Journal of Italian Translation

Joseph Tusiani/Ugo Foscolo
wicked, she feigns a rosy splendor first
(people are baffled, and a gentle name—
Aurora Borealis—give to her);
Then, moving onward, she transmutes all clouds
into Chimaeras and horrendous flames
of overhanging swords: the silent storm
causes the frightened eagles down to plunge
from their high realm where sudden snakes are seen
couching with lions and wolves’ whining shades.
The city’s glance perceives blood-dripping stars
up in the airy chaos shyly burn:
one conflagration wins the firmament
and underneath that evil-boding light
the hyperborean boundless earth glows red.
The envious Goddess scans the unsown fields
and the wide-frozen seas that steersmen shun,
and at this very moment maybe treads
on arms and banners through the Scythian land
and on Italian still unburied braves.
............................................
When our fair Deities at last arrived
in Crete, most willing at its mountain’s foot
Iris surrendered chariot and does
to fierce Diana as a gift of love:
Cynthia, whereupon, swore timeless faith
to the three Graces from that very day,
ever to watch with them over the hearts
of candid girls as well as candid lads.
Thus very lonely they were seen to roam
Mount Ida’s base where fountainheads abound
until they climbed, one day, as near the Sky
as they could go—right where a rosy sheen
sprinkles the holy mountain’s lofty tops
wherefrom the stars are viewed as lustrous gold.
‘T was then the Goddess rained these glowing words
into her loyal virgins’ very hearts:
“Most blessèd, happy maidens, is the realm
of the Celestials whereto I return;
but here you must remain, here to console
the luckless Earth with all her hapless sons.
For you alone will every God bestow
his every gift upon her lavishly,
and you, should Heaven’s ire outweigh its ruth,
will I take there to placate all its storms
and Zeus’s thunderbolts. When I am gone
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