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!

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

To Pope Julius II.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Second Reading. To Vittoria Colonna. The Model And The Statue.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

To Vittoria Colonna. A Matchless Courtesy.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Defence Of Night.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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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.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision Of Purgatory: Canto XI

"O thou Almighty Father, who dost make
The heavens thy dwelling, not in bounds confin'd,
But that with love intenser there thou view'st
Thy primal effluence, hallow'd be thy name:
Join each created being to extol
Thy might, for worthy humblest thanks and praise
Is thy blest Spirit. May thy kingdom's peace
Come unto us; for we, unless it come,
With all our striving thither tend in vain.
As of their will the angels unto thee
Tender meet sacrifice, circling thy throne
With loud hosannas, so of theirs be done
By saintly men on earth. Grant us this day
Our daily manna, without which he roams
Through this rough desert retrograde, who most
Toils to advance his steps. As we to each
Pardon the evil done us, pardon thou
Benign, and of our merit take no count.
...

Dante Alighieri

The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision Of Paradise: Canto XIII

Let him, who would conceive what now I saw,
Imagine (and retain the image firm,
As mountain rock, the whilst he hears me speak),
Of stars fifteen, from midst the ethereal host
Selected, that, with lively ray serene,
O'ercome the massiest air: thereto imagine
The wain, that, in the bosom of our sky,
Spins ever on its axle night and day,
With the bright summit of that horn which swells
Due from the pole, round which the first wheel rolls,
T' have rang'd themselves in fashion of two signs
In heav'n, such as Ariadne made,
When death's chill seized her; and that one of them
Did compass in the other's beam; and both
In such sort whirl around, that each should tend
With opposite motion and, conceiving thus,
Of that true constellation, and the dance
Twofold, that...

Dante Alighieri

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.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision Of Paradise: Canto XVII

Such as the youth, who came to Clymene
To certify himself of that reproach,
Which had been fasten'd on him, (he whose end
Still makes the fathers chary to their sons),
E'en such was I; nor unobserv'd was such
Of Beatrice, and that saintly lamp,
Who had erewhile for me his station mov'd;
When thus by lady: "Give thy wish free vent,
That it may issue, bearing true report
Of the mind's impress; not that aught thy words
May to our knowledge add, but to the end,
That thou mayst use thyself to own thy thirst
And men may mingle for thee when they hear."

"O plant! from whence I spring! rever'd and lov'd!
Who soar'st so high a pitch, thou seest as clear,
As earthly thought determines two obtuse
In one triangle not contain'd, so clear
Dost see contingencies, ...

Dante Alighieri

The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision Of Purgatory: Canto XVI

Hell's dunnest gloom, or night unlustrous, dark,
Of every planes 'reft, and pall'd in clouds,
Did never spread before the sight a veil
In thickness like that fog, nor to the sense
So palpable and gross. Ent'ring its shade,
Mine eye endured not with unclosed lids;
Which marking, near me drew the faithful guide,
Offering me his shoulder for a stay.

As the blind man behind his leader walks,
Lest he should err, or stumble unawares
On what might harm him, or perhaps destroy,
I journey'd through that bitter air and foul,
Still list'ning to my escort's warning voice,
"Look that from me thou part not." Straight I heard
Voices, and each one seem'd to pray for peace,
And for compassion, to the Lamb of God
That taketh sins away. Their prelude still
Was "Agnus ...

Dante Alighieri