The Lusiad (extract from Book I: Night-time in the Indian Ocean) - Luís Vas de Camões

Now shooting o'er the flood his fervid blaze,

The red-brow'd sun withdraws his beamy rays;

Safe in the bay the crew forget their cares,

And peaceful rest their wearied strength repairs.

Calm twilight now his drowsy mantle spreads,

And shade on shade, the gloom still deep'ning, sheds.

The moon, full orb'd, forsakes her wat'ry cave,

And lifts her lovely head above the wave.

The snowy splendours of her modest ray

Stream o'er the glist'ning waves, and quiv'ring play:

Around her, glitt'ring on the heaven's arch'd brow,

Unnumber'd stars, enclos'd in azure, glow,

Thick as the dew-drops of the April dawn,

Or May-flowers crowding o'er the daisy-lawn:

The canvas whitens in the silvery beam,

And with a mild pale red the pendants gleam:

The masts' tall shadows tremble o'er the deep;

The peaceful winds a holy silence keep;

The watchman's carol, echo'd from the prows,

Alone, at times, awakes the still repose.

Aurora now, with dewy lustre bright,

Appears, ascending on the rear of night.

With gentle hand, as seeming oft to pause,

The purple curtains of the morn she draws;

The sun comes forth, and soon the joyful crew,

Each aiding each, their joyful tasks pursue.

Wide o'er the decks the spreading sails they throw;

From each tall mast the waving streamers flow;

All seems a festive holiday on board

To welcome to the fleet the island's lord.

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Luís Vas de Camões (c. 1524–1580) Portugal

Translated by W. J. Mickle

Source: The Lusiad, by Luís de Camões, George Bell & Sons, 1877 [Project Gutenberg]

This section describes the beauty of the night and day at the islands the sailors have reached in the Indian Ocean, p. 16-17. The discovery of the islands can be read here.