The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Sophists.

Nessun ti verrà a dire.


'Behold, I am a Sophist!' no man saith.
        But the true sons of perfidy refined
        Forge theologic lies the soul to blind,
        Calling themselves evangels of the faith.
Aretine with his scoundrels blew his breath,
        And in the cynic orgies boldly joined;
        His ribald jests had flowers and thorns combined--
        A frank fair list including life and death,
For fun, not fraud. It shames him to be found
        Less vile than those who cannot bear to see
        Their sink of filth laid open to the ground:
Wherefore they shut our mouths, our books impound,
        Garble with lies each sentence that may be
        Cited to prove their foul hypocrisy.

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 Giorgio Vasari. On The Brink Of Death.

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The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Ridolfo Di Bina.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

A Prayer For Strength.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Present.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Hypocrites.

Nessun ti venne a dir.


Who comes and saith: 'A Tyrant, lo, am I!'
        And, 'I am Antichrist!' what man will swear?
        The crafty rogue, hiding his poisonous ware,
        Sells you what slays your soul, for sanctity.
Cheats, brigands, prostitutes, and all that fry,
        Not having fashioned so devout a snare,
        Appear worse sinners than perhaps they are;
        For where the craft's small, small's the villainy;
You're on your guard. The meek Samaritan
        Makes way before those guileful Pharisees,
        Though God assigned to him the higher place.
        Not words nor wonders prove a virtuous man,
But deeds and acts. How many deities
        Hath this false standard given the human race!

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 - 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 - Against Hypocrites.

Gli affetti di Pluton.


Deep in their hearts they hide the lusts of Hell:
        Christ's name is written on their brow, that those
        Who only view the husk, may not suppose
        What guile and malice harbour in the shell.
O God! O Wisdom! Holy Fervour! Well
        Of strength invincible to strike Thy foes!
        Give me the force--my spirit burns and glows--
        To strip those idols and to break their spell!
The zeal I bear unto Thy name benign,
        The love I feel for truth sincere and pure,
        When such men triumph, make me rend my hair.
How long shall folk this infamy endure--
        That he should be held sacred, he divine,
        Who strips e'en corpses in the graveyard bare?

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Brood Of Ignorance.

Io nacqui a debellar.


To quell three Titan evils I was made,--
        Tyranny, Sophistry, Hypocrisy;
        Whence I perceive with what wise harmony
        Themis on me Love, Power, and Wisdom laid.
These are the basements firm whereon is stayed,
        Supreme and strong, our new philosophy;
        The antidotes against that trinal lie
        Wherewith the burdened world groaning is weighed.
Famine, war, pestilence, fraud, envy, pride,
        Injustice, idleness, lust, fury, fear,
        Beneath these three great plagues securely hide.
Grounded on blind self-love, the offspring dear
        Of Ignorance, they flourish and abide:--
        Wherefore to root up Ignorance I'm here!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - An Exhortation To Mankind.

Abitator del mondo.


Ye dwellers on this world, to the first Mind
        Exalt your eyes; and ye shall see how low
        Vile Tyranny, wearing the glorious show
        Of nobleness and worth, keeps you confined.
Then look at proud Hypocrisy, entwined
        With lies and snares, who once taught men to know
        The fear of God. Next to the Sophists go,
        Traitors to thought and reason, jugglers blind.
Keen Socrates to quell the Sophists came:
        To quell the Tyrants, Cato just and rough:
        To quell the Hypocrites, Christ, heaven's own flame.
But to unmask fraud, sacrilege, and lies,
        Or boldly rush on death, is not enough;
        Unless we all taste God, made inly wise.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni