The objections to such a method are: the doubt as to whether one has the right to take a serious poem and turn it into a mere exercise in quaintness; the “misrepresentation” not of the poem’s antiquity, but of the proportionate feel of that antiquity, by which I mean that Guido’s thirteenth-century language is to twentieth-century Italian sense much less archaic than any fourteenth-, fifteenth-, or early sixteenth-century English is for us.
{198} The archaism did not achieve any greater fidelity to the Italian texts, nor did it establish an analogy between two past cultures, one Italian, the other English. Despite Pound’s modernist pronouncements, the archaism could not overcome “six centuries of derivative convention and loose usage” to communicate “the exact significances of such phrases as: ‘The death of the heart,’ and ‘The departure of the soul’” because it pointed to a different literary culture in a different language at a different historical moment (Anderson 1983:12). Pound’s pre-Elizabethan English could do no more than signify the remoteness of Cavalcanti’s poetry, along with the impossibility of finding any exact linguistic and literary equivalent. And the archaism did this only because it radically departed from cultural norms that currently prevailed in English. This is perhaps most noticeable in Pound’s archaic prosody: as Anderson has observed, he wanted “to free the cadence of his English versions from the Elizabethan and post-Elizabethan iambic pentameter,” still the standard for English-language verse at the beginning of the twentieth century (Anderson 1982:13; Easthope 1983).
Pound’s comments on his versions of Arnaut Daniel revealed his
acute awareness that current cultural norms constrained his work as a
translator. These were his most experimental translations, texts where
he developed the most heterogeneous discourses. Like the later
Cavalcanti translations, they mixed various archaic forms, mainly
“Pre-Raphaelite mediaevalism” (Pound’s notation for “Rossetti: Italian
poets” in