118

"Passada esta tão próspera vitória,

Tornando Afonso à Lusitana terra,

A se lograr da paz com tanta glória

Quanta soube ganhar na dura guerra,

O caso triste, e dino da memória,

Que do sepulcro os homens desenterra,

Aconteceu da mísera e mesquinha

Que depois de ser morta foi Rainha.

CXVIII

When this most glorious victory was won

Alphonso to his native realm returned,

Rejoicing much at all that had been done.

In hopes to find repose so nobly earned.

Alas! those hopes were sadly overturned:

O grief, most dreadful, painful and profound!

By which the gloomy sepulcres were spurned,

And she, who naught in life but anguish found

Even after her decease, as rightful Queen was crowned.

119

"Tu só, tu, puro Amor, com força crua,

Que os corações humanos tanto obriga,

Deste causa à molesta morte sua,

Como se fora pérfida inimiga.

Se dizem, fero Amor, que a sede tua

Nem com lágrimas tristes se mitiga,

É porque queres, áspero e tirano,

Tuas aras banhar em sangue humano.

CXIX

O thou pure love! who rulest o’er the hearts

Of mortal men, with thy resistless might

Which such delicious hopes and joys imparts,

Thou wast the cause, that cruel death did smite

Her Lovely form, with dread,vindictive spite.

O cruel Love! why art thou harsh and rude?-

Nor prayers nor tears avail us in thy sight-

Alas! thou dost desire, in tyrant’s mood,

To see thy impious hands in human blood imbrued.

120

"Estavas, linda Inês, posta em sossego,

De teus anos colhendo doce fruto,

Naquele engano da alma, ledo e cego,

Que a fortuna não deixa durar muito,

Nos saudosos campos do Mondego,

De teus fermosos olhos nunca enxuto,

Aos montes ensinando e às ervinhas

O nome que no peito escrito tinhas.

…

CXX

Thou beautiful Ignez, wast then reclined,

In sweet repose, in thy enchanting bower,

Indulging that delusion of the mind,

When youth and love possess absorbing power,

Which fortune grants them for a fleeting hour.

In much mourned meadows by Mondego’s stream,

Which ne’er exhausts thy tears’ incessant shower,

The name inscribed on thy fond heart doth seem

to teach the hills and meads, a never-ending theme. 

…

135

"As filhas do Mondego a morte escura

Longo tempo chorando memoraram,

E, por memória eterna, em fonte pura

As lágrimas choradas transformaram;

O nome lhe puseram, que inda dura,

Dos amores de Inês que ali passaram.

Vede que fresca fonte rega as flores,

Que lágrimas são a água, e o nome amores.

CXXXV

Mondego’s daughters, in their shady groves,

With plaintive sighs bewailed, for many years,

The fair Ignez and her unhappy loves:

A rivulet, which sprang from their sad tears,

Whose very name her memory endears,

The fount of love, its crystal waters pours,

And thus the emblem of her grief appears:

The waters of the rill refresh the flowers,

Whose blooming beauty decks pure love’s enchanting bowers