Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 1.djvu/444

 Whose rage had still the wandering fleet annoyed, Now in the town his guileful rage employed. A Christian priest he seem'd; a sumptuous shrine He rear'd, and tended with the rites divine: O'er the fair altar waved the cross on high, Upheld by angels leaning from the sky; Descending o'er the Virgin's sacred head So white, so pure, the holy spirit spread The dove-like pictured wings, so pure, so white; And, hovering o'er the chosen twelve, alight The tongues of hallowed fire. Amazed, opprest, With sacred awe their troubled looks confest The inspiring godhead, and the prophet's glow, Which gave each language from their lips to flow Where thus the guileful power his magic wrought, D E G AMA 's heralds by the guides are brought: On bended knees low to the earth they fall, And to the Lord of heaven in transport call; While the feign'd priest awakes the censer's fire, And clouds of incense round the shrine aspire. With cheerful welcome, here caress'd, they stay, Till bright Aurora, messenger of day,