He soon pursued his voyage to Goa, where the viceroy received him with kindness and distinction; and hope might dawn again upon his heart, and he might expect preferment under dom Constantine de Braganza's patronage, who loved him as a friend. But we are almost forced to believe in the influence of a star, and that which ruled the fate of Camoens was full of storm and wreck, and miserable reverses. Dom Constantine, with whose viceroyalty, Faria tells us, ended all good government in India, the succeeding governors being unable to stem the tide and avarice of extortion, was soon replaced by don Francisco de Coutinho, Conde de Redondo. The poet's enemies took advantage of this change to urge against him an accusation of malversation in the exercise of his office at Macao. Don Francisco was said to be the friend and admirer of the poet, but Mickle, in reprobating his general character, accuses him also of deceit towards Camoens—at least he afforded him no protection on this occasion, and this thrice unhappy man was thrown into prison.
In the seventh canto of the Lusiad, the poet breaks off suddenly in the narrative, as if oppressed by the sense of his own woes; and, forced to give a voice to the anguish that wrung his soul, he recalls images of home and bids them assuage the bitterness of his grief, while he recapitulates the various disasters he had sustained—exclaiming,—
"But, O, blind man
I! that, unwise and rude, without your clue,
Nymphs of Mondego and the Tagan stream,
A course so long, so intricate, pursue.
I launch into a boundless ocean,
With wind so contrary, that unless you
Extend your favours, I have cause to think
My brittle bark will in a moment sink.
Behold, how long, whilst I strain all my powers
Your Tagus singing, and your Portugal,
Fortune, new toils presenting and new sours,
Through the world drags me at her chariot's tail:
Sometimes committed to sea's rolling towers,
Sometimes to bloody dangers martial!
Thus I, like desperate Canace of old,
My pen in this, my sword in that hand hold.
Now by declined and scorned poverty
Degraded, at another's board to eat;
Now in possession of a fortune high,
Thrown back again, farther than ever yet;
Now 'scaped, with my life only, which hung by
A single thread, even that a load too great;
That 'tis no less a wonder I am here,
Than Judah's king's new lease of fifteen year.
Nay more, my Nymphs, I thus being made an isle
And rock of want, surrounded by my woes,
The same, whom I swam, singing all the while,
Gave me for all my verses, but coarse prose:
Instead of hoped rest for long exile.
Or bays, to crown my head which bald now grows,
Unworthy scandals they thereon did hail,
Which laid me in a miserable jail.[151]
Camoens was easily enabled to prove the falsehood of the charges of which he was accused. And he would have been set free, but Miguel Rodrigues Coutinho, a man of wealth and consequence, but nicknamed Fios-seccos, detained him in prison for a trifling debt; not more, at the very largest computation, than twenty pounds. He petitioned for his release from the viceroy in some sportive verses, in which he ridicules the character of his creditor. The request was such as a man in adversity might prefer to a friend in power, without humiliation; and though the biographers are chary of attributing the merit of his release to the viceroy, and Mickle even asserts that he owed it "to the shame felt by the gentlemen of Goa," it seems likely that dom Francisco did shew his friendship by enlarging him.
He continued in India, and pursued his military career as a volunteer. On all occasions he displayed undaunted bravery; and his companions in arms loved him for the heroic as well as cheerful spirit which he displayed in all reverses, and during every hardship.
At this period he is supposed to have heard of the death of dona Catarina de Atayde[152], who, in her grave, was not more lost to him than on earth, while such far seas lay between them; yet the thought of her was dear and consolatory. When recording that two blows befell him at the same time, the one the loss of fortune, he continues:—
"And greater ill—the other blow destroyed
The gentle one, whom I so deeply loved,
Perpetual Recollection of my soul!"[153]