The various nations whom the Rhine's cold wave
The Elbe, Amafis, and the Danube lave,
Of various tongues, for various princes known,
Their mighty lord the German emperor own.
Between the Danube and the lucid tide
Where hapless Helle left her name, and died;
The dreadful god of battles' kindred race,
Degenerate now, poffefs the hills of Thrace.
Mount Hamus here, and Rhodope renown'd,
And proud Byzantium, long with empire crown'd;
Their ancient pride, their ancient virtue fled,
Low to the Turk now bend the fervile head.
Here fpread the fields of warlike Macedon,
And here thofe happy lands where genius fhone
In all the arts, in all the Mufes' charms,
In all the pride of elegance and arms,
Which to the heavens resounded Grecia's name,
And left in every age a deathlefs fame.
The stern Dalmatians till the neighbouring ground;
And where Antenor anchor'd in the found
Proud Venice as a queen majestic towers,
And o'er the trembling waves her thunder pours.
For learning glorious, glorious for the fword,
While Rome's proud monarch reign'd the world's dread lord,
Here Italy her beauteous landscapes fhews;
Around her fides his arms old Ocean throws;
The dafhing waves the ramparts force fupply;
The hoary Alps high towering to the fky,
From fhore to fhore a rugged barrier spread,
And lour deftruction on the hoftile tread.
But now no more her hoftile spirit burns,
There now the faint in humble vefpers mourns:
To heaven more grateful than the pride of war,
And all the triumphs of the victor's car.
Onward fair Gallia opens to the view
Her groves of olive, and her vineyards blue :
Wide spread her harvests o'er the fcenes renown'd,
Where Julius proudly ftrode with laurel crown'd.
Here Seyn, how fair when glistening to the moon!
Roils his white wave, and here the cold Garoon;
Here the deep Rhine the flowery margin laves,
And here the rapid Rhone impervious raves.
Here the gruff mountains, faithless to the vows
Of loft Pyrene rear their cloudy brows;
Whence, when of old the flames their woods devour'd,
Streams of red gold and melted filver pour'd,
And now, as head of all the lordly train
Of Europe's realms, appears illuftrious Spain.
Alas, what various fortunes has she known!
Yet ever did her fons her wrongs atone:
Short was the triumph of her haughty foes,
And ftill with fairer bloom her honours rofe.
Against one coaft the Punic ftrand extends,
Each fhore to clofe the midland ocean bends,
Where lock'd with land the ftruggling currents boil,
Famed for the godlike Theban's latest toil,
Around her fhores two various oceans fwell,
And various nations in her bosoin dwell;
Such deeds of valour dignify their names,
That each the lordly right of honour claims.
Proud Arragon, who twice her standard rear'd
In conquer'd Naples; and for art revered,
Galicia's prudent fons; the fierce Navar,
And he far dreaded in the Moorish war,
The bold Afturian; nor Sevilia's race,
Nor thine, Granada, claim the second place.
Here too the heroes who command the plain
By Betis water'd; here, the pride of Spain,
The brave Caftilian paufes o'er his sword,
His country's dread deliverer and lord.
Proud o'er the reft, with fplendid wealth array'd,
As crown to this wide empire, Europe's head,
Fair Lufitania fmiles, the western bound,
Whofe verdant breaft the rolling waves furround,
Where gentle evening pours her lambent ray,
The laft pale gleaming of departing day;
This, this, O mighty king, the facred earth,
This the loved parent-foil that gave me birth.
And oh, would bounteous heaven my prayer regard,
And fair fuccefs my perilous toils reward,
May that dear land my latest breath receive,
And give my weary boxes a peaceful grave.'
It must be confeffed, that the declamation which Camoëns fometimes admits into the Lufiad, is foreign to the epic narrative; but we agree with the tranflator, in acknowledging the beauty of thole digreffions to be fuch, that a reader of taste can hardly regret the author's having indulged himself in the redundancy. We meet with one of thefe animated apoftrophes at the end of the feventh book.
But I, fond man depraved!
Where would I fpeed, as mad'ning in a dream,
Without your aid, ye nymphs of Tago's ftream!
Or yours, ye dryads of Mondego's bowers!
Without your aid how vain my wearied powers!
Long yet and various lies my arduous way
Through louring tempefts and a boundless fea.
Oh then, propitious hear your fon implore,
And guide my veffel to the happy shore.
Ah! fee how long what per'lous days, what woes
On many a foreign coast around me rofe,
As dragg'd by fortune's chariot wheels along
I footh'd my forrows with the warlike fong;
Wide ocean's horrors lengthening now around,
And now my footfteps trod the hoftile ground;
Yet midft each danger of tumultuous war
Your Lufian heroes ever claim'd' my care:
As Canace of old, ere felf-deftroy'd.
One hand the pen, and one the fword employ'd.
Degraded now, by poverty abhorr'd,
The guest dependent at the lordling's board:
Now bleft with all the wealth fond hope could crave,
Soon I beheld that wealth beneath the wave
For ever lost; myself escaped alone,
On the wild fhoré all friendlefs, hopeless, thrown ;
My life, like Judah's heaven doom'd king of yore,
By miracle prolong'd; yet not the more
To end my forrows: woes fucceeding woes
Belied my earnest hopes of fweet repole:
In place of bays around my brows to fhed
Their facred honours, o'er my destined head
Foul calumny proclaim'd the fraudful tale,
And left me mourning in a dreary jail.
Such was the meed, alas! on me bestow'd,
Beftow'd by thofe for whom my numbers glow'd,
By thofe who to my toils their laurel honours owed.
Ye gentle nymghs of Tago's rofy bowers,
Ah, fee what letter'd patron-lords are yours!
Dull as the herds that graze their flowery dales,
To them in vain the injured Mufe bewails:
No foftering care their barb'rous hands beflow,
Though to the Mufe their faireft fame they owe,
Ah, cold may prove the future priest of fame
Taught by my fate: yet will I not disclaim
Your fmiles, ye Mufes of Mondego's fhade,
Be ftill my deareft joy your happy aid!
And hear my vow; nor king, nor loftieft peer
Shall e'er from me the fong of flattery hear;
Nor crafty tyrant, who in office reigns,
Smiles on his king, and binds the land in chains ;
His king's worst foe: nor he whofe raging ire,
And raging wants, to fhape his course, confpire;
True to the clamours of the blinded crowd,
Their changeful Proteus, infolent and loud:
Nor he whofe honeft mien fecures applaufe,
Grave though he feem, and father of the laws,
Who, but half-patriot, niggardly denies
Each other's merit, and witholds the prize :
Who fpurns the Mufe, nor feels the raptured ftrain,
Ufelefs by him efteem'd, and idly vain :
For him, for thefe, no wreath my hand fhall twine;
On other brows th' immortal rays fhall fhine:
He who the path of honour ever trod,
True to his king, his country, and his God,
On his bleft head my hands fhall fix the crown
Wove of the deathlefs laurels of renown.'
The fiction of the Island of Venus, with which the action of the Lufiad terminates, affords not only a ftriking inftance of the richness of the author's imagination, but is at the fame time the most beautiful epifode that can be cited in the conclufion of an epic poem, either ancient or modern.
Thus far, O favoured Lufians, bounteous heaven
Your nation's glories to your view has given.
What enfigns, blazing to the morn, purfue
The path of heroes, open'd firft by you!
Still be it your's the firft in fame to shine:
Thus fhall your brides new chaplets ftill entwine,
With laurels ever new your brows enfold,
And braid your wavy locks with radiant gold.
How calm the waves, how mild the balmy gale!
The halcyons call, ye Lufians, fpread the fail!
Old ocean now appeafed fhall rage no more,
Hafte, point the bowfprit to your native fhore :
Soon fhall the tranfports of the natal foil
O'erwhelm in bounding joy the thoughts of every toil
The goddefs fpake; and Vafco waved his hand,
And foon the joyful heroes crowd the strand.
The lofty fhips with deepen'd burthens prove
The various bounties of the Ile of Love.
Nor leave the youths their lovely brides behind,
In wedded bands, while time glides on, conjoin'd;
Fair as immortal fame in fmiles array'd,
In bridal fmiles, attends each lovely maid.
O'er India's fea, wing'd on by balmy gales
That whifper'd peace, foft fwell'd the steady fails:
Smooth as on wing unmoved the eagle flies,
When to his eyrie cliff he fails the kies,
Swift o'er the gentle billows of the tide,
So fmooth, fo foft, the prows of Gama glide;
And now their native fields, for ever dear,
In all their wild tranfporting charms appear;
And Tago's bofom, while his banks repeat
The founding peals of joy, receives the fleet.
With orient titles and immortal fame
The hero band adorn their monarch's name;
Sceptres and crowns beneath his feet they lay,
And the wide Eaft is doom'd to Lufian sway.
Enough, my Mufe, thy wearied wing no more
Muft to the feat of Jove triumphant foar.
Chill'd by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires
Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.
Yet thou, Sebaftian, thou, my king, attend;
Behold what glories on thy throne defcend!
Shall haughty Gaul or fterner Albion boast
That all the Lufian fame in thee is loft!
Oh, be it thine these glories to renew,
And John's bold path and Pedro's course pursue:
Snatch from the tyrant noble's hand the fword.
And be the rights of human-kind restored.
The ftatefman prelate, to his vows confine,
Alone aufpicious at the holy fhrine;
The priest, in whofe meek heart heaven pours its fires,
Alone to heaven, not earth's vain pomp, afpires.
Nor let the Mufe, great king, on Tago's fhore,
In dying notes the barbarous age deplore.
The king or hero to the Muse unjust
Sinks as the nameless flave, extinct in duft.
But fuch the deeds thy radiant morn portends,
Aw'd by thy frown ev'n now old Atlas bends
His hoary head, and Ampeluza's fields,
Expect thy founding feeds and rattling fhields.
And fhall thefe deeds unfung, unknown, expire!
Oh, would thy fmiles relume my fainting ire!
I, then infpired, the wondering world fhould fee
Great Ammon's warlike fon revived in thee;
Revived, unenvious of the Mufe's flame
That o'er the world refounds Pelides' name.'
In our Review of the first book of this poem, we fuggefted a few emendations, refpecting which we have the pleasure to find that Mr. Mickle has not been inattentive. Our fatisfaction is increased by obferving, that now, when the work is completed, it appears with a degree of elegance and correctness, which can hardly receive improvement in a fubfequent edition. For the fidelity of the verfion, we rely with entire confidence on the ingenuity of the tranflator; and in respect to the epic spirit and dignity with which it is executed, we are fatisfied from our own examination. The Lufiad may henceforth be read in Englih, perhaps with as much delight as in the original compofition of Camoëns. We have the pleasure to add, that the number of foreigners of diftinction, who are fubfcribers to this work, afford honourable testimony of the great esteem in which both the language and literature of our country are held on the continent.
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