Giordano Bruno
The painter excels in imaginative power and is able to develop inner images.
The poet possesses an out of the ordinary power of thought, the source of which is also spiritual.
The philosopher is a great painter of ideas.
It appears from this that philosophers are also painters and poets, and poets are painters and philosophers.
The Captain summons all is warriors beneath a banner by the sound of the trumpet; where, if it happens that for some of them it sounds in vain, and they come not promptly, those who are traitors he kills, the madmen he banishes from his camp or he scorns them: so the soul with those of its intentions which
come not to assemble under one standard, either it wishes them dead or removed.
I regard one object, which absorbs my mind, and it is a single visage. I remain fixed upon one beauty, which has so pierced my heart, and is a single dart; by one flame only I burn, and know but a single paradise.
If the butterfly wings its way to the sweet light that attracts it, it is
because it knows not that the fire is capable of consuming it; if the
thirsty stag runs to be brook, it is because he is not aware of the
cruel bow.
If the unicorn runs to its chaste nest, it is because he does not see
the noose which is prepared for him. In the light, at the fount, in
the bosom of my love’s light, I see the flames, the arrows and the
chains.
If my languishing is so sweet to me, it is because the heavenly face
delights me so, and because the heavenly bow so sweetly wounds;
And because in that knot is bound up my desire, I suffer eternally
through the fire of my heart, the arrow in mind brest, and the
yoke upon my soul.
Unconquered hero of Pharsalia, although your warriors were almost extinct when they saw you, they rose again most potent in battle and subdued your haughty enemies.
Thus does my good, which is equal to heaven’s blessedness, in revealing itself to the sight of my thoughts whose light was obscured by my scornful soul, revive
them so that they are more powerful than love.
Its sole presence, or the memory of it, so revives them, that with sway and divine power they reduce every
contrary violence. My good governs me in peace, but does not abandon its snare nor its torch.
Unique bird of the sun, lovely Phoenix, who are as old as the world in happy Arabia, you are still what you always were, while I am no longer the same.
Because of the fire of love I die unhappy, while you the sun revives with its rays. You burn in one, but I in every place.
I from Cupid, but you from Phoebus have your flame.
You have predestined for you the term of a long life, and I have a brief one, whose end is offered me in ruins without number.
1 know neither the life I shall live, nor the life I have lived.
A blind destiny leads me, while you, assured of yours, turn once again toward your heart.
To my Sicilian mount where I may temper the
thunderbolts of Jove now I shall not return.
Here I shall remain, I, scabrous Vulcan, for here a prouder giant rebels, a giant who is enflamed against the sky and
rages in vain, as he attempts new labors and trials.
A better forger of Aetna, a better smith, anvil, and hammer do I find here in this breast which exhales sighs and whose bellows vivify the furnace, where the soul lies prostrate from so many assaults of such long tortures and
great martyrdoms, and brings a concert which divulges so bitter and cruel a torment.
Venus, goddess of the third sphere and mother of the blind archer, subduer of all men; that other, sprung from the forehead of Jove, and the proud wife of Jove, Juno, call the Trojan shepherd to judge which of them, most beautiful, deserves the golden fruit.
If my goddess were set among them, it would be awarded neither to Venus, Athena, or Juno.
The Cyprian goddess is beautiful by reason of lovely limbs, Minerva through her intellect, and Juno pleases by that worthy splendor of majesty, which satisfies the Thunderer; but my goddess contains within herself all that is requisite of beauty, intelligence, and majesty.
FIRST ARGUMENT OF THE HEART TO THE EYES
How is it, eyes of mine, that I am tormented so powerfully by that ardent flame which derives from you?
How can my mortal substance continue to be fed by so great a fire, that I believe all of the ocean’s moisture and the most frozen part of the slowest star of the Arctic to be inadequate to curb my fire even for a moment and give me a shadow of refuge?
You made me captive of a hand that holds me, yet wants me not; because of you I am at once buried in the body and exposed to the sun.
I am a principle of life, and yet, there is no life in me. I do not know what I am, for I belong to this soul, yet it does not belong
to me.
FIRST REPLY OF THE EYES TO THE HEART
How is it, oh heart, that you pour forth waters as great as the sea from which the Nereids ever raise their heads who die and are reborn every day in the sun? Like Amphitrite, the two-fold font, (you) can pour forth such immense rivers upon the world, that you may say the river overflowing Egypt becomes a meager stream flowing into the sea through seven double shores.
Nature provided twin lights to govern this tiny world. But you, perverter of that eternal order, turned them into everlasting rivers. And the heavens allow nature to be violated and violence to endure.
NINE BLIND MEN
The first sang and played the guitar in this tone
The second played and sang with his mandolin
The third played and sang with his lyre
The fourth sang with his viol
The fifth one sang with his Spanish timbrel
The sixth one sang with his lute
The seventh sang with his Spanish harp
The eighth one with bow and viol
The ninth with a three-stringed viol
After each one in this form and in his turn, had played his instrument and sung his sestet, they danced together in a circle, and, playing in a most sweet accord to the praise of the unique nymph, sang a song which I think I shall remember well enough.
SONG OF THE ILLUMINATED
“I no longer envy, O Jove, your firmament”, says Father Ocean with raised brow,
“for I have so much joy in what my empire offers”.
“How haughty you are!” Jove replies. “What else do you have beside your wealth?
Oh lord of the senseless waters, why do you so inflate yourself with such foolish boldness?”
“You have”, said the god of the waters, In your power the blazing heavens, where the fiery zone is, in which you can see the eminent chorus of your stars, “and through them the whole world gazes upon the sun. But, I say, even the sun shines with less brightness than She who makes me the most glorious god of the great creation of worlds.
“And I hold in my vast bosom, among all the others that nation where the happy Thames is seen, which has the pleasing chorus of the most beautiful nymphs.
“Among these I possess one who is unique among all beautiful ones, who will make you a lover of the sea more than of the sky, oh loud thundering Jove, for your sun shines with less splendor among the stars.”
And Jove replies: “O, god of the tossing seas, that anyone be found more blessed than I is not permitted by fate, but my treasures and yours run their course together.
“The sun prevails among your nymphs through this one, and by the force of eternal laws and of the alternate abodes, she is valued as the sun among my stars.”