Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works
Page 10
aid of our Lusian chivalry he sought
and sent the summons by his dearest wife,
his spouse who sends her, and the joy and pride
of the fond Father to whose realm she hied.
“Enter’d Maria, fairest of the fair, 102
her Father’s palace-halls of tow’ering height;
lovely her gest though joy was crusht by care
that brimmed her beauteous eyes with tears that
blight:
and waved her glorious wealth of golden hair
o’er neck and shoulders iv’ory-smooth and white:
Before her gladly-greeting Sire she stood,
and told her mission in this melting mood: —
“‘Whatever various races Earth hath borne, 103
the fierce strange peoples of all Africk-land
leadeth Marocco’s mighty Monarch, sworn
our noble Spain to conquer and command:
Power like this ne’er met beneath the Morn
since bitter Ocean learnt to bathe the strand:
They bring such fierceness and a rage so dread
the Living shake and quake the buried Dead.
“‘He to whose arms thou gavest me to wife, 104
his land defending when such foes invade,
offers himself, o’erfeeble for the strife,
to the hard mercies of the Moorish blade;
if, Sire! thou deign not aid that all-dear life,
me shalt thou see from out the kingdom fade,
widowed, wretched, doomed to lot obscure,
sans realm, sans husband, e’en sans life secure.
“‘Wherefore, O King! of whom for purest fear, 105
Mulucha’s currents in their course congeal;
cast from thee dull delay, rise, swift appear
a second Saviour to our sad Castile:
If this thy countenance, beaming love so dear,
set on a Father’s fond proud heart its seal,
haste, Father! succour, an thou hasten not,
haply he faileth who thy succour sought.’
“Not otherwise fear-filled Maria spake 106
her Sire, than Venus when, in saddest strain,
she pled to great All-Father for the sake
of her AEneas tossing on the Main;
and in Jove’s breast could such compassion ‘wake,
his dreadful thunders from his hand fall vain:
The clement Godhead all to her concedeth
and mourneth only that no more she needeth.
“But now the squadded warriors muster dense 107
on Eborensian plains with fierce array;
glint in the sun-glare harness, sword, spear, lance,
and richly furnisht destriers prance and neigh:
The banner’d trumpets with a blast advance,
rousing men’s bosoms from the gentle sway
of holy Peace to dire refulgent arms,
and down the dales reverb’erate War’s alarms.
“Majestic marcheth, girt by all his powers, 108
th’ insignia of his Royal state among,
valiant Afonso, and his tall form towers
by neck and shoulders taller than the throng;
his gest alone embraves the heart that cowers,
in his stout presence wax the weaklings strong:
Thus to Castilians realm he leads his band,
with his fair daughter, Ladye of the Land.
“In fine when met the Kings, Afonsos twain, 109
upon Tarifa’s field, they stand to front
that swarming host of stone-blind heathen men,
for whom are small the meadows and the mount.
No sprite there liveth of so tough a grain,
but feels its faith and trust of small account,
did it not clearly see and fully know,
CHRIST by His servants’ arms shall smite the foe.
“The seed of Hagar laughing, as it were, 110
to view the Christian pow’er so weak, so mean;
begins the lands, as though their own, to share
ere won, among the conqu’ering Hagarene;
such forged title and false style they bear
claiming the famous name of Saracene:
Thus with false reckoning would they strip and spoil
calling it theirs, that noble alien soil.
“E’en so the barb’arous Giant huge and gaunt, 111
with cause to royal Saul so dread appearing
when seen the swordless Shepherd stand afront,
armed but with pebbles and with heart unfearing;
launched his sneer of pride and arr’ogant taunt
at the weak youngling’s humble raiment jeering,
who, whirled the sling, soon read the lesson well,
how much shall Faith all human force excel:
“Thus do the Moormen, traitor-souls, despise 112
our Christian forces, nor can understand
how Heav’en’s high fortress wonted aid affies,
which e’en horrific Hell may not withstand:
On this and on his skill Castile relies,
falls on Marocco’s King, strikes hand to hand:
The Portingall, who holds all danger light,
makes the Granadan kingdom fear his might.
“Behold! the brandisht blade and lance at rest, 113
rang loud on coat and crest, a wild onset!
They cried, as each his several law confest,
these ‘Sanct’ Thiago!’ and those ‘Mahomet!’
The cries of wounded men the skies opprest,
whose flowing blood in ugly puddles met,
where other half-slain wretches drowning lay,
who dragged their shatter’d limbs from out the fray.
“With such prevailing force the Lusian fought 114
the Granadil, that in the shortest space
an utter ruin of his host was wrought;
ne fence, ne steely plate our strokes could face:
With such triumphant Victory cheaply bought
unsatisfied, the Strong Arm flies apace,
and timely aids Castilia’s toiling pow’er,
still mixt in doubtful conflict with the Moor.
“Now brightly burning Sol had housed his wain 115
in Thetis’ bower, and his slanting ray
sank westward, bearing Hesper in his train,
to close that rare and most memorious day:
When of the Moors those valiant Sovrans twain
the dense and dreadful squadrons swept away,
with such fell slaughter as ne’er told of Man
the page of Story since the world began.
“Ne’er could strong Marius e’en the quarter show, 116
of lives here victim’d by victorious Fate;
when to the river, red with gory glow,
he sent his thirsty Braves their drouth to sate:
Ne yet the Carthaginian, asp’erous foe
to Roman pow’er and cradled in her hate,
when slain so many Knights of noble Rome,
of their gold rings he sent three bushels home.
“And if sole thou so many souls to flit 117
couldst force, and seek Cocytus’ reign of night,
when thou the Holy City didst acquit
of the base Judean, firm in olden rite;
’twas that Jehovah’s vengeance thus saw fit,
O noble Titus! not thine arm of might;
for thus inspired men had prophesied,
and thus by JESU’S lips ’twas certified.
“Accomplished his act of arms victorious, 118
home to his Lusian realm Afonso sped,
to gain from Peace-tide triumphs great and glorious,
as those he gained in wars and battles dread;
when the sad chance, on History’s page memorious,
which can unsepulchre the sheeted dead,
befel that ill-starr’
d miserable Dame
who, foully slain, a throned Queen became.
“Thou, only thou, pure Love, whose cruel might 119
obligeth human hearts to weal and woe,
thou, only thou, didst wreak such foul despight,
as though she were some foul perfidious foe.
Thy burning thirst, fierce Love, they say aright,
may not be quencht by saddest tears that flow;
nay, more, thy sprite of harsh tyrannick mood
would see thine altars bathed with human blood.
“He placed thee, fair Ignez! in soft retreat, 120
culling the first-fruits of thy sweet young years,
in that delicious Dream, that dear Deceit,
whose long endurance Fortune hates and fears:
Hard by Mondego’s yearned-for meads thy seat,
where linger, flowing still, those lovely tears,
until each hill-born tree and shrub confest
the name of Him deep writ within thy breast.
“There, in thy Prince awoke responsive-wise 121
dear thoughts of thee which soul-deep ever lay;
which brought thy beauteous form before his eyes,
whene’er those eyne of thine were far away:
Night fled in falsest, sweetest phantasies,
in fleeting, flying reveries sped the Day;
and all, in fine, he saw or cared to see
were memories of his love, his joys, his thee.
“Of many a dainty dame and damosel 122
the coveted nuptial couches he rejecteth;
for nought can e’er, pure Love! thy care dispel,
when one enchanting shape thy heart subjecteth.
These whims of passion to despair compel
the Sire, whose old man’s wisdom aye respecteth,
his subjects murmuring at his son’s delay
to bless the nation with a bridal day.
“To wrench Ignez from life he doth design, 123
better his captured son from her to wrench;
deeming that only blood of death indign
the living lowe of such true Love can quench.
What Fury willed it that the steel so fine,
which from the mighty weight would never flinch
of the dread Moorman, should be drawn in hate
to work that hapless delicate Ladye’s fate?
“The horr’ible Hangmen hurried her before 124
the King, now moved to spare her innocence;
but still her cruel murther urged the more,
the People swayed by fierce and false pretence.
She with her pleadings pitiful and sore,
that told her sorrows and her care immense
for her Prince-spouse and babes, whom more to leave
than her own death the mother’s heart did grieve:
“And heav’en wards to the clear and chryst’alline skies,
raising her eyne with piteous tears bestained; 125
her eyne, because her hands with cruel ties
one of the wicked Ministers constrained:
And gazing on her babes in wistful guise,
whose pretty forms she loved with love unfeigned,
whose orphan’d lot the Mother filled with dread,
unto their cruel grandsire thus she said, —
“‘ If the brute-creatures, which from natal day 126
on cruel ways by Nature’s will were bent;
or feral birds whose only thought is prey,
upon aerial rapine all intent;
if men such salvage be’ings have seen display
to little children loving sentiment,
e’en as to Ninus’ mother did befall,
and to the twain who rear’d the Roman wall:
“‘ O thou, who bear’st of man the gest and breast, 127
(an it be manlike thus to
draw the sword
on a weak girl, because her love imprest
his heart, who took her heart and love in ward);
respect for these her babes preserve, at least!
since it may not her obscure death retard:
Moved be thy pitying soul for them and me,
although my faultless fault unmoved thou see!
“‘ And if thou know’est to deal in direful fight 128
the doom of brand and blade to Moorish host,
know also thou to deal of life the light
to one who ne’er deserved her life be lost:
But an thou wouldst mine inn’ocence thus requite,
place me for aye on sad exiled coast,
in Scythian sleet, on seething Libyan shore,
with life-long tears to linger evermore.
“‘Place me where beasts with fiercest rage abound, — 129
Lyons and Tygers, — there, ah! let me find
if in their hearts of flint be pity found,
denied to me by heart of humankind,
there with intrinsic love and will so fond
for him whose love is death, there will I tend
these tender pledges whom thou see’st; and so
shall the sad mother cool her burning woe.’
“Inclined to pardon her the King benign, 130
moved by this sad lament to melting mood;
but the rude People and Fate’s dure design
(that willed it thus) refused the pardon sued:
They draw their swords of steely temper fine,
they who proclaim as just such deed of blood:
Against a ladye, caitiff, felon wights!
how showed ye here, brute beasts or noble knights?
“Thus on Polyxena, that beauteous maid, 131
last solace of her mother’s age and care,
when doom’d to die by fierce Achilles’ shade,
the cruel Pyrrhus hasted brand to bare:
But she (a patient lamb by death waylaid),
with the calm glances which serene the air,
casts on her mother, mad with grief, her eyes
and silent waits that awesome sacrifice.
“Thus dealt with fair Ignez the murth’erous crew, 132
in th’ alabastrine neck that did sustain
the charms whereby could Love the love subdue
of him, who crown’d her after death his Queen;
bathing their blades; the flow’ers of snowy hue,
which often water’ed by her eyne had been,
are blood-dyed; and they burn with blinding hate,
reckless of tortures stor’d for them by Fate.
“Well mightest shorn of rays, O Sun! appear 133
to fiends like these on day so dark and dire;
as when Thyestes ate the meats that were
his seed, whom Atreus slew to spite their sire.
And you, O hollow Valleys! doomed to hear
her latest cry from stiffening lips expire, —
her Pedro’s name, — did catch that mournful sound,
whose echoes bore it far and far around!
“E’en as a Daisy sheen, that hath been shorn 134
in time untimely, floret fresh and fair,
and by untender hand of maiden torn
to deck the chaplet for her wreathed hair;
gone is its odour and its colours mourn;
so pale and faded lay that Ladye there;
dried are the roses of her cheek, and fled
the white live colour, with her dear life dead.
“Mondego’s daughter-Nymphs the death obscure 135
wept many a year, with wails of woe exceeding;
and for long mem’ry changed to fountain pure,
the floods of grief their eyes were ever feeding:
The name they gave it, which doth still endure,
revived Ignez, whose murthered love lies bleeding,
see you fresh fountain flowing ‘mid the flowers,
tears are its waters, and its name “Amores!”
“Time ran not
long, ere Pedro saw the day 136
of vengeance dawn for wounds that ever bled;
who, when he took in hand the kingly sway,
eke took the murth’erers who his rage had fled:
Them a most cruel Pedro did betray;
for both, if human life the foemen dread,
made concert savage and dure pact, unjust as
Lepidus made with Anth’ony and Augustus.
“This in his judgments rig’orous and severe, 137
plunder, advoutries, murtherers supprest:
To stay with cruel grasp Crime’s dark career,
bred sole assured solace in his breast:
A Justiciary, not by love but fear,
he guarded Cities from haught tyrant-pest;
their doom more robbers dree’d by his decrees
than Theseus slew, or vagueing Hercules.
“Pedro, the harshly just, begets the bland, 138
(see what exceptions lurk in Nature’s laws!)
remiss, and all-regardless prince, Fernand,
who ran his realm in danger’s open jaws:
For soon against the weak, defenceless land
came the Castilian, who came nigh to cause
the very ruin of the Lusian reign;
for feeble Kings, enfeeble strongest strain.
“Or ’twas the wages Sin deserves of Heaven, 139
that filched Leonor from marriage bed,
by false, misunderstood opinions driven
another’s wife, a leman-bride to wed;
Or ’twas because his easy bosom given
to vice and vileness, and by both misled,
waxed effeminate weak; which may be true,
for low-placed loves the highest hearts subdue.
“Of such offences ever paid the pain 140
many, whom God allowed or willed He;
those who fared forth to force the fair Helen;
Appius and Tarquin, eke, such end did see:
Say, why should David of the saintly strain
so blame himself? What felled th’ illustrious tree
of Benjamin? (Full well the truth design a
Pharaoh for Sara, Sichem for a Dinah.
“But if so weakeneth forceful human breast 141
illicit Love, which spurns the golden mean,
well in Alcmena’s son we find the test
as Omphale disguis’ed to hero-quean.
Anthony’s fame a shade of shame confest,
to Cleopatra bound by love too keen;
nor less thou, Punick victor! wast betray’d
by low allegiance to some Puglian maid.
“Yet say who, peradventure, shall secure 142
his soul from Cupid armed with artful snare
‘mid the live roses, human snow so pure,
the gold and alabaster chrystal-clare?
who ‘scapeth Beauty’s wiles and per’egrine lure,
the true Medusa-face so awful fair,