Renaissance in Italy: The Fine Arts

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Holt, 1882 - Architecture, Renaissance - 550 pages
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Page 524 - 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.
Page 339 - Like a poet hidden in the light of thought, singing hymns unbidden till the world is wrought to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.
Page 514 - 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.
Page 511 - I can translate, and have translated, two books of Ariosto, at the rate, nearly, of one hundred lines a day ; but so much meaning has been put by Michael Angelo into so little room, and that meaning sometimes so excellent in itself, that I found the difficulty of translating him insurmountable.
Page 523 - 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...
Page 155 - Most ambitiously. Princes' images on their tombs do not lie, as they were wont, seeming to pray up to heaven ; but with their hands under their cheeks, as if they died of the toothache : they are not carved with their eyes fixed...
Page 155 - In half an hour's sitting — in hot weather — The painting on their face has been so mellow, They have left the poor man harder work by half To mend the copy he wrought by : But indeed, If ever I would have mine drawn to the life, ' I would have a painter steal it at such a time I were devoutly kneeling at my prayers ; There is then a heavenly beauty in't, the soul Moves in the superficies.
Page 208 - Hear, for I will speak of excellent things ; And the opening of my lips shall be right things : For my mouth shall speak truth ; And wickedness is an abomination to my lips.
Page 519 - 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 carries! death and grace Inclosed together, and my worthless brain Can draw forth only death to feed on me.
Page 513 - 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.

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