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20
THE LIFE OF MICHAEL ANGELO
“… Volta a quell’ amor divino
C’aperse a prender noi ’n croce le braccia.”[1]
The fruitful cry of the “Ode to Joy” was not uttered. Until his last breath it was an Ode to Sorrow and to Death which delivers. The conquest was complete.
Such was one of the world’s conquerors. We who enjoy the works of his genius do so in the same manner as we enjoy the conquests of our ancestors: we make no reckoning of the blood which they have cost.
“Non vi si pensa
Quanto sangue costa.”[2]
My desire has been to display this blood to the eyes of all, to wave above our heads the red standard of heroes.
