No More Learning

Soon o'er the palms a mast's tall pendant flows,
Bright to the sun the purple radiance glows;
In martial pomp, far streaming to the skies,
Vanes after vanes in swift succession rise,
And, through the opening forest-boughs of green,
The sails' white lustre moving on is seen;
When sudden, rushing by the point of land
The bowsprits nod, and wide the sails expand;
Full pouring on the sight, in warlike pride,
Extending still the rising squadrons ride:
O'er every deck, beneath the morning rays,
Like melted gold, the brazen spear-points blaze;
Each prore surrounded with a hundred oars,
Old Ocean boils around the crowded prores:
And, five times now in number GAMA'S might,
Proudly their boastful shouts provoke the fight;
Far round the shore the echoing peal rebounds,
Behind the hill an answ'ring shout resounds:
Still by the point new-spreading sails appear,
Till seven times GAMA'S fleet concludes the rear.
Again the shout triumphant shakes the bay;
Form'd as a crescent, wedg'd in firm array,
Their fleet's wide horns the Lusian ships enclasp,
Prepar'd to crush them in their iron grasp.
Shouts echo shouts. --With stern, disdainful eyes
The Indian king to manly GAMA cries,
"Not one of thine on Lisboa's shore shall tell
The glorious tale, how bold thy heroes fell. "
With alter'd visage, for his eyes flash'd fire,
"God sent me here, and God's avengeful ire
Shall blast thy perfidy," great VASCO cried,
"And humble in the dust thy wither'd pride. "
A prophet's glow inspir'd his panting breast,
Indignant smiles the monarch's scorn confess'd.
Again deep silence fills the room of state,
And the proud Moors, secure, exulting wait:
And now inclasping GAMA'S in a ring,
Their fleet sweeps on. --Loud whizzing from the string
The black-wing'd arrows float along the sky,
And rising clouds the falling clouds supply.
The lofty crowding spears that bristling stood
Wide o'er the galleys as an upright wood,
Bend sudden, levell'd for the closing fight,
The points, wide-waving, shed a gleamy light.
Elate with joy the king his aspect rears,
And valiant GAMA, thrill'd with transport, hears
His drums' bold rattling raise the battle sound;
Echo, deep-ton'd, hoarse, vibrates far around;
The shiv'ring trumpets tear the shrill-voic'd air,
Quiv'ring the gale, the flashing lightnings flare,
The smoke rolls wide, and sudden bursts the roar,
The lifted waves fall trembling, deep the shore
Groans; quick and quicker blaze embraces blaze
In flashing arms; louder the thunders raise
Their roaring, rolling o'er the bended skies
The burst incessant; awe-struck Echo dies
Falt'ring and deafen'd; from the brazen throats,
Cloud after cloud, enroll'd in darkness, floats,
Curling their sulph'rous folds of fiery blue,
Till their huge volumes take the fleecy hue,
And roll wide o'er the sky; wide as the sight
Can measure heav'n, slow rolls the cloudy white:
Beneath, the smoky blackness spreads afar
Its hov'ring wings, and veils the dreadful war
Deep in its horrid breast; the fierce red glare,
Cheq'ring the rifted darkness, fires the air,
Each moment lost and kindled, while around,
The mingling thunders swell the lengthen'd sound.
When piercing sudden through the dreadful roar
The yelling shrieks of thousands strike the shore:
Presaging horror through the monarch's breast
Crept cold; and gloomy o'er the distant east,
Through Gata's hills[553] the whirling tempest sigh'd,
And westward sweeping to the blacken'd tide,
Howl'd o'er the trembling palace as it past,
And o'er the gilded walls a gloomy twilight cast;
Then, furious, rushing to the darken'd bay,[554]
Resistless swept the black-wing'd night away,
With all the clouds that hover'd o'er the fight,
And o'er the weary combat pour'd the light.

As by an Alpine mountain's pathless side
Some traveller strays, unfriended of a guide;
If o'er the hills the sable night descend,
And gath'ring tempest with the darkness blend,
Deep from the cavern'd rocks beneath, aghast
He hears the howling of the whirlwind's blast;
Above, resounds the crash, and down the steep
Some rolling weight groans on with found'ring sweep;
Aghast he stands, amid the shades of night,
And all his soul implores the friendly light:
It comes; the dreadful lightning's quiv'ring blaze
The yawning depth beneath his lifted step betrays;
Instant unmann'd, aghast in horrid pain,
his knees no more their sickly weight sustain;
Powerless he sinks, no more his heart-blood flows;
So sunk the monarch, and his heart-blood froze;
So sunk he down, when o'er the clouded bay
The rushing whirlwind pour'd the sudden day:
Disaster's giant arm in one wide sweep
Appear'd, and ruin blacken'd o'er the deep;
The sheeted masts drove floating o'er the tide,
And the torn hulks roll'd tumbling on the side;
Some shatter'd plank each heaving billow toss'd,
And, by the hand of Heav'n, dash'd on the coast
Groan'd prores ingulf'd; the lashing surges rave
O'er the black keels upturn'd, the swelling wave
Kisses the lofty mast's reclining head;
And, far at sea, some few torn galleys fled.
Amid the dreadful scene triumphant rode
The Lusian war-ships, and their aid bestow'd:
Their speedy boats far round assisting ply'd,
Where plunging, struggling, in the rolling tide,
Grasping the shatter'd wrecks, the vanquish'd foes
Rear'd o'er the dashing waves their haggard brows.
No word of scorn the lofty GAMA spoke,
Nor India's king the dreadful silence broke.
Slow pass'd the hour, when to the trembling shore,
In awful pomp, the victor-navy bore:
Terrific, nodding on, the bowsprits bend,
And the red streamers other war portend:
Soon bursts the roar; the bombs tremendous rise,
And trail their black'ning rainbows o'er the skies;
O'er Calicut's proud domes their rage they pour,
And wrap her temples in a sulph'rous shower.
'Tis o'er----In threat'ning silence rides the fleet:
Wild rage, and horror yell in ev'ry street;
Ten thousands pouring round the palace gate,
In clam'rous uproar wail their wretch'd fate:
While round the dome, with lifted hands, they kneel'd,
"Give justice, justice to the strangers yield--
Our friends, our husbands, sons, and fathers slain!
Happier, alas, than these that yet remain--
Curs'd be the counsels, and the arts unjust--
Our friends in chains--our city in the dust--
Yet, yet prevent----"
The silent VASCO saw
The weight of horror, and o'erpowering awe
That shook the Moors, that shook the regent's knees,
And sunk the monarch down. By swift degrees
The popular clamour rises. Lost, unmann'd,
Around the king the trembling council stand;
While, wildly glaring on each other's eyes,
Each lip in vain the trembling accent tries;
With anguish sicken'd, and of strength bereft,
Earnest each look inquires, What hope is left!
In all the rage of shame and grief aghast,
The monarch, falt'ring, takes the word at last:
"By whom, great chief, are these proud war-ships sway'd,
Are there thy mandates honour'd and obey'd?
Forgive, great chief, let gifts of price restrain
Thy just revenge. Shall India's gifts be vain! --
Oh spare my people and their doom'd abodes--
Prayers, vows, and gifts appease the injur'd gods:
Shall man deny? Swift are the brave to spare:
The weak, the innocent confess their care--
Helpless, as innocent of guile, to thee
Behold these thousands bend the suppliant knee--
Thy navy's thund'ring sides black to the land
Display their terrors--yet mayst thou command----"

O'erpower'd he paus'd. Majestic and serene
Great VASCO rose, then, pointing to the scene
Where bled the war, "Thy fleet, proud king, behold
O'er ocean and the strand in carnage roll'd!
So, shall this palace, smoking in the dust,
And yon proud city, weep thy arts unjust.
The Moors I knew, and, for their fraud prepar'd,
I left my fix'd command my navy's guard:[555]
Whate'er from shore my name or seal convey'd
Of other weight, that fix'd command forbade;
Thus, ere its birth destroy'd, prevented fell
What fraud might dictate, or what force compel.
This morn the sacrifice of Fraud I stood,
But hark, there lives the brother of my blood,
And lives the friend, whose cares conjoin'd control
These floating towers, both brothers of my soul.
'If thrice,' I said, 'arise the golden morn,
Ere to my fleet you mark my glad return,
Dark Fraud with all her Moorish arts withstands,
And force, or death withholds me from my bands:
Thus judge, and swift unfurl the homeward sail,
Catch the first breathing of the eastern gale,
Unmindful of my fate on India's shore:[556]
Let but my monarch know, I wish no more. '
Each, panting while I spoke, impatient cries,
The tear-drop bursting in their manly eyes,
'In all but one thy mandates we obey,
In one we yield not to thy gen'rous sway:
Without thee, never shall our sails return;
India shall bleed, and Calicut shall burn--
Thrice shall the morn arise; a flight of bombs
Shall then speak vengeance to their guilty domes:
Till noon we pause; then, shall our thunders roar,
And desolation sweep the treach'rous shore. '
Behold, proud king, their signal in the sky,
Near his meridian tower the sun rides high.