The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Dungeon.

Come va al centro.


As to the centre all things that have weight
        Sink from the surface: as the silly mouse
        Runs at a venture, rash though timorous,
        Into the monster's jaws to meet her fate:
Thus all who love high Science, from the strait
        Dead sea of Sophistry sailing like us
        Into Truth's ocean, bold and amorous,
        Must in our haven anchor soon or late.
One calls this haunt a Cave of Polypheme,
        And one Atlante's Palace, one of Crete
        The Labyrinth, and one Hell's lowest pit.
Knowledge, grace, mercy, are an idle dream
        In this dread place. Nought but fear dwells in it,
        Of stealthy Tyranny the sacred seat.

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

The Defence Of Night.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

After The Death Of Vittoria Colonna. Love's Triumph Over Death.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Modern Cupid.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Venice.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

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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 - The Soul.

Dentro un pugno di cervel.


A handful of brain holds me: I consume
        So much that all the books the world contains,
        Cannot allay my furious famine-pains:--
        What feasts were mine! Yet hunger is my doom.
With one world Aristarchus fed my greed;
        This finished, others Metrodorus gave;
        Yet, stirred by restless yearning, still I crave:
        The more I know, the more to learn I need.
Thus I'm an image of that Sire in whom
        All beings are, like fishes in the sea;
        That one true object of the loving mind.
Reasoning may reach Him, like a shaft shot home;
        The Church may guide; but only blest is he
        Who loses self in God, God's self to find.

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 - The Modern Cupid.

Son tremil' anni.


Through full three thousand years the world reveres
        Blind Love that bears the quiver and hath wings:
        Now too he's deaf, and to the sufferings
        Of folk in anguish turns impiteous ears.
Of gold he's greedy, and dark raiment wears;
        A child no more, that naked sports and sings,
        But a sly greybeard; no gold shaft he flings,
        Now that fire-arms have cursed these latter years.
Charcoal and sulphur, thunder, lead, and smoke,
        That leave the flesh with plagues of hell diseased,
        And drive the craving spirit deaf and blind,
These are his weapons. But my bell hath broke
        Her silence. Yield, thou deaf, blind, tainted beast,
        To the wise fervour of a blameless mind!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Venice.

Nuova arca di Noè.


New Ark of Noah! when the cruel scourge
        Of that barbarian tyrant like a wave
        Went over Italy, thou then didst save
        The seed of just men on the weltering surge.
Here, still by discord and foul servitude
        Untainted, thou a hero brood dost raise,
        Powerful and prudent. Due to thee their praise
        Of maiden pure, of teeming motherhood!
Thou wonder of the world, Rome's loyal heir,
        Thou pride and strong support of Italy,
        Dial of princes, school of all things wise!
Thou like Arcturus steadfast in the skies,
        With tardy sense guidest thy kingdom fair,
        Bearing alone the load of liberty.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Year 1603.

Già sto mirando.


The first heaven-wandering lights I see ascend
        Upon the seventh and ninth centenary,
        When in the Archer's realm three years shall be
        Added, this aeon and our age to end.
Thou too, Mercurius, like a scribe dost lend
        Thine aid to promulgate that dread decree,
        Stored in the archives of eternity,
        And signed and sealed by powers no prayers can bend.
O'er Europe's full meridian on thy morn
        In the tenth house thy court I see thee hold:
        The Sun with thee consents in Capricorn.
God grant that I may keep this mortal breath
        Until I too that glorious day behold
        Which shall at last confound the sons of death!

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni