All upon earth doth change to poetry Beneath his voice: the objects, the ideas, The laws, and all the strange phenomena, Seem like a new Olympus with new gods-- Fancy's mythology--which disappears Like Pagan creeds at sight of Paradise, That sea of light, radiant with shining stars, And love, and virtue.
The magic words of our most noble bard Are like the prism of the universe;-- Her marvels there reflect themselves, divide, And recreate her wonders; sounds paint hues, And colors melt in harmony. The rhyme-- Sounding or strange, and rapid or prolong'd-- That charm of genius, triumph of high art; Poetry's divination, which reveals All nature's secrets, such as influence The heart of man.
From this great work did Dante hope the end Of his long exile: and he call'd on Fame To be his mediator; but he died Too soon to reap the laurels of his land. Thus wastes the transitory life of man In adverse fortunes; and it glory wins, If some chance tide, more happy, floats to shore. The grave is in the port; and destiny, In thousand shapes, heralds the close of life By a return of happiness.
Thus the ill-fated Tasso, whom your praise, O Romans! 'mid his wrongs, could yet console-- The beautiful, the chivalric, the brave, Dreaming the deeds, feeling the love he sung-- With awe and gratitude approached your walls, As did his heroes to Jerusalem. They named the day to crown him; but its eve Death bade him to his feast, the terrible! The Heaven is jealous of the earth; and calls Its favorites from the stormy waves of time.
'T was in an age more happy and more free Than Tasso's, that, like Dante, Petrarch sang: Brave poet of Italian liberty. Elsewhere they know him only by his love: Here memories more severe, aye, consecrate His sacred name; his country could inspire E'en more than Laura.
His vigils gave antiquity new life; Imagination was no obstacle To his deep studies; that creative power Conquer'd the future, and reveal'd the past. He proved how knowledge lends invention aid; And more original his genius seem'd, When, like the powers eternal, it could be Present in every time.
Our laughing climate, and our air serene Inspired our Ariosto: after war, Our many long and cruel wars, he came Like to a rainbow; varied and as bright As that glad messenger of summer hours. His light, sweet gayety is like nature's smile, And not the irony of man.