Michelangelo (1475–1564)

Translated by John Addington Symonds

PERCHANCE that I might learn what pity is,

That I might laugh at erring men no more,

Secure in my own strength as heretofore,

My soul hath fallen from her state of bliss:

Now know I under any flag but this

How fighting I may ’scape those perils sore,

Or how survive the rout and horrid roar

Of adverse hosts, if I thy succour miss.

O flesh! O blood! O cross! O pain extreme!

By you may those foul sins be purified,

Wherein my fathers were, and I was born!

Lo, Thou alone art good: let Thy supreme

Pity my state of evil cleanse and hide—

So near to death, so far from God, forlorn.