* 
 

 
 DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Treasure %gom 
 
I 
 
OEMS, 
 
 JFROM THE PORTUGUESE OF 
 
 LUIS DE CAMOENS: 
 
 WITH REMARKS 
 
 on 
 
 HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS, 
 
 NOTES, &c. &c. 
 
 BY LORD VISCOUNT STRANGFORD, 
 
 .Accipies meros amores....... 
 
 CatulL 
 
 BALTIMORE: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY COALE & THOMAS, 
 
 MARKET STREET. 
 PRINTED BY ROBERT CAR*. 
 
 1808, 
 
R6R 
 
 TO 
 DENHAM JEPHSON, ESQ. M. P. &c. &c. 
 
 IN TESTIMONY OF GRATEFUL ATTACHMENT, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE INSCRIBED, 
 
 HIS AFFECTIONATE KINSMAN 
 
 THE TRANSLATOR. 
 
REMARKS 
 
 ON 
 
 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 CAMOENS. 
 
 IT has been frequently observed, that the 
 memoirs of literary men are, in general, so devoid 
 of extraordinary incident, that the relation of them 
 is calculated more to instruct than to amuse. The 
 life of Camoens forms an exception to this remark. 
 Its vicissitudes were so many and so various, as al- 
 most to encourage a belief, that in describing them, 
 the deficiencies of fact were sometimes supplied by 
 the pencil of romance. 
 
 The late ingenious Translator of the Lusiad has 
 pourtrayed the character, and narrated the misfor- 
 tunes of our poet, in a manner more honourable to 
 his feelings as a man, than to his accuracy in point 
 of biographical detail. It is with diffidence that the 
 present writer essays to correct his errors -, but as 
 
 a 2 
 
6 
 
 the real circumstances of the life of Camoens are 
 mostly to be found in his own minor compositions, 
 with which Mr. Mickle was unacquainted, he trusts 
 that certain information will atone for his presump- 
 tion. 
 
 The family of Camoens was illustrious, and ori- 
 ginally Spanish. They were long settled at Cad- 
 mon,* a castle in Galicia, from which they probably 
 derived their patronymic appellation. However, 
 there are some who maintain that their name allu-. 
 ded to a certain wonderful bird,f whose mischiev- 
 ous sagacity discovered and punished the smallest 
 deviation from conjugal fidelity. A lady of the 
 house of Cadmon, whose conduct had been rather 
 indiscreet, demanded to be tried by this extraordi- 
 
 * Faria y Sousa, V. del P. § iii. 
 
 f The Camao. Our poet himself gives a somewhat differ- 
 ent account of the matter, (^uintll. a kuma dama, v, ) 90.) 
 Formerly every well regulated family in Spain retained one of 
 these terrible attendants. The infidelity of its mistress was the 
 only circumstance which could deprive it of life. Should her 
 guilt have been extended to any degree beyond a wish, the faith- 
 ful b;rd immediately betrayed it, by expiring at the feet of its 
 injured lord. It soon was difficult to find a Camao that had 
 lived in the same family during three generations ; and at length 
 the species became entirely extinct ! 
 
 This odious distrust of female honour is ever character- 
 istic of a barbarous age. The Camao of Spain, and the Mumbo 
 of Africa, are expedients indicative of equal refinement. 
 
nary judge. Her innocence was proved, and in 
 gratitude to the being who had restored him to ma- 
 trimonial felicity, the contented husband adopted 
 his name. 
 
 In the fourteenth century, a dispute having ari- 
 sen between the families of Cadmon and De Cas- 
 tera,* a knight of the former, had the misfortune 
 to kill a cavalier belonging to the latter. A long- 
 train of persecution ensued, to escape from which, 
 Ruy de Camoens embraced the cause of King Fer- 
 dinand,! and removed with his family into Portu- 
 gal, under the protection of that monarch, about the 
 year 1370. His son, Vasco de Camoens, was highly 
 distinguished by royal favour,:): but had the supe- 
 rior honour of being the ancestor of our immortal 
 poet, who descended from him in the fourth gene- 
 ration. 
 
 Luis de Camoens was born at Lisbon, about 
 the year 1524.11 His misfortunes began with his 
 
 * Salgado de Araujo. — Casas de Gaiicia, p. 304. 
 
 f Gar cez Ferreyra. — Vid. do Poet. Edit. Gendron. § iii. 
 
 \ King Ferdinand invested him with the lordships of Por- 
 talegre, Alam quer, &c. Faria. 
 
 f) The place of his nativity is ascertained, by his frequent ap- 
 plication of the epithet "paternal" to the Tagvis; the time of it 
 is involved in some obscurity, but an entry in the register of 
 the Portuguese India House appears to determine it. He is 
 there stated to have been twenty -five years old in 1550. Faria, 
 Vid. do Poet. 
 
birth, for he never saw the smiles of a father ; 
 Simon Vaz de Camoens having perished by ship- 
 wreck in the very year which gave being to his son. 
 Such, at least, is the received opinion, although 
 there be many reasons for calling it into question,* 
 Notwithstanding the diminution of wealth which 
 the family sustained in consequence of this event, 
 the youthful Camoens was sent to the university of 
 Coimbra,f and maintained there by the provident 
 care of his surviving parent. 
 
 The ideas associated with the place of our edu- 
 cation are generally lasting. It is the peculiarity 
 of poetical minds to recall them with delight, and 
 Caxoens frequently mentions Coimbra, where he 
 was fostered on the " lap of science," with all the 
 tender gratitude of an affectionate son. During the 
 period which he passed at the university, he was 
 an utter stranger to that passion, with which he af- 
 terwards became so intimately acquainted. It is 
 even recorded, that while the manly graces of his 
 person inspired many of the better sex with admi- 
 ration, he treated his fair captives with disdain, or 
 
 * The same register mentions him as one of his son's sure- 
 ties, and consequently, living in 1550. 
 
 | Fariay Soma — Sever im — Ferreyra. 
 
9 
 
 at most, as the mere objects of temporary trans* 
 port.* 
 
 But the scene was soon to be changed, and on 
 his arrival at Lisbon, he was destined to feel the full 
 vengeance of that God whose power he had con- 
 temned. Love is very nearly allied to devotion, 
 and it was in the exercise of the latter that Camoens 
 was introduced to the knowledge of the former. In 
 . the church of " Christ's Wounds," at Lisbon, on the 
 11th of April, 1542,| he first beheld Dona Cate- 
 rina de Ataide, the object of his purest and earliest 
 attachment. The churches of Spain and Portugal, 
 says Scarron, are the very cradles of intrigue 4 and 
 it was not long before Camoens enjoyed an oppor- 
 tunity of declaring his affection, with all the roman^ 
 tic ardour of eighteen, and of a poet. 
 
 But, in those days, love was a state of no trifling 
 probation, and ladies then unconscionably expected 
 a period of almost chivalrous servitude, which hap- 
 pily for gentlemen, is no longer required. The 
 punctilious severity of his mistress formed the sub- 
 ject of our Poet's most tender complaints ; for, 
 though her heart had secretly decided in his favour, 
 
 * Camoens, Cane . II, stanz. vi. Canq. VII, stanz. ii. Son. VII. 
 Sousa in loc. 
 
 f For the reasons which have induced the translator to assign 
 this date, see the note on Sonnet I. 
 \ Roman Comique ; P.I, ch. ix. 
 
10 
 
 still Portuguese delicacy suppressed all avowal of 
 her passion. After many months of adoration, when 
 he humbly besought a ringlet of her hair, she was 
 so far softened by his entreaties, as to make a com- 
 promise with prudery, and bestow one of the silken 
 fillets which encircled her head !* These anecdotes 
 must not be despised, for they mark the temper of 
 the times. 
 
 The peculiar situation of Dona Caterina (that 
 of one of the queen's ladies) imposed an uniform 
 restraint on her lover, which soon became intolera- 
 ble. Like another Ovid, he violated the sanctity of 
 the royal precincts, and was in consequence banish- 
 ed from the court.f With the precise nature of his 
 ©ifence we are unacquainted, but it too probably 
 arose from a breach of discretion, the first and no- 
 blest amongst the laws of gallantry.:): Whatsoever 
 it might have been, it furnished a happy pretext to 
 the lady's relations, for terminating an intercourse 
 which worldly considerations rendered, on her part, 
 of the highest imprudence. But Love prepared 
 consolation for his votary, where least he expected 
 it. On the morning of his departure, his mistress 
 
 * Camoens, Son. XL II, and Sousa in loc. 
 
 f Camoens, Eleg. Ill, and Sousa in loc 
 
 | Faria y Sousa. Comment, in E6log. pag. 240 
 
11 
 
 relented from her wonted severity, and confessed 
 the secret of her long-concealed affection.* The 
 sighs of grief were soon lost in those of mutual de- 
 light, and the hour of parting was, perhaps, the 
 sweetest of our poet's existence. Thus comforted, 
 he removed to Santarem (the scene of his banish- 
 ment) but speedily returned to Lisbon, again tasted 
 of transport, was a second time detected, and a se- 
 cond time driven into exile. f To such a spirit as 
 Camoens, the inactivity of this situation must have 
 proved insupportable ; the voice of love whispered a 
 secret reproach, and inspired him with the glorious 
 resolution of conquering the obstacles which fortune 
 had placed between him and felicity. He accord- 
 ingly sought and obtained permission to accompany 
 king John III,:): in an expedition then concerted 
 against the Moors in Africa. Here, whilst bravely 
 fighting under the commands of a near relation, |] he 
 was deprived of his right eye, by some splinters 
 from the deck of the vessel in which he was sta- 
 tioned. Many of his most pathetic compositions 
 
 • Sonnet XXIV, and Comment in loc. 
 I Fan a y Sous a, V. del P. § xiv. 
 
 \ Of this monarch Camoens gives a fine character in one com- 
 prehensive line. 
 
 u Foy rey } fez tudo quanto a rey se deve." 
 
 Son. LIX. 
 •* He was a king — in every act a king." 
 
 || Sousa says, under those of his father. Vida. § xiv. 
 
12 
 
 were written during this campaign, and the toils of 
 a martial life were sweetened by the recollection of 
 her for whom they were endured. 
 
 His heroic conduct in many engagements, at 
 length purchased his recal to court. He hastened 
 home, fraught with the most tender anticipations, 
 and found — what must have been his feelings ? that 
 his mistress was no more! — * 
 
 There can scarcely be conceived a more interest- 
 ing theme for the visions of romance, than the death 
 of this young and amiable being. The circum- 
 stances of her fate are peculiarly favourable to the 
 exercise of conjecture. She loved, she was beloved, 
 yet unfortunate in her attachment, she was torn from 
 the world at the early age of twenty ;f and we can- 
 not but adorn her grave with some of the wildest 
 flowers which fancy produces. But her lot was en- 
 viable, compared to that of her lover. The measure 
 of his sorrows was yet imperfect. He had still to 
 encounter the cruel neglect of that nation, whose 
 glory his valour had contributed to maintain. The 
 claims of mere merit are too often disregarded, but 
 those which are founded on the gratitude of courts 
 are hopeless indeed ! Long years were passed by 
 Camoens in unsuccessful application for the reward 
 
 * Comment, in Sonn. XIX, et alibi, 
 t Ibid. 
 
13 
 
 which his services demanded,* and in suing for his 
 rights at the feet of men whom he could not but de- 
 spise. This was a degradation which his high spi 
 rit knew not how to endure, and he accordingly 
 bade adieu to Portugal, to seek, under the burning 
 suns of India, that independence which his own 
 country denied. f 
 
 There are some who attribute this event to a 
 very different cause, and assert that Camoens quit- 
 ted Lisbon in consequence of a discovered intrigue 
 with the beautiful wife of a Portuguese gentleman.i 
 Perhaps this story may not be wholly unfounded. 
 It is improbable that he remained long constant to 
 the memory of a departed mistress, when living 
 beauty was ready to supply her place. His was not 
 a heart that could safely defy temptation, although 
 
 * Joseph de Aquino. Vid. do Poet. p. 132, edit. 1782. 
 
 f " As derradeiras palavras que na nao disse fora5 as de Scipiao 
 Africano, Ixgrata fatria, non possidebis ossa mea!" 
 " The last words which I uttered on board of the vessel were those 
 of Scipio— ' Ungrateful country ! thou shalt not even possess my 
 bones.' " Such are the expressions of Camoens, in a letter written 
 from India, to a friend at Lisbon . The whole of this composition is 
 interesting, and pathetic in the extreme. 
 
 \ Mickle. — Life of Camoens. Unfortunately, Mr. M. does 
 not cite any authority for this supposition. 
 
 B 
 
14 
 
 the barbarous ingenuity of some commentators * 
 would make us believe, that all his amours were 
 purely platonic, and that he was ignorant of the 
 passion in every other respect. Happily for him- 
 self, the case was different, and his works record 
 that he more than once indulged in the little wander- 
 ings of amatory frolic.f 
 
 On his arrival in India, we find that Camoens 
 contributed, in no small measure, to the success of 
 an expedition aqainst the Pimenta Isles, carried on 
 by the king of Cochin and his allies the Portuguese. 
 His own recital of this affair exhibits all the charm- 
 ing modesty of merit.:): In the following year (1 555) 
 Manuel de Vasconcelos conducted an armament to 
 the Red Seaf. Our poet accompanied him, and 
 with the intrepid curiosity of genius, explored the 
 wild regions of Africa by which Mount Felix is 
 surrounded. Here his mind was stored with sketch- 
 es of scenery, which afterwards formed some of the 
 most finished pictures in his Lusiad, and in other 
 
 * Faria, in Son. X, et al. 
 
 | Those who are desirous of further information on this subject, 
 may obtain a very curious anecdote by consulting Sousa. Vid. del 
 P. § xxxii. 
 
 % Eleg. I. 
 
 || Life, by Ferreyra, § xiv. 
 
15 
 
 compositions/* to the former of which, on returning 
 to Goa, he devoted his whole attention. 
 
 India, at that time, presented a scene of politi- 
 cal depravity, which no subsequent period has ex- 
 ceeded. Practices were tolerated, which eventually 
 wrought the downfal of the government by whom 
 they were authorized ; hordes of hungry adventu- 
 rers rioted on the spoils of the friendless natives, 
 and the demons of rapacity and avarice were every 
 where exalted into gods. The spirit of Camoens 
 rose in revolt against the enormities by which he 
 was surrounded. An opportunity of declaring his 
 disgust, at length occurred. The arrival of a new 
 governor at Goa, was celebrated by the exhibition 
 of a kind of tournament, in which reeds were em- 
 ployed in place of lances, thence called u The Sport 
 ef the Canes" Camoens published a satirical ac- 
 count of this affair, in which he described the chief 
 men of Goa, as adorned with allegorical devices, &c. 
 allusive to the character and conduct of each.f In 
 consequence of this, he was banished to China by 
 
 • In particular, the IX, Cangam. 
 
 t He likewise wrote some verses entitled, " Disparates na India"' 
 which severely animadverted on the mal -administration of the new 
 governor. 
 
16 
 
 order of Barreto, the governor, against whom the 
 bard's attack had been principally directed. 
 
 This proceeding of Camoens has not escaped 
 reprehension. He has been accused of ingratitude ; 
 but how could he be ungrateful, who never had a 
 friend ? His rashness in provoking the anger of the 
 great, has likewise been censured by the cold- 
 blooded moderation of worldly men ; men to whom 
 truth itself seems a libel, if it offend the dignity of a 
 grandee.* Yet, though it be a mournful fact that 
 prudence and genius but rarely accord, is the sacri- 
 fice of the former to be regretted, when it makes 
 way for the punishment of vice, by the bold utter- 
 ance of honest indignation ? On this principle, the 
 conduct of our author appears almost free from 
 blame, and, perhaps, he was only culpable in suffer- 
 ing resentment to give too high a colouring to the 
 sketches of truth. 
 
 The adventures of Camoens in China, the tem- 
 porary prosperity which he there experienced, and 
 the numerous sorrows and persecutions which he 
 afterwards encountered, have been fully and ele- 
 gantly detailed by the late ingenious translator of 
 the Lusiad. To his narration the present writer 
 
 * Amongst others, Mons. Bu Perron de Castera, the French trans- 
 lator of the Lusiad. 
 
17 
 
 oegs to refer, lest he should extend these remarks 
 beyond their proper bounds. 
 
 After an absence of sixteen years, Camoens 
 was compelled to return to Portugal, poor and 
 friendless as when he departed. His immortal Lu- 
 siad was now ready for publication, which, however, 
 was delayed, in consequence of the violence with 
 which the plague then raged throughout Lisbon, 
 At length in the summer of 15T2, it was printed,* 
 and received with all the honour due to such a glo- 
 rious achievement of genius. It is even asserted 
 that King Sebastian, to whom it was inscribed, re- 
 warded the author with a pension of 375 reis.] But, 
 admitting the truth of this very doubtful story, our 
 poet could not have remained in long possession of 
 the royal bounty. Sebastian was speedily hurled 
 from a tottering throne 4 and liberality was a stran- 
 ger to the soul of his successor. To his eyes the 
 
 * Fariay Sousa, Vid. § xxvii. 
 
 fWhen Sebastian undertook the Moorish expedition, 
 assured of victory, he brought a poet with him to Africa, to 
 witness his exploits, and to celebrate them in song. The person 
 selected for this office was Diego Bemardes, a man of poor and 
 despicable abilities. Had Camoens been really a protege of the 
 monarch, it is much more probable that he would have attended 
 him, whose 
 
 " Sword and pen were rivals in renown." 
 
 | Faria, ut supra. 
 
 B 2 
 
IS 
 
 cowl of monkhood seemed a more graceful orna- 
 ment than the noblest laurels of the muse.* Such 
 was the spirit which patronised De Sa,f and suffered 
 the author of the Lusiad to starve ! 
 
 The latter years of Camoens present a mourn- 
 ful picture, not merely of individual calamity, but 
 of national ingratitude. He whose best years had 
 been devoted to the service of his country, he, who 
 had taught her literary fame to rival the proudest 
 efforts of Italy itself, and who seemed born to revive 
 the remembrance of ancient gentility and Lusian he- 
 roism, was compelled in age, to wander through the 
 streets, a wretched dependent on casual contribution. 
 One friend alone remained to smooth his downward 
 path, and guide his steps to the grave, with gentle- 
 ness and consolation. It was Antonio, his slave, a 
 native of Java, who had accompanied Camoens to 
 Europe, after having rescued him from the waves, 
 when shipwrecked at the mouth of the Mecon. This 
 faithful attendant was wont to seek alms throughout 
 
 * In the preface of the edition of Camoens, printed im 
 1782. vol, i, p. 59, there is an attempt to vindicate the charac- 
 ter of Cardinal Henry from the strictures of Mr. Mickle. But 
 the voice of history cannot be silenced, and history is loud in his 
 condemnation. 
 
 •f Sousa. Vid. § xxvii. Francisco de Sa was an author 
 much in favour with Cardinal Henry. His muse was of a theo- 
 logical turn. He wrote orthodox sonnets to St. John, and piovrs 
 little epigrams on Adam and Eve, &c. 
 
19 
 
 Lisbon, and at night shared the produce of the day 
 with his poor and broken hearted master.* Blessed, 
 forever blessed, be the memory of this amiable In- 
 dian ! But his friendship was employed in vain : 
 Camoens sank beneath the pressure of penury and 
 disease, and died in an alms-housef early in the 
 year 1579. He was buried in the church of Saint 
 Anne of the Franciscans. Over his grave, Gonc^lo 
 Coutinho placed the following inscription,^: which, 
 for comprehensive simplicity, the translator ventures 
 to prefer to almost every production of a similar 
 kind : 
 
 HERE LIES LUIS DE CAMOENS : 
 
 HE EXCELLED ALL THE POETS OF HIS TIME. 
 
 HE LIVED POOR AND MISERABLE ; 
 
 AND HE DIED SO. 
 
 MDLXXIX. 
 
 * Fariay Sousa. § xxix. 
 
 f The place of his death is differently mentioned by Ma- 
 noel de Faria. According to that commentator, he died in his 
 own miserable hovel, close to the church in which he wae 
 interred. 
 
 \ Sousa. Vid. §. Some years afterwards, Don Gon- 
 qalves Camera caused a long and pompous epitaph to be en- 
 graved on the same tomb. But this posthumous panegyric only 
 added deeper disgrace to the facts recorded in the former 
 inscription . 
 
20 
 
 It has been justly observed,* that the fate oi 
 Camoens, considered in a political view, bears an 
 intimate connexion with that of his country. The 
 same degradation of national sentiment, which suf- 
 fered such a man to become a beggar and an outcast, 
 not long afterwards plunged Portugal into the lowest 
 disgrace, and reduced her to the abject state of a 
 conquered province. So true it is, that the decline 
 of public spirit in matters of taste is a certain indi- 
 cation of political decay, f 
 
 The character of Camoens may be inferred 
 from his writings. An open and undisguised con- 
 tempt of every thing base and sordid, whatever were 
 the rank or power of its possessor, formed one of 
 its principal features. We have already seen how 
 much the worldly interest of v our poet was injured 
 bv this honourable audacity of soul. Those who 
 condemn it must be ignorant that the exercise of 
 this feeling produces a more enviable delight than 
 
 * Mickle. Life of Camoens. 
 
 f Of this opinion was Camoens himself. In a letter to Doji 
 Francisco de Almeyda, written a few days before his death, 
 he has these prophetic expressions: "Veran todos que fuy 
 tan aficionado a mi patria, que no solo bolvi para morir en 
 ella, mas para morir con ella!" — "The world shall witness 
 how dearly I have loved my country. I have returned not 
 merely to die in her bosom, but to die with ber f Sousa. Vid. 
 
 §XXV. 
 
21 
 
 any which fortune can ever bestow. The poor man 
 is net always poor! 
 
 But gallantry was the leading trait in the dispo- 
 sition of Camoens. His amours were various and 
 successful. Woman was to him as a ministering 
 angel, and for the little joy which he tasted in life, 
 he was indebted to her. The magic of female 
 charms forms his favourite theme, and while he 
 paints the allurements of the sex with the glowing 
 pencil of an enthusiast, he seems transported into 
 that heaven which he describes. Nor did this pas- 
 sion ever desert him ; even in his last days, he feel- 
 ingly regretted the raptures of youth, and lingered 
 with delight on the remembrances of love. A ca- 
 valier named Ruy de Camera,* having called upon 
 our author to finish a poetical version of the seven 
 penitential psalms, raising his head from his misera* 
 ble pallet, and pointing to his faithful slave, he ex- 
 claimed, " Alas when I was a poet, I was young, 
 and happy, and blest with the love of ladies, but now, 
 I am a forlorn deserted wretch: — See — there stands 
 my poor Antonio, vainly s\x^Y\Q.a.tmg four-pence to 
 purchase a little coals — I have them not to give 
 him!" The cavalier, as Sousa quaintly relates^ 
 
 * Sousa, Vid. $ xxix. 
 
22 
 
 closed his heart and his purse and quitted the room. 
 Such were the grandees of Portugal ! 
 
 The genius of Camoens was almost universal. 
 Like the great father of English poetry, there is 
 scarcelv any species of writing, from the epigram to 
 the epic, which he has not attempted, and, like him, 
 he has succeeded in all. It is not the province of 
 the translator to offer any remarks on the Lusiad. 
 That task has already been ably performed. Of his 
 minor productions, the general characteristic is ease; 
 not the studied carelessness of modern refinement, 
 but the graceful and charming simplicity of a Gre- 
 cian muse. When he wrote, the Italian model was 
 in fashion, and as Camoens was intimately acquaint- 
 ed with that language, he too frequently sacrificed 
 his better judgment to the vitiated opinion of the 
 public. Hence the extravagant hyperboles and la- 
 borious allusions, which he has sometimes, though 
 rarely, employed. But his own taste was formed 
 on purer principles. He had studied and admired 
 the poems of Provence.* He had wandered through 
 those vast catacombs of buried genius, and treasure 
 
 * u The poetry of the Troubadours passed into Arragon 
 and Catalonia at the time when the kings of the former terri^ 
 tory (counts of Barcelona) became by marriage counts of Pro- 
 vence," Mem. &£ Grind, Fabliaux, vol. ii, p. 25. 
 
- 23 
 
 rewarded his search. Even the humble knowledge 
 of Provencal literature, which the present writer 
 possesses, has enabled him to discover many pas- 
 sages which the Portuguese poet has rendered his 
 own. But we must be careful not to defraud Ca- 
 Moens of the merit of originality. To that charac- 
 ter he has, perhaps, a juster claim than any of the 
 moderns, Dante alone excepted. The same remark 
 which Landino applies to that poet, may be referred 
 to him.* He was the first who wrote with elegance 
 in his native tongue. The language of Rome, and 
 even of Greece, had been refined by antecedent au- 
 thors, before the appearance of Virgil or of Homer, 
 but Camoens was at once the polisher, and in some 
 degree the creator of his own. How deplorable must 
 have been its state, when it naturalized two thou- 
 sand new words on the bare authority of a single 
 man!* Monsieur Menage was wont to pique him- 
 self on having introduced into French the term u ve- 
 nuste;" yet all his influence could never make it 
 
 * " Trovd Omero la lingua Greca molto gia abbondante, 
 cd elimata da Orfeo, da Museo, &c. 8cc. trovo Virgilio la 
 Latina esornata e da Ennio, e da Lucrezio, &.c. &c. ma inanzi 
 a Dante in lingua Toscana nessuno avea trovato alcuna 
 leggiadria, &c." Landino. Comm. in Dant. ed. mccccxci. 
 fol. xiii. 
 
 f Longueruana, ou Pensees de l'Abbe Dufour, .p 229. 
 
24 
 
 current, nor indeed did it long survive its illustrious 
 fabricator.* 
 
 Our author, like many others, has suffered much 
 from the cruel kindness of editors and commenta- 
 tors. After the first publication of his " Rimas," 
 there appeared a number of spurious compositions, 
 which, for some time, were attributed to him. 
 Amongst these was a poem to which notice is due, 
 not on account of its own merit, but from regard to 
 the reputation of Camoens. It is called u The 
 Creation and Composition of Man,'' and is a strange 
 medley of anatomy, metaphysics, and school divinity. 
 In subject, and occasionally in execution, it striking- 
 ly resembles the Purple Island of Phineas Fletcher ; 
 and, like it, is a curious example of tortured inge- 
 nuity. One instance shall suffice. Man is typified 
 under the symbol of a tower. The mouth is the 
 gateway, and the teeth are described as two and 
 thirty millers, clothed in white, and placed as guards 
 on either side of the porch. His metaphor is more 
 satirically just, when he represents the tongue as a 
 female, old and experienced, whose office was to 
 regulate and assist the efforts of the thirty-two 
 
 * Longueruana 3 ou Pensees de l'Abbe Dufour, p. 229 
 
25 
 
 grinders aforesaid, all young men of indispensable 
 utility and extraordinary powers ! 
 
 " Duros e rijos, trinta e duos moleiros 
 rt De grande forqa, e util exercico ! 
 
 He must possess no little credulity, who would attri- 
 bute such a work, to the author of the Lusiad.* 
 
 There is also another poem which bears his 
 name, but is certainly the production of a different 
 hand. The martyrdom of St. Ursula and the 
 eleven thousand virgins forms its subject. But it is 
 not probable that the persevering chastity of these 
 unhappy ladies could ever have found favour in the 
 sight of our amorous bard. It is still less likely 
 that he would have celebrated it in song. 
 
 Camoens is the reputed author of three come- 
 dies, published at different periods after his death. 
 The subject of one of them is the amour of Amio- 
 chus with his step-mother Stratonice. There are 
 some fine passages to be found in this production - f 
 
 * A Treatise on Surgery was printed in 1551, by Ber- 
 nardino de Montana. The Second Part of it is called "El 
 Sueno" or the Dream, and seems to have been the original from 
 which this singular poem was derived. 
 
 c 
 
26 
 
 but in general, the writer seems to have anticipated 
 the taste of modern times, and to have considered 
 comedy and farce as the same. Another is founded 
 on the prolonged adventure of Jupiter and Alcmena. 
 The third and indisputably the best, relates the ro- 
 mantic loves of a Prince of Denmark and a Spanish 
 Lady, who after a due course of tribulation, prove 
 to be first-cousins, and are happily united. But not- 
 withstanding the improbability of the design, the 
 execution is good ; and, on the whole, this composi- 
 tion bears internal evidence of the hand of C amoens. 
 Something remains to be said of the present 
 translation. It is offered to the world with diffidence, 
 as the favourite amusement of a young mind, which, 
 when obliged to relax from severer studies, prefer- 
 red literary trifling to total inactivity. The trans- 
 lator begs to observe, that for the most part, he has 
 closely copied his author, but that where circum- 
 stances demanded, he has not hesitated to be 
 
 " True to his sense — but truer to his fame." 
 
 Literal versions are justly deemed absurd; yet, 
 en the other hand, too great an extension of the 
 Horatian precept, u Nec verbum verbo," has been 
 
27 
 
 the bane of many. It has proved to the world of 
 translation, what the phrase u liberality of senti- 
 ment" has been to that of morals — the worst of 
 errors have originated from both. 
 
 Of the notes, little can be said. He who com- 
 ments on amatory verses undertakes but a limited 
 office. His utmost effort is the citation of parallel 
 passages, unless he substitute admiration for criti- 
 cism ; a mistake into which, of all others, a transla- 
 tor is most likely to fall. 
 
 The present writer has yet to offer his grateful 
 acknowledgments to those whose advice and expe- 
 rience have aided his labours. It is with pride and 
 pleasure that he enrols among them the names of 
 Percy and of Haley. To the kindness of the 
 latter he is indebted for the assistance of mam7 
 valuable books, which could not elsewhere be pro- 
 cured; and to the almost fatherly friendship of the 
 learned Bishop of Dromore, his obligations have 
 long been unbounded. It is no small honour to so 
 young a writer, that he should be countenanced by 
 men, who, like the good spirits in Trissino, sit un- 
 der the shade of their own laurels, and smile en- 
 couragement on those who are labouring up the 
 mountain over which they preside. 
 
POEMS, &c. 
 
 FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF 
 
 CAMOENS. 
 
 c 2 
 
POEMS. 
 
 CANZON. 
 
 " Lembrevos minha trestejsa 
 "Que jamais," &c. 
 
 Canst thou forget the silent tears 
 
 Which I have shed for thee ? 
 And all the pangs, and doubts, and fears, 
 Which scattered o'er my bloom of years 
 The blights of misery ? 
 
 I never close my languid eye 
 
 Unless to dream of thee ; 
 My every breath is but the sigh, 
 My every sound the broken cry, 
 
 Of lasting misery. 
 
32 
 
 O, when in boyhood's happier scene 
 
 I pledg'd my love to thee, 
 How very little did I ween 
 My recompense should now have been. 
 
 So much of misery ! 
 
33 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 M Se de do vestida andais 
 
 M Por quern ja vida no teni, 8cc. 
 
 Why art thou cloth'd in sad array 
 For him, whose days are done, 
 
 Yet dost no sign of grief display 
 
 For those, thy lightning glances slay? 
 Though he thou mournest be but one ; 
 
 —More than a thousand, they — 
 
 Thou bendest on the lover's pray'r 
 
 The tearless eye of scorn ; 
 And while thou dost, with barbarous care, 
 Th' illusive guise of feeling wear, 
 
 Tho' Pity's garb thy breast adorn, 
 — She never enters there ! 
 
34 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 (SPANISH.) 
 
 " Mi coraqon me han roubado 
 
 " Y Amor viendo mis enojos," &c. 
 
 The heart that warnrd my guileless breast 
 Some wanton hand had thence eonvey'd, 
 
 But Love, who saw his bard distressM, 
 In pity thus the thief betray'd — 
 
 " 'Tis she who owns the fairest mien 
 
 " And sweetest eyes that e'er were seen ! " 
 
 And sure if Love be in the right, 
 (And was love ever in the wrong ?) 
 
 To thee, my first and sole delight, 
 
 That simple heart must now belong-— 
 
 — Because thou hast the fairest mien, 
 
 And sweetest eyes that e'er were seen ! 
 
 This is one of the many poems which Camoexs originally 
 wrote in Spanish. There are some of his compositions of a 
 more motley description, in which he blends two languages to- 
 gether, and walks, as he expresses it, " with one foot in Portu- 
 gal and the other in Spain." Com hum pea Portuegueza, outro 
 a Gastelharta„ 
 
35 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 " Nao me buscays, Amor ligeyro 
 <( Nao me buscays," Sec. 
 
 Pr'ythee, Gupid, hence — desist — - 
 Why should I increase the list 
 Of boys, whose sole delights consist 
 In kissing, and in being kiss'd ? 
 
 Starlight eyes, and heaving snows, 
 Lips, young rivals of the rose, 
 Rounded limbs, and folding arms, 
 Dreams of undiscover'd charms, 
 
 Bound their witchery once about me; 
 
 But, their prisoner now is free, 
 
 Since on every side I see, 
 There are fools enough without me ! 
 
 %. iVythee, Cupid, hence — desist — 
 Why should I increase the list? 
 
 Matos, in one of his letters, quotes this little Poem as the 
 production of Camoexs, and on that authority only it is here 
 inserted. 
 
36 
 CANZONET. 
 
 (SPANISH.) 
 
 " Tiempo ! que todo mudas, 
 " El verde manto que," &c. 
 
 Flow'rs are fresh, and bushes green, 
 
 Cheerily the linnets sing ; 
 Winds are soft, and skies serene ; 
 
 Time, however, soon shall throw 
 Winter's snow 
 O'er the buxom breast of Spring. 
 
 Hope that buds in Lover's heart, 
 
 Lives not through the scorn of years ; 
 Time makes Love itself depart, 
 
 Time and scorn congeal the mind ; 
 Looks unkind 
 Freeze Affection's warmest tears ! 
 
 Our poet has managed this trite and common sentiment in 
 his happiest manner. Nothing is more frequent in Provencal 
 poetry than gay and romantic descriptions of Spring, " wherein 
 eche thynge reneweth, saue onelie the Louer." Surry. 
 
37 
 
 Time shall make the bushes green, 
 Time dissolve the winter-snow, 
 Winds be soft, and skies serene, 
 
 Linnets sing their wonted strain, 
 But again, 
 Blighted Love shall never blow ! 
 
 D 
 
38 
 
 CANZONET. 
 
 (VIDE REMARKS ON CAMOEXS, PAGE 11.) 
 
 " Polo meu apartamento 
 (( Se arrazao," kc 
 
 I whisper'd her my last adieu, 
 I gave a mournful kiss ; 
 
 Cold show'rs of sorrow bath'd her eyes, 
 And her poor heart was torn with sighs : 
 Yet — strange to tell — 'twas then I knew 
 Most perfect bliss. — 
 
 For Love* at other times suppress'd, 
 Was all betray'd at this — 
 i I saw him weeping in her eyes, 
 
 I heard him breathe amongst her sighs, 
 And ev'ry sob which shook her breast, 
 Thrill' d mine with bliss. 
 
 The sight which keen Affection clears, 
 How can it judge amiss? 
 
 To me, it pictur'd hope ; and taught 
 My spirit this consoling thought, 
 That Love's sun, though it rise in tears, 
 AT^v set in b!5 cc ! 
 
39 
 
 RONDEAU. 
 
 c< Com Amor a rosa, 
 " Que tao fresca," &c. 
 
 Just like Love is yonder rose, 
 Heavenly fragrance round it throws, 
 Yet tears its dewy leaves disclose, 
 And in the midst of briars it blows, 
 Just like Love. 
 
 Cull'd to bloom upon the breast, 
 Since rough thorns the stem invest, 
 They must be gather' d with the rest 
 And with it, to the heart be prest, 
 Just like Lover 
 
 Perhaps this little Pcem, in its present form, has no very just 
 claim to the ti:le which it bears. Like the preceding one, it seems 
 to have been suggested by a hint of Ausias March, a Trouba- 
 dour. 
 
 Sweet is love, and sweet is the rose, 
 Each has a flow'r, and each has a thorn 3 
 Roses die when the cold wind blows, 
 Love, it is kill'd bv lady's scorn ! 
 
40 
 
 And when rude hands the twin-buds sever, 
 They die — and they shall blossom never, 
 — Yet the thorns be sharp as ever, 
 Just like Love. 
 
41 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 " Os bos vi sempre passar 
 •' No mundo," &.c. 
 
 I saw the virtuous man contend 
 
 With life's unnumber'd woes ; 
 And he was poor — without a friend — 
 
 Press'd by a thousand foes. 
 
 I saw the Passions' pliant slave 
 
 In gallant trim, and gay; 
 His course was Pleasure's placid wave, 
 
 His life, a summer's day. — 
 
 These fine moral lines are remarkable for their extreme 
 simplicity. The third Stanza probably alludes to one of those 
 little transgressions of which our Poet was often givlty, but of 
 which he seldom repented. The commentators suppose that 
 it relates to a negro girl, of whom he was passionately fond. 
 They endeavour to defend the irregularity of his taste by com- 
 paring it to the penchant of the wisest of men for the dusky 
 Queen of Sheba. 
 
 This negro slave was named Joanna, and to her Camoens 
 addressed some pretty verses, beginning, 
 
 The captive which Yictory gave to my arms 
 Has prison 'd my soul in the chain of her charms ; 
 So I sooihe her with gentle good -humour, that she, 
 In return, may be more than good-humour'd to me ! Sec. 
 
 D 2 
 
And I was caught in Folly's snare, 
 And join'd her giddy train — 
 
 But found her soon the nurse of Care, 
 And Punishment, and Pain. 
 
 There surely is some guiding pow'r 
 Which rightly suffers wrong — 
 
 Gives Vice to bloom its little hour — - 
 But Virtue, late and long ! 
 

 
 43 
 
 CANZONET. 
 
 el Estasse a primavera trasladada 
 " Em vossa vista," &c. 
 
 Spring in gay and frolic hour, 
 Deck'd my love from many a flow'r ; 
 Bade young hyacinths diffuse 
 O'er her locks their scented dews ; 
 Plac'd the violet's darker dyes 
 In her all-imperial eyes ; 
 
 A mistress compos'd of flowers is by no means a rarity in 
 the garden of the Muses. Our own Spenser has quaintly pur- 
 sued this thought.* 
 
 " Her lippes did smell like unto gilliflowers, 
 
 " Her ruddie cheeks like unto roses red i 
 
 " Her snowy browes like budded bellamours, 
 
 " Her love/ie een like pinkes but netvlie spred,- 
 
 " Her goodlie bosome like a strawberrie bed ; 
 
 " Her neck tike to a bunch ofcullambvies, 
 
 *' Her brest like lillies' ere their leaves be shed, 
 
 •' Her nipples like young blossom'd jessamines." Sec. 
 
 It must be confessed that the 4th and 6th lines of this fanci- 
 ful Sonnet convey strange ideas of the lady's charms. 
 
 " Sonnet 64 : And Shajsspeare, Sonnet 99. 
 
44 
 
 Made her glowing cheek display 
 
 Roses, just their prime attaining ; 
 But rcserv'd the buds for staining 
 
 Lips, as fresh and firm as they! 
 
 Dear one ! he whose amorous suit 
 Fain would turn thy blooms to fruit ; 
 Does he merit thus from thee, 
 Piercing thorns of cruelty? 
 
45 
 
 CANZON. 
 
 'Qnando o sol encuberto vay mostrando 
 ' Ao mundo a luz quieta," &c. 
 
 When day has smil'd a soft farewel, 
 And night-drops bathe each shutting bell, 
 And shadows sail along the green, 
 And birds are stilly and winds serene, 
 
 I wander silently. 
 
 Imitated from the the 34th sonnet. The translator humbly 
 presumed, that the graces of this charming little Poem would 
 appear to greater advantage in its present form than in that of a 
 sonnet. 
 
 The creative powers of fancy, during the absence of a 
 mistress, form a favourite subject of Provencal poetry. There 
 is a very comical story somewhere, of a fastidious gallant, 
 whose perverted imagination conjured up circumstances, that 
 finally put Love to death. 
 
 Camoen t s seems to have taken the hint of this Poem from 
 Petrarch, Sonnet, 90. 
 
 — Sennuccio i vo che sappi, &c . 
 
 Laura mi volve — 
 
 Qui tutta umile e qui la vidi altera, 
 
 Or aspra, or piana, or dispietata, or pia, 
 
 Or vestirsi, fcc. &c, 
 
46 
 
 And while my lone step prints the dew 
 Dear are the dreams that bless my view, 
 To Memory's eye the maid appears, 
 For whom have sprung my sweetest tears, 
 So oft, so tenderly : 
 
 And Petrarch was, perhaps; indebted for the idea to Ovid- 
 Fast. 2. 769. 
 
 Carpiturattonitos absentis imagine sensus 
 llle : recordanti plura magisque placent : 
 
 Sic sedit, sic culta fuit, sic stamina nevit, 
 Neglects collo sic jacivere corns; 
 
 Hoshabuit vultus, haec ill i verba fuerunt, 
 Hie color, haec facies, hie decor oris erat ; 
 
 Sic quamvis aberat placitx praesentia formae, 
 Qux dederat praesens forma manebat amor. 
 
 IMITATED- 
 
 Strange is thepow'rof thought — oft Memory seems 
 To view the maid in visionary dreams, 
 Or bending o'er the loom with patient care 
 iler white neck shaded by descending hair, 
 Or when her song the lapse of time beguiles, 
 Or sagely sad, or ripen'd into smiles ; 
 The same that blush, the same that faultless grace, 
 The same those gay bewitcheries of face ; 
 -Love deems her near — and hangs upon the form. 
 ich fancy draws — as wishing and as warns ' 
 
47 
 
 I see her, as with graceful care 
 She binds her braids of sunny hair ; 
 I feel her harp's melodious thrill 
 Strike to my heart — and thence be still 
 Re-echo'd faithfully: 
 
 I meet her mild and quiet eye, 
 Drink the warm spirit of her sigh, 
 See young love beating in her breast, 
 And wish to mine it's pulses prest, 
 
 God knows how fervently? 
 
 Such are my hours of dear delight, 
 And morn but makes me long for night 
 i\.nd think how swift the minutes flew, 
 When last amongst the dropping dew ? 
 I wander'd silently. 
 
48 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 •' Nunca manhaa suave 
 
 M Estendendo seus rayos," Sic. 
 
 Dear is the blush of early light 
 To him who ploughs the pathless deep, 
 When winds have rav'd throughout the night. 
 And roaring tempests banish'd sleep — 
 Dear is the dawn, which springs at last, 
 And shows him all his peril past. 
 
 IMITATED FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE FIFTH OPE, 
 
 Boscan, a celebrated Spansih Poet, has a thought some- 
 what similar. 
 
 Como despues del tempestoso dia 
 La tarde clara suele ser sabrosa, 
 Y despues de la ncche tenebrosa, 
 El resplandor del Sol plazer embia ; 
 Assi en su padecerelalma mia 
 
 Con la tarde del bienes tangozosa, &c. 
 
 .Sweet is evening's tranquil time, 
 When the day of storms is done ; 
 
 Sweet the clear ccld hour of prime, 
 Night just scattered by the sun ; 
 
 — Sweet — but sweeter far to me, 
 
 The dawn of hope diffused by thee! 
 
49 
 
 Dearer to me the break of day, 
 Which thus thy bended eye illumes ; 
 And chasing fear and doubt away, 
 Scatters the night of mental glooms, 
 And bids my spirit hope at last, 
 A rich reward for peril past ! 
 
50 
 
 MADRIGAL. 
 
 '•Quern se confia em hus olhos 
 "Nas meninas delles ve." &c. 
 
 . The simple youth who trusts the fair, 
 Or on their plighted truth relies, 
 
 .Might learn how vain such follies were, 
 By looking in his lady's eyes, 
 And catch a hint, if timely wise, 
 From those dumb children, cradled there ! 
 
 The same term in Portuguese signifies both the pupil of 
 the eye and a child. Hence the turn of this fanciful poem, 
 Numberless and wretched have been the concetti to which 
 this unfortunate pun has given girth. In our own language, 
 something of the same kind has been attempted by Dr Donne : 
 
 " So to engraft our handes as yet, 
 cc Was all the meanes to make us one, 
 
 ' 'And pictures in our eyes to get 
 " Was all our propagation." 
 
 THE ECSTACY. 
 
 Donne's was the age of quaintness, and it is surprising 
 that this idea has not been more ramified and tortured by the 
 English metaphysical poets of that schooK 
 
Si 
 
 u Poor fool ! thy wayward feats forbear," 
 (Those mute advisers seem to say) 
 
 "And hence with sighs, and tears, and care, 
 " For thou but fling'st thy heart away, 
 " To make a toy — for babies' play." 
 
52 
 CANZONET. 
 
 <( Nao sei quern assella 
 "Vossa fermosura." &c. 
 
 Thou hast an eye of tender blue, 
 And thou hast locks of Daphne's hue, 
 And cheeks that shame the morning's break. 
 And lips that might for redness make 
 
 Roses seem pale beside them ; 
 But whether soft or sweet as they, 
 Lady ! alas, I cannot say, 
 
 For I have never tried them. 
 
 Some of the comment of Faria has been introduced into 
 ~ihe translation of this pcem, and certain very necessary liberties 
 taken with the original. 
 
 H Thou hast an eye" &c Notwithstanding all that has 
 been said, and all that has been written to disprove the ex- 
 istence of a real and positive standard of beauty, were we to 
 argue from the universality of poetical taste in every age, 
 we should place the essence of female loveliness in the de- 
 scription before us. — Locks of auburn and eyes of blue have 
 ever been dear to the sons of song. The Translator almost 
 ventures to doubt whether these two ideas do not enter into 
 every combination of charms created by the poetical mind.. 
 The former are almost constantly accompanied by the ad- 
 vantages of complexion, and by that young freshness which 
 
53 
 
 Yet, thus created for delight, 
 Lady! thou art not lovely quite, 
 For dost thou not this maxim know, 
 That Prudery is Beauty's foe, 
 
 A stain that mars a jewel ! 
 And e'en that woman's angel face, 
 Loses a portion of its grace, 
 
 If woman's heart be cruel ! 
 
 Love is a sweet and blooming boy, 
 Yet glowing with the blush of joy, 
 And (still in youth's delicious prime) 
 Tho' ag'd as patriarchal Time, 
 
 The withering god despises : 
 Lady ! would'st thou for ever be 
 As fair, and young, and fresh as he — 
 
 Do all that Love advises! 
 
 defies the imitation of art Sterne even considers them as in- 
 dicative of moral qualities the most amiable, and asserts that 
 they denote exuberance in all the warmer, and consequently, 
 in all the better feelings of the human heart. The Transla- 
 tor does not wish to deem this opinion as wholly unfounded. 
 He is, however, aware of the danger to which such a confes- 
 sion exposes him ; — but he flies for protection to the temples 
 #f 
 
 "Atoka Venus." 
 
 e 2 
 
54 
 STANZAS. 
 
 " Trabalhos descansariao, 
 
 " Se para vos trabalhasse," &c. 
 
 Yes — labour, love I and toil would please, 
 Were toil and labour borne for thee ; 
 
 And Fortune's nursling, lap'd on ease, 
 In wealth of heart be poor to me ! 
 
 Why should I pant for sordid gain? 
 
 Or why Ambition's voice believe ? 
 Since, dearest, thou dost not disdain 
 
 The only gift I have to give. 
 
 Time would with speed of lightning flee, 
 And every hour a comfort bring, 
 
 And days and years, employ'd for thee, 
 Shake pleasures from their passing wing! 
 
55 
 
 CANZON. 
 
 (SPANISH.) 
 
 t( Sepa, quien padece, 
 
 •* Que en la sepoltura," Sec. 
 
 O weep not thus — we both shall know 
 
 Ere long a happier doom ; 
 There is a place of rest below, 
 Where thou and I shall surely go, 
 And sweetly sleep, releas'd from woe 
 Within the tomb. 
 
 My cradle was the couch of Care, 
 
 And Sorrow rock'd me in it ; 
 Fate seem'd her saddest robe to wear, 
 On the first day that saw me there, 
 And darkly shadow'd with despair 
 
 Mv earliest minute, 
 
56 
 
 E'n then the griefs I now possess, 
 
 As natal boons were given ; 
 And the fair form of Happiness ; 
 Which hover'd round, intent to bless, 
 Scar'd by the phantoms of distress, 
 
 Flew back to heaven ! 
 
 For I was made in Joy's despite, 
 And meant for Misery's slave ; 
 And all my hours of brief delight 
 Fled, like the speedy winds of night 
 Which soon shall wheel their sullen flight 
 Across my grave ! 
 
CANZON. 
 
 (SPANISH.) 
 
 " Pues me distes tal herida 
 
 " Con gaiia de darnie muerte," &c. 
 
 When I am done to death by thee, 
 
 And cold thy lover lies ; 
 Turn to me, dear one ; turn and see 
 
 Thy beauty's sacrifice ! 
 
 Turn to me, dear — and haply then 
 
 Thy looks may life restore j 
 And teach the heart to beat again. 
 
 That beat for thee before ! 
 
 Turn to me, dear! and should a gem. 
 
 On those soft eyelids shine- 
 Fall holy balm — fall fast from them 
 In showers, and waken mine. — ■ 
 
 Turn — and from lips that breathe of May 
 
 If one kind kiss be given, — 
 He who in deathly slumber lay, 
 
 Slept — but to wake in Heaven ! 
 
CANZONET. 
 
 Os olhos socegad: 
 
 Lady ! when with glad surprise, 
 I meet thy soft and shaded eyes. 
 Or lost in dreams of love behold, 
 Thv waving locks of darken'd gold, 
 Or press thy lip, whose dew discloses 
 Sweets, that seem the breath of roses, 
 Lady! I sigh — and with a tear. 
 
 But when (the hour of transport o'er'; 
 
 My soul's delight is seen no more. 
 
 Remembering all thy host of charms. 
 
 I tremble then with wild alarms ; 
 
 And, taught by jealous doubt, discover 
 In every gazing youth, a lover : 
 
 This Pcerr; :ed : :■ Cam?e>-5 on very slight autho- 
 
 rity. I: :i cerriir.'.y 2. curicus ?;-.cc::r.ei; 
 
 .cf hi= c:' : 
 
59 
 
 Confessing with a silent tear, 
 
 That heaven and hell are wond'rous near ! 
 
 " That Heaven is wond'rau near.'" This sentiment striking- 
 ly resembles some lines of Guillem Aesmer, an old ProvenrsJ 
 Poet. 
 
 " Quant eu li quier merce en genoiilos 
 
 "Ela mi colpa, et mi met ochaisos 
 
 '« E l'aigua m' cur ave'l per mer lo vis 
 
 i( E ela me fai ung regard amoros 
 
 " Et eu ie bais la bucha, e'l's ols am'dos 
 
 ** — Adoncq mi par ung joi de Paradis ! " * 
 
 IMITATED. 
 
 When at her feet I long have pray'd 
 
 With pleading eloquence of sighs, 
 What bliss to hear the melting maid, 
 
 In lowly murmurs bid me — t( Rise." — 
 
 How all my bosom-pulses beat 
 
 When with a kiss I seal her eyes ! 
 My soul springs forth her soul to meet. 
 
 — They meet and mix — in Paradise ' 
 
 f TynrHitt's Chaucer. Gloss, 
 
60 
 
 CANZON. 
 
 «' Se as penas com que Amor tao mal me tra,ta 
 u Permiterem que eu tanto viva dellas," &c*. 
 
 Should I but live a little more, 
 Nor die beneath thy cold disdain, 
 
 These eyes shall see thy triumphs o'er, 
 Shall see the close of Beauty's reign. 
 
 The shortness of life, says one of our most elegant writers, 
 is equally favourable to the arguments of the voluptuary and of 
 the moralist . Every hard-hearted fair one, from the beginning 
 ©f time, has been reminded that 
 
 *« La Beaulte n'est ung fruict de garde." 
 
 This Canzon seems to have been suggested by part of the 
 63d Chant, of Ausias March, the Provenqal Poet. 
 
 " No sabea prou si leixau temps fugir 
 
 f* — Et temps perdut no polt ester cobrat," &c. 
 
 Did ever yet a moment stay 
 
 To please the dallying lover r 
 And who that lost the lucky day 
 
 Could e'er that loss recover ? &c. Sec. 
 
61 
 
 For Time's transmuting hand shall turn 
 Thy locks of gold to " silvery wires ;" 
 
 Those starry lamps shall cease to burn, 
 As now, with more than heav'nly fires. 
 
 Thy ripen'd cheek no longer wear 
 The ruddy blooms of rising dawn ; 
 
 And every tiny dimple there 
 In wrinkled lines be roughly drawn ! 
 
 And oh ! what show'rs of fruitless woe 
 Shall fall upon that fatal day — 
 
 How wilt thou weep the frequent u ho," 
 How mourn occasion past away !«— 
 
 Those vain regrets, and useless sighs. 
 
 Shall in my heart no pity move — 
 I '11 deem them but a sacrifice 
 
 Due to the shade of buried Love ! 
 
 « Thy locks of gold" &c. So Bembo. 
 " Quando le chiome d'or caro e lucente 
 Saranno argente," 8cc. 
 
 The Translator has, in this place, taken a line from Drum- 
 mond. 
 
62 
 
 " Those vain regrets," &c. Gil Polo, a Spanish Poet, 
 prettily treats this thought in his Diana, lib. ii. 
 
 " Porque toma tal vinganqa, 
 ** De vosotras el amor, 
 ** Que entonces os da dolor 
 tc Quando os falta la esperanqa !" 
 
 Thy pride of charms shall all decay, 
 And thou shalt then its forfeit pay, 
 And vainly weep thy former scorn, 
 
 Thy thousand lovers' slighted pray'rs,— 
 — And grief shall in thy heart be born, 
 
 When love is dead in their's I 
 
63 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 TO NIGHT. 
 
 " Segreda noite Amiga, a que obede^o, 
 " As rosas," &c. 
 
 Night ! to thee my vows are paid j 
 Not that e'er thy quiet shade 
 Me, in bower of dalliance laid 
 
 Blest and blessing, covers ! 
 No — for thy friendly veil was made 
 To shroud successful lovers ; 
 And I, Heaven knows, 
 Have never yet been one of those 
 Whose love has prov'd a thornless rose ! 
 But since (as piteous of my pain) 
 Goddess ! when I to thee complain 
 Of truth despis'd, and hard disdain, 
 
 These Stanzas are the conclusion of an Ode to the Moon, 
 and are the only part of it which is worth the trouble of transla- 
 tion. 
 
64 
 
 Thou dost so mutely listen ; 
 For this, around thy solemn fane 
 
 Young buds I strew, that glisten 
 With tears of woe 
 By jealous Tithon made to flow, 
 From Morning — thine eternal foe ! 
 
 '-' Young buds I strew," Sec. The classical offering of flowers 
 to Night seems to have been suggested by B. Tasso. Rime, Lib. 
 :i. Can. 3. 
 
 c< Notte ! che debbo darte 
 n Che cosi intenta, e cheta 
 ■' Ascoki le mie voci aha e noiose x 
 " Poiche d'altro honorarte 
 " Nbn posso, prendi lieta 
 u Queste negre viole e queste rose 
 " Dall' umor rugiadose," &c. 
 
 Night ! since thy pensive ear did not disdaii . 
 The weeping lover's sadly dittied strain, 
 Large gifts of gratitude to thee he owes, 
 Who kindly listen' d to his tale of woes. — 
 Be generous still — his little all receive, 
 All that a Poet's humble hands can give ; 
 Young violets that boast celestial blue, 
 And budding roses, newly dipt in dew ' 
 
 " By jealous Tithon," &c. The tears of Aurora are fre- 
 quently mentioned by poets, but it was reserved for PhineaS 
 Fletcher to give a natural explication of them — 
 
65 
 
 •* Aurora from old Tithon's frostie bed, 
 " (Cold wintrie wither'd Tithon) earlie creepes, 
 « Her cheek with grief was pale, with anger red, 
 '* Out of her window close she blushing peepes, 
 " Her weeping eyes in pearled dew she steepes, 
 t( Casting what sportlesse nights she ever led," 
 Eclogue vii. 
 
 (The Prize.) 
 
 F 2 
 
86 
 
 CANZON. 
 
 H Arvore ! que brando e bello," &c- 
 
 Thou pride of the forest ! whose dark branches 
 
 spread 
 
 To the sigh of the south-wind their tremulous 
 
 green, 
 
 And the tinge of whose buds is as rich and as red 
 
 As the mellowing blushes of maiden eighteen ! 
 
 IMITATED FROM THE XXXVI. SOX. OF THE SECOND 
 CEXTUHV. 
 
 The tree to which these lines are addressed, seems from the 
 description to have been the Durio. It is a species of apple-tree, 
 which grows to an immense size, and to the fruit of which that 
 quality is attributed, which the ancients formerly assigned to the 
 Lotos. Sousa. 
 
 " As the mellowing blushes," &c. The luxuriance of fe- 
 male charms furnishes our Poet with some of his happiest al- 
 lusions. In particular, that most celebrated simile in the 9th 
 Lusiad : 
 
 " Os fermosos limoes, alii cheirando 
 ;< Estao virgineas tetas imitando." 
 
 Here balmy citrons scent the whisp'ring grove. 
 Round as the virgin's rising breasts of love, 
 
67 
 
 O'er thee may the tempest in gentleness blow, 
 And the lightnings of Summer pass harmlessly 
 by; 
 
 For ever thy buds keep their mellowing glow, 
 Thy branches still wave to the southernly sigh. 
 
 Because in thy shade, as I lately reclin'd, 
 The sweetest of visions arose to my view ; 
 
 'Twas the swoon of the soul — 'twas the transport 
 of mind — 
 'Twas the happiest minute that ever I knew. 
 
 For this shalt thou still be my favourite tree, — 
 In the heart of the poet thou never canst fade ; 
 
 It shall often be warm'd by remembering thee, 
 And the dream which X dreamt in thy tremu- 
 lous shade. 
 
68 
 CANZONET. 
 
 " Eu cantey ja, a agora," &c. 
 
 How sprightly were the roundelays 
 I sang in Love's beginning days ; 
 — Now, alas, I but deplore 
 Death of all that biest before ! 
 
 Then my heart was in its prime, 
 ('Twas Affection's budding-time !) 
 — It is broken now — and knows 
 One sense only — sense of woes ! 
 
 So Petrarch, Sonn. 194. 
 
 " Cantai— or piango, e non men didolcezza 
 " Del pianger prendo, che del canto presi," &c 
 
 Gay were my songs — now tears will only flow, 
 And all my bliss is center'd but in woe ! 
 
69 
 
 Joy was whilom dashed with ill, 
 Yet my songs were cheerful still ; 
 — They were like the captive's strains, 
 Chaunted to the sound of chains ! 
 
 " ' Like the captive's strains 
 
 " Chaunted to the sound of chains /" 
 
 Imitated from Tibullus, Eleg. vii. b. 2. 
 
 " Spes etiam valida solatur compede vinctum. 
 '• Crura sonant ferro, sed canic inter opus ." 
 
 For Hope can soothe the wearied prisoner's pains, 
 And turn to melody the clank of chains ; 
 Consol'd by her, while harsh the fetter rings 
 He thinks of happier days, and gaily sings. 
 
TO 
 
 CANZON. 
 
 " A mi»ha dor, e o nome," &c. 
 
 Why should I indiscreetly tell 
 The name my heart has kept so well?' 
 Why to the senseless crowd proclaim 
 For whom ascends my bosom-flame ? 
 
 Alas, there are but very few 
 
 Who feel as I for ever do — 
 
 And hear, with shrinking sense of paifij 
 
 Holy words from lips profane ! 
 
 For she is holy in my sight 
 As are the seraph forms of light ; 
 And that blest name denotes wate'er 
 Of good there be — or chaste — or fair. 
 
 The chaste discretion of delicate Love is admirably pour- 
 trayed in this little Poem. Happy for our Author had he always 
 obeyed its dictates ! 
 
71 
 
 Of her, in time of heaviest woe, 
 I think, and tears forget to flow ; 
 Of her, in passion's fervid dreams, 
 And rapture's self the sweeter seems. — . 
 
 And shall the name, whose magic pow'r, 
 Throws light on every passing hour, 
 Shall it, a word of usage grown, 
 By every heartless fool be known ? 
 
 No — let it, shrin'd within my breast, 
 A little saint, forever rest, 
 With pious ardours worshipp'd there, 
 Yet never mention'd, but in pray'r ! 
 
72 
 
 CANZONET. 
 
 " A DAMA QUE JURAVA PELOS SEU5 OLHOS." 
 
 THE LADY WHO SWORE BY HER EYES. 
 
 " Quando me quiz enganar 
 « A minha bella perjura," &c. 
 
 When the girl of my heart is on perjury bent. 
 The sweetest of oaths hides the falsest intent, 
 And Suspicion abash'd, from her company flies, 
 When she smiles like an angel — and swears by 
 her eyes. 
 
 For in them such magic, she knows, is display'd, 
 That a tear can convince, and a look can persuade j 
 
 M The lady who swore by her eyes" Such asseverations 
 were not unusual in the days of chivalry. They are frequently 
 mentioned in the Tales of the Troubadours. In the Lai of 
 Courtoys there is a particular instance. " Estant couschez en lict. 
 " la belle dame li faict sermen, e diet, par ma jleor, diet elle, e 
 par cils yexjlx qui tant estimes" &c. The modest reader 
 must not expect the remainder of this strange adjuration, which 
 is a continued medley of pious phrases and sentiments by no 
 means analogous. 
 
73 
 
 And she thinks that I dare not, or cannot, refuse 
 To believe on their credit whate'er she may choose. 
 
 But I Ve learn'd from the painful experience of 
 
 youth 
 That vehement oaths never constitute truth ; 
 And I Ve studied those treacherous eyes, and I find 
 They are mutable signs of a mutable mind ! 
 
 Then, dear one, I 'd rather, thrice rather believe 
 Whate'er you assert, even though to deceive, 
 Than that you " by your eyes " should so wickedly 
 
 swear, 
 And sin against heaven — for heaven is there ! 
 
74 
 
 PART OF THE THI&D ELEGY. 
 
 " O Sulmonense Ovidio desterrado 
 a Na aspereza/' &c. 
 
 When that sweet bard, to whose harmonious hand 
 Love's golden harp in softest warblings sigh'd, 
 By stars unkind was too severely tried, 
 And forc'd afar from Rome's parental land 
 To pace with weary step the Pontic strand ; 
 
 What a cold rush of recollections came 
 Across the exile's sad and sinking mind, 
 When Memory drew the joys he left behind ! 
 
 Her, who so long had fann'd his chaster flame, 
 His babes — his home — and all that charm'd before, 
 And all that blest him once, — but ne'er shall bless 
 him more. 
 
 The Elegyfrom which these lines are taken, was probably 
 written by Camoexs at Santarem, whither he had been ba- 
 nished. The circumstances of his exile, and the cause of it, 
 produced a natural comparison between his fate and that of 
 Ovid. 
 
 (t He who so long," iS'c. 
 " His babes," fcfc. 
 
 In the third Epistle from Pontus, Ovid thus unfashionably 
 Uunents the absence of his wife. 
 
75 
 
 Poor banish'd wretch ! — he had not pow'rs to bear 
 
 The vast, unutterable pangs of thought ; 
 
 But still in woods, and wilds, and caverns sought 
 A secret covert from the murderer Care ; 
 Now slowly wandering through the midnight air, 
 
 In briar' d dell he roams, or pathless grove, 
 While vainly sings the mellow nightingale, 
 Unheard by him — although she chaunt a tale 
 
 So like his own — so sad — so full of love — 
 Clos'd are his ears — and dim his moisten'd eyes 
 That view with dull regard the cold and starry skies. 
 
 "Utque sit exiguum poense, quod conjuge char a 
 " Quod careo patria, pignoribusque meis." 
 
 'Tis mine to mourn the cherish'd joys of life : 
 Mourn for my distant country — children — wffe. 
 
76 
 
 CANZONET. 
 
 " Nao nos engane a riqueza. 
 « Porqu," &c. 
 
 Since in this dreary vale of tears, 
 
 No certainty but death appears, 
 
 Why should we waste our vernal years 
 
 In hoarding useless treasure r 
 
 No- — let the young and ardent mind 
 Become the friend of human kind, 
 And in the generous service find 
 
 A source of purer pleasure ! 
 
 Better to live despis'd and poor, 
 Than Guilt's eternal stings endure ; 
 The future smile of God shall cure 
 
 The wound of earthly woes". 
 
 Vain world ! did we but rightly feel 
 What ills thy treachesous charms conceal, 
 How would we long from thee to steal 
 
 To Death — and sweet repose ! 
 
CANZON. 
 
 " Vi o moqo e pequenino," &c. 
 
 I met Love wand'ring o'er the wild, 
 In semblance of a simple child ; 
 I heard his name, and in the sound 
 So much of sweet persuasion found, 
 That, piteous of his tears, I prest 
 The little darling to my breast, 
 And watch'd his quiet slumbers there, 
 With all a father's tender care ! 
 
 From day to day the orphan grew, 
 And with him my aifection too ; 
 Till at the last, around my mind 
 The winning boy so closely twin'd, 
 I learnt his baby form to prize, 
 Like one of those within mine eyes, 
 
 Among the numerous imitations of Anacreon's Wander- 
 ing Cupid, there is none in which the playful character of boy- 
 hood has been so well preserved as it is in this little Poem. 
 The destruction of the flowers is an act of mere childish mis- 
 chief, which admirably accords with "the young adopted V 
 age. 
 
 g2 
 
78- 
 
 And lov'd the young adopted more 
 Than ever sire did son before ! 
 
 I had a bank of favourite flow'rs 
 Which blossom'd e'en in wintry hours, 
 Content, the bosom's thornless rose, 
 And innocence, and heart's repose; 
 — Love, like a rude and wanton boy, 
 Broke into my bow'rs of joy, 
 Tore Content's young roses thence, 
 Kill'd repose and innocence ! 
 
 Ah wretch ! what mischief hast thou done 
 To him who lov'd thee like a son ! 
 How couldst thou dim the doating eyes 
 Which did thee like their babies prize ? 
 How break the heart of him who prest 
 rhee, cold and weeping to his breast, 
 And watch'd thy quiet slumbers there, 
 With all a father's tender care ? 
 
 •' His baby form ," — 
 
 ** Like one of those within mine eyes." Camoens is passion- 
 ately fond of this allusion. It has been fancifully pursued bf 
 one of the most original of our modern Poets. * 
 
 * Little's Poems, p. 51. 
 
7£ 
 CANZON. 
 
 •EL PEQUENO SONRISO.'* 
 
 FROM RIACHUELO. 
 
 TO INES DE GUETE. 
 
 Dear Ines, wouldst thou but believe 
 A heart that knows not to deceive, 
 
 (Alas nor longer free ;) 
 That faithful heart should truly tell 
 The secret charm, the tender spell. 
 
 That bound it first to thee. 
 
 'Tis not, that cradled in thine eyes 
 The baby Love for ever lies 
 
 On couches dipp'd in dew; 
 'Tis not because those eyes have won 
 Their temper'd light from April's sun, 
 
 From Heaven their tints of blue ! 
 
 'Tis not that o'er a bank of snow 
 Thy parted tresses lightly flow, 
 
80 
 
 In waves of lucid gold ; 
 Nor yet because the hand of grace 
 Has form'd that dear enchanting face 
 
 In beauty's happier mould ! 
 
 It was not these — but from my soul, 
 It was a little smile that stole * 
 
 The cherish'd sweets of rest ; 
 And ever since, from dawn to night 
 And night to dawn, it haunts my sight, 
 
 In dimples gaily drest. 
 
 E'en now by Fancy's eyes are seen 
 The polish'd rows that break between 
 
 Two lips that breathe of May; f 
 E'en now — but oh, by Passion taught, 
 Young fancy forms too bold a thought 
 
 For timorous Love to say ! 
 
 * This sentiment is very like some beautiful lines of Cle- 
 ment Marot. 
 
 Du ris de Madame d' Allebret. 
 
 " Elle ha tres bien ceite gorge d' albastre, 
 
 " Ce doulx parler, ce clair tainct, ce beaulx yeux, 
 
 " Mais en effect, ce petit ris follastre 
 
 " C'est a mon gr ece qui luy seid le mieux." 
 
 f Literally, " De sangre y leche pintados." This simile, 
 which in our language would convey any idea but that of beau- 
 
81 
 
 Yet, Ines — wouldst thou but believe 
 A heart that knows not to deceive, 
 
 (Alas ! nor ionger free ;) 
 'Twould tell thee, thou canst ne'er impart 
 A smile of thine to sooth a heart 
 
 More truly bound to thee ! 
 
 ty, is nevertheless very common in Spanish Poetry. Cam o ens 
 too has frequently adopted it. 
 
SONNETS. 
 
Amongst other reasons why the legitimate Italian 
 Sonnet be not suitable to the genius of the English 
 language, the following is not the least forcible, In 
 those languages which are more immediately formed on 
 the Latin, there is a frequent similarity of termination, 
 •which greatly facilitates the use of rhyme. According- 
 ly, the Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese languages 
 (which originate from that source) have adopted the 
 licence of polysyllabic rhyme, and with it the Sonnets. 
 The former was a liberty which they could scarcely have 
 avoided, but which has never been sanctioned by the 
 "Musa severiores" of England. To us, therefore, the 
 mechanical arrangement of a Sonnet becomes a matter 
 of peculiar difficulty. 
 
 Some of the Spanish poets have laid down a collec- 
 tion of rules for the construction of Sonnets, so pom- 
 pous and so particular, that it seems as if they considered 
 that species of composition as the sublimest effort of 
 human ingenuity. In all the oracular obscurity of Por- 
 tuguese metaphor we are told, that a Sonnet should 
 " be opened with a key of silver, and closed with one 
 of gold !" Que ha o So?ieto de abrirse com c/iave, de firata, 
 efecharse com c/iave de auro.* 
 
 * Trat. de Vers. Portug. Em Lisboa 1781. 12mo, 
 
 H 
 
87 
 
 SONNET I. 
 
 *' O culto divinal se celebrava 
 " No templo donde," kc. 
 
 Sweetly was heard the anthem's choral strain, 
 And myriads bow'd before the sainted shrine, 
 In solemn reverence to their Sire divine, 
 Who gave the Lamb, for guilty mortals slain : 
 When, in the midst of God's eternal fane, 
 
 Love delights to recal the circumstances of its earlier ex- 
 istence ; and to Camoexs those earlier remembrances were cer- 
 tainly thepleasantest. 
 
 " When in the midst " &c. This event, from the internal 
 evidence of other Poems, appears to have taken place on 
 Holy Thursday, 1542, in that church at Lisbon, which is de- 
 dicated to the tl Wounds of Christ." If we compute according 
 to the calendar then in use, we shall be able to ascertain the 
 exact day on which our Poet's passion commenced. He tells 
 us in the 7th Canzon, that it began "when the sun was en- 
 tering Taurus." Before the Gregorian alteration, that in- 
 gress was settled to be on the 10th of April. Holy Thursday, 
 in the year 1542, happened on the 11th of April. There is a class 
 of readers to whom the omission of this point would have appear- 
 ed unpardonable, and for their instruction the Translator has in- 
 vestigated it. 
 
88 
 
 (Ah little weening of his fell design!) 
 
 Love bore the heart (which since hath ne'er 
 been mine) 
 To one, who seem'd of heav'n's elected train ! 
 For sanctity of place or time were vain, 
 
 'Gainst that blind archer's soul-consuming pow'r, 
 Which scorns, and soars all circumstance above. 
 Oh, Lady ! since I've worn thy gentle chain, 
 
 How oft have I deplor'd each wasted hour, 
 When I was free — and had not learn'd to love ! 
 
 " — each wasted hour — " 
 " When I ivasfree," i!fc. 
 
 Faria says that Camoens was indebted for this Idea to Sil- 
 vestre, a Spanish Poet. 
 
 " Tan preciosa es mi prision, 
 
 '* Soy tan bien asprisionado, 
 " Que pido reconvencion, 
 
 *' Del tiempo que no lo he estado !" 
 
 VISIT or LOVE. 
 
 So delightful my prison had grown, 
 
 So charming the fetters I bore, 
 That my bosom regretted alone 
 
 — It had not been captur'd before ! 
 
89 
 
 SONNET II. 
 
 l( O Cisne, quando sente ser chegada 
 " A horaque poem," &c. 
 
 While on the margin of his native shores, 
 In death's cold hour the silver cygnet lies, 
 Soft melodies of woe, and tuneful sighs, 
 
 The Sonnets formed on this idea, both previous, and sub- 
 sequent to that of Camoens, are almost innumerable. It is 
 probable that our Poet founded his on some lines in Garcilasso. 
 
 f( Entonces como quando el Cisne siente 
 " El ansia postrimera que le aquexa 
 " Y tienta el cuerpo misero y doliente 
 M Con triste e lamentable son se quexa 
 " Y se despide con funesto canto 
 " Del espirtu vital que del se alexa; 
 " Assi aquexado yo de dolor tanto 
 " Que el alma abandonava ya la humana 
 6< Came, soke la rienda al triste llanto ." 
 
 ECLOG. II. 
 
 IMITATED. 
 
 As pours the swan his melancholy strains, 
 While death-pangs shudder thro' his freezing veins, 
 H2 
 
90 
 
 And lamentations wild, he plaintive pours, 
 Still charm'd of life — and whilst he yet deplores 
 
 The drear, dark night that seals his closing eyes. 
 
 In murmur'd grief for lost existence — dies ! 
 So, Lady, (thou, whom still my soul adores,) 
 
 While scarcely ling'ring in a world of pain. 
 My wearied spirit treads the verge of death — 
 O Lady, then thy Poet's parting breath 
 
 Shall faintly animate his final song, 
 To tell of broken vows— and cold disdain — 
 
 And unrequited love — and cruel wrong ! 
 
 Just as existence wings her parting flight, 
 _And heart grows chill, and eyes are steep'd in night, 
 He mourns for life, in lapses sad but strong, 
 And his last accents faulter into song. 
 
 So when I leave this dreary vale of woe, 
 
 And love and grief have brought my spirit low, 
 
 For thee, most fair — most lov'd — thee, most severe, 
 
 Tor thee, thy bard shall weep his latest tear, 
 
 And faintly utter with his failing breath, 
 
 " 'Tis parting makes the bitterness of death '" 
 
 " And unrequited love and cruel wrong." The original Con= 
 dudes with a line of pure Spanish taken from Boscan. 
 
 "La vuestra falsa fe> y el amor mio." 
 
91 
 
 Such combinations of language are not unusual among the 
 Poets of Italy, Portugal, and Spain. The following curious 
 medley is found in a Canzon of the immortal Dante. 
 
 M Chanson ! vos pognez ir par tot le mond 
 «* Namque locutus sum in lingua trina, 
 ■' Ut gravis mea spina, 
 " Si faccia per lo moodo ogn' uomo il senta 
 " Forse pieta n'havra chi me tormenta," &c. 
 
 Our own Chaucer has likewise indulged in this practice, 
 
 " pulchrior Sole in beautie, &. full ylucidente !" 
 
 ix. ladies' worthie. 
 
SONNET III. 
 
 " Agora toma a espada, agora a pena 
 u Estacio nosso," &c. 
 
 Eustace ! or when you wield the ponderous 
 
 spear, 
 Or mingle in the bard's romantic throng, 
 
 To you, eternal palms of fame belong ! 
 To Mars, alike, and to the Muses dear, 
 Whether adown the waves of war you steer, 
 
 Or sail upon the tranquil streams of song. 
 O, if awhile, with cadence clear and strong, 
 My reed might hope to charm your learned ear, 
 
 All undebas'd by ought of pastoral sound, 
 Then, Eustace, would that humble reed proclaim, 
 
 How you (for valour as for verse renown'd) 
 
 Shall win the warrior's and the poet's praise, 
 And like a watch-tow'r on the steps of fame, 
 
 Show'r light upon the sons of distant days ! 
 
 This fine Sonnet is addressed to Estacio de Faria, grand- 
 father to the Commentator on Camoens, who says of him, that 
 u if not great in all things, he ivas little in none" 
 
 " And like a watch-tower, " The original contains a pun on 
 *fae words Faro and Faria. 
 
9T3 
 SONNET IV. 
 
 " No mundo poucos afios e cansados 
 " Vivi, cheos de vil miseria," &c. 
 
 Slowly and heavily the time has run 
 
 Which I have journey'd on this earthly stage j 
 For, scarcely entering on my prime of age, 
 Grief mark'd me for her own ; ere yonder sun 
 Had the fifth lustrum of my days begun : 
 
 And since, compulsive Fate and Fortune's rage 
 Have led my steps a long, long pilgrimage 
 In search of lost repose, but finding none ! 
 
 For that fell star which o'er my cradle hung, 
 Forc'd me from dear Alamquer's rustic charms, 
 To combat perils strange and dire alarms, 
 
 The touching melancholy of many of those compositions 
 in which Camoens complains of his sorrows, becomes truly in- 
 teresting when we consider, that he laments what he actually 
 suffered, that he was not fastidiously unhappy, but underwent 
 real misery in its fullest extent. 
 
 " To combat perils strange" The original is not very grace- 
 ful — " Me/ex manjar de peixes,-" literally, " had made rat food 
 forJUhet." 
 
94 
 
 'Midst that rough main, whose angry waters 
 roar 
 Rude Abyssinia's cavern'd cliffs among, 
 
 — Far from green Portugal's parental shore ! 
 
 " Midst that rough main," &c. Alluding not to the ship- 
 wreck which he suffered in the Gulf of Cochin -China, but to 
 the dangers encountered when he accompanied Manuel de Vas- 
 concelos in an expedition against the Moorish Vessels in the Red 
 Sea, about the month of February, 1555. 
 
 The Commentator Sousa, will not allow that this Sonnet 
 relates to the life of Camoe.ns. He supposes it to have been 
 written by our Poet, but to be descriptive of the misfortunes of 
 one of his friends and liberally bestows the epithets, " beast and 
 fool," on those who presume to think otherwise. 
 
95 
 
 SONNET V. 
 
 -(vide life of camoens, page 11.) 
 " Aquella triste e leda madrugada," &c. 
 
 Till Lovers' tears at parting cease to flow 
 
 Nor sunder'd hearts by strong despair be torn ; 
 
 So long recorded be that April morn 
 When gleams of joy were dash'd with show'rs of 
 
 woe : 
 Scarce had the purpling east began to glow, 
 
 Of mournful men it saw me most forlorn ; 
 
 Saw those hard pangs, by gentle bosoms borne^ 
 (The hardest sure that gentle bosoms know !) 
 —But oh, it saw Love's charming secret told 
 By tears fast dropping from celestial eyes, 
 
 Written on the morning of our poet's departure from Lis- 
 bon to Santarem. 
 
 *" — Purpling orient," &c. Literally « marchetada," in- 
 laid. 
 
96 
 
 By sobs of grief, and by such piteous sighs 
 
 As e'en might turn th' infernal caverns cold, 
 And make the guilty deem their sufferings ease, 
 Their torments luxury — compar'd to these ! 
 
 "As e'en might turn" he. This fanciful rhodomontade seems 
 to have been suggested by Dante. 
 
 M E commincio raggiandomi d'un riso 
 t( Tal, che nel fuoco, faria l'uom felice ! ' 
 
 Varadiso, canto vii. v. 17, 
 
SONNET VI. 
 
 Julgame a gente toda por perdido 
 Vendome tao entregue a meu cuydado," &e. 
 
 My senses lost, misjudging men declare, 
 
 And Reason banish'd from her mental throne, 
 Because I shun the crowd, and dwell alone 
 In the calm trance of undisturbed despair, 
 Tears all my pleasure — all my comfort care ! 
 But I have known, from long experience known, 
 How vain the worship to those idols shown, 
 Which charm the world, and reign unrivall'd there : 
 Proud dreams of pow'r, and fortune's gilded glare, 
 The lights that blaze in tall Ambition's tow'r, 
 
 u My senses lost" 8cc. Perhaps this complaint was more 
 than poetically true. The assertion in question might have been 
 occasioned by the noble independence of our Poet's disposition, 
 and by his undisguised contempt of titled ignorance and digni- 
 fied barbarity. Such conduct will in all ages obtain the appella- 
 tion of madness. 4. 
 
98 
 
 For such, let others waste life's little hour 
 In toil and weary search — but be it mine, 
 
 Lady! to muse of thee — and in my bow'r 
 Pour to thy praise the soul-impassion'd line ! 
 
99 
 
 SONNET VII. 
 
 fl Se quando vos perdi, minha esperanqa 
 ** A memoria perdera juntamente," &c. 
 
 When from my heart the hand of Fortune tore 
 Those smiling hopes that cheer'd mine earlier 
 
 day, 
 Would that she too had kindly borne away 
 
 The sweetly sad remembrances of yore ! 
 
 I should not then, as now, in tears deplore 
 My buried bliss, and comfort's fast decay; 
 
 Bertaut, an old French Poet, hath expressed the same sen 
 ment in a beautiful manner. 
 
 Felicite passee 
 Qui ne peux revenir, 
 
 Tourment de ma pensee ! 
 Que n'ay-je en te perdant, perdu le souvenir 
 
 Helas, il ne me reste 
 De mes contentemens, 
 Qu' un souvenir funeste 
 Qui me les convertit, a tcute heure, en tourmens ! 
 
100 
 
 — For Love (on whom my vain dependance lav) 
 
 Still lingVing on delights that live no more, 
 Kills all my peace — whene'er the tyrant sees 
 My spirit taste a little hour of ease ! 
 
 Fell star of fate ! thou never canst employ 
 A torment teeming with severer smart 
 Than that which Memory pours upon the heart 
 
 While clinging round the sepulchre of joy ! 
 
101 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 ** Claras agoas e frias do Mondego 
 *' Doce repouso," &c. 
 
 Mondego ! thou, whose waters cold and clear 
 Gird those green banks, where Fancy fain would 
 
 stay, 
 Fondly to muse on that departed day 
 
 When Hope was kind, and Friendship seem'd 
 sincere ; 
 
 — Ere I had purchas'd knowledge with a tear. 
 
 — Mondego ! though I bend my pilgrim way 
 To other shores, where other fountains stray, 
 
 And other rivers roll their proud career, 
 
 Still — nor shall time, nor grief, nor stars severe, 
 Nor widening distance e'er prevail in aught 
 
 To make thee less to this sad bosom dear ; 
 And Memory oft, by old Affection taught, 
 Shall lightly speed upon the plumes of thought* 
 
 To bathe amongst thy waters cold and clear ! 
 
 The earliest and happiest years of our Poet's life were 
 passed at Coimbra. The wails of that town were bathed by the 
 fiver Mondego, to which this beautiful Sonnet is addressed, 
 
 I 2 
 
102 
 
 SONNET IX. 
 
 Quern diz que amor he falso ou enganoso 
 Ligeyro ingrato," &c. 
 
 Lives there a wretch, who would profanely dare 
 On Love bestow a tyrant's barbarous name, 
 And foe to every soft delight, proclaim 
 
 His service, slavery ; its wages, care ? 
 
 For ever may he prove it so, nor e'er 
 
 Feel the dear transports of that generous flame ; 
 For him nor maiden smile, nor melting dame 
 
 The silent couch of midnight bliss prepare ! 
 
 For much he wrongs the gentlest, best of 
 pow'rs, 
 
 Whose very pangs can charm, and torments 
 please 
 
 It is amusing to observe our Poet's recantation of all his 
 blasphemies against the omnipotence of Love. Perhaps, if 
 every man who has felt its influence, were to be equally candid, 
 he would confess that his sweetest hours were those which were 
 passed under its dominion. '* Croyez moi, on rtest heureux que par 
 I'amour." So said the dangerous Valmont, and once, at least,, 
 the dangerous Valmont was right ! 
 
103 
 
 Whom long I've known, and in whose angriest 
 hours 
 Such rapture found, as would I not forego, 
 No — not forego, for all the dead, cold ease 
 
 Which dull Indifference could e'er bestow ! 
 
104 
 
 SONNET X. 
 
 t( Dizei Senhora, da belleza idea 
 - Para fazerdes " &c. 
 
 Come, tell me, fairest, from what orient mine 
 Where undiscover'd lurk the springs of day, 
 Did thy triumphant tresses steal away 
 
 Their sunny tinges, and their hues divine ? 
 
 What magic makes thine eye so sweetly shine, 
 
 '* Come tell me, fairest" Thus too Ferreyra, one of the 
 most pleasing amongst the Portuguese writers : 
 
 tt — Donde tomou amor, e de qual vea, 
 " O ouro tao fino e puro para aquellas 
 " Tranqas Iouras ? — 
 
 " Donde as perlas," &c. 
 
 soyxET XIX. 
 
 O tell me from what purer mine 
 Did Love select that redden'd gold, 
 
 Which fondly o'er thy brows divine 
 Thus hangs in many an amorous fold ! 
 
 Both Camoexs and Ferreyra seem to have taken the idea- 
 ttorh Petrarch, Sonn. 185. 
 
 " Onde tolse amor l'oro, e di qual vena 
 " Per far due treccie blonde," &c. 
 
105 
 
 Like the clear breaking of a summer's day ? 
 And when did Ocean's rifled caves resign 
 
 The pearly wealth thy parted lips betray, 
 When they are sever'd by seducing smiles ? 
 — Yet hear me, fairest, since with barbarous care, 
 Such store of blandishment and dangerous wiles, 
 
 To thee thy star's propitious genius gave,— 
 
 , — Warn'd by the self-adorer's fate, beware, 
 Nor gaze on yonder fount's reflecting wave ! 
 
106 
 
 SONNET XL 
 
 Apollo e as nove musas descantando 
 Com a dourada lira," &;c. 
 
 What time the liberal Muses deign'd to show'r. 
 
 Soft inspirations o'er my golden lyre, 
 
 Love, only love, would all my notes inspire, 
 While thus I sang, within my cottage-bow'r — 
 " — O blessed be the day, and blest the hour, 
 
 " When first I felt the sweets of young desire ; 
 
 a Blest be the eyes that woke my am'rous fire, 
 Ki And blest the heart, so soon that own'd their 
 "pow'r!" 
 
 Such was of old my cheerful roundelay, 
 Till time made all the dear delusion flee, 
 
 Tore from my heart, not love, but hope, away, 
 And turning all my sunny scenes to night, 
 Veil'd every prospect from my sick'ning sight, 
 
 Save those of greater ills — if greater be ! 
 
 Thus Petrarch ; 
 
 " Benedetto sia V giorno, eV mese, e I* anno," ife. 
 1 • Veil 'd every prospect, " &c . 
 
 There is a concetto in the original on the word Esperanqa, 
 4 A r hich signifies both Expectation and Hope . 
 
107 
 
 SONNET XII. 
 
 " Em flor vos arrancou d'entao crescida 
 < r Ah Senhor Dora Antonio," &c. 
 
 Dear lost Antonio ! whilst I yet deplore 
 
 My bosom's friend — and mourn the withering 
 
 blow 
 Which laid, in manly flow'r, the warrior low, 
 
 Whose valour sham'd the glorious deeds of yore ; 
 
 E'en while mine eyes their humid tribute pour, 
 
 Written on the death of Don Antonio de Noronha, who 
 was slain in an encounter with the Moors on the 18th of April, 
 1553. We must be careful not to confound this amiable young 
 hero with the two inglorious viceroys of his name, nor with Don 
 Antonio de Noronha, who was Governor of India in 1568, men 
 remarkable for nothing but the rapacity and extortion which 
 they displayed in the execution of their office. He whose pre- 
 mature death our Poet thus feelingly laments, was his earliest 
 friend, and connected to him by a remarkable similarity of for- 
 tune. His father, the second Count of Linares, had sent him to 
 join the Moorish expedition, in order o remove him from the 
 object of an attachment which he had formed at Lisbon. It was 
 in this expedition that he was slain. The circumstances of his 
 death, as detailed by Sousa, exhibit all the chivalrous gallantry of 
 those romantic days, when men were more than heroes, and 
 women but just less than divine- 
 
108 
 
 My spirit feels a sad delight, to know- 
 That thou hast but resign'd a world of woe 
 
 For one, where pains and griefs shall wound no 
 more ; 
 Tho' torn, alas, from this sublunar sphere, 
 
 For ever torn, by War's ungentle hand, 
 
 Still were the Muse but as Affection strong, 
 My dead Antonio should revive in song, 
 
 And, grac'd by Poetry's a melodious tear," 
 
 Live, in the memory of a grateful land ! 
 
 tf Live in the memory" 8cc. So B. Tasso. 
 " Vivro nelle memorie dei mortali." 
 
 SONNET I. 
 
109 
 
 SONNET XIII. 
 
 " A fermosura desta fresca serra 
 
 <• E a sombra dos verdes castanheiros/' kc. 
 
 Silent and cool, now fresh'ning breezes blow- 
 Where groves of chesnut crown yon shadow} 
 
 steep ; 
 And all around the tears of Evening weep 
 
 For closing day, whose vast orb, westering slow, 
 
 Flings o'er th' embattled clouds a mellower glow. 
 While hum of folded herds, and murmuring 
 
 deep, 
 And falling rills, such gentle cadence keep, 
 
 As e'en might sooth the weary heart of woe ; 
 
 The inefficacy of rural beauty to please, during the ab- 
 sence of a mistress, is among the common-places of amatory 
 poets. The language of the heart is so universal, that the 
 similarity of this Sonnet to a passage in Langhorne will not 
 surprise : 
 
 M What are streams or fiow'rs, 
 
 u Or songs of blithe birds I What the blushing rose 
 •* Young health, or music, or the voice of praise, 
 " The smile of vernal suns, the fragrant breath 
 " Of evening gales — when Delia dwells afar?" 
 
 K 
 
110 
 
 Yet what to me is eve, what evening airs, 
 Or falling rills, or ocean's murmuring sound, 
 
 While sad and comfortless I seek in vain 
 
 Her who in absence turns my joy to cares, 
 And as I cast my listless glances round, 
 
 Makes varied scenery but varied pain ! 
 
Ill 
 
 SONNET XIV. 
 
 «« Senhora minha se a for tuna imiga 
 " Que em minha rim,'' &c. 
 
 My best-belov'd !— although unpitying skies 
 And wrathful fortune sternly thus conspire 
 To bid thy servant's lingering steps retire 
 Far from the temper' d gleam of beauty's eyes-^- 
 Bound still to thine by Love's eternal ties, 
 
 That heart remains, where chaste and warm de- 
 sire, 
 Yet fondly glows with all its former fire, 
 And Death's cold touch and wasting Time defies—^- 
 ^-Yes — and as urg'd by Fate's commands I go 
 To farthest regions, and unkindest shores, 
 Oh there, thy magic name's mysterious charm 
 Breath'd in a sigh, shall danger's self disarm, 
 And while the combat raves, or tempest roars, 
 Lull the loud storm, and sooth the threatning foe ! 
 
 Written on his departure for Africa. 
 
 " then thy magic name's mysterious sound." It is probable, 
 says the Commentator, that on such an emergency, he would 
 have invoked the more powerful assistance of St. James of Co"m T 
 postella, or the Archangel St. Michael. 
 
112 
 
 SONNET XV. 
 
 •"Eu cantey ja d'amor tao docemente 
 " Que," 8cc &c. 
 
 I sang of love — and in so sweet a strain, 
 
 That hearts most hard were soften'd at the 
 
 sound 
 And blushing girls who gaily throng' d around, 
 
 " I sang of Love " 8cc. Perhaps this thought was suggest- 
 ed by Dante. 
 
 " Farei parlando innamorar la gente, 
 te — e raggionar 'd'arn.-r si dolcemente, 
 c « Che face consentir lo cuore in lui — " 
 
 RIME, fol. IV, et X. 
 
 So gaily shall the amorous minstrel sing, 
 His glowing verse shall sof: persuasion bring, 
 And while the strains in tides of sweetness roll 
 Teach warm consent to each enraptur'd soul. 
 
 But Dante, unfortunately, did not fulfil his promise, for his 
 minor poems on amatory subjects are often deficient in the ease 
 and delicacy necessary to such compositions. 
 
 "And blushing girls" 8tc. The aptitude of these young 
 scholars brings to mind a celebrated passage in the Confessions 
 of St. Austin. u Si non amaveris,frigid<e loquor : Da amantem, 
 da sentieniem, da desiderantcm — sciet quod loquor''"' Confess. 
 Cap. iii, § 4. 
 
113 
 
 Felt their souls tingle with delightful pain — 
 For quaintly did my chaunted songs explain 
 
 Those little secrets that in love abound — 
 
 Life in a kiss, and death in absence found — 
 Feign'd anger — slow consent — and coy disdain, 
 
 And hardihood, at length with conquest crown'd. 
 Yet did I not with these rude lips proclaim 
 
 From whom my song such sweet instructions 
 drew, 
 
 Too weak, alas ! to pour the praises due 
 From youthful gratitude, to grace the name 
 
 Of her, who kindly taught me all she knew ! 
 
 " Those little secrets" he So Ansias March, the Provenqal ; 
 
 " He asats parlat d'amor, e de sos fets 
 " E descuberts molts amros secrets ! " 
 
 canto 73. 
 
 Enough have amorous deeds empioy'd my song, 
 Enough those secrets that to Love belong. 
 
 K 2 
 
114 
 
 SONNET XVI. 
 
 " Se da celebre Laura a fermosura 
 " Hum numeroso Cisne," &c. 
 
 If those fam'd charms which grace the Tuscan 
 fair 
 Could wake a bard so tender and so true, 
 Lady ! to you, sure heavenly songs are due, 
 
 Since Heav'n has form'd you with peculiar care ; 
 
 Then how, alas, shall humble Liso dare 
 
 " c The Tusccmfair," kc. Ferreyra has the same thought : 
 
 Had you but grac'd that elder day 
 When Petrarch pour'd his pensive lay ; 
 By Sorga's stream, if haply you 
 Had met the Poet's amorous view, 
 O then the bard of Sorga's stream 
 Had surely sung a sweeter theme, 
 And to a nobler passion true, 
 Tun'd his wild harp to Love and you ! 
 
 " Then how, alas, shall humble Liso dare." 
 Liso is the anagram of Lois. In the same manner, ouf 
 Poet discreetly calls his mistress Natercia instead of Caterina. 
 Sometimes with more learned gallantry he gives her the name of 
 
115 
 
 Attune his simple melodies to you ? 
 
 Must I not trust to that kind chance anew 
 Which whilom wove the rosy bands I bear, 
 (When first it gave you to my amorous view ;) 
 — For certes, Lady, you derive your birth 
 
 From yon pure sky, and did from thence de- 
 scend, 
 To cherish virtue on this lowly earth, 
 
 And mortal hearts of baser mould amend, 
 Bv bright example of superior worth ! 
 
lib 
 
 SONNET XVII. 
 
 »« Eu vivia de lagrimas izento 
 M Num engano tao doce," &c. 
 
 From sorrow free, and tears, and dull despair, 
 
 I liv'd contented in a sweet repose ; 
 
 I heeded not the happier star of those 
 Whose amorous wiles achiev'd each conquer' d fair ; 
 (Such bliss I deem' d full dearly bought with care :) 
 
 Imitated from Petrarch, Sonnet 196. 
 
 (l I mi vivea di mia sorte contento, 
 61 Senza lagrime, e senza invidia alcuna, 
 " Che s'altro amante ha piu destra fortuna, 
 " Mille piacer non vaglion un tormento !" 
 
 I liv'd contented in my lowly state, 
 
 Nor grief my heart disturb'd, nor jealous fear", 
 
 I envied not the Lover's happier fate — 
 — Can thousand joys repay a single tear ? 
 
 "Such bliss Idtem'd," &c. Thus Guillem Aesmer, the Trou- 
 badour. 
 
 u Mais vaut d'amor qi ben est enveios, 
 
 k — Un dolz plorar non vaut qatorz ris !" &c- 
 
117 
 
 Mine was meek Love, that ne'er to frenzy rose, 
 
 And for its partners in my soul I chose 
 Benevolence, that never dreamt a snare, 
 And Independence, proudly cherish'd there ! 
 — Dead now is Happiness — 'tis past, 'tis o'er — 
 
 And in its place, the thousand thoughts of yore, 
 Which haunt my melancholy bosom, seem 
 Like the faint memory of a pleasing dream — 
 
 They charm a moment — and they are no more ! 
 
 IMITATED. 
 
 Some love to weep their prime away ; 
 
 No charm to me in grief appears 
 And forty smiles could never pay 
 A minute pass'd in tears ! 
 
118 
 
 SONNET XVIIL 
 
 (V. LITE OF CAMOENS, PAGE 10.) 
 
 " Lindo sutil tranqado que ficaste," &c. 
 
 Dear band, which once adorn'd my worshipped 
 fair, 
 
 Pledge of that better gift I hope to gain, 
 
 In just reward of Love's long-suffer' d pain ; 
 What mighty transport would my bosom share 
 Had I but won a tress of that crisp hair, 
 
 Whose rich luxuriance late thou didst restrain ! 
 
 >Iuch though I prize thee, must my heart com- 
 plain, 
 Since deem'd not worthy next its pulse to wear 
 
 A little portion of that precious gold ! 
 Dear band, my miser soul were griev'd indeed, 
 
 "Dear band." &c. Our Poet had implored Donna Ca- 
 terina to grant him a lock of her hair. She premised to be- 
 stow it at some future period, and in the mean -time presented 
 him with the fillet which she wore round her head, as a pledge 
 of her intentions in his favour. Faria. 
 
 This Sonnet was perhaps suggested by that celebrated 
 Poem of Garcilazo, beginning " dukes prendas" 
 
119 
 
 That stars severe and wayward fate withhold 
 Truth's just reward, and long affection's meed, 
 
 But that I know 'tis in Love's legends told, 
 Gift's small as these, to greatest blessings lead ! 
 
 "Gifts small as these" kc. Literally, « By the laws of 
 Love, part is taken in pledge for all. 
 
120 
 
 SONNET XIX. 
 
 H Senhor Joao Lopez, o meu baixo estado, 
 Ci Ontem vi'posto em," &c. 
 
 O Lopez ! yesterday the stars were kind, 
 And on my lowly state so fairly smil'd, 
 That even thou, though Fortune's favour' d child. 
 
 For mine would gladly have thy lot resigned. 
 
 Her form I saw, who chains thy prison'd mind, 
 Her voice I heard, which musically mild, 
 While like a spell it every sense beguil'd, 
 
 E'en lull'd to peace the rude and restless wind ! 
 
 — Lopez ! that voice such rare persuasion arm'dL, 
 That, in a word, our hearts it better charm'd 
 
 Than others could in thrice a thousand more : 
 How have I since 'gainst Fortune rav'd and Love., 
 
 'Cause that blind boy compels us thus t' adore 
 Her, whom high fortune rears our hopes above ! 
 
 " O Lopez /" This was Don John Lopez de Leytao, t© 
 whom our Poet afterwards addressed some very comical verses, 
 occasioned by the sight of a piece of Indian cloth, which Leytao 
 was about to present to a lady of whom he was enamoured. 
 
121 
 
 SONNET XX. 
 
 '* Os olhos onde o casto Amor ardia 
 et Ledo de se ver," &c. 
 
 Those charming eyes, within whose starry sphere 
 Love whilom sat, and smil'd the hours away, 
 Those braids of light that sham'd the beams of day, 
 
 That hand benignant, and that heart sincere ; 
 
 Those virgin cheeks, which did so late appear 
 Like snow-banks scatter'd with the blooms of May, 
 Turn'd to a little cold and worthless clay, 
 
 Are gone — for ever gone — and perish' d here,-*- 
 
 — But not unbath'd by Memory's warmest tear ! 
 
 Written on the death of Donna Caterina de Ataide. 
 
 " Love saxv the deed." The concetti with which this Sonnet 
 -.erminates were so obstinate as to compel the Translator in some 
 degree to deviate from his original. 
 
 L 
 
122 
 
 — Death ! thou hast torn, in one unpitying hour 
 That fragrant plant, to which, while scarce a 
 flow'r, 
 
 The mellower fruitage of its prime was giv'n ; 
 
 Love saw the deed — and as he linger'd near, 
 Sigh'd o'er the ruin, and return' d to Heav'n! 
 
123 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 (SPANISH.) 
 
 4 
 
 li Mi nuevn. y dulce querela 
 « Es invisible," 8cc. 
 
 Within my bosom's cell I bear 
 A recent wound — a valued woe ; 
 
 It lurks unseen and buried there, 
 No gazing eyes my secret know. 
 
 It was, perhaps, too plainly told, 
 
 When last I heard the speaking maid ; 
 
 — The rock untouch'd was hard and cold, 
 —The stricken flint its fires betray'd ! 
 
124 
 
 LUSIAD. CANTO VI. 
 
 ETSTANCIA XXXVIII 
 
 Em quanto este conselho se fazia, 
 
 No iundo aquoso, a leda e lassa frota 
 Com vento sossegado proseguia 
 
 Pelo tranquillo mar, a longa rota : 
 Era no tempo quando a luz do dia 
 Do Eoo emisferio esta remota 
 Os do quarto da prima se deiUvam 
 Para o segundo os outros despertavam. 
 
125 
 
 THE NIGHT-SCENE IN THE VI. LUSIAD. 
 
 Meantime as thus below the murmuring deeps 
 In solemn council meet the watery train, 
 
 Her bold career the wearied navy keeps, 
 
 Yet cheer'd by Hope, while o'er the tranquil 
 main, 
 
 To silence hush'd, the brooding tempest sleeps : 
 — 'Twas at the hour, when long the solar wain 
 
 Had rollM down Heav'n — and rous'cl from warm 
 repose, 
 
 Slow at their comrades' call the second watch arose. 
 
 The Translator has to regret that the interruption of illness 
 prevented him from concluding this Canto, which gives a de- 
 scription of the Tournament held in London, during the days of 
 John of Gaunt, when twelve Portuguese Chevaliers vanquished 
 the same number of English. See Mr. Mickle's Translation. 
 
 The few Stanzas which have been thus translated, afford a 
 fair specimen of that " eking-out tautology" which the con- 
 straint of octave measure compelled Camoexs, to employ, and 
 which is, perhaps, the greatest blemish in his Epic Poem . 
 
126 
 
 Vencidos vem do sono, e mal despertos 
 Bocejando a meudo, sa encostavao 
 
 Pelas antenas, todos mal cubertos 
 
 Contra os agudos ares, que assopravao ; 
 
 Os olhos contra seu querer abertos 
 
 Mal esfregando, os membros estiravao, 
 
 Remedios contra o sono buscar querem. 
 
 Historias contain, casos mil referem. 
 
 Com que melhor podemos, hum dizia, 
 Este tempo passar, que he tao pesado, 
 
 Senao com algum conto de alegria 
 
 Com que nos deixe o sono carregado? 
 
 Responde Leonardo, que trazia 
 Pensamentos de firme namorado, 
 
 Que contos poderemos ter melhores 
 
 Para passar o tempo, que de amores ? 
 
 2?a6 he disse Velloso, cousa justa, 
 Tratar branduras em tanta aspereza s 
 
 Qu'. o trabalho do mar que tanto custa 
 "Xao sofre amores, nem delicadeza ; 
 
127 
 
 Scarcely awake, against the tapering mast. 
 Heavy and cold recline the languid crew ; 
 
 The broad sail, flapping, wards the nightly blast 
 Which as across the decks it keenly blew 
 
 Thro' their worn garbs with piercing chillness past ; 
 And each tir'd limb they stretch, lest sleep subdue 
 
 Their lids that long to close, and all devise 
 
 By converse short and forc'd, to shun his soft sur- 
 prise. 
 
 u How can we better these dull hours employ, 
 " How sleep defy," one watchful youth demands, 
 
 u Than by some gay romance, some tale of joy,. 
 " To spur the time that now so stilly stands ?" 
 
 a Yes," Leonard cries, (whom long the archer boy 
 Had prison'd fast in beauty's gentle bands,) 
 
 "Yes," Leonard cries," 'twill charm the tedious night 
 
 " To tell of venturous loves, and deeds of soft de- 
 " light." 
 
 TOO, 
 
 " Perish that thought !" the bold Veloso cries j 
 " Who talks of love in danger's dire extremes ? 
 
 " Shall we, while giant perils round us rise, 
 " Shall we attend to those enerving themes ? 
 
128 
 
 Antes de guerra fervida e robusta 
 
 A nossa historia seja, pois dureza 
 Nossa vida ha de ser, segundo entendo 
 Que o trabalho por vir mo esta dizendo. 
 
 Consentem nisto todos et encomendao 
 A Velloso, que conte isto, que aprova ; 
 
 Contarei, disse sem que me reprendao 
 De contar cousa fabulosa ou nova : 
 
 E porque os que me ouvirem daqui aprendat> 
 A fazer feitos grandes de alta prova, 
 
 Dos nacidos direi na nossa terra, 
 
 R estes sejao os doze de Inglaterra. 
 
 No tempo que do reyno a redea leve 
 Joao filho de Pedro moderava, 
 
 Depois que sessegado e livre o teve, 
 Do visinho poder que o molestava ; 
 
 La, na grand Inglaterra que de neve 
 Boreal sempre abunda, semeava 
 
 A fera Eriimis dura, e ma cizania 
 
 Que lustre fosse a nossa Lusitania ! 
 
129 
 
 u No — rather some tremendous tale devise 
 
 " Of war's alarms, for such our state beseems— 
 a So shall we scorn our present ills, and learn 
 a To cope those coming toils my prophet eyes dis- 
 
 He spoke — and all accord— and all exclaim, 
 " To thee, Veloso, thee, the task is due !" 
 
 a None, then," he cries, "shall this narration blame 
 " For slighted truth, or fables told as true ; 
 
 " Arms I rehearse, and such high feats of fame, 
 " That all who hear shall glorious deeds pursue, 
 
 " Fir'd by the praise their own compatriots gain'd, 
 
 " Who erst the titled fight 'gainst England's Twelve 
 " maintain'd. 
 
 XL I II. 
 
 M When mighty Juan held the regal reins, 
 
 " (Great Pedro's son) for gentlest sway renown'd 
 
 ,c What time he boldly burst those despot chains 
 " Which proud Castile about his country bound, 
 
 u It happ'd in haughty England's cold domains, 
 u Where Boreal snows for ever clothe the ground 
 
 u Dire feuds arose — and from that distant shore, 
 
 " Eternal lights of fame our Lusian warriors bore." 
 
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