To Pope Julius II
My Lord! if ever ancient saw spake sooth,Hear this which saith: Who can, doth never will.Lo! thou hast lent thine ear to fables still,Rewarding those who hate the name of truth.I am thy drudge and have been from my youth--Thine, like the rays which the sun's circle fill;Yet of my dear time's waste thou think'st no ill:The more I toil, the less I move thy ruth.Once 'twas my hope to raise me by thy height;But 'tis the balance and the powerful swordOf Justice, not false Echo, that we need.Heaven, as it seems, plants virtue in despiteHere on the earth, if this be our reward--To seek for fruit on trees too dry to breed.
Words in this poem
- sooth a.
- True; faithful; trustworthy. [OE. soth, AS. s, for san; akin to OS. s, OHG. sand, Icel. sannr, Sw. sann, Dan. sand, Skr. sat, sant, real, genuine, present, being; properly p. pr. from a root]
- saith
- 3d pers. sing. pres. of Say.
- hast
- , 2d pers. sing. pres. of. Fave, contr. of havest.
- ruth n.
- Sorrow for the misery of another; pity; tenderness. [From Rue, v.: cf. Icel. hryggedh, hrygedh.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To Pope Julius II is in the public domain. This text is taken from Sonnets, Project Gutenberg ebook #10314, the John Addington Symonds translation; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Michelangelo Buonarroti, To Pope Julius II, in Sonnets (1878), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #10314, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/michelangelo-sonnets/to-pope-julius-ii.html, id L15145.
Form and metre
To Pope Julius II is 14 lines in a single stanza. It rhymes ABBAABBACDECDE, the pattern of the Italian sonnet. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 99% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 14% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other Italian sonnets, other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABBAABBACDECDE soothA · willB · stillB · truthA · youthA · fillB · illB · ruthA · heightC · swordD · needE · despiteC · rewardD · breedE
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| My Lord! if ever ancient saw spake sooth, | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| Hear this which saith: Who can, doth never will. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Lo! thou hast lent thine ear to fables still, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Rewarding those who hate the name of truth. | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| I am thy drudge and have been from my youth-- | 10 | ·········· |
| Thine, like the rays which the sun's circle fill; | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Yet of my dear time's waste thou think'st no ill: | 10 | ·········· |
| The more I toil, the less I move thy ruth. | 10 | ·········· |
| Once 'twas my hope to raise me by thy height; | 10 | ·········· |
| But 'tis the balance and the powerful sword | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Of Justice, not false Echo, that we need. | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Heaven, as it seems, plants virtue in despite | 10 | /····/˘·˘/ |
| Here on the earth, if this be our reward-- | 10 | ·······/˘/ |
| To seek for fruit on trees too dry to breed. | 10 | ·········· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.