(To Viceroy D. Luis de Athaide in 1577)
Then for his Roy to rule, and service do
For Christ conjointly, ‘turneth to the part
Where self he showed a Numa and a Mart,
Enfamed Lewis just and valiant-true:
Let Tagus hope all Orient-land to view
(Where rarely gifts so rare the Heavens impart)
Yielding to such high force, such prudent art,
Of Palms a thousand, thousand tributes new.
Whoso of Ganges or of Indus drink,
Whom scant availed strength of spear or shield,
Shall bow and bowing have the lesser harm.
Hearing his coming name shall Euphrate shrink;
Foreseeing all things to his terror yield,
As erst seen conquered by his forceful arm.
CXCII.
Agora toma a espada, agora a pena,
(To Estacio de Faria; Soldier and Poet).
Now hends in hand the Brand, now hends the Pen
Our Eustace either gift hath glorified,
Being or Mars-beloved on briny tide
Or Muse’s lover in sweet-founted glen.
Sonorous Swan, fair Riverside’s denizen!
To sing thine exploits were my joy and pride
For song deserving thee was aye denied
To rustick pipe or reed of rural men.
If I who hent the Pen and hent the Brand,
To play with either mote permission claim,
By the high influence Planets twain award;
With this and other light by their command,
Thou, man of pushing arm and soul of flame!
Shalt fare a Pharos-lamp to Brave and Bard.
CXCIII.
Erros metis, ma Fortuna, Amor ardente
(The Penitent poems begin).
Mine Errors, evil Fortune, Amor’s lowe
Did for the spilling of my life conspire:
O’ermuch was error, vain was Fortune’s ire,
Sufficed me only Love and nothing mo’e.
I passed them all, but now so present show
Of Things that passed Dolours dure and dire,
Their long persistence taught me all Desire
To lose, for longing no Content can know.
CXCIV.
Ca nesta Bdbilonia a donde mana
(First Zion-Babylon-Goa Sonnet. Cf. Psalm 136).
Here in this Babylon-realm, where rails amain
Matter which breeds a World’s iniquity:
Here, where the purest Love hath low degree,
Whose Mother’s more of might makes all prophane
Here where Bad grows a blessing, Good a bane;
Where Might is Right and Right is Tyranny:
Here where a blind and blundering Monarchy
Holds God deceived by verbiage empty-vain:
Here in this Labyrinth where the Good, the Wise,
The noblest bred to beg their bread are met
Before the gates of villein covetize:
Here in this Chaos black with fume and fret,
I wend the natural way before me lies.
See then if thee, my Zion! I can forget!
CXCV.
Correm turbos as agoas deste rio,
(His Country’s disorder: an allegory).
Turbid the waters of our River glide,
Befouled by freshets and bestained by rain:
Drowth wilts the flowerage of the riant plain
And wuthering winds thro’ withering Valleys gride
Passed (like Winter) ardent Summer-tide;
These things for others in exchange were tane:
The faithless Fates retired from the Reign
Of worldly matters to misrule allied.
Now Time his order to ordain hath known;
Not so the World: It courseth so askance
That all its semblance showeth God-forgot.
Nature, opinions, habit, various chance
So work that seemeth all the life we own
Is but a semblance, what seems not is not.
CXCVI.
Vosoutros que buscays repouso certo
(Same theme as Sonn. 350).
Ye other Wanderers seeking certain rest
In life, by divers deeds of enterprise;
To whom, on worldly gear enfixing eyes,
A veil would seem its governance to invest;
Offer to Disconcert (an deem ye best)
Your new-born honours, blinded sacrifice;
For Antique vices fitly to chastise
God wills the course of things His rule attest.
Ne’er in such form of chastisement he fell
Who blameth Fortune, to believe content
That Sort and Chances form Creation’s plan.
In great experience greater dangers dwell:
But what God seeth just and evident,
Seemeth unjust and over-deep for man.
CXCVII.
Para se namorar do que criou,
(Conception Sonnet: Petrarch II. Canz. 8).
To love the Made, with loving infinite
God made Thee, holy Phoenix, purest Maid!
Behold how great must be the Creature’s grade
Whom the Creator hath for self bedight!
He framed thy substance in ideal height
Prime, ere Creation’s primal base was laid;
That be unique in own array array’d
The Made, long studied by the Maker’s might.
I n’ote that any words of mine can own
Power to express those rarest qualities
In thee He made whom madest thou thy Son.
Daughter, Wife, Mother, Thou! and if hast won
Thou singly three such lofty dignities,
’Twas Thou, sole Thou, so pleasedst the Three-inOne.
CXCVIII.
Dece do Ceo immenso Deos ienino,
(Incarnation Sonnet: Amcebaean).
Descends from Heaven’s immense the God benign,
Made flesh in Maiden-mother sovereign.
Why downs the power Divine to dwell with men?
“’Tis that Mankind uprise to the Divine.”
Why comes he then so poor and infantine
Bearing the baleful power of tyrant-bane?
“’Tis that He comes Death’s bitter cup to drain
And pay of senseless Adam’s sin the fine.”
Then could the Twain dare eat that fruit of tree,
The food their Maker so to them forbade?
“Yes; for they sought assume Divinity.”
And for this reason was He human made?
“Yes; for ’twas ordered, and with cause obey’d,
If man would be a god, God man should be.”
CXCIX.
Dos Ceos à terra dece a mor Belleza;
(Nativity Sonnet: quasi-Amoebasan).
Fro’ Heaven the highest Beauty earthward flies,
And with our flesh ennobled deigneth wone; —
That Man by Povert erst so woe-begone
This day to richest riches mote arise.
The wealthiest Lord doth poorest penury prize;
For when to mortal world His love was shown,
That tender body on vile straw was strown,
And for this straw Heaven’s self He doth despise.
“How? God descend on Earth in Poverty?”
That which is poorest gars Him so content,
Seems such Contentment Earth’s sole treasury.
This manger Poverty doth represent;
But so great merit Povert rose to be,
Content him most the pauperest indigent.
CC.
Porque a tamanhas penas se offerece.,
(Passion Sonnet: quasi-Amoebaean).
Why Self thus offereth to such penalty
For sin of alien, error so insane,
The trinal Godhead? “’Tis because the pain
Due to his punishment no man can dree.”
Say, who shall suffer all that suffereth He?
Who shall endure dishonour death and bane?
“Who be so potent, save the Sovereign
Which reigns and rules His slaves obediently?
Man’s highest power had so puny might,
It lackt the puissance with such stowre to fence,
Nor kept the laws ordained by the Lord.
Yet all He suffered by that Strength immense
In cause of purest love; for aye propense
Sin-ward our weakness was, not sin’s award.
CCI.
Pepoys de aver chorado os meus tormentos,
(A Proemium to the Tristia).
When I had wept, bewailing my despair,
Love wills me sing the glories of his prize.
I sing the victories of a fairest Faire,
And of long-suffering weep the Memories.
But an those pains of mine be victories
In such a cause when Thought so high shall fare;
Dispread themselves in large large histories
These my surrenders that such boast can bear.
Let one sole marvel make the Universe ring,
What be her beauties at whose shrine I bow,
Who pays with fee of tears the songs I bring.
Content I offer Love this tax of woe:
Eor an no sobs can match the song I sing,
No singing sweeter than these sobs I know.
CCII.
Onde fitereci eu talpensamento,
(The same theme).
Whence did I merit by such Thought be shent,
Never by human being merited?
Whence did I merit to be conquered
Of one whose conquest so high honour lent?
Grows to a glory what did most torment,
When seeing showeth me to loss misled;
For no such evil was in hardihead
As there was glory in that hardiment.
CCIII.
De frescos belvederes rodeadas
(To certain Maids of Honour at Cintra).
By bents encircled, blooming green and gay,
Pour the pure waters flowing fro’ this fount;
And throngs of beauteous Nymphs take stand afront
Aye wont to conquer and the foe to slay.
They raise, these Rebels spuming Cupid-sway,
Their grace and graces lacking tale and count:
Forgetting other valley, other mount,
And here in quiet while their lives away.
Summoned his powers and donned his bravest mood
Love, who no longer mote endure the slight,
Only to make the Mays his vengeance know.
But when he saw them, straight he understood.
From death or prison lacked he power of flight,
And there with them he ‘bode without his bow.
CCIV.
Nos bra(os de hum Silvano adormecendo
(To Belisa, who married a Bestial for his wealth).
Bound to a Sylvan’s breast a-slumbering lay,
And there remained, the Nymph I do adore.
Paying lip-tribute in so sugrfed store,
Whereby a darkness robbed my eyes of day.
O lovely Venus! Why this patience, pray,
Suffering thy beauteous Choir’s most beauteous flower, —
So lose her honour in so vile a power,
When highest merit fails her fee to pay?
As predetermined I henceforth will trow,
Seeing what novel strangest freak thou bravest,
In thee can nothing sure or true endure.
Since the clear luminous cheek, the lovely brow
To that misformed monstrous Thing thou gavest,
I’ll hold Love nothing — only Aventure.
CCV.
Quern diz que Amor he falso, ou enganoso,
(A defence of pure Love).
Who calls Love felon, lief of tricks and lies;
Of legier mind, forgetful, vain, ingrate,
Shall find withouten fail his merited Fate
A rule of rigour, rife of cruelties..
Love be douce-minded, charged with charities;
Who saith contra^r allow his words no weight;
Let him be judged blind and passionate,
Let men detest him and the gods despise.
That Love works Evil well in me is seen;
In me his rigour shows right rigorous showing,
To show the World how long his reach and range:
But all Love’s angers still with love are glowing:
And all his evils I for welfare ween
Nor would for other weal such teen exchange.
CCVI.
Fermosa Beatriz, tendes taes geitos
(To a Dame of low degree? Cf. Sonn. 69).
Beautiful Beatrice! such ‘luring geste
In the soft roving of those orbs you show,
That not to linger, but one look to throw
Inflames the heart and burns the human breast.
All your perfections be so perfectest,
Such bliss to merit Hope we must forego,
Nor can their knowledge come for man to know
Without enduring Cupid’s dure behest
Felt, to my sorrow, so grave blight and bane
These eyes, that seeing those with sadness blind,
Lost all their pleasure wi’ the light forlore.
But now you’ve dealt with them hurt so unkind,
Look with humaner eyes on me again
And to my hurt you shall full health restore.
CCVII.
Alegres campos, verdes, deleitosos,
(To Ignez in the Coimbra country?).
Glad meadows! gaily deckt with greeny dyes,
Your pretly Days-eyes aye these eyne shall woo,
For-that their beauties did themselves enmew
In babes of fair Ignbz’ all-beauteous eyes.
Fro’ mine, that ever gaze in envious guise,
When stars so godlike I no more may view,
Ye shall be watered with another dew,
Ye shall be aired by a lover’s sighs.
And ye, gold-petaled flowers I peraventure
If wish and will Ignez my love to essay
With trial tested to the latest leaf:
Show her, that she approve a faith so pure,
Fair flowers! He-loves-me (and shall love for aye)
That of the Loves-me-not I ‘scape the grief.
CCVIII.
Ondados fios de ouro, onde enlazado
(To a dame named Paz, i.e. Peace?).
Ye rippling golden Threads! whose tangled skein
My thoughts for ever in your meshes hold,
The more fresh breezes loose you fold by fold,
More am I prisoner of my present pain.
Love, always armed with some beauteous eyne,
Fights me by force of tormentise untold,
Proving the sufferings in my soul ensoul’d,
When I to justest laws of Peace incline.
Thus in your lovely, more than mortal geste
I love conjoined Peace and parlous fray;
And loving this and that unsnared I rest:
With self I commune, and full oft I say
When such the cause is of my care and quest,
Just is the warfare, just the Peace I pray.
CCIX.
Amor, que cm sonhos vaos do pensamento
(Attributed to F. R. I. Surrupita).
Love who in vainest dreams of phantasy
Pays greater jealousy he would abate,
Made me in all conditions, every state,
The tributary of his tormentry.
I slave, I weary; yet my due degree
For sacrifice to Love-shrine consecrate,
Scattered in atomies by hands ingrate,
Eterne Oblivion robbed eternally.
But when o’er much, in fine, the perils grow
Whereto condemneth me wit
hout surcease
Love, not my lover, rather Love my foe;
Fro’ pain I ever find one grand release,
For gloire of loving, which I ne’er forego,
No force of evils ever can decrease.
CCX.
Nem o tremendo estrepito da guerra,
(Written at Ceuta after losing an eye? Cf. Canz. IX. 3).
Not the tremendous clash and clang of fight
With fire and fatal arms the world affray,
And drive the deadly bullets in such way
They threaten overthrow to serried height,
Have power the fearless lover to affright,
Sin’ flashed thy fairest eyne their fitful ray,
Whereby such horrors wi’ their dire dismay,
Fade from my senses and are fain of flight.
Life I can lavish, or by burn of brand,
In any dreadful danger bid it go,
And (Phoenix-like) fro’ death fresh life command.
For me no mister evil fate I know,
Wherefrom I may not free me out of hand,
Save from what orders Love, Love aye my foe.
CCXI.
Fiouse o coracao, de muyto isento,
(Addressed to some kinswoman; loved not honestly?).
The heart entrusted self erst Fancy-free
To self; ill recking that a heart could hold
Love so illicit, love so daring-bold,
Such mode of torment man may never see.
Yet did these eyne so limn in Phantasy
Others beheld in fancies manifold,
That Reason, dreading all she did behold,
Leaving the field to Thought was fain to flee.
O chaste Hippolytus! in similar plight
Thy stepdame Phaedra sought thy love to gain,
Rejecting all respect for wrong and right;
Love thy chaste bosom’venged on my sprite:
But Love such vengeance by this brunt hath tane
He now repents him of the deed he dight
CCXII.
Quern quiser ver de Amor huma excellencia,
(Written before a parting? Petrarch, I. 210).
Whoso would see of Love an excellence,
Where delicacy doth all love depure,
Mark he where placed me mine Aventure,
That of my faith he find experience.
Where long-drawn Absence slayeth Sovenance,
On the dread ocean-wave, in warfare dure,
Growth of love-yearnings groweth more secure
Where Patience runneth risk of more mischance.
But place me Fortune mine or hard-heart Fate
In Death, perdition, sorest bane and scathe,
Or raise to prosperous post, to highmost height.
Place me, for short, in lowest, loftiest state,
They still shall find I hold till bitter death
One name a-lip, and one pure face a-sprite.
CCXIII.
Los ojos que con blando movimiento
(Spanish: written a voluntad ajena?).
Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works Page 150