Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works

by Luis de Camoes

  What wills your Will I ne’er could ascertain,

  Nor of my Will the truth to you could prove,

  However seemed such Truth the plainest plain.

  This, while I see you, shall prove perfect tove;

  And, if my loving words persuade in vain,

  I love you more for-that you more unlove.

  CVI.

  Quem, Senhora, presume de louvarvos

  (Of some love-pledge. Cf. Sonn. 301).

  Whoso, my Ladye! shall presume to praise you

  With speech that shorteth of a speech divine,

  Of so much greater penalty shall be digne,

  As grow you greater each time each surveys you.

  Aspire no power of Poet-lay to raise you,

  Howe’er seld-found it be or peregrine,

  Such be your charms that Heaven, in fancy mine,

  Compare with any save yourself denays you.

  Happy this my-your Soul you deign to deem

  Fit to empower with prize of such a cost,

  As this you deigned give in gift supreme:

  This before Life shall take precedence-post;

  Since you have made me Life the less esteem,

  When this for that I’d see right gladly-lost.

  CVII.

  Moradoras genii’s, e delicadas,

  (Garcilasso, Sonn n).

  Delicate gentle Mays! who wone where flows

  Glassy and golden Tagus, ye who bide

  Within the grottos where you love to hide,

  And ‘joy your slumbers sunk in sweet repose.

  Now fire your bosom Amor’s burning throes

  Within the chrystal Palaces of the tide:

  Then all absorbed you seem in tasks applied

  To purfled webs where gold refined glows.

  Temper the radiance pure of each fair head,

  The light all-lovely of your eyne subdueing,

  That floods of sorrow unrestrained they shed.

  So shall you hear with owner grief a-rueing,

  Against dour Fortune plaints by me dispread,

  Who plumed with Love-pains fares my steps pursueing.

  CVIII.

  Brandas aguas do Tejo, que passando

  (Written before going to India? Cf. Sonn. 158).

  Soft Tejo waters! passing through this Plain

  With irrigated verdure deckt and dight,

  Plants, herbs and flowers, and kine your waves delight,

  And flow engladdening Nymph and Shepherd-swain:

  I know not (ah sweet waters!) know not when

  I shall return to see you; for such blight,

  Seen how I leave you, deal ye to my sprite,

  I go and going despair to come again.

  Predestination doomed unrelenting

  My choicest Blessing turn to weightiest Ill,

  So hard a Parting all mine Ills to double.

  For you aye yearning and my lot lamenting,

  With sighs of sorrow other airs I’ll fill,

  And other waters with my tears I’ll trouble.

  CIX.

  Novos casos de Amor, novos enganos,

  (Experientia docet. Cf. Sonn. 93 and 98).

  New change and chance of Love, new snare and sleight

  Enwrapt in glozing flatteries well-known;

  False promises of weals that hidden wone,

  Whose lurking evils open damage dight!

  How take ye not to undeceive your sight,

  So many a wasted tear so many a moan,

  For ne one life ne thousand lives should own

  So many a day, so many a year of night?

  Now a new mistey heart exchange I must,

  And other eyne unwont to be your prey,

  Again to trust you as I. once could trust.

  Ye Snares! with me ensnared wend your way,

  And some day think ye, an to think ye lust,

  What of the sorely knived men wont to say.

  CX.

  Onde porey mens olhos que ndo veja

  (Cf. Sonn. 48 and Canz. 9).

  Where shall I bend these eyne that be unseen

  The cause which bare what Ills my heart torment?

  What part shall fare I with a Thought intent

  On Rest imparted to my restless teen?

  How snared he who longs (now well I ween)

  In Amor’s vanities for true Content

  When in his gusts which are but windy vent

  Weal ever fails and Ill grows keener keen.

  And more, on Disillusion made full clear,

  This subjugated Soul so quells my Thought

  That on Illusion hangeth my Desire;

  And yede I day by day, and year by year,

  Chasing a What-is-it, chasing a Naught

  Which seemeth lesser as I draw me nigher.

  CXI.

  Ja do Mondego as aguas aparecem

  (He takes leave of the Coimbran. Cf. Sonn. 133).

  Now of Mondego-stream the waters show

  Unto mine eyes, not mine but alien eyes,

  Which, full of waters welling otherwise,

  Seeing the pleasant vision fuller grow.

  Meseems the Waters eke enforced flow,

  E’en as detained by mazy turns and ties.

  Woe’s me! How many a mode, how many a guise

  Hath after-pyne to breed me sadder Woe!

  A life so many Ills have plundered

  Love in such terms hath placed, by doubt I’m tost

  An to this Journey’s end it shall be sped.

  Nay more, Life holdeth self as wholly lost,

  Seeing by Soul ’tis unaccompanied;

  That lingers still when Life gave up the ghost.

  CXII.

  Que doudo pensamento he o que sigo?

  (By the Conde de Vimioso? Cf. Sonn. 92).

  What be this madding Thought I nill forego?

  Why fare I following vain-visioned end?

  Ah woe is me I who cannot self intend;

  Nor what I say nor what unsay can know.

  I war with one who cometh peace to show;

  ‘Gainst one who wars me self I can’t defend:

  Fro’ so false esperance what can I pretend?

  Who makes me friendly with the woes I owe?

  Why, an free-willed born, myself enslave?

  And if I will it, wherefore will it not?

  How with unsnaring am I snared so lief?

  Why hope, if hopeless erst, for hopeful lot?

  And why not live if still some Hope I have?

  And if I live why gird at deadly grief?

  CXIII.

  Hum firme coracao posto em ventura,

  (To Violante? Cf. No. 119).

  A constant heart by hazard made unsure;

  An honest longing that would fain reject

  Your crude conditions, which in naught respect

  My love so purely pure, my faith so pure:

  A viewing you to ruth’s kind use and ure

  Eternal enemy, garreth me suspect

  Some fere Hyrcanian did your lips allect,

  Or you were born the birth of rock-womb dure.

  I fare me seeking Cause, that shall explain

  So strange a Cruelty, yet the more I do,

  The more I labour, more it treats me ill.

  Hence comes it no one but condemns us twain;

  You who would kill the love which loves you so

  Me for so loving one whose cruelties kill.

  CXIV.

  Ar, que de mens suspiros vejo chiyo;

  (How he loves against Nature’s order).

  Air! I see charged with my heavy sighs;

  Earth! tired e’en now my torment to maintain;

  Water! which thousands of my tears sustain;

  Fire! I make fiercer in my breast arise:

  At peace in me you meet; thus I devise,

  Though ye so fair intent may never deign;

  For where in dolours there is dearth of pain,

  Li
fe is sustained by your energies.

  Ay hostile Fortune! ay vindicative

  Amor! to what discourse for you I fare,

  Yet may not move you by my sorrow’s worth!

  If ye would kill me wherefore do I live 1

  How am I living, I that have contrayr

  Fire, Fortune, Amor, Water, Air and Earth?

  CXV.

  Ja claro vejo bem, ja bem conheco

  (Another Plaint).

  Now ken I clearly, clearly I believe

  How ever add I caring to my Care,

  That I on water build and write on air,

  And seely Cosset from the Wolf I’d reave;

  That I’m Arachne who with Pallas weave;

  That to the Tyger wail I my despair;

  That in small pipkin squeeze the Seas I dare,

  When I (unworthy) would this Heaven achieve.

  Peace I would conquer ‘mid a hubble infernal;

  By night Sol’s aureate beams I seek to see;

  And tepid Prime-tide in the Cold hybernal;

  I seek in bright Olympus blackest blee;

  And wisht-for welfare in mine Ills eternal

  When I seek love-grace of your cruelty.

  CXVI.

  De ca, donde somente o imaginarvos

  (By some attributed to F. R. L. Surrupita).

  Hence (where to image you and only you

  This rigorous Absence doth my thought constrain)

  Borne upon Love-wings plied with daring strain,

  Seeks you my Soul that ill her Ills doth rue:

  And feared she not to fire you with the lowe,

  The burning flames your cause doth aye maintain,

  There would she wone and, to your presence lane,

  How to content you from yourself would know.

  But as her Absence is parforce design’d,

  You as her Ladye hence she acknowledgetli,

  Over your idol’d feet a slave incline’d;

  And sith you see her purely proffered faith,

  Thence turn those glances on her cares unkind, —

  More you must give her than she meriteth.

  CXVII.

  Nad ha louvor que arribe a menor parte

  (Cf. Sonn. 17, 103, and 106).

  There be no praises reach the minim part

  Of what, fair Ladye! in your form we view;

  You are your praises: who adoreth you

  To this (naught else) reduceth wits and art.

  What gifts to many Nature would repart

  Of fair and fetis, so in you congrue

  Suchwise conjoined, it were due and true

  To say the Members they and you the Heart:

  Then ’tis no fault o’ mine if, daring praise you,

  I see all praises impotently end,

  Since Heaven o’er earthly things so high would raise you:

  Yea, be the fault your charms that so resplend;

  And I their fault forgive, and give to appraise you

  So lofty praises every praise transcend.

  CXVIII.

  Nad v&s ao Monte Nise, com teu gado,

  (From the Spanish. Cf. Sonn. No. 120).

  Lead not thy lambkins, Nise, to you crest

  Where I saw Cupid in thy search persever,

  For thee alone all comers asking ever

  Rather with angry mien than placid geste.

  Abroad he bruits, in fine, thou stolst his best

  Of bolts and arrows stored in his quiver;

  And sware so ardent dart he would deliver

  That shall pass through and through that delicate breast.

  Fly far from seeing such misaventure,

  For an thou hold he have for thee a spite,

  Haply he reach thee with his hand-grasp dure.

  But ay! how vainly counsels thee my fright,

  If to thine ever peerless formosure

  His mightiest dart surrender all its might!

  CXIX.

  A Violeta maes bella que amanhece

  (To Violante. Cf. Sonn. 13).

  The daintiest Violet which a-morning blown

  Amells the valley dight in garb of green,

  With her pale lustre and her modest mien,

  Thee, Violante, Beauty’s Queen must own:

  Dost ask me why? Because in thee alone

  Her name and purer tints and hues are seen;

  And she must study from thy brow what mean

  The highest powers by bloom of beauty shown.

  O lustrous floret! O Sol fairest fair!

  Sole robber of my senses! pray thee I do

  Allow riot Love of loving be so spare.

  O thou transpiercing arrow of Cupldo!

  What wouldst thou? In this valley for repayre

  Prithee. I play Aeneas to this Dido.

  CXX.

  Tornay essa brancura à alva acucena,

  (From the Spanish?).

  Give back this blanchness to the Lily’s skin,

  To purpling Rose these blushes purely bright:

  Give back to Sol the flame of living light

  Shown by this face that shows the robber’s sin.

  Give back to dulcet-voiced Melusine

  The voice whose cadence is a mere delight:

  Give back the Graces’ grace who all unite

  To ‘plain you made their lustre less serene.

  Give back to lovely Venus loveliness;

  Give back Minerva’s genius, lore and art,

  And chaste cold Dian’s chastest purest blee:

  Come, doff these borrowed plumes, this goodliness

  Of gifts, and you shall wone in every part

  Sole with yourself, which is sole Cruelty.

  CXXI.

  De mil suspeitas vans se me levantad

  (By Diogo Bemardes? Cf. Sonn. 70).

  Fro’ vain suspicions in a thousand ways

  Rise disappointments, griefs veridical.

  Ah! that the charm of Love be magick all

  That with I wot-not-what my soul waylays!.

  As Sirens, softly sing their sugred lays,

  Sea-faring men with fatal snare to thrall;

  So lure me on my songs phantastical

  And eft with thousand horrid thoughts amaze.

  When fain I fancy port or land to take,

  Sudden so stormy rage of wind ariseth,

  At once for Life I fear and disconfide.

  Yet on myself the fiercest war I make,

  Since, known what risks for lovers Love deviseth,

  Self-trusting still I trust to Love’s own tide.

  CXXII.

  Mil vezes determino nao vos ver

  (Imitated from his “Ennius,” Bemardim Ribeiro).

  I swear a thousand times to unsee your sight,

  And see if Absence soothe a heart distraught;

  And if I think of pain to self so wrought,

  Think what ’twould be an ‘twere to me bedight.

  Imports me little now more suffering plight,

  Since Love to such a point my case hath brought;

  Yet what most grieves me is the grievous thought

  Ill could I live without this undelight

  Thus seek I nowise Cure to heal my Care,

  For were I seeking Cure, right well I wot

  In this same point my loss would prove complete.

  Would you so rigorous life, in fine, I bear?

  Only your love-boon can convene my lot.

  Is it your will that so it be? So be it!

  CXXIII.

  A chaga que, Senhora, me fizestes,

  (To a nun of the order Das Chagas? Cf. Sonn. 77).

  The wound, Senhora! you have doomed me dree

  Was not a hurt to heal in single day;

  Nay, it increaseth in so crescive way,

  That proves intention in your cruelty.

  Causing such grief were you of grieving free?

  But to your grieving grief I would denay,

  Sith to my sight it woul
d some hope convey

  Of what you willed ne’er be seen in me.

  Those Eyne, whose puissance me of me bereft,

  Caused this evil e’er I undergo;

  Yet fare you feigning you ne’er caused the theft:

  But I’ll revenge myself! And when d’ you know?

  Whenas I see you ‘plaining that you left

  My soul go burning in their living lowe.

  CXXIV.

  Se com desprezos, Ninfa, te parece

  (He vaunts his constancy).

  An thy despisal, Nymph! thou haply trow

  Can ever deviate from its course of Care

  A Heart so constant, which hath vowed a vow

  In bearing torment highest boast to bear:

  Doff thy persistency, and learn to know

  Illy thou knowest Love grown wise and ware;

  For knowst and kennest not thy Wrongs make grow

  My growth of Ills as more unloved I fare.

  The coy Unlove thou doomest me essay,

  Convert to pity, an be not thy will

  With thine Unwill my love still higher stye.

  Ne’er hope to conquer me by cruellest Ill:

  Well canst thou slay me and well dost thou slay,

  But my Presumption’s life shall never die.

  CXXV.

  Senhora minha, se eu de vos ausente

  (Garcilasso, No. 9: a mere translation).

  Senhora mine! driven self fro’ you to absent

  If I could parry thrust of pain so rare,

  Suspect I ’twould offend the love I bear,

  Forgetting welfare by your presence lent:

  Further, now feel I other accident,

  And ’tis that seeing if I of life despair,

  I lose the boast and hope of seeing my Faire,

  With only difference in my detriment:

  And in such difference all my senses biding

  Fight one another with so fierce outrance,

  I judge mine Ills inhuman, unhumane.

  I see division sense from sense dividing;

  And if concording any day, perchance,

  ’Tis but in plotting for my better bane.

  CXXVI.

  No regaco da May Amor estava

  (On a picture of Venus and Child).

  Lapt by his Mother little Love was lying,

  So lovely sleeping that the sight could wrest

  Freedom from every fancy-freest breast,

  And his own Mother near-hand do to dying.

  She sat with curious eye his form espying

  Which hath so direly all the world opprest;

  When soft he murmured in a dream’s unrest

  “She caused all Evils all are now abying.”

  Soliso, graduate in the school of Love,

  Who best to know the two had aventure

  Thus did the Shepherds’ doubt and dread remove:

  “An hurt and harm my heart withouten cure

  The Son, whose red-hot shafts my bosom rove,

  The Mother’s beauty harmeth more forsure.”