The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Book Of Nature.

Il mondo è il libro.


The world's the book where the eternal Sense
        Wrote his own thoughts; the living temple where,
        Painting his very self, with figures fair
        He filled the whole immense circumference.
Here then should each man read, and gazing find
        Both how to live and govern, and beware
        Of godlessness; and, seeing God all-where,
        Be bold to grasp the universal mind.
But we tied down to books and temples dead,
        Copied with countless errors from the life,--
        These nobler than that school sublime we call.
O may our senseless souls at length be led
        To truth by pain, grief, anguish, trouble, strife!
        Turn we to read the one original!

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

Love's Argument With Reason.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Love Is A Refiner's Fire.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Heaven-Born Beauty. First Reading.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Love's Loadstone. Second Reading.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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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 - The World's A Stage.

Nel teatro del mondo.


The world's a theatre: age after age,
        Souls masked and muffled in their fleshly gear
        Before the supreme audience appear,
        As Nature, God's own Art, appoints the stage.

Each plays the part that is his heritage;
        From choir to choir they pass, from sphere to sphere,
        And deck themselves with joy or sorry cheer,
        As Fate the comic playwright fills the page.

None do or suffer, be they cursed or blest,
        Aught otherwise than the great Wisdom wrote
        To gladden each and all who gave Him mirth,

When we at last to sea or air or earth
        Yielding these masks that weal or woe denote,
        In God shall see who spoke and acted best.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Universe.

Il mondo è un animal.


The world's a living creature, whole and great,
        God's image, praising God whose type it is;
        We are imperfect worms, vile families,
        That in its belly have our low estate.
If we know not its love, its intellect,
        Neither the worm within my belly seeks
        To know me, but his petty mischief wreaks:--
        Thus it behoves us to be circumspect.
Again, the earth is a great animal,
        Within the greatest; we are like the lice
        Upon its body, doing harm as they.
Proud men, lift up your eyes; on you I call:
        Measure each being's worth; and thence be wise;
        Learning what part in the great scheme you play!

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 - 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 - 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