This great perfection and this gentle gree,
He straight gave sentence that the cruelty
Which fills your bosom growth of love should prove.
He willed nothing me fro’ you remove,
Ne dure disfavour ne asperity;
But on my spirit rare in constancy
Your cruel coyness work its will behoove.
And sithence here you see me offering you
This your own Spirit for your sacrifice,
Cease, cease to glut your greed of cruel Will.
Deem not, my Ladye! larger life my due,
These ceasing Days shall die with one device,
My faith defending, true and loyal still.
CCLXXVIII.
Eu vivia de lagrimas isenio,
(Autobiographic).
Exempt fro’ tears I wended life-tide’s way,
In one delightful and deceived creed;
However richer another amourist’s meed,
A thousand glories for one pang ne’er pay.
Seeing mine inner man such thoughts obey,
No Wealth an envious wish in me could breed;
Lively I lived, had of dread no heed,
With doucest sentiment, Love’s doucest fay.
Greedy was Fortune; straightway she bereft
My life of lightsome, glad, contented lot,
And, as it never were, Weal turned to stowre:
In change of which my Welfare here she left
Memories that do me dead at every hour,
Bringing to memory Weals that now are not.
CCLXXIX.
Indo o trisie Pastor todo embebido
(Subject unknown).
The tristful Shepherd dolour-drowned would hie
In shadowy visions of the sweetest Sent,
And to the legier windlets made lament,
The while his spirit sighed its softest sigh:
“To whom complain me, lost and blinded I,
For sticks and stones discoure no sentiment?
Whom speak? On whom my tale of torment vent?
Where call I loudest least is heard my cry!
“O lovely Nymph? Why deign thou not respond?
Why hold so precious e’en a glance, a sight?
Why cause my querele ever ‘plain my woe?
“The more I seek thee more thou dost abscond!
The worse thou seest me harder sets thy sprite!
Thus with mine Evil must its Causes grow.”
CCLXXX.
De hum tad felice engenho, produzido
(Elegiacs to D. Simam da Silveira).
That happy genius thine, begot and grown
By other, clearest Sol saw naught more bright,
It suits to nourish mind wi’ Thoughts high-flown
All digne of praises, all with marvel dight.
A long-gone writer was Musseus hight,
A Sage and Poet allwheres man-beknown,
Taught by the Lover of the tuneful Sprite
Who made Infernals hang his tones upon.
His lay the mute-surd mountain-range could shake,
Singing that Ill whereof felt I the sting,
The Abydos Youngling by his wits forsake:
Now tell the self-same tale (I hear them sing)
Tasso and our Boscam, who both outspake
The blinding movements of the bisson King.
CCLXXXI.
Dizei, Senhora, da belleza idea;
(Half-satirical: Petrarch, Part I. Sonnet 30).
Beauty’s ideal, Ladye! deign me say
For weaving tresses of that aureate shine
Where yode you finding gold refined so fine,
Fro’ what dark mine or vein of precious ley?
Those eyne how robbed they such Phoebhan ray?
Whence this grave gracious favour, empery-digne;
Or did you win them by the Lere Divine
Or haply used Medea’s gramarye?
Fro’ what sea-wombed shell did you select
The pearls of precious Oriental beam,
Shown in sweet laughing smiles that bliss and bless us?
Since you enform’d you as you did elect,
Mount guard on self; shun see your sight a-stream,
Fly every fountain: Ne’er forget Narcissus.
CCLXXXII.
Na ribeira do Euphrates assentado,
(Ecce iterum Babylonia!)
I sat me lonesome on Euphrates-shore,
And fand me talking things of memory,
Of that brief blessing and that high degree
In thee, sweet Zion! I had known of yore.
Asking the causes of my state forlore
Quoth they:— “Why singst thou not the history
Of weal that went, of that supremacy
Which o’er all Evils made thee Conqueror?
“Knowst not man lulleth by the sound of song
Woes howsoever dire and rigorous-dure?
Sing then, nor weeping thus expend thy breath!”
Sighing I answered, “Whenas wax so strong
Man’s after-yearnings, Pity cannot cure
By voice of singing: Pity deals us death.”
CCLXXXIII.
El vaso relusiente, y crystalino,
(Spanish: on a present of perfume: not by Camoens?).
That Vial lucident and chrystalline,
“Angeles-water,” limpid, odorous,
Enwrapt in silkiest silk, and rosiest rose
And bound with tresses from the golden mine:
Right plain appeared it some Gift divine,
Wrought by the Art most artful art endows
Of that blanch Nymph, whose grace more gracious shows
Than ruby blushing in the Mom’s sunshine:
This Vial your body figureth to the viewer,
Enstreaked by members of the fairest fair
And in its Perfume breathes your spirit pure;
The silk your blanchness showeth, and the hair
Makes binding fetters; such the ligature
That chained my Freedom with so facile snare.
CCLXXXIV.
Chorai Nymphas, os fados poderosos
(The subject unknown).
Bewail, ye Nymphs! the fiat of fatal might
Which could that sovran loveliness bewray.
Say whither farfed (to the tomb a prey)
Those Eyne so gracious lit with royal light?
O worldly welfare, snare-fraught, strong of sleight!
What grief to hear that such all-lovely May
Lies reft of splendour in the Grave’s dure clay —
Such face of beauty, locks so wonder-bright!
What shall to others hap, since Death had power
Over a Being of such shine and sheen
Eclipsing clearest rays of brightest day!
But ne’er deserved her this mundane scene,
Wherefore she deigned stay on Earth no more,
And to her home (the Heavens) she winged her way.
CCLXXXV.
Senhora ja desta alma, perdoai
(Written for a friend?).
Ladye my Spirit’s now liege lord! condone
Of one Love-conquered madness-pain and pine,
And with those eyes bestow one glance benign
On this pure passion by my Spirit shown.
On my pure faith (naught else) your glance be thrown,
See of mine Extreme woes the subtle sign;
And if of any pain you deem them digue,
Avenge you, Ladye mine! on me alone.
Let not the grief that burns my grief-full breast
Cause pain and sorrow aye my bosom tear —
The heart Love vassal’d e’er to do your hest.
Restrain you, Ladye! lest some few declare
That in so beauteous object, rarely blest,
Ingratitude to dight her dwelling dare.
CCLXXXVI.
Quem vos levou de mim, saudoso estado,
(Written for a friend?).<
br />
Who fro’ me robbed you, O wistful State!
Which on my Reason such Unreasons tried?
Who was’t for whom I was so soon denied,
Forgetting all the Weal whilom so great?
You changed my resting for unresting fate,
And in its cruel harshness bade me ‘bide;
You have denayed me faith to me affied,
When to your truth I gave the most of weight
CCLXXXVII.
Diversos cases, varies pensamentos
(Petrarch, I. 14).
Differing cases, Thought of varied sents
So bring confused mine Intendiment,
That now in nothing see I least Content,
Save when Contentments end in Miscontents..
In’various cases, various sentiments
Befall, for showing to our sentiment
Man’s aspirations are but windy vent
When rest he painteth based on vain intents.
That long discourses breed Desire we see,
When comes Occasion time and tide deranging,
And care unrecks Impossibility:
Th’ unjust one standeth where the just should be;
We view hard hills their fixt foundations changing;
I, only I, unchanged dule must dree.
CCLXXXVIII.
Doce sonho, suave, e soberano,
(Traum — Schaum. Cf. Boscam, 61).
Sweet Dream of joyaunce suavest, sovereign,
Would for a longer time it lasted me!
Ah, had no waking spoilt my dreamery,
Such disillusion, such ungain to gain!
Ah Good delicious! Ah douce snaring bane!
Could I for larger space its trickery see,
If then my life had fled her misery,
For pride and pleasure I to die were fain.
Happy was I-not-I when visions showed
The Weal I hoped to see with broad-wake eyes.
Look ye what payment doth fro’ Fate befall!
In fine when I-not-I such blessing owed,
There was some reason for my luck in Lies,
Since in the things of Truth my luck was small.
CCLXXXIX.
Diana prateada, esclarecida
(Of the type jocose).
Dian enlightened with silvern light,
The light hot Phoebus to his sister lent,
Being of very nature lucident,
Shone forth her radiance as in mirror pight.
Ten myriad million graces deckt her sight,
When to mine eyes appeared that excellent
Ray of your proper semblance, different
In grace and love fro’ what before was dight.
Such full of favours I a-sudden seeing
And eke, so near to being all your own,
Lauded the moonlit hours, night’s clear-obscure:
By night you dealt my Love his very being,
Wherefore I gather clear, by night alone
And ne’er by day-light is my luck secure.
CCXC.
A la en Monte Rei, en Bal de Laga,
(In Gallego dialect: to Violante, spinning).
There on the Monte Rey, in Val de Lace,
I saw Biolante by a river-bed,
So sweet a seeing ’twas, I chilled with dread
When seen in mortal gear immortal grace:
From long fair distaff drew my Shepherdess
The silken thread a-spinning, when I said,
“Behold me dying, shear my life-tide’s thread!”
Quoth she, “I shear it not, pass safe apace!”
“How pass apace when here I’d wone in stead?
And if I pass (quoth I) ’tis danger pure;
For without spirit bides a body dead.”
“By this my life thou robbest! rest thou sure
Thou die not Shepherd!”—” Shepherdess I dread
Meseems my biding be the more secure.”
CCXCI.
Porque me faz, amor, inda aca torto,
(Gallego: to the same).
Why, Love! here, even here, so work my bane?
Betide thee, shameless god, a doom as dread!
Low carlish lad, a guide that so misled
To see Biolante who my life has slain.
I saw her, never to see hythe again,
Nor find me (hapless I!) a resting stead
The floods of sorrow at the Ford I shed
Shall prove its comfort when as lacketh rain.
Right well thy Cyprian Mother to my sight
A pitiful Mundane shows, sans honesty;
Sans-loy, false-hearted, cruel, tyrannous Wight:
For, were she other than this self-same She
A kindness so unkind thou ne’er hadst dight,
Nor she such cruel beast had been for me.
CCXCII.
Em quanto Phebo os montes accendia
(Classical).
While Phoebus flamed the fells with rosy ray
And fro’ mid-Heaven rained cloudless light,
To ‘fend her maiden flower fro’ bane and blight,
Delia in chasing passed the live-long day.
Venus, sly threading firmamental way
To win Anchises’ will in loving fight,
Seeing Diana’s honest, modest plight
By way of jeering this wise said her say: —
“Thou with thy net-work seekst the coverture
Fugitive roebucks meshing in thy toil;
My toils man’s very senses captivate!”
“Twere better” (gave reply the goddess pure)
In these my meshes legier bucks to encoil
Than thou therein be netted by thy mate!”
CCXCIII.
Se de vosso formoso, e lindo gesto
(Abounds in Variants).
If from your fairy form and graceful geste
Bloomed pretty blossoms to delight man’s eye-sight,
Which for man’s bosom be the durest eye-blight,
In me stands proved clear and manifest:
Seeing with pudency your beauties drest,
I saw a thousand posies deckt with Eye-bright;
But had my heart worn glasses which man’s eye light
I ne’er had seen you deal such wound funest
An Ill weal-showing, Weal that evil seems
My thought are raising high o’er human plane
In thousand several shades of phantasy:
Wherein I ever fare, and fare in dreams,
While you care nothing save to see my pain,
That lends foundation to your jubilee.
CCXCIV.
N’hum tao alto lugar de tanto prep
(“Man’s Life is honoured by a noble Death.” Petrarch, I.
Canz. 16).
Upon so noble height, man’s highest prize,
My will and wishes ‘stablished I see,
That e’en Desire there fainteth, for-that she
One all unworthy of such worth espies.
When such low-standing mine I recognize,
I find my Care extreme immodesty;
To die for it were insufficiency
And greater guerdon than my worth affies.
The more than natural claim to high desart
Of one who causeth me so dreadful doom
Maketh it every hour grow more and more, ah!
But from far-ranging thoughts I nill depart;
For, though this Evil drive me to the tomb,
Un bel morir tutta la vita honora.
CCXCV.
Quantas penas, amor, quantos cuidados,
(By Diogo Bemardes?).
How many miseries, Love! what banes inbred
How many a bootless rain of tearful brine,
Wherewith a thousand times breast, face and eyne
Are bathed (blind godhead!) for thy sake beshed!
How many mortal sobs and sighs dispread
From heart so subject to that will of thine!
All fand employment showering on my head.
Satisfied all things (this I own to thee)
One single eye-glance, love and pity showing,
From one who captured me by Fate’s command.
O ever blessed hour such bliss bestowing!
What Fear remains me since ’twas mine to see,
With so much joyaunce mine, a sight so bland?
CCXCVI.
O tempo acaba, o anno, o mez, e a horn,
(Cf. Sonn. 316).
Time endeth every time, year, month and hour;
And force, and art, and wit, and hero-will:
Time endeth Fame and voideth golden Fill,
And Time Time’s being must himself deplore.
Time finds and finishes for evermore
The force of thankless and enhardened Ill;
But Time my surging sorrows ne’er shall still
Until, my Ladye! you my rest restore.
Time turneth clearest Day to Night obscure,
Time turneth joyous laugh to tears most triste,
Time turneth stormiest sea to stillest Main.
But Time ne’er softeneth (of this truth I’m sure)
That heart, as adamant hard, wherein consist
Of this my Hope the pleasure and the pain.
CCXCVII.
Posto me tern Fortuna em tal estado,
(Written late in life?).
Fortune hath placed me in so parlous state
And so she humbles me her feet before,
That (lost) for losing own I nothing more,
That (changed) no changing I can now await.
For me all Good is finished by Fate,
Henceforth I find my life as lived forlore;
For where such Ill is conned the wide world o’e
Life shall excuse me living longer rate.
If Will avail me aught I will but die,
For well becomes me ne’er another Hope,
And thus I’ll cure one Ill with other Ill:
And when so little Weal of Weal hope I,
Now that one remedy with this Ill can cope,
To seek such remedy blame they not my Will.
CCXCVIII.
Ja nao fere o Amor com arco forte,
(To Feliza, by candlelight).
No more with force-full bow fares Love to smite,
Now bin his arrows dasht upon the plain,
No more (as wont) battayle would he darraign,
The fight he offereth is another fight.
He does us die with eyne through eyen-light
And, to make sicker Shot ne’er shot in vain,
Your eyes he choosed which inorbed contain
More charms than all ‘twixt North and South are pight.
Love such almighty power to you hath lent
To live exempt fro’ his and fancy-free
Now while I rhyme the taper’s light is spent).
Then if, Feliza! malcontent you see
My sonnet, pray’e take no further tent
Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works Page 154