The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics)
Page 8
Was of French cut and in his favourite
Deep vermilion such as all men covet;
98 His sleeves were slashed with gold buttons,
Which dazzled as they caught the sun;
His soldierly breeches were embroidered
With the same metal, so hard to obtain;
And likewise pointed with gold were
The delicate fastenings of his doublet;
He wore his gold sword in the Italian way;
His cap’s feather slanted eloquently.
99 Those in his company were arrayed
In matchless purples, or in other varied
Eye-catching colours as befitted
The different styles of their dress.
Together their clothes blended
To such a lovely graduated
Enamel, as may be seen in the brilliant bow
Of the lovely nymph Iris,* and all aglow.
100 Sweet trumpets filled the air with sound
Animating men’s happy spirits;
The boats of the Muslims crowded the sea,
Their awnings trailing in the water;
The gunners fired their dreadful cannon,
Blotting out the sun with smoke:
Blast followed on blast, becoming so fierce,
The Muslims clapped their hands across their ears.
101 Boarding the captain’s boat, the Sultan
Raised him up in his arms;
While he, with the courtesy due to a king,
Welcomed him as his rank required;
The Sultan noted his dress and style
With admiration and wonder,
As one struck to his soul by the idea
Of voyaging from so far to India.
102 And with munificent words he offered
Anything his kingdom might supply,
And that if he lacked provisions
He should assume them already furnished;
He said more, that without seeing them
He knew of the Lusitanian people,
For he had learned already of the long wars*
Fought by the Portuguese against the Moors.
103 All Africa, he said had resounded
With the great deeds they had performed
In winning for themselves the crown
Of the kingdom of the Hesperides;*
With many fine words, he expressed
Less what the Portuguese deserved
Than what had reached Malindi by report;
So da Gama responded in this sort:
104 —‘O generous king,* unique in showing
Compassion to the Lusitanian people,
Who through so much misery and danger
Have tested the mad fury of the seas;
That Almighty, Divine Providence
Who turns the heavens and rules mankind,
Will more reward you than is in our power
For receiving us at this place and hour.
105 ‘You alone, of all Africa’s peoples,
Welcomed us from the ocean in peace;
In you, from the dreadful winds of Aeolus,*
We found benign, sincere harbour;
As long as the Great Pole herds the stars
And the sun gives light to the world,
Wherever glory and whatever fame
Accrues to me, I’ll keep alive your name.’
106 At this, the boats were manœuvred
To review the fleet as the Sultan wished;
They circled the ships one by one
To observe and take note of everything;
Once more cannon thundered to the heavens,
And the fleet fired a broadside;
Once more the trumpets rang out in salute;
The Muslims with their slughorns followed suit.
107 But after the generous Sultan had studied
All there was to be seen, and finding
The unaccustomed conjunction of noise
Not only a surprise, but intimidating;
He asked for quiet and to drop anchor
From the light craft carrying them,
To talk at leisure with the great da Gama
On matters which he knew only by rumour.
108 The Sultan took delight in conversing
On different topics, questioning
Now about the famous, splendid battles
Fought with the followers of Mohammed,
Now about the many different peoples
Who lived in farthest Hesperia,
Now about those lands which are our neighbours,
Now of the watery highway of our labours.
109 —‘But first of all, most valiant captain,
Tell us (he said) clearly and plainly,
With due regard for order, of your land,
Clime, and where in the world you dwell;
And also of your ancient lineage,
And the origin of so powerful a kingdom;
List all your battles from the earliest days,
Which knowing not, I know deserve all praise.
110 ‘And tell us, too, of the long circuit
You have made across the angry oceans,
What outlandish customs you have seen
In this uncivil Africa of ours;
Tell us, now the horses of dawn
With their golden bridles are hauling
The sun’s glittering chariot from the east;
The winds are sleeping, and the waves have ceased.
111 ‘The fullness of the hour is matched
By the depth of my desire to hear you,
For who does not know by report
Of the matchless works of the Portuguese?
We Malindians are not so remote
From the bright sun’s beaten track,
That you should consider us too uncouth
To take the measure of so great a truth.
112 ‘The proud Titans* fought in vain
Against pure radiant Olympus;
Pirithous and Theseus ventured crassly
In the dark and fearful realm of Pluto.
But if such feats had been accomplished,
The tasks of assaulting the Heavens
Or Hell were no more hard or various
Than combating the angry seas of Nereus.
113 ‘Herostratus set fire to Diana’s temple
Built by subtle Ctesiphon,* solely
To be known throughout the world
And remembered by the human race.
If the desire for fame can lead
To such sacrilege and atrocity,
How much better to hold in memory
One whose deeds are worth eternal glory.’
Canto Three
1 Now it is for you, Calliope,* to teach me
What famous da Gama told the Sultan;
Inspire living song and a godlike voice
In this mortal heart, your devotee.
Nor should Apollo,* inventor of healing,
By whom, lovely lady, you bore Orpheus,
Squander again the devotion he owes
On various Daphnes, Clyties, or Leucothoes.
2 O Nymph, give effect to my ambition
To match what the Portuguese deserve;
Let the world see that the Tagus
Sparkles with the waters of Parnassus;
Come down from the Muses’ mountain,
For already I feel Apollo’s baptism;
Denying me, you may appear afraid
I’ll leave revered Orpheus in the shade.
3 All those present were waiting eagerly
For what the great da Gama would say,
When, losing himself a little in thought,
He raised his eyes and spoke:
—You command me, O King, to describe
My people’s long descent, yet this is no
Extraneous tale you ask me to begin,
But the glories of my own kith and kin.
4 To praise the achievements
of another
Is customary and to be desired,
But my praise of my fellow countrymen
Will sound, I fear, all too unconvincing;
And I know whatever time I take
Will be all too short to tell you all;
But you have asked and your command is chief;
I will against my will, and I’ll be brief.
5 I speak, moreover, from a compulsion
To keep to the strict path of truth,
For on such deeds, the more I dwell
The more will be left unsaid.
But so that due method may prevail
In my account of what you wish to know,
First I will describe that distant shore,
And after I will talk of bloody war.
6 Between the tropic governed by Cancer,
The bright sun’s most northern track,
And that region shunned for cold
As much as the equator is for heat,
Lies noble Europe, confronting both
The Arctic and the Occident. To north
And west the Atlantic is its boundary,
And to the south the Mediterranean sea.
7 In the far east where the sun rises
It borders Asia, but is skirted
By the cold and winding River Don
Which runs down into the Sea of Azov,
And by the turbulent Aegean Sea
Where warrior Greeks once held sway,
But of triumphant Troy in all her glory
The sailor sees only a memory.
8 In the uttermost north, close beneath
The Polar Star, are the alps named
Hyperborean,* after the wind
Which rages there unremittingly.
Apollo’s rays which kindle the world
Are so attenuated in their power,
Snow-drifts linger year-long on the mountains;
The sea is ice-bound, frozen too the fountains.
9 Here there live in vast numbers
Scythians,* who long ago fought a war
With the rulers of ancient Egypt
Over the origins of the human race;
So far were both sides from the truth
(So prone to error is the human mind),
On a matter that need no further task us
Than the biblical city of Damascus.
10 Within this region are to be found
Ice-bound Lapland, bleak Norway,
And Scandinavia, that peninsula
Whose Goths once conquered Italy;
Beyond it, there opens a channel
To the vast inland Baltic Sea,
Navigable when not in winter’s chains
By Prussians, cold Swedes, and chilly Danes.
11 Between this sea and the Don live
Strange peoples: Ruthenians, Moscovites,
And Livonians, once called Sarmatians;
In the Black Forest mountains are Poles.
The German Empire rules as its subjects
Bohemians, Hungarians, and Saxons,
Together with various tiny riverine
Dukedoms on the Elbe, Danube, Ems, and Rhine.
12 Between the lower Danube and the famous
Strait which Helle* named with her life,
Live the sturdy Thracians in a land
Which Mars has made his own.
But the mountains beyond in the Balkans
Have fallen to the Turks; and even
Byzantium has suffered the same fate
To the great shame of Constantine the Great!*
13 Next is Macedonia whose people dwell
By the cold waters of the River Vardar;
And then you, O most splendid nation,
With your polity, genius, and daring,
Who fostered eloquence and the loftiest
Ideals, O lucid Greece,
Touching the sublime in hexameters,
Not less inspired in war than in letters.
14 Next the Dalmatians, and in that gulf
Where Antenor* once built Padua,
Noble Venice floats on the waters
—So great from such low beginnings.
From here extends a long peninsula,
To which many nations were subject;
An exalted people, imposing accord
No less by genius than by the sword.
15 Neptune’s kingdom all but surrounds it,
With Nature’s bulwarks on the fourth side;
And dividing it the Apennines,
Mark the scenes of glorious battles;
Today, Rome’s power is in decline,
It is home to the Keeper of the Keys,*
No longer boasting Empire as its merit:
So God rains blessings on the poor in spirit!
16 Beyond Italy lies Gaul, made known
World wide by Caesar’s conquests;
It is watered by the rivers Seine,
The Rhone, the Rhine, and the Garonne;
In the south rises that mountain range
Named from the buried nymph Pyrene,*
Which once caught fire, or so the tale is told,
And its rivers ran with silver and pure gold.
17 Here is encountered noble Iberia,
The head, as it were, of all Europe,
Whose dominion and unique glory
Has seen many turns of Fortune’s wheel;
But never by force or treason could
Fate’s fickleness stain her honour,
Nor rob her of her daring, nor disgrace
The warrior virtues bred by such a race.
18 She confronts Mauretania, where
The Mediterranean is almost closed
At the strait, which famously takes its name
From the last labour* of Hercules.
Iberia, too, is all but an island,
But its greatness is of several nations
Each one of them so noble and so blessed
That each in turn believes it is the best.
19 Here is Aragon, which gained renown
For conquering turbulent Naples;*
Here Navarre, and the Asturias, once
Bulwark against the Muslim people;
Here wary Galicia, and peerless
Castile, ordained by her planets
Spain’s deliverer and her rightful lord,
With León, Seville, and Granada all restored.*
20 And here, as if crowning Europe’s
Head, is the little kingdom of Portugal,
Where the continent ends and the sea begins,
And where Phoebus reclines in the ocean.
By Heaven’s will she prospered
Against the unworthy Mauritanians,
Driving them out; and in their hot garrison
In Africa has not ceased to harass them.
21 This is my blessed home, my earliest love,
Where, if Heaven allows my safe return
With this task at last accomplished,
I will be content to breath my last.
She was named Lusitania, so it’s said
From Lusus* or Lysa, thought to be
Bacchus’ sons, or members of his band,
The very first to cultivate this land.
22 Here the shepherd was born whose very name,
Viriatus,* bears witness to his manhood,
Whose fame none could overcome,
Nor even Rome’s power undo him.
Meanwhile Time, which consumes its children,
Conspired she should, by the will of Heaven,
Play a part in the world, and in a word
Become a great kingdom. Hear what occurred:
23 There was a king in Spain, by name Alfonso,*
Who took battle to the Saracens
So ruthlessly and with such skill
Many lost their land and their lives.
The story of these exploits flew
From Gibraltar to the Caspian mountains,
; And many knights came flocking in their pride,
All ready to be martyred at his side.
24 For they burned, more than for fame,
With an inward love of the Faith;
They came from various kingdoms
Leaving their homes and native shores.
Afterwards, when they had given proof
Of highest merit in splendid deeds,
Alfonso swore on his illustrious sword
Such services should gain their due reward.
25 Of these, Henrique* (younger son, it’s said,
Of a well-attested king of Hungary),
Was given Portugal as his portion,
Then little valued by the world;
But as a further sign of deep regard,
The king offered the young Count
His daughter, the Princess Teresa’s hand,
Holding through her the power in that land.
26 Afterwards, he gained many victories
Over the heirs of the Ishmaelites,*
Capturing much neighbouring territory,
Fulfilling his great heart’s urge;
As reward for these excellent deeds,
God on high soon granted him
A son, to whose illustrious hand would fall
The destiny of warlike Portugal.
27 Long before this, Henrique had been
At the conquest of the Holy City,*
And had seen the sands of Jordan
Where God’s own flesh was baptized;
(This was when Godfrey of Boulogne
Completed the conquest of Judaea,
And many who had fought in these campaigns
Returned from their crusade to their domains).
28 Reaching the end of his long life,
And driven to the fatal necessity,
The great Hungarian, full of honours,
Returned his soul to Him who gave it.
There remained his son, still a tender
Youth, but one in whom the father,
Unrivalled in the world, was resurrected:
From such a father no less was expected.
29 But the old legend—perhaps untrue;
From antiquity nothing is certain—
States that his mother,* seizing the state,
Was not averse to a second wedding.
Disinheriting her orphaned son,
She insisted that in Portugal
Authority descended through her name,
Her marriage being its source and only claim.
30 Prince Afonso (for so he was named
After his grandfather), found himself
Powerless in the lands his mother
And her consort ruled and devoured;
But his martial instincts were aroused
And, picturing the realm already his,
He took only a short time to reflect,
And as swiftly put his thoughts into effect.
31 So at Guimarães* the battlefield where
She, so unlike a mother, denied
Her son her love and his inheritance,