[10] ‘De Libras Proprus,’ I 3, quoted by Orelli and Alessandro d’Ancona.  ‘Opere di Tommaso Campanella,’ vol.  I. p 3.

[11] ‘Opere di Tommaso Campanella,’ vol.  I p. ccci.

[12] Campanella’s own poetry justified this curious nom de plume adopted for him by his editor.  See in particular ’Salmodia Metafisicale,’ canzone terza, madrigale ix.

    ’Tre canzon, nate a un parto
    Da questa mia settimontana testa,
    Al suon dolente di pensosa squilla.’

[13] These are the sonnets entitled by Adami ’La detta Congiunzione cade nella revoluzione della Nativita di Cristo,’ and ’Sonetto cavato dall’ Apocalisse e Santa Brigida,’ D’Ancona, vol. 1. pp. 97, 98.

[14] In this respect rifacimento of 1623 has greater literary merits—­ the merits of mere smoothness, clearness, grammatical coherence, and intelligibility—­than the autograph; and I can understand the preference of some students for the former, though I do not share it Michelangelo the younger added fluency and grace to his great-uncle’s composition by the sacrifice of much that is most characteristic, and by the omission of much that is profound and vigorous and weighty.

PROEM.

THE PHILOSOPHIC FLIGHT.

Poi che spiegate.

Now that these wings to speed my wish ascend,
The more I feel vast air beneath my feet,
The more toward boundless air on pinions fleet,
Spurning the earth, soaring to heaven, I tend: 
Nor makes them stoop their flight the direful end
Of Daedal’s son; but upward still they beat:—­
What life the while with my life can compete,
Though dead to earth at last I shall descend? 
My own heart’s voice in the void air I hear: 
Where wilt thou bear me, O rash man?  Recall
Thy daring will!  This boldness waits on fear! 
Dread not, I answer, that tremendous fall: 
Strike through the clouds, and smile when death is near,
If death so glorious be our doom at all!

THE SONNETS

OF

MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI

I.

ON DANTE ALIGHIERI.

Dal ciel discese.

From heaven his spirit came, and robed in clay
    The realms of justice and of mercy trod,
    Then rose a living man to gaze on God,
    That he might make the truth as clear as day. 
For that pure star that brightened with his ray
    The undeserving nest where I was born,
    The whole wide world would be a prize to scorn;
    None but his Maker can due guerdon pay. 
I speak of Dante, whose high work remains
    Unknown, unhonoured by that thankless brood,
    Who only to just men deny their wage. 
Were I but he!  Born for like lingering pains,
    Against his exile coupled with his good
    I’d gladly change the world’s best heritage!