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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10314-0.txt b/10314-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc3529e --- /dev/null +++ b/10314-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5327 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10314 *** + +THE SONNETS + +OF + +MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI + +AND + +TOMMASO CAMPANELLA + + +NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME TRANSLATED INTO RHYMED ENGLISH + + +BY + +JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS + + +AUTHOR OF 'RENAISSANCE IN ITALY' 'STUDIES OF THE GREEK POETS' 'SKETCHES +IN ITALY AND GREECE' 'INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF DANTE' + + + +[Greek: Chruseon chalkeia] + + + +1878 + + + +_TO + +S.F.A._ + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + + +After some deliberation, and at the risk of offending the sensibility +of scholars, I have adopted the old English spelling of Michael +Angelo's name, feeling that no orthographical accuracy can outweigh the +associations implied in that familiar title. Michael Angelo has a place +among the highest with Homer and Titian, with Virgil and Petrarch, with +Raphael and Paul; nor do I imagine that any alteration for the better +would be effected by substituting for these time-honoured names Homêros +and Tiziano, Vergilius and Petrarca, Raffaello and Paulus. + +I wish here to express my heartiest thanks to Signore Pasquale Villari +for valuable assistance kindly rendered in the interpretation of some +difficult passages of Campanella, and to Signore V. de Tivoli for +calling my attention to the sonnet of Michael Angelo deciphered by him +on the back of a drawing in the Taylor Gallery at Oxford. + +Portions both of the Introduction and the Translations forming this +volume, have already appeared in the 'Contemporary Review' and the +'Cornhill Magazine.' + +DAVOS PLATZ: + +_Dec. 1877._ + + + +CONTENTS. + + +INTRODUCTION + +PROEM + +MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS + +CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS + +NOTES TO MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS + +NOTES TO CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS + +APPENDICES + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +I. + +It is with diffidence that I offer a translation of Michael Angelo's +sonnets, for the first time completely rendered into English rhyme, and +that I venture on a version of Campanella's philosophical poems. My +excuse, if I can plead any for so bold an attempt, may be found in +this--that, so far as I am aware, no other English writer has dealt +with Michael Angelo's verses since the publication of his autograph; +while Campanella's sonnets have hitherto been almost utterly unknown. + +Something must be said to justify the issue of poems so dissimilar in a +single volume. Michael Angelo and Campanella represent widely sundered, +though almost contemporaneous, moments in the evolution of the Italian +genius. Michael Angelo was essentially an artist, living in the prime +of the Renaissance. Campanella was a philosopher, born when the +Counter-Reformation was doing all it could to blight the free thought +of the sixteenth century; and when the modern spirit of exact enquiry, +in a few philosophical martyrs, was opening a new stage for European +science. The one devoted all his mental energies to the realisation of +beauty: the other strove to ascertain truth. The one clung to Ficino's +dream of Platonising Christianity: the other constructed for himself a +new theology, founded on the conception of God immanent in nature. +Michael Angelo expressed the aspirations of a solitary life dedicated +to the service of art, at a time when art received the suffrage and the +admiration of all Italy. Campanella gave utterance to a spirit, exiled +and isolated, misunderstood by those with whom he lived, at a moment +when philosophy was hunted down as heresy and imprisoned as treason to +the public weal. + +The marks of this difference in the external and internal circumstances +of the two poets might be multiplied indefinitely. Yet they had much in +common. Both stood above their age, and in a sense aloof from it. Both +approached poetry in the spirit of thinkers bent upon extricating +themselves from the trivialities of contemporary literature. The +sonnets of both alike are contributions to philosophical poetry in an +age when the Italians had lost their ancient manliness and energy. Both +were united by the ties of study and affection to the greatest singer +of their nation, Dante, at a time when Petrarch, thrice diluted and +emasculated, was the Phoebus of academies and coteries. + +This common antagonism to the degenerate genius of Italian literature +is the link which binds Michael Angelo, the veteran giant of the +Renaissance, to Campanella, the audacious Titan of the modern age. + + +II. + +My translation of Michael Angelo's sonnets has been made from Signor +Cesare Guasti's edition of the autograph, first given to the world in +1863.[1] This masterpiece of laborious and minute scholarship is based +upon a collation of the various manuscripts preserved in the Casa +Buonarroti at Florence with the Vatican and other Codices. It adheres +to the original orthography of Michael Angelo, and omits no fragment of +his indubitable compositions.[2] Signor Guasti prefaces the text he has +so carefully prepared, with a discourse upon the poetry of Michael +Angelo and a description of the manuscripts. To the poems themselves he +adds a prose paraphrase, and prints upon the same page with each +composition the version published by Michelangelo Buonarroti in +1623.[3] + +Before the publication of this volume, all studies of Michael Angelo's +poetry, all translations made of it, and all hypotheses deduced from +the sculptor's verse in explanation of his theory or his practice as an +artist, were based upon the edition of 1623. It will not be superfluous +to describe what that edition was, and how its text differed from that +now given to the light, in order that the relation of my own English +version to those which have preceded it may be rightly understood.[4] + +Michael Angelo seems to have entertained no thought of printing his +poems in his lifetime. He distributed them freely among his friends, of +whom Sebastiano del Piombo, Luigi del Riccio, Donato Giannotti, +Vittoria Colonna, and Tommaso de' Cavalieri were in this respect the +most favoured. In course of time some of these friends, partly by the +gift of the originals, and partly by obtaining copies, formed more or +less complete collections; and it undoubtedly occurred to more than one +to publish them. Ascanio Condivi, at the close of his biography, makes +this announcement: 'I hope ere long to make public some of his sonnets +and madrigals, which I have been long collecting, both from himself and +others who possessed them, with a view to proving to the world the +force of his inventive genius and the beauty of the thoughts produced +by that divine spirit.' Condivi's promise was not fulfilled. With the +exception of two or three pieces printed by Vasari, and the extracts +quoted by Varchi in his 'Lezione,'[5] the poems of Michael Angelo +remained in manuscript for fifty-nine years after his death. The most +voluminous collection formed part of the Buonarroti archives; but a +large quantity preserved by Luigi del Riccio, and from him transferred +to Fulvio Orsini, had passed into the Vatican Library, when +Michelangelo the younger conceived the plan of publishing his +granduncle's poetry. Michelangelo obtained leave to transcribe the +Vatican MSS. with his own hand; and after taking pains to collate all +the autographs and copies in existence, he set himself to compare their +readings, and to form a final text for publication. Here, however, +began what we may call the Tragedy of his Rifacimento. The more he +studied his great ancestor's verses, the less he liked or dared to edit +them unaltered. Some of them expressed thoughts and sentiments +offensive to the Church. In some the Florentine patriot spoke over-boldly. +Others exposed their author to misconstruction on the score of +personal morality.[6] All were ungrammatical, rude in versification, +crabbed and obscure in thought--the rough-hewn blockings-out of poems +rather than finished works of art, as it appeared to the scrupulous, +decorous, elegant, and timorous Academician of a feebler age. While +pondering these difficulties, and comparing the readings of his many +manuscripts, the thought occurred to Michelangelo that, between leaving +the poems unpublished and printing them in all their rugged boldness, +lay the middle course of reducing them to smoothness of diction, +lucidity of meaning, and propriety of sentiment.[7] In other words, he +began, as Signer Guasti pithily describes his method, 'to change halves +of lines, whole verses, ideas: if he found a fragment, he completed it: +if brevity involved the thought in obscurity, he amplified: if the +obscurity seemed incurable, he amputated: for superabundant wealth of +conception he substituted vacuity; smoothed asperities; softened +salient lights.' The result was that a medley of garbled phrases, +additions, alterations, and sophistications was foisted on the world as +the veritable product of the mighty sculptor's genius. That +Michelangelo meant well to his illustrious ancestor is certain. That he +took the greatest pains in executing his ungrateful and disastrous task +is no less clear.[8] But the net result of his meddlesome benevolence +has been that now for two centuries and a half the greatest genius of +the Italian Renaissance has worn the ill-fitting disguise prepared for +him by a literary 'breeches-maker.' In fact, Michael Angelo the poet +suffered no less from his grandnephew than Michael Angelo the fresco +painter from his follower Daniele da Volterra. + +Nearly all Michael Angelo's sonnets express personal feelings, and by +far the greater number of them were composed after his sixtieth year. +To whom they were addressed, we only know in a few instances. Vittoria +Colonna and Tommaso de' Cavalieri, the two most intimate friends of his +old age in Rome, received from him some of the most pathetically +beautiful of his love-poems. But to suppose that either the one or the +other was the object of more than a few well-authenticated sonnets +would be hazardous. Nothing is more clear than that Michael Angelo +worshipped Beauty in the Platonic spirit, passing beyond its personal +and specific manifestations to the universal and impersonal. This +thought is repeated over and over again in his poetry; and if we bear +in mind that he habitually regarded the loveliness of man or woman as a +sign and symbol of eternal and immutable beauty, we shall feel it of +less importance to discover who it was that prompted him to this or +that poetic utterance. That the loves of his youth were not so tranquil +as those of his old age, appears not only from the regrets expressed in +his religious verses, but also from one or two of the rare sonnets +referable to his manhood. + +The love of beauty, the love of Florence, and the love of Christ, are +the three main motives of his poetry. This is not the place to discuss +at length the nature of his philosophy, his patriotism, or his +religion; to enquire how far he retained the early teaching of Ficino +and Savonarola; or to trace the influence of Dante and the Bible on his +mind. I may, however, refer my readers who are interested in these +questions, to the Discourse of Signor Guasti, the learned essay of Mr. +J.E. Taylor, and the refined study of Mr. W.H. Pater. My own views will +be found expressed in the third volume of my 'Renaissance in Italy'; +and where I think it necessary, I shall take occasion to repeat them in +the notes appended to my translation. + + +III. + +Michael Angelo's madrigals and sonnets were eagerly sought for during +his lifetime. They formed the themes of learned academical discourses, +and won for him the poet's crown in death. Upon his tomb the Muse of +Song was carved in company with Sculpture, Architecture, and Painting. +Since the publication of the _rifacimento_ in 1623, his verses have +been used among the _testi di lingua_ by Italians, and have been +studied in the three great languages of Europe. The fate of +Campanella's philosophical poems has been very different. It was owing +to a fortunate chance that they survived their author; and until the +year 1834 they were wholly and entirely unknown in Italy. The history +of their preservation is so curious that I cannot refrain from giving +some account of it, before proceeding to sketch so much of Campanella's +life and doctrine as may be necessary for the understanding of his +sonnets. + +The poems were composed during Campanella's imprisonment at Naples; and +from internal evidence there is good reason to suppose that the greater +part of them were written at intervals in the first fourteen years of +the twenty-five he passed in confinement.[9] In the descriptive +catalogue of his own works, the philosopher mentions seven books of +sonnets and canzoni, which he called 'Le Cantiche.'[10] Whether any of +these would have been printed but for a mere accident is doubtful. A +German gentleman, named Tobia Adami, who is supposed to have been a +Court-Counsellor at Weimar, after travelling through Greece, Syria, and +Palestine, in company with a young friend called Rodolph von Bunau, +visited Campanella in his dungeon. A close intimacy sprang up between +them, and Adami undertook to publish several works of the philosopher +in testimony of his admiration. Among these were 'Le Cantiche.' +Instead, however, of printing the poems _in extenso_, he made a +selection, choosing those apparently which took his fancy, and which, +in his opinion, threw most light on Campanella's philosophical +theories. It is clear that he neglected the author's own arrangement, +since there is no trace of the division into seven books. What +proportion the selection bore to the whole bulk of the MS. seems to me +uncertain, though the latest editor asserts that it formed only a +seventh part.[11] The manuscript itself is lost, and Adami's edition of +the specimens is all that now remains as basis for the text of +Campanella's poems. + +This first edition was badly printed in Germany on very bad paper, +without the name of press or place. Besides the poems, it contained a +brief prose commentary by the editor, the value of which is still very +great, since we have the right to suppose that Adami's explanations +embodied what he had received by word of mouth from Campanella. The +little book bore this title:--'Scelta d' alcune poesie filosofiche di +Settimontano Squilla cavate da' suo' libri detti La Cantica, con +l'esposizione, stampato nell' anno MDCXXII.' The pseudonym _Squilla_ is +a pun upon Campanella's name, since both _Campana_ and _Squilla_ mean a +bell; while _Settimontano_ contains a quaint allusion to the fact that +the philosopher's skull was remarkable for seven protuberances.[12] A +very few copies of the unpretending little volume were printed; and +none of these seem to have found their way into Italy, though it is +possible that they had a certain circulation in Germany. At any rate +there is reason to suppose that Leibnitz was not unacquainted with the +poems, while Herder, in the Renaissance of German literature, published +free translations from a few of the sonnets in his 'Adrastea.' + +To this circumstance we owe the reprint of 1834, published at Lugano by +John Gaspar Orelli, the celebrated Zurich scholar. Early in his youth +Orelli was delighted with the German version made by Herder; and during +his manhood, while residing as Protestant pastor at Bergamo, he used +his utmost endeavours to procure a copy of the original. In his preface +to the reprint he tells us that these efforts were wholly unsuccessful +through a period of twenty-five years. He applied to all his literary +friends, among whom he mentions the ardent Ugo Foscolo and the learned +Mazzuchelli; but none of these could help him. He turned the pages of +Crescimbeni, Quadrio, Gamba, Corniani, Tiraboschi, weighty with +enormous erudition--and only those who make a special study of Italian +know how little has escaped their scrutiny--but found no mention of +Campanella as a poet. At last, after the lapse of a quarter of a +century, he received the long-coveted little quarto volume from +Wolfenbuttel in the north of Germany. The new edition which Orelli gave +to the press at Lugano has this title:--'Poesie Filosofiche di Tommaso +Campanella pubblicate per la prima volta in Italia da Gio. Gaspare +Orelli, Professore all' Università di Zurigo. Lugano, 1834.' The same +text has been again reprinted at Turin, in 1854, by Alessandro +d'Ancona, together with some of Campanella's minor works and an essay +on his life and writings. This third edition professes to have improved +Orelli's punctuation and to have rectified his readings. But it still +leaves much to be desired on the score of careful editorship. Neither +Orelli nor D'Ancona has done much to clear up the difficulties of the +poems--difficulties in many cases obviously due to misprints and errors +of the first transcriber; while in one or two instances they allow +patent blunders to pass uncorrected. In the sonnet entitled 'A Dio' +(D'Ancona, vol. i. p. 102), for example, _bocca_ stands for _buca_ in a +place where sense and rhyme alike demand the restitution of the right +word. + +At no time could the book have hoped for many readers. Least of all +would it have found them among the Italians of the seventeenth and +eighteenth centuries, to whom its energetic language and unfamiliar +conceptions would have presented insuperable difficulties. Between +Dante and Alfieri no Italian poet except Michael Angelo expressed so +much deep thought and feeling in phrases so terse, and with originality +of style so daring; and even Michael Angelo is monotonous in the range +of his ideas and uniform in his diction, when compared with the +indescribable violence and vigour of Campanella. Campanella borrows +little by way of simile or illustration from the outer world, and he +never falls into the commonplaces of poetic phraseology. His poems +exhibit the exact opposite of the Petrarchistic or the Marinistic +mannerism. Each sonnet seems to have been wrenched alive and +palpitating from the poet's heart. There is no smoothness, no gradual +unfolding of a theme, no rhetorical exposition, no fanciful embroidery, +no sweetness of melodic cadence, in his masculine art of poetry. +Brusque, rough, violent in transition, leaping from the sublime to the +ridiculous--his poems owe their elevation to the intensity of their +feeling, the nobleness and condensation of their thought, the energy +and audacity of their expression, their brevity, sincerity, and weight +of sentiment. Campanella had an essentially combative intellect. He was +both a poet and a philosopher militant. He stood alone, making war upon +the authority of Aristotle in science, of Machiavelli in state-craft, +and of Petrarch in art, taking the fortresses of phrase by storm, and +subduing the hardest material of philosophy to the tyranny of his +rhymes. Plebeian saws, salient images, dry sentences of metaphysical +speculation, logical summaries, and fiery tirades are hurled together-- +half crude and cindery scoriae, half molten metal and resplendent ore-- +from the volcano of his passionate mind. Such being the nature of +Campanella's style, when in addition it is remembered that his text is +sometimes hopelessly corrupt and his allusions obscure, the +difficulties offered by his sonnets to the translator will be readily +conceived. + + +IV. + +At the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth +centuries, philosophy took a new point of departure among the Italians, +and all the fundamental ideas which have since formed the staple of +modern European systems were anticipated by a few obscure thinkers. It +is noticeable that the States of Naples, hitherto comparatively inert +in the intellectual development of Italy, furnished the five writers +who preceded Bacon, Leibnitz, Schelling, and Comte. Telesio of Cosenza, +Bruno of Nola, Campanella of Stilo, Vanini and Vico of Naples are the +chief among these _novi homines_ or pioneers of modern thought. The +characteristic point of this new philosophy was an unconditional return +to Nature as the source of knowledge, combined with a belief in the +intuitive forces of the human reason: so that from the first it showed +two sides or faces to the world--the one positive, scientific, +critical, and analytical; the other mystical, metaphysical, subjective. +Modern materialism and modern idealism were both contained in the +audacious guesses of Bruno and Campanella; nor had the time arrived for +clearly separating the two strains of thought, or for attempting a +systematic synthesis of knowledge under one or the other head. + +The men who led this weighty intellectual movement burned with the +passionate ardour of discoverers, the fiery enthusiasm of confessors. +They stood alone, sustained but little by intercourse among themselves, +and wholly misunderstood by the people round them. Italy, sunk in +sloth, priest-ridden, tyrant-ridden, exhausted with the unparalleled +activity of the Renaissance, besotted with the vices of slavery and +slow corruption, had no ears for spirit-thrilling prophecy. The Church, +terrified by the Reformation, when she chanced to hear those strange +voices sounding through 'the blessed mutter of the mass,' burned the +prophets. The State, represented by absolute Spain, if it listened to +them at all, flung them into prison. To both Church and State there was +peril in the new philosophy; for the new philosophy was the first +birth-cry of the modern genius, with all the crudity and clearness, the +brutality and uncompromising sincerity of youth. The Church feared +Nature. The State feared the People. Nature and the People--those +watchwords of modern Science and modern Liberty--were already on the +lips of the philosophers. + +It was a philosophy armed, errant, exiled; a philosophy in chains and +solitary; at war with society, authority, opinion; self-sustained by +the prescience of ultimate triumph, and invincible through the sheer +force of passionate conviction. The men of whom I speak were conscious +of Pariahdom, and eager to be martyred in the glorious cause. 'A very +Proteus is the philosopher,' says Pomponazzo: 'seeking to penetrate the +secrets of God, he is consumed with ceaseless cares; he forgets to +thirst, to hunger, to sleep, to eat; he is derided of all men; he is +held for a fool and irreligious person; he is persecuted by +inquisitors; he becomes a gazing-stock to the common folk. These are +the gains of the philosopher; these are his guerdon. Pomponazzo's words +were prophetic. Of the five philosophers whom I mentioned, Vanini was +burned as an atheist, Bruno was burned, and Campanella was imprisoned +for a quarter of a century. Both Bruno and Campanella were Dominican +friars. Bruno was persecuted by the Church, and burned for heresy. +Campanella was persecuted by both Church and State, and was imprisoned +on the double charge of sedition and heresy. _Dormitantium animarum +excubitor_ was the self-given title of Bruno. _Nunquam tacebo_ was the +favourite motto of Campanella. + +Giovanni Domenico Campanella was born in the year 1568 at Stilo in +Calabria, one of the most southern townships of all Italy. In his +boyhood he showed a remarkable faculty for acquiring and retaining +knowledge, together with no small dialectical ability. His keen +interest in philosophy and his admiration for the great Dominican +doctors, Thomas Aquinas and Albertus Magnus, induced him at the age of +fifteen to enter the order of S. Dominic, exchanging his secular name +for Tommaso. But the old alliance between philosophy and orthodoxy, +drawn up by scholasticism and approved by the mediaeval Church, had +been succeeded by mutual hostility; and the youthful thinker found no +favour in the cloister of Cosenza, where he now resided. The new +philosophy taught by Telesio placed itself in direct antagonism to the +pseudo-Aristotelian tenets of the theologians, and founded its own +principles upon the Interrogation of Nature. Telesio, says Bacon, was +the prince of the _novi homines,_ or inaugurators of modern thought. It +was natural that Campanella should be drawn towards this great man. But +the superiors of his convent prevented his forming the acquaintance of +Telesio; and though the two men dwelt in the same city of Cosenza, +Campanella never knew the teacher he admired so passionately. Only when +the old man died and his body was exposed in the church before burial, +did the neophyte of his philosophy approach the bier, and pray beside +it, and place poems upon the dead. + +From this time forward Campanella became an object of suspicion to his +brethren. They perceived that the fire of the new philosophy burned in +his powerful nature with incalculable and explosive force. He moved +restlessly from place to place, learning and discussing, drawing men +towards him by the magnetism of a noble personality, and preaching his +new gospel with perilous audacity. His papers were seized at Bologna; +and at Rome the Holy Inquisition condemned him to perpetual +incarceration on the ground that he derived his science from the devil, +that he had written the book 'De tribus Impostoribus,' that he was a +follower of Democritus, and that his opposition to Aristotle savoured +of gross heresy. At the same time the Spanish Government of Naples +accused him of having set on foot a dangerous conspiracy for +overthrowing the vice-regal power and establishing a communistic +commonwealth in southern Italy. Though nothing was proved +satisfactorily against him, Campanella was held a prisoner under the +sentence which the Inquisition had pronounced upon him. He was, in +fact, a man too dangerous, too original in his opinions, and too bold +in their enunciation, to be at large. For twenty-five years he remained +in Neapolitan dungeons; three times during that period he was tortured +to the verge of dying; and at last he was released, while quite an old +man, at the urgent request of the French Court. Not many years after +his liberation Campanella died. The numerous philosophical works on +metaphysics, mathematics, politics, and aesthetics which Campanella +gave to the press, were composed during his long imprisonment. How they +came to be printed, I do not know; but it is obvious that he cannot +have been strictly debarred from writing by his jailors. In prison, +too, he made both friends and converts. We have seen that we owe the +publication of a portion of his poems to the visit of a German knight. + + +V. + +The sonnets by Campanella translated in this volume might be rearranged +under four headings--Philosophical; Political; Prophetic; Personal. The +philosophical group throw light on Campanella's relation to his +predecessors and his antagonism to the pseudo-Aristotelian +scholasticism of the middle ages. They furthermore explain his +conception of the universe as a complex animated organism, his +conviction that true knowledge can only be gained by the interrogation +of nature, his doctrine of human life and action, and his judgment of +the age in which he lived. The political sonnets fall into two groups-- +those which discuss royalty, nobility, and the sovereignty of the +people, and those which treat of the several European states. The +prophetic sonnets seem to have been suggested by the misery and +corruption of Italy, and express the poet's belief in the speedy +triumph of right and reason. It is here too that his astrological +opinions are most clearly manifested; for Campanella was far from +having outgrown the belief in planetary influences. Indeed, his own +metaphysical speculations, involving the principle of immanent vitality +in the material universe, gave a new value to the dreams of the +astrologers. Among the personal sonnets may be placed those which refer +immediately to his own sufferings in prison, to his friendships, and to +the ideal of the philosophic character. + +I have thought it best, while indicating this fourfold division, to +preserve the order adopted by Adami, since each of the reprints +accessible to modern readers--both that of Orelli and that of D'Ancona-- +maintains the arrangement of the _editio princeps._ Two sonnets of the +prophetic group I have omitted, partly because they have no bearing on +the world as it exists for us at present, and partly because they are +too studiously obscure for profitable reproduction.[13] As in the case +of Michael Angelo, so also in that of Campanella, I have left the +Canzoni untouched, except by way of illustration in the notes appended +to my volume. They are important and voluminous enough to form a +separate book; nor do they seem to me so well adapted as the sonnets +for translation into English. + +To give reasons for my choice of certain readings in the case of either +Michael Angelo's or Campanella's text; to explain why I have sometimes +preferred a strictly literal and sometimes a more paraphrastic +rendering; or to set forth my views in detail regarding the compromises +which are necessary in translation, and which must vary according to +the exigencies of each successive problem offered by the original, +would occupy too much space. Where I have thought it absolutely +necessary, I have referred to such points in my notes. It is enough +here to remark that the difficulties presented to the translator by +Michael Angelo and by Campanella are of different kinds. Both, indeed, +pack their thoughts so closely that it is not easy to reproduce them +without either awkwardness or sacrifice of matter. But while Campanella +is difficult from the abruptness of his transitions and the violence of +his phrases, Michael Angelo has the obscurity of a writer whose +thoughts exceed his power of expression, and who complicates the verbal +form by his endeavour to project what cannot easily be said in +verse.[14] A little patience will generally make it clear what +Campanella meant, except in cases where the text itself is corrupt. But +it may sometimes be doubted whether Michael Angelo could himself have +done more than indicate the general drift of his thought, or have +disengaged his own conception from the tangled skein of elliptical and +ungrammatical sentences in which he has enveloped it. The form of +Campanella's poetry, though often grotesque, is always clear. Michael +Angelo has left too many of his compositions in the same state as his +marbles--unfinished and colossal _abbozzi,_ which lack the final +touches to make their outlines distinct. Under these circumstances, it +can hardly happen that the translator should succeed in reproducing all +the sharpness and vivacity of Campanella's style, or should wholly +refrain from softening, simplifying, and prettifying Michael Angelo in +his attempt to produce an intelligible version. In both cases he is +tempted to make his translation serve the purpose also of a commentary, +and has to exercise caution and self-control lest he impose a sense too +narrow or too definite upon the original. + +So far as this was possible, I have adhered to the rhyming structure of +my originals, feeling that this is a point of no small moment in +translation. Yet when the choice lay between a sacrifice of metrical +exactitude and a sacrifice of sense, I have not hesitated to prefer the +former, especially in dealing with Campanella's quatrains. + +Michael Angelo and Campanella follow different rules in their treatment +of the triplets. Michael Angelo allows himself three rhymes, while +Campanella usually confines himself to two. My practice has been to +study in each sonnet the cadence both of thought and diction, so as to +satisfy an English ear, accustomed to the various forms of termination +exemplified by Spenser, Milton, Wordsworth, and Rossetti--the sweetest, +the most sublime, the least artificial, and the most artful sonnet-writers +in our language. + +The short titles attached to each sonnet are intended to help the eye, +rather than to guide the understanding of the reader. Michael Angelo +and his editors supply no arguments or mottoes for his poems; while +those printed by Adami in his edition of Campanella are, like mine, +meant obviously to serve as signposts to the student. It may savour of +impudence to ticket and to label little masterpieces, each one of +which, like all good poems, is a microcosm of very varied meanings. Yet +I have some authority in modern times for this impertinence; and, when +it is acknowledged that the titles merely profess to guide the reader +through a labyrinth of abstract and reflective compositions, without +attempting to supply him with a comprehensive argument or to dogmatise +concerning the main drift of each poem, I trust that enough will have +been said by way of self-defence against the charge of arrogance. + +The sonnet prefixed as a proem to the whole book is generally +attributed to Giordano Bruno, in whose Dialogue on the _Eroici Furori_ +it occurs. There seems, however, good reason to suppose that it was +really written by Tansillo, who recites it in that Dialogue. Whoever +may have been its author, it expresses in noble and impassioned verse +the sense of danger, the audacity, and the exultation of those pioneers +of modern thought, for whom philosophy was a voyage of discovery into +untravelled regions. Its spirit is rather that of Campanella than of +Michael Angelo. Yet the elevation at which Michael Angelo habitually +lived in thought and feeling was so far above the plains of common +life, that from the summit of his solitary watch-tower he might have +followed even such high-fliers as Bruno or as Campanella in their +Icarian excursions with the eyes of speculative interest. + +DAVOS PLATZ. _Nov. 1877._ + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +[1] 'Le Rime di Michelangelo Buonarroti, Pittore, Scultore e +Architetto, cavate dagli Autografi e pubblicate da Cesare Guasti, +Accademico della Crusca. In Firenze, per Felice le Monmer. MDCCCLXIII.' + +[2] See, however, page xlvii of Signor Guasti's _Discorso._ + +[3] I have so fully expressed my admiration for Signor Guasti's edition +in the text that I may allow myself to point out in a note what seems +to me its chief defect, and why I think there is still, perhaps, room +for another and more critical edition. The materials are amply and +conscientiously supplied by Signor Guasti, indeed, I suppose we are +justified in believing that his single volume reproduces all the extant +manuscript authorities, with the exception, perhaps, of the British +Museum Codex. But, while it is so comprehensive, we are still left in +some doubt as to the preference of one reading rather than another in +the large type text presented to us as the final version of each +composition. It is true that when this was possible, Signor Guasti +invariably selected one of the autographs, that is, a copy in the +poet's own handwriting. But when we consider that very frequently +Michael Angelo's own autographs give twice as many various readings as +there are lines in a sonnet, when we reflect that we do not always +possess the copies which he finally addressed to his friends, and when, +moreover, we find that their readings (_e.g._ those of the Riccio MS +and those cited by Varchi) differ considerably from Michael Angelo's +rough copies, we must conclude that even the autographs do not +invariably represent these poems in the final form which he adopted. +There is therefore much room left for critical comparison and +selection. We are, in fact, still somewhat in the same position as +Michelangelo the younger. Whether any application of the critical +method will enable us to do again successfully what he so clumsily +attempted--that is, to reproduce a correct text from the _debris_ +offered to our selective faculty--I do not feel sure. Meanwhile I am +quite certain that his principle was a wrong one, and that he dealt +most unjustifiably with his material. For this reason I cordially +accept Signor Guasti's labours, with the reservation I have attempted +to express in this note. They have indeed brought us far closer to +Michael Angelo's real text, but we must be careful to remember that we +have not even now arrived with certainty at what he would himself have +printed if he had prepared his own edition for the press. + +[4] As far as I am aware, no complete translation of Michael Angelo's +sonnets has hitherto been made in English. The specimens produced by +Southey, Wordsworth, Harford, Longfellow, and Mr. Taylor, moreover, +render Michelangelo's _rifacimento._ + +[5] 'Lezione di Benedetto Varchi sopra il sottoscritto Sonetto di +Michelagnolo Buonarroti, fatta da lui pubblicamente nella Accademia +Fiorentina la Seconda Domenica di Quaresima l'anno MDXLVI.' The sonnet +commented by Varchi is Guasti's No xv. + +[6] I have elsewhere recorded my disagreement with Signer Guasti and +Signer Gotti, and my reasons for thinking that Vaichi and Michelangelo +the younger were right in assuming that the sonnets addressed to +Tommaso de' Cavalieri (especially xxx, xxxi, lii) expressed the poet's +admiration for masculine beauty. See 'Renaissance in Italy, Fine Arts,' +pp. 521, 522. At the same time, though I agree with Buonarroti's first +editor in believing that a few of the sonnets 'risguardano, come si +conosce chiaramente, amor platonico virile,' I quite admit--as what +student of early Italian poetry will not admit?--that a woman is +generally intended under the title of 'Signore' and 'amico.' + +[7] _Ridurle_ is his own phrase. He also speaks of _trasmutare_ and +_risoluzione_ to explain the changes he effected. + +[8] See Guasti's 'Discorso,' p. xliv. + +[9] See in particular 'Orazioni Tie in Salmodia Metafisicale ... +Canzone Prima ... Madrigale iii;' and 'A Berillo, Canzone di +Pentimento, Madrigale ii.' + +[10] 'De Libras Proprus,' I 3, quoted by Orelli and Alessandro +d'Ancona. 'Opere di Tommaso Campanella,' vol. I. p 3. + +[11] 'Opere di Tommaso Campanella,' vol. I p. ccci. + +[12] Campanella's own poetry justified this curious _nom de plume_ +adopted for him by his editor. See in particular 'Salmodia +Metafisicale,' canzone terza, madrigale ix. + + 'Tre canzon, nate a un parto + Da questa mia settimontana testa, + Al suon dolente di pensosa squilla.' + +[13] These are the sonnets entitled by Adami 'La detta Congiunzione +cade nella revoluzione della Natività di Cristo,' and 'Sonetto cavato +dall' Apocalisse e Santa Brigida,' D'Ancona, vol. 1. pp. 97, 98. + +[14] In this respect _rifacimento_ of 1623 has greater literary merits-- +the merits of mere smoothness, clearness, grammatical coherence, and +intelligibility--than the autograph; and I can understand the +preference of some students for the former, though I do not share it +Michelangelo the younger added fluency and grace to his great-uncle's +composition by the sacrifice of much that is most characteristic, and +by the omission of much that is profound and vigorous and weighty. + + + +PROEM. + + +_THE PHILOSOPHIC FLIGHT._ + +_Poi che spiegate._ + + + Now that these wings to speed my wish ascend, + The more I feel vast air beneath my feet, + The more toward boundless air on pinions fleet, + Spurning the earth, soaring to heaven, I tend: + Nor makes them stoop their flight the direful end + Of Daedal's son; but upward still they beat:-- + What life the while with my life can compete, + Though dead to earth at last I shall descend? + My own heart's voice in the void air I hear: + Where wilt thou bear me, O rash man? Recall + Thy daring will! This boldness waits on fear! + Dread not, I answer, that tremendous fall: + Strike through the clouds, and smile when death is near, + If death so glorious be our doom at all! + + + + + +THE SONNETS + +OF + +MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI + + + + +I. + +_ON DANTE ALIGHIERI._ + +_Dal ciel discese._ + + +From heaven his spirit came, and robed in clay + The realms of justice and of mercy trod, + Then rose a living man to gaze on God, + That he might make the truth as clear as day. +For that pure star that brightened with his ray + The undeserving nest where I was born, + The whole wide world would be a prize to scorn; + None but his Maker can due guerdon pay. +I speak of Dante, whose high work remains + Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless brood, + Who only to just men deny their wage. +Were I but he! Born for like lingering pains, + Against his exile coupled with his good + I'd gladly change the world's best heritage! + + + +II. + +_ON DANTE ALIGHIERI._ + +_Quante dirne si de'._ + + +No tongue can tell of him what should be told, + For on blind eyes his splendour shines too strong; + 'Twere easier to blame those who wrought him wrong, + Than sound his least praise with a mouth of gold. +He to explore the place of pain was bold, + Then soared to God, to teach our souls by song; + The gates heaven oped to bear his feet along, + Against his just desire his country rolled. +Thankless I call her, and to her own pain + The nurse of fell mischance; for sign take this, + That ever to the best she deals more scorn: +Among a thousand proofs let one remain; + Though ne'er was fortune more unjust than his, + His equal or his better ne'er was born. + + + +III. + +_TO POPE JULIUS II._ + +_Signor, se vero è._ + + +My Lord! if ever ancient saw spake sooth, + Hear this which saith: Who can, doth never will. + Lo! thou hast lent thine ear to fables still, + Rewarding those who hate the name of truth. +I am thy drudge and have been from my youth-- + Thine, like the rays which the sun's circle fill; + Yet of my dear time's waste thou think'st no ill: + The more I toil, the less I move thy ruth. +Once 'twas my hope to raise me by thy height; + But 'tis the balance and the powerful sword + Of Justice, not false Echo, that we need. +Heaven, as it seems, plants virtue in despite + Here on the earth, if this be our reward-- + To seek for fruit on trees too dry to breed. + + + +IV. + +_ON ROME IN THE PONTIFICATE OF JULIUS II._ + +_Qua si fa elmi._ + + +Here helms and swords are made of chalices: + The blood of Christ is sold so much the quart: + His cross and thorns are spears and shields; and short + Must be the time ere even his patience cease. +Nay let him come no more to raise the fees + Of this foul sacrilege beyond report! + For Rome still flays and sells him at the court, + Where paths are closed to virtue's fair increase. +Now were fit time for me to scrape a treasure! + Seeing that work and gain are gone; while he + Who wears the robe, is my Medusa still. +God welcomes poverty perchance with pleasure: + But of that better life what hope have we, + When the blessed banner leads to nought but ill? + + + +V. + +TO GIOVANNI DA PISTOJA. + +_ON THE PAINTING OF THE SISTINE CHAPEL._ + +_I' ho già fatto un gozzo._ + + +I've grown a goitre by dwelling in this den-- + As cats from stagnant streams in Lombardy, + Or in what other land they hap to be-- + Which drives the belly close beneath the chin: +My beard turns up to heaven; my nape falls in, + Fixed on my spine: my breast-bone visibly + Grows like a harp: a rich embroidery + Bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin. +My loins into my paunch like levers grind: + My buttock like a crupper bears my weight; + My feet unguided wander to and fro; +In front my skin grows loose and long; behind, + By bending it becomes more taut and strait; + Crosswise I strain me like a Syrian bow: + Whence false and quaint, I know, + Must be the fruit of squinting brain and eye; + For ill can aim the gun that bends awry. + Come then, Giovanni, try + To succour my dead pictures and my fame; + Since foul I fare and painting is my shame. + + + +VI. + +_INVECTIVE AGAINST THE PEOPLE OF PISTOJA._ + +_I' l' ho, vostra mercè._ + + +I've gotten it, thanks to your courtesy; + And I have read it twenty times or so: + Thus much may your sharp snarling profit you, + As food our flesh filled to satiety. +After I left you, I could plainly see + How Cain was of your ancestors: I know + You do not shame his lineage, for lo, + Your brother's good still seems your injury. +Envious you are, and proud, and foes to heaven; + Love of your neighbour still you loathe and hate, + And only seek what must your ruin be. +If to Pistoja Dante's curse was given, + Bear that in mind! Enough! But if you prate + Praises of Florence, 'tis to wheedle me. + A priceless jewel she: +Doubtless: but this you cannot understand: +For pigmy virtue grasps not aught so grand. + + + +VII. + +_TO LUIGI DEL RICCIO._ + +_Nel dolce d' una._ + + +It happens that the sweet unfathomed sea + Of seeming courtesy sometimes doth hide + Offence to life and honour. This descried, + I hold less dear the health restored to me. +He who lends wings of hope, while secretly + He spreads a traitorous snare by the wayside, + Hath dulled the flame of love, and mortified + Friendship where friendship burns most fervently. +Keep then, my dear Luigi, clear and pure + That ancient love to which my life I owe, + That neither wind nor storm its calm may mar. +For wrath and pain our gratitude obscure; + And if the truest truth of love I know, + One pang outweighs a thousand pleasures far. + + + +VIII. + +TO LUIGI DEL RICCIO, + +_AFTER THE DEATH OF CECCHINO BRACCI._ + +_A pena prima._ + + +Scarce had I seen for the first time his eyes + Which to your living eyes were life and light, + When closed at last in death's injurious night + He opened them on God in Paradise. +I know it and I weep, too late made wise: + Yet was the fault not mine; for death's fell spite + Robbed my desire of that supreme delight, + Which in your better memory never dies. +Therefore, Luigi, if the task be mine + To make unique Cecchino smile in stone + For ever, now that earth hath made him dim, +If the beloved within the lover shine, + Since art without him cannot work alone, + You must I carve to tell the world of him. + + + +IX. + +_THANKS FOR A GIFT._ + +_Al zucchero, alla mula._ + + +The sugar, candles, and the saddled mule, + Together with your cask of malvoisie, + So far exceed all my necessity + That Michael and not I my debt must rule, +In such a glassy calm the breezes fool + My sinking sails, so that amid the sea + My bark hath missed her way, and seems to be + A wisp of straw whirled on a weltering pool. +To yield thee gift for gift and grace for grace, + For food and drink and carriage to and fro, + For all my need in every time and place, +O my dear lord, matched with the much I owe, + All that I am were no real recompense: + Paying a debt is not munificence. + + + +X. + +TO GANDOLFO PORRINO. + +_ON HIS MISTRESS FAUSTINA MANCINA._ + +_La nuova alta beltà ._ + + +That new transcendent fair who seems to be + Peerless in heaven as in this world of woe, + (The common folk, too blind her worth to know + And worship, called her Left Arm wantonly), +Was made, full well I know, for only thee: + Nor could I carve or paint the glorious show + Of that fair face: to life thou needs must go, + To gain the favour thou dost crave of me. +If like the sun each star of heaven outshining, + She conquers and outsoars our soaring thought, + This bids thee rate her worth at its real price. +Therefore to satisfy thy ceaseless pining, + Once more in heaven hath God her beauty wrought: + God and not I can people Paradise. + + + +XI. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_ON THE LIVES OF THE PAINTERS._ + +_Se con lo stile._ + + +With pencil and with palette hitherto + You made your art high Nature's paragon; + Nay more, from Nature her own prize you won, + Making what she made fair more fair to view. +Now that your learnéd hand with labour new + Of pen and ink a worthier work hath done, + What erst you lacked, what still remained her own, + The power of giving life, is gained for you. +If men in any age with Nature vied + In beauteous workmanship, they had to yield + When to the fated end years brought their name. +You, reilluming memories that died, + In spite of Time and Nature have revealed + For them and for yourself eternal fame. + + + +XII. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_A MATCHLESS COURTESY._ + +_Felice spirto._ + + +Blest spirit, who with loving tenderness + Quickenest my heart so old and near to die, + Who mid thy joys on me dost bend an eye + Though many nobler men around thee press! +As thou wert erewhile wont my sight to bless, + So to console my mind thou now dost fly; + Hope therefore stills the pangs of memory, + Which coupled with desire my soul distress. +So finding in thee grace to plead for me-- + Thy thoughts for me sunk in so sad a case-- + He who now writes, returns thee thanks for these. +Lo, it were foul and monstrous usury + To send thee ugliest paintings in the place + Of thy fair spirit's living phantasies. + + + +XIII. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_BRAZEN GIFTS FOR GOLDEN._ + +_Per esser manco almen._ + + +Seeking at least to be not all unfit + For thy sublime and boundless courtesy, + My lowly thoughts at first were fain to try + What they could yield for grace so infinite. +But now I know my unassisted wit + Is all too weak to make me soar so high; + For pardon, lady, for this fault I cry, + And wiser still I grow remembering it. +Yea, well I see what folly 'twere to think + That largess dropped from thee like dews from heaven + Could e'er be paid by work so frail as mine! +To nothingness my art and talent sink; + He fails who from his mortal stores hath given + A thousandfold to match one gift divine. + + + +XIV. + +FIRST READING. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_THE MODEL AND THE STATUE._ + +_Da che concetto._ + + +When divine Art conceives a form and face, + She bids the craftsman for his first essay + To shape a simple model in mere clay: + This is the earliest birth of Art's embrace. +From the live marble in the second place + His mallet brings into the light of day + A thing so beautiful that who can say + When time shall conquer that immortal grace? +Thus my own model I was born to be-- + The model of that nobler self, whereto + Schooled by your pity, lady, I shall grow. +Each overplus and each deficiency + You will make good. What penance then is due + For my fierce heat, chastened and taught by you? + + + +XIV. + +SECOND READING. + +To VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_THE MODEL AND THE STATUE._ + +_Se ben concetto._ + + +When that which is divine in us doth try + To shape a face, both brain and hand unite + To give, from a mere model frail and slight, + Life to the stone by Art's free energy. +Thus too before the painter dares to ply + Paint-brush or canvas, he is wont to write + Sketches on scraps of paper, and invite + Wise minds to judge his figured history. +So, born a model rude and mean to be + Of my poor self, I gain a nobler birth, + Lady, from you, you fountain of all worth! +Each overplus and each deficiency + You will make good. What penance then is due + For my fierce heat, chastened and taught by you? + + + +XV. + +_THE LOVER AND THE SCULPTOR._ + +_Non ha l' ottimo artista._ + + +The best of artists hath no thought to show + Which the rough stone in its superfluous shell + Doth not include: to break the marble spell + Is all the hand that serves the brain can do. +The ill I shun, the good I seek, even so + In thee, fair lady, proud, ineffable, + Lies hidden: but the art I wield so well + Works adverse to my wish, and lays me low. +Therefore not love, nor thy transcendent face, + Nor cruelty, nor fortune, nor disdain, + Cause my mischance, nor fate, nor destiny; +Since in thy heart thou carriest death and grace + Enclosed together, and my worthless brain + Can draw forth only death to feed on me. + + + +XVI. + +_LOVE AND ART._ + +_Sì come nella penna._ + + +As pen and ink alike serve him who sings + In high or low or intermediate style; + As the same stone hath shapes both rich and vile + To match the fancies that each master brings; +So, my loved lord, within thy bosom springs + Pride mixed with meekness and kind thoughts that smile: + Whence I draw nought, my sad self to beguile, + But what my face shows--dark imaginings. +He who for seed sows sorrow, tears, and sighs, + (The dews that fall from heaven, though pure and clear, + From different germs take divers qualities) +Must needs reap grief and garner weeping eyes; + And he who looks on beauty with sad cheer, + Gains doubtful hope and certain miseries. + + + +XVII. + +_THE ARTIST AND HIS WORK._ + +_Com' esser, donna, può._ + + +How can that be, lady, which all men learn + By long experience? Shapes that seem alive, + Wrought in hard mountain marble, will survive + Their maker, whom the years to dust return! +Thus to effect cause yields. Art hath her turn, + And triumphs over Nature. I, who strive + With Sculpture, know this well; her wonders live + In spite of time and death, those tyrants stern. +So I can give long life to both of us + In either way, by colour or by stone, + Making the semblance of thy face and mine. +Centuries hence when both are buried, thus + Thy beauty and my sadness shall be shown, + And men shall say, 'For her 'twas wise to pine.' + + + +XVIII. + +_BEAUTY AND THE ARTIST._ + +_Al cor di zolfo._ + + +A heart of flaming sulphur, flesh of tow, + Bones of dry wood, a soul without a guide + To curb the fiery will, the ruffling pride + Of fierce desires that from the passions flow; +A sightless mind that weak and lame doth go + Mid snares and pitfalls scattered far and wide;-- + What wonder if the first chance brand applied + To fuel massed like this should make it glow? +Add beauteous art, which, brought with us from heaven, + Will conquer nature;--so divine a power + Belongs to him who strives with every nerve. +If I was made for art, from childhood given + A prey for burning beauty to devour, + I blame the mistress I was born to serve. + + + +XIX. + +_THE AMULET OF LOVE._ + +_Io mi son caro assai più._ + + +Far more than I was wont myself I prize: + With you within my heart I rise in rate, + Just as a gem engraved with delicate + Devices o'er the uncut stone doth rise; +Or as a painted sheet exceeds in price + Each leaf left pure and in its virgin state: + Such then am I since I was consecrate + To be the mark for arrows from your eyes. +Stamped with your seal I'm safe where'er I go, + Like one who carries charms or coat of mail + Against all dangers that his life assail +Nor fire nor water now may work me woe; + Sight to the blind I can restore by you, + Heal every wound, and every loss renew. + + + +XX. + +_THE GARLAND AND THE GIRDLE._ + +_Quanta si gode, lieta._ + + +What joy hath yon glad wreath of flowers that is + Around her golden hair so deftly twined, + Each blossom pressing forward from behind, + As though to be the first her brows to kiss! +The livelong day her dress hath perfect bliss, + That now reveals her breast, now seems to bind: + And that fair woven net of gold refined + Rests on her cheek and throat in happiness! +Yet still more blissful seems to me the band + Gilt at the tips, so sweetly doth it ring + And clasp the bosom that it serves to lace: +Yea, and the belt to such as understand, + Bound round her waist, saith: here I'd ever cling.-- + What would my arms do in that girdle's place? + + + +XXI. + +_THE SILKWORM._ + +_D' altrui pietoso._ + + +Kind to the world, but to itself unkind, + A worm is born, that dying noiselessly + Despoils itself to clothe fair limbs, and be + In its true worth by death alone divined. +Oh, would that I might die, for her to find + Raiment in my outworn mortality! + That, changing like the snake, I might be free + To cast the slough wherein I dwell confined! +Nay, were it mine, that shaggy fleece that stays, + Woven and wrought into a vestment fair, + Around her beauteous bosom in such bliss! +All through the day she'd clasp me! Would I were + The shoes that bear her burden! When the ways + Were wet with rain, her feet I then should kiss! + + + +XXII. + +_WAITING IN FAITH._ + +_Se nel volto per gli occhi_ + + +If through the eyes the heart speaks clear and true, + I have no stronger sureties than these eyes + For my pure love. Prithee let them suffice, + Lord of my soul, pity to gain from you. +More tenderly perchance than is my due, + Your spirit sees into my heart, where rise + The flames of holy worship, nor denies + The grace reserved for those who humbly sue. +Oh, blesséd day when you at last are mine! + Let time stand still, and let noon's chariot stay; + Fixed be that moment on the dial of heaven! +That I may clasp and keep, by grace divine, + Clasp in these yearning arms and keep for aye + My heart's loved lord to me desertless given! + + + +XXIII. + +_FLESH AND SPIRIT._ + +_Ben posson gli occhi._ + + +Well may these eyes of mine both near and far + Behold the beams that from thy beauty flow; + But, lady, feet must halt where sight may go: + We see, but cannot climb to clasp a star. +The pure ethereal soul surmounts that bar + Of flesh, and soars to where thy splendours glow, + Free through the eyes; while prisoned here below, + Though fired with fervent love, our bodies are. +Clogged with mortality and wingless, we + Cannot pursue an angel in her flight: + Only to gaze exhausts our utmost might. +Yet, if but heaven like earth incline to thee, + Let my whole body be one eye to see, + That not one part of me may miss thy sight! + + + +XXIV. + +_THE DOOM OF BEAUTY._ + +_Spirto ben nato._ + + +Choice soul, in whom, as in a glass, we see, + Mirrored in thy pure form and delicate, + What beauties heaven and nature can create, + The paragon of all their works to be! +Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety, + Have found a home, as from thy outward state + We clearly read, and are so rare and great + That they adorn none other like to thee! +Love takes me captive; beauty binds my soul; + Pity and mercy with their gentle eyes + Wake in my heart a hope that cannot cheat. +What law, what destiny, what fell control, + What cruelty, or late or soon, denies + That death should spare perfection so complete? + + + +XXV. + +_THE TRANSFIGURATION OF BEAUTY:_ + +A DIALOGUE WITH LOVE. + +_Dimmi di grazia, amor._ + + +Nay, prithee tell me, Love, when I behold + My lady, do mine eyes her beauty see + In truth, or dwells that loveliness in me + Which multiplies her grace a thousandfold? +Thou needs must know; for thou with her of old + Comest to stir my soul's tranquillity; + Yet would I not seek one sigh less, or be + By loss of that loved flame more simply cold.-- +The beauty thou discernest, all is hers; + But grows in radiance as it soars on high + Through mortal eyes unto the soul above: +'Tis there transfigured; for the soul confers + On what she holds, her own divinity: + And this transfigured beauty wins thy love. + + + +XXVI. + +_JOY MAY KILL._ + +_Non men gran grasia, donna._ + + +Too much good luck no less than misery + May kill a man condemned to mortal pain, + If, lost to hope and chilled in every vein, + A sudden pardon comes to set him free. +Thus thy unwonted kindness shown to me + Amid the gloom where only sad thoughts reign, + With too much rapture bringing light again, + Threatens my life more than that agony. +Good news and bad may bear the self-same knife; + And death may follow both upon their flight; + For hearts that shrink or swell, alike will break. +Let then thy beauty, to preserve my life, + Temper the source of this supreme delight, + Lest joy so poignant slay a soul so weak. + + + +XXVII. + +_NO ESCAPE FROM LOVE._ + +_Non posso altra figura._ + + +I cannot by the utmost flight of thought + Conceive another form of air or clay, + Wherewith against thy beauty to array + My wounded heart in armour fancy-wrought: +For, lacking thee, so low my state is brought, + That Love hath stolen all my strength away; + Whence, when I fain would halve my griefs, they weigh + With double sorrow, and I sink to nought. +Thus all in vain my soul to scape thee flies, + For ever faster flies her beauteous foe: + From the swift-footed feebly run the slow! +Yet with his hands Love wipes my weeping eyes, + Saying, this toil will end in happy cheer; + What costs the heart so much, must needs be dear! + + + +XXVIII. + +_THE HEAVENLY BIRTH OF LOVE AND BEAUTY._ + +_La vita del mie amor._ + + +This heart of flesh feeds not with life my love: + The love wherewith I love thee hath no heart; + Nor harbours it in any mortal part, + Where erring thought or ill desire may move. +When first Love sent our souls from God above, + He fashioned me to see thee as thou art-- + Pure light; and thus I find God's counterpart + In thy fair face, and feel the sting thereof. +As heat from fire, from loveliness divine + The mind that worships what recalls the sun + From whence she sprang, can be divided never: +And since thine eyes all Paradise enshrine, + Burning unto those orbs of light I run, + There where I loved thee first to dwell for ever. + + + +XXIX. + +_LOVE'S DILEMMA._ + +_I' mi credetti._ + + +I deemed upon that day when first I knew + So many peerless beauties blent in one, + That, like an eagle gazing on the sun, + Mine eyes might fix on the least part of you. +That dream hath vanished, and my hope is flown; + For he who fain a seraph would pursue + Wingless, hath cast words to the winds, and dew + On stones, and gauged God's reason with his own. +If then my heart cannot endure the blaze + Of beauties infinite that blind these eyes, + Nor yet can bear to be from you divided, +What fate is mine? Who guides or guards my ways, + Seeing my soul, so lost and ill-betided, + Burns in your presence, in your absence dies? + + + +XXX. + +TO TOMMASO DE' CAVALIERI. + +_LOVE THE LIGHT-GIVER._ + +_Veggio co' bei vostri occhi._ + + +With your fair eyes a charming light I see, + For which my own blind eyes would peer in vain; + Stayed by your feet the burden I sustain + Which my lame feet find all too strong for me; +Wingless upon your pinions forth I fly; + Heavenward your spirit stirreth me to strain; + E'en as you will, I blush and blanch again, + Freeze in the sun, burn 'neath a frosty sky. +Your will includes and is the lord of mine; + Life to my thoughts within your heart is given; + My words begin to breathe upon your breath: +Like to the moon am I, that cannot shine + Alone; for lo! our eyes see nought in heaven + Save what the living sun illumineth. + + + +XXXI. + +To TOMMASO DE' CAVALIERI. + +_LOVE'S LORDSHIP._ + +_A che più debb' io._ + + +Why should I seek to ease intense desire + With still more tears and windy words of grief, + When heaven, or late or soon, sends no relief + To souls whom love hath robed around with fire? +Why need my aching heart to death aspire, + When all must die? Nay, death beyond belief + Unto these eyes would be both sweet and brief, + Since in my sum of woes all joys expire! +Therefore because I cannot shun the blow + I rather seek, say who must rule my breast, + Gliding between her gladness and her woe? +If only chains and bands can make me blest, + No marvel if alone and bare I go + An arméd Knight's captive and slave confessed. + + + +XXXII. + +_LOVE'S EXPOSTULATION._ + +_S' un casto amor._ + + +If love be chaste, if virtue conquer ill, + If fortune bind both lovers in one bond, + If either at the other's grief despond, + If both be governed by one life, one will; +If in two bodies one soul triumph still, + Raising the twain from earth to heaven beyond, + If Love with one blow and one golden wand + Have power both smitten breasts to pierce and thrill; +If each the other love, himself forgoing, + With such delight, such savour, and so well, + That both to one sole end their wills combine; +If thousands of these thoughts, all thought outgoing, + Fail the least part of their firm love to tell: + Say, can mere angry spite this knot untwine? + + + +XXXIII. + +FIRST READING. + +_A PRAYER TO NATURE._ + +AMOR REDIVIVUS. + +_Perchè tuo gran bellezze._ + + +That thy great beauty on our earth may be + Shrined in a lady softer and more kind, + I call on nature to collect and bind + All those delights the slow years steal from thee, +And save them to restore the radiancy + Of thy bright face in some fair form designed + By heaven; and may Love ever bear in mind + To mould her heart of grace and courtesy. +I call on nature too to keep my sighs, + My scattered tears to take and recombine, + And give to him who loves that fair again: +More happy he perchance shall move those eyes + To mercy by the griefs wherewith I pine, + Nor lose the kindness that from me is ta'en! + + + +XXXIII. + +SECOND READING. + +_A PRAYER TO NATURE._ + +AMOR REDIVIVUS. + +_Sol perchè tue bellezze._ + + +If only that thy beauties here may be + Deathless through Time that rends the wreaths he twined, + I trust that Nature will collect and bind + All those delights the slow years steal from thee, +And keep them for a birth more happily + Born under better auspices, refined + Into a heavenly form of nobler mind, + And dowered with all thine angel purity. +Ah me! and may heaven also keep my sighs, + My scattered tears preserve and reunite, + And give to him who loves that fair again! +More happy he perchance shall move those eyes + To mercy by the griefs my manhood blight, + Nor lose the kindness that from me is ta'en! + + + +XXXIV. + +_LOVE'S FURNACE._ + +_Sì amico al freddo sasso._ + + +So friendly is the fire to flinty stone, + That, struck therefrom and kindled to a blaze, + It burns the stone, and from the ash doth raise + What lives thenceforward binding stones in one: +Kiln-hardened this resists both frost and sun, + Acquiring higher worth for endless days-- + As the purged soul from hell returns with praise, + Amid the heavenly host to take her throne. +E'en so the fire struck from my soul, that lay + Close-hidden in my heart, may temper me, + Till burned and slaked to better life I rise. +If, made mere smoke and dust, I live to-day, + Fire-hardened I shall live eternally; + Such gold, not iron, my spirit strikes and tries. + + + +XXXV. + +_LOVE'S PARADOXES._ + +_Sento d' un foco._ + + +Far off with fire I feel a cold face lit, + That makes me burn, the while itself doth freeze: + Two fragile arms enchain me, which with ease, + Unmoved themselves, can move weights infinite. +A soul none knows but I, most exquisite, + That, deathless, deals me death, my spirit sees: + I meet with one who, free, my heart doth seize: + And who alone can cheer, hath tortured it. +How can it be that from one face like thine + My own should feel effects so contrary, + Since ill comes not from things devoid of ill? +That loveliness perchance doth make me pine, + Even as the sun, whose fiery beams we see, + Inflames the world, while he is temperate still. + + + +XXXVI. + +_LOVE MISINTERPRETED._ + +_Se l'immortal desio._ + + +If the undying thirst that purifies + Our mortal thoughts, could draw mine to the day, + Perchance the lord who now holds cruel sway + In Love's high house, would prove more kindly-wise. +But since the laws of heaven immortalise + Our souls, and doom our flesh to swift decay, + Tongue cannot tell how fair, how pure as day, + Is the soul's thirst that far beyond it lies. +How then, ah woe is me! shall that chaste fire, + Which burns the heart within me, be made known, + If sense finds only sense in what it sees? +All my fair hours are turned to miseries + With my loved lord, who minds but lies alone; + For, truth to tell, who trusts not is a liar. + + + +XXXVII. + +_PERHAPS TO VITTORIA COLONNA._ + +_LOVE'S SERVITUDE._ + +_S' alcun legato è pur._ + + +He who is bound by some great benefit, + As to be raised from death to life again, + How shall he recompense that gift, or gain + Freedom from servitude so infinite? +Yet if 'twere possible to pay the debt, + He'd lose that kindness which we entertain + For those who serve us well; since it is plain + That kindness needs some boon to quicken it. +Wherefore, O lady, to maintain thy grace, + So far above my fortune, what I bring + Is rather thanklessness than courtesy: +For if both met as equals face to face, + She whom I love could not be called my king;-- + There is no lordship in equality. + + + +XXXVIII. + +_LOVE'S VAIN EXPENSE._ + +_Rendete a gli occhi miei._ + + +Give back unto mine eyes, ye fount and rill, + Those streams, not yours, that are so full and strong, + That swell your springs, and roll your waves along + With force unwonted in your native hill! + +And thou, dense air, weighed with my sighs so chill, + That hidest heaven's own light thick mists among, + Give back those sighs to my sad heart, nor wrong + My visual ray with thy dark face of ill! + +Let earth give back the footprints that I wore, + That the bare grass I spoiled may sprout again; + And Echo, now grown deaf, my cries return! + +Loved eyes, unto mine eyes those looks restore, + And let me woo another not in vain, + Since how to please thee I shall never learn! + + + +XXXIX. + +_LOVE'S ARGUMENT WITH REASON._ + +_La ragion meco si lamenta._ + + +Reason laments and grieves full sore with me, + The while I hope by loving to be blest; + With precepts sound and true philosophy + My shame she quickens thus within my breast: +'What else but death will that sun deal to thee-- + Nor like the phoenix in her flaming nest?' + Yet nought avails this wise morality; + No hand can save a suicide confessed. +I know my doom; the truth I apprehend: + But on the other side my traitorous heart + Slays me whene'er to wisdom's words I bend. +Between two deaths my lady stands apart: + This death I dread; that none can comprehend. + In this suspense body and soul must part. + + + +XL. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE'S LOADSTONE._ + +_No so s' è la desiata luce._ + + +I know not if it be the longed-for light + Of her first Maker which the spirit feels; + Or if a time-old memory reveals + Some other beauty for the heart's delight; +Or fame or dreams beget that vision bright, + Sweet to the eyes, which through the bosom steals, + Leaving I know not what that wounds and heals, + And now perchance hath made me weep outright. +Be this what this may be, 'tis this I seek: + Nor guide have I; nor know I where to find + That burning fire; yet some one seems to lead. +This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak; + A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind, + And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed. + + + +XL. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE'S LOADSTONE._ + +_Non so se s' é l' immaginata luce._ + + +I know not if it be the fancied light + Which every man or more or less doth feel; + Or if the mind and memory reveal + Some other beauty for the heart's delight; + +Or if within the soul the vision bright + Of her celestial home once more doth steal, + Drawing our better thoughts with pure appeal + To the true Good above all mortal sight: + +This light I long for and unguided seek; + This fire that burns my heart, I cannot find; + Nor know the way, though some one seems to lead. + +This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak: + A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind; + And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed. + + + +XLI. + +_LIGHT AND DARKNESS._ + +_Colui che fece._ + + +He who ordained, when first the world began, + Time, that was not before creation's hour, + Divided it, and gave the sun's high power + To rule the one, the moon the other span: +Thence fate and changeful chance and fortune's ban + Did in one moment down on mortals shower: + To me they portioned darkness for a dower; + Dark hath my lot been since I was a man. +Myself am ever mine own counterfeit; + And as deep night grows still more dim and dun, + So still of more misdoing must I rue: +Meanwhile this solace to my soul is sweet, + That my black night doth make more clear the sun + Which at your birth was given to wait on you. + + + +XLII. + +_SACRED NIGHT._ + +_Ogni van chiuso._ + + +All hollow vaults and dungeons sealed from sight, + All caverns circumscribed with roof and wall, + Defend dark Night, though noon around her fall, + From the fierce play of solar day-beams bright. +But if she be assailed by fire or light, + Her powers divine are nought; they tremble all + Before things far more vile and trivial-- + Even a glow-worm can confound their might. +The earth that lies bare to the sun, and breeds + A thousand germs that burgeon and decay-- + This earth is wounded by the ploughman's share: +But only darkness serves for human seeds; + Night therefore is more sacred far than day, + Since man excels all fruits however fair. + + + +XLIII. + +_THE IMPEACHMENT OF NIGHT._ + +_Perchè Febo non torce._ + + +What time bright Phoebus doth not stretch and bend + His shining arms around this terrene sphere, + The people call that season dark and drear + Night, for the cause they do not comprehend. +So weak is Night that if our hand extend + A glimmering torch, her shadows disappear, + Leaving her dead; like frailest gossamere, + Tinder and steel her mantle rive and rend. +Nay, if this Night be anything at all, + Sure she is daughter of the sun and earth; + This holds, the other spreads that shadowy pall. +Howbeit they err who praise this gloomy birth, + So frail and desolate and void of mirth + That one poor firefly can her might appal. + + + +XLIV. + +_THE DEFENCE OF NIGHT._ + +_O nott' o dolce tempo._ + + +O night, O sweet though sombre span of time!-- + All things find rest upon their journey's end-- + Whoso hath praised thee, well doth apprehend; + And whoso honours thee, hath wisdom's prime. +Our cares thou canst to quietude sublime; + For dews and darkness are of peace the friend: + Often by thee in dreams upborne, I wend + From earth to heaven, where yet I hope to climb. +Thou shade of Death, through whom the soul at length + Shuns pain and sadness hostile to the heart, + Whom mourners find their last and sure relief! +Thou dost restore our suffering flesh to strength, + Driest our tears, assuagest every smart, + Purging the spirits of the pure from grief. + + + +XLV. + +_LOVE FEEDS THE FLAME OF AGE._ + +_Quand' il servo il signior._ + + +When masters bind a slave with cruel chain, + And keep him hope-forlorn in bondage pent, + Use tames his temper to imprisonment, + And hardly would he fain be free again. +Use curbs the snake and tiger, and doth train + Fierce woodland lions to bear chastisement; + And the young artist, all with toil forspent, + By constant use a giant's strength doth gain +But with the force of flame it is not so: + For while fire sucks the sap of the green wood, + It warms a frore old man and makes him grow; +With such fine heat of youth and lustihood + Filling his heart and teaching it to glow, + That love enfolds him with beatitude. + If then in playful mood + He sport and jest, old age need no man blame; + For loving things divine implies no shame. + The soul that knows her aim, + Sins not by loving God's own counterfeit-- + Due measure kept, and bounds, and order meet. + + + +XLVI. + +_LOVE'S FLAME DOTH FEED ON AGE._ + +_Se da' prim' anni._ + + +If some mild heat of love in youth confessed + Burns a fresh heart with swift consuming fire, + What will the force be of a flame more dire + Shut up within an old man's cindery breast? +If the mere lapse of lengthening years hath pressed + So sorely that life, strength, and vigour tire, + How shall he fare who must ere long expire, + When to old age is added love's unrest? +Weak as myself, he will be whirled away + Like dust by winds kind in their cruelty, + Robbing the loathly worm of its last prey. +A little flame consumed and fed on me + In my green age: now that the wood is dry, + What hope against this fire more fierce have I? + + + +XLVII. + +_BEAUTY'S INTOLERABLE SPLENDOUR._ + +_Se 'l foco alla bellezza._ + + +If but the fire that lightens in thine eyes + Were equal with their beauty, all the snow + And frost of all the world would melt and glow + Like brands that blaze beneath fierce tropic skies. +But heaven in mercy to our miseries + Dulls and divides the fiery beams that flow + From thy great loveliness, that we may go + Through this stern mortal life in tranquil wise. +Thus beauty burns not with consuming rage; + For so much only of the heavenly light + Inflames our love as finds a fervent heart. +This is my case, lady, in sad old age: + If seeing thee, I do not die outright, + 'Tis that I feel thy beauty but in part. + + + +XLVIII. + +_LOVE'S EVENING._ + +_Se 'l troppo indugio._ + + +What though long waiting wins more happiness + Than petulant desire is wont to gain, + My luck in latest age hath brought me pain, + Thinking how brief must be an old man's bliss. +Heaven, if it heed our lives, can hardly bless + This fire of love when frosts are wont to reign: + For so I love thee, lady, and my strain + Of tears through age exceeds in tenderness. +Yet peradventure though my day is done,-- + Though nearly past the setting mid thick cloud + And frozen exhalations sinks my sun,-- +If love to only mid-day be allowed, + And I an old man in my evening burn, + You, lady, still my night to noon may turn. + + + +XLIX. + +_LOVE'S EXCUSE._ + +_Dal dolcie pianto._ + + +From happy tears to woeful smiles, from peace + Eternal to a brief and hollow truce, + How have I fallen!--when 'tis truth we lose, + Sense triumphs o'er all adverse impulses. +I know not if my heart bred this disease, + That still more pleasing grows with growing use; + Or else thy face, thine eyes, which stole the hues + And fires of Paradise--less fair than these. +Thy beauty is no mortal thing; 'twas sent + From heaven on high to make our earth divine: + Wherefore, though wasting, burning, I'm content; +For in thy sight what could I do but pine? + If God himself thus rules my destiny, + Who, when I die, can lay the blame on thee? + + + +L. + +_IN LOVE'S OWN TIME._ + +_S' i' avessi creduto._ + + +Had I but earlier known that from the eyes + Of that bright soul that fires me like the sun, + I might have drawn new strength my race to run, + Burning as burns the phoenix ere it dies; +Even as the stag or lynx or leopard flies + To seek his pleasure and his pain to shun, + Each word, each smile of her would I have won, + Flying where now sad age all flight denies. +Yet why complain? For even now I find + In that glad angel's face, so full of rest, + Health and content, heart's ease and peace of mind +Perchance I might have been less simply blest, + Finding her sooner: if 'tis age alone + That lets me soar with her to seek God's throne. + + + +LI. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE IN YOUTH AND AGE._ + +_Tornami al tempo._ + + +Bring back the time when blind desire ran free, + With bit and rein too loose to curb his flight; + Give back the buried face, once angel-bright, + That hides in earth all comely things from me; +Bring back those journeys ta'en so toilsomely, + So toilsome-slow to one whose hairs are white; + Those tears and flames that in one breast unite; + If thou wilt once more take thy fill of me! +Yet Love! Suppose it true that thou dost thrive + Only on bitter honey-dews of tears. + Small profit hast thou of a weak old man. +My soul that toward the other shore doth strive, + Wards off thy darts with shafts of holier fears; + And fire feeds ill on brands no breath can fan. + + + +LI. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE IN YOUTH AND AGE._ + +_Tornami al tempo._ + + +Bring back the time when glad desire ran free + With bit and rein too loose to curb his flight, + The tears and flames that in one breast unite, + If thou art fain once more to conquer me! +Bring back those journeys ta'en so toilsomely, + So toilsome-slow to him whose hairs are white! + Give back the buried face once angel-bright, + That taxed all Nature's art and industry. +O Love! an old man finds it hard to chase + Thy flying pinions! Thou hast left thy nest; + Nor is my heart as light as heretofore. +Put thy gold arrows to the string once more: + Then if Death hear my prayer and grant me grace, + My grief I shall forget, again made blest. + + + +LII. + +_CELESTIAL LOVE._ + +_Non vider gli occhi miei._ + + +I saw no mortal beauty with these eyes + When perfect peace in thy fair eyes I found; + But far within, where all is holy ground, + My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies: +For she was born with God in Paradise; + Else should we still to transient loves be bound; + But, finding these so false, we pass beyond + Unto the Love of Loves that never dies. +Nay, things that die, cannot assuage the thirst + Of souls undying; nor Eternity + Serves Time, where all must fade that flourisheth. +Sense is not love, but lawlessness accurst: + This kills the soul; while our love lifts on high + Our friends on earth--higher in heaven through death. + + + +LIII. + +_CELESTIAL AND EARTHLY LOVE._ + +_Non è sempre di colpa._ + + +Love is not always harsh and deadly sin: + If it be love of loveliness divine, + It leaves the heart all soft and infantine + For rays of God's own grace to enter in. +Love fits the soul with wings, and bids her win + Her flight aloft nor e'er to earth decline; + 'Tis the first step that leads her to the shrine + Of Him who slakes the thirst that burns within. +The love of that whereof I speak, ascends: + Woman is different far; the love of her + But ill befits a heart all manly wise. +The one love soars, the other downward tends; + The soul lights this, while that the senses stir, + And still his arrow at base quarry flies. + + + +LIV. + +_LOVE LIFTS TO GOD._ + +_Veggio nel tuo bel viso._ + + +From thy fair face I learn, O my loved lord, + That which no mortal tongue can rightly say; + The soul, imprisoned in her house of clay, + Holpen by thee to God hath often soared: +And though the vulgar, vain, malignant horde + Attribute what their grosser wills obey, + Yet shall this fervent homage that I pay, + This love, this faith, pure joys for us afford. +Lo, all the lovely things we find on earth, + Resemble for the soul that rightly sees, + That source of bliss divine which gave us birth: +Nor have we first-fruits or remembrances + Of heaven elsewhere. Thus, loving loyally, + I rise to God and make death sweet by thee. + + + +LV. + +_LOVE'S ENTREATY._ + +_Tu sa' ch' i' so, Signor mie._ + + +Thou knowest, love, I know that thou dost know + That I am here more near to thee to be, + And knowest that I know thou knowest me: + What means it then that we are sundered so? +If they are true, these hopes that from thee flow, + If it is real, this sweet expectancy, + Break down the wall that stands 'twixt me and thee; + For pain in prison pent hath double woe. +Because in thee I love, O my loved lord, + What thou best lovest, be not therefore stern: + Souls burn for souls, spirits to spirits cry! +I seek the splendour in thy fair face stored; + Yet living man that beauty scarce can learn, + And he who fain would find it, first must die. + + + +LVI. + +FIRST READING. + +_HEAVEN-BORN BEAUTY._ + +_Per ritornar là ._ + + +As one who will reseek her home of light, + Thy form immortal to this prison-house + Descended, like an angel piteous, + To heal all hearts and make the whole world bright. +'Tis this that thralls my soul in love's delight, + Not thy clear face of beauty glorious; + For he who harbours virtue, still will choose + To love what neither years nor death can blight. +So fares it ever with things high and rare + Wrought in the sweat of nature; heaven above + Showers on their birth the blessings of her prime: +Nor hath God deigned to show Himself elsewhere + More clearly than in human forms sublime; + Which, since they image Him, alone I love. + + + +LVI. + +SECOND READING. + +_HEAVEN-BORN BEAUTY._ + +_Venne, non so ben donde._ + + +It came, I know not whence, from far above, + That clear immortal flame that still doth rise + Within thy sacred breast, and fills the skies, + And heals all hearts, and adds to heaven new love. +This burns me, this, and the pure light thereof; + Not thy fair face, thy sweet untroubled eyes: + For love that is not love for aught that dies, + Dwells in the soul where no base passions move. +If then such loveliness upon its own + Should graft new beauties in a mortal birth, + The sheath bespeaks the shining blade within. +To gain our love God hath not clearer shown + Himself elsewhere: thus heaven doth vie with earth + To make thee worthy worship without sin. + + + +LVII. + +FIRST READING. + +_CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL LOVE._ + +_Passa per gli occhi._ + + +Swift through the eyes unto the heart within + All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; + So smooth and broad and open is the way + That thousands and not hundreds enter in. +Burdened with scruples and weighed down with sin, + These mortal beauties fill me with dismay; + Nor find I one that doth not strive to stay + My soul on transient joy, or lets me win +The heaven I yearn for. Lo, when erring love-- + Who fills the world, howe'er his power we shun, + Else were the world a grave and we undone-- +Assails the soul, if grace refuse to fan + Our purged desires and make them soar above, + What grief it were to have been born a man! + + + +LVII. + +SECOND READING. + +_CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL LOVE._ + +_Passa per gli occhi._ + + +Swift through the eyes unto the heart within + All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; + So smooth and broad and open is the way + That thousands and not hundreds enter in +Of every age and sex: whence I begin, + Burdened with griefs, but more with dull dismay, + To fear; nor find mid all their bright array + One that with full content my heart may win. +If mortal beauty be the food of love, + It came not with the soul from heaven, and thus + That love itself must be a mortal fire: +But if love reach to nobler hopes above, + Thy love shall scorn me not nor dread desire + That seeks a carnal prey assailing us. + + + +LVIII. + +_LOVE AND DEATH._ + +_Ognor che l' idol mio._ + + +Whene'er the idol of these eyes appears + Unto my musing heart so weak and strong, + Death comes between her and my soul ere long + Chasing her thence with troops of gathering fears. +Nathless this violence my spirit cheers + With better hope than if she had no wrong; + While Love invincible arrays the throng + Of dauntless thoughts, and thus harangues his peers: +But once, he argues, can a mortal die; + But once be born: and he who dies afire, + What shall he gain if erst he dwelt with me? +That burning love whereby the soul flies free, + Doth lure each fervent spirit to aspire + Like gold refined in flame to God on high. + + + +LIX. + +_LOVE IS A REFINER'S FIRE._ + +_Non più ch' 'l foco il fabbro._ + + +It is with fire that blacksmiths iron subdue + Unto fair form, the image of their thought: + Nor without fire hath any artist wrought + Gold to its utmost purity of hue. +Nay, nor the unmatched phoenix lives anew, + Unless she burn: if then I am distraught + By fire, I may to better life be brought + Like those whom death restores nor years undo. +The fire whereof I speak, is my great cheer; + Such power it hath to renovate and raise + Me who was almost numbered with the dead; +And since by nature fire doth find its sphere + Soaring aloft, and I am all ablaze, + Heavenward with it my flight must needs be sped. + + + +LX. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE'S JUSTIFICATION._ + +_Ben può talor col mio._ + + +Sometimes my love I dare to entertain + With soaring hope not over-credulous; + Since if all human loves were impious, + Unto what end did God the world ordain? +For loving thee what license is more plain + Than that I praise thereby the glorious + Source of all joys divine, that comfort us + In thee, and with chaste fires our soul sustain? +False hope belongs unto that love alone + Which with declining beauty wanes and dies, + And, like the face it worships, fades away. +That hope is true which the pure heart hath known, + Which alters not with time or death's decay, + Yielding on earth earnest of Paradise. + + + +LX. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE'S JUSTIFICATION._ + +_Ben può talor col casto._ + + +It must be right sometimes to entertain + Chaste love with hope not over-credulous; + Since if all human loves were impious, + Unto what end did God the world ordain? +If I love thee and bend beneath thy reign, + 'Tis for the sake of beauty glorious + Which in thine eyes divine is stored for us, + And drives all evil thought from its domain. +That is not love whose tyranny we own + In loveliness that every moment dies; + Which, like the face it worships, fades away: +True love is that which the pure heart hath known, + Which alters not with time or death's decay, + Yielding on earth earnest of Paradise. + + + +LXI. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_IRREPARABLE LOSS._ + +_Se 'l mie rozzo martello._ + + +When my rude hammer to the stubborn stone + Gives human shape, now that, now this, at will, + Following his hand who wields and guides it still, + It moves upon another's feet alone: +But that which dwells in heaven, the world doth fill + With beauty by pure motions of its own; + And since tools fashion tools which else were none, + Its life makes all that lives with living skill. +Now, for that every stroke excels the more + The higher at the forge it doth ascend, + Her soul that fashioned mine hath sought the skies: +Wherefore unfinished I must meet my end, + If God, the great artificer, denies + That aid which was unique on earth before. + + + +LXII. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_LOVE'S TRIUMPH OVER DEATH._ + +_Quand' el ministro de' sospir._ + + +When she who was the source of all my sighs, + Fled from the world, herself, my straining sight, + Nature who gave us that unique delight, + Was sunk in shame, and we had weeping eyes. +Yet shall not vauntful Death enjoy this prize, + This sun of suns which then he veiled in night; + For Love hath triumphed, lifting up her light + On earth and mid the saints in Paradise. +What though remorseless and impiteous doom + Deemed that the music of her deeds would die, + And that her splendour would be sunk in gloom, +The poet's page exalts her to the sky + With life more living in the lifeless tomb, + And death translates her soul to reign on high. + + + +LXIII. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_AFTER SUNSET._ + +_Be' mi dove'._ + + +Well might I in those days so fortunate, + What time the sun lightened my path above, + Have soared from earth to heaven, raised by her love + Who winged my labouring soul and sweetened fate. + +That sun hath set; and I with hope elate + Who deemed that those bright days would never move, + Find that my thankless soul, deprived thereof, + Declines to death, while heaven still bars the gate. + +Love lent me wings; my path was like a stair; + A lamp unto my feet, that sun was given; + And death was safety and great joy to find. + +But dying now, I shall not climb to heaven; + Nor can mere memory cheer my heart's despair:-- + What help remains when hope is left behind? + + + +LXIV. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_A WASTED BRAND._ + +_Qual maraviglia è._ + + +If being near the fire I burned with it, + Now that its flame is quenched and doth not show, + What wonder if I waste within and glow, + Dwindling away to cinders bit by bit? + +While still it burned, I saw so brightly lit + That splendour whence I drew my grievous woe, + That from its sight alone could pleasure flow, + And death and torment both seemed exquisite. + +But now that heaven hath robbed me of the blaze + Of that great fire which burned and nourished me, + A coal that smoulders 'neath the ash am I. + +Unless Love furnish wood fresh flames to raise, + I shall expire with not one spark to see, + So quickly into embers do I die! + + + +LXV. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_ON THE BRINK OF DEATH._ + +_Giunto è già ._ + + +Now hath my life across a stormy sea + Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all + Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall + Of good and evil for eternity. + +Now know I well how that fond phantasy + Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall + Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal + Is that which all men seek unwillingly. + +Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, + What are they when the double death is nigh? + The one I know for sure, the other dread. + +Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest + My soul that turns to His great love on high, + Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread. + + + +LXVI. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_VANITY OF VANITIES._ + +_Le favole del mondo._ + + +The fables of the world have filched away + The time I had for thinking upon God; + His grace lies buried 'neath oblivion's sod, + Whence springs an evil crop of sins alway. + +What makes another wise, leads me astray, + Slow to discern the bad path I have trod: + Hope fades; but still desire ascends that God + May free me from self-love, my sure decay. + +Shorten half-way my road to heaven from earth! + Dear Lord, I cannot even half-way rise, + Unless Thou help me on this pilgrimage. + +Teach me to hate the world so little worth, + And all the lovely things I clasp and prize; + That endless life, ere death, may be my wage. + + + +LXVII. + +_A PRAYER FOR FAITH._ + +_Non è più bassa._ + + +There's not on earth a thing more vile and base + Than, lacking Thee, I feel myself to be: + For pardon prays my own debility, + Yearning in vain to lift me to Thy face. + +Stretch to me, Lord, that chain whose links enlace + All heavenly gifts and all felicity-- + Faith, whereunto I strive perpetually, + Yet cannot find (my fault) her perfect grace. + +That gift of gifts, the rarer 'tis, the more + I count it great; more great, because to earth + Without it neither peace nor joy is given. + +If Thou Thy blood so lovingly didst pour, + Let not that bounty fail or suffer dearth, + Withholding Faith that opes the doors of heaven. + + + +LXVIII. + +TO MONSIGNOR LODOVICO BECCADELLI. + +_URBINO._ + +_Per croce e grazia._ + + + God's grace, the cross, our troubles multiplied, + Will make us meet in heaven, full well I know: + Yet ere we yield our breath, on earth below + Why need a little solace be denied? + + Though seas and mountains and rough ways divide + Our feet asunder, neither frost nor snow + Can make the soul her ancient love forgo; + Nor chains nor bonds the wings of thought have tied. + + Borne by these wings with thee I dwell for aye, + And weep, and of my dead Urbino talk, + Who, were he living, now perchance would be, + + For so 'twas planned, thy guest as well as I: + Warned by his death another way I walk + To meet him where he waits to live with me. + + + +LXIX. + +WAITING FOR DEATH. + +_Di morte certo._ + + + My death must come; but when, I do not know: + Life's short, and little life remains for me: + Fain would my flesh abide; my soul would flee + Heavenward, for still she calls on me to go. + + Blind is the world; and evil here below + O'erwhelms and triumphs over honesty: + The light is quenched; quenched too is bravery: + Lies reign, and truth hath ceased her face to show. + + When will that day dawn, Lord, for which he waits + Who trusts in Thee? Lo, this prolonged delay + Destroys all hope and robs the soul of life. + + Why streams the light from those celestial gates, + If death prevent the day of grace, and stay + Our souls for ever in the toils of strife? + + + +LXX. + +_A PRAYER FOR STRENGTH._ + +_Carico d'anni._ + + +Burdened with years and full of sinfulness, + With evil custom grown inveterate, + Both deaths I dread that close before me wait, + Yet feed my heart on poisonous thoughts no less. + +No strength I find in mine own feebleness + To change or life or love or use or fate, + Unless Thy heavenly guidance come, though late, + Which only helps and stays our nothingness. + +'Tis not enough, dear Lord, to make me yearn + For that celestial home, where yet my soul + May be new made, and not, as erst, of nought: + +Nay, ere Thou strip her mortal vestment, turn + My steps toward the steep ascent, that whole + And pure before Thy face she may be brought. + + + +LXXI. + +_A PRAYER FOR PURIFICATION._ + +_Forse perchè d' altrui._ + + +Perchance that I might learn what pity is, + That I might laugh at erring men no more, + Secure in my own strength as heretofore, + My soul hath fallen from her state of bliss: +Nor know I under any flag but this + How fighting I may 'scape those perils sore, + Or how survive the rout and horrid roar + Of adverse hosts, if I Thy succour miss. +O flesh! O blood! O cross! O pain extreme! + By you may those foul sins be purified, + Wherein my fathers were, and I was born! +Lo, Thou alone art good: let Thy supreme + Pity my state of evil cleanse and hide-- + So near to death, so far from God, forlorn. + + + +LXXII. + +_A PRAYER FOR AID._ + +_Deh fammiti vedere._ + + +Oh, make me see Thee, Lord, where'er I go! + If mortal beauty sets my soul on fire, + That flame when near to Thine must needs expire, + And I with love of only Thee shall glow. +Dear Lord, Thy help I seek against this woe, + These torments that my spirit vex and tire; + Thou only with new strength canst re-inspire + My will, my sense, my courage faint and low. +Thou gavest me on earth this soul divine; + And Thou within this body weak and frail + Didst prison it--how sadly there to live! +How can I make its lot less vile than mine? + Without Thee, Lord, all goodness seems to fail. + To alter fate is God's prerogative. + + + +LXXIII. + +_AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS._ + +_Scarco d' un' importuna._ + + +Freed from a burden sore and grievous band, + Dear Lord, and from this wearying world untied, + Like a frail bark I turn me to Thy side, + As from a fierce storm to a tranquil land. +Thy thorns, Thy nails, and either bleeding hand, + With Thy mild gentle piteous face, provide + Promise of help and mercies multiplied, + And hope that yet my soul secure may stand. +Let not Thy holy eyes be just to see + My evil past, Thy chastened ears to hear + And stretch the arm of judgment to my crime: +Let Thy blood only lave and succour me, + Yielding more perfect pardon, better cheer, + As older still I grow with lengthening time. + + + +LXXIV. + +FIRST READING. + +_A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH._ + +_S' avvien che spesso._ + + +What though strong love of life doth flatter me + With hope of yet more years on earth to stay, + Death none the less draws nearer day by day, + Who to sad souls alone comes lingeringly. +Yet why desire long life and jollity, + If in our griefs alone to God we pray? + Glad fortune, length of days, and pleasure slay + The soul that trusts to their felicity. +Then if at any hour through grace divine + The fiery shafts of love and faith that cheer + And fortify the soul, my heart assail, +Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine, + Straight may I wing my way to heaven; for here + With lengthening days good thoughts and wishes fail. + + + +LXXIV. + +SECOND READING. + +_A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH._ + +_Parmi che spesso._ + + +Ofttimes my great desire doth flatter me + With hope on earth yet many years to stay: + Still Death, the more I love it, day by day + Takes from the life I love so tenderly. +What better time for that dread change could be, + If in our griefs alone to God we pray? + Oh, lead me, Lord, oh, lead me far away + From every thought that lures my soul from Thee! +Yea, if at any hour, through grace of Thine, + The fervent zeal of love and faith that cheer + And fortify the soul, my heart assail. +Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine, + Plant, like a saint in heaven, that virtue here; + For, lacking Thee, all good must faint and fail. + + + +LXXV. + +_HEART-COLDNESS._ + +_Vorrei voler, Signior._ + + +Fain would I wish what my heart cannot will: + Between it and the fire a veil of ice + Deadens the fire, so that I deal in lies; + My words and actions are discordant still. +I love Thee with my tongue, then mourn my fill; + For love warms not my heart, nor can I rise, + Or ope the doors of Grace, who from the skies + Might flood my soul, and pride and passion kill. +Rend Thou the veil, dear Lord! Break Thou that wall + Which with its stubbornness retards the rays + Of that bright sun this earth hath dulled for me! +Send down Thy promised light to cheer and fall + On Thy fair spouse, that I with love may blaze, + And, free from doubt, my heart feel only Thee! + + + +LXXVI. + +_THE DEATH OF CHRIST._ + +_Non fur men lieti._ + + +Not less elate than smitten with wild woe + To see not them but Thee by death undone, + Were those blest souls, when Thou above the sun + Didst raise, by dying, men that lay so low: +Elate, since freedom from all ills that flow + From their first fault for Adam's race was won; + Sore smitten, since in torment fierce God's son + Served servants on the cruel cross below. +Heaven showed she knew Thee, who Thou wert and whence, + Veiling her eyes above the riven earth; + The mountains trembled and the seas were troubled. +He took the Fathers from hell's darkness dense: + The torments of the damnéd fiends redoubled: + Man only joyed, who gained baptismal birth. + + + +LXXVII. + +_THE BLOOD OF CHRIST._ + +_Mentre m' attrista._ + + +Mid weariness and woe I find some cheer + In thinking of the past, when I recall + My weakness and my sins, and reckon all + The vain expense of days that disappear: +This cheers by making, ere I die, more clear + The frailty of what men delight miscall; + But saddens me to think how rarely fall + God's grace and mercies in life's latest year. +For though Thy promises our faith compel, + Yet, Lord, what man shall venture to maintain + That pity will condone our long neglect? +Still from Thy blood poured forth we know full well + How without measure was Thy martyr's pain, + How measureless the gifts we dare expect. + + + + + +THE SONNETS OF TOMMASO CAMPANELLA + + + +I. + +_THE PROEM._ + +_Io che nacqui dal Senno._ + + +Born of God's Wisdom and Philosophy, + Keen lover of true beauty and true good, + I call the vain self-traitorous multitude + Back to my mother's milk; for it is she, +Faithful to God her spouse, who nourished me, + Making me quick and active to intrude + Within the inmost veil, where I have viewed + And handled all things in eternity. +If the whole world's our home where we may run, + Up, friends, forsake those secondary schools + Which give grains, units, inches for the whole! +If facts surpass mere words, melt pride of soul, + And pain, and ignorance that hardens fools, + Here in the fire I've stolen from the Sun! + + + +II. + +_TO THE POETS._ + +_In superbia il valor._ + + +Valour to pride hath turned; grave holiness + To vile hypocrisy; all gentle ways + To empty forms; sound sense to idle lays; + Pure love to heat; beauty to paint and dress:-- +Thanks to you, Poets! you who sing the praise + Of fabled knights, foul fires, lies, nullities; + Not virtue, nor the wrapped sublimities + Of God, as bards were wont in those old days. +How far more wondrous than your phantasies + Are Nature's works, how far more sweet to sing! + Thus taught, the soul falsehood and truth descries. +That tale alone is worth the pondering, + Which hath not smothered history in lies, + And arms the soul against each sinful thing. + + + +III. + +_THE UNIVERSE._ + +_Il mondo è un animal._ + + +The world's a living creature, whole and great, + God's image, praising God whose type it is; + We are imperfect worms, vile families, + That in its belly have our low estate. +If we know not its love, its intellect, + Neither the worm within my belly seeks + To know me, but his petty mischief wreaks:-- + Thus it behoves us to be circumspect. +Again, the earth is a great animal, + Within the greatest; we are like the lice + Upon its body, doing harm as they. +Proud men, lift up your eyes; on you I call: + Measure each being's worth; and thence be wise; + Learning what part in the great scheme you play! + + + +IV. + +_THE SOUL._ + +_Dentro un pugno di cervel._ + + +A handful of brain holds me: I consume + So much that all the books the world contains, + Cannot allay my furious famine-pains:-- + What feasts were mine! Yet hunger is my doom. +With one world Aristarchus fed my greed; + This finished, others Metrodorus gave; + Yet, stirred by restless yearning, still I crave: + The more I know, the more to learn I need. +Thus I'm an image of that Sire in whom + All beings are, like fishes in the sea; + That one true object of the loving mind. +Reasoning may reach Him, like a shaft shot home; + The Church may guide; but only blest is he + Who loses self in God, God's self to find. + + + +V. + +_THE BOOK OF NATURE._ + +_Il mondo è il libro._ + + +The world's the book where the eternal Sense + Wrote his own thoughts; the living temple where, + Painting his very self, with figures fair + He filled the whole immense circumference. +Here then should each man read, and gazing find + Both how to live and govern, and beware + Of godlessness; and, seeing God all-where, + Be bold to grasp the universal mind. +But we tied down to books and temples dead, + Copied with countless errors from the life,-- + These nobler than that school sublime we call. +O may our senseless souls at length be led + To truth by pain, grief, anguish, trouble, strife! + Turn we to read the one original! + + + +VI. + +_AN EXHORTATION TO MANKIND._ + +_Abitator del mondo._ + + +Ye dwellers on this world, to the first Mind + Exalt your eyes; and ye shall see how low + Vile Tyranny, wearing the glorious show + Of nobleness and worth, keeps you confined. +Then look at proud Hypocrisy, entwined + With lies and snares, who once taught men to know + The fear of God. Next to the Sophists go, + Traitors to thought and reason, jugglers blind. +Keen Socrates to quell the Sophists came: + To quell the Tyrants, Cato just and rough: + To quell the Hypocrites, Christ, heaven's own flame. +But to unmask fraud, sacrilege, and lies, + Or boldly rush on death, is not enough; + Unless we all taste God, made inly wise. + + + +VII. + +_THE BROOD OF IGNORANCE._ + +_Io nacqui a debellar._ + + +To quell three Titan evils I was made,-- + Tyranny, Sophistry, Hypocrisy; + Whence I perceive with what wise harmony + Themis on me Love, Power, and Wisdom laid. +These are the basements firm whereon is stayed, + Supreme and strong, our new philosophy; + The antidotes against that trinal lie + Wherewith the burdened world groaning is weighed. +Famine, war, pestilence, fraud, envy, pride, + Injustice, idleness, lust, fury, fear, + Beneath these three great plagues securely hide. +Grounded on blind self-love, the offspring dear + Of Ignorance, they flourish and abide:-- + Wherefore to root up Ignorance I'm here! + + + +VIII. + +_SELF-LOVE._ + +_Credulo il proprio amor._ + + +Self-love fools man with false opinion + That earth, air, water, fire, the stars we see, + Though stronger and more beautiful than we, + Feel nought, love not, but move for us alone. +Then all the tribes of earth except his own + Seem to him senseless, rude--God lets them be: + To kith and kin next shrinks his sympathy, + Till in the end loves only self each one. +Learning he shuns that he may live at ease; + And since the world is little to his mind, + God and God's ruling Forethought he denies. +Craft he calls wisdom; and, perversely blind, + Seeking to reign, erects new deities: + At last 'I make the Universe!' he cries. + + + +IX. + +_LOVE OF SELF AND GOD._ + +_Questo amor singolar._ + + +This love of self sinks man in sinful sloth: + Yet, if he seek to live, he needs must feign + Sense, goodness, courage. Thus he dwells in pain, + A sphinx, twy-souled, a false self-stunted growth. +Honours, applause, and wealth these torments soothe; + Till jealousy, contrasting his foul stain + With virtues eminent, by spur and rein + Drives him to slay, steal, poison, break his oath. +But he who loves our common Father, hath + All men for brothers, and with God doth joy + In whatsoever worketh for their bliss. +Good Francis called the birds upon his path + Brethren; to him the fishes were not coy.-- + Oh, blest is he who comprehendeth this! + + + +X. + +_EARTHLY AND DIVINE LOVE._ + +_Se Dio ci dà la vita._ + + +God gives us life, and God our life preserves; + Nay, all our happiness on Him doth rest: + Why then should love of God inflame man's breast + Less than his lady and the lord he serves? +Through mean and wanton ignorance he swerves, + And worships a false Good, divinely dressed; + Love cannot soar to what it never guessed, + But stoops its flight, and the thralled soul unnerves. +Here too is man deceived. He yields his own + To spend on others. Yet in vile delight + God's splendour still shines through love's earthliness. +But we embrace the loss, the lure alone + Love fools us with. That glimpse of heavenly light, + That foretaste of eternal Good, we miss. + + + +XI. + +_THE PHILOSOPHER._ + +_Gran fortuna è 'l saper._ + + +Wisdom is riches great and great estate, + Far above wealth; nor are the wise unblest + If born of lineage vile or race oppressed: + These by their doom sublime they illustrate. + +They have their griefs for guerdon, to dilate + Their name and glory; nay, the cross, the sword + Make them to be like saints or God adored; + And gladness greets them in the frowns of fate: + +For joys and sorrows are their dear delight; + Even as a lover takes the weal and woe + Felt for his lady. Such is wisdom's might. + +But wealth still vexes fools; more vile they grow + By being noble; and their luckless light + With each new misadventure burns more low. + + + +XII. + +_A PARABLE OF WISE MEN AND THE WORLD._ + +_Gli astrologi antevista._ + + +Once on a time the astronomers foresaw + The coming of a star to madden men: + Thus warned they fled the land, thinking that when + The folk were crazed, they'd hold the reins of law + +When they returned the realm to overawe, + They prayed those maniacs to quit cave and den, + And use their old good customs once again; + But these made answer with fist, tooth, and claw: + +So that the wise men were obliged to rule + Themselves like lunatics to shun grim death, + Seeing the biggest maniac now was king. + +Stifling their sense, they lived, aping the fool, + In public praising act and word and thing + Just as the whims of madmen swayed their breath. + + + +XIII. + +_THE WORLD'S A STAGE._ + +_Nel teatro del mondo._ + + +The world's a theatre: age after age, + Souls masked and muffled in their fleshly gear + Before the supreme audience appear, + As Nature, God's own Art, appoints the stage. + +Each plays the part that is his heritage; + From choir to choir they pass, from sphere to sphere, + And deck themselves with joy or sorry cheer, + As Fate the comic playwright fills the page. + +None do or suffer, be they cursed or blest, + Aught otherwise than the great Wisdom wrote + To gladden each and all who gave Him mirth, + +When we at last to sea or air or earth + Yielding these masks that weal or woe denote, + In God shall see who spoke and acted best. + + + +XIV. + +_THE HUMAN COMEDY._ + +_Natura dal Signor._ + + +Nature, by God directed, formed in space + The universal comedy we see; + Wherein each star, each man, each entity, + Each living creature, hath its part and place: + +And when the play is over, it shall be + That God will judge with justice and with grace.-- + Aping this art divine, the human race + Plans for itself on earth a comedy: + +It makes kings, priests, slaves, heroes for the eyes + Of vulgar folk; and gives them masks to play + Their several parts--not wisely, as we see; + +For impious men too oft we canonise, + And kill the saints; while spurious lords array + Their hosts against the real nobility. + + + +XV. + +_THE TRUE KINGS._ + +_Neron fu Re._ + + +Nero was king by accident in show; + But Socrates by nature in good sooth; + By right of both Augustus; luck and truth + Less perfectly were blent in Scipio. + +The spurious prince still seeks to extirpate + The seed of natures born imperial-- + Like Herod, Caiaphas, Meletus, all + Who by bad acts sustain their stolen state. + +Slaves whose souls tell them that they are but slaves, + Strike those whose native kinghood all can see: + Martyrdom is the stamp of royalty. + +Dead though they be, these govern from their graves: + The tyrants fall, nor can their laws remain; + While Paul and Peter rise o'er Rome to reign. + + + +XVI. + +_WHAT MAKES A KING._ + +_Chi pennelli have e colori._ + + +He who hath brush and colours, and chance-wise + Doth daub, befouling walls and canvases, + Is not a painter; but, unhelped by these, + He who in art is masterful and wise. +Cowls and the tonsure do not make a friar; + Nor make a king wide realms and pompous wars; + But he who is all Jesus, Pallas, Mars, + Though he be slave or base-born, wears the tiar. +Man is not born crowned like the natural king + Of beasts, for beasts by this investiture + Have need to know the head they must obey; +Wherefore a commonwealth fits men, I say, + Or else a prince whose worth is tried and sure, + Not proved by sloth or false imagining. + + + +XVII. + +_TO JESUS CHRIST._ + +_I tuo' seguaci._ + + +Thy followers to-day are less like Thee, + The crucified, than those who made Thee die, + Good Jesus, wandering all ways awry + From rules prescribed in Thy wise charity. +The saints now most esteemed love lying lips, + Lust, strife, injustice; sweet to them the cry + Drawn forth by monstrous pangs from men that die: + So many plagues hath not the Apocalypse +As these wherewith they smite Thy friends ignored-- + Even as I am; search my heart, and know; + My life, my sufferings bear Thy stamp and sign. +If Thou return to earth, come armed; for lo, + Thy foes prepare fresh crosses for Thee, Lord! + Not Turks, not Jews, but they who call them Thine. + + + +XVIII. + +_TO DEATH._ + +_Morte, stipendio della colpa._ + + +O Death, the wage of our first father's blame, + Daughter of envy and nonentity, + Serf of the serpent, and his harlotry, + Thou beast most arrogant and void of shame! +Thy last great conquest dost thou dare proclaim, + Crying that all things are subdued to thee, + Against the Almighty raised almightily?-- + The proofs that prop thy pride of state are lame. +Not to serve thee, but to make thee serve Him, + He stoops to Hell. The choice of arms was thine; + Yet art thou scoffed at by the crucified! +He lives--thy loss. He dies--from every limb, + Mangled by thee, lightnings of godhead shine, + From which thy darkness hath not where to hide. + + + +XIX. + +_ON THE SEPULCHRE OF CHRIST._ + +No. I. + +_O tu ch' ami la parte._ + + +O you who love the part more than the whole, + And love yourself more than all human kind, + Who persecute good men with prudence blind + Because they combat your malign control, +See Scribes and Pharisees, each impious school, + Each sect profane, o'erthrown by his great mind, + Whose best our good to Deity refined, + The while they thought Death triumphed o'er his soul. +Deem you that only you have thought and sense, + While heaven and all its wonders, sun and earth, + Scorned in your dullness, lack intelligence? +Fool! what produced you? These things gave you birth: + So have they mind and God. Repent; be wise! + Man fights but ill with Him who rules the skies. + + + +XX. + +_ON THE SEPULCHRE OF CHRIST._ + +No. 2. + +_Quinci impara a stupirti._ + + +Here bend in boundless wonder; bow your head: + Think how God's deathless Mind, that men might be + Robed in celestial immortality + (O Love divine!), in flesh was raimented: +How He was killed and buried; from the dead + How He arose to life with victory, + And reigned in heaven; how all of us shall be + Glorious like Him whose hearts to His are wed: +How they who die for love of reason, give + Hypocrites, tyrants, sophists--all who sell + Their neighbours ill for holiness--to hell: +How the dead saint condemns the bad who live; + How all he does becomes a law for men; + How he at last to judge shall come again! + + + +XXI. + +_THE RESURRECTION._ + +_Se sol sei ore._ + + +If Christ was only six hours crucified + After few years of toil and misery, + Which for mankind He suffered willingly, + While heaven was won for ever when He died; +Why should He still be shown on every side, + Painted and preached, in nought but agony, + Whose pains were light matched with His victory, + When the world's power to harm Him was defied? +Why rather speak and write not of the realm + He rules in heaven, and soon will bring below + Unto the praise and glory of His name? +Ah foolish crowd! This world's thick vapours whelm + Your eyes unworthy of that glorious show, + Blind to His splendour, bent upon His shame. + + + +XXII. + +_IDEAL LOVE._ + +_Il vero amante._ + + +He who loves truly, grows in force and might; + For beauty and the image of his love + Expand his spirit: whence he burns to prove + Adventures high, and holds all perils light. +If thus a lady's love dilate the knight, + What glories and what joy all joys above + Shall not the heavenly splendour, joined by love + Unto our flesh-imprisoned soul, excite? +Once freed, she would become one sphere immense + Of love, power, wisdom, filled with Deity, + Elate with wonders of the eternal Sense. +But we like sheep and wolves war ceaselessly: + That love we never seek, that light intense, + Which would exalt us to infinity. + + + +XXIII. + +_THE MODERN CUPID._ + +_Son tremil' anni._ + + +Through full three thousand years the world reveres + Blind Love that bears the quiver and hath wings: + Now too he's deaf, and to the sufferings + Of folk in anguish turns impiteous ears. +Of gold he's greedy, and dark raiment wears; + A child no more, that naked sports and sings, + But a sly greybeard; no gold shaft he flings, + Now that fire-arms have cursed these latter years. +Charcoal and sulphur, thunder, lead, and smoke, + That leave the flesh with plagues of hell diseased, + And drive the craving spirit deaf and blind, +These are his weapons. But my bell hath broke + Her silence. Yield, thou deaf, blind, tainted beast, + To the wise fervour of a blameless mind! + + + +XXIV. + +_TRUE AND FALSE NOBILITY._ + +_In noi dal senno._ + + +Valour and mind form real nobility, + The which bears fruit and shows a fair increase + By doughty actions: these and nought but these + Confer true patents of gentility. +Money is false and light unless it be + Bought by a man's own worthy qualities; + And blood is such that its corrupt disease + And ignorant pretence are foul to see. +Honours that ought to yield more true a type, + Europe, thou measurest by fortune still, + To thy great hurt; and this thy foe perceives: +He rates the tree by fruits mature and ripe, + Not by mere shadows, roots, and verdant leaves:-- + Why then neglect so grave a cause of ill? + + + +XXV. + +_THE PEOPLE._ + +_Il popolo è una bestia._ + + +The people is a beast of muddy brain, + That knows not its own force, and therefore stands + Loaded with wood and stone; the powerless hands + Of a mere child guide it with bit and rein: +One kick would be enough to break the chain; + But the beast fears, and what the child demands, + It does; nor its own terror understands, + Confused and stupefied by bugbears vain. +Most wonderful! with its own hand it ties + And gags itself--gives itself death and war + For pence doled out by kings from its own store. +Its own are all things between earth and heaven; + But this it knows not; and if one arise + To tell this truth, it kills him unforgiven. + + + +XXVI. + +_CONSCIENCE._ + +_Seco ogni coif a è doglia._ + + +All crime is its own torment, bearing woe + To mind or body or decrease of fame; + If not at once, still step by step our name + Or blood or friends or fortune it brings low. +But if our will do not resent the blow, + We have not sinned. That penance hath no blame + Which Magdalen found sweet: purging our shame, + Self-punishment is virtue, all men know. +The consciousness of goodness pure and whole + Makes a man fully blest; but misery + Springs from false conscience, blinded in its pride. +This Simon Peter meant when he replied + To Simon Magus, that the prescient soul + Hath her own proof of immortality. + + + +XXVII. + +_THE BAD PRINCE._ + +_Mentola al comun corpo._ + + +Organ of rut, not reason, is the lord + Who from the body politic doth drain + Lust for himself, instead of toil and pain, + Leaving us lean as crickets on dry sward. +Well too if he like Love would filch our hoard + With pleasure to ourselves, sluicing our vein + And vigour to perpetuate the strain + Of life by spilth of life within us stored! +Love's cheat yields joy and profit. Kings, less kind, + Harm those they hoodwink; sow bare rock with seed; + Nor use our waste to propagate the breed. +Heaven help that body which a little mind, + Housed in a head, lacking ears, tongue, and eyes, + And senseless but for smell, can tyrannise! + + + +XXVIII. + +_ON ITALY._ + +_La gran Donna._ + + +That Lady who to Caesar came in state + Upon the Rubicon, what time she feared + Ruin from those strange races who appeared + Erewhile to build her empire strong and great, +Now stays with limbs dispersed and lacerate, + A bondslave, shorn of all her pomp revered: + Nor seems it now that Dinah's shame can gird + Simeon or Levi to avenge her fate. +If then Jerusalem doth not repair + To Nazareth or Athens, where did reign + Wisdom of God or man in days of yore, +None shall arise her honours to restore: + For Herods are all strangers; when they swear + To save the Saviour's seed, their oath is vain. + + + +XXIX. + +_TO VENICE._ + +_Nuova arca di Noè._ + + +New Ark of Noah! when the cruel scourge + Of that barbarian tyrant like a wave + Went over Italy, thou then didst save + The seed of just men on the weltering surge. +Here, still by discord and foul servitude + Untainted, thou a hero brood dost raise, + Powerful and prudent. Due to thee their praise + Of maiden pure, of teeming motherhood! +Thou wonder of the world, Rome's loyal heir, + Thou pride and strong support of Italy, + Dial of princes, school of all things wise! +Thou like Arcturus steadfast in the skies, + With tardy sense guidest thy kingdom fair, + Bearing alone the load of liberty. + + + +XXX. + +_TO GENOA._ + +_Le Ninfe d'Arno._ + + +The nymphs of Arno; Adria's goddess-queen; + Greece, where the Latin banner floated free; + The lands that border on the Syrian sea; + The Euxine, and fair Naples; these have been +Thine, by the right of conquest; these should be + Still thine by empire: Asia's broad demesne, + Afric, America--realms never seen + But by thy venture--all belong to thee. +But thou, thyself not knowing, leavest all + For a poor price to strangers; since thy head + Is weak, albeit thy limbs are stout and good. +Genoa, mistress of the world, recall + Thy soul magnanimous! Nay, be not led + Slave to base gold, thou and thy tameless brood! + + + +XXXI. + +_TO POLAND._ + +_Sopra i regni._ + + +High o'er those realms that make blind chance the heir + Of empire, Poland, dost thou lift thy head: + For while thou mournest for thy monarch dead, + Thou wilt not let his son the sceptre bear, +Lest he prove weak perchance to do or dare. + Yet art thou even more by luck misled, + Choosing a prince of fortune, courtly-bred, + Uncertain whether he will spend or spare. +Oh, quit this pride! In hut or shepherd's pen + Seek Cato, Minos, Numa! For of such + God still makes kings in plenty: and these men +Will squander little substance and gain much, + Knowing that virtue and not blood shall be + Their titles to true immortality. + + + +XXXII. + +_TO THE SWISS._ + +_Se voi più innalza._ + + +Ye Alpine rocks! If less your peaks elate + To heaven exalt you than that gift divine, + Freedom; why do your children still combine + To keep the despots in their stolen state? +Lo, for a piece of bread from windows wide + You fling your blood, taking no thought what cause, + Righteous or wrong, your strength to battle draws; + So is your valour spurned and vilified. +All things belong to free men; but the slave + Clothes and feeds poorly. Even so from you + Broad lands and Malta's knighthood men withhold. +Up, free yourselves, and act as heroes do! + Go, take your own from tyrants, which you gave + So recklessly, and they so dear have sold! + + + +XXXIII. + +_THE SAMARITAN._ + +_Da Roma ad Ostia._ + + +From Rome to Ostia a poor man went; + Thieves robbed and wounded him upon the way; + Some monks, great saints, observed him where he lay, + And left him, on their breviaries intent. +A Bishop passed thereby, and careless bent + To sign the cross, a blessing brief to say; + But a great Cardinal, to clutch their prey, + Followed the thieves, falsely benevolent. +At last there came a German Lutheran, + Who builds on faith, merit of works withstands; + He raised and clothed and healed the dying man. + Now which of these was worthiest, most humane? +The heart is better than the head, kind hands + Than cold lip-service; faith without works is vain. + Who understands + What creed is good and true for self and others?-- + But none can doubt the good he doth his brothers. + + + +XXXIV. + +_HYPOCRITES._ + +_Nessun ti venne a dir._ + + +Who comes and saith: 'A Tyrant, lo, am I!' + And, 'I am Antichrist!' what man will swear? + The crafty rogue, hiding his poisonous ware, + Sells you what slays your soul, for sanctity. +Cheats, brigands, prostitutes, and all that fry, + Not having fashioned so devout a snare, + Appear worse sinners than perhaps they are; + For where the craft's small, small's the villainy; +You're on your guard. The meek Samaritan + Makes way before those guileful Pharisees, + Though God assigned to him the higher place. + Not words nor wonders prove a virtuous man, +But deeds and acts. How many deities + Hath this false standard given the human race! + + + +XXXV. + +_SOPHISTS._ + +_Nessun ti verrà a dire._ + + +'Behold, I am a Sophist!' no man saith. + But the true sons of perfidy refined + Forge theologic lies the soul to blind, + Calling themselves evangels of the faith. +Aretine with his scoundrels blew his breath, + And in the cynic orgies boldly joined; + His ribald jests had flowers and thorns combined-- + A frank fair list including life and death, +For fun, not fraud. It shames him to be found + Less vile than those who cannot bear to see + Their sink of filth laid open to the ground: +Wherefore they shut our mouths, our books impound, + Garble with lies each sentence that may be + Cited to prove their foul hypocrisy. + + + +XXXVI. + +_AGAINST HYPOCRITES._ + +_Gli affetti di Pluton._ + + +Deep in their hearts they hide the lusts of Hell: + Christ's name is written on their brow, that those + Who only view the husk, may not suppose + What guile and malice harbour in the shell. +O God! O Wisdom! Holy Fervour! Well + Of strength invincible to strike Thy foes! + Give me the force--my spirit burns and glows-- + To strip those idols and to break their spell! +The zeal I bear unto Thy name benign, + The love I feel for truth sincere and pure, + When such men triumph, make me rend my hair. +How long shall folk this infamy endure-- + That _he_ should be held sacred, _he_ divine, + Who strips e'en corpses in the graveyard bare? + + + +XXXVII. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. I. + +_Vilissima progenie._ + + +Ye vile offscourings! with unblushing face + Dare ye claim sonship to our heavenly Sire, + Who serve brute vices, crouching in the mire + To hounds and conies, beasts that ape our race? +Such truckling is called virtue by the base + Hucksters of sophistry, the priest and friar,-- + Gilt claws of tyrant brutes,--who lie for hire, + Preaching that God delights in this disgrace. +Look well, ye brainless folk! Do fathers hold + Their children slaves to serfs? Do sheep obey + The witless ram? Why make a beast your king? +If there are no archangels, let your fold + Be governed by the sense of all: why stray + From men to worship every filthy thing? + + + +XXXVIII. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. 2. + +_Dov' è la libertà ._ + + +Where are the freedom and high feats that spring + From fatherhood so fair as Deity? + Fleas are no sons of men, although they be + Flesh-born: brave thoughts and deeds this honour bring. +If princes great or small seek anything + Adverse to good and God's authority, + Which of you dares refuse? Nay, who is he + That doth not cringe to do their pleasuring? +So then with soul and blood in verity + You serve base gold, vices, and worthless men-- + God with lip-service only and with lies, +Sunk in the slough of dire idolatry: + If Ignorance begat these errors, then + To Reason turn for sonship and be wise! + + + +XXXIX. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. 3. + +_Allor potrete orar._ + + +Then shall ye pray with every hour that flies; + Thy kingdom come, and let Thy will be done + On earth as in the spheres above the sun, + When all we hoped and wished shall bless our eyes. +Poets shall see their Age of Gold arise, + Fairer than feigned in hymn or orison; + Yea, all the realm by Adam's sin undone + Shall be restored in sinless Paradise. +Philosophers shall govern for their own + That perfect commonwealth whereof they write, + The which on earth as yet was never known. +Judah to Sion shall return with might + Of greater wonders than shook Pharaoh's throne, + From Babylon, to bless the prophets' sight. + + + +XL. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 1. + +_THE REIGN OF ANTICHRIST._ + +_Mentre l'acquila invola._ + + +While yet the eagle preys, and growls the bear; + While roars the lion; while the crow defies + The lamb who raised our race above the skies; + While yet the dove laments to the deaf air; +While, mixed with goodly wheat, darnel and tare + Within the field of human nature rise;-- + Let that ungodly sect, profanely wise, + That scorns our hope, feed, fatten, and beware! +Soon comes the day when those grim giants fell, + Famed through the world, dyed deep with sanguine hue, + Whom with feigned flatteries you applaud, shall be +Swept from the earth, and sunk in horrid Hell, + Girt round with flames, to weep and wail with you, + In doleful dungeons everlastingly. + + + +XLI. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 2. + +_THE DOOM OF THE IMPIOUS._ + +_La scuola inimicissima._ + + +You sect most adverse to the good and true, + Degenerate from your origin divine, + Pastured on lies and shadows by the line + Of Thais, Sinon, Judas, Homer! You, +Thus saith the Spirit, when the retinue + Of saints with Christ returns on earth to shine, + When the fifth angel's vial pours condign + Vengeance with awful ire and torments due,-- +You shall be girt with gloom; your lips profane, + Disloyal tongues, and savage teeth shall grind + And gnash with fury fell and anger vain: +In Malebolge your damned souls confined + On fiery marle, for increment of pain, + Shall see the saved rejoice with mirth of mind. + + + +XLII. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 3. + +_THE GOLDEN AGE._ + +_Se fu nel mondo._ + + +If men were happy in that age of gold, + We yet may hope to see mild Saturn's reign; + For all things that were buried live again, + By time's revolving cycle forward rolled. +Yet this the fox, the wolf, the crow, made bold + By fraud and perfidy, deny--in vain: + For God that rules, the signs in heaven, the train + Of prophets, and all hearts this faith uphold. +If thine and mine were banished in good sooth + From honour, pleasure, and utility, + The world would turn, I ween, to Paradise; +Blind love to modest love with open eyes; + Cunning and ignorance to living truth; + And foul oppression to fraternity. + + + +XLIII. + +_THE MILLENNIUM._ + +_Non piaccia a Dio._ + + +Nay, God forbid that mid these tragic throes + To idle comedy my thought should bend, + When torments dire and warning woes portend + Of this our world the instantaneous close! +The day approaches which shall discompose + All earthly sects, the elements shall blend + In utter ruin, and with joy shall send + Just spirits to their spheres in heaven's repose. +The Highest comes in Holy Land to hold + His sovran court and synod sanctified, + As all the psalms and prophets have foretold: +The riches of his grace He will spread wide + Through his own realm, that seat and chosen fold + Of worship and free mercies multiplied. + + + +XLIV. + +_THE PRESENT._ + +_Convien al secol nostro._ + + +Black robes befit our age. Once they were white; + Next many-hued; now dark as Afric's Moor, + Night-black, infernal, traitorous, obscure, + Horrid with ignorance and sick with fright. +For very shame we shun all colours bright, + Who mourn our end--the tyrants we endure, + The chains, the noose, the lead, the snares, the lure-- + Our dismal heroes, our souls sunk in night. +Black weeds again denote that extreme folly + Which makes us blind, mournful, and woe-begone: + For dusk is dear to doleful melancholy; +Nathless fate's wheel still turns: this raiment dun + We shall exchange hereafter for the holy + Garments of white in which of yore we shone. + + + +XLV. + +_THE FUTURE._ + +_Veggo in candida robba._ + + +Clothed in white robes I see the Holy Sire + Descend to hold his court amid the band + Of shining saints and elders: at his hand + The white immortal Lamb commands their choir. +John ends his long lament for torments dire, + Now Judah's lion rises to expand + The fatal book, and the first broken band + Sends the white courier forth to work God's ire. +The first fair spirits raimented in white + Go out to meet him who on his white cloud + Comes heralded by horsemen white as snow. +Ye black-stoled folk, be dumb, who hate the loud + Blare of God's lifted angel-trumpets! Lo, + The pure white dove puts the black crows to flight! + + + +XLVI. + +_THE YEAR 1603._ + +_Già sto mirando._ + + +The first heaven-wandering lights I see ascend + Upon the seventh and ninth centenary, + When in the Archer's realm three years shall be + Added, this aeon and our age to end. +Thou too, Mercurius, like a scribe dost lend + Thine aid to promulgate that dread decree, + Stored in the archives of eternity, + And signed and sealed by powers no prayers can bend. +O'er Europe's full meridian on thy morn + In the tenth house thy court I see thee hold: + The Sun with thee consents in Capricorn. +God grant that I may keep this mortal breath + Until I too that glorious day behold + Which shall at last confound the sons of death! + + + +XLVII. + +_NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S IMAGE._ + +_Babel disfatta._ + + +The golden head was Babylon; she passed: + Persia came next, the silvern breast: whereto + Joined brazen flank and belly--these are you, + Ye men of Macedon! Now Rome's the last. +Rome on two iron legs towered tall and vast; + But at her feet were toes of clay, that drew + Downfall: those scattered tribes erewhile she knew + For lords; now 'neath her fatal sway they're cast. +Ah thirsty soil! From your parched fallow fumes + A smoke of pride, vain-glory, cruelty, + That blinds, infects, and blackens, and consumes! +To Daniel, to the Bible you refuse + Your rebel sense; for it is still your use + To screen yourself with lies and sophistry. + + + +XLVIII. + +_THE DUNGEON._ + +_Come va al centro._ + + +As to the centre all things that have weight + Sink from the surface: as the silly mouse + Runs at a venture, rash though timorous, + Into the monster's jaws to meet her fate: +Thus all who love high Science, from the strait + Dead sea of Sophistry sailing like us + Into Truth's ocean, bold and amorous, + Must in our haven anchor soon or late. +One calls this haunt a Cave of Polypheme, + And one Atlante's Palace, one of Crete + The Labyrinth, and one Hell's lowest pit. +Knowledge, grace, mercy, are an idle dream + In this dread place. Nought but fear dwells in it, + Of stealthy Tyranny the sacred seat. + + + +XLIX. + +_THE SAGE ON EARTH._ + +_Sciolto e legato._ + + +Bound and yet free, companioned and alone, + Loud mid my silence, I confound my foes: + Men think me fool in this vile world of woes; + God's wisdom greets me sage from heaven's high throne. +With wings on earth oppressed aloft I bound; + My gleeful soul sad bonds of flesh enclose: + And though sometimes too great the burden grows, + These pinions bear me upward from the ground. +A doubtful combat proves the warrior's might: + Short is all time matched with eternity: + Nought than a pleasing burden is more light. +My brows I bind with my love's effigy, + Sure that my joyous flight will soon be sped + Where without speech my thoughts shall all be read. + + + +L. + +_THE PRICE OF FREEDOM._ + +_D' Italia in Grecia._ + + +From Rome to Greece, from Greece to Libya's sand, + Yearning for liberty, just Cato went; + Nor finding freedom to his heart's content, + Sought it in death, and died by his own hand. +Wise Hannibal, when neither sea nor land + Could save him from the Roman eagles, rent + His soul with poison from imprisonment; + And a snake's tooth cut Cleopatra's band. +In this way died one valiant Maccabee; + Brutus feigned madness; prudent Solon hid + His sense; and David, when he feared Gath's king. +Thus when the Mystic found that Jonah's sea + Was yawning to engulf him, what he did + He gave to God--a wise man's offering. + + + +LI. + +_APOLOGY BY PARADOX._ + +_Non é brutto il Demon._ + + +The Devil's not so ugly as they paint; + He's well with all, compact of courtesy: + Real heroism is real piety: + Before small truth great falsehoods shrink and faint +If pots stain worse than pipkins, it were quaint + To charge the pipkins with impurity: + Freedom I crave: who craves not to be free? + Yet life that must be feigned for, leaves a taint. +Ill conduct brings repentance?--If you prate + This wise to me, why prate not thus to all + Philosophers and prophets, and to Christ? +Not too much learning, as some arrogate, + But the small brains of dullards have sufficed + To make us wretched and the world enthrall. + + + +LII. + +_THE SOUL'S APOLOGY._ + +_Ben sei mila anni._ + + +Six thousand years or more on earth I've been: + Witness those histories of nations dead, + Which for our age I have illustrated + In philosophic volumes, scene by scene. +And thou, mere mite, seeing my sun serene + Eclipsed, wilt argue that I had no head + To live by.--Why not try the sun instead, + If nought in fate unfathomed thou hast seen? +If wise men, whom the world rebukes, combined + With tyrant wolves, brute beasts we should become. + The sage, once stoned for sin, you canonise. +When rennet melts, much milk makes haste to bind. + The more you blow the flames, the more they rise, + Bloom into stars, and find in heaven their home. + + + +LIII. + +_TO GOD ON PRAYER._ + +_Tu che Forza ed Amor._ + + +O Thou, who, mingling Force and Love, dost draw + And guide the complex of all entities, + Framed for that purpose; whence our reason sees + In supreme Fate the synthesis of Law; +Though prayers transgress which find defect or flaw + In things foredoomed by Thy divine decrees, + Yet wilt Thou modify, by slow degrees + Or swift, good times or bad Thy mind foresaw: +I therefore pray--I who through years have been + The scorn of fools, the butt of impious men, + Suffering new pains and torments day by day-- +Shorten this anguish, Lord, these griefs allay; + For still Thou shalt not have changed counsel when + I soar from hence to liberty foreseen. + + + +LIV. + +_TO GOD FOR HELP._ + +_Come vuoi, ch' a buon porto._ + + +How wilt Thou I should gain a harbour fair, + If after proof among my friends I find + That some are faithless, some devoid of mind, + Some short of sense, though stout to do and dare? +If some, though wise and loyal, like the hare + Hide in a hole, or fly in terror blind, + While nerve with wisdom and with faith combined + Through malice and through penury despair? +Reason, Thy honour, and my weal eschewed + That false ally who said he came from Thee, + With promise vain of power and liberty. +I trust:--I'll do. Change Thou the bad to good!-- + But ere I raise me to that altitude, + Needs must I merge in Thee as Thou in me. + + + +LV. + +To Annibale Caraccioli, + +_A WRITER OF ECLOGUES._ + +_Non Licida, nè Driope._ + + +Lycoris, Lycidas, and Dryope + Cannot, dear Niblo, save thy name from death; + Shadows that fleet, and flowers that yield their breath, + Match not the Love that craves infinity. +The beauty thou dost worship dwells in thee: + Within thy soul divine it harboureth: + This also bids my spirit soar, and saith + Words that unsphere for me heaven's harmony. +Make then thine inborn lustre beam and shine + With love of goodness; goodness cannot fail: + From God alone let praise immense be thine. +My soul is tired of telling o'er the tale + With men: she calls on thine: she bids thee go + Into God's school with tablets white as snow. + + + +LVI. + +_TO TELESIUS OF COSENZA._ + +_Telesio, il telo._ + + +Telesius, the arrow from thy bow + Midmost his band of sophists slays that high + Tyrant of souls that think; he cannot fly: + While Truth soars free, loosed by the self-same blow. +Proud lyres with thine immortal praises glow, + Smitten by bards elate with victory: + Lo, thine own Cavalcante, stormfully + Lightning, still strikes the fortress of the foe! +Good Gaieta bedecks our saint serene + With robes translucent, light-irradiate, + Restoring her to all her natural sheen; +The while my tocsin at the temple-gate + Of the wide universe proclaims her queen, + Pythia of first and last ordained by fate. + + + +LVII. + +_TO RIDOLFO DI BINA._ + +_Senno ed Amor._ + + +Wisdom and love, O Bina, gave thee wings, + Before the blossom of thy years had faded, + To fly with Adam for thy guide, God-aided, + Through many lands in divers journeyings. +Pure virtue is thy guerdon: virtue brings + Glory to thee, death to the foes degraded, + Who through long years of darkness have invaded + Thy Germany, mother of slaves not kings. +Yet, gazing on heaven's book, heroic child, + My soul discerns graces divine in thee:-- + Leave toys and playthings to the crowd of fools! +Do thou with heart fervent and proudly mild + Make war upon those fraud-engendering schools! + I see thee victor, and in God I see. + + + +LVIII. + +_TO TOBIA ADAMI._ + +_Portando in man._ + + +Holding the cynic lantern in your hand, + Through Europe, Egypt, Asia, you have passed, + Till at Ausonia's feet you find at last + That Cyclops' cave, where I, to darkness banned, +In light eternal forge for you the brand + Against Abaddon, who hath overcast + The truth and right, Adami, made full fast + Unto God's glory by our steadfast band. +Go, smite each sophist, tyrant, hypocrite! + Girt with the arms of the first Wisdom, free + Your country from the frauds that cumber it! +Swerve not: 'twere sin. How good, how great the praise + Of him who turns youth, strength, soul, energy, + Unto the dayspring of the eternal rays! + + + +LIX. + +_A SONNET ON CAUCASUS._ + +_Temo che per morir._ + + +I fear that by my death the human race + Would gain no vantage. Thus I do not die. + So wide is this vast cage of misery + That flight and change lead to no happier place. +Shifting our pains, we risk a sorrier case: + All worlds, like ours, are sunk in agony: + Go where we will, we feel; and this my cry + I may forget like many an old disgrace. +Who knows what doom is mine? The Omnipotent + Keeps silence; nay, I know not whether strife + Or peace was with me in some earlier life. +Philip in a worse prison me hath pent + These three days past--but not without God's will. + Stay we as God decrees: God doth no ill. + + + +LX. + +_GOD MADE AND GOD RULES._ + +_La fabbrica del mondo._ + + +The fabric of the world--earth, air, and skies-- + Each particle thereof and tiniest part + Designed for special ends--proclaims the art + Of an almighty Maker good and wise. +Nathless the lawless brutes, our crimes and lies, + The joys of vicious men, the good man's smart, + All creatures swerving from their ends, impart + Doubts that the Ruler is nor good nor wise. +Can it then be that boundless Power, Love, Mind, + Lets others reign, the while He takes repose? + Hath He grown old, or hath He ceased to heed? +Nay, one God made and rules: He shall unwind + The tangled skein; the hidden law disclose, + Whereby so many sinned in thought and deed. + + + + + +NOTES ON MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS. + + +I. Quoted by Donato Giannotti in his Dialogue _De' giorni che Dante +consumò nel cercare l'Inferno e 'l Purgatorio._ The date of its +composition is perhaps 1545. + +II. Written probably for Donato Giannotti about the same date. + +III. Belonging to the year 1506, when Michael Angelo quarrelled with +Julius and left Rome in anger. The tree referred to in the last line is +the oak of the Rovere family. + +IV. Same date, and same circumstances. The autograph has these words at +the foot of the sonnet: _Vostro Miccelangniolo, in Turchia._ Rome +itself, the Sacred City, has become a land of infidels. + +V. Ser Giovanni da Pistoja was Chancellor of the Florentine Academy. +The date is probably 1509. The _Sonetto a Coda_ is generally humorous +or satiric. + +VI. Written in one of those moments of _affanno_ or _stizzo_ to which +the sculptor was subject. For the old bitterness of feeling between +Florence and Pistoja, see Dante, _Inferno._ + +VII. Michael Angelo was ill during the summer of 1544, and was nursed +by Luigi del Riccio in his own house, Shortly after his recovery he +quarrelled with his friend, and wrote him this sonnet as well as a very +angry letter. + +VIII. p. 38. Cecchino Bracci was a boy of rare and surpassing beauty +who died at Rome, January 8, 1544, in his seventeenth year. Besides +this sonnet, which refers to a portrait Luigi del Riccio had asked him +to make of the dead youth, Michael Angelo composed a series of forty-eight +quatrains upon the same subject, and sent them to his friend Luigi. +Michelangelo the younger, thinking that _'l'ignoranzia degli uomini ha +campo di mormorare,'_ suppressed the name Cecchino and changed _lui_ into +_lei._ Date about 1544. + +IX. Line 4: 'The Archangel's scales alone can weigh my gratitude +against your gift.' Lines 5-8: 'Your courtesy has taken away all my +power of responding to it. I am as helpless as a ship becalmed, or a +wisp of straw on a stormy sea.' + +X. Michael Angelo, when asked to make a portrait of his friend's +mistress, declares that he is unable to do justice to her beauty. The +name _Mancina_ is a pun upon the Italian word for the left arm, +_Mancino_. This lady was a famous and venal beauty, mentioned among the +loves of the poet Molsa. + +XI. Date, 1550. + +XII. This and the three next sonnets may with tolerable certainty be +referred to the series written on various occasions for Vittoria +Colonna. + +XIII. Sent together with a letter, in which we read: _l'aportatore di +questa sarà Urbino, che sta meco_. Urbino was M. A.'s old servant, +workman, and friend. See No. LXVIII. and note. + +XIV. The thought is that, as the sculptor carves a statue from a rough +model by addition and subtraction of the marble, so the lady of his +heart refines and perfects his rude native character. + +XV. This sonnet is the theme of Varchi's _Lezione_. There is nothing to +prove that it was addressed to Vittoria Colonna. Varchi calls it '_un +suo altissimo sonetto pieno di quella antica purezza e dantesca +gravità _.' + +XVI. The thought of the fifteenth is repeated with some variations. His +lady's heart holds for the lover good and evil things, according as he +has the art to draw them forth. + +XVIII. In the terzets he describes the temptations of the artist-nature, +over-sensitive to beauty. Michelangelo the younger so altered these six +lines as to destroy the autobiographical allusion.--Cp. No. XXVIII., note. + +XIX. The lover's heart is like an intaglio, precious by being inscribed +with his lady's image. + +XX. An early composition, written on the back of a letter sent to the +sculptor in Bologna by his brother Simone in 1507. M.A. was then +working at the bronze statue of Julius II. Who the lady of his love +was, we do not know. Notice the absence of Platonic _concetti_. + +XXIII. It is hardly necessary to call attention to Michael Angelo's +oft-recurring Platonism. The thought that the eye alone perceives the +celestial beauty, veiled beneath the fleshly form of the beloved, is +repeated in many sonnets--especially in XXV., XXVIII. + +XXIV. Composed probably in the year 1529. + +XXV. Written on the same sheet as the foregoing sonnet, and composed +probably in the same year. The thought is this: beauty passing from the +lady into the lover's soul, is there spiritualised and becomes the +object of a spiritual love. + +XXVII. To escape from his lady, either by interposing another image of +beauty between the thought of her and his heart, or by flight, is +impossible. + +XXVIII. Compare Madrigal VII. in illustration of lines 5 to 8. By the +analogy of that passage, I should venture to render lines 6 and 7 thus: + +He made thee light, and me the eyes of art; +Nor fails my soul to find God's counterpart. + + +XXX. Varchi, quoting this sonnet in his _Lezione_, conjectures that it +was composed for Tommaso Cavalieri. + +XXXI. Varchi asserts without qualification that this sonnet was +addressed to Tommaso Cavalieri. The pun in the last line, _Resto +prigion d'un Cavalier armato_, seems to me to decide the matter, though +Signor Guasti and Signor Gotti both will have it that a woman must have +been intended. Michelangelo the younger has only left one line, the +second, untouched in his _rifacimento_. Instead of the last words he +gives _un cuor di virtù armato_, being over-scrupulous for his +great-uncle's reputation. + +XXXII. Written at the foot of a letter addressed by Giuliano Bugiardini +the painter, from Florence, to M.A. in Rome, August 5, 1532. This then +is probably the date of the composition. + +XXXIV. The metaphor of fire, flint, and mortar breaks down in the last +line, where M.A. forgets that gold cannot strike a spark from stone. + +XXXV. Line 9 has the word _Signor_. It is almost certain that where +M.A. uses this word without further qualification in a love sonnet, he +means his mistress. I have sometimes translated it 'heart's lord' or +'loved lord,' because I did not wish to merge the quaintness of this +ancient Tuscan usage in the more commonplace 'lady.' + +XXXVI. Line 3: _the lord, etc_. This again is the poet's mistress. The +drift of the sonnet is this: his soul can find no expression but +through speech, and speech is too gross to utter the purity of his +feeling. His mistress again receives his tongue's message with her +ears; and thus there is an element of sensuality, false and alien to +his intention, both in his complaint and in her acceptation of it. The +last line is a version of the proverb: _chi è avvezzo a dir bugie, non +crede a nessuno_. + +XXXVII. At the foot of the sonnet is written _Mandato_. The two last +lines play on the words _signor_ and _signoria_. To whom it was sent we +do not know for certain; but we may conjecture Vittoria Colonna. + +XXXIX. The paper on which this sonnet is written has a memorandum with +the date January 6, 1529. 'On my return from Venice, I, Michelagniolo +Buonarroti, found in the house about five loads of straw,' etc. It +belongs therefore to the period of the siege of Florence, when M.A., as +is well known, fled for a short space to Venice. In line 12, I have +translated _il mie signiore, my lady_. + +XL. No sonnet in the whole collection seems to have cost M.A. so much +trouble as this. Besides the two completed versions, which I have +rendered, there are several scores of rejected or various readings for +single lines in the MSS. The Platonic doctrine of Anamnesis probably +supplies the key to the thought which the poet attempted to work out. + +XLI., XLII., XLIII., XLIV. There is nothing to prove that these four +sonnets on Night were composed in sequence. On the contrary, the +personal tone of XLI. seems to separate this from the other three. +XLIV. may be accepted as a palinode for XLIII. + +XLV., XLVI. Both sonnets deal half humorously with a thought very +prominent in M.A.'s compositions--the effect of love on one who is old +in years. Cp. XLVIII., L. + +XLVII. The Platonic conception that the pure form of Beauty or of +Truth, if seen, would be overwhelming in its brilliancy. + +XLIX. The _dolcie pianto_ and _eterna pace_ are the tears and peace of +piety. The _doloroso riso_ and _corta pace_ are the smiles and +happiness of earthly love. + +LII. Here is another version of this very beautiful sonnet. + + + No mortal thing enthralled these longing eyes + When perfect peace in thy fair face I found; + But far within, where all is holy ground, + My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies: + For she was born with God in Paradise; + Nor all the shows of beauty shed around + This fair false world her wings to earth have bound; + Unto the Love of Loves aloft she flies. + Nay, things that suffer death, quench not the fire + Of deathless spirits; nor eternity + Serves sordid Time, that withers all things rare. + Not love but lawless impulse is desire: + That slays the soul; our love makes still more fair + Our friends on earth, fairer in death on high. + + +LIII. This is the doctrine of the Symposium; the scorn of merely sexual +love is also Platonic. + +LIV. Another sonnet on the theme of the Uranian as distinguished from +the Vulgar love. See below, LVL., for a parallel to the second terzet. + +LV. The date maybe 1532. The play on words in the first quatrain and +the first terzet is Shakespearian. + +LIX. Two notes, appended to the two autographs of this sonnet, show +that M.A. regarded it as a _jeu d'esprit, 'Per carnovale par lecito far +qualche pazzia a chi non va in maschera.' 'Questo non è fuoco da +carnovale, però vel mando di quaresima; e a voi mi rachomando. Vostro +Michelagniolo.'_ + +LXL. Date 1547. No sonnet presents more difficulties than this, in +which M.A. has availed himself of a passage in the _Cratylus_ of +Plato. The divine hammer spoken of in the second couplet is the ideal +pattern after which the souls of men are fashioned; and this in the +first terzet seems to be identified with Vittoria Colonna. In the +second terzet he regards his own soul as imperfect, lacking the final +touches which it might have received from hers. See XIV. for a +somewhat similar conceit. + +LXIV. The image is that of a glowing wood coal smouldering away to +embers amid its own ashes. + +LXV. Date 1554. Addressed _A messer Giorgio Vasari, amico e pittor +singulare_, with this letter: _Messer Giorgio, amico caro, voi direte +ben ch' io sie vecchio e pazzo a voler far sonetti; ma perchè molti +dicono ch' io son rimbambito, ho voluto far l'uficio mio, ec. A dì 19 +di settembre 1554. Vostro Michelagniolo Buonarroti in Roma_. + +LXVL, LXVII. These two sonnets were sent to Giorgio Vasari in 1555(?) +with this letter: _Messer Giorgio, io vi mando dua sonetti; e benchè +sieno cosa sciocca, il fo perchè veggiate dove io tengo i mie' +pensieri: e quando arete ottantuno anni, come ò io, mi crederete. +Pregovi gli diate a messer Giovan Francesco Fattucci, che me ne à +chiesti. Vostro Michelagniolo Buonarroti in Roma_. The first was also +sent to Monsignor Beccadelli, Archbishop of Ragusa, who replied to it. +For his sonnet, see Signor Guasti's edition, p. 233. + +LXVIII. Date 1556. Written in reply to his friend's invitation that he +should pay him a visit at Ragusa. Line 10: this Urbino was M.A.'s old +and faithful servant, Francesco d'Amadore di Casteldurante, who lived +with him twenty-six years, and died at Rome in 1556. + +LXIX.-LXXVII. The dates of this series of penitential sonnets are not +known. It is clear that they were written in old age. It will be +remembered that the latest piece of marble on which Michael Angelo +worked, was the unfinished Pietà now standing behind the choir of the +Duomo at Florence. Many of his latest drawings are designs for a +Crucifixion. + + + + + +NOTES ON CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS. + + +I. Line 1: the Italian words which I have translated _God's Wisdom_ and +_Philosophy_ are _Senno_ and _Sofia_. Campanella held that the divine +_Senno_ penetrated the whole universe, and, meeting with created +_Sofia_, gave birth to Science. This sonnet is therefore a sort of +Mythopoem, figuring the process whereby true knowledge, as +distinguished from sophistry, is derived by the human reason +interrogating God in Nature and within the soul. Line 5: Sofia has for +her husband Senno; the human intellect is married to the divine. Line +9: it was the doctrine of Campanella and the school to which he +belonged, that no advance in knowledge could be made except by the +direct exploration of the universe, and that the authority of +schoolmen, Aristotelians, and the like, must be broken down before a +step could be made in the right direction. This germ of modern science +is sufficiently familiar to us in the exposition of Bacon. Line 12: +repeats the same idea. Facts presented by Nature are of more value than +any _Ipse dixit_. Line 14: he compares himself not without reason to +Prometheus; for twenty-five years spent in prison were his reward for +the revelation which has added a new sphere to human thought. + +II. The bitter words of this sonnet will not seem unmerited to those +who have studied Italian poetry in the Cinque Cento--the refined +playthings of verse, the romances, and the burlesque nonsense, which +amused a corrupt though highly cultivated age. + +III. Campanella held the doctrine of an Anima Mundi in the fullest and +deepest sense of the term. The larger and more complex the organism, +the more it held, in his opinion, of thought and sentient life. Thus +the stars, in the language of Aristotle, are [Greek: thiotera aemon]. +Compare Sonnets VIII., XIX. + +IV. Though the material seat of the mind is so insignificant, the mind +itself is infinite, analogous to God in its capacity. Aristarchus and +Metrodorus symbolise, perhaps, the spheres of literature and +mathematics. This infinitude of the intellect is our real proof of God, +our inner witness of the Deity. We may arrive at God by reasoning; we +may trust authority; but it is only by impregnating our minds with God +in Nature that we come into immediate contact with Him. Cp. Sonnet VI., +last line. + +V. The theme of this sonnet is the well-known Baconian principle of the +interrogation of Nature. The true philosopher must go straight to the +universe, and not confine himself to books. Cp. Sonnets I., LV., LVI. + +VI. A further development of the same thought. Tyrants, hypocrites, +sophists are the three plagues of humanity, standing between our +intellect and God, who is the source of freedom, goodness, and true +wisdom. In the last line Campanella expresses his opinion that God is +knowable by an immediate act of perception analogous to the sense of +taste: _Se tutti al Senno non rendiamo il gusto_. Compare Sonnet IV., +last line. + +VII. Ignorance is the parent of tyranny, sophistry, hypocrisy; and the +arms against this trinity of error are power, wisdom, love, the three +main attributes of God. + +VIII. Human egotism inclines men to deny the spiritual life of the +universe, to favour their own nation, to love their individual selves +exclusively, to eliminate the true God from the world, to worship false +gods fashioned from them selves, and at last to fancy themselves +central and creative in the Cosmos. Adami calls this sonnet +_scoprimento stupendo_. + +IX. The quatrains set forth the condition of the soul besotted with +self love. We may see in this picture a critique of Machiavelli's +_Principe_, which was for Campanella the very ideal portrait of a +tyrant. The love of God, rightly understood, places man _en rapport_ +with all created things. S. Francis, for example, loved not only his +fellow men, but recognised the brotherhood of birds and fishes. + +X. Ignorance, the source of all our miseries, blinds us to celestial +beauty and makes us follow carnal lust. Yet what is best in sexual love +is the radiance of heavenly beauty shining through the form of flesh. +This sonnet receives abundant illustration in Michael Angelo's poems. + +XI, XII. Two sonnets on the condition of the philosopher in a world +that understands him not. The first expresses that sense of inborn +royalty which sustained Campanella through his long martyrdom. The +second expands the picture drawn of the philosopher in Plato's +_Republic_ after his return to the cave from the region of truth. + +XIII. Campanella frequently expressed his theological fatalism by this +metaphor of a comedy. God wrote the drama which men have to play. In +this life we cannot understand our parts. We act what is appointed for +us, and it is only when the comedy is finished, that we shall see how +good and evil, happiness and misery, were all needed by the great life +of the universe. The following stanza from one of his Canzoni may be +cited in illustration: + + + War, ignorance, fraud, tyranny, + Death, homicide, abortion, woe-- + These to the world are fair, as we + Reckon the chase or gladiatorial show + To pile our hearth we fell the tree, + Kill bird or beast our strength to stay, + The vines, the hives our wants obey-- + Like spiders spreading nets, we take and slay + As tragedy gives men delight, + So the exchange of death and strife + Still yields a pleasure infinite + To the great world's triumphant life + Nay seeming ugliness and pain + Avert returning Chaos' reign-- + Thus the whole world's a comedy, + And they who by philosophy + Unite themselves to God, will see + In ugliness and evil nought + But beauteous masks--oh, mirthful thought! + +XIV. The same theme is continued with a further development. Men among +themselves play their own comedy, but do not rightly assign the parts. +They make kings of slavish souls, and elevate the impious to the rank +of saints. They ignore their true and natural leaders, and stone the +real prophets. + +XV. Between the false kings of men, who owe their thrones to accident, +and the really royal, who by chance of birth or station are a prey to +tyrants, there is everlasting war. Yet the spirit of the martyrs +survives, and long after their death they rule. + +XVI. True kinghood is independent of royal birth or power or ensigns. +High moral and intellectual qualities make the natural kings of men, +and these are so rarely found in sceptred families that a republic is +the safest form of government. See Sonnets XXXI., XXXVII. + +XVII. As men mistake their kings, so they mistake the saints. The true +spirit of Christ is ignored, and if Christ were to return to earth, +they would persecute him, even as they persecute those who follow him +most closely in their lives and doctrines. + +XVIII. Christ symbolises and includes all saintly truth-seeking souls. +Compare the three last lines of this sonnet with the three last lines +of No. XV. and No. XX. + +XIX., XX., XXI. Expanding the same themes, Campanella contrasts the +ignorance of self-love with the divine illumination of the true +philosopher, and insists that, in spite of persecution and martyrdom, +saintly and truth-seeking souls will triumph. + +XXII. Resumes the thought of No. X. If only the soul of man, infinite +in its capacity, could be enamoured of God, it would at once work +miracles and attain to Deity. + +XXIII. A bitter satire on love in the seventeenth century. Lines 9-11: +as Adami sometimes says, _qui legit intelligat_. Line 12: _la squilla +mia_ is a pun on Campanella's name. He means that he has shown the +world a more excellent way of love. Cp. No. XXII. + +XXIV. The essence of nobility is subjected to the same critique as +kinghood in No. XVI. Line 11: the Turk is Europe's foe. Campanella +praises the Turks because they had no hereditary nobility, and +conferred honours on men according to their actions. + +XXV. That this sonnet should have been written by a Dominican monk in a +Neapolitan prison in the first half of the seventeenth century, is +truly note-worthy. It expresses the essence of democracy in a critique +of the then existing social order. + +XXVI. A very obscure piece of writing. The first quatrain lays down the +principle that ill-doing brings its own inevitable punishment. The +second distinguishes between the unblessed suffering which plagues the +soul, and that which we welcome as a process of purgation. The first +terzet makes heaven and hell respectively consist of a clean and a +burdened conscience. The second, referring to a legend of S. Peter's +controversy with Simon Magus, finds a proof of immortality in this +condition of conscience. + +XXVII. A bold and perilous image of the Machiavellian Prince, who +drains the commonwealth for his own selfish pleasures. The play upon +the words _mentola_ and _mente_ in the first line is hardly capable of +reproduction. + +XXVIII. Adami says in a note: _Questo sonetto è fatto perchè +l'intendano pochi; nè io voglio dichiararlo_. Under these circumstances +it is dangerous to attempt an explanation. Yet something may be +hazarded. Line 1: the lady is Italy. Line 3: the stranger races are +Rome's vassals. Line 7: Dinah is again Italy(?). Line 8: Simeon and +Levi are the Princes of Italy and the Papacy. Line 9: Jerusalem +probably stands for Rome. Line 10: Nazareth is the Gospel of Christ, +and Athens is philosophy. Here again Adami warns us: _qui legit +intelligat_. Line 13: a critique of the ruinous policy of calling +strangers in to interfere in Italian affairs. + +XXIX. Line 2: Attila is meant. The Venetian Lagoons were the refuge of +the last and best Italians of the Roman age, when the incursions of the +barbarians destroyed the classical civility. Line 12: alludes to the +fixity of the Venetian Constitution and the deliberate caution of +Venetian policy. + +XXX. The quatrains describe the old power of Genoa, who conquered Pisa, +abased Venice, planted colonies in the East, and discovered America. +Line 10: throws the blame of Genoese decrepitude upon the nobles. + +XXXI. Campanella praises the Poles for their elective monarchy, but +blames them for choosing the scions of royal houses, instead of seeking +out the real kings of men, such as he described in No. XVI. + +XXXII. A similar criticism of the Swiss, who played so important and +yet so contemptible a part in the Italian wars of the sixteenth +century. With the terzets compare No. XXV. Line 11: stands thus in the +original--_La croce bianca e'l prato si contende_. + +XXXIII. A clever adaptation of the parable of the Samaritan, conceived +and executed in the spirit of a modern poet like A.H. Clough. + +XXXIV. Line 4: the hypocritical priest makes profit by preaching for +holiness what is really hurtful to the soul. Lines 5-11 contrast the +acknowledged sinners with the covert and crafty pretenders to virtue. +Line 8: I have ventured to correct the punctuation. D'Ancona reads: + + _E poco è il male in cui poco è l'inganno. Ti puoi guardar:_ + +but I am not sure that I am justified in the sense I put upon the verb +_guardarsi._ + +XXXV. A similar arraignment of impostors, comparing perfidious priests +with the foulest literary scoundrel of the age, Pietro Aretino. The +first terzet in the original is obscure. + +XXXVI. I do not understand the allusion in the last line. The whole +sonnet is directed against hypocritical priests. + +XXXVII., XXXVIII., XXXIX. A commentary on the first clauses of the +Lord's Prayer. Campanella tells the Italians they have no right to call +themselves men, the children of God in heaven, while they bow to +tyrants worse than beasts, and believe the lying priests who call that +adulation loyalty. If they free their souls from this vile servitude, +they may then pray with hopeful heart for the coming upon earth of +God's kingdom, which shall satisfy poets, philosophers, and prophets +with more than they had dreamed. It will be noticed that the rhymes are +carried from sonnet to sonnet; so that the three form one poem, +described by Adami as _sonetto trigemino_. In XXXVII., 13, I have +corrected _cenno_ into _senno_. In XXXIX., 1, I have ventured to render +_con ogni istanza_ by _with every hour that flies_, though _istanza_ is +not _istante_. + +XL., XLL, XLII. These three sonnets, though not linked by rhymes, form +a series, predicting the speedy overthrow of tyrants, sophists, +hypocrites--Campanella's natural enemies--and the coming of a better +age for human society. They were probably written early, when his heart +was still hot with the hopes of a new reign of right and reason, which +even he might help to inaugurate. The eagle, bear, lion, crow, fox, +wolf, etc., are the evil principalities and powers of earth. No. XL., +line 9: the giants are, I think, those lawless, selfish, anti-social +forces idealised by Machiavelli in his _Principe_, as Campanella read +that treatise--the strong men and mighty ones of an impious and godless +world. No. XLL, line 4: concerning _Taida, Sinon, Giuda, ed Omero_, +Adami says: 'These are the four evangelists of the dark age of +Abaddon.' Thais is a symbol of lechery; Sinon of fraud; Judas of +treason; Homer of lying fiction. So at least I read the allegory. No. +XLII., lines 9-14 are noticeable, since they set forth Campanella's +philosophical or evangelical communism, for a detailed exposition of +which see the _Civitas Solis_. + +XLIII. Invited to write a comedy--and it will be here remembered that +Giordano Bruno had composed _Il Candelaio_--Campanella replied with +this impassioned outburst of belief in the approaching end of the +world. It belongs probably to his early manhood. + +XLIV., XLV. Adami heads these two sonnets with this title: _Sopra i +colori delle vesti_. It is a fact that under the Spanish tyranny black +clothes were almost universally adopted by the Italians, as may be seen +in the picture galleries of Florence and Genoa. Campanella uses this +fashion as a symbol of the internal gloom and melancholy in which the +nation was sunk by vice upon the eve of the new age he confidently +looked for. + +XLVI. The year 1603, made up of centuries _seven_ and _nine_ and years +_three_, was expected by the astrologers to bring a great mutation in +the order of our planet. The celestial signs were supposed to reassume +the position they had occupied at Christ's nativity. Campanella, who +believed in astrology, looked forward with intense anxiety to this +turning-point in modern history. It is clear from the termination of +the sonnet that he wrote it some time before the great date; and we are +hence perhaps justified in referring the rest of his prophetic poetry +to the same early period of his career. + +XLVII. _Qui legit intelligat_, says Adami. Line 7: refers to the +outlying vassals of the Roman Empire, who destroyed it, ruled Rome, and +afterwards fell under the yoke of the Roman See. Lines 9-14 are an +invective against the Papacy. + +XLVIII. A sonnet on his own prison. The prison or worse was the doom of +all truth-seekers in Campanella's age. + +XLIX. For the understanding of this strange composition Adami offers +nothing more satisfactory than _mira quante contraposizioni sono in +questo sonetto_. The contrast is maintained throughout between the +philosopher in the freedom of his spirit and the same man in the +limitations of his prisoned life. Line 12 I do not rightly understand. +Line 14 refers to Paradise. + +L. There is an allusion in this sonnet to an obscure passage in +Campanella's life. It seems he was condemned to the galleys (see line +12); and this sentence was remitted on account of his real or feigned +madness. We should infer from the poem itself that his madness was +simulated; but Adami, who ought to have known the facts from his own +lips, writes: _quando bruciò il letto, e divenne pazzo o vero o finto_. +Line 12: I have translated _l'astratto_ by _the mystic_; _astratto_ is +_assorto_, or _lost in ecstatic contemplation_. + +LI. To this incomprehensible string of proverbs Adami adds, ironically +perhaps: _questo è assai noto ed arguto e vero_. It is an answer to +certain friends, officers and barons, who accused him of not being able +to manage his affairs. He answers that they might as well bring the +same accusation against Christ and all the sages. Line 3: I have +ventured to read _è_ for _e_ as the only chance of getting a meaning. +Line 8: seems to mean that he would not accept life and freedom at the +price of concealing his opinions. + +LII. The same theme is rehandled. Lines 1-4: Campanella argued that a +man's mental life extends over all that he grasps of the world's +history. Line 5: the Italian for _mite_ is _marmeggio_, which means, I +think, a cheese-worm. The eclipse of Campanella's sun is his +imprisonment. Lines 7 and 8 I do not well understand in the Italian. +Line 11: 'Ye build the tombs of the prophets and garnish the sepulchres +of the righteous,' Lines 12-14: saints and sages are made perfect by +suffering. + +LIII. A singular argument concerning prayer. Campanella says it is +impious to hope to change the order and facts of the world, arranged by +God, except in the single category of time. He therefore thinks it +lawful for him to ask, and for God to grant, a shortening of the season +of his suffering. See the Canzone translated by me, forming Appendix I. + +LIV. Another sonnet referring to his life in prison. He asks God how he +can prosper if his friends all fail him for various reasons. Lines 9-11 +refer to the visit of a foe in disguise who came to him in prison and +promised him liberty, probably with a view to extracting from him +admissions of state-treason or of heresy. See the Canzone translated in +Appendix I. The last three lines seem to express his unalterable +courage, and his readiness to act if only God will give him trustworthy +instruments and fill him with His own spirit. The Dantesque language of +the last line is almost incapable of reproduction: + + Ch' io m' intuassi come tu t' immii. + +LV. Campanella tells his friend that such trivial things as pastoral +poems will not immortalise him. He bids him seek, not outside in worn +out fictions, but within his own soul, for the spirit of true beauty, +turn to God for praise, instead of to a human audience, and go with the +_tabula rasa_ of childlike intelligence into God's school of Nature. +Compare Nos I., V. + +LVI. Campanella recognised in Telesio the founder of the new +philosophy, which discarded the ancients and the schoolmen. Line 3: the +tyrant is Aristotle. Lines 5 and 6: Bombino and Montano are the poets. +Lines 7-9: Cavalcante and Gaieta were disciples of the Cosentine +Academy founded by Telesio. Line 9: our saint, _la gran donna_, is the +new philosophy. Line 12: my tocsin, _mia squilla_, is a pun on +Campanella's name. + +LVII. Rudolph von Bunau set himself at the age of sixteen to +philosophise, travelled with Adami, and with him visited Campanella in +prison at Naples. Campanella cast his horoscope and predicted for him a +splendid career, exhorting him to make war upon the pernicious school +of philosophers, who encumbered the human reason with frauds and +figments, and prevented the free growth of a better method. + +LVIII. Adami, to whom we owe the first edition of these sonnets, +visited Campanella in the Castle of S. Elmo, having wandered through +many lands, like Diogenes, in search of a man. Line 5: this, says +Adami, 'refers to a dream or vision of a sword, great and marvellous, +with three triple joints, and arms, and other things, discovered by +Tobia Adami, which the author interpreted by his primalities'--that is, +I suppose, by the trinity of power, love, wisdom, mentioned in No. VII. +Line 6: Abaddon is the opposite of Christ, the lord of the evil of the +age. Cp. note to No. XLI. + +LIX. This is in some respects the most sublime and most pathetic of +Campanella's sonnets. He is the Prometheus (see last line of No. I.) +who will not slay himself, because he cannot help men by his death, and +because his belief in the permanency of sense and thought makes him +fear lest he should carry his sufferings into another life. God's will +with regard to him is hidden. He does not even know what sort of life +he lived before he came into his present form of flesh. Philip, King of +Spain, has increased the discomforts of his dungeon, but Philip can do +nothing which God has not decreed, and God never by any possibility can +err. + +LX. Arguments from design make us infer an all wise, all good Maker of +the world. The misery and violence and sin of animate beings make us +infer an evil and ignorant Ruler of the world. But this discord between +the Maker and Ruler of the world is only apparent, and the grounds of +the contradiction will in due time be revealed. See No. XIII. and note. + + + + + +APPENDIX I + + +I have translated one Canzone out of Campanella's collection, partly as +a specimen of his style in this kind of composition, partly because it +illustrates his personal history and throws light on many of the +sonnets. It is the first of three prayers to God from his prison, +entitled by Adami _Orazioni tre in Salmodia Metafisicale congiunte +insieme_. + + +I. + + Almighty God! what though the laws of Fate + Invincible, and this long misery, + Proving my prayers not merely spent in vain + But heard and granted crosswise, banish me + Far from Thy sight,--still humbly obstinate + I turn to Thee. No other hopes remain. + Were there another God with vows to gain, + To Him for succour I would surely go: + Nor could I be called impious, if I turned + In this great agony from one who spurned, + To one who bade me come and cured my woe. + Nay, Lord! I babble vainly. Help! I cry, + Before the temple where Thy reason burned, + Become a mosque of imbecility! + + +II. + + Well know I that there are no words which can + Move Thee to favour him for whom Thy grace + Was not reserved from all eternity. + Repentance in Thy counsel finds no place: + Nor can the eloquence of mortal man + Bend Thee to mercy, when Thy sure decree + Hath stablished that this frame of mine should be + Rent by these pangs that flesh and spirit tire. + Nay if the whole world knows my martyrdom-- + Heaven, earth, and all that in them have their home-- + Why tell the tale to Thee, their Lord and Sire? + And if all change is death or some such state, + Thou deathless God, to whom for help I come, + How shall I make Thee change, to change my fate? + + +III. + + Nathless for grace I once more sue to Thee, + Spurred on by anguish sore and deep distress:-- + Yet have I neither art nor voice to plead + Before Thy judgment-seat of righteousness. + It is not faith, it is not charity, + Nor hope that fails me in my hour of need; + And if, as some men teach, the soul is freed + From sin and quickened to deserve Thy grace + By torments suffered on this earth below, + The Alps have neither ice, I ween, nor snow + To match my purity before Thy face! + For prisons fifty, tortures seven, twelve years + Of want and injury and woe-- + These have I borne, and still I stand ringed round with fears. + + +IV. + + We lay all wrapped with darkness: for some slept + The sleep of ignorance, and players played + Music to sweeten that vile sleep for gold: + While others waked, and hands of rapine laid + On honours, wealth, and blood; or sexless crept + Into the place of harlots, basely bold.-- + I lit a light:--like swarming bees, behold! + Stripped of their sheltering gloom, on me + Sleepers and wakers rush to wreak their spite: + Their wounds, their brutal joys disturbed by light, + Their broken bestial sleep fill them with jealousy.-- + Thus with the wolves the silly sheep agreed + Against the valiant dogs to fight; + Then fell the prey of their false friends' insatiate greed. + + +V. + + Help, mighty Shepherd! Save Thy lamp, Thy hound, + From wolves that ravin and from thieves that prey! + Make known the whole truth to the witless crowd! + For if my light, my voice, are cast away-- + If sinfulness in these Thy gifts be found-- + The sun that rules in heaven is disallowed. + Thou knowest without wings I cannot fly: + Give me the wings of grace to speed my flight! + Mine eyes are always turned to greet Thy light: + Is it my crime if still it pass me by? + Thou didst free Bocca and Gilardo; these, + Worthless, are made the angels of Thy might.-- + Hast Thou lost counsel? Shall Thine empire cease? + + +VI. + + With Thee I speak: Lord, thou dost understand! + Nor mind I how mad tongues my life reprove. + Full well I know the world is 'neath Thine eye. + And to each part thereof belongs Thy love: + But for the general welfare wisely planned + The parts must suffer change;--they do not die, + For nature ebbs and flows eternally;-- + But to such change we give the name of Death + Or Evil, whensoe'er we feel the strife + Which for the universe is joy and life, + Though for each part it seems mere lack of breath.-- + So in my body every part I see + With lives and deaths alternate rife, + All tending to its vital unity. + + +VII. + + Thus then the Universe grieves not, and I + Mid woes innumerable languish still + To cheer the whole and every happier part.-- + Yet, if each part is suffered by Thy will + To call for aid--as Thou art God most High, + Who to all beings wilt Thy strength impart; + Who smoothest every change by secret art, + With fond care tempering the force of fate, + Necessity and concord, power and thought, + And love divine through all things subtly wrought-- + I am persuaded, when I iterate + My prayers to Thee, some comfort I must find + For these pangs poison-fraught, + Or leave the sweet sharp lust of life behind. + + +VIII. + + The Universe hath nought that changes not, + Nor in its change feels not the pangs of pain, + Nor prays not unto God to ease that woe. + Mid these are many who the grace obtain + Of aid from Thee:--thus Thou didst rule their lot: + And many who without Thy help must go. + How shall I tell toward whom Thy favours flow, + Seeing I sat not at Thy council-board? + One argument at least doth hearten me + To hope those prayers may not unanswered be, + Which reason and pure thoughts to me afford: + Since often, if not always, Thou dost will + In Thy deep wisdom, Lord, + Best laboured soil with fairest fruits to fill. + + +IX. + + The tilth of this my field by plough and hoe + Yields me good hope--but more the fostering sun + Of Sense divine that quickens me within, + Whose rays those many minor stars outshone-- + That it is destined in high heaven to show + Mercy, and grant my prayer; so I may win + The end Thy gifts betoken, enter in + The realm reserved for me from earliest time. + Christ prayed but 'If it may be,' knowing well + He might not shun that cup so terrible: + His angel answered, that the law sublime + Ordained his death. I prayed not thus, and mine-- + Was mine then sent from Hell?-- + Made answer diverse from that voice divine. + + +X. + + Go song, go tell my Lord--'Lo! he who lies + Tortured in chains within a pit for Thee, + Cries, how can flight be free + Wingless?--Send Thy word down, or Thou + Show that fate's wheel turns not iniquity, + And that in heaven there is no lip that lies.'-- + Yet, song, too boldly flies + Thy shaft; stay yet for this that follows now! + + + +APPENDIX II. + + +The 'Rivista Europea' of June 1875 publishes an article by Signor V. de +Tivoli concerning an inedited sonnet of Michael Angelo, which he +deciphered from the Autograph, written upon the back of one of the +original drawings in the Taylor Gallery at Oxford. This drawing formed +part of the Ottley and Lawrence Collection. It represents horses in +various attitudes, together with a skirmish between a mounted soldier +and a group of men on foot. Signor de Tivoli not only prints the text +with all its orthographical confusions, abbreviations, and alterations; +but he also adds what he modestly terms a restoration of the sonnet. Of +this restoration I have made the subjoined version in rhyme, though I +frankly admit that the difficulties of the text, as given in the rough +by Signor de Tivoli, seem to me insuperable, and that his readings, +though ingenious, cannot in my opinion be accepted as absolutely +certain. He himself describes the MS. as a palimpsest, deliberately +defaced by Michael Angelo, from which the words originally written have +to be recovered in many cases by a process of conjecture. That the +style of the restoration is thoroughly Michael Angelesque, will be +admitted by all students of Signor Guasti's edition. The only word I +felt inclined to question, is _donne_ in line 13, where I should have +expected _donna_. But I am informed that about this word there is no +doubt. The sonnet itself ranks among the less interesting and the least +finished compositions of the poet's old age. + + + Thrice blest was I what time thy piercing dart + I could withstand and conquer in days past: + But now my breast with grief is overcast; + Against my will I weep, and suffer smart. + And if those shafts, aimed with so fierce an art, + The mark of my frail bosom over-passed, + Now canst thou take revenge with blows at last + From those fair eyes which must consume my heart. + O Love, how many a net, how many a snare + Shuns through long years the bird by fate malign, + Only at last to die more piteously! + Thus love hath let me run as free as air, + Ladies, through many a year, to make me pine + In sad old age, and a worse death to die. + + + + +APPENDIX III. + + +The following translations of a madrigal, a quatrain, and a stanza by +Michael Angelo, may be worth insertion here for the additional light +they throw upon some of the preceding sonnets--especially upon Sonnets +I. and II. and Sonnets LXV.-LXXVII. In my version of the stanza I have +followed Michelangelo the younger's readings. + + +_DIALOGUE OF FLORENCE AND HER EXILES._ + +_Per molti, donna._ + + + 'Lady, for joy of lovers numberless + Thou wast created fair as angels are. + Sure God hath fallen asleep in heaven afar, + When one man calls the bliss of many his! + Give back to streaming eyes + The daylight of thy face that seems to shun + Those who must live defrauded of their bliss!' + 'Vex not your pure desire with tears and sighs: + For he who robs you of my light, hath none. + Dwelling in fear, sin hath no happiness; + Since amid those who love, their joy is less, + Whose great desire great plenty still curtails, + Than theirs who, poor, have hope that never fails.' + + +_THE SPEECH OF NIGHT._ + +_Caro m' è'l sonno._ + + Sweet is my sleep, but more to be mere stone, + So long as ruin and dishonour reign; + To bear nought, to feel nought, is my great gain; + Then wake me not, speak in an undertone! + + +LAMENT FOR LIFE WASTED. + +_Ohimè, ohimè_! + + + Ah me! Ah me! whene'er I think + Of my past years, I find that none + Among those many years, alas, was mine; + False hopes and longings vain have made me pine, + With tears, sighs, passions, fires, upon life's brink. + Of mortal loves I have known every one. + Full well I feel it now; lost and undone, + From truth and goodness banished far away, + I dwindle day by day. + Longer the shade, more short the sunbeams grow; + While I am near to falling, faint and low. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets +by Michael Angelo Buonarroti & Tommaso Campanella + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10314 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef8d14e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #10314 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10314) diff --git a/old/10314-8.txt b/old/10314-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eb26694 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10314-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5750 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets +by Michael Angelo Buonarroti & Tommaso Campanella + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sonnets + +Author: Michael Angelo Buonarroti & Tommaso Campanella + +Release Date: November 26, 2003 [EBook #10314] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Carol David, Tom Allen and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE SONNETS + +OF + +MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI + +AND + +TOMMASO CAMPANELLA + + +NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME TRANSLATED INTO RHYMED ENGLISH + + +BY + +JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS + + +AUTHOR OF 'RENAISSANCE IN ITALY' 'STUDIES OF THE GREEK POETS' 'SKETCHES +IN ITALY AND GREECE' 'INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF DANTE' + + + +[Greek: Chruseon chalkeia] + + + +1878 + + + +_TO + +S.F.A._ + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + + +After some deliberation, and at the risk of offending the sensibility +of scholars, I have adopted the old English spelling of Michael +Angelo's name, feeling that no orthographical accuracy can outweigh the +associations implied in that familiar title. Michael Angelo has a place +among the highest with Homer and Titian, with Virgil and Petrarch, with +Raphael and Paul; nor do I imagine that any alteration for the better +would be effected by substituting for these time-honoured names Homêros +and Tiziano, Vergilius and Petrarca, Raffaello and Paulus. + +I wish here to express my heartiest thanks to Signore Pasquale Villari +for valuable assistance kindly rendered in the interpretation of some +difficult passages of Campanella, and to Signore V. de Tivoli for +calling my attention to the sonnet of Michael Angelo deciphered by him +on the back of a drawing in the Taylor Gallery at Oxford. + +Portions both of the Introduction and the Translations forming this +volume, have already appeared in the 'Contemporary Review' and the +'Cornhill Magazine.' + +DAVOS PLATZ: + +_Dec. 1877._ + + + +CONTENTS. + + +INTRODUCTION + +PROEM + +MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS + +CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS + +NOTES TO MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS + +NOTES TO CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS + +APPENDICES + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +I. + +It is with diffidence that I offer a translation of Michael Angelo's +sonnets, for the first time completely rendered into English rhyme, and +that I venture on a version of Campanella's philosophical poems. My +excuse, if I can plead any for so bold an attempt, may be found in +this--that, so far as I am aware, no other English writer has dealt +with Michael Angelo's verses since the publication of his autograph; +while Campanella's sonnets have hitherto been almost utterly unknown. + +Something must be said to justify the issue of poems so dissimilar in a +single volume. Michael Angelo and Campanella represent widely sundered, +though almost contemporaneous, moments in the evolution of the Italian +genius. Michael Angelo was essentially an artist, living in the prime +of the Renaissance. Campanella was a philosopher, born when the +Counter-Reformation was doing all it could to blight the free thought +of the sixteenth century; and when the modern spirit of exact enquiry, +in a few philosophical martyrs, was opening a new stage for European +science. The one devoted all his mental energies to the realisation of +beauty: the other strove to ascertain truth. The one clung to Ficino's +dream of Platonising Christianity: the other constructed for himself a +new theology, founded on the conception of God immanent in nature. +Michael Angelo expressed the aspirations of a solitary life dedicated +to the service of art, at a time when art received the suffrage and the +admiration of all Italy. Campanella gave utterance to a spirit, exiled +and isolated, misunderstood by those with whom he lived, at a moment +when philosophy was hunted down as heresy and imprisoned as treason to +the public weal. + +The marks of this difference in the external and internal circumstances +of the two poets might be multiplied indefinitely. Yet they had much in +common. Both stood above their age, and in a sense aloof from it. Both +approached poetry in the spirit of thinkers bent upon extricating +themselves from the trivialities of contemporary literature. The +sonnets of both alike are contributions to philosophical poetry in an +age when the Italians had lost their ancient manliness and energy. Both +were united by the ties of study and affection to the greatest singer +of their nation, Dante, at a time when Petrarch, thrice diluted and +emasculated, was the Phoebus of academies and coteries. + +This common antagonism to the degenerate genius of Italian literature +is the link which binds Michael Angelo, the veteran giant of the +Renaissance, to Campanella, the audacious Titan of the modern age. + + +II. + +My translation of Michael Angelo's sonnets has been made from Signor +Cesare Guasti's edition of the autograph, first given to the world in +1863.[1] This masterpiece of laborious and minute scholarship is based +upon a collation of the various manuscripts preserved in the Casa +Buonarroti at Florence with the Vatican and other Codices. It adheres +to the original orthography of Michael Angelo, and omits no fragment of +his indubitable compositions.[2] Signor Guasti prefaces the text he has +so carefully prepared, with a discourse upon the poetry of Michael +Angelo and a description of the manuscripts. To the poems themselves he +adds a prose paraphrase, and prints upon the same page with each +composition the version published by Michelangelo Buonarroti in +1623.[3] + +Before the publication of this volume, all studies of Michael Angelo's +poetry, all translations made of it, and all hypotheses deduced from +the sculptor's verse in explanation of his theory or his practice as an +artist, were based upon the edition of 1623. It will not be superfluous +to describe what that edition was, and how its text differed from that +now given to the light, in order that the relation of my own English +version to those which have preceded it may be rightly understood.[4] + +Michael Angelo seems to have entertained no thought of printing his +poems in his lifetime. He distributed them freely among his friends, of +whom Sebastiano del Piombo, Luigi del Riccio, Donato Giannotti, +Vittoria Colonna, and Tommaso de' Cavalieri were in this respect the +most favoured. In course of time some of these friends, partly by the +gift of the originals, and partly by obtaining copies, formed more or +less complete collections; and it undoubtedly occurred to more than one +to publish them. Ascanio Condivi, at the close of his biography, makes +this announcement: 'I hope ere long to make public some of his sonnets +and madrigals, which I have been long collecting, both from himself and +others who possessed them, with a view to proving to the world the +force of his inventive genius and the beauty of the thoughts produced +by that divine spirit.' Condivi's promise was not fulfilled. With the +exception of two or three pieces printed by Vasari, and the extracts +quoted by Varchi in his 'Lezione,'[5] the poems of Michael Angelo +remained in manuscript for fifty-nine years after his death. The most +voluminous collection formed part of the Buonarroti archives; but a +large quantity preserved by Luigi del Riccio, and from him transferred +to Fulvio Orsini, had passed into the Vatican Library, when +Michelangelo the younger conceived the plan of publishing his +granduncle's poetry. Michelangelo obtained leave to transcribe the +Vatican MSS. with his own hand; and after taking pains to collate all +the autographs and copies in existence, he set himself to compare their +readings, and to form a final text for publication. Here, however, +began what we may call the Tragedy of his Rifacimento. The more he +studied his great ancestor's verses, the less he liked or dared to edit +them unaltered. Some of them expressed thoughts and sentiments +offensive to the Church. In some the Florentine patriot spoke over-boldly. +Others exposed their author to misconstruction on the score of +personal morality.[6] All were ungrammatical, rude in versification, +crabbed and obscure in thought--the rough-hewn blockings-out of poems +rather than finished works of art, as it appeared to the scrupulous, +decorous, elegant, and timorous Academician of a feebler age. While +pondering these difficulties, and comparing the readings of his many +manuscripts, the thought occurred to Michelangelo that, between leaving +the poems unpublished and printing them in all their rugged boldness, +lay the middle course of reducing them to smoothness of diction, +lucidity of meaning, and propriety of sentiment.[7] In other words, he +began, as Signer Guasti pithily describes his method, 'to change halves +of lines, whole verses, ideas: if he found a fragment, he completed it: +if brevity involved the thought in obscurity, he amplified: if the +obscurity seemed incurable, he amputated: for superabundant wealth of +conception he substituted vacuity; smoothed asperities; softened +salient lights.' The result was that a medley of garbled phrases, +additions, alterations, and sophistications was foisted on the world as +the veritable product of the mighty sculptor's genius. That +Michelangelo meant well to his illustrious ancestor is certain. That he +took the greatest pains in executing his ungrateful and disastrous task +is no less clear.[8] But the net result of his meddlesome benevolence +has been that now for two centuries and a half the greatest genius of +the Italian Renaissance has worn the ill-fitting disguise prepared for +him by a literary 'breeches-maker.' In fact, Michael Angelo the poet +suffered no less from his grandnephew than Michael Angelo the fresco +painter from his follower Daniele da Volterra. + +Nearly all Michael Angelo's sonnets express personal feelings, and by +far the greater number of them were composed after his sixtieth year. +To whom they were addressed, we only know in a few instances. Vittoria +Colonna and Tommaso de' Cavalieri, the two most intimate friends of his +old age in Rome, received from him some of the most pathetically +beautiful of his love-poems. But to suppose that either the one or the +other was the object of more than a few well-authenticated sonnets +would be hazardous. Nothing is more clear than that Michael Angelo +worshipped Beauty in the Platonic spirit, passing beyond its personal +and specific manifestations to the universal and impersonal. This +thought is repeated over and over again in his poetry; and if we bear +in mind that he habitually regarded the loveliness of man or woman as a +sign and symbol of eternal and immutable beauty, we shall feel it of +less importance to discover who it was that prompted him to this or +that poetic utterance. That the loves of his youth were not so tranquil +as those of his old age, appears not only from the regrets expressed in +his religious verses, but also from one or two of the rare sonnets +referable to his manhood. + +The love of beauty, the love of Florence, and the love of Christ, are +the three main motives of his poetry. This is not the place to discuss +at length the nature of his philosophy, his patriotism, or his +religion; to enquire how far he retained the early teaching of Ficino +and Savonarola; or to trace the influence of Dante and the Bible on his +mind. I may, however, refer my readers who are interested in these +questions, to the Discourse of Signor Guasti, the learned essay of Mr. +J.E. Taylor, and the refined study of Mr. W.H. Pater. My own views will +be found expressed in the third volume of my 'Renaissance in Italy'; +and where I think it necessary, I shall take occasion to repeat them in +the notes appended to my translation. + + +III. + +Michael Angelo's madrigals and sonnets were eagerly sought for during +his lifetime. They formed the themes of learned academical discourses, +and won for him the poet's crown in death. Upon his tomb the Muse of +Song was carved in company with Sculpture, Architecture, and Painting. +Since the publication of the _rifacimento_ in 1623, his verses have +been used among the _testi di lingua_ by Italians, and have been +studied in the three great languages of Europe. The fate of +Campanella's philosophical poems has been very different. It was owing +to a fortunate chance that they survived their author; and until the +year 1834 they were wholly and entirely unknown in Italy. The history +of their preservation is so curious that I cannot refrain from giving +some account of it, before proceeding to sketch so much of Campanella's +life and doctrine as may be necessary for the understanding of his +sonnets. + +The poems were composed during Campanella's imprisonment at Naples; and +from internal evidence there is good reason to suppose that the greater +part of them were written at intervals in the first fourteen years of +the twenty-five he passed in confinement.[9] In the descriptive +catalogue of his own works, the philosopher mentions seven books of +sonnets and canzoni, which he called 'Le Cantiche.'[10] Whether any of +these would have been printed but for a mere accident is doubtful. A +German gentleman, named Tobia Adami, who is supposed to have been a +Court-Counsellor at Weimar, after travelling through Greece, Syria, and +Palestine, in company with a young friend called Rodolph von Bunau, +visited Campanella in his dungeon. A close intimacy sprang up between +them, and Adami undertook to publish several works of the philosopher +in testimony of his admiration. Among these were 'Le Cantiche.' +Instead, however, of printing the poems _in extenso_, he made a +selection, choosing those apparently which took his fancy, and which, +in his opinion, threw most light on Campanella's philosophical +theories. It is clear that he neglected the author's own arrangement, +since there is no trace of the division into seven books. What +proportion the selection bore to the whole bulk of the MS. seems to me +uncertain, though the latest editor asserts that it formed only a +seventh part.[11] The manuscript itself is lost, and Adami's edition of +the specimens is all that now remains as basis for the text of +Campanella's poems. + +This first edition was badly printed in Germany on very bad paper, +without the name of press or place. Besides the poems, it contained a +brief prose commentary by the editor, the value of which is still very +great, since we have the right to suppose that Adami's explanations +embodied what he had received by word of mouth from Campanella. The +little book bore this title:--'Scelta d' alcune poesie filosofiche di +Settimontano Squilla cavate da' suo' libri detti La Cantica, con +l'esposizione, stampato nell' anno MDCXXII.' The pseudonym _Squilla_ is +a pun upon Campanella's name, since both _Campana_ and _Squilla_ mean a +bell; while _Settimontano_ contains a quaint allusion to the fact that +the philosopher's skull was remarkable for seven protuberances.[12] A +very few copies of the unpretending little volume were printed; and +none of these seem to have found their way into Italy, though it is +possible that they had a certain circulation in Germany. At any rate +there is reason to suppose that Leibnitz was not unacquainted with the +poems, while Herder, in the Renaissance of German literature, published +free translations from a few of the sonnets in his 'Adrastea.' + +To this circumstance we owe the reprint of 1834, published at Lugano by +John Gaspar Orelli, the celebrated Zurich scholar. Early in his youth +Orelli was delighted with the German version made by Herder; and during +his manhood, while residing as Protestant pastor at Bergamo, he used +his utmost endeavours to procure a copy of the original. In his preface +to the reprint he tells us that these efforts were wholly unsuccessful +through a period of twenty-five years. He applied to all his literary +friends, among whom he mentions the ardent Ugo Foscolo and the learned +Mazzuchelli; but none of these could help him. He turned the pages of +Crescimbeni, Quadrio, Gamba, Corniani, Tiraboschi, weighty with +enormous erudition--and only those who make a special study of Italian +know how little has escaped their scrutiny--but found no mention of +Campanella as a poet. At last, after the lapse of a quarter of a +century, he received the long-coveted little quarto volume from +Wolfenbuttel in the north of Germany. The new edition which Orelli gave +to the press at Lugano has this title:--'Poesie Filosofiche di Tommaso +Campanella pubblicate per la prima volta in Italia da Gio. Gaspare +Orelli, Professore all' Università di Zurigo. Lugano, 1834.' The same +text has been again reprinted at Turin, in 1854, by Alessandro +d'Ancona, together with some of Campanella's minor works and an essay +on his life and writings. This third edition professes to have improved +Orelli's punctuation and to have rectified his readings. But it still +leaves much to be desired on the score of careful editorship. Neither +Orelli nor D'Ancona has done much to clear up the difficulties of the +poems--difficulties in many cases obviously due to misprints and errors +of the first transcriber; while in one or two instances they allow +patent blunders to pass uncorrected. In the sonnet entitled 'A Dio' +(D'Ancona, vol. i. p. 102), for example, _bocca_ stands for _buca_ in a +place where sense and rhyme alike demand the restitution of the right +word. + +At no time could the book have hoped for many readers. Least of all +would it have found them among the Italians of the seventeenth and +eighteenth centuries, to whom its energetic language and unfamiliar +conceptions would have presented insuperable difficulties. Between +Dante and Alfieri no Italian poet except Michael Angelo expressed so +much deep thought and feeling in phrases so terse, and with originality +of style so daring; and even Michael Angelo is monotonous in the range +of his ideas and uniform in his diction, when compared with the +indescribable violence and vigour of Campanella. Campanella borrows +little by way of simile or illustration from the outer world, and he +never falls into the commonplaces of poetic phraseology. His poems +exhibit the exact opposite of the Petrarchistic or the Marinistic +mannerism. Each sonnet seems to have been wrenched alive and +palpitating from the poet's heart. There is no smoothness, no gradual +unfolding of a theme, no rhetorical exposition, no fanciful embroidery, +no sweetness of melodic cadence, in his masculine art of poetry. +Brusque, rough, violent in transition, leaping from the sublime to the +ridiculous--his poems owe their elevation to the intensity of their +feeling, the nobleness and condensation of their thought, the energy +and audacity of their expression, their brevity, sincerity, and weight +of sentiment. Campanella had an essentially combative intellect. He was +both a poet and a philosopher militant. He stood alone, making war upon +the authority of Aristotle in science, of Machiavelli in state-craft, +and of Petrarch in art, taking the fortresses of phrase by storm, and +subduing the hardest material of philosophy to the tyranny of his +rhymes. Plebeian saws, salient images, dry sentences of metaphysical +speculation, logical summaries, and fiery tirades are hurled together-- +half crude and cindery scoriae, half molten metal and resplendent ore-- +from the volcano of his passionate mind. Such being the nature of +Campanella's style, when in addition it is remembered that his text is +sometimes hopelessly corrupt and his allusions obscure, the +difficulties offered by his sonnets to the translator will be readily +conceived. + + +IV. + +At the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth +centuries, philosophy took a new point of departure among the Italians, +and all the fundamental ideas which have since formed the staple of +modern European systems were anticipated by a few obscure thinkers. It +is noticeable that the States of Naples, hitherto comparatively inert +in the intellectual development of Italy, furnished the five writers +who preceded Bacon, Leibnitz, Schelling, and Comte. Telesio of Cosenza, +Bruno of Nola, Campanella of Stilo, Vanini and Vico of Naples are the +chief among these _novi homines_ or pioneers of modern thought. The +characteristic point of this new philosophy was an unconditional return +to Nature as the source of knowledge, combined with a belief in the +intuitive forces of the human reason: so that from the first it showed +two sides or faces to the world--the one positive, scientific, +critical, and analytical; the other mystical, metaphysical, subjective. +Modern materialism and modern idealism were both contained in the +audacious guesses of Bruno and Campanella; nor had the time arrived for +clearly separating the two strains of thought, or for attempting a +systematic synthesis of knowledge under one or the other head. + +The men who led this weighty intellectual movement burned with the +passionate ardour of discoverers, the fiery enthusiasm of confessors. +They stood alone, sustained but little by intercourse among themselves, +and wholly misunderstood by the people round them. Italy, sunk in +sloth, priest-ridden, tyrant-ridden, exhausted with the unparalleled +activity of the Renaissance, besotted with the vices of slavery and +slow corruption, had no ears for spirit-thrilling prophecy. The Church, +terrified by the Reformation, when she chanced to hear those strange +voices sounding through 'the blessed mutter of the mass,' burned the +prophets. The State, represented by absolute Spain, if it listened to +them at all, flung them into prison. To both Church and State there was +peril in the new philosophy; for the new philosophy was the first +birth-cry of the modern genius, with all the crudity and clearness, the +brutality and uncompromising sincerity of youth. The Church feared +Nature. The State feared the People. Nature and the People--those +watchwords of modern Science and modern Liberty--were already on the +lips of the philosophers. + +It was a philosophy armed, errant, exiled; a philosophy in chains and +solitary; at war with society, authority, opinion; self-sustained by +the prescience of ultimate triumph, and invincible through the sheer +force of passionate conviction. The men of whom I speak were conscious +of Pariahdom, and eager to be martyred in the glorious cause. 'A very +Proteus is the philosopher,' says Pomponazzo: 'seeking to penetrate the +secrets of God, he is consumed with ceaseless cares; he forgets to +thirst, to hunger, to sleep, to eat; he is derided of all men; he is +held for a fool and irreligious person; he is persecuted by +inquisitors; he becomes a gazing-stock to the common folk. These are +the gains of the philosopher; these are his guerdon. Pomponazzo's words +were prophetic. Of the five philosophers whom I mentioned, Vanini was +burned as an atheist, Bruno was burned, and Campanella was imprisoned +for a quarter of a century. Both Bruno and Campanella were Dominican +friars. Bruno was persecuted by the Church, and burned for heresy. +Campanella was persecuted by both Church and State, and was imprisoned +on the double charge of sedition and heresy. _Dormitantium animarum +excubitor_ was the self-given title of Bruno. _Nunquam tacebo_ was the +favourite motto of Campanella. + +Giovanni Domenico Campanella was born in the year 1568 at Stilo in +Calabria, one of the most southern townships of all Italy. In his +boyhood he showed a remarkable faculty for acquiring and retaining +knowledge, together with no small dialectical ability. His keen +interest in philosophy and his admiration for the great Dominican +doctors, Thomas Aquinas and Albertus Magnus, induced him at the age of +fifteen to enter the order of S. Dominic, exchanging his secular name +for Tommaso. But the old alliance between philosophy and orthodoxy, +drawn up by scholasticism and approved by the mediaeval Church, had +been succeeded by mutual hostility; and the youthful thinker found no +favour in the cloister of Cosenza, where he now resided. The new +philosophy taught by Telesio placed itself in direct antagonism to the +pseudo-Aristotelian tenets of the theologians, and founded its own +principles upon the Interrogation of Nature. Telesio, says Bacon, was +the prince of the _novi homines,_ or inaugurators of modern thought. It +was natural that Campanella should be drawn towards this great man. But +the superiors of his convent prevented his forming the acquaintance of +Telesio; and though the two men dwelt in the same city of Cosenza, +Campanella never knew the teacher he admired so passionately. Only when +the old man died and his body was exposed in the church before burial, +did the neophyte of his philosophy approach the bier, and pray beside +it, and place poems upon the dead. + +From this time forward Campanella became an object of suspicion to his +brethren. They perceived that the fire of the new philosophy burned in +his powerful nature with incalculable and explosive force. He moved +restlessly from place to place, learning and discussing, drawing men +towards him by the magnetism of a noble personality, and preaching his +new gospel with perilous audacity. His papers were seized at Bologna; +and at Rome the Holy Inquisition condemned him to perpetual +incarceration on the ground that he derived his science from the devil, +that he had written the book 'De tribus Impostoribus,' that he was a +follower of Democritus, and that his opposition to Aristotle savoured +of gross heresy. At the same time the Spanish Government of Naples +accused him of having set on foot a dangerous conspiracy for +overthrowing the vice-regal power and establishing a communistic +commonwealth in southern Italy. Though nothing was proved +satisfactorily against him, Campanella was held a prisoner under the +sentence which the Inquisition had pronounced upon him. He was, in +fact, a man too dangerous, too original in his opinions, and too bold +in their enunciation, to be at large. For twenty-five years he remained +in Neapolitan dungeons; three times during that period he was tortured +to the verge of dying; and at last he was released, while quite an old +man, at the urgent request of the French Court. Not many years after +his liberation Campanella died. The numerous philosophical works on +metaphysics, mathematics, politics, and aesthetics which Campanella +gave to the press, were composed during his long imprisonment. How they +came to be printed, I do not know; but it is obvious that he cannot +have been strictly debarred from writing by his jailors. In prison, +too, he made both friends and converts. We have seen that we owe the +publication of a portion of his poems to the visit of a German knight. + + +V. + +The sonnets by Campanella translated in this volume might be rearranged +under four headings--Philosophical; Political; Prophetic; Personal. The +philosophical group throw light on Campanella's relation to his +predecessors and his antagonism to the pseudo-Aristotelian +scholasticism of the middle ages. They furthermore explain his +conception of the universe as a complex animated organism, his +conviction that true knowledge can only be gained by the interrogation +of nature, his doctrine of human life and action, and his judgment of +the age in which he lived. The political sonnets fall into two groups-- +those which discuss royalty, nobility, and the sovereignty of the +people, and those which treat of the several European states. The +prophetic sonnets seem to have been suggested by the misery and +corruption of Italy, and express the poet's belief in the speedy +triumph of right and reason. It is here too that his astrological +opinions are most clearly manifested; for Campanella was far from +having outgrown the belief in planetary influences. Indeed, his own +metaphysical speculations, involving the principle of immanent vitality +in the material universe, gave a new value to the dreams of the +astrologers. Among the personal sonnets may be placed those which refer +immediately to his own sufferings in prison, to his friendships, and to +the ideal of the philosophic character. + +I have thought it best, while indicating this fourfold division, to +preserve the order adopted by Adami, since each of the reprints +accessible to modern readers--both that of Orelli and that of D'Ancona-- +maintains the arrangement of the _editio princeps._ Two sonnets of the +prophetic group I have omitted, partly because they have no bearing on +the world as it exists for us at present, and partly because they are +too studiously obscure for profitable reproduction.[13] As in the case +of Michael Angelo, so also in that of Campanella, I have left the +Canzoni untouched, except by way of illustration in the notes appended +to my volume. They are important and voluminous enough to form a +separate book; nor do they seem to me so well adapted as the sonnets +for translation into English. + +To give reasons for my choice of certain readings in the case of either +Michael Angelo's or Campanella's text; to explain why I have sometimes +preferred a strictly literal and sometimes a more paraphrastic +rendering; or to set forth my views in detail regarding the compromises +which are necessary in translation, and which must vary according to +the exigencies of each successive problem offered by the original, +would occupy too much space. Where I have thought it absolutely +necessary, I have referred to such points in my notes. It is enough +here to remark that the difficulties presented to the translator by +Michael Angelo and by Campanella are of different kinds. Both, indeed, +pack their thoughts so closely that it is not easy to reproduce them +without either awkwardness or sacrifice of matter. But while Campanella +is difficult from the abruptness of his transitions and the violence of +his phrases, Michael Angelo has the obscurity of a writer whose +thoughts exceed his power of expression, and who complicates the verbal +form by his endeavour to project what cannot easily be said in +verse.[14] A little patience will generally make it clear what +Campanella meant, except in cases where the text itself is corrupt. But +it may sometimes be doubted whether Michael Angelo could himself have +done more than indicate the general drift of his thought, or have +disengaged his own conception from the tangled skein of elliptical and +ungrammatical sentences in which he has enveloped it. The form of +Campanella's poetry, though often grotesque, is always clear. Michael +Angelo has left too many of his compositions in the same state as his +marbles--unfinished and colossal _abbozzi,_ which lack the final +touches to make their outlines distinct. Under these circumstances, it +can hardly happen that the translator should succeed in reproducing all +the sharpness and vivacity of Campanella's style, or should wholly +refrain from softening, simplifying, and prettifying Michael Angelo in +his attempt to produce an intelligible version. In both cases he is +tempted to make his translation serve the purpose also of a commentary, +and has to exercise caution and self-control lest he impose a sense too +narrow or too definite upon the original. + +So far as this was possible, I have adhered to the rhyming structure of +my originals, feeling that this is a point of no small moment in +translation. Yet when the choice lay between a sacrifice of metrical +exactitude and a sacrifice of sense, I have not hesitated to prefer the +former, especially in dealing with Campanella's quatrains. + +Michael Angelo and Campanella follow different rules in their treatment +of the triplets. Michael Angelo allows himself three rhymes, while +Campanella usually confines himself to two. My practice has been to +study in each sonnet the cadence both of thought and diction, so as to +satisfy an English ear, accustomed to the various forms of termination +exemplified by Spenser, Milton, Wordsworth, and Rossetti--the sweetest, +the most sublime, the least artificial, and the most artful sonnet-writers +in our language. + +The short titles attached to each sonnet are intended to help the eye, +rather than to guide the understanding of the reader. Michael Angelo +and his editors supply no arguments or mottoes for his poems; while +those printed by Adami in his edition of Campanella are, like mine, +meant obviously to serve as signposts to the student. It may savour of +impudence to ticket and to label little masterpieces, each one of +which, like all good poems, is a microcosm of very varied meanings. Yet +I have some authority in modern times for this impertinence; and, when +it is acknowledged that the titles merely profess to guide the reader +through a labyrinth of abstract and reflective compositions, without +attempting to supply him with a comprehensive argument or to dogmatise +concerning the main drift of each poem, I trust that enough will have +been said by way of self-defence against the charge of arrogance. + +The sonnet prefixed as a proem to the whole book is generally +attributed to Giordano Bruno, in whose Dialogue on the _Eroici Furori_ +it occurs. There seems, however, good reason to suppose that it was +really written by Tansillo, who recites it in that Dialogue. Whoever +may have been its author, it expresses in noble and impassioned verse +the sense of danger, the audacity, and the exultation of those pioneers +of modern thought, for whom philosophy was a voyage of discovery into +untravelled regions. Its spirit is rather that of Campanella than of +Michael Angelo. Yet the elevation at which Michael Angelo habitually +lived in thought and feeling was so far above the plains of common +life, that from the summit of his solitary watch-tower he might have +followed even such high-fliers as Bruno or as Campanella in their +Icarian excursions with the eyes of speculative interest. + +DAVOS PLATZ. _Nov. 1877._ + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +[1] 'Le Rime di Michelangelo Buonarroti, Pittore, Scultore e +Architetto, cavate dagli Autografi e pubblicate da Cesare Guasti, +Accademico della Crusca. In Firenze, per Felice le Monmer. MDCCCLXIII.' + +[2] See, however, page xlvii of Signor Guasti's _Discorso._ + +[3] I have so fully expressed my admiration for Signor Guasti's edition +in the text that I may allow myself to point out in a note what seems +to me its chief defect, and why I think there is still, perhaps, room +for another and more critical edition. The materials are amply and +conscientiously supplied by Signor Guasti, indeed, I suppose we are +justified in believing that his single volume reproduces all the extant +manuscript authorities, with the exception, perhaps, of the British +Museum Codex. But, while it is so comprehensive, we are still left in +some doubt as to the preference of one reading rather than another in +the large type text presented to us as the final version of each +composition. It is true that when this was possible, Signor Guasti +invariably selected one of the autographs, that is, a copy in the +poet's own handwriting. But when we consider that very frequently +Michael Angelo's own autographs give twice as many various readings as +there are lines in a sonnet, when we reflect that we do not always +possess the copies which he finally addressed to his friends, and when, +moreover, we find that their readings (_e.g._ those of the Riccio MS +and those cited by Varchi) differ considerably from Michael Angelo's +rough copies, we must conclude that even the autographs do not +invariably represent these poems in the final form which he adopted. +There is therefore much room left for critical comparison and +selection. We are, in fact, still somewhat in the same position as +Michelangelo the younger. Whether any application of the critical +method will enable us to do again successfully what he so clumsily +attempted--that is, to reproduce a correct text from the _debris_ +offered to our selective faculty--I do not feel sure. Meanwhile I am +quite certain that his principle was a wrong one, and that he dealt +most unjustifiably with his material. For this reason I cordially +accept Signor Guasti's labours, with the reservation I have attempted +to express in this note. They have indeed brought us far closer to +Michael Angelo's real text, but we must be careful to remember that we +have not even now arrived with certainty at what he would himself have +printed if he had prepared his own edition for the press. + +[4] As far as I am aware, no complete translation of Michael Angelo's +sonnets has hitherto been made in English. The specimens produced by +Southey, Wordsworth, Harford, Longfellow, and Mr. Taylor, moreover, +render Michelangelo's _rifacimento._ + +[5] 'Lezione di Benedetto Varchi sopra il sottoscritto Sonetto di +Michelagnolo Buonarroti, fatta da lui pubblicamente nella Accademia +Fiorentina la Seconda Domenica di Quaresima l'anno MDXLVI.' The sonnet +commented by Varchi is Guasti's No xv. + +[6] I have elsewhere recorded my disagreement with Signer Guasti and +Signer Gotti, and my reasons for thinking that Vaichi and Michelangelo +the younger were right in assuming that the sonnets addressed to +Tommaso de' Cavalieri (especially xxx, xxxi, lii) expressed the poet's +admiration for masculine beauty. See 'Renaissance in Italy, Fine Arts,' +pp. 521, 522. At the same time, though I agree with Buonarroti's first +editor in believing that a few of the sonnets 'risguardano, come si +conosce chiaramente, amor platonico virile,' I quite admit--as what +student of early Italian poetry will not admit?--that a woman is +generally intended under the title of 'Signore' and 'amico.' + +[7] _Ridurle_ is his own phrase. He also speaks of _trasmutare_ and +_risoluzione_ to explain the changes he effected. + +[8] See Guasti's 'Discorso,' p. xliv. + +[9] See in particular 'Orazioni Tie in Salmodia Metafisicale ... +Canzone Prima ... Madrigale iii;' and 'A Berillo, Canzone di +Pentimento, Madrigale ii.' + +[10] 'De Libras Proprus,' I 3, quoted by Orelli and Alessandro +d'Ancona. 'Opere di Tommaso Campanella,' vol. I. p 3. + +[11] 'Opere di Tommaso Campanella,' vol. I p. ccci. + +[12] Campanella's own poetry justified this curious _nom de plume_ +adopted for him by his editor. See in particular 'Salmodia +Metafisicale,' canzone terza, madrigale ix. + + 'Tre canzon, nate a un parto + Da questa mia settimontana testa, + Al suon dolente di pensosa squilla.' + +[13] These are the sonnets entitled by Adami 'La detta Congiunzione +cade nella revoluzione della Natività di Cristo,' and 'Sonetto cavato +dall' Apocalisse e Santa Brigida,' D'Ancona, vol. 1. pp. 97, 98. + +[14] In this respect _rifacimento_ of 1623 has greater literary merits-- +the merits of mere smoothness, clearness, grammatical coherence, and +intelligibility--than the autograph; and I can understand the +preference of some students for the former, though I do not share it +Michelangelo the younger added fluency and grace to his great-uncle's +composition by the sacrifice of much that is most characteristic, and +by the omission of much that is profound and vigorous and weighty. + + + +PROEM. + + +_THE PHILOSOPHIC FLIGHT._ + +_Poi che spiegate._ + + + Now that these wings to speed my wish ascend, + The more I feel vast air beneath my feet, + The more toward boundless air on pinions fleet, + Spurning the earth, soaring to heaven, I tend: + Nor makes them stoop their flight the direful end + Of Daedal's son; but upward still they beat:-- + What life the while with my life can compete, + Though dead to earth at last I shall descend? + My own heart's voice in the void air I hear: + Where wilt thou bear me, O rash man? Recall + Thy daring will! This boldness waits on fear! + Dread not, I answer, that tremendous fall: + Strike through the clouds, and smile when death is near, + If death so glorious be our doom at all! + + + + + +THE SONNETS + +OF + +MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI + + + + +I. + +_ON DANTE ALIGHIERI._ + +_Dal ciel discese._ + + +From heaven his spirit came, and robed in clay + The realms of justice and of mercy trod, + Then rose a living man to gaze on God, + That he might make the truth as clear as day. +For that pure star that brightened with his ray + The undeserving nest where I was born, + The whole wide world would be a prize to scorn; + None but his Maker can due guerdon pay. +I speak of Dante, whose high work remains + Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless brood, + Who only to just men deny their wage. +Were I but he! Born for like lingering pains, + Against his exile coupled with his good + I'd gladly change the world's best heritage! + + + +II. + +_ON DANTE ALIGHIERI._ + +_Quante dirne si de'._ + + +No tongue can tell of him what should be told, + For on blind eyes his splendour shines too strong; + 'Twere easier to blame those who wrought him wrong, + Than sound his least praise with a mouth of gold. +He to explore the place of pain was bold, + Then soared to God, to teach our souls by song; + The gates heaven oped to bear his feet along, + Against his just desire his country rolled. +Thankless I call her, and to her own pain + The nurse of fell mischance; for sign take this, + That ever to the best she deals more scorn: +Among a thousand proofs let one remain; + Though ne'er was fortune more unjust than his, + His equal or his better ne'er was born. + + + +III. + +_TO POPE JULIUS II._ + +_Signor, se vero è._ + + +My Lord! if ever ancient saw spake sooth, + Hear this which saith: Who can, doth never will. + Lo! thou hast lent thine ear to fables still, + Rewarding those who hate the name of truth. +I am thy drudge and have been from my youth-- + Thine, like the rays which the sun's circle fill; + Yet of my dear time's waste thou think'st no ill: + The more I toil, the less I move thy ruth. +Once 'twas my hope to raise me by thy height; + But 'tis the balance and the powerful sword + Of Justice, not false Echo, that we need. +Heaven, as it seems, plants virtue in despite + Here on the earth, if this be our reward-- + To seek for fruit on trees too dry to breed. + + + +IV. + +_ON ROME IN THE PONTIFICATE OF JULIUS II._ + +_Qua si fa elmi._ + + +Here helms and swords are made of chalices: + The blood of Christ is sold so much the quart: + His cross and thorns are spears and shields; and short + Must be the time ere even his patience cease. +Nay let him come no more to raise the fees + Of this foul sacrilege beyond report! + For Rome still flays and sells him at the court, + Where paths are closed to virtue's fair increase. +Now were fit time for me to scrape a treasure! + Seeing that work and gain are gone; while he + Who wears the robe, is my Medusa still. +God welcomes poverty perchance with pleasure: + But of that better life what hope have we, + When the blessed banner leads to nought but ill? + + + +V. + +TO GIOVANNI DA PISTOJA. + +_ON THE PAINTING OF THE SISTINE CHAPEL._ + +_I' ho già fatto un gozzo._ + + +I've grown a goitre by dwelling in this den-- + As cats from stagnant streams in Lombardy, + Or in what other land they hap to be-- + Which drives the belly close beneath the chin: +My beard turns up to heaven; my nape falls in, + Fixed on my spine: my breast-bone visibly + Grows like a harp: a rich embroidery + Bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin. +My loins into my paunch like levers grind: + My buttock like a crupper bears my weight; + My feet unguided wander to and fro; +In front my skin grows loose and long; behind, + By bending it becomes more taut and strait; + Crosswise I strain me like a Syrian bow: + Whence false and quaint, I know, + Must be the fruit of squinting brain and eye; + For ill can aim the gun that bends awry. + Come then, Giovanni, try + To succour my dead pictures and my fame; + Since foul I fare and painting is my shame. + + + +VI. + +_INVECTIVE AGAINST THE PEOPLE OF PISTOJA._ + +_I' l' ho, vostra mercè._ + + +I've gotten it, thanks to your courtesy; + And I have read it twenty times or so: + Thus much may your sharp snarling profit you, + As food our flesh filled to satiety. +After I left you, I could plainly see + How Cain was of your ancestors: I know + You do not shame his lineage, for lo, + Your brother's good still seems your injury. +Envious you are, and proud, and foes to heaven; + Love of your neighbour still you loathe and hate, + And only seek what must your ruin be. +If to Pistoja Dante's curse was given, + Bear that in mind! Enough! But if you prate + Praises of Florence, 'tis to wheedle me. + A priceless jewel she: +Doubtless: but this you cannot understand: +For pigmy virtue grasps not aught so grand. + + + +VII. + +_TO LUIGI DEL RICCIO._ + +_Nel dolce d' una._ + + +It happens that the sweet unfathomed sea + Of seeming courtesy sometimes doth hide + Offence to life and honour. This descried, + I hold less dear the health restored to me. +He who lends wings of hope, while secretly + He spreads a traitorous snare by the wayside, + Hath dulled the flame of love, and mortified + Friendship where friendship burns most fervently. +Keep then, my dear Luigi, clear and pure + That ancient love to which my life I owe, + That neither wind nor storm its calm may mar. +For wrath and pain our gratitude obscure; + And if the truest truth of love I know, + One pang outweighs a thousand pleasures far. + + + +VIII. + +TO LUIGI DEL RICCIO, + +_AFTER THE DEATH OF CECCHINO BRACCI._ + +_A pena prima._ + + +Scarce had I seen for the first time his eyes + Which to your living eyes were life and light, + When closed at last in death's injurious night + He opened them on God in Paradise. +I know it and I weep, too late made wise: + Yet was the fault not mine; for death's fell spite + Robbed my desire of that supreme delight, + Which in your better memory never dies. +Therefore, Luigi, if the task be mine + To make unique Cecchino smile in stone + For ever, now that earth hath made him dim, +If the beloved within the lover shine, + Since art without him cannot work alone, + You must I carve to tell the world of him. + + + +IX. + +_THANKS FOR A GIFT._ + +_Al zucchero, alla mula._ + + +The sugar, candles, and the saddled mule, + Together with your cask of malvoisie, + So far exceed all my necessity + That Michael and not I my debt must rule, +In such a glassy calm the breezes fool + My sinking sails, so that amid the sea + My bark hath missed her way, and seems to be + A wisp of straw whirled on a weltering pool. +To yield thee gift for gift and grace for grace, + For food and drink and carriage to and fro, + For all my need in every time and place, +O my dear lord, matched with the much I owe, + All that I am were no real recompense: + Paying a debt is not munificence. + + + +X. + +TO GANDOLFO PORRINO. + +_ON HIS MISTRESS FAUSTINA MANCINA._ + +_La nuova alta beltà._ + + +That new transcendent fair who seems to be + Peerless in heaven as in this world of woe, + (The common folk, too blind her worth to know + And worship, called her Left Arm wantonly), +Was made, full well I know, for only thee: + Nor could I carve or paint the glorious show + Of that fair face: to life thou needs must go, + To gain the favour thou dost crave of me. +If like the sun each star of heaven outshining, + She conquers and outsoars our soaring thought, + This bids thee rate her worth at its real price. +Therefore to satisfy thy ceaseless pining, + Once more in heaven hath God her beauty wrought: + God and not I can people Paradise. + + + +XI. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_ON THE LIVES OF THE PAINTERS._ + +_Se con lo stile._ + + +With pencil and with palette hitherto + You made your art high Nature's paragon; + Nay more, from Nature her own prize you won, + Making what she made fair more fair to view. +Now that your learnéd hand with labour new + Of pen and ink a worthier work hath done, + What erst you lacked, what still remained her own, + The power of giving life, is gained for you. +If men in any age with Nature vied + In beauteous workmanship, they had to yield + When to the fated end years brought their name. +You, reilluming memories that died, + In spite of Time and Nature have revealed + For them and for yourself eternal fame. + + + +XII. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_A MATCHLESS COURTESY._ + +_Felice spirto._ + + +Blest spirit, who with loving tenderness + Quickenest my heart so old and near to die, + Who mid thy joys on me dost bend an eye + Though many nobler men around thee press! +As thou wert erewhile wont my sight to bless, + So to console my mind thou now dost fly; + Hope therefore stills the pangs of memory, + Which coupled with desire my soul distress. +So finding in thee grace to plead for me-- + Thy thoughts for me sunk in so sad a case-- + He who now writes, returns thee thanks for these. +Lo, it were foul and monstrous usury + To send thee ugliest paintings in the place + Of thy fair spirit's living phantasies. + + + +XIII. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_BRAZEN GIFTS FOR GOLDEN._ + +_Per esser manco almen._ + + +Seeking at least to be not all unfit + For thy sublime and boundless courtesy, + My lowly thoughts at first were fain to try + What they could yield for grace so infinite. +But now I know my unassisted wit + Is all too weak to make me soar so high; + For pardon, lady, for this fault I cry, + And wiser still I grow remembering it. +Yea, well I see what folly 'twere to think + That largess dropped from thee like dews from heaven + Could e'er be paid by work so frail as mine! +To nothingness my art and talent sink; + He fails who from his mortal stores hath given + A thousandfold to match one gift divine. + + + +XIV. + +FIRST READING. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_THE MODEL AND THE STATUE._ + +_Da che concetto._ + + +When divine Art conceives a form and face, + She bids the craftsman for his first essay + To shape a simple model in mere clay: + This is the earliest birth of Art's embrace. +From the live marble in the second place + His mallet brings into the light of day + A thing so beautiful that who can say + When time shall conquer that immortal grace? +Thus my own model I was born to be-- + The model of that nobler self, whereto + Schooled by your pity, lady, I shall grow. +Each overplus and each deficiency + You will make good. What penance then is due + For my fierce heat, chastened and taught by you? + + + +XIV. + +SECOND READING. + +To VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_THE MODEL AND THE STATUE._ + +_Se ben concetto._ + + +When that which is divine in us doth try + To shape a face, both brain and hand unite + To give, from a mere model frail and slight, + Life to the stone by Art's free energy. +Thus too before the painter dares to ply + Paint-brush or canvas, he is wont to write + Sketches on scraps of paper, and invite + Wise minds to judge his figured history. +So, born a model rude and mean to be + Of my poor self, I gain a nobler birth, + Lady, from you, you fountain of all worth! +Each overplus and each deficiency + You will make good. What penance then is due + For my fierce heat, chastened and taught by you? + + + +XV. + +_THE LOVER AND THE SCULPTOR._ + +_Non ha l' ottimo artista._ + + +The best of artists hath no thought to show + Which the rough stone in its superfluous shell + Doth not include: to break the marble spell + Is all the hand that serves the brain can do. +The ill I shun, the good I seek, even so + In thee, fair lady, proud, ineffable, + Lies hidden: but the art I wield so well + Works adverse to my wish, and lays me low. +Therefore not love, nor thy transcendent face, + Nor cruelty, nor fortune, nor disdain, + Cause my mischance, nor fate, nor destiny; +Since in thy heart thou carriest death and grace + Enclosed together, and my worthless brain + Can draw forth only death to feed on me. + + + +XVI. + +_LOVE AND ART._ + +_Sì come nella penna._ + + +As pen and ink alike serve him who sings + In high or low or intermediate style; + As the same stone hath shapes both rich and vile + To match the fancies that each master brings; +So, my loved lord, within thy bosom springs + Pride mixed with meekness and kind thoughts that smile: + Whence I draw nought, my sad self to beguile, + But what my face shows--dark imaginings. +He who for seed sows sorrow, tears, and sighs, + (The dews that fall from heaven, though pure and clear, + From different germs take divers qualities) +Must needs reap grief and garner weeping eyes; + And he who looks on beauty with sad cheer, + Gains doubtful hope and certain miseries. + + + +XVII. + +_THE ARTIST AND HIS WORK._ + +_Com' esser, donna, può._ + + +How can that be, lady, which all men learn + By long experience? Shapes that seem alive, + Wrought in hard mountain marble, will survive + Their maker, whom the years to dust return! +Thus to effect cause yields. Art hath her turn, + And triumphs over Nature. I, who strive + With Sculpture, know this well; her wonders live + In spite of time and death, those tyrants stern. +So I can give long life to both of us + In either way, by colour or by stone, + Making the semblance of thy face and mine. +Centuries hence when both are buried, thus + Thy beauty and my sadness shall be shown, + And men shall say, 'For her 'twas wise to pine.' + + + +XVIII. + +_BEAUTY AND THE ARTIST._ + +_Al cor di zolfo._ + + +A heart of flaming sulphur, flesh of tow, + Bones of dry wood, a soul without a guide + To curb the fiery will, the ruffling pride + Of fierce desires that from the passions flow; +A sightless mind that weak and lame doth go + Mid snares and pitfalls scattered far and wide;-- + What wonder if the first chance brand applied + To fuel massed like this should make it glow? +Add beauteous art, which, brought with us from heaven, + Will conquer nature;--so divine a power + Belongs to him who strives with every nerve. +If I was made for art, from childhood given + A prey for burning beauty to devour, + I blame the mistress I was born to serve. + + + +XIX. + +_THE AMULET OF LOVE._ + +_Io mi son caro assai più._ + + +Far more than I was wont myself I prize: + With you within my heart I rise in rate, + Just as a gem engraved with delicate + Devices o'er the uncut stone doth rise; +Or as a painted sheet exceeds in price + Each leaf left pure and in its virgin state: + Such then am I since I was consecrate + To be the mark for arrows from your eyes. +Stamped with your seal I'm safe where'er I go, + Like one who carries charms or coat of mail + Against all dangers that his life assail +Nor fire nor water now may work me woe; + Sight to the blind I can restore by you, + Heal every wound, and every loss renew. + + + +XX. + +_THE GARLAND AND THE GIRDLE._ + +_Quanta si gode, lieta._ + + +What joy hath yon glad wreath of flowers that is + Around her golden hair so deftly twined, + Each blossom pressing forward from behind, + As though to be the first her brows to kiss! +The livelong day her dress hath perfect bliss, + That now reveals her breast, now seems to bind: + And that fair woven net of gold refined + Rests on her cheek and throat in happiness! +Yet still more blissful seems to me the band + Gilt at the tips, so sweetly doth it ring + And clasp the bosom that it serves to lace: +Yea, and the belt to such as understand, + Bound round her waist, saith: here I'd ever cling.-- + What would my arms do in that girdle's place? + + + +XXI. + +_THE SILKWORM._ + +_D' altrui pietoso._ + + +Kind to the world, but to itself unkind, + A worm is born, that dying noiselessly + Despoils itself to clothe fair limbs, and be + In its true worth by death alone divined. +Oh, would that I might die, for her to find + Raiment in my outworn mortality! + That, changing like the snake, I might be free + To cast the slough wherein I dwell confined! +Nay, were it mine, that shaggy fleece that stays, + Woven and wrought into a vestment fair, + Around her beauteous bosom in such bliss! +All through the day she'd clasp me! Would I were + The shoes that bear her burden! When the ways + Were wet with rain, her feet I then should kiss! + + + +XXII. + +_WAITING IN FAITH._ + +_Se nel volto per gli occhi_ + + +If through the eyes the heart speaks clear and true, + I have no stronger sureties than these eyes + For my pure love. Prithee let them suffice, + Lord of my soul, pity to gain from you. +More tenderly perchance than is my due, + Your spirit sees into my heart, where rise + The flames of holy worship, nor denies + The grace reserved for those who humbly sue. +Oh, blesséd day when you at last are mine! + Let time stand still, and let noon's chariot stay; + Fixed be that moment on the dial of heaven! +That I may clasp and keep, by grace divine, + Clasp in these yearning arms and keep for aye + My heart's loved lord to me desertless given! + + + +XXIII. + +_FLESH AND SPIRIT._ + +_Ben posson gli occhi._ + + +Well may these eyes of mine both near and far + Behold the beams that from thy beauty flow; + But, lady, feet must halt where sight may go: + We see, but cannot climb to clasp a star. +The pure ethereal soul surmounts that bar + Of flesh, and soars to where thy splendours glow, + Free through the eyes; while prisoned here below, + Though fired with fervent love, our bodies are. +Clogged with mortality and wingless, we + Cannot pursue an angel in her flight: + Only to gaze exhausts our utmost might. +Yet, if but heaven like earth incline to thee, + Let my whole body be one eye to see, + That not one part of me may miss thy sight! + + + +XXIV. + +_THE DOOM OF BEAUTY._ + +_Spirto ben nato._ + + +Choice soul, in whom, as in a glass, we see, + Mirrored in thy pure form and delicate, + What beauties heaven and nature can create, + The paragon of all their works to be! +Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety, + Have found a home, as from thy outward state + We clearly read, and are so rare and great + That they adorn none other like to thee! +Love takes me captive; beauty binds my soul; + Pity and mercy with their gentle eyes + Wake in my heart a hope that cannot cheat. +What law, what destiny, what fell control, + What cruelty, or late or soon, denies + That death should spare perfection so complete? + + + +XXV. + +_THE TRANSFIGURATION OF BEAUTY:_ + +A DIALOGUE WITH LOVE. + +_Dimmi di grazia, amor._ + + +Nay, prithee tell me, Love, when I behold + My lady, do mine eyes her beauty see + In truth, or dwells that loveliness in me + Which multiplies her grace a thousandfold? +Thou needs must know; for thou with her of old + Comest to stir my soul's tranquillity; + Yet would I not seek one sigh less, or be + By loss of that loved flame more simply cold.-- +The beauty thou discernest, all is hers; + But grows in radiance as it soars on high + Through mortal eyes unto the soul above: +'Tis there transfigured; for the soul confers + On what she holds, her own divinity: + And this transfigured beauty wins thy love. + + + +XXVI. + +_JOY MAY KILL._ + +_Non men gran grasia, donna._ + + +Too much good luck no less than misery + May kill a man condemned to mortal pain, + If, lost to hope and chilled in every vein, + A sudden pardon comes to set him free. +Thus thy unwonted kindness shown to me + Amid the gloom where only sad thoughts reign, + With too much rapture bringing light again, + Threatens my life more than that agony. +Good news and bad may bear the self-same knife; + And death may follow both upon their flight; + For hearts that shrink or swell, alike will break. +Let then thy beauty, to preserve my life, + Temper the source of this supreme delight, + Lest joy so poignant slay a soul so weak. + + + +XXVII. + +_NO ESCAPE FROM LOVE._ + +_Non posso altra figura._ + + +I cannot by the utmost flight of thought + Conceive another form of air or clay, + Wherewith against thy beauty to array + My wounded heart in armour fancy-wrought: +For, lacking thee, so low my state is brought, + That Love hath stolen all my strength away; + Whence, when I fain would halve my griefs, they weigh + With double sorrow, and I sink to nought. +Thus all in vain my soul to scape thee flies, + For ever faster flies her beauteous foe: + From the swift-footed feebly run the slow! +Yet with his hands Love wipes my weeping eyes, + Saying, this toil will end in happy cheer; + What costs the heart so much, must needs be dear! + + + +XXVIII. + +_THE HEAVENLY BIRTH OF LOVE AND BEAUTY._ + +_La vita del mie amor._ + + +This heart of flesh feeds not with life my love: + The love wherewith I love thee hath no heart; + Nor harbours it in any mortal part, + Where erring thought or ill desire may move. +When first Love sent our souls from God above, + He fashioned me to see thee as thou art-- + Pure light; and thus I find God's counterpart + In thy fair face, and feel the sting thereof. +As heat from fire, from loveliness divine + The mind that worships what recalls the sun + From whence she sprang, can be divided never: +And since thine eyes all Paradise enshrine, + Burning unto those orbs of light I run, + There where I loved thee first to dwell for ever. + + + +XXIX. + +_LOVE'S DILEMMA._ + +_I' mi credetti._ + + +I deemed upon that day when first I knew + So many peerless beauties blent in one, + That, like an eagle gazing on the sun, + Mine eyes might fix on the least part of you. +That dream hath vanished, and my hope is flown; + For he who fain a seraph would pursue + Wingless, hath cast words to the winds, and dew + On stones, and gauged God's reason with his own. +If then my heart cannot endure the blaze + Of beauties infinite that blind these eyes, + Nor yet can bear to be from you divided, +What fate is mine? Who guides or guards my ways, + Seeing my soul, so lost and ill-betided, + Burns in your presence, in your absence dies? + + + +XXX. + +TO TOMMASO DE' CAVALIERI. + +_LOVE THE LIGHT-GIVER._ + +_Veggio co' bei vostri occhi._ + + +With your fair eyes a charming light I see, + For which my own blind eyes would peer in vain; + Stayed by your feet the burden I sustain + Which my lame feet find all too strong for me; +Wingless upon your pinions forth I fly; + Heavenward your spirit stirreth me to strain; + E'en as you will, I blush and blanch again, + Freeze in the sun, burn 'neath a frosty sky. +Your will includes and is the lord of mine; + Life to my thoughts within your heart is given; + My words begin to breathe upon your breath: +Like to the moon am I, that cannot shine + Alone; for lo! our eyes see nought in heaven + Save what the living sun illumineth. + + + +XXXI. + +To TOMMASO DE' CAVALIERI. + +_LOVE'S LORDSHIP._ + +_A che più debb' io._ + + +Why should I seek to ease intense desire + With still more tears and windy words of grief, + When heaven, or late or soon, sends no relief + To souls whom love hath robed around with fire? +Why need my aching heart to death aspire, + When all must die? Nay, death beyond belief + Unto these eyes would be both sweet and brief, + Since in my sum of woes all joys expire! +Therefore because I cannot shun the blow + I rather seek, say who must rule my breast, + Gliding between her gladness and her woe? +If only chains and bands can make me blest, + No marvel if alone and bare I go + An arméd Knight's captive and slave confessed. + + + +XXXII. + +_LOVE'S EXPOSTULATION._ + +_S' un casto amor._ + + +If love be chaste, if virtue conquer ill, + If fortune bind both lovers in one bond, + If either at the other's grief despond, + If both be governed by one life, one will; +If in two bodies one soul triumph still, + Raising the twain from earth to heaven beyond, + If Love with one blow and one golden wand + Have power both smitten breasts to pierce and thrill; +If each the other love, himself forgoing, + With such delight, such savour, and so well, + That both to one sole end their wills combine; +If thousands of these thoughts, all thought outgoing, + Fail the least part of their firm love to tell: + Say, can mere angry spite this knot untwine? + + + +XXXIII. + +FIRST READING. + +_A PRAYER TO NATURE._ + +AMOR REDIVIVUS. + +_Perchè tuo gran bellezze._ + + +That thy great beauty on our earth may be + Shrined in a lady softer and more kind, + I call on nature to collect and bind + All those delights the slow years steal from thee, +And save them to restore the radiancy + Of thy bright face in some fair form designed + By heaven; and may Love ever bear in mind + To mould her heart of grace and courtesy. +I call on nature too to keep my sighs, + My scattered tears to take and recombine, + And give to him who loves that fair again: +More happy he perchance shall move those eyes + To mercy by the griefs wherewith I pine, + Nor lose the kindness that from me is ta'en! + + + +XXXIII. + +SECOND READING. + +_A PRAYER TO NATURE._ + +AMOR REDIVIVUS. + +_Sol perchè tue bellezze._ + + +If only that thy beauties here may be + Deathless through Time that rends the wreaths he twined, + I trust that Nature will collect and bind + All those delights the slow years steal from thee, +And keep them for a birth more happily + Born under better auspices, refined + Into a heavenly form of nobler mind, + And dowered with all thine angel purity. +Ah me! and may heaven also keep my sighs, + My scattered tears preserve and reunite, + And give to him who loves that fair again! +More happy he perchance shall move those eyes + To mercy by the griefs my manhood blight, + Nor lose the kindness that from me is ta'en! + + + +XXXIV. + +_LOVE'S FURNACE._ + +_Sì amico al freddo sasso._ + + +So friendly is the fire to flinty stone, + That, struck therefrom and kindled to a blaze, + It burns the stone, and from the ash doth raise + What lives thenceforward binding stones in one: +Kiln-hardened this resists both frost and sun, + Acquiring higher worth for endless days-- + As the purged soul from hell returns with praise, + Amid the heavenly host to take her throne. +E'en so the fire struck from my soul, that lay + Close-hidden in my heart, may temper me, + Till burned and slaked to better life I rise. +If, made mere smoke and dust, I live to-day, + Fire-hardened I shall live eternally; + Such gold, not iron, my spirit strikes and tries. + + + +XXXV. + +_LOVE'S PARADOXES._ + +_Sento d' un foco._ + + +Far off with fire I feel a cold face lit, + That makes me burn, the while itself doth freeze: + Two fragile arms enchain me, which with ease, + Unmoved themselves, can move weights infinite. +A soul none knows but I, most exquisite, + That, deathless, deals me death, my spirit sees: + I meet with one who, free, my heart doth seize: + And who alone can cheer, hath tortured it. +How can it be that from one face like thine + My own should feel effects so contrary, + Since ill comes not from things devoid of ill? +That loveliness perchance doth make me pine, + Even as the sun, whose fiery beams we see, + Inflames the world, while he is temperate still. + + + +XXXVI. + +_LOVE MISINTERPRETED._ + +_Se l'immortal desio._ + + +If the undying thirst that purifies + Our mortal thoughts, could draw mine to the day, + Perchance the lord who now holds cruel sway + In Love's high house, would prove more kindly-wise. +But since the laws of heaven immortalise + Our souls, and doom our flesh to swift decay, + Tongue cannot tell how fair, how pure as day, + Is the soul's thirst that far beyond it lies. +How then, ah woe is me! shall that chaste fire, + Which burns the heart within me, be made known, + If sense finds only sense in what it sees? +All my fair hours are turned to miseries + With my loved lord, who minds but lies alone; + For, truth to tell, who trusts not is a liar. + + + +XXXVII. + +_PERHAPS TO VITTORIA COLONNA._ + +_LOVE'S SERVITUDE._ + +_S' alcun legato è pur._ + + +He who is bound by some great benefit, + As to be raised from death to life again, + How shall he recompense that gift, or gain + Freedom from servitude so infinite? +Yet if 'twere possible to pay the debt, + He'd lose that kindness which we entertain + For those who serve us well; since it is plain + That kindness needs some boon to quicken it. +Wherefore, O lady, to maintain thy grace, + So far above my fortune, what I bring + Is rather thanklessness than courtesy: +For if both met as equals face to face, + She whom I love could not be called my king;-- + There is no lordship in equality. + + + +XXXVIII. + +_LOVE'S VAIN EXPENSE._ + +_Rendete a gli occhi miei._ + + +Give back unto mine eyes, ye fount and rill, + Those streams, not yours, that are so full and strong, + That swell your springs, and roll your waves along + With force unwonted in your native hill! + +And thou, dense air, weighed with my sighs so chill, + That hidest heaven's own light thick mists among, + Give back those sighs to my sad heart, nor wrong + My visual ray with thy dark face of ill! + +Let earth give back the footprints that I wore, + That the bare grass I spoiled may sprout again; + And Echo, now grown deaf, my cries return! + +Loved eyes, unto mine eyes those looks restore, + And let me woo another not in vain, + Since how to please thee I shall never learn! + + + +XXXIX. + +_LOVE'S ARGUMENT WITH REASON._ + +_La ragion meco si lamenta._ + + +Reason laments and grieves full sore with me, + The while I hope by loving to be blest; + With precepts sound and true philosophy + My shame she quickens thus within my breast: +'What else but death will that sun deal to thee-- + Nor like the phoenix in her flaming nest?' + Yet nought avails this wise morality; + No hand can save a suicide confessed. +I know my doom; the truth I apprehend: + But on the other side my traitorous heart + Slays me whene'er to wisdom's words I bend. +Between two deaths my lady stands apart: + This death I dread; that none can comprehend. + In this suspense body and soul must part. + + + +XL. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE'S LOADSTONE._ + +_No so s' è la desiata luce._ + + +I know not if it be the longed-for light + Of her first Maker which the spirit feels; + Or if a time-old memory reveals + Some other beauty for the heart's delight; +Or fame or dreams beget that vision bright, + Sweet to the eyes, which through the bosom steals, + Leaving I know not what that wounds and heals, + And now perchance hath made me weep outright. +Be this what this may be, 'tis this I seek: + Nor guide have I; nor know I where to find + That burning fire; yet some one seems to lead. +This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak; + A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind, + And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed. + + + +XL. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE'S LOADSTONE._ + +_Non so se s' é l' immaginata luce._ + + +I know not if it be the fancied light + Which every man or more or less doth feel; + Or if the mind and memory reveal + Some other beauty for the heart's delight; + +Or if within the soul the vision bright + Of her celestial home once more doth steal, + Drawing our better thoughts with pure appeal + To the true Good above all mortal sight: + +This light I long for and unguided seek; + This fire that burns my heart, I cannot find; + Nor know the way, though some one seems to lead. + +This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak: + A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind; + And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed. + + + +XLI. + +_LIGHT AND DARKNESS._ + +_Colui che fece._ + + +He who ordained, when first the world began, + Time, that was not before creation's hour, + Divided it, and gave the sun's high power + To rule the one, the moon the other span: +Thence fate and changeful chance and fortune's ban + Did in one moment down on mortals shower: + To me they portioned darkness for a dower; + Dark hath my lot been since I was a man. +Myself am ever mine own counterfeit; + And as deep night grows still more dim and dun, + So still of more misdoing must I rue: +Meanwhile this solace to my soul is sweet, + That my black night doth make more clear the sun + Which at your birth was given to wait on you. + + + +XLII. + +_SACRED NIGHT._ + +_Ogni van chiuso._ + + +All hollow vaults and dungeons sealed from sight, + All caverns circumscribed with roof and wall, + Defend dark Night, though noon around her fall, + From the fierce play of solar day-beams bright. +But if she be assailed by fire or light, + Her powers divine are nought; they tremble all + Before things far more vile and trivial-- + Even a glow-worm can confound their might. +The earth that lies bare to the sun, and breeds + A thousand germs that burgeon and decay-- + This earth is wounded by the ploughman's share: +But only darkness serves for human seeds; + Night therefore is more sacred far than day, + Since man excels all fruits however fair. + + + +XLIII. + +_THE IMPEACHMENT OF NIGHT._ + +_Perchè Febo non torce._ + + +What time bright Phoebus doth not stretch and bend + His shining arms around this terrene sphere, + The people call that season dark and drear + Night, for the cause they do not comprehend. +So weak is Night that if our hand extend + A glimmering torch, her shadows disappear, + Leaving her dead; like frailest gossamere, + Tinder and steel her mantle rive and rend. +Nay, if this Night be anything at all, + Sure she is daughter of the sun and earth; + This holds, the other spreads that shadowy pall. +Howbeit they err who praise this gloomy birth, + So frail and desolate and void of mirth + That one poor firefly can her might appal. + + + +XLIV. + +_THE DEFENCE OF NIGHT._ + +_O nott' o dolce tempo._ + + +O night, O sweet though sombre span of time!-- + All things find rest upon their journey's end-- + Whoso hath praised thee, well doth apprehend; + And whoso honours thee, hath wisdom's prime. +Our cares thou canst to quietude sublime; + For dews and darkness are of peace the friend: + Often by thee in dreams upborne, I wend + From earth to heaven, where yet I hope to climb. +Thou shade of Death, through whom the soul at length + Shuns pain and sadness hostile to the heart, + Whom mourners find their last and sure relief! +Thou dost restore our suffering flesh to strength, + Driest our tears, assuagest every smart, + Purging the spirits of the pure from grief. + + + +XLV. + +_LOVE FEEDS THE FLAME OF AGE._ + +_Quand' il servo il signior._ + + +When masters bind a slave with cruel chain, + And keep him hope-forlorn in bondage pent, + Use tames his temper to imprisonment, + And hardly would he fain be free again. +Use curbs the snake and tiger, and doth train + Fierce woodland lions to bear chastisement; + And the young artist, all with toil forspent, + By constant use a giant's strength doth gain +But with the force of flame it is not so: + For while fire sucks the sap of the green wood, + It warms a frore old man and makes him grow; +With such fine heat of youth and lustihood + Filling his heart and teaching it to glow, + That love enfolds him with beatitude. + If then in playful mood + He sport and jest, old age need no man blame; + For loving things divine implies no shame. + The soul that knows her aim, + Sins not by loving God's own counterfeit-- + Due measure kept, and bounds, and order meet. + + + +XLVI. + +_LOVE'S FLAME DOTH FEED ON AGE._ + +_Se da' prim' anni._ + + +If some mild heat of love in youth confessed + Burns a fresh heart with swift consuming fire, + What will the force be of a flame more dire + Shut up within an old man's cindery breast? +If the mere lapse of lengthening years hath pressed + So sorely that life, strength, and vigour tire, + How shall he fare who must ere long expire, + When to old age is added love's unrest? +Weak as myself, he will be whirled away + Like dust by winds kind in their cruelty, + Robbing the loathly worm of its last prey. +A little flame consumed and fed on me + In my green age: now that the wood is dry, + What hope against this fire more fierce have I? + + + +XLVII. + +_BEAUTY'S INTOLERABLE SPLENDOUR._ + +_Se 'l foco alla bellezza._ + + +If but the fire that lightens in thine eyes + Were equal with their beauty, all the snow + And frost of all the world would melt and glow + Like brands that blaze beneath fierce tropic skies. +But heaven in mercy to our miseries + Dulls and divides the fiery beams that flow + From thy great loveliness, that we may go + Through this stern mortal life in tranquil wise. +Thus beauty burns not with consuming rage; + For so much only of the heavenly light + Inflames our love as finds a fervent heart. +This is my case, lady, in sad old age: + If seeing thee, I do not die outright, + 'Tis that I feel thy beauty but in part. + + + +XLVIII. + +_LOVE'S EVENING._ + +_Se 'l troppo indugio._ + + +What though long waiting wins more happiness + Than petulant desire is wont to gain, + My luck in latest age hath brought me pain, + Thinking how brief must be an old man's bliss. +Heaven, if it heed our lives, can hardly bless + This fire of love when frosts are wont to reign: + For so I love thee, lady, and my strain + Of tears through age exceeds in tenderness. +Yet peradventure though my day is done,-- + Though nearly past the setting mid thick cloud + And frozen exhalations sinks my sun,-- +If love to only mid-day be allowed, + And I an old man in my evening burn, + You, lady, still my night to noon may turn. + + + +XLIX. + +_LOVE'S EXCUSE._ + +_Dal dolcie pianto._ + + +From happy tears to woeful smiles, from peace + Eternal to a brief and hollow truce, + How have I fallen!--when 'tis truth we lose, + Sense triumphs o'er all adverse impulses. +I know not if my heart bred this disease, + That still more pleasing grows with growing use; + Or else thy face, thine eyes, which stole the hues + And fires of Paradise--less fair than these. +Thy beauty is no mortal thing; 'twas sent + From heaven on high to make our earth divine: + Wherefore, though wasting, burning, I'm content; +For in thy sight what could I do but pine? + If God himself thus rules my destiny, + Who, when I die, can lay the blame on thee? + + + +L. + +_IN LOVE'S OWN TIME._ + +_S' i' avessi creduto._ + + +Had I but earlier known that from the eyes + Of that bright soul that fires me like the sun, + I might have drawn new strength my race to run, + Burning as burns the phoenix ere it dies; +Even as the stag or lynx or leopard flies + To seek his pleasure and his pain to shun, + Each word, each smile of her would I have won, + Flying where now sad age all flight denies. +Yet why complain? For even now I find + In that glad angel's face, so full of rest, + Health and content, heart's ease and peace of mind +Perchance I might have been less simply blest, + Finding her sooner: if 'tis age alone + That lets me soar with her to seek God's throne. + + + +LI. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE IN YOUTH AND AGE._ + +_Tornami al tempo._ + + +Bring back the time when blind desire ran free, + With bit and rein too loose to curb his flight; + Give back the buried face, once angel-bright, + That hides in earth all comely things from me; +Bring back those journeys ta'en so toilsomely, + So toilsome-slow to one whose hairs are white; + Those tears and flames that in one breast unite; + If thou wilt once more take thy fill of me! +Yet Love! Suppose it true that thou dost thrive + Only on bitter honey-dews of tears. + Small profit hast thou of a weak old man. +My soul that toward the other shore doth strive, + Wards off thy darts with shafts of holier fears; + And fire feeds ill on brands no breath can fan. + + + +LI. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE IN YOUTH AND AGE._ + +_Tornami al tempo._ + + +Bring back the time when glad desire ran free + With bit and rein too loose to curb his flight, + The tears and flames that in one breast unite, + If thou art fain once more to conquer me! +Bring back those journeys ta'en so toilsomely, + So toilsome-slow to him whose hairs are white! + Give back the buried face once angel-bright, + That taxed all Nature's art and industry. +O Love! an old man finds it hard to chase + Thy flying pinions! Thou hast left thy nest; + Nor is my heart as light as heretofore. +Put thy gold arrows to the string once more: + Then if Death hear my prayer and grant me grace, + My grief I shall forget, again made blest. + + + +LII. + +_CELESTIAL LOVE._ + +_Non vider gli occhi miei._ + + +I saw no mortal beauty with these eyes + When perfect peace in thy fair eyes I found; + But far within, where all is holy ground, + My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies: +For she was born with God in Paradise; + Else should we still to transient loves be bound; + But, finding these so false, we pass beyond + Unto the Love of Loves that never dies. +Nay, things that die, cannot assuage the thirst + Of souls undying; nor Eternity + Serves Time, where all must fade that flourisheth. +Sense is not love, but lawlessness accurst: + This kills the soul; while our love lifts on high + Our friends on earth--higher in heaven through death. + + + +LIII. + +_CELESTIAL AND EARTHLY LOVE._ + +_Non è sempre di colpa._ + + +Love is not always harsh and deadly sin: + If it be love of loveliness divine, + It leaves the heart all soft and infantine + For rays of God's own grace to enter in. +Love fits the soul with wings, and bids her win + Her flight aloft nor e'er to earth decline; + 'Tis the first step that leads her to the shrine + Of Him who slakes the thirst that burns within. +The love of that whereof I speak, ascends: + Woman is different far; the love of her + But ill befits a heart all manly wise. +The one love soars, the other downward tends; + The soul lights this, while that the senses stir, + And still his arrow at base quarry flies. + + + +LIV. + +_LOVE LIFTS TO GOD._ + +_Veggio nel tuo bel viso._ + + +From thy fair face I learn, O my loved lord, + That which no mortal tongue can rightly say; + The soul, imprisoned in her house of clay, + Holpen by thee to God hath often soared: +And though the vulgar, vain, malignant horde + Attribute what their grosser wills obey, + Yet shall this fervent homage that I pay, + This love, this faith, pure joys for us afford. +Lo, all the lovely things we find on earth, + Resemble for the soul that rightly sees, + That source of bliss divine which gave us birth: +Nor have we first-fruits or remembrances + Of heaven elsewhere. Thus, loving loyally, + I rise to God and make death sweet by thee. + + + +LV. + +_LOVE'S ENTREATY._ + +_Tu sa' ch' i' so, Signor mie._ + + +Thou knowest, love, I know that thou dost know + That I am here more near to thee to be, + And knowest that I know thou knowest me: + What means it then that we are sundered so? +If they are true, these hopes that from thee flow, + If it is real, this sweet expectancy, + Break down the wall that stands 'twixt me and thee; + For pain in prison pent hath double woe. +Because in thee I love, O my loved lord, + What thou best lovest, be not therefore stern: + Souls burn for souls, spirits to spirits cry! +I seek the splendour in thy fair face stored; + Yet living man that beauty scarce can learn, + And he who fain would find it, first must die. + + + +LVI. + +FIRST READING. + +_HEAVEN-BORN BEAUTY._ + +_Per ritornar là._ + + +As one who will reseek her home of light, + Thy form immortal to this prison-house + Descended, like an angel piteous, + To heal all hearts and make the whole world bright. +'Tis this that thralls my soul in love's delight, + Not thy clear face of beauty glorious; + For he who harbours virtue, still will choose + To love what neither years nor death can blight. +So fares it ever with things high and rare + Wrought in the sweat of nature; heaven above + Showers on their birth the blessings of her prime: +Nor hath God deigned to show Himself elsewhere + More clearly than in human forms sublime; + Which, since they image Him, alone I love. + + + +LVI. + +SECOND READING. + +_HEAVEN-BORN BEAUTY._ + +_Venne, non so ben donde._ + + +It came, I know not whence, from far above, + That clear immortal flame that still doth rise + Within thy sacred breast, and fills the skies, + And heals all hearts, and adds to heaven new love. +This burns me, this, and the pure light thereof; + Not thy fair face, thy sweet untroubled eyes: + For love that is not love for aught that dies, + Dwells in the soul where no base passions move. +If then such loveliness upon its own + Should graft new beauties in a mortal birth, + The sheath bespeaks the shining blade within. +To gain our love God hath not clearer shown + Himself elsewhere: thus heaven doth vie with earth + To make thee worthy worship without sin. + + + +LVII. + +FIRST READING. + +_CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL LOVE._ + +_Passa per gli occhi._ + + +Swift through the eyes unto the heart within + All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; + So smooth and broad and open is the way + That thousands and not hundreds enter in. +Burdened with scruples and weighed down with sin, + These mortal beauties fill me with dismay; + Nor find I one that doth not strive to stay + My soul on transient joy, or lets me win +The heaven I yearn for. Lo, when erring love-- + Who fills the world, howe'er his power we shun, + Else were the world a grave and we undone-- +Assails the soul, if grace refuse to fan + Our purged desires and make them soar above, + What grief it were to have been born a man! + + + +LVII. + +SECOND READING. + +_CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL LOVE._ + +_Passa per gli occhi._ + + +Swift through the eyes unto the heart within + All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; + So smooth and broad and open is the way + That thousands and not hundreds enter in +Of every age and sex: whence I begin, + Burdened with griefs, but more with dull dismay, + To fear; nor find mid all their bright array + One that with full content my heart may win. +If mortal beauty be the food of love, + It came not with the soul from heaven, and thus + That love itself must be a mortal fire: +But if love reach to nobler hopes above, + Thy love shall scorn me not nor dread desire + That seeks a carnal prey assailing us. + + + +LVIII. + +_LOVE AND DEATH._ + +_Ognor che l' idol mio._ + + +Whene'er the idol of these eyes appears + Unto my musing heart so weak and strong, + Death comes between her and my soul ere long + Chasing her thence with troops of gathering fears. +Nathless this violence my spirit cheers + With better hope than if she had no wrong; + While Love invincible arrays the throng + Of dauntless thoughts, and thus harangues his peers: +But once, he argues, can a mortal die; + But once be born: and he who dies afire, + What shall he gain if erst he dwelt with me? +That burning love whereby the soul flies free, + Doth lure each fervent spirit to aspire + Like gold refined in flame to God on high. + + + +LIX. + +_LOVE IS A REFINER'S FIRE._ + +_Non più ch' 'l foco il fabbro._ + + +It is with fire that blacksmiths iron subdue + Unto fair form, the image of their thought: + Nor without fire hath any artist wrought + Gold to its utmost purity of hue. +Nay, nor the unmatched phoenix lives anew, + Unless she burn: if then I am distraught + By fire, I may to better life be brought + Like those whom death restores nor years undo. +The fire whereof I speak, is my great cheer; + Such power it hath to renovate and raise + Me who was almost numbered with the dead; +And since by nature fire doth find its sphere + Soaring aloft, and I am all ablaze, + Heavenward with it my flight must needs be sped. + + + +LX. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE'S JUSTIFICATION._ + +_Ben può talor col mio._ + + +Sometimes my love I dare to entertain + With soaring hope not over-credulous; + Since if all human loves were impious, + Unto what end did God the world ordain? +For loving thee what license is more plain + Than that I praise thereby the glorious + Source of all joys divine, that comfort us + In thee, and with chaste fires our soul sustain? +False hope belongs unto that love alone + Which with declining beauty wanes and dies, + And, like the face it worships, fades away. +That hope is true which the pure heart hath known, + Which alters not with time or death's decay, + Yielding on earth earnest of Paradise. + + + +LX. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE'S JUSTIFICATION._ + +_Ben può talor col casto._ + + +It must be right sometimes to entertain + Chaste love with hope not over-credulous; + Since if all human loves were impious, + Unto what end did God the world ordain? +If I love thee and bend beneath thy reign, + 'Tis for the sake of beauty glorious + Which in thine eyes divine is stored for us, + And drives all evil thought from its domain. +That is not love whose tyranny we own + In loveliness that every moment dies; + Which, like the face it worships, fades away: +True love is that which the pure heart hath known, + Which alters not with time or death's decay, + Yielding on earth earnest of Paradise. + + + +LXI. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_IRREPARABLE LOSS._ + +_Se 'l mie rozzo martello._ + + +When my rude hammer to the stubborn stone + Gives human shape, now that, now this, at will, + Following his hand who wields and guides it still, + It moves upon another's feet alone: +But that which dwells in heaven, the world doth fill + With beauty by pure motions of its own; + And since tools fashion tools which else were none, + Its life makes all that lives with living skill. +Now, for that every stroke excels the more + The higher at the forge it doth ascend, + Her soul that fashioned mine hath sought the skies: +Wherefore unfinished I must meet my end, + If God, the great artificer, denies + That aid which was unique on earth before. + + + +LXII. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_LOVE'S TRIUMPH OVER DEATH._ + +_Quand' el ministro de' sospir._ + + +When she who was the source of all my sighs, + Fled from the world, herself, my straining sight, + Nature who gave us that unique delight, + Was sunk in shame, and we had weeping eyes. +Yet shall not vauntful Death enjoy this prize, + This sun of suns which then he veiled in night; + For Love hath triumphed, lifting up her light + On earth and mid the saints in Paradise. +What though remorseless and impiteous doom + Deemed that the music of her deeds would die, + And that her splendour would be sunk in gloom, +The poet's page exalts her to the sky + With life more living in the lifeless tomb, + And death translates her soul to reign on high. + + + +LXIII. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_AFTER SUNSET._ + +_Be' mi dove'._ + + +Well might I in those days so fortunate, + What time the sun lightened my path above, + Have soared from earth to heaven, raised by her love + Who winged my labouring soul and sweetened fate. + +That sun hath set; and I with hope elate + Who deemed that those bright days would never move, + Find that my thankless soul, deprived thereof, + Declines to death, while heaven still bars the gate. + +Love lent me wings; my path was like a stair; + A lamp unto my feet, that sun was given; + And death was safety and great joy to find. + +But dying now, I shall not climb to heaven; + Nor can mere memory cheer my heart's despair:-- + What help remains when hope is left behind? + + + +LXIV. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_A WASTED BRAND._ + +_Qual maraviglia è._ + + +If being near the fire I burned with it, + Now that its flame is quenched and doth not show, + What wonder if I waste within and glow, + Dwindling away to cinders bit by bit? + +While still it burned, I saw so brightly lit + That splendour whence I drew my grievous woe, + That from its sight alone could pleasure flow, + And death and torment both seemed exquisite. + +But now that heaven hath robbed me of the blaze + Of that great fire which burned and nourished me, + A coal that smoulders 'neath the ash am I. + +Unless Love furnish wood fresh flames to raise, + I shall expire with not one spark to see, + So quickly into embers do I die! + + + +LXV. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_ON THE BRINK OF DEATH._ + +_Giunto è già._ + + +Now hath my life across a stormy sea + Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all + Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall + Of good and evil for eternity. + +Now know I well how that fond phantasy + Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall + Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal + Is that which all men seek unwillingly. + +Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, + What are they when the double death is nigh? + The one I know for sure, the other dread. + +Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest + My soul that turns to His great love on high, + Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread. + + + +LXVI. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_VANITY OF VANITIES._ + +_Le favole del mondo._ + + +The fables of the world have filched away + The time I had for thinking upon God; + His grace lies buried 'neath oblivion's sod, + Whence springs an evil crop of sins alway. + +What makes another wise, leads me astray, + Slow to discern the bad path I have trod: + Hope fades; but still desire ascends that God + May free me from self-love, my sure decay. + +Shorten half-way my road to heaven from earth! + Dear Lord, I cannot even half-way rise, + Unless Thou help me on this pilgrimage. + +Teach me to hate the world so little worth, + And all the lovely things I clasp and prize; + That endless life, ere death, may be my wage. + + + +LXVII. + +_A PRAYER FOR FAITH._ + +_Non è più bassa._ + + +There's not on earth a thing more vile and base + Than, lacking Thee, I feel myself to be: + For pardon prays my own debility, + Yearning in vain to lift me to Thy face. + +Stretch to me, Lord, that chain whose links enlace + All heavenly gifts and all felicity-- + Faith, whereunto I strive perpetually, + Yet cannot find (my fault) her perfect grace. + +That gift of gifts, the rarer 'tis, the more + I count it great; more great, because to earth + Without it neither peace nor joy is given. + +If Thou Thy blood so lovingly didst pour, + Let not that bounty fail or suffer dearth, + Withholding Faith that opes the doors of heaven. + + + +LXVIII. + +TO MONSIGNOR LODOVICO BECCADELLI. + +_URBINO._ + +_Per croce e grazia._ + + + God's grace, the cross, our troubles multiplied, + Will make us meet in heaven, full well I know: + Yet ere we yield our breath, on earth below + Why need a little solace be denied? + + Though seas and mountains and rough ways divide + Our feet asunder, neither frost nor snow + Can make the soul her ancient love forgo; + Nor chains nor bonds the wings of thought have tied. + + Borne by these wings with thee I dwell for aye, + And weep, and of my dead Urbino talk, + Who, were he living, now perchance would be, + + For so 'twas planned, thy guest as well as I: + Warned by his death another way I walk + To meet him where he waits to live with me. + + + +LXIX. + +WAITING FOR DEATH. + +_Di morte certo._ + + + My death must come; but when, I do not know: + Life's short, and little life remains for me: + Fain would my flesh abide; my soul would flee + Heavenward, for still she calls on me to go. + + Blind is the world; and evil here below + O'erwhelms and triumphs over honesty: + The light is quenched; quenched too is bravery: + Lies reign, and truth hath ceased her face to show. + + When will that day dawn, Lord, for which he waits + Who trusts in Thee? Lo, this prolonged delay + Destroys all hope and robs the soul of life. + + Why streams the light from those celestial gates, + If death prevent the day of grace, and stay + Our souls for ever in the toils of strife? + + + +LXX. + +_A PRAYER FOR STRENGTH._ + +_Carico d'anni._ + + +Burdened with years and full of sinfulness, + With evil custom grown inveterate, + Both deaths I dread that close before me wait, + Yet feed my heart on poisonous thoughts no less. + +No strength I find in mine own feebleness + To change or life or love or use or fate, + Unless Thy heavenly guidance come, though late, + Which only helps and stays our nothingness. + +'Tis not enough, dear Lord, to make me yearn + For that celestial home, where yet my soul + May be new made, and not, as erst, of nought: + +Nay, ere Thou strip her mortal vestment, turn + My steps toward the steep ascent, that whole + And pure before Thy face she may be brought. + + + +LXXI. + +_A PRAYER FOR PURIFICATION._ + +_Forse perchè d' altrui._ + + +Perchance that I might learn what pity is, + That I might laugh at erring men no more, + Secure in my own strength as heretofore, + My soul hath fallen from her state of bliss: +Nor know I under any flag but this + How fighting I may 'scape those perils sore, + Or how survive the rout and horrid roar + Of adverse hosts, if I Thy succour miss. +O flesh! O blood! O cross! O pain extreme! + By you may those foul sins be purified, + Wherein my fathers were, and I was born! +Lo, Thou alone art good: let Thy supreme + Pity my state of evil cleanse and hide-- + So near to death, so far from God, forlorn. + + + +LXXII. + +_A PRAYER FOR AID._ + +_Deh fammiti vedere._ + + +Oh, make me see Thee, Lord, where'er I go! + If mortal beauty sets my soul on fire, + That flame when near to Thine must needs expire, + And I with love of only Thee shall glow. +Dear Lord, Thy help I seek against this woe, + These torments that my spirit vex and tire; + Thou only with new strength canst re-inspire + My will, my sense, my courage faint and low. +Thou gavest me on earth this soul divine; + And Thou within this body weak and frail + Didst prison it--how sadly there to live! +How can I make its lot less vile than mine? + Without Thee, Lord, all goodness seems to fail. + To alter fate is God's prerogative. + + + +LXXIII. + +_AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS._ + +_Scarco d' un' importuna._ + + +Freed from a burden sore and grievous band, + Dear Lord, and from this wearying world untied, + Like a frail bark I turn me to Thy side, + As from a fierce storm to a tranquil land. +Thy thorns, Thy nails, and either bleeding hand, + With Thy mild gentle piteous face, provide + Promise of help and mercies multiplied, + And hope that yet my soul secure may stand. +Let not Thy holy eyes be just to see + My evil past, Thy chastened ears to hear + And stretch the arm of judgment to my crime: +Let Thy blood only lave and succour me, + Yielding more perfect pardon, better cheer, + As older still I grow with lengthening time. + + + +LXXIV. + +FIRST READING. + +_A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH._ + +_S' avvien che spesso._ + + +What though strong love of life doth flatter me + With hope of yet more years on earth to stay, + Death none the less draws nearer day by day, + Who to sad souls alone comes lingeringly. +Yet why desire long life and jollity, + If in our griefs alone to God we pray? + Glad fortune, length of days, and pleasure slay + The soul that trusts to their felicity. +Then if at any hour through grace divine + The fiery shafts of love and faith that cheer + And fortify the soul, my heart assail, +Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine, + Straight may I wing my way to heaven; for here + With lengthening days good thoughts and wishes fail. + + + +LXXIV. + +SECOND READING. + +_A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH._ + +_Parmi che spesso._ + + +Ofttimes my great desire doth flatter me + With hope on earth yet many years to stay: + Still Death, the more I love it, day by day + Takes from the life I love so tenderly. +What better time for that dread change could be, + If in our griefs alone to God we pray? + Oh, lead me, Lord, oh, lead me far away + From every thought that lures my soul from Thee! +Yea, if at any hour, through grace of Thine, + The fervent zeal of love and faith that cheer + And fortify the soul, my heart assail. +Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine, + Plant, like a saint in heaven, that virtue here; + For, lacking Thee, all good must faint and fail. + + + +LXXV. + +_HEART-COLDNESS._ + +_Vorrei voler, Signior._ + + +Fain would I wish what my heart cannot will: + Between it and the fire a veil of ice + Deadens the fire, so that I deal in lies; + My words and actions are discordant still. +I love Thee with my tongue, then mourn my fill; + For love warms not my heart, nor can I rise, + Or ope the doors of Grace, who from the skies + Might flood my soul, and pride and passion kill. +Rend Thou the veil, dear Lord! Break Thou that wall + Which with its stubbornness retards the rays + Of that bright sun this earth hath dulled for me! +Send down Thy promised light to cheer and fall + On Thy fair spouse, that I with love may blaze, + And, free from doubt, my heart feel only Thee! + + + +LXXVI. + +_THE DEATH OF CHRIST._ + +_Non fur men lieti._ + + +Not less elate than smitten with wild woe + To see not them but Thee by death undone, + Were those blest souls, when Thou above the sun + Didst raise, by dying, men that lay so low: +Elate, since freedom from all ills that flow + From their first fault for Adam's race was won; + Sore smitten, since in torment fierce God's son + Served servants on the cruel cross below. +Heaven showed she knew Thee, who Thou wert and whence, + Veiling her eyes above the riven earth; + The mountains trembled and the seas were troubled. +He took the Fathers from hell's darkness dense: + The torments of the damnéd fiends redoubled: + Man only joyed, who gained baptismal birth. + + + +LXXVII. + +_THE BLOOD OF CHRIST._ + +_Mentre m' attrista._ + + +Mid weariness and woe I find some cheer + In thinking of the past, when I recall + My weakness and my sins, and reckon all + The vain expense of days that disappear: +This cheers by making, ere I die, more clear + The frailty of what men delight miscall; + But saddens me to think how rarely fall + God's grace and mercies in life's latest year. +For though Thy promises our faith compel, + Yet, Lord, what man shall venture to maintain + That pity will condone our long neglect? +Still from Thy blood poured forth we know full well + How without measure was Thy martyr's pain, + How measureless the gifts we dare expect. + + + + + +THE SONNETS OF TOMMASO CAMPANELLA + + + +I. + +_THE PROEM._ + +_Io che nacqui dal Senno._ + + +Born of God's Wisdom and Philosophy, + Keen lover of true beauty and true good, + I call the vain self-traitorous multitude + Back to my mother's milk; for it is she, +Faithful to God her spouse, who nourished me, + Making me quick and active to intrude + Within the inmost veil, where I have viewed + And handled all things in eternity. +If the whole world's our home where we may run, + Up, friends, forsake those secondary schools + Which give grains, units, inches for the whole! +If facts surpass mere words, melt pride of soul, + And pain, and ignorance that hardens fools, + Here in the fire I've stolen from the Sun! + + + +II. + +_TO THE POETS._ + +_In superbia il valor._ + + +Valour to pride hath turned; grave holiness + To vile hypocrisy; all gentle ways + To empty forms; sound sense to idle lays; + Pure love to heat; beauty to paint and dress:-- +Thanks to you, Poets! you who sing the praise + Of fabled knights, foul fires, lies, nullities; + Not virtue, nor the wrapped sublimities + Of God, as bards were wont in those old days. +How far more wondrous than your phantasies + Are Nature's works, how far more sweet to sing! + Thus taught, the soul falsehood and truth descries. +That tale alone is worth the pondering, + Which hath not smothered history in lies, + And arms the soul against each sinful thing. + + + +III. + +_THE UNIVERSE._ + +_Il mondo è un animal._ + + +The world's a living creature, whole and great, + God's image, praising God whose type it is; + We are imperfect worms, vile families, + That in its belly have our low estate. +If we know not its love, its intellect, + Neither the worm within my belly seeks + To know me, but his petty mischief wreaks:-- + Thus it behoves us to be circumspect. +Again, the earth is a great animal, + Within the greatest; we are like the lice + Upon its body, doing harm as they. +Proud men, lift up your eyes; on you I call: + Measure each being's worth; and thence be wise; + Learning what part in the great scheme you play! + + + +IV. + +_THE SOUL._ + +_Dentro un pugno di cervel._ + + +A handful of brain holds me: I consume + So much that all the books the world contains, + Cannot allay my furious famine-pains:-- + What feasts were mine! Yet hunger is my doom. +With one world Aristarchus fed my greed; + This finished, others Metrodorus gave; + Yet, stirred by restless yearning, still I crave: + The more I know, the more to learn I need. +Thus I'm an image of that Sire in whom + All beings are, like fishes in the sea; + That one true object of the loving mind. +Reasoning may reach Him, like a shaft shot home; + The Church may guide; but only blest is he + Who loses self in God, God's self to find. + + + +V. + +_THE BOOK OF NATURE._ + +_Il mondo è il libro._ + + +The world's the book where the eternal Sense + Wrote his own thoughts; the living temple where, + Painting his very self, with figures fair + He filled the whole immense circumference. +Here then should each man read, and gazing find + Both how to live and govern, and beware + Of godlessness; and, seeing God all-where, + Be bold to grasp the universal mind. +But we tied down to books and temples dead, + Copied with countless errors from the life,-- + These nobler than that school sublime we call. +O may our senseless souls at length be led + To truth by pain, grief, anguish, trouble, strife! + Turn we to read the one original! + + + +VI. + +_AN EXHORTATION TO MANKIND._ + +_Abitator del mondo._ + + +Ye dwellers on this world, to the first Mind + Exalt your eyes; and ye shall see how low + Vile Tyranny, wearing the glorious show + Of nobleness and worth, keeps you confined. +Then look at proud Hypocrisy, entwined + With lies and snares, who once taught men to know + The fear of God. Next to the Sophists go, + Traitors to thought and reason, jugglers blind. +Keen Socrates to quell the Sophists came: + To quell the Tyrants, Cato just and rough: + To quell the Hypocrites, Christ, heaven's own flame. +But to unmask fraud, sacrilege, and lies, + Or boldly rush on death, is not enough; + Unless we all taste God, made inly wise. + + + +VII. + +_THE BROOD OF IGNORANCE._ + +_Io nacqui a debellar._ + + +To quell three Titan evils I was made,-- + Tyranny, Sophistry, Hypocrisy; + Whence I perceive with what wise harmony + Themis on me Love, Power, and Wisdom laid. +These are the basements firm whereon is stayed, + Supreme and strong, our new philosophy; + The antidotes against that trinal lie + Wherewith the burdened world groaning is weighed. +Famine, war, pestilence, fraud, envy, pride, + Injustice, idleness, lust, fury, fear, + Beneath these three great plagues securely hide. +Grounded on blind self-love, the offspring dear + Of Ignorance, they flourish and abide:-- + Wherefore to root up Ignorance I'm here! + + + +VIII. + +_SELF-LOVE._ + +_Credulo il proprio amor._ + + +Self-love fools man with false opinion + That earth, air, water, fire, the stars we see, + Though stronger and more beautiful than we, + Feel nought, love not, but move for us alone. +Then all the tribes of earth except his own + Seem to him senseless, rude--God lets them be: + To kith and kin next shrinks his sympathy, + Till in the end loves only self each one. +Learning he shuns that he may live at ease; + And since the world is little to his mind, + God and God's ruling Forethought he denies. +Craft he calls wisdom; and, perversely blind, + Seeking to reign, erects new deities: + At last 'I make the Universe!' he cries. + + + +IX. + +_LOVE OF SELF AND GOD._ + +_Questo amor singolar._ + + +This love of self sinks man in sinful sloth: + Yet, if he seek to live, he needs must feign + Sense, goodness, courage. Thus he dwells in pain, + A sphinx, twy-souled, a false self-stunted growth. +Honours, applause, and wealth these torments soothe; + Till jealousy, contrasting his foul stain + With virtues eminent, by spur and rein + Drives him to slay, steal, poison, break his oath. +But he who loves our common Father, hath + All men for brothers, and with God doth joy + In whatsoever worketh for their bliss. +Good Francis called the birds upon his path + Brethren; to him the fishes were not coy.-- + Oh, blest is he who comprehendeth this! + + + +X. + +_EARTHLY AND DIVINE LOVE._ + +_Se Dio ci dà la vita._ + + +God gives us life, and God our life preserves; + Nay, all our happiness on Him doth rest: + Why then should love of God inflame man's breast + Less than his lady and the lord he serves? +Through mean and wanton ignorance he swerves, + And worships a false Good, divinely dressed; + Love cannot soar to what it never guessed, + But stoops its flight, and the thralled soul unnerves. +Here too is man deceived. He yields his own + To spend on others. Yet in vile delight + God's splendour still shines through love's earthliness. +But we embrace the loss, the lure alone + Love fools us with. That glimpse of heavenly light, + That foretaste of eternal Good, we miss. + + + +XI. + +_THE PHILOSOPHER._ + +_Gran fortuna è 'l saper._ + + +Wisdom is riches great and great estate, + Far above wealth; nor are the wise unblest + If born of lineage vile or race oppressed: + These by their doom sublime they illustrate. + +They have their griefs for guerdon, to dilate + Their name and glory; nay, the cross, the sword + Make them to be like saints or God adored; + And gladness greets them in the frowns of fate: + +For joys and sorrows are their dear delight; + Even as a lover takes the weal and woe + Felt for his lady. Such is wisdom's might. + +But wealth still vexes fools; more vile they grow + By being noble; and their luckless light + With each new misadventure burns more low. + + + +XII. + +_A PARABLE OF WISE MEN AND THE WORLD._ + +_Gli astrologi antevista._ + + +Once on a time the astronomers foresaw + The coming of a star to madden men: + Thus warned they fled the land, thinking that when + The folk were crazed, they'd hold the reins of law + +When they returned the realm to overawe, + They prayed those maniacs to quit cave and den, + And use their old good customs once again; + But these made answer with fist, tooth, and claw: + +So that the wise men were obliged to rule + Themselves like lunatics to shun grim death, + Seeing the biggest maniac now was king. + +Stifling their sense, they lived, aping the fool, + In public praising act and word and thing + Just as the whims of madmen swayed their breath. + + + +XIII. + +_THE WORLD'S A STAGE._ + +_Nel teatro del mondo._ + + +The world's a theatre: age after age, + Souls masked and muffled in their fleshly gear + Before the supreme audience appear, + As Nature, God's own Art, appoints the stage. + +Each plays the part that is his heritage; + From choir to choir they pass, from sphere to sphere, + And deck themselves with joy or sorry cheer, + As Fate the comic playwright fills the page. + +None do or suffer, be they cursed or blest, + Aught otherwise than the great Wisdom wrote + To gladden each and all who gave Him mirth, + +When we at last to sea or air or earth + Yielding these masks that weal or woe denote, + In God shall see who spoke and acted best. + + + +XIV. + +_THE HUMAN COMEDY._ + +_Natura dal Signor._ + + +Nature, by God directed, formed in space + The universal comedy we see; + Wherein each star, each man, each entity, + Each living creature, hath its part and place: + +And when the play is over, it shall be + That God will judge with justice and with grace.-- + Aping this art divine, the human race + Plans for itself on earth a comedy: + +It makes kings, priests, slaves, heroes for the eyes + Of vulgar folk; and gives them masks to play + Their several parts--not wisely, as we see; + +For impious men too oft we canonise, + And kill the saints; while spurious lords array + Their hosts against the real nobility. + + + +XV. + +_THE TRUE KINGS._ + +_Neron fu Re._ + + +Nero was king by accident in show; + But Socrates by nature in good sooth; + By right of both Augustus; luck and truth + Less perfectly were blent in Scipio. + +The spurious prince still seeks to extirpate + The seed of natures born imperial-- + Like Herod, Caiaphas, Meletus, all + Who by bad acts sustain their stolen state. + +Slaves whose souls tell them that they are but slaves, + Strike those whose native kinghood all can see: + Martyrdom is the stamp of royalty. + +Dead though they be, these govern from their graves: + The tyrants fall, nor can their laws remain; + While Paul and Peter rise o'er Rome to reign. + + + +XVI. + +_WHAT MAKES A KING._ + +_Chi pennelli have e colori._ + + +He who hath brush and colours, and chance-wise + Doth daub, befouling walls and canvases, + Is not a painter; but, unhelped by these, + He who in art is masterful and wise. +Cowls and the tonsure do not make a friar; + Nor make a king wide realms and pompous wars; + But he who is all Jesus, Pallas, Mars, + Though he be slave or base-born, wears the tiar. +Man is not born crowned like the natural king + Of beasts, for beasts by this investiture + Have need to know the head they must obey; +Wherefore a commonwealth fits men, I say, + Or else a prince whose worth is tried and sure, + Not proved by sloth or false imagining. + + + +XVII. + +_TO JESUS CHRIST._ + +_I tuo' seguaci._ + + +Thy followers to-day are less like Thee, + The crucified, than those who made Thee die, + Good Jesus, wandering all ways awry + From rules prescribed in Thy wise charity. +The saints now most esteemed love lying lips, + Lust, strife, injustice; sweet to them the cry + Drawn forth by monstrous pangs from men that die: + So many plagues hath not the Apocalypse +As these wherewith they smite Thy friends ignored-- + Even as I am; search my heart, and know; + My life, my sufferings bear Thy stamp and sign. +If Thou return to earth, come armed; for lo, + Thy foes prepare fresh crosses for Thee, Lord! + Not Turks, not Jews, but they who call them Thine. + + + +XVIII. + +_TO DEATH._ + +_Morte, stipendio della colpa._ + + +O Death, the wage of our first father's blame, + Daughter of envy and nonentity, + Serf of the serpent, and his harlotry, + Thou beast most arrogant and void of shame! +Thy last great conquest dost thou dare proclaim, + Crying that all things are subdued to thee, + Against the Almighty raised almightily?-- + The proofs that prop thy pride of state are lame. +Not to serve thee, but to make thee serve Him, + He stoops to Hell. The choice of arms was thine; + Yet art thou scoffed at by the crucified! +He lives--thy loss. He dies--from every limb, + Mangled by thee, lightnings of godhead shine, + From which thy darkness hath not where to hide. + + + +XIX. + +_ON THE SEPULCHRE OF CHRIST._ + +No. I. + +_O tu ch' ami la parte._ + + +O you who love the part more than the whole, + And love yourself more than all human kind, + Who persecute good men with prudence blind + Because they combat your malign control, +See Scribes and Pharisees, each impious school, + Each sect profane, o'erthrown by his great mind, + Whose best our good to Deity refined, + The while they thought Death triumphed o'er his soul. +Deem you that only you have thought and sense, + While heaven and all its wonders, sun and earth, + Scorned in your dullness, lack intelligence? +Fool! what produced you? These things gave you birth: + So have they mind and God. Repent; be wise! + Man fights but ill with Him who rules the skies. + + + +XX. + +_ON THE SEPULCHRE OF CHRIST._ + +No. 2. + +_Quinci impara a stupirti._ + + +Here bend in boundless wonder; bow your head: + Think how God's deathless Mind, that men might be + Robed in celestial immortality + (O Love divine!), in flesh was raimented: +How He was killed and buried; from the dead + How He arose to life with victory, + And reigned in heaven; how all of us shall be + Glorious like Him whose hearts to His are wed: +How they who die for love of reason, give + Hypocrites, tyrants, sophists--all who sell + Their neighbours ill for holiness--to hell: +How the dead saint condemns the bad who live; + How all he does becomes a law for men; + How he at last to judge shall come again! + + + +XXI. + +_THE RESURRECTION._ + +_Se sol sei ore._ + + +If Christ was only six hours crucified + After few years of toil and misery, + Which for mankind He suffered willingly, + While heaven was won for ever when He died; +Why should He still be shown on every side, + Painted and preached, in nought but agony, + Whose pains were light matched with His victory, + When the world's power to harm Him was defied? +Why rather speak and write not of the realm + He rules in heaven, and soon will bring below + Unto the praise and glory of His name? +Ah foolish crowd! This world's thick vapours whelm + Your eyes unworthy of that glorious show, + Blind to His splendour, bent upon His shame. + + + +XXII. + +_IDEAL LOVE._ + +_Il vero amante._ + + +He who loves truly, grows in force and might; + For beauty and the image of his love + Expand his spirit: whence he burns to prove + Adventures high, and holds all perils light. +If thus a lady's love dilate the knight, + What glories and what joy all joys above + Shall not the heavenly splendour, joined by love + Unto our flesh-imprisoned soul, excite? +Once freed, she would become one sphere immense + Of love, power, wisdom, filled with Deity, + Elate with wonders of the eternal Sense. +But we like sheep and wolves war ceaselessly: + That love we never seek, that light intense, + Which would exalt us to infinity. + + + +XXIII. + +_THE MODERN CUPID._ + +_Son tremil' anni._ + + +Through full three thousand years the world reveres + Blind Love that bears the quiver and hath wings: + Now too he's deaf, and to the sufferings + Of folk in anguish turns impiteous ears. +Of gold he's greedy, and dark raiment wears; + A child no more, that naked sports and sings, + But a sly greybeard; no gold shaft he flings, + Now that fire-arms have cursed these latter years. +Charcoal and sulphur, thunder, lead, and smoke, + That leave the flesh with plagues of hell diseased, + And drive the craving spirit deaf and blind, +These are his weapons. But my bell hath broke + Her silence. Yield, thou deaf, blind, tainted beast, + To the wise fervour of a blameless mind! + + + +XXIV. + +_TRUE AND FALSE NOBILITY._ + +_In noi dal senno._ + + +Valour and mind form real nobility, + The which bears fruit and shows a fair increase + By doughty actions: these and nought but these + Confer true patents of gentility. +Money is false and light unless it be + Bought by a man's own worthy qualities; + And blood is such that its corrupt disease + And ignorant pretence are foul to see. +Honours that ought to yield more true a type, + Europe, thou measurest by fortune still, + To thy great hurt; and this thy foe perceives: +He rates the tree by fruits mature and ripe, + Not by mere shadows, roots, and verdant leaves:-- + Why then neglect so grave a cause of ill? + + + +XXV. + +_THE PEOPLE._ + +_Il popolo è una bestia._ + + +The people is a beast of muddy brain, + That knows not its own force, and therefore stands + Loaded with wood and stone; the powerless hands + Of a mere child guide it with bit and rein: +One kick would be enough to break the chain; + But the beast fears, and what the child demands, + It does; nor its own terror understands, + Confused and stupefied by bugbears vain. +Most wonderful! with its own hand it ties + And gags itself--gives itself death and war + For pence doled out by kings from its own store. +Its own are all things between earth and heaven; + But this it knows not; and if one arise + To tell this truth, it kills him unforgiven. + + + +XXVI. + +_CONSCIENCE._ + +_Seco ogni coif a è doglia._ + + +All crime is its own torment, bearing woe + To mind or body or decrease of fame; + If not at once, still step by step our name + Or blood or friends or fortune it brings low. +But if our will do not resent the blow, + We have not sinned. That penance hath no blame + Which Magdalen found sweet: purging our shame, + Self-punishment is virtue, all men know. +The consciousness of goodness pure and whole + Makes a man fully blest; but misery + Springs from false conscience, blinded in its pride. +This Simon Peter meant when he replied + To Simon Magus, that the prescient soul + Hath her own proof of immortality. + + + +XXVII. + +_THE BAD PRINCE._ + +_Mentola al comun corpo._ + + +Organ of rut, not reason, is the lord + Who from the body politic doth drain + Lust for himself, instead of toil and pain, + Leaving us lean as crickets on dry sward. +Well too if he like Love would filch our hoard + With pleasure to ourselves, sluicing our vein + And vigour to perpetuate the strain + Of life by spilth of life within us stored! +Love's cheat yields joy and profit. Kings, less kind, + Harm those they hoodwink; sow bare rock with seed; + Nor use our waste to propagate the breed. +Heaven help that body which a little mind, + Housed in a head, lacking ears, tongue, and eyes, + And senseless but for smell, can tyrannise! + + + +XXVIII. + +_ON ITALY._ + +_La gran Donna._ + + +That Lady who to Caesar came in state + Upon the Rubicon, what time she feared + Ruin from those strange races who appeared + Erewhile to build her empire strong and great, +Now stays with limbs dispersed and lacerate, + A bondslave, shorn of all her pomp revered: + Nor seems it now that Dinah's shame can gird + Simeon or Levi to avenge her fate. +If then Jerusalem doth not repair + To Nazareth or Athens, where did reign + Wisdom of God or man in days of yore, +None shall arise her honours to restore: + For Herods are all strangers; when they swear + To save the Saviour's seed, their oath is vain. + + + +XXIX. + +_TO VENICE._ + +_Nuova arca di Noè._ + + +New Ark of Noah! when the cruel scourge + Of that barbarian tyrant like a wave + Went over Italy, thou then didst save + The seed of just men on the weltering surge. +Here, still by discord and foul servitude + Untainted, thou a hero brood dost raise, + Powerful and prudent. Due to thee their praise + Of maiden pure, of teeming motherhood! +Thou wonder of the world, Rome's loyal heir, + Thou pride and strong support of Italy, + Dial of princes, school of all things wise! +Thou like Arcturus steadfast in the skies, + With tardy sense guidest thy kingdom fair, + Bearing alone the load of liberty. + + + +XXX. + +_TO GENOA._ + +_Le Ninfe d'Arno._ + + +The nymphs of Arno; Adria's goddess-queen; + Greece, where the Latin banner floated free; + The lands that border on the Syrian sea; + The Euxine, and fair Naples; these have been +Thine, by the right of conquest; these should be + Still thine by empire: Asia's broad demesne, + Afric, America--realms never seen + But by thy venture--all belong to thee. +But thou, thyself not knowing, leavest all + For a poor price to strangers; since thy head + Is weak, albeit thy limbs are stout and good. +Genoa, mistress of the world, recall + Thy soul magnanimous! Nay, be not led + Slave to base gold, thou and thy tameless brood! + + + +XXXI. + +_TO POLAND._ + +_Sopra i regni._ + + +High o'er those realms that make blind chance the heir + Of empire, Poland, dost thou lift thy head: + For while thou mournest for thy monarch dead, + Thou wilt not let his son the sceptre bear, +Lest he prove weak perchance to do or dare. + Yet art thou even more by luck misled, + Choosing a prince of fortune, courtly-bred, + Uncertain whether he will spend or spare. +Oh, quit this pride! In hut or shepherd's pen + Seek Cato, Minos, Numa! For of such + God still makes kings in plenty: and these men +Will squander little substance and gain much, + Knowing that virtue and not blood shall be + Their titles to true immortality. + + + +XXXII. + +_TO THE SWISS._ + +_Se voi più innalza._ + + +Ye Alpine rocks! If less your peaks elate + To heaven exalt you than that gift divine, + Freedom; why do your children still combine + To keep the despots in their stolen state? +Lo, for a piece of bread from windows wide + You fling your blood, taking no thought what cause, + Righteous or wrong, your strength to battle draws; + So is your valour spurned and vilified. +All things belong to free men; but the slave + Clothes and feeds poorly. Even so from you + Broad lands and Malta's knighthood men withhold. +Up, free yourselves, and act as heroes do! + Go, take your own from tyrants, which you gave + So recklessly, and they so dear have sold! + + + +XXXIII. + +_THE SAMARITAN._ + +_Da Roma ad Ostia._ + + +From Rome to Ostia a poor man went; + Thieves robbed and wounded him upon the way; + Some monks, great saints, observed him where he lay, + And left him, on their breviaries intent. +A Bishop passed thereby, and careless bent + To sign the cross, a blessing brief to say; + But a great Cardinal, to clutch their prey, + Followed the thieves, falsely benevolent. +At last there came a German Lutheran, + Who builds on faith, merit of works withstands; + He raised and clothed and healed the dying man. + Now which of these was worthiest, most humane? +The heart is better than the head, kind hands + Than cold lip-service; faith without works is vain. + Who understands + What creed is good and true for self and others?-- + But none can doubt the good he doth his brothers. + + + +XXXIV. + +_HYPOCRITES._ + +_Nessun ti venne a dir._ + + +Who comes and saith: 'A Tyrant, lo, am I!' + And, 'I am Antichrist!' what man will swear? + The crafty rogue, hiding his poisonous ware, + Sells you what slays your soul, for sanctity. +Cheats, brigands, prostitutes, and all that fry, + Not having fashioned so devout a snare, + Appear worse sinners than perhaps they are; + For where the craft's small, small's the villainy; +You're on your guard. The meek Samaritan + Makes way before those guileful Pharisees, + Though God assigned to him the higher place. + Not words nor wonders prove a virtuous man, +But deeds and acts. How many deities + Hath this false standard given the human race! + + + +XXXV. + +_SOPHISTS._ + +_Nessun ti verrà a dire._ + + +'Behold, I am a Sophist!' no man saith. + But the true sons of perfidy refined + Forge theologic lies the soul to blind, + Calling themselves evangels of the faith. +Aretine with his scoundrels blew his breath, + And in the cynic orgies boldly joined; + His ribald jests had flowers and thorns combined-- + A frank fair list including life and death, +For fun, not fraud. It shames him to be found + Less vile than those who cannot bear to see + Their sink of filth laid open to the ground: +Wherefore they shut our mouths, our books impound, + Garble with lies each sentence that may be + Cited to prove their foul hypocrisy. + + + +XXXVI. + +_AGAINST HYPOCRITES._ + +_Gli affetti di Pluton._ + + +Deep in their hearts they hide the lusts of Hell: + Christ's name is written on their brow, that those + Who only view the husk, may not suppose + What guile and malice harbour in the shell. +O God! O Wisdom! Holy Fervour! Well + Of strength invincible to strike Thy foes! + Give me the force--my spirit burns and glows-- + To strip those idols and to break their spell! +The zeal I bear unto Thy name benign, + The love I feel for truth sincere and pure, + When such men triumph, make me rend my hair. +How long shall folk this infamy endure-- + That _he_ should be held sacred, _he_ divine, + Who strips e'en corpses in the graveyard bare? + + + +XXXVII. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. I. + +_Vilissima progenie._ + + +Ye vile offscourings! with unblushing face + Dare ye claim sonship to our heavenly Sire, + Who serve brute vices, crouching in the mire + To hounds and conies, beasts that ape our race? +Such truckling is called virtue by the base + Hucksters of sophistry, the priest and friar,-- + Gilt claws of tyrant brutes,--who lie for hire, + Preaching that God delights in this disgrace. +Look well, ye brainless folk! Do fathers hold + Their children slaves to serfs? Do sheep obey + The witless ram? Why make a beast your king? +If there are no archangels, let your fold + Be governed by the sense of all: why stray + From men to worship every filthy thing? + + + +XXXVIII. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. 2. + +_Dov' è la libertà._ + + +Where are the freedom and high feats that spring + From fatherhood so fair as Deity? + Fleas are no sons of men, although they be + Flesh-born: brave thoughts and deeds this honour bring. +If princes great or small seek anything + Adverse to good and God's authority, + Which of you dares refuse? Nay, who is he + That doth not cringe to do their pleasuring? +So then with soul and blood in verity + You serve base gold, vices, and worthless men-- + God with lip-service only and with lies, +Sunk in the slough of dire idolatry: + If Ignorance begat these errors, then + To Reason turn for sonship and be wise! + + + +XXXIX. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. 3. + +_Allor potrete orar._ + + +Then shall ye pray with every hour that flies; + Thy kingdom come, and let Thy will be done + On earth as in the spheres above the sun, + When all we hoped and wished shall bless our eyes. +Poets shall see their Age of Gold arise, + Fairer than feigned in hymn or orison; + Yea, all the realm by Adam's sin undone + Shall be restored in sinless Paradise. +Philosophers shall govern for their own + That perfect commonwealth whereof they write, + The which on earth as yet was never known. +Judah to Sion shall return with might + Of greater wonders than shook Pharaoh's throne, + From Babylon, to bless the prophets' sight. + + + +XL. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 1. + +_THE REIGN OF ANTICHRIST._ + +_Mentre l'acquila invola._ + + +While yet the eagle preys, and growls the bear; + While roars the lion; while the crow defies + The lamb who raised our race above the skies; + While yet the dove laments to the deaf air; +While, mixed with goodly wheat, darnel and tare + Within the field of human nature rise;-- + Let that ungodly sect, profanely wise, + That scorns our hope, feed, fatten, and beware! +Soon comes the day when those grim giants fell, + Famed through the world, dyed deep with sanguine hue, + Whom with feigned flatteries you applaud, shall be +Swept from the earth, and sunk in horrid Hell, + Girt round with flames, to weep and wail with you, + In doleful dungeons everlastingly. + + + +XLI. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 2. + +_THE DOOM OF THE IMPIOUS._ + +_La scuola inimicissima._ + + +You sect most adverse to the good and true, + Degenerate from your origin divine, + Pastured on lies and shadows by the line + Of Thais, Sinon, Judas, Homer! You, +Thus saith the Spirit, when the retinue + Of saints with Christ returns on earth to shine, + When the fifth angel's vial pours condign + Vengeance with awful ire and torments due,-- +You shall be girt with gloom; your lips profane, + Disloyal tongues, and savage teeth shall grind + And gnash with fury fell and anger vain: +In Malebolge your damned souls confined + On fiery marle, for increment of pain, + Shall see the saved rejoice with mirth of mind. + + + +XLII. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 3. + +_THE GOLDEN AGE._ + +_Se fu nel mondo._ + + +If men were happy in that age of gold, + We yet may hope to see mild Saturn's reign; + For all things that were buried live again, + By time's revolving cycle forward rolled. +Yet this the fox, the wolf, the crow, made bold + By fraud and perfidy, deny--in vain: + For God that rules, the signs in heaven, the train + Of prophets, and all hearts this faith uphold. +If thine and mine were banished in good sooth + From honour, pleasure, and utility, + The world would turn, I ween, to Paradise; +Blind love to modest love with open eyes; + Cunning and ignorance to living truth; + And foul oppression to fraternity. + + + +XLIII. + +_THE MILLENNIUM._ + +_Non piaccia a Dio._ + + +Nay, God forbid that mid these tragic throes + To idle comedy my thought should bend, + When torments dire and warning woes portend + Of this our world the instantaneous close! +The day approaches which shall discompose + All earthly sects, the elements shall blend + In utter ruin, and with joy shall send + Just spirits to their spheres in heaven's repose. +The Highest comes in Holy Land to hold + His sovran court and synod sanctified, + As all the psalms and prophets have foretold: +The riches of his grace He will spread wide + Through his own realm, that seat and chosen fold + Of worship and free mercies multiplied. + + + +XLIV. + +_THE PRESENT._ + +_Convien al secol nostro._ + + +Black robes befit our age. Once they were white; + Next many-hued; now dark as Afric's Moor, + Night-black, infernal, traitorous, obscure, + Horrid with ignorance and sick with fright. +For very shame we shun all colours bright, + Who mourn our end--the tyrants we endure, + The chains, the noose, the lead, the snares, the lure-- + Our dismal heroes, our souls sunk in night. +Black weeds again denote that extreme folly + Which makes us blind, mournful, and woe-begone: + For dusk is dear to doleful melancholy; +Nathless fate's wheel still turns: this raiment dun + We shall exchange hereafter for the holy + Garments of white in which of yore we shone. + + + +XLV. + +_THE FUTURE._ + +_Veggo in candida robba._ + + +Clothed in white robes I see the Holy Sire + Descend to hold his court amid the band + Of shining saints and elders: at his hand + The white immortal Lamb commands their choir. +John ends his long lament for torments dire, + Now Judah's lion rises to expand + The fatal book, and the first broken band + Sends the white courier forth to work God's ire. +The first fair spirits raimented in white + Go out to meet him who on his white cloud + Comes heralded by horsemen white as snow. +Ye black-stoled folk, be dumb, who hate the loud + Blare of God's lifted angel-trumpets! Lo, + The pure white dove puts the black crows to flight! + + + +XLVI. + +_THE YEAR 1603._ + +_Già sto mirando._ + + +The first heaven-wandering lights I see ascend + Upon the seventh and ninth centenary, + When in the Archer's realm three years shall be + Added, this aeon and our age to end. +Thou too, Mercurius, like a scribe dost lend + Thine aid to promulgate that dread decree, + Stored in the archives of eternity, + And signed and sealed by powers no prayers can bend. +O'er Europe's full meridian on thy morn + In the tenth house thy court I see thee hold: + The Sun with thee consents in Capricorn. +God grant that I may keep this mortal breath + Until I too that glorious day behold + Which shall at last confound the sons of death! + + + +XLVII. + +_NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S IMAGE._ + +_Babel disfatta._ + + +The golden head was Babylon; she passed: + Persia came next, the silvern breast: whereto + Joined brazen flank and belly--these are you, + Ye men of Macedon! Now Rome's the last. +Rome on two iron legs towered tall and vast; + But at her feet were toes of clay, that drew + Downfall: those scattered tribes erewhile she knew + For lords; now 'neath her fatal sway they're cast. +Ah thirsty soil! From your parched fallow fumes + A smoke of pride, vain-glory, cruelty, + That blinds, infects, and blackens, and consumes! +To Daniel, to the Bible you refuse + Your rebel sense; for it is still your use + To screen yourself with lies and sophistry. + + + +XLVIII. + +_THE DUNGEON._ + +_Come va al centro._ + + +As to the centre all things that have weight + Sink from the surface: as the silly mouse + Runs at a venture, rash though timorous, + Into the monster's jaws to meet her fate: +Thus all who love high Science, from the strait + Dead sea of Sophistry sailing like us + Into Truth's ocean, bold and amorous, + Must in our haven anchor soon or late. +One calls this haunt a Cave of Polypheme, + And one Atlante's Palace, one of Crete + The Labyrinth, and one Hell's lowest pit. +Knowledge, grace, mercy, are an idle dream + In this dread place. Nought but fear dwells in it, + Of stealthy Tyranny the sacred seat. + + + +XLIX. + +_THE SAGE ON EARTH._ + +_Sciolto e legato._ + + +Bound and yet free, companioned and alone, + Loud mid my silence, I confound my foes: + Men think me fool in this vile world of woes; + God's wisdom greets me sage from heaven's high throne. +With wings on earth oppressed aloft I bound; + My gleeful soul sad bonds of flesh enclose: + And though sometimes too great the burden grows, + These pinions bear me upward from the ground. +A doubtful combat proves the warrior's might: + Short is all time matched with eternity: + Nought than a pleasing burden is more light. +My brows I bind with my love's effigy, + Sure that my joyous flight will soon be sped + Where without speech my thoughts shall all be read. + + + +L. + +_THE PRICE OF FREEDOM._ + +_D' Italia in Grecia._ + + +From Rome to Greece, from Greece to Libya's sand, + Yearning for liberty, just Cato went; + Nor finding freedom to his heart's content, + Sought it in death, and died by his own hand. +Wise Hannibal, when neither sea nor land + Could save him from the Roman eagles, rent + His soul with poison from imprisonment; + And a snake's tooth cut Cleopatra's band. +In this way died one valiant Maccabee; + Brutus feigned madness; prudent Solon hid + His sense; and David, when he feared Gath's king. +Thus when the Mystic found that Jonah's sea + Was yawning to engulf him, what he did + He gave to God--a wise man's offering. + + + +LI. + +_APOLOGY BY PARADOX._ + +_Non é brutto il Demon._ + + +The Devil's not so ugly as they paint; + He's well with all, compact of courtesy: + Real heroism is real piety: + Before small truth great falsehoods shrink and faint +If pots stain worse than pipkins, it were quaint + To charge the pipkins with impurity: + Freedom I crave: who craves not to be free? + Yet life that must be feigned for, leaves a taint. +Ill conduct brings repentance?--If you prate + This wise to me, why prate not thus to all + Philosophers and prophets, and to Christ? +Not too much learning, as some arrogate, + But the small brains of dullards have sufficed + To make us wretched and the world enthrall. + + + +LII. + +_THE SOUL'S APOLOGY._ + +_Ben sei mila anni._ + + +Six thousand years or more on earth I've been: + Witness those histories of nations dead, + Which for our age I have illustrated + In philosophic volumes, scene by scene. +And thou, mere mite, seeing my sun serene + Eclipsed, wilt argue that I had no head + To live by.--Why not try the sun instead, + If nought in fate unfathomed thou hast seen? +If wise men, whom the world rebukes, combined + With tyrant wolves, brute beasts we should become. + The sage, once stoned for sin, you canonise. +When rennet melts, much milk makes haste to bind. + The more you blow the flames, the more they rise, + Bloom into stars, and find in heaven their home. + + + +LIII. + +_TO GOD ON PRAYER._ + +_Tu che Forza ed Amor._ + + +O Thou, who, mingling Force and Love, dost draw + And guide the complex of all entities, + Framed for that purpose; whence our reason sees + In supreme Fate the synthesis of Law; +Though prayers transgress which find defect or flaw + In things foredoomed by Thy divine decrees, + Yet wilt Thou modify, by slow degrees + Or swift, good times or bad Thy mind foresaw: +I therefore pray--I who through years have been + The scorn of fools, the butt of impious men, + Suffering new pains and torments day by day-- +Shorten this anguish, Lord, these griefs allay; + For still Thou shalt not have changed counsel when + I soar from hence to liberty foreseen. + + + +LIV. + +_TO GOD FOR HELP._ + +_Come vuoi, ch' a buon porto._ + + +How wilt Thou I should gain a harbour fair, + If after proof among my friends I find + That some are faithless, some devoid of mind, + Some short of sense, though stout to do and dare? +If some, though wise and loyal, like the hare + Hide in a hole, or fly in terror blind, + While nerve with wisdom and with faith combined + Through malice and through penury despair? +Reason, Thy honour, and my weal eschewed + That false ally who said he came from Thee, + With promise vain of power and liberty. +I trust:--I'll do. Change Thou the bad to good!-- + But ere I raise me to that altitude, + Needs must I merge in Thee as Thou in me. + + + +LV. + +To Annibale Caraccioli, + +_A WRITER OF ECLOGUES._ + +_Non Licida, nè Driope._ + + +Lycoris, Lycidas, and Dryope + Cannot, dear Niblo, save thy name from death; + Shadows that fleet, and flowers that yield their breath, + Match not the Love that craves infinity. +The beauty thou dost worship dwells in thee: + Within thy soul divine it harboureth: + This also bids my spirit soar, and saith + Words that unsphere for me heaven's harmony. +Make then thine inborn lustre beam and shine + With love of goodness; goodness cannot fail: + From God alone let praise immense be thine. +My soul is tired of telling o'er the tale + With men: she calls on thine: she bids thee go + Into God's school with tablets white as snow. + + + +LVI. + +_TO TELESIUS OF COSENZA._ + +_Telesio, il telo._ + + +Telesius, the arrow from thy bow + Midmost his band of sophists slays that high + Tyrant of souls that think; he cannot fly: + While Truth soars free, loosed by the self-same blow. +Proud lyres with thine immortal praises glow, + Smitten by bards elate with victory: + Lo, thine own Cavalcante, stormfully + Lightning, still strikes the fortress of the foe! +Good Gaieta bedecks our saint serene + With robes translucent, light-irradiate, + Restoring her to all her natural sheen; +The while my tocsin at the temple-gate + Of the wide universe proclaims her queen, + Pythia of first and last ordained by fate. + + + +LVII. + +_TO RIDOLFO DI BINA._ + +_Senno ed Amor._ + + +Wisdom and love, O Bina, gave thee wings, + Before the blossom of thy years had faded, + To fly with Adam for thy guide, God-aided, + Through many lands in divers journeyings. +Pure virtue is thy guerdon: virtue brings + Glory to thee, death to the foes degraded, + Who through long years of darkness have invaded + Thy Germany, mother of slaves not kings. +Yet, gazing on heaven's book, heroic child, + My soul discerns graces divine in thee:-- + Leave toys and playthings to the crowd of fools! +Do thou with heart fervent and proudly mild + Make war upon those fraud-engendering schools! + I see thee victor, and in God I see. + + + +LVIII. + +_TO TOBIA ADAMI._ + +_Portando in man._ + + +Holding the cynic lantern in your hand, + Through Europe, Egypt, Asia, you have passed, + Till at Ausonia's feet you find at last + That Cyclops' cave, where I, to darkness banned, +In light eternal forge for you the brand + Against Abaddon, who hath overcast + The truth and right, Adami, made full fast + Unto God's glory by our steadfast band. +Go, smite each sophist, tyrant, hypocrite! + Girt with the arms of the first Wisdom, free + Your country from the frauds that cumber it! +Swerve not: 'twere sin. How good, how great the praise + Of him who turns youth, strength, soul, energy, + Unto the dayspring of the eternal rays! + + + +LIX. + +_A SONNET ON CAUCASUS._ + +_Temo che per morir._ + + +I fear that by my death the human race + Would gain no vantage. Thus I do not die. + So wide is this vast cage of misery + That flight and change lead to no happier place. +Shifting our pains, we risk a sorrier case: + All worlds, like ours, are sunk in agony: + Go where we will, we feel; and this my cry + I may forget like many an old disgrace. +Who knows what doom is mine? The Omnipotent + Keeps silence; nay, I know not whether strife + Or peace was with me in some earlier life. +Philip in a worse prison me hath pent + These three days past--but not without God's will. + Stay we as God decrees: God doth no ill. + + + +LX. + +_GOD MADE AND GOD RULES._ + +_La fabbrica del mondo._ + + +The fabric of the world--earth, air, and skies-- + Each particle thereof and tiniest part + Designed for special ends--proclaims the art + Of an almighty Maker good and wise. +Nathless the lawless brutes, our crimes and lies, + The joys of vicious men, the good man's smart, + All creatures swerving from their ends, impart + Doubts that the Ruler is nor good nor wise. +Can it then be that boundless Power, Love, Mind, + Lets others reign, the while He takes repose? + Hath He grown old, or hath He ceased to heed? +Nay, one God made and rules: He shall unwind + The tangled skein; the hidden law disclose, + Whereby so many sinned in thought and deed. + + + + + +NOTES ON MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS. + + +I. Quoted by Donato Giannotti in his Dialogue _De' giorni che Dante +consumò nel cercare l'Inferno e 'l Purgatorio._ The date of its +composition is perhaps 1545. + +II. Written probably for Donato Giannotti about the same date. + +III. Belonging to the year 1506, when Michael Angelo quarrelled with +Julius and left Rome in anger. The tree referred to in the last line is +the oak of the Rovere family. + +IV. Same date, and same circumstances. The autograph has these words at +the foot of the sonnet: _Vostro Miccelangniolo, in Turchia._ Rome +itself, the Sacred City, has become a land of infidels. + +V. Ser Giovanni da Pistoja was Chancellor of the Florentine Academy. +The date is probably 1509. The _Sonetto a Coda_ is generally humorous +or satiric. + +VI. Written in one of those moments of _affanno_ or _stizzo_ to which +the sculptor was subject. For the old bitterness of feeling between +Florence and Pistoja, see Dante, _Inferno._ + +VII. Michael Angelo was ill during the summer of 1544, and was nursed +by Luigi del Riccio in his own house, Shortly after his recovery he +quarrelled with his friend, and wrote him this sonnet as well as a very +angry letter. + +VIII. p. 38. Cecchino Bracci was a boy of rare and surpassing beauty +who died at Rome, January 8, 1544, in his seventeenth year. Besides +this sonnet, which refers to a portrait Luigi del Riccio had asked him +to make of the dead youth, Michael Angelo composed a series of forty-eight +quatrains upon the same subject, and sent them to his friend Luigi. +Michelangelo the younger, thinking that _'l'ignoranzia degli uomini ha +campo di mormorare,'_ suppressed the name Cecchino and changed _lui_ into +_lei._ Date about 1544. + +IX. Line 4: 'The Archangel's scales alone can weigh my gratitude +against your gift.' Lines 5-8: 'Your courtesy has taken away all my +power of responding to it. I am as helpless as a ship becalmed, or a +wisp of straw on a stormy sea.' + +X. Michael Angelo, when asked to make a portrait of his friend's +mistress, declares that he is unable to do justice to her beauty. The +name _Mancina_ is a pun upon the Italian word for the left arm, +_Mancino_. This lady was a famous and venal beauty, mentioned among the +loves of the poet Molsa. + +XI. Date, 1550. + +XII. This and the three next sonnets may with tolerable certainty be +referred to the series written on various occasions for Vittoria +Colonna. + +XIII. Sent together with a letter, in which we read: _l'aportatore di +questa sarà Urbino, che sta meco_. Urbino was M. A.'s old servant, +workman, and friend. See No. LXVIII. and note. + +XIV. The thought is that, as the sculptor carves a statue from a rough +model by addition and subtraction of the marble, so the lady of his +heart refines and perfects his rude native character. + +XV. This sonnet is the theme of Varchi's _Lezione_. There is nothing to +prove that it was addressed to Vittoria Colonna. Varchi calls it '_un +suo altissimo sonetto pieno di quella antica purezza e dantesca +gravità_.' + +XVI. The thought of the fifteenth is repeated with some variations. His +lady's heart holds for the lover good and evil things, according as he +has the art to draw them forth. + +XVIII. In the terzets he describes the temptations of the artist-nature, +over-sensitive to beauty. Michelangelo the younger so altered these six +lines as to destroy the autobiographical allusion.--Cp. No. XXVIII., note. + +XIX. The lover's heart is like an intaglio, precious by being inscribed +with his lady's image. + +XX. An early composition, written on the back of a letter sent to the +sculptor in Bologna by his brother Simone in 1507. M.A. was then +working at the bronze statue of Julius II. Who the lady of his love +was, we do not know. Notice the absence of Platonic _concetti_. + +XXIII. It is hardly necessary to call attention to Michael Angelo's +oft-recurring Platonism. The thought that the eye alone perceives the +celestial beauty, veiled beneath the fleshly form of the beloved, is +repeated in many sonnets--especially in XXV., XXVIII. + +XXIV. Composed probably in the year 1529. + +XXV. Written on the same sheet as the foregoing sonnet, and composed +probably in the same year. The thought is this: beauty passing from the +lady into the lover's soul, is there spiritualised and becomes the +object of a spiritual love. + +XXVII. To escape from his lady, either by interposing another image of +beauty between the thought of her and his heart, or by flight, is +impossible. + +XXVIII. Compare Madrigal VII. in illustration of lines 5 to 8. By the +analogy of that passage, I should venture to render lines 6 and 7 thus: + +He made thee light, and me the eyes of art; +Nor fails my soul to find God's counterpart. + + +XXX. Varchi, quoting this sonnet in his _Lezione_, conjectures that it +was composed for Tommaso Cavalieri. + +XXXI. Varchi asserts without qualification that this sonnet was +addressed to Tommaso Cavalieri. The pun in the last line, _Resto +prigion d'un Cavalier armato_, seems to me to decide the matter, though +Signor Guasti and Signor Gotti both will have it that a woman must have +been intended. Michelangelo the younger has only left one line, the +second, untouched in his _rifacimento_. Instead of the last words he +gives _un cuor di virtù armato_, being over-scrupulous for his +great-uncle's reputation. + +XXXII. Written at the foot of a letter addressed by Giuliano Bugiardini +the painter, from Florence, to M.A. in Rome, August 5, 1532. This then +is probably the date of the composition. + +XXXIV. The metaphor of fire, flint, and mortar breaks down in the last +line, where M.A. forgets that gold cannot strike a spark from stone. + +XXXV. Line 9 has the word _Signor_. It is almost certain that where +M.A. uses this word without further qualification in a love sonnet, he +means his mistress. I have sometimes translated it 'heart's lord' or +'loved lord,' because I did not wish to merge the quaintness of this +ancient Tuscan usage in the more commonplace 'lady.' + +XXXVI. Line 3: _the lord, etc_. This again is the poet's mistress. The +drift of the sonnet is this: his soul can find no expression but +through speech, and speech is too gross to utter the purity of his +feeling. His mistress again receives his tongue's message with her +ears; and thus there is an element of sensuality, false and alien to +his intention, both in his complaint and in her acceptation of it. The +last line is a version of the proverb: _chi è avvezzo a dir bugie, non +crede a nessuno_. + +XXXVII. At the foot of the sonnet is written _Mandato_. The two last +lines play on the words _signor_ and _signoria_. To whom it was sent we +do not know for certain; but we may conjecture Vittoria Colonna. + +XXXIX. The paper on which this sonnet is written has a memorandum with +the date January 6, 1529. 'On my return from Venice, I, Michelagniolo +Buonarroti, found in the house about five loads of straw,' etc. It +belongs therefore to the period of the siege of Florence, when M.A., as +is well known, fled for a short space to Venice. In line 12, I have +translated _il mie signiore, my lady_. + +XL. No sonnet in the whole collection seems to have cost M.A. so much +trouble as this. Besides the two completed versions, which I have +rendered, there are several scores of rejected or various readings for +single lines in the MSS. The Platonic doctrine of Anamnesis probably +supplies the key to the thought which the poet attempted to work out. + +XLI., XLII., XLIII., XLIV. There is nothing to prove that these four +sonnets on Night were composed in sequence. On the contrary, the +personal tone of XLI. seems to separate this from the other three. +XLIV. may be accepted as a palinode for XLIII. + +XLV., XLVI. Both sonnets deal half humorously with a thought very +prominent in M.A.'s compositions--the effect of love on one who is old +in years. Cp. XLVIII., L. + +XLVII. The Platonic conception that the pure form of Beauty or of +Truth, if seen, would be overwhelming in its brilliancy. + +XLIX. The _dolcie pianto_ and _eterna pace_ are the tears and peace of +piety. The _doloroso riso_ and _corta pace_ are the smiles and +happiness of earthly love. + +LII. Here is another version of this very beautiful sonnet. + + + No mortal thing enthralled these longing eyes + When perfect peace in thy fair face I found; + But far within, where all is holy ground, + My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies: + For she was born with God in Paradise; + Nor all the shows of beauty shed around + This fair false world her wings to earth have bound; + Unto the Love of Loves aloft she flies. + Nay, things that suffer death, quench not the fire + Of deathless spirits; nor eternity + Serves sordid Time, that withers all things rare. + Not love but lawless impulse is desire: + That slays the soul; our love makes still more fair + Our friends on earth, fairer in death on high. + + +LIII. This is the doctrine of the Symposium; the scorn of merely sexual +love is also Platonic. + +LIV. Another sonnet on the theme of the Uranian as distinguished from +the Vulgar love. See below, LVL., for a parallel to the second terzet. + +LV. The date maybe 1532. The play on words in the first quatrain and +the first terzet is Shakespearian. + +LIX. Two notes, appended to the two autographs of this sonnet, show +that M.A. regarded it as a _jeu d'esprit, 'Per carnovale par lecito far +qualche pazzia a chi non va in maschera.' 'Questo non è fuoco da +carnovale, però vel mando di quaresima; e a voi mi rachomando. Vostro +Michelagniolo.'_ + +LXL. Date 1547. No sonnet presents more difficulties than this, in +which M.A. has availed himself of a passage in the _Cratylus_ of +Plato. The divine hammer spoken of in the second couplet is the ideal +pattern after which the souls of men are fashioned; and this in the +first terzet seems to be identified with Vittoria Colonna. In the +second terzet he regards his own soul as imperfect, lacking the final +touches which it might have received from hers. See XIV. for a +somewhat similar conceit. + +LXIV. The image is that of a glowing wood coal smouldering away to +embers amid its own ashes. + +LXV. Date 1554. Addressed _A messer Giorgio Vasari, amico e pittor +singulare_, with this letter: _Messer Giorgio, amico caro, voi direte +ben ch' io sie vecchio e pazzo a voler far sonetti; ma perchè molti +dicono ch' io son rimbambito, ho voluto far l'uficio mio, ec. A dì 19 +di settembre 1554. Vostro Michelagniolo Buonarroti in Roma_. + +LXVL, LXVII. These two sonnets were sent to Giorgio Vasari in 1555(?) +with this letter: _Messer Giorgio, io vi mando dua sonetti; e benchè +sieno cosa sciocca, il fo perchè veggiate dove io tengo i mie' +pensieri: e quando arete ottantuno anni, come ò io, mi crederete. +Pregovi gli diate a messer Giovan Francesco Fattucci, che me ne à +chiesti. Vostro Michelagniolo Buonarroti in Roma_. The first was also +sent to Monsignor Beccadelli, Archbishop of Ragusa, who replied to it. +For his sonnet, see Signor Guasti's edition, p. 233. + +LXVIII. Date 1556. Written in reply to his friend's invitation that he +should pay him a visit at Ragusa. Line 10: this Urbino was M.A.'s old +and faithful servant, Francesco d'Amadore di Casteldurante, who lived +with him twenty-six years, and died at Rome in 1556. + +LXIX.-LXXVII. The dates of this series of penitential sonnets are not +known. It is clear that they were written in old age. It will be +remembered that the latest piece of marble on which Michael Angelo +worked, was the unfinished Pietà now standing behind the choir of the +Duomo at Florence. Many of his latest drawings are designs for a +Crucifixion. + + + + + +NOTES ON CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS. + + +I. Line 1: the Italian words which I have translated _God's Wisdom_ and +_Philosophy_ are _Senno_ and _Sofia_. Campanella held that the divine +_Senno_ penetrated the whole universe, and, meeting with created +_Sofia_, gave birth to Science. This sonnet is therefore a sort of +Mythopoem, figuring the process whereby true knowledge, as +distinguished from sophistry, is derived by the human reason +interrogating God in Nature and within the soul. Line 5: Sofia has for +her husband Senno; the human intellect is married to the divine. Line +9: it was the doctrine of Campanella and the school to which he +belonged, that no advance in knowledge could be made except by the +direct exploration of the universe, and that the authority of +schoolmen, Aristotelians, and the like, must be broken down before a +step could be made in the right direction. This germ of modern science +is sufficiently familiar to us in the exposition of Bacon. Line 12: +repeats the same idea. Facts presented by Nature are of more value than +any _Ipse dixit_. Line 14: he compares himself not without reason to +Prometheus; for twenty-five years spent in prison were his reward for +the revelation which has added a new sphere to human thought. + +II. The bitter words of this sonnet will not seem unmerited to those +who have studied Italian poetry in the Cinque Cento--the refined +playthings of verse, the romances, and the burlesque nonsense, which +amused a corrupt though highly cultivated age. + +III. Campanella held the doctrine of an Anima Mundi in the fullest and +deepest sense of the term. The larger and more complex the organism, +the more it held, in his opinion, of thought and sentient life. Thus +the stars, in the language of Aristotle, are [Greek: thiotera aemon]. +Compare Sonnets VIII., XIX. + +IV. Though the material seat of the mind is so insignificant, the mind +itself is infinite, analogous to God in its capacity. Aristarchus and +Metrodorus symbolise, perhaps, the spheres of literature and +mathematics. This infinitude of the intellect is our real proof of God, +our inner witness of the Deity. We may arrive at God by reasoning; we +may trust authority; but it is only by impregnating our minds with God +in Nature that we come into immediate contact with Him. Cp. Sonnet VI., +last line. + +V. The theme of this sonnet is the well-known Baconian principle of the +interrogation of Nature. The true philosopher must go straight to the +universe, and not confine himself to books. Cp. Sonnets I., LV., LVI. + +VI. A further development of the same thought. Tyrants, hypocrites, +sophists are the three plagues of humanity, standing between our +intellect and God, who is the source of freedom, goodness, and true +wisdom. In the last line Campanella expresses his opinion that God is +knowable by an immediate act of perception analogous to the sense of +taste: _Se tutti al Senno non rendiamo il gusto_. Compare Sonnet IV., +last line. + +VII. Ignorance is the parent of tyranny, sophistry, hypocrisy; and the +arms against this trinity of error are power, wisdom, love, the three +main attributes of God. + +VIII. Human egotism inclines men to deny the spiritual life of the +universe, to favour their own nation, to love their individual selves +exclusively, to eliminate the true God from the world, to worship false +gods fashioned from them selves, and at last to fancy themselves +central and creative in the Cosmos. Adami calls this sonnet +_scoprimento stupendo_. + +IX. The quatrains set forth the condition of the soul besotted with +self love. We may see in this picture a critique of Machiavelli's +_Principe_, which was for Campanella the very ideal portrait of a +tyrant. The love of God, rightly understood, places man _en rapport_ +with all created things. S. Francis, for example, loved not only his +fellow men, but recognised the brotherhood of birds and fishes. + +X. Ignorance, the source of all our miseries, blinds us to celestial +beauty and makes us follow carnal lust. Yet what is best in sexual love +is the radiance of heavenly beauty shining through the form of flesh. +This sonnet receives abundant illustration in Michael Angelo's poems. + +XI, XII. Two sonnets on the condition of the philosopher in a world +that understands him not. The first expresses that sense of inborn +royalty which sustained Campanella through his long martyrdom. The +second expands the picture drawn of the philosopher in Plato's +_Republic_ after his return to the cave from the region of truth. + +XIII. Campanella frequently expressed his theological fatalism by this +metaphor of a comedy. God wrote the drama which men have to play. In +this life we cannot understand our parts. We act what is appointed for +us, and it is only when the comedy is finished, that we shall see how +good and evil, happiness and misery, were all needed by the great life +of the universe. The following stanza from one of his Canzoni may be +cited in illustration: + + + War, ignorance, fraud, tyranny, + Death, homicide, abortion, woe-- + These to the world are fair, as we + Reckon the chase or gladiatorial show + To pile our hearth we fell the tree, + Kill bird or beast our strength to stay, + The vines, the hives our wants obey-- + Like spiders spreading nets, we take and slay + As tragedy gives men delight, + So the exchange of death and strife + Still yields a pleasure infinite + To the great world's triumphant life + Nay seeming ugliness and pain + Avert returning Chaos' reign-- + Thus the whole world's a comedy, + And they who by philosophy + Unite themselves to God, will see + In ugliness and evil nought + But beauteous masks--oh, mirthful thought! + +XIV. The same theme is continued with a further development. Men among +themselves play their own comedy, but do not rightly assign the parts. +They make kings of slavish souls, and elevate the impious to the rank +of saints. They ignore their true and natural leaders, and stone the +real prophets. + +XV. Between the false kings of men, who owe their thrones to accident, +and the really royal, who by chance of birth or station are a prey to +tyrants, there is everlasting war. Yet the spirit of the martyrs +survives, and long after their death they rule. + +XVI. True kinghood is independent of royal birth or power or ensigns. +High moral and intellectual qualities make the natural kings of men, +and these are so rarely found in sceptred families that a republic is +the safest form of government. See Sonnets XXXI., XXXVII. + +XVII. As men mistake their kings, so they mistake the saints. The true +spirit of Christ is ignored, and if Christ were to return to earth, +they would persecute him, even as they persecute those who follow him +most closely in their lives and doctrines. + +XVIII. Christ symbolises and includes all saintly truth-seeking souls. +Compare the three last lines of this sonnet with the three last lines +of No. XV. and No. XX. + +XIX., XX., XXI. Expanding the same themes, Campanella contrasts the +ignorance of self-love with the divine illumination of the true +philosopher, and insists that, in spite of persecution and martyrdom, +saintly and truth-seeking souls will triumph. + +XXII. Resumes the thought of No. X. If only the soul of man, infinite +in its capacity, could be enamoured of God, it would at once work +miracles and attain to Deity. + +XXIII. A bitter satire on love in the seventeenth century. Lines 9-11: +as Adami sometimes says, _qui legit intelligat_. Line 12: _la squilla +mia_ is a pun on Campanella's name. He means that he has shown the +world a more excellent way of love. Cp. No. XXII. + +XXIV. The essence of nobility is subjected to the same critique as +kinghood in No. XVI. Line 11: the Turk is Europe's foe. Campanella +praises the Turks because they had no hereditary nobility, and +conferred honours on men according to their actions. + +XXV. That this sonnet should have been written by a Dominican monk in a +Neapolitan prison in the first half of the seventeenth century, is +truly note-worthy. It expresses the essence of democracy in a critique +of the then existing social order. + +XXVI. A very obscure piece of writing. The first quatrain lays down the +principle that ill-doing brings its own inevitable punishment. The +second distinguishes between the unblessed suffering which plagues the +soul, and that which we welcome as a process of purgation. The first +terzet makes heaven and hell respectively consist of a clean and a +burdened conscience. The second, referring to a legend of S. Peter's +controversy with Simon Magus, finds a proof of immortality in this +condition of conscience. + +XXVII. A bold and perilous image of the Machiavellian Prince, who +drains the commonwealth for his own selfish pleasures. The play upon +the words _mentola_ and _mente_ in the first line is hardly capable of +reproduction. + +XXVIII. Adami says in a note: _Questo sonetto è fatto perchè +l'intendano pochi; nè io voglio dichiararlo_. Under these circumstances +it is dangerous to attempt an explanation. Yet something may be +hazarded. Line 1: the lady is Italy. Line 3: the stranger races are +Rome's vassals. Line 7: Dinah is again Italy(?). Line 8: Simeon and +Levi are the Princes of Italy and the Papacy. Line 9: Jerusalem +probably stands for Rome. Line 10: Nazareth is the Gospel of Christ, +and Athens is philosophy. Here again Adami warns us: _qui legit +intelligat_. Line 13: a critique of the ruinous policy of calling +strangers in to interfere in Italian affairs. + +XXIX. Line 2: Attila is meant. The Venetian Lagoons were the refuge of +the last and best Italians of the Roman age, when the incursions of the +barbarians destroyed the classical civility. Line 12: alludes to the +fixity of the Venetian Constitution and the deliberate caution of +Venetian policy. + +XXX. The quatrains describe the old power of Genoa, who conquered Pisa, +abased Venice, planted colonies in the East, and discovered America. +Line 10: throws the blame of Genoese decrepitude upon the nobles. + +XXXI. Campanella praises the Poles for their elective monarchy, but +blames them for choosing the scions of royal houses, instead of seeking +out the real kings of men, such as he described in No. XVI. + +XXXII. A similar criticism of the Swiss, who played so important and +yet so contemptible a part in the Italian wars of the sixteenth +century. With the terzets compare No. XXV. Line 11: stands thus in the +original--_La croce bianca e'l prato si contende_. + +XXXIII. A clever adaptation of the parable of the Samaritan, conceived +and executed in the spirit of a modern poet like A.H. Clough. + +XXXIV. Line 4: the hypocritical priest makes profit by preaching for +holiness what is really hurtful to the soul. Lines 5-11 contrast the +acknowledged sinners with the covert and crafty pretenders to virtue. +Line 8: I have ventured to correct the punctuation. D'Ancona reads: + + _E poco è il male in cui poco è l'inganno. Ti puoi guardar:_ + +but I am not sure that I am justified in the sense I put upon the verb +_guardarsi._ + +XXXV. A similar arraignment of impostors, comparing perfidious priests +with the foulest literary scoundrel of the age, Pietro Aretino. The +first terzet in the original is obscure. + +XXXVI. I do not understand the allusion in the last line. The whole +sonnet is directed against hypocritical priests. + +XXXVII., XXXVIII., XXXIX. A commentary on the first clauses of the +Lord's Prayer. Campanella tells the Italians they have no right to call +themselves men, the children of God in heaven, while they bow to +tyrants worse than beasts, and believe the lying priests who call that +adulation loyalty. If they free their souls from this vile servitude, +they may then pray with hopeful heart for the coming upon earth of +God's kingdom, which shall satisfy poets, philosophers, and prophets +with more than they had dreamed. It will be noticed that the rhymes are +carried from sonnet to sonnet; so that the three form one poem, +described by Adami as _sonetto trigemino_. In XXXVII., 13, I have +corrected _cenno_ into _senno_. In XXXIX., 1, I have ventured to render +_con ogni istanza_ by _with every hour that flies_, though _istanza_ is +not _istante_. + +XL., XLL, XLII. These three sonnets, though not linked by rhymes, form +a series, predicting the speedy overthrow of tyrants, sophists, +hypocrites--Campanella's natural enemies--and the coming of a better +age for human society. They were probably written early, when his heart +was still hot with the hopes of a new reign of right and reason, which +even he might help to inaugurate. The eagle, bear, lion, crow, fox, +wolf, etc., are the evil principalities and powers of earth. No. XL., +line 9: the giants are, I think, those lawless, selfish, anti-social +forces idealised by Machiavelli in his _Principe_, as Campanella read +that treatise--the strong men and mighty ones of an impious and godless +world. No. XLL, line 4: concerning _Taida, Sinon, Giuda, ed Omero_, +Adami says: 'These are the four evangelists of the dark age of +Abaddon.' Thais is a symbol of lechery; Sinon of fraud; Judas of +treason; Homer of lying fiction. So at least I read the allegory. No. +XLII., lines 9-14 are noticeable, since they set forth Campanella's +philosophical or evangelical communism, for a detailed exposition of +which see the _Civitas Solis_. + +XLIII. Invited to write a comedy--and it will be here remembered that +Giordano Bruno had composed _Il Candelaio_--Campanella replied with +this impassioned outburst of belief in the approaching end of the +world. It belongs probably to his early manhood. + +XLIV., XLV. Adami heads these two sonnets with this title: _Sopra i +colori delle vesti_. It is a fact that under the Spanish tyranny black +clothes were almost universally adopted by the Italians, as may be seen +in the picture galleries of Florence and Genoa. Campanella uses this +fashion as a symbol of the internal gloom and melancholy in which the +nation was sunk by vice upon the eve of the new age he confidently +looked for. + +XLVI. The year 1603, made up of centuries _seven_ and _nine_ and years +_three_, was expected by the astrologers to bring a great mutation in +the order of our planet. The celestial signs were supposed to reassume +the position they had occupied at Christ's nativity. Campanella, who +believed in astrology, looked forward with intense anxiety to this +turning-point in modern history. It is clear from the termination of +the sonnet that he wrote it some time before the great date; and we are +hence perhaps justified in referring the rest of his prophetic poetry +to the same early period of his career. + +XLVII. _Qui legit intelligat_, says Adami. Line 7: refers to the +outlying vassals of the Roman Empire, who destroyed it, ruled Rome, and +afterwards fell under the yoke of the Roman See. Lines 9-14 are an +invective against the Papacy. + +XLVIII. A sonnet on his own prison. The prison or worse was the doom of +all truth-seekers in Campanella's age. + +XLIX. For the understanding of this strange composition Adami offers +nothing more satisfactory than _mira quante contraposizioni sono in +questo sonetto_. The contrast is maintained throughout between the +philosopher in the freedom of his spirit and the same man in the +limitations of his prisoned life. Line 12 I do not rightly understand. +Line 14 refers to Paradise. + +L. There is an allusion in this sonnet to an obscure passage in +Campanella's life. It seems he was condemned to the galleys (see line +12); and this sentence was remitted on account of his real or feigned +madness. We should infer from the poem itself that his madness was +simulated; but Adami, who ought to have known the facts from his own +lips, writes: _quando bruciò il letto, e divenne pazzo o vero o finto_. +Line 12: I have translated _l'astratto_ by _the mystic_; _astratto_ is +_assorto_, or _lost in ecstatic contemplation_. + +LI. To this incomprehensible string of proverbs Adami adds, ironically +perhaps: _questo è assai noto ed arguto e vero_. It is an answer to +certain friends, officers and barons, who accused him of not being able +to manage his affairs. He answers that they might as well bring the +same accusation against Christ and all the sages. Line 3: I have +ventured to read _è_ for _e_ as the only chance of getting a meaning. +Line 8: seems to mean that he would not accept life and freedom at the +price of concealing his opinions. + +LII. The same theme is rehandled. Lines 1-4: Campanella argued that a +man's mental life extends over all that he grasps of the world's +history. Line 5: the Italian for _mite_ is _marmeggio_, which means, I +think, a cheese-worm. The eclipse of Campanella's sun is his +imprisonment. Lines 7 and 8 I do not well understand in the Italian. +Line 11: 'Ye build the tombs of the prophets and garnish the sepulchres +of the righteous,' Lines 12-14: saints and sages are made perfect by +suffering. + +LIII. A singular argument concerning prayer. Campanella says it is +impious to hope to change the order and facts of the world, arranged by +God, except in the single category of time. He therefore thinks it +lawful for him to ask, and for God to grant, a shortening of the season +of his suffering. See the Canzone translated by me, forming Appendix I. + +LIV. Another sonnet referring to his life in prison. He asks God how he +can prosper if his friends all fail him for various reasons. Lines 9-11 +refer to the visit of a foe in disguise who came to him in prison and +promised him liberty, probably with a view to extracting from him +admissions of state-treason or of heresy. See the Canzone translated in +Appendix I. The last three lines seem to express his unalterable +courage, and his readiness to act if only God will give him trustworthy +instruments and fill him with His own spirit. The Dantesque language of +the last line is almost incapable of reproduction: + + Ch' io m' intuassi come tu t' immii. + +LV. Campanella tells his friend that such trivial things as pastoral +poems will not immortalise him. He bids him seek, not outside in worn +out fictions, but within his own soul, for the spirit of true beauty, +turn to God for praise, instead of to a human audience, and go with the +_tabula rasa_ of childlike intelligence into God's school of Nature. +Compare Nos I., V. + +LVI. Campanella recognised in Telesio the founder of the new +philosophy, which discarded the ancients and the schoolmen. Line 3: the +tyrant is Aristotle. Lines 5 and 6: Bombino and Montano are the poets. +Lines 7-9: Cavalcante and Gaieta were disciples of the Cosentine +Academy founded by Telesio. Line 9: our saint, _la gran donna_, is the +new philosophy. Line 12: my tocsin, _mia squilla_, is a pun on +Campanella's name. + +LVII. Rudolph von Bunau set himself at the age of sixteen to +philosophise, travelled with Adami, and with him visited Campanella in +prison at Naples. Campanella cast his horoscope and predicted for him a +splendid career, exhorting him to make war upon the pernicious school +of philosophers, who encumbered the human reason with frauds and +figments, and prevented the free growth of a better method. + +LVIII. Adami, to whom we owe the first edition of these sonnets, +visited Campanella in the Castle of S. Elmo, having wandered through +many lands, like Diogenes, in search of a man. Line 5: this, says +Adami, 'refers to a dream or vision of a sword, great and marvellous, +with three triple joints, and arms, and other things, discovered by +Tobia Adami, which the author interpreted by his primalities'--that is, +I suppose, by the trinity of power, love, wisdom, mentioned in No. VII. +Line 6: Abaddon is the opposite of Christ, the lord of the evil of the +age. Cp. note to No. XLI. + +LIX. This is in some respects the most sublime and most pathetic of +Campanella's sonnets. He is the Prometheus (see last line of No. I.) +who will not slay himself, because he cannot help men by his death, and +because his belief in the permanency of sense and thought makes him +fear lest he should carry his sufferings into another life. God's will +with regard to him is hidden. He does not even know what sort of life +he lived before he came into his present form of flesh. Philip, King of +Spain, has increased the discomforts of his dungeon, but Philip can do +nothing which God has not decreed, and God never by any possibility can +err. + +LX. Arguments from design make us infer an all wise, all good Maker of +the world. The misery and violence and sin of animate beings make us +infer an evil and ignorant Ruler of the world. But this discord between +the Maker and Ruler of the world is only apparent, and the grounds of +the contradiction will in due time be revealed. See No. XIII. and note. + + + + + +APPENDIX I + + +I have translated one Canzone out of Campanella's collection, partly as +a specimen of his style in this kind of composition, partly because it +illustrates his personal history and throws light on many of the +sonnets. It is the first of three prayers to God from his prison, +entitled by Adami _Orazioni tre in Salmodia Metafisicale congiunte +insieme_. + + +I. + + Almighty God! what though the laws of Fate + Invincible, and this long misery, + Proving my prayers not merely spent in vain + But heard and granted crosswise, banish me + Far from Thy sight,--still humbly obstinate + I turn to Thee. No other hopes remain. + Were there another God with vows to gain, + To Him for succour I would surely go: + Nor could I be called impious, if I turned + In this great agony from one who spurned, + To one who bade me come and cured my woe. + Nay, Lord! I babble vainly. Help! I cry, + Before the temple where Thy reason burned, + Become a mosque of imbecility! + + +II. + + Well know I that there are no words which can + Move Thee to favour him for whom Thy grace + Was not reserved from all eternity. + Repentance in Thy counsel finds no place: + Nor can the eloquence of mortal man + Bend Thee to mercy, when Thy sure decree + Hath stablished that this frame of mine should be + Rent by these pangs that flesh and spirit tire. + Nay if the whole world knows my martyrdom-- + Heaven, earth, and all that in them have their home-- + Why tell the tale to Thee, their Lord and Sire? + And if all change is death or some such state, + Thou deathless God, to whom for help I come, + How shall I make Thee change, to change my fate? + + +III. + + Nathless for grace I once more sue to Thee, + Spurred on by anguish sore and deep distress:-- + Yet have I neither art nor voice to plead + Before Thy judgment-seat of righteousness. + It is not faith, it is not charity, + Nor hope that fails me in my hour of need; + And if, as some men teach, the soul is freed + From sin and quickened to deserve Thy grace + By torments suffered on this earth below, + The Alps have neither ice, I ween, nor snow + To match my purity before Thy face! + For prisons fifty, tortures seven, twelve years + Of want and injury and woe-- + These have I borne, and still I stand ringed round with fears. + + +IV. + + We lay all wrapped with darkness: for some slept + The sleep of ignorance, and players played + Music to sweeten that vile sleep for gold: + While others waked, and hands of rapine laid + On honours, wealth, and blood; or sexless crept + Into the place of harlots, basely bold.-- + I lit a light:--like swarming bees, behold! + Stripped of their sheltering gloom, on me + Sleepers and wakers rush to wreak their spite: + Their wounds, their brutal joys disturbed by light, + Their broken bestial sleep fill them with jealousy.-- + Thus with the wolves the silly sheep agreed + Against the valiant dogs to fight; + Then fell the prey of their false friends' insatiate greed. + + +V. + + Help, mighty Shepherd! Save Thy lamp, Thy hound, + From wolves that ravin and from thieves that prey! + Make known the whole truth to the witless crowd! + For if my light, my voice, are cast away-- + If sinfulness in these Thy gifts be found-- + The sun that rules in heaven is disallowed. + Thou knowest without wings I cannot fly: + Give me the wings of grace to speed my flight! + Mine eyes are always turned to greet Thy light: + Is it my crime if still it pass me by? + Thou didst free Bocca and Gilardo; these, + Worthless, are made the angels of Thy might.-- + Hast Thou lost counsel? Shall Thine empire cease? + + +VI. + + With Thee I speak: Lord, thou dost understand! + Nor mind I how mad tongues my life reprove. + Full well I know the world is 'neath Thine eye. + And to each part thereof belongs Thy love: + But for the general welfare wisely planned + The parts must suffer change;--they do not die, + For nature ebbs and flows eternally;-- + But to such change we give the name of Death + Or Evil, whensoe'er we feel the strife + Which for the universe is joy and life, + Though for each part it seems mere lack of breath.-- + So in my body every part I see + With lives and deaths alternate rife, + All tending to its vital unity. + + +VII. + + Thus then the Universe grieves not, and I + Mid woes innumerable languish still + To cheer the whole and every happier part.-- + Yet, if each part is suffered by Thy will + To call for aid--as Thou art God most High, + Who to all beings wilt Thy strength impart; + Who smoothest every change by secret art, + With fond care tempering the force of fate, + Necessity and concord, power and thought, + And love divine through all things subtly wrought-- + I am persuaded, when I iterate + My prayers to Thee, some comfort I must find + For these pangs poison-fraught, + Or leave the sweet sharp lust of life behind. + + +VIII. + + The Universe hath nought that changes not, + Nor in its change feels not the pangs of pain, + Nor prays not unto God to ease that woe. + Mid these are many who the grace obtain + Of aid from Thee:--thus Thou didst rule their lot: + And many who without Thy help must go. + How shall I tell toward whom Thy favours flow, + Seeing I sat not at Thy council-board? + One argument at least doth hearten me + To hope those prayers may not unanswered be, + Which reason and pure thoughts to me afford: + Since often, if not always, Thou dost will + In Thy deep wisdom, Lord, + Best laboured soil with fairest fruits to fill. + + +IX. + + The tilth of this my field by plough and hoe + Yields me good hope--but more the fostering sun + Of Sense divine that quickens me within, + Whose rays those many minor stars outshone-- + That it is destined in high heaven to show + Mercy, and grant my prayer; so I may win + The end Thy gifts betoken, enter in + The realm reserved for me from earliest time. + Christ prayed but 'If it may be,' knowing well + He might not shun that cup so terrible: + His angel answered, that the law sublime + Ordained his death. I prayed not thus, and mine-- + Was mine then sent from Hell?-- + Made answer diverse from that voice divine. + + +X. + + Go song, go tell my Lord--'Lo! he who lies + Tortured in chains within a pit for Thee, + Cries, how can flight be free + Wingless?--Send Thy word down, or Thou + Show that fate's wheel turns not iniquity, + And that in heaven there is no lip that lies.'-- + Yet, song, too boldly flies + Thy shaft; stay yet for this that follows now! + + + +APPENDIX II. + + +The 'Rivista Europea' of June 1875 publishes an article by Signor V. de +Tivoli concerning an inedited sonnet of Michael Angelo, which he +deciphered from the Autograph, written upon the back of one of the +original drawings in the Taylor Gallery at Oxford. This drawing formed +part of the Ottley and Lawrence Collection. It represents horses in +various attitudes, together with a skirmish between a mounted soldier +and a group of men on foot. Signor de Tivoli not only prints the text +with all its orthographical confusions, abbreviations, and alterations; +but he also adds what he modestly terms a restoration of the sonnet. Of +this restoration I have made the subjoined version in rhyme, though I +frankly admit that the difficulties of the text, as given in the rough +by Signor de Tivoli, seem to me insuperable, and that his readings, +though ingenious, cannot in my opinion be accepted as absolutely +certain. He himself describes the MS. as a palimpsest, deliberately +defaced by Michael Angelo, from which the words originally written have +to be recovered in many cases by a process of conjecture. That the +style of the restoration is thoroughly Michael Angelesque, will be +admitted by all students of Signor Guasti's edition. The only word I +felt inclined to question, is _donne_ in line 13, where I should have +expected _donna_. But I am informed that about this word there is no +doubt. The sonnet itself ranks among the less interesting and the least +finished compositions of the poet's old age. + + + Thrice blest was I what time thy piercing dart + I could withstand and conquer in days past: + But now my breast with grief is overcast; + Against my will I weep, and suffer smart. + And if those shafts, aimed with so fierce an art, + The mark of my frail bosom over-passed, + Now canst thou take revenge with blows at last + From those fair eyes which must consume my heart. + O Love, how many a net, how many a snare + Shuns through long years the bird by fate malign, + Only at last to die more piteously! + Thus love hath let me run as free as air, + Ladies, through many a year, to make me pine + In sad old age, and a worse death to die. + + + + +APPENDIX III. + + +The following translations of a madrigal, a quatrain, and a stanza by +Michael Angelo, may be worth insertion here for the additional light +they throw upon some of the preceding sonnets--especially upon Sonnets +I. and II. and Sonnets LXV.-LXXVII. In my version of the stanza I have +followed Michelangelo the younger's readings. + + +_DIALOGUE OF FLORENCE AND HER EXILES._ + +_Per molti, donna._ + + + 'Lady, for joy of lovers numberless + Thou wast created fair as angels are. + Sure God hath fallen asleep in heaven afar, + When one man calls the bliss of many his! + Give back to streaming eyes + The daylight of thy face that seems to shun + Those who must live defrauded of their bliss!' + 'Vex not your pure desire with tears and sighs: + For he who robs you of my light, hath none. + Dwelling in fear, sin hath no happiness; + Since amid those who love, their joy is less, + Whose great desire great plenty still curtails, + Than theirs who, poor, have hope that never fails.' + + +_THE SPEECH OF NIGHT._ + +_Caro m' è'l sonno._ + + Sweet is my sleep, but more to be mere stone, + So long as ruin and dishonour reign; + To bear nought, to feel nought, is my great gain; + Then wake me not, speak in an undertone! + + +LAMENT FOR LIFE WASTED. + +_Ohimè, ohimè_! + + + Ah me! Ah me! whene'er I think + Of my past years, I find that none + Among those many years, alas, was mine; + False hopes and longings vain have made me pine, + With tears, sighs, passions, fires, upon life's brink. + Of mortal loves I have known every one. + Full well I feel it now; lost and undone, + From truth and goodness banished far away, + I dwindle day by day. + Longer the shade, more short the sunbeams grow; + While I am near to falling, faint and low. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets +by Michael Angelo Buonarroti & Tommaso Campanella + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS *** + +***** This file should be named 10314-8.txt or 10314-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/3/1/10314/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Carol David, Tom Allen and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/10314-8.zip b/old/10314-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6fef3c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10314-8.zip diff --git a/old/10314.txt b/old/10314.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e09d08a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10314.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5750 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets +by Michael Angelo Buonarroti & Tommaso Campanella + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sonnets + +Author: Michael Angelo Buonarroti & Tommaso Campanella + +Release Date: November 26, 2003 [EBook #10314] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS *** + + + + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Carol David, Tom Allen and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +THE SONNETS + +OF + +MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI + +AND + +TOMMASO CAMPANELLA + + +NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME TRANSLATED INTO RHYMED ENGLISH + + +BY + +JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS + + +AUTHOR OF 'RENAISSANCE IN ITALY' 'STUDIES OF THE GREEK POETS' 'SKETCHES +IN ITALY AND GREECE' 'INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF DANTE' + + + +[Greek: Chruseon chalkeia] + + + +1878 + + + +_TO + +S.F.A._ + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + + +After some deliberation, and at the risk of offending the sensibility +of scholars, I have adopted the old English spelling of Michael +Angelo's name, feeling that no orthographical accuracy can outweigh the +associations implied in that familiar title. Michael Angelo has a place +among the highest with Homer and Titian, with Virgil and Petrarch, with +Raphael and Paul; nor do I imagine that any alteration for the better +would be effected by substituting for these time-honoured names Homeros +and Tiziano, Vergilius and Petrarca, Raffaello and Paulus. + +I wish here to express my heartiest thanks to Signore Pasquale Villari +for valuable assistance kindly rendered in the interpretation of some +difficult passages of Campanella, and to Signore V. de Tivoli for +calling my attention to the sonnet of Michael Angelo deciphered by him +on the back of a drawing in the Taylor Gallery at Oxford. + +Portions both of the Introduction and the Translations forming this +volume, have already appeared in the 'Contemporary Review' and the +'Cornhill Magazine.' + +DAVOS PLATZ: + +_Dec. 1877._ + + + +CONTENTS. + + +INTRODUCTION + +PROEM + +MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS + +CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS + +NOTES TO MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS + +NOTES TO CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS + +APPENDICES + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +I. + +It is with diffidence that I offer a translation of Michael Angelo's +sonnets, for the first time completely rendered into English rhyme, and +that I venture on a version of Campanella's philosophical poems. My +excuse, if I can plead any for so bold an attempt, may be found in +this--that, so far as I am aware, no other English writer has dealt +with Michael Angelo's verses since the publication of his autograph; +while Campanella's sonnets have hitherto been almost utterly unknown. + +Something must be said to justify the issue of poems so dissimilar in a +single volume. Michael Angelo and Campanella represent widely sundered, +though almost contemporaneous, moments in the evolution of the Italian +genius. Michael Angelo was essentially an artist, living in the prime +of the Renaissance. Campanella was a philosopher, born when the +Counter-Reformation was doing all it could to blight the free thought +of the sixteenth century; and when the modern spirit of exact enquiry, +in a few philosophical martyrs, was opening a new stage for European +science. The one devoted all his mental energies to the realisation of +beauty: the other strove to ascertain truth. The one clung to Ficino's +dream of Platonising Christianity: the other constructed for himself a +new theology, founded on the conception of God immanent in nature. +Michael Angelo expressed the aspirations of a solitary life dedicated +to the service of art, at a time when art received the suffrage and the +admiration of all Italy. Campanella gave utterance to a spirit, exiled +and isolated, misunderstood by those with whom he lived, at a moment +when philosophy was hunted down as heresy and imprisoned as treason to +the public weal. + +The marks of this difference in the external and internal circumstances +of the two poets might be multiplied indefinitely. Yet they had much in +common. Both stood above their age, and in a sense aloof from it. Both +approached poetry in the spirit of thinkers bent upon extricating +themselves from the trivialities of contemporary literature. The +sonnets of both alike are contributions to philosophical poetry in an +age when the Italians had lost their ancient manliness and energy. Both +were united by the ties of study and affection to the greatest singer +of their nation, Dante, at a time when Petrarch, thrice diluted and +emasculated, was the Phoebus of academies and coteries. + +This common antagonism to the degenerate genius of Italian literature +is the link which binds Michael Angelo, the veteran giant of the +Renaissance, to Campanella, the audacious Titan of the modern age. + + +II. + +My translation of Michael Angelo's sonnets has been made from Signor +Cesare Guasti's edition of the autograph, first given to the world in +1863.[1] This masterpiece of laborious and minute scholarship is based +upon a collation of the various manuscripts preserved in the Casa +Buonarroti at Florence with the Vatican and other Codices. It adheres +to the original orthography of Michael Angelo, and omits no fragment of +his indubitable compositions.[2] Signor Guasti prefaces the text he has +so carefully prepared, with a discourse upon the poetry of Michael +Angelo and a description of the manuscripts. To the poems themselves he +adds a prose paraphrase, and prints upon the same page with each +composition the version published by Michelangelo Buonarroti in +1623.[3] + +Before the publication of this volume, all studies of Michael Angelo's +poetry, all translations made of it, and all hypotheses deduced from +the sculptor's verse in explanation of his theory or his practice as an +artist, were based upon the edition of 1623. It will not be superfluous +to describe what that edition was, and how its text differed from that +now given to the light, in order that the relation of my own English +version to those which have preceded it may be rightly understood.[4] + +Michael Angelo seems to have entertained no thought of printing his +poems in his lifetime. He distributed them freely among his friends, of +whom Sebastiano del Piombo, Luigi del Riccio, Donato Giannotti, +Vittoria Colonna, and Tommaso de' Cavalieri were in this respect the +most favoured. In course of time some of these friends, partly by the +gift of the originals, and partly by obtaining copies, formed more or +less complete collections; and it undoubtedly occurred to more than one +to publish them. Ascanio Condivi, at the close of his biography, makes +this announcement: 'I hope ere long to make public some of his sonnets +and madrigals, which I have been long collecting, both from himself and +others who possessed them, with a view to proving to the world the +force of his inventive genius and the beauty of the thoughts produced +by that divine spirit.' Condivi's promise was not fulfilled. With the +exception of two or three pieces printed by Vasari, and the extracts +quoted by Varchi in his 'Lezione,'[5] the poems of Michael Angelo +remained in manuscript for fifty-nine years after his death. The most +voluminous collection formed part of the Buonarroti archives; but a +large quantity preserved by Luigi del Riccio, and from him transferred +to Fulvio Orsini, had passed into the Vatican Library, when +Michelangelo the younger conceived the plan of publishing his +granduncle's poetry. Michelangelo obtained leave to transcribe the +Vatican MSS. with his own hand; and after taking pains to collate all +the autographs and copies in existence, he set himself to compare their +readings, and to form a final text for publication. Here, however, +began what we may call the Tragedy of his Rifacimento. The more he +studied his great ancestor's verses, the less he liked or dared to edit +them unaltered. Some of them expressed thoughts and sentiments +offensive to the Church. In some the Florentine patriot spoke over-boldly. +Others exposed their author to misconstruction on the score of +personal morality.[6] All were ungrammatical, rude in versification, +crabbed and obscure in thought--the rough-hewn blockings-out of poems +rather than finished works of art, as it appeared to the scrupulous, +decorous, elegant, and timorous Academician of a feebler age. While +pondering these difficulties, and comparing the readings of his many +manuscripts, the thought occurred to Michelangelo that, between leaving +the poems unpublished and printing them in all their rugged boldness, +lay the middle course of reducing them to smoothness of diction, +lucidity of meaning, and propriety of sentiment.[7] In other words, he +began, as Signer Guasti pithily describes his method, 'to change halves +of lines, whole verses, ideas: if he found a fragment, he completed it: +if brevity involved the thought in obscurity, he amplified: if the +obscurity seemed incurable, he amputated: for superabundant wealth of +conception he substituted vacuity; smoothed asperities; softened +salient lights.' The result was that a medley of garbled phrases, +additions, alterations, and sophistications was foisted on the world as +the veritable product of the mighty sculptor's genius. That +Michelangelo meant well to his illustrious ancestor is certain. That he +took the greatest pains in executing his ungrateful and disastrous task +is no less clear.[8] But the net result of his meddlesome benevolence +has been that now for two centuries and a half the greatest genius of +the Italian Renaissance has worn the ill-fitting disguise prepared for +him by a literary 'breeches-maker.' In fact, Michael Angelo the poet +suffered no less from his grandnephew than Michael Angelo the fresco +painter from his follower Daniele da Volterra. + +Nearly all Michael Angelo's sonnets express personal feelings, and by +far the greater number of them were composed after his sixtieth year. +To whom they were addressed, we only know in a few instances. Vittoria +Colonna and Tommaso de' Cavalieri, the two most intimate friends of his +old age in Rome, received from him some of the most pathetically +beautiful of his love-poems. But to suppose that either the one or the +other was the object of more than a few well-authenticated sonnets +would be hazardous. Nothing is more clear than that Michael Angelo +worshipped Beauty in the Platonic spirit, passing beyond its personal +and specific manifestations to the universal and impersonal. This +thought is repeated over and over again in his poetry; and if we bear +in mind that he habitually regarded the loveliness of man or woman as a +sign and symbol of eternal and immutable beauty, we shall feel it of +less importance to discover who it was that prompted him to this or +that poetic utterance. That the loves of his youth were not so tranquil +as those of his old age, appears not only from the regrets expressed in +his religious verses, but also from one or two of the rare sonnets +referable to his manhood. + +The love of beauty, the love of Florence, and the love of Christ, are +the three main motives of his poetry. This is not the place to discuss +at length the nature of his philosophy, his patriotism, or his +religion; to enquire how far he retained the early teaching of Ficino +and Savonarola; or to trace the influence of Dante and the Bible on his +mind. I may, however, refer my readers who are interested in these +questions, to the Discourse of Signor Guasti, the learned essay of Mr. +J.E. Taylor, and the refined study of Mr. W.H. Pater. My own views will +be found expressed in the third volume of my 'Renaissance in Italy'; +and where I think it necessary, I shall take occasion to repeat them in +the notes appended to my translation. + + +III. + +Michael Angelo's madrigals and sonnets were eagerly sought for during +his lifetime. They formed the themes of learned academical discourses, +and won for him the poet's crown in death. Upon his tomb the Muse of +Song was carved in company with Sculpture, Architecture, and Painting. +Since the publication of the _rifacimento_ in 1623, his verses have +been used among the _testi di lingua_ by Italians, and have been +studied in the three great languages of Europe. The fate of +Campanella's philosophical poems has been very different. It was owing +to a fortunate chance that they survived their author; and until the +year 1834 they were wholly and entirely unknown in Italy. The history +of their preservation is so curious that I cannot refrain from giving +some account of it, before proceeding to sketch so much of Campanella's +life and doctrine as may be necessary for the understanding of his +sonnets. + +The poems were composed during Campanella's imprisonment at Naples; and +from internal evidence there is good reason to suppose that the greater +part of them were written at intervals in the first fourteen years of +the twenty-five he passed in confinement.[9] In the descriptive +catalogue of his own works, the philosopher mentions seven books of +sonnets and canzoni, which he called 'Le Cantiche.'[10] Whether any of +these would have been printed but for a mere accident is doubtful. A +German gentleman, named Tobia Adami, who is supposed to have been a +Court-Counsellor at Weimar, after travelling through Greece, Syria, and +Palestine, in company with a young friend called Rodolph von Bunau, +visited Campanella in his dungeon. A close intimacy sprang up between +them, and Adami undertook to publish several works of the philosopher +in testimony of his admiration. Among these were 'Le Cantiche.' +Instead, however, of printing the poems _in extenso_, he made a +selection, choosing those apparently which took his fancy, and which, +in his opinion, threw most light on Campanella's philosophical +theories. It is clear that he neglected the author's own arrangement, +since there is no trace of the division into seven books. What +proportion the selection bore to the whole bulk of the MS. seems to me +uncertain, though the latest editor asserts that it formed only a +seventh part.[11] The manuscript itself is lost, and Adami's edition of +the specimens is all that now remains as basis for the text of +Campanella's poems. + +This first edition was badly printed in Germany on very bad paper, +without the name of press or place. Besides the poems, it contained a +brief prose commentary by the editor, the value of which is still very +great, since we have the right to suppose that Adami's explanations +embodied what he had received by word of mouth from Campanella. The +little book bore this title:--'Scelta d' alcune poesie filosofiche di +Settimontano Squilla cavate da' suo' libri detti La Cantica, con +l'esposizione, stampato nell' anno MDCXXII.' The pseudonym _Squilla_ is +a pun upon Campanella's name, since both _Campana_ and _Squilla_ mean a +bell; while _Settimontano_ contains a quaint allusion to the fact that +the philosopher's skull was remarkable for seven protuberances.[12] A +very few copies of the unpretending little volume were printed; and +none of these seem to have found their way into Italy, though it is +possible that they had a certain circulation in Germany. At any rate +there is reason to suppose that Leibnitz was not unacquainted with the +poems, while Herder, in the Renaissance of German literature, published +free translations from a few of the sonnets in his 'Adrastea.' + +To this circumstance we owe the reprint of 1834, published at Lugano by +John Gaspar Orelli, the celebrated Zurich scholar. Early in his youth +Orelli was delighted with the German version made by Herder; and during +his manhood, while residing as Protestant pastor at Bergamo, he used +his utmost endeavours to procure a copy of the original. In his preface +to the reprint he tells us that these efforts were wholly unsuccessful +through a period of twenty-five years. He applied to all his literary +friends, among whom he mentions the ardent Ugo Foscolo and the learned +Mazzuchelli; but none of these could help him. He turned the pages of +Crescimbeni, Quadrio, Gamba, Corniani, Tiraboschi, weighty with +enormous erudition--and only those who make a special study of Italian +know how little has escaped their scrutiny--but found no mention of +Campanella as a poet. At last, after the lapse of a quarter of a +century, he received the long-coveted little quarto volume from +Wolfenbuttel in the north of Germany. The new edition which Orelli gave +to the press at Lugano has this title:--'Poesie Filosofiche di Tommaso +Campanella pubblicate per la prima volta in Italia da Gio. Gaspare +Orelli, Professore all' Universita di Zurigo. Lugano, 1834.' The same +text has been again reprinted at Turin, in 1854, by Alessandro +d'Ancona, together with some of Campanella's minor works and an essay +on his life and writings. This third edition professes to have improved +Orelli's punctuation and to have rectified his readings. But it still +leaves much to be desired on the score of careful editorship. Neither +Orelli nor D'Ancona has done much to clear up the difficulties of the +poems--difficulties in many cases obviously due to misprints and errors +of the first transcriber; while in one or two instances they allow +patent blunders to pass uncorrected. In the sonnet entitled 'A Dio' +(D'Ancona, vol. i. p. 102), for example, _bocca_ stands for _buca_ in a +place where sense and rhyme alike demand the restitution of the right +word. + +At no time could the book have hoped for many readers. Least of all +would it have found them among the Italians of the seventeenth and +eighteenth centuries, to whom its energetic language and unfamiliar +conceptions would have presented insuperable difficulties. Between +Dante and Alfieri no Italian poet except Michael Angelo expressed so +much deep thought and feeling in phrases so terse, and with originality +of style so daring; and even Michael Angelo is monotonous in the range +of his ideas and uniform in his diction, when compared with the +indescribable violence and vigour of Campanella. Campanella borrows +little by way of simile or illustration from the outer world, and he +never falls into the commonplaces of poetic phraseology. His poems +exhibit the exact opposite of the Petrarchistic or the Marinistic +mannerism. Each sonnet seems to have been wrenched alive and +palpitating from the poet's heart. There is no smoothness, no gradual +unfolding of a theme, no rhetorical exposition, no fanciful embroidery, +no sweetness of melodic cadence, in his masculine art of poetry. +Brusque, rough, violent in transition, leaping from the sublime to the +ridiculous--his poems owe their elevation to the intensity of their +feeling, the nobleness and condensation of their thought, the energy +and audacity of their expression, their brevity, sincerity, and weight +of sentiment. Campanella had an essentially combative intellect. He was +both a poet and a philosopher militant. He stood alone, making war upon +the authority of Aristotle in science, of Machiavelli in state-craft, +and of Petrarch in art, taking the fortresses of phrase by storm, and +subduing the hardest material of philosophy to the tyranny of his +rhymes. Plebeian saws, salient images, dry sentences of metaphysical +speculation, logical summaries, and fiery tirades are hurled together-- +half crude and cindery scoriae, half molten metal and resplendent ore-- +from the volcano of his passionate mind. Such being the nature of +Campanella's style, when in addition it is remembered that his text is +sometimes hopelessly corrupt and his allusions obscure, the +difficulties offered by his sonnets to the translator will be readily +conceived. + + +IV. + +At the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth +centuries, philosophy took a new point of departure among the Italians, +and all the fundamental ideas which have since formed the staple of +modern European systems were anticipated by a few obscure thinkers. It +is noticeable that the States of Naples, hitherto comparatively inert +in the intellectual development of Italy, furnished the five writers +who preceded Bacon, Leibnitz, Schelling, and Comte. Telesio of Cosenza, +Bruno of Nola, Campanella of Stilo, Vanini and Vico of Naples are the +chief among these _novi homines_ or pioneers of modern thought. The +characteristic point of this new philosophy was an unconditional return +to Nature as the source of knowledge, combined with a belief in the +intuitive forces of the human reason: so that from the first it showed +two sides or faces to the world--the one positive, scientific, +critical, and analytical; the other mystical, metaphysical, subjective. +Modern materialism and modern idealism were both contained in the +audacious guesses of Bruno and Campanella; nor had the time arrived for +clearly separating the two strains of thought, or for attempting a +systematic synthesis of knowledge under one or the other head. + +The men who led this weighty intellectual movement burned with the +passionate ardour of discoverers, the fiery enthusiasm of confessors. +They stood alone, sustained but little by intercourse among themselves, +and wholly misunderstood by the people round them. Italy, sunk in +sloth, priest-ridden, tyrant-ridden, exhausted with the unparalleled +activity of the Renaissance, besotted with the vices of slavery and +slow corruption, had no ears for spirit-thrilling prophecy. The Church, +terrified by the Reformation, when she chanced to hear those strange +voices sounding through 'the blessed mutter of the mass,' burned the +prophets. The State, represented by absolute Spain, if it listened to +them at all, flung them into prison. To both Church and State there was +peril in the new philosophy; for the new philosophy was the first +birth-cry of the modern genius, with all the crudity and clearness, the +brutality and uncompromising sincerity of youth. The Church feared +Nature. The State feared the People. Nature and the People--those +watchwords of modern Science and modern Liberty--were already on the +lips of the philosophers. + +It was a philosophy armed, errant, exiled; a philosophy in chains and +solitary; at war with society, authority, opinion; self-sustained by +the prescience of ultimate triumph, and invincible through the sheer +force of passionate conviction. The men of whom I speak were conscious +of Pariahdom, and eager to be martyred in the glorious cause. 'A very +Proteus is the philosopher,' says Pomponazzo: 'seeking to penetrate the +secrets of God, he is consumed with ceaseless cares; he forgets to +thirst, to hunger, to sleep, to eat; he is derided of all men; he is +held for a fool and irreligious person; he is persecuted by +inquisitors; he becomes a gazing-stock to the common folk. These are +the gains of the philosopher; these are his guerdon. Pomponazzo's words +were prophetic. Of the five philosophers whom I mentioned, Vanini was +burned as an atheist, Bruno was burned, and Campanella was imprisoned +for a quarter of a century. Both Bruno and Campanella were Dominican +friars. Bruno was persecuted by the Church, and burned for heresy. +Campanella was persecuted by both Church and State, and was imprisoned +on the double charge of sedition and heresy. _Dormitantium animarum +excubitor_ was the self-given title of Bruno. _Nunquam tacebo_ was the +favourite motto of Campanella. + +Giovanni Domenico Campanella was born in the year 1568 at Stilo in +Calabria, one of the most southern townships of all Italy. In his +boyhood he showed a remarkable faculty for acquiring and retaining +knowledge, together with no small dialectical ability. His keen +interest in philosophy and his admiration for the great Dominican +doctors, Thomas Aquinas and Albertus Magnus, induced him at the age of +fifteen to enter the order of S. Dominic, exchanging his secular name +for Tommaso. But the old alliance between philosophy and orthodoxy, +drawn up by scholasticism and approved by the mediaeval Church, had +been succeeded by mutual hostility; and the youthful thinker found no +favour in the cloister of Cosenza, where he now resided. The new +philosophy taught by Telesio placed itself in direct antagonism to the +pseudo-Aristotelian tenets of the theologians, and founded its own +principles upon the Interrogation of Nature. Telesio, says Bacon, was +the prince of the _novi homines,_ or inaugurators of modern thought. It +was natural that Campanella should be drawn towards this great man. But +the superiors of his convent prevented his forming the acquaintance of +Telesio; and though the two men dwelt in the same city of Cosenza, +Campanella never knew the teacher he admired so passionately. Only when +the old man died and his body was exposed in the church before burial, +did the neophyte of his philosophy approach the bier, and pray beside +it, and place poems upon the dead. + +From this time forward Campanella became an object of suspicion to his +brethren. They perceived that the fire of the new philosophy burned in +his powerful nature with incalculable and explosive force. He moved +restlessly from place to place, learning and discussing, drawing men +towards him by the magnetism of a noble personality, and preaching his +new gospel with perilous audacity. His papers were seized at Bologna; +and at Rome the Holy Inquisition condemned him to perpetual +incarceration on the ground that he derived his science from the devil, +that he had written the book 'De tribus Impostoribus,' that he was a +follower of Democritus, and that his opposition to Aristotle savoured +of gross heresy. At the same time the Spanish Government of Naples +accused him of having set on foot a dangerous conspiracy for +overthrowing the vice-regal power and establishing a communistic +commonwealth in southern Italy. Though nothing was proved +satisfactorily against him, Campanella was held a prisoner under the +sentence which the Inquisition had pronounced upon him. He was, in +fact, a man too dangerous, too original in his opinions, and too bold +in their enunciation, to be at large. For twenty-five years he remained +in Neapolitan dungeons; three times during that period he was tortured +to the verge of dying; and at last he was released, while quite an old +man, at the urgent request of the French Court. Not many years after +his liberation Campanella died. The numerous philosophical works on +metaphysics, mathematics, politics, and aesthetics which Campanella +gave to the press, were composed during his long imprisonment. How they +came to be printed, I do not know; but it is obvious that he cannot +have been strictly debarred from writing by his jailors. In prison, +too, he made both friends and converts. We have seen that we owe the +publication of a portion of his poems to the visit of a German knight. + + +V. + +The sonnets by Campanella translated in this volume might be rearranged +under four headings--Philosophical; Political; Prophetic; Personal. The +philosophical group throw light on Campanella's relation to his +predecessors and his antagonism to the pseudo-Aristotelian +scholasticism of the middle ages. They furthermore explain his +conception of the universe as a complex animated organism, his +conviction that true knowledge can only be gained by the interrogation +of nature, his doctrine of human life and action, and his judgment of +the age in which he lived. The political sonnets fall into two groups-- +those which discuss royalty, nobility, and the sovereignty of the +people, and those which treat of the several European states. The +prophetic sonnets seem to have been suggested by the misery and +corruption of Italy, and express the poet's belief in the speedy +triumph of right and reason. It is here too that his astrological +opinions are most clearly manifested; for Campanella was far from +having outgrown the belief in planetary influences. Indeed, his own +metaphysical speculations, involving the principle of immanent vitality +in the material universe, gave a new value to the dreams of the +astrologers. Among the personal sonnets may be placed those which refer +immediately to his own sufferings in prison, to his friendships, and to +the ideal of the philosophic character. + +I have thought it best, while indicating this fourfold division, to +preserve the order adopted by Adami, since each of the reprints +accessible to modern readers--both that of Orelli and that of D'Ancona-- +maintains the arrangement of the _editio princeps._ Two sonnets of the +prophetic group I have omitted, partly because they have no bearing on +the world as it exists for us at present, and partly because they are +too studiously obscure for profitable reproduction.[13] As in the case +of Michael Angelo, so also in that of Campanella, I have left the +Canzoni untouched, except by way of illustration in the notes appended +to my volume. They are important and voluminous enough to form a +separate book; nor do they seem to me so well adapted as the sonnets +for translation into English. + +To give reasons for my choice of certain readings in the case of either +Michael Angelo's or Campanella's text; to explain why I have sometimes +preferred a strictly literal and sometimes a more paraphrastic +rendering; or to set forth my views in detail regarding the compromises +which are necessary in translation, and which must vary according to +the exigencies of each successive problem offered by the original, +would occupy too much space. Where I have thought it absolutely +necessary, I have referred to such points in my notes. It is enough +here to remark that the difficulties presented to the translator by +Michael Angelo and by Campanella are of different kinds. Both, indeed, +pack their thoughts so closely that it is not easy to reproduce them +without either awkwardness or sacrifice of matter. But while Campanella +is difficult from the abruptness of his transitions and the violence of +his phrases, Michael Angelo has the obscurity of a writer whose +thoughts exceed his power of expression, and who complicates the verbal +form by his endeavour to project what cannot easily be said in +verse.[14] A little patience will generally make it clear what +Campanella meant, except in cases where the text itself is corrupt. But +it may sometimes be doubted whether Michael Angelo could himself have +done more than indicate the general drift of his thought, or have +disengaged his own conception from the tangled skein of elliptical and +ungrammatical sentences in which he has enveloped it. The form of +Campanella's poetry, though often grotesque, is always clear. Michael +Angelo has left too many of his compositions in the same state as his +marbles--unfinished and colossal _abbozzi,_ which lack the final +touches to make their outlines distinct. Under these circumstances, it +can hardly happen that the translator should succeed in reproducing all +the sharpness and vivacity of Campanella's style, or should wholly +refrain from softening, simplifying, and prettifying Michael Angelo in +his attempt to produce an intelligible version. In both cases he is +tempted to make his translation serve the purpose also of a commentary, +and has to exercise caution and self-control lest he impose a sense too +narrow or too definite upon the original. + +So far as this was possible, I have adhered to the rhyming structure of +my originals, feeling that this is a point of no small moment in +translation. Yet when the choice lay between a sacrifice of metrical +exactitude and a sacrifice of sense, I have not hesitated to prefer the +former, especially in dealing with Campanella's quatrains. + +Michael Angelo and Campanella follow different rules in their treatment +of the triplets. Michael Angelo allows himself three rhymes, while +Campanella usually confines himself to two. My practice has been to +study in each sonnet the cadence both of thought and diction, so as to +satisfy an English ear, accustomed to the various forms of termination +exemplified by Spenser, Milton, Wordsworth, and Rossetti--the sweetest, +the most sublime, the least artificial, and the most artful sonnet-writers +in our language. + +The short titles attached to each sonnet are intended to help the eye, +rather than to guide the understanding of the reader. Michael Angelo +and his editors supply no arguments or mottoes for his poems; while +those printed by Adami in his edition of Campanella are, like mine, +meant obviously to serve as signposts to the student. It may savour of +impudence to ticket and to label little masterpieces, each one of +which, like all good poems, is a microcosm of very varied meanings. Yet +I have some authority in modern times for this impertinence; and, when +it is acknowledged that the titles merely profess to guide the reader +through a labyrinth of abstract and reflective compositions, without +attempting to supply him with a comprehensive argument or to dogmatise +concerning the main drift of each poem, I trust that enough will have +been said by way of self-defence against the charge of arrogance. + +The sonnet prefixed as a proem to the whole book is generally +attributed to Giordano Bruno, in whose Dialogue on the _Eroici Furori_ +it occurs. There seems, however, good reason to suppose that it was +really written by Tansillo, who recites it in that Dialogue. Whoever +may have been its author, it expresses in noble and impassioned verse +the sense of danger, the audacity, and the exultation of those pioneers +of modern thought, for whom philosophy was a voyage of discovery into +untravelled regions. Its spirit is rather that of Campanella than of +Michael Angelo. Yet the elevation at which Michael Angelo habitually +lived in thought and feeling was so far above the plains of common +life, that from the summit of his solitary watch-tower he might have +followed even such high-fliers as Bruno or as Campanella in their +Icarian excursions with the eyes of speculative interest. + +DAVOS PLATZ. _Nov. 1877._ + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +[1] 'Le Rime di Michelangelo Buonarroti, Pittore, Scultore e +Architetto, cavate dagli Autografi e pubblicate da Cesare Guasti, +Accademico della Crusca. In Firenze, per Felice le Monmer. MDCCCLXIII.' + +[2] See, however, page xlvii of Signor Guasti's _Discorso._ + +[3] I have so fully expressed my admiration for Signor Guasti's edition +in the text that I may allow myself to point out in a note what seems +to me its chief defect, and why I think there is still, perhaps, room +for another and more critical edition. The materials are amply and +conscientiously supplied by Signor Guasti, indeed, I suppose we are +justified in believing that his single volume reproduces all the extant +manuscript authorities, with the exception, perhaps, of the British +Museum Codex. But, while it is so comprehensive, we are still left in +some doubt as to the preference of one reading rather than another in +the large type text presented to us as the final version of each +composition. It is true that when this was possible, Signor Guasti +invariably selected one of the autographs, that is, a copy in the +poet's own handwriting. But when we consider that very frequently +Michael Angelo's own autographs give twice as many various readings as +there are lines in a sonnet, when we reflect that we do not always +possess the copies which he finally addressed to his friends, and when, +moreover, we find that their readings (_e.g._ those of the Riccio MS +and those cited by Varchi) differ considerably from Michael Angelo's +rough copies, we must conclude that even the autographs do not +invariably represent these poems in the final form which he adopted. +There is therefore much room left for critical comparison and +selection. We are, in fact, still somewhat in the same position as +Michelangelo the younger. Whether any application of the critical +method will enable us to do again successfully what he so clumsily +attempted--that is, to reproduce a correct text from the _debris_ +offered to our selective faculty--I do not feel sure. Meanwhile I am +quite certain that his principle was a wrong one, and that he dealt +most unjustifiably with his material. For this reason I cordially +accept Signor Guasti's labours, with the reservation I have attempted +to express in this note. They have indeed brought us far closer to +Michael Angelo's real text, but we must be careful to remember that we +have not even now arrived with certainty at what he would himself have +printed if he had prepared his own edition for the press. + +[4] As far as I am aware, no complete translation of Michael Angelo's +sonnets has hitherto been made in English. The specimens produced by +Southey, Wordsworth, Harford, Longfellow, and Mr. Taylor, moreover, +render Michelangelo's _rifacimento._ + +[5] 'Lezione di Benedetto Varchi sopra il sottoscritto Sonetto di +Michelagnolo Buonarroti, fatta da lui pubblicamente nella Accademia +Fiorentina la Seconda Domenica di Quaresima l'anno MDXLVI.' The sonnet +commented by Varchi is Guasti's No xv. + +[6] I have elsewhere recorded my disagreement with Signer Guasti and +Signer Gotti, and my reasons for thinking that Vaichi and Michelangelo +the younger were right in assuming that the sonnets addressed to +Tommaso de' Cavalieri (especially xxx, xxxi, lii) expressed the poet's +admiration for masculine beauty. See 'Renaissance in Italy, Fine Arts,' +pp. 521, 522. At the same time, though I agree with Buonarroti's first +editor in believing that a few of the sonnets 'risguardano, come si +conosce chiaramente, amor platonico virile,' I quite admit--as what +student of early Italian poetry will not admit?--that a woman is +generally intended under the title of 'Signore' and 'amico.' + +[7] _Ridurle_ is his own phrase. He also speaks of _trasmutare_ and +_risoluzione_ to explain the changes he effected. + +[8] See Guasti's 'Discorso,' p. xliv. + +[9] See in particular 'Orazioni Tie in Salmodia Metafisicale ... +Canzone Prima ... Madrigale iii;' and 'A Berillo, Canzone di +Pentimento, Madrigale ii.' + +[10] 'De Libras Proprus,' I 3, quoted by Orelli and Alessandro +d'Ancona. 'Opere di Tommaso Campanella,' vol. I. p 3. + +[11] 'Opere di Tommaso Campanella,' vol. I p. ccci. + +[12] Campanella's own poetry justified this curious _nom de plume_ +adopted for him by his editor. See in particular 'Salmodia +Metafisicale,' canzone terza, madrigale ix. + + 'Tre canzon, nate a un parto + Da questa mia settimontana testa, + Al suon dolente di pensosa squilla.' + +[13] These are the sonnets entitled by Adami 'La detta Congiunzione +cade nella revoluzione della Nativita di Cristo,' and 'Sonetto cavato +dall' Apocalisse e Santa Brigida,' D'Ancona, vol. 1. pp. 97, 98. + +[14] In this respect _rifacimento_ of 1623 has greater literary merits-- +the merits of mere smoothness, clearness, grammatical coherence, and +intelligibility--than the autograph; and I can understand the +preference of some students for the former, though I do not share it +Michelangelo the younger added fluency and grace to his great-uncle's +composition by the sacrifice of much that is most characteristic, and +by the omission of much that is profound and vigorous and weighty. + + + +PROEM. + + +_THE PHILOSOPHIC FLIGHT._ + +_Poi che spiegate._ + + + Now that these wings to speed my wish ascend, + The more I feel vast air beneath my feet, + The more toward boundless air on pinions fleet, + Spurning the earth, soaring to heaven, I tend: + Nor makes them stoop their flight the direful end + Of Daedal's son; but upward still they beat:-- + What life the while with my life can compete, + Though dead to earth at last I shall descend? + My own heart's voice in the void air I hear: + Where wilt thou bear me, O rash man? Recall + Thy daring will! This boldness waits on fear! + Dread not, I answer, that tremendous fall: + Strike through the clouds, and smile when death is near, + If death so glorious be our doom at all! + + + + + +THE SONNETS + +OF + +MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI + + + + +I. + +_ON DANTE ALIGHIERI._ + +_Dal ciel discese._ + + +From heaven his spirit came, and robed in clay + The realms of justice and of mercy trod, + Then rose a living man to gaze on God, + That he might make the truth as clear as day. +For that pure star that brightened with his ray + The undeserving nest where I was born, + The whole wide world would be a prize to scorn; + None but his Maker can due guerdon pay. +I speak of Dante, whose high work remains + Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless brood, + Who only to just men deny their wage. +Were I but he! Born for like lingering pains, + Against his exile coupled with his good + I'd gladly change the world's best heritage! + + + +II. + +_ON DANTE ALIGHIERI._ + +_Quante dirne si de'._ + + +No tongue can tell of him what should be told, + For on blind eyes his splendour shines too strong; + 'Twere easier to blame those who wrought him wrong, + Than sound his least praise with a mouth of gold. +He to explore the place of pain was bold, + Then soared to God, to teach our souls by song; + The gates heaven oped to bear his feet along, + Against his just desire his country rolled. +Thankless I call her, and to her own pain + The nurse of fell mischance; for sign take this, + That ever to the best she deals more scorn: +Among a thousand proofs let one remain; + Though ne'er was fortune more unjust than his, + His equal or his better ne'er was born. + + + +III. + +_TO POPE JULIUS II._ + +_Signor, se vero e._ + + +My Lord! if ever ancient saw spake sooth, + Hear this which saith: Who can, doth never will. + Lo! thou hast lent thine ear to fables still, + Rewarding those who hate the name of truth. +I am thy drudge and have been from my youth-- + Thine, like the rays which the sun's circle fill; + Yet of my dear time's waste thou think'st no ill: + The more I toil, the less I move thy ruth. +Once 'twas my hope to raise me by thy height; + But 'tis the balance and the powerful sword + Of Justice, not false Echo, that we need. +Heaven, as it seems, plants virtue in despite + Here on the earth, if this be our reward-- + To seek for fruit on trees too dry to breed. + + + +IV. + +_ON ROME IN THE PONTIFICATE OF JULIUS II._ + +_Qua si fa elmi._ + + +Here helms and swords are made of chalices: + The blood of Christ is sold so much the quart: + His cross and thorns are spears and shields; and short + Must be the time ere even his patience cease. +Nay let him come no more to raise the fees + Of this foul sacrilege beyond report! + For Rome still flays and sells him at the court, + Where paths are closed to virtue's fair increase. +Now were fit time for me to scrape a treasure! + Seeing that work and gain are gone; while he + Who wears the robe, is my Medusa still. +God welcomes poverty perchance with pleasure: + But of that better life what hope have we, + When the blessed banner leads to nought but ill? + + + +V. + +TO GIOVANNI DA PISTOJA. + +_ON THE PAINTING OF THE SISTINE CHAPEL._ + +_I' ho gia fatto un gozzo._ + + +I've grown a goitre by dwelling in this den-- + As cats from stagnant streams in Lombardy, + Or in what other land they hap to be-- + Which drives the belly close beneath the chin: +My beard turns up to heaven; my nape falls in, + Fixed on my spine: my breast-bone visibly + Grows like a harp: a rich embroidery + Bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin. +My loins into my paunch like levers grind: + My buttock like a crupper bears my weight; + My feet unguided wander to and fro; +In front my skin grows loose and long; behind, + By bending it becomes more taut and strait; + Crosswise I strain me like a Syrian bow: + Whence false and quaint, I know, + Must be the fruit of squinting brain and eye; + For ill can aim the gun that bends awry. + Come then, Giovanni, try + To succour my dead pictures and my fame; + Since foul I fare and painting is my shame. + + + +VI. + +_INVECTIVE AGAINST THE PEOPLE OF PISTOJA._ + +_I' l' ho, vostra merce._ + + +I've gotten it, thanks to your courtesy; + And I have read it twenty times or so: + Thus much may your sharp snarling profit you, + As food our flesh filled to satiety. +After I left you, I could plainly see + How Cain was of your ancestors: I know + You do not shame his lineage, for lo, + Your brother's good still seems your injury. +Envious you are, and proud, and foes to heaven; + Love of your neighbour still you loathe and hate, + And only seek what must your ruin be. +If to Pistoja Dante's curse was given, + Bear that in mind! Enough! But if you prate + Praises of Florence, 'tis to wheedle me. + A priceless jewel she: +Doubtless: but this you cannot understand: +For pigmy virtue grasps not aught so grand. + + + +VII. + +_TO LUIGI DEL RICCIO._ + +_Nel dolce d' una._ + + +It happens that the sweet unfathomed sea + Of seeming courtesy sometimes doth hide + Offence to life and honour. This descried, + I hold less dear the health restored to me. +He who lends wings of hope, while secretly + He spreads a traitorous snare by the wayside, + Hath dulled the flame of love, and mortified + Friendship where friendship burns most fervently. +Keep then, my dear Luigi, clear and pure + That ancient love to which my life I owe, + That neither wind nor storm its calm may mar. +For wrath and pain our gratitude obscure; + And if the truest truth of love I know, + One pang outweighs a thousand pleasures far. + + + +VIII. + +TO LUIGI DEL RICCIO, + +_AFTER THE DEATH OF CECCHINO BRACCI._ + +_A pena prima._ + + +Scarce had I seen for the first time his eyes + Which to your living eyes were life and light, + When closed at last in death's injurious night + He opened them on God in Paradise. +I know it and I weep, too late made wise: + Yet was the fault not mine; for death's fell spite + Robbed my desire of that supreme delight, + Which in your better memory never dies. +Therefore, Luigi, if the task be mine + To make unique Cecchino smile in stone + For ever, now that earth hath made him dim, +If the beloved within the lover shine, + Since art without him cannot work alone, + You must I carve to tell the world of him. + + + +IX. + +_THANKS FOR A GIFT._ + +_Al zucchero, alla mula._ + + +The sugar, candles, and the saddled mule, + Together with your cask of malvoisie, + So far exceed all my necessity + That Michael and not I my debt must rule, +In such a glassy calm the breezes fool + My sinking sails, so that amid the sea + My bark hath missed her way, and seems to be + A wisp of straw whirled on a weltering pool. +To yield thee gift for gift and grace for grace, + For food and drink and carriage to and fro, + For all my need in every time and place, +O my dear lord, matched with the much I owe, + All that I am were no real recompense: + Paying a debt is not munificence. + + + +X. + +TO GANDOLFO PORRINO. + +_ON HIS MISTRESS FAUSTINA MANCINA._ + +_La nuova alta belta._ + + +That new transcendent fair who seems to be + Peerless in heaven as in this world of woe, + (The common folk, too blind her worth to know + And worship, called her Left Arm wantonly), +Was made, full well I know, for only thee: + Nor could I carve or paint the glorious show + Of that fair face: to life thou needs must go, + To gain the favour thou dost crave of me. +If like the sun each star of heaven outshining, + She conquers and outsoars our soaring thought, + This bids thee rate her worth at its real price. +Therefore to satisfy thy ceaseless pining, + Once more in heaven hath God her beauty wrought: + God and not I can people Paradise. + + + +XI. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_ON THE LIVES OF THE PAINTERS._ + +_Se con lo stile._ + + +With pencil and with palette hitherto + You made your art high Nature's paragon; + Nay more, from Nature her own prize you won, + Making what she made fair more fair to view. +Now that your learned hand with labour new + Of pen and ink a worthier work hath done, + What erst you lacked, what still remained her own, + The power of giving life, is gained for you. +If men in any age with Nature vied + In beauteous workmanship, they had to yield + When to the fated end years brought their name. +You, reilluming memories that died, + In spite of Time and Nature have revealed + For them and for yourself eternal fame. + + + +XII. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_A MATCHLESS COURTESY._ + +_Felice spirto._ + + +Blest spirit, who with loving tenderness + Quickenest my heart so old and near to die, + Who mid thy joys on me dost bend an eye + Though many nobler men around thee press! +As thou wert erewhile wont my sight to bless, + So to console my mind thou now dost fly; + Hope therefore stills the pangs of memory, + Which coupled with desire my soul distress. +So finding in thee grace to plead for me-- + Thy thoughts for me sunk in so sad a case-- + He who now writes, returns thee thanks for these. +Lo, it were foul and monstrous usury + To send thee ugliest paintings in the place + Of thy fair spirit's living phantasies. + + + +XIII. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_BRAZEN GIFTS FOR GOLDEN._ + +_Per esser manco almen._ + + +Seeking at least to be not all unfit + For thy sublime and boundless courtesy, + My lowly thoughts at first were fain to try + What they could yield for grace so infinite. +But now I know my unassisted wit + Is all too weak to make me soar so high; + For pardon, lady, for this fault I cry, + And wiser still I grow remembering it. +Yea, well I see what folly 'twere to think + That largess dropped from thee like dews from heaven + Could e'er be paid by work so frail as mine! +To nothingness my art and talent sink; + He fails who from his mortal stores hath given + A thousandfold to match one gift divine. + + + +XIV. + +FIRST READING. + +TO VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_THE MODEL AND THE STATUE._ + +_Da che concetto._ + + +When divine Art conceives a form and face, + She bids the craftsman for his first essay + To shape a simple model in mere clay: + This is the earliest birth of Art's embrace. +From the live marble in the second place + His mallet brings into the light of day + A thing so beautiful that who can say + When time shall conquer that immortal grace? +Thus my own model I was born to be-- + The model of that nobler self, whereto + Schooled by your pity, lady, I shall grow. +Each overplus and each deficiency + You will make good. What penance then is due + For my fierce heat, chastened and taught by you? + + + +XIV. + +SECOND READING. + +To VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_THE MODEL AND THE STATUE._ + +_Se ben concetto._ + + +When that which is divine in us doth try + To shape a face, both brain and hand unite + To give, from a mere model frail and slight, + Life to the stone by Art's free energy. +Thus too before the painter dares to ply + Paint-brush or canvas, he is wont to write + Sketches on scraps of paper, and invite + Wise minds to judge his figured history. +So, born a model rude and mean to be + Of my poor self, I gain a nobler birth, + Lady, from you, you fountain of all worth! +Each overplus and each deficiency + You will make good. What penance then is due + For my fierce heat, chastened and taught by you? + + + +XV. + +_THE LOVER AND THE SCULPTOR._ + +_Non ha l' ottimo artista._ + + +The best of artists hath no thought to show + Which the rough stone in its superfluous shell + Doth not include: to break the marble spell + Is all the hand that serves the brain can do. +The ill I shun, the good I seek, even so + In thee, fair lady, proud, ineffable, + Lies hidden: but the art I wield so well + Works adverse to my wish, and lays me low. +Therefore not love, nor thy transcendent face, + Nor cruelty, nor fortune, nor disdain, + Cause my mischance, nor fate, nor destiny; +Since in thy heart thou carriest death and grace + Enclosed together, and my worthless brain + Can draw forth only death to feed on me. + + + +XVI. + +_LOVE AND ART._ + +_Si come nella penna._ + + +As pen and ink alike serve him who sings + In high or low or intermediate style; + As the same stone hath shapes both rich and vile + To match the fancies that each master brings; +So, my loved lord, within thy bosom springs + Pride mixed with meekness and kind thoughts that smile: + Whence I draw nought, my sad self to beguile, + But what my face shows--dark imaginings. +He who for seed sows sorrow, tears, and sighs, + (The dews that fall from heaven, though pure and clear, + From different germs take divers qualities) +Must needs reap grief and garner weeping eyes; + And he who looks on beauty with sad cheer, + Gains doubtful hope and certain miseries. + + + +XVII. + +_THE ARTIST AND HIS WORK._ + +_Com' esser, donna, puo._ + + +How can that be, lady, which all men learn + By long experience? Shapes that seem alive, + Wrought in hard mountain marble, will survive + Their maker, whom the years to dust return! +Thus to effect cause yields. Art hath her turn, + And triumphs over Nature. I, who strive + With Sculpture, know this well; her wonders live + In spite of time and death, those tyrants stern. +So I can give long life to both of us + In either way, by colour or by stone, + Making the semblance of thy face and mine. +Centuries hence when both are buried, thus + Thy beauty and my sadness shall be shown, + And men shall say, 'For her 'twas wise to pine.' + + + +XVIII. + +_BEAUTY AND THE ARTIST._ + +_Al cor di zolfo._ + + +A heart of flaming sulphur, flesh of tow, + Bones of dry wood, a soul without a guide + To curb the fiery will, the ruffling pride + Of fierce desires that from the passions flow; +A sightless mind that weak and lame doth go + Mid snares and pitfalls scattered far and wide;-- + What wonder if the first chance brand applied + To fuel massed like this should make it glow? +Add beauteous art, which, brought with us from heaven, + Will conquer nature;--so divine a power + Belongs to him who strives with every nerve. +If I was made for art, from childhood given + A prey for burning beauty to devour, + I blame the mistress I was born to serve. + + + +XIX. + +_THE AMULET OF LOVE._ + +_Io mi son caro assai piu._ + + +Far more than I was wont myself I prize: + With you within my heart I rise in rate, + Just as a gem engraved with delicate + Devices o'er the uncut stone doth rise; +Or as a painted sheet exceeds in price + Each leaf left pure and in its virgin state: + Such then am I since I was consecrate + To be the mark for arrows from your eyes. +Stamped with your seal I'm safe where'er I go, + Like one who carries charms or coat of mail + Against all dangers that his life assail +Nor fire nor water now may work me woe; + Sight to the blind I can restore by you, + Heal every wound, and every loss renew. + + + +XX. + +_THE GARLAND AND THE GIRDLE._ + +_Quanta si gode, lieta._ + + +What joy hath yon glad wreath of flowers that is + Around her golden hair so deftly twined, + Each blossom pressing forward from behind, + As though to be the first her brows to kiss! +The livelong day her dress hath perfect bliss, + That now reveals her breast, now seems to bind: + And that fair woven net of gold refined + Rests on her cheek and throat in happiness! +Yet still more blissful seems to me the band + Gilt at the tips, so sweetly doth it ring + And clasp the bosom that it serves to lace: +Yea, and the belt to such as understand, + Bound round her waist, saith: here I'd ever cling.-- + What would my arms do in that girdle's place? + + + +XXI. + +_THE SILKWORM._ + +_D' altrui pietoso._ + + +Kind to the world, but to itself unkind, + A worm is born, that dying noiselessly + Despoils itself to clothe fair limbs, and be + In its true worth by death alone divined. +Oh, would that I might die, for her to find + Raiment in my outworn mortality! + That, changing like the snake, I might be free + To cast the slough wherein I dwell confined! +Nay, were it mine, that shaggy fleece that stays, + Woven and wrought into a vestment fair, + Around her beauteous bosom in such bliss! +All through the day she'd clasp me! Would I were + The shoes that bear her burden! When the ways + Were wet with rain, her feet I then should kiss! + + + +XXII. + +_WAITING IN FAITH._ + +_Se nel volto per gli occhi_ + + +If through the eyes the heart speaks clear and true, + I have no stronger sureties than these eyes + For my pure love. Prithee let them suffice, + Lord of my soul, pity to gain from you. +More tenderly perchance than is my due, + Your spirit sees into my heart, where rise + The flames of holy worship, nor denies + The grace reserved for those who humbly sue. +Oh, blessed day when you at last are mine! + Let time stand still, and let noon's chariot stay; + Fixed be that moment on the dial of heaven! +That I may clasp and keep, by grace divine, + Clasp in these yearning arms and keep for aye + My heart's loved lord to me desertless given! + + + +XXIII. + +_FLESH AND SPIRIT._ + +_Ben posson gli occhi._ + + +Well may these eyes of mine both near and far + Behold the beams that from thy beauty flow; + But, lady, feet must halt where sight may go: + We see, but cannot climb to clasp a star. +The pure ethereal soul surmounts that bar + Of flesh, and soars to where thy splendours glow, + Free through the eyes; while prisoned here below, + Though fired with fervent love, our bodies are. +Clogged with mortality and wingless, we + Cannot pursue an angel in her flight: + Only to gaze exhausts our utmost might. +Yet, if but heaven like earth incline to thee, + Let my whole body be one eye to see, + That not one part of me may miss thy sight! + + + +XXIV. + +_THE DOOM OF BEAUTY._ + +_Spirto ben nato._ + + +Choice soul, in whom, as in a glass, we see, + Mirrored in thy pure form and delicate, + What beauties heaven and nature can create, + The paragon of all their works to be! +Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety, + Have found a home, as from thy outward state + We clearly read, and are so rare and great + That they adorn none other like to thee! +Love takes me captive; beauty binds my soul; + Pity and mercy with their gentle eyes + Wake in my heart a hope that cannot cheat. +What law, what destiny, what fell control, + What cruelty, or late or soon, denies + That death should spare perfection so complete? + + + +XXV. + +_THE TRANSFIGURATION OF BEAUTY:_ + +A DIALOGUE WITH LOVE. + +_Dimmi di grazia, amor._ + + +Nay, prithee tell me, Love, when I behold + My lady, do mine eyes her beauty see + In truth, or dwells that loveliness in me + Which multiplies her grace a thousandfold? +Thou needs must know; for thou with her of old + Comest to stir my soul's tranquillity; + Yet would I not seek one sigh less, or be + By loss of that loved flame more simply cold.-- +The beauty thou discernest, all is hers; + But grows in radiance as it soars on high + Through mortal eyes unto the soul above: +'Tis there transfigured; for the soul confers + On what she holds, her own divinity: + And this transfigured beauty wins thy love. + + + +XXVI. + +_JOY MAY KILL._ + +_Non men gran grasia, donna._ + + +Too much good luck no less than misery + May kill a man condemned to mortal pain, + If, lost to hope and chilled in every vein, + A sudden pardon comes to set him free. +Thus thy unwonted kindness shown to me + Amid the gloom where only sad thoughts reign, + With too much rapture bringing light again, + Threatens my life more than that agony. +Good news and bad may bear the self-same knife; + And death may follow both upon their flight; + For hearts that shrink or swell, alike will break. +Let then thy beauty, to preserve my life, + Temper the source of this supreme delight, + Lest joy so poignant slay a soul so weak. + + + +XXVII. + +_NO ESCAPE FROM LOVE._ + +_Non posso altra figura._ + + +I cannot by the utmost flight of thought + Conceive another form of air or clay, + Wherewith against thy beauty to array + My wounded heart in armour fancy-wrought: +For, lacking thee, so low my state is brought, + That Love hath stolen all my strength away; + Whence, when I fain would halve my griefs, they weigh + With double sorrow, and I sink to nought. +Thus all in vain my soul to scape thee flies, + For ever faster flies her beauteous foe: + From the swift-footed feebly run the slow! +Yet with his hands Love wipes my weeping eyes, + Saying, this toil will end in happy cheer; + What costs the heart so much, must needs be dear! + + + +XXVIII. + +_THE HEAVENLY BIRTH OF LOVE AND BEAUTY._ + +_La vita del mie amor._ + + +This heart of flesh feeds not with life my love: + The love wherewith I love thee hath no heart; + Nor harbours it in any mortal part, + Where erring thought or ill desire may move. +When first Love sent our souls from God above, + He fashioned me to see thee as thou art-- + Pure light; and thus I find God's counterpart + In thy fair face, and feel the sting thereof. +As heat from fire, from loveliness divine + The mind that worships what recalls the sun + From whence she sprang, can be divided never: +And since thine eyes all Paradise enshrine, + Burning unto those orbs of light I run, + There where I loved thee first to dwell for ever. + + + +XXIX. + +_LOVE'S DILEMMA._ + +_I' mi credetti._ + + +I deemed upon that day when first I knew + So many peerless beauties blent in one, + That, like an eagle gazing on the sun, + Mine eyes might fix on the least part of you. +That dream hath vanished, and my hope is flown; + For he who fain a seraph would pursue + Wingless, hath cast words to the winds, and dew + On stones, and gauged God's reason with his own. +If then my heart cannot endure the blaze + Of beauties infinite that blind these eyes, + Nor yet can bear to be from you divided, +What fate is mine? Who guides or guards my ways, + Seeing my soul, so lost and ill-betided, + Burns in your presence, in your absence dies? + + + +XXX. + +TO TOMMASO DE' CAVALIERI. + +_LOVE THE LIGHT-GIVER._ + +_Veggio co' bei vostri occhi._ + + +With your fair eyes a charming light I see, + For which my own blind eyes would peer in vain; + Stayed by your feet the burden I sustain + Which my lame feet find all too strong for me; +Wingless upon your pinions forth I fly; + Heavenward your spirit stirreth me to strain; + E'en as you will, I blush and blanch again, + Freeze in the sun, burn 'neath a frosty sky. +Your will includes and is the lord of mine; + Life to my thoughts within your heart is given; + My words begin to breathe upon your breath: +Like to the moon am I, that cannot shine + Alone; for lo! our eyes see nought in heaven + Save what the living sun illumineth. + + + +XXXI. + +To TOMMASO DE' CAVALIERI. + +_LOVE'S LORDSHIP._ + +_A che piu debb' io._ + + +Why should I seek to ease intense desire + With still more tears and windy words of grief, + When heaven, or late or soon, sends no relief + To souls whom love hath robed around with fire? +Why need my aching heart to death aspire, + When all must die? Nay, death beyond belief + Unto these eyes would be both sweet and brief, + Since in my sum of woes all joys expire! +Therefore because I cannot shun the blow + I rather seek, say who must rule my breast, + Gliding between her gladness and her woe? +If only chains and bands can make me blest, + No marvel if alone and bare I go + An armed Knight's captive and slave confessed. + + + +XXXII. + +_LOVE'S EXPOSTULATION._ + +_S' un casto amor._ + + +If love be chaste, if virtue conquer ill, + If fortune bind both lovers in one bond, + If either at the other's grief despond, + If both be governed by one life, one will; +If in two bodies one soul triumph still, + Raising the twain from earth to heaven beyond, + If Love with one blow and one golden wand + Have power both smitten breasts to pierce and thrill; +If each the other love, himself forgoing, + With such delight, such savour, and so well, + That both to one sole end their wills combine; +If thousands of these thoughts, all thought outgoing, + Fail the least part of their firm love to tell: + Say, can mere angry spite this knot untwine? + + + +XXXIII. + +FIRST READING. + +_A PRAYER TO NATURE._ + +AMOR REDIVIVUS. + +_Perche tuo gran bellezze._ + + +That thy great beauty on our earth may be + Shrined in a lady softer and more kind, + I call on nature to collect and bind + All those delights the slow years steal from thee, +And save them to restore the radiancy + Of thy bright face in some fair form designed + By heaven; and may Love ever bear in mind + To mould her heart of grace and courtesy. +I call on nature too to keep my sighs, + My scattered tears to take and recombine, + And give to him who loves that fair again: +More happy he perchance shall move those eyes + To mercy by the griefs wherewith I pine, + Nor lose the kindness that from me is ta'en! + + + +XXXIII. + +SECOND READING. + +_A PRAYER TO NATURE._ + +AMOR REDIVIVUS. + +_Sol perche tue bellezze._ + + +If only that thy beauties here may be + Deathless through Time that rends the wreaths he twined, + I trust that Nature will collect and bind + All those delights the slow years steal from thee, +And keep them for a birth more happily + Born under better auspices, refined + Into a heavenly form of nobler mind, + And dowered with all thine angel purity. +Ah me! and may heaven also keep my sighs, + My scattered tears preserve and reunite, + And give to him who loves that fair again! +More happy he perchance shall move those eyes + To mercy by the griefs my manhood blight, + Nor lose the kindness that from me is ta'en! + + + +XXXIV. + +_LOVE'S FURNACE._ + +_Si amico al freddo sasso._ + + +So friendly is the fire to flinty stone, + That, struck therefrom and kindled to a blaze, + It burns the stone, and from the ash doth raise + What lives thenceforward binding stones in one: +Kiln-hardened this resists both frost and sun, + Acquiring higher worth for endless days-- + As the purged soul from hell returns with praise, + Amid the heavenly host to take her throne. +E'en so the fire struck from my soul, that lay + Close-hidden in my heart, may temper me, + Till burned and slaked to better life I rise. +If, made mere smoke and dust, I live to-day, + Fire-hardened I shall live eternally; + Such gold, not iron, my spirit strikes and tries. + + + +XXXV. + +_LOVE'S PARADOXES._ + +_Sento d' un foco._ + + +Far off with fire I feel a cold face lit, + That makes me burn, the while itself doth freeze: + Two fragile arms enchain me, which with ease, + Unmoved themselves, can move weights infinite. +A soul none knows but I, most exquisite, + That, deathless, deals me death, my spirit sees: + I meet with one who, free, my heart doth seize: + And who alone can cheer, hath tortured it. +How can it be that from one face like thine + My own should feel effects so contrary, + Since ill comes not from things devoid of ill? +That loveliness perchance doth make me pine, + Even as the sun, whose fiery beams we see, + Inflames the world, while he is temperate still. + + + +XXXVI. + +_LOVE MISINTERPRETED._ + +_Se l'immortal desio._ + + +If the undying thirst that purifies + Our mortal thoughts, could draw mine to the day, + Perchance the lord who now holds cruel sway + In Love's high house, would prove more kindly-wise. +But since the laws of heaven immortalise + Our souls, and doom our flesh to swift decay, + Tongue cannot tell how fair, how pure as day, + Is the soul's thirst that far beyond it lies. +How then, ah woe is me! shall that chaste fire, + Which burns the heart within me, be made known, + If sense finds only sense in what it sees? +All my fair hours are turned to miseries + With my loved lord, who minds but lies alone; + For, truth to tell, who trusts not is a liar. + + + +XXXVII. + +_PERHAPS TO VITTORIA COLONNA._ + +_LOVE'S SERVITUDE._ + +_S' alcun legato e pur._ + + +He who is bound by some great benefit, + As to be raised from death to life again, + How shall he recompense that gift, or gain + Freedom from servitude so infinite? +Yet if 'twere possible to pay the debt, + He'd lose that kindness which we entertain + For those who serve us well; since it is plain + That kindness needs some boon to quicken it. +Wherefore, O lady, to maintain thy grace, + So far above my fortune, what I bring + Is rather thanklessness than courtesy: +For if both met as equals face to face, + She whom I love could not be called my king;-- + There is no lordship in equality. + + + +XXXVIII. + +_LOVE'S VAIN EXPENSE._ + +_Rendete a gli occhi miei._ + + +Give back unto mine eyes, ye fount and rill, + Those streams, not yours, that are so full and strong, + That swell your springs, and roll your waves along + With force unwonted in your native hill! + +And thou, dense air, weighed with my sighs so chill, + That hidest heaven's own light thick mists among, + Give back those sighs to my sad heart, nor wrong + My visual ray with thy dark face of ill! + +Let earth give back the footprints that I wore, + That the bare grass I spoiled may sprout again; + And Echo, now grown deaf, my cries return! + +Loved eyes, unto mine eyes those looks restore, + And let me woo another not in vain, + Since how to please thee I shall never learn! + + + +XXXIX. + +_LOVE'S ARGUMENT WITH REASON._ + +_La ragion meco si lamenta._ + + +Reason laments and grieves full sore with me, + The while I hope by loving to be blest; + With precepts sound and true philosophy + My shame she quickens thus within my breast: +'What else but death will that sun deal to thee-- + Nor like the phoenix in her flaming nest?' + Yet nought avails this wise morality; + No hand can save a suicide confessed. +I know my doom; the truth I apprehend: + But on the other side my traitorous heart + Slays me whene'er to wisdom's words I bend. +Between two deaths my lady stands apart: + This death I dread; that none can comprehend. + In this suspense body and soul must part. + + + +XL. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE'S LOADSTONE._ + +_No so s' e la desiata luce._ + + +I know not if it be the longed-for light + Of her first Maker which the spirit feels; + Or if a time-old memory reveals + Some other beauty for the heart's delight; +Or fame or dreams beget that vision bright, + Sweet to the eyes, which through the bosom steals, + Leaving I know not what that wounds and heals, + And now perchance hath made me weep outright. +Be this what this may be, 'tis this I seek: + Nor guide have I; nor know I where to find + That burning fire; yet some one seems to lead. +This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak; + A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind, + And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed. + + + +XL. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE'S LOADSTONE._ + +_Non so se s' e l' immaginata luce._ + + +I know not if it be the fancied light + Which every man or more or less doth feel; + Or if the mind and memory reveal + Some other beauty for the heart's delight; + +Or if within the soul the vision bright + Of her celestial home once more doth steal, + Drawing our better thoughts with pure appeal + To the true Good above all mortal sight: + +This light I long for and unguided seek; + This fire that burns my heart, I cannot find; + Nor know the way, though some one seems to lead. + +This, since I saw thee, lady, makes me weak: + A bitter-sweet sways here and there my mind; + And sure I am thine eyes this mischief breed. + + + +XLI. + +_LIGHT AND DARKNESS._ + +_Colui che fece._ + + +He who ordained, when first the world began, + Time, that was not before creation's hour, + Divided it, and gave the sun's high power + To rule the one, the moon the other span: +Thence fate and changeful chance and fortune's ban + Did in one moment down on mortals shower: + To me they portioned darkness for a dower; + Dark hath my lot been since I was a man. +Myself am ever mine own counterfeit; + And as deep night grows still more dim and dun, + So still of more misdoing must I rue: +Meanwhile this solace to my soul is sweet, + That my black night doth make more clear the sun + Which at your birth was given to wait on you. + + + +XLII. + +_SACRED NIGHT._ + +_Ogni van chiuso._ + + +All hollow vaults and dungeons sealed from sight, + All caverns circumscribed with roof and wall, + Defend dark Night, though noon around her fall, + From the fierce play of solar day-beams bright. +But if she be assailed by fire or light, + Her powers divine are nought; they tremble all + Before things far more vile and trivial-- + Even a glow-worm can confound their might. +The earth that lies bare to the sun, and breeds + A thousand germs that burgeon and decay-- + This earth is wounded by the ploughman's share: +But only darkness serves for human seeds; + Night therefore is more sacred far than day, + Since man excels all fruits however fair. + + + +XLIII. + +_THE IMPEACHMENT OF NIGHT._ + +_Perche Febo non torce._ + + +What time bright Phoebus doth not stretch and bend + His shining arms around this terrene sphere, + The people call that season dark and drear + Night, for the cause they do not comprehend. +So weak is Night that if our hand extend + A glimmering torch, her shadows disappear, + Leaving her dead; like frailest gossamere, + Tinder and steel her mantle rive and rend. +Nay, if this Night be anything at all, + Sure she is daughter of the sun and earth; + This holds, the other spreads that shadowy pall. +Howbeit they err who praise this gloomy birth, + So frail and desolate and void of mirth + That one poor firefly can her might appal. + + + +XLIV. + +_THE DEFENCE OF NIGHT._ + +_O nott' o dolce tempo._ + + +O night, O sweet though sombre span of time!-- + All things find rest upon their journey's end-- + Whoso hath praised thee, well doth apprehend; + And whoso honours thee, hath wisdom's prime. +Our cares thou canst to quietude sublime; + For dews and darkness are of peace the friend: + Often by thee in dreams upborne, I wend + From earth to heaven, where yet I hope to climb. +Thou shade of Death, through whom the soul at length + Shuns pain and sadness hostile to the heart, + Whom mourners find their last and sure relief! +Thou dost restore our suffering flesh to strength, + Driest our tears, assuagest every smart, + Purging the spirits of the pure from grief. + + + +XLV. + +_LOVE FEEDS THE FLAME OF AGE._ + +_Quand' il servo il signior._ + + +When masters bind a slave with cruel chain, + And keep him hope-forlorn in bondage pent, + Use tames his temper to imprisonment, + And hardly would he fain be free again. +Use curbs the snake and tiger, and doth train + Fierce woodland lions to bear chastisement; + And the young artist, all with toil forspent, + By constant use a giant's strength doth gain +But with the force of flame it is not so: + For while fire sucks the sap of the green wood, + It warms a frore old man and makes him grow; +With such fine heat of youth and lustihood + Filling his heart and teaching it to glow, + That love enfolds him with beatitude. + If then in playful mood + He sport and jest, old age need no man blame; + For loving things divine implies no shame. + The soul that knows her aim, + Sins not by loving God's own counterfeit-- + Due measure kept, and bounds, and order meet. + + + +XLVI. + +_LOVE'S FLAME DOTH FEED ON AGE._ + +_Se da' prim' anni._ + + +If some mild heat of love in youth confessed + Burns a fresh heart with swift consuming fire, + What will the force be of a flame more dire + Shut up within an old man's cindery breast? +If the mere lapse of lengthening years hath pressed + So sorely that life, strength, and vigour tire, + How shall he fare who must ere long expire, + When to old age is added love's unrest? +Weak as myself, he will be whirled away + Like dust by winds kind in their cruelty, + Robbing the loathly worm of its last prey. +A little flame consumed and fed on me + In my green age: now that the wood is dry, + What hope against this fire more fierce have I? + + + +XLVII. + +_BEAUTY'S INTOLERABLE SPLENDOUR._ + +_Se 'l foco alla bellezza._ + + +If but the fire that lightens in thine eyes + Were equal with their beauty, all the snow + And frost of all the world would melt and glow + Like brands that blaze beneath fierce tropic skies. +But heaven in mercy to our miseries + Dulls and divides the fiery beams that flow + From thy great loveliness, that we may go + Through this stern mortal life in tranquil wise. +Thus beauty burns not with consuming rage; + For so much only of the heavenly light + Inflames our love as finds a fervent heart. +This is my case, lady, in sad old age: + If seeing thee, I do not die outright, + 'Tis that I feel thy beauty but in part. + + + +XLVIII. + +_LOVE'S EVENING._ + +_Se 'l troppo indugio._ + + +What though long waiting wins more happiness + Than petulant desire is wont to gain, + My luck in latest age hath brought me pain, + Thinking how brief must be an old man's bliss. +Heaven, if it heed our lives, can hardly bless + This fire of love when frosts are wont to reign: + For so I love thee, lady, and my strain + Of tears through age exceeds in tenderness. +Yet peradventure though my day is done,-- + Though nearly past the setting mid thick cloud + And frozen exhalations sinks my sun,-- +If love to only mid-day be allowed, + And I an old man in my evening burn, + You, lady, still my night to noon may turn. + + + +XLIX. + +_LOVE'S EXCUSE._ + +_Dal dolcie pianto._ + + +From happy tears to woeful smiles, from peace + Eternal to a brief and hollow truce, + How have I fallen!--when 'tis truth we lose, + Sense triumphs o'er all adverse impulses. +I know not if my heart bred this disease, + That still more pleasing grows with growing use; + Or else thy face, thine eyes, which stole the hues + And fires of Paradise--less fair than these. +Thy beauty is no mortal thing; 'twas sent + From heaven on high to make our earth divine: + Wherefore, though wasting, burning, I'm content; +For in thy sight what could I do but pine? + If God himself thus rules my destiny, + Who, when I die, can lay the blame on thee? + + + +L. + +_IN LOVE'S OWN TIME._ + +_S' i' avessi creduto._ + + +Had I but earlier known that from the eyes + Of that bright soul that fires me like the sun, + I might have drawn new strength my race to run, + Burning as burns the phoenix ere it dies; +Even as the stag or lynx or leopard flies + To seek his pleasure and his pain to shun, + Each word, each smile of her would I have won, + Flying where now sad age all flight denies. +Yet why complain? For even now I find + In that glad angel's face, so full of rest, + Health and content, heart's ease and peace of mind +Perchance I might have been less simply blest, + Finding her sooner: if 'tis age alone + That lets me soar with her to seek God's throne. + + + +LI. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE IN YOUTH AND AGE._ + +_Tornami al tempo._ + + +Bring back the time when blind desire ran free, + With bit and rein too loose to curb his flight; + Give back the buried face, once angel-bright, + That hides in earth all comely things from me; +Bring back those journeys ta'en so toilsomely, + So toilsome-slow to one whose hairs are white; + Those tears and flames that in one breast unite; + If thou wilt once more take thy fill of me! +Yet Love! Suppose it true that thou dost thrive + Only on bitter honey-dews of tears. + Small profit hast thou of a weak old man. +My soul that toward the other shore doth strive, + Wards off thy darts with shafts of holier fears; + And fire feeds ill on brands no breath can fan. + + + +LI. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE IN YOUTH AND AGE._ + +_Tornami al tempo._ + + +Bring back the time when glad desire ran free + With bit and rein too loose to curb his flight, + The tears and flames that in one breast unite, + If thou art fain once more to conquer me! +Bring back those journeys ta'en so toilsomely, + So toilsome-slow to him whose hairs are white! + Give back the buried face once angel-bright, + That taxed all Nature's art and industry. +O Love! an old man finds it hard to chase + Thy flying pinions! Thou hast left thy nest; + Nor is my heart as light as heretofore. +Put thy gold arrows to the string once more: + Then if Death hear my prayer and grant me grace, + My grief I shall forget, again made blest. + + + +LII. + +_CELESTIAL LOVE._ + +_Non vider gli occhi miei._ + + +I saw no mortal beauty with these eyes + When perfect peace in thy fair eyes I found; + But far within, where all is holy ground, + My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies: +For she was born with God in Paradise; + Else should we still to transient loves be bound; + But, finding these so false, we pass beyond + Unto the Love of Loves that never dies. +Nay, things that die, cannot assuage the thirst + Of souls undying; nor Eternity + Serves Time, where all must fade that flourisheth. +Sense is not love, but lawlessness accurst: + This kills the soul; while our love lifts on high + Our friends on earth--higher in heaven through death. + + + +LIII. + +_CELESTIAL AND EARTHLY LOVE._ + +_Non e sempre di colpa._ + + +Love is not always harsh and deadly sin: + If it be love of loveliness divine, + It leaves the heart all soft and infantine + For rays of God's own grace to enter in. +Love fits the soul with wings, and bids her win + Her flight aloft nor e'er to earth decline; + 'Tis the first step that leads her to the shrine + Of Him who slakes the thirst that burns within. +The love of that whereof I speak, ascends: + Woman is different far; the love of her + But ill befits a heart all manly wise. +The one love soars, the other downward tends; + The soul lights this, while that the senses stir, + And still his arrow at base quarry flies. + + + +LIV. + +_LOVE LIFTS TO GOD._ + +_Veggio nel tuo bel viso._ + + +From thy fair face I learn, O my loved lord, + That which no mortal tongue can rightly say; + The soul, imprisoned in her house of clay, + Holpen by thee to God hath often soared: +And though the vulgar, vain, malignant horde + Attribute what their grosser wills obey, + Yet shall this fervent homage that I pay, + This love, this faith, pure joys for us afford. +Lo, all the lovely things we find on earth, + Resemble for the soul that rightly sees, + That source of bliss divine which gave us birth: +Nor have we first-fruits or remembrances + Of heaven elsewhere. Thus, loving loyally, + I rise to God and make death sweet by thee. + + + +LV. + +_LOVE'S ENTREATY._ + +_Tu sa' ch' i' so, Signor mie._ + + +Thou knowest, love, I know that thou dost know + That I am here more near to thee to be, + And knowest that I know thou knowest me: + What means it then that we are sundered so? +If they are true, these hopes that from thee flow, + If it is real, this sweet expectancy, + Break down the wall that stands 'twixt me and thee; + For pain in prison pent hath double woe. +Because in thee I love, O my loved lord, + What thou best lovest, be not therefore stern: + Souls burn for souls, spirits to spirits cry! +I seek the splendour in thy fair face stored; + Yet living man that beauty scarce can learn, + And he who fain would find it, first must die. + + + +LVI. + +FIRST READING. + +_HEAVEN-BORN BEAUTY._ + +_Per ritornar la._ + + +As one who will reseek her home of light, + Thy form immortal to this prison-house + Descended, like an angel piteous, + To heal all hearts and make the whole world bright. +'Tis this that thralls my soul in love's delight, + Not thy clear face of beauty glorious; + For he who harbours virtue, still will choose + To love what neither years nor death can blight. +So fares it ever with things high and rare + Wrought in the sweat of nature; heaven above + Showers on their birth the blessings of her prime: +Nor hath God deigned to show Himself elsewhere + More clearly than in human forms sublime; + Which, since they image Him, alone I love. + + + +LVI. + +SECOND READING. + +_HEAVEN-BORN BEAUTY._ + +_Venne, non so ben donde._ + + +It came, I know not whence, from far above, + That clear immortal flame that still doth rise + Within thy sacred breast, and fills the skies, + And heals all hearts, and adds to heaven new love. +This burns me, this, and the pure light thereof; + Not thy fair face, thy sweet untroubled eyes: + For love that is not love for aught that dies, + Dwells in the soul where no base passions move. +If then such loveliness upon its own + Should graft new beauties in a mortal birth, + The sheath bespeaks the shining blade within. +To gain our love God hath not clearer shown + Himself elsewhere: thus heaven doth vie with earth + To make thee worthy worship without sin. + + + +LVII. + +FIRST READING. + +_CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL LOVE._ + +_Passa per gli occhi._ + + +Swift through the eyes unto the heart within + All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; + So smooth and broad and open is the way + That thousands and not hundreds enter in. +Burdened with scruples and weighed down with sin, + These mortal beauties fill me with dismay; + Nor find I one that doth not strive to stay + My soul on transient joy, or lets me win +The heaven I yearn for. Lo, when erring love-- + Who fills the world, howe'er his power we shun, + Else were the world a grave and we undone-- +Assails the soul, if grace refuse to fan + Our purged desires and make them soar above, + What grief it were to have been born a man! + + + +LVII. + +SECOND READING. + +_CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL LOVE._ + +_Passa per gli occhi._ + + +Swift through the eyes unto the heart within + All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; + So smooth and broad and open is the way + That thousands and not hundreds enter in +Of every age and sex: whence I begin, + Burdened with griefs, but more with dull dismay, + To fear; nor find mid all their bright array + One that with full content my heart may win. +If mortal beauty be the food of love, + It came not with the soul from heaven, and thus + That love itself must be a mortal fire: +But if love reach to nobler hopes above, + Thy love shall scorn me not nor dread desire + That seeks a carnal prey assailing us. + + + +LVIII. + +_LOVE AND DEATH._ + +_Ognor che l' idol mio._ + + +Whene'er the idol of these eyes appears + Unto my musing heart so weak and strong, + Death comes between her and my soul ere long + Chasing her thence with troops of gathering fears. +Nathless this violence my spirit cheers + With better hope than if she had no wrong; + While Love invincible arrays the throng + Of dauntless thoughts, and thus harangues his peers: +But once, he argues, can a mortal die; + But once be born: and he who dies afire, + What shall he gain if erst he dwelt with me? +That burning love whereby the soul flies free, + Doth lure each fervent spirit to aspire + Like gold refined in flame to God on high. + + + +LIX. + +_LOVE IS A REFINER'S FIRE._ + +_Non piu ch' 'l foco il fabbro._ + + +It is with fire that blacksmiths iron subdue + Unto fair form, the image of their thought: + Nor without fire hath any artist wrought + Gold to its utmost purity of hue. +Nay, nor the unmatched phoenix lives anew, + Unless she burn: if then I am distraught + By fire, I may to better life be brought + Like those whom death restores nor years undo. +The fire whereof I speak, is my great cheer; + Such power it hath to renovate and raise + Me who was almost numbered with the dead; +And since by nature fire doth find its sphere + Soaring aloft, and I am all ablaze, + Heavenward with it my flight must needs be sped. + + + +LX. + +FIRST READING. + +_LOVE'S JUSTIFICATION._ + +_Ben puo talor col mio._ + + +Sometimes my love I dare to entertain + With soaring hope not over-credulous; + Since if all human loves were impious, + Unto what end did God the world ordain? +For loving thee what license is more plain + Than that I praise thereby the glorious + Source of all joys divine, that comfort us + In thee, and with chaste fires our soul sustain? +False hope belongs unto that love alone + Which with declining beauty wanes and dies, + And, like the face it worships, fades away. +That hope is true which the pure heart hath known, + Which alters not with time or death's decay, + Yielding on earth earnest of Paradise. + + + +LX. + +SECOND READING. + +_LOVE'S JUSTIFICATION._ + +_Ben puo talor col casto._ + + +It must be right sometimes to entertain + Chaste love with hope not over-credulous; + Since if all human loves were impious, + Unto what end did God the world ordain? +If I love thee and bend beneath thy reign, + 'Tis for the sake of beauty glorious + Which in thine eyes divine is stored for us, + And drives all evil thought from its domain. +That is not love whose tyranny we own + In loveliness that every moment dies; + Which, like the face it worships, fades away: +True love is that which the pure heart hath known, + Which alters not with time or death's decay, + Yielding on earth earnest of Paradise. + + + +LXI. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_IRREPARABLE LOSS._ + +_Se 'l mie rozzo martello._ + + +When my rude hammer to the stubborn stone + Gives human shape, now that, now this, at will, + Following his hand who wields and guides it still, + It moves upon another's feet alone: +But that which dwells in heaven, the world doth fill + With beauty by pure motions of its own; + And since tools fashion tools which else were none, + Its life makes all that lives with living skill. +Now, for that every stroke excels the more + The higher at the forge it doth ascend, + Her soul that fashioned mine hath sought the skies: +Wherefore unfinished I must meet my end, + If God, the great artificer, denies + That aid which was unique on earth before. + + + +LXII. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_LOVE'S TRIUMPH OVER DEATH._ + +_Quand' el ministro de' sospir._ + + +When she who was the source of all my sighs, + Fled from the world, herself, my straining sight, + Nature who gave us that unique delight, + Was sunk in shame, and we had weeping eyes. +Yet shall not vauntful Death enjoy this prize, + This sun of suns which then he veiled in night; + For Love hath triumphed, lifting up her light + On earth and mid the saints in Paradise. +What though remorseless and impiteous doom + Deemed that the music of her deeds would die, + And that her splendour would be sunk in gloom, +The poet's page exalts her to the sky + With life more living in the lifeless tomb, + And death translates her soul to reign on high. + + + +LXIII. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_AFTER SUNSET._ + +_Be' mi dove'._ + + +Well might I in those days so fortunate, + What time the sun lightened my path above, + Have soared from earth to heaven, raised by her love + Who winged my labouring soul and sweetened fate. + +That sun hath set; and I with hope elate + Who deemed that those bright days would never move, + Find that my thankless soul, deprived thereof, + Declines to death, while heaven still bars the gate. + +Love lent me wings; my path was like a stair; + A lamp unto my feet, that sun was given; + And death was safety and great joy to find. + +But dying now, I shall not climb to heaven; + Nor can mere memory cheer my heart's despair:-- + What help remains when hope is left behind? + + + +LXIV. + +AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. + +_A WASTED BRAND._ + +_Qual maraviglia e._ + + +If being near the fire I burned with it, + Now that its flame is quenched and doth not show, + What wonder if I waste within and glow, + Dwindling away to cinders bit by bit? + +While still it burned, I saw so brightly lit + That splendour whence I drew my grievous woe, + That from its sight alone could pleasure flow, + And death and torment both seemed exquisite. + +But now that heaven hath robbed me of the blaze + Of that great fire which burned and nourished me, + A coal that smoulders 'neath the ash am I. + +Unless Love furnish wood fresh flames to raise, + I shall expire with not one spark to see, + So quickly into embers do I die! + + + +LXV. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_ON THE BRINK OF DEATH._ + +_Giunto e gia._ + + +Now hath my life across a stormy sea + Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all + Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall + Of good and evil for eternity. + +Now know I well how that fond phantasy + Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall + Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal + Is that which all men seek unwillingly. + +Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, + What are they when the double death is nigh? + The one I know for sure, the other dread. + +Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest + My soul that turns to His great love on high, + Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread. + + + +LXVI. + +TO GIORGIO VASARI. + +_VANITY OF VANITIES._ + +_Le favole del mondo._ + + +The fables of the world have filched away + The time I had for thinking upon God; + His grace lies buried 'neath oblivion's sod, + Whence springs an evil crop of sins alway. + +What makes another wise, leads me astray, + Slow to discern the bad path I have trod: + Hope fades; but still desire ascends that God + May free me from self-love, my sure decay. + +Shorten half-way my road to heaven from earth! + Dear Lord, I cannot even half-way rise, + Unless Thou help me on this pilgrimage. + +Teach me to hate the world so little worth, + And all the lovely things I clasp and prize; + That endless life, ere death, may be my wage. + + + +LXVII. + +_A PRAYER FOR FAITH._ + +_Non e piu bassa._ + + +There's not on earth a thing more vile and base + Than, lacking Thee, I feel myself to be: + For pardon prays my own debility, + Yearning in vain to lift me to Thy face. + +Stretch to me, Lord, that chain whose links enlace + All heavenly gifts and all felicity-- + Faith, whereunto I strive perpetually, + Yet cannot find (my fault) her perfect grace. + +That gift of gifts, the rarer 'tis, the more + I count it great; more great, because to earth + Without it neither peace nor joy is given. + +If Thou Thy blood so lovingly didst pour, + Let not that bounty fail or suffer dearth, + Withholding Faith that opes the doors of heaven. + + + +LXVIII. + +TO MONSIGNOR LODOVICO BECCADELLI. + +_URBINO._ + +_Per croce e grazia._ + + + God's grace, the cross, our troubles multiplied, + Will make us meet in heaven, full well I know: + Yet ere we yield our breath, on earth below + Why need a little solace be denied? + + Though seas and mountains and rough ways divide + Our feet asunder, neither frost nor snow + Can make the soul her ancient love forgo; + Nor chains nor bonds the wings of thought have tied. + + Borne by these wings with thee I dwell for aye, + And weep, and of my dead Urbino talk, + Who, were he living, now perchance would be, + + For so 'twas planned, thy guest as well as I: + Warned by his death another way I walk + To meet him where he waits to live with me. + + + +LXIX. + +WAITING FOR DEATH. + +_Di morte certo._ + + + My death must come; but when, I do not know: + Life's short, and little life remains for me: + Fain would my flesh abide; my soul would flee + Heavenward, for still she calls on me to go. + + Blind is the world; and evil here below + O'erwhelms and triumphs over honesty: + The light is quenched; quenched too is bravery: + Lies reign, and truth hath ceased her face to show. + + When will that day dawn, Lord, for which he waits + Who trusts in Thee? Lo, this prolonged delay + Destroys all hope and robs the soul of life. + + Why streams the light from those celestial gates, + If death prevent the day of grace, and stay + Our souls for ever in the toils of strife? + + + +LXX. + +_A PRAYER FOR STRENGTH._ + +_Carico d'anni._ + + +Burdened with years and full of sinfulness, + With evil custom grown inveterate, + Both deaths I dread that close before me wait, + Yet feed my heart on poisonous thoughts no less. + +No strength I find in mine own feebleness + To change or life or love or use or fate, + Unless Thy heavenly guidance come, though late, + Which only helps and stays our nothingness. + +'Tis not enough, dear Lord, to make me yearn + For that celestial home, where yet my soul + May be new made, and not, as erst, of nought: + +Nay, ere Thou strip her mortal vestment, turn + My steps toward the steep ascent, that whole + And pure before Thy face she may be brought. + + + +LXXI. + +_A PRAYER FOR PURIFICATION._ + +_Forse perche d' altrui._ + + +Perchance that I might learn what pity is, + That I might laugh at erring men no more, + Secure in my own strength as heretofore, + My soul hath fallen from her state of bliss: +Nor know I under any flag but this + How fighting I may 'scape those perils sore, + Or how survive the rout and horrid roar + Of adverse hosts, if I Thy succour miss. +O flesh! O blood! O cross! O pain extreme! + By you may those foul sins be purified, + Wherein my fathers were, and I was born! +Lo, Thou alone art good: let Thy supreme + Pity my state of evil cleanse and hide-- + So near to death, so far from God, forlorn. + + + +LXXII. + +_A PRAYER FOR AID._ + +_Deh fammiti vedere._ + + +Oh, make me see Thee, Lord, where'er I go! + If mortal beauty sets my soul on fire, + That flame when near to Thine must needs expire, + And I with love of only Thee shall glow. +Dear Lord, Thy help I seek against this woe, + These torments that my spirit vex and tire; + Thou only with new strength canst re-inspire + My will, my sense, my courage faint and low. +Thou gavest me on earth this soul divine; + And Thou within this body weak and frail + Didst prison it--how sadly there to live! +How can I make its lot less vile than mine? + Without Thee, Lord, all goodness seems to fail. + To alter fate is God's prerogative. + + + +LXXIII. + +_AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS._ + +_Scarco d' un' importuna._ + + +Freed from a burden sore and grievous band, + Dear Lord, and from this wearying world untied, + Like a frail bark I turn me to Thy side, + As from a fierce storm to a tranquil land. +Thy thorns, Thy nails, and either bleeding hand, + With Thy mild gentle piteous face, provide + Promise of help and mercies multiplied, + And hope that yet my soul secure may stand. +Let not Thy holy eyes be just to see + My evil past, Thy chastened ears to hear + And stretch the arm of judgment to my crime: +Let Thy blood only lave and succour me, + Yielding more perfect pardon, better cheer, + As older still I grow with lengthening time. + + + +LXXIV. + +FIRST READING. + +_A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH._ + +_S' avvien che spesso._ + + +What though strong love of life doth flatter me + With hope of yet more years on earth to stay, + Death none the less draws nearer day by day, + Who to sad souls alone comes lingeringly. +Yet why desire long life and jollity, + If in our griefs alone to God we pray? + Glad fortune, length of days, and pleasure slay + The soul that trusts to their felicity. +Then if at any hour through grace divine + The fiery shafts of love and faith that cheer + And fortify the soul, my heart assail, +Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine, + Straight may I wing my way to heaven; for here + With lengthening days good thoughts and wishes fail. + + + +LXXIV. + +SECOND READING. + +_A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH._ + +_Parmi che spesso._ + + +Ofttimes my great desire doth flatter me + With hope on earth yet many years to stay: + Still Death, the more I love it, day by day + Takes from the life I love so tenderly. +What better time for that dread change could be, + If in our griefs alone to God we pray? + Oh, lead me, Lord, oh, lead me far away + From every thought that lures my soul from Thee! +Yea, if at any hour, through grace of Thine, + The fervent zeal of love and faith that cheer + And fortify the soul, my heart assail. +Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine, + Plant, like a saint in heaven, that virtue here; + For, lacking Thee, all good must faint and fail. + + + +LXXV. + +_HEART-COLDNESS._ + +_Vorrei voler, Signior._ + + +Fain would I wish what my heart cannot will: + Between it and the fire a veil of ice + Deadens the fire, so that I deal in lies; + My words and actions are discordant still. +I love Thee with my tongue, then mourn my fill; + For love warms not my heart, nor can I rise, + Or ope the doors of Grace, who from the skies + Might flood my soul, and pride and passion kill. +Rend Thou the veil, dear Lord! Break Thou that wall + Which with its stubbornness retards the rays + Of that bright sun this earth hath dulled for me! +Send down Thy promised light to cheer and fall + On Thy fair spouse, that I with love may blaze, + And, free from doubt, my heart feel only Thee! + + + +LXXVI. + +_THE DEATH OF CHRIST._ + +_Non fur men lieti._ + + +Not less elate than smitten with wild woe + To see not them but Thee by death undone, + Were those blest souls, when Thou above the sun + Didst raise, by dying, men that lay so low: +Elate, since freedom from all ills that flow + From their first fault for Adam's race was won; + Sore smitten, since in torment fierce God's son + Served servants on the cruel cross below. +Heaven showed she knew Thee, who Thou wert and whence, + Veiling her eyes above the riven earth; + The mountains trembled and the seas were troubled. +He took the Fathers from hell's darkness dense: + The torments of the damned fiends redoubled: + Man only joyed, who gained baptismal birth. + + + +LXXVII. + +_THE BLOOD OF CHRIST._ + +_Mentre m' attrista._ + + +Mid weariness and woe I find some cheer + In thinking of the past, when I recall + My weakness and my sins, and reckon all + The vain expense of days that disappear: +This cheers by making, ere I die, more clear + The frailty of what men delight miscall; + But saddens me to think how rarely fall + God's grace and mercies in life's latest year. +For though Thy promises our faith compel, + Yet, Lord, what man shall venture to maintain + That pity will condone our long neglect? +Still from Thy blood poured forth we know full well + How without measure was Thy martyr's pain, + How measureless the gifts we dare expect. + + + + + +THE SONNETS OF TOMMASO CAMPANELLA + + + +I. + +_THE PROEM._ + +_Io che nacqui dal Senno._ + + +Born of God's Wisdom and Philosophy, + Keen lover of true beauty and true good, + I call the vain self-traitorous multitude + Back to my mother's milk; for it is she, +Faithful to God her spouse, who nourished me, + Making me quick and active to intrude + Within the inmost veil, where I have viewed + And handled all things in eternity. +If the whole world's our home where we may run, + Up, friends, forsake those secondary schools + Which give grains, units, inches for the whole! +If facts surpass mere words, melt pride of soul, + And pain, and ignorance that hardens fools, + Here in the fire I've stolen from the Sun! + + + +II. + +_TO THE POETS._ + +_In superbia il valor._ + + +Valour to pride hath turned; grave holiness + To vile hypocrisy; all gentle ways + To empty forms; sound sense to idle lays; + Pure love to heat; beauty to paint and dress:-- +Thanks to you, Poets! you who sing the praise + Of fabled knights, foul fires, lies, nullities; + Not virtue, nor the wrapped sublimities + Of God, as bards were wont in those old days. +How far more wondrous than your phantasies + Are Nature's works, how far more sweet to sing! + Thus taught, the soul falsehood and truth descries. +That tale alone is worth the pondering, + Which hath not smothered history in lies, + And arms the soul against each sinful thing. + + + +III. + +_THE UNIVERSE._ + +_Il mondo e un animal._ + + +The world's a living creature, whole and great, + God's image, praising God whose type it is; + We are imperfect worms, vile families, + That in its belly have our low estate. +If we know not its love, its intellect, + Neither the worm within my belly seeks + To know me, but his petty mischief wreaks:-- + Thus it behoves us to be circumspect. +Again, the earth is a great animal, + Within the greatest; we are like the lice + Upon its body, doing harm as they. +Proud men, lift up your eyes; on you I call: + Measure each being's worth; and thence be wise; + Learning what part in the great scheme you play! + + + +IV. + +_THE SOUL._ + +_Dentro un pugno di cervel._ + + +A handful of brain holds me: I consume + So much that all the books the world contains, + Cannot allay my furious famine-pains:-- + What feasts were mine! Yet hunger is my doom. +With one world Aristarchus fed my greed; + This finished, others Metrodorus gave; + Yet, stirred by restless yearning, still I crave: + The more I know, the more to learn I need. +Thus I'm an image of that Sire in whom + All beings are, like fishes in the sea; + That one true object of the loving mind. +Reasoning may reach Him, like a shaft shot home; + The Church may guide; but only blest is he + Who loses self in God, God's self to find. + + + +V. + +_THE BOOK OF NATURE._ + +_Il mondo e il libro._ + + +The world's the book where the eternal Sense + Wrote his own thoughts; the living temple where, + Painting his very self, with figures fair + He filled the whole immense circumference. +Here then should each man read, and gazing find + Both how to live and govern, and beware + Of godlessness; and, seeing God all-where, + Be bold to grasp the universal mind. +But we tied down to books and temples dead, + Copied with countless errors from the life,-- + These nobler than that school sublime we call. +O may our senseless souls at length be led + To truth by pain, grief, anguish, trouble, strife! + Turn we to read the one original! + + + +VI. + +_AN EXHORTATION TO MANKIND._ + +_Abitator del mondo._ + + +Ye dwellers on this world, to the first Mind + Exalt your eyes; and ye shall see how low + Vile Tyranny, wearing the glorious show + Of nobleness and worth, keeps you confined. +Then look at proud Hypocrisy, entwined + With lies and snares, who once taught men to know + The fear of God. Next to the Sophists go, + Traitors to thought and reason, jugglers blind. +Keen Socrates to quell the Sophists came: + To quell the Tyrants, Cato just and rough: + To quell the Hypocrites, Christ, heaven's own flame. +But to unmask fraud, sacrilege, and lies, + Or boldly rush on death, is not enough; + Unless we all taste God, made inly wise. + + + +VII. + +_THE BROOD OF IGNORANCE._ + +_Io nacqui a debellar._ + + +To quell three Titan evils I was made,-- + Tyranny, Sophistry, Hypocrisy; + Whence I perceive with what wise harmony + Themis on me Love, Power, and Wisdom laid. +These are the basements firm whereon is stayed, + Supreme and strong, our new philosophy; + The antidotes against that trinal lie + Wherewith the burdened world groaning is weighed. +Famine, war, pestilence, fraud, envy, pride, + Injustice, idleness, lust, fury, fear, + Beneath these three great plagues securely hide. +Grounded on blind self-love, the offspring dear + Of Ignorance, they flourish and abide:-- + Wherefore to root up Ignorance I'm here! + + + +VIII. + +_SELF-LOVE._ + +_Credulo il proprio amor._ + + +Self-love fools man with false opinion + That earth, air, water, fire, the stars we see, + Though stronger and more beautiful than we, + Feel nought, love not, but move for us alone. +Then all the tribes of earth except his own + Seem to him senseless, rude--God lets them be: + To kith and kin next shrinks his sympathy, + Till in the end loves only self each one. +Learning he shuns that he may live at ease; + And since the world is little to his mind, + God and God's ruling Forethought he denies. +Craft he calls wisdom; and, perversely blind, + Seeking to reign, erects new deities: + At last 'I make the Universe!' he cries. + + + +IX. + +_LOVE OF SELF AND GOD._ + +_Questo amor singolar._ + + +This love of self sinks man in sinful sloth: + Yet, if he seek to live, he needs must feign + Sense, goodness, courage. Thus he dwells in pain, + A sphinx, twy-souled, a false self-stunted growth. +Honours, applause, and wealth these torments soothe; + Till jealousy, contrasting his foul stain + With virtues eminent, by spur and rein + Drives him to slay, steal, poison, break his oath. +But he who loves our common Father, hath + All men for brothers, and with God doth joy + In whatsoever worketh for their bliss. +Good Francis called the birds upon his path + Brethren; to him the fishes were not coy.-- + Oh, blest is he who comprehendeth this! + + + +X. + +_EARTHLY AND DIVINE LOVE._ + +_Se Dio ci da la vita._ + + +God gives us life, and God our life preserves; + Nay, all our happiness on Him doth rest: + Why then should love of God inflame man's breast + Less than his lady and the lord he serves? +Through mean and wanton ignorance he swerves, + And worships a false Good, divinely dressed; + Love cannot soar to what it never guessed, + But stoops its flight, and the thralled soul unnerves. +Here too is man deceived. He yields his own + To spend on others. Yet in vile delight + God's splendour still shines through love's earthliness. +But we embrace the loss, the lure alone + Love fools us with. That glimpse of heavenly light, + That foretaste of eternal Good, we miss. + + + +XI. + +_THE PHILOSOPHER._ + +_Gran fortuna e 'l saper._ + + +Wisdom is riches great and great estate, + Far above wealth; nor are the wise unblest + If born of lineage vile or race oppressed: + These by their doom sublime they illustrate. + +They have their griefs for guerdon, to dilate + Their name and glory; nay, the cross, the sword + Make them to be like saints or God adored; + And gladness greets them in the frowns of fate: + +For joys and sorrows are their dear delight; + Even as a lover takes the weal and woe + Felt for his lady. Such is wisdom's might. + +But wealth still vexes fools; more vile they grow + By being noble; and their luckless light + With each new misadventure burns more low. + + + +XII. + +_A PARABLE OF WISE MEN AND THE WORLD._ + +_Gli astrologi antevista._ + + +Once on a time the astronomers foresaw + The coming of a star to madden men: + Thus warned they fled the land, thinking that when + The folk were crazed, they'd hold the reins of law + +When they returned the realm to overawe, + They prayed those maniacs to quit cave and den, + And use their old good customs once again; + But these made answer with fist, tooth, and claw: + +So that the wise men were obliged to rule + Themselves like lunatics to shun grim death, + Seeing the biggest maniac now was king. + +Stifling their sense, they lived, aping the fool, + In public praising act and word and thing + Just as the whims of madmen swayed their breath. + + + +XIII. + +_THE WORLD'S A STAGE._ + +_Nel teatro del mondo._ + + +The world's a theatre: age after age, + Souls masked and muffled in their fleshly gear + Before the supreme audience appear, + As Nature, God's own Art, appoints the stage. + +Each plays the part that is his heritage; + From choir to choir they pass, from sphere to sphere, + And deck themselves with joy or sorry cheer, + As Fate the comic playwright fills the page. + +None do or suffer, be they cursed or blest, + Aught otherwise than the great Wisdom wrote + To gladden each and all who gave Him mirth, + +When we at last to sea or air or earth + Yielding these masks that weal or woe denote, + In God shall see who spoke and acted best. + + + +XIV. + +_THE HUMAN COMEDY._ + +_Natura dal Signor._ + + +Nature, by God directed, formed in space + The universal comedy we see; + Wherein each star, each man, each entity, + Each living creature, hath its part and place: + +And when the play is over, it shall be + That God will judge with justice and with grace.-- + Aping this art divine, the human race + Plans for itself on earth a comedy: + +It makes kings, priests, slaves, heroes for the eyes + Of vulgar folk; and gives them masks to play + Their several parts--not wisely, as we see; + +For impious men too oft we canonise, + And kill the saints; while spurious lords array + Their hosts against the real nobility. + + + +XV. + +_THE TRUE KINGS._ + +_Neron fu Re._ + + +Nero was king by accident in show; + But Socrates by nature in good sooth; + By right of both Augustus; luck and truth + Less perfectly were blent in Scipio. + +The spurious prince still seeks to extirpate + The seed of natures born imperial-- + Like Herod, Caiaphas, Meletus, all + Who by bad acts sustain their stolen state. + +Slaves whose souls tell them that they are but slaves, + Strike those whose native kinghood all can see: + Martyrdom is the stamp of royalty. + +Dead though they be, these govern from their graves: + The tyrants fall, nor can their laws remain; + While Paul and Peter rise o'er Rome to reign. + + + +XVI. + +_WHAT MAKES A KING._ + +_Chi pennelli have e colori._ + + +He who hath brush and colours, and chance-wise + Doth daub, befouling walls and canvases, + Is not a painter; but, unhelped by these, + He who in art is masterful and wise. +Cowls and the tonsure do not make a friar; + Nor make a king wide realms and pompous wars; + But he who is all Jesus, Pallas, Mars, + Though he be slave or base-born, wears the tiar. +Man is not born crowned like the natural king + Of beasts, for beasts by this investiture + Have need to know the head they must obey; +Wherefore a commonwealth fits men, I say, + Or else a prince whose worth is tried and sure, + Not proved by sloth or false imagining. + + + +XVII. + +_TO JESUS CHRIST._ + +_I tuo' seguaci._ + + +Thy followers to-day are less like Thee, + The crucified, than those who made Thee die, + Good Jesus, wandering all ways awry + From rules prescribed in Thy wise charity. +The saints now most esteemed love lying lips, + Lust, strife, injustice; sweet to them the cry + Drawn forth by monstrous pangs from men that die: + So many plagues hath not the Apocalypse +As these wherewith they smite Thy friends ignored-- + Even as I am; search my heart, and know; + My life, my sufferings bear Thy stamp and sign. +If Thou return to earth, come armed; for lo, + Thy foes prepare fresh crosses for Thee, Lord! + Not Turks, not Jews, but they who call them Thine. + + + +XVIII. + +_TO DEATH._ + +_Morte, stipendio della colpa._ + + +O Death, the wage of our first father's blame, + Daughter of envy and nonentity, + Serf of the serpent, and his harlotry, + Thou beast most arrogant and void of shame! +Thy last great conquest dost thou dare proclaim, + Crying that all things are subdued to thee, + Against the Almighty raised almightily?-- + The proofs that prop thy pride of state are lame. +Not to serve thee, but to make thee serve Him, + He stoops to Hell. The choice of arms was thine; + Yet art thou scoffed at by the crucified! +He lives--thy loss. He dies--from every limb, + Mangled by thee, lightnings of godhead shine, + From which thy darkness hath not where to hide. + + + +XIX. + +_ON THE SEPULCHRE OF CHRIST._ + +No. I. + +_O tu ch' ami la parte._ + + +O you who love the part more than the whole, + And love yourself more than all human kind, + Who persecute good men with prudence blind + Because they combat your malign control, +See Scribes and Pharisees, each impious school, + Each sect profane, o'erthrown by his great mind, + Whose best our good to Deity refined, + The while they thought Death triumphed o'er his soul. +Deem you that only you have thought and sense, + While heaven and all its wonders, sun and earth, + Scorned in your dullness, lack intelligence? +Fool! what produced you? These things gave you birth: + So have they mind and God. Repent; be wise! + Man fights but ill with Him who rules the skies. + + + +XX. + +_ON THE SEPULCHRE OF CHRIST._ + +No. 2. + +_Quinci impara a stupirti._ + + +Here bend in boundless wonder; bow your head: + Think how God's deathless Mind, that men might be + Robed in celestial immortality + (O Love divine!), in flesh was raimented: +How He was killed and buried; from the dead + How He arose to life with victory, + And reigned in heaven; how all of us shall be + Glorious like Him whose hearts to His are wed: +How they who die for love of reason, give + Hypocrites, tyrants, sophists--all who sell + Their neighbours ill for holiness--to hell: +How the dead saint condemns the bad who live; + How all he does becomes a law for men; + How he at last to judge shall come again! + + + +XXI. + +_THE RESURRECTION._ + +_Se sol sei ore._ + + +If Christ was only six hours crucified + After few years of toil and misery, + Which for mankind He suffered willingly, + While heaven was won for ever when He died; +Why should He still be shown on every side, + Painted and preached, in nought but agony, + Whose pains were light matched with His victory, + When the world's power to harm Him was defied? +Why rather speak and write not of the realm + He rules in heaven, and soon will bring below + Unto the praise and glory of His name? +Ah foolish crowd! This world's thick vapours whelm + Your eyes unworthy of that glorious show, + Blind to His splendour, bent upon His shame. + + + +XXII. + +_IDEAL LOVE._ + +_Il vero amante._ + + +He who loves truly, grows in force and might; + For beauty and the image of his love + Expand his spirit: whence he burns to prove + Adventures high, and holds all perils light. +If thus a lady's love dilate the knight, + What glories and what joy all joys above + Shall not the heavenly splendour, joined by love + Unto our flesh-imprisoned soul, excite? +Once freed, she would become one sphere immense + Of love, power, wisdom, filled with Deity, + Elate with wonders of the eternal Sense. +But we like sheep and wolves war ceaselessly: + That love we never seek, that light intense, + Which would exalt us to infinity. + + + +XXIII. + +_THE MODERN CUPID._ + +_Son tremil' anni._ + + +Through full three thousand years the world reveres + Blind Love that bears the quiver and hath wings: + Now too he's deaf, and to the sufferings + Of folk in anguish turns impiteous ears. +Of gold he's greedy, and dark raiment wears; + A child no more, that naked sports and sings, + But a sly greybeard; no gold shaft he flings, + Now that fire-arms have cursed these latter years. +Charcoal and sulphur, thunder, lead, and smoke, + That leave the flesh with plagues of hell diseased, + And drive the craving spirit deaf and blind, +These are his weapons. But my bell hath broke + Her silence. Yield, thou deaf, blind, tainted beast, + To the wise fervour of a blameless mind! + + + +XXIV. + +_TRUE AND FALSE NOBILITY._ + +_In noi dal senno._ + + +Valour and mind form real nobility, + The which bears fruit and shows a fair increase + By doughty actions: these and nought but these + Confer true patents of gentility. +Money is false and light unless it be + Bought by a man's own worthy qualities; + And blood is such that its corrupt disease + And ignorant pretence are foul to see. +Honours that ought to yield more true a type, + Europe, thou measurest by fortune still, + To thy great hurt; and this thy foe perceives: +He rates the tree by fruits mature and ripe, + Not by mere shadows, roots, and verdant leaves:-- + Why then neglect so grave a cause of ill? + + + +XXV. + +_THE PEOPLE._ + +_Il popolo e una bestia._ + + +The people is a beast of muddy brain, + That knows not its own force, and therefore stands + Loaded with wood and stone; the powerless hands + Of a mere child guide it with bit and rein: +One kick would be enough to break the chain; + But the beast fears, and what the child demands, + It does; nor its own terror understands, + Confused and stupefied by bugbears vain. +Most wonderful! with its own hand it ties + And gags itself--gives itself death and war + For pence doled out by kings from its own store. +Its own are all things between earth and heaven; + But this it knows not; and if one arise + To tell this truth, it kills him unforgiven. + + + +XXVI. + +_CONSCIENCE._ + +_Seco ogni coif a e doglia._ + + +All crime is its own torment, bearing woe + To mind or body or decrease of fame; + If not at once, still step by step our name + Or blood or friends or fortune it brings low. +But if our will do not resent the blow, + We have not sinned. That penance hath no blame + Which Magdalen found sweet: purging our shame, + Self-punishment is virtue, all men know. +The consciousness of goodness pure and whole + Makes a man fully blest; but misery + Springs from false conscience, blinded in its pride. +This Simon Peter meant when he replied + To Simon Magus, that the prescient soul + Hath her own proof of immortality. + + + +XXVII. + +_THE BAD PRINCE._ + +_Mentola al comun corpo._ + + +Organ of rut, not reason, is the lord + Who from the body politic doth drain + Lust for himself, instead of toil and pain, + Leaving us lean as crickets on dry sward. +Well too if he like Love would filch our hoard + With pleasure to ourselves, sluicing our vein + And vigour to perpetuate the strain + Of life by spilth of life within us stored! +Love's cheat yields joy and profit. Kings, less kind, + Harm those they hoodwink; sow bare rock with seed; + Nor use our waste to propagate the breed. +Heaven help that body which a little mind, + Housed in a head, lacking ears, tongue, and eyes, + And senseless but for smell, can tyrannise! + + + +XXVIII. + +_ON ITALY._ + +_La gran Donna._ + + +That Lady who to Caesar came in state + Upon the Rubicon, what time she feared + Ruin from those strange races who appeared + Erewhile to build her empire strong and great, +Now stays with limbs dispersed and lacerate, + A bondslave, shorn of all her pomp revered: + Nor seems it now that Dinah's shame can gird + Simeon or Levi to avenge her fate. +If then Jerusalem doth not repair + To Nazareth or Athens, where did reign + Wisdom of God or man in days of yore, +None shall arise her honours to restore: + For Herods are all strangers; when they swear + To save the Saviour's seed, their oath is vain. + + + +XXIX. + +_TO VENICE._ + +_Nuova arca di Noe._ + + +New Ark of Noah! when the cruel scourge + Of that barbarian tyrant like a wave + Went over Italy, thou then didst save + The seed of just men on the weltering surge. +Here, still by discord and foul servitude + Untainted, thou a hero brood dost raise, + Powerful and prudent. Due to thee their praise + Of maiden pure, of teeming motherhood! +Thou wonder of the world, Rome's loyal heir, + Thou pride and strong support of Italy, + Dial of princes, school of all things wise! +Thou like Arcturus steadfast in the skies, + With tardy sense guidest thy kingdom fair, + Bearing alone the load of liberty. + + + +XXX. + +_TO GENOA._ + +_Le Ninfe d'Arno._ + + +The nymphs of Arno; Adria's goddess-queen; + Greece, where the Latin banner floated free; + The lands that border on the Syrian sea; + The Euxine, and fair Naples; these have been +Thine, by the right of conquest; these should be + Still thine by empire: Asia's broad demesne, + Afric, America--realms never seen + But by thy venture--all belong to thee. +But thou, thyself not knowing, leavest all + For a poor price to strangers; since thy head + Is weak, albeit thy limbs are stout and good. +Genoa, mistress of the world, recall + Thy soul magnanimous! Nay, be not led + Slave to base gold, thou and thy tameless brood! + + + +XXXI. + +_TO POLAND._ + +_Sopra i regni._ + + +High o'er those realms that make blind chance the heir + Of empire, Poland, dost thou lift thy head: + For while thou mournest for thy monarch dead, + Thou wilt not let his son the sceptre bear, +Lest he prove weak perchance to do or dare. + Yet art thou even more by luck misled, + Choosing a prince of fortune, courtly-bred, + Uncertain whether he will spend or spare. +Oh, quit this pride! In hut or shepherd's pen + Seek Cato, Minos, Numa! For of such + God still makes kings in plenty: and these men +Will squander little substance and gain much, + Knowing that virtue and not blood shall be + Their titles to true immortality. + + + +XXXII. + +_TO THE SWISS._ + +_Se voi piu innalza._ + + +Ye Alpine rocks! If less your peaks elate + To heaven exalt you than that gift divine, + Freedom; why do your children still combine + To keep the despots in their stolen state? +Lo, for a piece of bread from windows wide + You fling your blood, taking no thought what cause, + Righteous or wrong, your strength to battle draws; + So is your valour spurned and vilified. +All things belong to free men; but the slave + Clothes and feeds poorly. Even so from you + Broad lands and Malta's knighthood men withhold. +Up, free yourselves, and act as heroes do! + Go, take your own from tyrants, which you gave + So recklessly, and they so dear have sold! + + + +XXXIII. + +_THE SAMARITAN._ + +_Da Roma ad Ostia._ + + +From Rome to Ostia a poor man went; + Thieves robbed and wounded him upon the way; + Some monks, great saints, observed him where he lay, + And left him, on their breviaries intent. +A Bishop passed thereby, and careless bent + To sign the cross, a blessing brief to say; + But a great Cardinal, to clutch their prey, + Followed the thieves, falsely benevolent. +At last there came a German Lutheran, + Who builds on faith, merit of works withstands; + He raised and clothed and healed the dying man. + Now which of these was worthiest, most humane? +The heart is better than the head, kind hands + Than cold lip-service; faith without works is vain. + Who understands + What creed is good and true for self and others?-- + But none can doubt the good he doth his brothers. + + + +XXXIV. + +_HYPOCRITES._ + +_Nessun ti venne a dir._ + + +Who comes and saith: 'A Tyrant, lo, am I!' + And, 'I am Antichrist!' what man will swear? + The crafty rogue, hiding his poisonous ware, + Sells you what slays your soul, for sanctity. +Cheats, brigands, prostitutes, and all that fry, + Not having fashioned so devout a snare, + Appear worse sinners than perhaps they are; + For where the craft's small, small's the villainy; +You're on your guard. The meek Samaritan + Makes way before those guileful Pharisees, + Though God assigned to him the higher place. + Not words nor wonders prove a virtuous man, +But deeds and acts. How many deities + Hath this false standard given the human race! + + + +XXXV. + +_SOPHISTS._ + +_Nessun ti verra a dire._ + + +'Behold, I am a Sophist!' no man saith. + But the true sons of perfidy refined + Forge theologic lies the soul to blind, + Calling themselves evangels of the faith. +Aretine with his scoundrels blew his breath, + And in the cynic orgies boldly joined; + His ribald jests had flowers and thorns combined-- + A frank fair list including life and death, +For fun, not fraud. It shames him to be found + Less vile than those who cannot bear to see + Their sink of filth laid open to the ground: +Wherefore they shut our mouths, our books impound, + Garble with lies each sentence that may be + Cited to prove their foul hypocrisy. + + + +XXXVI. + +_AGAINST HYPOCRITES._ + +_Gli affetti di Pluton._ + + +Deep in their hearts they hide the lusts of Hell: + Christ's name is written on their brow, that those + Who only view the husk, may not suppose + What guile and malice harbour in the shell. +O God! O Wisdom! Holy Fervour! Well + Of strength invincible to strike Thy foes! + Give me the force--my spirit burns and glows-- + To strip those idols and to break their spell! +The zeal I bear unto Thy name benign, + The love I feel for truth sincere and pure, + When such men triumph, make me rend my hair. +How long shall folk this infamy endure-- + That _he_ should be held sacred, _he_ divine, + Who strips e'en corpses in the graveyard bare? + + + +XXXVII. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. I. + +_Vilissima progenie._ + + +Ye vile offscourings! with unblushing face + Dare ye claim sonship to our heavenly Sire, + Who serve brute vices, crouching in the mire + To hounds and conies, beasts that ape our race? +Such truckling is called virtue by the base + Hucksters of sophistry, the priest and friar,-- + Gilt claws of tyrant brutes,--who lie for hire, + Preaching that God delights in this disgrace. +Look well, ye brainless folk! Do fathers hold + Their children slaves to serfs? Do sheep obey + The witless ram? Why make a beast your king? +If there are no archangels, let your fold + Be governed by the sense of all: why stray + From men to worship every filthy thing? + + + +XXXVIII. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. 2. + +_Dov' e la liberta._ + + +Where are the freedom and high feats that spring + From fatherhood so fair as Deity? + Fleas are no sons of men, although they be + Flesh-born: brave thoughts and deeds this honour bring. +If princes great or small seek anything + Adverse to good and God's authority, + Which of you dares refuse? Nay, who is he + That doth not cringe to do their pleasuring? +So then with soul and blood in verity + You serve base gold, vices, and worthless men-- + God with lip-service only and with lies, +Sunk in the slough of dire idolatry: + If Ignorance begat these errors, then + To Reason turn for sonship and be wise! + + + +XXXIX. + +_ON THE LORD'S PRAYER._ + +No. 3. + +_Allor potrete orar._ + + +Then shall ye pray with every hour that flies; + Thy kingdom come, and let Thy will be done + On earth as in the spheres above the sun, + When all we hoped and wished shall bless our eyes. +Poets shall see their Age of Gold arise, + Fairer than feigned in hymn or orison; + Yea, all the realm by Adam's sin undone + Shall be restored in sinless Paradise. +Philosophers shall govern for their own + That perfect commonwealth whereof they write, + The which on earth as yet was never known. +Judah to Sion shall return with might + Of greater wonders than shook Pharaoh's throne, + From Babylon, to bless the prophets' sight. + + + +XL. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 1. + +_THE REIGN OF ANTICHRIST._ + +_Mentre l'acquila invola._ + + +While yet the eagle preys, and growls the bear; + While roars the lion; while the crow defies + The lamb who raised our race above the skies; + While yet the dove laments to the deaf air; +While, mixed with goodly wheat, darnel and tare + Within the field of human nature rise;-- + Let that ungodly sect, profanely wise, + That scorns our hope, feed, fatten, and beware! +Soon comes the day when those grim giants fell, + Famed through the world, dyed deep with sanguine hue, + Whom with feigned flatteries you applaud, shall be +Swept from the earth, and sunk in horrid Hell, + Girt round with flames, to weep and wail with you, + In doleful dungeons everlastingly. + + + +XLI. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 2. + +_THE DOOM OF THE IMPIOUS._ + +_La scuola inimicissima._ + + +You sect most adverse to the good and true, + Degenerate from your origin divine, + Pastured on lies and shadows by the line + Of Thais, Sinon, Judas, Homer! You, +Thus saith the Spirit, when the retinue + Of saints with Christ returns on earth to shine, + When the fifth angel's vial pours condign + Vengeance with awful ire and torments due,-- +You shall be girt with gloom; your lips profane, + Disloyal tongues, and savage teeth shall grind + And gnash with fury fell and anger vain: +In Malebolge your damned souls confined + On fiery marle, for increment of pain, + Shall see the saved rejoice with mirth of mind. + + + +XLII. + +_A PROPHECY OF JUDGMENT._ + +No. 3. + +_THE GOLDEN AGE._ + +_Se fu nel mondo._ + + +If men were happy in that age of gold, + We yet may hope to see mild Saturn's reign; + For all things that were buried live again, + By time's revolving cycle forward rolled. +Yet this the fox, the wolf, the crow, made bold + By fraud and perfidy, deny--in vain: + For God that rules, the signs in heaven, the train + Of prophets, and all hearts this faith uphold. +If thine and mine were banished in good sooth + From honour, pleasure, and utility, + The world would turn, I ween, to Paradise; +Blind love to modest love with open eyes; + Cunning and ignorance to living truth; + And foul oppression to fraternity. + + + +XLIII. + +_THE MILLENNIUM._ + +_Non piaccia a Dio._ + + +Nay, God forbid that mid these tragic throes + To idle comedy my thought should bend, + When torments dire and warning woes portend + Of this our world the instantaneous close! +The day approaches which shall discompose + All earthly sects, the elements shall blend + In utter ruin, and with joy shall send + Just spirits to their spheres in heaven's repose. +The Highest comes in Holy Land to hold + His sovran court and synod sanctified, + As all the psalms and prophets have foretold: +The riches of his grace He will spread wide + Through his own realm, that seat and chosen fold + Of worship and free mercies multiplied. + + + +XLIV. + +_THE PRESENT._ + +_Convien al secol nostro._ + + +Black robes befit our age. Once they were white; + Next many-hued; now dark as Afric's Moor, + Night-black, infernal, traitorous, obscure, + Horrid with ignorance and sick with fright. +For very shame we shun all colours bright, + Who mourn our end--the tyrants we endure, + The chains, the noose, the lead, the snares, the lure-- + Our dismal heroes, our souls sunk in night. +Black weeds again denote that extreme folly + Which makes us blind, mournful, and woe-begone: + For dusk is dear to doleful melancholy; +Nathless fate's wheel still turns: this raiment dun + We shall exchange hereafter for the holy + Garments of white in which of yore we shone. + + + +XLV. + +_THE FUTURE._ + +_Veggo in candida robba._ + + +Clothed in white robes I see the Holy Sire + Descend to hold his court amid the band + Of shining saints and elders: at his hand + The white immortal Lamb commands their choir. +John ends his long lament for torments dire, + Now Judah's lion rises to expand + The fatal book, and the first broken band + Sends the white courier forth to work God's ire. +The first fair spirits raimented in white + Go out to meet him who on his white cloud + Comes heralded by horsemen white as snow. +Ye black-stoled folk, be dumb, who hate the loud + Blare of God's lifted angel-trumpets! Lo, + The pure white dove puts the black crows to flight! + + + +XLVI. + +_THE YEAR 1603._ + +_Gia sto mirando._ + + +The first heaven-wandering lights I see ascend + Upon the seventh and ninth centenary, + When in the Archer's realm three years shall be + Added, this aeon and our age to end. +Thou too, Mercurius, like a scribe dost lend + Thine aid to promulgate that dread decree, + Stored in the archives of eternity, + And signed and sealed by powers no prayers can bend. +O'er Europe's full meridian on thy morn + In the tenth house thy court I see thee hold: + The Sun with thee consents in Capricorn. +God grant that I may keep this mortal breath + Until I too that glorious day behold + Which shall at last confound the sons of death! + + + +XLVII. + +_NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S IMAGE._ + +_Babel disfatta._ + + +The golden head was Babylon; she passed: + Persia came next, the silvern breast: whereto + Joined brazen flank and belly--these are you, + Ye men of Macedon! Now Rome's the last. +Rome on two iron legs towered tall and vast; + But at her feet were toes of clay, that drew + Downfall: those scattered tribes erewhile she knew + For lords; now 'neath her fatal sway they're cast. +Ah thirsty soil! From your parched fallow fumes + A smoke of pride, vain-glory, cruelty, + That blinds, infects, and blackens, and consumes! +To Daniel, to the Bible you refuse + Your rebel sense; for it is still your use + To screen yourself with lies and sophistry. + + + +XLVIII. + +_THE DUNGEON._ + +_Come va al centro._ + + +As to the centre all things that have weight + Sink from the surface: as the silly mouse + Runs at a venture, rash though timorous, + Into the monster's jaws to meet her fate: +Thus all who love high Science, from the strait + Dead sea of Sophistry sailing like us + Into Truth's ocean, bold and amorous, + Must in our haven anchor soon or late. +One calls this haunt a Cave of Polypheme, + And one Atlante's Palace, one of Crete + The Labyrinth, and one Hell's lowest pit. +Knowledge, grace, mercy, are an idle dream + In this dread place. Nought but fear dwells in it, + Of stealthy Tyranny the sacred seat. + + + +XLIX. + +_THE SAGE ON EARTH._ + +_Sciolto e legato._ + + +Bound and yet free, companioned and alone, + Loud mid my silence, I confound my foes: + Men think me fool in this vile world of woes; + God's wisdom greets me sage from heaven's high throne. +With wings on earth oppressed aloft I bound; + My gleeful soul sad bonds of flesh enclose: + And though sometimes too great the burden grows, + These pinions bear me upward from the ground. +A doubtful combat proves the warrior's might: + Short is all time matched with eternity: + Nought than a pleasing burden is more light. +My brows I bind with my love's effigy, + Sure that my joyous flight will soon be sped + Where without speech my thoughts shall all be read. + + + +L. + +_THE PRICE OF FREEDOM._ + +_D' Italia in Grecia._ + + +From Rome to Greece, from Greece to Libya's sand, + Yearning for liberty, just Cato went; + Nor finding freedom to his heart's content, + Sought it in death, and died by his own hand. +Wise Hannibal, when neither sea nor land + Could save him from the Roman eagles, rent + His soul with poison from imprisonment; + And a snake's tooth cut Cleopatra's band. +In this way died one valiant Maccabee; + Brutus feigned madness; prudent Solon hid + His sense; and David, when he feared Gath's king. +Thus when the Mystic found that Jonah's sea + Was yawning to engulf him, what he did + He gave to God--a wise man's offering. + + + +LI. + +_APOLOGY BY PARADOX._ + +_Non e brutto il Demon._ + + +The Devil's not so ugly as they paint; + He's well with all, compact of courtesy: + Real heroism is real piety: + Before small truth great falsehoods shrink and faint +If pots stain worse than pipkins, it were quaint + To charge the pipkins with impurity: + Freedom I crave: who craves not to be free? + Yet life that must be feigned for, leaves a taint. +Ill conduct brings repentance?--If you prate + This wise to me, why prate not thus to all + Philosophers and prophets, and to Christ? +Not too much learning, as some arrogate, + But the small brains of dullards have sufficed + To make us wretched and the world enthrall. + + + +LII. + +_THE SOUL'S APOLOGY._ + +_Ben sei mila anni._ + + +Six thousand years or more on earth I've been: + Witness those histories of nations dead, + Which for our age I have illustrated + In philosophic volumes, scene by scene. +And thou, mere mite, seeing my sun serene + Eclipsed, wilt argue that I had no head + To live by.--Why not try the sun instead, + If nought in fate unfathomed thou hast seen? +If wise men, whom the world rebukes, combined + With tyrant wolves, brute beasts we should become. + The sage, once stoned for sin, you canonise. +When rennet melts, much milk makes haste to bind. + The more you blow the flames, the more they rise, + Bloom into stars, and find in heaven their home. + + + +LIII. + +_TO GOD ON PRAYER._ + +_Tu che Forza ed Amor._ + + +O Thou, who, mingling Force and Love, dost draw + And guide the complex of all entities, + Framed for that purpose; whence our reason sees + In supreme Fate the synthesis of Law; +Though prayers transgress which find defect or flaw + In things foredoomed by Thy divine decrees, + Yet wilt Thou modify, by slow degrees + Or swift, good times or bad Thy mind foresaw: +I therefore pray--I who through years have been + The scorn of fools, the butt of impious men, + Suffering new pains and torments day by day-- +Shorten this anguish, Lord, these griefs allay; + For still Thou shalt not have changed counsel when + I soar from hence to liberty foreseen. + + + +LIV. + +_TO GOD FOR HELP._ + +_Come vuoi, ch' a buon porto._ + + +How wilt Thou I should gain a harbour fair, + If after proof among my friends I find + That some are faithless, some devoid of mind, + Some short of sense, though stout to do and dare? +If some, though wise and loyal, like the hare + Hide in a hole, or fly in terror blind, + While nerve with wisdom and with faith combined + Through malice and through penury despair? +Reason, Thy honour, and my weal eschewed + That false ally who said he came from Thee, + With promise vain of power and liberty. +I trust:--I'll do. Change Thou the bad to good!-- + But ere I raise me to that altitude, + Needs must I merge in Thee as Thou in me. + + + +LV. + +To Annibale Caraccioli, + +_A WRITER OF ECLOGUES._ + +_Non Licida, ne Driope._ + + +Lycoris, Lycidas, and Dryope + Cannot, dear Niblo, save thy name from death; + Shadows that fleet, and flowers that yield their breath, + Match not the Love that craves infinity. +The beauty thou dost worship dwells in thee: + Within thy soul divine it harboureth: + This also bids my spirit soar, and saith + Words that unsphere for me heaven's harmony. +Make then thine inborn lustre beam and shine + With love of goodness; goodness cannot fail: + From God alone let praise immense be thine. +My soul is tired of telling o'er the tale + With men: she calls on thine: she bids thee go + Into God's school with tablets white as snow. + + + +LVI. + +_TO TELESIUS OF COSENZA._ + +_Telesio, il telo._ + + +Telesius, the arrow from thy bow + Midmost his band of sophists slays that high + Tyrant of souls that think; he cannot fly: + While Truth soars free, loosed by the self-same blow. +Proud lyres with thine immortal praises glow, + Smitten by bards elate with victory: + Lo, thine own Cavalcante, stormfully + Lightning, still strikes the fortress of the foe! +Good Gaieta bedecks our saint serene + With robes translucent, light-irradiate, + Restoring her to all her natural sheen; +The while my tocsin at the temple-gate + Of the wide universe proclaims her queen, + Pythia of first and last ordained by fate. + + + +LVII. + +_TO RIDOLFO DI BINA._ + +_Senno ed Amor._ + + +Wisdom and love, O Bina, gave thee wings, + Before the blossom of thy years had faded, + To fly with Adam for thy guide, God-aided, + Through many lands in divers journeyings. +Pure virtue is thy guerdon: virtue brings + Glory to thee, death to the foes degraded, + Who through long years of darkness have invaded + Thy Germany, mother of slaves not kings. +Yet, gazing on heaven's book, heroic child, + My soul discerns graces divine in thee:-- + Leave toys and playthings to the crowd of fools! +Do thou with heart fervent and proudly mild + Make war upon those fraud-engendering schools! + I see thee victor, and in God I see. + + + +LVIII. + +_TO TOBIA ADAMI._ + +_Portando in man._ + + +Holding the cynic lantern in your hand, + Through Europe, Egypt, Asia, you have passed, + Till at Ausonia's feet you find at last + That Cyclops' cave, where I, to darkness banned, +In light eternal forge for you the brand + Against Abaddon, who hath overcast + The truth and right, Adami, made full fast + Unto God's glory by our steadfast band. +Go, smite each sophist, tyrant, hypocrite! + Girt with the arms of the first Wisdom, free + Your country from the frauds that cumber it! +Swerve not: 'twere sin. How good, how great the praise + Of him who turns youth, strength, soul, energy, + Unto the dayspring of the eternal rays! + + + +LIX. + +_A SONNET ON CAUCASUS._ + +_Temo che per morir._ + + +I fear that by my death the human race + Would gain no vantage. Thus I do not die. + So wide is this vast cage of misery + That flight and change lead to no happier place. +Shifting our pains, we risk a sorrier case: + All worlds, like ours, are sunk in agony: + Go where we will, we feel; and this my cry + I may forget like many an old disgrace. +Who knows what doom is mine? The Omnipotent + Keeps silence; nay, I know not whether strife + Or peace was with me in some earlier life. +Philip in a worse prison me hath pent + These three days past--but not without God's will. + Stay we as God decrees: God doth no ill. + + + +LX. + +_GOD MADE AND GOD RULES._ + +_La fabbrica del mondo._ + + +The fabric of the world--earth, air, and skies-- + Each particle thereof and tiniest part + Designed for special ends--proclaims the art + Of an almighty Maker good and wise. +Nathless the lawless brutes, our crimes and lies, + The joys of vicious men, the good man's smart, + All creatures swerving from their ends, impart + Doubts that the Ruler is nor good nor wise. +Can it then be that boundless Power, Love, Mind, + Lets others reign, the while He takes repose? + Hath He grown old, or hath He ceased to heed? +Nay, one God made and rules: He shall unwind + The tangled skein; the hidden law disclose, + Whereby so many sinned in thought and deed. + + + + + +NOTES ON MICHAEL ANGELO'S SONNETS. + + +I. Quoted by Donato Giannotti in his Dialogue _De' giorni che Dante +consumo nel cercare l'Inferno e 'l Purgatorio._ The date of its +composition is perhaps 1545. + +II. Written probably for Donato Giannotti about the same date. + +III. Belonging to the year 1506, when Michael Angelo quarrelled with +Julius and left Rome in anger. The tree referred to in the last line is +the oak of the Rovere family. + +IV. Same date, and same circumstances. The autograph has these words at +the foot of the sonnet: _Vostro Miccelangniolo, in Turchia._ Rome +itself, the Sacred City, has become a land of infidels. + +V. Ser Giovanni da Pistoja was Chancellor of the Florentine Academy. +The date is probably 1509. The _Sonetto a Coda_ is generally humorous +or satiric. + +VI. Written in one of those moments of _affanno_ or _stizzo_ to which +the sculptor was subject. For the old bitterness of feeling between +Florence and Pistoja, see Dante, _Inferno._ + +VII. Michael Angelo was ill during the summer of 1544, and was nursed +by Luigi del Riccio in his own house, Shortly after his recovery he +quarrelled with his friend, and wrote him this sonnet as well as a very +angry letter. + +VIII. p. 38. Cecchino Bracci was a boy of rare and surpassing beauty +who died at Rome, January 8, 1544, in his seventeenth year. Besides +this sonnet, which refers to a portrait Luigi del Riccio had asked him +to make of the dead youth, Michael Angelo composed a series of forty-eight +quatrains upon the same subject, and sent them to his friend Luigi. +Michelangelo the younger, thinking that _'l'ignoranzia degli uomini ha +campo di mormorare,'_ suppressed the name Cecchino and changed _lui_ into +_lei._ Date about 1544. + +IX. Line 4: 'The Archangel's scales alone can weigh my gratitude +against your gift.' Lines 5-8: 'Your courtesy has taken away all my +power of responding to it. I am as helpless as a ship becalmed, or a +wisp of straw on a stormy sea.' + +X. Michael Angelo, when asked to make a portrait of his friend's +mistress, declares that he is unable to do justice to her beauty. The +name _Mancina_ is a pun upon the Italian word for the left arm, +_Mancino_. This lady was a famous and venal beauty, mentioned among the +loves of the poet Molsa. + +XI. Date, 1550. + +XII. This and the three next sonnets may with tolerable certainty be +referred to the series written on various occasions for Vittoria +Colonna. + +XIII. Sent together with a letter, in which we read: _l'aportatore di +questa sara Urbino, che sta meco_. Urbino was M. A.'s old servant, +workman, and friend. See No. LXVIII. and note. + +XIV. The thought is that, as the sculptor carves a statue from a rough +model by addition and subtraction of the marble, so the lady of his +heart refines and perfects his rude native character. + +XV. This sonnet is the theme of Varchi's _Lezione_. There is nothing to +prove that it was addressed to Vittoria Colonna. Varchi calls it '_un +suo altissimo sonetto pieno di quella antica purezza e dantesca +gravita_.' + +XVI. The thought of the fifteenth is repeated with some variations. His +lady's heart holds for the lover good and evil things, according as he +has the art to draw them forth. + +XVIII. In the terzets he describes the temptations of the artist-nature, +over-sensitive to beauty. Michelangelo the younger so altered these six +lines as to destroy the autobiographical allusion.--Cp. No. XXVIII., note. + +XIX. The lover's heart is like an intaglio, precious by being inscribed +with his lady's image. + +XX. An early composition, written on the back of a letter sent to the +sculptor in Bologna by his brother Simone in 1507. M.A. was then +working at the bronze statue of Julius II. Who the lady of his love +was, we do not know. Notice the absence of Platonic _concetti_. + +XXIII. It is hardly necessary to call attention to Michael Angelo's +oft-recurring Platonism. The thought that the eye alone perceives the +celestial beauty, veiled beneath the fleshly form of the beloved, is +repeated in many sonnets--especially in XXV., XXVIII. + +XXIV. Composed probably in the year 1529. + +XXV. Written on the same sheet as the foregoing sonnet, and composed +probably in the same year. The thought is this: beauty passing from the +lady into the lover's soul, is there spiritualised and becomes the +object of a spiritual love. + +XXVII. To escape from his lady, either by interposing another image of +beauty between the thought of her and his heart, or by flight, is +impossible. + +XXVIII. Compare Madrigal VII. in illustration of lines 5 to 8. By the +analogy of that passage, I should venture to render lines 6 and 7 thus: + +He made thee light, and me the eyes of art; +Nor fails my soul to find God's counterpart. + + +XXX. Varchi, quoting this sonnet in his _Lezione_, conjectures that it +was composed for Tommaso Cavalieri. + +XXXI. Varchi asserts without qualification that this sonnet was +addressed to Tommaso Cavalieri. The pun in the last line, _Resto +prigion d'un Cavalier armato_, seems to me to decide the matter, though +Signor Guasti and Signor Gotti both will have it that a woman must have +been intended. Michelangelo the younger has only left one line, the +second, untouched in his _rifacimento_. Instead of the last words he +gives _un cuor di virtu armato_, being over-scrupulous for his +great-uncle's reputation. + +XXXII. Written at the foot of a letter addressed by Giuliano Bugiardini +the painter, from Florence, to M.A. in Rome, August 5, 1532. This then +is probably the date of the composition. + +XXXIV. The metaphor of fire, flint, and mortar breaks down in the last +line, where M.A. forgets that gold cannot strike a spark from stone. + +XXXV. Line 9 has the word _Signor_. It is almost certain that where +M.A. uses this word without further qualification in a love sonnet, he +means his mistress. I have sometimes translated it 'heart's lord' or +'loved lord,' because I did not wish to merge the quaintness of this +ancient Tuscan usage in the more commonplace 'lady.' + +XXXVI. Line 3: _the lord, etc_. This again is the poet's mistress. The +drift of the sonnet is this: his soul can find no expression but +through speech, and speech is too gross to utter the purity of his +feeling. His mistress again receives his tongue's message with her +ears; and thus there is an element of sensuality, false and alien to +his intention, both in his complaint and in her acceptation of it. The +last line is a version of the proverb: _chi e avvezzo a dir bugie, non +crede a nessuno_. + +XXXVII. At the foot of the sonnet is written _Mandato_. The two last +lines play on the words _signor_ and _signoria_. To whom it was sent we +do not know for certain; but we may conjecture Vittoria Colonna. + +XXXIX. The paper on which this sonnet is written has a memorandum with +the date January 6, 1529. 'On my return from Venice, I, Michelagniolo +Buonarroti, found in the house about five loads of straw,' etc. It +belongs therefore to the period of the siege of Florence, when M.A., as +is well known, fled for a short space to Venice. In line 12, I have +translated _il mie signiore, my lady_. + +XL. No sonnet in the whole collection seems to have cost M.A. so much +trouble as this. Besides the two completed versions, which I have +rendered, there are several scores of rejected or various readings for +single lines in the MSS. The Platonic doctrine of Anamnesis probably +supplies the key to the thought which the poet attempted to work out. + +XLI., XLII., XLIII., XLIV. There is nothing to prove that these four +sonnets on Night were composed in sequence. On the contrary, the +personal tone of XLI. seems to separate this from the other three. +XLIV. may be accepted as a palinode for XLIII. + +XLV., XLVI. Both sonnets deal half humorously with a thought very +prominent in M.A.'s compositions--the effect of love on one who is old +in years. Cp. XLVIII., L. + +XLVII. The Platonic conception that the pure form of Beauty or of +Truth, if seen, would be overwhelming in its brilliancy. + +XLIX. The _dolcie pianto_ and _eterna pace_ are the tears and peace of +piety. The _doloroso riso_ and _corta pace_ are the smiles and +happiness of earthly love. + +LII. Here is another version of this very beautiful sonnet. + + + No mortal thing enthralled these longing eyes + When perfect peace in thy fair face I found; + But far within, where all is holy ground, + My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies: + For she was born with God in Paradise; + Nor all the shows of beauty shed around + This fair false world her wings to earth have bound; + Unto the Love of Loves aloft she flies. + Nay, things that suffer death, quench not the fire + Of deathless spirits; nor eternity + Serves sordid Time, that withers all things rare. + Not love but lawless impulse is desire: + That slays the soul; our love makes still more fair + Our friends on earth, fairer in death on high. + + +LIII. This is the doctrine of the Symposium; the scorn of merely sexual +love is also Platonic. + +LIV. Another sonnet on the theme of the Uranian as distinguished from +the Vulgar love. See below, LVL., for a parallel to the second terzet. + +LV. The date maybe 1532. The play on words in the first quatrain and +the first terzet is Shakespearian. + +LIX. Two notes, appended to the two autographs of this sonnet, show +that M.A. regarded it as a _jeu d'esprit, 'Per carnovale par lecito far +qualche pazzia a chi non va in maschera.' 'Questo non e fuoco da +carnovale, pero vel mando di quaresima; e a voi mi rachomando. Vostro +Michelagniolo.'_ + +LXL. Date 1547. No sonnet presents more difficulties than this, in +which M.A. has availed himself of a passage in the _Cratylus_ of +Plato. The divine hammer spoken of in the second couplet is the ideal +pattern after which the souls of men are fashioned; and this in the +first terzet seems to be identified with Vittoria Colonna. In the +second terzet he regards his own soul as imperfect, lacking the final +touches which it might have received from hers. See XIV. for a +somewhat similar conceit. + +LXIV. The image is that of a glowing wood coal smouldering away to +embers amid its own ashes. + +LXV. Date 1554. Addressed _A messer Giorgio Vasari, amico e pittor +singulare_, with this letter: _Messer Giorgio, amico caro, voi direte +ben ch' io sie vecchio e pazzo a voler far sonetti; ma perche molti +dicono ch' io son rimbambito, ho voluto far l'uficio mio, ec. A di 19 +di settembre 1554. Vostro Michelagniolo Buonarroti in Roma_. + +LXVL, LXVII. These two sonnets were sent to Giorgio Vasari in 1555(?) +with this letter: _Messer Giorgio, io vi mando dua sonetti; e benche +sieno cosa sciocca, il fo perche veggiate dove io tengo i mie' +pensieri: e quando arete ottantuno anni, come o io, mi crederete. +Pregovi gli diate a messer Giovan Francesco Fattucci, che me ne a +chiesti. Vostro Michelagniolo Buonarroti in Roma_. The first was also +sent to Monsignor Beccadelli, Archbishop of Ragusa, who replied to it. +For his sonnet, see Signor Guasti's edition, p. 233. + +LXVIII. Date 1556. Written in reply to his friend's invitation that he +should pay him a visit at Ragusa. Line 10: this Urbino was M.A.'s old +and faithful servant, Francesco d'Amadore di Casteldurante, who lived +with him twenty-six years, and died at Rome in 1556. + +LXIX.-LXXVII. The dates of this series of penitential sonnets are not +known. It is clear that they were written in old age. It will be +remembered that the latest piece of marble on which Michael Angelo +worked, was the unfinished Pieta now standing behind the choir of the +Duomo at Florence. Many of his latest drawings are designs for a +Crucifixion. + + + + + +NOTES ON CAMPANELLA'S SONNETS. + + +I. Line 1: the Italian words which I have translated _God's Wisdom_ and +_Philosophy_ are _Senno_ and _Sofia_. Campanella held that the divine +_Senno_ penetrated the whole universe, and, meeting with created +_Sofia_, gave birth to Science. This sonnet is therefore a sort of +Mythopoem, figuring the process whereby true knowledge, as +distinguished from sophistry, is derived by the human reason +interrogating God in Nature and within the soul. Line 5: Sofia has for +her husband Senno; the human intellect is married to the divine. Line +9: it was the doctrine of Campanella and the school to which he +belonged, that no advance in knowledge could be made except by the +direct exploration of the universe, and that the authority of +schoolmen, Aristotelians, and the like, must be broken down before a +step could be made in the right direction. This germ of modern science +is sufficiently familiar to us in the exposition of Bacon. Line 12: +repeats the same idea. Facts presented by Nature are of more value than +any _Ipse dixit_. Line 14: he compares himself not without reason to +Prometheus; for twenty-five years spent in prison were his reward for +the revelation which has added a new sphere to human thought. + +II. The bitter words of this sonnet will not seem unmerited to those +who have studied Italian poetry in the Cinque Cento--the refined +playthings of verse, the romances, and the burlesque nonsense, which +amused a corrupt though highly cultivated age. + +III. Campanella held the doctrine of an Anima Mundi in the fullest and +deepest sense of the term. The larger and more complex the organism, +the more it held, in his opinion, of thought and sentient life. Thus +the stars, in the language of Aristotle, are [Greek: thiotera aemon]. +Compare Sonnets VIII., XIX. + +IV. Though the material seat of the mind is so insignificant, the mind +itself is infinite, analogous to God in its capacity. Aristarchus and +Metrodorus symbolise, perhaps, the spheres of literature and +mathematics. This infinitude of the intellect is our real proof of God, +our inner witness of the Deity. We may arrive at God by reasoning; we +may trust authority; but it is only by impregnating our minds with God +in Nature that we come into immediate contact with Him. Cp. Sonnet VI., +last line. + +V. The theme of this sonnet is the well-known Baconian principle of the +interrogation of Nature. The true philosopher must go straight to the +universe, and not confine himself to books. Cp. Sonnets I., LV., LVI. + +VI. A further development of the same thought. Tyrants, hypocrites, +sophists are the three plagues of humanity, standing between our +intellect and God, who is the source of freedom, goodness, and true +wisdom. In the last line Campanella expresses his opinion that God is +knowable by an immediate act of perception analogous to the sense of +taste: _Se tutti al Senno non rendiamo il gusto_. Compare Sonnet IV., +last line. + +VII. Ignorance is the parent of tyranny, sophistry, hypocrisy; and the +arms against this trinity of error are power, wisdom, love, the three +main attributes of God. + +VIII. Human egotism inclines men to deny the spiritual life of the +universe, to favour their own nation, to love their individual selves +exclusively, to eliminate the true God from the world, to worship false +gods fashioned from them selves, and at last to fancy themselves +central and creative in the Cosmos. Adami calls this sonnet +_scoprimento stupendo_. + +IX. The quatrains set forth the condition of the soul besotted with +self love. We may see in this picture a critique of Machiavelli's +_Principe_, which was for Campanella the very ideal portrait of a +tyrant. The love of God, rightly understood, places man _en rapport_ +with all created things. S. Francis, for example, loved not only his +fellow men, but recognised the brotherhood of birds and fishes. + +X. Ignorance, the source of all our miseries, blinds us to celestial +beauty and makes us follow carnal lust. Yet what is best in sexual love +is the radiance of heavenly beauty shining through the form of flesh. +This sonnet receives abundant illustration in Michael Angelo's poems. + +XI, XII. Two sonnets on the condition of the philosopher in a world +that understands him not. The first expresses that sense of inborn +royalty which sustained Campanella through his long martyrdom. The +second expands the picture drawn of the philosopher in Plato's +_Republic_ after his return to the cave from the region of truth. + +XIII. Campanella frequently expressed his theological fatalism by this +metaphor of a comedy. God wrote the drama which men have to play. In +this life we cannot understand our parts. We act what is appointed for +us, and it is only when the comedy is finished, that we shall see how +good and evil, happiness and misery, were all needed by the great life +of the universe. The following stanza from one of his Canzoni may be +cited in illustration: + + + War, ignorance, fraud, tyranny, + Death, homicide, abortion, woe-- + These to the world are fair, as we + Reckon the chase or gladiatorial show + To pile our hearth we fell the tree, + Kill bird or beast our strength to stay, + The vines, the hives our wants obey-- + Like spiders spreading nets, we take and slay + As tragedy gives men delight, + So the exchange of death and strife + Still yields a pleasure infinite + To the great world's triumphant life + Nay seeming ugliness and pain + Avert returning Chaos' reign-- + Thus the whole world's a comedy, + And they who by philosophy + Unite themselves to God, will see + In ugliness and evil nought + But beauteous masks--oh, mirthful thought! + +XIV. The same theme is continued with a further development. Men among +themselves play their own comedy, but do not rightly assign the parts. +They make kings of slavish souls, and elevate the impious to the rank +of saints. They ignore their true and natural leaders, and stone the +real prophets. + +XV. Between the false kings of men, who owe their thrones to accident, +and the really royal, who by chance of birth or station are a prey to +tyrants, there is everlasting war. Yet the spirit of the martyrs +survives, and long after their death they rule. + +XVI. True kinghood is independent of royal birth or power or ensigns. +High moral and intellectual qualities make the natural kings of men, +and these are so rarely found in sceptred families that a republic is +the safest form of government. See Sonnets XXXI., XXXVII. + +XVII. As men mistake their kings, so they mistake the saints. The true +spirit of Christ is ignored, and if Christ were to return to earth, +they would persecute him, even as they persecute those who follow him +most closely in their lives and doctrines. + +XVIII. Christ symbolises and includes all saintly truth-seeking souls. +Compare the three last lines of this sonnet with the three last lines +of No. XV. and No. XX. + +XIX., XX., XXI. Expanding the same themes, Campanella contrasts the +ignorance of self-love with the divine illumination of the true +philosopher, and insists that, in spite of persecution and martyrdom, +saintly and truth-seeking souls will triumph. + +XXII. Resumes the thought of No. X. If only the soul of man, infinite +in its capacity, could be enamoured of God, it would at once work +miracles and attain to Deity. + +XXIII. A bitter satire on love in the seventeenth century. Lines 9-11: +as Adami sometimes says, _qui legit intelligat_. Line 12: _la squilla +mia_ is a pun on Campanella's name. He means that he has shown the +world a more excellent way of love. Cp. No. XXII. + +XXIV. The essence of nobility is subjected to the same critique as +kinghood in No. XVI. Line 11: the Turk is Europe's foe. Campanella +praises the Turks because they had no hereditary nobility, and +conferred honours on men according to their actions. + +XXV. That this sonnet should have been written by a Dominican monk in a +Neapolitan prison in the first half of the seventeenth century, is +truly note-worthy. It expresses the essence of democracy in a critique +of the then existing social order. + +XXVI. A very obscure piece of writing. The first quatrain lays down the +principle that ill-doing brings its own inevitable punishment. The +second distinguishes between the unblessed suffering which plagues the +soul, and that which we welcome as a process of purgation. The first +terzet makes heaven and hell respectively consist of a clean and a +burdened conscience. The second, referring to a legend of S. Peter's +controversy with Simon Magus, finds a proof of immortality in this +condition of conscience. + +XXVII. A bold and perilous image of the Machiavellian Prince, who +drains the commonwealth for his own selfish pleasures. The play upon +the words _mentola_ and _mente_ in the first line is hardly capable of +reproduction. + +XXVIII. Adami says in a note: _Questo sonetto e fatto perche +l'intendano pochi; ne io voglio dichiararlo_. Under these circumstances +it is dangerous to attempt an explanation. Yet something may be +hazarded. Line 1: the lady is Italy. Line 3: the stranger races are +Rome's vassals. Line 7: Dinah is again Italy(?). Line 8: Simeon and +Levi are the Princes of Italy and the Papacy. Line 9: Jerusalem +probably stands for Rome. Line 10: Nazareth is the Gospel of Christ, +and Athens is philosophy. Here again Adami warns us: _qui legit +intelligat_. Line 13: a critique of the ruinous policy of calling +strangers in to interfere in Italian affairs. + +XXIX. Line 2: Attila is meant. The Venetian Lagoons were the refuge of +the last and best Italians of the Roman age, when the incursions of the +barbarians destroyed the classical civility. Line 12: alludes to the +fixity of the Venetian Constitution and the deliberate caution of +Venetian policy. + +XXX. The quatrains describe the old power of Genoa, who conquered Pisa, +abased Venice, planted colonies in the East, and discovered America. +Line 10: throws the blame of Genoese decrepitude upon the nobles. + +XXXI. Campanella praises the Poles for their elective monarchy, but +blames them for choosing the scions of royal houses, instead of seeking +out the real kings of men, such as he described in No. XVI. + +XXXII. A similar criticism of the Swiss, who played so important and +yet so contemptible a part in the Italian wars of the sixteenth +century. With the terzets compare No. XXV. Line 11: stands thus in the +original--_La croce bianca e'l prato si contende_. + +XXXIII. A clever adaptation of the parable of the Samaritan, conceived +and executed in the spirit of a modern poet like A.H. Clough. + +XXXIV. Line 4: the hypocritical priest makes profit by preaching for +holiness what is really hurtful to the soul. Lines 5-11 contrast the +acknowledged sinners with the covert and crafty pretenders to virtue. +Line 8: I have ventured to correct the punctuation. D'Ancona reads: + + _E poco e il male in cui poco e l'inganno. Ti puoi guardar:_ + +but I am not sure that I am justified in the sense I put upon the verb +_guardarsi._ + +XXXV. A similar arraignment of impostors, comparing perfidious priests +with the foulest literary scoundrel of the age, Pietro Aretino. The +first terzet in the original is obscure. + +XXXVI. I do not understand the allusion in the last line. The whole +sonnet is directed against hypocritical priests. + +XXXVII., XXXVIII., XXXIX. A commentary on the first clauses of the +Lord's Prayer. Campanella tells the Italians they have no right to call +themselves men, the children of God in heaven, while they bow to +tyrants worse than beasts, and believe the lying priests who call that +adulation loyalty. If they free their souls from this vile servitude, +they may then pray with hopeful heart for the coming upon earth of +God's kingdom, which shall satisfy poets, philosophers, and prophets +with more than they had dreamed. It will be noticed that the rhymes are +carried from sonnet to sonnet; so that the three form one poem, +described by Adami as _sonetto trigemino_. In XXXVII., 13, I have +corrected _cenno_ into _senno_. In XXXIX., 1, I have ventured to render +_con ogni istanza_ by _with every hour that flies_, though _istanza_ is +not _istante_. + +XL., XLL, XLII. These three sonnets, though not linked by rhymes, form +a series, predicting the speedy overthrow of tyrants, sophists, +hypocrites--Campanella's natural enemies--and the coming of a better +age for human society. They were probably written early, when his heart +was still hot with the hopes of a new reign of right and reason, which +even he might help to inaugurate. The eagle, bear, lion, crow, fox, +wolf, etc., are the evil principalities and powers of earth. No. XL., +line 9: the giants are, I think, those lawless, selfish, anti-social +forces idealised by Machiavelli in his _Principe_, as Campanella read +that treatise--the strong men and mighty ones of an impious and godless +world. No. XLL, line 4: concerning _Taida, Sinon, Giuda, ed Omero_, +Adami says: 'These are the four evangelists of the dark age of +Abaddon.' Thais is a symbol of lechery; Sinon of fraud; Judas of +treason; Homer of lying fiction. So at least I read the allegory. No. +XLII., lines 9-14 are noticeable, since they set forth Campanella's +philosophical or evangelical communism, for a detailed exposition of +which see the _Civitas Solis_. + +XLIII. Invited to write a comedy--and it will be here remembered that +Giordano Bruno had composed _Il Candelaio_--Campanella replied with +this impassioned outburst of belief in the approaching end of the +world. It belongs probably to his early manhood. + +XLIV., XLV. Adami heads these two sonnets with this title: _Sopra i +colori delle vesti_. It is a fact that under the Spanish tyranny black +clothes were almost universally adopted by the Italians, as may be seen +in the picture galleries of Florence and Genoa. Campanella uses this +fashion as a symbol of the internal gloom and melancholy in which the +nation was sunk by vice upon the eve of the new age he confidently +looked for. + +XLVI. The year 1603, made up of centuries _seven_ and _nine_ and years +_three_, was expected by the astrologers to bring a great mutation in +the order of our planet. The celestial signs were supposed to reassume +the position they had occupied at Christ's nativity. Campanella, who +believed in astrology, looked forward with intense anxiety to this +turning-point in modern history. It is clear from the termination of +the sonnet that he wrote it some time before the great date; and we are +hence perhaps justified in referring the rest of his prophetic poetry +to the same early period of his career. + +XLVII. _Qui legit intelligat_, says Adami. Line 7: refers to the +outlying vassals of the Roman Empire, who destroyed it, ruled Rome, and +afterwards fell under the yoke of the Roman See. Lines 9-14 are an +invective against the Papacy. + +XLVIII. A sonnet on his own prison. The prison or worse was the doom of +all truth-seekers in Campanella's age. + +XLIX. For the understanding of this strange composition Adami offers +nothing more satisfactory than _mira quante contraposizioni sono in +questo sonetto_. The contrast is maintained throughout between the +philosopher in the freedom of his spirit and the same man in the +limitations of his prisoned life. Line 12 I do not rightly understand. +Line 14 refers to Paradise. + +L. There is an allusion in this sonnet to an obscure passage in +Campanella's life. It seems he was condemned to the galleys (see line +12); and this sentence was remitted on account of his real or feigned +madness. We should infer from the poem itself that his madness was +simulated; but Adami, who ought to have known the facts from his own +lips, writes: _quando brucio il letto, e divenne pazzo o vero o finto_. +Line 12: I have translated _l'astratto_ by _the mystic_; _astratto_ is +_assorto_, or _lost in ecstatic contemplation_. + +LI. To this incomprehensible string of proverbs Adami adds, ironically +perhaps: _questo e assai noto ed arguto e vero_. It is an answer to +certain friends, officers and barons, who accused him of not being able +to manage his affairs. He answers that they might as well bring the +same accusation against Christ and all the sages. Line 3: I have +ventured to read _e_ for _e_ as the only chance of getting a meaning. +Line 8: seems to mean that he would not accept life and freedom at the +price of concealing his opinions. + +LII. The same theme is rehandled. Lines 1-4: Campanella argued that a +man's mental life extends over all that he grasps of the world's +history. Line 5: the Italian for _mite_ is _marmeggio_, which means, I +think, a cheese-worm. The eclipse of Campanella's sun is his +imprisonment. Lines 7 and 8 I do not well understand in the Italian. +Line 11: 'Ye build the tombs of the prophets and garnish the sepulchres +of the righteous,' Lines 12-14: saints and sages are made perfect by +suffering. + +LIII. A singular argument concerning prayer. Campanella says it is +impious to hope to change the order and facts of the world, arranged by +God, except in the single category of time. He therefore thinks it +lawful for him to ask, and for God to grant, a shortening of the season +of his suffering. See the Canzone translated by me, forming Appendix I. + +LIV. Another sonnet referring to his life in prison. He asks God how he +can prosper if his friends all fail him for various reasons. Lines 9-11 +refer to the visit of a foe in disguise who came to him in prison and +promised him liberty, probably with a view to extracting from him +admissions of state-treason or of heresy. See the Canzone translated in +Appendix I. The last three lines seem to express his unalterable +courage, and his readiness to act if only God will give him trustworthy +instruments and fill him with His own spirit. The Dantesque language of +the last line is almost incapable of reproduction: + + Ch' io m' intuassi come tu t' immii. + +LV. Campanella tells his friend that such trivial things as pastoral +poems will not immortalise him. He bids him seek, not outside in worn +out fictions, but within his own soul, for the spirit of true beauty, +turn to God for praise, instead of to a human audience, and go with the +_tabula rasa_ of childlike intelligence into God's school of Nature. +Compare Nos I., V. + +LVI. Campanella recognised in Telesio the founder of the new +philosophy, which discarded the ancients and the schoolmen. Line 3: the +tyrant is Aristotle. Lines 5 and 6: Bombino and Montano are the poets. +Lines 7-9: Cavalcante and Gaieta were disciples of the Cosentine +Academy founded by Telesio. Line 9: our saint, _la gran donna_, is the +new philosophy. Line 12: my tocsin, _mia squilla_, is a pun on +Campanella's name. + +LVII. Rudolph von Bunau set himself at the age of sixteen to +philosophise, travelled with Adami, and with him visited Campanella in +prison at Naples. Campanella cast his horoscope and predicted for him a +splendid career, exhorting him to make war upon the pernicious school +of philosophers, who encumbered the human reason with frauds and +figments, and prevented the free growth of a better method. + +LVIII. Adami, to whom we owe the first edition of these sonnets, +visited Campanella in the Castle of S. Elmo, having wandered through +many lands, like Diogenes, in search of a man. Line 5: this, says +Adami, 'refers to a dream or vision of a sword, great and marvellous, +with three triple joints, and arms, and other things, discovered by +Tobia Adami, which the author interpreted by his primalities'--that is, +I suppose, by the trinity of power, love, wisdom, mentioned in No. VII. +Line 6: Abaddon is the opposite of Christ, the lord of the evil of the +age. Cp. note to No. XLI. + +LIX. This is in some respects the most sublime and most pathetic of +Campanella's sonnets. He is the Prometheus (see last line of No. I.) +who will not slay himself, because he cannot help men by his death, and +because his belief in the permanency of sense and thought makes him +fear lest he should carry his sufferings into another life. God's will +with regard to him is hidden. He does not even know what sort of life +he lived before he came into his present form of flesh. Philip, King of +Spain, has increased the discomforts of his dungeon, but Philip can do +nothing which God has not decreed, and God never by any possibility can +err. + +LX. Arguments from design make us infer an all wise, all good Maker of +the world. The misery and violence and sin of animate beings make us +infer an evil and ignorant Ruler of the world. But this discord between +the Maker and Ruler of the world is only apparent, and the grounds of +the contradiction will in due time be revealed. See No. XIII. and note. + + + + + +APPENDIX I + + +I have translated one Canzone out of Campanella's collection, partly as +a specimen of his style in this kind of composition, partly because it +illustrates his personal history and throws light on many of the +sonnets. It is the first of three prayers to God from his prison, +entitled by Adami _Orazioni tre in Salmodia Metafisicale congiunte +insieme_. + + +I. + + Almighty God! what though the laws of Fate + Invincible, and this long misery, + Proving my prayers not merely spent in vain + But heard and granted crosswise, banish me + Far from Thy sight,--still humbly obstinate + I turn to Thee. No other hopes remain. + Were there another God with vows to gain, + To Him for succour I would surely go: + Nor could I be called impious, if I turned + In this great agony from one who spurned, + To one who bade me come and cured my woe. + Nay, Lord! I babble vainly. Help! I cry, + Before the temple where Thy reason burned, + Become a mosque of imbecility! + + +II. + + Well know I that there are no words which can + Move Thee to favour him for whom Thy grace + Was not reserved from all eternity. + Repentance in Thy counsel finds no place: + Nor can the eloquence of mortal man + Bend Thee to mercy, when Thy sure decree + Hath stablished that this frame of mine should be + Rent by these pangs that flesh and spirit tire. + Nay if the whole world knows my martyrdom-- + Heaven, earth, and all that in them have their home-- + Why tell the tale to Thee, their Lord and Sire? + And if all change is death or some such state, + Thou deathless God, to whom for help I come, + How shall I make Thee change, to change my fate? + + +III. + + Nathless for grace I once more sue to Thee, + Spurred on by anguish sore and deep distress:-- + Yet have I neither art nor voice to plead + Before Thy judgment-seat of righteousness. + It is not faith, it is not charity, + Nor hope that fails me in my hour of need; + And if, as some men teach, the soul is freed + From sin and quickened to deserve Thy grace + By torments suffered on this earth below, + The Alps have neither ice, I ween, nor snow + To match my purity before Thy face! + For prisons fifty, tortures seven, twelve years + Of want and injury and woe-- + These have I borne, and still I stand ringed round with fears. + + +IV. + + We lay all wrapped with darkness: for some slept + The sleep of ignorance, and players played + Music to sweeten that vile sleep for gold: + While others waked, and hands of rapine laid + On honours, wealth, and blood; or sexless crept + Into the place of harlots, basely bold.-- + I lit a light:--like swarming bees, behold! + Stripped of their sheltering gloom, on me + Sleepers and wakers rush to wreak their spite: + Their wounds, their brutal joys disturbed by light, + Their broken bestial sleep fill them with jealousy.-- + Thus with the wolves the silly sheep agreed + Against the valiant dogs to fight; + Then fell the prey of their false friends' insatiate greed. + + +V. + + Help, mighty Shepherd! Save Thy lamp, Thy hound, + From wolves that ravin and from thieves that prey! + Make known the whole truth to the witless crowd! + For if my light, my voice, are cast away-- + If sinfulness in these Thy gifts be found-- + The sun that rules in heaven is disallowed. + Thou knowest without wings I cannot fly: + Give me the wings of grace to speed my flight! + Mine eyes are always turned to greet Thy light: + Is it my crime if still it pass me by? + Thou didst free Bocca and Gilardo; these, + Worthless, are made the angels of Thy might.-- + Hast Thou lost counsel? Shall Thine empire cease? + + +VI. + + With Thee I speak: Lord, thou dost understand! + Nor mind I how mad tongues my life reprove. + Full well I know the world is 'neath Thine eye. + And to each part thereof belongs Thy love: + But for the general welfare wisely planned + The parts must suffer change;--they do not die, + For nature ebbs and flows eternally;-- + But to such change we give the name of Death + Or Evil, whensoe'er we feel the strife + Which for the universe is joy and life, + Though for each part it seems mere lack of breath.-- + So in my body every part I see + With lives and deaths alternate rife, + All tending to its vital unity. + + +VII. + + Thus then the Universe grieves not, and I + Mid woes innumerable languish still + To cheer the whole and every happier part.-- + Yet, if each part is suffered by Thy will + To call for aid--as Thou art God most High, + Who to all beings wilt Thy strength impart; + Who smoothest every change by secret art, + With fond care tempering the force of fate, + Necessity and concord, power and thought, + And love divine through all things subtly wrought-- + I am persuaded, when I iterate + My prayers to Thee, some comfort I must find + For these pangs poison-fraught, + Or leave the sweet sharp lust of life behind. + + +VIII. + + The Universe hath nought that changes not, + Nor in its change feels not the pangs of pain, + Nor prays not unto God to ease that woe. + Mid these are many who the grace obtain + Of aid from Thee:--thus Thou didst rule their lot: + And many who without Thy help must go. + How shall I tell toward whom Thy favours flow, + Seeing I sat not at Thy council-board? + One argument at least doth hearten me + To hope those prayers may not unanswered be, + Which reason and pure thoughts to me afford: + Since often, if not always, Thou dost will + In Thy deep wisdom, Lord, + Best laboured soil with fairest fruits to fill. + + +IX. + + The tilth of this my field by plough and hoe + Yields me good hope--but more the fostering sun + Of Sense divine that quickens me within, + Whose rays those many minor stars outshone-- + That it is destined in high heaven to show + Mercy, and grant my prayer; so I may win + The end Thy gifts betoken, enter in + The realm reserved for me from earliest time. + Christ prayed but 'If it may be,' knowing well + He might not shun that cup so terrible: + His angel answered, that the law sublime + Ordained his death. I prayed not thus, and mine-- + Was mine then sent from Hell?-- + Made answer diverse from that voice divine. + + +X. + + Go song, go tell my Lord--'Lo! he who lies + Tortured in chains within a pit for Thee, + Cries, how can flight be free + Wingless?--Send Thy word down, or Thou + Show that fate's wheel turns not iniquity, + And that in heaven there is no lip that lies.'-- + Yet, song, too boldly flies + Thy shaft; stay yet for this that follows now! + + + +APPENDIX II. + + +The 'Rivista Europea' of June 1875 publishes an article by Signor V. de +Tivoli concerning an inedited sonnet of Michael Angelo, which he +deciphered from the Autograph, written upon the back of one of the +original drawings in the Taylor Gallery at Oxford. This drawing formed +part of the Ottley and Lawrence Collection. It represents horses in +various attitudes, together with a skirmish between a mounted soldier +and a group of men on foot. Signor de Tivoli not only prints the text +with all its orthographical confusions, abbreviations, and alterations; +but he also adds what he modestly terms a restoration of the sonnet. Of +this restoration I have made the subjoined version in rhyme, though I +frankly admit that the difficulties of the text, as given in the rough +by Signor de Tivoli, seem to me insuperable, and that his readings, +though ingenious, cannot in my opinion be accepted as absolutely +certain. He himself describes the MS. as a palimpsest, deliberately +defaced by Michael Angelo, from which the words originally written have +to be recovered in many cases by a process of conjecture. That the +style of the restoration is thoroughly Michael Angelesque, will be +admitted by all students of Signor Guasti's edition. The only word I +felt inclined to question, is _donne_ in line 13, where I should have +expected _donna_. But I am informed that about this word there is no +doubt. The sonnet itself ranks among the less interesting and the least +finished compositions of the poet's old age. + + + Thrice blest was I what time thy piercing dart + I could withstand and conquer in days past: + But now my breast with grief is overcast; + Against my will I weep, and suffer smart. + And if those shafts, aimed with so fierce an art, + The mark of my frail bosom over-passed, + Now canst thou take revenge with blows at last + From those fair eyes which must consume my heart. + O Love, how many a net, how many a snare + Shuns through long years the bird by fate malign, + Only at last to die more piteously! + Thus love hath let me run as free as air, + Ladies, through many a year, to make me pine + In sad old age, and a worse death to die. + + + + +APPENDIX III. + + +The following translations of a madrigal, a quatrain, and a stanza by +Michael Angelo, may be worth insertion here for the additional light +they throw upon some of the preceding sonnets--especially upon Sonnets +I. and II. and Sonnets LXV.-LXXVII. In my version of the stanza I have +followed Michelangelo the younger's readings. + + +_DIALOGUE OF FLORENCE AND HER EXILES._ + +_Per molti, donna._ + + + 'Lady, for joy of lovers numberless + Thou wast created fair as angels are. + Sure God hath fallen asleep in heaven afar, + When one man calls the bliss of many his! + Give back to streaming eyes + The daylight of thy face that seems to shun + Those who must live defrauded of their bliss!' + 'Vex not your pure desire with tears and sighs: + For he who robs you of my light, hath none. + Dwelling in fear, sin hath no happiness; + Since amid those who love, their joy is less, + Whose great desire great plenty still curtails, + Than theirs who, poor, have hope that never fails.' + + +_THE SPEECH OF NIGHT._ + +_Caro m' e'l sonno._ + + Sweet is my sleep, but more to be mere stone, + So long as ruin and dishonour reign; + To bear nought, to feel nought, is my great gain; + Then wake me not, speak in an undertone! + + +LAMENT FOR LIFE WASTED. + +_Ohime, ohime_! + + + Ah me! Ah me! whene'er I think + Of my past years, I find that none + Among those many years, alas, was mine; + False hopes and longings vain have made me pine, + With tears, sighs, passions, fires, upon life's brink. + Of mortal loves I have known every one. + Full well I feel it now; lost and undone, + From truth and goodness banished far away, + I dwindle day by day. + Longer the shade, more short the sunbeams grow; + While I am near to falling, faint and low. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets +by Michael Angelo Buonarroti & Tommaso Campanella + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS *** + +***** This file should be named 10314.txt or 10314.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/3/1/10314/ + +Produced by Ted Garvin, Carol David, Tom Allen and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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