The curving billows to their breasts divide,
And give a yielding passage through the tide.
With furious speed the goddess rush'd before;
Her beauteous form a joyful triton bore,
Whose eager face, with glowing rapture fired,
Betray'd the pride which such a task inspired.
And now arriv'd, where to the whistling wind
The warlike navy's bending masts reclin'd,
As through the billows rush'd the speedy prows,
The nymphs, dividing, each her station chose.
Against the leader's prow, her lovely breast
With more than mortal force the goddess prest;
The ship recoiling trembles on the tide,
The nymphs in help pour round on every side,
From the dread bar the threaten'd keels to save;
The ship bounds up, half lifted from the wave,
And, trembling, hovers o'er the watery grave.
As when alarm'd, to save the hoarded grain,
The care-earned store for winter's dreary reign,
So toil, so tug, so pant, the labouring emmet train,
So toil'd the nymphs, and strain'd their panting force
To turn the navy from its fatal course:
Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 1.djvu/448
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