Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 1.djvu/478

But most, O chief, the zealous monarch cries,
What raging seas you braved, what louring skies;
What tribes, what rites you saw; what savage hate
On our rude Afric proved your hapless fate:
Oh tell, for lo, the chilly dawning star
Yet rides before the morning's purple car;
And o'er the wave the sun's bold coursers raise
Their flaming fronts, and give the opening blaze;
Soft on the glassy wave the zephyrs sleep,
And the still billows holy silence keep.
Nor less are we, undaunted chief, prepared
To hear thy nation's gallant deeds declared;
Nor think, tho' scorch'd beneath the car of day,
Our minds too dull the debt of praise to pay;
Melinda's sons the test of greatness know,
And on the Lusian race the palm bestow.

If Titan's giant brood with impious arms
Shook high Olympus' brow with rude alarms;
If Theseus and Pirithous dared invade
The dismal horrors of the Stygian shade,
Nor less your glory, nor your boldness less,
That thus exploring Neptune's last recess
Contemn his waves and tempests! If the thirst
To live in fame, though famed for deeds accurst,

Could