Castilho says, in my translation:
The verses of Filinto displease and martyr any ear, even if not of the delicate; those of Camões commonly satisfy; those of Bocage enchant; to these, if anything should be reprehended it would be their excessively constant perfection.
It is true, it is true: technically, Bocage is no less than a master. But that does not stop the laughter at this conclusion that seems like a love letter. “Excessively constant perfection…” We should ask ourselves once again if the value of a poetic composition is reduced to technique or if, perhaps, poetry is configured as an expressive vehicle of a soul. If we opt for the latter hypothesis, we must conclude that the type of the soul that composes verses necessarily influences the value of the composition. And what else? A noble soul engages itself in issues worthy of its nobility; it expresses them because, for it, they carry real and decisive weight. How can we call perfect a poetry corroded by passions and worldly concerns? a poetry incapable of rising to more virtuous planes? Camões’ verses “commonly satisfy”, while Bocage’s “enchant”. What a conclusion!