All the dear transports of the warm embrace,
When mutual love inspired each raptured face!
Must all, alas! be scatter'd in the wind,
Nor thou bestow one lingering look behind!
Such, the lorn parents' and the spouses' woes,
Such o'er the strand the voice of wailing rose;
From breast to breast the soft contagion crept,
Moved by the woeful sound the children wept;
The mountain echoes catch the big-swoln sighs,
And through the dales prolong the matron's cries;
The yellow sands with tears are silver'd o'er,
Our fate the mountains and the beach deplore.
Yet firm we march, nor turn one glance aside
On hoary parent, or on lovely bride.
Though glory fired our hearts, too well we knew
What soft affection and what love could do.
The last embrace the bravest worst can bear:
The bitter yearnings of the parting tear
Sullen we shun, unable to sustain
The melting passion of such tender pain.
Now, on the lofty decks prepared we stand,
When towering o'er the crowd that veil'd the strand,
A reverend figure fixt each wondering eye,
And beckoning thrice he waved his hand on high,
Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/109
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