Whose shaggy brakes, by human step untrod,
Darken'd the glaring lion's dread abode.
Here as the monarch fix'd his wondering eyes,
Two hoary fathers from the streams arise;
Their aspect rustic, yet a reverend grace
Appear'd majestic on their wrinkled face:
Their tawny beards uncomb'd, and sweepy long,
Adown their knees in shaggy ringlets hung;
From every lock the crystal drops distil,
And bathe their limbs as in a trickling rill;
Gay wreaths of flowers, of fruitage, and of boughs,
Nameless in Europe, crown'd their furrow'd brows.
Bent o'er his staff, more silver'd o'er with years,
Worn with a longer way, the one appears;
Who now slow beckening with his wither'd hand,
As now advanced before the king they stand;
O thou, whom worlds to Europe yet unknown,
Are doom'd to yield, and dignify thy crown;
To thee our golden shores the fates decree;
Our necks, unbow'd before, shall bend to thee.
Wide through the world resounds our wealthy fame;
Haste, speed thy prows, that fated wealth to claim.
From Paradise my hallowed waters spring;
The sacred Ganges I, my brother king
Th' illustrious author of the Indian name:
Yet toil shall languish, and the fight shall flame;
Our fairest lawns with streaming gore shall smoke,
Ere yet our shoulders bend beneath the yoke;
Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/102
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