Luís de Camões

“ To the gale
With eager hands they spread the fore-mast sail.
But love's fair queen the secret fraud beheld:
Swift as an arrow o'er the battle-field,
From heaven she darted to the watery plain,
And call'd the sea-born nymphs, a lovely train,
From Nereus sprung; the ready nymphs obey,
Proud of her kindred birth, and own her sway.
She tells what ruin threats her fav'rite race;
Unwonted ardour glows on every face;
With keen rapidity they bound away,
Dash'd by their silver limbs, the billows grey
Foam round: Fair Doto, fir'd with rage divine,
Darts through the wave ”

“ O'er Neptune's trembling realm triumphant ride.
O wondrous fate! when not a breathing gale
Shall curl the billows, or distend the sail,
The waves shall boil and tremble, aw'd with dread,
And own the terror o'er their empire spread.
That hostile coast, with various streams supplied,
Whose treacherous sons the fountain's gifts deny'd;
That coast shalt thou behold his port supply,
Where oft thy weary fleets in rest shall lie.
Each shore which weav'd for him the snares of death,
To him these shores shall pledge their offer'd faith ”

“ From every sword descends the feeble blow;
Till rage grew languid, and tired slaughter found
No arm to combat, and no breast to wound.
Now from the field Castile's proud monarch flies,
In wild dismay he rolls his maddening eyes,
And leads the pale-lipt flight, swift wing'd with fear,
As drifted smoke; at distance disappear,
The dusty squadrons of the scatter'd rear;
Blaspheming heaven, they fly, and him who first
Forged murdering arms, and led to horrid wars accurst.
The festive days by heroes old ordain'd
The glorious victor on the field remain'd. ”

“ Obscene with gore, and bark'd with human blood:
Then thou, beloved of heaven, my counsel hear;
Right by the coast thine onward journey steer,
Till where the sun of noon no shade begets,
But day with night in equal tenor sets.
A sovereign there, of generous faith unstain'd,
With ancient bounty, and with joy unfeign'd
Your glad arrival on his shore shall greet,
And soothe with every care your weary fleet.
And when again for India's golden strand
Before the prosperous gale your sails expand,
A skilful pilot oft in danger try'd,
Of heart sincere, shall prove your faithful guide. ”

“ A potent empire in the east shall rear,
Surpassing Babel's or the Persian fame,
Proud Grecia's boast, or Rome's illustrious name.
Oft from these brilliant seats have you beheld
The sons of Lusus on the dusty field,
Though few, triumphant o'er the numerous Moors,
Till, from the beauteous lawns on Tago's shores
They drove the cruel foe. And oft has heaven
Before their troops the proud Castilians driven;
While Victory her eagle-wings display'd
Where-e'er their warriors waved the shining blade,
Nor rests unknown how Lusus' heroes stood
When Rome's ambition dy'd the world with blood ”

“ That yet on me thy kindest smiles await!
Ah heaven! and must that valour which I love
Awake the vengeance and the rage of Jove!
Yet mov'd with pity for my fav'rite race
I speak, though frowning on thine awful face
I mark the tenor of the dread decree,
That to thy wrath consigns my sons and me.
Yes! let stern Bacchus bless thy partial care,
His be the triumph, and be mine despair.
The bold advent'rous sons of Tagos clime
I loved—alas! that love is now their crime:
O happy they, and prosp'rous gales their fate,
Had I pursued them with relentless hate! ”

“ He, with an old man's wintry eye, surveys
The youth's fond love, and coldly with it weighs
The people's murmurs of his son's delay
To bless the nation with his nuptial day.
(Alas, the nuptial day was past unknown,
Which, but when crown'd the prince could dare to own.)
And with the fair one's blood the vengeful sire
Resolves to quench his Pedro's faithful fire.
Oh, thou dread sword, oft stain'd with heroes' gore,
Thou awful terror of the prostrate Moor,
What rage could aim thee at a female breast,
Unarm'd, by softness and by love possest! ”

“ Of arms on armour rattling; either van
Are mingled now, and man opposed to man:
To guard his native fields the one inspires,
And one the raging lust of conquest fires:
Now with fixt teeth, their writhing lips of blue,
Their eye-balls glaring of the purple hue,
Each arm strains swiftest to impel the blow;
Nor wounds they value now, nor fear they know,
Their only passion to offend the foe.
In might and fury, like the warrior god,
Before his troops the glorious Nunio rode:
That land, the proud invaders claim'd, he sows
With their spilt blood, and with their corpses strews ”

“ Ye timerous herd, are ye the genuine line Of those illustrious shades, whose rage divine, Beneath great Henry's standards awed the foe, For whom ye tremble, and would stoop so low! That foe, who, boastful now, then basely fled, When your undaunted sires the hero led, When seven bold earls in chains the spoil adorn'd, And proud Castile through all her kindreds mourn'd, Castile, your awful dread—yet, conscious, say, When Dinez reign'd, when his bold son bore sway, By whom were trodden down the bravest bands
That ever march'd from proud Castilia's lands? ”

“ Disgraced his honours——On the nymph's lorn head
Relentless rage its bitterest rancour shed:
Yet such the zeal her princely lover bore,
Her breathless corse the crown of Lisbon wore.
'Twas thou, O love, whose dreaded shafts control
The hind's rude heart, and tear the hero's soul;
Thou ruthless power, with bloodshed never cloyed,
'Twas thou thy lovely votary destroyed.
Thy thirst still burning for a deeper woe,
In vain to thee the tears of beauty flow;
The breast that feels thy purest flames divine,
With spouting gore must bathe thy cruel shrine. ”

“ The faithless race, with smiles and gestures gay,
Their skiffs forsaking, GAMA's ships ascend,
And deep to strike the treacherous blow attend.
On shore the truthless monarch arms his bands,
And for the fleet's approach impatient stands:
That soon as anchor'd in the port they rode
Brave GAMA's decks might reek with Lusian blood:
Thus weening to revenge Mozambic’s fate,
And give full surfeit to the Moorish hate;
And now, their bowsprits bending to the bay
The joyful crew the ponderous anchors weigh,
Their shouts the while resounding. ”

“ Through Lisbon's youth the kindling ardour ran,
And bold ambition thrill'd from man to man;
And each the meanest of the venturous band
With gifts stood honour'd by the sovereign's hand.
Heavens! what a fury swell'd each warrior's breast,
When each, in turn, the smiling king addrest!
Fired by his words the direst toils they scorn'd,
And with the horrid lust of danger fiercely burn'd.
With such bold rage the youth of Mynia glow'd,
When the first keel the Euxine surges plow'd ”

“ And all my monarch's foes shall heap the plain.
The hero paused—'Twas thus the youth of Rome,
The trembling few who 'scaped the bloody doom
That dy'd with slaughter Cannæ's purple field,
Assembled stood, and bow'd their necks to yield;
When nobly rising with a like disdain
The young Cornelius raged, nor raged in vain:
On his dread sword his daunted peers he swore,
(The reeking blade yet black with Punic gore)
While life remain'd their arms for Rome to wield,
And but with life their conquer'd arms to yield.
Such martial rage brave Nunio's mien inspired ”

“ The valiant prince his little army led:
Dire was the shock; the deep-riven helms resound,
And foes with foes lie grappling on the ground.
Yet though around the stripling's sacred head
By angel hands etherial shields were spread;
Though glorious triumph on his valour smiled,
Soon on his van the baffled foe recoil'd:
With bands more numerous to the field he came,
His proud heart burning with the rage of shame.
And now in turn, Guimaria's lofty wall,
That saw his triumph, saw the hero fall:
Within the town immured, distrest he lay,
To stern Castilia's sword a certain prey. ”

“ Here we perceived our venturous keels had past,
Unharm'd, the southern tropic's howling blast;
And now approach'd dread neptune's secret reign,
Where the stern power, as o'er the austral main
He rides, wide scatters from the polar star
Hail, ice, and snow, and all the wintry war.
While thus attentive on the beach we stood,
My soldiers, hastening from the upland wood,
Right to the shore a trembling negro brought,
Whom on the forest-height by force they caught,
As distant wander'd from the cell of home,
He suck'd the honey from the porous comb. ”

“ Beheld our danger: still, O still prevent,
Where human foresight fails, the dire intent,
The lurking treason of the smiling foe;
And let our toils, our days of lengthening woe,
Our weary wanderings end. If still for thee,
To spread thy rites, our toils and vows agree,
On India's strand thy sacred shrines to rear,
Oh, let some friendly land of rest appear!
If for thine honour we these toils have dar'd,
These toils let India's long-sought shore reward.
So spoke the chief: The pious accents move
The gentle bosom of celestial love:
The beauteous queen to heaven now darts away ”

“ Whose prince in tears, to view his mangled woe,
Forgot the joy for Babylon's o'erthrow.
And now the youthful hero shines in arms,
The banks of Tagus echo war's alarms:
O'er Ourique's wide campaign his ensigns wave,
And the proud Saracen to combat brave.
Though prudence might arraign his fiery rage
That dared, with one, each hundred spears engage,
In heaven's protecting care his courage lies,
And heaven, his friend, superior force supplies.
Five moorish kings against him march along,
Ismar the noblest of the armed throng ”

“ Beneath one standard march'd so dread a host:
Such the dire fierceness of their brutal rage,
Pale are our bravest youth as palsied age.
By night our fathers' shades confess their fear,
Their shrieks of terror from the tombs we hear:
To stem the rage of these unnumber'd bands,
Alone, O sire, my gallant husband stands;
His little host alone their breasts oppose
To the barb'd darts of Spain's innumerous foes:
Then haste, O monarch, thou whose conquering spear
Has chill'd Malucca's sultry waves with fear ”

“ Their shining spears and banner'd moons are seen.
But holy rites the pious king preferr'd;
The martyr's bones on Vincent's cape interr'd
(His sainted name the cape shall ever bear) ,
To Lisboa's walls he brought with votive care.
And now the monarch, old and feeble grown,
Resigns the falchion to his valiant son.
O'er Tago's waves the youthful hero past,
And bleeding hosts before him shrunk aghast:
Choak'd with the slain, with moorish carnage dy'd,
Sevilia's river roll’d the purple tide.
Burning for victory, the warlike boy
Spares not a day to thoughtless rest or joy. ”

“ From his black ships the sudden lightnings blaze,
And o'er old ocean flash their dreadful rays:
White clouds on clouds inroll'd the smoke ascends,
The bursting tumult heaven's wide concave rends:
The bays and caverns of the winding shore
Repeat the cannon's and the mortar's roar:
The bombs, far-flaming, hiss along the sky
And whirring through the air the bullets fly;
The wounded air, with hollow deafened sound,
Groans to the direful strife, and trembles round.
Now from the Moorish town the sheets of fire,
Wide blaze succeeding blaze, to heaven aspire. ”