He came right merrily o'er the Main, and sought60
to view our nimble Lusitanian fleet;
bringing his country-cates, for 't was his thought
in the fierce foreigner perchance to meet
the race inhuman, which hath ever fought
to change its Caspian caves for happier seat
in Asian cont'inent; and, by Will Divine,
of rule imperial robbed Constantine.[1]
With glad reception our Commander meets61
the Moorish chieftain and his whole convoy;
whom with a gift of richest gear he greets
whereof a store was shipped for such employ:
He gives him rich conserves, he gives, rare treats,
the liquors hot which fill man's heart with joy.
Good be the gifts the Moor contented thinks,
but more the sweetmeats prizes, most the drinks.
The sailor-people sprung from Lusus' blood62
in wond'ering clusters to the ratlines clung;
noting the stranger’s novel mode and mood
with his so barb'arous and perplexed tongue.[2]
Sometime the wily Moor confused stood
eyeing the garb, the hue, the fleet, the throng;
and asked, with questions manifold assailing,
if they from Turkey-land, perchance, were hailing.
