Page:The Lusiad (Camões, tr. Mickle, 1791), Volume 1.djvu/444

Whose rage had still the wandering fleet annoyed,
Now in the town his guileful rage employed.
A Christian priest he seem'd; a sumptuous shrine
He rear'd, and tended with the rites divine:
O'er the fair altar waved the cross on high,
Upheld by angels leaning from the sky;
Descending o'er the Virgin's sacred head
So white, so pure, the holy spirit spread
The dove-like pictured wings, so pure, so white;
And, hovering o'er the chosen twelve, alight
The tongues of hallowed fire. Amazed, opprest,
With sacred awe their troubled looks confest
The inspiring godhead, and the prophet's glow,
Which gave each language from their lips to flow
Where thus the guileful power his magic wrought,
DE GAMA's heralds by the guides are brought:
On bended knees low to the earth they fall,
And to the Lord of heaven in transport call;
While the feign'd priest awakes the censer's fire,
And clouds of incense round the shrine aspire.
With cheerful welcome, here caress'd, they stay,
Till bright Aurora, messenger of day,