The Life of Michelangelo Buonarroti: Based on Studies in the Archives of the Buonarroti Family at Florence, Volume 2

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J.C. Nimmo, 1893 - Artists
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User Review  - baswood - LibraryThing

"John Addington Symonds (5 October 1840 – 19 April 1893) was an English poet and literary critic. Although he married and had a family, he was an early advocate of male love (homosexuality), which he ... Read full review

The life of Michelangelo Buonarroti: based on studies in the archives of the Buonarroti family at Florence

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Though this originally appeared back in 1911, it is still considered to be one of the best biographies of the artist. Symonds was the first to deal frankly with Michelangelo's homosexuality and was ... Read full review

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Page 123 - Nothing can less display knowledge, or less exercise invention, than to tell how a shepherd has lost his companion, and must now feed his flocks alone, without any judge of his skill in piping; and how one god asks another god what is become of Lycidas, and how neither god can tell. He who thus grieves will excite no sympathy; he who thus praises will confer no honour.
Page 309 - 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 I The one I know for sure, the other dread.
Page 126 - 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...
Page 177 - Non vidergli occhi mki. 1 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 161 - 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...
Page 120 - 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...
Page 127 - 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; El'en as you will, I blush and blanch again, Freeze in the sun, burn 'neath a frosty sky.
Page 171 - 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...
Page 310 - 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...
Page 126 - ... 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...

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