“Enough, my muse, thy wearied wing no more
Must to the seat of Jove triumphant soar.
Chilled by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires
Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.”

—  Luís de Camões

Nô mais, Musa, nô mais, que a Lira tenho
Destemperada e a voz enrouquecida,
E não do canto, mas de ver que venho
Cantar a gente surda e endurecida.
O favor com que mais se acende o engenho
Não no dá a pátria, não, que está metida
No gosto da cobiça e na rudeza
Dũa austera, apagada e vil tristeza.
Stanza 145 (tr. William Julius Mickle)
Epic poetry, Os Lusíadas (1572), Canto X

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Luís de Camões69
Portuguese poet 1524–1580

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