The liberation of Gama’s factors is effected by a great victory over the Moorish fleet, and by the bombardment of Calicut. Gama returns in consequence to his ships, and weighs anchor to return to Europe with the news of his great discoveries. Camoëns then introduces a very singular, but agreeable episode, recounting the love adventures of his heroes in one of the islands of the ocean. Venus, in search of her son, journeys through all his realms to implore his aid, and at length arrives at the spot where Love’s artillery and arms are forged. Venus intercedes with her son in favour of the Portuguese. The island of Love, like that of Delos, floats on the ocean. It is then explained by the poet that these seeming realities are only allegorical. RED 1 rose the dawn; roll’d o’er the low’ring sky,
--Ed. While thus he spake, his changeful look declar’d
With lofty mien he spake. In stern disdain, As by an Alpine mountain’s pathless side
O’erpower’d he paus’d. Majestic and serene
"Thy worth, great chief," the pale-lipp’d regent cries,
He spake; and stern the dreadful warrior stood;
With rustling sound now swell’d the steady sail;
The queen of love, by Heaven’s eternal grace,
The goddess now ascends her silver car,
She said; and smiling view’d her mighty boy;
252:1 Mickle, in place of the first seventeen stanzas of this canto, has inserted about three hundred lines of his own composition; in this respect availing himself of the licence he had claimed in his preface. 253:1 Thy sails, and rudders too, my will demands.--According to history. 253:2 My sov’reign’s fleet I yield not to your sway.--The circumstance of GAMA’S refusing to put his fleet into the power of the zamorim, is thus rendered by Fanshaw:-- 256:1 Through Gata’s hills.--The hills of Gata or Gate, mountains which form a natural barrier on the eastern side of the kingdom of Malabar. 256:2 Then, furious, rushing to the darken’d bay.--For the circumstances of the battle, and the tempest which then happened, see the Life of GAMA. 258:1 I left my fix’d command my navy’s guard.--See the Life of GAMA. 259:1 Unmindful of my fate on India’s shore.--This most magnanimous resolution, to sacrifice his own safety or his life for the safe return of the fleet, is strictly true.--See the Life of GAMA. 260:1 Abrupt--the monarch, cries--"What yet may save!"--GAMA’s declaration, that no message from him to the fleet could alter the orders he had already left, and his rejection of any further treaty, have a necessary effect in the conduct of the poem. They hasten the catastrophe, and give a verisimilitude to the abrupt and full submission of the zamorim. 261:1 The rollers--i.e. the capstans.--The capstan is a cylindrical windlass, worked with bars, which are moved from hole to hole as it turns round. It is used on board ship to weigh the anchors, raise the masts, etc. The versification of this passage in the original affords a most noble example of imitative harmony:--THE ARGUMENT.
The scatt’ring clouds of tawny purple fly.
While yet the day-spring struggled with the gloom,
The Indian monarch sought the regent’s dome.
In all the luxury of Asian state,
High on a star-gemm’d couch the monarch sat:
Then on th’ illustrious captive, bending down
His eyes, stern darken’d with a threat’ning frown,
"Thy truthless tale," he cries, "thy art appears,
Confess’d inglorious by thy cautious fears.
Yet, still if friendship, honest, thou implore,
Yet now command thy vessels to the shore:
Such be the test, thy boasted truth to try,
Each other test despis’d, I fix’d deny.
And has my regent sued two days in vain!
In vain my mandate, and the captive chain!
Yet not in vain, proud chief, ourself shall sue
From thee the honour to my friendship due:
Ere force compel thee, let the grace be thine,
Our grace permits it, freely to resign,
Freely to trust our friendship, ere too late
Our injur’d honour fix thy dreadful fate."
In his proud breast what starting passions warr’d.
No feature mov’d on GAMA’S face was seen;
Stern he replies, with bold yet anxious mien,
"In me my sov’reign represented see,
His state is wounded, and he speaks in me;
Unaw’d by threats, by dangers uncontroll’d,
The laws of nations bid my tongue be bold.
No more thy justice holds the righteous scale,
The arts of falsehood and the Moors prevail;
I see the doom my favour’d foes decree,
Yet, though in chains I stand, my fleet is free.
The bitter taunts of scorn the brave disdain;
Few be my words, your arts, your threats are vain.
My sov’reign’s fleet I yield not to your sway; 2
Safe shall my fleet to Lisboa’s strand convey
The glorious tale of all the toils I bore,
Afric surrounded, and the Indian shore
"My threats," the monarch cries, "were never vain:
Swift give the sign."--Swift as he spake, appear’d
The dancing streamer o’er the palace rear’d;
Instant another ensign distant rose,
Where, jutting through the flood, the mountain throws
A ridge enormous, and on either side
Defends the harbours from the furious tide.
Proud on his couch th’ indignant monarch sat,
And awful silence fill’d the room of state.
With secret joy the Moors, exulting, glow’d,
And bent their eyes where GAMA’S navy rode,
Then, proudly heav’d with panting hope, explore
The wood-crown’d upland of the bending shore.
Soon o’er the palms a mast’s tall pendant flows,
Bright to the sun the purple radiance glows;
In martial pomp, far streaming to the skies,
Vanes after vanes in swift succession rise,
And, through the opening forest-boughs of green,
The sails’ white lustre moving on is seen;
When sudden, rushing by the point of land
The bowsprits nod, and wide the sails expand;
Full pouring on the sight, in warlike pride,
Extending still the rising squadrons ride:
O’er every deck, beneath the morning rays,
Like melted gold, the brazen spear-points blaze;
Each prore surrounded with a hundred oars,
Old Ocean boils around the crowded prores:
And, five times now in number GAMA’S might,
Proudly their boastful shouts provoke the fight;
Far round the shore the echoing peal rebounds,
Behind the hill an answ’ring shout resounds:
And westward sweeping to the blacken’d tide,
Howl’d o’er the trembling palace as it past,
And o’er the gilded walls a gloomy twilight cast;
Then, furious, rushing to the darken’d bay, 2
Resistless swept the black-wing’d night away,
With all the clouds that hover’d o’er the fight,
And o’er the weary combat pour’d the light.
Some traveller strays, unfriended of a guide;
If o’er the hills the sable night descend,
And gath’ring tempest with the darkness blend,
Deep from the cavern’d rocks beneath, aghast
He hears the howling of the whirlwind’s blast;
Above, resounds the crash, and down the steep
Some rolling weight groans on with found’ring sweep;
Great VASCO rose, then, pointing to the scene
Where bled the war, "Thy fleet, proud king, behold
O’er ocean and the strand in carnage roll’d!
So, shall this palace, smoking in the dust,
And yon proud city, weep thy arts unjust.
The Moors I knew, and, for their fraud prepar’d,
I left my fix’d command my navy’s guard: 1
Let but my monarch know, I wish no more.’
Each, panting while I spoke, impatient cries,
The tear-drop bursting in their manly eyes,
‘In all but one thy mandates we obey,
In one we yield not to thy gen’rous sway:
Without thee, never shall our sails return;
India shall bleed, and Calicut shall burn--
Thrice shall the morn arise; a flight of bombs
Shall then speak vengeance to their guilty domes:
Till noon we pause; then, shall our thunders roar,
And desolation sweep the treach’rous shore.’
Behold, proud king, their signal in the sky,
Near his meridian tower the sun rides high.
O’er Calicut no more the ev’ning shade
Shall spread her peaceful wings, my wrath unstaid;
Dire through the night her smoking dust shall gleam,
Dire thro’ the night shall shriek the female scream."
"Thy worth we own: oh, may these woes suffice!
To thee each proof of India’s wealth we send;
Ambassadors, of noblest race, attend-----"
Slow as he falter’d, GAMA caught the word,
"On terms I talk not, and no truce afford:
So seem’d the terrors of his awful nod,
The monarch trembled as before a god;
The treach’rous Moors sank down in faint dismay,
And speechless at his feet the council lay:
Abrupt, with outstretched arms, the monarch cries,
"What yet-------" but dar’d not meet the hero’s eyes,
"What yet may save!" 1--Great VASCO stern rejoins,
"Swift, undisputing, give th’ appointed signs:
High o’er thy loftiest tower my flag display,
Me and my train swift to my fleet convey:
Instant command--behold the sun rides high------"
He spake, and rapture glow’d in ev’ry eye;
The Lusian standard o’er the palace How’d,
Swift o’er the bay the royal barges row’d.
A dreary gloom a sudden whirlwind threw;
Amid the howling blast, enrag’d, withdrew
The vanquish’d demon. Soon, in lustre mild
As April smiles, the sun auspicious smil’d
Reluctant dragg’d, the slime-brown’d anchors raise;
Each gliding rope some nimble hand obeys;
Some bending o’er the yard-arm’s length, on high,
With nimble hands, the canvas wings untie;
The flapping sails their wid’ning folds distend,
And measur’d, echoing shouts their sweaty toils attend.
Nor had the captives lost the leader’s care,
Some to the shore the Indian barges bear;
The noblest few the chief detains, to own
His glorious deeds before the Lusian throne;
To own the conquest of the Indian shore:
Nor wanted ev’ry proof of India’s store.
What fruits in Ceylon’s fragrant woods abound,
With woods of cinnamon her hills are crown’d
Dry’d in its flower, the nut of Banda’s grove,
The burning pepper, and the sable clove;
The clove, whose odour on the breathing gale,
Far to the sea, Molucca’s plains exhale;
All these, provided by the faithful Moor,
All these, and India’s gems, the navy bore:
The Moor attends, Mozaide, whose zealous care
To GAMA’S eyes unveil’d each treach’rous snare: 2
The lofty masts reclining to the gale,
On full-spread wings the navy springs away,
And, far behind them, foams the ocean grey:
Afar the less’ning hills of Gata fly,
And mix their dim blue summits with the sky:
Beneath the wave low sinks the spicy shore,
And, roaring through the tide, each nodding prore
Points to the Cape, great Nature’s southmost bound,
The Cape of Tempests, now of Hope renown’d.
The guardian goddess of the Lusian race;
The queen of love, elate with joy, surveys
Her heroes, happy, plough the wat’ry maze:
Their dreary toils revolving in her thought,
And all the woes by vengeful Bacchus wrought;
An isle, array’d in all the pride of flowers,
Of fruits, of fountains, and of fragrant bowers,
She means to offer to their homeward prows,
The place of glad repast and sweet repose;
And there, before their raptur’d view, to raise
The heav’n-topp’d column of their deathless praise.
(Bright was its hue as love’s translucent star);
Beneath the reins the stately birds, 2 that sing
Their sweet-ton’d death-song spread the snowy wing;
The gentle winds beneath her chariot sigh,
And virgin blushes purple o’er the sky:
On milk-white pinions borne, her cooing doves
Form playful circles round her as she moves:;
And now their beaks in fondling kisses join,
In am’rous nods their fondling necks entwine.
O’er fair Idalia’s bowers the goddess rode,
And by her altars sought Idalia’s god:
The youthful Bowyer of the heart was there;
His falling kingdom claim’d his earnest care. 3
Morn after morn pursues the foamy boar,
Coldly his suit, the nymph, unmov’d, shall spurn.
An arrowy shower the bowyer train bestow’d;
Misaim’d, in vain, in vain on earth or sky,
With rosy smiles the mother power receives;
Around her climbing, thick as ivy leaves,
The vassal loves in fond contention join
Who, first and most, shall kiss her hand divine.
Swift in her arms she caught her wanton boy,
And, "Oh, my son," she cries, "my pride, my joy!
Against thy might the dreadful Typhon fail’d,
Against thy shaft nor heav’n, nor Jove prevail’d;
Unless thine arrow wake the young desires,
My strength, my power, in vain each charm expires:
My son, my hope, I claim thy powerful aid,
Nor be the boon thy mother sues delay’d:
Where’er--so will th’ eternal fates--where’er
The Lusian race the victor standards rear,
There shall my hymns resound, my altars flame,
And heav’nly Love her joyful lore proclaim.
My Lusian heroes, as my Romans, brave,
Long toss’d, long hopeless on the storm-torn wave,
Wearied and weak, at last on India’s shore
Arriv’d, new toils, repose denied, they bore;
For Bacchus there with tenfold rage pursued
My dauntless sons, but now his might subdued,
Thus, shall the rebel world thy prowess know,
And what the boundless joys our friendly powers bestow."
Swift to the chariot springs the god of joy;
His ivory bow, and arrows tipp’d with gold,
Blaz’d to the sun-beam as the chariot roll’d:
Their silver harness shining to the day,
The swans, on milk-white pinions, spring away,
Smooth gliding o’er the clouds of lovely blue;
And Fame 2 (so will’d the god) before them flew:
With ardent speed forsake their deep abodes;
Their rage by vengeful Bacchus rais’d of late,
Now stung remorse, and love succeeds to hate.
Ah, where remorse in female bosom bleeds,
The tend’rest love in all its glow succeeds.
When fancy glows, how strong, O Love, thy power!
Nor slipp’d the eager god the happy hour;
Swift fly his arrows o’er the billowy main,
Wing’d with his fires, nor flies a shaft in vain:
Their snowy crests when o’er the lake they steer,
Slow moving on, behold, the fleet appears,
And o’er the distant billow onward steers.
The beauteous Nereids, flush’d in all their charms,
Surround the goddess of the soft alarms:
Right to the isle she leads the smiling train,
And all her arts her balmy lips explain;
The fearful languor of the asking eye,
The lovely blush of yielding modesty,
The grieving look, the sigh, the fav’ring smile,
And all th’ endearments of the open wile,
She taught the nymphs--in willing breasts that heav’d
To bear her lore, her lore the nymphs receiv’d.
She fix’d, unmov’d, the island of delight.
So when in child-birth of her Jove-sprung load,
The sylvan goddess and the bowyer god,
In friendly pity of Latona’s woes, 2
Amid the waves the Delian isle arose.
And now, led smoothly o’er the furrow’d tide,
Right to the isle of joy the vessels glide:
The bay they enter, where on ev’ry hand,
Around them clasps the flower-enamell’d land;
A safe retreat, where not a blast may shake
Its flutt’ring pinions o’er the stilly lake.
Fring’d was the border with a woodland shade,
In ev’ry leaf of various green array’d,
Each yellow-ting’d, each mingling tint between
The dark ash-verdure and the silv’ry green.
Near to the ground each spreading bough descends,
Beneath her yellow load the citron bends;
Of fairer tap’stry, and of richer bloom,
Than ever glow’d in Persia’s boasted loom:
As glitt’ring rainbows o’er the verdure thrown,
O’er every woodland walk th’ embroid’ry shone.
Here o’er the wat’ry mirror’s lucid bed
Narcissus, self-enamour’d, hangs the head;
And here, bedew’d with love’s celestial tears,
The woe-mark’d flower of slain Adonis 2 rears
The lawn in all Aurora’s lustre glows,
Aurora steals the blushes of the rose,
The rose displays the blushes that adorn
The spotless virgin on the nuptial morn.
Zephyr and Flora emulous conspire
To breathe their graces o’er the field’s attire;
The one gives healthful freshness, one the hue
Fairer than e’er creative pencil drew.
Pale as the love-sick hopeless maid they dye
The modest violet; from the curious eye
The modest violet turns her gentle head,
And, by the thorn, weeps o’er her lowly bed.
Bending beneath the tears of pearly dawn
The snow-white lily glitters o’er the lawn;
And calls the tribute of Apollo’s sigh;
Still on its bloom the mournful flower retains
The lovely blue that dy’d the stripling’s veins.
Pomona, fir’d with rival envy, views
The glaring pride of Flora’s darling hues;
Where Flora bids the purple iris spread,
She hangs the wilding’s blossom white and red;
Where wild-thyme purples, where the daisy snows
The curving slopes, the melon’s pride she throws;
Where by the stream the lily of the vale,
Primrose, and cowslip meek, perfume the gale,
Beneath the lily, and the cowslip’s bell,
The scarlet strawberries luxurious swell.
Nor these alone the teeming Eden yields,
Each harmless bestial crops the flow’ry fields;
And birds of ev’ry note, and ev’ry wing,
Their loves responsive thro’ the branches sing:
In sweet vibrations thrilling o’er the skies,
High pois’d in air, the lark his warbling tries;
The swan, slow sailing o’er the crystal lake,
Tunes his melodious note; from ev’ry brake
The glowing strain the nightingale returns,
And, in the bowers of love, the turtle mourns.
Pleas’d to behold his branching horns appear,
O’er the bright fountain bends the fearless deer;
The hare starts trembling from the bushy shade,
And, swiftly circling, crosses oft the glade.
Wide o’er the beauteous isle 2 the lovely fair
Stray through the distant glades, devoid of care.
By mildest zephyrs wafted through the boughs,
Unseen the warblers of the holy strain--
"Far from these sacred bowers, ye lewd profane!
May yet mislead.--Oh guard, ye hero train,
No harlot robes of honours false and vain,
No tinsel yours, be yours all native gold,
Well-earn’d each honour, each respect you hold:
To your lov’d king return a guardian band,
Return the guardians of your native land;
To tyrant power be dreadful; from the jaws
Of fierce oppression guard the peasant’s cause.
If youthful fury pant for shining arms,
Spread o’er the eastern world the dread alarms; 1
Footnotes
In prison, if he send not for the ships.
He (constant, and with noble anger hot)
His haughty menace weighs not at two chips."
They guard the fertile walls of Malabar."
LUSIAD, vii.
Volvem o cabrestante, & repartidos
Pello trabalho, huns puxao pella amarra,
Outros quebrao co peito duro a barra."
STANZA X.
To Gama’s eyes reveal’d each treach’rous snare.
Had this been mentioned sooner, the interest of the catastrophe of the
263:1 The joy of the fleet on the homeward departure from India.--We are now come to that part of the Lusiad, which, in the conduct of the poem, is parallel to the great catastrophe of the Iliad, when, on the death of Hector, Achilles thus addresses the Grecian army--
264:2 Swans.
264:3 His falling kingdom claim’d his earnest care.--This fiction, in poetical conduct, bears a striking resemblance to the digressive histories with which Homer enriches and adorns his poems, particularly to the beautiful description of the feast of the gods with "the blameless Ethiopians." It also contains a masterly commentary on the machinery of the Lusiad. The Divine Love conducts GAMA to India. The same Divine Love is represented as preparing to reform the corrupted world, when its attention is particularly called to bestow a foretaste of immortality on the heroes of the expedition which discovered the eastern world. Nor do the wild fantastic loves, mentioned in this little episode, afford any objection against this explanation, an explanation which is expressly given in the episode itself. These wild fantastic amours signify, in the allegory, the wild sects of different enthusiasts, which spring up under the wings of the best and most rational institutions; and which, however contrary to each other, all agree in deriving their authority from the same source.
265:1 A young Actæon.--The French translator has the following characteristic note: "This passage is an eternal monument of the freedoms taken by Camoëns, and at the same time a proof of the imprudence of poets; an authentic proof of that prejudice which sometimes blinds them, notwithstanding all the light of their genius. The modern Actæon of whom he speaks, was King Sebastian. He loved the chase; but, that pleasure, which is one of the most innocent and one of the most noble we can possibly taste, did not at all interrupt his attention to the affairs of state, and did not render him savage, as our author pretends. On this point the historians are rather to be believed. And what would the lot of princes be, were they allowed no relaxation from their toils, while they allow that privilege to their people? Subjects as we are, let us venerate the amusements of our sovereigns; let us believe that the august cares for our good, which employ them, follow them often even to the very bosom of their pleasures."
Many are the strokes in the Lusiad which must endear the character of Camoëns to every reader of sensibility. The noble freedom and manly indignation with which he mentions the foible of his prince, and the flatterers of his court, would do honour to the greatest names of Greece or Rome. While the shadow of freedom remained in Portugal, the greatest names of that nation, in the days of Lusian heroism, thought and conducted themselves in the spirit of Camoëns. A noble anecdote of this brave spirit offers itself. Alonzo IV., surnamed the Brave, ascended the throne of Portugal in the vigour of his age. The pleasures of the chase engrossed all his attention. His confidants and favourites encouraged, and allured him to it. His time was spent in the forests of Cintra, while the affairs of government were neglected or executed by those whose interest it was to keep their sovereign in ignorance. His presence, at last, being necessary at Lisbon, he entered the council with all the brisk impetuosity of a young sportsman, and with great familiarity and gaiety entertained his nobles with the history of a whole month spent in hunting, in fishing, and shooting. When he had finished his narrative, a nobleman of the first rank rose up: "Courts and camps," said he, "were allotted for kings, not woods and deserts. Even the affairs of private men suffer when recreation is preferred to business. But when the whims of pleasure engross the thoughts of a king, a whole nation is consigned to ruin. We came here for other purposes than to hear the exploits of the chase, exploits which are only intelligible to grooms and falconers. If your majesty will
266:1 With love’s fierce flames his frozen heart shall burn.--"It is said, that upon the faith of a portrait Don Sebastian fell in love with Margaret of France, daughter of Henry II., and demanded her in marriage, but was refused. The Spaniards treated him no less unfavourably, for they also rejected his proposals for one of the daughters of Philip II. Our author considers these refusals as the punishment of Don Sebastian’s excessive attachment to the chase; but this is only a consequence of the prejudice with which he viewed the amusements of his prince. The truth is, these princesses were refused for political reasons, and not with any regard to the manner in which he filled up his moments of leisure." Thus Castera, who, with the same spirit of sagacity, starts and answers the following objections: "But here is a difficulty: Camoëns wrote during the life of Don Sebastian, but the circumstance he relates (the return of GAMA) happened several years before, under the reign of Emmanuel. How, therefore, could he say that Cupid then saw Don Sebastian at the chase, when that prince was not then born? The answer is easy: Cupid, in the allegory of this work, represents the love of God, the Holy Spirit, who is God himself. Now the Divinity admits of no distinction of time; one glance of his eye beholds the past, the present, and the future; everything is present before him." This defence of the fiction of Aetæon is not more absurd than useless. The free and bold spirit of poetry, and in particular the nature of allegory, defend it. The poet might easily have said, that Cupid foresaw; but had he said so his satire had been much less genteel. As the sentiments of Castera on this passage are extremely characteristic of French ideas, another note from him will perhaps This foppery, this slavery in thinking, cannot fail to rouse the indignation of every manly breast, when the facts are fairly stated. Don Sebastian, who ascended the throne when a child, was a prince of great abilities and great spirit, but his youth was poisoned with the most romantic ideas of military glory. The affairs of state were left to his ministers (for whose character see the next note), his other studies were neglected, and military exercises, of which he not unjustly esteemed the chase a principal, were almost his sole employ. Camoëns beheld this romantic turn, and in a genteel allegorical satire foreboded its consequences. The wish, that his prince might not fall the prey of his favourite passion, was in vain. In a rash, ill-concerted expedition into Africa, Don Sebastian lost his crown in his twenty-fifth year, an event which soon after produced the fall of the Portuguese empire. Had the nobility possessed the spirit of Camoëns, had they, like him, endeavoured to check the quixotism of a young generous prince, that prince might have reigned long and happy, and Portugal might have escaped the Spanish yoke, which soon followed his defeat at Alcazar; a yoke which sunk Portugal into an abyss of misery, from which, in all probability, she will never emerge into her former splendour. 268:1 On the hard bosoms of the stubborn crowd.--There is an elegance in the original of this line, which the English language will not admit:-- i.e., In the hard hearts of the hard vulgar. 269:1 Cupid.
Ah! may he never fall the hapless prey!’
Of human race, assume the titled name.--
Shall rise, and o’er the East illustrious shine.--
270:2 And Fame--a giant-goddess.--This passage affords a striking instance of the judgment of Camoëns. Virgil’s celebrated description of Fame is in his eye, but he copies it, as Virgil, in his best imitations, copies after Homer. He adopts some circumstances, but, by adding others, he makes a new picture, which justly may be called his own. 271:1 The wat’ry gods.--To mention the gods in the masculine gender, and immediately to apply to them--
Muda quaysquer propositos tomados."
Expedior."
273:1 Soon as the floating verdure caught their sight.--As the departure of GAMA from India was abrupt, he put into one of the beautiful islands of Anchediva for fresh water. "While he was here careening his ships," says Faria, "a pirate named Timoja, attacked him with eight small vessels, so linked together and covered with boughs, that they formed the appearance of a floating island." This, says Castera, afforded the fiction of the floating island of Venus. "The fictions of Camoëns," says he, "are the more marvellous, because they are all founded in history. It is not difficult to find why he makes his island of Anchediva to wander on the waves; it is an allusion to a singular event related by Barros." He then proceeds to the story of Timoja, as if the genius of Camoëns stood in need of so weak an assistance.
273:2 In friendly pity of Latona’s woes.--Latona, pregnant by Jupiter, was persecuted by Juno, who sent the serpent Python in pursuit of her. Neptune, in pity of her distress, raised the island of Delos for her refuge, where she was delivered of Apollo and Diana.--OVID, Met.
274:1 Form’d in a crystal lake the waters blend.--Castera also attributes this to history. "The Portuguese actually found in this island," says he, "a fine piece of water ornamented with hewn stones and magnificent aqueducts; an ancient and superb work, of which nobody knew the author."
In 1505 Don Francisco Almeyda built a fort in this island. In digging among some ancient ruins he found many crucifixes of black and red colour, from whence the Portuguese conjectured, says Osorius, that the Anchedivian islands had in former ages been inhabited by Christians.--Vid. Osor. l. iv.
Chaoniumque nemus, brumæque illæsa cupressus;
Procumbunt piceæ, flammis alimenta supremis,
Ornique, iliceæque trabes, metuandaque sulco
Taxus, et infandos belli potura cruores
Fraxinus, atque situ non expugnabile robur:
Hinc audax abies, et odoro vulnere pinus
Scinditur, acclinant intonsa cacumina terræ
Alnus amica fretis, nec inhospita vitibus ulmus."
277:1 The shadowy vale.--Literal from the original,--O sombrio valle-- which Fanshaw, however, has translated, "the gloomy valley," and thus has given us a funereal, where the author intended a festive, landscape. It must be confessed, however, that the description of the island of Venus, is infinitely the best part all of Fanshaw’s translation. And indeed the dullest prose translation might obscure, but could not possibly throw a total eclipse over, so admirable an original.
277:2 The woe-mark’d flower of slain Adonis--water’d by the tears of love.--The Anemone. "This," says Castera, "is applicable to the celestial Venus, for, according to my theology, her amour with Adonis had
Who from each other stole the beauteous dyes.
An daret, et flores tingere torta dies.’
279:1 The hyacinth bewrays the doleful Ai.--Hyacinthus, a youth beloved of Apollo, by whom he was accidentally slain, and afterwards turned into a flower:--
Flos oritur, formamque capit, quam lilia: si non,
Purpureus color huic, argenteus esset in illis.
Non satis hoc Phæbo est: is enim fuit auctor honoris.
Ipse suos gemitus foliis inscribit; et Ai, Ai,
Flos habet inscriptum: funestaque littera ducta est.
OVID, Met.
280:1 The second Argonauts.--The expedition of the Golden Fleece was esteemed, in ancient poetry, one of the most daring adventures, the success of which was accounted miraculous. The allusions of Camoëns to this voyage, though in the spirit of his age, are by no means improper.
280:2 Wide o’er the beauteous isle the lovely fair.--We now come to the passage condemned by Voltaire as so lascivious, that no nation in Europe, except the Portuguese and Italians, could bear it. The fate of Camoëns has hitherto been very peculiar. The mixture of Pagan and Christian mythology in his machinery has been anathematized, and his island of love represented as a brothel. Yet both accusations are the arrogant assertions of the most superficial acquaintance with his works. His poem itself, and a comparison of its parts with the similar conduct of the greatest modern poets, will clearly evince, that in both instances no modern epic writer of note has given less offence to true criticism.
Not to mention Ariosto, whose descriptions will often admit of no palliation, Tasso, Spenser, and Milton, have always been esteemed among the chastest of poets, yet in that delicacy of warm description, which Milton has so finely exemplified in the nuptials of our first parents, none of them can boast the continued uniformity of the Portuguese poet. Though there is a warmth in the colouring of Camoëns which even the genius of Tasso has not reached; and though the island of Armida is evidently copied from the Lusiad, yet those who are possessed of the finer feelings, will easily discover an essential difference between the love-scenes of the two poets, a difference greatly in favour of the delicacy of the former. Though the nymphs in Camoëns are detected naked in the woods, and in the stream, and though desirous to captivate, still their behaviour is that of the virgin
That would be wooed, and not unsought be won."
That blushing to her laughter gave more grace,
And laughter to her blushing, as did fall.
Now when they spy’d the knight to slack his pace,
Them to behold, and in his sparkling face
The secret signs of kindled lust appear,
Their wanton merriments they did increase,
And to him beckon’d to approach more near,
And show’d him many sights, that courage cold could rear.
As faint through heat, or dight to pleasant sin"--
present every idea of lascivious voluptuousness. The allurements of speech are also added. Songs, which breathe every persuasive, are heard; and the nymphs boldly call to the beholder:--
287:1 Madd’ning as he said.--At the end of his Homer Mr. Pope has given an index of the instances of imitative and sentimental harmony contained in his translations. He has also often even in his notes pointed out the adaptation of sound to sense. The translator of the Lusiad hopes he may for once say, that he has not been inattentive to this great essential of good versification: how he has succeeded the judicious only must determine. The speech of Leonard to the cursory reader may perhaps sometimes appear careless, and sometimes turgid and stiff. That speech, however, is an attempt at the imitative and sentimental harmony, and with the judicious he rests its fate. As the translation in this instance exceeds the original in length, the objection of a foreign critic requires attention. An old pursy Abbé, (and critics are apt to judge by themselves) may indeed be surprised
290:1 Spread o’er the eastern world the dread alarms.--This admonition places the whole design of the poem before us. To extirpate