Os Lusíadas 2.41 · 2.41

Venus's Tears

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" Mas moura enfim nas mãos das brutas gentes, Que pois eu fui... " E nisto, de mimosa, O rosto banha em lágrimas ardentes, Como co'o orvalho fica a fresca rosa. Calada um pouco, como se entre os dentes Se lhe impedira a fala piedosa, Torna a segui-la; e indo por diante, Lhe atalha o poderoso e grão Tonante.

"But let it die at last in the hands of the brutish peoples, for since I was..." — and at this, out of tenderness, she bathes her face in burning tears, as the fresh rose holds the morning dew. Silent a while, as if the pious plea had caught between her teeth, she turns to take it up again; and as she goes onward, the powerful and mighty Thunderer cuts her short.

Word by word

"MasMASHbutmouraMOH-ralet it dieenfiman-FEENGat lastnasNASHin themãosMOWNSHhandsdasDASHof thebrutasBROO-tashbrutishgentesZHEN-teshpeoples,QuekuhforpoisPOYSHsinceeuEWIfuiFWEEI was..."EEEandnistoNEESH-tooat this,deduhout ofmimosamee-MO-zatenderness,OootherostoROSH-toofacebanhaBAH-nyabathesemENGinlágrimasLA-gree-mashtearsardentesar-DEN-teshburning,ComoKOH-mooasco'okoowith theorvalhoor-VAH-lyoodewficaFEE-kastaysauhthefrescaFRESH-kafreshrosaRO-zarose.Caladaka-LA-dasilentumOONGapoucoPOH-kooa while,comoKOH-mooassesuhifentreEN-truhbetweenosooshthedentesDEN-teshteethSesuhitselflhelyuhto herimpediraeem-peh-DEE-rahad blockedauhthefalaFA-laspeechpiedosapyeh-DOH-zapious,TornaTOR-naturnsauhtosegui-laseh-GEE-lafollow it;eeeandindoEEN-doogoingporpoorondiantedee-AN-tuhahead,Lhelyuhheratalhaa-TAH-lyacuts offooothepoderosopoo-deh-ROH-zoopowerfuleeeandgrãoGROWNGgreatTonantetoo-NAN-tuhThunderer.

The setting

Venus pleads with Jupiter to protect Vasco da Gama's fleet; mid-sentence she breaks off in bitterness and weeps, and the Thunderer moves to answer.

A note on this passage

Venus is deep in her plea to Jupiter for Gama's sailors, and here she snaps into bitter sarcasm — let them die, then, in savage hands, since I was the one who... — and cannot finish. She breaks off and weeps, and the narrator catches the falling tears in a single image: dew left on a fresh rose. Just as she gathers herself to resume, Jupiter cuts in.

The tears are not only grief; they are argument. Camões is reworking the scene in Aeneid I where Venus, her eyes wet, pleads with Jupiter for Aeneas and the king of the gods smiles and answers. What a first reader misses is the unfinished sentence: 'pois eu fui...' stops dead, an aposiopesis that lets the threat and the reproach hang unspoken — more pointed than anything she could have said aloud.

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