Arms and the Heroes, who from Lisbon's shore, Through seas where sail was never spread before, Beyond where Ceylon lifts her spicy breast, And waves her woods above the watery waste, With prowess more than human forced their way To the fair kingdoms of the rising day: What wars they waged, what seas, what dangers passed, What glorious empire crowned their toils at last, Venturous I sing, on soaring pinions borne, And all my country's wars the song adorn; What kings, what heroes of my native land Thundered on Asia and Afric's strand: Illustrious shades, who levelled in the dust The idol-temples and the shrines of lust: And where, erewhile, foul demons were revered, To Holy Faith unnumbered altars reared Illustrious names, with deathless laurels crowned, While time rolls on in every clime renown'd!
A little poem from the illustruous times of my country, Portugal. Adapted by me