3 The river of Lima, in the north of Portugal, said to be the Lethe of the ancients, is thus men tioned by Cellarius in his Geographia Antiqua. "Fabulosus Oblivionus fluvius Limia, ultra Lusitaniam in septentrione." It runs through a most romantic and beautiful district; from which circumte.ce it probably received the name of the river of Oblivion, the first strangers who visited it forgetting their native country, and being willing to continue on its banks. The same reason of forgetfulness is ascribed to the Lotos by Homer, Odys. ix. There is another Lethe of the ancients in Africa.

4 This great man is called by Florus, the Romulus of Spain. What is here said of him is agreeable to history.

5 Ebora, now Evora, was the principal residence | of Sertorius.

538

Here bids the youthful traveller's care forego
The arts of elegance and polish'd show;
Bids other arts his nobler thoughts engage,
And wake to highest aim his patriot rage;

A tyrant race, who own'd no country 12, came,
Deep to intrench themselves their only aim;
With lust of rapine fever'd and athirst,
With the unhallow'd rage of gain accurs'd;

Those arts which rais'd that race of men, who shone Against each spring of action, on the breast,

The heroes of their age on Lisboa's throne.
What mighty deeds in filial order flow'd,
While each still brighter than its parent glow'd,
Till Henry's naval school its heroes pour'd
From pole to pole where'er ocean roar'd!
Columbus, Gama, and Magellan's name,
Its deathless boast; and all of later fame
Its offspring-kindling o'er the view, the Muse
The naval pride of those bright days reviews;
Sees Gama's sails, that first to India bore,
In awful hope, evanish from the shore;
Sees from the silken regions of the morn
What fleets of gay triumphant vanes return!
What heroes, plum'd with conquest, proudly bring
The eastern sceptres to the Lusian king!
When sudden, rising on the evening gale,
Methinks I hear the ocean's murmurs wail,
And every breeze repeat the woeful tale,
How bow'd, how fel! proud Lisboa's naval throne
Ah Heaven, how cold the boding thoughts rush on!
Methinks I hear the shades that hover round
Of English heroes heave the sigh profound,
Prophetic of the kindred fate that lowers
O'er Albion's fleets and London's proudest towers.
Broad was the firm-bas'd structure, and sublime,
That Gama fondly rear'd on India's clime:
On justice and benevolence he plac'd
Its pond'rous weight, and warlike trophies grac'd
Its mountain turrets; and o'er Asia wide
Great Albuquerk" renown'd, its gen'rous pride.
The injur'd native sought its friendly shade,
And India's princes bless'd its powerful aid;
Till from corrupted passion's basest hour
Rose the dread demon of tyrannic power.
Sampayo's heart, where dauntless valour reign'd,
And counsel deep, she seiz'd and foul profan'd.
Then the straight road where sacred justice leads,
Where for its plighted compact honour bleeds,
Was left, and holy patriot zeal gave place
To lust of gold and self-devotion base:
Deceitful art the chief's sole guide became,
And breach of faith was wisdom; slaughter, fame.
Yet though from far his hawk-eye mark'd its prey,
Soon through the rocks that cross'd his crooked way,
As a toil'd bull fiercely he stumbled on,
Till low he lay, dishonour'd and o'erthrown.
Others, without his valour or his art,
With all his interested rage of heart,
Follow'd, as blighting mists on Gama's toil,
And undermin'd and rent the mighty pile;
Convulsions dread its deep foundations tore;
Its bending head the scath of lightning bore:
Its fallen turrets desolation spread;
And from its faithless shade in horrour fled
The native tribes-yet not at once subdued;
Its pristine strength long storms on storms withstood:
A Nunio's justice, and a Castro's sword,
Oft rais'd its turrets, and its dread restor❜d.
Yet, like the sunshine of a winter's day
On Norway's coast, soon died the transient ray.

11 Albuquerk, Sampayo, Nunio, Castro, are distinguished characters in the Lusiad, and in the history of Portuguese Asia.

For wisest ends, by Nature's hand impress'd,
Stern war they wag'd; and blindly ween'd, alone
On brutal dread, to fix their cruel throne.
The wise and good, with indignation fir'd,
Silent from their unhallow'd board retir'd;
The base and cunning stay'd, and, slaves avow'd,
Submiss to ev'ry insult smiling bow'd.

Yet while they smil'd and bow'd the abject head,
In chains unfelt their tyrant lords they led;
Their avarice, watching as a bird of prey,
O'er every weakness, o'er each vice held sway;
Till secret art assum'd the thwarting face,
And dictate bold; and ruin and disgrace
Clos'd the unworthy scene. Now trampled low
Beneath the injur'd native, and the foe
From Belgia lur'd by India's costly prey,
Thy glorious structure, Gama, prostrate lay;
And lies in desolated awful gloom,
Dread and instructive as a ruin'd tomb.

Nor less on Tago's than on India's coast
Was ancient Lusian virtue stain'd and lost:
On Tago's banks, heroic ardour's foes,
A soft, luxurious, tinsel'd race, arose;
Of lofty boastful look and pompons show,
Triumphant tyrants o'er the weak and low:
Yet wildly starting from the gaming board
At ev'ry distant brandish of the sword;
Already conquer'd by uncertain dread,
Imploring peace with feeble hands out-spread ;-
Such peace as trembling suppliants still obtain,
Such peace they found beneath the yoke of Spain;
And the wide empires of the east no more
Pour'd their redundant horns on Lisboa's shore.

Alas, my friend, how vain the fairest boast
Of human pride! how soon is empire lost!
The pile by ages rear'd to awe the world,
By one degenerate race to ruin hurl'd!
And shall the Briton view that downward race
With eye unmov'd, and no sad likeness trace!
Ah, Heaven! in ev'ry scene, by mem❜ry brought,
My fading country rushes on my thought.

From Liboa now the frequent vesper bell
Vibrates o'er Tago's stream with solemn knell.
Turn'd by the call my pensive eye surveys
That mighty scene of hist'ry's shame and praise.
Methinks I hear the yells of horrour rise
From slaughter'd thousands shrieking 1 to the skies,

12 Before the total declension of the Portuguse in Asia, and while they were subject to Spain, the principal people, says the historian Faria, who were mostly a mixed race born in India, lost all affection for the mother country, nor had any regard for any of the provinces, where they were only sons of strangers: and present emolument became their sole object.

13 Besides the total slaughter of the Moors at the taking of Lisbon, other massacres have bathed the streets of that city in blood. King Fernando, surnamed the Careless, was driven from Lisbon by a bloody insurrection, headed by one Velasquez, a Some time after, on the death of Fernan. tailor. do, Adeyro, the queen's favourite, was stabbed in her presence, the bishop of Lisbon was thrown from

ALMADA HILL.

[gore.
As factious rage or blinded zeal of yore
Roll'd their dire chariot wheels through streams of
Now throbs of other glow my soul employ;
I hear the triumph of a nation's joy 14,
From bondage rescu'd and the foreign sword,
And independence and the throne restor❜d!

Hark, what low sound from Cintra's rock! the air
Trembles with horrour; fainting lightnings glare;
Shrill crows the cock, the dogs give dismal yell;
And with the whirlwind's roar full comes the swell;
Convulsive staggers rock th' eternal ground,
And heave the Tagus from his bed profound;
A dark red cloud the towers of Lisboa veils;
Ah Heaven, what dreadful groan! the rising gales
Bring light; and Lisboa smoking in the dust
Lies fall'n.-The wide-spread ruins, still august,
Still show the footsteps where the dreadful God
Of earthquake, cloth'd in howling darkness, trod;
Where mid foul weeds the heaps of marble tell
From what proud height the spacious temples fell;
And penury and sloth of squalid mien

Beneath the roofless palace walls 15 are seen
In savage hovels, where the tapst'ried floor
Was trod by nobles and by kings before:
How like, alas! her Indian empire's state!
How like the city's and the nation's fate!
Yet time points forward to a brighter day;
Points to the domes that stretch their fair array
Through the brown ruins, lifting to the sky
A loftier brow and mien of promise high;
Points to the river-shore, where wide and grand
The courts of commerce and her walks expand,
As an imperial palace 16 to retain
The universal queen, and fix her reign;
Where pleas'd she hears the groaning oar resound;
By magazines and ars'nals mounded round,

the tower of his own cathedral, and the massacre of all the queen's adherents became general; and many were murdered under that pretence, by those who had an enmity against them. In 1505 between two and three thousand Jews were massacred in Lisbon in the space of three days, and many Christians were also murdered by their private enemies under a similar pretence that they were of the Hebrew race. Thousands flocked in from the country to assist in their destruction, and the crews of some French and Dutch ships then in the river, says Osorions, were particularly active in murdering and plundering.

14 When the Spanish yoke was thrown off, and the duke of Braganza ascended the throne under the title of John IV. This is one of the most remarkable events in history, and does the Portuguese nation infinite honour.

15 This description is literally just. Whole families, of all ages, are every where seen among the ruins, the only covering of their habitations being ragged fragments of sail cloth; and their common bed dirty straw. The magnificent and extensive ruins of the palace of Braganza contain several hundreds of these idle people, much more wretched in their appearance than the gipsies of England.

16 The Praza de Commercio, or Forum of Commerce, is one of the largest and most magnificent squares in Europe. Three sides consist of the Exchange and the public offices; the fourth is formed by the Tagus, which is here edged by an extensive and noble wharf, built of coarse marble.

Whose yet unfinished grandeur proudly boasts
The fairest hope of either India's coasts,
And bids the Muse's eye in vision roam
Through mighty scenes in ages long to come.
Forgive, fair Thames, the song of truth, that pays
To Tago's empress-stream superior praise;
O'er every vauntful river be it thine
To boast the guardian shield of laws divine;
But yield to Tagus all the sov'reign state
By Nature's gift bestow'd and partial fate,
The sea-like port and central sway to pour
Her fleets, by happiest course, on ev'ry shore.

When from the sleep of ages dark and dread,
Thy genius, Commerce, rear d her infant bead,
Her cradle bland on Tago's lap she chose,
And soon to wond'ring childhood sprightly rose;
And when to green and youthful vigour grown,
On Tago's breast she fix'd her central throne;
Far from the hurricane's resistless sweep
That tears with thund'ring rage the Carib deep;
Far from the foul-wing'd winter that deforms
And rolls the northern main with storms on storms;
Beneath salubrious skies, to summer gales
She gives the vent'rous and returning sails:
The smiling isles, named Fortunate of old,
First on her Ocean's bosom fair unfold:
Thy world, Columbus, spreads its various breast,
Proud to be first by Lisboa's waves caress'd;
And Afric woos and leads her easy way
To the fair regions of the rising day.
If Turkey's drugs invite or silken pride,
Thy straits, Alcides, give the ready t de;
And turn the prow, and soon each shore expands
From Gallia's coast to Europe's northern lands.

When Heav'n decreed low to the dust to bring
That lofty oak 17, Assyria's boastful king,
Deep, said the angel-voice, the roots secure
With bands of brass, and let the life endure,
For yet his head shall rise.—And deep remain
The living roots of Lisboa's ancient reign;
Deep in the castled isles on Asia's strand,
And firm in fair Brazilia's wealthy land.
And say, while ages roll their length'ning train,
Shall Nature's gifts to Tagus still prove vain,
An idle waste!-A dawn of brightest ray
Has boldly promis'd the returning day
Of Lisboa's honours, fairer than her prime
Lost by a rude unletter'd age's crime-
Now Heaven-taught science and her liberal band
Of arts, and dictates by experience plann'd,
Beneath the smiles of a benignant queen
Boast the fair opening of a re gn serene',
Of omen high.-And Camoens' ghost no more
Wails the neglected Muse on Tago's shore;
No more his tears the barb'rous age upbraid 19:
His griefs and wrongs all sooth'd, his happy shade-

17 See Daniel, c. iv.

1

18 Alludes to the establishment of the Royal Academy of Lisbon in May 1780, under the presidency of the most illustrious prince don John of Braganza, duke of Lafoens, &c. &c. &c. The author was present at the ceremony of its commencement, and had the honour to be admitted a nember.

19 Camoens, the first poet of Portugal, published his Lusiad at a time of the deepest declension of public virtue, when the Portuguese empire in India was falling into rapid decay, when literature was

Beheld th' Ulysses 20 of his age return
To Tago's banks; and earnest to adorn
The hero's brows, he weaves the Elysian crown,
What time the letter'd chiefs of old renown,
And patriot heroes, in the Elysian bowers
Shall hail Braganza! Of the fairest flowers
Of Helicon, entwin'd with laurel leaves
From Maxen field, the deathless wreath he weaves;
Anxious alone, nor be his vows in vain,
That long his toil unfinish'd may remain!

The view how grateful to the liberal mind,
Whose glow of heart embraces human kind,
To see a nation rise! But ah, my friend,
How dire the pangs to mark our own descend!
With ample pow'rs from ruin still to save,
Yet as a vessel on the furious wave,

Through sunken rocks and rav'uous whirlpools tost,
Each pow'r to save in counter-action lost,
Where, while combining storms the decks o'erwhelm,
Timidity slow faulters at the helm,
The crew, in mutiny, from ev'ry mast
Tearing its strength, and yielding to the blast;
By faction's stern and gloomy lust of change,
And selfish rage inspir'd and dark revenge-
Nor ween, my friend, that favouring fate forebodes
That Albion's state, the toil of demi-gods,
From ancient manners pure, through ages long,
And from unnumber'd friendly aspects sprung,
When poison'd at the heart its soul expires,
Shall e'er again resume its gen'rous fires:
No future day may such fair frame restore :
When Albion falls, she falls to rise no more!

Say, which the plant of modest dye,
And lovely mien combin'd,
That fittest to the pensive eye
Displays the virtuous mind?

I sought the groves where innocence
Methought might long reside;
But April's blossoms banish'd thence,
Gave summer, Flora's pride.

I sought the garden's boasted haunt,
But on the gay parterre
Carnations glow, and tulips flaunt,
No humble flow'ret there.

"The flow'r you seek," the nymph replies,
"Has bow'd the languid head;
For on its bloom the blazing skies
Their sultry rage have shed.

""T is now the downward withering day
Of winter's dull presage,

That seeks not where the dog-star's ray
Has shed his fiercest rage.

"Yet search yon shade, obscure, forlorn,
Where rude the bramble grows;
There, shaded by the humble thorn,
The lingering primrose blows."

STANZAS.

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY STUDIOUS OF BOTANY.

SAY, gentle lady of the bower,

For thou, though young, art wise, And known to thee is ev'ry flower Beneath our milder skies:

totally neglected, and all was luxury and imbecility at home. At the end of books v. and vii. of his Lusiad, he severely upbraids the nobility for their barbarous ignorance. He died neglected in a workhouse, a few months before his country fell under the yoke of Philip II. of Spain, whose policy in Portugal was of the same kind with that which he exercised in the Netherlands, endeavouring to secure submission by severity, with the view of reducing them beneath the possibility of a successful revolt.

Methought he bow'd the head in languid mood,
As pale with penury in darkling nook
Forlorn he watch'd. Sudden the skies partook
A mantling blaze, and warlike forms intrude.
Here Gama's sembiance braves the boiling main,
And Lusitania's warriors hurl the spear;
But whence that flood of light that bids them rear
Their lofty brows? From thy neglected strain,
Camoens, unseen by vulgar eye it flows; [owes.
That glorious blaze, to thee, thy thankless country

STANZAS ON MR. GARRICK.

20 This title is given by the Portuguese historians to don John, one of the younger sons of John I. of Portugal, who had visited every court of Europe. The same title is no less due to the present illustrious descendant of his family, the duke of Lafoens. His grace, who has within these few years returned to his native country, was about twenty-FAIR was the graceful form Prometheus made, two years absent from it. During the late war, he was a volunteer in the army of the empress queen, in which he served as lieutenant-general, and particularly distinguished himself at the battle of Maxen, where the Prussians were defeated. After the peace, he not only visited every court of Europe, most of whose languages he speaks fluently, but also travelled to Turkey and Egypt, and even

Its front the image of the god display'd:
All Heav'n approv'd it ere Minerva stole
The fire of Jove, and kindled up the soul.

to Lapland. His grace is no less distinguished by his taste for the belles lettres, than for his extensive knowledge of history and science.