The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics)

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The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics) Page 4

by Luis Vaz de Camoes


  The promised theatre of your victories.

  16 On you, the fearful Moor has his eyes

  Fixed, knowing his fate prefigured;

  At a glimpse of you, the unbroken

  Indian offers his neck to the yoke;

  Tethys, Neptune’s bride, has prepared

  The world’s green oceans as a dowry,

  Holding your youth and beauty in such awe

  She hopes to win you for her son-in-law.

  17 There gaze down from Mount Olympus

  Your two grandsires,* famous in their day,

  —One for the golden peace of his reign,

  The other for his bloody battles.

  Both look to see resurrected in you

  Their times and heroic works, keeping

  In earnest of their true paternity,

  Your place in the temple of eternity.

  18 But while your long reign passes slowly

  Matching your people’s dearest wish,

  Look kindly on my boldness so

  This epic may become your own.

  You will watch, cutting the salt seas

  Portuguese Argonauts,* who will see in turn

  They are watched over by you. Be ready

  To hear your name invoked in jeopardy.

  19 They were midway on the wide ocean

  Cleaving the ever-restless waves;

  The billowing wind blew gently,

  The sails of the ships were concave;

  White spume was whipped backwards

  As the mighty prows sped on

  Cutting the sacred waters of the deep,

  Where the cattle of Proteus* never sleep;

  20 When the gods* on radiant Olympus,

  From where the human race is governed,

  Were assembling in glorious council

  To decide the future of the Orient.

  They advanced across the lovely

  Spangled Heavens, treading the Milky Way,

  Summoned on Jove the Thunderer’s decree

  By Atlas’ winged grandson, Mercury.

  21 They left the managing of the seven

  Spheres* deputed them by the Supreme

  Power who governs, by thought alone,

  The skies, the earth, and the raging seas.

  An instant brought together those

  From the frozen Arctic or the South

  Pole, or living at Earth’s remotest ends

  Where dawn breaks or where the sun descends.

  22 Jove was present in all his majesty

  On a throne of crystal stars, shaking

  The thunderbolts forged by Vulcan,

  His demeanour stern and dominating;

  His countenance glowed with a grace

  Such as could render a man immortal,

  His sceptre and his crown made radiant

  By gems like diamonds, but more brilliant.

  23 On glittering thrones inlaid with gold

  And pearls, but lesser than Jove’s,

  The other gods took their seats

  As reason and good order ordained

  (The venerable well to the fore,

  The juniors accepting their station);

  Then Jove spoke, making his purpose known

  With gravity and menace in his tone:

  24 —‘Immortal tenants of the glistening,

  Star-bearing poles and bright heaven,

  There cannot have passed from your thoughts

  The strength and courage of the Portuguese,

  And now it is common knowledge

  What the Fates have in store for them,

  Conquests which recall the ancient hour

  Of Syrian, Persian, Greek, or Roman power.

  25 ‘You have already witnessed how,

  Ill-equipped and hopelessly outnumbered,

  They broke the Moors’ army at Ourique,

  Freeing both banks of the sweet Tagus;

  Again, at Aljubarrota* they gained

  Heaven’s favour against feared Castile,

  Afterwards, returning to their halls

  With wagonloads of trophies for their walls.

  26 ‘I say nothing, gods, of those earlier

  Days when, under Viriathus,* in their

  Struggle with the might of Rome,

  They achieved such great laurels;

  I pass, too, over the compelling time

  They chose for themselves as leader

  Sertorius,* that rebellious foreigner

  Who feigned he took his counsel from a deer.

  27 ‘Now you can watch them, risking all

  In frail timbers on treacherous seas,

  By routes never charted, and only

  Emboldened by opposing winds;

  Having explored so much of the earth

  From the equator to the midnight sun,

  They recharge their purpose and are drawn

  To touch the very portals of the dawn.

  28 ‘They were promised by eternal Fate

  Whose high laws cannot be broken,

  They should long hold sway in the seas

  Where the sun makes his purple entrance.

  They have endured a winter’s voyage;

  Their people are driven and exhausted;

  It seems no more than justice would require

  Soon they should gain the East of their desire.

  29 ‘And since, as you have witnessed,

  They have encountered in their passage

  Such hazards, such skies and latitudes,

  Such raging, repellent winds,

  I resolve they shall be welcomed

  On the African coast as friends,

  And, having re-equipped their weary fleet,

  Embark once more to make their quest complete.’

  30 These were Jupiter’s pronouncements

  And in due order the gods replied,

  Differing in their judgements,

  Attending to, or advancing reasons.

  But it was Bacchus who dissented*

  Most from Jupiter’s edict, well aware

  His own powers in India would cease

  If such men came there as the Portuguese.

  31 He knew it was fated there would come

  From Iberia, over the high seas,

  An invincible people to subjugate

  All his India’s foaming coastline,

  And with fresh victories would dwarf

  Legends, whether his own or others.

  Deeply it stung him he should forfeit fame

  There in the very cradle of his name.

  32 He believed himself India’s conquerer,

  And neither Fate nor circumstance

  Could silence the praises of those poets

  Who drank the waters of Parnassus;

  Now he feared his eminence sunk

  In a black urn in those waters

  Of the oblivion nothing can withstand

  If the navigators ever reached that land.

  33 Against him spoke the lovely Venus,

  Favouring the people of Portugal

  For her love of the Roman virtue

  She saw resurrected in them;

  In their stout hearts, in the star

  Which shone bright above Ceuta,*

  In the language which an inventive mind

  Could mistake for Latin, passably declined.

  34 This stirred the Cytherean,* and more

  Deeply since fate clearly had in mind

  That wherever these warrior people

  Roamed, her rites would be respected.

  So, one god fearing to lose prestige,

  The other ambitious for her altars,

  Obdurately, they pressed their different ends,

  Both in turn supported by their friends.

  35 As when the cold north or wild south

  Winds rip through the dark depths

  Of forests, tearing off branches

  With headlong violence, while every

  Valley and mountain rever
berates

  With the tumult of driven leaves:

  Such was the furious debate that rolled

  Round sacred Olympus as the gods brawled.

  36 But Mars, who of all the parties

  In the wrangle supported the Goddess,

  Whether inspired by his old passion

  Or because the Portuguese deserved it,

  Now hoisted himself to his feet

  With thunder written on his face

  And, in a belligerent gesture, peeled

  Back over his shoulder his massive shield;

  37 Raising the beaver* of his diamond-cut

  Helmet, the easier to speak his mind,

  He planted himself glowering

  And implacable before Jupiter,

  Giving the adamantine throne

  Such a thwack with his cudgel

  The heavens trembled, and sheer fright

  Momentarily dimmed Apollo’s light;

  38 And he spoke: ‘Father, whose authority

  Everything you created must acknowledge,

  If you really want to protect these

  People whose exploits you so admire

  In their search for another world,

  Stand by your judgement. You ordained

  Their fate aeons ago. That’s my advice.

  Close your ears to pedlars of prejudice.

  39 ‘If it were not obvious that good sense

  Has been scuttled by childish fears,

  I’d have expected Bacchus to stand by

  The sons of Lusus,* his old colleague;

  This latest, wicked intrigue springs

  Only from a perverted brain;

  No onlooker’s jealousy should thwart

  What men deserve and has the gods’ support.

  40 ‘So Father, in your omnipotence,

  Do not be diverted from the course

  You have determined. It’s weakness

  To abandon what you’ve embarked on.

  Send Mercury, who flies swifter

  Than wind or a well-flighted arrow,

  To prepare some harbour where they can meet

  With news of India and refit their fleet.’

  41 As he finished, all-powerful Jove

  Inclined his head, consenting

  To what valiant Mars had demanded,

  And showered nectar over them all.

  The gods took their leave, heading

  Along the glorious Milky Way,

  Each making the appropriate salutation

  Before returning to his proper station.

  42 While this was debated in the bright

  Mansion on Mount Olympus, the men of war

  Had cut the seas and were already

  There where the south meets the Orient

  In the channel between Madagascar

  And Mozambique:* the sun was in Pisces,

  That torrid zone where even gods retreat,

  Taking refuge as dolphins* from its heat.

  43 Gently the breeze transported the ships

  As if Heaven was at last their ally,

  The elements serene, the horizon showing

  Not one cloud nor any hint of danger.

  They had rounded Cape Corrientes,*

  Ancient Africa’s southern boundary,

  When unknown islands swam into their reach

  With waves breaking restlessly on the beach.

  44 Vasco da Gama,* the stalwart commander

  Who had given himself to this enterprise

  From motives of pride and honour

  And whom fortune always favoured,

  Saw no reason to make landfall

  On islands which looked uninhabited;

  He resolved to sail past, but his intent

  Was swiftly countermanded by the event.

  45 On the instant from the island nearest

  The main,* there came in close company

  Several small feluccas skimming

  The wide bay under their broad sails.

  Our people were overjoyed and could only

  Stare in excitement at this wonder.

  —‘Who are these people?’ they kept exclaiming,

  ‘What customs? What beliefs? Who is their king?’

  46 Their craft, as we could see, were built

  For speed, being long and narrow;

  Their sails were made of a canvas

  Skilfully fashioned from palm leaves;

  The people were of the authentic colour

  Brought to the world’s tropic regions,

  When Phaethon* steered Sun’s chariot too low

  (His sister wept as he splashed into the Po).

  47 Their garments were of pure cotton

  With vivid stripes on a white ground;

  Some fastened above the hips, others

  In elegant fashion under one shoulder;

  From the waist upwards they were bare;

  They were armed with daggers and long knives;

  Their heads were turbaned: as the boats came near

  They blew on tuneful horns, strange to our ear.

  48 Waving their arms and cloth they beckoned

  The Lusitanian mariners to heave to;

  But our swift prows were already tacking

  To run in under the islands.

  Soldiers and seamen pulled together

  As if here was our destination;

  Yards struck, the sails furled aft and main,

  The sea exploded around our anchor chain.

  49 Even as we were mooring, these strange

  People were shinning up the ropes.

  They came smiling, and courteously

  Our great captain greeted them;

  He ordered tables to be spread at once

  With foaming bowls of Bacchus’ liquid;

  Phaethon’s scorched Muslims drank their fill,

  Relishing the vintage, spreading goodwill.

  50 As they ate contentedly, they began

  Questioning in the Arab language,

  —‘Where are you from? What do you

  Want? What oceans have you crossed?’

  The powerful Lusitanians replied,

  Conscious of the need for diplomacy:

  —‘We are Portuguese from the Occident;

  We seek the passage to the Orient.

  51 ‘We have navigated every ocean

  Between the Antarctic and the Great Bear;

  We have rounded the coast of Africa

  Seeing strange lands and new constellations;

  But our mighty King is so amiable,

  So loved by all, that in his service,

  With cheerful faces we’d adventure on

  Those darker waters of Lake Acheron.*

  52 ‘At his command, we have wandered

  Seeking the land drained by the Indus;

  For this, we have sailed remote oceans,

  Crossed only by the ugly sea-calves.

  Now it is right we should learn

  From you, if honesty prevails here,

  Who you are? Where in the world you dwell?

  And what portents of India you’ve heard tell.’

  53 —‘We’ (one of the islanders responded)

  ‘Are not of this place or superstition;

  Those who belong here are suckled by Nature

  Without religion or understanding.

  We are of the sure Faith, taught us

  By Him who is in Abraham’s direct line,

  The one Lord* the world respects as true,

  By father Gentile and by mother Jew.

  54 ‘This insignificant island we inhabit

  Happens to have the safest harbour

  Of the whole coast, wherever waves break

  From Kilwa to Mombasa or Sofala.

  We seized it only for this, living

  Here as though we were the natives;

  So, to round off all of which you speak,

  This tiny isle is known as Mozambique.

  55 ‘And now, since you have
voyaged so far

  Seeking the Indus and its parched banks,

  Accept from us a pilot to reveal

  The correct course across the ocean.

  Meanwhile, it is proper you should have

  Provisions from land and that the Sheikh

  Governing here should greet you with all speed,

  And furnish you with everything you need.’

  56 With these words, the Muslims returned

  With all the company to the boats,

  Taking leave of the captain and the crew

  With every refinement of courtesy.

  Just then, Phoebus in his crystal chariot

  Plunged the bright day underwater,

  Giving way to his sister Moon to keep

  The broad world glimmering in his sleep.

  57 Night passed in the weary fleet

  With a strange, unlooked-for joy

  That they had found, in such a remote place,

  The very news they had sought so long.

  Each within himself meditated

  On these people and their strange ways,

  And how believers in so false a creed

  Through so many lands could spread their seed.

  58 On Neptune’s glistening waves the moon’s

  Clear light lay resplendent;

  The stars consorted with the heavens

  Like a meadow pricked with daisies;

  In their dark lair, the angry winds

  Lay still after their journeying;

  While throughout the whole fleet every crew

  Kept the due watch each was accustomed to.

  59 But as soon as dappled Aurora

  Shook out her beautiful tresses,

  Opening a red door in the quiet sky

  To rouse Hyperion’s son* from his sleep,

  The crew brightened every deck

  Of the fleet with flags and bunting,

  To welcome with ceremony and good cheer

  The island’s governor who now drew near.

  60 He approached in high good humour

  To review the nimble Portuguese ships,

  With fresh supplies from land, assuming

  They must be those uncultured Turks

  Who, from their home by the Caspian Sea,

  Had set out to conquer all Asia,

  And by fate’s decree had even overcome

  The imperial city of Byzantium.

  61 The captain welcomed with open pleasure

  The Sheikh and all his attendants,

  Making him a gift of rich fabric

  Carried for just such occasions;

  He offered preserves and strong spirits,

  A drink new to him, which made him merry;

  The Sheikh received it all as due his rank

  (Doubly pleased with what he ate and drank).

  62 The Portuguese mariners climbed

  The shrouds, gazing down and marvelling

  At manners and fashions so exotic

  And the language so baffling and intricate.

  But the shrewd Sheikh was also puzzled

 

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