As from the muse might challenge endless fame,
Though low their station, and untold their name.
Now stung with wild ambition's madning fires,
To proud Castilia's throne the king aspires.
The Lord of Arragon, from Cadiz' walls,
And hoar Pyrene's sides his legions calls;
The numerous legions to his standard throng,
And war, with horrid strides, now stalks along.
With emulation fired, the prince beheld
His warlike sire ambitious of the field;
Scornful of ease, to aid his arms he sped,
Nor sped in vain: The raging combat bled;
Alonzo's ranks with carnage gored, dismay
Spread her cold wings, and shook his firm array;
To flight she hurried; while with brow serene
The martial boy beheld the deathful scene.
With curving movement o'er the field he rode,
Th' opposing troops his wheeling squadrons mow'd:
The purple dawn and evening sun beheld
His tents encampt assert the conquer'd field.
Thus when the ghost of Julius hover'd o'er
Philippi's plain, appeased with Roman gore.
Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/98
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Octavius'
