Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/83

Here the sad mother rends her hoary hair,
While hope's fond whispers struggle with despair:
The weeping spouse to heaven extends her hands:
And cold with dread the modest virgin stands;
Her earnest eyes, suffused with trembling dew,
Far o'er the plain the plighted youth pursue:
And prayers and tears and all the female wail,
And holy vows the throne of heaven assail.

Now each stern host full front to front appears,
And one joint shout heaven's airy concave tears:
A dreadful pause ensues, while conscious pride
Strives on each face the heart-felt doubt to hide:
Now wild and pale the boldest face is seen;
With mouth half open and disordered mien
Each warrior feels his creeping blood to freeze,
And languid weakness trembles in the knees.
And now the clangor of the trumpet sounds,
And the rough rattling of the drum rebounds:
The fife's shrill whistling cuts the gale; on high
The flourish'd ensigns shine with many a dye
Of blazing splendor: o'er the ground they wheel
And chuse their footing, when the proud Castile
Bids sound the horrid charge; loud bursts the sound,
And loud Artabro's rocky cliffs rebound:
The thundering roar rolls round on every side,
And trembling sinks Guidana's rapid tide:
The slow paced Durius rushes o'er the plain,
And fearful Tagus hastens to the main.

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