No More Learning

The machinery of the former part of the poem not only acquires dignity,
but is completed by it. And the conduct of Homer and Virgil has, in
this, not only received a fine imitation, but a masterly contrast. In
the finest allegory the heroes of the Lusiad receive their reward: and,
by means of this allegory, our poet gives a noble imitation of the
noblest part of the AEneid. In the tenth Lusiad, GAMA and his heroes hear
the nymphs in the divine palace of Thetis sing the triumphs of their
countrymen in the conquest of India: after this the goddess shows GAMA a
view of the eastern world, from the Cape of Good Hope to the furthest
islands of Japan. She poetically describes every region, and the
principal islands, and concludes, "All these are given to the western
world by you. " It is impossible any poem can be summed up with greater
sublimity. The Fall of Troy is nothing to this. Nor is this all: the
most masterly fiction, finest compliment, and ultimate purpose of the
AEneid is not only nobly imitated, but the conduct of Homer, in
concluding the Iliad, as already observed, is paralleled, without one
circumstance being borrowed. Poetical conduct cannot possibly bear a
stronger resemblance, than the reward of the heroes of the Lusiad, the
prophetic song, and the vision shown to GAMA bear to the games at the
funeral of Patroclus and the redemption of the body of Hector,
considered as the completion of the anger of Achilles, the subject of
the Iliad. Nor is it a greater honour to resemble a Homer and a Virgil,
than it is to be resembled by a Milton. Milton certainly heard of
Fanshaw's translation of the Lusiad, though he might never have seen the
original, for it was published fourteen years before he gave his
Paradise Lost to the world. But, whatever he knew of it, had the last
book of the Lusiad been two thousand years known to the learned, every
one would have owned that the two last boots of the Paradise Lost were
evidently formed upon it. But whether Milton borrowed any hint from
Camoens is of little consequence. That the genius of the great Milton
suggested the conclusion of his immortal poem in the manner and with the
machinery of the Lusiad, is enough. It is enough that the part of
Michael and Adam in the two last books of the Paradise Lost are, in
point of conduct, exactly the same with the part of Thetis and GAMA in
the conclusion of the Lusiad.
Yet, this difference must be observed; in
the narrative of his last book, Milton has flagged, as Addison calls it,
and fallen infinitely short of the untired spirit of the Portuguese
poet.


END OF THE NINTH BOOK.




BOOK X.

THE ARGUMENT.

In the opening of this, the last canto, the poet resumes the allegory of
the Isle of Joy, or of Venus: the fair nymphs conduct their lovers to
their radiant palaces, where delicious wines sparkle in every cup.
Before the poet describes the song of a prophetic siren, who celebrates
the praise of the heroes who are destined in ennoble the name of their
country, he addresses himself to his muse in a tone of sorrow, which
touches us the more deeply when we reflect upon the unhappy situation to
which this great poet was at last reduced. In the song of the siren,
which follows, is afforded a prophetic view from the period of Gama's
expedition down to Camoens' own times, in which Pacheco, and other
heroes of Portugal, pass in review before the eye of the reader. When
the siren has concluded her prophetic song, Thetis conducts Gama to the
top of a mountain and addresses him in a set speech. The poem concludes
with the poet's apostrophe to King Sebastian.


Far o'er the western ocean's distant bed
Apollo now his fiery coursers sped;
Far o'er the silver lake of Mexic[589] roll'd
His rapid chariot wheels of burning gold:
The eastern sky was left to dusky grey,
And o'er the last hot breath of parting day,
Cool o'er the sultry noon's remaining flame,
On gentle gales the grateful twilight came.
Dimpling the lucid pools, the fragrant breeze
Sighs o'er the lawns, and whispers thro' the trees;
Refresh'd, the lily rears the silver head,
And opening jasmines o'er the arbours spread.
Fair o'er the wave that gleam'd like distant snow,
Graceful arose the moon, serenely slow;
Not yet full orb'd, in clouded splendour dress'd,
Her married arms embrace her pregnant breast.
Sweet to his mate, recumbent o'er his young,
The nightingale his spousal anthem sung;
From ev'ry bower the holy chorus rose,
From ev'ry bower the rival anthem flows.
Translucent, twinkling through the upland grove,
In all her lustre shines the star of love;
Led by the sacred ray from ev'ry bower,
A joyful train, the wedded lovers pour:
Each with the youth above the rest approv'd,
Each with the nymph above the rest belov'd,
They seek the palace of the sov'reign dame;
High on a mountain glow'd the wondrous frame:
Of gold the towers, of gold the pillars shone,
The walls were crystal, starr'd with precious stone.
Amid the hall arose the festive board,
With nature's choicest gifts promiscuous stor'd:
So will'd the goddess to renew the smile
Of vital strength, long worn by days of toil.
On crystal chairs, that shin'd as lambent flame,
Each gallant youth attends his lovely dame;
Beneath a purple canopy of state
The beauteous goddess and the leader sat:
The banquet glows-- Not such the feast, when all
The pride of luxury in Egypt's hall
Before the love-sick Roman[590] spread the boast
Of ev'ry teeming sea and fertile coast.