Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works

Home > Other > Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works > Page 163
Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works Page 163

by Luis de Camoes


  And if we honour merit as were due,

  Of constant love, of fay sincere I feel,

  The fruitful harvest justly I await:

  If aught offend thee which in me thou view

  My life go wasted, ne’er itself renew

  In such a fair demand,

  Since Love so deals command;

  And if or Fate or Fortune deign decree

  That I be loved of thee,

  Nothing of larger glory covet I;

  And if not, for thy sake ‘twere life to die.

  L’ENVOI.

  Canzon! thou goest lost, but more his weal

  Is lost who gives thee to the withering Wind;

  For he hath feeling and for Ills doth feel

  And naught of feeling for the lave can find

  I weet we let the wretch no Leach can hear

  Wail pangs of body and weep pains of mind;

  Therefore I bid thee go and where thou go

  Tell all my torments and Love’s guerdon — woe.

  CANZON XX.

  Bern aventurado aquelle, que ausente

  (Same subject as No. 16; in “Rimas Provenzales”).

  I.

  Happy the mortal who retired lives

  From crowding business, noise and tumult-press,

  Sees from afar loss, insult and distress

  Th’ unworthy world to silly worldling gives:

  His cares encurbeth he with Reason’s rein,

  An alien

  From all the cares

  That breeds and bears

  Our human life

  Which, ever rife

  In poisonous pleasures of Man’s covetize,

  Kindles the brands whereon he burning lies.

  II.

  He batteneth not on hopes of Fortune’s hoards,

  Raised where the falsest Hope unduly elates;

  Vile seem to him and low the intimates

  Of Kings, of Princes and of noble Lords;

  As wealth abounding ever rateth he

  His Poverty,

  The foe that foils

  All toils and moils

  Ne’er consenting

  Discontenting;

  And that he see his heart in life secure

  Careless and fearless, wills he to be poor.

  III.

  He spurns with valorous soul and gallant breast

  Ambitious flights that daze the Spirit’s gaze;

  He ‘sdeigneth thoughts which vainly rise and raise

  To vainest phantasies by care opprest;

  These things, as perverse ills, afar he driveth,

  And so liveth

  For-that Life

  Tom by strife,

  Worn by caring,

  Weary, wearing,

  And blown by frolick Fortune’s every breath

  Is Life unlively; nay, ’tis Life-in-Death.

  IV.

  Ne’er breaketh gentle sleep the sovenance

  Importunate of weal and coming woe;

  Secure he seeth changes come and go,

  Free from all fear, exempt from change and chance;

  And, albe Life appear to him so brief,

  He lives unlief

  Of longer lease;

  His joys ne’er cease

  For ever deeming

  Wealth is teeming:

  For Life that raceth goods of Life to chase

  Finds itself wasted, lacking growth of grace.,

  V.

  He fareth not with friends that hide the fone,

  He ‘fronteth direst perils prudent-wise,

  A constant spirit, in his tranquil guise,

  He joys with loyal hearts secure to wone;

  And, when the raging of the tyrant Main

  Warreth insane,

  Fires accending

  And pretending,

  With strange swelling

  Wrath indwelling,

  To wreck Earth’s dearest peace in general jar,

  He rests and laughs at th’ elemental war.

  VI.

  He hears no martial trompet’s fearful roar

  Affrighting forceful hearts with harshest strain

  He feareth not the soldiery cruel vain

  With swords which ever thirst for human gore;

  Nor yet the bullets from the spingards springing

  Ringing, pinging,

  As a-sky

  Thick they fly;

  But descending,

  Unseen wending,

  Amid the many come they one to wound,

  One in such cases e’er fon-careless found.

  VII.

  And though his freeborn Thought intelligent

  ‘Prison his sight and rule his chosen law;

  And though another’s Will his own adaw,

  Withal enjoyeth surest Liberty

  His Thought aye free, That electeth

  What subjecteth;

  For the painful

  Snarings baneful

  The which from private prejudice proceed

  To none the lordship of man’s self concede.

  VIII.

  Now he upraiseth high from lowly earth

  Experienced Thought to things beyond the sky,.

  And blaming life and self he fain would die

  To win such treasure of exceeding worth:

  Now with soft “Ahs” he cleaveth through the cloud;

  Groaning loud,

  Death addressing

  “Thou hard blessing!

  Come thou nigh me

  Nor deny me

  A blow so fatal that my Life would reave

  And thee the truest Life I would believe.”

  CANZON XXI.

  Porque vossa belleza a si se venfa,

  (To a fair friend recovering health: imperfect).

  I.

  For-that your loveliness self-conquest see

  You have such marvels shown,

  That be you fairer grown

  With the past rigours of this malady;

  Thus in her season the pale hueless Rose

  Regreens her hue and with more lustre glows;

  Thus, past the horrid hours of wintry gloom,

  Prime flaunts his flowers dight with brighter bloom;

  Thus in due course the sad eclipsed Sun

  Emergeth clearer, radiant race to run.

  II.

  Now Sol to see your welfare shows his gladness,

  And, erst in sables clad,

  Robeth him gay and glad

  While mobled Night displayeth less of sadness;

  The withered fields you force to flower, Senhora!

  Whenas her sorrow flowerless mourneth Flora;

  The very elements joy fed fain and lief

  That whilom felt and sore bewailed your grief;

  The shiest Bird sings happy madrigal;

  All self engladden, or you gladden all.

  III.

  Gladden you, Earth and Heaven! these lamping eyes

  Lit wi’ so lovely light

  Which, by their marvel-might,

  Give Earth her blossoms and give Stars to skies:

  To Tagus, better blest by Aventure,

  Give you that beauty’s all-fair portraiture,

  Which bin a treasure of more wealth untold

  Than richest sand-beds rolling finest gold:

  Ladye! we see you all enrich and deem

  Yourself the richest, in all wealth extreme.

  IV.

  Seeing your welfare Love himself makes fete

  And Health, in honest pride,

  Showeth a fairer side,

  Donning your wealth of charms that all amate:

  The Graces, garlanded with thousand flowers,

  Crown you for only goddess of Amours,

  And give you all your April gave the Three;

  For to the Graces primest Spring you be;

  And, sith you gladden all with health renew’d,

  All waxeth gladsome nor may change intrude.

  * * * * * * *
/>
  ODES

  ODE I.

  Detent hum pouco, Musa, o largo pranto

  (Endymion and the Moon: himself and his lover).

  I.

  Awhile the large complaining, Muse! withhold

  Love opeth in thy breast;

  Nay, robe in raiment gay with gleamy gold,

  And be our vows addrest

  To Her, whose gracious hest

  Wills all the world illume,

  Lighting to bright of day the nightly gloom!

  II.

  O Delia! thou who, billowy clouds despite,

  Shedding thy silver ray

  Such wise dost influence the obscure of night

  Love may not find his way,

  Nor e’en in soul pourtray

  Love’s love to thy divine

  Favour, that gars me rage and senses tyne!

  III.

  Thou, who with Stars of lightest, brightest sheen

  Dost coronal and crown

  Thy lovely cheeks, thy candid front serene;

  And deckest field and down

  With roses by thee sown,

  With daisy, dainty birth

  Thy heavenly humour shed o’er vernal Earth!

  IV.

  Then, Delia! seest thou from thy heavenly sphere

  Chastities theft-o’ertane,

  Sighs, singulfs, “Ahs,” and voice of song and tear

  And wills of similar strain,

  These yearning aye in vain,

  Those, mourning cruelties,

  Offer their own dear lives for sacrifice.

  V.

  Erst came Endymion to these wooded Mounts,

  Their high-hung welkin eyeing,

  The while thy name, with eyne convert to founts,

  Invoked he vainly crying,

  Aye sueing, praying, sighing,

  Thy Beauty grant him grace,

  Yet not one hour he fand of ruth a trace.

  VI.

  For thee of snowy flock a Shepherd grown,

  In forests solitaire,

  And, ‘companied by Thought and Thought alone,

  He speaks die herds that fare

  To all true Love con trayr,

  But not (as thou art) dure;

  Where he lamenteth sore Misaventure.

  VII.

  For thee conserveth Ilium’s fountful site

  Gardens of cooly gloom;

  For thee keep Pelion and far Erymanth-height

  Roses of purpling bloom;

  And gums of choicest fume,

  Of this our Orient, —

  Conserveth Happy Araby right content.

  VIII.

  Of whatso panther, tygre, leopart

  The bowels ‘ured to stowre

  But sense the terrors of thy grided dart,

  When the tor’s highest tower,

  Remote and strange and dour,

  Thou climbst in light-foot way

  So ferly fair that Love by love canst slay?

  IX.

  Thine ear did aye the chaste young Mother’s crying

  Thou bright Lucina! hear,

  Her force enforcing and new sprite supplying;

  But to that Lover drear

  Ne’er wouldst thou lend an ear,

  Nor for one moment deign

  To see him suffering less of pain and bane.

  X.

  Ah! fly me not. Ah! haste thee not to hide

  From Lover naught shall daunt!

  Look thee how sighs and murmurs Ocean-tide,

  How Atlas old and gaunt

  His shoulders arrogant

  Compassionate doth incline,

  Hearing these dolent, feeble accents mine.

  XI.

  Most tristful me! my plaint what profiteth

  When my complaints I throw

  To one whose lifted hand would do my death

  As of some cruel foe?

  But where leads Fate I go,

  Fate so my weird fulfils,

  She only teaches this, this only wills.

  XII.

  O long the syne since Heaven unsnared my snare!

  Yet with’more obstinate gree

  And madder daring every day I dare;

  Despite a will born free

  Folly I cannot flee;

  For this wherein I wend me

  With snare of Esperance still doth hold and hend me.

  XIII.

  O how far better for my fate had been

  A sleep thro’ Night eterne

  For these sad eyne, which so had never seen

  The cause of dule so dearne;

  To fly (ere came such turn)

  One more than erst unkind,

  Fiercer than She-bear, fleeter than the Hind.

  XIV.

  Ay me, who ever burn in living lowe

  Wi’ thousand deaths by side;

  And when I die the most I live the mo’e!

  Thus did for me decide

  Ill-doom wherein I ‘bide;

  For, when it wills me dead,

  To longer Life it dooms me, Death instead.

  XV.

  Secret-full Night, sweet friend I lief obey!

  These Roses (sith one hour

  My plaint thou heardest) on thy fane I lay;

  With this fresh amaranth-flower,

  Still trickling dewy shower

  And wet with rory tear,

  Shed by the jealous Titan’s fair white Fere.

  ODE II.

  Taó suave, tad fresca; e taó fermosa,

  (A Canzon).

  I.

  So suave, so fresh, so fair ne’er yet uprose

  In skies of Orient light

  Aurora deigning deal us summery Spring,

  And painting flowers in gracious wonted guise,

  As came that false and feral Fairest when

  In me she breathed such Thought of lively care,

  That I mine I unknow.

  II.

  Ne pudick Daisy ne fresh opening Rose

  On plain showed face so bright,

  When radiant Sol is pent in Taurus’ ring,

  Amelling bowers with all-differing dyes,

  As doth this Flower with down-cast eyne when fain

  She would inure me sorrow’s weight to bear,

  A throe e’en now I trow.

  III.

  Fair fleet-foot Nymph, whose anger glows and grows,

  Ne’er followed in her flight

  Satyr, but what his softing heart could bring

  Her breast to pity and Love’s gentle guise,

  However fast she fled and spumed this pain,

  This bane, where showéd Love a bliss so fair

  Begun with prosperous show.

  IV.

  In fine, ne’er yet fair Thing so rigorous

  Nature with Being dight,

  Her form, her hard condition rivalling;

  Which doth my life-long agonies despise;

  And, with sweet gesture rife in soft disdain,

  Raised sense and sent and life to height so rare

  That thanks for throes I owe.

  V.

  Twas my fond Hope to hymn, in verse or prose,

  That vision seen in sprite

  Twixt douce duresse and mercy balancing,

  Delices of beauty’s first-fruits, rarest prize;

  But when my song would soar with heavenly strain,

  My wits were blent and genius by the glare,

  The great and glorious glow.

  VI.

  In that high purity never shall disclose

  To worlds its veiléd light;

  In those angelic eyne o’ermastering

  My Life, the lords that rule my destinies;

  And, in those locks that on soft breezes deign

  Softly to wave and all my Life ensnare,

  I joy the while I am woe.

  VII.

  Parlous suspicions and repining throes

  Wherewith would Love requite

  His low
desarts who forth fares wandering;

  Dolours and dreads, the spirit’s tormentize,

  Fierce cruel coyness which fro’ me hath tane

  The only remnant of my wonted fare

  To all I lout me low.

  L’ENVOI.

  Thralled me whole-heart Love to eyne of her

  Wherein my God I know.

  ODE III.

  Se de meu pensamento

  (After Garcilasso).

  I.

  If an my Thought could show

  Some cause with Joyaunce mote my soul assain,

  As now of woe and throe

  I have full right to ‘plain,

  Thou couldst console me, Lyre of saddest strain!

  II.

  And my voice weary grown,

  That rang in other days so blythe, so pure,

  Never such change had known,

  So sad Misaventure,

  That turned it hoarse and heavy, dour and dure.

  III.

  Were I as wont to be,

  Your praise had soared to the highmost height;

  You, you my Hierarchy!

  Had heard my Love’s delight,

  Now World-example of my painful plight.

  IV.

  Glad woes and liefest grief,

  Days, hours and moments with contentment fraught,

  To Memory ah! how lief

  Ye wone in soul inwrought

  Where now reign torments baning every thought!

  V.

  Alas for fleeting joy!

  Alas for gloire defaced and displace’d!

  Alas fere ills so coy!

  What Life ye gar me taste!

  How weighed by love’s dull weight! what wilful waste!

  VI.

  How could not Death abate

  This Life? How can this Life still, still endure?

  How opes not Death the gate

  To such misaventure

  Which Time with all his care can never cure?

  VII.

  But, that I bear my bale,

  Subjecting Love more weightily would oppress:

  For e’en to tell the tale,

  Force faileth my distress

  And all things weak me, all is weariness.

  VIII.

  Weal was indeed thy weird

  Thou who prevailedest with sounding lyre

  Orpheus! till thou wast heard

  By Rhadamanth the dire

  And sawst with mortal eyne thy dear Desire!

  IX.

  The ghosts of Hades-gloom

  Thy voice of musick had the power to please;

  The three dark Maids of Doom,

  Man’s ruthless enemies,

  Saw themselves forced their furies to appease.

  X.

  Remained in wonderment

  All Stygia’s empery to hear thy lays;

  And with repose content

  Fro’ woe that seldom stays,

  Sisyphus ceased his huge round stone to upraise.

  XI.

  Changed his ordered hest

 

‹ Prev