Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works

by Luis de Camoes

You add new graces to the flowery Queen:

  Eyes ever softly glancing glance serene,

  With rays divine in burning thousands shed,

  If hence my Soul and Sense are captive led,

  Were I but present say what then had been?

  Glad honest laughter, that ‘mid finest fine

  Pearl-rows and coral-branch is born to view;

  Oh, that its honeyed echoes I could hear!

  If so much beauty seen with Fancy’s eyne

  Make Soul forget herself in gloire so new,

  What when I see her? Ah! that I mote see her!

  LXXXV.

  Foy ja num tempo doce cousa amar

  (After Natercia’s death? Petrarch, II. 72).

  To love in passed Time was passing sweet

  While fared I falsed by one Esperance:

  My heart, high flaming with such furtherance

  Melted in Love desire’s all-potent heat.

  Ah debile Esperance, caduque, fain to fleet!

  How do, in fine, unwheedle Change and Chance!

  For-that the greater Fortune’s complaisance,

  So much the lesser lasteth her deceit.

  Whoso in prosperous gust his lot espied,

  So soon espying the same in bitter pain,

  Hath cause to live as though of grief he died.

  But whoso trials of this world hath tried,

  Ne grieves ne troubles him the threatened bane:

  For customed Evil is an Ill defied.

  LXXXVI.

  Dos antiquos Jlustres que deixarad

  (Of D. Joam Coutinho).

  Of olden Worthies who, by deeds of daring,

  Left names deserving Life o’er Death victorious,

  For light of Time remained tales memorious

  Of feats the highmost excellence declaring.

  An with their actions one attempt comparing

  A thousand feats of yours, each so notorious,

  Your least shall pale their greatest, their most glorious

  Done through a many years of life wayfaring.

  Theirs was true glory: none their boast shall reave:

  As each forth went Fame’s several paths to trace

  He won his statue in her hero-temple.

  You, Portuguezes’ and Coutinho’s grace,

  Noblest Dom John! a loftier name shall leave

  For self a Glut of Gloire, for us Example.

  LXXXVII.

  Conversafao domestica afeypa,

  (Obscure address, to Belisa? Cf. Sonn. 91).

  Domestick Converse oft shall Love effect,

  Now formed of cleanest Will from error free,

  Then of a loving pity-full quality

  Nor one nor other holding in respect.

  Then if, peraunter, be your joyaunce checkt

  By sad Unlove and scanty Loyalty,

  Forthright condemneth Truth a False to be

  Blind Love, in fine, who pardoneth all Suspect.

  Not mere conjecture this I lief assure

  When Thought takes semblance for his evidence,

  To deck man’s writ with delicate garniture:

  My heave I’ve placed on my conscience,

  And tell I naught but Truth the purest pure,

  Taught by my tutor, Life’s experience.

  LXXXVIII.

  Esforco grande igual ao pensamento,

  (On D. H. de Menezes. Cf. The Lusiads X. J4).

  Strong Force embodying Thought’s ideal strain,

  Thoughts proved in action and by deed exprest,

  And ne’er close-lockfed in the craven breast,

  To drop, dissolve and die in wind and rain:

  Soul that ne’er tempted low-toned greed of gain,

  Digne for this only of what state is best,

  Fere Scourge and sore for ever unreprest

  Peoples which haunt the Malabarian Plain:

  Grace with rare Beauty corporal allied,

  Adorned all with pudick continence;

  Certes high heavenly Work angelick-pure;

  These seld-seen virtues and a more beside,

  Worthy Homerick loftiest eloquence,

  Are laid to lie beneath this sepulture.

  LXXXIX.

  No Mundo quis o tempo que se achasse

  (Written in India? Cf. Sonn. 46 and 48).

  Time hath so willed in the World we find

  Welfare, or certainty or chance begot;

  And to experiment what bin my lot

  Fortune experiment on me design’d.

  But that my Destiny impress my mind

  How e’en the hope of Weal became me not,

  Never (so happed) my long-drawn Life-tide wot

  One glimpse of things for which I longed and pine’d.

  I fared changing habits, home, estate,

  To see if Change would change a Sort so dure:

  Life to a legier planklet’s hand I gave:

  But e’en as pleased Heaven approve my Fate,

  I’ve learnt how all my questing Aventure,

  Hath found that only naught of Luck I have.

  XC.

  A perfeycao, a graga, o docegeito,

  (Very obscure: by D. Manuel de Portugal?).

  That Grace most perfect shown by soft sweet Geste,

  That Prime of freshness full, the purest pure,

  In you e’er blooming, for whom Aventure

  Conjoint with Reason conquered this breast:

  That chrystalline aspect, chastest, modestest,

  In self containing all of Formosure;

  Those eyes whose splendid lights so softly ‘lure,

  Whence Love, respecting none, deals strong behest

  An this, in you aye sighted, you would sight,

  As digne from clearest sight to unconceal,

  However fancy-free your heart and sprite:

  You’ll see the whole its sight to you reveal

  Amid this Spirit, where you rule by right,

  That sighting self what feels my Soul you’ll feel:.

  XCI.

  Vos que de olhos suaves, e serenos,

  (Same argument as Sonn. 87).

  You that with suavest orbs of ray serene

  My love to ‘prison justest reason show;

  Condemning every other care and woe

  For meaningless, for miserablest mean;

  If jealous Love’s domestick draught venene

  You never tasted; yet I would you know

  How after loving Love shall greater grow,

  As of his loving less more cause hath been.

  Presume not any there be aught defect,

  Which in the loved thing may self present,

  Can Love’s perfections ever imperfect:

  Nay Faults but double him and more torment,

  For step by step excuse them souls elect

  As Love by contraries hath increment.

  XCII.

  Que poderey do Mundo ja querer,

  (On the death of his beloved. Cf. Sonn. 19).

  What expectations from the World have I,

  Since in the lover I so well did will,

  Naught save Disfavour saw I, harmful Ill

  And Death, in fine, — what now do more than die?

  Since Life of living naught can satisfy,

  Since now I see great Sorrows cannot kill,

  If aught be left of love-grief sadder still

  I shall espy it who can all espy.

  Death, to my dolour, hath assurance brought

  Of what great Woe be mine; she is now forlorn

  Who erst my soul to feel a fear untaught:

  In Life, ’twas only mine Unlove to mourn;

  In Death, a mighty Dule that haunts my thought. —

  Methinks for this alone my birth was born.

  XCIII.

  Pensamentos, que agora novamente

  (On entering upon a new love).

  Fanciful Thoughts! that now with new intent

  Resuscitate vain Cares whilom lament
ed;

  Say me, ye Thoughts! still be you not contented

  To keep your Keeper in such discontent 1

  What Phantasy be this you would present,

  Hour after hour before mine eyes presented?

  Why with vain dreams attempt heart so prevented

  Which nor in dreaming e’er Contentment hent?

  Thoughts! now I view you wandering from your ways:

  Will not your coyness condescend to say me,

  What cunning purpose strays amid this maze?

  Denay me not, an you would fain denay me;

  For if in wrath ye rise against my days,

  I’ll lend you aidance, I myself, to slay me.

  XCIV.

  Se tomo a minha pena em penitencia

  (To his lover whom he had offended).

  If by my paining I do penitence,

  Fit punishment for thoughts of kind unkind,

  My woe I soften not, two woes I find;

  Yet this (and more) is preached by Patience;

  And if my deadman’s pallid apparence,

  If Sighs and Singulfs scattered vain a-wind,

  Move you not, Ladye! to more ruth inclined,

  Be all mine evils on your conscience.

  But an for any asperous chance and change

  Love will all fancy-freest Wills chastise,

  (As in this Evil dooming me I see)

  And if (as likely seems) you ‘scape revenge,

  Compulsion ’tis (so Love compels his prize)

  I for your sin must pay sin-penalty.

  XCV.

  Aquella que de pura castidade,

  (A classical conceit).

  She, who by purest Chastity’s decree,

  Wreaked on herself a cruel vengeance,

  For change so sudden, for so brief a chance,

  That smircht her Honour’s highest-born degree;

  Conquered her beauty was right honestly;

  Conquered she, in fine, life’s esperance,

  That live immortal so fair sovenance,

  Such love, such firmest will, such verity.

  Herself, mankind, and all the world forgot,

  She smote with dagger dure her downy breast,

  In blood the Tyrant’s felon violence bathing.

  O marvellous Daring! passing strange the Geste!

  That giving human clay to Death’s short scathing,

  Large Life of Memory she should make her lot!

  XCVI.

  Os vestidos Elisa rebolvia,

  (Classical: another conceit).

  Oft-times Elisa the dear weed survey’d

  Aeneas left her for a pledge memorious;

  The sweet despoilings of a Bygone glorious;

  Sweet while her Fortune but assenting aid:

  Amid them sighted she the fine-wrought Blade,

  Fit instrument, in fine, for feat notorious;

  And, as a spirit o’er her clay victorious,

  So in sad solitary speech she said: —

  “Thou new-entempered Blade!’ if here remaining

  Only to execute his fraudful will

  (Who did bequeath thee) on my life forlore;

  Know that with me thy fraud is vainest feigning;

  For to relieve my life of so much Ill,

  The pangs of parting were enough and more.

  XCVII.

  Oh quam caro me custa o intenderte,

  (Cf. Sonn. 91).

  Ah me! how dearly costeth it to trow thee,

  Molesting Love! when but thy grace to gain,

  Fro’ Dule thou leadst me Dule-ward to such pain

  Where hate and wrath to growth still greater grow thee.

  I reckt with knowledge of each phase to know thee,

  Experience failed me not, nor artful vein;

  But now in spirit see I grow amain

  The cause that whilom caused me to forego thee.

  Thou wast in bosom mine so secret deckt

  E’en I, who deckt thee, least of all could see

  How this concealment did my will subject.

  Now art thou self-discovered; and so it be

  That thy discovery and my own defect

  This makes me shameful, that injurieth me.

  XCVIII.

  Se despoys de esperanca tao perdida,

  (Written in India?).

  An after losing Hope so long-lamented,

  Love for some unknown purpose lend assent

  That still some hour I see of short Content

  Amid the many this long life tormented;

  For soul so feeble grown, by falling tainted

  (When Fate would raise me to my topmost bent)

  I hold it hopeless Fortune e’er consent

  In aught of joyaunce now too late consented.

  For Love not only ne’er my lot hath made

  One hour of life-time spent in joyous gree,

  Amid the many to my life denay’d;

  Nay more, such pain he doth consent I dree,

  With my Contentment he fro’ me waylaid

  The taste at some one hour Content to see.

  XCIX.

  O rayo cristalino se estendia

  (Follows Sonn. 53. Cf. Virgil, Eel. 8).

  Dispread its sheeny rays in chrystalline weft

  Aurora’s marquetry o’er Earth array’d,

  What season Nise, delicate shepherd-maid,

  The home, where left she life, for ever left.

  Of eyne, that solar radiance had reft,The light upraising, light with tears bewray’d;

  By self, by Fortune and by Time betray’d,

  Thus cried she, while to Heaven her eyne she heft

  Be born, thou Sol serene, pure-bright of blee;

  Resplend, thou purple, virgin-white Aurore,

  Bringing to saddened Souls new jubilee:

  For mine, I would thou know, that nevermore

  In Life contented she thy Sheen shall see

  Nor other Shepherd-maid so woe-forlore.

  C.

  No Mundo poucos annos, e cansados,

  (Epitaph for Pero Moniz? Cf. Garcil., Sonn. 16).

  Few weary Winters in this worldly Pale

  I past, the sport of misery vile and dure:

  So soon my daylight set in night obscure

  Of my five lustres saw I not full tale:

  O’er lands I marched and o’er seas made sail,

  Seeking life’s evils or to kill or cure:

  But what, in fine, begradgeth Aventure

  No travails gain us, ban or bane or bale.

  Portugal mothered me: green Alemquer

  Was my dear homestead; but that air pollute

  Which ever breathed in this clay-vase of me,

  Made me the fishes’ food in thee, thou brute

  Sea! lashing Habash, greedy coast and fere,

  And ah! so distant fro’ my dear countre!

  CI.

  Vos que escuitays em Rimas derramado

  (Proem to Second Century of “Amores”: Petrarch, I. I).

  All ye who listen, while my Rhymes proclaim

  The sounds of sighing erst my spirit moved,

  When through my early youth-tide years I roved,

  In part another and in part the same:

  Know that now only for my Songs I claim

  (What time sang I as Hope or Fear approved

  In her whose wrong I felt, her I so loved)

  Pity not pardon in my care and grame.

  Sith well I weet so strong a sentiment

  But made me a by-word in the mouths of men,

  (Which in my self-communion shame I deem)

  Serve as clear warning this my chastisement,

  That all the World may ken, and clearly ken,

  What pleaseth mundane Life is briefest Dream.

  CII.

  De Amor escrevo, de Amor trato, e vivo;

  (By Luis Alvarez Pereira, author of the “Elegiada”?).

  Of Love I write, of Love I treat and live;

  L
ove bare my loving which no loving bare;

  Uncares for everything in life my Care,

  Save for what Love’s captivity can give.

  Love’s gift, whose flight fro’ high to higher shall strive,

  Basing his glory in that dares he dare;

  And be depured his dross in rarer air,

  Lit by resplendent radiance fugitive.

  But ay! that so much Love gain only Grief,

  More constant Grief as Love is more constant holden,

  For each one only his own triumph wills.

  In fine, naught boots me; for an Hope be lief

  Somewhile a tristful lover to embolden,

  When near she quickens, when afar she kills.

  CIII.

  Se da célebre Laura a fermosura

  (Ode VI. io-n).

  An far-famed Laura, beauty’s cynosure,

  A Swan of Numbers in his pride extoll’d,

  Thy bard in hand angelick pen must hold,

  Since Heaven hath formed thy substance purest pure;

  And if thy Beauty lower-toned Lays allure,

  His praise (Natercia!) were but vainly bold:

  Whilom to see them Liso’s lot was told,

  But to describe them fails him Aventure.

  Not Earth but certes Heaven bare thy birth

  Descending here the World with gloire be fraught;

  Who more denies it more his error’s worth:

  And thou, I fancy, Earth from Heaven hast sought

  To amend the vicious ways contained in Earth,

  With powers divine by thee from Heaven brought

  CIV.

  Esses cabellos louros, e escolhidos,

  (Another Plaint: written for a friend?).

  These fair-faxt Tresses of the choicest shade;

  Which rob his glories from the golden Sun:

  This airy air immense, which hath undone

  My shipwreckt Senses ever more bewray’d:

  Those reaving Eyne with sleight of glance array’d,

  Causing my life and death to seem as one,

  This grace divine of tongue, whose every tone

  Feigneth my deepest thoughts discredited:

  This golden Mean, allied to compast Bearing,

  Doubling of body-gifts the potency;

  Deess o’er lowly Earth divinely faring!

  Now show they pity, shun they cruelty,

  For they be snares Love knits for better snaring,

  In me being sufferance, in you tyranny.

  CV.

  Quem pudera julgar de vos, Senhora,

  (Complaining of infidelity? Cf. No. 14).

  Whose judgment, Ladye! could of you discoure

  That Faith so faithful mote to loss pursue you?

  If I win hatred who for love-boon sue you

  I can’t unlove you for a single hour.

  Would you leave one who dares to love, to adore,

  For one that haply values not to view you?

  But I am one who ne’er had worth to woo you,

  And now I know mine ignorance and deplore.