The thought, that Nature is disgraced in the loss of its best creation, is repeated in Michelangelo’s poetry. (See sonnet No. 4 [XVII], madrigal No. 9 [XIII].)
[87]
Two other sonnets, Nos. LXIII and LXIV, breathe an atmosphere of the most gloomy despair. The first expresses a profound self-reproach; the time to soar heavenward was while the sun of life still shone; it is now too late. The second declares that the flame has expired, to leave only ashes without a spark.
I do not doubt that here also belongs another sonnet, placed by Guasti as if belonging to an earlier date.
[LI]
TORNAMI AL TEMPO ALLOR CHE LENTA E SCIOLTA
Give me the day when free was cast the rein
For headlong ardor’s unreflecting race;
Restore to me the calm angelic face
Wherewith interred seems Virtue to remain;