Oh sweetest, immortal poet!
“half of my own soul” I would call you,
as once your friend Horace called you,
if one who adores you from afar dared so much.
Who does not love you, once they know you?
Your genius,
your supreme art compel our admiration;
but your spirit stirs still greater fondness,
which, in mysterious fragrance,
the eternal flower of your verse breathes forth.
Your spirit takes hold of us. It has the virgin breath of balsam-scented woods, the august
peace of the blue shadows that stretch out
from lofty hills, while the sun goes down
and the smoke of humble cabins rises…
It has the freshness of dew, the balm carried
by plants of beneficent virtue,
the wholesomeness of the fields in full communion
of good labour and the fruitful earth.
It has the veil of starlight, the tender song
of Philomela, sweetly plaintive,
the outpouring of springs, the serene light
of the shepherds' star at eventide.
King of the solitude dear to the Muses,
you also sang the epic heroism
of ancient warriors, imagining a lofty
origin for proud Rome.
Thus you watered, from the great Homeric river,
the broad Latin land. Within the thicket
of the mythic forest you gathered
that golden bough which, like poetry's magic scepter,
granted you entry
into the spectral empire of the shades.
And more than that chasm, you let us see
the depths of the heart, a living abyss
your song penetrates. The tragic passion
of the Punic Queen, the noble death
of the two young friends, you consecrated
with such enchantment that even today there flows
a living stream of tears… Ah! always,
above horrors, grandeurs and battles,
above games, misfortunes or good fortunes,
your poetry spreads its mystery
of feeling. A certain sweetest something
of good heart and of grace makes your works
incomparable within the ancient age,
oh gentle King of human tenderness!
Not in vain did you speak the sibylline oracle
to the Roman empire, giving the announcement
of a marvelous birth. The dawn of a new order
of ages you discovered
from the summit of your genius, and there came to crown you
a tender ray of the light yet to come.
For this it was that within the great eclipse
of the pagan world, you alone remained
wholly luminous; and only the darkness
could transfigure you, to serve as guide
to the seer of other worlds, Dante Alighieri.
For this the ever-changing centuries
adore you as they pass, and you remain forever
guide and confidant to the poetic heart
that is able to feel you and that journeys
along roads of sorrow or of hope…
