I know that I as I shall but despight thee,
If ill I will myself for Will I plight thee,
What more can will or wish I save to love thee?
How aids me not this love of rarest guise?
O human treasure! O sweet blessing glorious!
Happy the man who deathward for thee hies!
Writ in my thoughts thy name shall last memorious;
This soul shall live because for thee she dies;
Since battle’s issue is to be victorious.
CXLIX.
Sempre a Razao vencida foy de Amor.
(Cf. Sonn. 36, 46, and 49: Canz., VII. 5: EcL II. 27.)
By Amor routed Reason aye hath been;
But when my heart with pleading ‘gan assail,
Love granted power of Reason to prevail,
Now what more curious case has man e’er seen!
New mode of dying, new griefs evergreen!
A mighty marvel! admirable tale!
That Love of vigour at the end should fail,
Lest of its vigour fail Love’s vigorous teen.
Never was frailty in true loving known;
Nay, this wise ever gaineth more of might
One foe that other foe would see o’erthrown.
But Reason who, in fine, can win such fight
I hold not Reason; liefer would I own
’Tis inclination to my own despight
CL.
Coytado, que em hum tempo choro, e rio;
(Cf. Sonn. 9).
Poor I! who laugh and cry at single tide;
Feel Hope and Wanhope, love and yet abhor;
Conjointly Life enjoy, and Life deplore;
And in one thing confiding disconfide.
Wingless I fly, withouten eyes I guide;
Of what I merit most I hold least store;
Then speak I better when of speech forlore;
Uncontradicted all I override.
For me the Impossible makes all possible;
By Change I struggle gain of rest to get;
To be a captive, to be free as air:
I would be seen, I would be invisible;
Would ‘scape the netting and yet love the net;
Such are the extremes wherein this day I fare!
CLI.
Julgame a genie toda porperdido,
(“The world well lost”).
The world misjudgeth I have lost my lot,
Seeing me lover-like so ‘joy my pain,
So shun my neighbours, far fro’ man remain,
Forgetting human commerce and forgot:
But as all knowledge of the world I wot,
And view its doublings from a higher plane,
I hold him rustick, cozened, base of strain,
Who with my Love-grief greater groweth not.
Revolve, revolving aye, Earth, Main and Wind;
At wealth and honours let the vulgar fly,
Oe’rcoming fire and steel and heat and cold.
Let me in Love alone Contentment find,
Ensculptured thro’ timeless Time to espy
Your lovely semblance in my soul ensoul’d.
CLII.
Olhos, aonde o Ceo com luz maes pura,
(Cf. Sonn. 38).
Eyes! wherein heavenly radiance purest pure
Willed of His puissance show most certain sign,
An ye would rightly see how strong you shine,
View me the Creature of your self, the Viewer!
In me you’ll view your living portraiture,
Properer than shrined in purest Chrystalline,
Because you’ll certes view in Soul of mine,
Clearer than Chrystalline, your formosure.
For mine I only wish my Wish to see,
If more for loving haply be my due,
That mote your powers enseal me for your thralL
I see no worldly memory in me:
All I forget remembering you, and you
O’er me triumphant I o’ertriumph all.
CLIII.
Criou a Naiureza Damas Bellas,
(How excellent is his lover: written for a friend?).
Nature bare lovely Dames, and Poet’s lay
Wi’ deathless lyre-quills in their laud delighted;
Their parts most prizfed she in you united,
And all their bestest made you, Dame! display.
They in your presence show the Star’s pale ray
And, seeing you, starken in eclipse benighted;
But an they have for Sun those rosy-lighted
Rays of more radiant Sun, thrice happy they!
In grace, perfection and in gentle rede,
By mode to mortals certes peregrine,
This Beauty all things beauteous doth exceed.
O could I borrow part of the Divine
To merit you! but if pure Love you heed
As aught availing, I of you am digne.
CLIV.
Que esperays, Esperanca? Desespero.
(Dialogue: he will love against hope.)
Hope! what of hoping own you?— “I despair.”
What, then, hath Wanhope caused?— “A variance.”
You, Life, how fare you?— “Lorn of esperance.”
What say you, Heart?—” In fondest love I fare.”
What, Soul, feel you?— “That Love brings cruel care.”
In fine, how live you?—” Sans a hope in chance.”
What, then, sustaineth you?—” One sovenance.”
Is this your only hope?—” Hope’s sole repair.”
Where can you take your stead?— “Here where I wone.”
And where now wone you?— “Where my life is dead.”
And hold you Death a weal?— “Love wills so be.”
Who dooms you thus?—” Myself to self beknown.”
Who may you be?—” One self surrendered.”
To whom surrender’d?—” To one dearest she.”
CLV.
Se como cm tudo o maesfostes pcrfeyta,
(Her cruelty and his resignation: for a friend?).
If, as in all things else you be perfected,
Your coy condition were less fugitive,
Then would my Fortune at high goal arrive,
Then would its height to you be more subjected.
But when my life is at your feet dejected,
And you accept not, Life-tide nills survive:
Life of herself would me of me deprive;
Rejecting me because by you rejected.
An Life in loving you your Will oppose,
Command, my Ladye! that she end mine ills
And the profoundest sadness e’er I dree:
Yet she refuses me, not that she knows
A touch of pity, but on me she wills
To grant you glutting of your cruelty.
CLVI.
Se algum’ hora essa vista maes suave
(Written for a friend?).
If your douce Vision at some hour you deign
Haply to grant me, ere one moment went
I feel such joyaunce, sense so full Content,
Fear I no losses, dread ne ban ne bane.
But when with scorn so sore, so dour disdain
That beauteous face whole-hearted you present,
I prove such torment, pangs so vehement,
Tis mighty marvel life survives the pain.
So doth my life-tide or the death of me
Hang from an eye-glance; your prerogative
Dealeth me life or death with glance of eye.
Happy if grant me Heaven or Destiny
You give me life that back to you I give,
Or death because I only crave to die!
CLVII.
Tanto se for ad, Ninfa, costumando
(For a friend?).
So fared, Nymph! self-customing these Eyne
To weep what sorrows dealt thy Will so dure,
That now they thole, by Nature’s use and ure,
What sufferin
gs Accident did first assign.
Hours due to sleeping I in waking pine
And watch, of nothing sauf of sorrow sure:
But all my weepings ne’er thy harshness cure
Though ever weep and weep these eyes of mine.
This wise from woe to woe, from grief to grief,
They wear themselves away in vain, in vain,
And eke my hapless life they wear away.
To water Love-fire what a poor relief!
For I am ever weeping with my pain,
And at my weeping laughst thou glad and gay.
Thus my new tears are fain
To pay fresh tax of stowre
When, seen thy laughter, I but weep the more.
CLVIII.
Eu me aparto de vos, Ninfas do Tejo,
(Taking leave of the Lisbon dames. Cf. Sonn. 108).
Nymphs of the Tagus! I fro’ you take flight,
When least I drad this parting dole to dree;
And if in sorrow yede my soul, shall see
Your sight in eyes wherewith I see your sight.
Hopes well-nigh hopeless, plight of utter blight,
A Love that never sets my Reason free,
Shall soon bring end to life-long misery,
Save I return to see my dear delight.
But meanwhile never, ne by night ne day,
Shall thoughts of you be seen depart my heart.
Love, with me faring, certifies this true.
Whate’er retardance may Return delay,
One sad companion ne’er fro’ me shall part,
The yearning grief for Weal that bides with you.
CLIX.
Vencido esta de Amor — Meu pensamento.
(Acrostic. “Yours as Captive, highest Senhora!).
Fielding to Love I see High Thoughts low li’en;
Of all Life yielded, all I yielded see,
Unto you subject, and Gi’en yours to be,
Rendering whate’er I have How you design.
So well-content I laud Each moment mine,
And hour when all I saw Surcease to me:
Sueing a thousand times The wounds I dree,
Claiming a thousand more So tristful fine.
A claim so high as this. E’er shall for-sure
Prompt me with Cause to Noteworthy prize, win
To gain surnatural Height, Honour sublime.
I here forswear all — Other Aventure,
Fowed to a single Love, Rare sacrifice,
Wise by your love to be Attaint of Crime.
CLX.
Divina Companhia que nos prados
(His Exegi Monumentum, &c.).
Ye god-like Bevy who upon the plain
Of clear Eurotas, or Olympus-Mount,
Or by the margent of Castalian fount
Holier studies to your heart have tane;
Sithence the never-moved Fates ordain
Me of your number you vouchsafe account,
In Fame eternal of Bellerophont
To hang these bronze-engraved verses deign: —
“Soliso (willing future ages note
How much of Beauty’s boon he meriteth
Who with sage folly doth his soul inflame)
What writ (fro’ Fortune now secure) he wrote
Unto these Altars this hand offereth,
That hands his Spirit to his beauteous Dame.”
CLXI.
A la margen del Tajo en claro dia,
(Spanish: attributed to D. Diogo de Mendoza).
By Tagus’ margin on a bloom of day
With ribbed ivory combing wavy hair
Natercia stood, and quencht her eyes the glare
Of nooning Phoebus railing hottest ray.
Soliso, following her in Clytie’s way,
From self far absent while to her full near,
Sang to his bagpipe praises of his Fere
Who fired his bosom, and thus said his say: —
“If I as many as thy hairs on head
Had lives to give thee, thou shouldst have the whole,
And pluck them, each and every, thread by thread.
And for their loss my soul thou wouldst console
If, thousand times as they are numbered
In them thou wouldest mesh this life — my sole.”
CLXII.
Por gloria tuve un tiempo el ser perdido;
(Spanish: a Lexapren or repetition Sonnet).
Whilome I gloried to be ruined;
Ruined me gaining of the purest gain;
Gained I when liberty forfared I fain;
Fain now I find me free but conquered.
Conquered I to Nish ‘rendered;
‘Rendered lest she leave me lone remain:
Remain but thoughts of Pleasure turned to Pain;
Pain gars me now deplore my service sped.
Sped I to serve the Light my love besought;
My love besought I hoped to win full sure;
Full sure my dearest hopes all came to nought.
Nought of my hope now seems to me secure;
Security dwelleth but in things ne’er thought;
Thought must of dubious end the throes endure.
CLXIII.
Rebuelvo en la incessable phantasia,
(Spanish. Cf. Sonn. No. 77).
I turn and turn in ceaseless Phantasy
What things I saw when luckiest lot I claimed,
Eke when I live (as now) by love inflamed,
Eke when I lived from his ‘flamings free.
’Twas then mine only thought this fire to flee,
In life disdaining every shaft he aimed:
Now for the Bygones sorrowing and ashamed
I hold as glory pains I drad to dree.
Right well I recognise ’twas life’s delight
To live a life unrecking doubt and fear,
When viewed I gust of love as gust of wind.
But now Natercia’s spell so charms my sight,
I find within this jail gloire dearest dear,
And free to lose it fiercest pain I find.
CLXIV.
Las penas retumbavan al gemido
(Spanish. Possibly written in Ceuta).
The cliffy mountains echoed the moan
Of the sad Shepherd, who vain mourning made
For griefs that heavy on his spirit weigh’d,
Born of an obstinate Unlove’s malison.
The billows ramping on the rocks, each groan
With hollow tomblings gave rewording aid;
’Twas heard confused in the winds that stray’d,
’Twas told by dales and vales of caverned stone.
“Respond the hardest Mountains to my grief
Ah me! (he murmured) rings and roars the Sea,
While woe-full Echoes sympathy confess:
And thou, for whom Death lays his mark on me,
‘Sdeignest by hearing grant my pyne relief;
And when I weep the more I melt thee less.
CLXV.
En una selva al dispuntar del dia
(Spanish. By Dom Fernando de Acunha?).
Hid in a forest, at the flush of day,
Stood sad Endymion wailing for his woes,
Facing the rays of Sol, who hasty rose
And down a mountain rained his earliest ray.
Fixing the Light that on his joys would prey,
The Foe who fought to slay his douce repose,
With sighs and singulfs, these a-following those,
In reasoned sadness thus the swain ‘gan say: —
“Clear Light! obscurest sight I ever view’d,
Who by thy progress hot and hurried
My Sun obscuredst with thy darkling dyes;
If aught can move thee in that altitude
Complaint of Shepherd-youth enamoured,
I pray return thee whence thou diddest rise.”
CLXVI.
Orfeo enamorado gue tania
(From Monte Mayor’s Alcina
y Silvano).
The lover Orpheus struck so sweet a quill
For the lost Ladye he would lief regain,
Who in implacable Orcus place had tane,
Thrilled her his harp and voice with tenderest thrill.
Ixion’s whirling wheel awhile stood still,
The tortured Shadows cared not to complain;
He gentled every other’s harshest pain’
And to himself took all of other Ill.
The song prevailed with so puissant guise,
That for douce guerdon of his minstrelsy,
The Kings of Hades (feeling for his woe)
Ordained he fare him with his Fere for prize
But, — turned that ill-starred wight her sight to see,
When he and she were lost for evermo’e.
CLXVII.
En cantey ja, e agora vou chorando
(The Amores end and begin the Tristia).
I sang in Bygones; now I weep to see
The times which heard me sing in faith so fast:
Meseems when singing in the Days gone past
That tears were gathering in the eyes of me.
I sang; but an they ask, When mote it be?
I n’ote, for even here I was miscast;
And now my present state so stands aghast,
Past grief to judgment looks like jubilee.
To sing commanded (traitor Purpose trying)
Contentment, no! but Confidence in chance:
I sang; yet clank of fetters drowned my song.
Of whom complain when Life is only lying?
Nay more, why flyte and fleer at Esperance,
When unjust Fortune more than I did wrong?
CLXVIII.
Ay, Amiga cruel! que apartamento
(To the drowned lady. Cf. Sonn. 23, 53, 70, and 99).
Ay, fair and cruel friend! What sad amiss
So far from patrial land persuades you stray?
Who from the dear nest drives you (well-a-day!)
Glory to eye-glance and to breasts a bliss?
Fare you a-tempting Fortune’s fickleness,
And of the wilful Winds the fatal fray?
Where seas grow coverts? waves swell hills of spray,
This and that Storm-gust pile upon the abyss?
But as you leave me thus withouten leaving,
Leave, and may Heaven bestow such aventure
That all advantage on your hopes attend.
And of this single truth fare right secure,
For this your faring there is more of grieving,
Than wishes wafting you to wisht-for end.
CLXIX.
Campo nas Syrtes desie mar da vida,
(Written at some friend’s country house).
Country in shoaling Syrt of Being-sea,
Safe plank so welcome pluckt from perilous wreck:
Breaks of calm blue that blackest clouds befleck,
Of Peace the homestead, Love’s own sanctuary:
Theeward I fly: but if I win who flee,
And if a changed place changed fortunes make,
Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works Page 148