Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 2.djvu/56

 When now, O king, a damsel's fate severe, A fate which ever claims the woeful tear, Disgraced his honours——On the nymph's lorn head Relentless rage its bitterest rancour shed: Yet such the zeal her princely lover bore, Her breathless corse the crown of Lisbon wore. 'Twas thou, O love, whose dreaded shafts control The hind's rude heart, and tear the hero's soul; Thou ruthless power, with bloodshed never cloyed, 'Twas thou thy lovely votary destroyed. Thy thirst still burning for a deeper woe, In vain to thee the tears of beauty flow; The breast that feels thy purest flames divine, With spouting gore must bathe thy cruel shrine. Such