Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works

by Luis de Camoes

  O’er the wild plains, beneath unincens’d skies

  The sun shall view the Lusian altars rise.

  And, could new worlds by human step be trod,

  Those worlds should tremble at the Lusian nod.457*

  And now, their ensigns blazing o’er the tide,

  On India’s shore the Lusian heroes ride.

  High to the fleecy clouds resplendent far

  Appear the regal towers of Malabar,

  Imperial Calicut,458* the lordly seat

  Of the first monarch of the Indian state.

  Right to the port the valiant Gama bonds,

  With joyful shouts, a fleet of boats attends:

  Joyful, their nets they leave and finny prey,

  And, crowding round the Lusians, point the way.

  A herald now, by Vasco’s high command

  Sent to the monarch, treads the Indian strand;

  The sacred staff he bears, in gold he shines,

  And tells his office by majestic signs.

  As, to and fro, recumbent to the gale,

  The harvest waves along the yellow dale,

  So, round the herald press the wond’ring throng,

  Recumbent waving as they pour along,

  And much his manly port and strange attire,

  And much his fair and ruddy hue admire:

  When, speeding through the crowd, with eager haste,

  And honest smiles, a son of Afric press’d;

  Enrapt with joy the wond’ring herald hears

  Castilia’s manly tongue salute his ears.459*

  “What friendly angel from thy Tago’s shore

  Has led thee hither?” cries the joyful Moor.

  Then, hand in hand (the pledge of faith) conjoin’d —

  “Oh joy beyond the dream of hope to find,

  To hear a kindred voice,” the Lusian cried,

  “Beyond unmeasur’d gulfs and seas untried;

  Untried, before our daring keels explor’d

  Our fearless way! O Heav’n, what tempests roar’d,

  While, round the vast of Afric’s southmost land,

  Our eastward bowsprits sought the Indian strand!”

  Amaz’d, o’erpower’d, the friendly stranger stood —

  “A path now open’d through the boundless flood!

  The hope of ages, and the dread despair,

  Accomplish’d now, and conquer’d!” — Stiff his hair

  Rose thrilling, while his lab’ring thoughts pursued

  The dreadful course by Gama’s fate subdued.

  Homeward, with gen’rous warmth o’erflow’d, he leads

  The Lusian guest, and swift the feast succeeds;

  The purple grape, and golden fruitage smile;

  And each choice viand of the Indian soil

  Heap’d o’er the board, the master’s zeal declare;

  The social feast the guest and master share:

  The sacred pledge of eastern faith460* approv’d,

  By wrath unalter’d, and by wrong unmov’d.

  Now, to the fleet the joyful herald bends,

  With earnest pace the Heav’n-sent friend attends:

  Now, down the river’s sweepy stream they glide,

  And now, their pinnace cuts the briny tide:

  The Moor, with transport sparkling in his eyes,

  The well-known make of Gama’s navy spies,

  The bending bowsprit, and the mast so tall,

  The sides black, frowning as a castle wall,

  The high-tower’d stern, the lordly nodding prore,

  And the broad standard slowly waving o’er

  The anchor’s moony461* fangs. The skiff he leaves,

  Brave Gama’s deck his bounding step receives;

  And, “Hail!” he cries: in transport Gama sprung,

  And round his neck with friendly welcome hung;

  Enrapt, so distant o’er the dreadful main,

  To hear the music of the tongue of Spain.

  And now, beneath a painted shade of state,

  Beside the admiral, the stranger sat.

  Of India’s clime, the natives, and the laws,

  What monarch sways them, what religion awes?

  Why from the tombs devoted to his sires

  The son so far? the valiant chief inquires.

  In act to speak the stranger waves his hand,

  The joyful crew in silent wonder stand,

  Each gently pressing on, with greedy ear,

  As erst the bending forests stoop’d to hear

  In Rhodope,462* when Orpheus’ heavenly strain,

  Deplor’d his lost Eurydice in vain;

  While, with a mien that gen’rous friendship won

  From ev’ry heart, the stranger thus began: —

  “Your glorious deeds, ye Lusians, well I know,

  To neighb’ring earth the vital air I owe;

  Yet — though my faith the Koran’s lore revere;

  So taught my sires; my birth at proud Tangier,

  A hostile clime to Lisbon’s awful name —

  I glow, enraptur’d, o’er the Lusian fame;

  Proud though your nation’s warlike glories shine,

  These proudest honours yield, O chief, to thine;

  Beneath thy dread achievements low they fall,

  And India’s shore, discover’d, crowns them all.

  Won by your fame, by fond affection sway’d,

  A friend I come, and offer friendship’s aid.

  As, on my lips Castilia’s language glows,

  So, from my tongue the speech of India flows:

  Mozaide my name, in India’s court belov’d,

  For honest deeds (but time shall speak) approv’d.

  When India’s monarch greets his court again,

  (For now the banquet on the tented plain:

  And sylvan chase his careless hours employ),463*

  When India’s mighty lord, with wond’ring joy,

  Shall hail you welcome on his spacious shore

  Through oceans never plough’d by keel before,

  Myself shall glad interpreter attend,

  Mine ev’ry office of the faithful friend.

  Ah! but a stream, the labour of the oar,

  Divides my birthplace from your native shore;

  On shores unknown, in distant worlds, how sweet

  The kindred tongue, the kindred face, to greet!

  Such now my joy; and such, O Heav’n, be yours!

  Yes, bounteous Heav’n your glad success secures.

  Till now impervious, Heav’n alone subdued

  The various horrors of the trackless flood:

  Heav’n sent you here for some great work divine,

  And Heav’n inspires my breast your sacred toils to join.

  “Vast are the shores of India’s wealthful soil;

  Southward sea-girt she forms a demi-isle:

  His cavern’d cliffs with dark-brow’d forests crown’d,

  Hemodian Taurus464* frowns her northern bound:

  From Caspia’s lake th’ enormous mountain464* spreads,

  And, bending eastward, rears a thousand heads:

  Far to extremest sea the ridges thrown,

  By various names, through various tribes are known:

  Here down the waste of Taurus’ rocky side

  Two infant rivers pour the crystal tide,

  Indus the one, and one the Ganges nam’d,

  Darkly of old through distant nations fam’d:

  One eastward curving holds his crooked way,

  One to the west gives his swoll’n tide to stray:

  Declining southward many a land they lave,

  And, widely swelling, roll the sea-like wave,

  Till the twin offspring of the mountain sire

  Both in the Indian deep engulf’d expire:

  Between these streams, fair smiling to the day,

  The Indian lands their wide domains display,

  And many a league, far to the south they bend,

>   From the broad region where the rivers end,

  Till, where the shores to Ceylon’s isle oppose,

  In conic form the Indian regions close.

  To various laws the various tribes incline,

  And various are the rites esteem’d divine:

  Some, as from Heav’n, receive the Koran’s lore,

  Some the dread monsters of the wild adore;

  Some bend to wood and stone the prostrate head,

  And rear unhallow’d altars to the dead.

  By Ganges’ banks, as wild traditions tell,465*

  Of old the tribes liv’d healthful by the smell;

  No food they knew, such fragrant vapours rose

  Rich from the flow’ry lawns where Ganges flows:

  Here now the Delhian, and the fierce Pathàn,

  Feed their fair flocks; and here, a heathen clan,

  Stern Dekhan’s sons the fertile valleys till,

  A clan, whose hope to shun eternal ill,

  Whose trust from ev’ry stain of guilt to save,

  Is fondly plac’d in Ganges’ holy wave;466*

  If to the stream the breathless corpse be giv’n

  They deem the spirit wings her way to heav’n.

  Here by the mouths, where hallow’d Ganges ends,

  Bengala’s beauteous Eden wide extends,

  Unrivall’d smile her fair luxurious vales:

  And here Cambaya467* spreads her palmy dales;

  A warlike realm, where still the martial race

  From Porus,468* fam’d of yore, their lineage trace.

  Narsinga469* here displays her spacious line,

  In native gold her sons and ruby shine:

  Alas, how vain! these gaudy sons of fear,

  Trembling, bow down before each hostile spear.

  And now, behold!” — and while he spoke he rose,

  Now, with extended arm, the prospect shows, —

  “Behold these mountain tops of various size

  Blend their dim ridges with the fleecy skies:

  Nature’s rude wall, against the fierce Canar470*

  They guard the fertile lawns of Malabar.

  Here, from the mountain to the surgy main,

  Fair as a garden, spreads the smiling plain:

  And lo, the empress of the Indian powers,

  Their lofty Calicut, resplendent towers;

  Hers ev’ry fragrance of the spicy shore,

  Hers ev’ry gem of India’s countless store:

  Great Samoreem, her lord’s imperial style,

  The mighty lord of India’s utmost soil:

  To him the kings their duteous tribute pay,

  And, at his feet, confess their borrow’d sway.

  Yet higher tower’d the monarchs ancients boast,

  Of old one sov’reign rul’d the spacious coast.

  A votive train, who brought the Koran’s lore,

  (What time great Perimal the sceptre bore),

  From blest Arabia’s groves to India came;

  Life were their words, their eloquence a flame

  Of holy zeal: fir’d by the powerful strain,

  The lofty monarch joins the faithful train,

  And vows, at fair Medina’s471* shrine, to close

  His life’s mild eve in prayer, and sweet repose.

  Gifts he prepares to deck the prophet’s tomb,

  The glowing labours of the Indian loom,

  Orissa’s spices, and Golconda’s gems;

  Yet, e’er the fleet th’ Arabian ocean stems,

  His final care his potent regions claim,

  Nor his the transport of a father’s name:

  His servants, now, the regal purple wear,

  And, high enthron’d, the golden sceptres bear.

  Proud Cochim one, and one fair Chalé sways,

  The spicy isle another lord obeys;

  Coulam and Cananoor’s luxurious fields,

  And Cranganore to various lords he yields.

  While these, and others thus the monarch grac’d,

  A noble youth his care unmindful pass’d:

  Save Calicut, a city poor and small,

  Though lordly now, no more remain’d to fall:

  Griev’d to behold such merit thus repaid,

  The sapient youth the ‘king of kings’ he made,

  And, honour’d with the name, great Zamoreem,

  The lordly, titled boast of power supreme.

  And now, great Perimal472* resigns his reign,

  The blissful bowers of Paradise to gain:

  Before the gale his gaudy navy flies,

  And India sinks for ever from his eyes.

  And soon to Calicut’s commodious port

  The fleets, deep-edging with the wave, resort:

  Wide o’er the shore extend the warlike piles,

  And all the landscape round luxurious smiles.

  And now, her flag to ev’ry gale unfurl’d,

  She towers, the empress of the eastern world:

  Such are the blessings sapient kings bestow,

  And from thy stream such gifts, O Commerce, flow.

  “From that sage youth, who first reign’d ‘king of kings,’

  He now who sways the tribes of India springs.

  Various the tribes, all led by fables vain,

  Their rites the dotage of the dreamful brain.

  All, save where Nature whispers modest care,

  Naked, they blacken in the sultry air.

  The haughty nobles and the vulgar race

  Never must join the conjugal embrace;

  Nor may the stripling, nor the blooming maid,

  (Oh, lost to joy, by cruel rites betray’d!)

  To spouse of other than their father’s art,

  At Love’s connubial shrine unite the heart:

  Nor may their sons (the genius and the view

  Confin’d and fetter’d) other art pursue.

  Vile were the stain, and deep the foul disgrace,

  Should other tribe touch one of noble race;

  A thousand rites, and washings o’er and o’er,

  Can scarce his tainted purity restore.

  Poleas473* the lab’ring lower clans are nam’d:

  By the proud Nayres the noble rank is claim’d;

  The toils of culture, and of art they scorn,

  The warrior’s plumes their haughty brows adorn;

  The shining falchion brandish’d in the right,

  Their left arm wields the target in the fight;

  Of danger scornful, ever arm’d they stand

  Around the king, a stern barbarian band.

  Whate’er in India holds the sacred name

  Of piety or lore, the Brahmins claim:

  In wildest rituals, vain and painful, lost,

  Brahma,474* their founder, as a god they boast.475*

  To crown their meal no meanest life expires,

  Pulse, fruit, and herbs alone their board requires:

  Alone, in lewdness riotous and free,

  No spousal ties withhold, and no degree:

  Lost to the heart-ties, to his neighbour’s arms,

  The willing husband yields his spouse’s charms:

  In unendear’d embraces free they blend;

  Yet, but the husband’s kindred may ascend

  The nuptial couch: alas, too blest, they know

  Nor jealousy’s suspense, nor burning woe;

  The bitter drops which oft from dear affection flow.

  }

  But, should my lips each wond’rous scene unfold,

  Which your glad eyes will soon amaz’d behold,

  Oh, long before the various tale could run,

  Deep in the west would sink yon eastern sun.

  In few, all wealth from China to the Nile,

  All balsams, fruit, and gold on India’s bosom smile.”

  While thus, the Moor his faithful tale reveal’d,

  Wide o’er the coast the voice of Rumour swell’d;

  As, first some upland vapou
r seems to float

  Small as the smoke of lonely shepherd cote,

  Soon o’er the dales the rolling darkness spreads,

  And wraps in hazy clouds the mountain heads,

  The leafless forest and the utmost lea;

  And wide its black wings hover o’er the sea:

  The tear-dropp’d bough hangs weeping in the vale,

  And distant navies rear the mist-wet sail.

  So, Fame increasing, loud and louder grew,

  And to the sylvan camp resounding flew:

  “A lordly band,” she cries, “of warlike mien,

  Of face and garb in India never seen,

  Of tongue unknown, through gulfs undar’d before,

  Unknown their aim, have reach’d the Indian shore.”

  To hail their chief the Indian lord prepares,

  And to the fleet he sends his banner’d Nayres:

  As to the bay the nobles press along,

  The wond’ring city pours th’ unnumber’d throng.

  And now brave Gama, and his splendid train,

  Himself adorn’d in all the pride of Spain,

  In gilded barges slowly bend to shore,

  While to the lute the gently falling oar

  Now, breaks the surges of the briny tide,

  And now, the strokes the cold fresh stream divide.

  Pleas’d with the splendour of the Lusian band,

  On every bank the crowded thousands stand.

  Begirt with, high-plum’d nobles, by the flood

  The first great minister of India stood,

  The Catual476* his name in India’s tongue:

  To Gama swift the lordly regent sprung;

  His open arms the valiant chief enfold,

  And now he lands him on the shore of gold:

  With pomp unwonted India’s nobles greet

  The fearless heroes of the warlike fleet.

  A couch on shoulders borne, in India’s mode,

  (With gold the canopy and purple glow’d),

  Receives the Lusian captain; equal rides

  The lordly catual, and onward guides,

  While Gama’s train, and thousands of the throng

  Of India’s sons, encircling, pour along.

  To hold discourse in various tongues they try;

  In vain; the accents unremember’d die,

  Instant as utter’d. Thus, on Babel’s plain

  Each builder heard his mate, and heard in vain.

  Gama the while, and India’s second lord,

  Hold glad responses, as the various word

  The faithful Moor unfolds. The city gate

  They pass’d, and onward, tower’d in sumptuous state,

  Before them now the sacred temple rose;

  The portals wide the sculptur’d shrines disclose.

  The chiefs advance, and, enter’d now, behold

  The gods of wood, cold stone, and shining gold;