acteristic compositions, as it
is also the most transparent in style[433]:--

O NOTT', O DOLCE TEMPO

O night, O sweet though sombre span of time!--
All things find rest upon their journey's end--
Whoso hath praised thee, well doth apprehend;
And whoso honours thee, hath wisdom's prime.
Our cares thou canst to quietude sublime,
For dews and darkness are of peace the friend;
Often by thee in dreams upborne I wend
From earth to heaven, where yet I hope to climb.

Thou shade of Death, through whom the soul at length
Shuns pain and sadness hostile to the heart,
Whom mourners find their last and sure relief!
Thou dost restore our suffering flesh to strength,
Driest our tears, assuagest every smart,
Purging the spirits of the pure from grief.

The religious sonnets have been reserved to the last. These were composed
in old age, when the early impressions of Savonarola's teaching revived,
and when Michael Angelo had grown to regard even his art and the beauty he
had loved go purely, as a snare. If we did not bear in mind the piety
expressed throughout his correspondence, their ascetic tone, and the
remorse they seem to indicate, would convey a painful sense of
cheerlessness and disappointment. As it is, they strike me as the natural
utterance of a profoundly devout and somewhat melancholy man, in whom
religion has survived all other interests, and who, reviewing his past
life of fame and toil, finds that the sole reality is God. The two first
of these compositions are addressed to Giorgio Vasari.[434]

GIUNIO E GIA

Now hath my life across a stormy sea
Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all
Are bidden ere the final judgment fall,
Of good or evil deeds to pay the fee.
Now know I well how that fond phantasy
Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall
Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal
Is that which all men seek unwillingly.

Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed,
What are they when the double death is nigh?
The one I know for sure, the other dread.
Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest
My soul that turns to His great love on high,
Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread.

LE FAVOLE DEL MONDO

The fables of the world have filched away
The time I had for thinking upon God;
His grace lies buried deep 'neath obliv