Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/148

 From thence, still on, our daring course we hold Through trackless gulfs, whose billows never roll'd Around the vessel's pitchy sides before; Through trackless gulfs, where mountain surges roar, For many a night, when not a star appear'd, Nor infant moon's dim horns the darkness cheer'd; For many a dreary night, and cheerless day, In calms now fetter'd, now the whirlwind's play, By ardent hope still fired, we forced our dreadful way. Now smooth as glass the shining waters lie, No cloud slow moving sails the azure sky; Slack from their height the sails unmoved decline, The airy streamers form the downward line; No gentle quiver owns the gentle gale, Nor gentlest swell distends the ready sail; Fixt as in ice, the slumbering prows remain, And silence wide extends her solemn reign. Now to the waves the bursting clouds descend, And heaven and sea in meeting tempests blend; The black-wing'd whirlwinds o'er the ocean sweep, And from his bottom roars the staggering deep. Driven by the yelling blast's impetuous sway Staggering we bound, yet onward bound away. And now escaped the fury of the storm, New danger threatens in a various form; Though