Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 1.djvu/473

 The shadows fly before the roseate hours, And the chill dew hangs glittering on the flowers: The pruning hook or humble spade to wield, The cheerful labourer hastens to the field; When to the fleet with many a sounding oar, The monarch sails; the natives crowd the shore. Their various robes in one bright splendor join, The purple blazes, and the gold-stripes shine; Nor as stern warriors with the quivering lance, Or moon-arch'd bow, Melinda's sons advance; Green boughs of palm with joyful hands they wave, An omen of the meed that crowns the brave. Fair was the show the royal barge display'd, With many a flag of glistening silk array'd, Whose various hues, as waving thro' the bay, Return'd the lustre of the rising day: And onward as they came, in sovereign state The mighty king amid his princes sate: His robes the pomp of Eastern splendor shew, A proud tiara decks his lordly brow: The various tissue shines in every fold, The silken lustre and the rays of gold. His purple mantle boasts the dye of Tyre, And in the sun-beam glows with living fire. A golden chain, the skilful artist's pride, Hung from his neck; and glittering by his side The dagger's hilt of star-bright diamond shone, The girding baldric burns with precious stone; And