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

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 - The Present.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

A Prayer For Strength.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Death Of Christ.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - A Prophecy Of Judgment. No. 3. The Golden Age.

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 - To Telesius Of Cosenza.

Telesio, il telo.


Telesius, the arrow from thy bow
        Midmost his band of sophists slays that high
        Tyrant of souls that think; he cannot fly:
        While Truth soars free, loosed by the self-same blow.
Proud lyres with thine immortal praises glow,
        Smitten by bards elate with victory:
        Lo, thine own Cavalcante, stormfully
        Lightning, still strikes the fortress of the foe!
Good Gaieta bedecks our saint serene
        With robes translucent, light-irradiate,
        Restoring her to all her natural sheen;
The while my tocsin at the temple-gate
        Of the wide universe proclaims her queen,
        Pythia of first and last ordained by fate.

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 - 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

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 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 - A Writer Of Eclogues. To Annibale Caraccioli,

Non Licida, nè Driope.


Lycoris, Lycidas, and Dryope
        Cannot, dear Niblo, save thy name from death;
        Shadows that fleet, and flowers that yield their breath,
        Match not the Love that craves infinity.
The beauty thou dost worship dwells in thee:
        Within thy soul divine it harboureth:
        This also bids my spirit soar, and saith
        Words that unsphere for me heaven's harmony.
Make then thine inborn lustre beam and shine
        With love of goodness; goodness cannot fail:
        From God alone let praise immense be thine.
My soul is tired of telling o'er the tale
        With men: she calls on thine: she bids thee go
        Into God's school with tablets white as snow.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni