Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works

by Luis de Camoes

  THE ARGUMENT.

  Description of the pictures, given by Paulus. The heroes of Portugal, from Lusus, one of the companions of Bacchus (who gave his name to Portugal), and Ulysses, the founder of Lisbon, down to Don Pedro and Don Henrique (Henry), the conquerors of Ceuta, are all represented in the portraits of Gama, and are characterized by appropriate verses. Meanwhile the zamorim has recourse to the oracles of his false gods, who make him acquainted with the future dominion of the Portuguese over India, and the consequent ruin of his empire. The Mohammedan Arabs conspire against the Portuguese. The zamorim questions the truth of Gama’s statement, and charges him with being captain of a band of pirates. Gama is obliged to give up to the Indians the whole of his merchandise as ransom, when he obtains permission to re-embark. He seizes several merchants of Calicut, whom he detains on board his ship as hostages for his two factors, who were on land to sell his merchandise. He afterwards liberates the natives, whom he exchanges for his two companions. In Mickle’s translation this portion of the original is omitted, and the factors are released in consequence of a victory gained by Gama.

  WITH eye unmov’d the silent Catual497* view’d

  The pictur’d sire498* with seeming life endu’d;

  A verdant vine-bough waving in his right,

  Smooth flow’d his sweepy beard of glossy white,

  When thus, as swift the Moor unfolds the word,

  The valiant Paulus to the Indian lord: —

  “Bold though these figures frown, yet bolder far

  These godlike heroes shin’d in ancient war.

  In that hoar sire, of mien serene, august,

  Lusus behold, no robber-chief unjust;

  His cluster’d bough — the same which Bacchus bore499* —

  He waves, the emblem of his care of yore;

  The friend of savage man, to Bacchus dear,

  The son of Bacchus, or the bold compeer,

  What time his yellow locks with vine-leaves curl’d,

  The youthful god subdued the savage world,

  Bade vineyards glisten o’er the dreary waste,

  And humaniz’d the nations as he pass’d.

  Lusus, the lov’d companion of the god,

  In Spain’s fair bosom fix’d his last abode,

  Our kingdom founded, and illustrious reign’d

  In those fair lawns, the bless’d Elysium feign’d,500*

  Where, winding oft, the Guadiana roves,

  And Douro murmurs through, the flow’ry groves.

  Here, with his bones, he left his deathless fame,

  And Lusitania’s clime shall ever bear his name.

  That other chief th’ embroider’d silk displays,

  Toss’d o’er the deep whole years of weary days,

  On Tago’s banks, at last, his vows he paid:

  To wisdom’s godlike power, the Jove-born maid,501*

  Who fir’d his lips with eloquence divine,

  On Tago’s banks he rear’d the hallow’d shrine.

  Ulysses he, though fated to destroy,

  On Asian ground, the heav’n-built towers of Troy,502*

  On Europe’s strand, more grateful to the skies,

  He bade th’ eternal walls of Lisbon rise.”503*

  “But who that godlike terror of the plain,

  Who strews the smoking field with heaps of slain?

  What num’rous legions fly in dire dismay,

  Whose standards wide the eagle’s wings display?”

  The pagan asks: the brother chief504* replies: —

  “Unconquer’d deem’d, proud Rome’s dread standard flies,

  His crook thrown by, fir’d by his nation’s woes,

  The hero-shepherd Viriatus rose;

  His country sav’d proclaim’d his warlike fame,

  And Rome’s wide empire trembled at his name.

  That gen’rous pride which Rome to Pyrrhus bore,505*

  To him they show’d not; for they fear’d him more.

  Not on the field o’ercome by manly force,

  Peaceful he slept; and now, a murder’d corse,

  By treason slain, he lay. How stern, behold,

  That other hero, firm, erect, and bold:

  The power by which he boasted he divin’d,

  Beside him pictur’d stands, the milk-white hind:

  Injur’d by Rome, the stern Sertorius fled

  To Tago’s shore, and Lusus’ offspring led;

  Their worth he knew; in scatter’d flight he drove

  The standards painted with the birds of Jove.

  And lo, the flag whose shining colours own

  The glorious founder of the Lusian throne!

  Some deem the warrior of Hungarian race,506*

  Some from Lorraine the godlike hero trace.

  From Tagus’ banks the haughty Moor expell’d,

  Galicia’s sons, and and Leon’s warriors quell’d,

  To weeping Salem’s507* ever-hallow’d meads,

  His warlike bands the holy Henry leads;

  By holy war to sanctify his crown,

  And, to his latest race, auspicious waft it down.”

  “And who this awful chief?” aloud exclaims

  The wond’ring regent. “O’er the field he flames

  In dazzling steel; where’er he bends his course

  The battle sinks beneath his headlong force:

  Against his troops, though few, the num’rous foes

  In vain their spears and tow’ry walls oppose.

  With smoking blood his armour sprinkled o’er,

  High to the knees his courser paws in gore:

  O’er crowns and blood-stain’d ensigns scatter’d round

  He rides; his courser’s brazen hoofs resound.”

  “In that great chief,” the second Gama cries,

  “The first Alonzo508* strikes thy wond’ring eyes.

  From Lusus’ realm the pagan Moors he drove;

  Heav’n, whom he lov’d, bestow’d on him such love,

  Beneath him, bleeding of its mortal wound,

  The Moorish strength lay prostrate on the ground.

  Nor Ammon’s son, nor greater Julius dar’d

  With troops so few, with hosts so num’rous warr’d:

  Nor less shall Fame the subject heroes own:

  Behold that hoary warrior’s rageful frown!

  On his young pupil’s flight509* his burning eyes

  He darts, and, ‘Turn thy flying host,’ he cries,

  ‘Back to the field!’ The vet’ran and the boy

  Back to the field exult with furious joy:

  Their ranks mow’d down, the boastful foe recedes,

  The vanquish’d triumph, and the victor bleeds.

  Again, that mirror of unshaken faith,

  Egaz behold, a chief self-doom’d to death.510*

  Beneath Castilia’s sword his monarch lay;

  Homage he vow’d his helpless king should pay;

  His haughty king reliev’d, the treaty spurns,

  With conscious pride the noble Egaz burns;

  His comely spouse and infant race he leads,

  Himself the same, in sentenced felons’ weeds,

  Around their necks the knotted halters bound,

  With naked feet they tread the flinty ground;

  And, prostrate now before Castilia’s throne,

  Their offer’d lives their monarch’s pride atone.

  Ah Rome! no more thy gen’rous consul boast.511*

  Whose ‘lorn submission sav’d his ruin’d host:

  No father’s woes assail’d his stedfast mind;

  The dearest ties the Lusian chief resign’d.

  “There, by the stream, a town besieged behold,

  The Moorish tents the shatter’d walls enfold.

  Fierce as the lion from the covert springs,

  When hunger gives his rage the whirlwind’s wings;

  From ambush, lo, the valiant Fuaz pours,

  And whelms in sudden rout th’astonish’d Moors.
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  The Moorish king512* in captive chains he sends;

  And, low at Lisbon’s throne, the royal captive bends.

  Fuaz again the artist’s skill displays;

  Far o’er the ocean shine his ensign’s rays:

  In crackling flames the Moorish galleys fly,

  And the red blaze ascends the blushing sky:

  O’er Avila’s high steep the flames aspire,

  And wrap the forests in a sheet of fire:

  There seem the waves beneath the prows to boil;

  And distant, far around for many a mile,

  The glassy deep reflects the ruddy blaze;

  Far on the edge the yellow light decays,

  And blends with hov’ring blackness. Great and dread

  Thus shone the day when first the combat bled,

  The first our heroes battled on the main,

  The glorious prelude of our naval reign,

  Which, now the waves beyond the burning zone,

  And northern Greenland’s frost-bound billows own.

  Again behold brave Fuaz dares the fight!

  O’erpower’d he sinks beneath the Moorish might;

  Smiling in death the martyr-hero lies,

  And lo, his soul triumphant mounts the skies.

  Here now, behold, in warlike pomp portray’d,

  A foreign navy brings the pious aid.513*

  Lo, marching from the decks the squadrons spread,

  Strange their attire, their aspect firm and dread.

  The holy cross their ensigns bold display,

  To Salem’s aid they plough’d the wat’ry way:

  Yet first, the cause the same, on Tago’s shore

  They dye their maiden swords in pagan gore.

  Proud stood the Moor on Lisbon’s warlike towers,

  From Lisbon’s walls they drive the Moorish powers:

  Amid the thickest of the glorious fight,

  Lo, Henry falls, a gallant German knight,

  A martyr falls: that holy tomb behold,

  There waves the blossom’d palm, the boughs of gold:

  O’er Henry’s grave the sacred plant arose,

  And from the leaves,514* Heav’n’s gift, gay health redundant flows.

  “Aloft, unfurl!” the valiant Paulus cries.

  Instant, new wars on new-spread ensigns rise

  “In robes of white behold a priest advance!515*

  His sword in splinters smites the Moorish lance:

  Arronchez won revenges Lira’s fall:

  And lo, on fair Savilia’s batter’d wall,

  How boldly calm, amid the crashing spears,

  That hero-form the Lusian standard rears.

  There bleeds the war on fair Vandalia’s plain:

  Lo, rushing through the Moors, o’er hills of slain

  The hero rides, and proves by genuine claim

  The son of Egas,516* and his worth the same.

  Pierc’d by his dart the standard-bearer dies;

  Beneath his feet the Moorish standard lies:

  High o’er the field, behold the glorious blaze!

  The victor-youth the Lusian flag displays.

  Lo, while the moon through midnight azure rides,

  From the high wall adown his spear-staff glides

  The dauntless Gerald:517* in his left he bears

  Two watchmen’s heads, his right the falchion rears:

  The gate he opens, swift from ambush rise

  His ready bands, the city falls his prize:

  Evora still the grateful honour pays,

  Her banner’d flag the mighty deed displays:

  There frowns the hero; in his left he bears

  The two cold heads, his right the falchion rears.

  Wrong’d by his king,518* and burning for revenge,

  Behold his arms that proud Castilian change;

  The Moorish buckler on his breast he bears,

  And leads the fiercest of the pagan spears.

  Abrantes falls beneath his raging force,

  And now to Tagus bends his furious course.

  Another fate he met on Tagus’ shore,

  Brave Lopez from his brows the laurels tore;

  His bleeding army strew’d the thirsty ground,

  And captive chains the rageful leader bound.

  Resplendent far that holy chief behold!

  Aside he throws the sacred staff of gold,

  And wields the spear of steel. How bold advance

  The num’rous Moors, and with the rested lance

  Hem round the trembling Lusians. Calm and bold

  Still towers the priest, and lo, the skies unfold:519*

  Cheer’d by the vision, brighter than the day,

  The Lusians trample down the dread array

  Of Hagar’s legions: on the reeking plain

  Low, with their slaves, four haughty kings lie slain.

  In vain Alcazar rears her brazen walls,

  Before his rushing host Alcazar falls.

  There, by his altar, now the hero shines,

  And, with the warrior’s palm, his mitre twines.

  That chief behold: though proud Castilia’s host

  He leads, his birth shall Tagus ever boast.

  As a pent flood bursts headlong o’er the strand

  So pours his fury o’er Algarbia’s land:

  Nor rampir’d town, nor castled rock afford

  The refuge of defence from Payo’s sword.

  By night-veil’d art proud Sylves falls his prey,

  And Tavila’s high, walls, at middle day,

  Fearless he scales: her streets in blood deplore

  The seven brave hunters murder’d by the Moor.520*

  These three bold knights how dread!521* Thro’ Spain and France

  At joust and tourney with the tilted lance

  Victors they rode: Castilia’s court beheld

  Her peers o’erthrown; the peers with rancour swell’d:

  The bravest of the three their swords surround;

  Brave Ribeir strews them vanquish’d o’er the ground.

  Now let thy thoughts, all wonder and on fire,

  That darling son of warlike Fame admire.

  Prostrate at proud Castilia’s monarch’s feet

  His land lies trembling: lo, the nobles meet:

  Softly they seem to breathe, and forward bend

  The servile neck; each eye distrusts his friend;

  Fearful each tongue to speak; each bosom cold:

  When, colour’d with stern rage, erect and bold,

  The hero rises: ‘Here no foreign throne

  Shall fix its base; my native king alone

  Shall reign.’ Then, rushing to the fight, he leads;

  Low, vanquish’d in the dust, Castilia bleeds.

  Where proudest hope might deem it vain to dare,

  God led him on, and crown’d the glorious war.

  Though fierce, as num’rous, are the hosts that dwell

  By Betis’ stream, these hosts before him fell.

  The fight behold: while absent from his bands,

  Press’d on the step of flight his army stands,

  To call the chief a herald speeds away:

  Low, on his knees, the gallant chief survey!

  He pours his soul, with lifted hands implores,

  And Heav’n’s assisting arm, inspir’d, adores.

  Panting, and pale, the herald urges speed:

  With holy trust of victory decreed,

  Careless he answers, ‘Nothing urgent calls:’

  And soon the bleeding foe before him falls.

  To Numa, thus, the pale patricians fled —

  ‘The hostile squadrons o’er the kingdom spread!’

  They cry; unmov’d, the holy king replies —

  ‘And I, behold, am off’ring sacrifice!’522*

  Earnest, I see thy wond’ring eyes inquire

  Who this illustrious chief, his country’s sire?

  The Lusian Scipio well might speak his fame,

/>   But nobler Nunio shines a greater name:523*

  On earth’s green bosom, or on ocean grey,

  A greater never shall the sun survey.

  “Known by the silver cross, and sable shield,

  Two Knights of Malta524* there command the field;

  From Tago’s banks they drive the fleecy prey,

  And the tir’d ox lows on his weary way:

  When, as the falcon through the forest glade

  Darts on the lev’ret, from the brown-wood shade

  Darts Roderic on their rear; in scatter’d flight

  They leave the goodly herds the victor’s right.

  Again, behold, in gore he bathes his sword;

  His captive friend,525* to liberty restor’d,

  Glows to review the cause that wrought his woe,

  The cause, his loyalty, as taintless snow.

  Here treason’s well-earn’d meed allures thine eyes,526*

  Low, grovelling in the dust, the traitor dies;

  Great Elvas gave the blow. Again, behold,

  Chariot and steed in purple slaughter roll’d:

  Great Elvas triumphs; wide o’er Xeres’ plain

  Around him reeks the noblest blood of Spain.

  “Here Lisbon’s spacious harbour meets the view:

  How vast the foe’s, the Lusian fleet how few!

  Castile’s proud war-ships, circling round, enclose

  The Lusian galleys; through their thund’ring rows,

  Fierce pressing on, Pereira fearless rides,

  His hook’d irons grasp the adm’ral’s sides:

  Confusion maddens: on the dreadless knight

  Castilia’s navy pours its gather’d might:

  Pereira dies, their self-devoted prey,

  And safe the Lusian galleys speed away.527*

  “Lo, where the lemon-trees from yon green hill

  Throw their cool shadows o’er the crystal rill;

  There twice two hundred fierce Castilian foes

  Twice eight, forlorn, of Lusian race enclose;

  Forlorn they seem; but taintless flow’d their blood

  From those three hundred who of old withstood;

  Withstood, and from a thousand Romans tore

  The victor-wreath, what time the shepherd528* bore

  The leader’s staff of Lusus: equal flame

  Inspir’d these few,529* their victory the same.

  Though twenty lances brave each single spear,

  Never the foes superior might to fear

  Is our inheritance, our native right,

  Well tried, well prov’d in many a dreadful fight.

  “That dauntless earl behold; on Libya’s coast,

  Far from the succour of the Lusian host,530*

  Twice hard besieg’d, he holds the Ceutan towers

  Against the banded might of Afric’s powers.