126 —‘If once upon a time brute animals,
Naturally cruel from their birth,
Or wild birds, whose only instinct
Is hunting on the wind for their prey,
If these could pity little children,*
Such as Semiramis, reared
By doves, or the gentle she-wolf famous
For giving suck to Romulus and Remus,
127 ‘Then you, with your human face and heart
(If it can be human to slaughter
A defenceless woman, solely for yielding
Her heart to the prince who won her),
You must feel for these tiny children
If not for my unmerited death;
Pity their plight and pity my anguish, since
You are not troubled by my innocence.
128 ‘If you knew how to kill with fire
And sword when you defeated the Moors,
Discover now how to be merciful
To one whose death is undeserved;
But, if my innocence must be punished,
Put me in sad, perpetual exile,
In the glaciers of Scythia, or placed
Endlessly weeping in Libya’s burning waste;
129 ‘Send me where ferocity belongs
Among lions and tigers; and I will see
If there exists among them that mercy
Absent from the hearts of men.
There, yearning with my whole soul
For the one I truly love, these
Whom you see before you, his creation,
Will be their sad mother’s consolation.’
130 The kindly king was moved by her speech
And wished to have her pardoned,
But the headstrong mob and her destiny
(Which overruled) would not be denied.
The men at hand for this fine deed
Drew their swords of well-tempered steel,
And take note, those who performed the butchery
Were honourable knights, sworn to chivalry!
131 As when the lovely girl, Polyxena,*
Her aged parent’s one remaining joy,
Was sentenced by the ghost of Achilles
While harsh Pyrrhus prepared his sword;
She, with eyes calm as the air
As patient as a lamb, fixed them
On her mother, and knowing Achilles’ price,
Went uncomplaining to the sacrifice:
132 So confronting Inês, the brute killers,
In that neck of alabaster, which sustained
The very features which transfixed
The prince who afterwards made her queen,
Plunged their swords, as the white
Flowers she had watered with tears
Weltered in blood, lost in their delirium
To any thoughts of the punishment to come.
133 Well might the sun have refused to dawn
On this dreadful day, as when Apollo
Turned from the grim table of Thyestes
When Atreus* served him his own sons!
Only the hollow valleys could hear
Faintly from her bloodless lips,
The name ‘Pedro’, the last thing she would say,
Echoing, echoing, until it died away.
134 Like a daisy, plucked before its time
For its white and lovely petals,
Maltreated in the frivolous hands
Of a maiden weaving a chaplet,
The scent fades and the colours wither:
So it was with the pale maiden,
So from her lovely face the roses fled,
The bloom of life expired, she was dead.
135 The nymphs of Mondego long remembered
That dark death with mourning,
And their tears were transformed
To a fountain in eternal memory;
Its name, ‘the Loves of Inês’,
Who wandered there, still endures.
Fortunate the flowers that bloom above
Such waters, such tears, telling of Love!
136 Little time passed before Pedro
Was avenged* for this mortal injury,
When ascending the kingdom’s throne
He laid hands on the assassins,
Helped by that other Pedro, the Cruel;
Enemies together of human life,
Their pact was as brutal as when Augustus
Conspired with Antony and Lepidus.
137 Known as the Chastiser, he came down hard
On thieves, murderers, and adulterers;
Fiery-tempered, his greatest pleasure
Was imposing the severest punishments;
But he protected the cities justly
From all the arrogance of the nobles;
He brought more thieves to harsher penalties,*
Than Theseus did or wandering Hercules.
138 From just and rigorous Pedro sprang
(Witness Nature’s strange contradictions!)
Gentle Fernando,* lazy and negligent,
Who left the borders defenceless;
At which the King of Castile, seeing
The land unguarded and exposed,
Brought it close to complete devastation;
So a weak king weakens the strongest nation.
139 This was either clear punishment
For the sin of seizing Leonor Teles
From her husband, and marrying her
Deluded by her appearance;
Or perhaps it was that the heart
Given over to lust gets its deserts,
Becoming pliable—they are not wrong
Who claim rutting emasculates the strong.
140 Lust always has the consequences*
God has dealt out to so many:
Such as those who stole the lovely Helen,
Or Appius, as Tarquinius witnessed.
For what else was King David condemned?
Or for what else the illustrious tribe
Of Benjamin? What schooling could be plainer?
For Sarah, Pharaoh, Shechem, for Dinah.
141 And to show how an infatuation
Makes idiots of the mightiest,
Take Hercules, turned transvestite
While his Omphale wore his skin and club.
Mark Antony’s fame was overshadowed
By his obsession with Cleopatra,
And you, too, Hannibal when you betrayed
Your lust for the Apulian peasant maid.
142 Yet what man could for long avoid
The gentle web which love spins,
Between human roses and driven snow,
Gold hair and translucent alabaster?
Or who be unmoved by the pilgrim beauty
Of a face such as might be Medusa’s,
Transfiguring every heart she inspires
Not to stone but volcanic desires?
143 Or take the case of a confident look,
An open, gentle, angelic face,
With the power to transform nature,
Who could take arms against her?
Rightly acquitted is Fernando
By those experienced in love;
While those who are the most disposed to blame
Were never touched by fantasy or flame.
Canto Four
1 After the dark hours of tempest,
Blank night, and the screaming wind,
Morning dawns serene and clear
With hopes of reaching harbour safely;
Sunlight dissolves the thick gloom
Dispelling every foreboding:
So it happened, like the turning of the tide,
For Portugal when King Fernando died.
2 For if our people longed for a hero*
To avenge the crimes and insolence
Of those who had so much prospered
From Fernando’s languor and neglect,
Soon afterwards, they obtained him
In João the First of the House of A
vis,
Of distinction, with abilities to spare,
And (though a bastard) Pedro’s rightful heir.
3 This was ordained by Divine Heaven,
Which spoke its will by many signs,
As when in Évora an infant girl,*
Too young for speech, uttered his name,
Raising herself and her voice in the cradle,
As the voice of the Heavenly Will,
—‘Portugal, Portugal’, she lisped, lifting
Her baby hand, ‘For Dom João! Our new king!’
4 But warped by the hatreds of those days
The people of the kingdom committed
Absolute and outright cruelties,*
Indiscriminately on all sides;
They killed the friends and family
Of the adulterous count, and of the queen
Who, when Fernando died, turned even more
Unashamedly and obviously a whore.
5 The count at last was put to the sword
Dishonourably, in her very presence,
Many others joining him in death,
For the fire, once lit, raged and spread;
Lisbon’s bishop, despite his order,
Was hurled, like Hector’s son, from a tower;
He found in rank and sanctuary no retreat;
His abused corpse was left naked in the street.
6 It put in history’s long shadow
The savagery which Rome witnessed,
At the hands of cruel Marius*
And ferocious Sulla after he had fled.
For Leonor now revealed to the world
Her infatuation with the dead count,
And caused Portugal and Spain mutual slaughter
By insisting the true heir was her daughter.
7 Beatrice was the daughter married
To Juan of Castile, who claimed the throne,
And was said to be Fernando’s child,
If that tale is to be believed.
Castile upheld it, declaring roundly
The daughter should succeed the father,
And from all the different nations of Spain
Assembled his troops* for this new campaign.
8 They came from Burgos which (perhaps)
Derives its name* from ancient Brigo,
The land Fernán González and El Cid
Won back from the Moorish occupation.
Nor did fears dissuade those men
Who spend laborious days hoeing
The plains of León, and who in previous wars
Had proved superb fighting against the Moors.
9 Vandals,* confident in their ancient
Valour, came together from Seville,
That capital city of Andalusia
Which is washed by the Guadalquivir.
And that noble island also rallied,
Once the Phoenicians’ home, their banners
Woven with the pillars of Hercules,*
Insignia of the city of Cadiz.
10 They came, too, from the kingdom of Toledo,
Noble and ancient city, where the Tagus,
Descending from the hills of Cuenca,
Makes a calm and reflective curve.
Nor did danger deter those others,
Galicia’s tough and pungent peasants,
Taking up arms once more against a foe
Whose staying power they sampled long ago.
11 War’s black furies even infected
The people of Biscay, who know nothing
Of polite manners and who bear
Remarks from strangers very ill;
While men from Guipuzcoa and Asturias,
Enriched by their iron mines,
Brandishing to a man their iron swords,
Went to war to assist their overlords.
12 King João, whose strength grew from his heart
As Jewish Samson’s did from his locks,
Though his whole army looked very little,
Made preparation with the little he had;
He took opinion of his principal lords,
Not because he lacked an opinion,
But only to sound out his people’s thoughts,
Divided as they were between the courts.
13 Those who at heart opposed the common will
Were furnished with their excuses;
For their ancient fortitude had decayed
To an untimely faithlessness,
Putting cold, inert cowardice before
That loyalty which is second nature;
Denying king and country, and if enticed
Would, like Peter, deny their very Christ.
14 But never was this true of mighty
Dom Nuno Álvares;* though he saw
His own brothers in clear opposition
He stood his ground and faced them,
Harshly reproaching the inconstant
Will of these vacillating people,
Fist on sword, much angrier than eloquent,
Barking at land and sea and firmament:
15 —‘What? Of the illustrious Portuguese,
Is there one who is not a patriot?
What? In this province, princess
Of warriors everywhere, is there
Anyone who won’t defend it? Who lacks
The faith, love, spirit, and skill
Of the true Portuguese? Have you no pride,
Letting your native land be occupied?
16 ‘What? Do you call yourselves descendants
Of those heroes, who under the banner
Of the valiant and ferocious Henrique*
Put to flight such a vast army?
So many flags, so many nations
Fled that day in such disgrace,
Seven illustrious counts were brought to book,
Not to mention all the booty they took.
17 ‘These, with whom you now have to deal,
Who are they but those regularly dispatched
By sublime Dinis and his sublime son,
Along with your fathers and grandfathers?
But if pitiful Fernando, with his airs,
Has so enfeebled the lot of you,
Our brave new king will stiffen your backbone,
If men change with whoever’s on the throne.
18 ‘You have such a king! Had you courage
To match the king you’ve raised up,
You could conquer anyone you wished
Beyond this one here, who’s already lost!
And if this doesn’t rouse you
From the terror oozing from your pores,
If it’s fear makes you flabby and compliant,
I’ll fight alone against the foreign tyrant.
19 ‘I alone with my men and with this
(At this, he half unsheathed his sword),
Will protect from the pernicious enemy
This land no other has conquered;
In the name of my king and grieving country,
And of the chivalry you now deny,
I’ll send not just these Spaniards packing,
But as many more as come against my king!’
20 As when young Scipio* reassembled
The young men who fled at Canusium,
Tattered remnants of Cannae, resigned
To surrender to Hannibal’s army;
Scipio put spirit in the youths
Making them swear on his drawn sword,
Never to desert Rome while they drew breath
Or when they died to die a soldier’s death:
21 So Nuno put stomach in the people
Who, hearing his last arguments,
Shook off the chill, urgent fear
That had gripped their hearts like ice.
They took to their horses, charging
Up and down the plain in excitement,
Twirling their lances, shouting in high fever,
—‘Viva the king! Viva liberty! Viva!’
22 Among the commoners, pe
ople applauded
The struggle to preserve the country;
Others repaired and polished their weapons
Long tarnished with the rust of peace;
Each armed himself as he could, lining
Helmets, trying on breastplates;
In a thousand different styles they came clothed
With emblems and tokens of their betrothed.
23 In the midst of this dazzling company,
João rode out from cool Abrantes,*
Abrantes which delights in the fresh,
Brimming waters of the Tagus.
Leading the army’s vanguard was a man
Equipped to command the powerful,
Numberless armies of the Orient,
Like that which Xerxes* led across the Hellespont.
24 I speak of Dom Nuno Álvares,
Scourge of the proud Castilians,
As was fierce Attila* long ago
First of the French, then the Romans.
Leading the Portuguese right flank
Was yet another famous knight,
An accomplished commander, the zealous
Mem Rodrigues, of the family Vasconcelos;
25 And on the corresponding flank,
Antão Vasques de Almada* was captain,
Who was later made Count of Avranches,
Commanding the army of the left side.
Then, bringing the rear guard, could be seen
The pennant with its shields and castles
Of João of Avis, every inch a king,
Making war’s burden seem a trivial thing.
26 They thronged Abrantes’s city walls,
Congealed as it were by a joyous fear,
Mothers, sisters, wives, and sweethearts
Vowing to fast, and make pilgrimage.
Soon the martial squadrons arrived
Before the hosts of the enemy,
Who greeted them with a tremendous shout,
Though not a man was not beset by doubt.
27 Trumpets responded with the challenge,
Piercing fifes and the timbrels;
Standard-bearers unfurled the banners
In all their myriad, contrasting colours.
It was the season when, on the threshing-floors,
Ceres rewards the workers with grain;
The sun was in Virgo, the month August;
Bacchus was trampling out the sweet must.
28 The war trumpet of Castile sounded,
Horrifying, savage, mighty, and ominous;
Cape Ortegal* heard it, and the Guadiana
Turned back upstream for fear;
The Douro heard it and the Alentejo;
The Tagus ran anxiously to the sea;
And mothers clutched their little ones fast
To their bosoms, hearing the dreadful blast.
29 Many faces were drained of colour
As their life blood rushed to the heart;
In great danger, our apprehension
Far exceeds the danger; or, if not,
It seems so; for the actual fury
The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics) Page 11
