She bears his love-shafts in her eyes to shoot:
Shun her, ye Shepherds! fly, for all she slayeth,
Save only me, who only live by dying.
XXI.
Os Reinos, e os Imperios poderosos
(To D. Teodosio, Duke of Braganza. Cf. Sonn. 227).
Royaumes and Empires highest in might and main
Which grew to prowest pride of worldly place,
Or bloomed and blossomed by Valour’s grace,
Or by their Barons strong in lettered vein:
Greece bare her famed Themistoclean strain;
Rome gat her greatness by the Scipian race;
Twelve Peers the glory-path for France did trace;
Cids with the warlike Laras ‘nobled Spain:
Unto our Portugal, that now meseems
A breed unlikest olden breed to bear,
Freedom and Fame gave they fro’ whom you’re sprung.
In you we sight (great Scion and latest Heir
O’ the State Braganzan!) thousand-fold extremes
Peers to your blood, sans peers in years so young.
XXII.
De vos me aparto (O vida!) e em tal mudanca
(First of eighteen parting-sonnets).
I leave you (dear my life!) and as I leave
The very sense of Death-in-Life I feel;
I weet not why we seek contenting Weal,
If more must lose who doth the more receive.
But this firm ‘surance unto you I give,
Albeit my tormentry this body kill,
Thro’ the dark waters of the Lethe-rill
Secure in Memory the dead Past shall live.
Better sans you mine eyes with woe be wet
Than with another Light they shine content:
Better forget them you than they forget.
Better with this remembrance be they spent,
Than by forgetting undeserve to get
The glories won by pains they underwent.
XXIII.
Chara minha Enemiga, em cuja mao
(First Sonnet to Dynamene the drowned).
My fondest-hateful Foe! within whose hand
Placed all my joys and joyaunce Aventure;
Failed for thee on Earth a sepulture,
That fail me Comfort fro’ my bosom bann’d:
Ocean for ever ever stole from land
And won and joyed thy peregrine Formosure:
But long as Being shall for me endure
Live in my spirit shall thy Form be scann’d.
And if my rustick verse such verve may vaunt
That it may vow thee long historick tale,
Of by-gone love so pure, so true to thee;
Thou shalt be ever celebrate in my chaunt:
For long as mortal memory shall prevail
My Script shall serve thee for Epitaphy.
XXIV.
Aquella triste, e leda madrugada,
(Written when en route for Africa?),
That dawn of dewy Day, so black, so bright,
O’ercharged with yearning pyne and pitiful woe
Long as the world an after-grief shall know
I will that Day-dawn aye with Fame be dight.
Only she saw when brake her dappled light
In air, illuming earth with clearest glow
This Will the presence of that Will forego
Which ne’er had power such parting-tide to sight.
Only she saw the tears in beads distil
From these and other Eyne, conjoint exprest,
And roll uniting in large-streamed rill.
Only she heard the words of yearning quest
Whose magick influence the fire could chill
And to the damned Souls deal balmy rest.
XXV.
Se quando vos perdi, minha esperanca,
(Love forbids him to forget).
If, when I lost you, you mine Esperance!
I had conjointly lost all memory-pow’r,
Of the sweet Goods that fade and Ills that flow’r,
Scant had I grieved for such change of chance.
But Love I cherisht in full confidence
Would to me represent, with nicest lore,
How oft he saw me ‘joy the joyous hour
That such Remembrance work my Life offence.
By things that hardly left at most a sign
For-that I gave them to forgetfulness,
I see my thought with memories overcast.
Ah, my hard Planet! ah the dire distress!
What can be greater Ill in evils mine
Than the remembrance of such happy Past?
XXVI.
Em fermosa Letea se confia,
(Some hidden application. Ovid, Met. X. 68-71).
So did Lethaea for-that fair confide,
Where mortal vanity doth show the way,
From proud to confident she went astray,
And with the Gods of Heaven in beauty vied.
Better to hinder such career of pride,
(For born are many errors of delay) ‘
The Gods resolved a penalty she pay,
For her foolhardise all their force defied.
But Olenus lost for Lethaea’s sake,
Whose love forbade him bear wi’ patient heart
On so much beauty chastisement so dread,
Willed of alien sin the pains to take;
Yet Love unwilling Death the twain depart,
To a hard stone the Pair transfigured.
XXVII.
Males, que contra mim vos conjurastes;
(Written during last days in India? Cf. No. 33).
Ills! that against my faring well conspire;
How long shall ‘dure you in your dure intent;
If it endure that ‘dure my chastisement,
Suffice to you the torments dealt your Ire.
But an ye persevere, for ye aspire
To see the high-toned Thoughts of me forspent;
Stronger the Cause that strength to bear them lent,
Than you that Being from such cause acquire.
And, as your purpose ’tis, when I’m a-mort,
To end what Evils from these loves I dree,
Bid of so long-drawn pains an end I view.
Thus (both contented) each shall hug his sort:
You shall win victory by winning me,
And I be winner being won by you.
XXVIII.
Estase a Primavera trasladando
(Her charms are those of Spring. Written for a friend?).
Prime all her beauties loveth to transmew
In your delicious glance of modest hest;
Your lovely brow and lips and cheeks she drest
Wi’ Lily, Pink, and Rose’s mingled hue:
In sort, by shift of variegated view
Nature in you her might shows manifest;
That Mount and Meadow, Stream and Wood attest
The love, my Ladye, they have vowed to you.
If now you nill that who hath lover-claim
The fragrant fruitage of this flowerage cull,
Soon shall those buds of grace abide forlorn:
Because it little booteth, fairest Dame!
That Love with Lovelings sow your garden full
If your condition breed but briar and thorn.
XXIX.
Sete annos de Pastor Jacob servia
(Jacob, Rachel, and Leah: then a favourite theme).
Seven years a Shepherd, Jacob did obey
Laban, the lovely sheep-maid Rachel’s sire,
Him served he not, he served her for hire
With one and only wish to win the May.
The days in esperance of a single day
He passed, contented only her to admire,
But Laban, cautious of a youth’s desire,
In lieu of Rachel gave him Leah for pay.
When the sad Shepherd saw the snare and sleight
That stole the Shepherd-maid
en from his lot
As though deserved nought his long Desert;
To other seven-years’ service self he dight,
Saying:—” More had I served and slaved were not
For so long loving Life-tide all too curt.”
XXX.
Esta o lascivo, e doce passarinho
(He compares himself with the murdered bird).
Sits the sweet Birdie, ever gladsome-gay,
His ruffled plumy robe wi’ beaklet preening;
And his soft lay sans measure, full of meaning,
Thrilleth in joyaunce from the rustick spray.
The cruel Birder, bent upon his prey, —
With stealthy footsteps comes fere purpose screening;
And with sure aim the grided arrow gleening,
Speeds him on Stygian Lake to nest for aye.
This wise a heart, in freedom wont to wend
(Albe for many a day predestinate)
Was smit with Death-stroke where it saw no sign:
For the Blind Archer waited that at end
He might advantage of my careless state,
Deep ambushed within your clearest eyne.
XXXI.
Pede o desejo, Dama, que vos veja:
(After asking a mis-favour. Cf. Sonn.10 and 129: Canz. I. 3).
Desire, my Ladye! all to see requireth:
’Tis fooled and kens not whither ’twould aspire:
This love so fine-drawn runs to thinnest wire,
Who sense it never know what it desireth:
There is in Nature naught but what suspireth
For a condition permanent-entire;
To win desired things unwills Desire,
Lest naught remain whereto his will aspireth.
But this my pure Affection suffereth loss:
For as the heavy Stone hath aye for art,
In Nature’s central gravity self to grave:
This wise my Thoughts and Fancies fro’ the part
Which in my human flesh fares earthy-gross,
Made me, my Ladye! such a fall to crave.
XXXII.
Porque quereys, Senhora, que offereca.
(Written before the Indian voyage?).
Why, Ladye! would you see my life resign’d
To bear so weighty Evils you design?
If you be wrath for that I be indign
He’s to be born whom digne of you you’ll find.
Intend, however much for you I’ve pin’d,
I might be digne of prize that made me pine,
But Love consents not such low price assign
To thoughts by lofty Lealty refine’d.
This wise no equal payment shall atone
For all I suffered; yet you owe it me
Who to bear such despight the power have shown.
And if the value all your wooers own
Must equal yours, perforce this doom you’ll dree
To wone a-loving Self and Self alone.
XXXIII.
Se tanta pena tenho merecida
(Continuing No. 32).
If I have merited such pain-full plight
In pay of suffering so hard penalties;
Approve, Madame! on me your cruelties,
Here hold you offered a self-doomed sprite;
Whereon experiment (an you deem it right)
Disprize, disfavours and asperities
For fiercer sufferings, in the firmest guise,
I’d bear right bravely in this life-long fight
But what avails me against your eyes’ pretence?
To them all Foemen, will or nill, surrender;
Yet I my heart will plant as shield to sense:
For in such asperous Fray with force so slender
’Tis well that sithence I am sans defence
I be mid couched spears my sole defender.
XXXIV.
Quando o Sol encuberto vay mostrando
(Written at Ceuta? Petrarch, I. 90).
As Sol with veiled brow his beams abasing
Shows to the world Eve’s gleaming gloaming light,
Along a shore-land that delights the sight
I pace, my dearest foe in fancy tracing:
Here I beheld her plaited locks enlacing;
There hand supporting cheek so beauteous-bright;
Here gladly speaking, there all care-bedight;
Now steadfast standing, now a-forwards pacing:
Here she was sitting, there she glanced at me
Raising those ever fancy-freest eyne;
Here something startled, there again secure:
Here sat she saddened, there smiled she
And in these weary, wearing Thoughts, in fine,
I lose vain Life-time which doth still endure.
XXXV.
Hum mover de olhos, brando e piadoso,
(Her portrait. Cf. Sonn. 78 and Ode VI. 1-6).
A soft and pity-full glancing of those eyes
With naught to pity; a sweet Smile shame-represt
As though enforced, a douce and gentle gest,
Doubting all worldly joys and vanities:
A quiet Energy hid in bashful guise.
A modest favour and a gravest rest;
A purest Goodness, e’er the manifest
Index where pure and gracious Spirit lies:
A veiled Daring; a retiring air;
A fear withouten fault; a cheere serene;
A long-drawn suffering with obedience fraught:
Such were the Beauties as the Heavens fair
Of Circe mine,’ whose magick all venene
Had power to metamorphose all my Thought.
XXXVI.
Tomou-me vossa vista soberana
(He boasts of being captured though fully armed).
Conquered and captured me your sovran Sight
Where I had weapons handiest to my hand,
That all who seek defence may understand
With those fair eyne foolhardise ‘twere to fight.
That mote her Victory rise to prower height,
She first let Reason arm me with her brand:
I thought to save me, but ’twas vainly plann’d,
For against Heaven avails not earthly Might.
If to your lot, withal, have promised
Your lofty Destinies such victory,
Small gift: they give you when all’s done and said.
Then ‘spite my standing on well-guarded stead,
Yours be the Boast and Brave of conquering me,
And mine a greater by you conquered.
XXXVII.
Nao passes, Caminhante. Quem me chama?
(To the Memory of D. Joam de Castro?).
Pass me not, Passer-by!— “Who names my name?”
A novel Memory never heard before
Of one who changed life, a finite store,
For infinite, divine and clearest Fame.
“Who is’t so gentle praises doth acclaim?”
One who ne’er doubted all his blood to outpour,
Following the noble flag he ever bore,
Captain of CHRIST he loved with single aim.
Most blessed sacrifice, most blessed ending,
To God and Man in offering resign’d!
I will aloud proclaim a Sort so high.
Thou canst tell larger tale to all mankind,
Clear sign he ever gave through life a-wending
He would deserve such holy Death to die.
XXXVIII.
Fermosos olhos, qu t na idade nossa
(Written for a friend?).
Beautiful Eyen, to our days displaying
Of high and heavenly Lore the surest sign,
An ye would learn the power wherewith you shine,
Look on this creature of your own arraying!
You’ll see how comes, the life o’ me waylaying,
That Smile which dealeth me this life of mine:
You’ll see for no more gifts o’ Love I pine
&nb
sp; The more fleet Time flits by, our hearts dismaying.
And if, in fine, you’d see you in this sprite
As in glass brightly-shining, there you’ll see
Likewise your Soul angelical-serene.
But sore I doubt me ’tis to unsee my sight
You will not, Ladye! see yourself in me.
So lively pleasures giveth you my teen!
XXXIX.
O fogo que na branda cera ardia,
(To a lady whose face was singed by a taper).
The Fire, who burning made soft wax a prey,
Sighting the gentle face in Soul I sight,
With other firing of Desire was dight
To reach the Lights that conquer lustrous Day.
And, as he flamed with a twofold ray,
His hot impatience put all shame to flight;
And with exceeding fervency of light
He flew to kiss you where his image lay.
Happy that Fire who so much boldness shows
To quench his brenning and his torments dern,
By sight of one to whom Sol terror owes.
With love, my Ladye! all the Elements yearn
For you, and even Fire inflames the snows
Which burn our bosoms and our fancies burn.
XL.
Altgres campos, verdes arvoredos,
Written on return to Cintra from India? Petrarch, I. Canz. 27).
Glad smiling Pastures, gay and greeny Glade,
Clear, fresh-cool Waters, with your chrystalline flow
(The view repeating in the waves below)
Which from the rocky heights the meads invade:
Cliffs, stark and barefaced, Mounts o’ forest shade
That such a disconcerted Concert show;
Know you withouten sanction,of my woe
No more by you mine eyes may glad be made.
And sith no more you see me as you saw,
No more your growth of greenth delicious cheers,
Nor waves that come fast flowing joyous flood.
In you I’ll sow remembrances that gnaw,
I’ll water you with lamentable tears,
And after-grief shall spring fro’ by-gone Good.
XLI.
Quantas vezes do fuso se esquecia
(Daliana, loving Silvio, is loved by Laurenio).
Oft as forgot her spindle woe-forlore
Daliana (bathed in tears her beauteous breast)
So oft by asperous terror was opprest
Laurenio, losing hues of health he wore.
She, who loved Silvio than herself far more,
E’er sought to see him yet e’er failed her quest,
How, then, shall heal another heart’s Unrest
Who can so illy Rest to self restore?
He, clearly trowing the so bitter truth,
With sobs exclaimed, (while the treen shade
Inclined to hear his pyne and yearn for ruth)
How can be Nature so disordered
That with such different Will the twain indue’th
Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works Page 142