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Through Gata's hills the whirling tempest © sigh'd,
And weftward sweeping to the blacken'd tide,
Howl'd o'er the trembling palace as it past,

And o'er the gilded walls a gloomy twilight cast ;
Then, furious rushing to the darken'd a bay,
Refistless swept the black-wing'd night away,
With all the clouds that hover'd o'er the fight,
And o'er the weary combat pour'd the light.

As by an Alpine mountain's pathless side
Some traveller strays, unfriended of a guide;
If o'er the hills the fable night defcend,
And gathering tempeft with the darkness blend,
Deep from the cavern'd rocks beneath aghast
He hears the howling of the whirlwind's blaft;
Above refounds the crafh, and down the steep
Some rolling weight groans on with foundering sweep;
Aghaft he stands amid the shades of night,

And all his foul implores the friendly light :

It comes; the dreary lightnings quivering blaze,
The yawning depth beneath his lifted step betrays;
Instant unmann'd, aghast in horrid pain,

His knees no more their fickly weight fuftain;

Powerlefs

c Through Gata's bills—The hills of Gata or Gate, mountains which form a natural barrier on the eastern side of the kingdom of Malabar.

Nature's rude wall, against the fierce Canar

They guard the fertile lawns of Malabar.

Lufiad vII.

❖ Then, furious rushing to the darken'd bay. For the circumstances of the battle, and the tempest which then happened, fee the Preface.

Powerless he finks, no more his heart-blood flows;
So funk the monarch, and his heart-blood froze;
So funk he down, when o'er the clouded bay
The rushing whirlwind pour'd the sudden day:
Disaster's giant arm in one wide sweep
Appear'd, and ruin blacken'd o'er the deep;
The sheeted mafts drove floating o'er the tide,
And the torn hulks rowl'd tumbling on the fide;
Some fhatter'd plank each heaving billow toft,
And by the hand of heaven dafh'd on the coaft
Groan'd prores ingulph'd, the lashing furges rave
O'er the black keels upturn'd, the swelling wave
Kiffes the lofty mast's reclining head;
And far at fea fome few torn galleys fled.
Amid the dreadful fcene triumphant rode
'The Lufian war-fhips, and their aid bestow'd:
Their speedy boats far round assisting ply'd,
Where plunging, ftruggling, in the rolling tide,
Grasping the shatter'd wrecks, the vanquish'd foes
Rear'd o'er the dafhing waves their haggard brows.
No word of fcorn the lofty GAMA spoke,

Nor India's king the dreadful filence broke.
Slow paft the hour, when to the trembling shore
In awful pomp the victor-navy bore:

Terrific, nodding on, the bowfprits bend,

And the red ftreamers other war portend:

Soon bursts the roar; the bombs tremendous rife,
And trail their blackening rainbows o'er the skies;

2

O'er

O'er Calicut's proud domes their rage they pour,
And wrap her temples in a fulph'rous shower.
"Tis o'er-In threatening filence rides the fleet:
Wild rage and horror yell in every street;

e

Ten thousands pouring round the palace © gate,
In clamorous uproar wail their wretched fate:
While round the dome with lifted hands they kneel'd,
Give juftice, juftice to the ftrangers yield

Our friends, our husbands, fons, and fathers flain!
Happier, alas, than these that yet remain

Curft be the councils, and the arts unjust—
Our friends in chains-our city in the duft-
Yet, yet prevent―――

The filent VASCO faw

The weight of horror and o'erpowering awe

That shook the Moors, that thook the regent's knees,
And funk the monarch down-By swift degrees

The popular clamour rifes. Loft, unmann'd,
Around the king the trembling council ftand;
While wildly glaring on each other's eyes
Each lip in vain the trembling accent tries;
With anguifh ficken'd, and of strength bereft,
Earneft each look inquires, What hope is left!
In all the rage of shame and grief aghast,
The monarch, faultering, takes the word at laft:

e Ten thousands pouring round the palace gate,

In clamorous uproar

See the History in the Preface.

By

305

By whom, great chief, are these proud war-fhips fway'd,
Are there thy mandates honour'd and obey'd?

Forgive, great chief, let gifts of price restrain
Thy just revenge-Shall India's gifts be vain !i
Oh spare my people and their doom'd abodes!
Prayers, vows, and gifts appease the injured gods:
Shall man deny-Swift are the brave to fpare:
The weak, the innocent confefs their care
Helpless as innocent of guile to thee,

Behold these thousands bend the fuppliant knee
Thy navy's thundering fides black to the land
Difplay their terrors-yet mayst thou command.

O'erpower'd he paused. Majestic and ferene
Great VASCO rose, then pointing to the scene
Where bled the war, Thy fleet, proud king, behold
O'er ocean and the strand in carnage roll'd!

So fhall this palace smoking in the dust,
And yon proud city weep thy arts unjust.

The Moors I knew, and for their fraud prepared,
I left my fixt command my navy's f guard:
Whate'er from shore my name or feal convey'd
Of other weight, that fixt command forbade ;
Thus, ere its birth destroy'd, prevented fell
What fraud might dictate, or what force compel.

f I left my fixt command my navy's guard➡
Unmindful of my fate.-

This

This moft magnanimous refolution, to facrifice his own safety or his life for the fafe return of the fleet, is ftrictly true. See the Preface.

This morn the facrifice of fraud I ftood,

But hark, there lives the brother of my blood,

And lives the friend, whofe cares conjoin'd controul
These floating towers, both brothers of my foul,
If thrice, I said, arise the golden morn,

Ere to my fleet you mark my glad return,.
Dark fraud with all her Moorish arts withstands,
And force or death withholds me from my bands:
Thus judge, and swift unfurl the homeward fail,
Catch the first breathing of the eastern gale,
Unmindful of my fate on India's shore :
Let but my monarch know, I wish no more
Each, panting while I spoke, impatient cries,
The tear-drop bursting in their manly eyes,
In all but one thy mandates we obey,
In one we yield not to thy generous sway :
Without thee never fhall our fails return;
India shall bleed, and Calicut shall burn
Thrice fhall the morn arife; a flight of bombs
Shall then speak vengeace to their guilty domes :
Till noon we paufe; then shall our thunders roar,
And defolation fweep the treacherous fhore
Behold, proud king, their signal in the sky,

Near his meridian tower the fun rides high.
O'er Calicut no more the evening shade

Shall spread her peaceful wings, my wrath unftaid;
Dire through the night her smoaking dust shall gleam,
Dire through the night shall shriek the female fcream.

Thy