About this book

The Lusiad; Or, The Discovery of India, an Epic Poem

Luís de Camões

the Portuguese. Bacchus, apprehensive that the Portuguese may eclipse the glory acquired by himself in the conquest of India, declares against them. Venus, who sees in the Portuguese her ancient Romans, promises to aid their enterprise. Mars induces Jupiter to support them, and Mercury is sent to direct their course. Gama, commander of the expedition, lands at Mozambique and Mombas. Opposition of the Moors, instigated by Bacchus. They grant Gama a pilot who designs treacherously to take them to Quiloa to ensure the destruction of the whole expedition. Arms and the Heroes, who from Lisbon's shore, Thro' seas[63] where sail was never spread before, Beyond where Ceylon lifts her spicy breast, And waves her woods above the wat'ry waste, With prowess more than human forc'd their way To the fair kingdoms of the rising day: What wars they wag'd, what seas, what dangers pass'd, What glorious empire crown'd their toils at last, Vent'rous I sing, on soaring pinions borne, And all my country's wars[64] the song adorn; What kings, what heroes of my native land Thunder'd on Asia's and on Afric's strand: Illustrious shades, who levell'd in the dust The idol-temples and the shrines of lust: And where, erewhile, foul demons were rever'd, To Holy Faith unnumber'd altars rear'd:[65] Illustrious names, with deathless laurels crown'd, While time rolls on in every clime renown'd! Let Fame with wonder name the Greek[66] no more, What lands he saw, what toils at sea he bore; Nor more the Trojan's wand'ring[67] voyage boast, What storms he brav'd on many a perilous coast: No more let Rome exult in Trajan's name, Nor Eastern conquests Ammon's[68] pride proclaim; A nobler hero's deeds demand my lays Than e'er adorn'd the song of ancient days, Illustrious GAMA,[69] whom the waves obey'd, And whose dread sword the fate of empire sway'd. And you, fair nymphs of Tagus, parent stream, If e'er your meadows were my pastoral theme, While you have listen'd, and by moonshine seen My footsteps wander o'er your banks of green, O come auspicious, and the song inspire With all the boldness of your hero's fire: Deep and majestic let the numbers flow, And, rapt to heaven, with ardent fury glow, Unlike the verse that speaks the lover's grief, When heaving sighs afford their soft relief, And humble reeds bewail the shepherd's pain; But like the warlike trumpet be the strain To rouse the hero's ire, and far around, With equal rage, your warriors' deeds resound. And thou,[70] O born the pledge of happier days, To guard our freedom and our glories raise, Given to the world to spread Religion's sway, And pour o'er many a land the mental day, Thy future honours on thy shield behold, The cross and victor's wreath emboss'd in gold: At thy commanding frown we trust to see, The Turk and Arab bend the suppliant knee: Beneath the morn,[71] dread king, thine empire lies, When midnight veils thy Lusitanian[72] skies; And when, descending in the western main, The sun[73] still rises on thy length'ning reign: Thou blooming scion of the noblest stem, Our nation's safety, and our age's gem, O young Sebastian, hasten to the prime Of manly youth, to Fame's high temple climb: Yet now attentive hear the Muse's lay While thy green years to manhood speed away: The youthful terrors of thy brow suspend, And, oh, propitious to the song attend-- The num'rous song, by patriot-passion fir'd, And by the glories of thy race inspir'd: To be the herald of my country's fame My first ambition and my dearest aim: Nor conquests fabulous nor actions vain, The Muse's pastime, here adorn the strain: Orlando's fury, and Rugero's rage, And all the heroes of th' Aonian page,[74] The dreams of bards surpass'd the world shall view, And own their boldest fictions may be true; Surpass'd and dimm'd by the superior blaze Of GAMA'S mighty deeds, which here bright Truth displays. Nor more let History boast her heroes old, Their glorious rivals here, dread prince, behold: Here shine the valiant Nunio's deeds unfeign'd, Whose single arm the falling state sustain'd; Here fearless Egas' wars, and, Fuas, thine, To give full ardour to the song combine; But ardour equal to your martial ire Demands the thund'ring sounds of Homer's lyre. To match the Twelve so long by bards renown'd,[75] Here brave Magricio and his peers are crown'd (A glorious Twelve!) with deathless laurels, won In gallant arms before the English throne. Unmatch'd no more the Gallic Charles shall stand, Nor Cæsar's name the first of praise command: Of nobler acts the crown'd Alonzo[76] see, Thy valiant sires, to whom the bended knee Of vanquish'd Afric bow'd. Nor less in fame, He who confin'd the rage of civil flame, The godlike John, beneath whose awful sword Rebellion crouch'd, and trembling own'd him lord Those heroes, too, who thy bold flag unfurl'd, And spread thy banners o'er the Eastern world, Whose spears subdu'd the kingdoms of the morn, Their names and glorious wars the song adorn: The daring GAMA, whose unequall'd name (Proud monarch) shines o'er all of naval fame: Castro the bold, in arms a peerless knight, And stern Pacheco, dreadful in the fight: The two Almeydas, names for ever dear, By Tago's nymphs embalm'd with many a tear; Ah, still their early fate the nymphs shall mourn, And bathe with many a tear their hapless urn: Nor shall the godlike Albuquerque restrain The Muse's fury; o'er the purpled plain The Muse shall lead him in his thund'ring car Amidst his glorious brothers of the war, Whose fame in arms resounds from sky to sky, And bids their deeds the power of death defy. And while, to thee, I tune the duteous lay, Assume, O potent king, thine empire's sway; With thy brave host through Afric march along, And give new triumphs to immortal song: On thee with earnest eyes the nations wait, And, cold with dread, the Moor expects his fate; The barb'rous mountaineer on Taurus' brows To thy expected yoke his shoulder bows; Fair Thetis woos thee with her blue domain, Her nuptial son, and fondly yields her reign, And from the bow'rs of heav'n thy grandsires[77] see Their various virtues bloom afresh in thee; One for the joyful days of peace renown'd, And one with war's triumphant laurels crown'd: With joyful hands, to deck thy manly brow, They twine the laurel and the olive-bough; With joyful eyes a glorious throne they see, In Fame's eternal dome, reserv'd for thee. Yet, while thy youthful hand delays to wield The sceptre'd power, or thunder of the field, Here view thine Argonauts, in seas unknown, And all the terrors of the burning zone, Till their proud standards, rear'd in other skies, And all their conquests meet thy wond'ring[78] eyes. Now, far from land, o'er Neptune's dread abode The Lusitanian fleet triumphant rode; Onward they traced the wide and lonesome main, Where changeful Proteus leads his scaly train; The dancing vanes before the zephyrs flow'd, And their bold keels the trackless ocean plough'd; Unplough'd before, the green-ting'd billows rose, And curl'd and whiten'd round the nodding prows. When Jove, the god who with a thought controls The raging seas, and balances the poles, From heav'n beheld, and will'd, in sov'reign state, To fix the Eastern World's depending fate, Swift at his nod th' Olympian herald flies, And calls th' immortal senate of the skies; Where, from the sov'reign throne of earth and heav'n, Th' immutable decrees of fate are given. Instant the regents of the spheres of light, And those who rule the paler orbs of night, With those, the gods whose delegated sway The burning South and frozen North obey; And they whose empires see the day-star rise, And evening Phoebus leave the western skies, All instant pour'd along the milky road, Heaven's crystal pavements glitt'ring as they trod: And now, obedient to the dread command, Before their awful lord in order stand. Sublime and dreadful on his regal throne, That glow'd with stars, and bright as lightning shone, Th' immortal Sire, who darts the thunder, sat, The crown and sceptre added solemn state; The crown, of heaven's own pearls, whose ardent rays, Flam'd round his brows, outshone the diamond's blaze: His breath such gales of vital fragrance shed, As might, with sudden life, inspire the dead: Supreme Control thron'd in his awful eyes Appear'd, and mark'd the monarch of the skies. On seats that burn'd with pearl and ruddy gold, The subject gods their sov'reign lord enfold, Each in his rank, when with a voice that shook The tow'rs of heav'n, the world's dread ruler spoke: "Immortal heirs of light, my purpose hear, My counsels ponder, and the Fates revere: Unless Oblivion o'er your minds has thrown Her dark blank shades, to you, ye gods, are known The Fate's decree, and ancient warlike fame Of that bold race which boasts of Lusus' name; That bold advent'rous race, the Fates declare, 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 num'rous Moors, Till, from the beauteous lawns on Tagus' shores They drove the cruel foe. And oft has heav'n Before their troops the proud Castilians driv'n; While Victory her eagle-wings display'd Where'er their warriors wav'd the shining blade, Nor rests unknown how Lusus' heroes stood When Rome's ambition dyed the world with blood; What glorious laurels Viriatus[79] gain'd, How oft his sword with Roman gore was stain'd; And what fair palms their martial ardour crown'd, When led to battle by the chief renown'd, Who[80] feign'd a dæmon, in a deer conceal'd, To him the counsels of the gods reveal'd. And now, ambitious to extend their sway Beyond their conquests on the southmost bay Of Afric's swarthy coast, on floating wood They brave the terrors of the dreary flood, Where only black-wing'd mists have hover'd o'er, Or driving clouds have sail'd the wave before; Beneath new skies they hold their dreadful way To reach the cradle of the new-born day: And Fate, whose mandates unrevok'd remain, Has will'd that long shall Lusus' offspring reign The lords of that wide sea, whose waves behold The sun come forth enthron'd in burning gold. But now, the tedious length of winter past, Distress'd and weak, the heroes faint at last. What gulfs they dar'd, you saw, what storms they brav'd, Beneath what various heav'ns their banners wav'd! Now Mercy pleads, and soon the rising land To their glad eyes shall o'er the waves expand; As welcome friends the natives shall receive, With bounty feast them, and with joy relieve. And, when refreshment shall their strength renew, Thence shall they turn, and their bold route pursue." So spoke high Jove: the gods in silence heard, Then rising, each by turns his thoughts preferr'd: But chief was Bacchus of the adverse train;