Virgin, the New World’s sweet pride and greatest glory,
Receive these Indian verses, which the poet renders to you,
coming from Quito’s boundary, with your pleasant demeanour
We are throwing open the vast shores of America rich in gold,
and heaven’s gifts, which, borne through the great ocean’s roar,
we pursue beyond the Pillars of Hercules.
We bear the small tokens (I admit) of a nascent poet
the work of a cheap Muse: but whatever golden or silver metal
the fertile shore produces and the gleaming gems
which the New World of its own accord set at your feet
you spurned some time ago, out of your desire for strict virtue
and in no way do you seek greatness in things – nor do songs boasting
of the vain springs of Apollo’s mountain move you.
But whoever sounds out the measureless fires of a divine breast
and of the gods banquets set out with nectared liquor,
which the ruler of starry Olympus in the end granted
to poor peoples – that free and frank poet is more welcome to you,
than if he were to rehearse the secrets of nature,
proclaiming to the winds the golden metals
fortunate America brings forth, drawn from her rich bosom.
Rather our songs applaud Jesus, swimming across to new
ends of the Earth, and the shores of pleasant Quito
over the realms of Ocean which were impassable to people of old.
Then to the great Father, wherever pathless land lies open,
they build temples and heap incense on new altars.
Your kingdoms here are the greatest part of the earth, and the
renown of your City and the New World are borne above the skies.
Here Jesus, here your Jesus, whom Faith, her eyes covered by
a veil , and —sustaining all of heaven in her breast—
her sister Hope, and fire-bearing Love, brandishing a holy bow,
(all plunging from the stars, by a sweet compact, to the pious realms
of the New World) often once rendered to you, as you poured forth
vows and prayers to a divine power before hidden.
Your heart burns with the living heat of your great guest,
and as you languish from your pious wound, you are received
by four goddesses, sent down from the top of the high citadel:
Prudence sees from afar what is to come, endowed with
a hundred eyes, applying her consideration to all things.
And Justice brings punishments or prizes; she neither despises
the crowd’s tears, nor shows adulation to one in power.
And the Virgin of Great Courage with her adamantine breast,
regards what is right and lawful, secure amidst her enemies.
The fourth holds the measure: Temperance uses what is granted her,
never overwhelmed by flattery or by base desires.
Wherefore, Virgin, accompanied by all those goddesses,
as you leave the territory of your bountiful patria, hear
the poet calling, and be present to assent to our labours.
Come joyfully, bring with you the Lilies from your own Jesus,
bring the Lilies, which between thorns and the torrents of blood shed,
you have kept inviolate with your snow-white modesty.
There is now a greater reason why you may visit
the kingdoms of Europe with a swifter foot: since Rome
celebrates you as equal to the great Virtues of our saintly Heroes.
José Manuel Peramás (1732 - 1793) Spain
Translated by Desiree Arbo and Andrew Laird
Receive these Indian verses, which the poet renders to you,
coming from Quito’s boundary, with your pleasant demeanour
We are throwing open the vast shores of America rich in gold,
and heaven’s gifts, which, borne through the great ocean’s roar,
we pursue beyond the Pillars of Hercules.
We bear the small tokens (I admit) of a nascent poet
the work of a cheap Muse: but whatever golden or silver metal
the fertile shore produces and the gleaming gems
which the New World of its own accord set at your feet
you spurned some time ago, out of your desire for strict virtue
and in no way do you seek greatness in things – nor do songs boasting
of the vain springs of Apollo’s mountain move you.
But whoever sounds out the measureless fires of a divine breast
and of the gods banquets set out with nectared liquor,
which the ruler of starry Olympus in the end granted
to poor peoples – that free and frank poet is more welcome to you,
than if he were to rehearse the secrets of nature,
proclaiming to the winds the golden metals
fortunate America brings forth, drawn from her rich bosom.
Rather our songs applaud Jesus, swimming across to new
ends of the Earth, and the shores of pleasant Quito
over the realms of Ocean which were impassable to people of old.
Then to the great Father, wherever pathless land lies open,
they build temples and heap incense on new altars.
Your kingdoms here are the greatest part of the earth, and the
renown of your City and the New World are borne above the skies.
Here Jesus, here your Jesus, whom Faith, her eyes covered by
a veil , and —sustaining all of heaven in her breast—
her sister Hope, and fire-bearing Love, brandishing a holy bow,
(all plunging from the stars, by a sweet compact, to the pious realms
of the New World) often once rendered to you, as you poured forth
vows and prayers to a divine power before hidden.
Your heart burns with the living heat of your great guest,
and as you languish from your pious wound, you are received
by four goddesses, sent down from the top of the high citadel:
Prudence sees from afar what is to come, endowed with
a hundred eyes, applying her consideration to all things.
And Justice brings punishments or prizes; she neither despises
the crowd’s tears, nor shows adulation to one in power.
And the Virgin of Great Courage with her adamantine breast,
regards what is right and lawful, secure amidst her enemies.
The fourth holds the measure: Temperance uses what is granted her,
never overwhelmed by flattery or by base desires.
Wherefore, Virgin, accompanied by all those goddesses,
as you leave the territory of your bountiful patria, hear
the poet calling, and be present to assent to our labours.
Come joyfully, bring with you the Lilies from your own Jesus,
bring the Lilies, which between thorns and the torrents of blood shed,
you have kept inviolate with your snow-white modesty.
There is now a greater reason why you may visit
the kingdoms of Europe with a swifter foot: since Rome
celebrates you as equal to the great Virtues of our saintly Heroes.
José Manuel Peramás (1732 - 1793) Spain
Translated by Desiree Arbo and Andrew Laird
Source: Columbus, The Lily of Quito, and the Black Legend: The Context of José Manuel Peramás’ Epic on the discovery of the New World: De Invento Novo Orbe Inductoque Illuc Christi Sacrificio (1777), Desiree Arbo And Andrew Laird, Dieciocho 38.1 (Spring 2015)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please keep your comments relevant and free from abusive language. Thank you. Note that comments are moderated so it may be a day or two before your comment is posted - irrelevant or abusive comments will not be published.