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The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics)

Page 5

by Luis Vaz de Camoes

By our skin, our clothes, and the powerful fleet,

  Till in a torrent of questions he remarked

  Perhaps it was from Turkey we embarked.

  63 And he added that he required to see

  The books of our laws, commandments, or faith,

  To judge if they matched his own

  Or were Christian, as he now suspected;

  Above all else he examined and noted,

  He implored our captain to offer him

  Some demonstration of what arms we bore

  In the event we found ourselves at war.

  64 Our valiant captain replied through one

  Well versed in the difficult language:

  —‘I will give you, Sir, an account

  Of myself, our faith, and the arms we carry.

  I am not of that land or that lineage

  Of those wretched people from Turkey.

  I am a European warrior;

  I seek the famous lands of India.

  65 ‘My faith is in Him whom all powers,

  Temporal and spiritual, obey,

  He who created the whole universe,

  And all things, living or inert,

  Who underwent disgrace and insult,

  Suffering unendurable and unjust death,

  But who descended from the heavens to earth

  To raise us mortals to our heavenly worth.

  66 ‘Of this God-Man, the sublime and infinite,

  Ours is not a religion of the book,

  There being no need to convey on paper

  That which subsists in my very soul.

  If, as you said, you want to see weapons

  I can satisfy this desire of yours;

  But view them as a friend, for well I know

  You’ll never wish to see them as a foe.’

  67 With these words, he ordered the waiting

  Soldiers to uncover their arsenal;

  Coats of armour, flashing breastplates

  Of close-knit mail or laminated,

  Shields with their various coats of arms,

  Cannon-balls, muskets of well-tempered steel,

  Longbows, halberds bristling with spikes,

  Quiverfuls of arrows, trusty pikes.

  68 The fire bombs were brought, and with them

  The sulphur pots so noxious;

  But he would not allow Vulcan’s sons*

  To ignite their dreadful cannon,

  For with people so few and so faint-hearted,

  It was no part of valour or breeding

  To display what dire force he could rely on,

  Or in sheep’s company to act the lion.

  69 But now from all the Sheikh was shown,

  And all he recorded with a sharp eye,

  Suspicion took root in his heart,

  And his thoughts became malevolent;

  Nothing showed in his face or gestures

  As, behind a cheerful mask, he continued

  Treating them with gentle condescension,

  Until he could act out his true intention.

  70 Pilots, the captain now asked of him,

  To guide the ships’ course to India;

  He promised a generous reward

  To anyone who took on the task.

  The Sheikh acquiesced, but with such hot

  Poison coursing through his veins

  He wished, instead of pilots for our way,

  To furnish us with death that very day.

  71 Such was the fury and the malice

  Directed suddenly at the strangers,

  As he realized we followed the truths

  Revealed us by the Son of David!

  It is an eternal conundrum,

  Unfathomable by human thought,

  That those closest to God will never be

  Lacking in some perfidious enemy!

  72 At last, with his whole retinue,

  The politic Sheikh took leave of the ships

  With exaggerated courtesies

  And for everyone a two-faced smile.

  Their craft cut the narrow

  Stretch of Neptune’s domain until,

  Danced ashore by an obsequious throng,

  The Moor was back where such arts belong.

  73 Now from his bright ethereal home

  Bacchus, who was born from Jove’s thigh,*

  Seeing the Sheikh vexed and offended

  By his encounter with the Portuguese,

  Began to devise some stratagem

  Which would destroy them utterly

  And, while this was hardening in his brain,

  He mused upon his grievances again:

  74 —‘Fate has already settled* what great

  Conquests and superfluous renown

  Will be won by the Portuguese

  Over the warrior peoples of India.

  Must I alone, son of the supreme

  Father and so abundantly endowed,

  Must I stand idle while another’s name,

  Puffed up by Fortune, puts my own to shame?

  75 ‘Once in the past, the gods allowed

  Philip’s precocious boy,* Alexander,

  To bully this region so adroitly

  Everything passed under his yoke;

  Must I be silent while Fate bestows

  On so few men such skill and daring

  That I, like Macedonia and Rome,

  Must yield to Portugal the victor’s palm?

  76 ‘It shall not be! Before this captain

  Has ventured anywhere, so subtle

  A trap will be conjured for him

  He’ll never clap eyes on his Orient.

  I’ll descend to earth and manipulate

  The indignation of the Muslims;

  In every undertaking of this type

  The time for action’s when the time is ripe.’

  77 With these words,* and almost insane

  With anger, he plunged to Africa,

  Taking human features and travelling

  By Cape Corrientes* known of old;

  And the better to weave his clever

  Plot, he adopted the appearance

  Of a Muslim well known in Mozambique,

  Mature, wise, and a favourite with the Sheikh;

  78 And entering to speak with him, at a time

  And hour appropriate to his deception,

  He spun the tale that the newcomers

  Were brigands and that all along

  The coastline where the people

  They had pillaged lived, rumour

  Ran wild that wherever their pirate ships

  Anchored, ‘peace’ was the first word on their lips.

  79 —‘Much more is reported,’ he ranted,

  ‘Of these bloodthirsty Christians.

  There’s hardly a sea they have not looted

  Burning everything in their sight;

  Far away, they conceived this present

  Conspiracy against us, in sum,

  To steal our goods and trample on our graves,

  And take our wives and children as their slaves.

  80 ‘I know, however, that at first light,

  The captain plans to take on water,

  Bringing with him a small army

  For a bad conscience makes one wary;

  You can easily wait in silent ambush

  Secretly with your armed men;

  They will come not suspecting any trap

  And, to conclude, will fall into your lap.

  81 ‘And even if this manœuvre fails

  To defeat or dispose of them totally,

  I have thought of another contrivance

  Which will give you satisfaction.

  Send them their pilot, but one

  Skilled in acting, and adroit enough

  To guide them to some port where they can be

  Destroyed, routed, killed, or lost at sea.’

  82 As soon as he had spoken, the Sheikh,

  Who was experienced in such business,

  Hugged his sho
ulders warmly, showing

  His gratitude for such advice;

  Immediately, he set in motion

  Everything necessary for war,

  Preparing for the Portuguese such slaughter

  The beach would flow with blood instead of water.

  83 Meanwhile, to spring his second trap,

  He arranged to send to the ships as pilot

  A shrewd and experienced Muslim

  To whom the affair could be entrusted;

  He told him to go with the captain,

  Voyaging by such coasts and seaways

  That if ambush failed, on some other shore

  He would shipwreck and trouble them no more.

  84 Apollo’s burning rays had already

  Walked the mountain tops of Arabia,

  When da Gama and his men prepared

  To land to replenish their water.

  The men in the boats so bore themselves

  As if a plot were already suspected,

  As in truth they could easily surmise,

  For the heart’s intuition never lies.

  85 In fact, the captain had already sent

  A message that morning, asking

  For the pilot and been answered

  Brusquely, which put him on his guard.

  For this, and because he knew the risk

  Of trusting in a dangerous rival,

  He set out well provided, but bold,

  With no more men than three boats could hold.

  86 Then the Muslims came down to the beach

  To prevent us taking on water, some

  Armed with shields and assegais, some

  With bent bows and poisoned arrows,

  Waiting as our soldiers approached.

  Many others were hidden in ambush;

  And to lull suspicion, as a further ploy,

  A group stood out in front as a decoy.

  87 All along the white sand beach

  The fearsome Muslims were gesticulating

  With cowhide shields and glinting spears,

  Taunting the mighty Portuguese;

  These were far too spirited to endure

  Such dogs baring their teeth,

  Descending on the beach in such a burst

  No one knew afterwards which man was first.

  88 As in the bloody bullring a lover,

  Proud that his radiant lady is watching,

  Doesn’t wait for the bull but confronts him,

  Posing, whistling, stamping, and halloing,

  But on the instant the terrible beast,

  Bellowing, blinded by sheer

  Rage, drops his horns in a lightning spurt

  Tossing, goring, and trampling him in the dirt,

  89 So from our boats the fusillade began

  In murderous volleys. Lead balls dealt

  Death, the screams were inhuman,

  The shocked air boomed and hissed.

  Then the Muslims’ courage broke

  As their blood congealed with panic;

  Those hidden in ambush could be seen to fly,

  While those upon the strand were the first to die.

  90 The Portuguese were relentless, pursuing

  Victory with destruction and death,

  Bombarding, burning, and looting

  The exposed, unstockaded village.

  By now, the Sheikh regretted the skirmish

  He had thought to carry off lightly;

  Old men and women with their babes lamented,

  Cursing war and damning him who sent it.

  91 The Muslims shot arrows as they fled,

  But uselessly in their fear and haste,

  Flinging rocks and sticks and pebbles,

  The very weapons of desperation.

  Abandoning the island, most

  Fled to the mainland in their terror,

  Taking refuge in the narrow waterway

  Which separates the island in the bay.

  92 Some crammed in overloaded dugouts;

  Some tried swimming and were swept

  Under the breakers, swallowing water,

  And were spewed out by the sea in turn.

  The repeated cannonade shattered

  The brittle boats of these uncivil people,

  And so the Portuguese dealt finally

  With their small-minded spite and treachery.

  93 They returned in victory to the fleet

  With the spoils of battle and rich plunder,

  And went to take water at their will

  Without objection or any resistance.

  But the Mohammedans were dismayed,

  Their initial hatred being rekindled;

  And, harrowed that their losses were so huge,

  Found comfort in their second subterfuge.

  94 The governor of that abject island

  Dispatched envoys to sue for peace,

  The Portuguese not knowing under

  The flag of truce he was plotting war;

  For the promised, but deceitful pilot

  With treachery stamped on his heart,

  Whose task was to steer them to their death,

  Was offered as the pledge of his good faith.

  95 The captain was now more than eager

  To return to his proper business,

  With calm weather and the right winds

  For his search for the longed-for India.

  He received the pilot sent him

  Gladly and, with a politic message

  To the Sheikh, thrust the island from his mind,

  Spreading his canvas to the monsoon wind.

  96 With this leave-taking, the mighty fleet

  Ploughed Amphitrite’s* gentle waves,

  Escorted by the faithful nereids,

  Sweet and delightful companions.

  The captain, who had not yet tumbled

  To the design the pilot was weaving,

  Plied him with fresh questions thick and fast

  About India, and all the coasts they passed.

  97 But the pilot, fertile in invention

  As malevolent Bacchus inspired him,

  Plotted death, enslavement, or shipwreck

  Before the Portuguese could reach India.

  Describing the Indian harbours,

  He answered openly all he was asked,

  And confident these answers were sincere,

  The stalwart people saw no cause for fear.

  98 Then, subtly as when Sinon to the Trojans

  Sang the praises of the Wooden Horse,

  He let slip that close by, on an island,

  Lived an ancient race of Christians.

  The captain, who was listening intently,

  Rejoiced so greatly at this news

  He offered there and then a king’s bribe

  To conduct us to this lost Christian tribe.*

  99 Now what the credulous Christian begged

  Was precisely what the pilot sought,

  For the island, in truth, was peopled

  By Muslims, followers of vile Mohammed.

  There he saw his plot maturing

  With strength and numbers far

  Greater than Mozambique’s, the island’s fame

  There being widespread. Kilwa is its name.

  100 Joyfully the fleet changed course,

  But Venus, the goddess from Cythera,

  Seeing them veering from their proper tack

  And sailing to unseasonable death,

  Could not permit the people she loved

  To perish in so remote a place

  So summoned opposing winds, to amend

  The bearing plotted by their dangerous friend.

  101 At this, the astute Muslim, unable

  To carry through his first plan.

  Devised a second pernicious scheme,

  Still constant to his purpose,

  Proposing that, since hostile currents

  Had balked their forward progress,

  There was another island occupied />
  By Christians and by Muslims side by side.

  102 Even with these words he was lying,

  Obeying the instructions given him,

  For no Christian people dwelt there,

  Only those who worshipped the prophet.

  The captain, trusting him in everything,

  Asked to be guided there instead,

  But Venus, restraining them once more

  From crossing the bar, the fleet stood off shore.

  103 A tiny channel divided the island

  From the continent of Africa;

  But there could be seen a magnificent

  City with many noble edifices

  Marking the whole curve of the bay,

  A landmark visible for many miles,

  And ruled by a king of great antiquity;

  Mombasa* it is named, both isle and city.

  104 The captain had at last dropped anchor,

  And was strangely elated at the prospect

  Of meeting the baptized Christians

  The false pilot had invented.

  Boats came from the shore with greetings

  From the king who already knew of them,

  For Bacchus had prepared him long before,

  Taking the disguise of the other Moor.

  105 The welcome they brought was friendly

  In form, but poisonous in its matter,

  For its intentions were hostile

  As the aftermath would reveal.

  O great and grave dangers!*

  O the vicissitudes of life’s journey!

  That wherever a people place their trust,

  The little they rely on turns to dust.

  106 On the sea, such storms and perils

  That death, many times, seemed imminent;

  On the land, such battle and intrigue

  Such dire, inevitable hardships!

  Where may frail humanity shelter

  Briefly, in some secure port,

  Where the bright heavens cease to vent their rage

  On such insects on so small a stage?

  Canto Two

  1 As the time came for the brilliant star

  Which separates the hours to reach

  His longed-for and lingering horizon,

  Hiding from man his celestial

  Fire in the underwater refuge slid

  Quietly open by the God of Night,

  The Mohammedans were making their way

  To the ships, then anchoring outside the bay.

  2 In them was one who came entrusted

  With further diplomatic menace, saying

  —‘Valiant captain, who has split

  Neptune’s salty domain in two,

  The Sultan who rules this island,

  Advised of your coming, is overjoyed;

  To receive you is his heart’s desire,

  Embrace you, and supply what you require.

  3 ‘And because of his profound longing

  To greet one whose fame has gone before,

  He begs you, have no misgivings,

  Enter the bay, you and your fleet;

 

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