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

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

A Prayer For Aid.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - Ideal Love.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

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

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - A Writer Of Eclogues. To Annibale Caraccioli,

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 - 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 - 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 - 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 - The Soul's Apology.

Ben sei mila anni.


Six thousand years or more on earth I've been:
        Witness those histories of nations dead,
        Which for our age I have illustrated
        In philosophic volumes, scene by scene.
And thou, mere mite, seeing my sun serene
        Eclipsed, wilt argue that I had no head
        To live by.--Why not try the sun instead,
        If nought in fate unfathomed thou hast seen?
If wise men, whom the world rebukes, combined
        With tyrant wolves, brute beasts we should become.
        The sage, once stoned for sin, you canonise.
When rennet melts, much milk makes haste to bind.
        The more you blow the flames, the more they rise,
        Bloom into stars, and find in heaven their home.

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