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

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

To Monsignor Lodovico Beccadelli. Urbino.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

To Giorgio Vasari. On The Lives Of The Painters.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

To Tommaso De' Cavalieri. Love's Lordship.

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 - 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

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 - 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 - 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 - 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 - 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