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Updated: May 18, 2025
La notte che morì Pier Soderini L' alma n' andò dell' inferno alla bocca; E Pluto le gridò: Anima sciocca, Che inferno? va nel limbo de' bambini. The night that Peter Soderini died, His soul flew down unto the mouth of hell: 'What? Hell for you? You silly spirit! cried The fiend: 'your place is where the babies dwell.
They were surprised together by the husband, and slain on the spot. "Quali colombe, dal disio chiamate, Con l'ali aperte e ferme, al dolce nido Volan per l'aer dal voler portate Cotali uscir de la schiera ov'è Dido, A noi venendo per l'aer maligno, Sì forte fu l'affettuoso grido."
In opening the second session of the sixth Sardinian Parliament, Victor Emmanuel pronounced, on 10th January, the historic phrase declaring that he could not remain insensible to the cry of grief, il grido di dolore, that reached him from all parts of Italy. Every corner of the fair country where the Si sounds was electrified.
Joseph, and the Christ, yes, by all means if you choose to call them so, but essentially, Mamma, Papa, and the Baby. And all Italy threw up its cap, "Ora ha Giotto il grido." For he defines, explains, and exalts, every sweet incident of human nature; and makes dear to daily life every mystic imagination of natures greater than our own.
He had also written a poem entitled Completo, of which he gave me a copy. It was, he said, "un grido dell' anima." He had not found a publisher for it yet, but if I would translate it into English and get it published in London, I could send him any profits that might accrue.
In the popular mind Cimabue still remains "The Father of modern painting," and though his renown may have attracted more pictures and more legends to his name than properly belong to him, it is certain that Dante, his contemporary, wrote of him thus: Credette Cimabue nella pintura Tener lo campo, ed ora ha Giotto il grido Si che la fama di colui s'oscura.
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