Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/97

The raging vengeance of the Moors defies,
Gives to the clanking chains his limbs, and dies
A dreary prison death. Let noisy fame
No more unequall'd hold her Codrus' name;
Her Regulus, her Curtius boast no more,
Nor those the honour'd Decian name who bore.
The splendor of a court, to them unknown,
Exchang'd for deathful fate's most awful frown,
To distant times, through every land, shall blaze
The self-devoted Lusian's nobler praise.

Now to the tomb the hapless king descends,
His son, Alonzo brighter fate attends.
Alonzo! dear to Lusus' race the name;
Nor his the meanest in the rolls of fame.
His might resistless, prostrate Afric own'd,
Beneath his yoke the Mauritanians groan'd,
And still they groan beneath the Lusian sway.
'Twas his in victor-pomp to bear away
The golden apples from Hesperia's shore,
Which but the son of Jove had snatch'd before.
The palm and laurel round his temples bound,
Display'd his triumphs on the Moorish ground;
When proud Arzilla's strength, Alcazer's towers,
And Tingia, boastful of her numerous powers,
Beheld their adamantine walls o'erturned,
Their ramparts levell'd, and their temples burn'd.
Great was the day: the meanest sword that fought
Beneath the Lusian flag such wonders wrought

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