Maximilian II, His Wife, and Three Children by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Maximilian II, His Wife, and Three Children by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Maximilian II, His Wife, and Three Children
1563
Mannerism

After Arcimboldo was appointed to the Habsburg Court he painted a port Maximilian II with his wife and children. It is an important work in Arcimboldo’s oeuvre as it illustrates the intermediate phase in the artist’s transition to the full Mannerist style.

Giuseppe Arcimboldo 1527-1593

Giuseppe Arcimboldo
Mannerism
Born: 1527, Milan, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 11 July 1593, Milan, Italy

Arcimboldo was a painter best known for creating imaginative portrait heads made from objects such as fruit, vegetables, fish, books, and flowers. However, he was also a conventional painter of portraits, including three Holy Roman Emperors, religious subjects, and exotic animals. Arcimboldo’s still-life portraits were intended as curiosities, whimsical in nature produced to amuse the court.

Madam, Withouten Many Words by Thomas Wyatt

Thomas Wyatt 1503-1542

Madam, Withouten Many Words

Madam, withouten many words
Once I am sure ye will or no …
And if ye will, then leave your bourds
And use your wit and show it so,
And with a beck ye shall me call;
And if of one that burneth alway
Ye have any pity at all,
Answer him fair with & {.} or nay.
If it be &, {.} I shall be fain;
If it be nay, friends as before;
Ye shall another man obtain,
And I mine own and yours no more.

Thomas Wyatt
Born: 1503, Kent, England
Nationality: English
Died: 11 October 1542. Dorset, England

Wyatt was a16th century politician and lyric poet. He is credited with bringing the sonnet to English literature. Following his father into the court of Henry VIII after his education at St. John’s College, Cambridge Wyatt was entrusted by the king with many important diplomatic missions. Thomas Cromwell was his principal patron in public life. Following the death of Cromwell Wyatt was recalled from abroad and imprisoned for treason. Ultimately, he was acquitted and released shortly before his death in 1542. Wyatt’s poetry may have been published anonymously during his lifetime, however, none was published and printed under his name until some 15 years after his death

NaPoMo Classic Poetry Day 23 – From Antony and Cleopatra by William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare 1564-1616

From Antony and Cleopatra

Cleopatra: His legs bestrid the ocean; his rear’d arm
Crested the world. His voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty,
There was no winter in’t, an autumn t’was
That grew the more from reaping. His delights
Were dolphin-like: they show’d his back above
The element they liv’d in. In his livery
Walk’d crowns and crownet, realms and islands were
As plates dropp’d from his pocket

Four Seasons by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Four Seasons by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Four Seasons
1563-73
Mannerism
Oil on canvas
Louvre Museum, Paris, France

A series of four paintings “Four Seasons” is probably Arcimboldo’s most famous work. It is the epitome of the Mannerist style emphasising the close relationship between humanity and nature. Each portrait is representative of one of the seasons and is made up of objects that are characteristic of that time of year. Only Winter and Summer survive from the original series, however, Arcimboldo’s patron, Emperor Maximilian II, commissioned a second set in 1573 as a gift and it is that second set that remains intact

Giuseppe Arcimboldo 1527-1593

Giuseppe Arcimboldo
Mannerism
Born: 1527, Milan, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 11 July 1593, Milan, Italy

Arcimboldo was a painter best known for creating imaginative portrait heads made from objects such as fruit, vegetables, fish, books, and flowers. However, he was also a conventional painter of portraits, including three Holy Roman Emperors, religious subjects, and exotic animals. Arcimboldo’s still-life portraits were intended as curiosities, whimsical in nature produced to amuse the court.

Freed from the Pressures of Fashion

Francisco de Zurbarán 1598-1664

Francisco de Zurbarán
Baroque
Born: 7 November 1598, Fuente de Cantos, Spain
Nationality: Spanish
Died: 27 August 1664, Madrid, Spain

Zurbarán occupied the role of Seville’s official painter between Velázquez and Murillo, forming the trinity of Seville painters. Most of his paintings were of Spain’s devotional religious style to which he added elements borrowed from Caravaggio. His painting was a unique blend of a direct approach to religious subjects with a penetrating spiritual aura. In his later career, he painted mythological scenes commissioned for Philip IV’s Buen Retiro palace in Madrid. After decorating a ceremonial ship presented to the king on behalf of Seville he fell out of favour and spent his last years living in poverty in Madrid.

Zurbarán had a well-equipped style to tackle portraiture and still life but his true vocation was in religious subjects. His somber approach to monastic Spanish Baroque elevated his work above many of his contemporaries by the fact he embodied saints, apostles, and friars with a rigid figurative modeling and a naturalistic refined simplicity.

Saint Serapion, 1628. Oil on canvas. Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, Connecticut, USA

Zurbarán became renowned for creating emotional effects by creating sharp contrasts between dark backgrounds and light foregrounds. A technique revealing not only the influence of Caravaggio but also the dramatic technique of tenebrism, the technique of depicting human shapes and facial features in shadow. Zurbarán was unique amongst his contemporaries, however, his take on his subject matter was still in keeping with the Counter-Reformation theology of 17th-century Spain.

Zurbarán, in his later works, placed his religious and mythological figures within the landscape. He was not a landscapist per se; however, his mature works show an affinity with the natural environment and a talented hand at rendering nature as part of a narrative feature. This strategy confirmed Zurbarán’s Counter-Reformation worldview that where the spiritual exists in the corporeal so the divine finds its expression in the natural world.

Zurbarán carried the storytelling legacy of the Baroque into his devotional paintings, his figures becoming more idealized, more mythical, and less realistic. This change in his art was not universally well received with some historians suggesting Zurbarán’s later works sacrificed their palpable aura of spirituality for sentimentality.

The youngest of six children, Zurbarán was born in a small Spanish town where his father was a merchant. Historians suggest Zurbarán displayed a talent for drawing from an early age and his family was willing to support his artistic pursuits. In 1614, arranged by his father, he entered a three-year apprenticeship in Seville under the guidance of Diaz de Villanueva.

Saint Francis Contemplating a Skull, 1633-35. Oil on canvas. Saint Louis Art Museum, Saint Louis, Missouri, USA

His early training had a long-lasting impact on the direction of Zurbarán’s art. He learned his craft in the execution of religiously themed works commissioned to decorate new ecclesiastical buildings. He tackled religious themes throughout his career, however, it is unclear if Zurbarán was in fact a man of devoted to faith.

In 1617 Zurbarán refused the opportunity to enter Seville’s city guild of painters after he completed his apprenticeship, instead opting to return home where he established a business as a painter in the town of Llerena. His business was successful; however, his personal life was beset with tragedy. Is first marriage, in 1617, to Maria, nine years his senior lasted only six years due to her premature death, leaving Zurbarán with three young children. The artist married Beatriz in 1625. Sadly, their only child died in infancy.

From early in his career Zurbarán obtained various important commissions including in 1626 a request for fourteen pictures for the Dominican Order in Seville. He moved to Seville and lived in the monastery with his assistants while completing the commission., and on the promise of further work, he relocated his family to the city permanently. Once settled in Seville, Zurbarán’s independent streak began to reveal itself. In 1630 he refused to sit the exam for admittance to the Seville Guild of Painters. His reputation, however, was enough that the City Council continued to support him as it was advantageous to have a painter of Zurbarán’s skill and vision working in Seville.

In the years that followed Zurbarán secured important commissions. While mostly religious in nature, he was invited to Madrid to decorate the Great Hall of the royal palace and worked on mythological paintings analogous to the King’s glory. The ebb and flow of artistic success combined with personal tragedy continued to have an effect on Zurbarán. Political turmoil in Seville reduced local commissions. With the help of his son, Juan, Zurbarán looked to the Americas and Spanish colonies such as Argentina and Peri for new markets. This new enterprise proved prosperous; however, it was offset by further tragedy when Zurbarán’s second wife died in 16939. In 1644 he married Leonor de Tordera. They had six children, but only one survived infancy. Compounding Zurbarán’s personal loss, Juan lost his life to the plague which was ravaging Seville in 1649.

The Young Virgin, 1640-45. Oil on canvas. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, USA

In the final decade of Zurbarán’s life Seville became less receptive of his work. He relocated to Madrid in 1658 to seek a change of fortune and joined a circle of fellow artists including his friend Velázquez. Zurbarán received some royal commissions and requests from individual patrons who were looking for paintings for their private religious devotions. However, he failed to recapture his earlier success and his financial position declined. In his final years, Zurbarán’s health declined and he was forced to stop painting in 1662 putting a further strain on the family finances.

Resources

Masters of Art: Zurbaran by Jonathan Brown

Flora by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Flora by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Flora
1589
Mannerism
Oil on board
Private Collection

“Flora” is a portrait of the Roman Goddess of flowering plants, fruit, and spring. Typically for Arcimboldo, she is composed of whole flowers, buds, petals, leaves, and stems. However, it stands out from its predecessors due to the artist’s subtlety and delicacy of technique, adhering more to traditional understandings of beauty rather than the grotesque.

Giuseppe Arcimboldo 1527-1593

Giuseppe Arcimboldo
Mannerism
Born: 1527, Milan, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 11 July 1593, Milan, Italy

Arcimboldo was a painter best known for creating imaginative portrait heads made from objects such as fruit, vegetables, fish, books, and flowers. However, he was also a conventional painter of portraits, including three Holy Roman Emperors, religious subjects, and exotic animals. Arcimboldo’s still-life portraits were intended as curiosities, whimsical in nature produced to amuse the court.

Elegy IX: The Autumnal by John Donne

Elegy IX: The Autumnal

No spring nor summer Beauty hath such grace
As I have seen in one autumnall face.
Young beauties force our love, and that’s a rape,
This doth but counsel, yet you cannot ‘scape.
If ’twere a shame to love, here ’twere no shame,
Affection here takes Reverence’s name.
Were her first years the Golden Age; that’s true,
But now she’s gold oft tried, and ever new.
That was her torrid and inflaming time,
This is her tolerable Tropique clime.
Fair eyes, who asks more heat than comes from hence,
He in a fever wishes pestilence.
Call not these wrinkles, graves; if graves they were,
They were Love’s graves; for else he is no where.
Yet lies not Love dead here, but here doth sit
Vowed to this trench, like an Anachorit.

And here, till hers, which must be his death, come,
He doth not dig a grave, but build a tomb.
Here dwells he, though he sojourn ev’ry where,
In progress, yet his standing house is here.
Here, where still evening is; not noon, nor night;
Where no voluptuousness, yet all delight
In all her words, unto all hearers fit,
You may at revels, you at counsel, sit.
This is Love’s timber, youth his under-wood;
There he, as wine in June enrages blood,
Which then comes seasonabliest, when our taste
And appetite to other things is past.
Xerxes’ strange Lydian love, the Platane tree,
Was loved for age, none being so large as she,
Or else because, being young, nature did bless
Her youth with age’s glory, Barrenness.
If we love things long sought, Age is a thing
Which we are fifty years in compassing;
If transitory things, which soon decay,
Age must be loveliest at the latest day.
But name not winter-faces, whose skin’s slack;
Lank, as an unthrift’s purse; but a soul’s sack;
Whose eyes seek light within, for all here’s shade;
Whose mouths are holes, rather worn out than made;
Whose every tooth to a several place is gone,
To vex their souls at Resurrection;
Name not these living deaths-heads unto me,
For these, not ancient, but antique be.
I hate extremes; yet I had rather stay
With tombs than cradles, to wear out a day.
Since such love’s natural lation is, may still
My love descend, and journey down the hill,
Not panting after growing beauties so,
I shall ebb out with them, who homeward go

John Donne 1572-1631

John Donne
Born: 22 January 1572, London, UK
Nationality: English
Died: 31 March 1631, London, UK

Donne was a poet, scholar, soldier, and secretary. Born to a recusant family, he later became a cleric in the Church of England. He was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London under royal patronage. Donne is considered a preeminent metaphysical poet with poetry renowned for their metaphysical and sensual style, including sonnets, religious poems, love poems, elegies, and satires. Donne is also renowned for his sermons

Elisabeth of Valois by Sofonisba Anguissola

Elisabeth of Valois by Sofonisba Anguissola

Elisabeth of Valois
1561-65
Portraiture
Oil on canvas
Museo Nacional del Prado, Spain

“Elisabeth of Valois” is a large-scale painting in which Anguissola captured the image of the newly married Queen of Spain, dressed in swaths of expensive black cloth and bejeweled with pearls and rubies from neck to hem. A wealthy Renaissance queen the numerous pearls symbolize wealth and fertility, the latter rather unfortunate as it was her fourth pregnancy and second miscarriage that ended the queen’s short life.

Sofonisba Anguissola
Mannerism, Baroque
Born: 1532, Cremona, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 16 November 1625, Palermo, Sicily, Italy

Sofonisba Anguissola 1532-1625

Anguissola was a Renaissance painter, born to a poor but noble family. She received a well-rounded education including the fine arts and her apprenticeship with local painters of the time set a precedent for women to be accepted as students of art

Elegy IV: The Perfume by John Donne

Elegy IV: The Perfume

Once, and but once found in thy company,
All thy supposed escapes are laid on me;
And as a thief at bar is questioned there
By all the men that have been robed that year,
So am I (by this traiterous means surprized)
By thy hydroptic father catechized.
Though he had wont to search with glazed eyes,
As though he came to kill a cockatrice,
Though he hath oft sworn that he would remove
Thy beauty’s beauty, and food of our love,
Hope of his goods, if I with thee were seen,
Yet close and secret, as our souls, we’ve been.
Though thy immortal mother, which doth lie
Still-buried in her bed, yet wiil not die,
Takes this advantage to sleep out daylight,
And watch thy entries and returns all night,
And, when she takes thy hand, and would seem kind,
Doth search what rings and armlets she can find,
And kissing, notes the colour of thy face,
And fearing lest thou’rt swol’n, doth thee embrace;
To try if thou long, doth name strange meats,
And notes thy paleness, blushing, sighs, and sweats;
And politicly will to thee confess
The sins of her own youth’s rank lustiness;
Yet love these sorceries did remove, and move
Thee to gull thine own mother for my love.
Thy little brethren, which like faery sprites
Oft skipped into our chamber, those sweet nights,
And kissed, and ingled on thy father’s knee,
Were bribed next day to tell what they did see:
The grim eight-foot-high iron-bound servingman,
That oft names God in oaths, and only then,
He that to bar the first gate doth as wide
As the great Rhodian Colossus stride,
Which, if in hell no other pains there were,
Makes me fear hell, because he must be there:
Though by thy father he were hired to this,
Could never witness any touch or kiss.
But Oh, too common ill, I brought with me
That which betrayed me to my enemy:
A loud perfume, which at my entrance cried
Even at thy father’s nose, so were we spied;
When, like a tyran King, that in his bed
Smelt gunpowder, the pale wretch shivered.
Had it been some bad smell he would have thought
That his own feet, or breath, that smell had wrought.
But as we in our isle imprisoned,
Where cattle only, and diverse dogs are bred,
The precious Unicorns strange monsters call,
So thought he good, strange, that had none at all.
I taught my silks their whistling to forbear,
Even my oppressed shoes dumb and speechless were,
Only, thou bitter sweet, whom I had laid
Next me, me traiterously hast betrayed,
And unsuspected hast invisibly
At once fled unto him, and stayed with me.
Base excrement of earth, which dost confound
Sense from distinguishing the sick from sound;
By thee the seely amorous sucks his death
By drawing in a leprous harlot’s breath;
By thee the greatest stain to man’s estate
Falls on us, to be called effeminate;
Though you be much loved in the Prince’s hall,
There, things that seem, exceed substantial.
Gods, when ye fumed on altars, were pleased well,
Because you were burnt, not that they liked your smell;
You’re loathsome all, being taken simply alone,
Shall we love ill things joined, and hate each one?
If you were good, your good doth soon decay;
And you are rare, that takes the good away.
All my perfumes I give most willingly
T’ embalm thy father’s corse; What? will he die?

John Donne 1572-1631

John Donne
Born: 22 January 1572, London, UK
Nationality: English
Died: 31 March 1631, London, UK

Donne was a poet, scholar, soldier, and secretary. Born to a recusant family, he later became a cleric in the Church of England. He was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London under royal patronage. Donne is considered a preeminent metaphysical poet with poetry renowned for their metaphysical and sensual style, including sonnets, religious poems, love poems, elegies, and satires. Donne is also renowned for his sermons

Bernardino Campi Painting Sofonisba Anguissola by Sofonisba Anguissola

Bernardino Campi Painting Sofonisba Anguissola by Sofonisba Anguissola

Bernardino Campi Painting Sofonisba Anguissola
1559
Mannerism
Oil on canvas
Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena, Italy

In a dark studio Campi looms out of the shadows to make eye contact with the viewer as he paints a portrait of his elaborately dressed student, Anguissola. This may be the first time Anguissola is the subject of her own work so portrays herself as fashionable and jovial instead of the usually stoic and contemplative artist portrait.

Sofonisba Anguissola
Mannerism, Baroque
Born: 1532, Cremona, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 16 November 1625, Palermo, Sicily, Italy

Sofonisba Anguissola 1532-1625

Anguissola was a Renaissance painter, born to a poor but noble family. She received a well-rounded education including the fine arts and her apprenticeship with local painters of the time set a precedent for women to be accepted as students of art

Of the Mean and Sure Estate by Thomas Wyatt

Of the Mean and Sure Estate

My mother’s maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That, for because her livelood was but thin,

Would needs go seek her townish sister’s house.
She thought herself endurèd too much pain;
The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse

That when the furrows swimmèd with the rain,
She must lie cold and wet in sorry plight;
And worse than that, bare meat there did remain

To comfort her when she her house had dight;
Sometime a barley corn; sometime a bean;
For which she laboured hard both day and night

In harvest time whilst she might go and glean;
And where store was stroyèd with the flood,
Then well away! for she undone was clean.

Then was she fain to take instead of food
Sleep, if she might, her hunger to beguile.
“My sister,” quod she, “hath a living good,

And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile.
In cold and storm she lieth warm and dry
In bed of down; the dirt doth not defile

Her tender foot, she laboureth not as I.
Richly she feedeth and at the richman’s cost,
And for her meat she needs not crave nor cry.

By sea, by land, of the delicates, the most
Her cater seeks, and spareth for no peril.
She feedeth on boiled bacon meet and roast,

And hath thereof neither charge nor travail;
And when she list, the liquor of the grape
Doth glad her heart till that her belly swell.”

And at this journey she maketh but a jape;
So forth she goeth, trusting of all this wealth
With her sister her part so for to shape,

That if she might keep herself in health,
To live a lady while her life doth last.
And to the door now is she come by stealth,

And with her foot anon she scrapeth full fast.
Th’ other for fear durst not well scarce appear,
Of every noise so was the wretch aghast.

At last she askèd softly who was there.
And in her language, as well as she could,
“Peep!” quod the other. “Sister, I am here.”

“Peace,” quod the towny mouse, “why speakest thou so loud?”
And by the hand she took her fair and well.
“Welcome,” quod she, “my sister, by the Rood!”

She feasted her, that joy it was to tell
The fare they had; they drank the wine so clear,
And as to purpose now and then it fell,

She cheerèd her with “How, sister, what cheer!”
Amids this joy befell a sorry chance,
That, well away! the stranger bought full dear

The fare she had, for, as she look askance,
Under a stool she spied two steaming eyes
In a round head with sharp ears. In France

Was never mouse so fear’d, for the unwise
Had not i-seen such a beast before,
Yet had nature taught her after her guise

To know her foe and dread him evermore.
The towny mouse fled, she know whither to go;
Th’ other had no shift, but wonders sore

Feard of her life. At home she wished her tho,
And to the door, alas! as she did skip,
The Heaven it would, lo! and eke her chance was so,

At the threshold her silly foot did trip;
And ere she might recover it again,
The traitor cat had caught her by the hip,

And made her there against her will remain,
That had forgotten her poor surety and rest
For seeming wealth wherein she thought to reign.

Alas, my Poynz, how men do seek the best
And find the worst, by error as they stray!
And no marvail; when sight is so opprest.

And blind the guide; anon out of the way
Goeth guide and all in seeking quiet life.
O wretched minds, there is no gold that may

Grant that ye seek; no war, no peace, no strife.
No, no, although thy head were hooped with gold,
Sergeant with mace, hawbert, sword, nor knife,

Cannot repulse the care that follow should.
Each kind of life hath with him his disease.
Live in delight even as thy lust would,

And thou shalt find, when lust doth most thee please,
It irketh straight and by itself doth fade.
A small thing it is that may thy mind appease.

None of ye all there is that is so mad
To seek grapes upon brambles or breres;
Nor none, I trow, that hath his wit so bad

To set his hay for conies over rivers,
Ne ye set not a drag-net for an hare;
And yet the thing that most is your desire

Ye do mis-seek with more travail and care.
Make plain thine heart, that it be not knotted
With hope or dread, and see thy will be bare

From all affects, whom vice hath ever spotted.
Thyself content with that is thee assigned,
And use it well that is to thee allotted.

Then seek no more out of thyself to find
The thing that thou hast sought so long before,
For thou shalt feel it sitting in thy mind.

Mad, if ye list to continue your sore,
Let present pass and gape on time to come,
And deep yourself in travail more and more.

Henceforth, my Poynz, this shall be all and some,
These wretched fools shall have nought else of me;
But to the great God and to his high doom,

None other pain pray I for them to be,
But when the rage doth lead them from the right,
That, looking backward, Virtue they may see,

Even as she is, so goodly fair and bright;
And whilst they clasp their lusts in arms across,
Grant them, good Lord, as Thou mayst of Thy might
To fret inward for losing such a loss.

Thomas Wyatt 1503-1542

Thomas Wyatt
Born: 1503, Kent, England
Nationality: English
Died: 11 October 1542. Dorset, England

Wyatt was a16th century politician and lyric poet. He is credited with bringing the sonnet to English literature. Following his father into the court of Henry VIII after his education at St. John’s College, Cambridge Wyatt was entrusted by the king with many important diplomatic missions. Thomas Cromwell was his principal patron in public life. Following the death of Cromwell Wyatt was recalled from abroad and imprisoned for treason. He was acquitted and released shortly before his death in 1542. Wyatt’s poetry may have been published anonymously during his lifetime, however, none was published and printed under his name until some 15 years after his death

Sunday Sonnet: To the Noble Lady, the Lady Mary Wroth by Ben Jonson

Ben Jonson 1572-1637

I that have been a lover, and could shew it,
Though not in these, in rhymes not wholly dumb;
Since I exscribe your sonnets, am become
A better lover. and much better poet.
Nor is my Muse or I ashamed to owe it
To those true numerous graces; whereof some
But charm the senses, others overcome
Both brains and hearts; and more now best do know it:
For in your verse all Cupid’s armoury,
His flames, his shafts, his quiver, and his bow,
His very eyes are yours to overthrow.
But then his mother’s sweets you so apply,
Her joys, her smiles, her loves, as readers take
For Venus’ ceston every line you make

Vertumnus by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Vertumnus by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Vertumnus
1590-91
Mannerism
Oil on panel
Skokloster Castle, Sweden

“Vertumnus” is portrait of the Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf II, depicted by Arcimboldo as the Roman god of the seasons, growth, gardens, fruit trees, and metamorphosis in nature. Typical of Arcimboldo’s portraits the composition of a human subject using natural forms is symbolic of the harmony between the rule of the Emperor and the rule of nature. The abundance of produce represents the return of the Golden Age under Rudolf II

Giuseppe Arcimboldo 1527-1593

Giuseppe Arcimboldo
Mannerism
Born: 1527, Milan, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 11 July 1593, Milan, Italy

Arcimboldo was a painter best known for creating imaginative portrait heads made from objects such as fruit, vegetables, fish, books, and flowers. However, he was also a conventional painter of portraits, including three Holy Roman Emperors, religious subjects, and exotic animals. Arcimboldo’s still-life portraits were intended as curiosities, whimsical in nature produced to amuse the court

Vegetables In a Bowl or The Gardener by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Vegetables In A Bowl Or The Gardener by Giuseppe Arcimboldo

Vegetables In a Bowl or The Gardener
1587-90
Mannerism
Oil on wood
Museo Civico “Ala Ponzone”, Cremona, Italy

“Vegetables in a Bowl or the Gardener” is one of several paintings by Arcimboldo that can be viewed in reverse, revealing a still-life in one perspective and a portrait in the other. X-ray evidence shows that the painting process often required Arcimboldo to repaint and change the positions of some of the objects.

Giuseppe Arcimboldo 1527-1593

Giuseppe Arcimboldo
Mannerism
Born: 1527, Milan, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 11 July 1593, Milan, Italy

Arcimboldo was a painter best known for creating imaginative portrait heads made from objects such as fruit, vegetables, fish, books, and flowers. However, he was also a conventional painter of portraits, including three Holy Roman Emperors, religious subjects, and exotic animals. Arcimboldo’s still-life portraits were intended as curiosities, whimsical in nature produced to amuse the court

Sunday Sonnet: At the round earth’s imagined corners by John Donne

John Donne 1572-1631

At the round earth’s imagined corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go;
All whom the flood did, and fire shall, o’erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God, and never taste death’s woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space;
For if above all these my sins abound,
‘Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace
When we are there: here on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that’s as good
As if thou hadst sealed my pardon with thy blood

The Virgin and Child with St. Anne and St. John the Baptist by Leonardo Da Vinci

The Virgin and Child with St. Anne and St. John the Baptist

The Virgin and Child with St. Anne and St. John the Baptist
1499-1500
High Renaissance
Charcoal and chalk drawing on paper
The National Gallery, London, UK

A preliminary drawing, “The Virgin and Child with St, Anne and St, John the Baptist” depicts the Virgin seated next to her mother while holding her child, the child John is looking on. Mary’s eyes are watching her child who is pointing skyward as he delivers a benediction. A large piece, consisting of eight papers glued together is believed to be a sketch in planning for a painting. However, the painting was either never created or no longer exists.

Leonardo Da Vinci 1452-1519

Leonardo Da Vinci
High Renaissance
Born: 15 April 1452, Anchiano, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 2 May 1519, Clos Lucé, Amboise

The spirit of Humanism abounded during the Italian High Renaissance and artists were deeply entrenched in the study of humanities to better themselves as people of the world. Termed a Renaissance Man a person so immersed in the comprehension and accomplishment of such varied interests; Da Vinci was a prime exemplar. His exhaustive interests led to his mastery of multiple skills, and he is widely considered one of the greatest painters of all time

Sunday Sonnet: Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare 1564-1616

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee

Sunday Sonnet: Eternity by William Alabaster

William Alabaster 1567-1640

Eternity, the womb of things created,
The endless bottom of duration,
Whose half was always past, yet unbegun,
And half behind still coming unabated;
Whose thread cojoined, both unseparated,
Is time, which dated is by motion;
Eternity, whose real thoughts are one
With God, that is everness actuated:
O tie my soul unto this endless clew,
That I may overfathom fate and time
In all my actions which I do pursue,
And bound my thoughts in that unbounded clime:
For soul and thoughts, designs and acts, are evil,
That under compass of this life do level

Sunday Sonnet – Most Glorious Lord of Life by Edmund Spenser

Edmund Spenser 1552-1599

Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day
Didst make thy triumph over death and sin,
And having harrowed hell didst bring away
Captively thence captive, us to win:
This joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin,
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest die,
Being with thy dear blood clean washed from sin,
May live for ever in felicity;
And that thy love we weighing worthily
May likewise love thee for the same again;
And for thy sake, that all like dear didst buy,
With love may one another entertain.
So let us love, dear love, like as we ought:
Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught

Sunday Sonnet: With how sad steps by Sir Philip Sidney

Sir Philip Sidney 1554-1586

With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climbest the skies;
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What, may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp bow tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feelest a lover’s case;
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me that feel the like thy state decries.
The even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me:
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness?

Pieta by Titian

Pieta by Titian

Pieta
1575-76
High Renaissance
Oil on canvas
Gallerie dell’ Accademia, Venice, Italy

One of the last paintings by Titian “Pieta” was created to hang over his grave and depicts the Virgin Mary cradling the dead body of Christ. She is accompanied by Nicodemus and Mary Magdalene. It is believed that Nicodemus is a self-portrait and that Titian is viewing his own imminent death in Christ and touching his body in the hope of eternal salvation. Unfinished at Titian’s death the painting was completed by Palma il Giovane.

“Pieta” is darkly atmospheric, a possible indication of Titian’s fear of death. It is lit by shafts of moonlight and a putto carrying a torch. This allows the artist to use bold chiaroscuro, with the light illuminating the image of a pelican, symbolic of the Passion of Christ and redemption. In the right-hand corner, there is a small picture within the picture of Titian and his son Orazio in prayer, possibly asking to be spared from the plague ravaging Venice at the time and eventually killing both of them. Statues of Sybil and Moses flank the image and seemingly overwhelm the depiction of the mourners and indicate the frailty of life.

Titian 1490-1576

Titian
Renaissance, Mannerism
Born: 1490, Pieve di Cadore, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 27 August 1576, Venice, Italy

Titian was a painter and regarded as one of the greatest painters of the Renaissance, combining Mannerist and High Renaissance ideas to develop a style that is remarkable ahead of his time. His creativity dominated Venetian art and the city rivaled the artistic centres of Rome and Florence

The Nobleman With his Hand on his Chest by El Greco

The Nobleman With his Hand on his Chest by El Greco

The Nobleman With his Hand on his Chest (El caballero de la mano en el pecho)
1580
Mannerism
Oil on canvas
Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain

“The Nobleman With his Hand on his Chest” depicts an unknown nobleman or knight of about 30 years old. He is dressed in traditional Spanish attire holding a sword in one hand while the other is poised across his heart. He stares intensely out of the painting at the viewer in a manner that is profound in its realism yet also imaginative. El Greco’s work possesses technically accurate features such as the beard combined with his own stylized elements of elongated fingers and torso. The white ruffles contrast with the muted dark colours of El Greco’s palette which he uses to create emotional and psychological depths to define the subject.

El Greco 1541-1614

El Greco
Mannerism
Born: 1 October 1541, Crete, Greece
Nationality: Greek-Spanish
Died: 7 April 1614, Toledo, Spain

El Greco was a painter, sculptor and architect of the Spanish Renaissance. El Greco was a nickname giving reference to his Greek origins, but he normally signed his paintings in his birth name, Doménikos Theotokópoulos, in Greek. Born in Candia, now known as Crete, which was part of the Republic of Venice, Italy, and the centre of post-Byzantine art, El Greco trained and became a master of that tradition before travelling to Venice at age 26. He moved to Rome in 1570, where he opened a workshop ad produced a series of works whilst enriching his style and techniques with elements of Mannerism and Venetian Renaissance. He moved to Toledo, Spain in 1577where lived and worked until his death

Forget Not Yet by Thomas Wyatt

Forget Not Yet

Forget not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant
My great travail so gladly spent
Forget not yet.

Forget not yet when first began
The weary life ye knew, since whan
The suit, the service, none tell can,
Forget not yet.

Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrongs, the scornful ways,
The painful patience in denays
Forget not yet.

Forget not yet, forget not this,
How long ago hath been, and is,
The mind that never means amiss;
Forget not yet.

Forget not yet thine own approved,
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved,
Forget not this

Thomas Wyatt 1503-1542

Thomas Wyatt
Born: 1503, Kent, England
Nationality: English
Died: 11 October 1542. Dorset, England

Wyatt was a16th century politician and lyric poet. He is credited with bringing the sonnet to English literature. Following his father into the court of Henry VIII after his education at St. John’s College, Cambridge Wyatt was entrusted by the king with many important diplomatic missions. Thomas Cromwell was his principal patron in public life. Following the death of Cromwell Wyatt was recalled from abroad and imprisoned for treason. Ultimately he was acquitted and released shortly before his death in 1542. Wyatt’s poetry may have been published anonymously during his lifetime, however, none was published and printed under his name until some 15 years after his death

Sunday Sonnet: From Tuscany by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

Henry Howard, Earl of Surry 1517-1547

From Tuscany came my lady’s worthy race;
Fair Florence was sometimes her ancient seat;
The western isle, whose pleasant shower doth face
Wild Camber’s cliffs, did give her lively heat.
Fostered she was with milk of Irish breast,
Her sire an earl, her dame of prince’s blood;
From tender years in Britain she doth rest,
With a king’s child, where she tastes ghostly food,
Hunsdon did first present her to my eyen:
Bright is her hue, and Geraldine she hight;
Hampton me taught to wish her first for mine,
And Windsor, alas, doth chase me from her sight.
Beauty of kind, her virtues from above,
Happy is he that may obtain her love

Sunday Sonnet: My galley charged with forgetfulness by Thomas Wyatt

Thomas Wyatt 1503-1542

My galley charged with forgetfulness
Through sharp seas in winter nights doth pass
‘Tween rock and rock; ad eke mine enemy, alas,
That is my lord, steereth with cruelness;
And every oar a thought in readiness,
As through that death were light in such a case.
An endless wind doth tear the sail space,
Or forced sighs and trusty fearfulness;
A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain,
Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance,
Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance.
The stars be hid that led me to this pain;
Drowned is reason that should me comfort,
And I remain, despairing of the port

Elegy III: Change by John Donne

Elegy III: Change

Although thy hand and faith, and good works too,
Have sealed thy love which nothing should undo,
Yea though thou fall back, that apostasy
Confirm thy love; yet much, much I fear thee.
Women are like the Arts, forced unto to none,
Open to all searchers, unprized if unknown.
If I have caught a bird, and let him fly,
Another fowler using these means, as I,
May catch the same bird; and, as these things be,
Women are made for men, not him, nor me.
Foxes and goats, all beasts, change when they please,
Shall women, more hot, wily, wild than these,
Be bound to one man, and did Nature then
Idly make tham apter t’ endure than men?
They’re our clogs, not their own; if a man be
Chained to a galley, yet the galley’s free;
Who hath a plough-land casts all his seedcorn there,
And yet allows his ground more corn should bear;
Though Danuby into the sea must flow,
The sea receives the Rhine, Volga, and Po.
By Nature, which gave it, this liberty
Thou lov’st, but Oh! canst thou love it and me?
Likeness glues love: and if that thou so do,
To make us like and love, must I change too?
More than thy hate, I hate’t; rather let me
Allow her change than change as oft as she,
And so not teach, but force my opinion
To love not any one, nor every one.
To live in one land is captivity,
To run all countries, a wild roguery;
Waters stink soon if in one place they bide,
And in the vast sea are more purified:
But when they kiss one bank, and leaving this
Never look back, but the next bank do kiss,
Then are they purest. Change is the nursery
Of music, joy, life, and eternity

John Donne 1572-1631

John Donne
Born: 22 January 1572, London, UK
Nationality: English
Died: 31 March 1631, London, UK

Donne was a poet, scholar, soldier, and secretary. Born to a recusant family, he later became a cleric in the Church of England. He was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London under royal patronage. Donne is considered a preeminent metaphysical poet with poetry renowned for its metaphysical and sensual style, including sonnets, religious poems, love poems, elegies, and satires. Donne is also renowned for his sermons

Lamentations of Jeremiah by Thomas Tallis

Lamentations of Jeremiah
1560-69
Religious Music

Thomas Tallis
Renaissance
Born: 30 January 1505, Kent, England
Nationality: English
Died: 23 November 1585, Greenwich, England

Thomas Tallis 1505-1585

Tallis was a Renaissance composer renowned for English choral music. Honoured for his original voice in English musicianship, Tallis is considered among England’s greatest composers

Sonnet September: I am a little world made cunningly by John Donne

John Donne 1573-1631

I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic sprite;
But black sin hath betrayed to endless night
My world’s both parts, and oh, both parts must die.
You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres and of new lads can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it if it must be drowned no more.
But oh, it must be burnt. Alas, the fire
Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler. Let their flames retire,
And burn me, O Lord, with a fiery zeal
Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal

Sonnet September: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare 1564-1616

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love is rare
As any she belied with false compare.

Sonnet September: When I consider every thing that grows by William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare 1564-1616

When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment,
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the selfsame sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you I engraft you anew

Sonnet September: Fra banc to banc, fra wod to wod I rin by Mark Alexander Boyd

Mark Alexander Boyd

Scots Dialect

Fra banc to banc, fra wod to wod I rin
Owrhailit with my feble fantasie,
Lye til a leif that fallis from a trie
Or til a reid owrblawin with the win’.
Twa gods gyds me: the arie of them is blin’,
Ye, and a bairn brocht up in yanitie;
The nixt a wyf ingenrit of the se,
And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin.
Unhappie is the man for evirmaire
That teils the sand and saw in the air,
Bot twyse unhappier is he, I lairn,
That feidis in his heirt a mad desire,
And follows on a woman throu the fyre,
Led by a blind and teichit by a bairn

Sonnet September: Over the brook of Cedron Christ is gone by William Alabaster

William Alabaster 1567-1640

Over the brook of Cedron Christ is gone,
To entertain the combat with his death,
Where David fled beforetime void of breath
To scape the treacheries of Absalon.
Go, let us follow him in passion,
Over this brook, this world that walloweth,
A stream of cares that drown our thoughts beneath,
And wash away all resolution.
Beyond the world he must be passed clear,
That in the world for Christ will trouble bear:
Leave we, O leave we then this miry flood,
Friends, pleasures, and unfaithful good.
Now we are up, now down, but cannot stand,
We sink, we reel; Jesu, stretch forth thy hand.

Sonnet September: Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part by Michael Drayton

Michael Drayton by 1562-1619

Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yes glad with all my heart
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of love’s latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes.
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thy mightst him yet recover

Sonnet September: Let others sing of knights and paladins by Samuel Daniel

Samuel Daniel 1562-1619

Let others sing of knights and paladins
In aged accents and untimely words,
Paint shadows in imaginary lines
Which well the reach of their high wits records;
But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes
Authentic shall my verse in time to come,
When yet the unborn shall say, “Lo where she lies,
Whose beauty made him speak that else was dumb”.
These are the arks, the trophies I erect,
That fortify thy name against old age;
And these thy sacred virtues must protect
Against the dark and time’s consuming rage.
Though the error of my youth they shall discover,
Suffice, they show I lived and was thy lover.

Self-Love by John Donne

Self-Love

He that cannot choose but love,
And strives against it still,
Never shall my fancy move,
For he loves ‘gainst his will;
Nor he which is all his own,
And can at pleasure choose,
When I am caught he can be gone,
And when he list refuse.
Nor he that loves none but fair,
For such by all are sought;
Nor he that can for foul ones care,
For his judgement then is nought;
Nor he that hath wit, for he
Will make me his jest or slave;
Nor a fool, for when others…,
He can neither….;
Nor he that still his Mistress pays,
For she is thralled therefore;
Nor he that pays not, for he says
Within She’s worth no more.
Is there then no kind of men
Whom I may freely prove?
I will vent that humour then
In mine own self-love

John Donne

John Donne
Born: 22 January 1572, London, UK
Nationality: English
Died: 31 March 1631, London, UK

Donne was a poet, scholar, soldier and secretary. Born to a recusant family, he later became a cleric in the Church of England. He was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London under royal patronage. Donne is considered a preeminent metaphysical poet with poetry renowned for their metaphysical and sensual style, including sonnets, religious poems, love poems, elegies and satires. Donne is also renowned for his sermons

Sonnet September: Love is the peace whereto all thoughts do strive by Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke

Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke 1554-1628

Love is the peace whereto all thoughts do strive,
Done and begun with all our powers in one:
The first and last in us that is alive,
End of the good, and therewith pleased alone.
Perfection’s spirit, goodness of the mind,
Passed through hope, desire, grief, and fear,
A simple goodness within the flesh refined,
Which of the joys to come doth witness bear.
Constant, because it sees no cause to vary,
A quintessence of passions overthrown,
Raised above all that change of objects carry,
A nature by no other nature known;
For glory’s of eternity a frame,
That by all bodies else obscures her name

Sonnet September: Three things there be that prosper up apace by Sir Walter Raleigh

Sir Walter Raleigh 1552-1618

To his son

Three things there be that prosper up apace
And flourish, whilst they grow asunder far;
But on a day, they meet all in one place,
And when they meet, they one another mar;
And they be these: the wood, the weed, the wag.
The wood is that which makes the gallows tree;
The weed is that which strings the hangman’s bag;
The wag, my pretty knave, betokeneth thee.
Mark well, dear boy, whist these assemble not,
Green springs the tree, hemp grows, the wag is wild;
But when they meet, it makes the timber rot,
It frets the halter, and it chokes the child.
Then bless thee, and beware, and let us pray
We part not with thee at this meeting day

Sonnet September: This holy season fit to fast and pray by Edmund Spenser

Edmund Spenser 1552-1599

This holy season fit to fast and pray,
Men to devotion ought to be inclined:
Therefore I likewise on so holy day
For my sweet saint some service fit will find.
Her temple fair is built within my mind,
In which her glorious image placed is,
On which my thoughts do day and night attend
Like sacred priests that never think amiss.
There I to her, as the author of my bliss,
Will build an altar to appease her ire,
And on the same my heart will sacrifice,
Burning in flames of pure and chaste desire:
The which vouchsafe, O goddess, to accept,
Amongst thy dearest relics to be kept

Sonnet September: Loving in truth by Sir Philip Sidney

Sir Philip Sidney 1554-1586

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That the dear she might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe;
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burnt brain.
But words come halting forth, wanting invention’s stay;
Invention, nature’s child, fled step-dame Study’s blows,
And others’ feet still seemed but strangers in my way,
Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,
Biting, my truant pen, beating myself for spite,
“Fool”, said my Muse to me, “look in thy heart, and write.”

Sonnet September: The thriftless thread which pampered beauty spins by George Gascoigne

George Gascoigne 1542-1577

The thriftless thread which pampered beauty spins
In thraldom binds the foolish gazing eyes,
As cruel spiders with their crafty gins
In worthless webs do snare the simple flies.
The garments gay, the glittering golden gite,
The ticing talk which floweth from Pallas’ pools,
The painted pale, the too much red made white,
Are smiling baits to fish for loving fools.
But lo, when eld in toothless mouth appears,
And hoary hairs in stead of beauty’s blaze,
Then, had I wist, doth teach repenting years
The tickle track of crafty Cupid’s maze
Twixt fair and foul, therefore, twixt great and small,
A lovely nutbrown face is best of all.

Sonnet September: Love, that doth reign and live within my thought by Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey

Henry Howard, Earl of Surry 1517-1547

Love, that doth reign and live within my thought,
And built his seat within my captive breast,
Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought,
Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.
But she that taught me love and suffer pain,
My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire
With shamefast look to shadow and refrain,
Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire.
And coward Love then to the heart apace
Taketh his flight, where he doth lurk and plain,
His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.
For my lord’s guilt thus faultless bide I pain,
Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove:
Sweet is the death that taketh end by love

Sonnet September: Whoso List to Hunt by Sir Thomas Wyatt

Thomas Wyatt 1503-1542

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,
But as for me, alas, I may no more;
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,
I am of them that farthest cometh behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow; I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,
As well as I may spend his time in vain;
And graven with diamonds in letters plain
There is written her fair neck round about:
“Noli me tangere, fo Caeser’s I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame”

The Paradox by John Donne

The Paradox

No Lover saith, I love, nor any other
Can judge a perfect Lover;
Hee thinkes that else none can, nor will agree
That any loves but hee;
I cannot say I’lov’d. for who can say
Hee was kill’d yesterday?
Lover withh excesse of heat, more yong than old,
Death kills with too much cold;
Wee dye but once, and who lov’d last did die,
Hee that saith twice, doth lye:
For though hee seeme to move, and stirre a while,
It doth the sense beguile.
Such life is like the light which bideth yet
When the lights life is set,
Or like the heat, which fire in solid matter
Leave behinde, two houres after.
Once I lov’s and dy’d; and am now become
Mine Epitaph and Tombe.
Here dead men speake their last, and so do I;
Love-slaine, loe, here I lye

John Donne

John Donne
Born: 22 January 1572, London, UK
Nationality: English
Died: 31 March 1631, London, UK

Donne was a poet, scholar, soldier, and secretary. Born to a recusant family, he later became a cleric in the Church of England. He was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London under royal patronage. Donne is considered a preeminent metaphysical poet with poetry renowned for its metaphysical and sensual style, including sonnets, religious poems, love poems, elegies, and satires. Donne is also renowned for his sermons

Farewell Love and All Thy Laws Forever by Thomas Wyatt

Farewell Love and All Thy Laws Forever
16th century

Farewell love and all thy laws forever;
Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more.
Senec and Plato call me from thy lore
To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavour.
In blind error when I did persever,
Thy sharp repulse, that pricketh aye so sore,
Hath taught me to set in trifles no store
And scape forth, since liberty is lever.
Therefore farewell; go trouble younger hearts
And in me claim no more authority.
With idle youth go use thy property
And thereon spend thy many brittle darts,
For hitherto though I have lost all my time,
Me lusteth no lenger rotten boughs to climb

Thomas Wyatt

Thomas Wyatt
Born: 1503, Kent, England
Nationality: English
Died: 11 October 1542. Dorset, England

Wyatt was a16th century politician and lyric poet. He is credited with bringing the sonnet to English literature. Following his father into the court of Henry VIII after his education at St. John’s College, Cambridge Wyatt was entrusted by the king with many important diplomatic missions. Thomas Cromwell was his principal patron in public life. Following the death of Cromwell Wyatt was recalled from abroad and imprisoned for treason. Ultimately he was acquitted and released shortly before his death in 1542. Wyatt’s poetry may have been published anonymously during his lifetime, however, none was published and printed under his name until some 15 years after his death

I Find No Peace by Thomas Wyatt

I Find No Peace
16th Century

I find no peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I season.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And holdeth me not–yet can I scape no wise–
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And my delight is causer of this strife

Thomas Wyatt

Thomas Wyatt
Born: 1503, Kent, England
Nationality: English
Died: 11 October 1542. Dorset, England

Wyatt was a16th century politician and lyric poet. He is credited with bringing the sonnet to English literature. Following his father into the court of Henry VIII after his education at St. John’s College, Cambridge Wyatt was entrusted by the king with many important diplomatic missions. Thomas Cromwell was his principal patron in public life. Following the death of Cromwell Wyatt was recalled from abroad and imprisoned for treason. Ultimately he was acquitted and released shortly before his death in 1542. Wyatt’s poetry may have been published anonymously during his lifetime, however, none was published and printed under his name until some 15 years after his death

The Apparition by John Donne

The Apparition

When by thy scorn, O murd’ress, I am dead,
And that thou think’st thee free
From all solicitation from me,
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,
And thee, feigned vestal, in worse arms shall see;
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,
And he, whose thou art then, being tired before,
Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think
Thou call’st for more,
And in false sleep will from thee shrink,
And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected thou
Bathed in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie
A verier ghost than I.
What I will say I will not tell thee now,
Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,
I’d rather thou shouldst painfully repent
Than by my threat’nings rest still innocent

John Donne

John Donne
Born: 22 January 1572, London, UK
Nationality: English
Died: 31 March 1631, London, UK

Donne was a poet, scholar, soldier, and secretary. Born to a recusant family, he later became a cleric in the Church of England. He was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London under royal patronage. Donne is considered a preeminent metaphysical poet with poetry renowned for its metaphysical and sensual style, including sonnets, religious poems, love poems, elegies, and satires. Donne is also renowned for his sermons

The Venus of Urbino by Titian

The Venus of Urbino by Titian

The Venus of Urbino
1538
High Renaissance
Oil on canvas
The Uffizi Gallery, Florence, Italy

‘The Venus of Urbino’ comes from a long tradition of Venus representations and was inspired by Giorgione’s Sleeping Venus, however, Titian’s Venus is somewhat more erotic. Her sensuality is enhanced by her gaze, her feint smile, and her seemingly awareness of the viewer. Titian’s Venus is realistic and tempting with the play of light and subtle use of chiaroscuro gives the figure a sculptural quality. ‘The Venus of Urbino’ is considered to be one of the most accomplished examples of the genre.

Titian

Titian
Renaissance, Mannerism
Born: 1490, Pieve di Cadore, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 27 August 1576, Venice, Italy

Titian was a painter and regarded as one of the greatest painters of the Renaissance, combining Mannerist and High Renaissance ideas to develop a style that is remarkable ahead of his time. His creativity dominated Venetian art and the city rivaled the artistic centres of Rome and Florence

Elegy XVI: On His Mistress by John Donne

Elegy XVI: On His Mistress

By our first strange and fatal interview,
By all desires which thereof did ensue,
By our long starving hopes, by that remorse
Which my words’ masculine persuasive force
Begot in thee, and by the memory
Of hurts, which spies and rivals threatened me,
I calmly beg: but by thy father’s wrath,
By all pains, which want and divorcement hath,
I conjure thee, and all the oaths which I
And thou have sworn to seal joint constancy,
Here I unswear, and overswear them thus,
Thou shalt not love by ways so dangerous.
Temper, O fair Love, love’s impetuous rage,
Be my true Mistress still, not my feigned Page;
I’ll go, and, by thy kind leave, leave behind
Thee, only worthy to nurse in my mind
Thirst to come back; O if thou die before,
My soul from other lands to thee shall soar.
Thy (else Almighty) beauty cannot move
Rage from the Seas, nor thy love teach them love,
Nor tame wild Boreas’ harshness; thou hast read
How roughly he in pieces shivered
Fair Orithea, wbom he swore he loved.
Fall ill or good, ’tis madness to have proved
Dangers unurged; feed on this flattery,
That absent Lovers one in th’ other be.
Dissemble nothing, not a boy, nor change
Thy body’s habit, nor mind’s; be not strange
To thyself only; all will spy in thy face
A blushing womanly discovering grace;
Ricbly clothed Apes are called Apes, and as soon
Eclipsed as bright we call the Moon the Moon.
Men of France, changeable chameleons,
Spitals of diseases, shops of fashions,
Love’s fuellers, and the rightest company
Of Players, which upon the world’s stage be,
Will quickly know thee, and no less, alas!
Th’ indifferent Italian, as we pass
His warm land, well content to think thee Page,
Will hunt thee with such lust, and hideous rage,
As Lot’s fair guests were vexed. But none of these
Nor spongy hydroptic Dutch shall thee displease,
If thou stay here. O stay here, for, for thee
England is only a worthy gallery,
To walk in expectation, till from thence
Our greatest King call thee to his presence.
When I am gone, dream me some happiness,
Nor let thy looks our long-hid love confess,
Nor praise, nor dispraise me, nor bless nor curse
Openly love’s force, nor in bed fright thy Nurse
With midnight’s startings, crying out—oh, oh
Nurse, O my love is slain, I saw him go
O’er the white Alps alone; I saw him, I,
Assailed, fight, taken, stabbed, bleed, fall, and die.
Augur me better chance, except dread Jove
Think it enough for me t’ have had thy love

John Donne

John Donne
Born: 22 January 1572, London, UK
Nationality: English
Died: 31 March 1631, London, UK

Donne was a poet, scholar, soldier and secretary. Born to a recusant family, he later became a cleric in the Church of England. He was made Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral, London under royal patronage. Donne is considered a preeminent metaphysical poet with poetry renowned for their metaphysical and sensual style, including sonnets, religious poems, love poems, elegies and satires. Donne is also renowned for his sermons

If Ye Love Me by Thomas Tallis

If Ye Love Me
1565
Renaissance

Thomas Tallis

Thomas Tallis
Renaissance
Born: 30 January 1505, Kent, England
Nationality: English
Died: 23 November 1585, Greenwich, England

Tallis was a Renaissance composer renowned for English choral music. Honoured for his original voice in English musicianship, Tallis is considered among England’s greatest composers

Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror by Parmigianino

Title: Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror
Date: 1524
Movement: Mannerism
Media: Oil on convex wood panel
Current Location: Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, Austria

Parmigianino’s earliest self-portrait was a meticulously created and radical composition using a curved barber’s mirror with the artist carefully ensuring everything visible in the glass appeared on the convex panel of poplar he had specifically made.

Artist: Parmigianino
Born: 11 January 1503, Parma, Italy
Nationality: Italian
Died: 24 August 1540, Casalmaggiore, Italy