The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - On The Lord's Prayer. No. 2.

Dov' è la libertà.


Where are the freedom and high feats that spring
        From fatherhood so fair as Deity?
        Fleas are no sons of men, although they be
        Flesh-born: brave thoughts and deeds this honour bring.
If princes great or small seek anything
        Adverse to good and God's authority,
        Which of you dares refuse? Nay, who is he
        That doth not cringe to do their pleasuring?
So then with soul and blood in verity
        You serve base gold, vices, and worthless men--
        God with lip-service only and with lies,
Sunk in the slough of dire idolatry:
        If Ignorance begat these errors, then
        To Reason turn for sonship and be wise!

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

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - A Writer Of Eclogues. To Annibale Caraccioli,

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

To Monsignor Lodovico Beccadelli. Urbino.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Transfiguration Of Beauty: A Dialogue With Love.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - On The Lord'S Prayer. No. I.

Vilissima progenie.


Ye vile offscourings! with unblushing face
        Dare ye claim sonship to our heavenly Sire,
        Who serve brute vices, crouching in the mire
        To hounds and conies, beasts that ape our race?
Such truckling is called virtue by the base
        Hucksters of sophistry, the priest and friar,--
        Gilt claws of tyrant brutes,--who lie for hire,
        Preaching that God delights in this disgrace.
Look well, ye brainless folk! Do fathers hold
        Their children slaves to serfs? Do sheep obey
        The witless ram? Why make a beast your king?
If there are no archangels, let your fold
        Be governed by the sense of all: why stray
        From men to worship every filthy thing?

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - On The Lord's Prayer. No. 3.

Allor potrete orar.


Then shall ye pray with every hour that flies;
        Thy kingdom come, and let Thy will be done
        On earth as in the spheres above the sun,
        When all we hoped and wished shall bless our eyes.
Poets shall see their Age of Gold arise,
        Fairer than feigned in hymn or orison;
        Yea, all the realm by Adam's sin undone
        Shall be restored in sinless Paradise.
Philosophers shall govern for their own
        That perfect commonwealth whereof they write,
        The which on earth as yet was never known.
Judah to Sion shall return with might
        Of greater wonders than shook Pharaoh's throne,
        From Babylon, to bless the prophets' sight.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To God On Prayer.

Tu che Forza ed Amor.


O Thou, who, mingling Force and Love, dost draw
        And guide the complex of all entities,
        Framed for that purpose; whence our reason sees
        In supreme Fate the synthesis of Law;
Though prayers transgress which find defect or flaw
        In things foredoomed by Thy divine decrees,
        Yet wilt Thou modify, by slow degrees
        Or swift, good times or bad Thy mind foresaw:
I therefore pray--I who through years have been
        The scorn of fools, the butt of impious men,
        Suffering new pains and torments day by day--
Shorten this anguish, Lord, these griefs allay;
        For still Thou shalt not have changed counsel when
        I soar from hence to liberty foreseen.

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 - 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 - 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