My footsteps wander o’er your banks of green,
O come auspicious, and the song inspire
With all the boldness of your hero’s fire:
Deep and majestic let the numbers flow,
And, rapt to heaven, with ardent fury glow,
Unlike the verse that speaks the lover’s grief,
When heaving sighs afford their soft relief,
And humble reeds bewail the shepherd’s pain;
But like the warlike trumpet be the strain
To rouse the hero’s ire, and far around,
With equal rage, your warriors’ deeds resound.
And thou,70* O born the pledge of happier days,
To guard our freedom and our glories raise,
Given to the world to spread Religion’s sway,
And pour o’er many a land the mental day,
Thy future honours on thy shield behold,
The cross and victor’s wreath emboss’d in gold:
At thy commanding frown we trust to see,
The Turk and Arab bend the suppliant knee:
Beneath the morn,71* dread king, thine empire lies,
When midnight veils thy Lusitanian72* skies;
And when, descending in the western main,
The sun73* still rises on thy length’ning reign:
Thou blooming scion of the noblest stem,
Our nation’s safety, and our age’s gem,
O young Sebastian, hasten to the prime
Of manly youth, to Fame’s high temple climb:
Yet now attentive hear the Muse’s lay
While thy green years to manhood speed away:
The youthful terrors of thy brow suspend,
And, oh, propitious to the song attend —
The num’rous song, by patriot-passion fir’d,
And by the glories of thy race inspir’d:
To be the herald of my country’s fame
My first ambition and my dearest aim:
Nor conquests fabulous nor actions vain,
The Muse’s pastime, here adorn the strain:
Orlando’s fury, and Rugero’s rage,
And all the heroes of th’ Aonian page,74*
The dreams of bards surpass’d the world shall view,
And own their boldest fictions may be true;
Surpass’d and dimm’d by the superior blaze
Of Gama’s mighty deeds, which here bright Truth displays.
Nor more let History boast her heroes old,
Their glorious rivals here, dread prince, behold:
Here shine the valiant Nunio’s deeds unfeign’d,
Whose single arm the falling state sustain’d;
Here fearless Egas’ wars, and, Fuas, thine,
To give full ardour to the song combine;
But ardour equal to your martial ire
Demands the thund’ring sounds of Homer’s lyre.
To match the Twelve so long by bards renown’d,75*
Here brave Magricio and his peers are crown’d
(A glorious Twelve!) with deathless laurels, won
In gallant arms before the English throne.
Unmatch’d no more the Gallic Charles shall stand,
Nor Cæsar’s name the first of praise command:
Of nobler acts the crown’d Alonzo76* see,
Thy valiant sires, to whom the bended knee
Of vanquish’d Afric bow’d. Nor less in fame,
He who confin’d the rage of civil flame,
The godlike John, beneath whose awful sword
Rebellion crouch’d, and trembling own’d him lord
Those heroes, too, who thy bold flag unfurl’d,
And spread thy banners o’er the Eastern world,
Whose spears subdu’d the kingdoms of the morn,
Their names and glorious wars the song adorn:
The daring Gama, whose unequall’d name
(Proud monarch) shines o’er all of naval fame:
Castro the bold, in arms a peerless knight,
And stern Pacheco, dreadful in the fight:
The two Almeydas, names for ever dear,
By Tago’s nymphs embalm’d with many a tear;
Ah, still their early fate the nymphs shall mourn,
And bathe with many a tear their hapless urn:
Nor shall the godlike Albuquerque restrain
The Muse’s fury; o’er the purpled plain
The Muse shall lead him in his thund’ring car
Amidst his glorious brothers of the war,
Whose fame in arms resounds from sky to sky,
And bids their deeds the power of death defy.
And while, to thee, I tune the duteous lay,
Assume, O potent king, thine empire’s sway;
With thy brave host through Afric march along,
And give new triumphs to immortal song:
On thee with earnest eyes the nations wait,
And, cold with dread, the Moor expects his fate;
The barb’rous mountaineer on Taurus’ brows
To thy expected yoke his shoulder bows;
Fair Thetis woos thee with her blue domain,
Her nuptial son, and fondly yields her reign,
And from the bow’rs of heav’n thy grandsires77* see
Their various virtues bloom afresh in thee;
One for the joyful days of peace renown’d,
And one with war’s triumphant laurels crown’d:
With joyful hands, to deck thy manly brow,
They twine the laurel and the olive-bough;
With joyful eyes a glorious throne they see,
In Fame’s eternal dome, reserv’d for thee.
Yet, while thy youthful hand delays to wield
The sceptre’d power, or thunder of the field,
Here view thine Argonauts, in seas unknown,
And all the terrors of the burning zone,
Till their proud standards, rear’d in other skies,
And all their conquests meet thy wond’ring78* eyes.
Now, far from land, o’er Neptune’s dread abode
The Lusitanian fleet triumphant rode;
Onward they traced the wide and lonesome main,
Where changeful Proteus leads his scaly train;
The dancing vanes before the zephyrs flow’d,
And their bold keels the trackless ocean plough’d;
Unplough’d before, the green-ting’d billows rose,
And curl’d and whiten’d round the nodding prows.
When Jove, the god who with a thought controls
The raging seas, and balances the poles,
From heav’n beheld, and will’d, in sov’reign state,
To fix the Eastern World’s depending fate,
Swift at his nod th’ Olympian herald flies,
And calls th’ immortal senate of the skies;
Where, from the sov’reign throne of earth and heav’n,
Th’ immutable decrees of fate are given.
Instant the regents of the spheres of light,
And those who rule the paler orbs of night,
With those, the gods whose delegated sway
The burning South and frozen North obey;
And they whose empires see the day-star rise,
And evening Phœbus leave the western skies,
All instant pour’d along the milky road,
Heaven’s crystal pavements glitt’ring as they trod:
And now, obedient to the dread command,
Before their awful lord in order stand.
Sublime and dreadful on his regal throne,
That glow’d with stars, and bright as lightning shone,
Th’ immortal Sire, who darts the thunder, sat,
The crown and sceptre added solemn state;
The crown, of heaven’s own pearls, whose ardent rays,
Flam’d round his brows, outshone the diamond’s blaze:
His breath such gales of vital fragrance shed,
; As might, with sudden life, inspire the dead:
Supreme Control thron’d in his awful eyes
Appear’d, and mark’d the monarch of the skies.
On seats that burn’d with pearl and ruddy gold,
The subject gods their sov’reign lord enfold,
Each in his rank, when with a voice that shook
The tow’rs of heav’n, the world’s dread ruler spoke:
“Immortal heirs of light, my purpose hear,
My counsels ponder, and the Fates revere:
Unless Oblivion o’er your minds has thrown
Her dark blank shades, to you, ye gods, are known
The Fate’s decree, and ancient warlike fame
Of that bold race which boasts of Lusus’ name;
That bold advent’rous race, the Fates declare,
A potent empire in the East shall rear,
Surpassing Babel’s or the Persian fame,
Proud Grecia’s boast, or Rome’s illustrious name.
Oft from these brilliant seats have you beheld
The sons of Lusus on the dusty field,
Though few, triumphant o’er the num’rous Moors,
Till, from the beauteous lawns on Tagus’ shores
They drove the cruel foe. And oft has heav’n
Before their troops the proud Castilians driv’n;
While Victory her eagle-wings display’d
Where’er their warriors wav’d the shining blade,
Nor rests unknown how Lusus’ heroes stood
When Rome’s ambition dyed the world with blood;
What glorious laurels Viriatus79* gain’d,
How oft his sword with Roman gore was stain’d;
And what fair palms their martial ardour crown’d,
When led to battle by the chief renown’d,
Who80* feign’d a dæmon, in a deer conceal’d,
To him the counsels of the gods reveal’d.
And now, ambitious to extend their sway
Beyond their conquests on the southmost bay
Of Afric’s swarthy coast, on floating wood
They brave the terrors of the dreary flood,
Where only black-wing’d mists have hover’d o’er,
Or driving clouds have sail’d the wave before;
Beneath new skies they hold their dreadful way
To reach the cradle of the new-born day:
And Fate, whose mandates unrevok’d remain,
Has will’d that long shall Lusus’ offspring reign
The lords of that wide sea, whose waves behold
The sun come forth enthron’d in burning gold.
But now, the tedious length of winter past,
Distress’d and weak, the heroes faint at last.
What gulfs they dar’d, you saw, what storms they brav’d,
Beneath what various heav’ns their banners wav’d!
Now Mercy pleads, and soon the rising land
To their glad eyes shall o’er the waves expand;
As welcome friends the natives shall receive,
With bounty feast them, and with joy relieve.
And, when refreshment shall their strength renew,
Thence shall they turn, and their bold route pursue.”
So spoke high Jove: the gods in silence heard,
Then rising, each by turns his thoughts preferr’d:
But chief was Bacchus of the adverse train;
Fearful he was, nor fear’d his pride in vain,
Should Lusus’ race arrive on India’s shore,
His ancient honours would be known no more;
No more in Nysa81* should the native tell
What kings, what mighty hosts before him fell.
The fertile vales beneath the rising sun
He view’d as his, by right of victory won,
And deem’d that ever in immortal song
The Conqueror’s title should to him belong.
Yet Fate, he knew, had will’d, that loos’d from Spain
Boldly advent’rous thro’ the polar main,
A warlike race should come, renown’d in arms,
And shake the eastern world with war’s alarms,
Whose glorious conquests and eternal fame
In black Oblivion’s waves should whelm his name.
Urania-Venus,82* queen of sacred love,
Arose and fixed her asking eyes on Jove;
Her eyes, well pleas’d, in Lusus’ sons could trace
A kindred likeness to the Roman race,
For whom of old such kind regard she bore;83*
The same their triumphs on Barbaria’s shore,
The same the ardour of their warlike flame,
The manly music of their tongue the same:84*
Affection thus the lovely goddess sway’d,
Nor less what Fate’s unblotted page display’d,
Where’er this people should their empire raise,
She knew her altars would unnumber’d blaze,
And barb’rous nations at her holy shrine
Be humaniz’d and taught her lore divine.
Her spreading honours thus the one inspir’d,
And one the dread to lose his worship fir’d.
Their struggling factions shook th’ Olympian state
With all the clam’rous tempest of debate.
Thus, when the storm with sudden gust invades
The ancient forest’s deep and lofty shades,
The bursting whirlwinds tear their rapid course,
The shatter’d oaks crash, and with echoes hoarse
The mountains groan, while whirling on the blast
The thick’ning leaves a gloomy darkness cast;
Such was the tumult in the blest abodes,
When Mars, high tow’ring o’er the rival gods,
Stepp’d forth: stern sparkles from his eye-balls glanc’d,
And now, before the throne of Jove advanc’d,
O’er his left shoulder his broad shield he throws,
And lifts his helm85* above his dreadful brows:
Bold and enrag’d he stands, and, frowning round,
Strikes his tall spear-staff on the sounding ground;
Heav’n trembled, and the light turn’d pale86* — such dread
His fierce demeanour o’er Olympus spread —
When thus the warrior: “O Eternal Sire,
Thine is the sceptre, thine the thunder’s fire,
Supreme dominion thine; then, Father, hear,
Shall that bold race which once to thee was dear,
Who, now fulfilling thy decrees of old,
Through these wild waves their fearless journey hold,
Shall that bold race no more thy care engage,
But sink the victims of unhallow’d rage!
Did Bacchus yield to Reason’s voice divine,
Bacchus the cause of Lusus’ sons would join,
Lusus, the lov’d companion of his cares,
His earthly toils, his dangers, and his wars:
But envy still a foe to worth will prove,
To worth, though guarded by the arm of Jove.
“Then thou, dread Lord of Fate, unmov’d remain,
Nor let weak change thine awful counsels stain,
For Lusus’ race thy promis’d favour show;
Swift as the arrow from Apollo’s bow
Let Maia’s87* son explore the wat’ry way,
Where, spent with toil, with weary hopes, they stray;
And safe to harbour, through the deep untried,
Let him, empower’d, their wand’ring vessels guide;
There let them hear of India’s wish’d-for shore,
And balmy rest their fainting strength restore.”
He spoke: high Jove assenting bow’d the head,
And floating clouds of nectar’d fragrance shed:
Then, lowly bending to th’ Eternal Sire,
Each in his duteous rank, the gods retire.
Whilst thus in heaven’s brigh
t palace fate was weigh’d
Right onward still the brave Armada strayed:
Right on they steer by Ethiopia’s strand
And pastoral Madagascar’s88* verdant land.
Before the balmy gales of cheerful spring,
With heav’n their friend, they spread the canvas wing,
The sky cerulean, and the breathing air,
The lasting promise of a calm declare.
Behind them now the Cape of Praso89* bends,
Another ocean to their view extends,
Where black-topp’d islands, to their longing eyes,
Lav’d by the gentle waves,90* in prospect rise.
But Gama (captain of the vent’rous band,
Of bold emprize, and born for high command,
Whose martial fires, with prudence close allied,
Ensur’d the smiles of fortune on his side)
Bears off those shores which waste and wild appear’d,
And eastward still for happier climates steer’d:
When gath’ring round, and black’ning o’er the tide,
A fleet of small canoes the pilot spied;
Hoisting their sails of palm-tree leaves, inwove
With curious art, a swarming crowd they move:
Long were their boats, and sharp to bound along
Through the dash’d waters, broad their oars and strong:
The bending rowers on their features bore
The swarthy marks of Phaeton’s91* fall of yore:
When flaming lightnings scorch’d the banks of Po,
And nations blacken’d in the dread o’erthrow.
Their garb, discover’d as approaching nigh,
Was cotton strip’d with many a gaudy dye:
’Twas one whole piece beneath one arm confin’d,
The rest hung loose and flutter’d on the wind;
All, but one breast, above the loins was bare,
And swelling turbans bound their jetty hair:
Their arms were bearded darts and faulchions broad,
And warlike music sounded as they row’d.
With joy the sailors saw the boats draw near,
With joy beheld the human face appear:
What nations these, their wond’ring thoughts explore,
What rites they follow, and what God adore!
And now with hands and ‘kerchiefs wav’d in air
The barb’rous race their friendly mind declare.
Glad were the crew, and ween’d that happy day
Should end their dangers and their toils repay.
The lofty masts the nimble youths ascend,
The ropes they haul, and o’er the yard-arms bend;
And now their bowsprits pointing to the shore,
(A safe moon’d bay), with slacken’d sails they bore:
With cheerful shouts they furl the gather’d sail
That less and less flaps quiv’ring on the gale;
Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works Page 92