The Lusiads

The feats of Arms, and famed heroick Host,
from occidental Lusitanian strand,
who o’er the waters ne’er by seaman crost,
farèd beyond the Taprobáne-land,1
forceful in perils and in battle-post,
with more than promised force of mortal hand;
and in the regions of a distant race
rear’d a new throne so haught in Pride of Place:

And, eke, the Kings of mem’ory grand and glorious,
who hied them Holy Faith and Reign to spread,
converting, conquering, and in lands notorious,
Africk and Asia, devastation made;
nor less the Lieges who by deeds memorious
brake from the doom that binds the vulgar dead;
my song would sound o’er Earth’s extremest part
were mine the genius, mine the Poet’s art.

Cease the sage Grecian, and the Man of Troy
to vaunt long Voyage made in bygone day:
Cease Alexander, Trajan cease to ’joy
the fame of vict’ories that have pass’d away:
The noble Lusian’s stouter breast sing I,
whom Mars and Neptune dared not disobey:
Cease all that antique Muse hath sung, for now
a better Brav’ry rears its bolder brow.

And you, my Tagian Nymphs,2 who have create
in me new purpose with new genius firing;
if ’twas my joy whilere to celebrate
your founts and stream my humble song inspiring;3
Oh! lend me here a noble strain elate,
a style grandiloquent that flows untiring;
so shall Apollo for your waves ordain ye
in name and fame ne’er envy Hippokréné.

Grant me sonorous accents, fire-abounding,
now serves ne peasant’s pipe, ne rustick reed;
but blast of trumpet, long and loud resounding,
that ’flameth heart and hue to fiery deed:
Grant me high strains to suit their Gestes astounding,
your Sons, who aided Mars in martial need;
that o’er the world be sung the glorious song,
if theme so lofty may to verse belong.

And Thou! O goodly omen’d trust, all-dear4
to Lusitania’s olden liberty,
whereon assurèd esperance we rear
enforced to see our frail Christianity:
Thou, O new terror to the Moorish spear,
the fated marvel of our century,
to govern worlds of men by God so given,
that the world’s best be given to God and Heaven:

Thou young, then tender, ever-flourishing bough,
true scion of tree by Christ belovèd more,
than aught that Occident did ever know,
“Caesarian” or “Most Christian” styled before:
Look on thy ’scutcheon, and behold it show
the present Vict’ory long past ages bore;
Arms which He gave and made thine own to be
by Him assumèd on the fatal tree:5

Thou, mighty Sovran! o’er whose lofty reign
the rising Sun rains earliest smile of light;
sees it from middle firmamental plain;
and sights it sinking on the breast of Night:
Thou, whom we hope to hail the blight, the bane
of the dishonour’d Ishmaëlitish knight;
and Orient Turk, and Gentoo-misbeliever
that drinks the liquor of the Sacred River:6

Incline awhile, I pray, that majesty
which in thy tender years I see thus ample,
E’en now prefiguring full maturity
that shall be shrin’d in Fame’s eternal temple:
Those royal eyne that beam benignity
bend on low earth: Behold a new ensample
of hero hearts with patriot pride inflamèd,
in number’d verses manifold proclaimèd.

Thou shalt see Love of Land that ne’er shall own
lust of vile lucre; soaring towards th’ Eternal:
For ’tis no light ambition to be known
th’ acclaimèd herald of my nest paternal.
Hear; thou shalt see the great names greater grown
of Vavasors who hail thee Lord Supernal:
So shalt thou judge which were the higher station,
King of the world or Lord of such a nation.

Hark; for with vauntings vain thou shalt not view
fantastical, fictitious, lying deed
of lieges lauded, as strange Muses do,
seeking their fond and foolish pride to feed:
Thine acts so forceful are, told simply true,
all fabled, dreamy feats they far exceed;
exceeding Rodomont, and Ruggiero vain,
and Roland7 haply born of Poet’s brain.

For these I give thee a Nuno, fierce in fight,
who for his King and Country freely bled;
an Egas and a Fuas;8 fain I might
for them my lay with harp Homeric wed!
For the twelve peerless Peers again I cite
the Twelve of England by Magriço led:
Nay, more, I give thee Gama’s noble name,
who for himself claims all Aeneas’ fame.

And if in change for royal Charles of France,
or rivalling Caesar’s mem’ories thou wouldst trow,
the first Afonso see, whose conque’ring lance
lays highest boast of stranger glories low:
See him who left his realm th’ inheritance
fair Safety, born of wars that crusht the foe:
That other John, a knight no fear deter’d,
the fourth and fifth Afonso, and the third.

Nor shall they silent in my song remain,
they who in regions there where Dawns arise,
by Acts of Arms such glories toil’d to gain,
where thine unvanquisht flag for ever flies,
Pacheco, brave of braves; th’ Almeidas twain,
whom Tagus mourns with ever-weeping eyes;
dread Albuquerque, Castro stark and brave,
with more, the victors of the very grave.

But, singing these, of thee I may not sing,
O King sublime! such theme I fain must fear.
Take of thy reign the reins, so shall my King
create a poesy new to mortal ear:
E’en now the mighty burden hear I ring
(and speed its terrors over all the sphere!)
of sing’ular prowess, War’s own prodigies,
in Africk regions and on Orient seas.

Casteth on thee the Moor eyne cold with fright,
in whom his coming doom he views designèd:
The barb’rous Gentoo, sole to see thy sight
yields to thy yoke the neck e’en now inclinèd;
Tethys, of azure seas the sovran right,
her realm, in dowry hath to thee resignèd;
and, by thy noble tender beauty won,
would bribe and buy thee to become her son.

In thee from high Olympick halls behold
themselves, thy grandsires’ sprites; far-famèd pair;9
this clad in Peacetide’s angel-robe of gold,
that crimson-hued with paint of battle-glare:
By thee they hope to see their tale twice told,
their lofty memo’ries live again; and there,
when Time thy years shall end, for thee they ’sign
a seat where soareth Fame’s eternal shrine.

But, sithence ancient Time slow minutes by
ere ruled the Peoples who desire such boon;
bend on my novel rashness favouring eye,
that these my verses may become thine own:
So shalt thou see thine Argonauts o’erfly
yon salty argent, when they see it shown
thou seest their labours on the raging sea:
Learn even now invok’d of man to be.10

They walked the water’s vasty breadth of blue,
parting the restless billows on their way;
fair favouring breezes breathèd soft and true,
the bellying canvas bulging in their play:
The seas were sprent with foam of creamy hue,
flashing where’er the Prows wide open lay
the sacred spaces of that ocean-plain
where Proteus’ cattle cleave his own domain:

When they who hold Olympick luminous height,
the Gods and Governors of our human race,
convened in glorious conclave, all unite
the coming course of Eastern things to trace:
Treading the glassy dome of lovely light,
along the Milky Way conjoint they pace,
gather’d together at the Thunderer’s hest,
and by old Atlas’ gentle grandson prest.

They leave the reg’iment of the Firm’aments seven,
to them committed by his high command,
his pow’r sublime whose thoughtful will hath given
Order to skies, and angry seas, and land:
Then instant gather in th’ assize of Heaven
those who are throned on far Arcturus’ strand,
and those that Auster rule, and Orient tides,
where springs Aurora and clear Phoebus hides.

Reposèd there the Sire sublime and digne,
vibrates whose hand the fierce Vulcanian ray,
on seat of starry splendour crystalline,
grand in his lofty gest of sovran sway:
Respirèd from his brow such air divine,
that to divine could change dull human clay;
bearing the crown and sceptre rutilant,
of clearer stone than clearest diamant.

On sparkling seats, with marquetry inlaid
of gold and pearl-work, sat in lower state
the minor Godheads, marshall’d and array’d,
e’en as demanded reason, rank, and rate:
Highest the seniors of most honour’d grade;
lower adown the lower Deities sate:
When thus high Jove the deathless throng addrest
with awful accents, dealing gravest hest:—

“Immortal Peoples of the starlit Pole,
whose seats adorn this constellated sphere;
if the stout Race of valour-breathing soul
from Lusus springing still to thought be dear,
Your high Intelligences lief unroll
the writ of mighty Fate: her will is clear,
this Deed to cold Oblivion’s shade shall doom
the fame of Persia, ’Assyria, Greece, and Rome.

“To them ’twas erst, and well you wot it, given,
albeit a Pow’r so single, simple, small,
to see the doughty Moor from ’trenchments driven
where gentle Tagus feeds and floods the vale:
Then with the dreadful Spaniard have they striven,
by boon of Heav’n serene ne’er known to fail;
and urged their fortune’s ever-glorious claim
to victor-trophies hung in fane of Fame.

“Godheads! I leave that antique fame unsaid,
reft from the race of Romulus their foes;
when, by their warrior Viriátus led,
so high in Roman wars their names arose:
Eke leave I mem’ries which to meritèd
Honour obligèd when for chief they chose
that perfect Captain, erst a peregrine foe,
who feign’d a Daemon in his milk-white Doe.11

“Now well you see how steel’d their souls to steer
a fragile barque through dubious wat’ery way,
by paths unused, and holding nought in fear
Notus and Afer’s force, wax bolder they:
How whilom ev’ry region left arear,
where suns or shorten or draw long the day,
on wings of stubborn will these men be borne
to sight the cradles of the nascent Morn.

“Promised them Fate’s eternal covenant,
whose high commandments none shall dare despise,
for years full many they shall rule th’ extent
of seas that see the ruddy suns arise.
On wavy wastes hard winter have they spent;
o’erworked they come by travailing emprize;
’twere meet we show them, thus it seemeth me,
the fair new region which they fain would see.

“And as their valour, so you trow, defied
on aspe’rous voyage cruel harm and sore,
so many changing skies their manhood tried,
such climes where storm-winds blow and billows roar;
my sov’ereign mandate ’tis, be theirs to ride
in friendly haven, on the Blackmoor shore;
whence shall the weary Fleet, with ev’ery need
garnisht, once more her long-drawn voyage speed.”

Thus hearing Jupiter’s decree pronouncèd,
each God responsive spoke, in order due,
contrasting judgment one and all announcèd
giving and taking various divers view.
But Father Bacchus then and there renouncèd,
homage to Jove’s command, who right well knew
his deeds on Orient-lond would leave no trace,
were furth’erance granted to the Lusian race.

The Fatal Sisters he had heard declare,
how from Hispanian bounds a hero-band
should span the pathless deep, and nought should spare
wherever Doris batheth Indian strand:
Should with new victo’ries eve’ry deed out-dare
done or by his or other stranger hand:
Profound he sorrows lest he lose the glory,
the name still cel’ebrate in the Nyssan story.

He sees, while Indus he of yore hath tamèd,
Fortune or favou’ring chance had aye denied
to hear him India’s conqueror acclaimèd
by bardic men who drain Parnassus’ tide:
And now he dreadeth lest a name so famèd
be doomed for ever in the mire to hide
of Lethe-fountain, if on Inde debark
these vagueing Portingalls so strong and stark.

But him opposèd Venus, lovely fair,
whose heart her Lusian sons had won the more,
since in them seen the qualities high and rare,
the gifts that deckt her Romans dear of yore:
The heart of valour, and the potent star,
whose splendour dazzled Tingitánan shore;
and e’en the music of their speech appears
soft bastard Latin to her loving ears.

These causes movèd Cytheréa’s sprite;
and more when learnt she that the Fates intendèd
the Queen of Beauty should be glorious hight
where’er their warrior sway her sons extendèd.
Thus He, who fearèd future stain and blight,
and She, whose heart to honours high pretended
urge the debate in obstinate strife remaining;
with fav’ouring friends each rival right maintaining:

As the fierce South, or Boreas in the shade
of sylvan upland where the tree-boles cluster,
the branches shatt’ering crash through glooming glade
with horrid hurry and infuriate fluster:
Roars all the mountain, Echo moans in dread;
torn is the leaf’ery, hill-heads boil and bluster:
Such gusty tumults rise amid the Gods
within Olympus’ consecrate abodes.

But Mars, for ever wont t’espouse the part
of his dear Goddess, whatsoe’er the case;
or for old love that flicker’d in his heart,
or for the merits of her fighting race;
forth from the Gods upsprang with sudden start:
Stern melancholy markt his gest and face;
the pond’erous pavoise from his gorget hung
behind his shoulders full of wrath he flung!

His beavoir’d helmet of the diamant stone
opeing a little, of his strength right sure,
his sense to speak he strode and stood alone
Jupiter facing, armèd, dour and dure:
Then with hard pen’etrant blow he bore adown
his steely spear-heel on the pavement pure;
quakèd the welkin; and Apollo’s ray
waxt somewhat wan as though by cold dismay.

And thus:—“Omnipo’tent Sire! whose awful reign
perforce obeyeth all thy pow’er hath made;
if these, who seek a new half-world to gain,
whose deeds of brav’ery hast with love survey’d,
thou wouldst not guerdon with a shame and stain,
that erst were favoured through the years that fade
listen no longer thou, sole Judge direct,
to glozing reasons all we Gods suspect:

“For, did not Reason in this matter show
herself the victim of unmeasure’d fear,
better beseems it Bacchus love bestow
on Lusus’ children, once his comrade dear:
But, let this vain and splen’etick purpose go,
since bred of evil stomach; for ’tis clear
that alien envy ne’er shall turn to woes
what weal men merit, and the Gods dispose.

“And thou, O Sire of surest constancy!
from the determine’d purpose of thy mind
turn thee not backwards; weakness ’twere in thee
now to desist thee from the thing design’d.
Send forth thine agile herald, Mercury,
fleeter than trimmèd shaft, or winnowing wind,
and show some happy hythe where Rest shall joy
all weary breasts with news of India nigh.”

As thus he said, the Sire of sov’ereign might
assented, nodding grave his awful head
to Mars’ opinion, ever fain of fight,
and o’er the Council show’ers of nectar shed.
The Galaxy, the pathway glowing bright,
the Deities all disparting rose to tread;
royal obeisance making, and the road
each took returning to his own abode.

While thus it happens in th’ aethereal reign—
Omnipotent Olympick height serene—
the warrior People cut the curvèd main
Austral and Oriental course between;
where fronts the face of Aethiopick plain
far-famed Saint Lawrence Isle;12 Sol’s brightest sheen
upon the water-deities rainèd fire,
who, changed to fishes, ’scaped Typhoeus’ ire.

The wafting winds so winsome urged their way,
As though the smiling heav’ens dear friends defended;
serene the welkin, and the lucid day
dawn’ed sans a cloud nor aught of risk portended:
Astern the leek-green point of Prasum13 lay
an olden name where Aethiop coast extended;
when Ocean op’ening broad a vista show’d
of islets fondled by the circling flood.

Vasco da Gama, valiant Capitayne,
for derring-do the noblest volunteer,
of not’able courage and of noble strain,
whom smile of constant Fortune loved to cheer;
seeth no reason why he should remain
where shows the shore-line desert, dark and drear:
Once more determined he to tempt the sea;
but as he willèd Fortune nill’ed it be.

For look! appeareth a flotilla yonder,
mosquito-craft that cleave the rolling tide;
and with their flowing sails the surges sunder,
from the small island next the cont’inent side:
The crews rejoicing, in their hope and wonder
could gaze on naught save what their hearts had joy’d.
“Who may be these?” each ask’ed him in amaze;
“What law be theirs, what ruler, what their ways?”

The boats appearèd in a manner new
long-built and narrow-beamed, for swiftness plan’d;
mats were the wings wherewith they lightly flew
from certain palm-fronds wove by cunning hand:
The people wore that veritable hue,
Phaëton’s boon to many a burning land,
when work’ed his rashness on the world such ills:
So Padus knows and Lampethusa feels.

They come costumèd all in cotton gear,
of hues contrasting, stripèd, chequed, and white;
one zone-girt cloth around the waist they wear,
other they throw on back in airy plight:
Above the waist-band each brown form is bare;
dag-targe and matchet14 are their arms of fight:
Scull-cap on head; and, as they wend their way,
shriek shrilly shawms, and harsh-voiced trumpets bray.

Waving their raiment and their hands they signèd
the Lusitanian folk to wait awhile:
but our light Prores their course had now inclinèd
to strike where shelter’d by the nearest isle:
Soldiers and sailors in one toil conjoinèd
as though were here the period of their toil:
They take in sail, and strike the lofty spar,
and Ocean, anchor-smit, froths high in air.

Nor had they anchor’d, when the stranger race
the shrouds upswarming ready footing gainèd;
joyous they cluster glad of gest and face;
our Captain gracious greeting gives unfeignèd.
He bids incontinent the board to grace
with vinous liquor first Lyaeus drainèd;
they crown the crystal cups, the proffer’d wine
Phaëton’s scorchèd folk nowise decline.

Afeasting cheery all the guests enquirèd
in Arab language, Whence had come their hosts?
Who were they? Where their land? What they desirèd?
What seas their keels had cut and conn’d what coasts?
The valiant Lusians answered with requirèd
discretion, and eschewing foolish boasts—
“We are the Occidental Portughuese;
And, seeking Orient lands, we sail the seas.

“We now have coasted, running Ocean o’er,
Callisto’s Arctick and th’ Antarctick lands;
our course hath circled Africk’s winding shore;
strange skies exploring and yet stranger strands:
Ours is a potent King, loved evermore,
and we so prize his praise and his commands,
with mien right joyful, not the sea and sky,
but even Ach’eron Lake we dare defy.

“And wend we seeking by his royal will
where farthest Indus wat’ereth Eastern plain:
For him through wild wide waves we hoist the sail,
where ugly seals and orcs deform the Main.
But Reason tells us that ye may not fail
to answer, an of Truth your souls be fain,
Who are ye? What this land wherein ye wone?
And sign of India is to you beknown?”

“We live,” an island-man thus answ’ering said,
“aliens in land and law and eke in blood;
where native races are by nature bred,
a lawless, loutish, and unreasoning brood.
We hold his certain Law, that Holy Seed,
springing from Abram’s loins, who hath subdued
the nations subject to his sign’ory true;
by sire a Gentile and by mother Jew.15

“This little island, where we now abide,
of all this seaboard is the one sure place
for ev’ery merchantman that stems the tide,
from Quiloa16 or Sofálah or Mombas:
Here, as ’tis necessary, long we’ve tried
to house and home us, like its proper race:
In fine to find you with the facts you seek,
man calls our little island ‘Mozambíque.’

“And, as far-faring now ye come to view
Indic Hydaspes and his burning board,
hence ye shall bear a Pilot, sure and true,
whose skill the safest guidance shall afford:
’Twere also well, ere you your toils renew,
vittaile to ship, and let our island-lord,
who governeth this land, his guests behold,
and stock with needed store each empty hold.”

His speech thus spake the Moor, and took his leave,
he and his meiny where the bátels lay:
formal farewells to chief and crews he gave,
exchanging congees with due courtesy.
Now weary Phoebus in the western wave
had stalled the crystal chariot of the Day,
and gave his bright-brow’d sister charge t’ illume
the vast of Earth while lasted nightly gloom.

Aboard the wayworn Fleet blithe sped the night
in careless joyaunce recking nought of fear;
for the far land which long had ’scaped their sight
at length gave tidings, and at last lay near.
Now to take notice ’gins each curious wight
of the strange people’s manners, ways, and gear,
and much they marvell’ed how the sect misguided
o’er Earth’s broad surface far and wide abided.

Rained Luna’s radiance shedding rutilant showers
o’er Neptune’s wavelets tipt with silver sheen:
And like the May-mead fleckt with daisy flowers
sprent with its sparkling stars the sky was seen:
The blust’ring storm-winds slept in distant bowers,
Antres obscure in regions peregrine;
yet on th’ Armada’s decks a weapon’d guard
kept, as so long they wont, good watch and ward.

But when Aurora with her marquetry
’gan strew the glorious honours of her head
o’er the clear Heav’ens, and oped the ruddy way
to bright Hyperion rising from his bed;
lief is the Fleet to dress in brave array
of flags, and goodly awnings gay to spread,
that all may greet with holiday and hail
that island-lord who came with flowing sail.

He came right merrily o’er the Main, and sought
to view our nimble Lusitanian fleet;
bringing his country-cates, for ’twas his thought
in the fierce foreigner perchance to meet
the race inhuman, which hath ever fought
to change its Caspian caves for happier seat
in Asian cont’inent; and, by Will Divine,
of rule imperial robbèd Constantine.17

With glad reception our Commander meets
the Moorish chieftain and his whole convòy;
whom with a gift of richest gear he greets
whereof a store was shipped for such employ:
He gives him rich conserves, he gives, rare treats,
the liquors hot which fill man’s heart with joy.
Good be the gifts the Moor contented thinks,
but more the sweetmeats prizes, most the drinks.

The sailor-people sprung from Lusus’ blood
in wond’ering clusters to the ratlines clung;
noting the stranger’s novel mode and mood
with his so barb’arous and perplexèd tongue.18
Sometime the wily Moor confusèd stood
eyeing the garb, the hue, the fleet, the throng;
and asked, with questions manifold assailing,
if they from Turkey-land, perchance, were hailing.

He further tells them how he longs to see
what books their credence, law and faith contain;
if these conforming with his own agree
or were, as well he ween’d, of Christian grain:
Nay more, that hidden naught from him may be,
he prayed the Captain would be pleased t’ ordain
that be displayèd every puissant arm
wherewith the for’eigners work their foemen harm.

To this the doughty Chieftain deals reply,
through one that óbscure jargon knowing well:—
“Illustrious Signior! I fain will try
all of ourselves, our arms, our creed to tell.
Nor of the country, kith or kin am I
of irksome races that in Turkey dwell;
my home is warlike Europe and I wend
Seeking the far-famed lands of farthest Inde.

“I hold the law of One by worlds obey’d,
by visible things and things invisible;
He who the hemispheres from naught hath made,
with sentient things and things insensible:
Who with vitup’erate foul reproach bewray’d
was doomed to suffer death insufferable;
And who, in fine, by Heav’n to Earth was given,
that man through Him might rise from Earth to Heaven.

“Of this God-man most highest, infinite,
The books thou wouldst behold I have not brought;
we stand excused of bringing what men write
on paper, when in sprite ’tis writ and wrought.
But an with weapons wouldst refresh thy sight,
As thou hast askèd, I deny thee nought;
A friend to friends I show them; and I vow
ne’er wouldst be shown their temper as my foe.”

This said, he bids his armourers diligent
bring arms and armour for the Moorman viewer:
Come sheeny harness, corselets lucident,
the fine-wove mail-coat and plate-armour sure;
shields decorate with ’scutcheons different,
bullets and spingards, th’ ice-brook’s temper pure;
bows, quivers furnisht with the grinded pile,
the sharp-edged partisan, the good brown bill:

Brought are the fiery bombs, while they prepare
sulph’urous stink-pots and grenades of fire:
But them of Vulcan biddeth he to spare
their dread artill’ery belching flames in ire;
naught did that gentle gen’erous spirit care
with fear the few and fearful folk t’ inspire,
and right his reas’oning: ’Twere a boast too cheap
to play the Lyon on the seely Sheep.

But from whate’er th’ observant Moorman heard,
and from whate’er his prying glance could see,
a settled deadly hate his spirit stir’d,
and evil crave of treach’erous cowardrie:
No sign of change he showed in gest or word;
but with a gay and gallant feigning he
vowèd in looks and words to treat them fair,
till deeds his daring purpose could declare.

The Captain prayed him Pilots to purvey,
his Squadron far as Indian shore to guide;
so should with wealthy hire and worthy pay
the labourer’s toil and moil be gratified.
Promised the Moorman sorely led astray
by ven’omous heart and with such poyson’d pride,
that Death in place of Pilot, at that hour,
his hand had given an it had the power.

So hot that hatred, sharp that enmity,
wherewith his spirit ’gainst his guests was fraught,
that knew them followers of that verity
by the Seed of David to our fathers taught.
Oh darkling secret of Eternity,
whereof man’s judgment may encompass naught!
Why should they never lack perfidious foe,
who such fair symbols of Thy friendship show?

At length, surrounded by his crafty crew,
the treachour Moorman from our ships took leave,
on all bestowing bel-accoyle untrue,
with fair, glad phrase designèd to deceive.
Soon o’er the narrow way his barquelets flew;
and, landing safely from Neptunian wave,
the Moorman, whom his suite obsequious greet,
regains his homestead and his wonted seat.

From Aether’s radiant seat Thebes’ mighty son,
The God two-mother’d, sprung from father-thigh,
seeing the Lusian host had straight begun
the Moorman’s hate and horror to defy,
fixt ev’ery project some foul feat upon,
by which the stranger host might surely die:
And while the plot his spirit importunèd,
thus in soliloquy the God communèd:—

“Fate hath determinèd in olden time,
that conquests, fit the self of Fame t’ outface,
these Portingalls shall claim in ev’ery clime
where India rears her war-ennobled race:
Shall only I, the son of sire sublime,
I, whom such gen’erous gifts and guerdons grace,
suffer that favouring Fate success assure
to men whose labours shall my name obscure?

“Erst willed the Gods,19 who willed away the right
to Philip’s son, that o’er this Orient part
he hold such power, and display such might
which bound the world ’neath yoke of angry Mart:
But shall I tamely suffer Fate’s despight,
who lends these weaklings pow’er of arm and art,
Macedon’s hero, Roman brave and I
before the Lusian name be doomed to fly?

“This must not, shall not be! ere he arrive
this froward Captain at his fancied goal,
such cunning machinations I’ll contrive
never shall Orient parts his sight console:
And now to Earth! where I will keep alive
the fire of fury in the Moorish soul;
for him shall Fortune with success indue,
who on Occasion keepeth fixèd view.”

He spoke infuriate, nay, well-nigh insane,
and straight he ’lighted on the Negro shore;
where, mortal gest and human vesture tane,
he made for Prasum Headland famed of yore:
Better to weave his web of wily bane,
he changed his nat’ural shape until it wore
a Moorman’s likeness, known in Mozambíque,
a crafty greybeard, favoured of the Shaykh.

And, entering him to rede at hour and time
most fitting deemèd for designèd wile,
a tale of pyracy he told and crime,
wrought by the strangers harbour’d in his isle:
How all the res’ident nations maritime
bruited reports of battle, death, and spoil,
at ev’ery haven, where the for’eigner past
who with false pacts of peace his anchors cast.

“And, know thou further” (quoth the Moor) “ ’tis said,
anent these Christian knaves sanguinolent,
that, so to speak, they garred the waves run red
scathing with fire and steel where’er they went:
Far-framèd plottings, certès, have been laid
against ourselves, for ’tis their whole intent
our homes to rifle, to destroy our lives,
enchain our children and enslave our wives.

“I also learnèd how determined be
forthwith for wat’ering to’ward the land to steer,
this Captain, with a doughty company;
for evil purpose ever ’getteth fear.
Go, too, and take thy men-at-arms with thee,
waiting him silent in well-ambusht rear;
so shall his People, landing unawares
fall ready victims to thy ruse and snares.

“And, even should they by this not’able feat
fail to be scatter’d, shatter’d, wholly slain,
I have imaginèd a rare conceit
of marv’ellous cunning which thy heart shall gain:
A pilot bid be brought of wily wit
nor less astute to lay the skilful train,
who shall the stranger lead where bane and bale,
loss, death, destruction wait on every sail.”

These words of wisdom hardly had he stay’d,
when the Moor-chieftain, old in fraud and wise,
fell on his bosom and full glad obey’d,
such counsel finding favour in his eyes:
Then instant faring forth he ready made
for the base warfare bellicose supplies;
so might the Lusians see, when gained the shore,
the wisht-for waters turned to crimson gore.

And, eke, he seeketh, such deceit to speed,
a Muslim Loadsman who the prows shall guide,
shrewd, subtle villain, prompt to wicked deed,
whereon for dangerous feat he most relied:
Him he commands the Lusitan to lead,
and with him hug such coasts and stem such tide,
that e’en escaping present dangers all
he further wend, and whence none rise shall fall.

Already lit Apollo’s morning ray
the Nabathaean mounts with rosy light,
when dight was Gama and his stout array
by sea for wat’ering on the land t’ alight:
Their boats the soldiers armed for fight and fray
as though they scented tricks of Muslim spite:
Here was suspicion easy, for the wise
bear a presaging heart that never lies.

Further, the messenger who went ashore
to claim the promise of the needful guide,
heard tone of battle when replied the Moor,
though none had deemèd he had thus replied.
Wherefore, and recking ’right how sore their stowre
who in perfidious enemy confide,
he fared forearm’d, forewarn’d, and risking nought,
in his three launches—all the boats he brought.

But now the Moormen, stalking o’er the strand
to guard the wat’ery stores the strangers need;
this, targe on arm and assegai in hand,
that, with his bended bow, and venom’d reed,
wait till the warlike People leap to land:
Far stronger forces are in ambush hid;
and, that the venture may the lighter seem
a few decoys patrol about the stream.

Along the snow-white sandy marge advance
the bellic Moors who beck their coming foes;
they shake the shield and poise the per’ilous lance,
daring the warrior Portughuese to close.
The gen’erous People with impatient glance
the bandogs eye who dare their fangs expose:
They spring ashore so deftly no man durst
say who the soldier that touch’ed land the first.

As in the gory ring some gallant gay,
on his fair ladye-love with firm-fixt eyes,
seeketh the furious bull and bars the way,
bounds, runs, and whistles; becks and shouts and cries:
The cruel monster sans a thought’s delay,
low’ering its hornèd front, in fury flies
with eyne fast closed; and, roaring horrid sound,
throws, gores, and leaves him lifeless on the ground:

Lo! from the launches sudden flash the lights
of fierce artill’ery with infuriate blare;
the leaden bullet kills, the thunder frights,
and hissing echoes cleave the shrinking air:
Now break the Moormen’s hearts and haughty sprites,
whose blood cold curdleth with a ghastly fear:
The skulking coward flies his life to save,
and dies to Death exposed the daring brave.

Withal the Portingalls are not content;
fierce Vict’ory urging on, they smite and slay:
The wall-less, undefended settlement
they shell and burn and make an easy prey.
The Moors their raid and razzia sore repent,
who lookt for vict’ory won in cheaper way:
Now they blaspheme the battle, cursing wild
th’ old meddling fool, and her that bare such child.

Still, in his flight, the Moorman draweth bow,
but forceless, frighted, flurried by alarms,
showers of ashlar, sticks, and stones they throw;
their madding fury ’ministereth arms:
Now from their islet-homesteads flocking row
toward the mainland, trembling terr’ified swarms:
They pass apace and cut the narrow Sound,
The thin sea-arm, which runs their islet round.20

These ply the deeply-laden almadie,21
those cut the waves and dil’igent swim the Main;
some choke ’neath bending surge of surfy sea,
some drink the brine, out-puffing it again.
The crank canoes, wherein the vermin flee,
are torn by smaller bombards’ fiery rain.
Thuswise, in fine, the Portingalls chastise
their vile, malicious, treach’erous enemies.

Now to the squadron, when the day was won,
rich with their warlike spoils the Braves retire,
and ship at leisure water all their own,
none meet offence where none t’ offend desire.
The Moors heart-broken vainly make their moan,
old hatreds ’flaming with renewèd fire;
and, hopeless to revenge such foul defeat,
nourish the fairest hopes of fresh deceit.

To proffer truce repentant gives command
the Moor who ruleth that iniqu’ous shore;
nor do the Lusitanians understand
that in fair guise of Peace he proffers War:
For the false Pilot sent to show the land
who ev’ry evil will embosom’d bore,
only to guide them deathwards had been sent;—
such was the signal of what peace was meant.

The Capitayne who now once more incline’d
on wonted way and ’custom’d course to hie,
fair weather fav’ouring with propitious wind,
and wend where India’s long-wisht regions lie;
received the Helmsman for his ill design’d
(who greeted was with joyous courtesy;)
and, giv’en his answer to the messenger,
in the free gale shakes out his sailing gear.

Dismist by such device the gallant Fleet
divideth Amphitritè’s wavy way;
the Maids of Nereus troop its course to greet,
faithful companions, debonnair and gay:
The Captain, noways doubting the deceit
planned by the Moorman to secure his prey,
questions him largely, learning all he knows
of gen’eral Inde and what each seaboard shows.

But the false Moorman, skilled in all the snares
which baleful Bacchus taught for such emprize,
new loss by death or prison-life prepares,
ere India’s seaboard glad their straining eyes:
The hythes of India dil’igent he declares,
to frequent queries off’ring fit replies:
For, holding faithful all their pilot said
the gallant People were of nought afraid.

And eke he telleth, with that false intent,
whereby fell Sinon baulked the Phrygian race
of a near-lying isle, that aye had lent
to Christian dwellers safest dwelling-place.
Our Chief, of tidings fain, gave due attent
of ear so gladly to these words of grace,
that with the richest gifts he bade the Guide
lead him to regions where such men abide.

E’en so that losel Moorman had designèd,
as the confiding Christian begged and bade;
knowing his islet was of old assignèd
to the malignant sons of Mafamed:
Here he foresees deceit with death combinèd,
for-that in pow’r and force the place outweigh’d
weaker Mozámbic; and that islet’s name
is Quiloa bruited by the blast of Fame.

Thither th’ exulting Squadron lief would steer:
but the fair god Cythéra loves to greet,
seeing its certain courses changed to near
the coasts where Doom of Death awaits defeat,
nills that the people, loved with love so dear,
such dreadful fates on shore so distant meet;
and, raising adverse gales, she drives them wide
from the foul goal where guides that felon guide.

Now when the caitiff Moor could not but know
that in this matter useless was his guile,
seeking to deal another dev’ilish blow,
and still persistent in his purpose vile,
he urgeth, since the winds’ and currents’ flow
had borne them on parforce full many a mile,
they near another island, and its race
Christian and Moor hold common dwelling-place.

Here too with every word the liar lied,
as by his reg’iment he in fine was bound;
for none who Christ adore could there abide,
only the hounds who worship false Mahound.
The Captain trustful to his Moorish guide,
veering the sails was making for the Sound:
But, as his guardian Goddess leave denieth,
he shuns the river-bar, and outside lieth.

So near that Islet lay along the land,
nought save a narrow channel stood atween;
and rose a City thronèd on the strand,
which from the margent of the seas was seen;
fair-built with lordly buildings tall and grand,
as from its offing showèd all its sheen:
Here ruled a monarch for long years high famèd;
Islet and City are Mombasah namèd.22

And when the Captain made that happy shore,
with strangest joyaunce, in the hope to view
baptizèd peoples, and to greet once more
dear Christian men, as sware his guide untrue;
lo! boats come bearing, the blue waters o’er
their King’s good greeting who the stranger knew:
For long had Bacchus of th’ event advisèd,
in other Moorman’s shape and form disguisèd.

Friendly the message which the foemen brought,
beneath whose surface covered venom lay;
for deadly hostile was their ev’ry thought
and soon the hidden fraud uncover’d they.
Oh dreadful dangers with destruction fraught!
Oh line of life-tide, never certain way!
where’er his dearest hope poor mortal hoardeth,
such scant security life e’er affordeth!

By sea such tempests, such sore injury,
with Death so often showing near and sure!
By land such warfare, such foul treachery,
so much of curst necessities t’ endure!
Ah! where shall weary man take sanctuary,
where live his little span of life secure?
and ’scape of Heav’n serene th’ indignant storms
that launch their thunders at us earthen worms?