As welcome friends the natives shall receive,
With bounty feast them, and with joy relieve.
And, when refreshment shall their strength renew,
Thence shall they turn, and their bold route pursue.
So spoke high Jove: The gods in silence heard,
Then rising each, by turns, his thoughts preferr'd:
But chief was Bacchus[1] of the adverse train;
Fearful he was, nor fear'd his pride in vain,
Should Lusus' race arrive on India's shore,
His ancient honours would be known no more;
No more in Nysa[2] should the native tell
What kings, what mighty hosts before him fell.
The fertile vales beneath the rising sun
He view'd as his, by right of victory won,
And deem'd that ever in immortal song
The conqueror's title should to him belong.
Yet Fate, he knew, had will'd, that loos'd from Spain
Boldly advent'rous through the polar main,
A warlike race should come, renown'd in arms,
And shake the Eastern World with war's alarms,
Whose glorious conquests and eternal fame
In black Oblivion's waves should whelm his name.
- ↑ But chief was Bacchus.—The French translator has the following note on this place: Le Camöens n'a pourtant fait en cela que suivre l'example de l'Ecriture, comme on le voit dans ces paroles du premiere chapitre de Job. Quodam autem die cum venissent, &c. Un jour que les enfans du Seigneur s'étoient assemble devant son trône, Satan y vin taussi, &c.
- ↑ No more in Nysa.—An ancient city in India, sacred to Bacchus.
