ation in his style
at large; nor can we reckon what the world lost when his volume of
drawings in illustration of the "Divine Comedy" perished at sea.[417] The
two following sonnets, therefore, whenever written, may be taken as
expressing his settled feeling about the first and greatest of Italian
poets:[418]--

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 ill-deserving 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!

QUANTE DIRNI SI DE'

No tongue can tell of him what should be told,
For on blind eyes his splendour shines too strong;
'Twere easier to blame those who wrought him wrong,
Than sound his least praise with a mouth of gold.

He to explore the place of pain was bold,
Then soared to God, to teach our souls by song;
The gates heaven oped to bear his feet along,
Against his just desire his country rolled.

Thankless I call her, and to her own pain
The nurse of fell mischance; for sign take this,
That ever to the best she deals more scorn:
Among a thousand proofs let one remain;
Though ne'er was fortune more unjust than his,
His equal or his better ne'er was born.

About the date of the two next sonnets there is less doubt. The first was
clearly written when Michael Angelo was smarting under a sense of the
ill-treatment he received from Julius. The second, composed at Rome, is
interesting as the only proof we possess of the impression made upon his
mind by the anomalies of the Papal rule. Here, in the capital of
Christendom, he writes, holy things are sold for money to be used in
warfare, and the pontiff, _quel nel manto_, paralyses the powers of the
sculptor by refusing him employment.[419]

SIGNOR, SE VERO E

My Lord! if ever ancient saw spake sooth,
Hear this which saith: Who can, doth never will.
Lo! thou hast lent thine ea