At the commencement of the third canto, a new life is infused into the poem. But to try this poetic survey of Portuguese history, as it stands in connection with the whole, by any rule of prosaic verisimilitude, would be to depart from the poetic spirit of the Lusiad. In order to understand the narrative which Vasco da Gama relates to the King of Melinda, it is necessary to possess that knowledge of the events alluded to, which Camoens presumed every Portuguese to possess, but which in all probability could not have been possessed by a sovereign of Melinda. The reader who peruses this narrative without the necessary knowledge of the history of Portugal, will be incapable of appreciating many of the most essential beauties of the Lusiad. In so far as Camoens may be denominated the Portuguese Homer, he is indebted for that title to the poetic epitome he has given of the history of his country; and this epitome is a rapid succession of pictures, which flit away like shadows, before those who are unacquainted with their historical ground work, for the poet evidently expected readers who would be gratified to observe how art was capable of elevating the events of real life to the region of epic invention. This portion of the poem, which extends from the third to the end of the fifth canto, contains passages, which in point of classic elegance leave nothing more to be desired; but even here Camoens has in some instances made an unpoetic display of his erudition. Previously to the narrative of Vasco da Gama, the poet speaks in his own character, and patriotically elevates the Portuguese nation above every other. Vasco’s narrative commences with a cold geographical enumeration of the different countries of Europe, in which the Swedes, Danes, Prussians, Russians, and Livonians are styled estranha gente, (strange people) just as a modern traveller might speak of the Ostiaks and the Samoides. Spain is denominated the head of Europe, and Portugal the crown of that head.[148] Viewed in the light of probability, the invectives in which Vasco da Gama at every opportunity indulges against the Mahometans, must be supposed offensive to the King of Melinda; but Camoens, in his patriotic zeal, lost sight of many circumstances which would have claimed the consideration of any other poet. Among the most beautiful passages in these three cantos of the Lusiad, may be numbered the tribute to the memory of Egaz Moniz, the Portuguese Regulus, who, however, ended his career more happily than the Roman consul;[149] the description of the battle of Ourique which laid the foundation of the kingdom of Portugal;[150] the description of the visit of Queen Maria of Spain to her father the King of Portugal, to implore assistance for her husband in his contest with the Moors;[151] the relation of the tragical fate of Inez de Castro, which is the most celebrated of all the exquisitely beautiful passages in the Lusiad;[152] the description of the sanguinary battle of Aljuabarrota, the greatest victory the Portuguese ever gained over the Castilians:[153] and some others, of the like character, which might still be enumerated. The picture of the battle of Aljuabarrota excels all the similar descriptions which occur even in the Lusiad, remarkable as that poem is for such passages. The valiant Nuno Alvares, who by his eloquence and his personal authority, no less than by his courage, saved the political existence of Portugal, shines with such conspicuous lustre at the head of the Portuguese warriors, that he with far more propriety than Vasco da Grama might be denominated the hero of the Lusiad, were it a work which ought to be judged according to the rules usually applied to epic poetry.[154] Even in this great battle picture, the finest touches are unquestionably copied from nature, for the poet was no less in his place amidst the tumult of war than in the more tranquil region of the Muses.[155] In the continuation of the narrative of the first discoveries of the Portuguese in the east, the particular interest which the poet took in allegoric description is again displayed in a novel manner. The two principal rivers of India, the Indus and the Ganges, are made to appear to King Emmanuel in a dream under the personification of two old men. The representation is truly excellent.[156]
In Vasco da Gama’s narrative of his own voyage, the following passages must always be particularly distinguished: first, the description of the farewell to the Portuguese shore:[157] secondly, a sort of didactic episode, consisting of reflexions made by an old man on the vanity of human ambition, quite in the spirit of that true poetry which embraces the whole range of human existence;[158] and thirdly, another kind of episode which introduces the giant Adamastor, whom Camoens conjured up from the old world of fable to render him the spirit of the Cape of Good Hope.[159] In the description of this part of the voyage, Camoens for the first time uses the freedom of relieving the solemn seriousness of his narrative by some comic touches. Fernaõ Velloso is the humourist among the enterprising followers of Vasco da Gama.[160] Camoens also occasionally breaks the poetic tone of the whole description by a display of his mythological and historical pedantry, and by his endeavours to express in a poetic manner things which are totally unpoetic; as for example, in alluding to the day of the departure of the fleet, he says:—“When the eternal orb of light had entered the sign of the Nemæan monster, and when the decaying world in its sixth age, moved feebly and slowly after having observed the sun’s circuitous course repeated fourteen hundred and ninety-seven times.”[161] These deformities sometimes injure the beauty of the finest parts of the poem.
The chief portion of the second half of the poem, from the sixth to the tenth canto, is thrown into shade by the first half; and the essential want of a rising interest, weakens the epic character of the whole. But these last five cantos of the Lusiad abound in classically beautiful passages; and that kind of unity at which the poet aimed is on no occasion forgotten. The description of the palace of Neptune and the sea deities in the depths of the ocean is equally charming and novel; though it must be allowed that the portrait of Triton degenerates into the grotesque. In order to omit no opportunity of interweaving into the composition of the Lusiad whatever might shed a poetic lustre on the Portuguese name, Camoens makes Velloso, for the amusement of the ship’s crew, relate the history of the Lusitanian knights, who according to Portuguese tradition, are called Os doze de Inglaterra (the twelve of England.) In the description of the storm which follows, the powerful painting of the dreadful picture once more reveals the poet who had himself passed through like scenes of danger. The same stamp of truth is apparent in the succeeding descriptions of Indian objects, which no great poet, except Camoens, has sketched from nature. The poem is not injured by the long and energetic apostrophe to the European powers, with which the seventh canto commences. According to the view to be taken by a catholic christian, Camoens was justified in extolling the national glory of Portugal above that of other christian nations, on the ground that while the Portuguese by their valour, were extending the dominion of the catholic faith, and had not, for a considerable period waged war against any of the European states, those states were contending against each other, and even in a certain measure against the church of Rome. To strengthen in some degree the poetic probability by a matter of fact, Camoens has introduced, at the period when the intercourse between the Portuguese and the Indian Prince of Calecut commences, a Moor named Monzayde, whose destiny had actually conducted him over land to India. Through this mediator, who speaks Spanish, and who finally becomes a christian, the Indians are made acquainted with the power of the Portuguese and Spanish arms. This Moor is also the interpreter, who, in the eighth canto assists Paulo da Gama in explaining the historical pictures and embroideries to the Indian ambassador. In point of poetic merit, this supplement to the abstract of the history of Portugal is far inferior to the narrative in the third and fifth cantos:—but Camoens could find no other means of accomplishing his purpose; for he was equally reluctant to omit anything which he conceived to belong to his pictures of Portuguese national glory, or to crowd too many of the events of former times into one part of his poem. None of these historical descriptions, which occupy a large portion of the eighth canto, form finished pictures; they are mere sketches, and are, in general, deficient in poetic warmth; but the ninth canto makes ample amends for this fault. The magic festival, which Venus prepares to recreate her beloved navigators after the fatigues they have encountered, is boldly conceived and charmingly executed; and in this part of the composition the poet’s fancy has revelled with evident delight. Camoens, like all the Portuguese poets of his age, next to the indulgence of heroic feeling and all powerful patriotism, was fond of luxuriantly pourtraying the passion of love. Except the fate of Inez de Castro, and the atchievements of Nuno Alvarez Pereira at the battle of Aljubarota, the poet has executed no portion of his poem with such decided predilection as the visit of the navigators to the enchanted island; and to no other part of the poem is so much space allotted in proportion to the whole. The long description of the preparations for the luxuriant festival, and of the festival itself, which commences at the eighteenth stanza of the ninth, and extends into the tenth canto, is full of picturesque beauty. Its great prolixity however, must, even according to the incorrect plan which Camoens followed, be accounted a defect in the composition. But the reader, like the poet himself, soon forgets every thing except the seductive painting, which sometimes, it must be confessed, only just respects the boundaries of decorum, which yet upon the whole offends no elevated feeling, and which has not been surpassed by any later poet in the same style. The first idea of the island of love, on which Camoens makes Venus entertain the Portuguese navigators, seems borrowed from Ariosto, but Ariosto’s description of the magic gardens of Alcina scarcely affords a groundwork for the scenes and situations in the Lusiad. There is, however, little room to doubt that Tasso, when he trod in Ariosto’s footsteps in order to describe the abode of Armida, availed himself of the description of Camoens. In the tone of frank simplicity with which the festival is announced, the character of the poet is again manifested. It is described as merely “a refreshment for restoring the exhausted strength of the navigators; some interest for those fatigues which render short life still shorter.”[162] Venus, in her car drawn by doves, descends from Mount Ida in quest of Cupid. She finds him with a throng of loves employed in forging arrows. The fuel used in the process of forging is allegorically and whimsically described to be human hearts, and the red-hot arrows are cooled in tears. Cupid and his little deputies are directed to wound a number of goddesses and sea nymphs, so that every individual on board Vasco da Gama’s fleet, shall on landing on the magic island, find himself in the situation of a happy lover. Meanwhile Venus adorns the island with the loveliest charms of nature.[163] On first landing, the navigators know not where they are, but they are soon satisfied with the pleasing reality without concerning themselves about the nature of the miracle which has transported them to a terrestrial heaven.[164] When the festival is drawing to a close, the poet for the first time explains the object of the fiction, by stating it to be an allegorical representation of the happiness which is the reward of courage and virtue. After this cold manner of dissolving the enchantment, the unprejudiced reader feels little interest in the conclusion of the poem. The stanzas in which the prophetic nymph celebrates the future atchievements of the Portuguese are historical fragments, the connection of which must be studied in order to form a just estimate of their poetic merits and demerits. The geographic supplement which is put into the mouth of Thetis is still colder, notwithstanding the singular idea of the globe which hovers in the air, and which exalts the miracle of the geographic lecture. But thus is the sympathy of the reader the more powerfully excited by the passage towards the end of the Lusiad, where Camoens speaks of himself; which he had refrained from doing in the preceding part of the work. As he approached the close of his labour he was impressed with the conviction that no earthly happiness awaited him; and now saw “his years descending, and the transition from summer to autumn near at hand; his genius frozen by the coldness of fate, and he himself borne down by sorrow into the stream of black oblivion and eternal sleep.”[165] His heart then pours fourth the epiphonema of the poem, consisting of a didactic apostrophe to his sovereign, full of loyalty, but not less abounding in honest zeal for truth, justice and virtue.
An epic poem so powerfully imbued with intensity of feeling and character as the Lusiad, naturally calls to mind Dante’s Divina Comedia, and Klopstock’s Messiah. But the Lusiad bears in other respects no more resemblance to the Messiah, than to every other great poem in which the beauties make amends for the exercise of indulgence towards numerous faults. The Lusiad presents a greater similarity to the work of Dante. Both poems are epic, though neither are epopees in the strict sense of the term. Both are singular, but truly poetic in invention; and in both the full stream of purest poetry is incessantly broken by false learning and various unpoetic excrescences. But with respect to invention the Divina Comedia is, in its original plan, trivial, and only becomes grand by the poetic filling up of the vast divisions of hell, purgatory and heaven: the Lusiad is more poetic in its outline, but not so rich in its internal parts. Finally, the two poems are distinguished by the kind of feeling which prevails in each and by a total difference of style. Dante introduced all the variety of the terrestrial world, of which he had perfect command, into the mystic region of a celestial and subterraneous existence, in which he, as a Christian, placed faith; and the whole plan of his extraordinary poem has for its object the pious apotheosis of his beloved Beatrice. Camoens glowed with patriotism and heroism; and to avoid weakening the patriotic and nationally heroic character of his poem, by the force of religious interest, he preferred introducing into his terrestrial fiction the heaven of mythology, because he felt that it afforded him the finest imagery. Dante’s style is throughout energetic, frequently rude, and always characteristic of the spirit of the extraordinary writer, who stood alone, and who in a great measure himself created the language in which he expressed his feelings. Camoens, like Ariosto, was wholly the man of his age and his country; a fact which is sufficiently evident from the delicate and luxuriant style, which he partly borrowed from Ariosto, and which he only cultivated as far as was necessary for the expression of the serious epopæia.[166]
The other poetic works of Camoens, appeared even in the eyes of the poet himself, when compared with the Lusiad, merely secondary effusions of his feelings and his imagination. It appears, as far as the point can be ascertained, that he never collected them himself, and many may therefore be lost. Among those productions which were collected and published after the death of Camoens, by his admirer Lobo de Soropita, under the affected title of Rhythmas, there are several which were not printed from the best and latest copies. Some other poems which escaped the notice of the first collectors, and which have only been included by modern writers among the miscellaneous productions of Camoens, may be found in a somewhat different form among the poems of the pious Diogo Bernardes. This writer, who was a contemporary and admirer of Camoens, and who was the first among the celebrated Portuguese poets of that age, to render justice to the preponderating genius of the author of the Lusiad, is now, in spite of all his piety, accused of gross plagiarism on that author. The writer of a general history of modern poetry and eloquence has, however, no occasion to take part in the controversy respecting these problematic works; for none of the disputed poems are of a kind which was new in Portuguese literature; and among the miscellaneous remains of Camoens are many pieces of similar species, the authenticity of which is undisputed.[167]
But the miscellaneous poems of Camoens, are calculated to involve the literary historian in another kind of embarrassment. They are, if not extremely numerous, at least sufficiently various; and among the number are many so poetically conceived, and admirably executed, that to give merely to one of each class of these minor poems that kind of detailed consideration which it has been thought necessary to bestow on the Lusiad, would be to incur the risk of converting the history of Portuguese poetry into a compendium of the history of the poetic works of Camoens. In every species of poetic composition then practised in Portugal, Camoens has left specimens of no common merit; and in some of those species his example has formed and fixed the favourite style for his native country. Indeed a careful perusal of the various productions of the author of the Lusiad, is alone sufficient to afford a summary notion of the whole range of Portuguese poetry in the sixteenth century. This will account for the preponderating authority still conceded to the works of this poet in the polite literature of his country. To that authority Portuguese critics and writers are always disposed to defer in discussing the merits of any poem; and when they wish to select a model in any particular kind of poetic composition, they invariably turn first to the works of Camoens. The predilection of the Portuguese for the greatest of their poets, has rendered them unjust towards the merits of others who have not chosen to compose in his manner. But in the poetry of Camoens the national style is combined with correctness and elegance, precisely in the manner which suited the taste of his country: and Portuguese taste has never risen above the degree of cultivation to which Camoens attained.
In sonnets the fancy of Camoens was particularly prolific. Like Tasso, he seems throughout the whole of his life to have made it a rule to compose sonnets as long as he could compose verse. The number of his sonnets which have been preserved is three hundred and one. Some appear to be occasional sonnets; and of these several are written in fictitious names. It is known that, in India, Camoens was frequently applied to for poetic aid in affairs of the heart; for according to the spirit of the age a lover could not more elegantly recommend himself to the good graces of a fair lady than by the composition of a tender sonnet; and a poet, like Camoens, who was himself so often poetically occupied with his amatory feelings, would find but little difficulty in celebrating another lady besides his own mistress. Most of his sonnets have love for their theme, and they are of very unequal merit: some are full of Petrarchic tenderness and grace, and moulded with classic correctness; others are impetuous and romantic, or disfigured by false learning, or full of tedious pictures of the conflicts of passion with reason. Upon the whole, however, no Portuguese poet has so correctly seized the character of the sonnet as Camoens. Without apparent effort, merely by the ingenious contrast of the first eight with the six last fines, he knew how to make these little effusions convey a poetic unity of ideas and impressions, after the model of the best Italian sonnets, in so natural a manner, that the first lines or quartets of the sonnet excite a soft expectation, which is harmoniously fulfilled by the tercets or six last lines.[168] In this way he has occasionally imparted a romantically beautiful effect to well known stories in the sonnet form, by the introduction of a single tender idea at the close.[169] Among these sonnets there are likewise some of a moral and religious character.
In the series of the minor poems of Camoens, the sonnets are succeeded by seventeen Canções (songs) written on the model of Petrarch’s canzoni. These compositions more particularly prove how deeply Camoens was penetrated with the spirit of the Petrarchic poetry. They also display the utmost elegance of language, combined with the soft harmony of the Italian verse.[170] In these canções, as well as in the other poems of Camoens, the painting of natural scenery, wherever the lyric picture embraces it, presents a character of lively perception, which never could be imitated in the closet by any laboured exercise of the imagination.[171]
The canções are followed by twelve compositions styled odes. In their essential characteristics, these pieces are but little distinguished from the canções, though the object of the poet seems to have been that they should approximate more nearly to the ancient style. The structure of the verse corresponds with that which Ferreira and the Spanish poets, since the time of Luis de Leon, selected for this class of lyric composition. The bold fancy of Pindar, or the energy of Horace, is not to be expected in these any more than other Portuguese and Spanish odes. But Camoens never limited his poetry merely to sonorous language. The first ode is particularly distinguished for its beauty. It is addressed to the moon. The idea is mythological, like all the lofty ideas of Camoens. But in none of his other odes has the poet so well succeeded in combining the grace of antiquity with a romantic tenderness of feeling free from every trace of affectation. The commencement is in the pure ode style. The poet invokes his muse to stem “the current of lovers’ tears, and attired in a rich and gay robe to do homage to the goddess who converts night into day.” He then addresses the goddess of the moon herself, she “whose silver beam penetrates the thick clouds, and prevents night from obscuring the image which love traces and re-traces in his heart; she whose pure forehead is crowned and encircled with stars; she who strews the plains with roses and with flowers, created by spring through her heavenly influence.”[172] But a still finer passage occurs at the conclusion of the ode, where the poet bids farewell to night, “the silent friend whom he obeys; and, that she may listen to his complaints, presents to her roses and fresh amaranth still wet with the tears of the fair bride of the jealous Titan.”[173]