Lxxvi. _The Death Of Christ._ Poem by Michelangelo Buonarroti
Lxxvi. _The Death Of Christ._
Non fur men lieti.
Not less elate than smitten with wild woe
To see not them but Thee by death undone,
Were those blest souls, when Thou above the sun
Didst raise, by dying, men that lay so low:
Elate, since freedom from all ills that flow
From their first fault for Adam's race was won;
Sore smitten, since in torment fierce God's son
Served servants on the cruel cross below.
Heaven showed she knew Thee, who Thou wert and whence,
Veiling her eyes above the riven earth;
The mountains trembled and the seas were troubled.
He took the Fathers from hell's darkness dense:
The torments of the damnéd fiends redoubled:
Man only joyed, who gained baptismal birth.
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4/26/2024 12:10:34 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Michelangelo Buonarroti - Rime 298. Non fur men lieti che turbati e tristi Non fur men lieti che turbati e tristi che tu patissi, e non già lor, la morte, gli spirti eletti, onde le chiuse porte del ciel, di terra a l’uom col sangue apristi. Lieti, poiché, creato, il redemisti5 dal primo error di suo misera sorte; tristi, a sentir c’a la pena aspra e forte, servo de’ servi in croce divenisti. Onde e chi fusti, il ciel ne diè tal segno che scurò gli occhi suoi, la terra aperse,10 tremorno i monti e torbide fur l’acque. Tolse i gran Padri al tenebroso regno, gli angeli brutti in più doglia sommerse; godé sol l’uom, c’al battesmo rinacque.