The Sonnets Of Michael Angelo Buonarroti And Tommaso Campanella Part 13

Nay, ere Thou strip her mortal vestment, turn My steps toward the steep ascent, that whole And pure before Thy face she may be brought.

LXXI.

_A PRAYER FOR PURIFICATION._

_Forse perche d' altrui._

Perchance that I might learn what pity is, That I might laugh at erring men no more, Secure in my own strength as heretofore, My soul hath fallen from her state of bliss: Nor know I under any flag but this How fighting I may 'scape those perils sore, Or how survive the rout and horrid roar Of adverse hosts, if I Thy succour miss.

O fles.h.!.+ O blood! O cross! O pain extreme!

By you may those foul sins be purified, Wherein my fathers were, and I was born!

Lo, Thou alone art good: let Thy supreme Pity my state of evil cleanse and hide-- So near to death, so far from G.o.d, forlorn.

LXXII.

_A PRAYER FOR AID._

_Deh fammiti vedere._

Oh, make me see Thee, Lord, where'er I go!

If mortal beauty sets my soul on fire, That flame when near to Thine must needs expire, And I with love of only Thee shall glow.

Dear Lord, Thy help I seek against this woe, These torments that my spirit vex and tire; Thou only with new strength canst re-inspire My will, my sense, my courage faint and low.

Thou gavest me on earth this soul divine; And Thou within this body weak and frail Didst prison it--how sadly there to live!

How can I make its lot less vile than mine?

Without Thee, Lord, all goodness seems to fail.

To alter fate is G.o.d's prerogative.

LXXIII.

_AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS._

_Scarco d' un' importuna._

Freed from a burden sore and grievous band, Dear Lord, and from this wearying world untied, Like a frail bark I turn me to Thy side, As from a fierce storm to a tranquil land.

Thy thorns, Thy nails, and either bleeding hand, With Thy mild gentle piteous face, provide Promise of help and mercies multiplied, And hope that yet my soul secure may stand.

Let not Thy holy eyes be just to see My evil past, Thy chastened ears to hear And stretch the arm of judgment to my crime: Let Thy blood only lave and succour me, Yielding more perfect pardon, better cheer, As older still I grow with lengthening time.

LXXIV.

FIRST READING.

_A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH._

_S' avvien che spesso._

What though strong love of life doth flatter me With hope of yet more years on earth to stay, Death none the less draws nearer day by day, Who to sad souls alone comes lingeringly.

Yet why desire long life and jollity, If in our griefs alone to G.o.d we pray?

Glad fortune, length of days, and pleasure slay The soul that trusts to their felicity.

Then if at any hour through grace divine The fiery shafts of love and faith that cheer And fortify the soul, my heart a.s.sail, Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine, Straight may I wing my way to heaven; for here With lengthening days good thoughts and wishes fail.

LXXIV.

SECOND READING.

_A PRAYER FOR GRACE IN DEATH._

_Parmi che spesso._

Ofttimes my great desire doth flatter me With hope on earth yet many years to stay: Still Death, the more I love it, day by day Takes from the life I love so tenderly.

What better time for that dread change could be, If in our griefs alone to G.o.d we pray?

Oh, lead me, Lord, oh, lead me far away From every thought that lures my soul from Thee!

Yea, if at any hour, through grace of Thine, The fervent zeal of love and faith that cheer And fortify the soul, my heart a.s.sail.

Since nought achieve these mortal powers of mine, Plant, like a saint in heaven, that virtue here; For, lacking Thee, all good must faint and fail.

LXXV.

_HEART-COLDNESS._

_Vorrei voler, Signior._

Fain would I wish what my heart cannot will: Between it and the fire a veil of ice Deadens the fire, so that I deal in lies; My words and actions are discordant still.

I love Thee with my tongue, then mourn my fill; For love warms not my heart, nor can I rise, Or ope the doors of Grace, who from the skies Might flood my soul, and pride and pa.s.sion kill.

Rend Thou the veil, dear Lord! Break Thou that wall Which with its stubbornness r.e.t.a.r.ds the rays Of that bright sun this earth hath dulled for me!

Send down Thy promised light to cheer and fall On Thy fair spouse, that I with love may blaze, And, free from doubt, my heart feel only Thee!

LXXVI.

_THE DEATH OF CHRIST._