Awaked, amazed, confused with transport glows,
And, trembling ftill, with troubled joy o'erflows;
So, yet affected with the fickly weight

Left by the horrors of the dreadful night,
The hero wakes in raptures to behold

The Indian fhores before his prows unfold:
Bounding he rifes, and with eyes on fire
Surveys the limits of his proud defire.

O glorious chief, while storms and oceans raved,
What hopeless toils thy dauntlefs valour braved!
By toils like thine the brave afcend to heaven;
By toils like thine immortal fame is given.
Not he, who daily moves in ermine gown,
Who nightly flumbers on the couch of down;
Who proudly boafts through heroes old to trace
The lordly lineage of his titled race;
Proud of the smiles of every courtier lord,
A welcome guest at every courtier's board;
Not he, the feeble fon of eafe, may claim
Thy wreath, O GAMA, or may hope thy fame.

'Tis he, who nurtured on the tented field,

From whose brown cheek each tint of fear expell'd,

With manly face unmoved, fecure, ferene,

Amidst the thunders of the deathful fcene,

From horror's mouth dares fnatch the warrior's crown,

His own his honours, all his fame his own:

Who

Who proudly just to honour's stern commands,
The dogftar's rage on Afric's burning fands,
Or the keen air of midnight polar skies,
Long watchful by the helm, alike defies:

Who on his front, the trophies of the wars,

Bears his proud knighthood's badge, his honeft fcars;
Who cloath'd in steel, by thirst, by famine worn,
Through raging feas by bold ambition borne,
Scornful of gold, by nobleft ardour fired,
Each with by mental dignity inspired,
Prepared each ill to fuffer or to dare,

To blefs mankind, his great his only care;
Him whom her fon mature experience owns,
Him, him alone heroic glory crowns.

Once more the tranflator is tempted to confefs his opinion, that the contrary practice of Homer and Virgil affords in reality no reasonable objection against the exclamatory exuberances of Camoëns. Homer, though the father of the epic poem, has his exuberances, as has been already obferved, which violently trefpafs against the first rule of the epopeia, the unity of the action: a rule which, strictly speaking, is not outraged by the digreffive exclamations of Camoëns. The one now before us, as the feverest critic muft allow, is happily adapted to the fubject of the book. The great dangers which the hero had hitherto encountered, are particularly described. He is afterwards brought in fafety to the Indian fhore, the object of his ambition, and of all his toils. The exclamation therefore on the grand hinge of the poem, has its propriety, and difcovers the warmth of its author's genius. It must also please, as it is strongly characteristical of the temper of our military poet. The manly contempt with which he speaks of the luxurious inactive courtier, and the delight and honour with which he talks of the toils of the foldier, present his own active life to the reader of fenfibility. His campaigns in Africa, where in a gallant attack he loft an eye, his dangerous life at sea, and the military fatigues, and the battles in which he bore an honourable share in India, rife to our idea, and poffefs us with an

cftcem

esteem and admiration of our martial poet, who thus could look back with a gallant enthufiafm, though his modefty does not mention himself, on all the hardships he had endured: who thus could bravely esteem the dangers to which he had been expofed, and by which he had feverely fuffered, as the most defirable occurrences of his life, and the ornament of his name.

END OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

VOL. II.

K

1

THE

LUSIA D.

BOOK VII.

HAIL, glorious chief! where never chief before

Forced his bold way, all hail on India's fhore!
And hail, ye Lufian heroes! fair and wide

What groves of palm to haughty Rome deny'd,
For you by Ganges' lengthening banks unfold!
What laurel forefts on the shores of gold

For their honours ever verdant rear,
you

Proud with their leaves to twine the Lufian spear!

Ah heaven! what fury Europe's fons controuls!
What self-confuming difcord fires their fouls!
'Gainft her own breaft her fword Germania turns;
Through all her states fraternal rancour burns;

Some,

a

Some, blindly wandering, holy faith a disclaim,
And fierce through all wild rages civil flame.
High found the titles of the English crown,
King of Jerufalem, his old renown!
Alas, delighted with an airy name,

The thin dim shadow of departed fame,
England's stern monarch, funk in soft repose,
Luxurious riots mid his northern fnows:

Or if the starting burft of rage fucceed,

His brethren are his foes, and Christians bleed;
While Hagar's brutal race his titles stain,

In weeping Salem unmolested reign,

And with their rites impure her holy shrines profane.
And thou, O Gaul, with gaudy trophies plumed,
Most Christian named; alas, in vain affumed!

What

a Some, blindly wandering, holy faith difclaim.-The constitution of Germany, obferves Puffendorff, may be faid to verify the fable of the Hydra, with this difference, that the heads of the German state bite and devour each other. At the time when Camoëns wrote, the German empire was plunged into all the miseries of a religious war, the catholics ufing every endeavour to rivet the chains of popery, the adherents of Luther as strenuously endeavouring to shake them off.

b High found the titles of the English crown, King of Jerusalem. This is a miftake. The title of King of Jerufalem was never affumed by the kings of England. Robert, duke of Normandy, fon of William the Conqueror, was elected king of Jerufalem by the army in Syria, but declined it in hope of afcending the throne of England, which attempt was defeated. Regnier, count d'Anjou, father of Margaret, queen of Henry VI. was flattered with the mock royalty of Naples, Cyprus, and Jerufalem; his armorial bearing for the latter, Luna, a crofs potent, between four croffes Sol.-Hen. VIII. filled the throne of England when our author wrote this part of the Lufiad: his Gothic luxury and conjugal brutality amply deserved the cenfure of the honest poet.