Gama’s long recital being concluded, the poet resumes the thread of his story in his own person. The Portuguese admiral enters into an alliance with the King of Melinda, assures him that the vessels of his nation will always in future anchor on his shores. Gama receives from the monarch a faithful pilot to conduct him to India. Bacchus, now has recourse to Neptune, at whose palace the divinities of the sea assemble. The gods of the sea consent to let loose the winds and waves against the daring navigators. During the night the sailors on the watch relate to each other amusing stories. Veloso urges them to relate some proud feats of war. The history of the contest of the twelve knights of England with the twelve of Portugal is then told. A violent tempest assails the fleet. Vivid picture of a storm at sea. Gama addresses his prayer to God; and Venus, with her nymphs so captivates the storm-gods that a calm ensues. The boy at the masthead raises a joyful cry of Land! re-echoed by the whole crew. The pilot informs the Portuguese that they are now approaching the kingdom of Calicut. The poet’s reflections. WITH heart sincere the royal pagan joy’d, Now, from the West the sounding breezes blow,
Though wide, and various, o’er the sculptur’d stone 2
And now, assembled in the hall divine,
"When Pedro’s gallant heir, the valiant John,
"He said; and now, the rites of parting friends
He paus’d;--then round his eyes and arms he threw He spoke; redoubled rag’d the mingled blasts;
O glorious chief, while storms and oceans rav’d, END OF THE SIXTH BOOK. 165:1 Cleopatra. 165:2 Every display of eastern luxury and magnificence was lavished in the fishing parties on the Nile, with which Cleopatra amused Mark Antony, when at any time he showed symptoms of uneasiness, or seemed inclined to abandon the effeminate life which he led with his mistress. At one of these parties, Mark Antony, having procured divers to put fishes upon his hooks while under the water, he very gallantly boasted to his mistress of his great dexterity in angling. Cleopatra perceived his art, and as gallantly outwitted him. Some other divers received her orders, and in a little while Mark Antony’s line brought up a fried fish in place of a live one, to the vast entertainment of the queen, and all the convivial company. Octavius was at this time on his march to decide who should be master of the world. 165:3 The friendship of the Portuguese and Melindians was of long continuance. Alvaro Cabral, the second admiral who made the voyage to India, in an engagement with the Moors off the coast of Sofala, took two ships richly freighted from the mines of that 167:2 Two gods contending.--According to the fable, Neptune and Minerva disputed the honour of giving a name to the city of Athens. They agreed to determine the contest by a display of their wisdom and power, in conferring the most beneficial gift on mankind. Neptune 168:2 Though wide, and various, o’er the sculptur’d stone.--The description of palaces is a favourite topic several times touched upon by the two great masters of epic poetry, in which they have been happily imitated by their three greatest disciples among the moderns, Camoëns, Tasso, and Milton. The description of the palace of Neptune has great merit. Nothing can be more in place than the picture of chaos and the four elements. The war of the gods, and the contest of Neptune and Minerva are touched with the true boldness of poetical colouring. To show to the English reader that the Portuguese poet is, in his manner, truly classical, is the intention of many of these notes. 168:3 Bacchus. 169:1 The description of Triton, who, as Fanshaw says-- is in the style of the classics. His parentage is differently related. Hesiod makes him the son of Neptune and Amphitrité. By Triton, in the physical sense of the fable, is meant the noise, and by Salacé, the mother by some ascribed to him, the salt, of the ocean. The origin of the fable of Triton, it is probable, was founded on the appearance of a sea animal, which, according to some ancient naturalists, in the upward parts resembles the human figure. Pausanias relates a wonderful story of a monstrously large one, which often came ashore on the meadows of Bœotia. Over his head was a kind of finny cartilage, which, at a distance, appeared like hair; the body covered with brown scales; the nose and ears like the human; the mouth of a dreadful width, jagged with the teeth of a panther; the eyes of a greenish hue; the hands divided into fingers, the nails of which were crooked, and of a shelly substance. This monster, whose extremities ended in a tail like a dolphin’s, devoured both men and beasts as they chanced in his way. The citizens of Tanagra, at last, contrived his destruction. They set a large vessel full of wine on the sea shore. Triton got drunk with it, and fell into a profound sleep, in which condition the Tanagrians beheaded him, and afterwards, with great propriety, hung up his body in the temple of Bacchus; where, says Pausanias, it continued a long time. 170:1 A shell of purple on his head he bore.--In the Portuguese--THE ARGUMENT.
And hospitable rites each hour employ’d,
For much the king the Lusian band admir’d,
And, much their friendship and their aid desir’d;
Each hour the gay festivity prolongs,
Melindian dances, and Arabian songs;
Each hour in mirthful transport steals away,
By night the banquet, and the chase by day;
And now, the bosom of the deep invites,
And all the pride of Neptune’s festive rites;
Bade all the pride of naval show convene,
In pleasure’s downy bosom, to beguile
Her love-sick warrior: 2 o’er the breast of Nile,
Dazzling with gold, the purple ensigns flow’d,
And to the lute the gilded barges row’d;
While from the wave, of many a shining hue,
The anglers’ lines the panting fishes drew.
And far the hoary flood was yet to plough:
The fountain and the field bestow’d their store,
And friendly pilots from the friendly shore,
Train’d in the Indian deep, were now aboard,
When GAMA, parting from Melinda’s lord,
The holy vows of lasting peace renew’d,
For, still the king for lasting friendship sued;
That Lusus’ heroes in his port supplied,
And tasted rest, he own’d his dearest pride,
And vow’d, that ever while the seas they roam,
The Lusian fleets should find a bounteous home,
And, ever from the gen’rous shore receive
Whate’er his port, whate’er his land could give. 3
And vomits smoke and fire against the darken’d skies.
Here, seems the pictur’d wall possess’d of life:
Two gods contending 2 in the noble strife,
The peaceful olive’s silver boughs expand:
Here, while the ocean’s god indignant frown’d,
And rais’d his trident from the wounded ground,
As yet entangled in the earth, appears
The warrior horse; his ample chest he rears,
His wide red nostrils smoke, his eye-balls glare,
And his fore-hoofs, high pawing, smite the air.
The feats of gods, and godlike heroes shone;
On speed the vengeful demon views no more:
Forward he rushes through the golden door,
Where ocean’s king, enclos’d with nymphs divine,
In regal state receives the king of wine: 3
A friend I come, your friendship to implore
Against the Fates unjust, and Fortune’s power;
Beneath whose shafts the great Celestials bow,
Yet ere I more, if more you wish to know,
The wat’ry gods in awful senate call,
For all should hear the wrong that touches all."
Neptune alarm’d, with instant speed commands
From ev’ry shore to call the wat’ry bands:
Triton, who boasts his high Neptunian race,
Sprung from the god by Salacé’s 1 embrace,
Attendant on his sire the trumpet sounds,
Or, through the yielding waves, his herald, bounds:
Huge is his bulk, deform’d, and dark his hue;
His bushy beard, and hairs that never knew
The smoothing comb, of seaweed rank and long,
Around his breast and shoulders dangling hung,
And, on the matted locks black mussels clung;
Around his loins no tangling garb he wore,
But all was cover’d with the slimy brood,
The snaily offspring of the unctuous flood;
And now, obedient to his dreadful sire,
High o’er the wave his brawny arms aspire;
To his black mouth his crooked shell applied,
The blast rebellows o’er the ocean wide:
Wide o’er their shores, where’er their waters flow,
The wat’ry powers the awful summons know;
And instant, darting to the palace hall,
Attend the founder of the Dardan wall; 2
Old Father Ocean, with his num’rous race
Of daughters and of sons, was first in place.
Nereus and Doris, from whose nuptials sprung
The lovely Nereid train, for ever young,
Who people ev’ry sea on ev’ry strand,
Appear’d, attended with their filial band;
And changeful Proteus, whose prophetic mind 3
The secret cause of Bacchus’ rage divin’d,
Attending, left the flocks, his scaly charge,
To graze the bitter, weedy foam at large.
In charms of power the raging waves to tame,
The lovely spouse of ocean’s sov’reign came. 4
From Heaven and Vesta sprung the birth divine,
Her snowy limbs bright through the vestments shine.
Here, with the dolphin, who persuasive led
Her modest steps to Neptune’s spousal bed,
Fair Amphitrité mov’d, more sweet, more gay
Than vernal fragrance, and the flowers of May;
Together with her sister-spouse she came,
The same their wedded lord, their love the same;
Plung’d in the billows with her infant son;
A goddess now, a god the smiling boy,
Together sped; and Glaucus lost to joy, 2
Curs’d in his love by vengeful Circé’s hate,
Attending, wept his Scylla’s hapless fate.
The ocean gods in solemn council join;
The goddesses on pearl embroid’ry sat,
The gods, on sparkling crystal chairs of state,
And, proudly honour’d, on the regal throne,
Beside the ocean’s lord, Thyoneus 3 shone.
High from the roof the living amber glows, 4
High from the roof the stream of glory flows,
Of human race ’tis thine to fix the bounds,
And fence the nations with thy wat’ry mounds:
And thou, dread power, O Father Ocean, hear,
Thou, whose wide arms embrace the world’s wide sphere,
’Tis thine the haughtiest victor to restrain,
And bind each nation in its own domain:
And you, ye gods, to whom the seas are giv’n,
Your just partition with the gods of heav’n;
You who, of old unpunish’d never bore
The daring trespass of a foreign oar;
You who beheld, when Earth’s dread offspring strove 1
To scale the vaulted sky, the seat of Jove:
Indignant Jove deep to the nether world
The rebel band in blazing thunders hurl’d.
Alas! the great monition lost on you,
Supine you slumber, while a roving crew,
With impious search, explore the wat’ry way,
And, unresisted, through your empire stray:
To seize the sacred treasures of the main,
Their fearless prows your ancient laws disdain:
Where, far from mortal sight his hoary head
Old Ocean hides, their daring sails they spread,
And their glad shouts are echo’d where the roar
Of mounting billows only howl’d before.
In wonder, silent, ready Boreas 2 sees
Your passive languor, and neglectful ease;
Ready, with force auxiliar, to restrain
The bold intruders on your awful reign;
Prepar’d to burst his tempests, as of old,
When his black whirlwinds o’er the ocean roll’d,
First brav’d their fury, and your power defied.
Nor deem that, fraudful, I my hope deny;
My darken’d glory sped me from the sky.
How high my honours on the Indian shore!
How soon these honours must avail no more!
Unless these rovers, who with doubled shame
To stain my conquests, bear my vassal’s 2 name,
Unless they perish on the billowy way.
Then rouse, ye gods, and vindicate your sway.
The powers of heaven, in vengeful anguish, see
The tyrant of the skies, and Fate’s decree;
The dread decree, that to the Lusian train
Consigns, betrays your empire of the main:
Say, shall your wrong alarm the high abodes?
Are men exalted to the rank of gods?
O’er you exalted, while in careless ease
You yield the wrested trident of the seas,
Usurp’d your monarchy, your honours stain’d,
Your birthright ravish’d, and your waves profan’d
Alike the daring wrong to me, to you,
And, shall my lips in vain your vengeance sue!
This, this to sue from high Olympus bore------"
More he attempts, but rage permits no more.
Fierce, bursting wrath the wat’ry gods inspires,
And, their red eye-balls burn with livid fires:
Heaving and panting struggles evr’y breast,
With the fierce billows of hot ire oppress’d.
Twice from his seat divining Proteus rose,
And twice he shook, enrag’d, his sedgy brows:
In vain; the mandate was already giv’n,
From Neptune sent, to loose the winds of heav’n
In vain; though prophecy his lips inspir’d,
The ocean’s queen his silent lips requir’d.
Nor less the storm of headlong rage denies,
Or counsel to debate, or thought to rise.
And now, the God of Tempests swift unbinds
From their dark caves the various rushing winds:
The twelve of England give the noble theme.
Gave war’s full splendour to the Lusian throne,
In haughty England, where the winter spreads
His snowy mantle o’er the shining meads, 1
The seeds of strife the fierce Erynnis sows; 2
The baleful strife from court dissension rose.
With ev’ry charm adorn’d, and ev’ry grace,
That spreads its magic o’er the female face,
Twelve ladies shin’d the courtly train among,
The first, the fairest of the courtly throng;
But, Envy’s breath revil’d their injur’d name,
And stain’d the honour of their virgin fame.
Twelve youthful barons own’d the foul report;
The charge at first, perhaps, a tale of sport.
Ah, base the sport that lightly dares defame
The sacred honour of a lady’s name!
What knighthood asks the proud accusers yield,
And, dare the damsels’ champions to the field. 3
How matchless pour’d the tempest of their might,
When, thund’ring at his side, they rul’d the fight:
Nor less their ardent passion for the fair,
Gen’rous and brave, he view’d with wond’ring care,
When, crown’d with roses, to the nuptial bed
The warlike John his lovely daughter led-
‘From Lusitania’s clime,’ the hero cries,
‘The gallant champions of your fame shall rise.
Their hearts will burn (for well their hearts I know)
To pour your vengeance on the guilty foe.
Let courtly phrase the heroes’ worth admire,
And, for your injur’d names, that worth require:
Let all the soft endearments of the fair,
And words that weep your wrongs, your wrongs declare.
Myself the heralds to the chiefs will send,
And to the king, my valiant son, commend.’
He spoke; and twelve of Lusian race he names
All noble youths, the champions of the dames.
The dames, by lot, their gallant champions choose, 2
And each her hero’s name, exulting, views.
The sculptur’d bucklers, and the clasping greaves,
The swords of Ebro, spears of lofty size,
And breast-plates, flaming with a thousand dyes,
Helmets high plum’d, and, pawing for the fight,
Bold steeds, whose harness shone with silv’ry light
Dazzling the day. And now, the rising gale
Invites the heroes, and demands the sail,
When brave Magricio thus his peers address’d,
’Oh, friends in arms, of equal powers confess’d,
Long have I hop’d through foreign climes to stray,
Where other streams than Douro wind their way;
To note what various shares of bliss and woe
From various laws and various customs flow;
Nor deem that, artful, I the fight decline;
England shall know the combat shall be mine.
By land I speed, and, should dark fate prevent,
(For death alone shall blight my firm intent),
Small may the sorrow for my absence be,
For yours were conquest, though unshar’d by me.
Nor envious chance, nor rocks, nor whelmy tide,
Shall our glad meeting at the list divide.’
Sufficed, through Leon and Castile he bends.
On many a field, enrapt, the hero stood,
And the proud scenes of Lusian conquest view’d.
Navarre he pass’d, and pass’d the dreary wild,
Where rocks on rocks o’er yawning glens are pil’d;
The wolf’s dread range, where, to the ev’ning skies
In clouds involv’d, the cold Pyrenians rise.
Through Gallia’s flow’ry vales, and wheaten plains
He strays, and Belgia now his steps detains.
There, as forgetful of his vow’d intent,
In various cares the fleeting days he spent:
His peers, the while, direct to England’s strand,
Plough the chill northern wave; and now, at land,
Adorn’d in armour, and embroid’ry gay,
To lordly London hold the crowded way:
Bold Lancaster receives the knights with joy;
The feast, and warlike song each hour employ.
The beauteous dames, attending, wake their fire,
With tears enrage them, and with smiles inspire.
And now, with doubtful blushes rose the day,
Decreed the rites of wounded fame to pay.
The English monarch gives the listed bounds,
And, fix’d in rank, with shining spears surrounds.
Before their dames the gallant knights advance,
(Each like a Mars), and shake the beamy lance:
The dames, adorn’d in silk and gold, display
A thousand colours glitt’ring to the day:
And, on the foe’s huge cuirass proudly trod.
No more by tyranny’s proud tongue revil’d,
The Flandrian countess on her hero smil’d. 2
The Rhine another pass’d, and prov’d his might, 3
A fraudful German dar’d him to the fight.
As beating round, on trembling wings they fly,
Shrill through the storm their woful clamours die.
Who, through the wild waves, ledd’st Thy chosen race,
While the high billows stood like walls of brass: 1
O Thou, while ocean bursting o’er the world
Roar’d o’er the hills, and from the sky down hurl’d
Rush’d other headlong oceans; oh, as then
The second father of the race of men 2
Safe in Thy care the dreadful billows rode,
Oh! save us now, be now the Saviour-God!
Safe in Thy care, what dangers have we pass’d!
And shalt Thou leave us, leave us now at last
To perish here--our dangers and our toils
To spread Thy laws unworthy of Thy smiles;
In gesture wild, and thus: "Oh happy you!
You, who in Afric fought for holy faith,
And, pierc’d with Moorish spears, in glorious death
Beheld the smiling heav’ns your toils reward,
By your brave mates beheld the conquest shar’d;
Oh happy you, on every shore renown’d!
Your vows respected, and your wishes crown’d.".
Through the torn cordage and the shatter’d masts
The winds loud whistled, fiercer lightnings blaz’d,
And louder roars the doubled thunders rais’d,
The sky and ocean blending, each on fire,
Seem’d as all Nature struggled to expire.
When now, the silver star of Love appear’d, 1
Bright in the east her radiant front she rear’d;
Fair, through the horrid storm, the gentle ray
Announc’d the promise of the cheerful day;
From her bright throne Celestial Love beheld
The tempest burn, and blast on blast impell’d:
"And must the furious demon still," she cries,
"Still urge his rage, nor all the past suffice!
Yet, as the past, shall all his rage be vain------"
She spoke, and darted to the roaring main;
Her lovely nymphs she calls, the nymphs obey,
Her nymphs the virtues who confess her sway;
Round ev’ry brow she bids the rose-buds twine,
And ev’ry flower adown the locks to shine,
The snow-white lily, and the laurel green,
And pink and yellow as at strife be seen.
Instant, amid their golden ringlets strove
Each flow’ret, planted by the hand of Love;
At strife, who first th’ enamour’d powers to gain,
Who rule the tempests and the waves restrain:
Bright as a starry band the Nereids shone,
Instant old Eolus’ sons their presence 2 own;
Th’ Eolian race receive the queen’s commands,
And vow, that henceforth her Armada’s sails
Should gently swell with fair propitious gales. 1
What hopeless toils thy dauntless valour brav’d!
By toils like thine the brave ascend to heav’n,
By toils like thine immortal fame is giv’n.
Not he, who daily moves in ermine gown,
Who nightly slumbers on the couch of down;
Who proudly boasts through heroes old to trace
The lordly lineage of his titled race;
Footnotes
Huma mui grandé casco de lagosta.
The shell of a red lobster overgrown."
170:2 Neptune.
170:3 And changeful Proteus, whose prophetic mind.--The fullest and best account of the fable of Proteus is in the fourth Odyssey.
170:4 Thetis.
170:* Montera, the Spanish word for a huntsman’s cap.
171:1 She who the rage of Athamas to shun.--Ino, the daughter of Cadmus and Hermione, and second spouse of Athamas, king of Thebes. The fables of her fate are various. That which Camoëns follows is the most common. Athamas, seized with madness, imagined that his spouse was a lioness, and her two sons young lions. In this frenzy he slew Learchus, and drove the mother and her other son, Melicertus, into the sea. The corpse of the mother was thrown ashore on Megara and that of the son at Corinth. They were afterwards deified, the one as a sea goddess, the other as the god of harbours.
171:2 And Glaucus lost to joy.--A fisherman, says the fable, who, on eating a certain herb, was turned into a sea god. Circé was enamoured of him, and in revenge of her slighted love, poisoned the fountain where his mistress usually bathed. By the force of the enchantment the favoured Scylla was changed into a hideous monster, whose loins were surrounded with the ever-barking heads of dogs and wolves. Scylla, on this, threw herself into the sea. and was metamorphosed into the rock which bears her name. The rock Scylla at a distance appears like the statue of a woman. The furious dashing of the waves in the cavities, which are level with the water, resembles the barking of wolves and dogs.
171:3 Thyoneus, a name of Bacchus.
171:4 High from the roof the living amber glows.--
172:1 The Titans.
172:2 The north wind.
173:1 And rent the Mynian sails.--The sails of the Argonauts, inhabitants of Mynia.
173:2 See the first note on the first book of the Lusiad.
Boreal sempre abonda;
that is, "In illustrious England, always covered with northern snow." Though the translator was willing to retain the manner of Homer, he thought it proper to correct the error in natural history fallen into by Camoëns. Fanshaw seems to have been sensible of the mistake of his author, and has given the following (uncountenanced by the Portuguese) in place of the eternal snows ascribed to his country:--
175:2 Eris, or Discordia, the goddess of contention, VIRGIL, Æneid ii. 337.--Ed.
177:2 The dames by lot their gallant champions choose.--The ten champions, who in the fifth book of Tasso’s Jerusalem are sent by
182:1 As Rome’s Corvinus.--Valerius Maximus, a Roman tribune, who fought and slew a Gaul of enormous stature, in single combat. During the duel a raven perched on the helmet of his antagonist, sometimes pecked his face and hand, and sometimes blinded him with the flapping of his wings. The victor was thence named Corvinus, from Corvus. Vid. Livy, l. 7, c. 26.
182:2 The Flandrian countess on her hero smil’d.--The princess, for whom Magricio signalized his valour, was Isabella of Portugal, and spouse to Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, and earl of Flanders. Some Spanish chronicles relate that Charles VII. of France, having assembled the states of his kingdom, cited Philip to appear with his other vassals. Isabella, who was present, solemnly protested that the earls of Flanders were not obliged to do homage. A dispute arose, on which she offered, according to the custom of that age, to appeal to the fate of arms. The proposal was accepted, and Magricio the champion of Isabella, vanquished a French chevalier, appointed by Charles. Though our authors do not mention this adventure, and though Emmanuel de Faria, and the best Portuguese writers treat it with doubt, nothing to the disadvantage of Camoëns is thence to be inferred. A poet is not obliged always to follow the truth of history.
182:3 The Rhine another pass’d, and prov’d his might.--This was Alvaro Vaz d’Almada. The chronicle of Garibay relates, that at Basle he
186:1 With shrill, faint voice, th’ untimely ghost complains.--It may not perhaps be unentertaining to cite Madame Dacier and Mr. Pope on the voices of the dead. It will, at least, afford a critical observation which appears to have escaped them both. "The shades of the suitors," observes Dacier, "when they are summoned by Mercury out of the palace of Ulysses, emit a feeble, plaintive, inarticulate sound, τρίζουσι, strident: whereas Agamemnon, and the shades that have been long in the state of the dead, speak articulately. I doubt not but Homer intended to show, by the former description, that when the soul is separated from the organs of the body, it ceases to act after the same manner as while it was joined to it; but how the dead recover their voices afterwards is not easy to understand. In other respects Virgil paints after Homer:--
To this Mr. Pope replies, "But why should we suppose, with Dacier, that these shades of the suitors (of Penelope) have lost the faculty of speaking? I rather imagine that the sounds they uttered were signs of complaint and discontent, and proceeded not from an inability to speak. After Patroclus was slain he appears to Achilles, and speaks very articulately to him; yet, to express his sorrow at his departure, he acts like these suitors: for Achilles--
The critic, in his search for distant proofs, often omits the most material one immediately at hand. Had Madame Dacier attended to the episode of the souls of the suitors, the world had never seen her ingenuity in these mythological conjectures; nor had Mr. Pope any need to bring the case of Patroclus or Elpenor to overthrow her system. Amphimedon, one of the suitors, in the very episode which gave birth to Dacier’s conjecture, tells his story very articulately to the shade of Agamemnon, though he had not received the funereal rites:--
Cold and neglected spread the marble floor:
No friend to bathe our wounds! or tears to shed
O’er the pale corse! the honours of the dead."
ODYS. xxiv.
Thin, hollow screams, along the deep descent:"
and, unfettered with mythological distinctions, either shriek or articulately talk, according to the most poetical view of their supposed circumstances.
187:1 Exod. xiv. 29.
187:2 Noah.
188:1 Venus.
188:2 For the fable of Eolus see the tenth Odyssey.
Quarum, gum forma pulcherrima; Deiopeiam