The Sonnets Of Michael Angelo Buonarroti And Tommaso Campanella Part 21

The golden head was Babylon; she pa.s.sed: Persia came next, the silvern breast: whereto Joined brazen flank and belly--these are you, Ye men of Macedon! Now Rome's the last.

Rome on two iron legs towered tall and vast; But at her feet were toes of clay, that drew Downfall: those scattered tribes erewhile she knew For lords; now 'neath her fatal sway they're cast.

Ah thirsty soil! From your parched fallow fumes A smoke of pride, vain-glory, cruelty, That blinds, infects, and blackens, and consumes!

To Daniel, to the Bible you refuse Your rebel sense; for it is still your use To screen yourself with lies and sophistry.

XLVIII.

_THE DUNGEON._

_Come va al centro._

As to the centre all things that have weight Sink from the surface: as the silly mouse Runs at a venture, rash though timorous, Into the monster's jaws to meet her fate: Thus all who love high Science, from the strait Dead sea of Sophistry sailing like us Into Truth's ocean, bold and amorous, Must in our haven anchor soon or late.

One calls this haunt a Cave of Polypheme, And one Atlante's Palace, one of Crete The Labyrinth, and one h.e.l.l's lowest pit.

Knowledge, grace, mercy, are an idle dream In this dread place. Nought but fear dwells in it, Of stealthy Tyranny the sacred seat.

XLIX.

_THE SAGE ON EARTH._

_Sciolto e legato._

Bound and yet free, companioned and alone, Loud mid my silence, I confound my foes: Men think me fool in this vile world of woes; G.o.d's wisdom greets me sage from heaven's high throne.

With wings on earth oppressed aloft I bound; My gleeful soul sad bonds of flesh enclose: And though sometimes too great the burden grows, These pinions bear me upward from the ground.

A doubtful combat proves the warrior's might: Short is all time matched with eternity: Nought than a pleasing burden is more light.

My brows I bind with my love's effigy, Sure that my joyous flight will soon be sped Where without speech my thoughts shall all be read.

L.

_THE PRICE OF FREEDOM._

_D' Italia in Grecia._

From Rome to Greece, from Greece to Libya's sand, Yearning for liberty, just Cato went; Nor finding freedom to his heart's content, Sought it in death, and died by his own hand.

Wise Hannibal, when neither sea nor land Could save him from the Roman eagles, rent His soul with poison from imprisonment; And a snake's tooth cut Cleopatra's band.

In this way died one valiant Maccabee; Brutus feigned madness; prudent Solon hid His sense; and David, when he feared Gath's king.

Thus when the Mystic found that Jonah's sea Was yawning to engulf him, what he did He gave to G.o.d--a wise man's offering.

LI.

_APOLOGY BY PARADOX._

_Non e brutto il Demon._

The Devil's not so ugly as they paint; He's well with all, compact of courtesy: Real heroism is real piety: Before small truth great falsehoods shrink and faint If pots stain worse than pipkins, it were quaint To charge the pipkins with impurity: Freedom I crave: who craves not to be free?

Yet life that must be feigned for, leaves a taint.

Ill conduct brings repentance?--If you prate This wise to me, why prate not thus to all Philosophers and prophets, and to Christ?

Not too much learning, as some arrogate, But the small brains of dullards have sufficed To make us wretched and the world enthrall.

LII.

_THE SOUL'S APOLOGY._

_Ben sei mila anni._

Six thousand years or more on earth I've been: Witness those histories of nations dead, Which for our age I have ill.u.s.trated In philosophic volumes, scene by scene.

And thou, mere mite, seeing my sun serene Eclipsed, wilt argue that I had no head To live by.--Why not try the sun instead, If nought in fate unfathomed thou hast seen?

If wise men, whom the world rebukes, combined With tyrant wolves, brute beasts we should become.

The sage, once stoned for sin, you canonise.

When rennet melts, much milk makes haste to bind.

The more you blow the flames, the more they rise, Bloom into stars, and find in heaven their home.

LIII.

_TO G.o.d ON PRAYER._

_Tu che Forza ed Amor._

O Thou, who, mingling Force and Love, dost draw And guide the complex of all ent.i.ties, Framed for that purpose; whence our reason sees In supreme Fate the synthesis of Law; Though prayers transgress which find defect or flaw In things foredoomed by Thy divine decrees, Yet wilt Thou modify, by slow degrees Or swift, good times or bad Thy mind foresaw: I therefore pray--I who through years have been The scorn of fools, the b.u.t.t of impious men, Suffering new pains and torments day by day-- Shorten this anguish, Lord, these griefs allay; For still Thou shalt not have changed counsel when I soar from hence to liberty foreseen.

LIV.

_TO G.o.d FOR HELP._

_Come vuoi, ch' a buon porto._

How wilt Thou I should gain a harbour fair, If after proof among my friends I find That some are faithless, some devoid of mind, Some short of sense, though stout to do and dare?

If some, though wise and loyal, like the hare Hide in a hole, or fly in terror blind, While nerve with wisdom and with faith combined Through malice and through penury despair?

Reason, Thy honour, and my weal eschewed That false ally who said he came from Thee, With promise vain of power and liberty.

I trust:--I'll do. Change Thou the bad to good!-- But ere I raise me to that alt.i.tude, Needs must I merge in Thee as Thou in me.