He returned to Lisbon after an absence of sixteen years, unfortunate even in the 'time of his arrival, when the pestilence raged in the city, which prevented the ap pearance of his poem for Lree years. At ihst `he Lusiad was printed in 1572. It is not certain whether he ever obtained a pension from Sebastian, then the sovereign of Portugal. If he ever did, it was but a small one, and was probably revoked by Cardinal Henry, who succeeded Sebastian. The latter prince was young and illiterate, and more capable of enjoyi ig the sports of the field than the beauties of poetry. But though the. story of the pension is doubtful, and is said to have been held on condition of the poet's residing at court, an ex pence which the sum would not afford, it is not more wonderful that the young king should be sensible of the honour bestowed on him by Camoens in his address at the opening of the first, than that a bigot like Cardinal Henry should neglect the greatest genius of his age and country. Henry patronized learning indeed, at least what was called learning by the monks and friars. 'lacy transmitted to him all their childish forgeries of in scriptions and miracles. This same henry was the persecutor of George Buchanan ; the patron of tic In quisition, of which he extended tne horrors even to Goa in the east. Under his weak and wicked hands, the kingdom fell into. utter ruin. When we find Camoens exhorting, in his patriotic poetry, young Se bastian, this priest•king's predecessor, to exclude the clergy, by which he meant, in the first instance, Car dinal Henry, from state affairs ; when we look to the man of genius neglected by this worthless sovereign ; tra duced by his monkish contemporaries ; yet, in his old age and misfortunes, lamenting less- for his DIVII fate, than for the approaching ruin of his degenerate country, —Camoens, with these worthy sentiments, and this unworthy destiny, commands an elevated and respectful sympathy-. It is not merely the old man, or even the neglected man of genius dying in an hospital—it is the patriot and the patriot bard—the hero and the soldier- the friend of truth, as well as the enchanter of fiction, ennobling even his death upon a flock-bed, by those sentiments, which deepen, by contrast, the disgrace and degeneracy of his country. " I am ending (he says in one of his letters) the course of my life—the world will witness how 1 have loved my country." By some, it is said, he died in an alms-house. It appears, however, that he had not even the certainty of subsistence which those houses provided. He had a black servant who had grown old with him, and who had long experienced his master's humanity. This grateful Indian, a native of Java, who, according to some writers, had saved his mas ter's life in the unhappy shipwreck, where he lost all his effects—this Indian, grown old and white haired in his service, begged in the streets of Lisbon for the only man in Portugal on whom God had bestowed those talents which have a tendency to erect the spirit of a downward age. Ile died in the year 1579, in his 62d year.
While Trissino, says Voltaire, was clearing away the rubbish in Italy which barbarity and ignorance had heap ed up for ten centuries in the way of the arts and sciences, Caruoens, in Portugal, steered a new course, and acquir ed a reputation lasts still among his countrymen, who pay as much respect to his memory as the English to Milton. This criticism, though trite as it respects Camoens, is quite French with regard to Trissino. ,1riosto did a thousand times more to restore poetry in Europe than Trissino, who wrote a IleaNs y poem in strict imitation of the ancients, intended as an antidote to the magic wonders of the bard of Reggio. But it did not succeed ; and Tasso, who made the ancients more ex pressly his models, was still obliged to adhere to the speciosa miracula of the fabulous school.
The able translator of the Lusiad, Julius Micklc, has indignantly spurned at the charge of incongruous ma chinery which Voltaire brought against the Lusiad. Voltaire, as an instance of this, quotes the passage where in a storm, addresses himself to Christ, and where Venus comes to his relief. "'There is no such passage," answers Mickle, " in the Lusiad. Gama, in a tempest, prays to the Holy Power, to whom nothing is impossible—the Sovereign of earth, sea, and land, who led Israel through the waves ; who delivered Paul, and who protected the children of the second father of the world from the deluge : but Christ is not once mentioned in the whole passage."' Bacchus and the Virgin Mary, adds the Frenchman, arc very naturally found together. If words have meaning, answers Mickle, this informs the reader that they arc found together in the Lusiad ; y et the truth is, in the whole poem there is no such per sonage as the Virgin Mary.
It is true that Micklc has exposed several glaring in stances of ignorance and misrepresentation in Voltaire's critique ; his mention of Emanuel II. of Portugal, for instance, and his notion of the poet having actually sailed with the discoverer of the passage to India. It is true, also, that whenever a good joke was in view, especially if the Virgin Mary could be included, our French philo sopher was generally seized with a shortness of truth. But if we look to vindication of the Portuguese poet's machinery, it is not satisfactory. Gama prays to the Sovereign of Earth and I leaven, who delivered Paul and the children of Israel. It is needless to tell us that this is the Jupiter Optimus Maximus—the Great Philo sophical Jove, adored by saint, by savage, and by sage." It is the living and true Deity of the Bible ; and being such, Venus (though we should call her the celestial Venus, anLthe great principle of love) has nothing to do where such a sacred name is implored. The criticism of Voltaire still ynnains unanswered : that the hero and the object of the ‘nterprize being Christian, Heathen deities are improperir introduced. con tends, that whatever may be said against the ancient ma chinery in a modern poem, candour must confess that the allegory of Camoens, which arms the genius of Mahommedanism against the expedition of his heroes, is both sublime and most happily interesting. The genius of Mahommedanism, we cannot but remark, had no mo tive to oppose the success of Gama and his followers, un less it was to oppo%e the progid of (Jai tunlity.f Ilad the political genius of Asia been alarm. d into action, the poet might have supposed Id. rt.adi r to forget the religion of Europe ; hut w ht n tin ?Wig-mu! genius of Asia is brought forwaid agt nt in th• poem, it is needless to excuse Canto( ns, by all .grog, tha' Christ is not mentioned ; the Cluj ,ti• li ;ion is INT sistibly brought to our recollection ; our how s arc aw a kened for the success—Our fears for the misfortunes of its cause. How much more consistent is the machinery of Tasso, who leads our imagination to blend the inter ests of witchcraft, Paganism, Mahommedanism, and hell itself, in one common view, as opposed to the cause of Christianity. This is a great and consistent macliinery, finely copied by Milton, who identifies the Pagan deities, and the infernal cherubs and seraphs, and thus clothes himself in the spoils of superstition. On the whole, the defence of Canmens for his Venus, Maps, Neptune, and Jupiter, though ingeniously- pleaded by Mickle, is not made out. It is a waxing in law, that the inscientia Iesi is not an apology for delinquency ; and all that can be said for Camocns is, that he knew not the law of consistency.