As the agents of their planned assault;
He said the Arabs came heavily manned
And armed with Vulcan’s thunderbolts;
There was no knowing how the fleet would fare
If they attacked before he could prepare.
8 Da Gama had already begun to sense
Time and the elements beckoned departure,
And not now expecting any proposals
From a king governed by the Muslims,
He gave strict orders to the factors
To return at once to the ships,
But advised, lest they should be forbidden,
To keep their plans and preparations hidden.
9 Even so, it was not long before rumours
Did take wing, and with substance,
That the factors had been captured
As they were seen quitting the city.
When news reached the captain’s ears
He seized as hostages those merchants
Who regularly to the ships would throng
To trade the precious stones they brought along.
10 These merchants were long established,
Wealthy, and well known in Calicut;
Being missed among the men of substance
News spread they were detained at sea.
Meanwhile in the ships, the crew
Were turning the winch, dividing
Their tasks, some at the capstan taking strain,
Others hauling the heavy anchor chain,
11 While yet others hung from the yardarm,
Unfurling the mainsail like a thunderclap
When, amid greater uproar, the king
Was told the ships had weighed anchor.
Panicking, the wives and children,
Of the hostages stormed the palace
Besieging the Samorin, as they yelled
About husbands and fathers that were held.
12 At once, he set the Portuguese factors
Free with all their merchandise,
Overruling the hostile Muslims
To get his own imprisoned people back,
And apologized for his treachery;
Da Gama welcomed the factors more
Than the apologies, then, having put
Some men ashore, he sailed from Calicut.
13 He sailed by the south coast, reflecting
He had laboured in vain* for a treaty
Of friendship with the Hindu king,
To guarantee peace and commerce;
But at least those lands stretching
To the dawn were now known to the world,
And at long last his men were homeward bound
With proofs on board of the India he had found.
14 For he had some Malabaris, seized
From those dispatched by the Samorin
When he returned the imprisoned factors;
He had hot peppers he had purchased;
There was mace from the Banda Islands;
Then nutmeg and black cloves, pride
Of the new-found Moluccas, and cinnamon,
The wealth, the fame, the beauty of Ceylon.
15 He obtained these through the diligence
Of Monsayeed, who was also on board,
Desiring, through heaven’s influence,
To be written in the book of Christ.
O happy African, whom divine
Mercy rescued from his ignorance,
And, so far from his homeland, was blessed
With the means of gaining eternal rest.
16 So there sailed away from the torrid coast
Those happy ships, turning their prows
To where nature ordained her southern
Outpost at the Cape of Good Hope,
Bearing to Lisbon the joyous news
And the response of the Orient,
Fearful, facing a second time the sea’s
Hardships, but hopeful and with minds at ease.
17 The joy of reaching their dear homeland,
Their cherished hearths and families,
To reminisce about their far-flung
Voyage, the various climes and peoples;
Grasping at last the prize attained
Through such travail and such dangers,
For each man the delight was so complete
His brimming heart had scarcely room to beat.
18 Venus the Cyprian, meanwhile, ordained
By Jupiter to guard the Portuguese
And serve as their presiding genius,
Having many years been their guide,
Wished now, as reward for their exploits,
And to compensate their sufferings,
To provide with every power in her employ
On the dreary seas an interval of joy.*
19 And after turning a little in her mind
What vast oceans they had navigated,
What obstacles, what extra toils,
Had been caused by Theban-born Bacchus,
She resolved to indulge an old scheme
To crown their efforts by creating
Some haven of enchantment and repose
In that crystal element from which she rose;
20 Some restful harbour where her sailors
Could restore their spent humanity,
Some recompense for exertions such as
Snip the brief span of our lives.
It seemed right to involve her son
Cupid, for through his great powers
Even deities are dragged through the mire
While humans soar on pinions of desire.
21 Considering this, she resolved further
To make ready for them, in the midst
Of the sea, some divine, enchanted
Isle adorned with greenery and flowers.
For she owned many* in the various
Oceans washing the earth’s shores,
As well as those subject to her decrees
Enclosed within the gates of Hercules.
22 There she intended the sea nymphs
Should wait upon the mighty heroes
—All of them lovely beyond compare,
The eyes’ delight, the heart’s longing—
With dances and singing, secretly
Working on the nymphs’ affections
So with redoubled zeal, each would endeavour
To please her beloved mariner, whoever . . .
23 Such a device* she had once invoked
To greet Anchises’ son, Aeneas,
In that meadow where Dido’s subtlety
Bought Carthage with a bull’s hide.
She sought out Cupid, whose powers alone
Availed her in these matters and who,
Having often in the past done much the same,
Was eager to comply and join her game.
24 She yoked to her chariot white swans
Whose lives are spent lamenting their death;
And doves, like that to which Peristera*
Was transformed as she gathered daisies;
Around the goddess in her aerial
Journey, kisses were exchanged;
Wherever she passed, her gentle influence
Calmed the restless winds and left a silence.
25 Soon she was over the hills of Cyprus
Where her archer son was even then
Marshalling a force of lesser cupids
For an expedition against mankind
To punish the heresy, still prevalent
In these present days, of expending
All their passion (for so they were accused)
On things intended merely to be used.
26 He saw Actaeon,* so austere in the chase,
So blind in his brutish pleasures,
That, to pursue ugly, ferocious beasts
He shunned the lovely female form;
As harsh, sweet punishment, he planned
To unveil to him Diana’s beauty;
Take care, Actaeon you are not supper f
or
The very dogs you now so much adore!
27 He saw, throughout the world, not one
Ruler anxious for the public good;
Whatever love they felt was for
Themselves and for others like them;
He saw that instead of honest truth
The hangers-on at palaces peddle
Flattery, which serves no prince’s need
To separate the growing wheat from weed.
28 He saw those whose duty was to show
God’s love to the poor and charity to all,
Fawning instead on power and wealth,
In a parody of truth and justice;
They call foul tyranny order,
And false severity firmness,
Passing laws in the interest of the king,
While the rights of the people are decreasing.
29 He saw, in short, none loving what they should
But all led astray by perverse desires;
And was no longer willing to postpone
Their harsh but fitting punishment;
He summoned reinforcements, to take
To battle sufficient levies
To establish a proper sense of awe
In all those disobedient to his law.
30 Many of these diminutive flyers
Were engaged in various preparations
Some grinding the points on iron darts,
Some whittling the shafts of arrows.
Working, they sang harmoniously
Of love’s curious workings;
Smooth are the verses, heavenly the tune,
When measured lines and tempered parts commune.
31 In the immortal smithy they forge
The piercing barbs for the arrows;
For fuel, they use burning hearts,
Still palpitating with ardour;
The waters in which the iron is tempered
Are the tears of unhappy lovers;
The living flame, the undiminished fire
Which burns without consuming, is desire.
32 To try their hand, some experiment
On the stony hearts of peasants;
The air hums with the repeated sighs
Of those wounded by the arrows;
Lovely nymphs are at hand to cure
Wounds so received, for their succour
Not only reinvigorates the lovelorn,
But stimulates to life the yet-unborn.
33 Some are beautiful, and others ugly
According to the nature of the wound,
For the poison spreading through the veins
Demands at times drastic treatment;
Some of the victims lie bound in chains,
Through the subtle spells of magicians.
This especially baffles and disturbs
When the arrows are tipped with certain herbs.
34 From shafts so careless and haphazard
Fired by such inexpert cherubs,
Were born among their wounded victims
A thousand ill-assorted passions.
And even among the noblest were seen
Countless cases of profligate love,
Such as happened* to Byblis and Myrrha,
Assyrian Ninyas, and Amnon of Judaea.
35 How often have the hearts of potentates
Been smitten by various shepherdesses,
Or ladies, with rough, common lovers,
Been ensnared in Vulcan’s net?*
Some spend their lives waiting for darkness;
Others scale walls and parapets;
But I believe that lovers so beguiled
Are more so by the mother than the child!
36 But now the white swans were bringing
Her chariot to rest in the lush meadow
And Venus, her countenance radiant
With roses among the snows, stepped down;
The archer, impudent to the heavens,
Welcomed her with a joyful smile;
All around him, his diminutive band
Saluted Love’s goddess and kissed her hand.
37 Not wishing to waste time on courtesies,
She embraced her son, and addressed him
Freely: ‘Beloved son, from whose hand
Now as always, all my powers derive;
You who proved fearless even against
The thunderbolts that killed Typhoeus,*
I come here of necessity to ask
Your expert help in a particular task.
38 ‘You see what hardships the Portuguese
Endure, whom I have so protected
Knowing from my friends, the Fates,
How they worshipped and esteemed me;
And because they copy so uncannily
The deeds of my old Romans, I propose
To show them every kindness, be benign
To the limits of our powers, yours and mine.
39 ‘And because Bacchus, so molested them
In India, with all his treacheries,
And because the heaving ocean alone
May leave them less exhausted than dead,
On those same seas which were always
A threat, I wish them to find repose,
And, for these labours, which can never perish,
Such a reward as memory will cherish.
40 ‘My request is this, that the daughters
Of Nereus, in their watery depths,
Should burn with love for the Portuguese
Who came to discover the new world,
And should assemble and await them
On an island I am preparing
In the midst of the ocean—one supplied
With all Zephyr and Flora* can provide.
41 ‘There with every kind of food and drink,
With fragrant wines, and sweet roses,
In palaces of marvellous crystal,
On lovely couches, themselves more lovely,
In short, with countless special delights,
The amorous nymphs should await them,
Wounded by love, prepared to be tender
To those who desire them, and surrender.
42 ‘I wish to populate* Neptune’s realm
Where I was born, with the strong and beautiful,
And let the base and wicked world
Which challenges your powers, take note,
That neither walls of adamantine
Nor hypocrisy can avail against it;
For who will find on land any quarter
If your fires rage unquenched in the water?’
43 So Venus proposed, and mischievous
Cupid prepared at once to obey her;
He called for his ivory-coloured bow
And steeped the arrowheads in gold.
With a happy, wanton air, the Cyprian
Took her son into her chariot;
Giving rein to the lovely birds* whose long
Requiem for Phaethon is their swan-song.
44 But Cupid said he would need the help
Of a certain, notorious go-between
Who had countless times opposed him
And as often been his companion:
This was the giant goddess Fame,*
Hot-blooded, boasting, lying, truthful,
Who sees, as she goes, with a hundred eyes,
Bringing a thousand mouths to propagandize.
45 They sought her out and sent her ahead
To broadcast from her blaring trumpet
Her acclamation of the mariners,
More than any she had extolled before.
Re-echoing, Fame penetrated
To the deepest caverns of the ocean;
She spoke the truth, and so it was received,
Credulity helping her to be believed.
46 Such praises and the marvellous story
Touched the hearts even of those gods
Bacchus had incensed against the heroes,
And inclined them in their favour;
The goddesses, feminine and fickle
About any opinion they had taken up,
Now condemned it as cruel knavery
To have wished evil on such bravery.
47 Now cruel Cupid fired one by one
His shafts: the sea hummed with the arrows.
Some went straight through the turbulent
Waves, others curved to their mark;
The nymphs capitulated, ardent sighs
Issuing from their innermost hearts;
Each was conquered before she saw her man
For fame can do as much as seeing can.
48 Then bending his bow’s ivory horns
Ruthlessly, the indomitable boy,
Struck Tethys most severely of all
For she of all was the most disdainful.
By now, his quiver was empty, nor
Had one nymph survived in the seas,
For if any of the wounded still bloomed,
It was only to know that they were doomed.
49 But make way, you steep, cerulean waves,
For look, Venus brings the remedy,
In those white, billowing sails
Scudding swiftly over Neptune’s waters;
Now ardent loving can assuage
Female passion, which though constrained
By what modest reluctance may require,
Will do everything Venus could desire.
50 By now, the lovely troop of Nereids
Had arrayed themselves and voyaged
To the island, guided by Venus,
With choric dances in the old style.
There the goddess counselled them
In what she had done a thousand times;
Enslaved by love, and eager to entice,
They drank in every word of her advice.
51 The ships were ploughing their way over
The vast ocean to their dear homeland,
On the look-out for fresh water
For the prolonged voyage ahead,
When with sudden rapture, all at once,
Caught sight of the Isle of Love,
Just as Memnon’s* radiant mother, the dawn
Was heralding a calm and delightful morn.
52 The lovely, verdant island hovered
As Venus wafted it over the waves
(As the wind will convey a white sail)
To where the ships were to be seen;
For to prevent their sailing past
Without making port, as she desired,
Wherever they went, she kept it full in view,
Shifting it, as she had the power to do.
53 But she anchored it on the instant
She saw the mariners speeding towards it,
As Delos* paused when Latona gave birth
To Apollo and Diana, the huntress.
The prows parted the waves to a bay
With a curving, tranquil beach,
Whose white sand, by another of her spells,
The goddess had bestrewn with rosy shells.
54 Three towering peaks came into sight
Thrusting upwards with a noble grace,
The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics) Page 22
