Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 1.djvu/458

 Thy chief, who now in error's circling maze, For India's shore through shelves and tempests strays; That chief shalt thou behold, with lordly pride, O'er Neptune's trembling realm triumphant ride. O wondrous fate! when not a breathing gale Shall curl the billows, or distend the sail, The waves shall boil and tremble, aw'd with dread, And own the terror o'er their empire spread. That hostile coast, with various streams supplied, Whose treacherous sons the fountain's gifts deny'd; That coast shalt thou behold his port supply, Where oft thy weary fleets in rest shall lie. Each shore which weav'd for him the snares of death, To him these shores shall pledge their offer'd faith; To him their haughty lords shall lowly bend, And yield him tribute for the name of friend. The Red-sea wave shall darken in the shade Of thy broad sails, in frequent pomp display'd; Thine eyes shall see the golden Ormuz' shore, Twice thine, twice conquered, while the furious Moor,