Oh pious ox, I love thee; and a gentle feeling
of vigour and of peace thou pour’st into my heart;
whether, solemn as a monument,
thou gazest at the field so free and fruitful,
or whether, bowing gladly to the yoke,
the agile work of man thou gladly aidest;
he pricks and urges thee and thou repliest
with the slow turning of thy patient eye.
From thy broad nostril damp and dark
smokes forth thy breath, and like a joyful hymn
thy lowing rises through the quiet air;
and in the austere sweetness of thy grave
and glaucous eye, ample and quiet is reflected
the green and godlike silence of the plain.
Another side of Pascoli’s mind reveals itself in his studies on Dante.
The hope which _is company for me_, he writes, is to go down to
posterity as an interpreter of Dante, as an illustrator of the great
Poet’s mind and thought. He has already published a book, _La Minerva
Oscura_, for professional Dantisti; and is about to issue a series of
articles for the general public.
Pascoli is now occupied on a translation, in hexameters, of the
Homeric poems; and will shortly publish the glottological studies and
the experiments by which he has prepared himself for his task. That
he is capable of treating Greek subjects with Greek directness and
simplicity, and without any affectation of Greek forms (a pitfall into
which D’Annunzio continually stumbles) will be seen in the poem which
closes this paper.