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　　THE SPIRIT OF THE CAPE.

　　Vasco de Gama relates the incidents of his voyage from Portugal to the King of Melinda. The southern cross had appeared in the heavens and the fleet was approaching the southern point of Africa. While at anchor in a bay the Portuguese aroused the hostility of the savages, and hastily set sail.

　　"Now, prosp'rous gales the bending canvas swell'd;

　　From these rude shores our fearless course we held:

　　Beneath the glist'ning wave the god of day

　　Had now five times withdrawn the parting ray,

　　When o'er the prow a sudden darkness spread,

　　And, slowly floating o'er the mast's tall head

　　A black cloud hover'd: nor appear'd from far

　　The moon's pale glimpse, nor faintly twinkling star;

　　So deep a gloom the low'ring vapor cast,

　　Transfix'd with awe the bravest stood aghast.

　　Meanwhile, a hollow bursting roar resounds,

　　As when hoarse surges lash their rocky mounds;

　　Nor had the black'ning wave nor frowning heav'n

　　The wonted signs of gath'ring tempest giv'n.

　　Amazed we stood. 'O thou, our fortune's guide,

　　Avert this omen, mighty God!' I cried;

　　'Or, through forbidden climes adventurous stray'd,

　　Have we the secrets of the deep survey'd,

　　Which these wide solitudes of seas and sky

　　Were doom'd to hide from man's unhallow'd eye?

　　Whate'er this prodigy, it threatens more

　　Than midnight tempests, and the mingled roar,

　　When sea and sky combine to rock the marble shore.'

　　"I spoke, when rising through the darken'd air,

　　Appall'd, we saw a hideous phantom glare;

　　High and enormous o'er the flood he tower'd,

　　And 'thwart our way with sullen aspect lower'd:

　　An earthy paleness o'er his cheeks was spread,

　　Erect uprose his hairs of wither'd red;

　　Writhing to speak, his sable lips disclose,

　　Sharp and disjoin'd, his gnashing teeth's blue rows;

　　His haggard beard flow'd quiv'ring on the wind,

　　Revenge and horror in his mien combin'd;

　　His clouded front, by with'ring lightnings scar'd,

　　The inward anguish of his soul declar'd.

　　His red eyes, glowing from their dusky caves,

　　Shot livid fires: far echoing o'er the waves

　　His voice resounded, as the cavern'd shore

　　With hollow groan repeats the tempest's roar.

　　Cold gliding horrors thrill'd each hero's breast,

　　Our bristling hair and tott'ring knees confess'd

　　Wild dread, the while with visage ghastly wan,

　　His black lips trembling, thus the fiend began:—

　　"'O you, the boldest of the nations, fir'd

　　By daring pride, by lust of fame inspir'd,

　　Who, scornful of the bow'rs of sweet repose,

　　Through these my waves advance your fearless prows,

　　Regardless of the length'ning wat'ry way,

　　And all the storms that own my sov'reign sway,

　　Who, mid surrounding rocks and shelves explore

　　Where never hero brav'd my rage before;

　　Ye sons of Lusus, who with eyes profane

　　Have view'd the secrets of my awful reign,

　　Have passed the bounds which jealous Nature drew

　　To veil her secret shrine from mortal view;

　　Hear from my lips what direful woes attend,

　　And, bursting soon, shall o'er your race descend.

　　"'With every bounding keel that dares my rage,

　　Eternal war my rocks and storms shall wage,

　　The next proud fleet that through my drear domain,

　　With daring search shall hoist the streaming vane,

　　That gallant navy, by my whirlwinds toss'd,

　　And raging seas, shall perish on my coast:

　　Then he, who first my secret reign descried,

　　A naked corpse, wide floating o'er the tide,

　　Shall drive—Unless my heart's full raptures fail,

　　O Lusus! oft shall thou thy children wail;

　　Each year thy shipwreck'd sons thou shalt deplore,

　　Each year thy sheeted masts shall strew my shore.

　　"'With trophies plum'd behold a hero come,

　　Ye dreary wilds, prepare his yawning tomb.

　　Though smiling fortune bless'd his youthful morn,

　　Though glory's rays his laurell'd brows adorn,

　　Full oft though he beheld with sparkling eye

　　The Turkish moons in wild confusion fly,

　　While he, proud victor, thunder'd in the rear,

　　All, all his mighty fame shall vanish here.

　　Quiloa's sons, and thine, Mombaz, shall see

　　Their conqueror bend his laurell'd head to me;

　　While, proudly mingling with the tempest's sound,

　　Their shouts of joy from every cliff rebound.

　　"'The howling blast, ye slumb'ring storms prepare,

　　A youthful lover and his beauteous fair

　　Triumphant sail from India's ravag'd land;

　　His evil angel leads him to my strand.

　　Through the torn hulk the dashing waves shall roar,

　　The shatter'd wrecks shall blacken all my shore.

　　Themselves escaped, despoil'd by savage hands,

　　Shall, naked, wander o'er the burning sands,

　　Spar'd by the waves far deeper woes to bear,

　　Woes, e'en by me, acknowledg'd with a tear.

　　Their infant race, the promis'd heirs of joy,

　　Shall now, no more, a hundred hands employ;

　　By cruel want, beneath the parents' eye,

　　In these wide wastes their infant race shall die;

　　Through dreary wilds, where never pilgrim trod

　　Where caverns yawn, and rocky fragments nod,

　　The hapless lover and his bride shall stray,

　　By night unshelter'd, and forlorn by day.

　　In vain the lover o'er the trackless plain

　　Shall dart his eyes, and cheer his spouse in vain.

　　Her tender limbs, and breast of mountain snow,

　　Where, ne'er before, intruding blast might blow,

　　Parch'd by the sun, and shrivell'd by the cold

　　Of dewy night, shall he, fond man, behold.

　　Thus, wand'ring wide, a thousand ills o'er past,

　　In fond embraces they shall sink at last;

　　While pitying tears their dying eyes o'erflow,

　　And the last sigh shall wail each other's woe.

　　"'Some few, the sad companions of their fate,

　　Shall yet survive, protected by my hate,

　　On Tagus' banks the dismal tale to tell,

　　How, blasted by my frown, your heroes fell.'

　　"He paus'd, in act still further to disclose

　　A long, a dreary prophecy of woes:

　　When springing onward, loud my voice resounds,

　　And midst his rage the threat'ning shade confounds.

　　"'What art thou, horrid form that rid'st the air?

　　By Heaven's eternal light, stern fiend, declare.'

　　His lips he writhes, his eyes far round he throws,

　　And, from his breast, deep hollow groans arose,

　　Sternly askance he stood: with wounded pride

　　And anguish torn, 'In me, behold,' he cried,

　　While dark-red sparkles from his eyeballs roll'd,

　　'In me the Spirit of the Cape behold,

　　That rock, by you the Cape of Tempests nam'd,

　　By Neptune's rage, in horrid earthquakes fram'd,

　　When Jove's red bolts o'er Titan's offspring flam'd.

　　With wide-stretch'd piles I guard the pathless strand,

　　And Afric's southern mound, unmov'd, I stand:

　　Nor Roman prow, nor daring Tyrian oar

　　Ere dash'd the white wave foaming to my shore;

　　Nor Greece nor Carthage ever spread the sail

　　On these my seas, to catch the trading gale.

　　You, you alone have dar'd to plough my main,

　　And with the human voice disturb my lonesome reign."

　　"He spoke, and deep a lengthen'd sigh he drew,

　　A doleful sound, and vanish'd from the view:

　　The frighten'd billows gave a rolling swell,

　　And, distant far, prolong'd the dismal yell,

　　Faint and more faint the howling echoes die,

　　And the black cloud dispersing, leaves the sky.

　　High to the angel-host, whose guardian care

　　Had ever round us watch'd, my hands I rear,

　　And Heaven's dread King implore: 'As o'er our head

　　The fiend dissolv'd, an empty shadow fled;

　　So may his curses, by the winds of heav'n,

　　Far o'er the deep, their idle sport, be driv'n!'"

　　With sacred horror thrill'd, Melinda's lord

　　Held up the eager hand, and caught the word.

　　"Oh, wondrous faith of ancient days," he cries,

　　"Concealed in mystic lore and dark disguise!

　　Taught by their sires, our hoary fathers tell,

　　On these rude shores a giant spectre fell,

　　What time from heaven the rebel band were thrown:

　　And oft the wand'ring swain has heard his moan.

　　While o'er the wave the clouded moon appears

　　To hide her weeping face, his voice he rears

　　O'er the wild storm. Deep in the days of yore,

　　A holy pilgrim trod the nightly shore;

　　Stern groans he heard; by ghostly spells controll'd,

　　His fate, mysterious, thus the spectre told:

　　"'By forceful Titan's warm embrace compress'd,

　　The rock-ribb'd mother, Earth, his love confess'd:

　　The hundred-handed giant at a birth,

　　And me, she bore, nor slept my hopes on earth;

　　My heart avow'd my sire's ethereal flame;

　　Great Adamastor, then, my dreaded name.

　　In my bold brother's glorious toils engaged,

　　Tremendous war against the gods I waged:

　　Yet, not to reach the throne of heaven I try,

　　With mountain pil'd on mountain to the sky;

　　To me the conquest of the seas befell,

　　In his green realm the second Jove to quell.

　　Nor did ambition all my passions hold,

　　'Twas love that prompted an attempt so bold.

　　Ah me, one summer in the cool of day,

　　I saw the Nereids on the sandy bay,

　　With lovely Thetis from the wave advance

　　In mirthful frolic, and the naked dance.

　　In all her charms reveal'd the goddess trod,

　　With fiercest fires my struggling bosom glow'd;

　　Yet, yet I feel them burning in my heart,

　　And hopeless, languish with the raging smart.

　　For her, each goddess of the heavens I scorn'd,

　　For her alone my fervent ardor burn'd.

　　In vain I woo'd her to the lover's bed,

　　From my grim form, with horror, mute she fled.

　　Madd'ning with love, by force I ween to gain

　　The silver goddess of the blue domain;

　　To the hoar mother of the Nereid band

　　I tell my purpose, and her aid command:

　　By fear impell'd, old Doris tried to move,

　　And win the spouse of Peleus to my love.

　　The silver goddess with a smile replies,

　　'What nymph can yield her charms a giant's prize!

　　Yet, from the horrors of a war to save,

　　And guard in peace our empire of the wave,

　　Whate'er with honor he may hope to gain,

　　That, let him hope his wish shall soon attain.'

　　The promis'd grace infus'd a bolder fire,

　　And shook my mighty limbs with fierce desire.

　　But ah, what error spreads its dreadful night,

　　What phantoms hover o'er the lover's sight!

　　"The war resign'd, my steps by Doris led,

　　While gentle eve her shadowy mantle spread,

　　Before my steps the snowy Thetis shone

　　In all her charms, all naked, and alone.

　　Swift as the wind with open arms I sprung,

　　And, round her waist with joy delirious clung:

　　In all the transports of the warm embrace,

　　A hundred kisses on her angel face,

　　On all its various charms my rage bestows,

　　And, on her cheek, my cheek enraptur'd glows.

　　When oh, what anguish while my shame I tell!

　　What fix'd despair, what rage my bosom swell!

　　Here was no goddess, here no heavenly charms,

　　A rugged mountain fill'd my eager arms,

　　Whose rocky top, o'erhung with matted brier,

　　Received the kisses of my am'rous fire.

　　Wak'd from my dream, cold horror freez'd my blood;

　　Fix'd as a rock, before the rock I stood;

　　'O fairest goddess of the ocean train,

　　Behold the triumph of thy proud disdain;

　　Yet why,' I cried, 'with all I wish'd decoy,

　　And, when exulting in the dream of joy,

　　A horrid mountain to mine arms convey?'

　　Madd'ning I spoke, and furious sprung away.

　　Far to the south I sought the world unknown,

　　Where I, unheard, unscorn'd, might wail alone,

　　My foul dishonor, and my tears to hide,

　　And shun the triumph of the goddess' pride.

　　My brothers, now, by Jove's red arm o'erthrown,

　　Beneath huge mountains pil'd on mountains groan;

　　And I, who taught each echo to deplore,

　　And tell my sorrows to the desert shore,

　　I felt the hand of Jove my crimes pursue,

　　My stiff'ning flesh to earthy ridges grew,

　　And my huge bones, no more by marrow warm'd,

　　To horrid piles, and ribs of rock transform'd,

　　Yon dark-brow'd cape of monstrous size became,

　　Where, round me still, in triumph o'er my shame,

　　The silv'ry Thetis bids her surges roar,

　　And waft my groans along the dreary shore.'"

　　Mickle's Translation, Canto V. National Epics