The Sonnets of Michael Angelo Buonarroti and Tommaso Campanella |
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Adami Alessandro d'Ancona amor autographs beast blest blind Bruno Buonarroti burned Campanella Cavalieri cheer Christ Cosenza Dante DANTE ALIGHIERI death delight divine Donato Giannotti dost doth earth eternal evil eyes face false fate feel fire flame flesh friends GIORGIO VASARI God's grace grief Guasti's hath heart heaven hope impious Italian Italy JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS kings lady last line light Line 12 live LOVE'S Luigi del Riccio Michael Angelo Michelangelo Buonarroti Michelangelo the younger mind misery mortal Nature nought occhi Orelli pain perchance Petrarch philosopher poems poet poetry praise PRAYER prison prophets pure quatrains reign Renaissance rifacimento Rome saints SECOND READING seek Senno sense shun Signor Guasti soar sonetto sonnet soul spirit Telesio terzet thee thine things Thou thought thy fair Tobia Adami Tommaso Tommaso Campanella torments translated true truth tyrants Unto Urbino Varchi vile VITTORIA COLONNA Wisdom wise words
Popular passages
Page 77 - 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!...
Page 102 - 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.
Page 197 - Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! because ye build the tombs of the prophets, and garnish the sepulchres of the righteous, and say, If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partakers with them in the blood of the prophets.
Page 46 - 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.
Page 186 - 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...
Page 98 - 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...
Page 62 - 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 can not shun the blow I rather seek, say who must rule my breast.
Page 34 - 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 32 - 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...
Page 45 - 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...