The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Against Hypocrites.

Gli affetti di Pluton.


Deep in their hearts they hide the lusts of Hell:
        Christ's name is written on their brow, that those
        Who only view the husk, may not suppose
        What guile and malice harbour in the shell.
O God! O Wisdom! Holy Fervour! Well
        Of strength invincible to strike Thy foes!
        Give me the force--my spirit burns and glows--
        To strip those idols and to break their spell!
The zeal I bear unto Thy name benign,
        The love I feel for truth sincere and pure,
        When such men triumph, make me rend my hair.
How long shall folk this infamy endure--
        That he should be held sacred, he divine,
        Who strips e'en corpses in the graveyard bare?

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

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Philosopher.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Sophists.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To God For Help.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

To Tommaso De' Cavalieri. Love The Light-Giver.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Hypocrites.

Nessun ti venne a dir.


Who comes and saith: 'A Tyrant, lo, am I!'
        And, 'I am Antichrist!' what man will swear?
        The crafty rogue, hiding his poisonous ware,
        Sells you what slays your soul, for sanctity.
Cheats, brigands, prostitutes, and all that fry,
        Not having fashioned so devout a snare,
        Appear worse sinners than perhaps they are;
        For where the craft's small, small's the villainy;
You're on your guard. The meek Samaritan
        Makes way before those guileful Pharisees,
        Though God assigned to him the higher place.
        Not words nor wonders prove a virtuous man,
But deeds and acts. How many deities
        Hath this false standard given the human race!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To The Poets.

In superbia il valor.


Valour to pride hath turned; grave holiness
        To vile hypocrisy; all gentle ways
        To empty forms; sound sense to idle lays;
        Pure love to heat; beauty to paint and dress:--
Thanks to you, Poets! you who sing the praise
        Of fabled knights, foul fires, lies, nullities;
        Not virtue, nor the wrapped sublimities
        Of God, as bards were wont in those old days.
How far more wondrous than your phantasies
        Are Nature's works, how far more sweet to sing!
        Thus taught, the soul falsehood and truth descries.
That tale alone is worth the pondering,
        Which hath not smothered history in lies,
        And arms the soul against each sinful thing.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Tobia Adami.

Portando in man.


Holding the cynic lantern in your hand,
        Through Europe, Egypt, Asia, you have passed,
        Till at Ausonia's feet you find at last
        That Cyclops' cave, where I, to darkness banned,
In light eternal forge for you the brand
        Against Abaddon, who hath overcast
        The truth and right, Adami, made full fast
        Unto God's glory by our steadfast band.
Go, smite each sophist, tyrant, hypocrite!
        Girt with the arms of the first Wisdom, free
        Your country from the frauds that cumber it!
Swerve not: 'twere sin. How good, how great the praise
        Of him who turns youth, strength, soul, energy,
        Unto the dayspring of the eternal rays!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Love Of Self And God.

Questo amor singolar.


This love of self sinks man in sinful sloth:
        Yet, if he seek to live, he needs must feign
        Sense, goodness, courage. Thus he dwells in pain,
        A sphinx, twy-souled, a false self-stunted growth.
Honours, applause, and wealth these torments soothe;
        Till jealousy, contrasting his foul stain
        With virtues eminent, by spur and rein
        Drives him to slay, steal, poison, break his oath.
But he who loves our common Father, hath
        All men for brothers, and with God doth joy
        In whatsoever worketh for their bliss.
Good Francis called the birds upon his path
        Brethren; to him the fishes were not coy.--
        Oh, blest is he who comprehendeth this!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Sophists.

Nessun ti verrà a dire.


'Behold, I am a Sophist!' no man saith.
        But the true sons of perfidy refined
        Forge theologic lies the soul to blind,
        Calling themselves evangels of the faith.
Aretine with his scoundrels blew his breath,
        And in the cynic orgies boldly joined;
        His ribald jests had flowers and thorns combined--
        A frank fair list including life and death,
For fun, not fraud. It shames him to be found
        Less vile than those who cannot bear to see
        Their sink of filth laid open to the ground:
Wherefore they shut our mouths, our books impound,
        Garble with lies each sentence that may be
        Cited to prove their foul hypocrisy.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - On The Sepulchre Of Christ. No. I.

O tu ch' ami la parte.


O you who love the part more than the whole,
        And love yourself more than all human kind,
        Who persecute good men with prudence blind
        Because they combat your malign control,
See Scribes and Pharisees, each impious school,
        Each sect profane, o'erthrown by his great mind,
        Whose best our good to Deity refined,
        The while they thought Death triumphed o'er his soul.
Deem you that only you have thought and sense,
        While heaven and all its wonders, sun and earth,
        Scorned in your dullness, lack intelligence?
Fool! what produced you? These things gave you birth:
        So have they mind and God. Repent; be wise!
        Man fights but ill with Him who rules the skies.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni