The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - On The Sepulchre Of Christ. No. 2.

Quinci impara a stupirti.


Here bend in boundless wonder; bow your head:
        Think how God's deathless Mind, that men might be
        Robed in celestial immortality
        (O Love divine!), in flesh was raimented:
How He was killed and buried; from the dead
        How He arose to life with victory,
        And reigned in heaven; how all of us shall be
        Glorious like Him whose hearts to His are wed:
How they who die for love of reason, give
        Hypocrites, tyrants, sophists--all who sell
        Their neighbours ill for holiness--to hell:
How the dead saint condemns the bad who live;
        How all he does becomes a law for men;
        How he at last to judge shall come again!

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.

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English

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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

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Resurrection.

Se sol sei ore.


If Christ was only six hours crucified
        After few years of toil and misery,
        Which for mankind He suffered willingly,
        While heaven was won for ever when He died;
Why should He still be shown on every side,
        Painted and preached, in nought but agony,
        Whose pains were light matched with His victory,
        When the world's power to harm Him was defied?
Why rather speak and write not of the realm
        He rules in heaven, and soon will bring below
        Unto the praise and glory of His name?
Ah foolish crowd! This world's thick vapours whelm
        Your eyes unworthy of that glorious show,
        Blind to His splendour, bent upon His shame.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Death.

Morte, stipendio della colpa.


O Death, the wage of our first father's blame,
        Daughter of envy and nonentity,
        Serf of the serpent, and his harlotry,
        Thou beast most arrogant and void of shame!
Thy last great conquest dost thou dare proclaim,
        Crying that all things are subdued to thee,
        Against the Almighty raised almightily?--
        The proofs that prop thy pride of state are lame.
Not to serve thee, but to make thee serve Him,
        He stoops to Hell. The choice of arms was thine;
        Yet art thou scoffed at by the crucified!
He lives--thy loss. He dies--from every limb,
        Mangled by thee, lightnings of godhead shine,
        From which thy darkness hath not where to hide.

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 - 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 - 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