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
The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics) Page 4
