Page:The Life of Michael Angelo.djvu/88

 these thoughts of his youth, and others were destroyed before his death. However, the few which remain suffice to call up his passions.

The oldest poem seems to have been written in Florence about 1504:

"How happy I lived, Cupid, so long as I was allowed to resist your passion victoriously! Now, alas! my breast is wet with tears—I have felt your strength. ...."

Two madrigals, written between 1504 and 1511, and probably addressed to the same woman, are poignantly expressive:

"Who is it leads me by force to you . . . Alas! Alas! Alas! . . . closely enchained? And yet I am free! . . ."

"How is it possible that I am no longer myself?