Till many a league before the tempest tost
The treacherous pilot sees his purpose crost:
Yet vengeful still, and still intent on guile,
Behold, he cries, yon dim emerging isle:
There live the votaries of Messiah's lore
In faithful peace, and friendship with the Moor.
Yet all was false, for there Messiah's name,
Reviled and scorn'd, was only known by fame.
The grovelling natives there, a brutal herd,
The sensual lore of Hagar's son preferr'd.
With joy brave GAMA hears the artful tale,
Bears to the harbour, and bids furl the sail.
Yet watchful still fair love's celestial queen
Prevents the danger with a hand unseen;
Nor past the bar his vent'rous vessel guides:
And safe at anchor in the road he rides.
Between the isle and Ethiopia's land
A narrow current laves each adverse strand;
Close by the margin where the green tide flows,
Full to the bay a lordly city rose:
With fervid blaze the glowing evening pours
Its purple splendors o'er the lofty towers;
The lofty towers with milder lustre gleam,
And gently tremble in the glassy stream.
Here reign'd a hoary king of ancient fame;
Mombaze the town, Mombaze the island's name.
As
