Vain terror from their hearts is banished now.
His magic island, the Ilha of Venus, could only have been imagined by a poet who had travelled widely. All the delights of the New World are there, with the vegetation of Southern Europe added. It is a poet's triumphant rendering of impressions which the discoverers so often felt their inability to convey:
From far they saw the island fresh and fair,
Which Venus o'er the waters guiding drove
(E'en as the wind the canvas white doth bear)....
Where the coast forms a bay for resting-place,
Curved and all quiet, and whose shining sand
Is painted with red shells by Venus' hand....
Three beauteous mounts rise nobly to the view,
Lifting with graceful pride their sweeling head,