E prega, e forza ch’io vi segua et ami;
Chè quel che non e voi, non è il mio bene.
Amor, che sprezza ogni altra maraviglia,
Per mia salute vuol ch’io cerchi e brami
Voi sole solo: e così l’alma tiene
D’ogni alta spene e d’ogni valor priva;
E vuol ch’io arda e viva
Non sol di voi, ma chi di voi somiglia
Degli occhi e delle ciglia alcuna parte.
E chi da voi si parte,
Occhi mia vita, non ha luce poi;
Chè ’l ciel non è dove non sete voi._
_All Nature urgently doth me advise,
Implore, compel, to follow thee, and cling
To my sole blessed thing.
Love, who doth other loveliness despise,
To make me seek salvation only here,
Doth in my heart destroy
Desire of other joy,
And only measure of delight allow
In beauty semblant to thine eye and brow;
Yet being no longer near
To you, clear eyes, its light hath ceased to shine,
For only where you dwell is heaven of mine._
XIX
_Chi è quel che per forza a te mi mena,
Ohimè ohimè ohimè!
Legato e stretto, e son libero e sciolto?
Se tu ’ncateni altrui senza catena,
E senza mani o braccia m’hai raccolto,
Chi mi difenderà dal tuo bel volto?_
_Who theeward draws me, spite my striving vain?
Ah woe is me!
Am I at once imprisonèd and free?
If thou dost chain me without any chain,
And handless, armless, all my life embrace,
Who shall defend me from thy lovely face?_
XX
_Se ’l commodo de gli occhi alcun constringe
Con l’uso, parte insieme
La ragion perde, e teme;
Che più s’inganna quel ch’a sè più crede:
Onde nel cor dipinge
Per bello quel a picciol beltà cede.
Ben vi fo, donna, fede
Che ’l commodo nè ’l uso non m’ha preso,
Sì di raro e mie’ veggion gli occhi vostri
Circonstritti ov’a pena il desir vola.
Un punto sol m’ha acceso;
Nè più vi vidi ch’una volta sola._
_If habit of the eyes engender ease,
Faint Reason on her way
Feareth to go astray,
Lest inwardly she taketh
For beauty fair, what beauty quite forsaketh.
Lady, it doth appear
That ease and custom have not made you dear,
For that my looks are foreign to your own,
Toward whose confìne my wishes dare not soar;
I was inflamèd in a breath alone;
Your feature I have gazed on once, no more._
XXI
_Un uomo in una donna, anzi uno dio,
Per la sua bocca parla:
Ond’io per ascoltarla
Son fatto tal, che ma’ più sarò mio.
I’ credo ben, po’ ch’io
A me da lei fu tolto,
Fuor di me stesso aver di me pietate:
Si sopra ’l van desio
Mi sprona il suo bel volto,
Ch’io veggio morte in ogn’altra beltate.
O donna, che passate
Per acqua e foco l’alme a’ lieti giorni,
Deh fate ch’a me stesso più non torni!_
_Thoughts of a man, nay of a god alone,
Her lips of woman render eloquent;
Whence I, who listen purely with content,
May nevermore depart and be mine own.
Since she my life hath taken,
And self have I forsaken,
I pity self that I was wont to be.
From wavering will astray
Her fair face maketh free,
Till other beauty death appears to me.
Thou, who dost souls convey
To Paradise through chastening fire and wave,
Lest I to self return, dear lady, save!_
XXII
_Io dico che fra noi, potenti dei,
Convien ch’ogni riverso si sopporti!
Poi che sarete morti
Di mille ’ngiurie e torti,
Amando te com’or di lei tu ardi,
Far ne potrai giustamente vendetta.
Ahimè lasso chi pur tropp’aspetta
Ch’i’ gionga a’ suoi conforti tanto tardi!
Ancor, se ben riguardi,
Un generoso alter’e nobil core
Perdon’, e porta a chi l’offend’amore._
FLORENTINE EXILE
_O’er us, I think, divinities on high!
Impendeth every shameful overthrow!_
MICHELANGELO
_Albeit thou underlie
A thousand deaths of injury and woe,
A period will be,
When loved by her as she is loved by thee,
Thou mayest the sweet of lawful vengeance know._
FLORENTINE EXILE
_Alas! for aye aweary doth he dwell,
Who waiteth for his comfort coming slow!
And perfect truth to tell,
A generous heart, of proud nobility,
Forgiveth, and doth love its enemy._
XXIII
_S’alcuna parte in donna è che sia bella,
Benchè l’altre sian brutte,
Debb’io amarle tutte
Pel gran placer ch’io prendo sol di quella?
La parte che s’appella,
Mentre il gioir n’attrista,
A la ragion, pur vuole
Che l’innocente error si scusi e ami.
Amor, che mi favella
Della noiosa vista,
Com’irato dir suole,
Che nel suo regno non s’attenda o chiami.
E ’l ciel pur vuol ch’io brami
A quel che spiace non sia pietà vana;
Chè ’l uso agli occhi ogni malfatto sana._
_If that she own a feature passing fair,
While void of happy liking live the rest,
Ought I affection toward the whole to bear,
For sake of beauty by the one possessed?
The lovely part, distrest,
My praise doth deprecate,
And sue to Reason for her sisters’ sake,
That also they be cherished, and forgiven
For fault they did not mean. Then Love, irate,
Who thinketh but on pain that they have given,
Saith, in his court there lieth no appeal.
Yet Heaven willeth fondness that I feel,
When toward her imperfection merciful,
Time maketh her, for me, all beautiful._
XXIV
_Mestier non era all’alma tuo beltate
Legarme vinto con alcuna corda;
Che, se ben mi ricorda,
Sol d’uno sguardo fui prigione e preda:
C’alle gran doglie usate
Forz’è c’un debil cor subito ceda.
Ma chi fie ma’ che creda,
Preso da’ tuo’ begli occhi in brevi giorni
Un legnio secco e arso verde torni?_
_Thy sweetness had no need of cord or chain
Its prisoner to bind;
Too well I bear in mind,
How I was conquered by a glance alone;
The heart subdued by many an ancient pain
Hath lost the fortitude it erst did own.
Yet who hath ever known,
That wakened by a look, in time so brief,
A withered tree should kindle and bear leaf?_
XXV
_Amor, se tu se’ dio,
Non puo’ ciò che tu vuoi?
Deh fa’ per me, se puoi,
Quel ch’io farei per te, s’amor fuss’io!
Sconviensi al gran desio
D’alta beltà la speme,
Viepiù l’effetto, a chi è presso al morire.
Pon nel tuo grado il mio:
Dolce gli fie chi ’l preme?
Chè grazia per poc’ or, doppia ’l martire.
Ben ti voglio ancor dire:
Che sarie morte, s’a’ miseri è dura,
A chi muor giunto all’alta sua ventura?_
“_O love, thou art divine,
A god to work thy will;
Prithee, for me fulfil
All I would do for thee, if deity were mine._”
“_He were no friend of thine,
Who hope of lofty beauty should bestow
On one who presently must life forego;
Come put thee in my place,
Thy idle prayer retrace;
Wilt thou implore a gain,
That granted, only would enlarge the pain?
Death hath a sober face;
If even the unhappy find him rude,
How stern to one arrived at full beatitude?_”
NOTES ON THE SONNETS EPIGRAMS AND MADRIGALS
[Illustration: (Decorative header)]
NOTES ON THE SONNETS
_The Roman numbers, in the Introduction and Notes, refer to the
numeration of Guasti (Le Rime di Michelangelo Buonarroti, Florence,
1863)._
ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS OF THE POEMS.--On the corrupted texts of 1623
were based the versions of J. E. Taylor (Michael Angelo considered as
a Philosophic Poet. With Translations. London, 1840), and of J. S.
Harford (Life of Michael Angelo Buonarroti. With Translations of many
of his Poems and Letters. London, 1857). The beautiful renderings of
Wordsworth (five sonnets) depended on the same faulty presentation.
The correct texts of Guasti were followed by J. A. Symonds in his
complete translation of the sonnets (The Sonnets of Michael Angelo
Buonarroti and Tommasi Campanella. London, 1878). In his biography
of the sculptor (The Life of Michael-Angelo Buonarroti. London,
1893), Symonds rendered several of the madrigals. A selection from
the poems, with the Italian text, and renderings by different hands,
was edited by Mrs. E. D. Cheney (Selected Poems from Michael-Angelo
Buonarroti. With Translations from various sources. Boston, 1885).
This publication includes thirteen epitaphs for Cecchino Bracchi, and
the verses written by Michelangelo on the death of his father, as well
as a number of the sonnets of the last period (after 1547). Versions
of single sonnets may be found scattered through periodical literature.
1 [I] Donato Giannotti wrote an essay concerning the duration of
the journey through Hell and Purgatory, as related in the “Divina
Commedia.” This discussion he cast into the form of a dialogue, in
which Michelangelo is given the principal part; the conversation is
dated as taking place in 1545, and one of the interlocutors is made
to recite the sonnet which, with doubtful accuracy, is said to have
been composed a few days before. The work of Giannotti is interesting
as containing the estimate of a contemporary concerning the character
of Michelangelo, but the words assigned to him cannot be considered
as a record of his actual expressions. The essayist seems to have
applied to the artist for material, as indicated by the subscription
of the following sonnet, probably composed at this time.
[II]
QUANTE DIRNE SI DE’ NON SI PUÒ DIRE
_His praise remains unuttered, for his fire
Of glory burneth with o’ervivid flame;
The home that wronged him easier to blame,
Than toward his humblest merit to aspire.
This man for us descended, where God’s ire
Subdueth sin, once more toward heaven rose;
The gates that his Creator did not close,
A cruel city barred to his desire.
Ah ruthless mother, nurse of her own woe,
In measure as her sons are excellent,
Their sorrow making bitterly to flow!
Of thousand instances one argument;
No man hath lived more shamefully exiled,
No age hath known a like, a greater child._
2 [XIV] The sketch, characterized by rude vigor, lacks the truth and
harmony essential to a beautiful work; these qualities are to be
attained by the final touches of the hammer, or, as we should now
say, of the chisel. So it is only the influence of the beloved person
which can perfect the incomplete design of Nature, and bestow on the
character its final excellence. Of all the sonnets, this is the most
celebrated.
Respecting an inferior variant, the younger Buonarroti, in an
obscure mention, appears to say that it was contained in a letter
of the sculptor written in 1550, which letter made mention of
the marchioness of Pescara; and this assertion has led Guasti to
refer the sonnet to that date. It is quite clear, however, that
the treatment does not belong to the later period, after the death
of Vittoria Colonna, in which the productions of Michelangelo had
assumed the monotone of a colorless piety. It seems to me more likely
that the time of composition is to be set earlier than 1534, and that
the conception, ideal in character, had no relation to Vittoria, with
whom the sculptor had perhaps not yet become acquainted.
3 [XV] The sculptor, who is designated as the best of artists, on
beholding the block of marble at his disposal, obtains the suggestion
of a statue; this possible work appears to him as a figure concealed
beneath the veil of superincumbent matter, which he proceeds to
remove. His success will depend on the clearness of internal vision;
if he lack the vivid conception, the result will be an abortive
product, which metaphorically may be called a likeness of Death. So
if the lover, in place of the “mercy” which he desires to awaken, can
create in the heart of his lady only a feeling inconsistent with his
wishes, the blame should be laid solely to his own insufficiency.
The idea is poetic, not philosophic, and the sonnet a poem of love,
belonging to what I have called the earlier manner of the poet. The
sonnet has been paraphrased by Emerson:--
_Never did sculptor’s dream unfold
A form which marble doth not hold
In its white block; yet it therein shall find
Only the hand secure and bold
Which still obeys the mind.
So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame,
The ill I shun, the good I claim;
I, alas! not well alive,
Miss the aim whereto I strive.
Not love, nor beauty’s pride,
Nor fortune, nor thy coldness can I chide,
If whilst within thy heart abide
Both death and pity, my unequal skill
Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill._
In this rendering the fourth line is open to criticism; it is not
want of manual skill that is the cause of failure, but the inability
to form an adequate idea. Harford modernizes the introductory lines:--
_Whate’er conception a great artist fires,
Its answering semblance latent lies within
A block of marble._
The metaphor is thus reduced to the scholastic platitude, that in
all matter lies the potentiality of form. So Varchi understood
the lines, and cites Aristotle as authority that the action of an
agent is nothing but the extraction of a thing from potency to act;
with changes on such intolerable jargon he occupies two pages. The
lecture, intended to be flattering, only serves to show with what
contemporary crassness the delicate conceptions of Michelangelo were
obliged to struggle.
4 [XVII] The contrast between the permanence of the artistic product
and the transitoriness of the mortal subject suggests reflections
which may take different turns. (See madrigal No. 9 [XIII].) One is
reminded of certain sonnets of Shakespeare.
5 [XIX] The lover feels himself enriched by the impression of the
beloved, which, like the divine name on the seal of Solomon, confers
the power of working miracles. The pretty composition is among the
few which may be said to be inspired by a really cheerful and joyous
sentiment, and, like the preceding, may be held to belong to the
earlier manner of the poet.
6 [XX] This most beautiful sonnet, somewhat immature in its music,
is a precious relic of Michelangelo’s early love verse. The poem was
written below a letter from his father, received in Bologna, and
dated 24 December, 1507. Subscribed is the line: _La m’arde e lega et
emmi e parmi un zucchero_. “She burns me and binds me and eats me,
and I think her a sugarplum.” The lines, therefore, have a biographic
inspiration, and may be presumed to have been in honor of some young
beauty of Bologna. A fragment of a madrigal seems akin.
[CII]
_Lezzi, vezzi, carezze, or feste e perle;
Chi potria ma’ vederle
Cogli atti suo’ divin l’uman lavoro,
Ove l’argento e l’oro
Da le’ ricieve o duplica suo luce?
Ogni gemma più luce
Dagli occhi suo’ che da propia virtute._
“_Looks, laughter, graces, gaud, and pearl;
Who that gazeth on the girl
Ever hath a thought to spare
For the gold that gleameth there,
Or if silver sparkle fair?
Every gem that on her lies
Borroweth lustre from her eyes._”
In this connection also should be cited the sonnet which Guasti
has placed next in order, and which also seems to contain internal
evidence of belonging to a period relatively early.
[XXI]
D’ALTRUI PIETOSO E SOL DI SÈ SPIETATO
_To others kind, and only self-oppressed,
Doth live a lowly worm, that to adorn
A lady’s beauty will her life divest,
In death alone appearing nobly born.
So would my lady might esteem no scorn
Her life in my mortality to vest,
That I might shed this slough, and be reborn
Forth from my being to a state more blest.
Would that of me the silken thread were twined,
That fashioned to her happy gown, doth use
So fair a bosom with content to bind,
By day at least to wear me; or the shoes,
That like the column’s base, her steps sustain,
If only in the falling of the rain!_
It would seem that these remains of the poetical activity of early
manhood, though not numerous, are yet sufficient to refute the
rash generalizations of biographers who undertake to sum up the
personality from their impressions of the artistic product. It
does seem strange that with these lines before him, Mr. Symonds
could have written: “Michelangelo emerges as a mighty master who
was dominated by the vision of male beauty, and who saw the female
mainly through the fascination of the other sex. The defect of
his art is due to a certain constitutional callousness, a want
of sensuous or imaginative sensibility for what is specifically
feminine.... Michelangelo neither loved nor admired nor yielded to
the female sex.... I find it difficult to resist the conclusion
that Michelangelo felt himself compelled to treat women as though
they were another and less graceful sort of males. What he did not
comprehend and could not represent was woman in her girlishness, her
youthful joy, her physical attractions, her magic of seduction....
What makes Michelangelo’s crudity in his plastic treatment of the
female form the more remarkable is that in his poetry he seems to
feel the influence of women mystically. I shall have to discuss this
topic in another place. It is enough here to say that, with very
few exceptions, we remain in doubt whether he is addressing a woman
at all. There are none of those spontaneous utterances by which a
man involuntarily expresses the outgoings of his heart to a beloved
object, the throb of irresistible emotion, the physical ache, the
sense of wanting, the joys and pains, the hopes and fears, which
belong to genuine passion.... Michelangelo’s ‘donna’ might just as
well be a man; and indeed, the poems he addressed to men, though they
have nothing sensual about them, reveal a finer touch in the emotion
of the writer.” (Life, vol. i, c. vi, 8. See vol. ii, pp. 381-5.)
The reasons for the limitation which may have prevented Michelangelo
from adequately representing the sensuous aspect of womanhood, should
be sought in the character of his plastic genius. So far as the power
of appreciation is concerned, and especially in regard to the spirit
of the verse, the opinion of Mr. Symonds appears to me to reverse the
fact. The nature of the artist may be pronounced especially sensitive
to the physical influence of woman. If, in the extant poetry, this
sentiment appears in chastened form, such calmness may be set down
solely to the period of life. Yet even in these later compositions,
extreme impressibility is revealed in every line. Mr. Symonds’s error
has prevented him from entering into the spirit of the sonnets, and
also constitutes a deficiency in his instructive biography. (See note
to sonnet No. 13 [XXX].)
7 [XXII] The verse, direct and passionate, though doubtless of
a later date, still bears the character of pieces which must be
pronounced relatively early. Observable is the use of theologic
metaphor, employed only for the sake of poetic coloring, and not yet
sublimed to pure thought.
8 [XXIV] This delightful sonnet, according to the nephew, was found
on a letter bearing date of 1529. (See p. 7.) The lines seem to give
the idea of a gentle and lovely personage whose countenance shines
out as through a golden mist. In later compositions, the conflict of
Death and Love is worked out differently. (See madrigal No. 9 [XIII].)
9 [XXV] On the same authority, this inexpressibly charming production
is assigned to 1529. Here appear the germs of Platonic imagination.
The soul, a divine essence, endows the visible suggestion with the
spiritual essence derived from its own store. But the object is not
completely divinized; the end is still possession. The reflective
element will increase, the sensuous lessen, until poetry passes over
into piety.
10 [XXVII] The love verse is not to be taken as wholly biographic,
but rather as ideal.
11 [XXVIII] The atmosphere of the sonnet is that of later time and
of a more rarefied height. We are now in full Platonism. The soul,
heaven-born, perceives in the eyes of the beloved its primal home,
the Paradise whence itself has descended, and the heavenly affection
of which earthly love is a reminiscence. But the period may still be
before the Roman residence, and the meeting with Vittoria Colonna.
12 [XXIX] This sonnet may safely be set down as belonging to the
later time. The sentiment of unhappy attachment, impossible desire,
wistful loneliness, breathes through the verse. The piece contains
two mystical but grand lines. Whoever has hoped for an elevation not
given to mortals has wasted his thought in the endeavor to penetrate
the recesses of deity, as seed is lost on the stony ground, and words
spent in the limitless air.
13 [XXX] This gentle and tender poem, of the earlier period, somewhat
similar in sentiment to No. 5 [XIX], and obviously from the heart, is
penetrated by the same feeling as that discernible in Nos. 8 and 9
[XXIV and XXV]. Varchi, with his characteristic want of perception,
chose to fancy that it might be addressed to a man, like the
following, said to be composed for Tommaso Cavalieri.
[XXXI]
A CHE PIÙ DEBB’IO MAI L’INTENSA VOGLIA
_What right have I to give my passion vent
In bitter plaint and words of sighing breath,
If Heaven, soon or late, apparelleth
Each living soul in mantle of lament?
Why ere his time, invoke the feet of Death,
When Death will come? Nay, rather let my glance
At last dwell peaceful on his countenance,
Since other good my sorrow vanquisheth.
Yet if no power is mine to shun the blow
I court and seek; what help will be my own,
To interpose ’twixt dolor and delight?
Since prison and defeat allure me so,
It is not strange, if naked and alone,
I remain captive of an armèd knight._
The words _cavalier armato_ are supposed to have referred to the
aforesaid Cavalieri, a Roman youth whom Varchi describes as all that
was beautiful and lovable. The highest male beauty seems to have had
for Italians of the Renaissance, an attraction similar to that which
it possessed for Athenians, a charm which our modern taste does not
entirely comprehend. Thus the early death of Cecchino Bracchi had
produced a great sensation; the epitaphs addressed to his memory by
Michelangelo, who had never looked on his face, attest the sincerity
of his own sentiment. For Cavalieri, whom the artist had known in
1533, he seems to have what can be described only as a passion;
the three extant letters addressed to the young man breathe that
timidity, sense of inferiority, and fear of misunderstanding which
ordinarily belong only to sexual attachment. This emotion needs
no apology other than that contained in a letter to this friend:
“And if you are sure of my affection, you ought to think and know
that he who loveth remembereth, and can no more forget the things
he fervently loves, than a hungry man the food that nourishes him;
nay, much less may one forget beloved objects than the food on which
man liveth; for they nourish both soul and body, the last with the
greatest sobriety, and the first with tranquil felicity and the
expectation of everlasting salvation.” (Lettere, No. 4, 16.) The
susceptibility of Michelangelo toward external impressions is noted
by Giannotti, who makes him affirm that as often as he set eyes
on any person endowed with excellence he could not help becoming
enamored of him in such manner that he surrendered himself to him as
a prey. (Guasti, Rime, p. XXXI.) To the point is Michelangelo’s own
estimate of his character expressed in a sonnet.
[XVIII]
AL COR DI ZOLFO, ALLA CARNE DI STOPPA
_The heart of sulphur and the flesh of tow,
The bones inflammable as tinder dried,
The soul without a bridle, without guide,
In liking prompt, toward joy o’erswift to go,
The reason purblind, halting, lame, and slow,
Tangled in nets wherewith the world doth teem,
No marvel ’tis, if even in a gleam
I kindle up in flame that first doth glow.
With that fair art endowed, whereby the mind
From heaven that bringeth, Nature doth outvie,
And with itself all being occupy,
If I thereto was born nor deaf nor blind,
Proportionate to heat that I desire,
’Tis fault of him who made for me the fire._
It is well to know that Cavalieri seems to have had a modest
and noble nature, and that his personal attachment and artistic
appreciation soothed the declining days of Michelangelo, at whose end
he was present.
The mention of Michelangelo himself (Lettere, No. 466; Symonds, Life,
vol. ii, p. 130) seems to prove that this sonnet was really composed
for his young friend. But it is one thing to conclude that the piece
was addressed to Cavalieri, quite another to suppose that it was
inspired by him. The ideas are the same as those elsewhere appearing
in reference to women. The composition does not appear to me one of
the most original, and I should be disposed to regard it as ordinary
love verse, into which, out of compliment, the writer had introduced
the punning allusion. In any case, it is to be observed that in the
Platonic compositions treating of male friendship, the whole argument
is metaphorical, the comparisons being borrowed from the earlier
poetry of sexual love.