Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 1.djvu/431

 Flints, clods, and javelins hurling as they fly, As rage and wild despair their hands supply. And soon disperst, their bands attempt no more To guard the fountain or defend the shore: O'er the wide lawns no more their troops appear: Nor sleeps the vengeance of the victor here; To teach the nations what tremendous fate From his dread arm on perjur'd vows should wait, He seized the time to awe the Eastern World, And on the breach of faith his thunders hurl'd. From his black ships the sudden lightnings blaze, And o'er old ocean flash their dreadful rays: White clouds on clouds inroll'd the smoke ascends, The bursting tumult heaven's wide concave rends: The bays and caverns of the winding shore Repeat the cannon's and the mortar's roar: The bombs, far-flaming, hiss along the sky And whirring through the air the bullets fly; The wounded air, with hollow deafened sound, Groans to the direful strife, and trembles round. Now