Journal of Italian Translation

Joseph Tusiani/Ugo Foscolo
and looks upon her with much greater bliss
as she begins to move her lips to say:
“Grateful to Heaven for her man’s return
from the cold rivers, fatherland of swans,
my noble Queen to the three virgin Graces
is offering the whiteness of this Swan.”
Welcome the Bird, O lads, and lay him down
on the clear waters murmuring around
the altar and the forest: let him be
lord of our stream, and let the waves bring forth
his graceful ways and innocence. To all
who gaze upon him may this happy Swan
say, “I am beauty’s symbol.” Happily
dancing, O graceful maidens, pluck the leaves
of every rosebush, every myrtle tree
along the winding stream, and cast them all
over the stream itself, thus laying stumbles
of blossoms right before the fleeting bird
sailing on pinions of pure, dazzling snow,
and, dearly treasuring the sweetest bud
he chooses for you with his purple beak,
conceal it on your breast. Of all the birds
that love air, lakes and meadows equally,
the Swan is gentle king: most affably
he rules his subjects in the Graces’ realm,
smiles at his wingèd mates and joyfully
watches the scornful eagles overhead.
Over his back the fish in sliver spree
most safely wriggle, loving him as guest
when he at daybreak tries their deeper waves
in search of fresher cleansings that may lure
upon his feathers the new-risen sun.
Crown him with lilies!
For the beauteous rite
he was donated by Her Ladyship,
who in her villa fresh with linden trees
(lovable plants propitious to cool shades
as well as sanctity of wedded love)
in sadness nourished him: from the small lake
the Swan had run to her, causing a ripple
on the immobile waters underneath
her laurel trees. O virtues’ ornament
there in her royal palace of Milan!
O (while the Gods allowed it) ever-pleasant
harbor to weeping mortals, gentle mother
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