Introduction

THE
Indie studies just prior to the era of Jones and Wilkins. Mickle's account is
drawn from two conflicting books on the religion of India, both written
without firsthand knowledge of Indie texts and at a time when no
Westerner could even read Sanscrit. These are Alexander Dow's History of
L U' S I A D;
Hindostan (1768) and J.Z. Holwell's Interesting Historical events . . .of
Indostan (1765). Mickle's account is sympathetic neither to his sources nor 0 R,
to his subject. Indeed, he exploits the differences between Dow and
HoIweII as he discusses chronology, the self-immoladon of widows, the
conceptions of god, the question of the plurality of gods, the antiquity of THE DISCOVERY OF INDIA.
Indie sacred writings, and other problems of Indie myth and religion. The
purpose and tone of Mickle's discussion are everywhere revealed, but are A N
unmistakeable in his conclusion. "We have displayed," he claims, "the

EPIC POEM.
wild capricious and gross spirit of Gentoo theology, the endless confusion
of their legends, the'impiety and puerility of their metaphysics; their
ignorance of natural philosophy; the immorality of their penances and
idolatry." He had, of course, done no such thing; these claims were all to TRANSLATED FROM
be overthrown by the scholars and translators of England, France, and
Germany who in the 1770s and 1780s were just beginning a new era in
Western knowledge of Eastern culture. The Original Portuguefe of Luis DE CAMOENS.
Mickle's Lusiad was widely read and reprinted. South ey and Scott
owned copies. Southey was especially well-read in Portuguese literature;
Scott once wrote but burned a long poem, "The Conquest of Granada,"
imitating Mickle; Coleridge projected a "Conquest of India," the title
along suggesting strong links with Camoens. Bowles, Byron, Campbell, By WILLIAM JULIUS MICKLE.
Hazlitt, and Hunt all knew Gamoens, usually in Mickle's version. The
Lusiad was an important book later for Herman Melville. The importance
of Mickle's Lusiad may be seen, then, partly as extending knowledge of
Camoens' great work, partly as illustrating the problems of the mixed NNE^IE,"^M VIilBO- CD^B" "DBERE, ,,DU,
mythological mode in modem epic, and partly as shoeing how Greek,
HOR. ART. PO£T.
Christian, Islamic, and Indie religions and mythologies were beginning to
come into discernible relations to each other, demanding some sort of
comparative treatment. It must be added thal^the confused, ill-inf armed,
and often ill-intentioned mishmash of Mickle'^ explanatory matter shows
as well as anything could how the time was ripe for the new scholar-
ship—both learned and sympathetically open—that was to come with
Jones, Wilkins, Anquedl-Duperron, Georg Forster, and their fellows and
successors.
OXFORD,
Robert D. Richardson, Jr.

^^^^1^^^^^-^^
University of Denver

'"^^^;^^^Es£^i

ER R AT A.
1
(XXV. 1. 29- /'"' left> read left.
t49- '" l^ notes', fecond calumn, 1. 4, for where, read and.
156. I. 9. /w fpear-ftaff, rwa'fpear-ftaffs.
Z04. fecond column of notes, far faces, read foes.
Z24. I. l^. for ftreams, rfa</{teams.
256. I. 8. for clofen, read cloven.
/ in p. 293, Jlrft column of the notes, and firft liiu, in placi of ten thoufand, read ten
ins. Some other errors, moftly of punftuation and orthography, will be obvious to
ader ; who will perceive, that the note on p. 279, and p. vii. of the Introduftion,
at prefs ere the peace bztween the Ruflians and Turks, and ere the prefent unhappy
lotions in America.
p. xxxiv. of the IntroJuSion, 1. id.jirjl column of the notes, after this fentence. All a
ce—the reader is defired to add the fcllo'wing : Nor is the Author of Ht/laire Phi-
ique, &c. kfs unhappy. Milled by the cortunpn opinion of Columbus, he has thus
ouUy cloathed it in the drefs of ima.guiation — Un homfife obfcur, fays he, plus a'uanci
njifde, &c.—thus literally, an obfcure man, more advanced than his age in the know-
of aftronomy and navigation, propofed to Spain, happy in her internal dominion, to
ndife herklf abroad. Chriftopher Columbus felt, as if by inftipft, that there muft
other continent, and that he was to difcovcr it. The Antipodes, treated b^ reafon
as a chimera, and by fuperftition, as error an4 unplety, were in tlye eyes of this man
lius an inconteflible truth. Full of this idea, one of the grandell which could enter
aman mind, he propofed, &c."——The minifters of this Pruicefs (Ifqbel of ?p3iri)
ned at firft as a vifionary, a man who pretended to difcover a world—Thus the
R—• But be it our's to reftore his due honours to the prince of Portugal. Henry, &c.
p.ctVu. of lit I»lmJ«3ia», I. II. after, a Heftor and a Priam, the reader is alfo
d to add : If Camoens has happily avoided the exhanfted contraft of fierce and mild
s, he has neverthelefs been able to give Itis poem more mannen than the Eneid. And
1 fubjcft obliged him to have lets afUon than the Iliad, it has allowed him to difplay
rmpre/femenl and fire, more of the real ^ftipn of the conduft, divefted of the cpifodcs,
the Odyffey, though the OdyHey be cfteemed the moftperf^ft model of Epic compofition.
INTRODUCTION
TO THE
L U SI AD.
F a concatenation of events centered in one great aftion,
events which gave birth to the prefent Commercial Syftem
of the World, if "thefe be of the firft importance in, the civil
hiftory of mankind, the Lufiad, of all other poems, challenges
the attention of the Philpfopher, the Politician, and the
Gentleman.
In contradiftinftion to the Iliad and jEneid, the Paradife
Loft has been called the Epic Poem of Religion. In the fame
manner may the Lufiad be named ihe Epic Poem of Commerce.
The happy, completion of the moft importantdefigns of Henry
Duke of Vifeo, Prince of Portugal, to whom Europe owes both
Gama and Columbus, both the Eaftern And the Weftern Worlds,
conftitutes the fubjeft of that celebrated Epic Poem, (known
hitherto in England almoft only by name) which is now offered
to the Englifh Reader. But before we proceed to the hiftorical
introduftion neceffary to elucidate a poem founded on fuch an
important period of hiftory, fame attention is due to the opi-
nion of thofe Theorifts in political philofophy who lament that
either India was ever difcpvered, and who affert that the in-
creafe of Trade is only the parent of degeneracy, and the nurfe
of every vice.
Much indeed may be urged on this fide of the quefUon, but
much alfo may be urged againft every inflitution relative to man.
Imperfcftion, if not necpffary to humanity, is at leaft the cer-
tain attendant on every thing human. ICThough tome part of
the traffic with many countries refemble Solomon's imp°f-
tation of apes and.peacopks, though the fuperfluities of life,
the baubles of the opulent, and even the luxuries which
b enervate.
11 INTRODUCTION.
enervate the irrefolute and admlnifler difeafe, are introduced by
commerce ; the extent of the benefits which attepd it are allb
to be confidered, ere the man of cool reafbn will venture to
pronounce that mankind are injured, are rendered lefs virtuous
and lets happy by the increafe of Commerce.
If a view of the ftate of mankind, where Commerce opens
no intercourfe between nation and nation be negleded, unjuft
conclufions will certainly follow. Where the ftate of bar-
barians and of countries under the different degrees of civiUza-
tlon are candidly weighed, we may reafonably expedt a, juft
decifion. As evidently as the appointment of Nature gives
paflure to the herds, as evidently is man born for fociety.
As every other animal is in its natural ftate when m the fitua-
tion which its inftinft requires } fo man, when his reafon is
cultivated, is then, and only then, in the ftate proper to his
nature. The life of the naked favage, who feeds on acorns
and fleeps like a beaft in his den, is commonly called the na-
tural ftate of man; but if there be any propriety in this
aflertlon, his rational faculties compete no part of his nature,
and were given not to be ufecL If the favage therefore live in
a Hate contrary to the appointment of nature, it muft follow
that he is not fo h^ppy as nature intended him to be. And a
view of his true charadter will confirm this conclufion. The
reveries, the fairy dreams of a Rouffeau, may figure the paradifial
life of a Rotten tot, but it is only in fuch dreams that the happinefs
of the barbarian exifts. The favage, it is true, is reluftant to leavp
his manner of life, butunlefs we allow that he is a ppoper judge
of the modes of living, his attachment to his own by no means
proves that he is happier than he might otherwife have been.
His attachment only exemplifies the amazing power of habit in
reconciling the human breaft to the moft uncomfortable fitua-
tions. If the intercourfe of mankind in fome inftances be intro-
duftive of vice, the want of it as certainly excludes the exertion
of the noblefl: virtues , and if the feeds of virtue are indeed in the
heart, they often lie dormant, and unknown even to the fdvage
poffeHbr. The moft beautiful defcn^tion of a tribe of favages,
which we may be aflured is from reafUfe, occurs in thefe words,
And the five fpies of Dan " came to Laifh, andfa'w the people that
were there, how they dwelt carelefs after the manner of tbe Zi-
domans, quiet andfecutCf ahd th?re was no magijirate in the land
that
INTRODUCTION. Ill
that might put them to jbame in any thing .... And the fpics
faid to their brethren, Arlfe, that •we may go up againft them ;
for we have feen the land, and behold it is very good .... and
they came unto Laifh, unto a people that were quiet andfecure, and
they fmote them with the edge of the fword, and burnt the city
with fire , dW there 'was no Deliverer^ becaufe it •was far from
Zidon, and they bad no btifinefs 'with any man —However the
happy fimplicity of this fociety may pleafe the man of fine ima-
gination, the true philofopher will view the men of Laifh with
other eyes. However virtuous he may fuppofe one generation,
the children of the next werp fure to fihk into every vice of
brutality. When his wants are eafily fupplied, the manners of
the favage will be firnple, and often humane, for the human
heart is not vicious without objedts of temptation. But thefe
will foon occur; he that gathers the greateft quantity of fruit
will be envied by the lefs induftrious : The human paffions
will operate, and where there is no magiftrate to put to fhame
in any thing, depredatkm will foon difplay all its horrors.
And could fuch a tribe be fecured from the confequences of
.their own unreftrained paflions, could even this impoflibillty
be furn^ounted, ftill are they a wretched prey to the firft in-
vaders, and becaufe they have no bulinefs with any man,
they will find no dellverer. While human nature is the fame,
the fate of Lalfli will always be the fate of the weak and
defencelefs, and thus the moft amiable defcription of favagc
life, raifes in our minds the ftrongeft imagery of the mifery
and impoffible continuance of fuch a ftate. Blit if the view of
Laifh then terminate in horror, with what contemplation {hall
we behold the wilds of Africa and America ? Immenfe tradts
peopled by a few tribes fcattered at great diftances, who
cfteem and treat each other as beafts of the chacc. Attachment
to their own tribe conftitutes their higheft idea of virtue, but
this virtue includes the moft brutal depravity, makes them con-
fider the man of every other tribe as one with whom nature had
placed them in a ftate of war, and had commanded to deflroy*.
* This ferocity of favage manners aiFords cre^fe, the itronger commit depredations
a philofophkal account how the moft diftant on the weaker; and thus from generation
•tn4 inhpfpitable dimes were firft peopled. to generation, they who either dread juft
When a Romulus erefts a roonaichyand punUhment or unjuft: oppreffion, fly fanher
mkes war on his neighbours, tome natu. and farther in. fcarch of that proteftion
rally fly to (be wilds. ~As their families in- which is only to be found in civilized fociefy.
b 2 And
IV INTRODUCTION. INTRODUCTION, v
And to this principle their cufloms and ideas of honour ferve-as names, conneft the idea of innocence and happinefs with the
rituals and minifters. The ancient cruelties praftiled by the life of the ,favage and the unimprpved ruftic. To fix the cha-
American favages on their prifoners of war (and war was their rafter of tlie favage was therefore neceffary, ere we examine the
chief employment) convey every idea ^exprefled by the word aITerdon, that it had been happy for both the old and the new
diabolical, and give a mo'ft {hockingview of the degradation worlds if the Eaft and Weft Indies had never been difcovered.
of human nature. But what peculiarly completes the cha- The blaodlhed and the attendant miferies which the unparral-
rader of the favage, is his horrible fuperftition. Inthemoft
diftant nations the favage is in this the fame. The^ terror Is one, of the firlt inftinfts of man, he. who where expofed to, how their lands, if of
can join to the poHeffion of this primitire any value, are fare to be fcized by their
ofevilfpirits continually haunts him, and his God is beheld-as -right, the moral feciirity of a fubfiftence, more powerful neighbours, and millions of
a relentiefs tyrant, and is worflhipped, often with cruel rites, (which we were juft told the favage could their perfons enflaved by the more poliAed
always with a heart full of horror and fear. In all the numer- do) is incomparably more happy than the ftates.' He quite forgets the infinite ilijlanct
rich man farrounded with laws',' fuperiors, between the refources of the facial and fa-
ous accounts of favage worfhip, one trace of filial dependance prejudices and fafhions, which endanger vage life; between the comforts adminiftered
is not to be found. The very reverfe of that happy idea is^ the his liberty."- by fouety to infirmity and old age, and
Such ?re the fentiments of a writer, whofe the miferable ftate of the favage when he
hell of the ignorant mind. Nor is this barbarifm confined hiftcrical .intelligence has acquired him a can no longer purfuehis hunting and fiffi-
alone to thofe ignorant tribes, whom we call favages. The reputation on the continent; and as he is uig. He alfo quite forgets the mfiflite dif-
not fingular in his eftimate of favagc hap- ference between the difcourfe of the favage
vulgar of every country poffefs it in certain degrees, propor-
pinefs, his abfurditles merit fame- obferva- hut, and the casna deorum, the fi-iendflup
tionated to their opportunities of converfadon yyith the more tion. And nothing can be mc^e evident, and converfation of refined and elevated
'enlightened. Selfifhnefs, cruel and often cowardly ferocity.> -<han that if habit deftroy the rellfti of the underftandin^s. But to philofophife is the
elegancies of life, habit alfo will deftroy contagion which jnfefts the tff.rits forts of
together with the mofl unhappy fuperftition, are every ^ where the plcafure of hunting and fiftiing, when the continent;,'and under the mania of
the proportionate attendants of ignorance and fevere want. thefe are the fole bufinefs of thefavas-e. this difeafe, diere is no wonder that com-
You may as well fay, a poftillion jaded with non fenfe.is fb often crucified. It is only
And ignorance and want areonlyrembvedbyintercourfe-and fatigue and ftuverihg with wet and cold, is the reputation of thofc who fupport fame
the-offices of fociety. So felf-evldent are thefe pofitions, that extremely happy becaufe gentlemen ride on opinions that will vindicate the ufe of re-
horfeback for their pleafure. That we can-
it requires an apology for infifting upon them, but the apology futing them. We may therefore, it is hoped,
not want what we do not defire, nor delire be forgiven, if, en bagalelle, we fmile at
is at hand. He who has read knows how many eminent wn- what we do not know, are juft pofiridns; the triumph of our author, who thus turns
ters*, and he who has converted knows how many refpeftable but does it follow, that fuch ftate is happier up his arguments: " dfr'es tout, un mat
than that which britigs the wiflies and cares f cut terminerce grand prsc'es — After all,
of civil life ? By no means: For, accord- one word will decide this grand difpute,
ing to this argument, infeniibility and hap- Jtforlement ilsbaliuc enlre lei fbiltjophei,
* The author of that voluminous work, thefe things neceHary, and they are pur-
pinefs proceed in the fame ^radation, and fo ftrongly canvafled among philofophers :
Wftwe Philofofhique ^Politijm des Etabli/e- chafed by the painful labours of the mul-
of confequence an oyfter * is the happieft Demand of the man of civil life, if he
mens y du Ccmmerce des Europeens dans lei tltade who are the bafis of fouety. To
of all animals. The advantages afcnbed is happy ! Demand of the favage, if he
deux Indes, is one of the many who aflert what outraees is not the man of civil life
to the favage over the civilized in the time is miferable ? If both anfwcr, "No, the
that the favage is happier than the civil expofed ? i? he has property it is in danger ;
of war and.famine, in the equality of rank, difpute is determined." By no means,
life. His reaibns are thus abridged: The and government or authority is, according
and fecurity of liberty, outrage common for the beaft that is contented to wallow in
re his no care or fear for the future, his to our author, the greateft of all evils. If
fenfe, and are ftriking inflances that no ab- the mire, is by this argument in a happier
hunting and filhing give him a certain fub- there is a famine in t]ie north of Amenca,
furdities aretoo'grofs for the reveries of ftate than the man who has one wife to
fiftence. He fleeps found, and knows not the fayage, led by die wind and the fun,
modern philofepliy. This author quite fatlsfy, however reafonably he may hope to
the difeafes of cities. He cannot want what can go to a be.ter dime ; but in the hortors
forgets what dangers the favages are every do it by his induftry and virtue.
he does not defire, nor defire that which he of famine, war, or peftilence, the ports
does not knew, and vexation or grief do and barriers of polifhed ftates place the fuU-
not enter his foul. He is not under the con- jefts in a prifon, where they muft perilh- ..* A,"d °ur a"th°rin "auty B°" as far, " Temom cet £c^5M,—Witnefs that Scotcbman, fiys hc.'who
'In reffemit cncon — There ftill remains, an bcltl.E-.icft-alu-ne.-°n.-tllc,-inc,of-Fcrnand"> was.°"Ir?happy while his'm7mory\cmauedT'bu"tJwfacn^
troul of a fuperior In his aftions, uia word, Mtura! nants to er>Eroned him that he foreot his country," his lanpiaEc7hirDamc7anTCTcn"th7'articu'l
fays our author, the favage only fuffers the infinite difference between the lot of the '•.!>t*o"_ut w°r(li,' this EuroPe:ln> ^ the end of four years, found himfclf cafcd of die burden offccial
evils of nature.
civilized and the favage ; a difference^ taule^ rlte'_ ln^a''."lEthc.happincfi to lofe the ufe of reficaion; of thcfe thpugbts which'led him back to i
If the civilized, he adds, enjoy the cle- tntiert^ all entirely to the difadvantage of o,r,t3,"?tl"m-,t°d"a,'1 the fut"re-" But thi.s.is as CTronc"s •"faft'asfuch happincfs isfalfe'in philofophy:

gancies of life, hav<. better food, and are
more comfortably defended againft the
change of feafons, it u ufe which makw
fociety, that uijuftice which reign* inthe .AI."'-'l."d^I,.sc?Srk,f<:11 into, Bo&cb. ftate °fhappy_idcotifm ; and on his rctim to'Engiand," Sctimem-
inequality of fortunes and conditions. " In l.-ance of ills fufferings on (he iflc of Fernandcz,' 'afforded thc'hint of R.obinlon Crufoe.'
fcjic, fays he, as the wiih for independence
Idled
VI INTRODUCTION. INTRODUCTION. vu

Idled raplne and cruelties of the Spaniards fpread over the new Arieks of the human viftim do not now.rcfound from temple
world. Indeed difgrace human nature. The great and flou-» ^°..?eT-?I-e.'_-llTr ^es the human,heart, held upreekYng-'to"K
rifhing empires of Mexico and Peru, fteeped in the blood i^imprecate the vengeance of heaven on t^e fitiiItvGempire'.
of forty millions of their tons, prefent a melancholy profpeft,, Andhiowever imPoliticaily defpotic the Spanifh govtmments^
which muft excit6 the indignation of every good heart. Yet ei!mu.<l° toele colonIGS cnJ°y the opportunitles'of improvement,
fuch defolation is not the certain confequence of difcovery. lichin every age a".fe from the knowledge of commerce'and
And even fhould we allow that the depravity of human naturp !?!"'_ °,PPO^tunitles which were never enjoyed in South
is fo great, that the avarice of the merchant and rapacity of the under the reigns of Montezuma and Atabalipa. "But
foldier will overwhelm with inifery every new difcovered Spanifh we_ turn our eyes to Britifli Americarwhat~a
country, ftill are there other, more comprehenfive views, to be lonotis profpea.' Here once on'the wild lawn, perhaps\wice'in
taken, ere we decide agamft the intercourfe introduced by na- theyear> a few favage hunters kindled their evemrig fire, kindle j
vigation. When we weigh the happinefs of Europe in the fcale £more to Pfotcathemfrom_evil fpirits and beafts"ofprey,"than
of political philofophy, we are not to cpnfine our eye to the be cold, and with^their feet pomted to it,flept on "the ground;
dreadful ravages ofAttila the Hun, or of Alaric the Goth. If Here "OWP°Pu^tion fpreads her thoufands,' and focie
the waters of a ftagnated lake are difturbed by the fpade when inalHt^bleffings of mutual help, and the mutualliehts^Ffn^
led into new channels, we ought not to inveigh againft the ^al improvement. « What work of art, or "power, or
~ alteration becaufe the waters are fouled at the firft , we are to << public utility, has ever equalled the glory of havir
wait to fee the ftreamlets refine and fpread beauty and utility " a continent, without guilt or bloodAed,'with a mukftucfe'of
through a thoufand vales which they never viflted before. Such \\ ?PT and happy commo"-wealths, to have given -them~'the
were the conquefts of Alexander, temporary evils, but ciyiliza- "beft^arts of life and government!" This, "indeed, "is the
tion and happinefs followed in the bloody trad. And though greateft glory of the Briufh crown, " a greater than'anyothe^
difgraced with every barbarlty, happlnefs has alfo followed the
conquefts of the Spaniards in the other hemifphere. Though by fupplying the altars, the kings of Mexico
cemented with lime. In fome of theft
the villainy of the Jefuits defeated their fchemes of civilization weie obliged to_make war on" ilie neigh-
towers Andrew de Tapia one day counted
bpuring Kates. Theprifoners of either^de
in many countries, ihe labours of that fociety have been died by the hand of the prieft. But the
y6,oco feulls. During the war with
Co/tez they increafed therr ufual facrifires^
crowned with afuccefs in Paraguay and in Canada, which does "umbcr of the Mexican facrifices to great
till prieft and people were tired of their
exceeded thofe of other nations, that the
them the greateft honour. Th~e cuftottis and cruelties of many bloody religion; Frequent embaffies from
Tlafcalam.who were hunted down for this pur-
American tribes ftill difgrace human nature, but in Paraguay and different tribes complained to Couez that
•poft,rcadily joined COrtez with about 2po;ooo
they were weary of their rites, and in'.
Canada, the natives have been brought to rclifh the blcffings men, and fired by the moft fixed hatred, treated him to teach them his law. And
enabled him to make one great facrififeof
of fociety and the arts of virtuous and civil life. If Mexico is Mexican nation. \Vho that views
though the Peruvians, it is faid, were more
polifced, and did not facrifice quite fo many
not to populous as it once was, neither is it to barbarous*, the Mexico, fteeped in her own blood, can
as the Mexicans, yet 200 children was the
re(lrain the emotion which whifpers to him,
ufual hecatomb for the health of the Ynca,
This is the hand'of heaven '—By the num-
• Theinnocent fimplidtyofthe American* they chufpd. In every tribe, the cap- and a much. larger one of a.11 ranks hondorej
her of tkefe facred buccberies, c.ne; would
in their conferences wiA the Spaniards, and rive» taken in war were murdered with the his obfequies. The method of facrifyfinj
tlu"k that cruelty was the greateft amufcment
the hornd cruelties they fuffcre'd, dive.-t our moft wanton cruelty, and afterwards devoured was thus; Sixpriefls laid the viaimonaTi
of Mexico. At the dedication of Ae tem-
by the vigors. Their religious ritet were, altar, wnkh was narrow at top, when five
view from dirir complete cltara&er. But al- Pleof Vitzuliputzli, A. D. 1486, 64,080
moft ?very thing was horrid in their civil cut. if poffible, ftill more horrid. The abomlna- bending him acrofs, the fixth cut up his
viftims were facrificed in four days.
toma and religioui rites. In tome tribes, (ions of ar.nent I^oloch were here out- ilomach with a fliarp flint, and while he
And, recording to the beft accounts, the
to cohabitwith their mothen, fiftcri, and numbered; children, virgins, (lavei, and. held up the heart reeking to the fun, the
annual facnfices of Mexico required fcveral
daughters, was effeemed thp means of do- captive?:, bled on dUferent altars, to appeafe Others tumbled the carca/c down a flight of
thoufands. The fkulls of the viaims'fonw-'
tbeiir ^arioua gods. If there was a fcardty ftai" near the altar, andimmediaielypro-
roefic peace. In otjien, c»t»piite8 were Umes were hung on ftripgs which reached-
maintained in every village ( they: wpnt of human viffinr, the prietts announceit teeded to the next facrifice. See Acolla,.
irom tree to tree around their temple;!, and
from houfe to houfe a* they pleafcd, and it that the gods were dying of thirft for hnman Goinara, Careri, the Letters of Cortey to
were built up in towers and Charles V. &c. &r.
irai unlawful to refuTe them what viftuali blood. And to prevenfa threatened famine
« r,-lf;^»
Vlll INTRODUCTION.
" nation ever acquired," and from the confequences of the
genius of Henry, Duke of Vifeo, did the Britifh American
empire arife, an empire which moft probably will one day be
the glory of the world.
Stubborn indeed muft be the Theorift, who will deny the im-
provement, virtue and happmefs, which in the reFult, the voyage
of Columbus has fpread over the Weftern World. The happinefs
which Europe and Afia have received from the intercourfe with
each other, cannot hitherto, it muft be owned, be compared
either with the poffeflion of it, or the fource of its increafe
eftablifhed in America. Yet let the man of the moft melan-
choly views eftimdte all the wars and depredations which arc
charged upon the Portuguefe and other Eurojpiean nations, ftill
will the Eaftern World appear confiderably advantaged by the;
Voyage of Gama. If feai of blood have been fhedbythePor-
tuguefe, nothing new was introduced into India. War and de-
predation were no unheard of ilrangers on the banks of the
Ganges, nor could the nature of the civil eftablifhments of the
eaftern nations fecure a lafting peace. The ambition No.f their
.native princes was only diverted into new channels, into chan-
ncls, which in the natural courfe of human affairs, will cer-
tainly lead to permanent governments, eftablifhed on improved
laws and juft dominion. Yet even ere fuch governments ar?
formed, is Afia no lofer . by the arrival of Europeans. The
honrid maflacres .and unbounded rapine which, according to
their own annals, followed the viftories of their'Afian con-
querors, were never equalled by the worft of their European
vanquifhers. Nor is the eftablifhmettt of improyed govern-
mentsrin the Eaft the dream of theory. The fuperiority of the
civil and military arts .of the Britifh, notwithftandmg the hate-
ful charafter of fame individuals, is at this day beheld in India
with all the aftonifhmertt of admiration, add all the defire pf
imitation. This,, however retarded by various caufes, muft in
time have a moft important effe£t, muft fulfil the prophecy of
Camoens, and transfer to the Britifh the high compliment he
pays to his countrymen ,
Beneath their fway majeftic, wife and mild,
Proud of her vidor's laws thrice happier India fmllecL
In
INTRODUCTION. IX
In former ages, and within thefe few years, the fertile em-
pirei of India has exhibited every fcene of human mifery, under
the undiftinguifhing ravages of their Mohammedan and native
princes, ravages only equalled in European hiftory by thofe
committed under Attila, furnamed the fcourge of God, and the
deftroyer of nations. The ideas of patriotifna and of honour were
feldom known in the cabinets of (he eaftern princes till the arrival
of the Europeans. Every fpecies of aflaflinatiqn was the policy
of tlieir courts, and every adk of unreftrained rapine and maf-
facre followed tl^fe path of viftory. But fame of the Portu-
guefe governors, and many of the Englifh officers, .have taught
theqi, that humanity to the conquered is the beft, the trueft
policy. The brutal ferocity of their own conquerors is now
the objedt of their greateft dread; and the fuperiority of the
BritUh in war has convinced their* princes, that an alliance with
the Britifh is the fureft guarantee of their national peace and
profpenty. While the Englifh Eaft India Company are poffef- y
led oftheu- prefent greatnefs, it is in their power to dtfFufe over
tb,e Eaft every blefling which flows from the wifeft and moft
liumarie policy, a policy till of late unknown,, even in idea, in
Afia. Long ere the Europeans arrived, a failure of the crop of
rice, the principal food of India, hasfpr^adthe.devaftationsof
famine over the populous plains of Bengal. And never, from
the feven years famine of ancient Egypt to the prefent day, was
there a natural fcarcity in any country which did not enrich the
proprietors of the granaries. The Mohaminedan princes and
Moorifli traders have often added all the horrors of an artificial
to a natural famine. But however tome Portuguefe or other
governors may ftand accuftd, much was left for'the humanity
of the more exalted policy of an Albuquerque or a Caftro. And
under fuch European governors as thefe, the diftrefles of the
Eaft have often been alleviated by a generofity of conduft, and
a train of refoprces formerly unknown in Alia. The introduc-
tion of the Britifti Isws into [n4U, of laws already admired as the
<}iQ:ates ofh£aven,.]iiu'ft,;mthe courfe of ages, have a wide and
ftupendous efFed:. The abjed: rpirit of Afian fubmiffion, will
be taught to fee, and to claim thofe rights of nature, of which
• Mahommed All Khan, Nabob of the Carnatic, declared., " I met the Britlffi with
" ?a^ rf ,'? of^.o.Pennefs which they love, -and I efteem it my honour as well as fecuril
to be thp ally of fuch a nation of princes."
c the
v INTRODUCTION.
the difplrited and paffive * Gentocxs could, till lately, liardly
form an idea. From this, as naturally as the noon fuoceedsth'c
dawn, muft the other bleflings of civilczatipn arife. And
though the four great tribes of India are almoft inacceiTibIe
to the introduftkin of other manners And of other literatore
than their own, happily there is one defpifcd tribe, who are
not bound by their fuperftition to reject the advantages which
flow from an inter-communlty with civilized ftrangers. Nor
may the political phllofopher be deethod an cnthufiaft, who
would boldly prophefy, tha-t unlefs the BritiAi are driven from
India, that tribe, the defpifed Hallachores, into which the re-
fuie of the reft are now excommunicated, will in the courfe of
a few centuries, from the advantages received from intercom-
munity, bear fuch a fuperiority over the others, that the others
will be induced to bre^k the Ihackles of their abfurd fupcrfti-
tions, {which almoftin every inftanct^ arc contr&ry to the fecl-
ings and wxfhes of nature) and will be led -to partake of thofe
advantages which arife from the free fpope and due cultivatioh
of the rational powers. Nor can ihe obftinacy even ))f the
concdtedChin.;<; always refift the defire of imitating the Eu-
topeans, a people wha "m arts and ra arms are to greatly fu-
pcrior to themfelves. The ufe of the twenty-four letters, by
^vhich we can exprefs every language, appeared at firft as mi-
raculous to the 'Chinefe. Prejudice cannot always deprive
that people, who are not deficient in felfifh cunning, of the
cafe and expcdititbn of an alphabet, and it is eafyto fbrefe;e,.
that, in the courfe of a few centuries, fome alphabet will
certainly take place of the 60,000 arbitrary marks, which now
(cnderthe cultivation of the Chinefc literature not only a la-
hour of the utmofl difficulty, but even impoflible to-attain,
beyond a very limited degree. And from the introdudioa
of an alphabet, what improyements may not be expefted from
the laborious induftry of the Chinefe t Though moft obfti-
natcly attached to their old cuftoms, yet there is a tide in
the manners of nations which is fudden and rapid, and which
afts with a kind of inftindiye fury againft ancient prcjudice
and abfurdity. It was that nation of merchants, the Phoeni-
• See Ac note on the VH. Lufiad.
t Every man tmrit fonow lus fetker't trade, and mu» many • dteaghttrof tl«i
don, Inmunerable arc their other bwbaron* ntiiftioBt <fgttuu»»ad inclination.
cians,
INTRODUCTION. ^
cians, whiph diffufed the ufe of letters through the ancient,
and Commerce will undoubtedly diffufe the fame bleflings
through the modern world.
To^ this view of the political happinefs, which is fure to be
introduced in proportion to Givifizati&n, let the Divine add
what m&y be reafohably expe<£t:ed from fuch opportunity of the
increafe of Religion. A fa.&ory of merehaflts, indeed^ has fel-
dom been found to be the fchool of piety? yet, when the
neyal manners of a people becotee aflimiUted to thofeofa
more rational worfhip, fomething more than ever was produced
by an infant miffion,. or fhe neighbourhood of an infant colony,
may then be reafonably expeded, and even foretold.
In eftimating the political happinefs of a people, nothing is
®f greater impprtance than their capacity of, and teftdency to,
improvement. As a dead lake will" continue in the fame ftats
for ages and ages, to would the bigotry artd fuperftitions of the
Eafl: continue the fame. But if the lake is begun to be opened
into a thoufand rivulets, who knows over what unnumbered
fields, barren before, they may difFufe the bleffings offertiiity(
andturn a dreary wildernefs into a land of fociety arid joy.
In contraft to this", let the Golden Coaft and other immenfc
regions of Africa, be contemplated :
Afric behold} alas, what altered view!
Her lands uncultured, and her fons ufttrue ,
Ungraced with all that fweeteus human life,
Savage and fierce they roam in brutal ftrife,
Eager they grafp the gifts which culture yields,
Yet naked roam their own neglefted fields. ... »
Unnumber'd tribesf as befti,al ^razers ftray,
By laws unform'd, unform'dby Reafon's fway.
Far inward ftretch the movrnful fteril dales,
Where on the parch'd hill-fide pale famine w&il&.
LUSIAD X.
.^?_u.s.v^wwhat.mm}°Jl,s Qf t^eFa unhappy favage»arc drag-
their native fields, and, cut pffyor^veAom'alT.tSe
opes and all the rights to which human birth entitled :tRen^
would hefitate to pronounce that Negro the grcateft
patriot;., who. by t^clung his countrymen the Irts of
c 2 £oc'iftv
xu INTRODUCTION. INTRODUCTION. XUI

in the one, is alfo nec6ffary for perfedUon in the other, and

fociety, fliould teach them to defend themfelves in the pof-
the fame caufes impede, and are alike d^ftru<ftive of both.
feflion of their fields, their families, and their own perfonal
The INTERCOUR.SE of mankind is the parent of both. Ac-
liberties ?
corduig to the confinement or extent of Intercourfe, barbarity
Evident however at it is, that the voyages of Gama and Co-
or civilization propordonably prevail. In the dark Monkifh
lumbus have already carried a fuperior degree of happinefs, and
ages, the Intercourfe of the learned was as much impeded and
the promife of infinitely mpre, to the Eaftern and Weftern
confined as that of the merchant. A few unwieldy veflels
worlds ; yet the advantages derived from the difcovery of thefe
coafted the fhores of Europe, and mendicant friars and ignorant
regions to Europe may perhaps be denied. But let us view
pilgrims carried a miferable account of what was paffing in
what Europe was, ere the genius of Don Henry gave birth to
the world from monaflery to monaflery. What DcxStor had laft
the fpirit of modem difcovery.
difputed on the peripatetic philofophy at fome univerfity, and
Several ages before this period the feudal fyftem had degene-
what new herefy had laft appeared, comprifed the whole of
rated into the rnofl abfolute tyranny. The barons exercifed the
their literary intelligence , and which was delivered with little
moft defpotic authority over their vaffals, and every fcheme of
accuracy, and received with as little attention. While this thick
public utility was rendered Imprafticable by their continual
cloud of mental darknefs overfpread the weftern world, was.
petty wars with each other , and to which they led their de-
Don Henry prince of Portugal born,, born to fet, mankind free.
pendends as dog's to the chace. Unable to read, or to write his
from the feodal fyftem, and to give to the whole world every
own name, the Chieftain was entirely pofleffed by the moft TO-
advantage, every light that may pofllbly be diffufed by the Inter-.
mantic opinion of military glory, and the fong of his dpmeftic
courfe of unlimited commerce:
minftrel conftituted his lligheft idea of fame. The tlaflics
flept on the fhelves of the monaftries, their dark, but happy For then from ancient gloom emerg*d
afylum, while the life of the monks refenabled that of the fat- The rifing world qf Trade : the Genius, then»
tened beeves which loaded their tables. Real abilities were in- Of Navigation, that in hopelefs floth
deed poffefied by a Duns Scotus and a few others} but thefe Had flumber'd on the vaft Atlantic deep
were loft in the moft trifling fubtleties of a fophiftry, which For idle ages, ftarting heard ^t ] aft
they dignified with the name of cafuiftical Divinity. Whether The Lufitanian Prince, vrho, he.aven-infpir'd,
Adam and Eve were created with navels, and how many thou- To love of ufeful glory rous'd mankind,
fand angels might at the fame inftant dance upon the point of And in unbounded Commerce mixt th& world. THOM.
the fineft needle without one joftling another, vyere two of the
In contraft to the melancholy view of human nature, funk
feveral topics of like importance which excited the acumen
in barbarifm and benighted with ignorance, let the prefent ftate
and engaged the controverfi^s of the Learned. While every
of Europe be impartially eftimated. Yet though the great in-
branch of philofophical, of rational inveftigation, was thus un-
create of opulence and learning cannot be denied,, there are
purfucd and unknown. Commerce, incompatible in itfclf with,
fome who affert, that virtue and happinefs have as greatly de-
the feodal fyftem, was equally neglefted and unimproved. dined. And the immenfe overflow of riches, from the Eaft in
Where the mind is enlarged and enlightened by Learning, plans particular, has been pronounced big with deftruftlon to the Bri-
of Commerce will rife into aftion, and which, in return, will,
tifh empire. Every thing human, it is true, has its dark a& well
from every part of the earth, bring new acquirements to phi- as its bright fide, butletthefe popular complaints be examined^
lofophy andfcience. The birth of Learning and Commerce
and it -will be found, that modern Europe, aftd the Britifh em-
may be different, but their growth is mutual and dependent
pire in a very pdrticular manner, have received the greateft and
upon each other. They not only Affift each other, but the
moft folid advantages from the modern enlarged fyftem of Com-
fame enlargement of mtnd which is neceflary for perfedion merca
in
xiv INTRODUCTION.
merce. The magic of the old romances, which could make
themoft withered, deformed hag, appear as themoft beautiful
Virgin, is every day verified in popular declamation. Ancient
days are there painted in the moft amiable fimpllclty, and the
modern in the moft odious colours. Yet what man of fortune
in England lives in that ftupendous grofsluxury'whl^h.ev^da^
was exhibited in the Gothic caftles'of the old Chieftains ! Four
or five hundred knights and fquires in the domefUc retmue of a
warlike earl was not uncommon, nor was the pomp of embroi-
dery'inferior to the profufe wafte of their tables, in both in-
ftances unequalled by all the mad exceffes oftheprefentdge.
While the Baron thus lived in all the wild glare of Gothic
luxury, agriculture was altnoft totally neglefted,,andjlismeane^'
vaflais fared harder, infinitely lets corifortably,^ than the meaneft
Niduftrious labourers of England do now. Where the lands are
uncuTtivated, the peafants, ill-cloathed, ill-lodged, and poorly
fed, pafs their miArable days in floth and filth, totally^ ignorant
of every advantage, of every comfort which natur<\laysa,t ^heJr
feet. He who pafles from the trading towns and cultured fields
of England, to thofe remote ylllages of ScotUnd or Ireland.
which°cUim this defcriptiQii, is aftoniflied at^ the ^comparative
wretched.nefs of their deftitute inhabitants; but few confider,
that thefe villages <?nly exhibit a view of what Europe was, ere
the fpirit of Commerce diffufed the bleffings which.n^turajly
flow from her improvements. In the Hebrides the failure of a
harveftalmoft depopulates an jHand. Having little or no traffic
to purchafe grain, numbers of the young and hale,^eta]<-e,them""
felves to the continent in queft of employment and food, leaving
a few, lefs adventurous, behind, to beget a new race, the heirs
of the fame fortune. Yet, frort the fame caufe, from the want
of traffic'," the kingdom of England has often felt more dread;
ful efFefts than thefe. Even in the days when her_Henries^
Edwards plumed themfclves with the trophies of France'
ofteni has Famine fprcad alt her Iiorrors^over city^ .and villase?
Our modem hiftories negleft this charaaeriftlcal feature of an-
cient~days; but the ru& chronicles of thcfe ages inform us,
that three or four times, in almoft every reign of Continuance,
v^as England thus vifitcd. The failure\of Ac CTOp was then
fcverdy'fdt,. and two bdd harvefts togfithcr^ werc^almo^
;. But Commerce has now opened another fccne, h;
INTRODUCTION. xv
anped Government with the happieft power that can be exerted
1 Jrul,ers of a n^o,"; 't.^e gower to prevent every extremi-
ty^* which^may poffibly arife ^om bad*harvefts, extremi'ties,
i» in former ages, were cfteemed more dreadful vifitatione
.the wrath of heaven, than tlie peftilence itfelf. Yet mo-
dern London is not to certainly defended againfl the latter, its
antient vifitorm almoft every reign, than the Commonwealth
_means of Commerce, underajuft and humane government
is lecured againft the ravages of the former. If, from thefe
the happinefs enjoyed by a commercial over-an°un^
commercial nation; wp tmn our eyes to the manners,"the a'd-
vantages will be found no lets in favour of the cmlized..'
Whoever is inclined to declaim on the vices of the Dre^
tent age, let^ him read, and be convinced, that the Gothic
pjie^were lets virtuous,^ If the fpirit of chivalry prevented~e^
^TO^cy, n was the fofter-father of a ferocity'of manners.
now happUy uhknown,^ Rapacity, avarice, andWeminacv'are
vices afcnbed to the increafe of Commerce, andm'fome
ree' Jl muft be^confefled, they follow her fteps. Yet Ynfi^
;ly more^dreadful,^ as every palatinate in Europe often feft,
werc,_thc effe(fts of the two firft under the feodaf Lords'," than.
pollibly can be experienced under any fyftem of trade/ The
virtues and vices of human nature are'the fame m'everv ao-e'T
only receive different modificdtions, and are dorman^or
awaked into adion ynder different circumftances. The feodal
i.°.rd. ha<i .it:. infinitfly more in his power to be rapacious than
heme nt: Andwhatever avarice may attend the trader,
^LiT_rc^rfe,with the r,eft.of maRkind lifts him greatly abov.e-
.1 brutiA ferocity which aAuates the favage, often the
:' a^mz ^eneral charaftenfes the ignoranTpartof'man^
L The abolition of the feodal fyftem," a fyftem of abfolute
ver7> and that equality of mankind, which affords the pro-
tedion of property, and every other incitement to induftry,are
ie glonous gifts_which the'fpirit of Commerce, "aw'aked
lriinc!_?enr^r°{.p(?ft^,al> hasWowed upon Europe in" gen7-
^ and, as if direfted.by the manes of his mother, a daughter
England, upon the Britifh empire in particular. In the vice
J^fa""Mt.n fol;.it were both lughly.""J"ft and Impoliric in government, to allaw im-.
^?a^?ieas.a^^miehtbt"d^u^'"uf ^"eftic^grS^6:^0 ^: r;
of
XVI
INTRODUCTION.
of efFeminacy alone, perhaps, do we exceed our ance^rsij^
even here we have infinitely the advantage over them.^ n
brutafferocity of former ages is now loft, and the general
FsTumamfecL The favag^ breaft is the native foi\9f/eTnie:
a" v:ic7,"of"aU others, ingradtude excepted, peculiarly ftan
with"'the\haraaer"of hell. But the mention of Ais was re-.
fervedfor the charafter of the favages of Europe.
^f'every'country is implacable when injured, but s"n°ng^o^
/ha7its meafure. The wilds of America hear
Fioin in their mutual lamentations over the murdered,
^hom/as'an oblivion of malice, they bury together^B^t^e
m^fuI;eoTrcvengc;~never to^be fulL^as^k^ for_^dem^
uescouf Europ&c7 The vaffals of the feudal Lo^ente^
£to6h?s quarrels'with the moft inexorable jage. ^Juft or un^
:w^s nTronfideration of theirs. It was a family feud i ^ no far-
t£7nauir7was made, and from age^to age, the parties,
nTverTniur'ed each other, breathed nothing'but mutual rancour
alnd'rev'enge7 "And aftions, fuitable to thfs horrid fplnt,e^ry
^he^Tcon5fefled"it's'vYolent influence. _ Such were the late_days
o'f"Europe, admired by the ignorant for the innocence,ot "lan:
nerr^Refentment of'injury'mdeed is natural ^and tha^a
ee which is honeft, and though warm, far from ^"m^
BuT?i't'is"the''hard"tafk of humanifed wtoe^to prefer t^
"of'arTlnjury unmixt with the flighteft crimm^w^h
locf;lrlev6enuKe,ahowJImpoffible is it for the favage,^ to^tt^the
ilemty"^forgivenefs, the greateft ornament of human natuj^
A?lTn'mdivTd&uafs,"7vlrtuoe wil1 rife lnto a .vicel, generofity
into" blind profufion',. and even mercy into cnminanenity,^
dvllife'dmanners wiil lead the opulent into efFeminacy. ^
kt"it"be~confidered, this confequence is by no^ mean^
certam'refult of civilization. Civilization, ^on the contrary^
rovTdes'the certain preventive of this 6vil. ,when refine^ent
tes'into whatever enervates the ai"d',whenever,fnvo:
S'ei" predominates, literary igno'-ance^ isjure^to^ ^P^c
Ae"effemSe"charaaer. A mediocrity of virtues and of tale
iTdie'lorof the great majority of mankind^ and even ^^
lSt7,' if culttvated'by ^/liberal education^ wm infamb]
^ure/i>ts"poffeffor-agamft thofe cxqeffes of effeminacy
are'reaUy culpable. To be of plain manners it is not necet
to'b'ea down, or to wear coarfe cloaths, nQr is it neceu
INTRODUCTION. XV U
ito He on the ground and feed like the favage, to be truly
manly. The beggar who, behind the hedge, divides his ofFals
with his dog, has often m&re of the real fenfualift than he who
dines at an elegant table. Nor need we hefitate to aflert, that
he who, unable to preferve a manly elegance of manners, dege-
nerates into thepetit maitre, would have been, in any age or
conditiQn, equally infignificant and worthlefs. Some, when
they talk of the debauchery of the prefent age, teem to think
that the former were all innocence. But this is ignorance of
human nature. The debauchery of a barbarous age Is grofs and
brutal, that of a gloomy fuperftitious one, fecret, exceffive, and
murderous : that of a mprej)oliflied one, not to make an apo-
logy, much happier for the fair fex *, and certainly not fo bad.
If one difeafe has been imported from Spanifh America, the
moft valuable medicines Have likeWifp been brought from thefe
regions; and diftempers, which were thought invincible by our
forefathers, are now cured. If the luxuries of the Indies ufher
difeafe to our tables, the confequence is not unknown; the
wife and the temperate receive no injury, and intemperance has
been thedeftroyerof mankind in every age. The opulence of
ancient Rome produced a luxury of manners which proved fatal
to that mighty empire. But the effeminate fenfualifts of thefe
ages were not men of mtelleQ:ual cultivation. The enlarged
ideas, the generous and manly feelings, infpired by a liberal
education, were utterly unknown to them. Unformed by that
wifdom which arifes from fcience, they were grofs barbarians,
dreffed in the mere outward tinfel of civilization •{-. Where
* Even that warm admirer of favage hap- ture preceded the fate of the ftate, and the
yinefs, the Author of Hijtoire Philcfifhique reafon is obvious. The men of fortune
•{3' Polittfue des Etabl'tJJemtns, &c. confeflei, ;rew frivolous, and fuperfidal in every
.that the wild Americans feem deftitute of
u-anch of knowledge, and were therefore
the feeling of love. In a little while, fays unable to hold the reigns of empu-e. The
ke, when the heat of paffion is gratified, degeneracy of literary tafle is," therefore;
.they lofe all affeSion and attachment for the fureft proof of the general ignorance.
their women, whom they degrade to the However foreigners may juftlydefpife our
moft fervile offices.—A tender remembranfce theatrical tafte, the juftice of their con-
of the firft endearments, a generous parti- tempt by no means fixes a ftain on the na-
cipation of care and hope, the coropaf-
fipnate fentiments of honour ; all.thefe de-
tional. A London audience is chiefly com-
pofed of thofe ranks who never, in any
licate feelings, whiph aiife into affeaion country, had any pretenfion to lietrary tafte".
and bind attachment, are indeed incompa-
Manly critlafm, and every difcuflion ofphi-
tible with the ferocious and grofs fenfations IpfoJ)hy, never appeared in greater luftre
Of the barbarian of any country.
than in the prefent age; and Englifh lite-
+ The degeneracy of the Roman litera- rature is (he fttidy of Europe.
the
XVlll INTRODUCTION,
tfae enthufiafm of military honour charafterifes tlie ranfe of
gentlemen, that nation will rife into empire. But no fooner
does conqueft give a continued fecurity, than the mere foldier
, and the old veterans are foon fucceeded by a new
generation, illiterate as their fathers, but deftitute of their vir-
tues and experience. Luxury prevails, titles and family arc^
the only merit, and the wholje body of the nobility are utterly
ignorant of the principles of commerce and true policy. A
ftately grandeur is preferved, but it is only outward, alt is tle-
cayed within, and on the firft ftorm the weak fabrick falls to
the duft. Thus rofe and thus fell the empire of Rome, and
the much wider one of Portugal. But mofl: effentially <Hffe-
rent from this is the prefent charader of the Britifh nation ;
Science and every branch of liberal ftudy have here taken
deep root, and fprcad their fruitful boughs wide over the un-
rivalled empire.* Our politicians of the day may declaim as
ignorant paffion leads them, but the true charaQer of the pre-
fent age/compared with that of the laft and the preceding
centuries, does honour to human nature. Neither do the flavifh
principles of the Royalifts of the laft century, nor the ur^on-
fctutional fury of the Republicans, conftitute the ^refent ge*
neralcharaftcr. A fpirit more manly than that of ^ theformer^
more rational, more liberal than that of both, predominates in
every branch of the people. The weaknefs of efFemmacy
has neither appeared in the Camp nor m the Senate. The ad-
vantages of cultivated talents, on the contrary, never fl^one
forth with gfeater luftre, than the prefent age has beheld thent
1, in the difputes of the Senate and in the arts of war.
And if thus we are defended againft the evils of effeminacy»
we may alto prciume, that/the li'ame uberalcult,ivat^on^of^he
minds of the Great will prcferve us from thofe evils which othec
Dations"have fuiFered ^rom the fuddea influx of enormous
wealth. The wifdom of legiflature might certamly have pre^
vented every evil which Spafn and Portugal have experienced
from their ac^uifitlons in the two ladies *. But what
than
INTRODUCTION, xb:
dun the total eclipfe of their glory coutd be expe<fted from a
nobility, rude, andunlettered as thofe of Portugal are de~
fcri-bed, hy the author of the Lufia4, a court and nobilit
who fealcd the truth of all his complaints againft them>
by fufFering that ^re&t man, the light Aof (hw "age, to"di&
in an alms-houfc ! What but the fall of their ftate caul'd -be
expeaed from barbarians like thefe! Nor can the smicds of
mankmd produce one inftance of the fall of empire, where tk&
charafter of the grandces was other than, that afcribed to his
countrymen by Camoens.
No leffon can be of greater national importance than the
hiftoryof the rife and the fall of a commercial empire..The
view of what advantages were acquired, dnd of what mig'ht
have been ftill added; the means by which fiich empire might
have been continued, and the errors by which it was loft, are
as particularly confpicuous in the naval'and commercial hi'l
of Portugal, as if Providence, had intended to give a: laftii
example to mankind, a chart,, where the courfe of the fafe
voyage is pointed, out, and where the fhdves and cocks,- and
tile feafons of tempefl are difcovered, and foretold.
The hiftory of Portugal, as a naval and commercial power,
begins with the defigns of Prince Henry.. Butastheenter-
prizes of this great man, and the completion of his defiKhs
are intlm,ately connefted with the ftate of Portugal, a Aort
view of the progrefs of the povrer, and of the charaAerofthat
kmgdom, will be neceffary'to elucidate the hiftoryof the're^
vival of conimerce, and the fubjed of the Lufiad.
During jhe centuries, when the efFeminated Roman oro-
vinces of Europe were defolated by the irruptions of northern
^L^fZ?11^" ^rbari,ans', the ,saracens' originally a watidering
banditti of Afiatic Scythia, fpread the fame horrors of brutal
con(|ueft over the fineft countries of the eaftern world. "The
Blorthern conquerors of the finer provinces of Europe embraced
the^Chriftian religion ae profeffed by the monks,, and, contented
with the^luxuries-of their new fettlements, theirmilita.rv foirit
foon dedmed. Thdt ancient brothers, the Saracens,on the
hand, having embraced the religion of Mohammed; their
^E<!^LWari.rcceivcd,ev€.ry.additJ?n' which may poffibly be in-
?ious enthufialm; Not only the fpoils of the van-
quifhed, but their beloved Paradife itfelfwas to be•obtatoied by
d 2 their

clii INTRODUCTION.
more tlrefome than the famenefs of Dryden and Pope. Unna-
t.ural diftortion of language feems peculiar to blank verfe. It is
therefore a fare method to fpoil the ftyle and expreffion of
youth, who, by the way, are generally its warmeft advocates.
That rhyme makes the poet walk in {hackles is denied. He
that feels it to, is forbidden by nature to write in verfe, and
let him obey the admonition, and prefume not to diaate ttf
others from 'his own feelings——Every advantage of imitative
liarmqny, of running the lines into each other, is enjoyed by
rhyme in as high a degree as blank verfe. Other arguments in
favour of rhyme, are founded on the nature of our language :
The repetition of found, unlefs murdered indeed in the reading,
produces a fhort reft ; and this reft fixes the numeroufnefs of
the ten fyllables, which in blank heroics, when the lines
run into each other, is often totally loft. For the ear feldom
perceives, in this cafe, where the harmony of the line ends,
and thence it. neceffarily becomes profaic, and. is therefore
contrary to the genius of our language. And the numerouf-
nets thus produced by repetition of found leads even to d greater
advantage^ Rhyme'admits and delights in the moft elegant
cafe.both of the natural fimpliclty and force of expreflion. But
blank herotcs, alas.!—Yet, peace to its admirers. Thefeob-
lervations are not obtruded as criticifnas, they are only offered
as the reafons which induced the Tranflator to give the Englifh
Lufiad that drefs, in which he has preferited it to the Public.
To his Subfcrlbers the Tranflatoi- begs leave to offer his moft
grateful acknowledgem'ents of the honour they have done him.
If the time of his publication exceed the period he at firft pro-
pofe.d, the idea he th.&n conceive4, and his propofdh, are alfo
much exceeded by the Introdudion and Notes which he found
necefl'ary to give. 'As he advanced i^ his undertaking, new
Views opened-upon him, .and to render his work as ufeful and as
complete.. as he poffibly could, ya's his firft care. Nor is his
.thanks, alone d<ue.,to his Subfcribers ID genersil. Many of the
•moft refpeftable names' have honDiHwedhi$ Lufiad with their
countenance, and have promoted its fucccfs. His 1-ift of fub-
-fcribers will fhew the 'refpeA that was paid to the opinion
of fome G.eritlemen of the Univerfity of Oxford, who hAve
interefted themfelves ift. its favDur. An<i that Ins work may
twdicate their good opinion, is not only his firft ambition,
but,
INTRODUCTION. cliii
but, if to happy, the befl return he could poffibly make them.
—Th? manner m which his Grace the Duke of Buccleugh
took thp EnglifhLufiad under his patronage, infinitely inhanced
the honour of his acceptance—To Governor Johnftone, whofe
anceftors have been the hereditary patrons of the anceftors of
the Tranflafcr, he is under every obligation which the warmeft
zeal topromote the fuccels of his undertaking can poffibly con-
fr' TT? t,his G^ltle.n^.a"'. in.a greatmeafure, the appearance of
the_ Lufiad in Englifli is due. — To the Gentlemen of the
Eaft India Company, who are his Subfcribers, the Tranflator
offers^his fmgular thanks , and with pleafure he aflures them,
that their defire to fee an Epic Poem, particularly their own,
in Englifli, greatly encouraged him in the profecution of his
laborious wprk—To Thomas Pearfon, Efq/of the Eaft" India
Company's Service, he owes the afliftance of tome Portuguefe
Hiftorians and other books, which have enabled him to eluci-
date his author. To this Gentleman he alfo owes the acknow-
ledgement for a numerous lift of Subfcribers. But thefe, in
themfelves, he^efteerts the leaft of Major Pearfon's favours^
The manner of conferring them, and the continuance of his-
friendly wiflies, cannot be repaid by the warmeft acknowledee-
^len!?~T°^a^es Bo?v.eil) ~E{c{'\'he confefles many obligatioTis.
T^the friend&ip of Mr. Hoole, the elegant Tranflltor" "of
Taffo, he is peculiarly indebted.—And while thus he recolieas
With pleafure the names of many gentlemen from whom he
has received affiftance or encouragement,he is happy to be
enabled to add Dr. Johnfon to the number of thofb, whofe
kindnefs for the man, and good wifhes for the Tranflation, call
forjiis fincereft gratitude. Nor muft a tribute to the
of Dr. Goldfmith be negleaed. He faw a part of this verfion7;
but he cannot now receive the thanks of the tranHator. Neither
muft another circumftance, which he efteems to flatterin^'a'n
honour, be pafl'ed over in filence: Various fpecimensof&this
tmnflation have been feen by Portuguefe Literati, and the
Tranflator has been favoured with their earneft defire to co m-
? etei_hisru,ndert,a^ing' Jhe. ingeni(>us Mr. Mageilan, of the
family of the celebrated Navigator, has been even an enthufiaft
in promoting its intereft. By his mean's, tome of the moft re-
ipedable literary names of Portugal and of Paris have'honoured
t. From Mr. Magellan and tome other Portuguefe'gen3
x tlemeiL
d INTRODUCTION. INTRODUCTION. cli

that you have neither added nor duAiniflied;, you have in reality But a tninutenefs * in the mention of thefc will not appear with
grufsly abufed him, and deceived yourfelf. Your literal tranfla- a good yacc in the firft (perhaps lafl) Edition of his work:
And the original is in the hands of the world.
tion can have no claim to the original felicities of expreflion ,
Though unwilling ta enter into the contrpverty on the
the energy, elegance, and fire of the original poetry. It may
bear indeed a refemblance^ bat fuch a one as a corps in the .fuperiority of blank verfe or rhyim, as the Tranflator has
fepulchre bears to the former man when lie mOved in the bloont cHofen the fitter, he prefumes it may not be improper to
and vigour of life. offer to the Reader the reafons which direfted his choice.
But he giv6s them not as decifive. He only confefles, that
Nec verbu/n werbo curabis redder e,Jldus fuch is his tafte—• — Tn Shakefpeare, and in the beft
Interpres ——— - of Otway. and Southern, the Englifli blank verfe appears in
was the tafte of the Auguftan age. None but a Poet can tran- great perfc^lion and propriety. But this is of the lambic or
flate a Poet. The 'freedom which this precept gives, will, Dramatic kipd, a kind very different from the Heroic.
therefore, in a poet's hands, not only infufe the energy, ele- This, if not attainable, has never yet in perfeftion been at-
gance, and fire of his author's poetry into his own verfion, but tabled in the Englifh language ; for certain it is, that in Milton,
will give it alfo the ipirit of an original. and every other writer of heroic blank verfe, almoft every four
He who can conftrue may perform all that is claimed by the or fiv'e lines are interrupted with other two or three, which arg
literal Tranflator. He who attempts the manner of tranflation abfolute prafe. Every objeftion agtiinft rhyme recurs with ac-
prefcribed by Horace, ventures upon a ta£k of genius. Yet cumulated charge againft blank heroics. The monotony of the
however daring the undertaking, and however he may have Night Thoughts, The Seafons, and of Leonidas, is infinitely
failed in it, the Ti-anfktor acknowledges, that in this fpirit he
endeavdured to give the Lufiad in Englifh. Even farther liber- * Sonie libqrtles of a lefs poetical kind, fare in reading a tranflation is to fee what
hoiycver, require-to be mentioned. In the. author exaftly fays ; it was to give a
ties in one or two inftances feemed to hirp. advantageous- Homer and Virgil'^ lifts of (lain warriors, poem that might live in the Englife lan-
Dryden and Pope have omitte4 fcveral guage which was the ambition of the Tran-
names which would have rendered Englifh flator. And for the fame reafon, he has
verfion. He can never liavs enough bf con- And the appearance of Indians in canoe's verfification dull and tirefeqie. Several al- not confined himfelf to (he Portugvefe of
ceits, low allufions, and exprefiioiw. When approaching the fleet, is the very next de- lufions to ancient hiftory and fable have for Spainfli pronunciation of proper names. It
gathering of flowers, ".as 'boninas apw- fcription which occurs; this renfon been abridged, e. g'. In the prayer is ingenioufly obferved in "the" Rambler, that
iandr," is fimply mentioned (C. 9. ft. 24.) of Gama (Book 6.) th» mention of Paul, Milton, by ftus introduftipn of propey
For ftreightont of that Me which fecm'd mo(t accr
]ie;givcsit,.gather'd jls'wers iy •peeks. And
Unto the continent. Behold » number " thou who delivere^il P^ul and dcfei)dedfl naiqes, ofusi gives gre^t dignity to 'ills
the-Indian Regent is avaricious (C. 8. ift. 95.) Of little Boats in aimpanie appcct, him from .quickf^nds and y/ild waves— verfe. Regardlefs therefore of Spanifli pro-
Meaning a better penny thence to get. Wliich (clapping all wings on) the long Sea fiindcr" nunciatioi), the Tranflator has accented
The men are rapt with joy, and, mth the mccr Dasjcyries ar(no/as £3" ondas fmt- —
Granada, Evora, &c. in the manner which
But enough of thefe have already appeared Exccfs of it, can only look, and wonder. is omitted. However excellent in the ori- feemed to him to give moft dignity to Eng-
in the notes. It is neceflary now to give a What nation's this, (within thcmfclvcs they fay)
What rit^s, what laws, what king do they obey! ginal, the prayer in Englifh, fuch is the lift vcrfificatipn. "In theword'Sofalahehu
few of his ftanzas entire, that the. reader
differehce of languages, would loft both its tvcn: rejeaed tKe'.authori.ty sf Milton, and
may form an idea of the manner and fpirk
Their coAiing thus i In boats 'with fins; nor flat, dignity and ardour, if burtbened wuh a follower the more fonorous u.fage of Pan-
of the old tranflatlon. Nor Ihall wefeleft But apt t' o'rc-fct (as being pincht and long) Farther enumeruiori. Nor Tet the critic, if fcaw. Thus Sir Richard: "^gainft So-
the fpecimens. The noble.attitude of Man ^{ndtfiettttei'dlkrimlHerats*. The&ylcs, oftoat hv find the mcaitine of Camoens in foroe fold's batter'd fort." And thus" Milton :-
in the firft book, is the firft ftriklng defcrip- Made of palm-feaves, wove curioufly and ftrong.
Tlic mcns complexion, the fclf-fame with th»t
inftances altered, imajyne that he has " ,.4nd S'ofala. ~ tbou^bt Of.hir—" Which
(ion in the poem, and is thus rendered ,
HEE gave the earth's burnt parts (from heaven flung) found a blunder in the Trandator, He is the moft fonorous there can be no difpute.
Lifting a litde up his Helmet-fight Who wa» more brtve than wife; Thtt this is true who chufes to fee a Hight alteration of this If the Tj-anflator, however, is found to have
Tke Po doth know and £,ampctufa roe. kind, will find an ioftance, whi'ph will give trefpaffed againft good tafte in (hefe liber-
('Twas adamant) with confidence' tnttugh,
To give hit tote bnnfelf he plactd righf him an idea of others, in Can. 8. ft."48. ties in the pronunciation of proper n^mes,
TBrfoi-c thethronc of Jove, arm'd, vaiiaiit» todgllt
It may be neceffary to -add, the verfion and another in Can. 7. ft. 41. It'was not he will be very willing to acknowledge anc
And (giving vi ith the butt-tnd of h» pyke of Fanfhaw,. though the Lufiad very parti- to gratify the dull few, whofe greateft plea' corred his error,.
.A great.thomg on the floor ofpurcftftuJfe) cularly requirea them, was given to Ac
Ttic heavens 3!d tremblfc, and Apollo'* light Public without one note.
more
It went, and came, like colour in a fright.
* Not in the Original. But

cxlviii INTRODUCTION.
rival; or his generofity ,more honour^ than when he addrcfled
this elegant Sonnet to the Hero of the Lufiad :
S ONNE TT 0.
Vafco, Ie cui felici, ardite antenne
In contro al fol, che ne riporta. il giorno
Spiegar Ie vele, e fer cola ritorno,
Dove egli par che di cadere accenne:
Non piu di te per afpro mar foftenne
Quel, che fece al Ciclope oltraggio, e fcorno :
Ne chi turbo 1'Arpie nel fuo foggiorno,
Ne die piu bel foggetto a colte penne.
Et hor quella del colto, e buon' Luigi,
Tan t' Oltre ftende il gloi'iofo volo
Che i tuoi fpalmati legni andar men lunge.
Ond' a quelli, a cui s'alza il noftro polo,
Et a chi ferma in contra i fuoi veftigi,
Per lui del corfo tuo la fama aggiUnge.
INTRODUCTION. cxlix
It only remains to give tome account of the Verfion of thje
Lufiad, which is now offered to the Public. Befides the Tran-
flations mentioned in the life of Camoens, M. Duperron De
Caflera, in 1735', gave in French profe a loofe unpoetical
paraphrafe * of the Lufiad. Nor does Sir Richard Fanfhaw's
Englifh verflon, publiflied during the ufurpation of Cromwell,
merit a better ^hara<3ber. Though ftanza be rendered for ftanza,
though at firft view it has the appearance of being exceedingly
literal, this verfion is neverthelefs exceedingly unfaithful. Un-.
countenanced by his original, Fanfliaw
teems with many a dead-born jeft -f-.
Nor had he the leaft idea of the dignity of the Epic ^ ftyle,
or of'the true fpirit of poetical tranflation. For this, indeedi
no definite rule can be given. The Tranflator's feelings alone
muft dire€k him, for the fpirit of poetry is fure to evaporate
in literal tranflation.
Literal tranflation of poetry is in reality a folecifm. You
may conftrue your author, indeed, but if with tome Tranflators
you boaft that you have left your author to fpeak for himfelf,

SONNET.
Vafco, whofe bold and happy bowfprit bore
Agalnft the. rifing morn , and, homeward fraught,
Whofe fails came weftward with the day, and brought
The wealth of India to thy native fhore :
Ne'er did the Greek fueh length of feas explore :
The Greek, who forrow to the (Ryclop wrought,
And he, who, Viftor, with the Harpies fought,
Never fuch pomp of naval honours wore.
Great as thou art, and peeriefs in renown,
Yet thou to Camoens ow'ft thy nobleft fame;
Farther than thou didft fail, his deathlefs fong
Shall bear the dazzling fplendor of thy name ,
And under many a fkytfiy aftions crown,
While Time and Fame together glide along.
It
• Caftpra was every way unequal to his
taflfc. He did not percpive his author's
beauties. He either fuppreffes or lowers the
moft poetical paflages, and fubftiturts French
tinfel andimperrincnce in their place. In
the neceflary illuftrations in the notes, the
citations from Caftera will vindicate this
charafter.
+ Pope, Odyfl". xx.
1: Richard Fanfliaw, Efq; afterwards Sn-
Ricliard, was Englifil AmbaHador both at
Madrid and LiftiOn. He haJ a tafte for
literature, and tranflated fro.m the Italian
feveral pieces, which were of fervice in the
refinement of our poetry. Though his Ln-
fiad, by the dedication of it to William
'E.irlofStra/or^ dated May I, 1655, feems
as publiftiedby himfelf, we are told by the
Editor of his Letters, ' that " during the
unfettled times of our jSnardy, foine of
his MSS. falling by misfortune into un-
feillful hands, were'printed and publifeed
withoiit his confent or knowledge, and
before he could give them his lad finifti--
ing ftrokes: Such was his tranflation of
the Lujia^s."
The great refpeft due to the memory of
a gentleman, who, in the unpropitious aga
of a Cromwell, endeavoured to cultivate
the EnglUh Mufe?,' and the acknowledge-
ment of his friend, that his Lufiad received
not bis finiflllng ftrokes, may feem to de-
Biand that a veil fhould be thrown over its
faults. And not a blemifli fhould have been
pointtd our by the prefentTranflator, if the
reputation of Camoens were unconcerned,
and if it were not a duty he owed his reader
to give a. fpedmcn of the former tranflation.
We have proved that Voltaire read and drew
his opinion of the Lufiad from Fanftiaw.
And Rapin moft probably drew his from
the fartie lource. 1'erfpicuity Is the cliarac-
teriftic of Camtoens; }et Rapin fays, his
verfes are to obfcure they appear like myf-
tcries. Fanfhaw is indeed fo obfcure, that
in dipping jnto h.im, into parts which, he
had even then. tianflated, the prcfent Tran-
Hator has often been obliged to have re-
courfe to the Portu^uefe, to difcover his
meaning. Sancho Panza was -not fonder
of proverbs. He has thruft many into his
vi?rfion»
cxlvi INTRODUCTION.
fury, and not like a rigid detail of fadts given under the fan<5tion
of witneffes. Contrary to Lucan, who, in the above rules
drawn from the nature of poetry, is feverely cendemned by Pe-
tronius, Camoens condufts his poem per ambages Deorumque
mtfttfteria. The apparition, which in the night hovers athwart
the fleet near the Cape of Good Hope, is the grandeft fiCtibn
in human compofition ; the invention his own ! In the Ifland
of Venus, the ufe of which fidion in an Epic poem is alfo his
own, he has given the compl?ateft aflemblage of all the flowers
which have ever adorned the bowers of love. And never was
tbefurenfis animl vaticinatio., more confpicuoufly difplayed than
in the prophetic fong, the view of the fpheres, and of the
globe of the earth. Taffo'fi imitation of the Ifland of Venus is
not equal to the original ; and though " Virgil's myrtles * drop-
ping blood are nothing to Taffo's inchanted foreft," what are all
Ifmeno's inchantments to the grandeur and horror of the ap-
pearance, prophecy, and evanifhment of the fpeffcre of Ca-
moens!^:—It has been long agreed among the critics, that the
folemnity of religious obfervances gives great dignity to the hif-
torical narrative of the Epopoeia. Camoens, in the embarka-
tion of the fleet, and in fcveral other places, is peculiarly happy
in the dignity of religious allufions. Manners and chard£ter are
alfo required in the Epic poem. But all the Ep^cs which have
appeared, are, except two, mere copies of the IIiad in thefc.
Every one has its Agamcmnoa, .^chilles, Ajax, and Ulyfles,
its caltn» farious, gtofs and intelligent hero. Camoens and
Milton happily left this beaten traft, this exhaufted field, and
have given us piAures of manners unknown in the Iliad, the
Eneid, and all" thofe poettis which may be clafled with the
Thebaid. The Lufiad "abounds with pi0:ures of manners, from
thofe of the higheft chiralry, to thofe pf the rudeft, fierceft, and
moft innocent barbarifm. In the fiftH, fixth, and ninth books,
Leonardo and Veiofo are painted in ftronger colours than any
of the inferior charadters in Virgil. But ftriking charafter, in-
deed, is not the excellence of the Eneid. That of Monzaida,
• See Letters on Chivalry and Romance. gal venting their mnrmtu's upon Ac bead
t The Lufiad is alfo rendered poetical by when Gairia fats fell, difplay the richne&
of oar Author's ptwticd genius, and are
other fiftions. The elegant fatyr on kmg
Sebaftian, under the name of AEteon, and not inferior to any thing of the land in
the profopopoeia of the populace of Portu- the Claffics.
the
INTRODUCTION. cxlvii
t-he friend of Gama, is much Caperior to chat of Achates.
The bate, felfiifh, perfidious and drud charadicrs of the Za-~
morim and the M'oors, are painted in the ftrongeft colours ,
and the charafter of Gama "himfclf, is that of "the finiflied
hero. His cool command of his paflions, his deep fagacity,
his fixed intrepidity, his tenderaefs of heart, his manly piety,
and his high enthufiafin in the love of his counjtiy, are all
difplayedpin the fuperlative jdegree--. Let him who ob-
jefts the want of chara<9:er to the Lufi^d, beware left he
ftumble upon its praife ; left he only fay, it wants an Achilles,
aHeftor, and_a Priam. And to the novelty of the manners
of the Lufiad let the novelty of fire-arms alfo be added. It
has been faid, that the buckler, the bow, and the fpear, muft
continue the arms of poetry. Yet, liowever unfuccefsful others
may have been, Camoens has proved that fire-arms may be
introduced with the greateft dignity ?nd fineft effeQ: in' the
Epic Poem.
As the grand intereft of commerce and of mankind forms the
fubjed: of the Lufiad, fo with great propriety, as neceflary ac-
companyments to the voyage of his Hero, the Author has given
poetical picftures of the four parts of the world. In the third
book, a view'of Europe, in the fifth, a view of Africa; and in
the tenth, a pifture of Afia and America. Homer and Virgil
have been highly praifed for their judgment in the choice of
fubjeds which interefted their countrymen, and Statius has
been as feverely condemned for his uninterefting choice. But
though the fubjed: of Camoens be particularly interefting to his
countrymen, it has alfo the peculiar happinefs to be the Poem
of every trading nation. It is the Epic Poem of the Birth of
Commerce. And in a particular manner the Epic Poem of
whatever country has the controul and pofleffion of the com-
merce of India.
An unexhaufted fertility and variety of poetical defcripdon,
an unexhaufted elevation of fentiment, and a cpnftant tenor of
the grand fimplicity of didron, complete the clTaraffter of the
Lufiad of Camoens : A poem which, though it has hitherto re-
ceived from the public moft unmented neglefl:, and from the
critics moft flagrant.injuftice, was yet better .und^rftood by the
greateft poet of Italy. Taffo never did his judgment more
credit, than y/hen he confefled that he dreaded Camoens as a
U2 rival,
cxllv INTRODUCTION.
With fuch catalogues is every battle extended, and what can
be more tirefome than fuch :unintercfti.ng defcriptions and their
imitations ! If the idea of the battle be raifed by fuch ennu-
meration, ftill the copy and original al-e fo near each other, that
they can never pleafe in two feparate poems. NOT are the
greater parts of the battles, of the Eneid much more diftant
from thofe of the Iliad; Though Virgil with great art has in-
troduced a Camilla, a Pallas, and a Laufus, ftill in many par-
ticulars, and in the aftion. upon the whole, there is fuch a
famenefs with the Iliad, that the learned reader of the Eneid is
deprived of the pkafure infpired by originality. If the man of
tafte, however, will be pleafed to mark how the genius of a
Virgil has managed a war after a Homer, he will certainly be
tired with a dozen of Epic poems in the fame ftyle. Where the
feige of d town and battles are the fubjed of an Epic, there
will of neceffity, in the charafters and circumftances, be a re-
Femblance to Homer, and fuch poem muft therefore want ori-
ginality. Happy for Taffo, the variation of manners, and his
mafterly fuperiority over Homer in: defcnbing his duels, has
given his Jerufalem an air of novelty. Yet with all the dif-
ference between Chriftian and Pagan heroes, we have a Priam,
an Agamamnon, an Achilles, &c. armies flaughtered, and a
city befieged. In a word, we have a .handfome copy of the
Iliad in the Jerufalem Delivered. If fame imitations, however,
have been luccefsful, how many other Epics of ancient and
modern times have hurried down the ftream of oblivion ! Some
of their authors had poetical merit, but the fault was in the
choice of their fubjeds. So fully is the ftrlfe of war exhaufted
by Homer, that Virgil and Taflb could add to it but little
novelty, no wonder, therefore, that fo many Epics on battles
and feiges have been fuffered to jdnk ii^to utter negleft. Ca-
mosns, perhaps, did not weigh thefe/circumftances, but the
ftrength of his poetical genius direfted him. He could not but
feel what it was to read Virgil after Homer ; and the original
turn and force of his mind led him. irrotu the beaten tnft of
Helen's and Lavinia's, Achilles's and Heftor's, feiges and flaugh-
ters, where the hero hews down and drives to flight whole
armies with his own fword. Camoens was the firft who wpped
the Modern Epic Mute, and the gave him the wreath of a
firft Lover: ^ fort of Epic Poetry unheard of before, or, as
Voltaire
INTRODUCTION. cxlv
y^Jaire calls it in his laft edition, une nouvelle efpece d'Epopife.
And the grandeft fubjeQ: it is (of profane hiflory) which the world
has ever beheld *. A voyage efteemed toq great for man to dare;
the adventures of A is voyage through unknown oceans deemed
1 ^aiWb.Ie? t.he Eaftern World happily difcovered, and for ever
indiflblubly joined &nd given to the Weftern , the grand Por-
tugude empire in the Eaft founded, the humanization 01 man-
uniyerfal commerce the confequence ? What are the
adventures of an old fabulous hero's arrival in Britain, what are
Greece and Latium in arms for a woman, compared to this '
^ Troy is in afhes, and evpn the Roman empire is no more.
But: the effeds of the voyage, adventures, and bravery of the
Hero of the Lufiad, will be felt and beheld, and perhaps iu-
creaie in importance, while the world fhall remain.
Happy in his choice, happy alfo was the genius of Camoens
j ! in the ^method of purftung his fubjea:. He has not, like Tafla,
given it a total appearance of fidion; nor has he, like Lucan,
excluded allegory and poetical machinery. Whether he in-
tended it or not, for his genius was fuflicient to fuggeft its pro-
priety, tlw judicious precept of Petronius is the model of the
Lufiad. That elegant writer propofes a poem on the civil war;
Ecce Belli Civilis, fays he, mgens opus——Non enim res geftce
i verjibus comfrebe^enda funt fquod hnge melius biftorici faclunt)
j fed per ambages Deorumque mmiftena, & fabulofum fcntentiarum
j tormentum prscipitandus eft libcr ffiritus : ~ut fotius furentis. animi
vaticinatio affareat, quam religiofce oratlonis'fub teftibusfides-
No poem, ancient or modern, merits thischaraaerinanyde-
gree comparative to the Lufiad. A truth of hiftory is preferved,
yet, what is improper for the hiftorian, the miniftry of heaven
is employed, and the free fpirit of poetry throws itfelf into
fidions, which makes the whole appear as aneffufion of prophetic
• The Drama and the Epopocia are in haufted. There cannot pofllbly be fo 1m-
nothing Jo different as in this': 'The fubje<cts portan t a voyage as that ^hich gave the
of the DramA are incxhauftible, thofe of Eaftern world to the Wefterh. And did
the Epopceia are perhaps exhaufted. He. even the ftory of Columbus afford materials
who chufea- war and the'warlike; eharafters, equal to that of Gama, the adventures of
cannot appear as aa original. It was well the hero, and the view of tlie extent of liia
for the memory of Pope, that he did not
write the Epic poem he intended. It would
difcoveries", muftnow appear as fervile copies
of the Lufiad. The view of Spanifli Ame-
Aave been only a copy of Virgil. Cantoens rica, given in the ^luracana, is not only a
and Milton.haye been happy in the novelty
iriere copy, but is introduced even by the
of their fubjefts; and thefe they have ex- very machinery of Camocns.
u
cxlii INTRODUCTION, INTRODUCTION. cxliii

one time perhaps * be appealed to, as (iecifive, in the contro- pf Caxnoeba are there defended. Here let it only be added,
verfies of literary -(- merit. that the unity of adion is not interrupted by thefe Parenthefes,
Other views of the conduft of the Lufiad now offer them- dnd. that if Milton's beautifuil camplaint of his blindncfs .be
lelves. Befides the above remarks, many obfervations on the not an icBitdtion of tliem,. it is in the fame manner and fpirit.
Nor will we fcruplc to pronounce that fuch addraflea to the
machinery and poetical condudt, are in their proper places
fcattered throughout the notes. The exuberant exclamations <
MajTe w(?uld have been admired in Homer, are an intcrefting
improvement, on the Epopoeia, and win certainly be imitated
* Voltaire's defcription of the apparition Voltaire's mlfreprcfentations. An Englifli
if ever the world fhall behold another real Epic poem.
near the Cape of Good Hope, is juft as Traveller, who lately publifhed an account 'ybe .Lufiad, fttys V.oltafre, contains a fort of Epic poetry un-
wide of the original as bombaft is from of Spain and Portugal, has quite compleated
tie.ard sf before. No heroes' are waunded a tboufand dijferent
the true fublime; yet it has been cited by the figure. " Scs bras f'etendint au hinfur
feveral writers. In Camoens a dark cloud la furfa.'e des eaux, fays Voltaire ; and our iy ays; no. vsoman. enticed aivay' and the •world ever turned for
hovers over the fleet, a tremendous nolfe is Traveller thus tranflates it. His arms extend her cauje. — But the very want of thefe, in place of fupporting.
heard, Gama exclaims in amazement, and over the 'while furface of the waters." And
the apparition appears in the air, thus the burlefquc painter is furnifhcd with the objeftion intended by Voltaire, points out the happy judg-
the fincft defign imaginable for the mock ment and peculiar excellence of Camoens. If Homer has given
rifing thro' the darken'd air, fublime. A figure up to the arm-plts in
Appall'd we faw an hideous Pluntom glare.—• the water, its arms extendin? over the wjhole
us all the fire:and hurry of battles, he,has alfo given us all the
furface of the fea, ii-s head in the clouds, uninterefUng tirefome detail. What reader but muft be tired.
Every part of the defcriptiofi in Camoens il and its feet in the unfathomable abyfs of the with the d-eaths of a thoufahd h6rocs, who are never mentioned
fublime and nobly adapted for the pencil. oceari 1 Very fine indeed, it is impoflible
In Voltaire's laft edition, the paflagc is thus to mend it farther. Nor is our Traveller's before nor afterwards in the poem. Yet in eyery battle we
rendered— " C'eft une fantSme, que I'eleve fpeclmen of the Portuguefe literature lefs are wearied out with fuch Gazette returns of the flain and.
—it is a phantome which rifes from ttie happy. He very candidSy, and 'with much
bottom of the fea; his head touches the km'u.ledgc of his fuijeS, retails feveral of wounded-
clouds; the tempelts, the winds, the thun- the grofs Biifrepre-fentations and falfities of
ders are around him, his arms are ftretched Voltaire; and alfo adds a little blunder or i\^-, A r " f Ti"/ 1 1 '?' /
afar over the furface of the waters"—Yet two of his own t. And thoueh this Tra- Tivix VT^WTOV, Tim d va'lix.lov e^evix^i^sv
not one pifturefque idea of this is in the veller could not perceive || any beauty in the
Original If the phantom's arms are Itretch- epifode ofthefixth Lufiad, that eplfodewill
<7E^]oo^ TI^ict^Wi O/T~£ o! ZeO? wJo? E^SI/ ;
fed upon the furface of the waters, his not yield in poetical merit to all pie tales 'Aa'a'ocioy y.iv TT^aiTa, ^ Auroyoo^, ^ 'OmTy}i/,
fhoulders, and his head which touches the of Neftor in Homer.
clouds, muft only be above the tide. Yet, -I- As we have paid attention to the ftric- Kou Ao;\o7ra KAu7(J»}i/, ^ '0<p£A7iioy, ^ 'Aye^aoy,
though this imagcric, with tempefts, winds tures of Voltaire, fame is zrifo due to the
and thunders hanging around him, would be n-aifes which he bellows on the Lufiad. Ala-v^vbv T £lfsov T£, )ij 'iTmbvoov y.wyjx.ijy.vff'
truly abfurd upon canvqs, a celebrated Ita- 'hough he falfely affcrts that it wants con-
lian writer has not only cited Voltaire's de- neftion, he immediately adds, " Tout cda Ty? w..^ oy ^y s^oms ^QS.WWV sT^sv' oiVTOt^ s'vreiloi:.
fciptio", as that of the Original, but has frouve enfin, gus I'a.vray ejl f/eln del gran-
H^UV WQ O'QTOTg, &C..
mended that of the Frenchman by a ftroke ties ieitulcs — This only proves, in fine, that
of his own. The feet oftlie Phantom, fays the work is full of grand beauties, fince II. Lib. XL Un.. 299.
Sifncr ^Igaroiii, are in the unfathcimable thef^two hundred years it has been the de-
abyfs of the fea." (See his ireatlfe en New- liirhl of an ineenious nation."—The fiflion Thus imitated by Virgil,
ten's Theory of Light and Colour s) And of the apparition, he owns, will pleafe in
certainly, if his fhoulders and head reached every age ; and of the epilbde of Iaez> he
from the furface of the waters to the clouds, fays, 11 y a pea. d^endroits dans Vtrgile- plus
Csedicus AlCathoum obtruncat, Sacrator Hydafpem ::
the length which the Signer has given to his atteniiriffanl s y mieux ecrils — There are Partheniumque Rapo, &.praadurum viribus Orfen :
Tiarts under the water was no bad caltularion. few parts of Virgil more tender or better
Meffapus Cloniumque, Lycaoniumque Ericetem :
Nor is Algarotti the only abfurd retailer of written."
Illum,. infraenis equi lapfu tellure jacentem;
t As for example, Camdcns, he fays, was born in 1513, whilft John III. reigned, wliofc fucccflbr, Don
Emmanuel, fcnt V^fco de Gama on the dlfcovcry of India.** But this is jufl the femc as if a Portugucfc Hunc, peditem pedes. Et Lycius proceflerat Agis, S
Hiould give his countrymen an account of England, and tell them that George I. was fuccccdcd by Qgccn Quem tamen haud expers Valerus virtUtis avitas
Annc; and that Shakcfpcnre was born in t^ic reign of King'James.
|[ He thus williij ridicules it: A tale is told as law twcln Portugucfc went to EntUml, &c. Dejecit: Atronium Salius , Saliumque Nealces-
^Bn.1. x.747-
of
JD&/ ^^{(ou^, '^P^Colu^b^c^ ^oj")

^?€ 3-

ARGUMENT.

Hymn to Peace. Eulogy on the heroes slain in tlie war;

in which the Autlioi finds occasion to mention his Brother.
Address to the patriots who have survived the conHlct;
exhorting them to preserve the liberty they have csta-
bliAed. The danger of losing it by inattention illustmted
in the rape of the Golden Fleece. Freedom succeeding
to Despotism in the moral -world, libe Order succeediag1 to
Chaos in the physical world. Atlas, the guardian. Genius
of Africa, denounces to Hespcr the crimes of his people
in. the slavery of the Afif'»cans. The Author addresses his
countrymen on that subject, and oa the principles of
their government.
Hpsper, recurring to his object of showing Columbus the
importance of Ins discoveries, reverses Ihc order of time,
and exh&its the continent again in its savage state.
He then displays the progress of arts in America. Fur-
trade. Fisheries. Productions. Commerce. Education.
Pliilosophical discoveries. Pamtiug. Poetry.
256 THE COUJMBIAH
Sweeps in his march the mounds of ?rt away,
Blota with his breath the trembling disk of day, l60
Treads down whole nations every stride he takes,

And wraps their labors in his fiery flakes.

As Anarch erst arauhd his regions hurl'd
The wrecks, long crusW, of time's anterior worid ?
While nature mourn'd, in wild confusion tost,
Her suna extinguisht and her systems lost;

Light, life and instinct shared the dreary trance,

And gravitation fled the field of chance;
No laws remain'd of matter, motion, space;

Time lost his count, the universe his place; 170

Till Order came, in her cerulean robes,
And launched and rein'd the renovated globes,

Stock*d with harmonious worlds the vast Inane,

Archt her new heaven and fixt tier boundleBa reign:
So kings convulse the moral frame, the base
Of all the codes that can accord the race;

And so from their broad grasp, their deadly ban,

Tis yours to snatch this earth, to raise regeneratemah.

My friends, I love your fame, I joy to raise

The high-toned anthem of my country's praise *, 180

To sing her victories, virtues, wisdom, weal,

Boast with loud voice the patriot pride I feel» ;

 BOOK THE EIGHTH. 257

Warm wild! smg; and, to her failings blind,

Mislead myself, perhaps mislead mankind,
Land that I love! is this the whole we owe ?
Thy pride to pamper, thy fair Face to show;
Dwells there no blemish where such glories shine ?

And lurks no spot iu that bright sun of thine ?

Hark! a dread voice, with lieaven-astoundingstr&t'n,

Swd!» ?e a. fhousiand thunders o'ev the main, tgO

Rolls and reveirberates around thy hills,
.And Hesper's heart with pangs patcrna] fills,
Thou hearst him not; tis Attas, throned sublime,
Great brother guardian of old Afric's dime;
High o'er his coast he rears his frowning form,
Overlooks and calms his sky-borne fields of storm,
Flings off the clouds that round his should'ers hung,
And breaks from clogs of ice his trembling tongue;
While far thro space with rage and grief he glares,
Heaves his hear head and shakes the heaven he
bears;

—Son of my sire t 0 latest brightest birth 201

That sprartg from his fair spouse, prolific earth!
Great Hesper, say what sordid ceaseless hate
Impels thee thus to mar my elder state.
Our sire a^sign'd tti^e thy more glorious reign,

Secured and bounded by our laboring main;

r

268 THE COLUMBIAP.

That main (tho still my birfchright name it bear)

Thy sails o'ershadow, thy brave children share;

I grant it thus; while air surrounds the ball,

Let breezes blow, let oceans roll for all. 310

But thy proud sons, a strange uugenerous race,

Enslave my tribes, and each fair world disgrace;
Provoke wide vengeance on their lawless land,
The bolt ill placed in thy forbearing hand."
Enslave my tribes! then boast their cantons free,
Preach faith and justice, bend the sainted knee,
Invite all men their liberty to share,
Seek public peace, defy the assaults of war,
Plant, reap, consume, enjoy tlieir fearless toll,
Tame their wild floods, to fatten still their soil, 320
Enrich all nations with their nurturing store,
And rake with venturous fluke each wondering
shore.—

Enslave my tribes! what, half mankind imban,

Then read, expound, enforce the rights of man!

Prove plain and clear how nature's hand of old
Cast all men equal in her human mould!

Their fibres, feelings, reasoning powers the same,

Like wants await them, like desires inflame.

Thro former times with learned book they tread,

Revise past ages and rejudge the dead, 230

 BOOK THE EIGHTH. 259

Write, speak, avenge, for ancient suflfenngs feel,

Xmpale each tyrant on their pens of steel,
Declare how freemen can a world create,
And slaves and masters ruin every state.—

Enslave my tribes', and tlunkj with dumb disdain,

To scape this arm and prove my vengeance vain!
But look! methinlcs beneath my foot I ken
A few chain'd things that seem no longer men;

Thy sons perchance! whom Barbary's coast can tell

The sweets of that loved scourge they wield so well,
LinkM in a line, beneath the driver's goad, 241
*

See how they stagger with their lifted load;

The shoulder'd rock, just wrcncht from off my hill
And wet with drops their straining orbs distil,
Galls, grinds them sore, along the rampart led,
And the chain clanking counts the steps they tread.
By night close bolted in the bagmo's gloom,
Think how they ponder on their dreadful doom,
Recal the tender sire, the weeping bride,
The home, far sunder'd by a waste of tide, 250
Brood all the ties that once endeav'd them there,

But now, strung stronger, edge their keen despair.

Till here a fouler fiend arrests their pace:

Plague, with bis burning breath and bloated face,

ss
s6o THE COLUMBIAD.

With saffron eyes that thro the dungeon shine,

And the blaclt tumors bursting from; the groin,
Stalks o'er the slave; who, cowering on the sod,

Shrinks from the Demon and invokes his God,

Sucks hot contagion with his quivering breath, 259
And, rack'd with rending torture, sinks in death.
Nor shall these pangs atone the nation's: crime?
Far heavier vengeance, in tlie march ofttme,

Attends them still;; if still they dare debase

And hold inthralt'd the millions of my race;
A vengeance that shall shake the world's deep frame,
That heaven abhors, and hell.might shrink to name.

Nature, long outraged, delves the crusted sphere,

And moulds the mining mischief dark and drear;
Europa too the penal shock shall find,
The rude soul-selling monsters of mankind; 27°
Where Alps and Axides at their bases meet,
In earth's mid caves to lock tbcir granite feet,
Heave their broad spines, expand each breathin^lobe,,
And with their massy, members rib the globe,
Her cauldron'd floods of fire their blast prepare;

Her wallowing womb of subterranean war

Waits but the fissure that my wave shall find,
To force tlie foldings of the rocky rind,
 BOOK THE EIGHTH. 261

Crash your curst continent, and whirl on high

The vast avulsion vaulting thro the sky,, 380

Pling far the bursting fragments, scattering wide

/

Rocks, mountains, nations o'er the swallowing tide.

Plunging and gorging with alternate sweep,
They storm the day-vault and lay bare the deep,
Toss, tumble, -plough .their place, then slow subside,
And swell each ocean as their butk they hide;
Two oceans dasht in one! .that climbs and roars,
And seeks in vain the'exterminated shores,

The deep drencht hemisphere. Far sunk from day,

It crumbles, rolls, it churns the settling sea, SgO

Turns up each prominence, heaves every side,

To pierce once more the Jandless length of tide;
Till some poized Pamba.marca looms at last
A dim lone island in the watery waste,
Mourns all his nuuor mountains wreck'd and huri'd,
Stands the sad relic of a ruin*d world,
Attests the wrath our mother kept in store,

And rues her judgments on the race she bore.

No saving Ark around him rides the main,
Nor Dove weak-wing'd her footing finds again; 300
His own bald Eagle skims alone the sky,
Darts from all points of heaven her searching eye,
2fi2 THE COLUMBIA!).

Kens, thro the gloom, her ancient rock of resty

And finds her cavern'd crag, her solitary nest.
Thus toned the Titan his tremendous kaell^
And lash'd his ocean to a loftier swell;

Earth groans responsive, and with laboring woes

Leans o'er the surge and stills the storm he throws.
Fathers and friends, I know the boding fears

Of angry genii and of rending spheres 310

Assail not souls like yours , whom Science bright
Thro shadowy nature leads with surer light;
For whom she strips the heavens of love and hate,
Strikes from Jove's hand the brandisht bolt of fate,

Gives each effect its own indubious cause,

Divides her moral from her physic laws,
Shows where the virtues find their nurturing food^
And men theif motives to be just and good.
You scorn the Titan's threat ^ nor shall I strain
The powers of pathos in a task so vala 320
As Afric1s wrongs to sing ; for what avails
To harp for you these known familiar tales ?
To tongue mute misery, and re-rack the soul
With crimes oft; copied from that bloody scroll
Where Slavery pens hec woes ; tho tis but there
We learn the weight that mortal life can be.
 BOOK THE EIGHTH. 263
The tale might startle still the accustom'd ear,

Still shake the nerve that pumps the pearly tear,

Melt every heart, and thro the nation gain
Full many a voice to break the barbarous chain. 330

But why to sympathy for guidance fly,

(Her aids uncertain and of scant supply)
When your own self-excited sense affords
d

A guide more sure, and every sense accords ?

Where strong self-interest, jom'd with duty, lies,

Where doing right demands no sacrifice,

Where profit, pleasure, life-expanding fame
League their aHurements to support the claim,
Tis safest there the impleaded cause to trust;
Men well instructed will be always just. 340

.From slavery then your rising realms to save,

Regard the master, notice not the slave;
Consult alone for freemen, and bestow
Your best, your only cares, to keep them so.

Tyrants are never free; and, small and great,

All masters must be tyrants soon or late;

So nature works; and oft the lordling knave

Turns out at once a tyrant and a slave,

Struts, cringes, bullies, begs, as courtiers must,

Makes one a god, another treads in dust, 35^.
s6<4 THE COLUMBIAD.

Fears all alike, and filches whom he can,

But knows no equal, finds no friend in man.

Ah! would you not be slaves, with lords and kings,
Then be not masters; there the danger springs
The whole crude system that torments this earth,
Of rank, privation, privilege of birth,
False honor, fraud, corruption, civil jars,
Tlie rag^ of conquest and the curse of wars,

Pandora's total shower, ail ills combined

That erst o'erwhelm'4 and still distress mankind,

Box'd up secure in your deliberate hand, 36*1

Wait your behest, to fix or fly this land.

Equality of Right is natures plan;
And following nature is the m?roh of man.
Whenc'er he deviates in the least degree,
When, free himself, he would be more than free,
The baseless column, rear'd to bear his bust, ;

Falls as he mounts, and whelms him in the dust.

See Rome^s rude sircs, with autocratic ^Ait,
Tread down their tyrant and erect their state; 3^0

Their state secured, they deem it wise mul brave

That every freeman should command a slave,

And, flusht with franchise of his camp and town,

Rove thro the world and hunt the nations down ;
 BOOK XKB EIGHT.H. s65
Master Sttid man the same vile spint gainis,
Rome cliAins'tltewor.ld, apd wears .herself the' chain?.

Mark modern ISurope wifh her faUtlEll codes,

Serfs, villains, vasisals, ?[i,obles, kings and god^
All slaves of different 'gr^es, corr.upt &n4 curst
With h.igh and low, ;fpr sensejess r^ls. ^thnrst, A80
Wage endless wars; pot: figbtfwg :to >he :free,
Byt cujw pecus, .whose bftse,her<i they 11 be.
Too much of Europe, here transplanted o'cr,

Nursed feudal feelings on your tented .shoi-e,

Brought sftblc serfs:from AfiTic, call'd it gain,

And urge^ your si res to forge :the -fatal chain..

But now, the tents o'erturn'd, the war dogs fled,
Now fearless Freedom rears at last her head

Matcht with celestial Peace,.—luy friends, 'beware

To shade the splendors of so bright a pair; 390

Complete their triumph, fix their firm abode,
Purge all privations from your liberal code,
Restore their souls to men, give earth repose,
And save your sons from slavery, wars and woes.

Based on its rock of Right your empire lies,

On walls of wisdom let the fabric rise;

Preserve your principles, their force unfold,

Let nations prove them and let kings beiiuld.
266 THE COLUMBIAD.

E&UALITV, your first firm-grounded gjfcand ,

Then FREE ELECTION ; then your FEDEB.AL BAND ;

This holy Triad should forever shine 401

The great compendium of all rights divine,
Creed of all schools, whence youths by millions dvaw
Their themes of right, their decalogues of law;
Till men shall wonder (m these codes inured)
How wars were made, how tyrants were endured.

Then shall your works of art superior rise,

Your fruits perfume a larger length of skies,

Canals careering climb your sunbright hills, 409

Vein the green slopes and strow their nurturing rills,
Thro tunneFd heights and sundering ridges glide,
Rob the rich west of half Kenhawa's tide,
Mix your wide climates, all their stores confound,
And plant new ports in every midland mound*
Your lawless Missisippi, now who slimes
And drowns and desolates his waste of climes^
Ribb'd with your dikes, his torrent shall restrain,
And ask your leave to travel to the main;
Won from his wave while rising cantons smile,

Rear their glad nations and reward their toil. 420

Thus Nile's proud flood to human hands ofyore
Raised and resign'd his tide-createcl shore,
 BOOK THE EIGHTH. 267

CalFd from his Ethiop hills their hardy swains,

And wave4 their harvests p'er his newborn plains;

Earth's richest realm from his tamed current sprung;

There nascent science toned her infant tongue,
Taught the young arts their tender force to try,
To state the seasons and unfold the sky;
Till o'er the world extended and refined,

They rule the destinies of humankind. 430

Now had Columbus well enjo/d the sight
Of armies vanqulsht and of fleets in flight,
From all Hesperia's heaven the darkness flown,
And colon crowds to sovereign sages grown.

To cast new glories o'er the changing dime,

The guardian Power reversed the flight of time,
Roll'd back the years that led their course before,
Stretch'd out immense the wild uucultured shore;
Then shifts the total scene, and rears to view
Arts and the men that useful arts pursue. 440
As o er the canvass when the painter's mind
Glows with a future landscape well design'dj

While Panorama's wondrous aid he calls,

To crowd whole realms within his circling walls,

Lakes, fields and forests, ports and navies rise,

A new creation to his kindling eyes;

 .-^r^2A /^J/e
270 WHITE-JACKET CHAPTER 65
The breeze blew fresher and fresher; but, with even our main-rpyal set,
we dashed along through a cream-colored ocean of illuminated foam.
White-Jacket was then in the top; and it v^as glorious to look down and see
our black hull butting the white sea with its broad bows like a ram.
We must beat them with such a breeze, dear Jack," said I to our noble
Captain of the Top.
'But the same breeze blows forjolin Bull, remember," replied Jack,
who, being a Briton, perhaps favored the Englishman more than the
Neversink.
But how we boom through the billows!" cried Jack, gazing over the
top-rail; then, flinging forth his arm, recited,
'Aslope, and gliding on the leeward side,
The bounding vessel cuts the roaring tide.'
Camoens! White-Jacket, Camoens! Did you ever read him ? The Lusiad, I
mean? It's the man-of-wai- epic of the world, my lad. Give me Gama for a
Commodore, say I—Noble Gama! And Mickle, White-Jacket, did you ever
read of him ? William Julius Mickle ? Camoens's Translator ? A disappointed
man though, White-Jacket. Besides his version of the Lusiad, he wrote
many forgotten things. Did you ever see his ballad of Cuplnor Hall ?—
No ?—Why, it gave Sir Walter Scott the hint of Kenilworth. My father
knew Mickle when he went to sea on board the old Romney man-of-war.
How many great men have been sailors, White-Jacket! They say Homer
himself was once a tar,-even as his hero, Ulysses, was both a sailor and a
shipwright. I'll swear Shakspeare was once a captain of the forecastle. Do'
you mind the first scene in The Tempest, White-Jacket ? And the world-
finder, Christopher Columbus, was a sailor! and so was Camoens, who went
to sea with Gama, else we had never had the Lusiad, White-Jacket. Yes, I've
sailed over the very track that Carpoens sailed—round the East Cape into
the Indian Ocean. I've been in Don Jose's garden, too, in Macao, and
bathed my feet in the blessed dew of the walks where Camoens wandered
before me. Yes, White-Jacket, and I have seen and sat in the cave at the end
of the flowery, winding way, where Camoens, according to tra4ition,
composed certain parts of his Lusiad. Ay, Camoens was a sailor once!
Then, there's Falconer, whose 'Shipwreck' will never founder, though he
himself, poor fellow, was lost at sea in the Aurora frigate. Old Noah was
the first sailor. And St. Paul, too, knew how to box the compass, my lad!
mind you that chapter in Acts ? I couldn't spin the yarn better myself. Were
A MAN-OF-WAR RACE ^•/J.
you ever in JVtalta ? They caUed it Melita in the Apostle's day. I have been in
Paul's cave there, White-Jacket. They say a piece of it is good for a charm
against shipwreck; but I never tried it. There's Shelley, he was quite <
sailor. Shelley—poor lad! a Percy, too—but they ought to have let hiir
sleep in his sailor's grave—he was drowned in the Mediterranean, yoi:
know, near Leghorn—and not burn his body, as they did, as if he had beer
a bloody Turk. But many people thought him so, White-Jacket, becaus<
he didn't go to mass, and because he wrote Queen M.ab. Trelawny was b-:
at the burning; and he was an ocean-rover, too ! Ay, and Byron helped pu
a piece of a keel on the fire; for it was made of bits of a wreck, they say;oni
wreck burning another! And was not Byron a sailor ? an amateur forecastle.
man, White-Jacket! so he was; else how bid the ocean heave and fall in tha
grand, majestic way ? I say, White-Jacket, d'ye mind me ? there never was;
very great man yet who spent all his life inland. A snuffofthe sea, my boy
is inspiration; and having been once out of sight of land, has been, thi
making of many a ti-ue poet and the blasting of many pretenders; for, d'yi
see, there's no gammon about the ocean; it knocks die false keel right off
pretender's bo-yvs; it tells him just what he is, and makes him feel it, too. 1
sailor's life, I say, is the thing to bring us mortals out. What does the blesse
Bible say ? Don't it say that we main-top-men alone see the marvelous sighi
and wonders ? Don't deny the blessed Bible, now! don't do it! How it rod
up here, my boy!" holding on to a shroud; "but it only proves what I \
been saying—the sea is the place to cradle genius! Heave and faU, oJ
sea!"
"And you, also, noble Jack," said I, "what are you but a sailor?
"You're merry, my boy," said Jack, looking up with a glance like th
of a sentimental archangel doomed to drag out his eternity in disgrac
"But mind you, White-Jacket, there are many great men in the woi
besides Commodores and Captains. I've that here, White-Jacket"—touc
ing his forehead—"which, under happier skies—perhaps in yon solita
star there, peeping down from those clouds—might have made a Hoir
of me. But Fate is Fate, White-Jacket; and we Homers who happen to
captains of tops must write our odes in our hearts, and publish them in c
heads. But look! the Captain's on the poop.
It was now midnight; but all the officers were on deck.
"Jib-boom, there!" cried fhe Lieutenant of the Watch, going forw
and hailing the headmost look-out. "D'ye see any thing of those feUc
now?
"See nothing, sir.
390 WHITE-JACKET • CHAPTER 91

But, alas for the man-of-w^r's-man., 'who, though he may take a Han-

nibal oath against the service; yet, cruise after cruise, and after forswearing
it again and again, he is driven back to the spirit-tub and the gun-deck by
his old hereditary foe, the ever-devilish god ofgrog.
On this point, let some of the crew of the Neversink be called to the
stand. Chapter 92
You, Captain of the WaisfeJ and you, seamen of the fore-top! an4 you,
After-guard's-men and others! how came you here at the guns of the North
Carolina, after registering your solemn vows at the gaUey of the Neversink ?
They all hang their heads. I know the cause; poor fellows! perjure your- The last of the Jacket
selves not again; swear not at all hereafter.
Ay, these very tars—the foremost in.denouncing the Navy; who had
bound themselves by the most tremendous oaths—these very men, not
three days after getting ashore, were rolling round the streets in penniless
drunkenness; and next day many of them. were to be found on board of
the guardo or receiving-ship. Thus, in part, is the Navy manned.
But what was still more surprising, and tended to impart a new and
strange insight into the character of sailors, and overthrow sonle long-
established ideas concerning them as a class, was this: numbers of men who,
during the cruise, had passed for exceedingly prudent, nay, parsimonious LREADY HAS White-Jacket chronicled the mishaps and incon-
persons, who would even refuse you a patch, or a needleful of thread, and, veniences, troubles and tribulations of all sorts brought upon him

from their stinginess, procured the name of Ravelings—no sooner were by that unfortunate but indispensable garment of his. But now it
these men fairly adrift in harbor, and under the influence of frequent befaUs him to record how this jacket, for the second and last time, came
quaffings, than their fhree-years'-earned wages flew right and left; they near proving his shroud.

summoned whole boarding-houses of sailors to the bar, and treated them Of a pleasant midnight, our good frigate, now somewhere off the Capes
over and over again. Fine fellows! generous-hearted tars! Seeing this sight, of Virginia, was running on bravely, when the breeze, gradually dying,

I thought to myself. Well, these generous-hearted tars on shore were the left us slowly gliding toward our still invisible port.
greatest curmudgeons afloat! it's the bottle that's generous, not they! Yet Headed by Jack Chase, the quarter-watch were reclining in the top,
the popular conceit concerning a sailor is derived from his behavior ashore; talking about the shdre delights into which they intended to plunge, while
whereas, ashore he is no longer a sailor, but a landsman for the time. A our captain often broke in with allusions to similar conversations when he

man-of-war's-man is only a man-of-war's-man at sea; arid the sea is the
place to learn what he is. But •we have seen that a man-of-war is but this
old-fashioned world of ours afloat, full of all manner of characters—full of
strange contradictions; and though boasting some faie fellows here and
was on board the English line-of-battle ship, the Asia, drawing nigh to
Portsmouth, in England, after the battle of Navarino.
Suddenly an order was given ? set the main-top-gallant-stun'-sail, and
the halyards not being rove, Jack Chase assigned to me that duty. Now this-

there, yet, upon the whole, charged to the combings of her hatchways with reeving of the halyards of a main-top-gallant-stun'-sail is a business that

the spirit ofBelial and all unrighteousness. eminently demands sharpsightedness, skill, and celerity.
Consider that the end of a line, sonte two hundred feet long, is to be
carried aloft, in your teeth, if you please, and dragged far out on the giddiest
of yards, and after being wormed and twisted about through all sorts of

391
 WHITE-JACKET • CHAPTER ?2
392
intricacies—turning abrupt comers at the abruptest of angles—is to be
dropped, clear of all obstructions, in a straight plumb-Une right down to the
deck. In the course of this business, there is a multitude ofsheeve-holes and
blocks, through which you must pass it; often the rope is a very tight fit, so
as to make it like threading a fme cambric needle with rather coarse thread.
Indeed, it is a thing only deftly to be done, even by day. Judge, then, what
it must be to be threading capbric needles by night, and at sea, upward of
a hundred feet aloft in the air.
With the end of the line in one hand, I was mounting the top-mast
shrouds, when our Captain of the Top told me that I had better offjacket;
but though it wvs not a very cold night, I had been reclining so long in the
top, that I had become somewhat chilly, so I thought best not to comply
with the hint.
Having reeved the line through all the inferior blocks, I went out with
it to the end of the weather-top-gallant-yard-arm, and was in the act of
leaning over and passing it through the suspended jewel-block there, when
the ship gave a plunge in the sudden swells of the calm sea, and pitching
me sdU further over the yard, threw the heavy skirts of my jacket right
7 seemed hurrying me away; in a trance I yielded, and sank deeper down
over my head, completely muffling me. Somehow I thought it was the sail
that had flapped, and, -under that impression, threw up my hands to drag it
from my head, relying upon the sail itself to support me meanwhile. Just
then the ship gave another sudden jerk, and, head foremost, I pitched from
the yard. I knew where I was, from the rush of the air by my ears, but all
else was a nightmare. A bloody film was before my eyes, through which,
ghost-like, passed and repassed my father, mother, and sisters. An unutter-
able nausea oppressed me; I was conscious of gasping; there seemed no
breath in my body. It was over one hundred feet that I fell—down, down,
with lungs collapsed as in death. Ten thousand pounds of shot seemed tied
to my head, as the irresistible law ofgravitadon dragged me, head foremost
and straight as a die, toward the infallible centre of this terraqueous globe.
All I had seen, and read, and heard, and all I had thoughj: and felt in my
life, seemed intensified in one fixed idea in my soul. But dense as this idea
was, it was made up of atoms. Having fallen from the projecting yard-
arm end. I was conscious of a collected satisfaction in feeling, that I should
not be dashed on the deck, but would sink into the speechless profound of
the sea.
With the bloody, blind film before my eyes, there was a still stranger
hum in my head, as if a hornet were there; and I thought to myself, Great
God! this is Death! Yet these thoughts were unmixed with alarm. Like
THE LAST OF THE JACKET 393
fi-ost-work that flashes and shifts its scared^hues in the sun, all my braided,
blended emotions were in themselves icy cold and calm.
So protracted did my fall seem, that I can even now recall the feeling
.of wondering how much longer it would be, ere all was Over and I struck.
Time seemed to stand stiU, and all the worlds seemed poised on their poles,
as I fell, soul-becalmed, through the eddying "whirl and swirl of the Mael-
strom air.
At first, as I have said, I must have been precipitated head foremost; but
I was conscious, at length, of a swift, flinging motion of my limbs, which
involuntarily threw themselves out, so that at last I must have fallen in a
heap. This is more likely, from the circumstance, that when I struck the sea,
I felt as if some one had smote me slantmgly across the shoulder and along
part of my right side.
As I gushed into the sea, a thunder-boom sounded in my ear; my soul
seemed flying from my mouth. The feeling of death flooded over me with
the billows. The blow from the sea must have turned me, so that I sank
almost feet foreinost through a soft, seething, foamy lull. Some current
with a glide. Purple and pathles^ was the deep calm now around me, flecked
by summer lightnings in an azure afar. The horrible nausea was gone; the
bloody, blind fihn turner a pale green; I wondered whether I was yet dead,
or stUl dying. But of a sudden some fashionl&ss form brushed my side—
some inert, coiled fish of the sea; the thrill of being alive again tingled in
my neryes, and the strong shunning of death shocked me through.
For one instant an agonizing revulsion came over me as I found myself
utterly sinking. Next moment the force of my fall was expended; and there
I hung, vibrating in the mid-deep. What wild sounds then rang in my ear!
'One was a soft moaning, as of low waves on the beach; the other wild and
heartlesslyjubila&t, as of the sea in the height of a tempest. Oh soul! thou
then heardest life and death : as he who stands upon the Corinthian shore
hears both the Idnian and the Aigean waves. The life-and-death poise soon
passed; and then I found myself slowly ascending, and caught a dim glim-
mering of light.
Quicker and quicker I mounted; till at last I bounded up like a buoy,
and my whole head was bathed ip the blessed air.
I had fallen in a line with the main-mast; I now found myself nearly
abreast of the mizzen-mast, the frigate slowly gliding by like a black world
in the water. Her vast hull loomed out of the night, showing hundreds of
seamen in the hammock-nettings, some tossing over ropes, others madly
394 WHITE-JACKET • CHAPTER p2

flinging overboard the hatnmocks; but I was too far out from them im-
mediately to reach what they threw. I essayed to swim toward the ship;
but instantly I was conscious of a feeling like bping pinioned in a feather-
bed, and, moving my hands, felt my jacket puffed out above my tight girdle
with water. I strove to tear it off; but it was looped together here and there,
and the strings were not then to be sundered by hand. I whipped out my
knife, that was tucked at my belt,'and ripped my jacket straight up and
Chapter 93
down, as if I were ripping open myself. With a violent struggle I then burst
out of it, and was free. Heavily soaked, it slowly sank before my eyes.
Sink! sink 1 oh shroud! thought I; sink forever! accursed jacket that thou
Cable and Anchor all clear
art!
"See that white shark!" cried a horrified voice from the taffrail; "he'U
have that man down his hatchway! Quick! the grains! the grains!''
The next instant that barbed bunch of harpoons pierced through and
through the unfortunate jacket, and swiftly sped down with it out of sight.
Being now astern of the frigate, I struck out boldly toward the elevated
pole of one of the life-buoys which had been cut away. Soon after, one of
the cutters picked me up. As they dragged me out of the water into the air,
the sudden transition of elements made my every limb feel like lead, and I
helplessly sunk into the bottom of the boat.
^ ND NOW THAT THE WHITE JACKET has sunk to the bottom
Ten minutes after, I was safe on board, an4, springing aloft, was ordered
of the sea, and the blessed Capes of Virginia are believed to be broad
to reeve anew the stun'-sail-halyards, which, slipping through the blocks
on our bow—though still out of sight—our five hundred souls are
when I had let go the end, had unrove and fallen to the deck.
fondly^dreamuigofhome, and the iron throats of the guns round the galley
The sail was soon set; and, as if purposely to salute it, a gentle breeze
re-echo with their songs and hurras—what more remains ?
soon came, and the Neversirik once more glided over the water, a soft ripple
Shall I tell what conflicting and almost crazy surmisings prevailed con-
at her bows, and leaving a tranquil wake behind.
ceming the precise harbor for which we were bound? For, according to
rumor, our Commodore had received sealed orders touching that matter,
which were not to be broken open till we gained a precise latitude of the
coast. Shall I tell how, at last, all this uncertainty departed, and many a fool-
ish prophecy was proved false, when our noble frigate—her longest pennant
at her main—wound her stately way into the innermost harbor of Norfolk.
like a plumed Spanish Grandee threading the corridors of the Escurial to-
ward the throne-room within? Shall I tell how we kneeled upon the holy
soil? How I begged a blessing of old Ushant, and one precious hair of his
beard for a keepsake? How Lemsford, .the gun-deck bard, offered up a
devout ode as a prayer of thanksgiving ? How saturnine Nord, the magni-
fico in disguise, refusing all companionship, stalked offinto the woods, like
the ghost of an old CaUfofJSagdad? How I swayed and swung the hearty
hand of Jack Chase, and nipped it to mine with a Carrick bend; yea, and
^

395
396 WHITE-JACKET • CHAPTER 93
kissed that noble hand of my liege lord and captain of my top, my sea-tutor
and sire ?
Shall I tell how the grand Commodore and Captain drove off from the
pier-head? How the Lieutenants, in undress, sat down to their last dinner
in the ward-room, and the Champagne, packed in ice, spirted and sparkled
like the Hot Springs out of a snow-drift in Iceland ? How the Chaplain went
offin his cassock, without bidding the people adieu ? How shrunken Cuticle,
the Surgeon, stalked over the side, the wired skeleton carried in his wake
by his cot-boy? How the Lieutenant of Marines sheathed his sword on the
poop, and, calling for wax and a taper, sealed the end of the scabbard with
his family crest and motto—Denique Ccelum ? How the Purser in due rime
mustered his money-bags, and paid us all off on the quarter-4eck—good
CABLE AND ANCHOR ALL CLEAR, 397
be remembered no more; when down from our main-mast comes our
Commodore's pennant, when down sinks its shooting stars from the sky.
By the mark, nine!" sings the hoary old leadsman, in the chains. And
thris, the mid-world Equator passed, our frigate strikes soundings at last.
Hand in hand we top-mafes stand, rocked in our Pisgah top. And over
the starry waves, and broad out into the blandly blue and boundless night,
spiced with strange sweets from the long-sought land—the whole long
cruise predestinated ours, though often in tempest-time we almost refused
to believe in that far-distant shore—straight out into tha.t fragrant night,
ever-noble Jack Chase, matchless and unmatchable Jack Chase stretches
forth his bannered hand, and, pointing shoreward, cries: "For the last time,
hear/Camoens, boys!

and bad, sick and well, all receiving their wages; though, truth to tell, some
I 'How calm the waves, how mild the balmy gale !
reckless, improvident seamen, who had lived too fast during the cruise, had
The Halcyons call, ye Lusians spread the sail!
little or nothing now standing on the credit side of their Purser's accounts ?
Appeased, old Ocean now shaU rage no more;
Shall I tell of the Retreat of the Five Hundred inland; not, alas! in battle-
Haste, point our bowsprit for yon shadowy shore.
array, as at quarters, but scattered broadcast over the land ?
Soon shaU the transports of your natal soil
Shall I tell how the Neversink was at last stripped of spars, shrouds, and
O'erwb^lm in bounding joy the thoughts of every toil.'"
sails—had her guns hoisted out—her powder-magazine, shot-lockers, anfl
armories discharged—till not one vestige of a fighting thing was left in her,
from furthest stem to uttermost stern ?
No! let all this go by; for our anchor sdU hangs from our bows, though
its eager flukes dip their points in the impatient waves. Let us leave the ship
on the sea—still with the land out of sight—still with brooding darkness
on the face of the deep. I love an indefinite, infinite background—a vast,
heaving, rolling, mysterious rear!
It is night. The meagre moon is in her last quarter—that betokens the
end of a cruise that is passing. But the stars look forth in their everlasting
brightness—and that is the everlasting, glorious Future, forever beyond us.
We main-top-men are aU aloft in the top; and round our mast we circle,
a brother-band, hand in hand, all spliced together. We haye reefed the last
top-sail; trained the last gun; blown the last match; bowed to the last blast;
been tranced in the last calm. We have mustered our last round the capstan;
been rolled to grog the last time; for the last time swung in our hammocks;
for the last time turned out at the sea-gull call of the watch. We have seen
our last man scourged at the gangway; our last man gasp out the ghost in
the stifling Sick-bay; our last man tossed to the sharks. Our last death-
denouncing Article of War has been read; and far inland, in that blessed
clime whitherward our frigate now glides, thp last wrong in our frigate will
^/-'.//fi-^
316 BH-LY BUDD, SAILOR AND OTHER STORIES
the allegation. But allowed as a verity, how significant
would it be of England's straits at the time confronted
by those wars which like a flight of h^rpies rose shrieking
from the din and dust of the fallen Bastille. That era
appears measurably clear to us who look back at it, and
but read of it. But to the grandfathers of us graybeards,
the more thoughtful of them, the genius of it presented
an aspect like that of Camoens' Spirit of the Cape, an
eclipsing menace mysterious and prodigious. Not Ainer-
ica was exempt from apprehension. At the height ofNa-
poleon's unexampled ctinquests, there were Americans
who had fought at Bunker Hill who looked forward to
the possibility that the Atlantic might prove no barrier
against the ultimate schemes of this French portentous
upstart from the revolutionary chaos who seemed in act
of fulfilling judgment prefigured in the Apocalypse..
But the less credence was to be given to the gun-deck
talk touching Claggart, seeing that no man holding his
office in a man-of-war can ever hope to be popular with
the crew. Besides, in derogatory comments upon anyone
against whom they have a grudge, or for any reason or
no reason mislike, sailors are much like landsmen: they
are apt to exaggerate or romance it.
About as much was really known to the Bellipotent's
tars of the master-at-arms' career before entering the ser<
vice as an astronomer kno^vs about a comet's travels prior
to its first observable appearance in the sky. The verdict
of the sea quidnuncs has been cited only by way of show-
ing what sort of moral impression the man made upon
rude uncultivated natures whose conceptions of human
wickedness were necessarily,of the narrowest, limited to
ideas of vulgar rascality-a thief among the swinging ham-
mocks during a night watch, or the man-brokers and land*
sharks of the seaports.
It was no gossip, however, but fact that thougb, as
before hinted, Claggart upon his entrance into the navy
BILLY BUDD, SAILOR 317
was, as a novice, assigned to the least honorable section
of a man-of-wa^-'s crew, embracing the drudgery, he did
not long remain there. The spperior capacity he imme-
diately evinced, his constitutional sobriety, an ingrariat-
ing deference to superiors, together with a peculiar ferreting
genius manifested on a singular occasion; all this, capped
by a certain austere patriotism, abruptly advanced him
to the position of master-at-arms.
Of this maritime chief of police the ship's corporals,
so called, were the immediate subordinates, and com-
pliant ones; and this, as is to be noted in some business
departments ashore, almost to a degree inconsistent with
entire moral volition. His place put various converging
wires of underground influence under the chiefs control,
capable when astutely worked through his understrap-
pers of operating to the mysterious discqmfort, if nothing
worse, of any of the sea commonaky.
9
Life in the foretop well agreed with Billy Budd. There,
when not acmally engaged on the yards yet higher aloft,
the topmen, who as such had been picked out for youth
and activity, constituted an aerial club lounging at ease
against the smaller stun'sails rolled up into cushions, spin-
ning yarns like the lazy gods, and frequently amused with
what was going on in the busy world of the decks below.
No wonder then that a young fellow of Billy's disposition
was well content in such society. Giving no cause of
offehse to anybody, he was always alert at a call. So in
the merchant service it had been with him. But now such
a punctiliousness in duty was shown that his topmates
would sometimes gOod-naturedly laugh at him for it.
This heightened alacrity had its cause, namely, the
impression made upon him by the first formal gangway-
punishment he had ever witnessed, which befell the day
 7/€
868 UNCOLLECTED POETRY
But Donald he has promised to stand by the plank;
So I'U shake a friendly hand ere I sink.
But—no! It is dead then I'll be, come to thmk.—
I remfember TafFthe Welshman when he sank.
And his cheek it was like the budding pink.
But me they'U lash in hammock, drop me depp.
Fathoms down, fathoms down, how I'll dream
fast asleep.
I feel it stealing now. Senti-y, are you there?
Just ease these darbies at the wrist,
And roll me over fair.
I am sleepy, and the oozy weeds about me twist.
Camoens
(Before Tasso)
RESTLBSS, restless, craving rest,
Forever must I fan this fire,
Forever in flame on flame aspire?
Yea, for the god demands thy best.
Bl; The world with endless beauty teems,
K; And thought evokes new-worlds of dreams:
Then hunt the flying herds of themes.
And fan, yet fan thy fendd fire
Until the crudbled ore shall show
That fire can purge as well as glow
In ordered ardor uobly strong,
Flame to the height of ancient song.
THE CONTINENTS 86p
(After Tasso)
Camoens in the hosfita.1
Suggested, by a, bust oftha-tpoet
What now avails the pageatit verse,
Trophies and arms with music borne?
Base is the world-, and some rehearse
How noblest meet ignoble scorn.
Vain now thy ardor, vain thy fire,
Dellrium mere, and mad unsound desire:
Fate's knife hath ripped the chorded lyre.
Exhausted by the exacting lay,
Thou dost but fall a surer prey
To wile and guile ill understood;
While they who work them, fair in face,
Still keep their strength in prudent place,
And claim they -worthier run life's race,
Serving high God with useful good.
The Continents
FROM bright Stamboul Death crosses o'er;
Beneath the cypress evermore
His camp he pitches by the shore
Of Asia old.
Requiring this unsodal mood
Stamboul's immyrtled multitude
Bless AUah and the sherbert good
And Europe hold.
Even so the cleaving Bosphorous parts
Life and Death.—Dissembling hearts!
Over the gulf the yearning starts
To meet—infold!
 /
The. Portent
(1859)
^,
Hanging from the beam,
Slowly swaying (si^ch the lcvw),
Gaunt the sha.d-ow on yourgre&n,
Shena-ndodh!
The cut is on the crown
(Lo, John Brown),
And the- stabs shall heal no mare.

Hiiiden in the cap

Is the anguish none can d.rcvw;
So your future veils its face,
Shena-ndoa-h!
But the streaming bearil is shown
(Weird John Brown),
The meUor of the war.

Misgivings
(i860)
^
WHEN ocean-clouds over inland hills
Sweep storming in late autumn brown,
And horror the sodden valley fills,
And the spire falls crashing in the town,
I muse upon my country's ills-
The tempest bursting from the waste of Time
On the world's fairest hope linked with man's foulest crime.

Nature's dark side is heeded now—

(Ah! optimist-cheer disheartened flown)—
A child may read the moody brow
Of yon black mountain lone.
With shouts the torrents down the gorges go,
And storms are formed behind the storm we feel:
The hemlock shakes in the rafter, the oak ui the driving keel.
36 BATTLE-PIpCES
So nerved, you fought, wisely and well,
And live,' twice live in life and story;
But over your M.ofaitor dirges swell,
In wind and wave that keep the rites of glory.
The Tcmeraw^
(Supposed to bavs been swggKSted to an Englishman of
the oU ord^by the fight oft^e Monitor dnA Merrimac)
\ The Victory, whose Admiral,
THE gloomy hulls, in armor grim,
~~)Like clouds o'er moors have met,
And prove that oak, and iron, and man
Are tough in fibre yet.
But Splendors wane. The sea-fight yields
No front of old display;
The gamkure, emblazonment,
And heraldry all decay.
Towering afar in parting light,
The fleets like Albion's forelands shine—
The full-ssdled fleets, the shrouded show
Of Ships-of-the-Line.
The fighting Temeraire,
Built of a thousand trees,
Lunging out her lightnings,
And beetling o'er the seas—i
0 Ship, how brave and fair,
That fought so oft and well,
On open decks you manned the gun
Armorial.d
What cheerings did you share,
Impulsive in the van,
When down upon leagued France and Spain
We English ran-
THE TEMERAIRE 37
The freshet at your bowsprit
lf:^a
Like the foam upon the can.
Bickering, your colors
Licked up the Spanish air,
You flapped with flames ofbatde-flags- 1','a
Your challenge, Temeraire!
The rear ones of our fleet
They yearned to share your place,
Still vying with the Victory
Throughout that earnest race—
With orders uobly won,
Shone m the globe of the battle glow—
The angel in that sun.
Parallel in story,
Lo, the stately pair,
As late in grapple ranging,
The foe between them there—
When four great hulls lay tiered,
And the fiery tempest cleared,
And your prizes twain appeared,
Temeraire!
^ But Trafalgar' is oyer now,
The quarter-deck undone;
The carred and castled navies fire
Their evening-gun.
0, Titan Temeraire,
Your stern-lights fade away;
Your bulwarks to the years must yield,
And heart-of-oak decay.
A pigmy steam-tug tows you,
Gigantic, to the shore-
w
Dismantled of your guns and spars, !•! S
And sweeping wings of war.
The rivets clinch th^iron-clads,
Men learn a deadlier lore;
But Fame has nailed your battle-flags-
Your ghost it sails before:
 BATTLE-PIECES
38
0, the navies old and oaken,
0, the Temeraire no more!
A Utilitarwn View of the Monitor's Fight
PLAIN be the phrase, yet apt the verse,
More ponderous than nimble;
For since gruned War here laiS^side
His Orient pomp, 'would ill befit"
Overmuch to ply
The rhyme's barbaric cymbal.
Hail to victory without the gaud
Of glory; zeal that/needs no fans
Of banners; plain mechanic power
Plied cogently in War now placed—
Where War belongs—
Among the trades and artisans.
Yet this was battle, and intense—
Beyond the strife of fleets heroic;
Deadlier, closer, cahn 'mid storm;
No passion; all went on by crank,
PivolS and screw,
And calculations of calorie.
Needless to dwell; the stofy's known.
The ringing of those plates on plates
Still ringeth Jround the world—
The clangor of that blacksmiths' fray.
The anvil-din
Resounds this message from the Fates:
War yet shall be, and to the end;
Butwar-paint shows the streaks of weather;
War yet shall be, but warriors
Are now but operatives; War's made
THE BATTLE FOR THE MISSISSIPPI 39
Less grand than Peace,
And a singe runs through lace and feather.
^ ShUoh
A Requiem
(April, 1862)
SKIMMING lightly, wheeUng still,
The swalloiys fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
The forest-fidd ofShUoh—
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched ones stretched m pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
Around the church ofShiloh—
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
And natural prayer
^» Of dying foemen mingled there—
Foemqi at morn, but friends at eve—
Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows slum,
And all is hushed at Shiloh.
The Battle for f he Mississippi
(April, 1862)
\^
WHEN Israel camped by Migdol hoar,
Down at her feet her shawm she threw,
But Moses sung and timbrels rung
For Pharaoh's stranded crew.
So Gpd appears in apt events-