Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/47

 No hundred cooks his costly meal prepared, As heapt the board when Rome's proud tyrant fared: Nor dared the artist hope his ear to gain, By new-form'd arts to point the stings of pain. But proud and high the Lusian spirit soar'd, And ask'd a godlike hero for their Lord. To none accustom'd but a hero's sway, Great must he be whom that bold race obey.


 * Complaint, loud murmur'd, every city fills,

Complaint, loud echoed, murmurs through the hills. Alarm'd, Bolonia's warlike Earl awakes, And from his listless brother's minions takes The