Renaissance in Italy: The Fine Arts, Volume 3Smith, Elder & Company, 1877 - 539 pages |
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æsthetic Andrea antique architect architecture artist Bartolommeo bas-reliefs beauty Bramante bronze Buonarroti cathedral Cellini chapel charm Christ Christian church classic colour composition Cosimo death decorative Donatello Duomo expression eyes façade fancy feeling fifteenth century figurative arts figures Florence Florentine Fra Angelico Fra Bartolommeo Francesco frescoes genius Ghiberti Giotto Giovanni Gothic grace Greek hand heaven human ideal imagination Italian Italian art Italy Julius labour legend less Lionardo Lombard Lorenzo Madonna manner Mantegna marble Masaccio master masterpieces mediæval Medici ment Michael Angelo Milan modern monuments motives nature Niccola Niccola Pisano Orvieto pagan painters painting palace passion period Perugino Peter's picture Pietro Pisa Pisano Pope portraits pulpit pupils qualities Raphael religious Renaissance Revival Roman Rome sculpture sense Siena Signorelli Sistine sonnets soul spirit statue style thought Tintoretto tion Titian tomb ture Tuscan Uffizzi Vasari Venetian Venice Veronese whole youth
Popular passages
Page 26 - He that loveth father and mother more than me, is not worthy of me : and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me.
Page 427 - Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall Of earthly art is vain ; how criminal Is that which all men seek unwillingly. Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, What are they when the double death is nigh ? The one I know for sure, the other dread. Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest My soul, that turns to His great love on high, Whose arms to clasp us on the cross were spread.
Page 349 - I will show you soon A better station' — so, o'er the lagune We glided, and from that funereal bark I leaned, and saw the city, and could mark How from their many isles in evening's gleam Its temples and its palaces did seem Like fabrics of enchantment piled to Heaven. I was about to speak, when — 'We are even 'Now at the point I meant' said Maddalo And bade the gondolieri cease to row. 'Look Julian on the west, and listen well 'If you hear not a deep and heavy bell.
Page 315 - He will watch from dawn to gloom The lake-reflected sun illume The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, Nor heed nor see what things they be : But from these create he can Forms more real than living man, Nurslings of immortality.
Page 514 - Here helms and swords are made of chalices: The blood of Christ is sold so much the quart: His cross and thorns are spears and shields; and short Must be the time ere even his patience cease. Nay let him come no more to raise the fees Of this foul sacrilege beyond report! For Rome still flays and sells him at the court, Where paths are closed to virtue's fair increase.
Page 518 - The best of artists hath no thought to show Which the rough stone in its superfluous shell Doth not include: to break the marble spell Is all the hand that serves the brain can do.
Page 348 - Was roofed with clouds of rich emblazonry, Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew Down the steep west into a wondrous hue Brighter than burning gold, even to the rent Where the swift sun yet paused in his descent Among the many-folded hills.
Page 513 - 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 undeserving 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.
Page 523 - Now hath my life across a stormy sea Like a frail bark reached that wide port where all Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall Of good and evil for eternity. Now know I well how that fond phantasy Which made my soul the worshipper and thrall Of earthly art, is vain; how criminal Is that which all men seek unwillingly. Those amorous thoughts which were so lightly dressed, What are they when the double death is...
Page 155 - In half an hour's sitting — in hot weather — The painting on their face has been so mellow, They have left the poor man harder work by half To mend the copy he wrought by : But indeed, If ever I would have mine drawn to the life, ' I would have a painter steal it at such a time I were devoutly kneeling at my prayers ; There is then a heavenly beauty in't, the soul Moves in the superficies.