Bilac was, on the whole, less a Parnassian than was Francisca Julia. She transmuted her passion into cold, yet appealing, symbols; Machado de Assis’s feelings do not quite fill his glass to the brim; Olavo Bilac’s passion overflows the banks of his verse. Yet he remained as true as so warm a nature as his could be to the vows of his Profissão de Fe, with its numerous exclamation points that stand as visible refutation of his avowed formalism. The very epigraph of the poem—and the poem itself stands as epigraph to the collection that follows—is taken from none other than that ardent soul, Victor Hugo, with whom at first the very opponents of the Romantic movement tried to maintain relations. So true is it that we retain a little of all things that we reject.
Le poète est ciseleur,
Le ciseleur est poète.
Bilac’s would-be Parnassian Profession of Faith, beginning thus inconsistently with a citation from the chief of the Romantics (a citation, it may be added, that is not all consistent with Hugo’s own characteristic labours) is the herald of his own humanness. Let us now leave the “isms” to those who love them, and seek in Bilac the distinctive personality. His Profissão de Fe is a bit dandified, snobbish, aloof, with a suggestion of a refined sensuality that is fully borne in his work.
Não quero a Zeus Capitolino,
Herculeo e bello,
Talhar no marmore divino
Que outro—não eu!—a pedra córte
Para, brutal,