572 
Me, other than I was, ye now behold, 
J gaze around, and tears suffuse my eyes ; 
Ye tell me, lovely scenes, of days of old, 
And thoughts of former happiness arise. 
But it is the humour of Lérd Strang. 
ford to represent Camoens as very amor- 
ous, and very successful in his amours. 
<« There are sorne who assert that Camoen$ 
quitted Lisbon in consequence of a discover- 
ed intrigue with the beawiful wife of a Por- 
tugues¢ gentleman. Perhaps this story may 
not be wholly unfounded. It is improbable 
that he remained long constant to the me- 
mory of a departed mistress, when living 
beauty was ready to supply her place. His 
was not a heart that could safely defy temp- 
tation, although the barbarous ingenuity of 
some commentators would make us believe, 
that all his amours were purely platonic, and 
that he was ignorant of the passion in every 
other respect. Happily for himself, the case 
was different, and his works record that he 
more than once indulged in the little wander-~. 
ings of amatory irolic.” 
* * *° #4 
«« Gallantry was the leading trait in the dis- 
position of Camoens. His amours were va- 
rious and suecessful. Woman was to him 
as a ministering angel, and for the little joy 
which he tasted in life, he was indebted to 
her. ‘The magic of female charms forms his 
favourite theme, and while he paints the al- 
Jurements of the sex with the Ait encil 
of an enthusiast, he seems transported into 
that heaven which he describes. Nor did 
this passion ever desert him ; even in his last 
days, he feelingly regretted the raptures of 
youth, and lingered with delight on the re- 
‘membrances of love. A cavalier named 
Ruy de Camera, having called upon our au- 
thor to finish a poetical version of the seven 
penitential psalms, raising his head from his 
miserable pallet, and pointing to his faithful 
slave, he exclaimed, * Alas, when I was a 
poet, l was young, and happy, and blest with 
the love of ladies, but now, I am a forlorn 
deserted wretch :—See—there stands my poor 
Antonio, vainly supplicating four-pence to 
purchase a little coals—I have them not to 
give him!’ ‘The cavalier, as Sousa quaintly 
relates, closed his heart and his purse, and 
quitted the room. Such were the grandees 
efPortugal!’ + 
Having, therefore, assigned the cha- 
racter of Camoens, Lord Strangford 
writes poems in the pure¥ manner of Lit- 
tle Moore, and prints them as_transla- 
tions from the Portugueze. 
«© Thou hast an eye of tender blue, 
And thou hast locks of Daphne's hue, 
And cheeks that shame the morning's break, 
And lips that might for reduess mae 
Roses seem pale beside them ; 
But whether soft or sweet as tliey, 
Lacy! ales, F cannot say, 
“Yor I have never tried them, 
POETRY. 
«Yet, thus created for delight, 
Lady! thou art not lovely quite, 
For dost thou not this maxim knowy, 
That Prudery is Beauty's foe, 
A stain that mars a jewel! 
And e’en that woman’s angel face, ; 
Loses a portion of its grace, 
If woman’s heart be cruel! | 
Love is a sweet and blooming boy, 
Yet glowing with the blush of joy, 
And (still in youth's delicious prime) 
Tho’ ag’d as patriarchal time, 
The withering god despises : 
Lady! would’st thou for ever be 
As fair, and young, and fresh as he— 
Do all that Love advises !” 
Some of the comment of Faria, says 
his Lordship, has been introduced. into 
the translation of this poem, and certain 
very necessary liberties taken, with. the 
original. The original poem to which 
he refers— dss alors 
Nad set quem assella 
Vossa formosura, 
Que quem he tad dura 
Nao pode ser bella, &c. 
lies open before us,-and the necessary li- 
berty which has been taken is to write a 
new one, differing totally in every pa 
and point. We have not the edition of 
Faria y Sousa to look for his comment, 
nor, poet as old Manuel was, are we dis- 
posed to believe that the present ingeni- 
ous writer has been more indebted to the 
note than to the text. 
The original referred to for the fol- 
lowing Madrigal consists of only three 
lines, being the mote or text which Ca- 
moens was to amplify. ° 
<< "The simple youth who trusts the fair, 
Or on their plighted truth relies, 
Micht learn how vain such follies were, 
y looking in his lady’s eyes, 
And catch a hint, if timely wise, ; 
From those dumb children, cradled there ! 
* Poor fool! thy wayward feats forbear,’ 
(Those mute advisers seem to say) 
© And hence with sighs, and tears, and care, 
« For thou but fling’st thy heart away, 7 
«'To make a toy—for babies” play.”* 
. 
He who trusts in eyes, says the origi- 
nal, may see in their babies that babies 
have no faith. Pt 
Quem se confia em hius olhos, 
Nas meninos delles ve, 
Que meninas nao. tem fe. 
Lord Strangford might have sueceed- 
ed in his stratagem, if he had not affixed 
the line of Portugueze, to each? of: lils 
poems ; we should then in vain have 
