Casteth on thee the Moor eyne cold with fright, in whom his coming doom he views designèd: The barb'rous Gentoo, sole to see thy sight yields to thy yoke the neck e'en now inclinèd; Tethys, of azure seas the sovran right, her realm, in dowry hath to thee resignèd; and by thy noble tender beauty won, would bribe and buy thee to become her son. In thee from high Olympick halls behold themselves, thy grandsires' sprites; far-famèd pair;[4] this clad in Peacetide's angel-robe of gold, that crimson-hued with paint of battle-glare: By thee they hope to see their tale twice told, their lofty mem'ries live again; and there, when Time thy years shall end, for thee they 'sign a seat where soareth Fame's eternal shrine. But, sithence ancient Time slow minutes by ere ruled the Peoples who desire such boon; bend on my novel rashness favouring eye, that these my verses may become thine own: So shalt thou see thine Argonauts o'erfly yon salty argent, when they see it shown thou seest their labours on the raging sea: Learn even now invok'd of man to be.[5] [1] Invocation to Dom Sebastian. [2] The Arms of Portugal (Canto iii., 53, 54). [3] The Ganges (not the Jordan). [4] D. Joam III. and the Emperor Charles Quint. [5] End of exordium: narrative begins. CANTO III Now, my Calliope! to teach incline what speech great Gama for the king did frame: Inspire immortal song, grant voice divine unto this mortal who so loves thy name. Thus may the God whose gift was Medicine, to whom thou barest Orpheus, lovely Dame! never for Daphne, Clytia, Leucothoe due love deny thee or inconstant grow he. Satisfy, Nymph! desires that in me teem, to sing the merits of thy Lusians brave; so worlds shall see and say that Tagus-stream rolls Aganippe's liquor. Leave, I crave, leave flow'ry Pindus-head; e'en now I deem Apollo bathes me in that sovran wave; else must I hold it, that thy gentle sprite, fears thy dear Orpheus fade through me from sight. All stood with open ears in long array to hear what mighty Gama mote unfold; when, past in thoughtful mood a brief delay, began he thus with brow high-raised and bold:-- "Thou biddest me, O King! to say my say anent our grand genealogy of old: Thou bidd'st me not relate an alien story; Thou bidd'st me laud my brother Lusian's glory. "That one praise others' exploits and renown is honour'd custom which we all desire; yet fear I 'tis unfit to praise mine own; lest praise, like this suspect, no trust inspire; nor may I hope to make all matters known for Time however long were short; yet, sire! as thou commandest all is owed to thee; maugre my will I speak and brief will be.