Renaissance in Italy: The Fine ArtsH. Holt, 1883 - 534 pages |
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æsthetic Andrea antique Antonio architect architecture artists Bartolommeo bass-reliefs beauty Bramante bronze Brunelleschi Buonarroti cathedral Cellini chapel charm Christ Christian church classic color 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 influence Italian Italian art Italy Julius legend less Lionardo Lombard Lorenzo Madonna manner Mantegna marble Masaccio master masterpieces mediæval Medici ment Michael Angelo Milan modern monuments motives nature Niccola Pisano Orvieto pagan painters painting palace passion period Perugino Peter's picture Pietro Pisa 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 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 409 - He maketh his angels spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire...
Page 203 - Calaroga sotto la protezion del grande scudo in che soggiace il leone e soggioga. Dentro vi nacque l'amoroso drudo della fede cristiana, il santo atleta benigno a' suoi ed a
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 - Lido through the harbour piles, The likeness of a clump of peaked isles. And then, as if the earth and sea had been, Dissolved into one lake of fire, were seen Those mountains towering, as from waves of flame, Around the vaporous sun ; from which there came The inmost purple spirit of light, and made Their very peaks transpaient. "Ere it fade." Said my companion, " I will show you soon. A better station.
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 517 - So fares it ever with things high and rare, Wrought in the sweat of nature ; heaven above Showers on their birth the blessings of her prime ; Nor hath God deigned to show Himself elsewhere More clearly than in human forms sublime ; Which, since they image Him, compel my love.
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 524 - THE fables of the world have filched * away The time I had for thinking upon God ; His grace lies buried 'neath oblivion's sod, Whence springs an evil crop of sins alway. What makes another wise, leads me astray, Slow to discern the bad path I have trod : Hope fades, but still desire ascends that God May free me from self-love, my sure decay. Shorten half-way my road to heaven from earth ! Dear L,ord, I cannot even half-way rise Unless Thou help me on this pilgrimage. Teach me to hate the world so...