And is Fra Bastian dead? Is all that light Gone out, that sunshine darkened; all that music And merriment, that used to make our lives Less melancholy, swallowed up in silence Like madrigals sung in the street at night. By passing revellers? It is strange indeed That he should die before me. 'Tis against The laws of nature that the young should die, And the old live; unless it be that some Have long been dead who think themselves alive, Because not buried. Well, what matters it, Since now that greater light, that was my sun, Is set, and all is darkness, all is darkness! Death's lightnings strike to right and left of me, And, like a ruined wall, the world around me Crumbles away, and I am left alone. I have no friends, and want none. My own thoughts Are now my sole companions, — thoughts of her, That like a benediction from the skies Follows them like their shadow; sits with them At every meal; sleeps with them when they sleep; And when they wake already is awake, folly It is in us to make an enemy Of this importunate follower, not a friend! II. VIGNA DI PAPA GIULIO. POPE JULIUS III. seated by the Fountain of Acqua Vergine, surrounded by Cardinals. JULIUS. Tell me, why is it ye are discontent, You, Cardinals Salviati and Marcello, With Michael Angelo? What has he done, Or left undone, that ye are set against him? When one Pope dies, another is soon made; CARDINAL SALVIATI. Your Holiness, we are not set against him; JULIUS. You, Cardinal Salviati, Are an old man. Are you incapable? "T is the old ox that draws the straightest fur row. CARDINAL MARCELLO. Your Holiness remembers he was charged With the repairs upon St. Mary's bridge; Made cofferdams, and heaped up load on load Of timber and travertine; and yet for years The bridge remained unfinished, till we gave it To Baccio Bigio. JULIUS. Always Baccio Bigio! Is there no other architect on earth? Was it not he that sometime had in charge The harbor of Ancona. CARDINAL MARCELLO. Ay, the same. JULIUS. Then let me tell you that your Baccio Bigio think To put in place of Michael Angelo, CARDINAL MARCELLO. He does not build; he but demolishes The labors of Bramante and San Gallo. CARDINAL MARCELLO. Excuse me; but in each of the Three Chapels Is but a single window. MICHAEL ANGELO. Monsignore, Perhaps you do not know that in the vaulting Above there are to go three other windows. CARDINAL SALVIATI. How should we know? You never told us of it. MICHAEL ANGELO. If any one could die of grief and shame, But for the love of God. Perhaps old age Go; and my benediction be upon you. [Michael Angelo goes out. My Cardinals, this Michael Angelo Must not be dealt with as a common mason. He comes of noble blood, and for his crest Bear two bull's horns; and he has given us proof That he can toss with them. From this day forth Unto the end of time, let no man utter III. BINDO ALTOVITI. A street in Rome. BINDO ALTOVITI, standing at the door of his house. MICHAEL ANGELO, passing. BINDO. Good-morning, Messer Michael Angelo! MICHAEL ANGELO. Good-morning, Messer Bindo Altoviti! BINDO. What brings you forth so early? MICHAEL ANGELO. The same reason That keeps you standing sentinel at your door, The air of this delicious summer morning. What news have you from Florence? BINDO. Nothing new; The same old tale of violence and wrong. Since the disastrous day at Monte Murlo, When in procession, through San Gallo's gate, Bareheaded, clothed in rags, on sorry steeds, Philippo Strozzi and the good Valori Were led as prisoners down the streets of Amid the shouts of an ungrateful people, MICHAEL ANGELO. Florence is dead: her houses are but tombs ; Silence and solitude are in her streets. BINDO. Ah yes; and often I repeat the words |