To Vittoria Colonna. Brazen Gifts For Golden.

Per esser manco almen.


Seeking at least to be not all unfit
        For thy sublime and boundless courtesy,
        My lowly thoughts at first were fain to try
        What they could yield for grace so infinite.
But now I know my unassisted wit
        Is all too weak to make me soar so high;
        For pardon, lady, for this fault I cry,
        And wiser still I grow remembering it.
Yea, well I see what folly 'twere to think
        That largess dropped from thee like dews from heaven
        Could e'er be paid by work so frail as mine!
To nothingness my art and talent sink;
        He fails who from his mortal stores hath given
        A thousandfold to match one gift divine.

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

To Vittoria Colonna. A Matchless Courtesy.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Heaven-Born Beauty. Second Reading.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

Love In Youth And Age. Second Reading.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets Of Tommaso Campanella - The Modern Cupid.

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.

To Vittoria Colonna. A Matchless Courtesy.

Felice spirto.


Blest spirit, who with loving tenderness
        Quickenest my heart so old and near to die,
        Who mid thy joys on me dost bend an eye
        Though many nobler men around thee press!
As thou wert erewhile wont my sight to bless,
        So to console my mind thou now dost fly;
        Hope therefore stills the pangs of memory,
        Which coupled with desire my soul distress.
So finding in thee grace to plead for me--
        Thy thoughts for me sunk in so sad a case--
        He who now writes, returns thee thanks for these.
Lo, it were foul and monstrous usury
        To send thee ugliest paintings in the place
        Of thy fair spirit's living phantasies.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Love's Servitude.

Perhaps To Vittoria Colonna.

S' alcun legato è pur.


He who is bound by some great benefit,
        As to be raised from death to life again,
        How shall he recompense that gift, or gain
        Freedom from servitude so infinite?
Yet if 'twere possible to pay the debt,
        He'd lose that kindness which we entertain
        For those who serve us well; since it is plain
        That kindness needs some boon to quicken it.
Wherefore, O lady, to maintain thy grace,
        So far above my fortune, what I bring
        Is rather thanklessness than courtesy:
For if both met as equals face to face,
        She whom I love could not be called my king;--
        There is no lordship in equality.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Thanks For A Gift.

Al zucchero, alla mula.


The sugar, candles, and the saddled mule,
        Together with your cask of malvoisie,
        So far exceed all my necessity
        That Michael and not I my debt must rule,
In such a glassy calm the breezes fool
        My sinking sails, so that amid the sea
        My bark hath missed her way, and seems to be
        A wisp of straw whirled on a weltering pool.
To yield thee gift for gift and grace for grace,
        For food and drink and carriage to and fro,
        For all my need in every time and place,
O my dear lord, matched with the much I owe,
        All that I am were no real recompense:
        Paying a debt is not munificence.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Second Reading. To Vittoria Colonna. The Model And The Statue.

Se ben concetto.


When that which is divine in us doth try
        To shape a face, both brain and hand unite
        To give, from a mere model frail and slight,
        Life to the stone by Art's free energy.
Thus too before the painter dares to ply
        Paint-brush or canvas, he is wont to write
        Sketches on scraps of paper, and invite
        Wise minds to judge his figured history.
So, born a model rude and mean to be
        Of my poor self, I gain a nobler birth,
        Lady, from you, you fountain of all worth!
Each overplus and each deficiency
        You will make good. What penance then is due
        For my fierce heat, chastened and taught by you?

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

First Reading. To Vittoria Colonna. The Model And The Statue.

Da che concetto.


When divine Art conceives a form and face,
        She bids the craftsman for his first essay
        To shape a simple model in mere clay:
        This is the earliest birth of Art's embrace.
From the live marble in the second place
        His mallet brings into the light of day
        A thing so beautiful that who can say
        When time shall conquer that immortal grace?
Thus my own model I was born to be--
        The model of that nobler self, whereto
        Schooled by your pity, lady, I shall grow.
Each overplus and each deficiency
        You will make good. What penance then is due
        For my fierce heat, chastened and taught by you?

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

On Dante Alighieri.

Quante dirne si de'.


No tongue can tell of him what should be told,
        For on blind eyes his splendour shines too strong;
        'Twere easier to blame those who wrought him wrong,
        Than sound his least praise with a mouth of gold.
He to explore the place of pain was bold,
        Then soared to God, to teach our souls by song;
        The gates heaven oped to bear his feet along,
        Against his just desire his country rolled.
Thankless I call her, and to her own pain
        The nurse of fell mischance; for sign take this,
        That ever to the best she deals more scorn:
Among a thousand proofs let one remain;
        Though ne'er was fortune more unjust than his,
        His equal or his better ne'er was born.

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni