Edmund Spenser

"Darke is the day, when Phœbus face is shrowded, And weaker sights may wander soone astray: But when they see his glorious raies unclowded, With steddy steps they keepe the perfect way: So while this Muse in forraine landes doth stay, Invention weepes, and pens are cast aside, The time, like night, depriv’d of chearefull day, And few do write, but ah! too soone may slide. Then, hie thee home, that art our perfect guide, And with thy wit illustrate Englands fame, Dawnting thereby our neighboures auncient pride, That do for poesie challendge cheefest name. So we that live, and ages that succeede, With great applause thy learned works shall reede.Ah! Colin, whether on the lowly plaine, Pyping to shepherds thy sweete roundelaies, Or whether singing, in some lofty vaine, Heroick deedes of past or present daies, Or whether in thy lovely mistris praise Thou list to exercise thy learned quill, Thy Muse hath got such grace, and power to please, With rare invention, bewtified by skill, As who therein can ever joy their fill? O therefore let that happy Muse proceede To clime the height of Vertues sacred hill, Where endles honor shall be made thy meede: Because no malice of succeeding daies Can rase those records of thy lasting praise."

"Through thick and thin, both over bank and bush."

"I hate the day, because it lendeth light To see all things, but not my love to see."

"I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme; From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason."

"Uncouthe, unkiste, sayde the olde famous poete Chaucer."

"So now they have made our English tongue, a gallimaufray or hodgepodge of al other speches."

"And whither rennes this bevie of ladies bright, Raunged in a rowe?"

"Full little knowest thou that hast not tride, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To loose good dayes, that might be better spent; To wast long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow. . . . . . . . . . To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares; To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires; To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne, To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne. Unhappie wight, borne to desastrous end, That doth his life in so long tendance spend!"

"Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine, With Gelliflowres: Bring Coronations, and Sops in wine, Worne of Paramoures. Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies, And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and loved Lillies: The pretie Pawnce, And the Chevisaunce, Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice."

"Is not thilke the mery moneth of May, When love lads masken in fresh aray?"

"To kerke the narre from God more farre, Has bene an old-sayd sawe; And he that strives to touche a starre Oft stombles at a strawe."

"What more felicitie can fall to creature Than to enjoy delight with libertie, And to be lord of all the workes of Nature, To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie, To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature."

"All, that in this world is great or gay, Doth as a vapour vanish, and decay."

"For deeds do die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men do as themselves decay; But wise words, taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for aye; Nor may with storming showers be washed away; Nor bitter-breathing winds, with harmful blast, Nor age, nor envy, shall them ever waste."

"Ah, when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love?"

"Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes, And blesseth her with his two happy hands."

"I learned have, not to despise, What ever thing seemes small in common eyes."

"See how the tyrannesse doth joy to see The huge massacres which her eyes do make."

"The rolling wheel, that runneth often round, The hardest steel in tract of time doth tear; And drizzling drops, that often do redound, The firmest flint doth in continuance wear: Yet cannot I, with many a dropping tear, And long entreaty, soften her hard heart, That she will once vouchsafe my plaint to hear, Or look with pity on my painful smart: But when I plead, she bids me play my part; And when I weep, she says, "Tears are but water"; And when I sigh, she says, "I know the art"; And when I wail, she turns herself to laughter; So do I weep and wail, and plead in vain, Whiles she as steel and flint doth still remain."

"The merry cuckow, messenger of spring His trompet shrill hath thrise already sounded."

"Fondnesse it were for any being free, To covet fetters, though they golden bee."

"Of this worlds theatre in which we stay, My love lyke the spectator ydly sits Beholding me that all the pageants play, Disguysing diversly my troubled wits. Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits, And mask in myrth lyke to a comedy: Soone after when my joy to sorrow flits, I waile and make my woes a tragedy."

"What then can move her? if nor merth, nor mone, She is no woman, but a sencelesse stone."

"Most glorious Lord of lyfe that on this day, Didst make thy triumph over death and sin: And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away, Captivity thence captive, us to win."

"So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought; Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught."

"Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king, In whose cote armour richly are displayd All sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring In goodly colours gloriously arrayd."

"Tell her the joyous Time will not be staid, Unlesse she doe him by the forelock take."

"Make hast therefore sweet love, whilest it is prime, For none can call againe the passed time."

"One day I wrote her name upon the strand, But came the waves and washed it away: Agayne I wrote it with a second hand, But came the tyde, and made my paynes his pray. Vayne man, sayd she, that doest in vaine assay, A mortall thing so to immortalize. For I my selve shall lyke to this decay, And eek my name bee wyped out lykewize. Not so, (quod I) let baser things devize, To dy in dust, but you shall live by fame: My verse your vertues rare shall eternize, And in the hevens wryte your glorious name. Where whenas death shall all the world subdew, Our love shall live, and later life renew."

"Open the temple gates unto my love, Open them wide that she may enter in."

"Of such deep learning little had he neede, Ne yet of Latine, ne of Greeke, that breede Doubts mongst Divines, and difference of texts, From whence arise diversitie of sects, And hatefull heresies."

"To be wise and eke to love, Is graunted scarce to God above."

"Ne let the Pouke, nor other evill sprights, Ne let mischievous witches with their charmes, Ne let hob goblins, names whose sence we see not, Fray us with things that be not."

"Song made in lieu of many ornaments, With which my love should duly have bene dect."

"Calm was the day, and through the trembling air Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play— A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair."

"Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song."

"There, in a Meadow, by the Rivers side, A flocke of Nymphes I chaunced to espy, All lovely Daughters of the Flood thereby, With goodly greenish locks all loose untyde, As each had bene a Bryde."

"With that I saw two swans of goodly hue Come softly swimming down along the Lee: Two fairer birds I yet did never see; The snow which doth the top of Pindus strow Did never whiter show, Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be For love of Leda, whiter did appear."

"So purely white they were, That even the gentle streame, the which them bare, Seem’d foule to them, and bad his billowes spare To wet their silken feathers, least they might Soyle their fair plumes with water not so fayre, And mar their beauties bright, That shone as heavens light."

"At length they all to mery London came, To mery London, my most kindly Nurse, That to me gave this lifes first native sourse."

"That beauty is not, as fond men misdeem, An outward shew of things, that only seem."

"So every spirit, as it is most pure, And hath in it the more of heavenly light, So it the fairer bodie doth procure To habit in, and it more fairely dight With cheerful grace and amiable sight: For of the soule the bodie forme doth take; For the soule is forme, and doth the bodie make."

"For all that faire is, is by nature good; That is a signe to know the gentle blood."

"Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song."

"A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine."

"But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad."

"The noblest mind the best contentment has."

"A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name Great Gorgon, Prince of darknesse and dead night."

"As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place."

"So love is Lord of all the world by right."