d such study and a diligence so great that, even had he
been by birth most rugged, he might through these means have become
consummate in all virtue: and supposing he were born, I do not say in
Florence and of a very noble family, in the time too of Lorenzo the
Magnificent, who recognised, willed, knew, and had the power to
elevate so vast a genius; but in Scythia, of any stock or stem you
like, under some commonplace barbarian chief, a fellow not disdainful
merely, but furiously hostile to all intellectual ability; still, in
all circumstances, under any star, he would have been Michelangelo,
that is to say, the unique painter, the singular sculptor, the most
perfect architect, the most excellent poet, and a lover of the most
divinest. For the which reasons I (it is now many years ago), holding
his name not only in admiration, but also in veneration, before I knew
that he was architect already, made a sonnet; with which (although it
be as much below the supreme greatness of his worth as it is unworthy
of your most refined and chastened ears) I mean to close this present
conference; reserving the discussion on the arts (in obedience to our
Consul's orders) for another lecture.

_Illustrious sculptor, 'twas enough and more,
Not with the chisel-and bruised bronze alone,
But also with brush, colour, pencil, tone,
To rival, nay, surpass that fame of yore.
But now, transcending what those laurels bore
Of pride and beauty for our age and zone.
You climb of poetry the third high throne,
Singing love's strife and-peace, love's sweet and sore.
O wise, and dear to God, old man well born,
Who in so many, so fair ways, make fair
This world, how shall your dues be dully paid?
Doomed by eternal charters to adorn
Nature and art, yourself their mirror are,
None, first before, nor second after, made."_

In the above translation of Varchi's peroration I have endeavoured to
sustain those long-winded periods of which he was so perfect and
professed a master. We must remember that he actually read this
dissertation before the Florentine Academy on the second Sunday in
Lent, in the year 1546, when Michelangelo was still alive and hearty.
He afterwards sent it to the press; and the studied trumpet-tones of
eulogy, conferring upon Michelangelo the quintuple crown of
pre-eminence in painting, sculpture, architecture, poetry, and loving,
sounded from Venice down to Naples. The style of the orat