No More Learning

A hundred arms another brandish'd wide;
So, Titan's son[478] the race of heaven defied.
And here, a dog his snarling tusks display'd;
Anubis, thus in Memphis' hallow'd shade
Grinn'd horrible. With vile prostrations low
Before these shrines the blinded Indians bow. [479]
And now, again the splendid pomp proceeds;
To India's lord the haughty regent leads.
To view the glorious leader of the fleet
Increasing thousands swell o'er every street;
High o'er the roofs the struggling youths ascend,
The hoary fathers o'er the portals bend,
The windows sparkle with the glowing blaze
Of female eyes, and mingling diamond's rays.
And now, the train with solemn state and slow,
Approach the royal gate, through many a row
Of fragrant wood-walks, and of balmy bowers,
Radiant with fruitage, ever gay with flowers.
Spacious the dome its pillar'd grandeur spread,
Nor to the burning day high tower'd the head;
The citron groves around the windows glow'd,
And branching palms their grateful shade bestow'd;
The mellow light a pleasing radiance cast;
The marble walls Daedalian sculpture grac'd
Here India's fate,[480] from darkest times of old,
The wondrous artist on the stone enroll'd;
Here, o'er the meadows, by Hydaspes' stream,
In fair array the marshall'd legions seem:
A youth of gleeful eye the squadrons led,
Smooth was his cheek, and glow'd with purest red:
Around his spear the curling vine-leaves wav'd;
And, by a streamlet of the river lav'd,
Behind her founder, Nysa's walls were rear'd;[481]
So breathing life the ruddy god appear'd,
Had Semele beheld the smiling boy,[482]
The mother's heart had proudly heav'd with joy.
Unnumber'd here, were seen th' Assyrian throng,
That drank whole rivers as they march'd along:
Each eye seem'd earnest on their warrior queen,[483]
High was her port, and furious was her mien;
Her valour only equall'd by her lust;
Fast by her side her courser paw'd the dust,
Her son's vile rival; reeking to the plain
Fell the hot sweat-drops as he champ'd the rein.
And here display'd, most glorious to behold,
The Grecian banners, op'ning many a fold,
Seem'd trembling on the gale; at distance far
The Ganges lav'd the wide-extended war.
Here, the blue marble gives the helmets' gleam;
Here, from the cuirass shoots the golden beam.
A proud-eyed youth, with palms unnumber'd gay,
Of the bold veterans led the brown array;
Scornful of mortal birth enshrin'd he rode,
Call'd Jove his father,[484] and assum'd the god.

While dauntless GAMA and his train survey'd
The sculptur'd walls, the lofty regent said:
"For nobler wars than these you wond'ring see
That ample space th' eternal fates decree:
Sacred to these th' unpictur'd wall remains,
Unconscious yet of vanquish'd India's chains.
Assur'd we know the awful day shall come,
Big with tremendous fate, and India's doom.
The sons of Brahma, by the god their sire
Taught to illume the dread divining fire,
From the drear mansions of the dark abodes
Awake the dead, or call th' infernal gods;
Then, round the flame, while glimm'ring ghastly blue,
Behold the future scene arise to view.
The sons of Brahma, in the magic hour,
Beheld the foreign foe tremendous lower;
Unknown their tongue, their face, and strange attire,
And their bold eye-balls burn'd with warlike ire:
They saw the chief o'er prostrate India rear
The glitt'ring terrors of his awful spear.
But, swift behind these wint'ry days of woe
A spring of joy arose in liveliest glow,
Such gentle manners, leagued with wisdom, reign'd
In the dread victors, and their rage restrain'd.
Beneath their sway majestic, wise, and mild,
Proud of her victors' laws, thrice happier India smil'd.
So, to the prophets of the Brahmin train
The visions rose, that never rose in vain. "

The regent ceas'd; and now, with solemn pace,
The chiefs approach the regal hall of grace.
The tap'stried walls with gold were pictur'd o'er,
And flow'ry velvet spread the marble floor. [485]
In all the grandeur of the Indian state,
High on a blazing couch, the monarch sat,
With starry gems the purple curtains shin'd,
And ruby flowers and golden foliage twin'd
Around the silver pillars: high o'er head
The golden canopy its radiance shed:
Of cloth of gold the sov'reign's mantle shone,
And, his high turban flam'd with precious stone
Sublime and awful was his sapient mien,
Lordly his posture, and his brow serene.
A hoary sire, submiss on bended knee,
(Low bow'd his head), in India's luxury,
A leaf,[486] all fragrance to the glowing taste,
Before the king each little while replac'd.
The patriarch Brahmin (soft and slow he rose),
Advancing now, to lordly GAMA bows,
And leads him to the throne; in silent state
The monarch's nod assigns the captain's seat;
The Lusian train in humbler distance stand:
Silent, the monarch eyes the foreign band
With awful mien; when valiant GAMA broke
The solemn pause, and thus majestic spoke:--

"From where the crimson sun of ev'ning laves
His blazing chariot in the western waves,
I come, the herald of a mighty king,
And, holy vows of lasting friendship bring
To thee, O monarch, for resounding Fame
Far to the west has borne thy princely name;
All India's sov'reign thou! Nor deem I sue,
Great as thou art, the humble suppliant's due.
Whate'er from western Tagus to the Nile,
Inspires the monarch's wish, the merchant's toil,
From where the north-star gleams o'er seas of frost,
To Ethiopia's utmost burning coast,
Whate'er the sea, whate'er the land bestows,
In my great monarch's realm unbounded flows.
Pleas'd thy high grandeur and renown to hear,
My sov'reign offers friendship's bands sincere:
Mutual he asks them, naked of disguise,
Then, every bounty of the smiling skies
Shower'd on his shore and thine, in mutual flow,
Shall joyful Commerce on each shore bestow.
Our might in war, what vanquish'd nations fell
Beneath our spear, let trembling Afric tell;
Survey my floating towers, and let thine ear,
Dread as it roars, our battle-thunder hear.
If friendship then thy honest wish explore,
That dreadful thunder on thy foes shall roar.
Our banners o'er the crimson field shall sweep,
And our tall navies ride the foamy deep,
Till not a foe against thy land shall rear
Th' invading bowsprit, or the hostile spear:
My king, thy brother, thus thy wars shall join,
The glory his, the gainful harvest thine. "

Brave GAMA spake; the pagan king replies,
"From lands which now behold the morning rise,
While eve's dim clouds the Indian sky enfold,
Glorious to us an offer'd league we hold.
Yet shall our will in silence rest unknown,
Till what your land, and who the king you own,
Our council deeply weigh.