The Sonnets Of Michael Angelo Buonarroti And Tommaso Campanella - LightNovelsOnl.com
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_LOVE'S ENTREATY._
_Tu sa' ch' i' so, Signor mie._
Thou knowest, love, I know that thou dost know That I am here more near to thee to be, And knowest that I know thou knowest me: What means it then that we are sundered so?
If they are true, these hopes that from thee flow, If it is real, this sweet expectancy, Break down the wall that stands 'twixt me and thee; For pain in prison pent hath double woe.
Because in thee I love, O my loved lord, What thou best lovest, be not therefore stern: Souls burn for souls, spirits to spirits cry!
I seek the splendour in thy fair face stored; Yet living man that beauty scarce can learn, And he who fain would find it, first must die.
LVI.
FIRST READING.
_HEAVEN-BORN BEAUTY._
_Per ritornar la._
As one who will reseek her home of light, Thy form immortal to this prison-house Descended, like an angel piteous, To heal all hearts and make the whole world bright.
'Tis this that thralls my soul in love's delight, Not thy clear face of beauty glorious; For he who harbours virtue, still will choose To love what neither years nor death can blight.
So fares it ever with things high and rare Wrought in the sweat of nature; heaven above Showers on their birth the blessings of her prime: Nor hath G.o.d deigned to show Himself elsewhere More clearly than in human forms sublime; Which, since they image Him, alone I love.
LVI.
SECOND READING.
_HEAVEN-BORN BEAUTY._
_Venne, non so ben donde._
It came, I know not whence, from far above, That clear immortal flame that still doth rise Within thy sacred breast, and fills the skies, And heals all hearts, and adds to heaven new love.
This burns me, this, and the pure light thereof; Not thy fair face, thy sweet untroubled eyes: For love that is not love for aught that dies, Dwells in the soul where no base pa.s.sions move.
If then such loveliness upon its own Should graft new beauties in a mortal birth, The sheath bespeaks the s.h.i.+ning blade within.
To gain our love G.o.d hath not clearer shown Himself elsewhere: thus heaven doth vie with earth To make thee worthy wors.h.i.+p without sin.
LVII.
FIRST READING.
_CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL LOVE._
_Pa.s.sa per gli occhi._
Swift through the eyes unto the heart within All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; So smooth and broad and open is the way That thousands and not hundreds enter in.
Burdened with scruples and weighed down with sin, These mortal beauties fill me with dismay; Nor find I one that doth not strive to stay My soul on transient joy, or lets me win The heaven I yearn for. Lo, when erring love-- Who fills the world, howe'er his power we shun, Else were the world a grave and we undone-- a.s.sails the soul, if grace refuse to fan Our purged desires and make them soar above, What grief it were to have been born a man!
LVII.
SECOND READING.
_CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL LOVE._
_Pa.s.sa per gli occhi._
Swift through the eyes unto the heart within All lovely forms that thrall our spirit stray; So smooth and broad and open is the way That thousands and not hundreds enter in Of every age and s.e.x: whence I begin, Burdened with griefs, but more with dull dismay, To fear; nor find mid all their bright array One that with full content my heart may win.
If mortal beauty be the food of love, It came not with the soul from heaven, and thus That love itself must be a mortal fire: But if love reach to n.o.bler hopes above, Thy love shall scorn me not nor dread desire That seeks a carnal prey a.s.sailing us.
LVIII.
_LOVE AND DEATH._
_Ognor che l' idol mio._
Whene'er the idol of these eyes appears Unto my musing heart so weak and strong, Death comes between her and my soul ere long Chasing her thence with troops of gathering fears.
Nathless this violence my spirit cheers With better hope than if she had no wrong; While Love invincible arrays the throng Of dauntless thoughts, and thus harangues his peers: But once, he argues, can a mortal die; But once be born: and he who dies afire, What shall he gain if erst he dwelt with me?
That burning love whereby the soul flies free, Doth lure each fervent spirit to aspire Like gold refined in flame to G.o.d on high.
LIX.
_LOVE IS A REFINER'S FIRE._
_Non piu ch' 'l foco il fabbro._
It is with fire that blacksmiths iron subdue Unto fair form, the image of their thought: Nor without fire hath any artist wrought Gold to its utmost purity of hue.
Nay, nor the unmatched phoenix lives anew, Unless she burn: if then I am distraught By fire, I may to better life be brought Like those whom death restores nor years undo.
The fire whereof I speak, is my great cheer; Such power it hath to renovate and raise Me who was almost numbered with the dead; And since by nature fire doth find its sphere Soaring aloft, and I am all ablaze, Heavenward with it my flight must needs be sped.
LX.
FIRST READING.
