Luis de Camoes Collected Poetical Works

by Luis de Camoes

  The boiling fury of their gulfy course:

  Against their headlong rage nor oars nor sails,

  The stemming prow alone, hard toil’d, prevails.

  Cambaya here begins her wide domain;

  A thousand cities here shall own the reign

  Of Lisboa’s monarchs. He who first shall crown

  Thy labours, Gama,645* here shall boast his own.

  The length’ning sea that washes India’s strand

  And laves the cape that points to Ceylon’s land

  (The Taprobanian isle,646* renown’d of yore),

  Shall see his ensigns blaze from shore to shore.

  Behold how many a realm, array’d in green,

  The Ganges’ shore and Indus’ bank between!

  Here tribes unnumber’d, and of various lore,

  With woful penance fiend-like shapes adore;

  Some Macon’s orgies;647* all confess the sway

  Of rites that shun, like trembling ghosts, the day.

  Narsinga’s fair domain behold; of yore

  Here shone the gilded towers of Meliapore.

  Here India’s angels, weeping o’er the tomb

  Where Thomas sleeps,648* implore the day to come,

  The day foretold, when India’s utmost shore

  Again shall hear Messiah’s blissful lore.

  By Indus’ banks the holy prophet trod,

  And Ganges heard him preach the Saviour-God;

  Where pale disease erewhile the cheek consum’d,

  Health, at his word, in ruddy fragrance bloom’d;

  The grave’s dark womb his awful voice obey’d,

  And to the cheerful day restor’d the dead;

  By heavenly power he rear’d the sacred shrine,

  And gain’d the nations by his life divine.

  The priests of Brahma’s hidden rites beheld,

  And envy’s bitt’rest gall their bosom’s swell’d.

  A thousand deathful snares in vain they spread;

  When now the chief who wore the triple thread,649*

  Fir’d by the rage that gnaws the conscious breast

  Of holy fraud, when worth shines forth confess’d,

  Hell he invokes, nor hell in vain he sues;

  His son’s life-gore his wither’d hands imbrues;

  Then, bold assuming the vindictive ire,

  And all the passions of the woful sire,

  Weeping, he bends before the Indian throne,

  Arraigns the holy man, and wails his son:

  A band of hoary priests attest the deed,

  And India’s king condemns the seer to bleed.

  Inspir’d by Heav’n the holy victim stands,

  And o’er the murder’d corse extends his hands:

  ‘In God’s dread power, thou slaughter’d youth, arise,

  And name,thy murderer,’ aloud he cries.

  When, dread to view, the deep wounds instant close,

  And, fresh in life, the slaughter’d youth arose,

  And nam’d his treach’rous sire. The conscious air

  Quiver’d, and awful horror raised the hair

  On ev’ry head. From Thomas India’s king

  The holy sprinkling of the living spring

  Receives, and wide o’er all his regal bounds

  The God of Thomas ev’ry tongue resounds.

  Long taught the holy seer the words of life;

  The priests of Brahma still to deeds of strife

  (So boil’d their ire) the blinded herd impell’d,

  And high, to deathful rage, their rancour swell’d.

  ’Twas on a day, when melting on his tongue

  Heav’n’s offer’d mercies glow’d, the impious throng,

  Rising in madd’ning tempest, round him shower’d

  The splinter’d flint; in vain the flint was pour’d:

  But Heav’n had now his finish’d labours seal’d;

  His angel guards withdraw the etherial shield;

  A Brahmin’s javelin tears his holy breast ——

  Ah Heav’n, what woes the widow’d land express’d!

  Thee, Thomas, thee, the plaintive Ganges mourn’d,650*

  And Indus’ banks the murm’ring moan return’d;

  O’er ev’ry valley where thy footsteps stray’d,

  The hollow winds the gliding sighs convey’d.

  What woes the mournful face of India wore,

  These woes in living pangs his people bore.

  His sons, to whose illumin’d minds he gave

  To view the ray that shines beyond the grave,

  His pastoral sons bedew’d his corse with tears,

  While high triumphant through the heav’nly spheres,

  With songs of joy, the smiling angels wing

  His raptur’d spirit to the eternal King.

  O you, the followers of the holy seer,

  Foredoom’d the shrines of Heav’n’s own lore to rear,

  You, sent by Heav’n his labours to renew,

  Like him, ye Lusians, simplest Truth pursue.651*

  Vain is the impious toil, with borrow’d grace,

  To deck one feature of her angel face;

  Behind the veil’s broad glare she glides away,

  And leaves a rotten form, of lifeless, painted clay.

  “Much have you view’d of future Lusian reign;

  Broad empires yet, and kingdoms wide, remain,

  Scenes of your future toils and glorious sway —

  And lo, how wide expands the Gangic bay!

  Narsinga here in num’rous legions bold,

  And here Oryxa boasts her cloth of gold.

  The Ganges here in many a stream divides,

  Diffusing plenty from his fatt’ning tides,

  As through Bengala’s rip’ning vales he glides;

  }

  Nor may the fleetest hawk, untir’d, explore

  Where end the ricy groves that crown the shore.

  There view what woes demand your pious aid!

  On beds and litters, o’er the margin laid,

  The dying652* lift their hollow eyes, and crave

  Some pitying hand to hurl them in the wave.

  Thus Heav’n (they deem), though vilest guilt they bore

  Unwept, unchanged, will view that guilt no more.

  There, eastward, Arracan her line extends;

  And Pegu’s mighty empire southward bends:

  Pegu, whose sons (so held old faith) confess’d

  A dog their sire;653* their deeds the tale attest.

  A pious queen their horrid rage restrain’d;654*

  Yet, still their fury Nature’s God arraign’d.

  Ah, mark the thunders rolling o’er the sky;

  Yes, bath’d in gore, shall rank pollution lie.

  “Where to the morn the towers of Tava shine,

  Begins great Siam’s empire’s far-stretch’d line.

  On Queda’s fields the genial rays inspire

  The richest gust of spicery’s fragrant fire.

  Malacca’s castled harbour here survey,

  The wealthful seat foredoom’d of Lusian sway.

  Here to their port the Lusian fleets shall steer,

  From ev’ry shore far round assembling here

  The fragrant treasures of the eastern world:

  Here from the shore by rolling earthquakes hurl’d,

  Through waves all foam, Sumatra’s isle was riv’n,

  And, mid white whirlpools, down the ocean driv’n.655*

  To this fair isle, the golden Chersonese,

  Some deem the sapient monarch plough’d the seas;

  Ophir its Tyrian name.656* In whirling roars

  How fierce the tide boils down these clasping shores!

  High from the strait the length’ning coast afar

  Its moonlike curve points to the northern star,

  Opening its bosom to the silver ray

  When fair Aurora pours the infant day.

  Patane and Pam, and nameless nations mo
re,

  Who rear their tents on Menam’s winding shore,

  Their vassal tribute yield to Siam’s throne;

  And thousands more,657* of laws, of names unknown,

  That vast of land inhabit. Proud and bold,

  Proud of their numbers, here the Laos hold

  The far-spread lawns; the skirting hills obey

  The barb’rous Avas’, and the Brahma’s sway.

  Lo, distant far, another mountain chain

  Rears its rude cliffs, the Guio’s dread domain;

  Here brutaliz’d the human form is seen,

  The manners fiend-like as the brutal mien:

  With frothing jaws they suck the human blood,

  And gnaw the reeking limbs,658* their sweetest food;

  Horrid, with figur’d seams of burning steel,

  Their wolf-like frowns their ruthless lust reveal.

  Cambaya there the blue-tinged Mecon laves,

  Mecon the eastern Nile, whose swelling waves,

  ‘Captain of rivers’ nam’d, o’er many a clime,

  In annual period, pour their fatt’ning slime.

  The simple natives of these lawns believe

  That other worlds the souls of beasts receive;659*

  Where the fierce murd’rer-wolf, to pains decreed,

  Sees the mild lamb enjoy the heav’nly mead.

  Oh gentle Mecon,660* on thy friendly shore

  Long shall the muse her sweetest off’rings pour!

  When tyrant ire, chaf’d by the blended lust

  Of pride outrageous, and revenge unjust,

  Shall on the guiltless exile burst their rage,

  And madd’ning tempests on their side engage,

  Preserv’d by Heav’n the song of Lusian fame,

  The song, O Vasco, sacred to thy name,

  Wet from the whelming surge, shall triumph o’er

  The fate of shipwreck on the Mecon’s shore,

  Here rest secure as on the muse’s breast!

  Happy the deathless song, the bard, alas, unblest!

  “Chiampa there her fragrant coast extends,

  There Cochin-China’s cultur’d land ascends:

  From Anam Bay begins the ancient reign

  Of China’s beauteous art-adorn’d domain;

  Wide from the burning to the frozen skies,

  O’erflow’d with wealth, the potent empire lies.

  Here, ere the cannon’s rage in Europe roar’d,661*

  The cannon’s thunder on the foe was pour’d:

  And here the trembling needle sought the north,

  Ere Time in Europe brought the wonder forth.

  No more let Egypt boast her mountain pyres;

  To prouder fame yon bounding wall aspires,

  A prouder boast of regal power displays

  Than all the world beheld in ancient days.

  Not built, created seems the frowning mound;

  O’er loftiest mountain tops, and vales profound

  Extends the wondrous length, with warlike castles crown’d.

  }

  Immense the northern wastes their horrors spread;662*

  In frost and snow the seas and shores are clad.

  These shores forsake, to future ages due:

  A world of islands claims thy happier view,

  Where lavish Nature all her bounty pours,

  And flowers and fruits of ev’ry fragrance showers.

  Japan behold; beneath the globe’s broad face

  Northward she sinks, the nether seas embrace

  Her eastern bounds; what glorious fruitage there,

  Illustrious Gama, shall thy labours bear!

  How bright a silver mine!663* when Heav’n’s own lore

  From pagan dross shall purify her ore.

  “Beneath the spreading wings of purple morn,

  Behold what isles these glist’ning seas adorn!

  ‘Mid hundreds yet unnam’d, Ternate behold!

  By day, her hills in pitchy clouds inroll’d,

  By night, like rolling waves, the sheets of fire

  Blaze o’er the seas, and high to heav’n aspire.

  For Lusian hands here blooms the fragrant clove,

  But Lusian blood shall sprinkle ev’ry grove.

  The golden birds that ever sail the skies

  Here to the sun display their shining dyes,

  Each want supplied, on air they ever soar;

  The ground they touch not664* till they breathe no more.

  Here Banda’s isles their fair embroid’ry spread

  Of various fruitage, azure, white, and red;

  And birds of ev’ry beauteous plume display

  Their glitt’ring radiance, as, from spray to spray,

  From bower to bower, on busy wings they rove,

  To seize the tribute of the spicy grove.

  Borneo here expands her ample breast,

  By Nature’s hand in woods of camphor dress’d;

  The precious liquid, weeping from the trees,

  Glows warm with health, the balsam of disease.

  Fair are Timora’s dales with groves array’d,

  Each riv’let murmurs in the fragrant shade,

  And, in its crystal breast, displays the bowers

  Of Sanders, blest with health-restoring powers.

  Where to the south the world’s broad surface bends,

  Lo, Sunda’s realm her spreading arms extends.

  From hence the pilgrim brings the wondrous tale,665*

  A river groaning through a dreary dale

  (For all is stone around) converts to stone

  Whate’er of verdure in its breast is thrown.

  Lo, gleaming blue, o’er fair Sumatra’s skies,

  Another mountain’s trembling flames arise;

  Here from the trees the gum666* all fragrance swells,

  And softest oil a wondrous fountain wells.

  Nor these alone the happy isle bestows,

  Fine is her gold, her silk resplendent glows.

  Wide forests there beneath Maldivia’s tide667*

  From with’ring air their wondrous fruitage hide.

  The green-hair’d Nereids, tend the bow’ry dells,

  Whose wondrous fruitage poison’s rage expels.

  In Ceylon, lo, how high yon mountain’s brows!

  The sailing clouds its middle height enclose.

  Holy the hill is deem’d, the hallow’d tread

  Of sainted footstep668* marks its rocky head.

  Lav’d by the Red Sea gulf, Socotra’s bowers

  There boast the tardy aloe’s beauteous flowers.

  On Afric’s strand, foredoom’d to Lusian sway,

  Behold these isles, and rocks of dusky gray;

  From cells unknown here bounteous ocean pours

  The fragrant amber on the sandy shores.

  And lo, the Island of the Moon669* displays

  Her vernal lawns, and num’rous peaceful bays:

  The halcyons670* hov’ring o’er the bays are seen,

  And lowing herds adorn the vales of green.

  “Thus, from the cape where sail was ne’er unfurl’d,

  Till thine, auspicious, sought the eastern world,

  To utmost wave, where first the morning star

  Sheds the pale lustre of her silver car,

  Thine eyes have view’d the empires and the isles,

  The world immense, that crowns thy glorious toils —

  That world where ev’ry boon is shower’d from Heav’n,

  Now to the West, by thee, great chief, is giv’n.671*

  “And still, O blest, thy peerless honours grow,

  New op’ning views the smiling fates bestow.

  With alter’d face the moving globe behold;

  There ruddy ev’ning sheds her beams of gold.

  While now, on Afric’s bosom faintly die

  The last pale glimpses of the twilight sky,

  Bright o’er the wide Atlantic rides the morn,

  And dawning rays
another world adorn:

  To farthest north that world enormous bends,

  And cold, beneath the southern pole-star ends.

  Near either pole672* the barb’rous hunter, dress’d

  In skins of bears, explores the frozen waste:

  Where smiles the genial sun with kinder rays,

  Proud cities tower, and gold-roof’d temples blaze.

  This golden empire, by the heav’n’s decree,

  Is due, Castile, O favour’d power, to thee!

  Even now, Columbus o’er the hoary tide

  Pursues the ev’ning sun, his navy’s guide.

  Yet, shall the kindred Lusian share the reign,

  What time this world shall own the yoke of Spain.

  The first bold hero673* who to India’s shores

  Through vanquish’d waves thy open’d path explores,

  Driv’n by the winds of heav’n from Afric’s strand,

  Shall fix the holy cross on yon fair land.

  That mighty realm, for purple wood renown’d,

  Shall stretch the Lusian empire’s western bound.

  Fir’d by thy fame, and with his king in ire,

  To match thy deeds shall Magalhaens aspire.674*

  In all but loyalty, of Lusian soul,

  No fear, no danger shall his toils control.

  Along these regions, from the burning zone

  To deepest south, he dares the course unknown.

  While, to the kingdoms of the rising day,

  To rival thee he holds the western way,

  A land of giants675* shall his eyes behold,

  Of camel strength, surpassing human mould:

  And, onward still, thy fame his proud heart’s guide

  Haunting him unappeas’d, the dreary tide

  Beneath the southern star’s cold gleam he braves,

  And stems the whirls of land-surrounded waves.

  For ever sacred to the hero’s fame,

  These foaming straits shall bear his deathless name.

  Through these dread jaws of rock he presses on,

  Another ocean’s breast, immense, unknown,

  Beneath the south’s cold wings, unmeasur’d, wide,

  Receives his vessels; through the dreary tide

  In darkling shades, where never man before

  Heard the waves howl, he dares the nameless shore.

  “Thus far, O favour’d Lusians, bounteous Heav’n

  Your nation’s glories to your view has giv’n.

  What ensigns, blazing to the morn, pursue

  The path of heroes, open’d first by you!

  Still be it yours the first in fame to shine:

  Thus shall your brides new chaplets still entwine,

  With laurels ever new your brows enfold,

  And braid your wavy locks with radiant gold.

  “How calm the waves, how mild the balmy gale!