This opportunity is seized by Camoens to supply a sort of supplement to the poetic narrative of the events of Portuguese history; for he makes Paulo da Gama, the brother of the admiral, explain to the Catual, or Indian governor of Calicut, the historical tapestries and pictures on board the Portuguese ships. At length, Bacchus, who is not yet weary of playing the part of a Mussulman, for the annoyance of the Portuguese, stirs up such a misunderstanding between Vasco da Gama and the Zamorim of Calicut, that the projected commercial treaty between Calicut and Portugal is set aside, and the Portuguese fleet is once more exposed to the risk of destruction. But the grand object of the voyage is now attained, and Vasco da Gama weighs anchor, and directs his course back to Europe. During the homeward voyage Venus prepares for the enterprizing navigators a brilliant festival on an enchanted island in the great ocean, where goddesses and sea nymphs, wounded by Cupid’s darts, become enamoured of the Portuguese who land on the island. The voluptuous magic festival, at which the goddess Thetis, or Tethys, (for both names denote the same deity), becomes the bride of Vasco da Gama, affords the poet the last opportunity of completing his picture of Portuguese national glory; for a prophetic nymph relates the most conspicuous atchievements of the Portuguese commanders in India, and Thetis taking Vasco to the top of a high mountain, explains to him on a magic globe the geographical positions of the different countries. All the objections which may be urged against an epic composition of this kind, are so very obvious, that from a mere sketch of the contents of the Lusiad, it is impossible to conceive how a poet, even of the most uncommon talents, could form a grand and beautiful whole on a plan at once so trivial and so irregular. But the plan of the composition of this poem resembles a scaffolding, which is surrounded and concealed by the beauty and grandeur of the building; and which serves to connect the parts in a singular kind of union, yet has no share in producing the unity of the effect. The unity of effect, and consequently of the poem, rests wholly and solely on the execution of the plan, out of which only a poet like Camoens could have created a Lusiad. But the historian of Portuguese poetry, who is not inclined to concede the just claims which this poem possesses on the admiration of all ages, must present to his readers another and a totally different analysis of the work from that which has just been given. A suitable opportunity will thus be afforded for more particularly noticing the beauties with which the Lusiad abounds, and the faults in which it is not deficient.