But is not the rilievo precisely the bridge by which the one art passes over into the territory of the other? for her Brunelleschi curved the dome which Michel Angelo hung in air on St. Peter's; for her Giotto reared the bell-tower graceful as an Horatian ode in marble; and the great triumvirate of Italian poetry, good senset Raphael dignity.
From the same walls Savonarola went forth to his triumphs, short-lived almost as the crackle of his martyrdom.
The plain little chamber of Michel Angelo seems still to expect his return; his last sketches lie upon the table, his staff leans in the corner, and his slippers wait before the empty chair.
On one o9
See the letter in Gaye, Carteggio inedito d'artisti, Vol.
I. p. 123. she begged again, but Ravenna, a dead city, was tenacious of the dead poet.
In 1519 Michel Angelo would have built the monument, but Leo X. refused to allow the sacred dust to be removed.
Finally, in 1829, five hundred and eight years after the death of Da
caught from Marlowe, traces of whom are frequent in him. There is certainly something of what afterwards came to be called Miltonic in more than one passage of Tamburlaine, a play in which gigantic force seems struggling from the block, as in Michel Angelo's Dawn.
Mr. Masson's remarks on the versification of Milton are, in the main, judicious, but when he ventures on particulars, one cannot always agree with him. He seems to understand that our prosody is accentual merely, and yet, when he ct's personal experience is generalized into a classic tragedy.
Gentle as Milton's earlier portraits would seem to show him, he had in him by nature, or bred into him by fate, something of the haughty and defiant selfasser-tion of Dante and Michel Angelo.
In no other English author is the man so large a part of his works.
Milton's haughty conception of himself enters into all he says and does.
Always the necessity of this one man became that of the whole human race for the moment.