Pluto long customed torture-throes to deal;
Stood still in rarest rest
Ixion’s whirling wheel,
And feel in glory who their pains unfeel.
XII.
By the strange marvel movéd
The Queen, that ruleth Hades’ shadowy host,
Restored thy well-beloved
Fere, who life-lorn and lost
Had woned for many a day ‘mid ghosts a ghost.
XIII.
Then, my Misaventure
How may’t not soften Soul of mortal strain,
Against my weal more dure,
Less human, less humane
Than wrath of Callirrhoe, Nymph prophane?
XIV.
O coy with cruel scorn,
Hard-hearted Bosom and enstonied
As any Tygress born
In Hyrcan wold and bred;
Or in the rock’s hard womb engendered!
XV.
Yet what say I, sad wight!
To whom entrust my plaints and trust in vain?
Ye only (O Delight
Of the salt humid reign!)
Clear Nymphs, condolence of my sufferings deign
XVI.
And, trickt with golden ore,
Upraising tressed heads of auburn shine
O’er waves that rear and roar,
With locks a-dripping brine,
All come ye forth to sight what state be mine.
XVII.
Come forth in company
Singing and plucking fairest flowers draw near!
Mine agony shall ye see;
Ye shall my Love-tale hear
And answer tear and sob with sob and tear.
XVIII.
The lostest ye shall view,
And most unhappiest Body e’er was born;
That self did erst transmew
To tears, whose state forlorn
Hath no surviving care but aye to mourn.
ODE IV.
Fermosa fera humana,
(To a venal fair in Lisbon).
I.
Fair Human unhumáne, —
Against whose haughty heart and hardened breast,
The might all-sovereign
Of vengeful Amor’s conquering behest,
Each gridéd arrow-head
He had in quiver but to break hath sped:
II.
Beloved Circe mine!
Albe not only mine yet loved the more;
To whom I did assign
My loved Liberty, man’s liefest store,
Bit after bit I yielded,
And e’en had yielded more had I but held it;
III.
Sith Nature in despight
Dealt thee of Reason particules so contrkyr,
That with such beauty dight
Flaming in various fires thou art fain to fare,
Yet burning self in none
Longer than Earth is lit by single Lune;
IV.
Then on thy Triumph thou go’st
Dight with the spoilings of the Love-forshent,
Fro’ whom thou robst the boast
Of human judgment, reason, sense and sent
Almost to all allying
Favours thou bidest unto all denying;
V.
For so thou joyest seeing
The Youth, who nightly comes in steel confine’d,
The tempest-tumult dreeing,
Whenas descendeth Jove in water and wind,
At door his mistress keeps
Closed on his pleasure till for pain he sleeps.
VI.
How canst fro’ fear refrain,
Fear lest so coying, sdeignful dalliance
Nemesis (wont to rein
Mad pride and farthest flights of esperance)
Visit with vengeful ire
And ‘gainst thee Amor’s fiercest anger fire?
VII.
See Flora fair and lief;
Rich with the robberies of a thousand sighs,
Still wailing for the Chief
Who there, at last, in Thessaly vanquisht lies,
And was so famed by Fame
Rome gave him altars and a saintly name.
VIII.
See her in Lesbos born,
Whom highest psaltery garréd honour-rife;
An for her sake forlorn
Were many, yet she lost her dearest life,
Down-leaping stones whose stain
Is being latest cure of Lover’s pain.
IX.
She, for the chosen Youth
In whom the threefold Graces showed their guile,
Whom Venus hid in growth
Of lettuce-garden for her loving while,
Wi’ Death’s cold ague paid
The lives for many miserable made.
X.
And, seeing herself so left
By him for whom she left so many a Fere,
She rusht, of hope bereft,
To fling her down the Leap infamely dear:
For Unlove’s evil knows
’Tis gain of Life when Life away it throws.
XI.
“Take me, fierce waves! nor spare:
Take me, since other left me lorn and lone!”
She spake and cleaving air
Down sprang in wrath from high altarial stone.
Lend aidance thou, suave
Love! aid thou, heavenly Bird that swayst the wave
XII.
Take her on either wing,
Unhurt, unperilled, Boy compassionate!
Before her form she fling
In these fere waters olden flame to ‘bate.
A Love so high is digne
To live and aye be loved for peregrine.
XIII.
Nay! Reason bids she be
For she-wolves fancy-free who Love would vend,
‘Sample, wherein they see
That all who prisoners take be tane at end:
Thus doth the deme record
Nemesis, deeming Love of all be Lord.
ODE V.
Nunca manhaa suave
(To an unvenal Fair: last of the Edit. Princ.).
I.
No Mom so clear, so bright
Dispreading radiance o’er the terrene Round,
That followeth gruesome night
With darksome tempest glooming seas profound,
E’er gladdened Ship that saw herself fast bound
For the dread deeps of brine,
As me the lovely lightings of those eyne.
II.
That charm of Formosure,
In every eye-glance shining brightest sheen;
Whereby the shades obscure
Don light and every meadow dons new green;
Whene’er my thoughts see melancholick scene,
She and her living spell
Griefs every darkling cloud fro’ me dispel.
III.
My breast, wherein you bide,
Were for so great a weal a vase too wee:
And when you turn aside,
Those eyne that scanty value deal to me,
Then, gentle Ladye! Such a fire I dree
Of life-consuming ray
As feels the Moth who lamp-ward wings his way.
IV.
Had! Souls thousand-fold,
For those all-lovely eyne fit sacrifice,
All that could find a hold
My hand would hang to lashes of those eyes;
And, in that clear pure Vision taught to arise,
Each would (tho’ small of worth)
In your Eye-babes behold renewed birth.
V.
And you, who fancy-free
Now fare unheeding my so mournful moan,
Circled by Souls of me,
Could not withdraw your eyne fro’ where they wone;
Nor could it be (amid them seeing your own)
But that they show such grief
That must a single Soul make loving-lief.
VI.
Yet, as the burning breast
Can lodge one spirit only, fairest Faire!
Enough one love you best
As though a myriad-fold your lovers were.
So shall the dolours of its ardent flame
Work with such main and might,
You nill in cinders see your ownest sprite.
ODE VI.
Pode hum desejo immenso
(How Absence breedeth Desire).
I.
A Love-desire immense
Can so enfire the breast
Een the live Spirit melts with heat intense
Depuring every stain of terrene vest;
And purifying Sprite so raised, so lit
Wi’ deathless eyes divine
That make her read the line she sees not writ.
II.
For flames that heavenward tend
Sent forth such luminous ray,
That if exalted wish to weal extend
It seeth, as never saw it, clearest day;
And there it views long-sought Original,
Live hues and grace refine’d
Of costlier kind than aught corporeal.
III.
Then, O, example clear
Of Beauty’s portraiture,
Which from so far I note, and see so near
In Soul, this wish doth elevate and depure;
Deem not mine eyes such Image ne’er may sight,
That form man ne’er could know
Were he not ‘vantaged mo’e than human wight
IV.
For an absented eyes
In you behold not blent
Compast proportions, and surpassing dyes
Of blushing purity, pudent, excellent;
Charms which the speaking painture, Poesy,
Limned heretofore in lays
That mortal charms bepraise as mortals see:
V.
An they the locks ne’er sight
The vulgar ‘title gold;
And never see those eyne of brightest light,
The Sun’s own treasures as we singers hold;
Unless they sight that miracle of brow
To whom shall men declare
Owe semblance rare the Chrystal, Rose and Snow?
VI.
They see attonce grace pure,
A light severe, elate,
Reflected ray of heavenly Formosure,
Soul-stamped and from the Soul reverberate;
As chrystal-mirror, struck by solar beam,
That doth around it shed
The sparks it cherished in clearer stream.
VII.
And the grave mien they see,
With the glad lively vein,
Which be commingled with such quality
That one from other nowise can be tane;
Nor can that gladness cease to breed a fear,
However soft and suave,
Nor sadness, how so grave, be aught but dear.
VIII.
Of Sense, unstained by guile,
They see high splendid powers
Sweetened by softest heart-delighting smile,
Whose fair disclosure clothes the mead with flowers;
The Voice so low, so soft, the discreet words
Whose breath of musick binds
The hastiest winds and highest soaring birds:
IX.
The glancing of her eyes,
Felling whereso it fall,
Of which no genius fitly can devise
If due to Artifice or Chance did all;
Presence whose graceful pose and pliant lines,
Whose gait, whose walk, whose geste
Teach Beauty, well exprest by Beauty’s signs.
X.
That something n’ote I what
Aspiring n’ote I how,
Soul-vision sees when visible ’tis not,
But knowledge never had the power to know;
Nor all that Tuscan Poesy, whose might
Phoebus doth more restore;
Nor Beatrix nor Laura showed such sight:
XI.
In you this age of ours
Ladye! such marvel ‘spies,
If Genius, Science, Art might own such powers,
Which to your beauty’s excellence could rise,
Such as I saw to sore long exile driven,
Such as afar I see.
These wings to Thought of me Desire hath given!
XII.
Then if Desire refine
A soul such flames inflame,
Thro’ you it win some particule divine;
I’ll sing an unsung song to hail your name
That Baetis hear me and the Tyber vaunt:
For, our clear Tage I view
With somewhat sombre hue roll dissonant.
XIII.
Enamel now the dale
No flowers, but spike and spine
Its forms deform; and seemeth me there fail
Ears for my singing, for your beauties eyne.
But, work whatever wills the World’s vile will,
The Sun within you beaming
With brightest streaming light black night shall fill.
ODE VII.
A quem darao de Pindo as Moradoras,
(To D. Manoel de Portugal, friend and poet).
I.
For whom shall weave the Mays on Pindus woning,
Lere-taught and fairest-fair,
Bloom-wreaths to deck the hair
With bay triumphant or with myrtle green;
With glorious palm who never may misween
Her boast of high renown,
Whose spiring height no mighty weight bows down?
II.
To whom shall offer, lapt in delicate skirts,
Her roses ruddy Chloris,
Her shell-lets snow-white Doris;
Those land-born blooms, these buds of Ocean-bed,
Aureate and argent, white and nectar-red,
With dance and choir and song
Where lovely Napes meet the Nereid throng?
III.
To whom shall offer odes, canzons, and hymns
Fro’ Theban home Amphion,
Fro’ Lesbos-land Orion,
Save as your offerings, by whose wit we see
Unto our long forgotten poesy
Honour and gloire restore’d
Dom Manoel de Portugal, my Lord!
IV.
Following the footprints trod by bygone spirits,
High, gentle, royal race,
You with kind honour grace
My lowly genius, high in zeal and bold.
You for Maecenas I enfame and hold,
And consecrate your name
Will I, if aught of power my verse shall claim.
V.
My rough rude Cantos (that new life bestow
On many an honoured tomb,
On palms Time robbed of bloom
Won by our Lusia’s sons, in war sans-peers,
As hoarded treasury of the future years)
Seek you, my song’s defender
From Lethe-law that gars all fame surrender.
VI.
In this your tree with honour dight and glory
A stem of strength renowned
My blooming ivy found
Stay for my worth hereto esteemed mean:
For higher climbing here ’twould rest and lean;
And you with it shall rise
High as you raise its branchlets to the skies.
VII.
Ever had mortal Genius peregrine
Fortune and Chance for foes;
That high as he arose
By single arm on wings of Fame upborne,
So with that other arm man’s hate and scorn
Weighed down his flight, to dree
The vile oppression of Necessity.
VIII.
But high-exalted hearts of
empery digne,
Commanding aventure,
Were pillars aye secure
Of the “Gaye Science”: such Octavian,
The Scipio, Alexander, Gratian,
Whom deathless we behold;
Such you our century goldening with your gold.
IX.
Then long as o’er the world sonorous lyres
In world-esteem abound,
For doct and jocund sound;
And while our Tagus and our Douro bear
Breasts dear to crisp-haired Mart, and Phoebus fair,
No fall your fame befall
My Lord, Dom Manoel de Portugal!
ODE VIII.
A quelle unico Exemplo,
(Recommending D. Garcia d’Orta to Viceroy Count of
Redondo).
I.
That sole and single sample
Of Hero-daring, godlike bravery
Which merited, in temple
Of Fame eternal, sempiternal day;
Great son of Tethys, who for years full ten
Scourged the miserable Trojan men:
II.
No less of glory gained
For herbs and medicinal policy,
As dextrous and long-trained
In prowest exercise of soldiery:
This wise the hands that death to many gave
Gave life to many, strong to slay and save.
III.
Nor disregarded aught
That fere and doughty Youth no fear could tame;
Of arts to mortals taught
By beardless Phoebus for the languid frame;
And if a dreadful Hector could he kill
Eke deadliest wounds were healed by his skill.
IV.
He with such arts was dight
By his half-human Master wise and old,
Whence grew so strong his sprite
In virtue, science, counsels manifold,
That well knew Telephus, wounded by his steel,
The hand that harmed was the hand to heal.
V.
Thus you, O excellent
And most illustrious County! Heaven’s own gage
Given us to represent
For present ages past heroic age;
In whom transmewed your forbears’ memories,
Honours and glories to new life arise:
VI.
Albe your thoughts be bent
On warfare busied, with hard campaign,
Or with sanguinolent
Taproban or Achem who haunts the Main,
Or with our hidden foe, Cambayan fere;
Who each and every quakes your name to hear:
VII.
Yet aid that olden lore
Learned Achilles held in high repute;
Look! that becomes you more
To see how fruiteth in your days the fruit
Set by that Hortulan (Orta), lief to show
New herbs and simples herbalists unknow.
VIII. —
Look! in your Viceroy-years
An Hortulan produceth many an herb
Fro’ fields the Hindu ears,
Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works Page 164