Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 1.djvu/452

 A miracle! O hail thou sacred sign, Thou pledge illustrious of the care divine! Ah! fraudful malice! how shall wisdom's care Escape the poison of thy gilded snare! The front of honesty, the saintly shew, The smile of friendship, and the holy vow; All, all conjoin'd our easy faith to gain, To whelm us, shipwreck'd, in the ruthless main; But where our prudence no deceit could spy, There, heavenly guardian, there thy watchful eye Beheld our danger: still, O still prevent, Where human foresight fails, the dire intent, The lurking treason of the smiling foe; And let our toils, our days of lengthening woe, Our weary wanderings end. If still for thee, To spread thy rites, our toils and vows agree, On India's strand thy sacred shrines to rear, Oh, let some friendly land of rest appear! If for thine honour we these toils have dar'd, These toils let India's long-sought shore reward.