
b. xxi. c. 21.

DISSERTATION ON THE LUSIAD. cli

ihe Lusiad^ the poem which of all other modern
ones is the most unexceptionable in this, were in
this mixture the most egregioasly unsufierable.

Other views of the conduct of the Lusiad now
offer themselves. Besides the above remarks, many-
observations on the machinery and poetical conduct
are, in their proper places, scattered throughout
the notes. The exuberant exclamations of Camoens
are there defended. Here let it only be added, that
the unity of action is not interrupted by these pa-
rentheses, and that if Milton's beautiful complaint
of his blindness be not an imitation of them, it is in
the same manner and spirit. Nor will we scruple
to pronounce, that such addresses to the Muse would
have been admired in Homer, are an interesting
improvement on the epopoeia, and will certainly be
imitated, if ever the world shall behold another real
epic poem.

The Lusiad, says Voltaire, contains a sort q/* epic
poitry unheard of hqfore. No heroes are wounded a
thousand different ways ; no woman enticed away, and
the world overturned for her cause^ — But the very
want of these, in place of supporting the objection
intended by Voltaire, points out the happy judg-
ment and peculiar excellence of Camoens. If Ho-
mer has given us all the fire and hurry of battles^
he has also given us all the uninteresting tiresome
detail. What reader but must be tired with the

Clii DIMEATATION ON THB UiftlAD.

death* of a thoasand heroes^ who are never meiic
lioned before nor afterward in the poem. Yet in)
every battle we are wearied out with such GtonUr
returna of the slain and wennded ■■

"EkIu^ n^ta^/lq;, ori ol Zeu( twioi SuKtf $
*Aava>7of fJth vfireu, koI Avrotoott Koti *07pirnh
Ketl A6Xo/v» KXvliinit xal 'O^tXlioy^ ii ^Ay^Xaw^

II. Lib. XL lin. 299.

Thus imitated by Virgil,

Csdicus Alcathouxn obtruncat, 5?acrator Hydaspem t
Partheniumque Bapo, et pradurom viribai OneD:
Messapus Cloniurnqoe^ LycaoniuinqDe Ericetem s
nium, infrsBtiis equi lapsu tellure jacentem ;
Hunc, peditem pedes. £t Lycius processerat Agis,
Qnem tamen baud expers Valerus virtutis avKae
Dejeclt : Atroninm Saliiu; Saliumque Nealeaa-^*

JEn. 1. X. 747.

Wilh rach catalogiMs is every battle extended; Mid
what can be more tiresome than such oninterestiAg
descriptious and their imitations ! If the idea of the
battle be raised by such enumeration, still thre copy
aftfd original are so near each other, that they cai^
never please in two separate poems. Kor^ are th<
greater parts of the battles of the Eneid ranch more
distant from those of the I^d. Though Virgil with

r-

osvtmrATioiT on the cvsiad* cliii

great art has introduced a Camilla, a Pallas, and a
LaosQB, 6tiU in niaoy particulars, and in the, fightf^
there i9> iippn the whple, such a sameness with the
Iliad, that tht^ learued reader of the Eneid is de-
prired of the plefts^re iqi^ptred by originality. If
the man of taste, however, will be pleased to niarlj^
bow the genius of a Virgil has managed a war aftep
a HoiQ/Qr, he will certainly be tired with a* dozen of
epic poeni^ in the same style. Where the siege of
% town and battles are the subject of an epic, there
will of necessity, in the characters and circvmr
stances, be a reseoib lance to Homer; and such poen^
must therefore yraut originality* Happy for Tasso,.
the variation of manners, and his masterly superio-
rity over Homer in describing his duels, have givei^
his Jerusalem an air of novelty. Yet with all th^e^
4iff<irience between Christian and. pagan heroes, w^
liave a Priam, an Agapoei^i^^, ai^ ^(^iljei^ 8ic,^
^rmi^ slaughtered^ aod a 4:ity . besieged . In a word,
we have a handsome .copy of the Iliad in the J^mr
aalem ]>e]ivered. If some imitation^, however, h^y^
bcnen successful, how many otbe)r epics of anc^ei^
and modern times have hurried down the stream of
oblivion! Some of their authors had poetical merits
]but the fault was in the choice of their subjects.
So fully i» the atrife of war exhausted by H/om^,
that Virgil and Tasso could add to it but little no-
velj^^j no wonder, therefore, that so pi^oy epics oi^

g3

cliv

D1SS£RT AXIOM ON 7HE LUSIAD.

battles and sieges have been suflfered to f»ink into
utter neglect. Camoens, perhaps^ did not weigh
these circumstances; but the strength of bis poeti-
cal genius directed him. He could not but feel
what it was to read Virgil after Homer ; and the
original turn and force of his mind led him from the
beaten track of Helens and Lavinias, Achilleses and
Hectors^ sieges and slaughters, where the hero hews
down and drives to flight whole armies with bis
own sword. To constitute a poem worthy of the
name of epic in the highest and strictest sense, some
grand characteristics of subject and conduct, pecu-
liarly its own, are absolutely necessary. Of all th«
moderns, Camoens and Milton have alone attained
this grand peculiarity iu an eminent degree. Ca-
moens was the first genuine and successful poet who
wooed. the modern epic muse, and she gave hito the
wreath of a firit Lover: A 9ori of epie poetry lenheard
pf before; or, as Voltaire calls it in his last edition,
une nouvelle espSce d* epopSe. And the grandest sub-
ject it is (of profane history) which the world has
ever beheld *. A voyage esteemed too great for

. * The drama and the epopoeia arein iMtbiag so differeiit at
»n thvs: the subjects of the drama are inexhaustible, those of
the epopceia are perhaps exhausted. He who chuses war and
the warlike eharacters, cannot Appear as an original. It was
well for the memory of P<q[)e, that he did not write the epie
poem he intended. It would have been only a copy of Virgil.
Camoens and Milton have been happy in the novelty of tbeir

mSSEKTATlON OK TAB LDSIAD. cIt

man to dare; theadventuresof this voyage, through
unknown oceans, deemed unnavigable; the Eastern
World happily discovered, and for ever indissolubly
joined and given to the Western ; the grand Portu-
guese empire in the East founded ; the humanization
of mankind, and universal commerce the conse-*
quencei What are the adventures of an old fabulous
hero's arrival in Britain^ what are Greece and La-
tium in arms for a woman, compared to this? Troy
is in ashes, and even the Roman empire is no more.
But the effects of the voyage, adventures, and brar
very of the hero of the Lusiad, will be felt and be-
held, and perhaps increase in importance, while the
world shall remain.

Happy in his choice, happy also was the genius
of Caraoens in the method of pursuing his subject.
He has not, like Tasso, given it a total appearance
of fiction ; nor has he, like Lucan, excluded allegory
and poetical machinery. Whether he intended it
or not, for his genius was sufficient to suggest its
propriety, the judicious precept of Petronius is the

subjects; and these tbey have exhausted. There cannot possibly
be so importaiit a voyage as that which gave the Eastern World
to the Western. And did even the story of Columbus afford
materials equal to that of Gama, the adventures of the hero,
and the viev of the extent of his discoveries, mnst'now appear
as servile copies of the Lusiad. The view of Spanish Americ*,
given in the Auracmna, is not only a mere copy, but is intro-
^ced even by the very machinery of Camoens.

clri BiitaTATioir ov thb lvsiah.

model of the Lusiad. That elegant writer proposes
ft po^n on the civil war; Eece belli eivilia, says he^
u^em opu^^^^-^Non cmm res getta vcrt^us eampn^
hendtndammt (quo4 long^ meliui kkiorici ftununt) sei
ptr amlMigf» Dmrumque miniuena, dfabulMum seftUn*-
tiarum tarmentum prmdpUandus est liber ^iritus: itf
potOaJurenfis animi .vaticirUUio apparent, quam relif
gioeie oratitms sub testibrnMes — ^— No poem> ancient
or modern, merits this character in any degree caai!>'
parative tp the Lusiad. A truth of history is pre«>
senredy yet> what is iiQproper for the historian, the
ministry of heaven is einployed^ and the free i^irii
of poetry throws itself into fictions, which mak^ the
whole appear as an effusion of prophetic fury, and
not like a rigid detail of facts given under the sane-
tkn of witneises. Contrary to Lucan, who, in the
above rales drawn from the nature of poetry, is &»•
Terely condemned by Petronins, Camoens conducta
his poem per ambages Deorumaue. ministerta* The
apparition, which in the night imrers athwart the
Aeet near the Cape of Good Hope> is the grandest
fiction in human composition; the invention of his
own ! In the Island of Venus, the use of which
fiction in an epic poem is a ho his owb, he has given
the completest assemblage of all the flowers whicji
have ever adorned the bowers of love. And never
was the fitrtntis animivaticimtio more conspicuously
displayed than in the prophetic son^g, the view of

IM^fiBlTATtON ON THE t,V»Al»i clfii

the q>here0j and of the globe of the earth. Tasso's
imitatioii of the Island of Venus i» not eqjoal to the
OB^nal; and though/' Virgil's myrtks* dropping
blood are nothing to Tasso's inchanted forest^''
what are all Isnieno'6 inchantmenta to the grandeov
and horror of the appearaoee, prophecy, and ei^a*
niehment of the spectre of Camoens ! i — It has beea
long agreed among the critics^ that the solemmty of
yefigious observances gives great dignky to the his*«
torical narrative of the epopceia. Camoens> ia the
embarkation of the ieet, and in several other places^
is peculiarly h^py in the dignity of religious allu*
sions» Maftness and character ve also required in
the epk poem. But all the epics y^hdch have ap^
peared» are, except two, mere copies of the Itiad in
these. Every eae has its AgamemBon, Achalles, AjaX|
and Ulysses; its cakn> furious, gross, and intelligenfl
hero. Camoens and Milton happily left this beatem
tnck, this exhausted field, and have given us pi€#
tares of manners: unknown iu tine Iliad, the Eneid^
and aU those poems wbiefa may be classed with the
Thebaid. The Lusiad abounds with pictures of

* See Letters on Chivalry and Romance.

f The Lusiad is also rendered poetical hy other fictions*
The elegant satire on king Sebastian, under the name of Ac-
ttoa ; and the prosopqpasia of the popolace of F»rtugol Tenting
their murmm^s npon the beach when Gama sets saU» di^laj;
the richness of our author's poetical geniuS| and are not inferioi
to any thing of the kind in the classics.

Civiii DISSERTATION ON THE LUSUD.

manners, from those of the highest chivahy to those
of the radest, fiercest, and most innocent barbarism.
In the fifth, sixth, and ninth books, Leonardo and
Veloso are painted in stronger colours than any of
the inferior characters in Virgil. But striking cha*
racter, indeed, is not the excellence of the Eneid.'
That of Monzaida, the friend of Gama, is much su-
perior to that of Achates. The base, selfish, perfi-
dious^ and cruel character of the Zamorim and th&
Moors, are painted in the strongest colours ; and the
character of Gama himself, is that of the finished
hero. His cool command of his passions, his deep
sagacity, his fixed intrepidity, his tenderness of
heart, his manly piety, and his high enthusiasm m
the love of his country, are all displayed in the su-
perlative degree. And to the novelty of the

manners of the Lusiad, let the novelty of fire-arms
also be added » It has been said, that the buckler,
the bow, and the spear, mu^t ever continue the arms
of poetry. Yet, however unsuccessful others may
have been, Camoens has proved that fire-arms may
be introduced with the greatest dignity and finest
e£Fect in the epic poem.

As the grand interest of commerce and of man-
kind forms the subject of the Lusiad, so with great
propriety, as necessary accompaniments to the
voyage of his hero, the author has given poetical
pictures of the four parts of the world* In the

•]>ISSERTATION OH THE LUSIAD. cllX

third book a view of Europe ; in the fifth a view of
Africa: and in the tenths a picture of Asia and
Anoierica. Honier and Virgil have been highly
praised for their judgment in their selection of sub-
jects which interested their countrymen; and Sta-
tins has been as severely condemned for his unin-
teresting choice. But though the subject of Camoens
be particularly interesting to his countrymen, it has
also the peculiar happiness to be the poem of every
trading nation. It is the epic poem of the birth of
commerce; and in a particular manner the epic
poem of that country which has the controul and
possession of the commerce of India.

An unexhausted fertility and variety of poetical
description, and unexhausted elevation of sentiment,
and a constant tenor of the grand simplicity of dic-
tion, complete the character of the Lusiad of Ca-
moens : a poem, which, though it has hitherto re-
ceived from the public most unmerited neglect, and
from the critics most flagrant injustice, was yet bet-
ter understood by the greatest poet of Italy. Tasso
never did his judgment more credit, than when he
confessed that he dreaded Camoens as a rival; or his
generosity more honour, than when he addressed
this elegant sonnet to the hero of the Lusiad :

SONNETTO.

Vasco, le cui felici, ardite autenoe
In contro al sol, cbe ne riporta il gfornio
• Sptegar le vele, e fer collk ritoroo,
J>ove egli par cbe 4i ca4ei« acc«ane|

I>19»](RT-AriQlf 6N THi^ LVSIildBU

Noa pift di te per aspio mar. KMtunoe
Quel, che fece al Ciclope oltraggio, e scornoj^
Ne chi torb6 PArpie nel suo sqggiorno;
Ne 6i6 piii bel soggetto a colte penne*

Et hor quella del colto, e bnon' Luigi,
Tant* oltc* 9tende il gloriofo vote
Che i tuoi spalmati legDiaodar mem luuge.
Ond> a quelli, a cui s'alza il nostro polo,
Et a chi fepma in contra i suoi vestigi.
Per ini del eorao tuo la fama aggionge.

SONNET.
Vasco, whose bold and happy bowsprit bore
Against the rising morn; and, homeward fraught.
Whose sails came westward with the day» and broogbi
The wealth of India to thy native shore ;

Ne'er did the Greek such length of seas explore^
The Greek, who sonx>w to the Cyclop wrought^
And he, who, dieter, with the Harpies fought.
Never sucli pomp of naval honours wore.

Graat as thou art, and peerless ia renown.
Yet thou to Camoens ow'st thy noblest fame^
Farther than thou didst sail, his deathless song
Shall bear the dazzling splendour of thy name :
And an4er maoy a sky thy actions crown.
While Time aad Fame together glida alouff.

It only remains to give some account of the ver-
sion of the Lasiad, which is now offered to the
pablic. Besides the translations mentioned in the
life of Camoens, M. Duperron de Castera, in 1735,
gave in French prose a loose un poetical paraphrase
of the liUsiad. Nor does Sir Richard Fanshaw's
English version, published during ike usurpation of
Cromwell, merit a better charaeter. Though stanza

DlSIBBTATKni ON TRS tUSlAD, ClXI

be rendered for stanza; though at fitst tiew it hai
the appearbace of being exceedingly literal, thi§
Teraion is nevertheless eieceediogly unfoithiul. Un-
countenanced by his original, Fanshaw-*-«-^f<em^

%vith mat^ a dead*bcimjest * N or had he the least

idea of the dignity of the epic style, or of the true
spirit of poetical translation. For this, indeed, no
definite rule can be given. The translator's feeF*
ings alone must direct him; for the spirit of poetry
is sure to evaporate in Hfeeral translation.

Literal' translation of poetry is in reality a sble*
cism. You may construe jrour author indeed, but
if with some translators you boast that you have
left your author to speak for himself, that you have
neither added nor diminished, ydu have in reality
grossly abused him, and deceived yourself. Your
literal translation can have no claim to the original
felicities of expression, the energy, elegance, and
fire of the original poetry. It may bear, indeed, •
Tesemblance, but such a one as a corpse in tht
sepulchre bears to the former man when he moved
in the bloom and vigour of life.

Nee verhum verio eurahit rtMere^fidet
Inierpru

was the taste of the Augustan nge. None but a
poet can translate a poet. The freedom which this

*■ Pope,Ody».nr.

THE

LUSIAD*.

BOOK L

jhLrms and the Heroes^ who from Lisbon's shore.

Thro* Seas where sail was never spread before f.
Beyond where Ceylon lifts her spicy breast.
And waves her woods above the watery waste^

* The LMsiad; in the original, Os Lusiadat, The Lasiads,
from the Latin name of Portugal, derived from Lusus or Ly-
sas, the companion of Bacchus in his travels, and who settled
a colony in Lusitania. See Plin. 1. iii. c. 1.

f In this first book, and throughout the whole Poem, Ca-
moens frequently describes his Heroes as passing through seas
which had never before been navigated; of which, M. Du-
perron de Castera, the French Translator of the Lusiad, ob- ■
serves that Camoens must not be understood literally. Our
author, says he, could not be ignorant that the African and
Indian Oceans had been navigated long before the times of the

VOL. I. H

2 THE LUSIAD.

With prowess more than human forcM their way
To the fair kingdoms of the rising day :
What wars they wag'd,what seas^ what dangers past.
What glorious Empire crown'd their toils at last,
Vent'rons I sing, on soaring pinions borne.
And all my Country's wars the song adorn ;
What Kings, what Heroes of my native land
Thunder'd on Asia's and on Afric's strand:
Illustrious shades, who levellM in the dast
The idol-temples and the shrines of lust ;
And where, crewhile, foul demons were rever'd.
To Holy Faith unnumbered altars* reared:

Fdrtuguese. Now, although it is certain that Haimo, a Car-
thaginian captain, made a voyage round the whole coast of
Africa, yet his voyage was merely a coasting one, like that of
Nearcfaus in Alexander's time, and that he never ventured into
the great Ocean, or went so far as Qama. It remains, there-
fore, that Gama, who sailed by the compass, after having gone
further than his cotemporary Bartholomew Diaz, was literally
the 6rBt who ever spread sail in the great Southern Ocean, and
that the Portuguese were not the Restorers, but were nnquestion-
ably the Discoverers of the present rout of navigation to the
East Indies.

* To Holy Faith unnumbered altars rear'd. — To the immortal
honour of thejirst Portuguese Discoverers, their conduct was in

ttOOK f, ■ >S

Ilhistrtous names, with death kss laurels crownM,
While time rolls on in every clime renowned !

Let Fame with wonder name the Greek no more,
What lands he saw, what toils at sea he bore;

every respect the reverse of that desolating and destructive
•3rstem of oppression, which marked the progress of the Spa-
niards in their conquest of America. To establish a traffic
equally advantageous to the natives as to themselves, was the
principle they professed, and the stj'*.ctest honour and humanity
presided over their transactions. Nor did they ever proceed to
hostilhiefi till provoked, either by the open violence or by the
perfidy of the Natives. The religion -of the Portuguese was
eagerly embraced by many kings and provinces of Africa and
India ; while the Mexicans with manly disdain rejected the faith
of the Spaniards, professing they would rather go to hell to
escape these cruel Tyrants, than go to heaven, where they wefe
told, they should meet them. Zeal for the Christian religion
was esteemed, at the time of the Portuguese grandeur, as the
most cardinal Virtue, and to propagate Christianity and extir-
pate Mohammcdism were the most certain proofs of that zeal.
}n all their expeditions this was professedly a principal motive
of the Lusitanian Monarchs; and Camoens understood the da-
ture of Epic poetry too well to omit,— that the design of his
Hero was to deliver the Law of heaven to the eastern world;
a circumstance which gives a noble air of importance and of
interest to the business of his Poem«

b2

4 TiTB LUSI AJ).

No mere the Trojan's wandering ▼03rage boasl>
What storms he brav'd on many a perilous coast :
No more let Rome exult in Trajan's name.
Nor eastern conquests Ammon's pride proclaim ;
A nobler Hero's deeds demand my lays
Than e'er adorn 'd the song of ancient days;
Illustrious Gama, whom the waves obey'd,
. And whose dread sword the fate of Empire sway'd.

And you, fair Nymphs of Tagus, parent stream^
If e'er your meadows were my pastoral theme.
While you have listened^ and by moonshine seen
My footsteps wander o'er your banks of green,
O come auspicious, and the song inspire
With 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 strain
To rouse the Hero's ire ; and far around.
With equal rage,.your warriors' deeds resound.

BOOK I. 5

And thou*, O bora the pledge of happier days.
To guard our freedom and our glories raise, y

* And ihauj O born — King Sebastian, who came to the throne
in his minority. ^ Though the warm imagination of Camoeni
anticipated the praises of th9 future Hero, the young monarch,
like Virgil's Pollio, had not the happiness to fulfil the prophecy.
Ambitious of military laurels, he led a powerful army into
Aftioa, ou pufpose to rq^lace Muiey Hamet on the throne of
Morocco, from which he had been deposed by Muley Molucco.
On the 4th of August, 1578, in the 25th year of his age, he
gave battle to the. Usurper on the plains of Alcazar. Victory
declared for the Moon, and the defeat of the Portuguese traf
so total, that not above fifty of their whole army escaped. His-
foriaas difier in regard to the fate of Sebastiaii, lofiie stating
tbftt he fell in Hie battle, whilst otheni, with equal authority,
assert that he was observed after the defeat, making bis escape
unpursued. About twenty years after this fatal battle theirei
appeared a stranger at Venice, who called himself Sebastian,
King of Portugal. His person so perfectly resembled Sebastian^
that the Portuguese of tiiat city acknowledged him for their
Sovereign. Philip IL of Spain was now Master of the crown
and kii^om of Portugal, and his ambassador at Venice had
interest to get this stranger apprehended and thrown into prison
as an impostor. He underwent twenty-eight examinations be-
fore a committee of the nobles, in which he gave a distinct ac-
count of the manner in which be had passed his time finm the
fiital defeat at Alcazar. He shewed natural marks on his body^
which many remembered on the person of the King whose name
he assumed, and mentioned the secrets of several conversatioqs

6 THS L08IJI0.

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, embost in gold :
At thy commanding frown we trust to see^
The Turk and Arab bend the suppliant knee :
Beneath the* morn, dread King, thine Empire lies».
When midnight veils thy Lusitanian skies ;^

vith the Venetiaa unbasBadors in tbfi palace of lisboBk. Thft
Committee were astoiushedy and shewed no dispoaition to de-
clare him aa Impoetor. He was at length set at liberty, and
ordered to depart the Venetian dominiooB in three days. In his
flight he fell into- the hands of the Spaniands, who treated hiia
with the most barbarous indignities, and carried him to a castle
in the heart of Castile^ aft<er which, he never was heard of
more.

* Beneath the ffiorn, dread Kingj tfnne Empire /i'm.— 'When
we cotisider the glorious snccesses which had attended the arms
of the Portuguese in Africa and India, and the high repulatioft
of their military and naval prowess, for Portugal was then Em-
press of the Ocean, it is no matter of wonder that the imagina-
tion of Camoens was wanned with the view of his Country's
greatness, and that he talks of: its power and grandeur in. a
strain, which must appear as mere hyperbole to those whose
ideas of Portugal are drawn from its present broken spirit, and
dimmished state*

BOOK I.

And wh«a descefiding ia the western main
Ti^e Sun still rises on thy lengthening reign :
Thou blooming Scion of the noblest stem.
Our nation's safety^ and our age's gem,
O young Sebastian, hasten to the prime
Of manly youth, ta Fame's high temple climb :
Yet now attentive hear the Muse's lay
While thy green years to manhood speed away :
The youthful terrors of thy brow suspend.
And, O propitious, to the song attend.
The numerous song, by Patriot- passion fir'd^
And by the glories of thy race inspired :
To be the Herald of my Country's fame
My 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.
The dreams of Bards surpassed the world shall view^
And own their boldest fictions may be true ;
Surpassed, and dimmM by the superior bla2e
Of Gama's mighty deeds, which here bright Truth
displays.

9 ?HK LUMAO.

Nor more let History boast her heroes old ;
Their glorious rivals here, dread Prince, behold :
Here shine the valiant Nunio's deeds unfeigned.
Whose single arm the falling state sustained ;
Here fearless Egas' ivars, and, Fuas, thine.
To give full ardour to the song combine ;
But ardour equal to your martial ire
Demands the thundering sounds of Homer's lyre.
To match the Twelve * so long by Bards renown'd.
Here brave Magricio and his Peers are crown'd
(A glorious Twelve !) with deathless laurels, won
In gallant arms before die English throne.
Unmatch'd no more the Gallic Charles shall stand.
Nor Csesar^s name the first of praise command:
Of nobler acts the crownM Alonzos see.
Thy valiant Sires, to whom the bended knee
Of vanquish 'd Afric bow'd. Nor less in fame.
He who confinM the rage .of civil flame.
The godlike John, beneath whose awfuV sword

Rebellion crouchM, andtremblingowu'd. him Lord.

* To match the Ttoelve so long hf Bords renowned* — The
Twelve Peers of Charlemagne, often mentioned in .the old Ro-
nances. For the Episode of Magricio and bis eleven com-
panions, fee th« sixth lAi^iad.

BOOR t ^

Those Heroes too, who thy bold flag unfurl'dy
And spread thy banners o'er the eastern world.
Whose spears subdued the kingdoms of the morn.
Their names, and glorious wars the song adorn :
The daring Gama, whose uneqnalPd 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 embalmed 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 Albuquerk restrain
The Muse's fury ; o'er the purpled plain
The Muse shall lead him in his thundering car
Amidst his glorious brothers of the war.
Whose fame in arms resounds from sky to sky.
And bids their deeds the power of d^ath defy.
And while, to thee, 1 tune the duteous lay.
Assume, O potent King, thine Empire's sway ;

* Coiiro ike hold — The exploits of Castro, Pacheco, J&c.
are related at length in the Notes to the tenth book.

b5

10 THE IrUSIAD.

fg>

With thy brave host through Afric march a4oiT<
And give new triumphs to immortal song r
On thee with earnest eyes the nations wait.
And cold with dread the Moor expects his fate;:
The barbarous Mountainreer on Taurus' brows*
To thy expected yoke his shoulder bows :
Fair Thetis wooes thee with her blue domain.
Her nuptial son, and fbndly yields her reign ;
And from the bowers of heaven thy Grandsires* see
Their vanous virtues bloom afresh in thee';
One for the joyful days of Peace renowuM,
And one with War's triumphant laurels crown'cl t
With joyful handi, to deck thy mauly brow.
They twine the laurel aad the olive- bough ;
With joyful eyes a glorious throne they see,.
In Fame's eternal dome, reaerv*d for thee.
Yet while thy youthful hand delays to wield
The scepter'd power, or thunder of the field.
Here view thine Argonauts, in seas unknown.
And all the terrors of the burning, zone,

* Thy Grandsires — JohD III. King of Portugal, celebrated
for a long and peaceful reign; and the Emperor Charles V»
wlip was engaged in almoflt coatinual wars.

BOOK U

n

Till their pwjud standards, rear'd in other skies.
And all their conquests meet thy wondering eyes.

Now far from land, o'er Neptune's dread abode
The Lusitanian fleet triumphant rode;
Onward they traced the wide and lonesome main, :
Where changeful Proteus leads his scaly train;
The dancing vanes before the Zephyrs flowed.
And their bold keels the tra^ckless Ocean ploughed;
Unplough'd before the green ting'd billows rose.
And curFd and whiten'd round the nodding prows**
When Jove, the Qod who with a thought controtils J
The raging seas, and balances the poles.
Prom heav'n beheld, and will'd, in sovereign 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 ;
AVhere, from the sovereign throne of earth and

heaven,
Th' immutable decrees of fate are given.
Instant the Regents of the spheres of light.
And those who rule^the paler orbs, of nighty

14 THELUftlAiZ^.

What glorious laurels Viriatus'*'' gain^d^

How oft his sword with Roman gore was stainM ;

* What glorious kmrels Vtriatut gain^tL'^TfM brave Lusi-
lanian, who was first a shepherd and a famous hnntery and
afterwards a captain of banditti, exasperated at the tyranny of
the Romans, encouraged his countrymen to revolt and shake off
the 3Mce. Being appointed General, he defeated VetiluiB the
Pretor, who commanded in Lusitania, or farther Spain, and for
six years continued victorious, putting the Romans to flight
wherever he met them, and laying waste the countries of their
allies. Having obtained great advantages over the Roman
army, the brave Viriatus, instead of putting them all to the
sword, as he could easily have done, sent a deputation to the
General, offering to conclude a peace with him on this singly
condition. That he should continue Master qf the Country now
in Itts power, and that the Romans should remain possessed of the
rest of Spain.

The General, who expected nothing but death or slavery^
thought these very favourable and moderate terms, and without
hesitation concluded a peace, which was soon after ratified by
the Roman senate and people. Viriatus, by this treaty, com^
pleated the glorious design he had always in view, which was to
erect a kingdom in the vast country he had conquered from
the Republic. And had it not been for the treachery of the
Romans, he would have become, as Florus calls him, the Ro>
mulus of Spain : he would have founded a monarchy capable
of counterbalancing the power of Rome.

The Senate, still desirous to revenge ih^e. late defieajt, fooii
after this peace ordered Q. Servilius Caepio to declare war, and
to proclaim Viriatus, who had given no provocation, an enemy
to Rome. To this bisseness Csdpio added stHI gvaaler) he

BOOR I. 15

And what fair palms their martial ardour crovni'd.
When led to battle by the Chief renowned.
Who* feign 'd a daemon^ in a deer conceaPd,
To hira*the counsels of the Gods reveal'd.
And now ambitious to extend their sway
Beyond their conquests on the southmost bay
Of Afric's swarthy coast, on floating wood
They brave the terrors of the dreary flood.
Where only black-wing'd mists have bovcr'd o'er^
Or drivinsr clouds have sailM the wave before :
Beneath new skies they hold their dreadfol way
To reach the cradle of the new- bom day :
And Fate, whose mandates unrevoked remain.
Has wilPd, that long shall Lusus* offspring reign

corrupted the ambassadors which Viriatus had sent to oegotK-
ate with him, who, at the instigation of the Roman, treache-
rously murdered their Protector and General while he slept.-^
Univ. Hist.

* Who feigned a damon, — Sertorius, who was invited by
the Lusitanians to defend them against the Romans. He had
a tame white Hind, which he had accustomed to follow him,
and from which he pretended to receive the instructions o£
Diana. By this artifice he imposed upon the superstition of
that people,— Yid. Plut.

16 tiiE tvsiAbi

The lords of that wide sea whose waves behold
The sun come forth enthroned in burning gold.
But now the tedious length of winter past.
Distressed and weak, the heroes faint at last, [bjraved.
What gulphs they dar'd, you saw, what storms they
Beneath what various heavens their banners waved !
Now Mercy pleads, and soon the rising land
To their glad eyes shall o^er the waves expand.
As welcome friends the natives shall receive.
With bounty feast them^ and with joy relieve.
And when refreshment shall their strength renew.
Thence shall they turn, and their bold rout pursue.

So spoke high Jove : The Gods in silence heard^
Then rising each, by turns, his thoughts preferred :
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 ;
No more in Nysa**^ should the native tell
What kings, what mighty hosts before him fell.

* Xo more in Nysa, — ^An ancient city in India, sacred to
Bacchus.

BOOK u n

The fertile Vftles beneath the Tiring jiuh

He view'd as his^ by right of victory won.

And deemM that -ever in imjoortal song

The Conqueror^s title should to him belong. v

Yet Fate, he knew, had willed, that loosed from Spain

Boldly advent'rous through the polar main,

A warlike race should come, renown'd in arms.

And shake the Eastern World with war^s alarms.

Whose glorious conquests and eternal fame .

In black Oblivion's waves should whelm his name.

Urania-Venus*, Queen of jsacred Lov^,
Arose, and fixt hec asking eyes on Jove :
Her eyes,, well pleas'd, in Lusus' sons could trace
A kindred likeness to the Roman race,

* Urania-Venus, — We have already observed, that ao alle-
gorical machinery has always been esteemed an essential re-
qniate of the EpOjpmiA, wcAihe ceasoa upon- which it iB
founded has 'been pointed out The allegorical machinery o|
the Lusiad has now commenced ; and throughout the Poem
the Hero is guarded and conducted by the Gelestiai Venus, or
Divine Love. The true poeticftli co^ooiiog ia thus supported
and preserved : but in illustration of this, see the dissertation
on the Lusiad, and the note on the allegory of Homer, at th^
end of the sixth Lusiad.

IS THB LVSlilDi. ^

Por whom of old such kind regard she bore ;
The samethmr triiubphs on Barbaria'^ shore.
The same the ardour of their wariik«^ llabe>
The manly music of < their toagoe the same.
Affection thds the lovely Goddess sway'd.
Nor less, what Fate's unbiotted page displayM ;
Where'er this people should their empire raise,.
She knew her altar» would- unnumbered blaze>
And barbarous nations at her holy shrine
Be humanized, and taught her lore divine.
Her spreading honours thus the One inspired.
And One the- dread to lose his worship iired.
Their struggling ^tions 9b€M)k th' Olympian state-
With all the clamoix>u8 tempest of debate.
Thus when the storm with sudden gust invader
The antient forest's deep and lofty shades.
The bursting whirlwinds tear their rapid courjie.
The ^atter'd oaks crash, and with echoea hoarse
The mountains groan, while whirling on the blast
The thickening leaves a gloomy darkness cast.
Such was the tumult in the blest abodes.
When Mars, high towering o'er the rival gods.

BOOK I. l&

Stef^t forth ; stern sparkles from his eye-balls glanc'd $
And now, before the throne of Jove advanced.
O'er his left shoulder his broad shield he throws.
And lifts his helm above hia dreadful brows :
Bold and enragM he stands, and, frowning round.
Strikes his tall spear-staflT on the sounding ground ;
Heaven trembled, and the light turn'd pale— ^uch
His fierce demeanour oVr Olympus spread : [dread
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 unhallowed rage !
Did Bacchus yield to Reason's voice divine,
Bacchus the cause of Lusus' sons would join ;
Lusus, the lov'd companion of his cares.
His earthly toils, his dangers^ and his wars:
But Envy still a foe to worth will prove.
To worth though guarded by the arm .of Jove«. * ^

20 THB LCSIAD.

Then thou, dread Lord of Fate, unmoved remaiii.
Nor let weak change thine awfal counsels stain.
For Luaufl' race thy promised favour shew :
Swift as the arrow from Apollo's bow-
Let Mtta's son* explore the watery way.
Where spent with toil, with weary hopes, they stray ;
And safe to harbour, through the deep untried.
Let him, einpower'd, their waodering vessels guide ;
There let. them hear of India's wish'd*for shore>
And balmy rest their fainting strength restore.

Hespoke : high Jore assentiug 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
weighed.
Right onward still the brave Armada stray'd :

* MmaU Doik^Mercuiy, the menenger of the Cods, sqa
of Japifeer and Maia.

BOOK I. '21

Right on they steer by Ethiopia's strand.
And pastoral Madagascar's ^ verdant land.
Before the balmy gales of cheerful spring, [wing;
With heav'n their friend, they spread the canvass
The sky cerulean, and the breathing air.
The lasting promise of a calm declare.
Behind them now the Cape of Praso bends.
Another Ocean to their view extends.
Where black-topt islands, to their longing eyes,
Lav'd by the gentle waves, in prospect rise.
But Gama, (captain of the vent'rous band.
Of bold emprize, and born for high command.
Whose martial fires, with prudence close allied.
Ensured the smiles of fortune on his side)
Bears offthoseshores which waste and wild appeared.
And eastward still for happier climates steer'd :

When gathering round and blackening o'er the tide,

>

A fleet of small canoes the Pilot spied ;

* And pastoral Madagascar. — Called by the ancient Geo-
graphers Menuthia, and Cema Ethiopica; by the natives, the
Island of the Moon; and by the Portuguese, the Isle of St
Laurence, on whose festival they discovered it.

22 THE LXIffAD.

Hoistiog their tails of palm-tree leaves^ in wore
With curious art, a i^varming crowd they move :
Long were their boats, and sharp to bound along
Through the dash'd waters, broad their bars and
The bending rowers on their features bore [strong:
The swarthy marks of Phaeton's* fall of yore ;
When flaming lightnings scorch 'd the banks of Po,
And nations blacken'd in the dread o'erthrow.
Their garb, discovered as approaching nigh.
Was cotton strip'd M'ith 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 :

H^ Phaeton^s fall — ^Phaeton, the son of Fhcebus, ac-

eording to Mythology, was hurled by Jupiter from Heaven into
the river Po. Having rashlj' undertaken to drive his father^s
chariot, the flying horses became sensible of the incapacity of
their driver, and departing from the usual track. Heaven and
Earth were threatened with universal conflagration. According
to the Poets, Ethiopia and Lybia were parched up on account
^of their too great vicinity to the Sun, and Africa has ever since
exhibited a sandy country and uncultivated waste.

BOOK f; 23

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 : [plore^..
What, nations these, their wondering thoughts ex-
Wbat rites they follow, and what God adore \
And now with hands and kerchie& wavM in air
.The barb'rous race their friendly mind declare*
Glad were the crew, and weenM that happy day
Should end their dangers and their toils repay.
The lofty masts the nimble youths ascend, .
The ropes they haul, and o'er the yard-arms bend;
And now tlieir bowsprits poiating to the shore,
(A safe moonM bay,) with slackened sails they bore:
Witli cheerful shouts they, furl the gathered sail
That less and less flaps quivering on the gale ;
The prows, their speed stopt, o'er the surges nod^
The falling anchors dash the ibaming flood :
When sudden as they stopt, the swaithy race
With smiles of friendly welcome on each face.
The ship's high sides swift by the cordage climb :
Illustrious Gama, with an air sublime.

24 THX tUSIAD.

Soften'd by mild humanity, recebftB,
And to their Chief the hand of friendship givei ;
Bids spread the board, and, instant as he said,
Along the deck the festive board is spread :
The sparkling wine in crystal goblets gIows>
And ro\ind and roond 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 woiild nttaih.
And what the shore their purpose hop'd to gain?
From /arthest west, the Lustan race reply.
To reach the golden eastern shores we try.
Through that unbounded sea whose billows roll
From the cold northern to the southern pole ;
And by the wide extent, the dreary vast
Of Afric*s bays, already have we past ;
And many a sky have seen, and many a 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 brave
The dismal gulphs of Acheron's black wave.

1IOOK K U3

And aow« in turn> your race, yoxit Couiliry t;eU>
If ou your lips fair truth delights to dwell.
To us, unconscious of the falsehood, shew.
What of these seas and India's site you know>

Rude are the natives here, the Moor r^ply^d.
Dark are their minds, and brute-desire their guide:
But we^ of alien blood «nd strangers here*
N<^ hold their cast^ntos nor their laws revere.
Prom Abram's*'^ race our holy Prophet sprang.
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 ouV trading vessels r6ani>
Mozambic's harbour our commodious home.
If then your sails for India's shores expand^
For sultry Ganges or Hydaspes' 8trand>
Here shall you find a Pilot skill'd to guide
Through all the dangers of the per'lous tide»

♦ JFirom AhranCs race our holy Prophet sprung, — Mohanuned,
who was descended from Ishma^l, the son of Abrahsm t>y
Hagar.

VOL. I. c

26 THE LU8IAD.

Though wide spread sheWes and cruel rocks unseen.
Lurk in the way^ and whirlpools rage between.
Accept, mean while, what fruits these islands hold.

And to the Regent let your wish be told.

«

Then may your mates the needful stores provide.
And a]] your yarions wants be here supplied;.

So spake tke Moor, and bearing smiles untrue.
And signs of friendship, with his bands withdrew.
O'erpower'd with joy unhoped the Sailors stood.
To find such kindness on a shore so rude.

Now shooting o'er the iiood his fervid blaze.
The red-browM sun withdraws his beamy rays;
Safe in the bay the crew forget their cares.
And peaceful rest their wearied strength repairs.
Calm Twilight now his drowsy mantle spreads.
And shade on shade, the gloom still deepening sheds.
The Moon, full orb'd, forss^esher watery cave.
And lifts her lovely head above the wave.
The snowy splendours of her modest ray
Stream o'er the glistening waves, and quivering play :

BOOR t. 27

Atound her> glittering on the heaven's arch'd brow^
UnnumberVl stars, enclosed in aznre, glow.
Thick as the dew-drops of the April dawn.
Or May>fiowers crowding o'er the daisy-lawn :
The canvass whitens in the silvery beam.
And with a mild pale red the pendants gleam:
The masts' tall shadows tremble o'er the deep ;
The peacefni winds an holy silence keep;
The watchman's carol echo'd firom 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 paase.
The purple curtains of the morn she draws;
The Sun comes forth, and soon the joyful crew.
Each aiding each, their joyful tasks pursue.
Wide o'er the decks the spreading sails they throw ;
From each tall mast the waving streamers flow ;
All seems a festive holiday on board
To welcome to the fleet the island's Lord.

c2

28 THK LU8IA0.

With equal joy the Regent sails to meet^
And brings fresh cates, his ofierings> to the fleet :
For of his kindred Race their line he deeins>
That sarage Race who rush'd from Oaspia's streams.
And triumph'd o'er the East, and, Asia won.
In proud Byzantium fixt their haughty throne.
Brave Vasco hails the chief with honest smiles.
And gift for gift with liberal hand he piles.
His gifts, the boast of Europe's art# disclose,
And sparkling red the wine of Ti^s flows.
High on the shrouds the wondering sailors hung.
To note the^ Moorish garb, and barbarous tongue :
Nor less the subtle Moor, with wonder fired.
Their mien, their dress, and lordly ships admired :
Much he enquires, their King's,their Country's namp.
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 brave Gama ; Nor of Hagar's blood
Am I, nor plough from Izmael's shores the flood ;
From Europe's strand I trace the foamy way.
To find the regions of the infant day.

BOOK u 29

The God we worship stretchM yon heaven^s high bow.
And gave these swelling waves to roll below;
The hemispheres of night and day he spread.
He scoopM each vale, and reared each mountain's
His Word produced the nations of the earth, [head :
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 behoHl, 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 the warlike Stores display^
Their glorious shew, where, tire on tire inlaid.
Appeared of glittering steel the carabines;
There the plumed helms, and ponderous brigandines^
O'er the broad bucklers sculptured orbs embost.
The crooked faulchions dreadful blades were crost:
Here clasping greaves, and plated mail-<|iiilts strong.
The long-bows here, and rattling quivers hung.
And like a grove the burnish'd q)ears were seen.
With darts, and halberts double-edged between i

30 TU£ LU8IAD.

Here dread grenadoes^ and tremendous bombs^
With desiths ten thousand lurking in their wombs;
And &r around of browo^ and dudcy red^
The pointed piles of iron balk were spread.
The Bombadeers^ now to the Regent's view
The thundering mortars and the cannon drew;
Yet at their Leader's nod^ the sons of flame
(For brave and generous ever are the same)
Withheld their hands^ nor gave the seeds of fire
To rouse the thunders of the dreadful tire*
For Gaha's soul disdainM the pride of shew
Which acts the lion o'er the trembling roej

His joy and wonder oil the Moor exprest.
But rankling hate li^ brooding in his breast;
With smiles obedient to his will's controul.
He veib the purpose of his treacherous sonl :
For Pilots^ conscious of the Indian strand.
Brave Vasco sues, and bids the Moor conuaand
What bounteous gifts shall recoraipense their toils^
The Moor prevents him with assenting smiles.
Resolved that deeds of death, net words of air>
Shall first the hatred of his soul declare %

AOOK J. 31

Sach sttddearage his rankling mind possest.
When * Gama's lip» Messmb's name confesl.
Oh depth of heaven's dread will, that rancorous hate
On heayen's best lov^d in every clime should wait !
Now smiling round on all the wondering' craWj
The Moor attended by his bands withdrew :
His nimble barges soon approach^ the landj
And shouts of joy received him on the strand.

From heaven's high dome theVintag&-G4)d beheU,
(Whomf nine long months his father's thigh con*
ceal'd)

* IVhen Ganufs lips Messiah's name confest. — Zacocia (go-
vernor of Mozambic) made no doubt but our people wei^ of
some Mohammedan coiiiitrjr--^The mutual ezdiange of good
offices between our people and these islanders promised a long
continuance of friendship, but it proved otherwise. No sooner
did Zacocia uikLerstand the strangers were ChristianB, tkah all
his kindness was turned into the most bitter hatred ; he begfv
to meditate their ruin, and sought by every means to destroy
the fleet— -OftwTM* Silventh Episc, de Rehus Eman, Regis
Lusii. gesiit,

f Whom nine long months his father's thigh conceaPd, — Ac-
cording to the Arabians, Bacchus was nourished during his in-
fancy in a cave of Mount Meros, which in Greek signifies a
thigh. Hence the &ble.

32 THE i.U$»AD.

Well-pleaaed be marked tbe Moor's determined hate-j.
And thus his mind reroWed in ^If debate i

Has heaven, indeed, snch glorious lot ordain'd ^
By Lnsus' race such conquests to be gainM
O'er warlike nations, and on India's shore.
Where I, unriyal'd, claim'd the palm before!
I, sprung from Jove I and shidl these wandering

few.
What Ammon's son unconquer'd left, subdue ^
Ammon's brave son„ who led the God of war
His slave auxiliar at his thundering carF
Must these possess what Jove to him deny'd.
Possess what never soothM the Roman pride T
MiKt these the Victor's lordly flag dwplay
With hateful blaze beneath the rising day.
My name diskoQpur*d, and my victories stain'd.
Certurn'd ray altars, and my shrines profaned !
No«*be it mine to fan the Regent's hate ;
Occasion seized commands the action's fate.
Tis mine — this Captain now my dread no mare„
Shall never sh^ke hiaspear on India's sbore^

BdOK U Si

So spake the Power, and with the lightning's
flight
For Afric darted thro' the fields of light.
His form divine he c)oth'd in human shape.
And nish'd impetuous o'er the rocky cape:
In the dark semblance of a Moor he came
For art and old experience known to fame :
Him all his peers with humble deference heard.
And all Mozambic and it's prince rever'd :
The Prince in haste he sought, and thus exprest
His guileful hate in friendly counsel drest:

And to the ftegent of this isle alone
Are 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 bore
Whene'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 coune.

c3

We too, iiDleiBS kind heaven and Thou preyent/
Must fall the victims of their dire intent.
And, gasping in the pangs of death, behold
Our wives led captive, and oirr daiighters sold.
By steahh they come, ere morrow dawn, to bring
The healthful beverage from the living spring:
Arm'd with his troops the Captarn will appear j
For conscious fraud is ever prone to fear.
To meet them there, select a trusty band.
And in cbse ambush take thy silent stand f
There wait, and sudden on the heedless foe
Rush, and destroy them ere they dread the hhMi
Or say, should some escape the secret snare
Saved by their fate, their valour, or their carfe.
Yet their dread fell shall celebrate our isle.
If fate consent, and thou approve the guile.
Give then a Pilot to their wandering fleet.
Bold in hill art, and totor'd in deceit;
Whose hand adventurous shall their helms misguide
To hostile shores, or whelm them in the tide.

So spoke the God, in semblfllnce of a sag^ •
Henown'd for counsel and the craft of age.

AOOK I'. 55

The Prince with traai^rfc glowtog la bis face
Approved, and caoghthim in a kind eaibtace;
And instant at the word his bands prepare
Their bearded darts and iron fangs of war.
That Lnsiis' sons might purple with their gore
The crystal fountain which th/ey sou^ on shore:
And still regardful of his dire intent,
A skilftil pilot to the bay he sent.
Of honest mien, yet practised ia deceit.
Who far at distance on the beack should wait.
And to the 'scaped, if some shonM 'scape the snare.
Should ofier friendship and the pilot's care ;
But when at sea, on rocks should dash their pride, *
And whelm their lo&y yanes beneath the tide«

Apollo now had left his watery bed.
And o'er the mountains of Arabia spread
His rays that glow'd with gold ; when Gam a 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 prepared.
For martial care is ever on the guard :

3^ THE LVSfMD^

And secret waraiugs ever are imprest

On wisdom soclt a&wakied in Gajsa/s breast*.

And niwr^as swiftly xpringing a'ertfae tide
Advanced the beats^ a troop of Moots- they spy'd;:
O'er the pale sands the sable warriofs crowd.
And toss their threatentng darts, and shout aloud..
Yet seeming artles8> though they dared- the ftght.
Their eager hope they placed in artful flighty
To lead* brave 6 am a where unseen by day
In dark-brow'd shades tb«ir silent ambush lay.
With scornful gestures* o'er die beach they stride^
And push their levelled spears with barbarous pride ;*
Then fix the arrow to the beaded bow.
And strike their sounding shields, and dare the foe».
With generous rag^ the Lusian Race beheld>
And each'brAve breast with' indignation^swell'd^.
To view such- foes like snarling dogs display
Their threatening tusks,, and brave ^tui sangutne^

fray:
Together with a bound they spring to land.
Unknown whose step first trode the hostile strands.

BOOM r.. 37

Tbm*, ^hen to gaia his beaulebos Chartnei^s
The youthful Lover dares the hlobdy toil, [smile.
Before the nodding BulP» stern front he stands.
He leaps, he wheels^ he shouts, and waves his hands:
The lordly brute dtsdai^ns the stripliogr's rage.
His nostrils smoke, ami, eager to engage.
His homed brows he levels with the ground.
And shuts his flaming eyes, and wheeling round
With dreadful bellowing rushes- on the fbe^
And lays the boastful gaudy champion low*
Thus to the fight the sons of Losus sprang.
Nor dow to fall their ample vengeance hung:
With sudden roar the carabines resound.
And bursting echoes from the hills rebound ;

* Tlkus, when to gain his beauteous Channel's smtie^
The youU^ui Loner dares the hloody M

This simile is taken from a favourite exercise in Spain, where
it is usual to see young Gentlemen of the best families, adorned
with ribbons, and armed with a javelin or kind of cutlaa, which
the Spaniards call Machete, appear the candidates of fame ia
the lists of the bull-fight Though Camoens in this description
of it has given the victory- to the Bui}, it very seldom so hap-
pens, the young Caballeros being very expert at this valorous
exercise, and ambitious to display their dexterity, which is &
sure recommendation to the finvoor and good opinion of the
Ladies*

SB TBB L»fllAD.

The lead fliee-MMiiig tfamugh the tremUiog ftir>
And death's fell demons through the flashes glare.
Where, up the land, a grore of paloas enclose^
And cast their shacb^n Tvhere the foontaiQ flows.
The lurking ambosh from their treacherous sUnd
Beheld the combat bomtng on the strand :
They see the flash with sadden lightnings flare.
And the bhie smoke iilow rolling on the air:
They see their warriors drop, and, starting, hear
The lingering thunders bursting on their ear.
Amazed, appalPd, the treacherous ambnsh fled.
And raged, and curst their birth, and quaked with

dread.
The bands that vaunting shew'd their threaten^
With slaughter gored^ precipitate in flight; [mi^t.
Yet oft, though trembling, on the foe they turn
Their eyes, that red with lust of vengeance burn :
^Aghaat with fear and stem with desperate rage
The flying war with dreadful howls they wage,

r

Flints, clods, and javelins hurling as they fly.
As rage and wild despair thcfir hands svpply.
And soon disperst, their bands attempt no more
To guard the fountain or defend the shore :

iroofL r. ' '$Q

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 dread arm on perjar'd tows should wait^
He seized the time to awe the Eastern Worlds
And on the breach of faith his thunders hurVd.
From his black ships the sudden lightnings blaze.
And o'er old Ocean flash their dreadful rays:
White clouds on clouds inrolPd the smoke ascends^
The bursting tumult heaven's wide concave rends:
The bays and caverns of the winding shore
Repeat the cannon's and the mortar's roar :
The bombs^ far-flamingo hiss along the sky.
And whirring through the air the bullets fly :
The wounded air with hollow deafen'd sounds
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 hovering o'er the
vales;

40 THE LV8IAD.

And slowly floating round the moontain's head
Their pitchy mantle o^er the landscape spread.
UnnumberM sea-fowl rising from the shore.
Beat round in whirls at every cannon's roar:
Where o'er the smoke the masts' tall beads appear;
Hovering 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 treacherous Moors
From field to field, 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 beneath
The whelming billows, struggling, pant for breath.
Then whirl'd aloft their nostrils spout the brine;
While showering still from many a carabine
The leaden hail their sails and vessels tore.
Till struggling hard they reach'd the neighboring

shore :
Due vengeance thus their perfidy repaid.
And Gama's terrors to the East displayed.

BOOK Y. 41

Imbrown'd with dust a beaten pathway shews-
Where ^mklst umbrageous palms the foontaift fiowa;
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 returned. ^

With bell'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 foev
The promised Pilot to the fleet he sends.
And deep repentance for his crime pretends.
Sincere the Herald seems, and m bile he speaks.
The winning tears steal down his hoary cheeks.
Brave Gama, touchM with generous woe, believes*
And from his hand tbe Pilot's hand receives:
A dreadful gtf^! instructed to decoy.
In gulphs to whelm them, or on rocks destroy.

The valiant ChieG impatient of delay.
For India now resumes the watery wayj

42 TI^B LUSIAD.

Bids weigh the anchor and unfurl the sail.
Spread full the canvass to the rising gale;
He spoke; and proudly o'er the {baming tide.
Borne on the yrindj the fulUwing'd vessels ride;
While as they rode before the l^oondiog prows
The lovely formsr of sea-born nymphs arose.
The while brave Vasco's unsuspecting mind
Yet fear'd not ought <tbe crafty Moor designM :
Much of the coast he asksy and much 'den^aods
Of Afric's shores and India's spicy lands*
The crafty Moor/ by vengeful Bacchus iaugb^^
EmpioyM on deadfy^gu^le his baneAil thought;
In his dark mind he plaan'd« oa Gama's head
Full to revenge lyfooanabic aad the d<»d.
Yet all the Chief d^sianded he reveal'd^
Nor ougbt of truth, that tnsth hq knew, conceaVd
I^or thus be w^ea^d to gpaia his €asy iaatji.
And gain'd^ betray to slavery- or deatb.
And now securely trussing to destroy.
As erst false Sinon snared the sons of Troy,
Behold^ disclosing from the sky^ he cries.
Far to the north, yoo cloud-Uke isle arise :

VOOR I. 4S

From ancient times the natives of the shore

The blood stain'd Image on the Cross adore.

Swift at the word^ the joyful Gama cry'd^

For that ^r island turn the helm aside,

O bring my vessels where the Christians dwell.

And thy glad lips my gratitude i^all tell:

With sullen joy the treacherous Moor comply'd.

And for that island turned the helm aside.

For well Chriloa's swarthy race he knew.

Their laws and faith to Hagar's offspring true;

Their strength in war, through all the nations round.

Above Mozambic and her powers renowned ;

He knew what hate the Christian name they bore^

And hoped that hate on Vasco's bands to poor.

Right to the land the iaiithless Pilot steers.
Right to the land the glad Armada bears ; [care
But heavenly Love's fair Queen *, whose watchful
Had ever been their guide» beheld the snare^

* But heiwtnly Lint^t fair S^em^WhBaQAMAtanfred'miki^
East, the Moon were the only people vha engroned the trade
of those puts. JeakMiA of aaehfarmidablie rivals OS the Pw»>
tuguese, they employed every artifice to acoompUsh the de»

44 THE LV61AD. *

A sudden storm she raisM : Loud howlM the blasts
The yard-arms rattled, and each groaning mast
Bended beneath the weight. Deep sunk the prows.
And creaking ropes the creaking ropes oppose;
In Tain the Pilot would the speed restrain;
The Captain shouts^ the Sailors toil in Tain;

struction of Gama's fleet, for they foresaw the consequences of
bis return to Portugal. As the Moors were acquainted with
these seas and spoke the Arabic language, Gama was obliged to
employ them both as Pilots and Interpreters. The circum-
stance now mentioned by Camoens is an historical truth. The
Moorish Pilot, says De Barros, intended to conduct the Portu-
guese into Quiloa, telling them that place was inhabited l^
Christians; but a sudden storm arising, drove the fleet from
that shore, where death or slavery would have been the cer-
tain fate ui Gama and his companions. The viUany of the
Pilot was afterwards discovered. As Gama was endeavouring
to enter the port of Mombaze his ship struck on a sand bank,
and finding their purpose of bringing him into the haibour de-
feated, two of the Mooridi Pilots leaped into the sea and
swam ashore. Alarmed at this tacit acknowledgment of guilt,
Gama ordered two other Moorish Pilots who remained on board
to be examined by whipping, who, after some time, made a
full confession of their intended viUany. This discovery
greatly encouraged Gama and bis men, who now interpreted
the sudden storm which had driven them frcmi Quiloa as a
iniraeiilous iaterpdflatloii of the Diviiie Provideiioe in their
favour.

BOOK f. 45

Aslope and gliding on the leeward side
The bounding vessels cnt the roaring tide:
Soon for they past; and now the slackened sail
Trembles and bellies to the gentle gale:
Till many a league before the tempest tost
The treacherous Pilot sees his purpose crost :
Yet vengeful stilly 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 nanie>
Keviled and scorn 'd, was only known by (ame.
The groveling natives there, a brutal herd.
The sensual lore of Hagar's son preferred.
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 ;
Nor past the bar his vent'roos vessels guides:
And safe at anchor in the road he rides.

Between the isle and E^iopia's iaad
A narrow current laves each adverse strand ;

46 TUB LVSUD.

Close by the margin where the green tide fIowii>
Full to the bay a lordly city rooe:
With fervid blaze the glowing Evening pours
It's purple splendours o'er the lofty towers;
The lofly towers with milder lustre gleam^
And gently tremble in the glas^ stream.
Here reignM an hoary King of ancient fame;
Mombaze the town, Mombaze the island's name«

As when the Pilgrim, who with weary pace
Through lonely wastes untrod by human raGe»
For many a day disconsolate has stray M,
The turf his bed, the wild-wood boughs his shadei
O'erjoyM bc^holds the cheerful seals of men
In grateful prospect rising on his ken :
So Gama joyM, who many a dreary day
Had trac'd the vast, die lonesome watery way.
Had seen new stars, unknown to Europe, rise.
And brav'd the horrcHrs of the polar skies:
So joyM his bounding heart, when proudly rear'd>
The splendid City o'er the wave appear'd.
Where heaven's own lore, he trusted, was obeyM,
And Holy Faith her sacred rites displayed.

BOoiC I. 47

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 cultured shore.
But there fell rancour veiPd its serpent-head.
Though festive roses o'er the gifts were spread.
For Bacchus veilM, in human shape, was here.
And poured his counsel in the Sovereign's ear.

O piteous lot of Man's uncertain state !
What woes on life's unhappy journey wait!
When joyful hope would grasp it's fond desire.
The long-sought transports in the grasp expire.
By sea what treacherous 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 treacherous smile!
O where shall Man escape his numerous foes.
And rest his weary head in safe repose !

END OF BOOK I.

THE

LUSIAD.

BOOK II.

X HE fervent lustre of the eveniug ray
Behind the western hills now died away^
And night ascending from the dim-brow'd east>
The twilight gloom with deeper shades increast;.
When Gama heard the creaking of the oar^
And markM the white waves lengthening from the
in many a skiff the eager natives came, [shore.
Their semblance friendship, but deceit their aim.
And now by Gama's anchor'd ships they ride.
And, Hail illustrious Chief, their Leader cried.
Your fame already these our regions own.
How your bold prows from worlds to us unknown

VOL. 1. D

50 THE LUSIAD.

Have braved the horrors of the southern main^
Where storms and darkness hold their endless reign^
Whose whelm y waves our westward prows have

barr'd ^

From oldest times^ and ne'er before were dar'd
By boldest Leader: Earnest to behold
The wond'rous Hero of a toil so bold.
To you the Sovereign of these islands sends
The holy vows of peace, and hails you Friends*
If friendship yonktcepi, whatteVr kind heaven
In various bounty to these shores has given.
Whatever your wants, your wants shall here supply^
And safe in port your gallant fleet shall lie ;
Safe from the dahgcfs of the faitMesh tide; '
And sudden bursting Stomfe, by foa untr^'d ;
Yours every bounty of the fertile shore,
'Till balmy rest ybnr wearied strength restore.
Or if your toils and ardent hopes demand
The various treasures of the Indian strahd.
The fragVant cinnamon, the glbwing clove.
And all the riches of the tp\cj grtvcj

BOOR 11. 5!

Or drugs of power the fever's rage to botindl>
And give toft lafigQor to the smarting wound $
Or if the qplendotir of the diamond^ rays.
The sapphire's aanre^ or the niby^s blaze.
Invite your sails to search the Eastern world >
Here may these sails in happy hour be filrl*d:
For here the splendid treasures of the mine.
And richest oiTspring of the field, combine
To give each boon that human vrant requireis.
And every gan that Ic^ty pride desires:
Then hdre, a potent King yoHr generons friend.
Here let your perilous toils and wanderiAg seafcb€^
end.

He said : Brave Gama smiles with hetrt.-sincere.
And prays the herald to the king to bear
The thanks of grateful joy : But now, he cries, '
The blackening evening veik the coast and skies,
And through these rocks unknown forbids to steer;
Ytet when the streaks of milky dawn appear
Edging the eastern wave with silver hoar.
My ready pit>ws sball gladty point to shore j

d2

5i THK LVSIA^.

Assured of friendship^ aod a kiDd retrtti,
Assared and proffttr'd by a King so great.
Yet mind^l 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 floarish'd still? The Herald mark'd with joy
The pions wish, and watchful to decoy,
Messiah here, he cries, has iBLltars jnore
Than all the varioas shripes of other Ic^e.
O'ei^oyed braye Vasco heard the pleasing tale.
Yet feared that fraud its Tiper-eting might veil
Beneath the glitter of a shew so fair;
He half believes the tale, and arms against the
snare*

With Ga«a sail'd a bold advent'rous band.
Whose headlong rage had org'd the guilty hand :

* ...—wAai kit hepet had theer^d — ^After Gama had been
driven from Quiloa by a sudden storm, the assurances of the
Mozambic pilot, that the city was chiefly inhabited by Chris-
tians, stroa^y iadfaied him t^ enter IJiehaib0iir«f.Hoiiibaze*

BOOK II. B%

Stern Justice ibr their crintes had aslc'd their bloody
And pale in chains condemnM to death they stood;
But sav'd by Gama* from the shameful death.
The bread of peace had seal'd their plighted faith.
The desolate coast, when ordered, to explore.
And dare each danger of the hostile shore:
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 betrayed.
Or if the rites of heaven were there displayed.
With costly gifts, as of their truth secure,
The pledge that Gam a deemed their faith wa«
pure,

* But sao*d hy Oomo— During the reign of Emmanuely and
his predecessor John II. few criminals were executed in Portu-
gal. These gre§t and political princes employed the lives
which were forfeited to the pfublic in the most dangerous un-
dertakings of public utility. In their foreign expeditions the
epndenmed criminals were sent upon the most hazardous emer-
gencies. If death was their fate, it was the punishment they
had merited: if successful in what was required, their crimes
were expiated j and often, as in the voyage of Gama, they
rendered their country the greatest atonement for their guilt,
i^ch mep in their CHtcninntaacw /cpvld pOM^ibly vmk^

14 THB.fcU9tABw

Tbc46 imQ hy HeraUs «q tbe King )i« seirfa:
The faithkca Moon d^vrt 9» smlmg fneods.
Now tfcroiigh the wave liiey cot thdr -foamy way«
Their cheerihl ioags resoaoding through the bay:
And Qjow on shore the wonderiag natives greets
And fonAy hail the strangers from the fleet.
The Prince their gifts with friendly vows reeeivei^
And joyful wekoiae to the liisians gives;
Where'er they paoBi^ the joyful inmttlt h^dSj
And through the town the glad appl^nae attends.
But he whose cheeks with yoi^th immortal shoiie«
The God whose wondrous birth two mothers own«
Whose rage had still the wandering fleet annoyed^
Now in the town his guileful rage employed.
A Christian priest be setm'd ; a-sanptuoiis shrine
lie rear'df and tended with the rites divine:
Cer the fair altar wav'd the cross on high*
Upheld by angels leaning from the sky ;
Descending o'er the Virgin's sacred head
So white, so pure, the Hoty Spirit spread
The dove-like pictured wings, so pure, so white {
And, hovering o'er the ch«ieii twelve, alight

The tOAgi^f^ ^ )^9(^0d fir?« Aioa^d, Qppre^t^
With. ff)f(£e4 ^W:^ tbWi* U'4>ub)isd looks confe»(
The inspiring G^lmaA/s^d IhQ prpphet'fi glow.
Which gave each l9mg4^« fr<>ra their lips to flow,
here (Ivis th«! gnU^^l Pow^r his Wigic wroMghth
De Gam^si Mrf^ldl by the. guides are brQuigbt:
On bended l^oee^ low. to the earth they &U»
And to the Iiovd f»f hoaven in tranapof t call ;
While the feiga'd Pties^ aw^es the cesser's §re^
And clouds ofiiaoeoqe round the shriiiQ a^ire.
With cbeer&l wiHftotfie here, cares^'d, they stay.
Till brigbt Aunova* meissenger of doy,
Walk'd forth;, aod now the sun's resplendent rays.
Yet half cnierging o'er the waters, blaze.
When to the fleet the Moorish oars again
Dash the cprlM waves, and waft the guileful traiac
The lofty d«doB>they noant. With joy elate^
Their friendly welcome at the palace*gate.
The King's sincerity, the people's care.
And treasures of the coast the ipies declare :
Nor past untold what most their joy^ inspired.
What most to hear the valiaot Chief desired.

50 THB LVS1A9.

That their glad eyes had seen the rites diTine^
Their country's worship, and the sacred shri&e.
The pleasing tale the joyful Gama hears;
Dark fraud no more his generous bosom fears:
As friends sincere, himself sincere, he g^ves
The hand of welcome, and the Moors receives.
And now, as conscious of the destined pfey.
The faithless race, with smiles and gestures gay.
Their skifli forsaking, Gama's ships ascend.
And deep to strike the treacherous blow attend.
On shore the truthless Monarch arms his bands.
And for the fleet's approach impatient stands;
That soon as anchor'd in the port they rode
Brave Gam a's decks might reek with Lusutn blood :
Thus weening to revenge Mozaikibic's fate.
And give full surfeit to the Moorish hate ;
And now, their bowsprits bending to the bay,
The joyful crew the ponderous anchors weigh.
Their shouts the while resounding. To the gale
With eager hands they spread the fore-mast saiL
But Love's fair Queen the secret fraud beheld;
Swift as an arrow o'er, the battle-fieML

BOOK 11. ^f

From heaven she darted to the watery plain.
And call'd the sea-born Nymphs, a lovely train.
From Nereus sprung ; the ready Nyraphs obey.
Proud * of hier kindred birth, and own her sway.
She tells what ruin threats her fav'rite race;
Unwonted ardour glows on every face ;
With keen, rapidity they bound away,
Dash'd by their silver limbs, the billows grey
Foam round: Fair Doto, fir'd with rage divine.
Darts through the wave; and onward o'er the
brine

* Proud of her kindred birth — " Many readers, on finding that
the protectress of the Lusians sprung from the sea, would be
apt to exclaim. Behold, the hirth of the terrestrial Venus.
But Camoens had nol^bis eye on those fobles, which derive the
hirth of Venus from the foam of the waves, mixed with the
blood which flowed from the dishonest wound of Saturn ; he
carries hts views higher; iiis Venus is from a fable more hoble^
Nigidius relates, that two ^hes one day conveyed an egg to
the sea shore: This egg was hatched hy two pigeons whiter
than snow, and gave birth to the A8S3rriiin Venus, which, in
the Pagan theology, is the same with the celestial : She in«
structed mankind in Religion, gave them the lessons of virtHA
And the laws of equity." Castera abridged.

P3

5S TBB LV8fAl>.

The ♦ lovely N3rse «Dd Nerlne spring
With all the Tebemence and speed of wing.
The curving billows to their breasts drvide^
And give a yielding passage through the tide*
With furioas speed the Goddess msh'd before ;
Her beauteous form a joyful Triton bore.
Whose eager face, with glowing rapture fired»
Betray'd the pride which such a task inspired.
And now arriv'd, where to the whistling wind
The warlike Navy's bending masts reclined,

* Doto, Nffte, and Nerine — ^The Nereides, in the Lttsiad, sayi
Oastera, are the virtues diyine and humaa. In the first book
they accompany the Portuguese fleet ;

*hifare iht botmiSng pma
7X# hvefyformi tftethhom ng/giphs «raMw

" And without doubt, says he, this allegory, in a lively man-
iier, represents the condition of mankind. The virtues languish
in repose; adversitfes animate and awake tiiem. Hie fleet
sailing before a fovoureble wind is followed by the Nereides,
but the Nereides are scattered about in the sea. When danger
becomes imminent, Venus, or Keligion, assembles them to its
lafiety." That this manner of allegory Is in the true spirit of
Homer, see the note on the allegorical machinery of that
f reat father of poetiy , at the end of the sixth Lusiad.

BOOK IT. B9

As through the billows nish'd the speedy prows»
The nymphs, dividing, each her station chose.
Against the Leader's prow, her lovely breast
With more than mortal force the Goddess prest ;
The ship recoiling trembles on the tide.
The nymphs .in help ponr round on every side.
From the dread bar the threaten 'd keels to save;
The ship bounds up, half lifted from the wave,
And, trembling, hovers o'er the watery grave.
As when alarmed, to save the hoarded grain.
The C3ro>earn'd store for Winter's dreary reign^
So toil, so tug, so pant, the labouring Emmet train.
So toil'ddie Airymplis,atid straiu'd their panting force
To turn tlie Navy fnom its fiital course :
Back, baok the ship recedes; in vain the crew
With shouts on shouts their various toils renew;
In vain ea^h DierVe^ each oautic art they strain.
And the r<)«igh wind distends the sail in vain:
Enragedk.the Sailors see their labours crost;
From side to side the reeling helm b tost ;
Hi^h on the poop the skilful master stands ;
Sudden he shrieks aloud, aad spreads hiK hanids**-

60 TUB LUSIAD.

A luritiog rock its dreadlul rifts betrays.
And right before the prow its ridge displays;
Loud shrieks of horror from the yard-arms rise.
And a dire general yell invades the skies.
The Moors start, fear-struck, at the horrid sound*
As if the rage of combat roared around.
Pale are their lips, each look in wild amasEe
The horror of detected guilt betrays.
Pierc'd by the glance of Gava's awful eyes
The conscious Pilot quits the helm and flies.
From the high deck he plunges in the brine;
His mates their safety to the waves consign;
DashM by their plunging falls on every, side
Foams and boils up aronnd the rolling tide.
Thus *the hoaise tenants of the sylvan lake,
A Lycian race of oM, to flight betake;
At every sound, they dread Latona's hate.
And doubled vengeance of their former fete;

* TJmt Om hoarse tenontt— — Latona, sayB ihd fkble, fljriBg
from the serpent Python, and iaint with thirst, came to a
pond, where some Lycian peasants were catting the bulrushes.
In revenge of the insults which they offered her in preventiiig
herjko diioky the (^bsogedthflm into ftogit

BOOK II. 01

All sudden plunging leave the margin green.
And but their heads abov« the pool are seen*
So pliuig'd the Moors^ when, horrid to behold!
From the bar'd rock's dread jaws the billows

rollM,
Opening in instant fate the fleet to whelm.
When ready Vasco caught the staggering helm :
•Swifjt as his lofty voice resounds aloud
The ponderous anchors dash the whitening flood.
And round his vessel, nodding o'er the tide.
His other ships, bound by their anchors, ride.
And now revolving in his piercing thought
These various scenes with hidden import fraught;
The boastful Pilot's self-accusing flight.
The former treason of the Moorish spite;
How headlong to the rock the furious wind.
The boiling current, and their art combin'd.
Yet though the groaning blast the canvass swell'd.
Some wond'rous cause, unknown, their speed with-
held:
Amaz'd, with hands high rais'd, and sparkling eyes,
A miracle! the raptur'd Gama cries.

Gd THB LIfSfAD.

A miraele! O hail tliov 8ao»ed mga.

Thou pledge ilkistmiM ^f the Care Divine!

Ah! fraudftt] Malice!* how sh«n Wisdenv^t care

Escape the poison of thy giMed snare !

The front of honesty, the saintly shew.

The smile of friendship, and the holy vow;

All, all conjoined our easy iaith to gain.

To whelm ns, shipwreckM, in the ruthless main ;

But where our prudence no deceit could spy.

There, heavenly Guardian, there thy watchful

eye
Beheld our danger: still, O still prevent.
Where human foresight fails, the dire intent.
The lurking treason of the smiling foe;
And let our toils, our days of lengthening woe^
Our weary wanderings end. If still for thee.
To spread thy rites, our tpils and vows agree,
Oo Indians strand thy sacred shrines to rear.
Oh, let some friendly land of rest appear !
If for thine honojor we these toils have dar'd»
These toils let India's long-sought shore reward !

BOOK ir. 63

So spoke the Chief: the {nous accents more
The gentle bosom of Celestial Love :
The beauteous Queen to heaTcn now darts away;
In vain the weeping nymphs implore her stay:
Behind her now the morning star she leaves.
And the * sixth heaven ber lovely form receives.
Her radiant eyes such living splendors cast.
The sparkling stars were brigbtein'd as she

past;
The frozen pole with sudden streamlets flowM,
And as the burning aone with fervor glowM,
And now, confest before the throne of Jove»
In all her ohariDiS appears the Queen of Love:
Flush'd by the ardour of her rapid flight
Through fields of cether and the realms of light.
Bright as the blushes of the roseate morn.
New blooming tints her glowing cheeka adorn ;
And all that pride of beauteous grace she wore^
As f when in Ida's bower she stood of yore,

* As the planet of-Ju|Hter i» in tbesnxl^ hesvven, the Avtker
has with propnety there placed the throne of that GocL
Castera*

t As when m Ma't hvsef she tioed qf ^«.«-*-** 1 am aware/'

M THE LUSIAD»

When erery charm and every hope of joy

Enraptured and allured the Trojan boy.

Ah ! had that hunter^ whose unhappy fate

The human visage lost by Dian's hate.

Had he beheld this £iiirer goddess move

Not hounds had slain him, but the fires of love.

Adown her neck, more white than virgin snow«

Of softest hue the golden tresses flow;

Her heaving breasts of purer, softer white.

Than show hills glistening in the moon's pale light.

Except where hovered by the sash, were bare.

And Love, tinsel, smWd soft, and panted there.

Nor less the zone the god's fond zeal employs ;

The zone awakes the flame of secret joys.

As ivy tendrils, round her limbs divine

Their spreading arms the young desires entwined

Below her waist, and quivering on ^e gale.

Of thinnest texture flows the silken veil :

says Castera, *" of the objection, that this passage is by no
meani applicable to the celestial Venus. I answer once fi>r
all, that the names and adventures of Che Pagan Divinities are
«o blended and uncertain in Mythology, that a Poet is fitgres^
liberty laad^pt tbem to bis allegory as hepieasea*

BOOK II. 65

(Ah! where the Uicitl curtain dimly shows.
With doubled. fires the roving fency glows !)
The hand of modesty the foldings threw.
Nor all concealM, nor all was given to view-.
Yet her deep grief her lovely face betrays.
Though on her cheek the soft smile faiiltering plays.
All heav^ was mov'd— as when some damsef

Hurt 'by the rudeness of the amorous boy.
Offended chides and smiles ; with angry mien
Thus /mixt with smiles, advanced the plaintive

. .quoin;
And thus^ O Thunderer ! O potent Sire ! ,
Shall I in vain thy. kind f regard require !
Alas i and cherish still the fond deceit.
That yet on me thy kindest smiles await ! -
Ah heaven I and must that valour which I love
Awake the v.engeaace and the rage of Jove !
Yet mov'd with pity for my favorite race
I speak, though frowning on thine awful face
I mark the tenor of the dread dectee, .
That to thy wrath consigns my Sons and Me,

Yes ! let gl^n ^^chjus bifss, tdiy pariaalcSM*^
His be fthi^.l«i^i]%f^;fia4 hi».m^Q«I^P^ir<
The bold adv^l^re^^ mm of. Togo's clim^ .
I loved-r^l&f ! ths^t lovi^ is now (h^iif cHm^;
O happy. tb^5 and prg^p'rouft ^le$ their hip,,
Hftd:I pHwrwiedth^mwith r^lenlless bfit«! . m\. . .
Yj9«M«5t»y voftfHl*igbs.iiliF*if|iw|>Ior(^,, a'. '..
Yes! let them perish on some barb'roos ^b^M^^
For I have iwred'th^m-^Here, tb^ ^wi^Iing sigl|
And pieacly i^ear^rop rushing in bet ey?.«
AsuMTkipgideTr hasgt ir^mbliog on tfiQjtose, . - . .
Though fond to speak, her farther sp^eieb, oppose —
Her lips, then-m^mg, as the pi^use'df woe^-: . (
Were now (b gire the . voice of grief to flow; '
When kindly by tk«Be charms, whose woesBnbight

mov^ I I «>

And nelt the pvowlnig T&gerls rage to Ibse,
The thdndering Qod her weeping sorrows i^y^dy
And sudden threw his awfol state aside:
With that mild look which stills the drtTing storpo^
When black roird ol<Mids the &ce of heaven dk<^

lbrm$

BOOK n, 6t

With that mild visage and benignant mien
Which to the sky restores the blae serene.
Her snowy neck and gk>wing cheek he prest,
And wipM her tears> and daspM her to faisbiteasts
Yet she> still sighing, dropt the trickling te^r^
As the chid nurdKng mov'd witk pride and fear.
Still sighs and moans, though fondled and earest ;
Till thus great Jove the Fates* decrees confest:
O thou, my daughter, still belovM as fair.
Vain are thy fears, thy heroes claim my care:
No power of gods could e^er my heart inolrne.
Like one fond smile, one powerful tear of thine.
Wide o'er the Eastern shores shalt thou behold
The flags far streaming, and thy thunders roR'd;
While nobler triumphs shall thy nation crown.
Than those of Roman or of Greek renown.

If by mine aid the sapient Qreek could htBye
Th' Ogycian seas, nor * sink a deathless slave;

* Nor sink a deathless slave-^i. e. The slave of Calypso,

who offered Ulysses immortality on condition he would live
with her. *

M Tl!£' LUSIAD.

If tfarougii th? Dlyrian shelres Antenor bore.

Till safe be landed on Timavus' shore ;

If, by hts fate, the pious Trojan led.

Safe through Charybdis' barking, whirlpools sped :

Shall thy bold Heroes, by my care disclaimed.

Be left to' perish, who, to ^rorlds unnam'd

By vauoting R^ne, pursue iheir dauntless way f

Ko-*-soon shalt thou with ra'yish'd eyes survey.

From stream to stream their lofty cities spread.

And their proud turrets rear the warlike head :

The 9lem-browM Turk ^all bend the vuppHant

knee>
And Indiaa Monarchs, now secure and free.
Beneath thy potent Monarch's yoke shall bend,
Till thy just Laws, wide o'er the East extend.
Thy Chief, who jiow in Error's circling maze.
For India's shore through shelves and tempests

strays;
That Chief shalt tiiou behold, with lordly pride.
O'er Neptune's trembling realm triumphant ride.
O wondrous fate ! when not a breathing gale
Shall curl the billows, or distend the sail^

. BOOK II. 69

The wave shall boil and.tremble^ awM wilh dread»
And own the terror o'er their empire spread*.
That hostile coast, with various streams sapplied.
Whose treacherous sons the fountain's gifb deny'd;
That coast shalt thou behold his Port supply.
Where oft thy weary fleets in rest shall lie.
Each shore which weav'd for him the snares of

death.
To him these shores shall pledge their ofTer'd faith ;
To him their haughty Lords shall lowly bend.
And yield him tribute for the name of friend.

* And own the terror o'er their empire tpreod, — ^After the
Portuguese had made great conquests in India, Oama had the
honour to be appointed Viceroy. In 1524» as he sailed thither
to take possession of his government, his fleet was becalmed on
the coast of Cambaya, and the ships stood motionless on the
water: instantly, without the least change of weather, the
waves were shaken with the most violent agitation. The ships
were tossed about; the sailors were terrified, and in the utmost
confusion, thinking themselves lost; when Gama, perceiving
it to be the effect of an earthquake, with his wonted heroism
and prudence, exclaimed, '* Of tohai are you qfraid f Do you
not see how the Ocean trembles under its Sovereigns /" Barroe,
L. 9. C 1. and Faria (tom. 1. C 9.) who says, that such at ia,f
sick of fevers were cured by the fright.

TO Tan i;ofkiAD.

Tifee Red^sfa wave shall darken in the afaatle '
Of thy broad sails m frequent pamp displayed ;
Thine ejrea shall sefe the golden Omuls' shore,
Twtea thitie^ iwiee eoo^^^rod* while the ferioirt

.Moor,
Amazed, shall Tiew his arrows backward * dnven.
Showered on his legions by the hand of heaven.
Though twice assailed by many a vengeful band,
Unoonquer'd slill shall Dio's ramparts stand ;
Such prowess there shall raise -the Lusian name
That Mars shall tremble for his blighted fame ;
There shall the Moors, blaspheining, sink in death.
And curse their Prophet with their parting breath*

Where Goa*s warlike ramparts frown on high,
l^leasM shalt thou see thy Lusian banners fly;
The Pagan tribes in chains shall crowd her gate.
While she sublime shall tower in regal staite,

■hh arwwt haekward driven — ^th Barros andCastaneds

Klate this fact, Albtiquerk, during the war of Ormuz, havin)^
given battle to the Persians and Moors, by the violence of a
sodden wind the arrows of the latter were driven back upon
theniselves, wiker^y many of tbsir troops were wounded*

The ftntl seourgei thfe chread cif'all who dare'

Against tby sons to plan the future war.

ThoQgb few thy troops who Ck)iian«ur amstain^

The foe^ thiw^h' aumeroufi^^ihaU iattdiilt in VAlia '

Great.Qalicut^ for potent hosts T«tiow^'d^

By Lisboa's^sons assait'd shall stpew the ground t

What floods on floods of veiygefal hosts shall wag6

On Cochin's walls their swift re[^eated rage;

In vaitt : a "^ Lusiati H^ro shall oppose

His dauntless boso!h, and ^isperite the ibes.

As high-swellM waves, that thundePd to the shock.

Disperse in feeble streamlets from the rock.

When blackening broad and far o'er Actium'^

tide
Augustus* fleets the S!a?re of loVe defyd.
When that fallen Warrior to the combat led
The bravest troops in Batctrian Scythia bred.
With Asian legions, and, his shameful bane.
The Egyptian Queen attendant in the train ;

* — — j4 Ludan ffero^VtLkheco ; in the !iieg« of Cockin h«
defeated successively seven mimerous armies raised "by the
Itmotim iOT the reduction df'Qat city. ' ' "■'

T9 tm MwuD.

Though Man raged high, and all his fury ponied.
Till with the storm the boiling surges roar'd ;
Yet shall thine eyes more dveadiU scenea .behold.
On burning surges burning sui^a r^ll'd.
The sheets of fire far billowing o^er the brine.
While I my thunder to thy sbns resign,
llitts many a sea shall blaze^and maay a shore
Resound the horror of tiie cotnbatfs roar.
While thy bold prows triumphant ride along
By trembling China to the isles unsung
By ancient baird, by anoient chief unknown.
Till Ocean's utmost shore thy bondage own*

■« « .

Thus from the Ganges to the Gadian strand.

From the most northern wave to southmost land ;

That land decreed to bear the injured name

Of Magalhaens^ the Lusian * pride and shame ;

* The luiian pride and shame. — Magalhaens, a most cel«»
brated naTigator. Neglected by Jobn VL kiqg of Portugal,
be ofSEired bis service to the kingdom of Spain, under wbom
be made moat important discoveries round the Straits, which
bear his name, and in the back parts of South America; «e
quirements^ which at this day are of the utmost value to the

sooK If. 75

Freia aU that Vast, though crown'd with heroes

old.
Who with the gods were demi-gods enroli'd;
From all that Vast do equal heroes shine
To match in arms, O lovely Daughter, thine.

So spake the awful Ruler of the skies.
And Maia's son swift at his mandate flies:
His charge, from treason and Mombassa's king
The weary fleet in friendly port to bring.
And while in sleep the brave De Gama lay.
To warn, and fair the shore of rest display.
Fleet through the yielding air CylleHius glides.
As to the light, the nimble air divides.
The mystic helmet on his head he wore.
And in his right the fatal rod he bore;
That rod, of power to wake the silent dead.
Or o'er the lids of care soft slumbers shed.
And now^ attended by the herald Fame,
To fair Melinda's gate concealed he came;

Spanish Empire. Of this hero see farther, X. Lusiad, in th«
notes.

VOL. I, E

74 IBB LVSfi^.

And soon loud Rumour echoed through the tows.
How from the western worlds from wares unknown,
A noble band had reachM the £tfaiop shore.
Through seas and dangers nevtt dared before :
The godlike dread attempt their wonder fires.
Their generous wonder fond regard inspires.
And all the city glows their aid to give.
To view the Jieroes, and their wants relieve.

^was now the solemn hour when midnight
reigns.
And dimly twinkling o'er the ethereal plains
The starry host, by gloomy silence led.
O'er earth and sea a glimmering paleness shed;
When to the fleet, which h^nm'd with dangers lay.
The silyer-wing'd Cyllenius darts away.
Each care was now in scrft oblivion steep'd.
The Watch akme accustom'd vigils kept;
E'en Gama, wearied by the day's alaimf.
Forgets his cares, reclin'd in slumber's arms.
Scarce had he closed his careful eyes in rest.
When Maia's son in vision Jitood confest s

BOOK If. 7$

And fly^ he cried^ O Lusitaniao^ fly;
Here guile knd treason every nerve apply :
An impious king for thee the toil prepares.
An impious people' vv^eare a thousand snares :
Oh fly these shores^ unfurl the gathered sail,
Lo, heaven, thy guide, commands the rising gale;
Hark, loud it rustles, see, the gentle tide
Invites thy prows ; the winds thy lingering chide.
Here such dire welcome is for thee prepared
As *Di(»ned^8 unhappy strangers shared;
His hapless guests at silent midnight bled.
On their torn limbs his snorting coursers fed.
Oh fly, or here vnth strangers' blood imbrued
Busiris* altars thou shalt find renewed :
Amidst his slaughtered guests bis altars stood
Obscene with gore, and barked with human blood :
Then thou, beloved of heaven, my counsel hear;
Right by the c<)a8t thine onward journey steer,

* At DiametPt unhn^^ strangers — Diomede, a tyraat of
Thrace, who fed his hortes with hamaa flesh. Busiris was a
Idng of £g3n;rt, who sacrificed strangers. Hercules vanquished
both these tyrants, and put them to the Same punishments
which tbehr cmdty had inflicted on othen.

b2

76 THB LUSIAD.

Till where the sun of noon no shade .begets.

But day with night in equal tenor sets.

A Sovereign there^ of generous faith unstain'd.

With ancient bounty, and with joy unfeign'd

Your glad arrival on his shore shall greet.

And sooth with every care your weary fleet.

And when again for India's golden strand

Before the prosperous gale j^tHir sails expand,

A skilful pilot oft in danger tryM,

Of heart sincere, shall prove your ^thful gaide.

Thus Hermes spoke, and as his flight he takes
Melting in ambient air, De Gam a wakes.
Chill'd with amaze he stoody when through the night
With sudden ray appeared the bursting light;
The winds loud whizzing through the cordage

sigh*d .

Spread, spread the. sail, the raptured Vasco cried;

Aloft, aloft, this, this the gale of heaven;

By heaven our guide th' avRSpkfioiffi siign U given;

Mine eyes beheld the Messenger divine;

O fly, he cried, and gave the touting. »ign«

BOOK 11. 77

Here treason lurks.— '^— Swift as the Captain spake
The mariners spring bounding to the deck^
And now with shouts far-echoing o'er the sea.
Proud of their strength the ponderous anchors

weigh.
When '^heaven again its guardian care displayed;
Above the wave rose many a Moorish head-^ —
ConcealM by night they gently swam along.
And with their weapons sawed the cables strong.
That by the swelling currents whirled and tost.
The navy's inrrecks might strew the rocky coast:
But now .discovered, every nerve they ply.
And dive, and swift as frightened vermin fly.

Now through the silver waves that curling rose.
And gently murmured round the sloping prows,

* When haaoen again its guare^an care ifii^^Bjr'iI— Having
mentioned the escape of the Moorish pilots, Osorius proceeds:
Rex deinde homines magno cum silentio scaphis & lintribus
submittebiat, qui securibus anchoralia nocte prsctderent.
Quod nisi fiiisset li nostris singulari Gams industria yigilatam,
«t iusidiis scelerati illius regis occursum, nostri in summum
vitas discrimen incidissent.

78 nBlUHAD. .

The gallant fleet befiire the steady wind
Sweeps on, and leaves long foamy tracks be-
hind;
While as they sail the joyful crew relate
Their wondrous safety from impending &te;
And every bosom feels how sweet the joy
When dangers past the grateful tongue employ.

The sun had now his annual journey run.
And blaaung forth another course begun,
Wheik smoothly gliding -o'er the hoary tide
Two sloops afar the watch^l master spied ;
Their Moorish make the seaman's art displayed ;
Here Gama weens to force the Pilot's aid :
One, base with fear, to certain diipwreck flew;
The keel da3h'd on the shore, escap'd the crsw.
The other bravely trusts the generous foe.
And yields, ere slaughter struck the lifted blow.
Ere Vulcan's thunders bellowed. Yet again
The Captain's prudence and his wish were vain;
No Pilot here his wandering course to guide,
Ko lip to tell where rolls the Indian tide;

HOOK II. 79

The voyage calm* or perilous, or fiir^

Beneath i/fhat heaven, or which the guiding star:

Yet this they told, that by the neighbouring bay

A potent monarch reign'd, whose pious sway

For truth and noblest bounty far renown^.

Still with the Stranger's grateful praise was crown'd.

Overjoyed brave G^ma heard the tale, which

seaPd
The sacred truth that Malays son reveal'd ;
And bids the Pilot, warnM by heaven his guide.
For &ir Melinda turn the helm aside.

^was now the jovial season, when the morn
From Taurus flames, when AmaJtbea's horn
O'er hill and dale the rose-cr6wn'4 Flora pours.
And scatters com and wine, and fruits and flowers.
Right to the port their course the fleet pursued.
And the glad dawn that sacred day renewed.
When with the spoils of vanquished death adornM
To heaven the Victor of the tomb return'd.
And soon Melinda's shore the sailors spy ;
From every mast the purple streamers flyi

80 THE LUilAD.

Rich-figured tap'stry now supplies the sail.
The gold and scarlet Ireknble in the gale;
The standard broad its brilliant hues bewrays.
And floating on the wind wide billowing plays;
Shrill through the air the quivering trumpet sounds^
And the rough drum the rousing march rebounds.
As thus regardful of the sacred day
The festive Navy cut the watery way,
Melinda's sons the shore in thousands crowd.
And offering joyful welcome shout aloud :
And truth the voice inspired. Unawed by fear.
With warlike pomp adornM, himself sincere.
Now in the port the generous Gama rides;
His stately vessels range their pitchy sides
Around their chief; the bowsprits nod the head.
And the barb'd anchors gripe the harbour's bed.
Strait to the king^ as friends to generous friends,
A captive Moor the valiant Gama sends.
The Lusian fame the king already knew^ [through.
What gulphs unknown the fleet had laboured
What shelves, what tempests dared: His liberal
Exults the Captain's manly trust to find ; [mind

BOOK !!• 81

With that ennobling worth> Mrhose fond employ
Befriends the brave, the Monarch owns his joy.
Entreats the Leader and his weary band
To taste the dews of sweet repose on land.
And all the riches of his ctiltar'd fields
Obedient to the nod of Gama yields.
His care meanwhile their present want attends.
And various fowl, and various fruits he sends;
The oxen low, the fleecy lambkins bleat.
And rural sounds are echoed through the fleet.
His gifts with joy the valiant Chief recieives.
And gifts in turn, confirming friendship, gives.
Here the proud scarlet darts its ardent rays.
And here the purple and the orange blaze :
O'er these profuse the branching coral spread.
The coral wondVous in its watery bed :
Soft there it creeps, in curving branches thrown;
In air it hardens to a precious stone.
With these an Herald, on whose melting tongue
The * copious rhcf ric of Arabia hung,

* The copious rhetoric of Arabia—There were on board Gama's
fleet several penons skilled in the Oriental Laogoages. Osor.

e3

S3 tat tostAif.

He sends, his wants and purpose to reveafy
And holy vows of lasting peace to seal.
The Monarch sits amid his splendid band.%
Before the regal Throne the Herald stands.
And thus, as eloquence his lips inspired,
O King ! he cries, for siicred truth admired,
OrdaiVd by heaven to bend the stubborn knees
Of haughtiest nations to thy just decrees;
FearM as thou art, yet set by heaven to prove
That Empire'^ strength results from Public

love:
To thee, O King, for friendly aid We come;
Nor lawless Bobbers o'er the deep we roam:
No lust of gold could e'er our breasts inflame
To scatter fire and slaughter where we came ;
Nor sword, nor spear our harmless hands employ
To seize the careless, or the weak destn^.
At our most potent Monarch's dread command
We spread the sail from lordly Europe's strand :
Through seas unknown, through gulphs untry'd

before.
We force our journey to the Indian shore.

BOOk II. 83

Alas, what rancour fires the human breast!
By what stern tribes are Afric's shores possest?
How many a wile they try'd, how many a snare!
Not wisdom sacv'd vts, 'twas the heaven's own

care:
Not harbours only, e'en the barren sands
A place of rest deny'd our weary bands:
From us, alas, what harm could prudence fear!
From us so few, their numerous friends so near!
While thus from shore to cruel shore long driven.
To thee conducted by a guide from heaven.
We come, O Monarch, of thy truth assured.
Of hospitable rights by heaven secured ;
Such * rites as old Alcinous' palace graced.
When lorn Ulysses sat his favoured gjkesU
Nor deem, O King, that cold suspicion taints
Our valiant Leader, or his wish pr^y^nts:
Great is our Monarch, and his dread command
To our brave Captain interdicts the land
Till Indian earth he tread: What nobler cause
Than loyal faith can wake thy fond applause,

* See the Eighth Odysgey, kc*

84 THB LUSIAD.

O thoa, who knowest the erer-pressing weight
Of kingly office, 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.
He spoke ; a murmur of applause succeeds.
And each with wonder ownM the valorous 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 shores obeyM,
His sovereign grandeur to the world display'd»
Elate with joy, uprose the royal Moor,
And, smiling, thus, — O welcome to my shore t
If yet in you the fear of treason dwell.
Far from your thoughts th' ungenerous fear expel 7
Still with the brave, the brave will honour find.
And equal ardour will their friendship bind.
But those who spurnM you, men alone in shew.
Rude as the bestial herd, no worth they know;

• BOOK If. * S5

Such dwell not here: and since your laws require
Obedience strict, I yield my fond desire, [board.
Though much I wish'd your Chief to grace my
Fair be his duty to his sovereign 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 blustering winds and lengthening tide
Your ships have suffered, shall be here supply'd.
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 god 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
Bound to the skies, and trail a sparkling blaze :
The vaulting bombs awake their sleeping fire.
And like the Cyclops' bolts, to heaven aspire:

66 ttB LUilAD.

The Bombadeen their roaring engines ply»
And earth and ocean thunder to the sky.
The trump and fife's shrill clarion fiir 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 past the night: and now with sihery ray
The Star of morning ushers in the day.
The shadows fly before the roseate hours.
And the chill dew hangs glittering on the flowers.
The pruning hook or humble spade to wield.
The cheerful labourer hastens to the field;
When to the fleet with many a sounding oar
The Monarch sails; the i^atives crowd the shore.
Their various robes in one bright splendour join.
The purple blazes, and the gold-stripes shine;
Nor as stem vrarriors with the quivering lance.
Or moon*archM bow, Melinda's sons advance;

BOOK II. 87

Green boughs of palm with joyful hands they wave^

An omen of the meed that cjro¥m8 the Brave.

Fair was the show the royal Barge display'd^

With many a flag of glistening silk arrayM,

Whose various hues^ as waving thro' the bay,

ReturnM the lustre of the rising day:

And onward as they came, in sovereign state

The mighty King amid his Princes sate:

His robes the pomp of eastern splendour shew,

A proud Tiara decks his lordly brow :

The various tissue shines in every fold.

The silken lustre and the rays of gold.

His purple mantle boasts the die of Tyre,

And in the sun-beam glows with living fire.

A golden chain, the skilful Artist's pride.

Hung from his neck; and glittering by his side

The dagger's hilt of star-bright diamond shone.

The girding baldric bums with precious stone $

And precious stone in studs of gold enchased.

The shaggy velvet of his buskins graced:

Wide o^er his head, of various silks inlaid,

A fair umbrella cast a grateful shade.

88 THB LOSIAD.

A band of meniab^ bending o'er the prow^
Of horn*Trreatb'd round the crooked trumpets blow;
And each attendant barge aloud rebounds
A barbarous discord of rejoicing sounds.
With equal pomp the Captain leaves the fleets
Melinda's Monarch on the tide to greet :
His barge nods on amidst a splendid train>
Himself adom'd in all the pride of Spain:
With fair embroidery shone his armed breast.
For polish'd steel supply'd 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 gatherings roll'd.
With golden buttons and with loops of gold :
Bright in the Sun the polish'd radiance bums.
And the dimm'd eye-ball from the lustre turns.
Of crimson satin, dazzling to behold.
His cassoc swell'd in many a curving fold;
The make was Gallic, but the lively bloom
Confest the labour of Venetia's loom :
Gold was his sword, and warlike trowsers laced
With thoDgs of gold his manly legs embraced:

BOOK II. €9

With graceful mien his cap asliant was turn*d ;
The velvet cap a nodding plume adorned.
His noble' 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 pleased beholders wondering eye.
And with the splendour of the rainbow vie.
Now Gama's bands the qnivering trumpet blow.
Thick o'er the wave the crowding barges row.
The Moorish flags the curling waters sweep.
The Ldsian mortars thunder o'er the deep ;
Again the fiery roar heaven's concave tears,'
The Moors astonish'd 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 generous King ascends.
His arms the Chief enfold ; the Captain bends,
A reverence to the sceptre'd grandeur due:
In silent awe the Monarch's wondering view
Is fixt on Vasco's noble mien ; the while
His thoughts with wonder weigh the Hero's toiU

90 THBLU8UB. '

Esteem and friencbhip with his wonder rise^
And free to Gama all bis kingdom lies*
Though never son of Lusus* race before
Had met bis eye^ or trod Melinda's shore*
To him familiar was the mighty name.
And much hb talk extols the Lusian fame;
How through the vast of Afric's wildest bound
Their deathless feats in gallant anns resound;
When that fair land where Hesper's offspring

reignM,
Their valour's prize the Lusian youth obtained.
Much still he talk'd, enraptured of the theme.
Though but the faint vibrations of their £ime
To him had echoed. Pleased his warmth to view.
Convinced his promise and his heart were true.
The illustrious Gama thus his soul exprest.
And own'd the joy that laboured 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 wished supply;
Our navy driven from many a barbarous coast.
On many a tempest-harrowed ocean tost.

BOOK 1I« 91

At last with thee a kindly refiige find9>
Safe from the fury of the howling wia9s.
O generous King> may He whose mandate rolls
The circling heavens, and human pride controla;.
May the Great Spirit to thy breast return
That needful aid, bestowed 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,
WherOj proudly gay, the anchored 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 moored.
The King, while silence listened round, implored
The glories of the Lusian wars to hear.
Whose &intest echoes long had pleased his ear:

02 THB LUSIAD.

Their various triumphs on the Afric shore '

O'er those who hold the son of Hagar's lore.
Fond he demands, and now demands again
Their various triumphs on the western mainh:
Again, ere readiest answer found a place.
He asks ihe story of the liUsian race ;
What God was founder of the mighty line.
Beneath what heaven their land, what shores adjorn;
And what their climate, where the sinking day
Gives the last glimpse of twilight's silvery rqy.
But most, O Chief, the zealous Monarch cries.
What raging seat you braved, what louriiig skies;
What tribes, what rites yon saw; wbat savage hate
.On our rude Afric proved 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'COUPsers raise
Their flaming frotits, and give' the opening blaae;
Soft on the glassy wave the z^hyn sleep,
And the still billows holy silence keep.
Nor less are we, undaunted Chief, prepared
To hear thy nation's gaUant deeds declared ;

jiOOK II. 93

. Nor thinks tho' scorch'd beneath the car of day.
Our minds too dull the debt of praise tx) pay;
Melinda's sons the test of greatness know.
And on the Lusian race the palm bestow*^.

If Titan's giant brood with impious arms
Shook high Olympus' brow with rude alarms;
If Theseus and Pirithous dared invade
The dismal horrors of the Stygian shade.
Nor less your glory, nor your boldness less.
That thus exploring Neptune's last recess
Contemn his waves and tempests! If the thirst
To live in fame, though famed for deeds accurst.
Could urge the caitiff, who to win a name
Gave Dian's temple to the wasting flame :

^ Voltaire calls the King of Melinda a barbarous African,
but according to history, the Melindeans were a humane and
polished people. The Prince of Melinda, with whom Gama
conversed, is thus described by that excellent historian Osorius.
— -" In the whole conversation, the Prince betrayed no sign of
the barbarian; on the contrary, he carried himself with a
politeness and attention worthy of bis rank*

94 TRB LyflAO.

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

END OF TRB FIBST VOLUMl.

r^ p- .rN •*- r' r>

kI J U u J