Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/174

And now the god of tempests swift unbinds
From their dark caves the various rushing winds:
High o'er the storm the power impetuous rides,
His howling voice the roaring tempest guides;
Right to the dauntless fleet their rage he pours,
And first their headlong outrage tears the shores:
A deeper night involves the darken'd air,
And livid flashes through the mountains glare:
Up-rooted oaks, with all their leafy pride,
Roll thundering down the groaning mountains side;
And men and herds in clamorous uproar run,
The rocking towers and crashing woods to shun.

While thus the council of the watery state,
Enraged, decreed the Lusian heroes fate:
The weary fleet before the gentle gale
With joyful hope displayed the steady sail;
Thro' the smooth deep they plough'd the lengthening way;
Beneath the wave the purple car of day
To sable night the eastern sky resign'd,
And o'er the decks cold breath'd the midnight wind.
All but the watch in warm pavilions slept;
The second watch the wonted vigils kept;
Supine their limbs, the mast supports the head,
And the broad yard-sail o'er their shoulders spread
A grateful cover from the chilly gale,
And sleep's soft dews their heavy eyes assail.

Languid