And now remaineth only to remind the Reader that the Errors met with in this Impression were neither neglected nor unobserved by him who assisted in copying the Book. But it was deemed a lesser inconvenience to let them appear as they were found (collating them, however, with certain Hand-books wherein the Works were quoted fragmentarily), than to violate the Compositions of another, without an evident Certainty that the Emendations would be true and correct. For all good understandings will reserve the Right of Judgment that these be not Errors of the Author, but the Cankers of Time and the careless Inadvertency of Copyists. And here we follow what approved itself to Augustus Caesar who, in the Commission entrusted by him to Varius and to Tucca, expressly forbade them to change anything of Virgilius or to add aught of their own. For this would be, in fine, to confound the Substance of the Verses and the Author’s Conceits with the Emendator’s Words and Inventions without consequent assurance, withal, of the readings being either original or emended. Here, therefore, no action has been taken save only in whatsoever clearly shows itself to be a Fault of the Pen: the remainder goes forth even as it was found written, and very different from what it would have been had Luis DE CAMOENS printed it during his Life-term. But even thus, and despite the Injuries of Time and Ignorance, the Light of our Poet’s.Merits shines with splendour sufficient to prevent our envying in this Form of Poesy any stranger People!
(Signed) FERNAO RODRIGUES LOPO SURRUPITA,
Licentiate and Advocate in this Court.
SONNETS
PART I. (Nos. 1-264).
I.
Em quanto quis Fortuna que tivesse
(General Proposition or Proemium of Rhythmas, Petrarch, I. i).
While Fortune wilted that for me be dight
Some grateful Esperance of some glad Content,
The gust of loving Thought a longing lent
To pen its pleasures and its pains to write:
But Love, in terror lest my Writ indite
Lere for the judgment he hath never shent,
So with his darkling pains my Genius blent
That mote I never tell his tale of sleight.
O ye, whom Love’s obligeance may subject
To Wills so divers! when you read thereof..
Bound in one Booklet cases so diverse;
(Which all be truthful, facts without defect)
Learn that according as you have the Love,.
So shall you have the Lore, of this my verse.
II.
En cantarey de Amor tao docemente,
(Particular Proem of the Love-songs, Petrarch, I. 87).
My song of Love I will so sweetly sing,
In such fair concord of concerted phrase,
That twice a thousand chances Love displays
Shall breasts unmoved with emotion wring.
I’ll so do Love new Life to all shall bring,
Limning nice secrets in a thousand ways,
Soft angers, sighs that yearn for bygone days,
Foolhardy Daring, Absence and her sting.
Yet, Ladye! of that honest open scorn
Shown by your eye-glance, blandly rigorous,
I must content me saying minor part:
To sing the graces which your geste adorn,
Your lofty composition marvellous,
Here lack me Genius, Lere, and Poet-art.
Then, if ’tis clear that whatso Ills torment me
Must gar increased other Ills torment,
Now can I never hope that aught content me.
But is this only Fancy’s False that shent?
O feckless Vision, idle Thought that blent me!
What! I, e’en I, can hope to see Content?
IV.
Despoys que quis Amor que eu so passasse
(The pains and inquietude of love. Cf. Canz. X.).
When Love so willed on me alone be vented
What Ills for many had reparted He,
He made me Fortune’s thrall, for He could see
No more that mote in me be represented:
She, that her gain from Love should be augmented,
In pains he only doomed me to dree,
What for none other wight consented she,
Gave her consentment be for me invented.
Lo! here with various song fare I complaining,
Copious and exemplaire for one and all,
Subject to serve this Tyrant tway’s behest,
My various madness in my verse constraining,
Sad whoso straighteneth in such guise his Rest,
And rests contented with a boon so small!
V.
Em prisoens baxas fuy hum tempo atado;
(He laments the loss of his loved ancilla).
I lay in Durance vile long while detained,
The shameful quittance of my faults to pay:
E’en now my fetters drag I on my way,
The chains by Death, to my despight, unchained:
I sacrificed life to cares unfeigned,
For Love ne’er loveth steer or lamb to slay:
Exiles I saw, saw misery, saw dismay; —
Meseems this hapless Life was so ordained.
I waxt contented with small mercies, knowing
That such Contentment were but shame to hend,
Sole for the sighting what were life’s delight.
But now my star (how well I see its showing!),
And blinding Death, and Chance of dubious end,
Made me all pleasures view with naught but fright.
VI.
Ilustre, e digno Ramo dos Meneses,
(To D. Fernando, enroute for Red Sea?).
Illustrious Scion of the tree Meneses!
To whom large-handed, all-providing Heaven
(Which kens not erring) heritage hath given,
To crush the harness which the Moor encases:
Despising Fortune, spurning her mismazes,
Go whither Fate shall guide you foewards driven:
On Erythrfean deeps light fiery leven,
And be new splendour to the Portugueses.
Lay with firm Will, with forceful Breast abate
The insolent Pyrat, till Gedrosia dread
And quake the classic Taprobanian shore.
Cause of new tincture lend the Arabian Strait
So may the Red Sea front henceforth be red,
Reddened with glowing of the Turk-man’s gore.
VII.
No tempo que de Amor viver soia,
(The inconstancies of his youth. Cf. Canz. II. 6; VIII. 2).
When love, love only, was my daily diet,
I fared not always iron’d to oar and chain;
(Nay) tied at times and then untied again,
In various flames with varied Passions’ riot.
Willed not that single flame my heart disquiet
The Heavens, so mote I hard experience gain
No change of cause in lover-care is fain
To work a changing of my Fortune’s fiat.
And if awhile I fared fancy-free,
’Twas like the wight who rests for breathing sake
Till with more vigour to his tasks turn he.
Laud to the Love-god in my misery!
Since for his pastime he was pleased take
This my so weary long-drawn agony.
VIII.
Amor, que o gesto humano na Alma escreve,
(The sight of his lover’s tears).
Amor, who human geste on Soul doth write,
One day showed sparkles twain of lively Sheen,
Whence purest Chrystal poured in currents twin,
‘Mid living Rose and Snow-plot virgin-white.
Mine eyes, that dared not trust them to such sight,
For certifying what could there be seen,
Were to a fount convert, which made my teen
Of easy sufferance and my load more light.
Love swears that softening Will and gentling Gree
Gender the fir
st effect, but then the Thought
Maddens the man who deems it verity.
Look ye how Love hath in one moment brought
Fro’ tears, which honest Pity setteth free,
Tears with immortal satisfaction fraught.
IX.
Tanto de meu estado me aclio incerto,
(Petrarch, I. 90).
I find so many doubts my State enfold,
I thrill in living lowe with trembling chill:
Sans cause I laugh and tears conjointly spill;
I grasp at all the World and naught I hold:
Whatso I feel is of disordered mould:
My soul outpoureth fire, my eyes a rill:
Now gladly hope I, then despairs my Will:
Now Reason wanders, then grows calm and cold.
Being in Earth-Life unto Heaven I fly:
Find in one hour one thousand years, natheless
In thousand years I find no hour to claim.
If any ask me wherefore so fare I;
My answer is I know not, yet I guess
’Tis but because I saw your sight, Madkme!
X.
Transforma se o amador na cousa amada,
(He corrects a carnal thought. Cf. Sonnet 81 Canz. I. 3).
Becomes the Lover to the Loved transmewed,
By thoughts and reveries the Fancy fire:
Then have I nothing left me to desire,
For the Desired is in me endued.
If my transmewed soul in her be viewed,
What can my formal body look for higher?
Only in self for Rest it can retire,
Since that same Spirit hath my form imbrued.
But this half-goddess with fair purity fraught,
As Subject dwells in Accident inlaid,
So to this Soul of mine show’s self conform;
E’en as Idea fares she in my Thought;
While the pure lively Love whereof I’m made,
Like unto simple Matter seeks its Form.
XI.
Passo por meus trabalhos tam isento
(He wants more pain — ad majorem Amoris gloriam).
I through my travails pass so fancy-free
Fro’ Sentiment, or high or low its vein,
That for the Love-will wherewithal I pain,
Love more of torture oweth to my fee.
But Love so slowly fareth slaying me,
With Theriack tempering still his draught venene,
His ordered pains ordained I disordain,
For-that my sufferings nill consent agree.
Yet, an such fineness lurk in Love’s intent,
Mine Ills with other Ills to pay pretending,
This joyaunce melts me as Sol melts the Snow.
But an he view me so with Ills content,
The Niggard grudgeth me his pains, intending
The more he pays me, still the more he owe.
XII.
Em flor vos arrancou, de entao crecida,
(Of Dom A. de Noronha slain at Ceuta).
In flower uprooted you, Bloom yet unblown,
(Ah, Dom Antonio!), Fortune’s dire decree,
Where your brave arm display’d such bravery
That hath o’er past Renown oblivion thrown.
One single reason to my thought is known,
Wherewith so care-full teen shall comfort see
That if an honoured Death i’ the world there be,
No larger life-tide could your Spirit own.
An hold my humble verse a verve so strong
That to my heart-felt Hope respond my Art,
You shall supply me theme of special Glory;
And sung in long-drawn and in saddest song,
If you were slain by hand of cruel Mart,
You shall immortal live in mortal story.
XIII.
Num jardim adomado de verdura,
(To Violante, the Violet, fair and pure).
Into a garden verdure-deckt and dight,
Where varied flowers amelled floors of green,
One day came pacing Love’s own goddess-queen
With the Hunt-goddess whom the groves delight.
Diana straightway pluckt a Rose pure-white,
Venus a Lily of the reddest sheen;
But far exceeding a’ the lave were seen
The Violets clad in loveliness and light.
Both ask of Cupid, who stood nigh in stead,
Which of those flowrets three he fainest take
For suavest, purest, which the loveliest shows.
Then the Boy, slily smiling, this wise said,
“They all be beauties, natheless I make
Viola anteceding Lily, much more Rose!”
XIV.
Todo animal da calma repousava,
(Cry of Jealousy).
All animals rested in the Noontide still
Liso alone felt naught of midday-glow;
For-that his respite from his lover-lowe
Lay in the Nymph he sought to allay his Ill:
Made every mountain-height to shake and thrill:
The triste complainings of his throe-full woe
But ne’er that hardened bosom ruth would show,
The willing Captive of another Will.
Now worn by wander ‘neath the bosky shade,
For Memory sake, deep in a beechen bole,
He graved these words that told his misery: —
XV.
Busque Amor novas arles, novo engenlio,
(A Plaint of Love).
Devise Love novel arts, a new design
And novel-coy Disdains my life to slay;
My lovely hopes he may not bear away,
He may not bear away what ne’er was mine.
Look on what pauper Hope I feed and pine!
See what security unsure of stay!
I fear no Warfare, Change hath no dismay
For ship-wreckt waif that swims the yeasty brine.
But albe Disappointment dwell no more
Where Esperance faileth, there Love hides a care,
An Ill that slayeth me withouten show.
Days were he pleased in my soul to store
A what I know not, born I know not where,
Comes why I know not, pains I know not how.
XVI.
Quem ve, Senhora, claro, e manifesto,
(Ut vidi, ut peril! Written for a friend?).
Who seeth, Ladye! clear and manifest,
The lovely being of your eyen-light,
Nor loseth seeing-faculty, seen their sight,
He nills pay duties owed to your geste.
This seemed me honest price for such acquest;
But I, the better to deserve the right
To love those eyne, paid more, my Life, my Sprite,
Hence naught remaineth in my hand for “rest.”
Thus now my Soul, my Life, mine Esperance
I gave you, everything that made me man:
But all the interest I alone can show.
For ’tis such blessed, such beloved chance
To give you all I have and all I can,
The more I pay you, still the more I owe.
XVII.
Quando da bella vista, e doles riso;
(He sings her perfections — dulce ridentem).
While of your laughter sweet and lovely eyes
My sight enjoyeth rarest nutriment,
I feel so elevate my thought’s Intent
That makes me see on Earth the Paradise.
I bin so parted from what Humans prize
All other blessings deem I winds that went:
Thus to this term arrived (such my sent),
He fares not far fro’ where his Reason flies.
I pride me not, Madame! on praise of you;
For of your graces whoso takes full range
Must feel that man such knowledge never learns.
You are such strangeness for this world to view,
Excellent Dam
e! it may not seem us strange
Who made you, made the Skies and made the
Sternes.
XVIII.
Doces lembrancas da passada gloria,
(The Displeasures of Memory).
Delicious Memories of a Past so glorious,
Reft by that robber Fortune’s rage-full spleen;
Let me repose one hour in peace serene,
You gain fro’ me small gains howe’er victorious.
Stampt oh my Soul hold I the tale notorious
Of this past welfare; had it never been,
Or being had never past! but now my teen
In me leaves nothing save its trace memorious.
I live on memory-fare, and die forgot
By her whose memory should have held me fast,
Had she remembered state of such Content.
O that return to birth had been my lot!
Well had I learnt to enjoy my happy Past,
If known what ills the Present can present.
XIX.
Alma minha gentil, que te partiste
(On the death of his lover: the chef d’oeuvre).
My gentle Spirit! thou who didst depart
This life of Miscontent so sudden tane;
Rest there eternal in the heavenly Reign,
Live I pent here to play sad mortal part.
If in that happy Home, where throned thou art, ‘
Consent to memories of the Past they deign,
Forget not thou my love, whose ardent strain
Thou sawst in purest glance: that spake my heart.
And if such love gain aught of grace fro’ thee,,
If aught avail this woe wherewith I pine,
This pining woe that knows no remedy;
Pray Him who shorted those few years of thine,
So soon He bear me hence thy sight to see
As soon He bore thee fro’ my sorrowing eyne.
XX.
Num bosgue, que das Ninfas se habitava,
(Sibella, or Belisa, and Cupid: a scherzo).
Deep in a woody, Nymph-inhabited dell
Sybil, the fairest Nymph, fared forth one day;
And clomb a tree embrowning solar ray,
To pluck the golden bloom of asphodel.
Cupid who wont (and thus him aye befell)
Noon in its sombre coolth to while away,
His bow and bolts suspended to a spray,
Before he suffered Sleep his eyne compel.
The Nymph, observing such occasion suit
For so great derring-do, no time delayeth;
But, tane the coy Lad’s weapons, fares a-flying.
Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works Page 141