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(From The Lusiad)
Translated by W. J. Mickle
I SPOKE;—when, rising through the darkened air, | |
| Appalled we saw an hideous phantom glare; | |
| High and enormous o’er the flood he towered, | |
| And thwart our way with sullen aspect lowered. | |
| An earthly paleness o’er his cheeks was spread; | 5 |
| Erect uprose his hairs of withered red; | |
| Writhing to speak, his sable lips disclose, | |
| Sharp and disjoined, his gnashing teeth’s blue rows; | |
| His haggard beard flowed quivering on the wind, | |
| Revenge and horror in his mien combined; | 10 |
| His clouded front, by withering lightnings scarred, | |
| The inward anguish of his soul declared; | |
| His red eyes glowing from their dusky caves | |
| Shot livid fires; far echoing o’er the waves | |
| His voice resounded, as the caverned shore | 15 |
| With hollow groan repeats the tempest’s roar. | |
| Cold-gliding horrors thrilled each hero’s breast; | |
| Our bristling hair and tottering knees confessed | |
| Wild dread; the while, with visage ghastly wan, | |
| His black lips trembling, thus the fiend began:— | 20 |
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| “O you, the boldest of the nations, fired | |
| By daring pride, by lust of fame inspired; | |
| Who, scornful of the bowers of sweet repose, | |
| Through these my waves advance your fearless prows, | |
| Regardless of the lengthening watery way, | 25 |
| And all the storms that own my sovereign sway; | |
| Who, mid surrounding rocks and shelves, explore | |
| Where never hero braved my rage before; | |
| Ye sons of Lusus, who with eyes profane | |
| Have viewed the secrets of my awful reign, | 30 |
| Have passed the bounds which jealous Nature drew | |
| To veil her secret shrine from mortal view: | |
| Hear from my lips what direful woes attend, | |
| And bursting soon shall o’er your race descend! | |
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| “With every bounding keel that dares my rage | 35 |
| Eternal war my rocks and storms shall wage; | |
| The next proud fleet, that through my drear domain, | |
| With daring search, shall hoist the streaming vane,— | |
| That gallant navy, by my whirlwinds tossed, | |
| And raging seas, shall perish on my coast; | 40 |
| Then he, who first my secret reign descried, | |
| A naked corse wide floating o’er the tide | |
| Shall drive. Unless my heart’s full raptures fail, | |
| O Lusus, oft shalt thou thy children wail; | |
| Each year thy shipwrecked sons shalt thou deplore, | 45 |
| Each year thy sheeted masts shall strew my shore.” * * * * * | |
| He paused, in act still further to disclose | |
| A long, a dreary prophecy of woes; | |
| When, springing onward, loud my voice resounds, | |
| And midst his rage the threatening shade confounds: | 50 |
| “What art thou, horrid form, that rid’st the air? | |
| By heaven’s eternal light, stern fiend, declare!” | |
| His lips he writhes, his eyes far round he throws, | |
| And from his breast deep, hollow groans arose; | |
| Sternly askance he stood: with wounded pride | 55 |
| And anguish torn, “In me, behold,” he cried, | |
| While dark-red sparkles from his eyeballs rolled, | |
| “In me the Spirit of the Cave behold,— | |
| That rock by you the Cape of Tempests named, | |
| By Neptune’s rage in horrid earthquakes framed, | 60 |
| When Jove’s red bolts o’er Titan’s offspring flamed. | |
| With wide-stretched piles I guard the pathless strand, | |
| And Afric’s southern mound unmoved I stand; | |
| Nor Roman prow, nor daring Tyrian oar, | |
| E’er dashed the white wave foaming to my shore; | 65 |
| Nor Greece nor Carthage ever spread the sail | |
| On these my seas to catch the trading gale; | |
| You, you alone, have dared to plough my main, | |
| And with the human voice disturb my lonesome reign.” | |
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| He spoke, and deep a lengthened sigh he drew, | 70 |
| A doleful sound, and vanished from the view; | |
| The frightened billows gave a rolling swell, | |
| And distant far prolonged the dismal yell; | |
| Faint and more faint the howling echoes die, | |
| And the black cloud dispersing leaves the sky. | 75 |
| High to the angel host, whose guardian care | |
| Had ever round us watched, my hands I rear, | |
| And heaven’s dread King implore,—“As o’er our head | |
| The fiend dissolved, an empty shadow, fled; | |
| So may his curses by the winds of heaven | 80 |
| Far o’er the deep, their idle sport, be driven!” | |
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