National Epics Part 47

"Then began the tears to flow; then the shrieks of mothers, sisters, and wives rent the air, and as we waved farewell an ancient man cried out to us on the thirst for honor and for fame that led us to undertake such a voyage.

"Soon our native mountains mingled with the skies, and the last dim speck of land having faded, we set our eyes to scan the waste of sea before us.

From Madeira's fair groves we pa.s.sed barren Masilia, the Cape of Green, the Happy Isles, Jago, Jalofo, and vast Mandinga, the hated sh.o.r.e of the Gorgades, the jutting cape called by us the Cape of Palms, and southward sailed through the wild waves until the stars changed and we saw Callisto's star no longer, but fixed our eyes on another pole star that rises nightly over the waves. The s.h.i.+ning cross we beheld each night in the heavens was to us a good omen.

"While thus struggling through the untried waves, and battling with the tempests, now viewing with terror the waterspouts, and the frightful lightnings, now comforted by the sight of mysterious fire upon our masts, we came in sight of land, and gave to the trembling negro who came to us some bra.s.s and bells. Five days after this event, as we sailed through the unknown seas, a sudden darkness o'erspread the sky, unlighted by moon or star. Questioning what this portent might mean, I saw a mighty phantom rise through the air. His aspect was sullen, his cheeks were pale, his withered hair stood erect, his yellow teeth gnashed; his whole aspect spoke of revenge and horror.

"'Bold are you,' cried he, 'to venture hither, but you shall suffer for it. The next proud fleet that comes this way shall perish on my coast, and he who first beheld me shall float on the tide a corpse. Often, O Lusus, shall your children mourn because of me!' 'Who art thou?' I cried. 'The Spirit of the Cape,' he replied, 'oft called the Cape of Tempests.'"

The king of Melinda interrupted Gama. He had often heard traditions among his people of the Spirit of the Cape. He was one of the race of t.i.tans who loved Thetis, and was punished by Jove by being transformed into this promontory.

Gama continued: "Again we set forth, and stopped at a pleasant coast to clean our barks of the sh.e.l.l-fish. At this place we left behind many victims of the scurvy in their lonely graves. Of the treason we met with at Mozambique and the miracle that saved us at Quiloa and Mombas, you know already, as well as of your own bounty."

Charmed with the recital of Gama, the King of Melinda had forgotten how the hours pa.s.sed away. After the story was told the company whiled away the hours with dance, song, the chase, and the banquet, until Gama declared that he must go on to India, and was furnished with a pilot by the friendly king.

Bacchus, enraged at seeing the voyage so nearly completed, descended to the palace of Neptune, with crystal towers, lofty turrets, roofs of gold, and beautiful pillars inwrought with pearls. The sculptured walls were adorned with old Chaos's troubled face, the four fair elements, and many scenes in the history of the earth. Roused by Bacchus, the G.o.ds of the sea consented to let loose the winds and the waves against the Portuguese.

During the night, the Lusians spent the time in relating stories of their country. As they talked, the storm came upon them, and the vessels rose upon the giant waves, so that the sailors saw the bottom of the sea swept almost bare by the violence of the storm. But the watchful Venus perceived the peril of her Lusians, and calling her nymphs together, beguiled the storm G.o.ds until the storm ceased. While the sailors congratulated themselves on the returning calm, the cry of "Land!" was heard, and the pilot announced to Gama that Calicut was near.

Hail to the Lusian heroes who have won such honors, who have forced their way through untravelled seas to the sh.o.r.es of India! Other nations of Europe have wasted their time in a vain search for luxury and fame instead of reclaiming to the faith its enemies! Italy, how fallen, how lost art thou! and England and Gaul, miscalled "most Christian!" While ye have slept, the Lusians, though their realms are small, have crushed the Moslems and made their name resound throughout Africa, even to the sh.o.r.es of Asia.

At dawn Gama sent a herald to the monarch; in the mean time, a friendly Moor, Moncaide, boarded the vessel, delighted to hear his own tongue once more. Born at Tangiers, he considered himself a neighbor of the Lusians; well he knew their valorous deeds, and although a Moor, he now allied himself to them as a friend. He described India to the eager Gama: its religions, its idolaters, the Mohammedans, the Buddhists, the Brahmins. At Calicut, queen of India, lived the Zamorin, lord of India, to whom all subject kings paid their tribute.

His arrival having been announced, Gama, adorned in his most splendid garments, and accompanied by his train, also in bright array, entered the gilded barges and rowed to the sh.o.r.e, where stood the Catual, the Zamorin's minister. Moncaide acted as an interpreter. The company pa.s.sed through a temple on their way to the palace, in which the Christians were horrified at the graven images there wors.h.i.+pped. On the palace walls were the most splendid pictures, relating the history of India. One wall, however, bore no sculptures; the Brahmins had foretold that a foreign foe would at some time conquer India, and that s.p.a.ce was reserved for scenes from those wars.

Into the splendid hall adorned with tapestries of cloth of gold and carpets of velvet, Gama pa.s.sed, and stood before the couch on which sat the mighty monarch. The room blazed with gems and gold; the monarch's mantle was of cloth of gold, and his turban shone with gems. His manner was majestic and dignified; he received Gama in silence, only nodding to him to tell his story.

Gama proclaimed that he came in friends.h.i.+p from a valorous nation that wished to unite its sh.o.r.es with his by commerce. The monarch responded that he and his council would weigh the proposal, and in the mean time Gama should remain and feast with them.

The next day the Indians visited the fleet, and after the banquet Gama displayed to his guests a series of banners on which were told the history of Portugal and her heroes. First came Lusus, the friend of Bacchus, the hero-shepherd Viriatus, the first Alonzo, the self-sacrificing Egas, the valiant Fuaz, every hero who had strengthened Lusitania and driven out her foes, down to the gallant Pedro and the glorious Henry.

Awed and wondering at the deeds of the mighty heroes, the Indians returned home. In the night Bacchus appeared to the king, warning him against the Lusians and urging him to destroy them while in his power. The Moors bought the Catual with their gold. They also told the king that they would leave his city as soon as he allied himself with the odious strangers.

When Gama was next summoned before the king he was received with a frown.

"You are a pirate! Your first words were lies. Confess it; then you may stay with me and be my captain."

"I know the Moors," replied Gama. "I know their lies that have poisoned your ears. Am I mad that I should voluntarily leave my pleasant home and dare the terrors of an unknown sea? Ah, monarch, you know not the Lusian race! Bold, dauntless, the king commands, and we obey. Past the dread Cape of Storms have I ventured, bearing no gift save friendly peace, and that n.o.blest gift of all, the friends.h.i.+p of my king. I have spoken the truth.

Truth is everlasting!"

A day pa.s.sed and still Gama was detained by the power of the Catual, who ordered him to call his fleets ash.o.r.e if his voyage was really one of friends.h.i.+p.

"Never!" exclaimed Gama. "My fleet is free, though I am chained, and they shall carry to Lisbon the news of my discovery."

As he spoke, at a sign from the Catual, hostile s.h.i.+ps were seen surrounding the Lusian vessels. "Not one shall tell on Lisbon's sh.o.r.es your fate."

Gama smiled scornfully, as the fleet swept on towards his vessels. Loud sounded the drums, shrill the trumpets. The next moment sudden lightning flashed from Gama's s.h.i.+ps and the skies echoed with the thunder of the guns.

No word fell from Gama's lips as, the battle over, they saw the sea covered with the torn hulks and floating masts; but the populace raged around the palace gates, demanding justice to the strangers.

The troubled king sought to make peace with Gama.

"My orders have been given. To-day, when the sun reaches its meridian, India shall bleed and Calicut shall fall. The time is almost here. I make no terms. You have deceived me once."

The Moors fell fainting on the floor; the monarch trembled. "What can save us?" he cried.

"Convey me and my train to the fleet. Command at once; it is even now noon."

Once more safe within his s.h.i.+p, with him the faithful Moncaide, who had kept him informed of the treason of the Moors, his s.h.i.+ps laden with cinnamon, cloves, pepper, and gems, proofs of his visit, Gama, rejoicing, set sail for home.

Venus saw the fleet setting out, and planned a resting-place for the weary sailors, a floating isle with golden sands, bowers of laurel and myrtle, beautiful flowers and luscious fruits. Here the sea nymphs gathered, Thetis, the most beautiful, being reserved for Gama, and here days were spent in joyance.

At the banquet the nymphs sang the future glories of the Lusians, and taking Gama by the hand, led him and his men to a mountain height, whence they could look upon a wondrous globe, the universe. The crystal spheres whirled swiftly, making sweet music, and as they listened to this, they saw the sun go by, the stars, Apollo, the Queen of Love, Diana, and the "yellow earth, the centre of the whole." Asia and Africa were unrolled to their sight, and the future of India, conquered by the Lusians, Cochin China, China, j.a.pan, Sumatra,--all these countries given to the world by their voyage around the terrible cape.

"Spread thy sails!" cried the nymphs; "the time has come to go!"

The s.h.i.+ps departed on their homeward way, and the heroes were received with the wildest welcome by the dwellers on Tago's bosom.

SELECTIONS FROM THE LUSIAD.

INEZ DE CASTRO.

During the reign of Alfonso the Brave, his son Don Pedro secretly wedded a beautiful maiden of the court, Inez de Castro. The courtiers, jealous because Inez was a Castilian, betrayed Pedro's secret to the king, who, in the absence of his son, had Inez brought before him and slain by hired ruffians.

While glory, thus, Alonzo's name adorn'd, To Lisbon's sh.o.r.es the happy chief return'd, In glorious peace and well-deserv'd repose, His course of fame, and honor'd age to close.

When now, O king, a damsel's fate severe, A fate which ever claims the woful tear, Disgraced his honors--On the nymph's 'lorn head Relentless rage its bitterest rancor shed: Yet, such the zeal her princely lover bore, Her breathless corse the crown of Lisbon wore.

'Twas thou, O Love, whose dreaded shafts control The hind's rude heart, and tear the hero's soul; Thou, ruthless power, with bloodshed never cloy'd, 'Twas thou thy lovely votary destroy'd.

Thy thirst still burning for a deeper woe, In vain to thee the tears of beauty flow; The breast that feels thy purest flames divine, With spouting gore must bathe thy cruel shrine.

Such thy dire triumphs!--Thou, O nymph, the while, Prophetic of the G.o.d's unpitying guile, In tender scenes by love-sick fancy wrought, By fear oft s.h.i.+fted, as by fancy brought, In sweet Mondego's ever-verdant bowers, Languish'd away the slow and lonely hours: While now, as terror wak'd thy boding fears, The conscious stream receiv'd thy pearly tears; And now, as hope reviv'd the brighter flame, Each echo sigh'd thy princely lover's name.

Nor less could absence from thy prince remove The dear remembrance of his distant love: Thy looks, thy smiles, before him ever glow, And o'er his melting heart endearing flow: By night his slumbers bring thee to his arms, By day his thoughts still wander o'er thy charms: By night, by day, each thought thy loves employ, Each thought the memory, or the hope, of joy.

Though fairest princely dames invok'd his love, No princely dame his constant faith could move: For thee, alone, his constant pa.s.sion burn'd, For thee the proffer'd royal maids he scorn'd.

Ah, hope of bliss too high--the princely dames Refus'd, dread rage the father's breast inflames; He, with an old man's wintry eye, surveys The youth's fond love, and coldly with it weighs The people's murmurs of his son's delay To bless the nation with his nuptial day.

(Alas, the nuptial day was past unknown, Which, but when crown'd, the prince could dare to own.) And, with the fair one's blood, the vengeful sire Resolves to quench his Pedro's faithful fire.

Oh, thou dread sword, oft stain'd with heroes' gore, Thou awful terror of the prostrate Moor, What rage could aim thee at a female breast, Unarm'd, by softness and by love possess'd!

Dragg'd from her bower, by murd'rous ruffian hands, Before the frowning king fair Inez stands; Her tears of artless innocence, her air So mild, so lovely, and her face so fair, Mov'd the stern monarch; when, with eager zeal, Her fierce destroyers urg'd the public weal; Dread rage again the tyrant's soul possess'd, And his dark brow his cruel thoughts confess'd; O'er her fair face a sudden paleness spread, Her throbbing heart with gen'rous anguish bled, Anguish to view her lover's hopeless woes,

And all the mother in her bosom rose.

Her beauteous eyes, in trembling tear-drops drown'd, To heaven she lifted (for her hands were bound); Then, on her infants turn'd the piteous glance, The look of bleeding woe; the babes advance, Smiling in innocence of infant age, Unaw'd, unconscious of their grandsire's rage; To whom, as bursting sorrow gave the flow, The native heart-sprung eloquence of woe, The lovely captive thus:--"O monarch, hear, If e'er to thee the name of man was dear, If prowling tigers, or the wolf's wild brood (Inspired by nature with the l.u.s.t of blood), Have yet been mov'd the weeping babe to spare, Nor left, but tended with a nurse's care, As Rome's great founders to the world were given; Shall thou, who wear'st the sacred stamp of Heaven The human form divine, shalt thou deny That aid, that pity, which e'en beasts supply!

Oh, that thy heart were, as thy looks declare, Of human mould, superfluous were my prayer; Thou couldst not, then, a helpless damsel slay, Whose sole offence in fond affection lay, In faith to him who first his love confess'd, Who first to love allur'd her virgin breast.

In these my babes shalt thou thine image see, And, still tremendous, hurl thy rage on me?

Me, for their sakes, if yet thou wilt not spare, Oh, let these infants prove thy pious care!

Yet, Pity's lenient current ever flows From that brave breast where genuine valor glows; That thou art brave, let vanquish'd Afric tell, Then let thy pity o'er my anguish swell; Ah, let my woes, unconscious of a crime, Procure mine exile to some barb'rous clime: Give me to wander o'er the burning plains Of Libya's deserts, or the wild domains Of Scythia's snow-clad rocks, and frozen sh.o.r.e; There let me, hopeless of return, deplore: Where ghastly horror fills the dreary vale, Where shrieks and howlings die on every gale, The lion's roaring, and the tiger's yell, There with my infant race, consigned to dwell, There let me try that piety to find, In vain by me implor'd from human kind: There, in some dreary cavern's rocky womb, Amid the horrors of sepulchral gloom, For him whose love I mourn, my love shall glow, The sigh shall murmur, and the tear shall flow: All my fond wish, and all my hope, to rear These infant pledges of a love so dear, Amidst my griefs a soothing glad employ, Amidst my fears a woful, hopeless joy."

In tears she utter'd--as the frozen snow Touch'd by the spring's mild ray, begins to flow, So just began to melt his stubborn soul, As mild-ray'd Pity o'er the tyrant stole; But destiny forbade: with eager zeal (Again pretended for the public weal), Her fierce accusers urg'd her speedy doom; Again, dark rage diffus'd its horrid gloom O'er stern Alonzo's brow: swift at the sign, Their swords, unsheath'd, around her brandish'd s.h.i.+ne.

O foul disgrace, of knighthood lasting stain, By men of arms a helpless lady slain!