The Lusiads (Oxford World's Classics)

by Luis Vaz de Camoes

  And draped with grassy enamel

  On that lovely, happy, delightful island;

  Clear streams, festooned with creepers,

  Cascaded from the summits,

  Until with soft gurgles and little moans

  They bubbled gently over pearl-white stones.

  55 Between the hills, in a pleasant valley,

  The translucent rivers came together

  To form a lagoon which stretched and brimmed

  With a beauty beyond imagining;

  A charming grove leaned over it

  As if sprucing up its appearance,

  Staring at its crystal-bright reflection,

  Which captured every detail to perfection.

  56 Trees beyond number climbed to the sky

  With luscious, sweet-smelling fruits;

  The orange with its bright lanterns,

  The colour of Daphne’s hair;

  Citron-trees, brushing the ground

  With the weight of their yellow burden;

  And fragrant, moulded lemons which, when pressed,

  Are curved and nippled like a maiden’s breast.

  57 Gracing the hills with their leafy crowns

  Were the various trees* of the forest:

  Hercules’ sacred poplars, laurels

  Once loved and pursued by Apollo,

  Venus’ myrtles, with Cybele’s

  Pines, once her celibate lover,

  And tapering to the heavens, the cypress

  A signpost to perpetual happiness.

  58 Nature, prodigal with her goods

  In all Pomona’s* various guises,

  Careless of husbandry produced,

  Without it, more abundant harvests;

  Cherries, as purple as amoras,

  (Or mulberries, with their name of love);

  The peach, that apple found in Persian fields,

  But grown in exile gives much better yields.

  59 Pomegranates gaped, exposing jewels

  Richer, redder than any rubies;

  Vines threaded the boughs of the elm

  With hanging clusters, purple and green;

  And pear trees were so heavily laden

  They took the shape of pyramids,

  Yielding to a myriad of birds, deft

  With their ravenous beaks, intent on theft.

  60 As for the bright, flowery meadow

  Carpeting the untended ground,

  It exceeded Persia’s finest

  As it graced the valley shade.

  Here Narcissus* drooped his head,

  Above his fated, flawless pool;

  And springing from Adonis’* wound, the flower

  The goddess sighs for, to this very hour.

  61 It was hard to know, seeing in the earth

  And the heavens the self-same colours,

  Whether Dawn had given the flowers

  Their livery, or they her lovely pigments.

  Zephyr and Flora had painted there

  Violets in white, the lovers’ colour;

  Lilies in scarlet, and the new-blown rose,

  Pink as the soft cheeks where it also grows;

  62 There, too, the madonna lily, bedewed

  With dawn’s tears, and marjoram,

  And hyacinths,* the flowers inscribed

  With the very letters of Apollo’s grief.

  Such fruits and flowers made it plain

  Flora was rivalling Pomona.

  If birds were singing as they flew around,

  Joyful animals colonized the ground.

  63 The snowy swan sang from the lake;

  From the bough, the nightingale replied;

  The sight of his horns did not alarm

  Actaeon staring in the crystal water;

  Here a swift hare, or timid gazelle,

  Broke suddenly from the thicket;

  There, with a laden beak, the linnet pressed

  Back with her gift of food to her dear nest.

  64 Amidst all this fresh luxuriance,

  The second Argonauts disembarked,

  Where the lovely nymphs were strolling

  In the forests as if all unaware;

  Some were playing on sweet zithers;

  Some on harps or harmonious flutes;

  Others with gold bows feigned they pursued

  Creatures quite otherwise from those they wooed.

  65 So their expert mistress had advised them;

  They should scatter, roaming in the meadows,

  So the glimpse of uncertain quarry

  Should rouse desire first in the heroes.

  Some, trusting to the unadorned

  Beauty of a glorious body,

  Laid to one side all artifice and fake,

  To languish naked in the crystal lake.

  66 But the sturdy youths, racing up the beach

  In the sheer joy of being on dry land,

  —For no one failed to come ashore—

  And hoping to find woodland game,

  Hardly expected among those hills,

  Without nets or snares, to stumble on prey

  So gentle, so compliant and benign

  As the goddess had drilled in her design.

  67 Some, armed with muskets and crossbows,

  And hoping to get a shot at deer,

  Flung themselves without hesitation

  Into the woodlands and shady thickets.

  Others strolled in cool glades,

  Sheltered from the noon sun,

  Along that tranquil, barely moving reach

  Flowing between the pebbles to the beach.

  68 Suddenly, they began to discern

  Colours between the green boughs,

  Colours which sight and sense judged

  Were too vivid to be flowers,

  But fine wool and variegated silks

  To incite the ardour of lovers,

  As those breathing, human roses veiled part,

  Making themselves more beautiful by art.

  69 Astonished, Veloso gave a great shout:

  —‘Men,’ he said, ‘this is rare hunting!

  If ancient pagan rites survive,

  These woods are sacred to the nymphs.

  We have found more than the human spirit

  Could ever desire: plainly,

  Wonders exist, and marvels are apparent,

  Though the world hides this from the ignorant.

  70 ‘Let us follow these goddesses and see

  If they are fantasies, or flesh!’

  At this, swifter than any stags

  They galloped by the river-banks.

  The nymphs fled between the branches

  But, more contriving than nimble-footed,

  One by one with smiles and little sighs

  They let the greyhounds overtake their prize.

  71 As they were running, their golden tresses

  And flimsy silks were blown aside;

  Desire was redoubled by the glimpse

  Of naked skin, suddenly revealed;

  One tripped on purpose, making it clear

  By signs more tender than indignant,

  Her breathless pursuer along the strand

  Should fall and lie beside her on the sand.

  72 Others, elsewhere, stumbled upon

  The unclothed nymphs who were bathing;

  These began to utter little screams

  As if surprised by such an invasion;

  Some pretending to be troubled less

  By shame than by action, scampered

  Naked into the bush, letting them see

  Just where their itching hands would like to be.

  73 One, resorting faster to the famed

  Modesty of Diana the Huntress

  Hid herself in the lake, as another

  Dashed for her tunic on the bank.

  But at this, a sailor flung himself

  Fully clothed and shod as he was (not

  Bothering to undress for hurry’s sake)

  To quench
his ardour right there in the lake.

  74 As a crafty hunter’s dog, practised

  In retrieving shot birds from the water,

  When he sees the barrel raised to the cheek

  For the usual heron or wild duck,

  Does not wait for the report but sure

  Of the prize, plunges in the lake

  Paddling and yelping: so climbing upon her

  The youth discovered she was no Diana.

  75 Leonard, an accomplished soldier,

  Resourceful, and an amorous knight,

  Whom love had dealt not just one rebuff

  But constant mishaps and reversals,

  Until he was convinced his stars

  Doomed him to frustration, though

  Not quite bereft of hope, nor desperate

  Nothing could be done to change his fate,

  76 Now tried his luck again, pursuing

  Ephyre, beauty’s paragon, who sought

  To bestow more dearly than the others

  What nature gave us to be given.

  Tired already of the chase, he cried

  —‘O beauty, too lovely to be cruel,

  The victory is yours in what you stole,

  But take my body now you have my soul!

  77 ‘The rest, pure nymph, are weary of running,

  And are surrendering willingly;

  Why do you alone fly through the forest?

  Who told you it was I pursuing you?

  If my fortune it was informed you,

  That dogs me everywhere I go,

  Do not believe it, it always deceived

  Immeasurably whenever I believed.

  78 ‘You are tireless, yet tire me! Why run

  To avoid me, when my luck is such

  That even if you halted in my path

  It would prevent my attaining you!

  So halt, if you will! I want to see

  What subtle way it will free you;

  It always happens; no need to press so;

  Tra la spica e la man, qual muro è messo.*

  79 ‘Oh, fly not from me! So may

  Your bloom of beauty never fly!

  You have only to check your furious pace

  To conquer the force of destiny.

  What emperor, what army has the power

  To curb the fury of my fate

  Which makes every ambition turn out ill?

  You can change it, merely by standing still.

  80 ‘Do you make an ally of my misfortune?

  It is weak to give succour to the strong.

  Why kidnap a heart that belongs to you?

  Release me, and run with more ease.

  Why burden yourself with a soul so

  Paltry as this one you have wrapped

  In these threads of gold? Or will you confess

  My luck has altered, so it now weighs less?

  81 ‘In pursuing you, this is my hope;

  Either its burden will prove too much,

  Or by virtue of your lovely face

  My misfortune will change forever.

  If change is coming, flee no longer,

  For love must wound you, gentle maiden,

  And you will stay if you feel love’s fire;

  And if you stay, what more could I desire?’

  82 By now the lovely nymph was fleeing

  Less fast, and was glancing behind her

  To attend the better to his sweet lament

  In his tale of amorous griefs.

  Then, turning her face, benign and tender,

  Wreathed in happiness and smiles,

  She fell in rapture at her victor’s feet

  Who melted utterly in passion’s heat.

  83 What ravenous kisses filled the wood!

  What little moans and tender weeping!

  What sweet caresses! What virtuous anger,

  Yielding to happy, compliant laughter!

  What further happened that morn and noon

  As Venus fanned the flames of love,

  Better to relish than disparage it;

  Let those begrudge who cannot manage it.

  84 And so now the lovely nymphs, in perfect

  Consort with their beloved mariners,

  Bedecked them with delightful garlands

  Of gold and laurel and countless flowers.

  Then offering their milk-white hands,

  With formal vows and covenants,

  Promised with joy and honour to be bound

  Companions through life and for life beyond.

  85 Tethys herself, the greatest among them,

  Whom all the nymphs obey, and said

  To be daughter of Coelus and Vesta

  As her lovely face plainly attests,

  Filling land and sea with wonder,

  Took, as he deserved, the captain

  In a manner both regal and sincere,

  Proving herself a lady without peer.

  86 Then having revealed to him her name,

  She explained, in noble, gracious words,

  Her task, at Fate’s immutable

  Bidding, was to reveal through prophecy

  The still-unmapped continents,

  The oceans as yet unsailed,

  All bound together on this earthly sphere,

  Which Portugal alone deserved to hear.

  87 Taking his hand, she guided him

  To the summit of a holy mountain,

  The setting of a magnificent palace

  Of clear crystal and finest gold.

  There they passed the long day

  In sweet games and continuous pleasure;

  She in her palace loved away the hours,

  Her sisters in the shade among the flowers.

  88 So the brave men and their lovely brides

  Lingered the best portion of the day,

  With a sweet joy they had never known,

  As quittance for their labours;

  Thus the world bestows on great deeds,

  Of special courage and distinction,

  The recompense of long-maturing fame

  And the high glory of an exalted name.

  89 For the ocean nymphs in all their beauty,

  Tethys, and the magic painted island,

  Are nothing more than those delightful

  Honours which make our lives sublime.

  Those glorious moments of pre-eminence,

  The triumphs, the forehead crowned

  With palm and laurel—these are what is meant

  And what this island’s pleasures represent.

  90 Those immortals whom men of antiquity.

  In their love of great deeds, imagined

  Living there on starry Olympus,

  Soaring on fame’s happy pinions

  Through brave acts, or through

  Mighty labours which were thought

  Virtue’s path, rocky and precipitous,

  But ending in delight and happiness,

  91 Were enjoying only those rewards

  The world bestows for the superb,

  Deathless achievements of heroes

  Who, though human, became divine;

  Jupiter, Mercury, Phoebus, and Mars,

  Aeneas, Romulus, and the two Thebans,*

  Ceres, Pallas, Diana, Juno, they

  Were all composed of feeble human clay;

  92 But fame, trumpeting their exploits

  Everywhere added strange titles

  Such as gods, demigods, immortals,

  Deities, heroes, and the like.

  So let all men who covet glory,

  Who value the world’s esteem, rise

  From sloth which exacts its degrading toll,

  Binding in slavery the free-born soul;

  93 Keep Avarice under the strictest curb,

  And Ambition too, with its thousand

  Temptations, and vicious, sombre

  Tyranny, obscene in its exactions;

  Such empty honours, even pure gold,

  Confer no genuin
e distinction;

  Better to merit them and do without

  Than own what true worth will always doubt.

  94 Maintain peace with equitable laws,

  Shielding the poor from levies of the rich,

  Or gird yourself in shining armour

  Against the enemy Saracens;

  You will make your kingdom rich and mighty,

  And all will have more, and none suffer;

  Yours will be deserved wealth, such as thrives,

  And those honours which shed lustre on our lives.

  95 You will bring fame to your beloved king,

  Now with your well-considered counsels,

  Now with your swords which will make you

  Immortal, as your ancestors are today.

  Count nothing impossible! He who will,

  Always can, and will come to be

  Numbered with the great in the arenas,

  And revered in this sanctuary of Venus.

  Canto Ten

  1 By now bright Apollo, once the lover

  Of adulterous Coronis,* was plunging

  His team in the seas which lap

  Mexico, there in the Aztec west;

  Gentle zephyrs tempered his rays

  As he sank in those far lagoons,

  Rippling the waters and reviving sweet

  Lilies and jasmine wilting in the heat;

  2 When the beautiful nymphs with their lovers,

  Hand in hand and in happy accord,

  Approached the radiant palace which dazzled

  With the sheen of glittering metals,

  For Tethys had summoned them and tables

  Laden with exquisite dishes

  Were spread there, all selected to refresh

  And stiffen the sinews of exhausted flesh.

  3 There, two by two, lover by lady,

  They sat on couches of finest crystal;

  And on others at the head, of pure gold,

  Were the goddess and famous da Gama.

  Not Cleopatra’s Egypt could rival

  Those divine, delicious relishes,

  Nor the tawny plates heaped with savouries

  From the rich garden of the Hesperides.

  4 The smoky wines* surpassed in fragrance

  Not only the Falernian of ancient Rome

  But ambrosia, so favoured by Jove

  And all the assembly of the immortals.

  In cups, hard and flawless as diamond,

  The beaded bubbles leaped and frothed

  As ice-cold water was added, to bless

  Every heart there with instant happiness.

  5 Gaily they talked, on a thousand topics,

  With sweet smiles and subtle words,

  Re-awakening their merry appetites

  As various courses came and went;

  Music’s instruments were at hand

  (Which, even in Hell’s eternal suffering

  Persuade tormented spirits to rejoice),

  And the siren sound of an angelic voice.

  6 The lovely nymph sang, and at a pitch