usband's widow'd arms he tore:
Then with unbless'd, unhallow'd nuptials stain'd
The sacred altar, and its rites profan'd.
Alas! the splendour of a crown, how vain,
From Heaven's dread eye to veil the dimmest stain!
To conqu'ring Greece, to ruin'd Troy, what woes,
What ills on ills, from Helen's rape arose!
Let Appius own, let banish'd Tarquin tell
On their hot rage what heavy vengeance fell.
One female, ravish'd, Gibeah's streets[270] beheld,
O'er Gibeah's streets the blood of thousands swell'd
In vengeance of the crime; and streams of blood
The guilt of Zion's sacred bard[271] pursued.
Yet Love, full oft, with wild delirium blinds,
And fans his basest fires in noblest minds;
The female garb the great Alcides[272] wore,
And for his Omph{)a}le the distaff[273] bore.
For Cleopatra's frown the world was lost:
The Roman terror, and the Punic boast,
Cannae's great victor,[274] for a harlot's smile,
Resign'd the harvest of his glorious toil.
And who can boast he never felt the fires,
The trembling throbbings of the young desires,
When he beheld the breathing roses glow,
And the soft heavings of the living snow;
The waving ringlets of the auburn hair,
And all the rapt'rous graces of the fair!
Oh! what defence, if fix'd on him, he spy
The languid sweetness of the stedfast eye!
Ye who have felt the dear, luxurious smart,
When angel-charms oppress the powerless heart,
In pity here relent the brow severe,
And o'er Fernando's weakness drop the tear.

To conclude the notes on this book, it may not be unnecessary to observe
that Camoens, in this episode, has happily adhered to a principal rule
of the Epopea. To paint the manners and characters of the age in which
the action is placed, is as requisite in the epic poem as it is to
preserve the unity of the character of an individual. That gallantry of
bravery and romantic cast of the military adventures, which
characterised the Spaniards and Portuguese during the Moorish wars, is
happily supported by Camoens in its most just and striking colours. In
storming the citadel of Arzila, the Count de Marialva, a brave old
officer, lost his life. The king, leading his only son, the Prince Don
Juan, to the body of the count, while the blood yet streamed from his
wounds: "Behold," he cried, "that great man! May God grant you, my son,
to imitate his virtues. M