Of attacking and vanquishing the foe
Makes us oblivious to the battle cry
As men lose eyes or arms or legs, or die.
30 So the uncertain battle was joined;
On both sides, the first files advanced,
Some marching in defence of their land,
Others in the hope of winning it;
At once, the great Pereira, overflowing
With valour, surged to the front of the front line,
Hacking until the battlefield was sown
With those who sought to make the land their own.
31 Now the charged air was shrieking
With arrows, darts, and various shot;
Under the hoofs of the foaming
Horses, the earth shook, the valley echoed;
Lances were shivered, and heavy armour
Kept crashing to the ground like thunder,
As the enemy launched their main attack
On Nuno’s few, who at first hurled them back.
32 He saw his brothers advance against him,
(Cruel outcome) but was undismayed,
For treason against a king and nation
Is worse than killing a brother;
Of such traitors, many were present
In the front line, fighting cousins
And brothers (terrible contingency),
As in the wars of Caesar and Pompey.
33 O Sertorius,* O noble Coriolanus,
Catiline, and you others of antiquity
Who with sacrilegious hearts became
Enemies of your native land;
If in Pluto’s kingdom of shades
You are undergoing retribution,
Tell the dark king that traitors such as these
Have even been found among the Portuguese.
34 Our first ranks broke with so many
Of the enemy coming against them!
But Nuno was there, as a powerful lion
In the mountains above Ceuta
Finds himself surrounded by knights
Going hunting in the plains of Tetuan:
They prod him with spears and he, agitated
Prowls in his rage but is not intimidated;
35 He regards them grimly, but feral
Instinct and brute fury prevent him
Retreating, and he charges the thicket
Of lances even as they press on him:
So it was with Nuno, as the grass grew
Dark with Spanish blood, while
Men of his own, whose manhood he cherished,
Overwhelmed by sheer numbers, also perished.
36 João knew of the onslaught Nuno
Was sustaining and, as a wise captain,
He was everywhere, seeing everything,
Heartening all with his words and presence.
Like a fierce lioness, which has whelped
And ventures out hunting for food,
While her cubs, left waiting in her lair
Are stolen by a shepherd from Massylia,*
37 In her furious roaring and rampaging,
She makes the Seven Brothers* tremble:
So João, with a few, chosen men
Came charging to the front line:
—‘O brave knights, o peerless
Companions, equalled by no one,
Defend your native soil, you Portuguese!
On your lances hang all our liberties!
38 ‘You see me here, your king and comrade,
Amidst all the weapons and armour
Of the enemy, I ran to you first.
Battle on, you true patriots!’
So spoke the magnificent warrior
And brandishing his lance four times,
He hurled it, and it followed from that cast
That many Castilian knights breathed their last,
39 For with this, his men were fired anew
With noble shame and fresh resolve,
Attacking with re-doubled ardour,
Staking all on the game of war,
They vied: their swords smoked with blood;
Their lances pierced cuirass and heart.
They fought hand to hand, taking and giving
Blows like men oblivious to living.
40 Many they dispatched* with cold steel
In their flesh to view the Styx.
The Master of Santiago died there
Fighting with tremendous power;
There died also, causing great havoc,
The cruel Master of Calatrava;
While the accursed Pereiras, still apostate,
Died blaspheming Heaven, and cursing Fate.
41 Many common people of no known names
Descended along with the nobility,
To where Cerberus,* with the three jaws,
Hungers for souls departing this world.
But then, dishonouring and disgracing
The pride of the frantic enemy,
The noble standard of sublime Castile
Was trampled under the Portuguese heel.
42 At this, battle became massacre
With deaths, shrieks, blood, and stabbing;
Such a myriad of people perished
The very flowers changed colour.
Even in flight, men died; then the fury
Dwindled, and lances were superfluous;
Castile recognized the fates were malign
Accepted them, and abandoned his design.
43 He withdrew, leaving the field to the victor
And happy not to have left his life;
The survivors followed, their fear
Providing not legs but wings to flee;
In their hearts’ core was the anguish
Of death and of wealth squandered,
Of bruises and dishonour, and the deep offence
That others should triumph at their expense.
44 Some went away blaspheming, cursing
Whoever was the first to invent war;
Others blamed that ravenous hunger
That reckless, insatiable greed
Which, to possess what is another’s,
Exposes wretches to the pangs of Hell,
Causes such destitution and deprives
Of sons, so many mothers; of husbands, wives.
45 Triumphant João remained in the field
The customary days with great glory;
And afterwards made pilgrimages
To honour Him who gave the victory.
But Nuno, who had no desire
To be remembered among the people
Other than as a soldier, and courageous,
Left for his estates across the Tagus.
46 His fortune favoured him* in a manner
To give effect to his intentions,
When the border lands of Andalusia
Ceded him victory and spoils.
Soon after, the ancient Bétis flag
Of Seville and of various other lords
Were struck down, without the means to fight,
Unable to resist Portuguese might.
47 Cast down by these defeats, and others,
The Castilians were in despair,
Till peace, which the people now desired
Was granted at last to the vanquished.
Soon after, it was the Almighty’s will
To bestow the hands of the hostile kings
On two illustrious, comely, and sovereign
English princesses,* Philippa and Catherine.
48 But a warrior’s heart, attuned to war,
Is restless without an enemy to harm,
And having no one to conquer on land,
He attacked the waves of the ocean.
João was the first king to set foot
Beyond his native soil, so Africa
Should learn in battle how much less sufficed
The power of Islam than the power of Christ.
49 A thousand swimming birds, spreading
Their concave pin
ions to the winds,
Parted the white, turbulent waves
To where Hercules set his pillars.
He seized Mount Abyla and the noble city
Of Ceuta,* expelling Mohammed,
And protecting all Spain from any reason
To fear some Count Julian’s further treason.
50 Death could not permit to Portugal
Many years of so auspicious
A hero, but elected he should join
The heavenly chorus of the angels.
But to safeguard the Lusitanians,
And extend their kingdom further, God
Gave in his stead those royal paragons,
A progeny* of supremely gifted sons.
51 Yet time, which knows no constancy,
Alternating joy with sadness,
And good with evil, was not auspicious
When King Duarte occupied the throne.
What state was always prosperous?
When was Fortune for ever fair?
For in this kingdom with this latest reign
This law of life applied in all its pain.
52 He saw Fernando,* his saintly brother
(A prince who aspired to the highest glory),
Delivered as captive to the Saracens
To ransom the wretched, besieged people.
For sheer love of his country
He passed his life as a slave, adamant
Ceuta should never be forfeit by the Crown,
Putting the public good above his own.
53 Codrus,* in order to outwit the oracles
And defeat the Dorians, killed himself;
Regulus, so Rome should not surrender,
Chose to surrender his liberty.
Fernando, to make Iberia secure,
Made himself a perpetual hostage!
Codrus and Curtius were never such,
Nor did the faithful Decii do so much.
54 But Afonso the Fifth,* unrivalled heir
(And the bearer of a warrior’s name),
Conquered and trampled the presumption
Of the barbarians across the strait,
And would have lived and died victorious
Had he not ventured into Castile;
Though Africa would not credit such a thing
As defeat for so terrible a king.
55 He plucked the apples of the Hesperides*
Which only Hercules could gather;
To this day, the brave Moors suffer
The yoke he placed on their necks.
He wore the palms and green laurel
Of victory, for all they hastened
To strengthen the walls of Alcácer-Ceguir,
Strong Arzilla, and populous Tangier.
56 For the Portuguese army, accustomed
To destroy whatever they found before them,
Smashed the adamantine ramparts
And captured all three fortresses.
The knights were heroic, worthy
Of memorial in the loftiest style,
While the name of Portugal was once again
Attested and refined in this campaign.
57 But afterwards, gripped by ambition
And by power’s bitter-sweet glory,
He laid claim to the throne of Castile*
By attacking Ferdinand of Aragon.
From Cadiz to the snow-capped Pyrenees,
All the proud and various nations
Flocked together to make common accord
With Ferdinand alone as their sovereign lord.
58 Reluctant, meanwhile, to laze at home,
Prince João, Afonso’s son, rode out
To reinforce his ambitious father,
Which proved no small assistance.
It happened, his sanguinary father
Escaped from his predicament,
Beaten, but with the outcome undecided
Because the battle’s course was divided;
59 For the proud son, a gentle, strong
And spirited knight, contested
The field for the entire day
Doing immense damage to the enemy.
So it was when Octavius, avenging
The murder of great Caesar
Knew defeat, while Antony his ally
Was victorious on the field of Philippi.*
60 Then, after everlasting night had
Lodged Afonso in the serene heavens,
The prince who became ruler
Was João II and the thirteenth king.
He, in pursuit of eternal fame,
Took on a task beyond human ambition,
To touch the rosy fingers of the dawn,
The very quest to which I myself was born.
61 He appointed envoys* who passed
Through Spain, France, and Italy,
And there in the famous harbour where
Parthenope* was buried, they embarked
—Naples, where the Fates are active,
Making her subject to various peoples,
But time’s fullness has made her great again,
Under the happy suzerainty of Spain.
62 They crossed the eastern Mediterranean,
Passing the sandy beaches of Rhodes,
And headed for the river banks*
Made famous by the death of Pompey;
They passed Memphis and the lands watered
By the floods of the sinuous Nile;
Beyond Egypt to Ethiopia, where still
Is maintained the ancient Christian ritual.
63 They parted the waves of the Red Sea
Where the children of Israel passed on foot;
Behind them lay the Nabathean hills*
Named after Ismael’s son;
Then that sweet-smelling region, home
Of Myrrha,* Adonis’ mother, the coast
Of Arabia the Blessed, skirting those known
As the Arabias of Desert and of Stone.
64 They voyaged into the Persian Gulf
Where the Tower of Babel* is still recalled,
Where Tigris and Euphrates mingle
Waters from the Garden of Eden.
They went searching for the sacred spring
(The tale of which remains to be told)
Of the source of the Indus, passing seas
Which, for Trajan, ended all his victories.*
65 They saw unknown and strange peoples,
Indian, Carmanian, and Gedrosian,
Studying the different styles and manners
Each region produces and makes its own.
But from journeys so long and rigorous,
It is not easy to come home;
They died, remaining on that distant strand,
Eternally exiled from their native land.
66 It appears that bright heaven preserved
For King Manuel,* with all his merits,
This arduous venture which stirred him
To such illustrious, exalted deeds;
Manuel, who succeeded João
Both to the kingdom and his exalted quest,
Was just as eager in his devotion
To exploring and mastering the ocean.
67 The noble vision of his unique
Inheritance, from forbears whose constant
Passion was to enlarge the kingdom,
Never ceased for an instant
To dominate his thoughts until once
Upon a time, when the clear daylight
Faded, and the glimmering stars began to shine,
Beckoning to slumber at their first decline,
68 Being stretched out on his golden bed
Where imaginings can be so vivid,
His thoughts returning continuously
To his office and descent and duty,
His heavy eyelids drooped without
His heart becoming vacant, for as
Sleep descended quietly to restore him
Morpheus,* in various guises, rose before him.
&nbs
p; 69 First, he dreamed he had been spirited
Up to touch the first sphere,* and could
See beneath him various nations
With many strange and wild peoples;
But there, close to where the sun rises,
Straining his eyes in the distance,
From a range of mountains, ancient and vast,
He saw two noble rivers tumble past.
70 Wild birds and savage beasts were
All that lived in that towering jungle;
Thick undergrowth and ancient trees
Barred human passage and influence.
Those hard, inhospitable crags
Were visibly a region where,
Since Adam’s sin down to the present day,
No human foot had ever found a way.
71 From the rivers, he seemed to see emerge
Two ancients, bending towards him
With slow paces like countrymen,
And of venerable appearance;
Water dripped from their uncombed locks
Making their whole bodies glisten;
Their skin was leathery and cinnamon,
Their shaggy beards dishevelled and undone.
72 The foreheads of both were crowned
With chaplets of grass and nameless fronds.
One seemed more deliberate in his gait
As if he had tramped the further;
And his river with its slower current
Seemed to have come from elsewhere,
Like Alpheus flowing to meet his Arethuse
Underground* from Arcadia to Syracuse.
73 And having the graver bearing of the two,
He spoke up to Manuel from afar:
—‘You, to whose crown and kingdom
So much of the world is reserved:
We others, also known to fame
Whose necks were never before yoked,
Counsel you now, the moment is at hand
To accept the tribute* flowing from our land.
74 ‘I am the famous Ganges* whose waters
Have their source in the earthly paradise;
This other is the Indus, which springs
In this mountain which you behold.
We shall cost you unremitting war,
But persevering, you will become
Peerless in victory, knowing no defeat,
Conquering as many peoples as you meet.’
75 The famous, sacred river said no more
And both disappeared on the instant.
Manuel awoke with the thrill of discovery
And a new direction to his thoughts.
Now Phoebus stretched his mantle
Over the dark, sleeping hemisphere,
And dawn emerged, dipping in her palette
Of multi-coloured flowers for rose and scarlet.
76 The king summoned the lords to council
To tell of the figures of his dream;
The words spoken by the venerable saint
Were a great wonder to them all.
They resolved at once to equip
A fleet and an intrepid crew,
The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics) Page 12