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

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

Love's Flame Doth Feed On Age.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Love's Furnace.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Amulet Of Love.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

On Dante Alighieri.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Self-Love.

Credulo il proprio amor.


Self-love fools man with false opinion
        That earth, air, water, fire, the stars we see,
        Though stronger and more beautiful than we,
        Feel nought, love not, but move for us alone.
Then all the tribes of earth except his own
        Seem to him senseless, rude--God lets them be:
        To kith and kin next shrinks his sympathy,
        Till in the end loves only self each one.
Learning he shuns that he may live at ease;
        And since the world is little to his mind,
        God and God's ruling Forethought he denies.
Craft he calls wisdom; and, perversely blind,
        Seeking to reign, erects new deities:
        At last 'I make the Universe!' he cries.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Earthly And Divine Love.

Se Dio ci dà la vita.


God gives us life, and God our life preserves;
        Nay, all our happiness on Him doth rest:
        Why then should love of God inflame man's breast
        Less than his lady and the lord he serves?
Through mean and wanton ignorance he swerves,
        And worships a false Good, divinely dressed;
        Love cannot soar to what it never guessed,
        But stoops its flight, and the thralled soul unnerves.
Here too is man deceived. He yields his own
        To spend on others. Yet in vile delight
        God's splendour still shines through love's earthliness.
But we embrace the loss, the lure alone
        Love fools us with. That glimpse of heavenly light,
        That foretaste of eternal Good, we miss.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Proem.

Io che nacqui dal Senno.


Born of God's Wisdom and Philosophy,
        Keen lover of true beauty and true good,
        I call the vain self-traitorous multitude
        Back to my mother's milk; for it is she,
Faithful to God her spouse, who nourished me,
        Making me quick and active to intrude
        Within the inmost veil, where I have viewed
        And handled all things in eternity.
If the whole world's our home where we may run,
        Up, friends, forsake those secondary schools
        Which give grains, units, inches for the whole!
If facts surpass mere words, melt pride of soul,
        And pain, and ignorance that hardens fools,
        Here in the fire I've stolen from the Sun!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Soul.

Dentro un pugno di cervel.


A handful of brain holds me: I consume
        So much that all the books the world contains,
        Cannot allay my furious famine-pains:--
        What feasts were mine! Yet hunger is my doom.
With one world Aristarchus fed my greed;
        This finished, others Metrodorus gave;
        Yet, stirred by restless yearning, still I crave:
        The more I know, the more to learn I need.
Thus I'm an image of that Sire in whom
        All beings are, like fishes in the sea;
        That one true object of the loving mind.
Reasoning may reach Him, like a shaft shot home;
        The Church may guide; but only blest is he
        Who loses self in God, God's self to find.

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 - Ideal Love.

Il vero amante.


He who loves truly, grows in force and might;
        For beauty and the image of his love
        Expand his spirit: whence he burns to prove
        Adventures high, and holds all perils light.
If thus a lady's love dilate the knight,
        What glories and what joy all joys above
        Shall not the heavenly splendour, joined by love
        Unto our flesh-imprisoned soul, excite?
Once freed, she would become one sphere immense
        Of love, power, wisdom, filled with Deity,
        Elate with wonders of the eternal Sense.
But we like sheep and wolves war ceaselessly:
        That love we never seek, that light intense,
        Which would exalt us to infinity.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni