
The Cape of Good Hope rises out of the dark air as a giant who blocks Vasco da Gama's fleet and reads it a charge sheet — a close read of the apparition in Camões's Os Lusíadas, in William Julius Mickle's 1776 English.
I spoke, when rising through the darken'd air, Appall'd, we saw a hideous phantom glare; High and enormous o'er the flood he tower'd, And 'thwart our way with sullen aspect lower'd:An earthy paleness o'er his cheeks was spread, Erect uprose his hairs of wither'd red; Writhing to speak, his sable lips disclose, Sharp and disjoin'd, his gnashing teeth's blue rows; His haggard beard flow'd quiv'ring on the wind, Revenge and horror in his mien combin'd; His clouded front, by with'ring lightnings scar'd, The inward anguish of his soul declar'd. His red eyes, glowing from their dusky caves, Shot livid fires: far echoing o'er the waves His voice resounded, as the cavern'd shore With hollow groan repeats the tempest's roar.Cold gliding horrors thrill'd each hero's breast, Our bristling hair and tott'ring knees confess'd Wild dread, the while with visage ghastly wan, His black lips trembling, thus the fiend began:--"O you, the boldest of the nations, fir'd By daring pride, by lust of fame inspir'd, Who, scornful of the bow'rs of sweet repose, Through these my waves advance your fearless prows, Regardless of the length'ning wat'ry way, And all the storms that own my sov'reign sway, Who, mid surrounding rocks and shelves explore Where never hero brav'd my rage before; Ye sons of Lusus, who with eyes profane Have view'd the secrets of my awful reign, Have pass'd the bounds which jealous Nature drew To veil her secret shrine from mortal view; Hear from my lips what direful woes attend, And, bursting soon, shall o'er your race descend.
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