His ivory lune's two horns into a round
Draws with excessive force the unconquered boy:
Rather than others Tethys would he wound,
For more than others had he proved her coy;
Now in the quiver not one shaft is found,
Nor in the watery plains nymph to destroy;
And if the wounded yet remain alive
"Twill be to know with very death they strive.
Give place, ye deep cerulean waves, give place,
For ye behold how Venus comes to heal;
The white and swelling canvass ye may trace,
Which o'er great Neptune's sea she doth reveal ;
That thou, O ardent Love! with kindred grace,
May'st answer to the love that women feel,
In all must honest modesty obey
As Venus shall in admonition say.
Now all the Nereids' beauteous choir, behold!
Prepare themselves and grouped together move
In graceful dances, as of usance old,
Where Venus guides them, to the isle above:
There the sweet Goddess counsel doth unfold
Of her own thousand methods when in love;
And they, who all by sweet love vanquished go,
Accept her counsels and conform to know.
Towards their dear native land the vessels ride,
O'er the vast ocean way for many a mile,
Anxious, indeed, fresh water to provide,
To serve for so prolonged a voyage, the while;
When sudden joy breaks forth on every side;
There hove in sight the fair enamoured isle,
As Memnon's beauteous mother met their eye,
Sweet and delightful breaking o'er the sky.
De longe a ilha viram fresca e bella,
Que Venus pelas ondas lha levava
(Bem como o vento leva branca vela)
Para onde a forte armada se enxergava;
Que, porque não passassem, sem que nella
Tomassem porto, como desejava,
Para onde as náos navegam a movia
A Acidália, que tudo em fim podia.
Mas firme a fêz e immobil, como vio
Que era dos nautas vista e demandada;
Qual ficou Delos, tanto que pario
Latona Phebo e a deosa á caça usada.
Para lá logo a prôa o mar abrio,
Onde a costa fazia huma enseada
Curva e quieta, cuja branca area
Pintou de ruivas conchas Cytherea.
Tres formosos outeiros se mostravam
Erguidos com soberba graciosa,
Que de gramíneo esmalte se adornavam,
Na formosa ilha alegre e deleitosa :
Claras fontes e limpidas manavam
Do cume que a verdura tem viçosa;
Por entre pedras alvas se deriva
A sonorosa lympha fugitiva.
N'hum valle ameno, que os outeiros fende,
Vinham as claras aguas ajuntar-se,
Onde huma mesa fazem, que se estende
Tão bella quanto póde imaginar-se;
Arvoredo gentil sobre ella pende,
Como que prompto está para affeitar-se,
Vendo-se no crystal resplandecente,
Que em si o está pintando propriamente.
From far they saw the island fresh and fair,
Which Venus o'er the waters toward them drove
(E'en as the wind the canvass white doth bear)
Whither the noble fleet was seen to move;
For, that they should not pass, not entering there
To make the port, with which intent she strove,
The isle was moved to where the vessels sailed
By Acidalia who in all prevailed.
But firm and fixed she makes it, where she knows
'Tis by the sailors seen and sought apace,
As Delos stayed, when from Latona rose
Apollo and the Goddess of the chase;
Thither the prow the waves dividing goes
Where the coast forms a bay for resting-place,
Curved and all quiet, and whose shining sand
Is painted with red shells by Venus' hand.
Three beauteous mounts rise nobly to the view,
Lifting with graceful pride their swelling head,
O'er which enamelled grass, adorning, grew,
In this delightful, lovely island, glad :
Bright limpid springs their rushing waters threw
From heights with rich luxuriant verdure clad,
Midst the white rocks, above, their source derive
The streams sonorous, sweet and fugitive.
In a soft vale, which doth the mounts divide,
Each crystal river comes to join its stream,
Where all a mirror form, which, spreading wide,
Is beautiful as any one could dream;
A graceful grove, that hangs on every side,
Like one about to adorn himself doth seem,
Who in the brilliant glass his form doth spy,
Which on its bosom paints him faithfully.
Mil arvores estão ao ceo subindo
Com pomos odoriferos e bellos;
A larangeira tem no fruito lindo
A côr que tinha Daphne nos cabellos;
Encosta-se no chão, que está cahindo,
A cidreira co'os pezos amarellos;
Os formosos limões alli cheirando
Estão virgineas têtas imitando.
As arvores agrestes, que os outeiros
Tem com frondente côma ennobrecidos,
Álemos são de Alcides, e os loureiros
Do louro deos amados e queridos :
Myrtos de Cytherêa, co'os pinheiros
De Cybele por outro amor vencidos :
Está apontando o agudo cypariso
Para onde he posto o ethereo paraiso.
Os dões que dá Pomôna alli natura
Produze differentes nos sabores,
Sem ter necessidade de cultura;
Que sem ella se dão muito melhores ;
As cerejas purpureas na pintura ;
As amoras, que o nome tem de amores;
O pomo, que da patria Persia veio,
Melhor tornado no terreno alheio.
Abre a romãa mostrando a rubicunda
Côr com que tu, rubi, teu preço perdes:
Entre os braços do ulmeiro está jucunda
Vide c'huns cachos roxos, e outros verdes:
E vós, se na vossa arvore fecunda,
Peras pyramidaes, viver quizerdes,
Entregai-vos ao damno que co'os bicos
Em vós fazem os passaros inicos.
A thousand trees toward heaven their summits raise,
With fruits all odoriferous and fair:
The orange in its produce bright displays
The tint that Daphne carried in her hair :
The citron on the ground its branches lays,
Laden with yellow weights it cannot bear;
The beauteous lemons, which the whole perfume,
The virgin bosom in their form assume.
The forest trees, that on the hills combine
To ennoble them, with leafy hair o'ergrown,
Are poplars of Alcides; laurels shine,
Loved by the shining God, as of his own:
Myrtles of Cytherea, with the pine
Of Cybele, by other love o'erthrown:
The spearing cypress tree points out where lies
The seat of the ethereal paradise.
Pomona's gifts there nature doth supply
Of various flavours, through the grove and field;
For culture there is no necessity,
The trees without such aid far better yield:
The blooming cherries of a purple dye;
Morus, wherein Amours might seem concealed;
The fruit that was in Persia native found,
And better grows upon a foreign ground.
Pomegranates rubicund break forth and shine,
A tint whereby thou, ruby, losest sheen;
'Twixt the elm branches hangs the jocund vine
With bunches, some of red and some of green;
And ye, O pointed pears, if ye incline
On full tree abundant to be seen,
Intrust yourselves to bear the pruning ills
Inflicted by the birds' so cruel bills.
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