Os Lusíadas 9.67 · 9.67

Hunters in the Shade

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Alguns, que em espingardas e nas bestas, Para ferir os cervos se fiavam, Pelos sombrios matos e florestas Determinadamente se lançavam: Outros, nas sombras, que de as altas sestas Defendem a verdura, passeavam Ao longo da água que, suave e queda, Por alvas pedras corre à praia leda.

Some, who trusted in their muskets and crossbows to bring down the deer, flung themselves determinedly through the shady thickets and forests; others strolled in the shade, which shields the greenery from the high heat of noon, along the water that, smooth and still, runs over white stones to the happy shore.

Word by word

Algunsal-GOONSHsome,quewhoemengwith/inespingardasshpeeng-GAR-dashmusketseeeandnasnashin thebestasBESH-tashcrossbows,ParaPA-rain order toferirfe-REERto woundosooshthecervosSER-vooshdeer/stagsseseoneself / iffiavamfee-AH-vaomtrusted,PelosPE-looshthrough thesombriossom-BREE-ooshshadymatosMA-tooshthicketseeeandflorestasfloo-RESH-tashforestsDeterminadamentede-ter-mee-na-da-MEN-tedeterminedlyseseoneself / iflançavamlan-SA-vaomflung themselves:OutrosOH-trooshothers,nasnashin thesombrasSOM-brashshadows,quewhichdedefromasashthealtasAL-tashhighsestasSESH-tashmidday heatDefendemde-FEN-daimshieldaatheverduraver-DOO-ragreenery,passeavampa-se-AH-vaomstrolledAoawalong thelongoLON-goolength/alongdadaof theáguaAH-gwawaterquewhich,suaveSWA-vesmootheeeandquedaKE-dastill/calm,PorpooroveralvasAL-vashwhitepedrasPE-drashstonescorreKO-rrerunsàato thepraiaPRY-ashoreledaLE-daglad.

The setting

On the Ilha dos Amores, the enchanted island Venus raises as a reward for Gama's sailors, the men scatter across the landscape — some to hunt through the woods, some to stroll beside a stream — in the moments before the waiting nymphs appear.

A note on this passage

The sailors, set loose on Venus's island, split into two moods: hunters crashing into the woods after game, and strollers drifting through the shade beside a clear stream. Camões builds a classic locus amoenus — cool shadow, green cover, water running over pale stones to a bright beach — the pastoral idyll poets from Theocritus to Ovid used to signal a place outside ordinary time.

What a first reader misses is the trap folded into the scene. These men carry muskets — sixteenth-century hardware dropped into a mythic Venus-island, a deliberate anachronism — and they think they are the hunters. But the whole island is Venus's design, stocked with nymphs who are about to turn the chase around: the men who came to run down deer will themselves be the ones pursued and caught. The hunt is bait, and the idyll is the reward the sailors have not yet realized they have earned.

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