[Translations from Michael Angelo, done at the request of Mr. Duppa, whose acquaintance I made through Mr. Southey.  Mr. Duppa was engaged in writing the life of Michael Angelo, and applied to Mr. Southey and myself to furnish some specimens of his poetic genius.—­I.  F.]

Compare the two sonnets entitled ‘At Florence—­from Michael Angelo’, in the “Memorials of a Tour in Italy” in 1837.

The following extract from a letter of Wordsworth’s to Sir George Beaumont, dated October 17, 1805, will cast light on the next three sonnets.

“I mentioned Michael Angelo’s poetry some time ago; it is the most difficult to construe I ever met with, but just what you would expect from such a man, shewing abundantly how conversant his soul was with great things.  There is a mistake in the world concerning the Italian language; the poetry of Dante and Michael Angelo proves, that if there be little majesty and strength in Italian verse, the fault is in the authors, and not in the tongue.  I can translate, and have translated two books of Ariosto, at the rate, nearly, of one hundred lines a day; but so much meaning has been put by Michael Angelo into so little room, and that meaning sometimes so excellent in itself, that I found the difficulty of translating him insurmountable.  I attempted, at least, fifteen of the sonnets, but could not anywhere succeed.  I have sent you the only one I was able to finish; it is far from being the best, or most characteristic, but the others were too much for me.”

The last of the three sonnets probably belongs to the year 1804, as it is quoted in a letter to Sir George Beaumont, dated Grasmere, August 6.  The year is not given, but I think it must have been 1804, as he says that “within the last month,” he had written, “700 additional lines” of ‘The Prelude’; and that poem was finished in May 1805.

The titles given to them make it necessary to place these Sonnets in the order which follows.

One of the “Miscellaneous Sonnets.”—­Ed.

I

  Yes! hope may with my strong desire keep pace,
  And I be undeluded, unbetrayed;
  For if of our affections none finds [1] grace
  In sight of Heaven, then, wherefore hath God made
  The world which we inhabit?  Better plea 5
  Love cannot have, than that in loving thee
  Glory to that eternal Peace is paid,
  Who such divinity to thee imparts
  As hallows and makes pure all gentle hearts. 
  His hope is treacherous only whose love dies 10
  With beauty, which is varying every hour;
  But, in chaste hearts uninfluenced by the power
  Of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower,
  That breathes on earth the air of paradise.

* * * * *

VARIANT ON THE TEXT

[Variant 1: 

1849.