ungrammatical sentences in which he has enveloped it. The form of
Campanella's poetry, though often grotesque, is always clear. Michael
Angelo has left too many of his compositions in the same state as his
marbles--unfinished and colossal _abbozzi,_ which lack the final
touches to make their outlines distinct. Under these circumstances, it
can hardly happen that the translator should succeed in reproducing all
the sharpness and vivacity of Campanella's style, or should wholly
refrain from softening, simplifying, and prettifying Michael Angelo in
his attempt to produce an intelligible version. In both cases he is
tempted to make his translation serve the purpose also of a commentary,
and has to exercise caution and self-control lest he impose a sense too
narrow or too definite upon the original.

So far as this was possible, I have adhered to the rhyming structure of
my originals, feeling that this is a point of no small moment in
translation. Yet when the choice lay between a sacrifice of metrical
exactitude and a sacrifice of sense, I have not hesitated to prefer the
former, especially in dealing with Campanella's quatrains.

Michael Angelo and Campanella follow different rules in their treatment
of the triplets. Michael Angelo allows himself three rhymes, while
Campanella usually confines himself to two. My practice has been to
study in each sonnet the cadence both of thought and diction, so as to
satisfy an English ear, accustomed to the various forms of termination
exemplified by Spenser, Milton, Wordsworth, and Rossetti--the sweetest,
the most sublime, the least artificial, and the most artful sonnet-writers
in our language.

The short titles attached to each sonnet are intended to help the eye,
rather than to guide the understanding of the reader. Michael Angelo