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(From The Lusiad)
Translated by W. J. Mickle
VAST are the shores of India’s wealthful soil; | |
| Southward sea-girt she forms a demi-isle: | |
| His caverned cliffs with dark-browed forests crowned, | |
| Hemodian Taurus frowns her northern bound: | |
| From Caspia’s lake the enormous mountain spreads, | 5 |
| And bending eastward rears a thousand heads: | |
| Far to extremest sea the ridges thrown, | |
| By various names through various tribes are known: | |
| Here down the waste of Taurus’ rocky side | |
| Two infant rivers pour the crystal tide, | 10 |
| Indus the one, and one the Ganges named, | |
| Darkly of old through distant nations famed: | |
| One eastward curving holds his crooked way, | |
| One to the west gives his swoln tide to stray: | |
| Declining southward many a land they lave, | 15 |
| And widely swelling roll the sea-like wave. | |
| Till the twin offspring of the mountain sire | |
| Both in the Indian deep ingulfed expire. | |
| Between these streams, fair smiling to the day, | |
| The Indian lands their wide domains display, | 20 |
| And many a league, far to the south they bend, | |
| From the broad region where the rivers end, | |
| Till where the shores to Ceylon’s isle oppose, | |
| In conic form the Indian regions close. | |
| To various laws the various tribes incline, | 25 |
| And various are the rites esteemed divine: | |
| Some as from heaven receive the Koran’s lore, | |
| Some the dread monsters of the wild adore; | |
| Some bend to wood and stone the prostrate head, | |
| And rear unhallowed altars to the dead. | 30 |
| By Ganges’ banks, as wild traditions tell, | |
| Of old the tribes lived healthful by the smell; | |
| No food they knew, such fragrant vapors rose | |
| Rich from the flowery lawns where Ganges flows: | |
| Here now the Delhian, and the fierce Patan | 35 |
| Feed their fair flocks; and here, an heathen clan, | |
| Stern Decam’s sons the fertile valleys till, | |
| A clan, whose hope to shun eternal ill, | |
| Whose trust from every stain of guilt to save, | |
| Is fondly placed in Ganges’ holy wave; | 40 |
| If to the stream the breathless corpse be given | |
| They deem the spirit wings her way to heaven. | |
| Here by the mouths, where hallowed Ganges ends, | |
| Bengala’s beauteous Eden wide extends; | |
| Unrivalled smile her fair luxurious vales: | 45 |
| And here Cambaya spreads her palmy dales; | |
| A warlike realm, where still the martial race | |
| From Porus famed of yore their lineage trace. | |
| Narsinga here displays her spacious line; | |
| Her sons in native gold and ruby shine: | 50 |
| Alas, how vain! these gaudy sons of fear, | |
| Trembling, bow down before each hostile spear. | |
| And now behold;—and while he spoke he rose; | |
| Now with extended arm the prospect shows,— | |
| Behold these mountain-tops of various size | 55 |
| Blend their dim ridges with the fleecy skies; | |
| Nature’s rude wall, against the fierce Canar | |
| They guard the fertile lawns of Malabar. | |
| Here from the mountain to the surgy main, | |
| Fair as a garden spreads the smiling plain: | 60 |
| And lo! the Empress of the Indian powers, | |
| There lofty Calicut resplendent towers; | |
| Hers every fragrance of the spicy shore, | |
| Hers every gem of India’s countless store: | |
| Great Samoreem, her Lord’s imperial style, | 65 |
| The mighty Lord of India’s utmost soil: | |
| To him the kings their duteous tribute pay, | |
| And at his feet confess their borrowed sway. | |
| Yet higher towered the monarch’s ancient boast; | |
| Of old one sovereign ruled the spacious coast. | 70 |
| A votive train, who brought the Koran’s lore, | |
| What time great Perimal the sceptre bore; | |
| From blessed Arabia’s groves to India came: | |
| Life were their words, their eloquence a flame | |
| Of holy zeal: fired by the powerful strain | 75 |
| The lofty monarch joins the faithful train, | |
| And vows, at fair Medina’s shrine, to close | |
| His life’s mild eve in prayer and sweet repose. | |
| Gifts he prepares to deck the Prophet’s tomb, | |
| The glowing labors of the Indian loom, | 80 |
| Orixa’s spices and Golconda’s gems: | |
| Yet, ere the fleet the Arabian ocean stems, | |
| His final care his potent regions claim, | |
| Nor his the transport of a father’s name; | |
| His servants now the regal purple wear, | 85 |
| And high enthroned the golden sceptres bear. | |
| Proud Cochim one, and one fair Chalé sways, | |
| The spicy isle another lord obeys: | |
| Coulam and Cananoor’s luxurious fields, | |
| And Cranganore to various lords he yields. | 90 |
| While these and others thus the monarch graced, | |
| A noble youth his care unmindful passed: | |
| Save Calicut, a city poor and small, | |
| Though lordly now, no more remained to fall; | |
| Grieved to behold such merit thus repaid, | 95 |
| The sapient youth the king of kings he made, | |
| And honored with the name, great Samoreem, | |
| The lordly titled boast of power supreme. | |
| And now great Perimal resigns his reign, | |
| The blissful bowers of Paradise to gain; | 100 |
| Before the gale his gaudy navy flies, | |
| And India sinks forever from his eyes. | |
| And soon to Calicut’s commodious port | |
| The fleets, deep-edging with the wave, resort: | |
| Wide o’er the shore extend the war-like piles, | 105 |
| And all the landscape round luxurious smiles, | |
| And now her flag to every gale unfurled, | |
| She towers the Empress of the eastern world: | |
| Such are the blessings sapient kings bestow, | |
| And from thy stream such gifts, O Commerce, flow. | 110 |
| From that sage youth, who first reigned king of kings, | |
| He now who sways the tribes of India springs. | |
| Various the tribes, all led by fables vain, | |
| Their rites the dotage of the dreamful brain. | |
| All, save where Nature whispers modest care, | 115 |
| Naked they blacken in the sultry air. | |
| The haughty nobles and the vulgar race | |
| Never must join the conjugal embrace; | |
| Nor may the stripling, nor the blooming maid, | |
| O lost to joy, by cruel rites betrayed! | 120 |
| To spouse of other than their father’s art, | |
| At Love’s connubial shrine unite the heart: | |
| Nor may their sons, the genius and the view | |
| Confined and fettered, other art pursue. | |
| Vile were the stain, and deep the foul disgrace, | 125 |
| Should other tribe touch one of noble race; | |
| A thousand rites and washings o’er and o’er | |
| Can scarce his tainted purity restore. | |
| Poleas the laboring lower clans are named; | |
| By the proud Nayres the noble rank is claimed: | 130 |
| The toils of culture and of art they scorn, | |
| The warrior’s plumes their haughty brows adorn; | |
| The shining falchion brandished in the right, | |
| Their left arm wields the target in the fight; | |
| Of danger scornful, ever armed they stand | 135 |
| Around the king, a stern barbarian band. | |
| Whate’er in India holds the sacred name | |
| Of piety or lore, the Brahmins claim: | |
| In wildest rituals, vain and painful, lost, | |
| Brahma their founder as a God they boast. | 140 |
| To crown their meal no meanest life expires, | |
| Pulse, fruit, and herbs alone their board requires. | |
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