The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Ridolfo Di Bina.

Senno ed Amor.


Wisdom and love, O Bina, gave thee wings,
        Before the blossom of thy years had faded,
        To fly with Adam for thy guide, God-aided,
        Through many lands in divers journeyings.
Pure virtue is thy guerdon: virtue brings
        Glory to thee, death to the foes degraded,
        Who through long years of darkness have invaded
        Thy Germany, mother of slaves not kings.
Yet, gazing on heaven's book, heroic child,
        My soul discerns graces divine in thee:--
        Leave toys and playthings to the crowd of fools!
Do thou with heart fervent and proudly mild
        Make war upon those fraud-engendering schools!
        I see thee victor, and in God I see.

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 Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - What Makes A King.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - To Tobia Adami.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Love's Argument With Reason.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - On Italy.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

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 - Self-Love.

Credulo il proprio amor.


Self-love fools man with false opinion
        That earth, air, water, fire, the stars we see,
        Though stronger and more beautiful than we,
        Feel nought, love not, but move for us alone.
Then all the tribes of earth except his own
        Seem to him senseless, rude--God lets them be:
        To kith and kin next shrinks his sympathy,
        Till in the end loves only self each one.
Learning he shuns that he may live at ease;
        And since the world is little to his mind,
        God and God's ruling Forethought he denies.
Craft he calls wisdom; and, perversely blind,
        Seeking to reign, erects new deities:
        At last 'I make the Universe!' he cries.

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 - 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 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