Love's Loadstone. Second Reading.

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.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni was an Italian sculptor, painter, architect, and poet of the High Renaissance. Born on March 6, 1475, he is widely considered one of the greatest artists of all time. His poetry, although lesser-known compared to his other artistic achievements, displays his deep contemplation of art, love, and spirituality. Michelangelo passed away on February 18, 1564.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

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Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Love's Loadstone. First Reading.

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.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

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?

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love's Justification. First Reading.

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.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Carnal And Spiritual Love. First Reading.

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!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Heaven-Born Beauty. Second Reading.

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.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love's Justification. Second Reading.

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.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni