The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - On Italy.

La gran Donna.


That Lady who to Caesar came in state
        Upon the Rubicon, what time she feared
        Ruin from those strange races who appeared
        Erewhile to build her empire strong and great,
Now stays with limbs dispersed and lacerate,
        A bondslave, shorn of all her pomp revered:
        Nor seems it now that Dinah's shame can gird
        Simeon or Levi to avenge her fate.
If then Jerusalem doth not repair
        To Nazareth or Athens, where did reign
        Wisdom of God or man in days of yore,
None shall arise her honours to restore:
        For Herods are all strangers; when they swear
        To save the Saviour's seed, their oath is vain.

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 True Kings.

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Love In Youth And Age. Second Reading.

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The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Soul.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Artist And His Work.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Genoa.

Le Ninfe d'Arno.


The nymphs of Arno; Adria's goddess-queen;
        Greece, where the Latin banner floated free;
        The lands that border on the Syrian sea;
        The Euxine, and fair Naples; these have been
Thine, by the right of conquest; these should be
        Still thine by empire: Asia's broad demesne,
        Afric, America--realms never seen
        But by thy venture--all belong to thee.
But thou, thyself not knowing, leavest all
        For a poor price to strangers; since thy head
        Is weak, albeit thy limbs are stout and good.
Genoa, mistress of the world, recall
        Thy soul magnanimous! Nay, be not led
        Slave to base gold, thou and thy tameless brood!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Venice.

Nuova arca di Noè.


New Ark of Noah! when the cruel scourge
        Of that barbarian tyrant like a wave
        Went over Italy, thou then didst save
        The seed of just men on the weltering surge.
Here, still by discord and foul servitude
        Untainted, thou a hero brood dost raise,
        Powerful and prudent. Due to thee their praise
        Of maiden pure, of teeming motherhood!
Thou wonder of the world, Rome's loyal heir,
        Thou pride and strong support of Italy,
        Dial of princes, school of all things wise!
Thou like Arcturus steadfast in the skies,
        With tardy sense guidest thy kingdom fair,
        Bearing alone the load of liberty.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Jesus Christ.

I tuo' seguaci.


Thy followers to-day are less like Thee,
        The crucified, than those who made Thee die,
        Good Jesus, wandering all ways awry
        From rules prescribed in Thy wise charity.
The saints now most esteemed love lying lips,
        Lust, strife, injustice; sweet to them the cry
        Drawn forth by monstrous pangs from men that die:
        So many plagues hath not the Apocalypse
As these wherewith they smite Thy friends ignored--
        Even as I am; search my heart, and know;
        My life, my sufferings bear Thy stamp and sign.
If Thou return to earth, come armed; for lo,
        Thy foes prepare fresh crosses for Thee, Lord!
        Not Turks, not Jews, but they who call them Thine.

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 - The Price Of Freedom.

D' Italia in Grecia.


From Rome to Greece, from Greece to Libya's sand,
        Yearning for liberty, just Cato went;
        Nor finding freedom to his heart's content,
        Sought it in death, and died by his own hand.
Wise Hannibal, when neither sea nor land
        Could save him from the Roman eagles, rent
        His soul with poison from imprisonment;
        And a snake's tooth cut Cleopatra's band.
In this way died one valiant Maccabee;
        Brutus feigned madness; prudent Solon hid
        His sense; and David, when he feared Gath's king.
Thus when the Mystic found that Jonah's sea
        Was yawning to engulf him, what he did
        He gave to God--a wise man's offering.

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