As her champion in that affair;
The eleven insisted that their business
Should be carried through at the English court,
For the ladies would gain their victory
Though two of their knights died, or even three.
60 ‘Raised on high in an open theatre
Sat the King of England with all his court;
They were seated, without formality,
In their groups of threes and fours;
Never from the Tagus to the Bactrus*
Did the sun shine on twelve knights
Who, for valour and strength, could equal these
English facing the eleven Portuguese.
61 ‘The horses, champing their gold bits,
Foamed at the mouth, showing their spirit;
The sun’s rays glanced from the armour
As from crystal or hard diamond;
From all sides it was being judged
An ill-matched and unfair contest,
Eleven with a dozen; but then a loud
Buzz of excitement passed across the crowd.
62 ‘The spectators craned their necks to see
What was causing the commotion,
When a knight rode in on horseback,
Wearing full armour, ready for combat;
To the king and the ladies, he made salute,
And joined the eleven, and it was Magriço,
Embracing each companion as his friend
And proving he was faithful to the end.
63 ‘His lady, hearing this was the knight
Come to champion her name and honour,
Rejoiced and dressed in a cloth of that gold
The unworthy prize more than virtue.
The signal given, trumpets sounded,
Inciting the warriors to battle;
At once, pricking their spurs, they loosened rein,
Aimed their lances, and struck fire from the plain.
64 ‘The thundering of the horses’ hoofs
Made the whole battle-ground tremble;
The hearts of all those who were watching
Thumped with exhilaration and terror.
One flies rather than falls from his horse;
One falling to the earth with his horse, groans;
One’s white armour is soaked with bloody spume;
One whips his horse’s flank with his helmet plume.
65 ‘Some in those lists found perpetual sleep,
Making an end of life’s brief span;
Some horses went running riderless,
Some riders staggered without horses.
English pride was hurled from its throne
As two or three abandoned the cause;
Those who returned with their swords to the field
Encountered worse than harness, mail, and shield.
66 ‘To expend words on lurid descriptions
Of frantic blows and terrible thrusts
Is for poetasters whom we know
Waste our time with their empty fables;
Sufficient to end with what is certain
That, with many resounding exploits,
To our side fell the palm of victory
And to the ladies, honour, and glory.
67 ‘The Duke regaled the victorious twelve
With feasting and revelry in his palace;
The lovely company of the ladies
Kept huntsmen and cooks occupied
As they sought to give their liberators
Countless banquets daily, hourly,
While they were guests in England, until all
Returned at last to their loved Portugal.
68 ‘Except great Magriço, whom they report
Was still ambitious to see the world,
And remained to render notable
Service to the Countess of Flanders;
For being now no longer a novice
In the lists or open combat,
He killed a Frenchman, as if his fate was
To imitate Corvinus and Torquatus.*
69 ‘Another of the twelve* betook himself
To Germany and fought a duel
With a German who, with an underhand
Thrust, tried to kill him treacherously.’
Veloso was continuing when the crew
Interrupted, saying he should not digress
From the tale of Magriço and his fate;
The affair of him in Germany could wait.
70 But just then, as they were listening,
The bo’sun who was watching the weather
Blew on his whistle and, springing to life,
The mariners rushed to their posts;
Then, because the breeze was freshening,
He shouted to reef the foretopsails:
‘Jump to it,’ he said. ‘The horizon’s shook off
A black cloud there, I don’t like the look of.’
71 Scarcely were the topsails taken in
When a sudden, almighty tempest* broke.
—‘Strike,’ yelled the bo’sun with a great shout,
‘Strike,’ he bellowed, ‘strike the main sail!’
The angry winds give them no time
To react but, smacking the sail head on,
Ripped it to pieces with a clap like thunder
As if the very globe was rent asunder.
72 In the sudden panic and confusion, all
Pierced the heavens with their cries,
For with the tearing of the sail, the vessel
Keeled, shipping torrents of water.
—‘Lighten ship,’ said the bo’sun at once.
‘All together! Everything overboard!
You others to the pumps. Hurry, or down
We go! Look alive! It’s pump or drown!’
73 The willing soldiers clambered at once
To man the pumps but as they reached them
The pitching, as dire seas punched
The vessel, hurled them to the deck.
Three mariners, hardened and brawny,
Were not enough to manage the helm;
They fixed block and tackle on either side,
But skill was futile, and their strength defied.
74 The winds could not have been more violent,
Gusting with greater ferocity,
Had they been levelling to the ground
The formidable Tower of Babel.
In mountainous seas which leaped
Higher by the minute, the ship
Wallowed from side to side like a ship’s boat,
Astounding everyone she stayed afloat.
75 Paulo da Gama’s warship was all but
Foundering, the mainmast snapped in two,
And the crew were loud in their cries
To Him who came to save the world.
The winds snatched and tossed aside
Similar prayers from Coelho’s caravel,
Though the bo’sun with foresight had contrived
To strike sail just as the storm arrived.
76 By now, furious Neptune’s waves
Were piling up to the clouds, then
Yawning as if to the innermost
Entrails of the deepest depths;
Winds from all quarters sought
To smash the very fabric of the world;
Blue lightning crackled in the pitch-black night,
And the whole heavens were ablaze with light.
77 All along the storm-swept coast
The Halcyon birds* raised their lament,
Recalling those tears so long ago
Provoked by the raging waters.
The lovesick dolphins, all this while,
Hid in their underwater caves,
Fleeing the breakers and relentless gale,
Yet even there they trembled and grew pale.
78 Never was such lightning forged
Against the overweening Titans
By the muscular, sooty blacksmith*
Wh
o wrought Aeneas’ shining armour;
Not even Jove himself hurled
Such thunderbolts in that deluge
When survived only Pyrrha and Deucalion
Who cast stones to fashion women and men.
79 How many mountains were toppled that day
By the frantic lashing of the waves!
How many ancient trees uprooted
By the wind’s unremitting fury!
Those buttress roots never foresaw
One day they would stare at the sky,
Nor the sands of the deep that oceans might
Swirl their sediments to such a height.
80 Vasco da Gama, realizing that close
To his goal he was about to drown,
Watching the seas, now gaping to hell,
Now mounting in fury to the heavens,
Confused by fears, unsure of life
Where no human help could avail,
Cried out to Him, from the depths of despair,
To whom all things are possible, this prayer:
81 —‘Divine guardian, merciful providence,
Who art Lord of earth, sea, and heaven;
You, who guided the children of Israel*
Through the waters of the Red Sea;
You, who delivered St Paul in safety
From the quicksands of Syrtes;
Who saved Noah with his sons, and bade him
Be to the drowned world a second Adam;
82 ‘Must I endure* another Scylla
And Charybdis like those we have passed,
More gulfs like Syrtes with its quicksands,
More rocks like the Acroceraunia?
At the climax of so many travails,
Why, O God, do you now forsake us?
Where is the offence? How are we to blame
For this service undertaken in Thy name?
83 ‘Blessed are those who met their death
At the point of an African lance,
Upholding the sacred law of Christ
In the deserts of Mauretania!
Whose illustrious deeds are exalted,
Whose memories are still fresh,
Who became immortal through the lives they gave,
For Death is sweet when Honour shares the grave.’
84 As he uttered this prayer the winds howled,
Butting like a herd of wild bulls,
Lashing the storm to greater fury,
And screaming through the shrouds;
The fork-lightning never paused;
Thunder hammered as if bent on
Demolishing the seven firmaments
As battle raged between the elements.
85 But now the amorous star,* morning’s
Messenger dawned on the horizon,
Heralding the sun, and surveying
Land and sea with her bright face.
Venus, whose star it is, making
Orion with his sword turn tail,
Gazed below at the fleet she held so dear
And was seized at once by anger mixed with fear.
86 —‘This is, for certain, Bacchus’ work,
But it will do him no good,’ she vowed,
‘Now, as will always happen,
I know exactly what harm he intends.’
So saying, she sped in an instant,
Down from the sky to the broad ocean,
Instructing her ardent nymphs to wear
Chaplets of sweet rosebuds in their hair.
87 Chaplets, she advised, in varied colours
Contending with their golden hair;
Who could tell the flowers were not springing
Naturally from the gold Love braided?
Her plan was to appease through love
The horrid regiment of the winds,
By displaying her dear Nereids, who are
Unmatched for radiance by any star.
88 So it proved, for as soon as the gales
Glimpsed them, the virulence
Of their combat dwindled, and they
Surrendered like a beaten army;
Their hands and feet seemed entangled
By that hair which outshone the sun.
The lovely Orithyia* played her part
With Boreas, for whom she yearned at heart;
89 —‘Do not assume, fierce Boreas, I am
Seduced by your oaths of constancy;
Tenderness is love’s surest sign
And fury does not rhyme with fidelity;
If you cannot rein in your madness,
From this day forward, do not expect
To take me as your lover any longer
For my fear of you will always be stronger.’
90 So, too, the beautiful Galatea
Admonished fierce Notus,* for she knew
How long he had been watching her
And that she could tempt him to anything.
The wild one could not believe his luck,
His heart thumping in his breast,
And keen to know what was the lady’s game,
Cared not a scrap how pliable he became.
91 In the same manner, the other nymphs
Swiftly tamed the remaining lovers;
Soon they had surrendered to lovely Venus
All their anger and their tumult;
She promised, seeing them so fond,
Her eternal favour in their amours,
Receiving in her lovely hands their homage,
And their promise of a prosperous voyage.
92 At this, bright dawn broke in those heights
Where the River Ganges has its source,
As the sailors, aloft at the mast head,
Saw mountains glimmering before the prow.
Now, after the storm and the long,
Pioneer voyage, their fears subsided.
Then cheerfully said their Malindian pilot,
—‘That land ahead is surely Calicut!*
93 ‘This is the land you have been seeking,
This is India rising before you;
Unless you desire yet more of the world,
Your long task is accomplished.’
Rejoicing to see he knew the country,
Da Gama contained himself no longer
But knelt on deck, arms raised towards the sky,
And gave his heartfelt thanks to God on high.
94 He gave thanks to God, as well he should,
Not only for guiding him to the coast
He had voyaged to with so many fears
And through such enduring travails,
But more that, in the face of death
Devised by the winds and the cruel
Waves, God had been so prompt to redeem
Them, like awakening from some dreadful dream.
95 For indeed, it is through such perils,
Such wearisome and fearful labours,
That those for whom fame is the spur
Achieve honour and lasting esteem;
Not by depending on an ancient name
Or a long lineage of ancestors,
Nor sprawling on gold beds made comfortable
By furs of the finest Russian sable,
96 Nor with new and exquisite recipes,
Nor relaxing, local excursions,
Nor society’s teeming pleasures
Which emasculate noble hearts;
Nor by surrendering to his appetites,
Nor by allowing his sweet fortune
So to pamper him that a man never
Embarks upon some virtuous endeavour;
97 But by seeking out, with a strong arm,
Honours he can make truly his own,
Vigilant, clothed in forged steel,
Exposed to gales and tempestuous seas,
Conquering the numbing cold
Of the deep, inhospitable south,
Eating corrupt rations day after day,
Seasoned only by the hardships of the way;
98 And by instructing th
e face, white with shock,
To look resolute and cheerful
As the hot cannon-ball whistles
And takes the arm or leg of a comrade.
So the heart develops a callous
Honourable contempt for titles
And wealth, rank, and money, which Destiny
Counterfeits, but is never Virtue’s way.
99 So one’s judgement grows enlightened,
And experience brings serenity,
Studying, as from a great height
Mankind’s pettiness and confusion;
Such a person, if order and justice
Prevail, and not self-interest,
Will rise (as he must) to great position,
But reluctantly, and not through ambition.
Canto Seven
1 At long last, they were nearing the land
So many others before had longed for,
Spread out between the River Indus
And the Ganges which rises in Eden.
Courage, heroes! You have aspired
So long to bear the victor’s palm,
You have arrived! The land of your pleasure
Extends before you, with all its treasure!
2 To you, heirs of Lusus, I have this to say:
Your share of the earth is a small one,
And small, too, your portion of Christ’s
Fold,* shepherded from Heaven;
You, whom no forms of danger
Prevented from conquering the infidel,
Nor greed, nor reluctance in sacrifice
To the Holy Mother of God in paradise;
3 You, Portuguese, as few as you are valiant,
Make light of your slender forces;
Through martyrdom, in its manifold forms,
You spread the message of eternal life;
Heaven has made it your destiny
To do many and mighty deeds
For Christendom, despite being few and weak,
For thus, O Christ, do you exalt the meek!
4 Consider the Germans,* haughty stock
Who graze on such rich meadows,
In revolt against Peter’s successor
Devising a new pastor, a new creed;
Look at the hideous wars they wage
(As if blind error were not enough!),
And not against the overbearing Turk
But against the Emperor in his holy work.
5 Look at that rough Englishman,* self-styled
King of the ancient, most Holy City,
Where the Muslims are now in control
(What title was ever so fraudulent?),
Disporting amid his northern snows
With a new brand of the faith, as against
Christ’s people he directs his stratagem
Instead of winning back Jerusalem.
6 While an infidel monarch occupies
The earthly city of Jerusalem,
He violates the most sacred law
Of the Jerusalem in the heavens.
The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics) Page 17
