And what of you, unworthy Gaul?*
You took the name ‘most Christian’
Not to defend and cherish and enjoy it
But to rise up against and destroy it!
7 You lay claim to other Christian lands
As if your own were not enough,
So why not to Barbary and Egypt
Historic enemies of the sacred name?
The sword’s razor edge should be tested
On whoever rejects earth’s corner-stone.
Are you Charles’s heir? and Louis’s? You degrade
Their name and land, denying their crusade?
8 And what of those who, in luxury
And the indolence which partners it,
Waste their lives pursuing wealth,
Forgetful of their ancestors’ valour?
Then tyranny gives birth to feuding
As a brave people turns against itself.
It is you I have in mind, Italy,
Enslaved by vice, your own worst enemy!
9 Wretched Christians! Are you sprung
From the dragon’s teeth* sowed by Cadmus,
That you deal murder one to the other
When all are sprung from the same womb?
Do you not see the Holy Sepulchre
Occupied by dogs who now encroach
With one accord against your own terrain,
Their credit soaring with each new campaign?
10 You see how, by practice and requirement
Which they follow to the last degree,
They keep their restless army united
By fighting the followers of Christ.
But with you, the Furies never cease
Sowing the hateful tares of discord.
What safety lies in such a stratagem
—To have two enemies, yourselves and them?
11 If it is greed for vast dominions
Sends you conquering lands not your own,
Have you forgotten the Pactolus and Hermus
With their gold-bearing sands?
In Lydia* they weave with threads of gold;
Africa buries it in shining seams;
Perhaps dreams of such riches will spur you
If the Holy Sepulchre cannot stir you.
12 These dreadful new inventions, guns
And instruments of artillery,
Why not deploy them in action against
The strongholds of Byzantium and Turkey?
Drive the Turkish multitudes back
To the caves of the Caspian mountains
And cold Scythia, before they conjure up
Any more troubles for wealthy Europe.
13 Greeks,* Thracians, Armenians, Georgians,
Cry out to you the brutal people
Are levying children, dragooning them
Into the teachings of the Koran.
In punishing such vile acts,
You would be praised for courage and vision
Far greater than the arrogant renown
Of victories secured against your own.
14 But while in your blind, insane frenzy
You thirst for your brothers’ blood in Christ,
There will be no lack of Christian daring
In this little house of Portugal.
In Africa, they have coastal bases;
In Asia, no one disputes their power;
The New World already feels their ploughshare,
And if fresh worlds are found, they will be there.
15 Let us see, meanwhile, what befell
Those famous mariners, from the moment
Gentle Venus assuaged the blustering
Fury of the contending winds,
And since the goal of all their
Unremitting efforts rose before them,
That great continent, to which they bring
Faith in Christ, new customs and a new king.
16 As they neared the unfamiliar shore
Small fishing-craft surrounded them,
Pointing the course to Calicut*
Where the fishermen had their homes.
There at once they turned their prows,
That city being known as the best
Of the best in Malabar, and the port
Where the country’s ruler maintained his court.
17 Beyond the Indus,* as far as the Ganges,
Lies an enormous, celebrated land,
Extending to the sea in the far south
And to the north the Himalayan caves.
It is ruled by different kings,
Of various faiths; some follow Mohammed,
Some worship idols in their strange tongue,
Some even the animals they live among.
18 There, in the great range which crosses
The continent, for it divides Asia,
Bearing different names in the different
Nations which lie beneath its slopes,
Spring the fountains, the twin sources
Of the rivers whose powerful currents die
In the Indian Ocean, giving the vast spur
Of land the shape of a peninsula.
19 Enclosed by these two river systems
Is a vast country ending in a cape,
Shaped like a pyramid far to the south,
Pointing at the island of Ceylon;
Near the source of the mighty Ganges
So rumour has it, from ancient times,
The people there* have unexampled powers
To subsist on the sweet scents of flowers.
20 Even today, the inhabitants have many
Strange names and startling customs.
Pathans and Delhis are the largest
Both in numbers and their territory;
Those of the Deccan and Orissa look
To salvation in the murmuring waters
Of the Ganges; and then there is Bengal,
A land so fertile it transcends them all;
21 And then the warrior kingdom of Cambay
(Once ruled, they say, by the great Porus*);
And the powerful kingdom of Narsinga
Richer in gems and gold than soldiers.
But here, rising from the restless sea,
A mountain range parallels the coast
And serves Malabar as a barrier,
Protecting it from neighbouring Kanara.
22 People who live there call it ‘the Ghats’,
And at its foot, for a little distance,
There runs a narrow strip, exposed
To the sea’s instinctive ferocity.
Here, of all other towns, Calicut
Is undisputed head, beautiful
And prosperous, a city to glory in;
Its ruler is known as the Samorin.
23 As the fleet anchored off this rich domain,
One of the Portuguese was dispatched
To make known to the Hindu king
Their arrival from such distant shores.
He left the estuary for the river,
Where the like never having been witnessed,
His pale skin, his garments, and strange air
Brought crowds of people hurrying to stare.
24 Among those who came running to see him
Was a Mohammedan* born in Barbary,
That region where in ancient times
The giant Antaeus held sway.
Either he knew it as a neighbour,
Or was already marked by its swords,
But Portugal he knew at all events
Though fate had exiled him a long way thence.
25 Catching sight of the envoy, he exclaimed
In delight, and in fluent Castilian
—‘Who brought you to this other world
So far from your native Portugal?’
—‘Exploring,’ he replied, ‘the vast ocean
Where no human being ever sailed;
We come in search of the River Indus;
To spread the faith of Christ is our purpose.’
>
26 The Muslim, whose name was Monsayeed,
Was astounded by the immense voyage,
And the great sufferings undergone
At sea, as the envoy recounted them.
But discerning his main intelligence
Was only for the Samorin’s ears,
He said the palace, where king held court,
Lay beyond the town, but the road was short.
27 Meanwhile, as news of this unique arrival
Was conveyed to the king, he was welcome
To relax in his home, poor though it was,
And sample the food of the country;
Then, after the envoy had rested,
He would return with him to the ships,
For there were few delights so salutary
As meeting neighbours in a foreign country.
28 The Portuguese complied readily
With all the smiling Monsayeed proposed;
He ate and drank and followed his lead
As if their friendship was long-standing.
Afterwards, both of them left the city
For the fleet Monsayeed recognized,
Visiting the flagship, where all on board
Welcomed the Muslim with a friendly word.
29 The captain embraced him, overjoyed
To hear clearly the accents of Castile;
He sat, and calmly plied him with questions
About India and all its ways.
And as the trees in ancient Rhodope,*
Charmed by the golden lute of Orpheus,
Eurydice’s lover, crowded to the fore,
So the crew pressed to listen to the Moor.
30 —‘You people,’ he began, ‘whom nature made
Neighbours of my own dear homeland,
What chance, what stroke of destiny
Led you to embark on such a passage?
Some deep, hidden purpose brings you
From the far Tagus and obscure Minho,
To voyage on dangerous and unsailed seas
To kingdoms so remote and strange as these.
31 ‘Surely, God brought you here, purposing
Some task of his own performed by you;
Why else would He guide you, and protect you
From enemies, the sea, and the angry winds?
You are now in India, with its various
Peoples who prosper and grow rich
From gold and sweet perfumes and peppercorns,
Cardamoms, hot chillies, and precious stones.
32 ‘This country, in which you have now
Made harbour is known as Malabar;
From time immemorial it worshipped idols,
A practice widespread in these parts;
Today, it has many different kings,
But in former times only one;
Their traditions claim the last imperial
Governor was one Sarama Perimal.*
33 ‘But then, when others invaded the land,
Descending from the Gulf of Arabia,
Bringing with them the faith of Mohammed
In which my own parents instructed me,
It happened that their wise and eloquent
Preachers converted Perimal,
Who adopted their faith with such fervour
He resolved he would die a holy mullah.
34 ‘He fitted out ships, carefully stowed
With offerings of rich merchandise,
And embarked to live a life of prayer
Where the Prophet rests in Medina.*
Before he sailed, he divided
His mighty kingdom, there being
No natural heir: he chose the most worthy,
So poor men became rich, and subjects free.
35 ‘To one he gave Cochin,* to another
Cannanore, then Chale, and the Pepper Isle,
And Quilon and to another Cranganore,
According to their talents and service.
But a young man, whom he much loved,
Appeared at court after all was given:
Calicut remained, so the youth was made,
King of a noble city, enriched by trade.
36 ‘On him, too, he conferred the title
Emperor, setting him above the rest.
This done, he departed for Arabia
To live and die in sanctity.
And so the great name of Samorin,
The most powerful in the land, passed
From the youth and his descendants, down
To the Samorin who now wears the crown.
37 ‘The people, rich and poor alike, share
One religion, a tissue of fables.
They go naked, with only a loincloth
To cover what instinct makes us hide.
There are two kinds of people, the Nairs
Are the aristocrats, while all the rest
Are Pariahs, and their type are classed
Unfit to marry with the ancient caste.
38 ‘For those who practise a given craft
May not take a wife from another skill;
Nor may their sons follow any calling,
But that of their fathers until death.
For the Nairs, it is a defilement
To be touched by them, and so much so,
If a Pariah by chance brushes by him
It takes a thousand rites to purify him.
39 ‘In the same way, the ancient Jews
Would not touch the Samaritan people.
But you will see stranger things than this
In this land with its different customs.
Only Nairs are allowed to venture
Their lives for the king, bearing
As the mark of their privilege to fight,
A shield on their left arm, sword on the right.
40 ‘Their priests are known as Brahmins,
An ancient and venerable title;
They are disciples of Pythagoras,*
Who gave philosophy its name;
They will not kill any living creature
And meticulously abstain from meats;
Only in matters of love is their goal
Greater indulgence and less self-control.
41 ‘They share their wives, but strictly
Between those of their husband’s line;
Happy the circumstance, happy the people
Untouched by the pangs of jealousy!
These, and many different customs,
Are practised by the Malabaris.
The land is prospering, with mercantile
Goods of all kinds from China to the Nile.’
42 So the Muslim spoke. By this time, rumours
Were flying throughout the city
About the coming of strangers, when
The Samorin sought to learn the truth.
So pacing the streets, and thronged
By young and old of both sexes,
Came courtiers, sent by the king to greet
The captain of this newly anchored fleet.
43 Da Gama, who now had the king’s licence
To disembark, left for the shore
Without delay, gorgeously robed
And attended by knights of Portugal;
The bright, contrasting colours
Made the onlookers buzz with excitement;
The oars stroked, in regular manœuvre,
First the salt sea, then the fresh river.
44 On the beach was an official of the king
Known in his own tongue as ‘Catual’,
And surrounded by Nairs, who awaited
The noble da Gama with rare excitement.
As he landed, the Catual embraced him
And conducted him to a palanquin,
A richly cushioned chair which the holders
Lift, and bear along upon their shoulders.
45 So the Malabari and the Lusitanian
Set out to where the king was waiting;
The other Portuguese went on foot,
&
nbsp; Like a fearsome group of infantry.
The town people were bemused
By the unfamiliar sight and would have
Questioned them, had not the Tower of Babel
In ancient times made that impossible.
46 As they went, da Gama and the Catual
Conversed as opportunity provided,
Monsayeed, between them, interpreting
Those of their words which he understood.
So, journeying across the city,
They came to a richly furbished
Temple, at which the palanquin made pause,
And together they entered by the doors.
47 Inside were images of their gods
Fashioned in wood and cold stone,
The faces and colours as discordant
As if the Devil had devised them.
The carvings were repulsive, like
The Chimera with its different members;
The Christians, used to seeing God portrayed
In human form, were baffled and dismayed.
48 One had horns* protruding from its head,
Like Jupiter Ammon of Libya;
Another had two faces on one trunk,
As Janus was shown in Roman times;
Another had so many different arms
It seemed modelled on Briareus;
Yet another had a dog’s proboscis
Like the idol of Anubis at Memphis.
49 Here, the Hindu idolater made
His superstitious obsequies, then
Without more diversion they continued
To the king of those credulous people.
As they passed, the crowds swelled,
Pressing to see the strange captain;
From every window and roof-top, there hung
Men, women, married, single, old, and young.
50 Borne swiftly along, they soon drew near
The bright, sweet-smelling gardens
That hid the royal dwelling from view
For though sumptuous, it had no towers;
The noble palaces were spread
Among groves of delightful trees,
For the kings of that land contrive to dwell
In the city and countryside as well.
51 On the gates of the surrounding wall
Were carvings worthy of Daedalus,
Depicting the rulers of India
From her most remote antiquity.
The happenings of that ancient age
Were so strikingly presented
That anyone who studied them with care
Read truth in the shadows depicted there.
52 One showed a mighty army marching
East along the banks of the Hydaspes;*
A general led them, with a carefree face,
Who made war with fronds of thyrsus
(It was he built Nysa, on the bank
Of that same abundant river);
Were Semele near, so well was the work done,
She could not fail to recognize her son.
53 Further along, drinking the river dry,
The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics) Page 18
