Gold was his sword, and warlike trousers laced
With thongs of gold his manly legs embraced:
With graceful mien his cap aslant was turn'd;
The velvet cap a nodding plume adorn'd.
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 splendor of the rainbow vie.
Now GAMA's bands the quivering trumpet blow,
Thick o'er the wave the crowding barges row,
The Moorish flags the curling waters sweep,
The Lusian 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 scepter'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 toil,
Esteem
