HAppyHappy ye leauesleaves when as those lilly hands,
which hold my life in their dead doing might
shall handle you and hold in louesloves soft bands,
lyke captiuescaptives trembling at the victors sight.
And happy lines, on which with starry light,
those lamping eyes will deigne sometimes to look
and reade the sorrowes of my dying spright,
written with teares in harts close bleeding book.
And happy rymes bath’d in the sacred brooke,
of Helicon whence she deriuedderived is,
when ye behold that Angels blessed looke,
my soules long lacked foode, my heauensheavens blis.
LeauesLeaves, lines, and rymes, seeke her to please alone,
whom if ye please, I care for other none.
VNquietVnquietUNquietUnquiet thought, whom at the first I bred,
Of th’inward bale of my louelove pined hart:
and sithens hauehave with sighes and sorrowes fed,
till greater then my wombe thou woxen art.
Breake forth at length out of the inner part,
in which thou lurkest lyke to vipers brood:
and seeke some succour both to ease my smart
and also to sustayne thy selfe with food.
But if in presence of that fayrest proud
thou chance to come, fall lowly at her feet:
and with meeke humblesse and afflicted mood,
pardon for thee, and grace for me intreat.
Which if she graunt, then liuelive and my louelove cherish,
if not, die soone, and I with thee will perish.
THeThe soueraynesoverayne beauty which I doo admyre,
witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed:
the light wherof hath kindled heauenlyheavenly fyre,
in my fraile spirit by her from basenesse raysed.
That being now with her huge brightnesse dazed,
base thing I can no more endure to view:
but looking still on her I stand amazed,
at wondrous sight of so celestiall hew.
So when my toung would speak her praises dew,
it stopped is with thoughts astonishment:
and when my pen would write her titles true,
it rauishtravisht is with fancies wonderment:
Yet in my hart I then both speake and write,
the wonder that my wit cannot endite.
NEwNew yeare forth looking out of IanusJanus gate,
Doth seeme to promise hope of new delight:
and bidding th’old Adieu, his passed date
bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spright.
And calling forth out of sad Winters night,
fresh louelove, that long hath slept in cheerlesse bower
wils him awake, and soone about him dight
his wanton wings and darts of deadly power.
For lusty spring now in his timely howre,
is ready to come forth him to receiuereceive:
and warnes the Earth with diuersdivers colord flowre,
to decke hir selfe, and her faire mantle weaueweave.
Then you faire flowre, in whõwhom fresh youth doth raine,
prepare your selfe new louelove to entertaine.
RVdelyRvdelyRUdelyRudely thou wrongest my deare harts
desire,
In finding fault with her too portly pride:
the thing which I doo most in her admire,
is of the world vnworthyunworthy most enuideenvide.
For in those lofty lookes is close implide,
scorn of base things, &and sdeigne of foule dishonor:
thretning rash eies which gaze on her so wide,
that loosely they ne dare to looke vponupon her.
Such pride is praise, such portlinesse is honor,
that boldned innocence beares in hir eies:
and her faire countenance like a goodly banner,
spreds in defiaunce of all enemies.
Was neuernever in this world ought worthy tride,
without some spark of such self-pleasing pride.
BEBe nought dismayd that her vnmouedunmoved mind,
doth still persist in her rebellious pride:
such louelove not lyke to lusts of baser kynd,
the harder wonne, the firmer will abide.
The durefull Oake, whose sap is not yet dride,
is long ere it conceiueconceive the kindling fyre:
but when it once doth burne, it doth diuidedivide
great heat, and makes his flames to heauenheaven aspire.
So hard it is to kindle new desire,
in gentle brest that shall endure for euerever:
deepe is the wound, that dints the parts entire
with chast affects, that naught but death can seuersever.
Then thinke not long in taking litle paine,
to knit the knot, that euerever shall remaine.
Fayre eyes, the myrrour of my mazed hart,
what wondrous vertue is contaynd in you
the which both lyfe and death forth frõfrom you dart
into the obiectobject of your mighty view?
For when ye mildly looke with louelylovely hew,
then is my soule with life and louelove inspired:
but when ye lowre, or looke on me askew
then doe I die, as one with lightning fyred.
But since that lyfe is more then death desyred,
looke euerever
louelylovely, as becomes you best,
that your bright beams of my weak eies admyred,
may kindle liuingliving fire within my brest.
Such life should be the honor of your light,
such death the sad ensample of your might.
MOreMore then most faire, full of the liuingliving
fire,
Kindled aboueabove
vntounto the maker neere:
no eies but ioyesjoyes, in which al powers conspire,
that to the world naught else be counted deare.
Thrugh your bright beams doth not y^ethe blinded guest,
shoot out his darts to base affections wound:
but Angels come to lead fraile mindes to rest
in chast desires on heauenlyheavenly beauty bound.
You frame my thoughts and fashion me within,
you stop my toung, and teach my hart to speake,
you calme the storme that passion did begin,
strõgstrong thrugh your cause, but by your vertue weak.
Dark is the world, where your light shined neuernever;
well is he borne, that may behold you euerever.
Long-whileLOng-while I sought to what I might
compare
those powrefull eies, which lightẽlighten my dark spright,
yet find I nought on earth to which I dare
resemble th’ymage of their goodly light.
Not to the Sun: for they doo shine by night;
nor to the Moone: for they are changed neuernever;
nor to the Starres: for they hauehave purer sight;
nor to the fire: for they consume not euerever;
Nor to the lightning: for they still perseuerpersever;
nor to the Diamond: for they are more tender;
nor vntounto Christall: for nought may them seuersever;
nor vntounto glasse: such basenesse mought offend her:
Then to the Maker selfe they likest be,
whose light doth lighten all that here we see.
VNrighteousVnrighteousUNrighteousUnrighteous Lord of louelove what law is this,
That me thou makest thus tormented be:
the whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse
of her freewill, scorning both thee and me.
See how the Tyrannesse doth ioyjoy to see
the huge massacres which her eyes do make:
and humbled harts brings captiuescaptives
vntounto thee,
that thou of them mayst mightie vengeance take.
But her proud hart doe thou a little shake
and that high look, with which she doth comptroll
all this worlds pride bow to a baser make,
and al her faults in thy black booke enroll.
That I may laugh at her in equall sort,
as she doth laugh at me &and makes my pain her sport.
DAylyDayly when I do seeke and sew for peace,
And hostages doe offer for my truth:
she cruell warriour doth her selfe addresse,
to battell, and the weary war renew’th.
Ne wilbe moou’dmoov’d with reason or with rewth,
to graunt small respit to my restlesse toile:
but greedily her fell intent poursewth,
Of my poore life to make vnpitteidunpitteid spoile.
Yet my poore life, all sorrowes to assoyle,
I would her yield, her wrath to pacify:
but then she seekes with torment and turmoyle,
to force me liuelive and will not let me dy.
All paine hath end and eueryevery war hath peace,
but mine no price nor prayer may surcease.
ONeOne day I sought with her hart-thrilling
eies,
to make a truce and termes to entertaine:
all fearelesse then of so false enimies,
which sought me to entrap in treasons traine.
So as I then disarmed did remaine,
a wicked ambush which lay hidden long
in the close couertcovert of her guilefull eyen,
thence breaking forth did thick about me throng.
Too feeble I t’abide the brunt so strong,
was forst to yeeld my selfe into their hands:
who me captiuingcaptiving streight with rigorous wrong,
hauehave
euerever since me kept in cruell bands.
So Ladie now to you I doo complaine,
against your eies that iusticejustice I may gaine.
InIN that proud port, which her so goodly
graceth,
whiles her faire face she reares vpup to the skie:
and to the ground her eie lids low embaseth,
most goodly temperature ye may descry,
Myld humblesse mixt with awfull maiestymajesty,
for looking on the earth whence she was borne:
her minde remembreth her mortalitie,
what so is fayrest shall to earth returne.
But that same lofty countenance seemes to scorne
base thing, &and thinke how she to heauenheaven may clime:
treading downe earth as lothsome and forlorne,
that hinders heauenlyheavenly thoughts with drossy slime.
Yet lowly still vouchsafe to looke on me,
such lowlinesse shall make you lofty be.
REtourneRetourne agayne my forces late dismayd,
VntoUnto the siege by you abandon’d quite,
great shame it is to leaueleave like one afrayd,
so fayre a peece for one repulse so light.
Gaynst such strong castles needeth greater might,
then those small forts which ye were wont belay,
such haughty mynds enur’d to hardy fight,
disdayne to yield vntounto the first assay.
Bring therefore all the forces that ye may,
and lay incessant battery to her heart,
playnts, prayers, vowes, ruth, sorrow, and dismay,
those engins can the proudest louelove
conuertconvert.
And if those fayle fall downe and dy before her,
so dying liuelive, and liuingliving do adore her.
YEYe tradefull Merchants that with weary
toyle,
do seeke most pretious things to make your gain:
and both the Indias of their treasures spoile,
what needeth you to seeke so farre in vaine?
For loe my louelove doth in her selfe containe
all this worlds riches that may farre be found,
if Saphyres, loe her eies be Saphyres plaine,
if Rubies, loe hir lips be Rubies sound:
If Pearles, hir teeth be pearles both pure and round;
if YuorieYvorie, her forhead yuoryyvory weene;
if Gold, her locks are finest gold on ground;
if siluersilver, her faire hands are siluersilver sheene,
But that which fairest is, but few behold,
her mind adornd with vertues manifold.
ONeOne day as I vnwarilyunwarily did gaze
on those fayre eyes my louesloves immortall light:
the whiles my stonisht hart stood in amaze,
through sweet illusion of her lookes delight.
I mote perceiueperceive how in her glauncing sight,
legions of louesloves with little wings did fly:
darting their deadly arrowes fyry bright,
at eueryevery rash beholder passing by.
One of those archers closely I did spy,
ayming his arrow at my very hart:
when suddenly with twincle of her eye,
the Damzell broke his misintended dart.
Had she not so doon, sure I had bene slayne,
yet as it was, I hardly scap’t with paine.
THeThe glorious pourtraict of that Angels
face,
Made to amaze weake mens confused skil:
and this worlds worthlesse glory to embase,
what pen, what pencill can expresse her fill?
For though he colours could deuizedevize at will,
and eke his learned hand at pleasure guide:
least trembling it his wormanship should spill,
yet many wondrous things there are beside.
The sweet eye-glaunces, that like arrowes glide,
the charming smiles, that rob sence from the hart:
the louelylovely pleasance and the lofty pride,
cannot expressed be by any art.
A greater craftesmans hand thereto doth neede,
that can expresse the life of things indeed.
THeThe rolling wheele that runneth often
round,
The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare:
and drizling drops that often doe redound,
the firmest flint doth in continuance weare.
Yet cannot I with many a dropping teare,
and long intreaty soften her hard hart:
that she will once vouchsafe my plaint to heare,
or looke with pitty on my payneful smart.
But when I pleade, she bids me play my part,
and when I weep, she sayes teares are but water:
and when I sigh, she sayes I know the art,
and when I waile she turnes hir selfe to laughter.
So doe I weepe, and wayle, and pleade in vaine,
whiles she as steele and flint doth still remayne.
THeThe merry Cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trompet shrill hath thrise already sounded:
that warnes al louerslovers wayt vponupon their king,
who now is comming forth with girland crouned.
With noyse whereof the quyre of Byrds resounded
their anthemes sweet devized of louesloves prayse,
that all the woods theyr ecchoes back rebounded,
as if they knew the meaning of their layes.
But mongst them all, which did LouesLoves honor rayse
no word was heard of her that most it ought,
but she his precept proudly disobayes,
and doth his ydle message set at nought.
Therefore O louelove, vnlesseunlesse she turne to thee
ere Cuckow end, let her a rebell be.
INIn vaine I seeke and sew to her for grace,
and doe myne humbled hart before her poure:
the whiles her foot she in my necke doth place,
and tread my life downe in the lowly floure.
And yet the Lyon that is Lord of power,
and reigneth ouerover
eueryevery beast in field:
in his most pride disdeigneth to deuouredevoure
the silly lambe that to his might doth yield.
But she more cruell and more saluagesalvage wylde,
then either Lyon or the Lyonesse:
shames not to be with guiltlesse bloud defylde,
but taketh glory in her cruelnesse.
Fayrer then fayrest let none euerever say,
that ye were blooded in a yeelded pray.
WAs Was it the worke of nature or of Art?
which tempred so the feature of her face:
that pride and meeknesse mixt by equall part,
doe both appeare t’adorne her beauties grace.
For with mild pleasance, which doth pride displace,
she to her louesloves doth lookers eyes allure:
&and with sterne countenance back again doth chace
their looser lookes that stir vpup lustes impure,
With such strange termes her eyes she doth inure,
that with one looke she doth my life dismay:
and with another doth it streight recure,
her smile me drawes, her frowne me driuesdrives away.
Thus doth she traine and teach me with her lookes,
such art of eyes I neuernever read in bookes.
THisThis holy season fit to fast and pray,
Men to deuotiondevotion ought to be inclynd:
therefore, I lykewise on so holy day,
for my sweet Saynt some seruiceservice fit will find.
Her temple fayre is built within my mind,
in which her glorious ymage placed is,
on which my thoughts doo day and night attend
lyke sacred priests that neuernever thinke amisse.
There I to her as th’author of my blisse,
will builde an altar to appease her yre:
and on the same my hart will sacrifise,
burning in flames of pure and chast desyre:
The which vouchsafe O goddesse to accept,
amongst thy deerest relicks to be kept.
PEnelopePenelope for her
Vlisses sake,
Deuiz’dDeviz’d a Web her wooers to deceauedeceave:
in which the worke that she all day did make
the same at night she did againe vnreaueunreave,
Such subtile craft my Damzell doth conceaueconceave,
th`’importune suit of my desire to shonne:
for all that I in many dayes doo weaueweave,
in one short houre I find by her vndonneundonne.
So when I thinke to end that I begonne,
I must begin and neuernever bring to end:
for with one looke she spils that long I sponne,
and with one word my whole years work doth rend.
Such labour like the Spyders web I fynd,
whose fruitlesse worke is broken with least wynd.
WHenWhen I behold that beauties wonderment,
And rare perfection of each goodly part:
of natures skill the onely complement,
I honor and admire the makers art.
But when I feele the bitter balefull smart,
which her fayre eyes vnwaresunwares doe worke in mee:
that death out of theyr shiny beames doe dart,
I thinke that I a new Pandora see.
Whom all the Gods in councell did agree,
into this sinfull world from heauenheaven to send:
that she to wicked men a scourge should bee,
for all their faults with which they did offend.
But since ye are my scourge I will intreat,
that for my faults ye will me gently beat.
HOwHow long shall this lyke dying lyfe
endure,
And know no end of her owne mysery:
but wast and weare away in termes vnsureunsure,
twixt feare and hope depending doubtfully.
Yet better were attonce to let me die,
and shew the last ensample of your pride:
then to torment me thus with cruelty,
to proueprove your powre, which I too wel hauehave tride.
But yet if in your hardned brest ye hide,
a close intent at last to shew me grace:
then all the woes and wrecks which I abide,
as meanes of blisse I gladly wil embrace.
And wish that more and greater they might be,
that greater meede at last may turne to mee.
SWeetSweet is the Rose, but growes vponupon a
brere;
Sweet is the IunipereJunipere, but sharpe his bough;
sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere;
sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough.
Sweet is the Cypresse, but his rynd is tough,
sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;
sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough;
and sweet is Moly, but his root is ill.
So eueryevery sweet with soure is tempred still,
that maketh it be couetedcoveted the more:
for easie things that may be got at will,
most sorts of men doe set but little store.
Why then should I accoumpt of little paine,
that endlesse pleasure shall vntounto me gaine.
FAireFaire proud now tell me why should faire be
proud,
Sith all worlds glorie is but drosse vncleaneuncleane:
and in the shade of death it selfe shall shroud,
how euerever now thereof ye little weene.
That goodly Idoll now so gay beseene,
shall doffe her fleshes borowd fayre attyre:
and be forgot as it had neuernever beene,
that many now much worship and admire.
Ne any then shall after it inquire,
ne any mention shall thereof remaine:
but what this verse, that neuernever shall expyre,
shall to you purchas with her thankles paine.
Faire be no lenger proud of that shall perish,
but that which shal you make immortall, cherish.
THeThe laurell leafe, which you this day doe
weare,
guies me great hope of your relenting mynd:
for since it is the badg which I doe beare,
ye bearing it doe seeme to me inclind:
The powre thereof, which ofte in me I find,
let it lykewise your gentle brest inspire
with sweet infusion, and put you in mind
of that proud mayd, whom now those leauesleaves attyre
Proud Daphne scorning Phæbus louelylovely fyre,
on the Thessalian shore from him did flie:
for which the gods in theyr reuengefullrevengefull yre
did her transforme into a laurell tree.
Then fly no more fayre louelove from Phebus chace,
but in your brest his leafe and louelove embrace.
See how the stubborne damzell doth deprauedeprave
my simple meaning with disdaynfull scorne:
and by the bay which I vntounto her gauegave,
accoumpts my selfe her captiuecaptive quite forlorne.
The bay (quoth she) is of the victours borne,
yielded them by the vanquisht as theyr meeds,
and they therewith doe poetes heads adorne,
to sing the glory of their famous deedes.
But sith she will the conquest challeng needs,
let her accept me as her faithfull thrall,
that her great triumph which my skill exceeds,
I may in trump of fame blaze ouerover all.
Then would I decke her head with glorious bayes,
and fill the world with her victorious prayse.
MYMy
louelove is lyke to yse, and I to fyre;
how comes it then that this her cold so great
is not dissolu’ddissolv’d through my so hot desyre,
but harder growes the more I her intreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
is not delayd by her hart frosen cold:
but that I burne much more in boyling sweat,
and feele my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told
that fire which all thing melts, should harden yse:
and yse which is congeald with sencelesse cold,
should kindle fyre by wonderfull deuysedevyse.
Such is the powre of louelove in gentle mind,
that it can alter all the course of kynd.
Ah why hath nature to so hard a hart,
giuengiven so goodly giftes of beauties grace?
whose pryde deprauesdepraves each other better part,
and all those pretious ornaments deface.
Sith to all other beastes of bloody race,
a dreadfull countenaunce she giuengiven hath:
that with theyr terrour al the rest may chace,
and warne to shun the daunger of theyr wrath.
But my proud one doth worke the greater scath,
through sweet allurement of her louelylovely hew:
that she the better may in bloody bath,
of such poore thralls her cruell hands embrew.
But did she know how ill these two accord,
such cruelty she would hauehave soone abhord.
The paynefull smith with force of feruentfervent
heat,
the hardest yron soone doth mollify:
that with his heauyheavy sledge he can it beat,
and fashion to what he it list apply.
Yet cannot all these flames in which I fry,
her hart more harde then yron soft awhit:
ne all the playnts and prayers with which I
doe beat on th’anduyle of her stubberne wit:
But still the more she feruentfervent sees my fit:
the more she frieseth in her wilfull pryde:
and harder growes the harder she is smit,
with all the playnts which to her be applyde.
What then remaines but I to ashes burne,
and she to stones at length all frosen turne?
GReatGreat wrong I doe, I can it not deny,
to that most sacred Empresse my dear dred,
not finishing her Queene of faëry,
that mote enlarge her liuingliving prayses dead:
But lodwick, this of grace to me aread:
doe ye not thinck th’accomplishment of it,
sufficient worke for one mans simple head,
all were it as the rest but rudely writ.
How then should I without another wit:
thinck euerever to endure so tædious toyle,
sins that this one is tost with troublous fit,
of a proud louelove, that doth my spirite spoyle.
Ceasse then, till she vouchsafe to grawnt me rest,
or lend you me another liuingliving brest.
Lyke as a ship that through the Ocean
wyde,
by conduct of some star doth make her way.
whenas a storme hath dimd her trusty guyde.
out of her course doth wander far astray.
So I whose star, that wont with her bright ray,
me to direct, with cloudes is ouercastovercast,
doe wander now in darknesse and dismay,
through hidden perils round about me plast.
Yet hope I well, that when this storme is past
my Helice the lodestar of my lyfe
will shine again, and looke on me at last,
with louelylovely light to cleare my cloudy grief,
Till then I wander carefull comfortlesse,
in secret sorow and sad pensiuenessepensivenesse.
MYMy hungry eyes through greedy couetizecovetize,
still to behold the obiectobject of their paine:
with no contentment can themseluesthemselves suffize,
but hauinghaving pine and hauinghaving not complaine.
For lacking it they cannot lyfe sustayne,
and hauinghaving it they gaze on it the more:
in their amazement lyke Narcissus vaine
whose eyes him staru’dstarv’d: so plenty makes me poore
Yet are mine eyes so filled with the store
of that faire sight, that nothing else they brooke,
but lothe the things which they did like before,
and can no more endure on them to looke.
All this worlds glory seemeth vayne to me,
and all their showes but shadowes sauingsaving she.
TEllTell me when shall these wearie woes hauehave
end,
Or shall their ruthlesse torment neuernever cease:
but al my dayes in pining languor spend,
without hope of aswagement or release.
Is there no meanes for me to purchace peace,
or make agreement with her thrilling eyes:
but that their cruelty doth still increace,
and dayly more augment my miseryes.
But when ye hauehave shewed all extremityes,
then thinke how litle glory ye hauehave gayned:
by slaying him, whose lyfe though ye despyse,
mote hauehave your life in honour long maintayned.
But by his death which some perhaps will mone,
ye shall condemned be of many a one.
WHatWhat guyle is this, that those her golden
tresses,
She doth attyre vnderunder a net of gold:
and with sly skill so cunningly them dresses,
that which is gold or heare, may scarse be told?
Is it that mens frayle eyes, which gaze too bold,
she may entangle in that golden snare:
and being caught may craftily enfold,
theyr weaker harts, which are not wel aware?
Take heed therefore, myne eyes, how ye doe stare
hence forth too rashly on that guilefull net,
in which if euerever ye entrapped are,
out of her bands ye by no meanes shall get.
Fondnesse it were for any being free,
to couetcovet fetters, though they golden bee.
ARion,Arion, when through tempests cruel wracke,
He forth was thrown into the greedy seas:
through the sweet musick which his harp did make
allu’rd a Dolphin him from death to ease.
But my rude musick, which was wont to please
some dainty eares, cannot with any skill,
the dreadfull tempest of her wrath appease,
nor mouemove the Dolphin from her stubborne will,
But in her pride she dooth perseuerpersever still,
all carelesse how my life for her decayse:
yet with one word she can it sauesave or spill,
to spill were pitty, but to sauesave were prayse.
Chose rather to be praysd for dooing good,
then to be blam’d for spilling guiltlesse blood.
SWeetSweet smile, the daughter of the Queene of
louelove,
Expressing all thy mothers powrefull art:
with which she wonts to temper angry IoueJove,
when all the gods he threats with thundring dart.
Sweet is thy vertue as thy selfe sweet art,
for when on me thou shinedst late in sadnesse:
a melting pleasance ran through eueryevery part,
and me reuiuedrevived with hart robbing gladnesse.
Whylest rapt with ioyjoy resembling heauenlyheavenly madnes,
my soule was rauishtravisht quite as in a traunce:
and feeling thence no more her sorowes sadnesse,
fed on the fulnesse of that chearefull glaunce.
More sweet than Nectar
or Ambrosiall meat,
seemd eueryevery bit, which thenceforth I did eat.
MArkMark when she smiles with amiable cheare,
And tell me whereto can ye lyken it:
when on each eyelid sweetly doe appeare,
an hundred Graces as in shade to sit.
Lykest it seemeth in my simple wit
vntounto the fayre sunshine in somers day:
that when a dreadfull storme away is flit,
thrugh the broad world doth spred his goodly ray
At sight whereof each bird that sits on spray,
and eueryevery beast that to his den was fled:
comes forth afresh out of their late dismay,
and to the light lift vpup theyr drouping hed.
So my storme beaten hart likewise is cheared,
with that sunshine when cloudy looks are cleared.
ISIs it her nature or is it her will,
to be so cruell to an humbled foe:
if nature, then she may it mend with skill,
if will, then she at will may will forgoe.
But if her nature and her wil be so,
that she will plague the man that louesloves her most:
and take delight t’encrease a wretches woe,
then all her natures goodly guifts are lost.
And that same glorious beauties ydle boast,
is but a bayt such wretches to beguile:
as being long in her louesloves tempest tost,
she meanes at last to make her piteous spoyle.
O fayrest fayre let neuernever it be named,
that so fayre beauty was so fowly shamed.
THeThe louelove which me so cruelly tormenteth,
So pleasing is in my extreamest paine:
that all the more my sorrow it augmenteth,
the more I louelove and doe embrace my bane.
Ne doe I wish (for wishing were but vaine)
to be acquit fro my continuall smart:
but ioyjoy her thrall for euerever to remayne,
and yield for pledge my poore captyuedcaptyved hart
The which that it from her may neuernever start,
let her, yf please her, bynd with adamant chayne:
and from all wandring louesloves which mote peruartpervart,
his safe assurance strongly it restrayne.
Onely let her abstaine from cruelty,
and doe me not before my time to dy.
SHallShall I then silent be or shall I speake?
And if I speake, her wrath renew I shall:
and if I silent be, my hart will breake,
or choked be with ouerflowingoverflowing gall.
What tyranny is this both my hart to thrall,
and eke my toung with proud restraint to tie?
that nether I may speake nor thinke at all,
but like a stupid stock in silence die.
Yet I my hart with silence secretly
will teach to speak, and my iustjust cause to plead:
and eke mine eies with meeke humility,
louelove learned letters to her eyes to read.
Which her deep wit, that true harts thought can spel,
wil soone conceiueconceive, and learne to construe well.
WHen When those renoumed noble Peres of Greece,
thrugh stubborn pride amongst thẽseluesthẽselvesthemseluesthemselves did iarjar
forgetfull of the famous golden fleece,
then Orpheus with his harp theyr strife did bar.
But this continuall cruell ciuillcivill warre,
the which my selfe against my selfe doe make:
whilest my weak powres of passions warreid arre.
no skill can stint nor reason can aslake.
But when in hand my tunelesse harp I take,
then doe I more augment my foes despight:
and griefe renew, and passions doe awake,
to battaile fresh against my selfe to fight.
Mongst whome the more I seeke to settle peace,
the more I fynd their malice to increace.
LEaueLeaueLEaveLeave lady in your glasse of christall
clene,
Your goodly selfe for euermoreevermore to vew:
and in my selfe, my inward selfe I meane,
most liuelylively lyke behold your semblant trew.
Within my hart, though hardly it can shew,
thing so diuinedivine to vew of earthly eye:
the fayre Idea of your celestiall hew,
and eueryevery part remaines immortally:
And were it not that through your cruelty,
with sorrow dimmed and deformd it were:
the goodly ymage of your visnomy,
clearer then christall would therein appere.
But if your selfe in me ye playne will see,
remoueremove the cause by which your fayre beames darkned be.
WHenWhen my abodes prefixed time is spent,
My cruell fayre streight bids me wend my way:
but then frõfrom
heauenheaven most hideous stormes are sent
as willing me against her will to stay.
Whom then shall I or heauenheaven or her obay,
the heauensheavens know best what is the best for me:
but as she will, whose will my life doth sway,
my lower heauenheaven, so it perforce must bee.
But ye high heuenshevens, that all this sorowe see,
sith all your tempests cannot hold me backe:
aswage your stormes, or else both you and she,
will both together me too sorely wrack.
Enough it is for one man to sustaine,
the stormes, which she
alone on me doth raine.
TRustTrust not the treason of those smyling
lookes,
vntilluntill ye hauehave theyr guylefull traynes well tryde:
for they are lyke but vntounto golden hookes,
that from the foolish fish theyr bayts doe hyde:
So she with flattring smyles weake harts doth guyde,
vntounto her louelove and tempte to theyr decay,
whome being caught she kills with cruell pryde,
and feeds at pleasure on the wretched pray:
Yet eueneven whylst her bloody hands them slay,
her eyes looke louelylovely and vponupon them smyle:
that they take pleasure in her cruell play,
and dying doe them seluesselves of payne beguyle.
O mighty charm which makes men louelove theyr bane,
and thinck they dy with pleasure, liuelive with payne.
INnocentInnocent paper whom too cruell hand,
Did make the matter to auengeavenge her yre:
and ere she could thy cause wel vnderstandunderstand,
did sacrifize vntounto the greedy fyre.
Well worthy thou to hauehave found better hyre,
then so bad end for hereticks ordayned:
yet heresy nor treason didst conspire,
but plead thy maisters cause vniustlyunjustly payned.
Whom she all carelesse of his griefe constrayned
to vtterutter forth th’anguish of his hart:
and would not heare, when he to her complayned,
the piteous passion of his dying smart.
Yet liuelive for euerever, though against her will,
and speake her good, though she requite it ill.
FAyreFayre cruell, why are ye so fierce and
cruell?
Is it because your eyes hauehave powre to kill?
then know, that mercy is the mighties iewelljewell,
and greater glory thinke to sauesave, then spill.
But if it be your pleasure and proud will,
to shew the powre of your imperious eyes:
then not on him that neuernever thought you ill,
but bend your force against your enemyes.
Let them feele th’utmost of your crueltyes,
and kill, with looks as Cockatrices doo:
but him that at your footstoole humbled lies,
with mercifull regard, giuegive mercy too.
Such mercy shal you make admyred to be,
so shall you liuelive by giuinggiving life to me.
LOngLong languishing in double malady,
of my harts wound and of my bodies greife:
there came to me a leach that would apply
fit medicines for my bodies best reliefe.
Vayne man (quod I) that hast but little priefe:
in deep discouerydiscovery of the mynds disease,
is not the hart of all the body chiefe?
and rules the members as it selfe doth please.
Then with some cordialls seeke first to appease,
the inward languour of my wounded hart,
and then my body shall hauehave shortly ease:
but such sweet cordialls passe Physitions art.
Then my lyfes Leach doe you your skill reuealereveale,
and with one saluesalve both hart and body heale.
DOeDoe I not see that fayrest ymages
Of hardest Marble are of purpose made?
for that they should endure through many ages,
ne let theyr famous moniments to fade.
Why then doe I, vntraindeuntrainde in louerslovers trade,
her hardnes blame which I should more cõmendcommend?
sith neuernever ought was excellent assayde,
which was not hard t’atchiuet’atchive and bring to end.
Ne ought so hard, but he that would attend,
mote soften it and to his will allure:
so doe I hope her stubborne hart to bend,
and that it then more stedfast will endure.
Onely my paines wil be the more to get her,
but hauinghaving her, my ioyjoy wil be the greater.
SOSo oft as homeward I from her depart,
I goe lyke one that hauinghaving lost the field:
is prisoner led away with heauyheavy hart,
despoyld of warlike armes and knowen shield.
So doe I now my selfe a prisoner yeeld,
to sorrow and to solitary paine:
from presence of my dearest deare exylde,
long while alone in languor to remaine.
There let no thought of ioyjoy or pleasure vaine,
dare to approch, that may my solace breed:
but sudden dumps and drery sad disdayne,
of all worlds gladnesse more my torment feed.
So I her absens will my penaunce make,
that of her presens I my meed may take.
THeThe Panther knowing that his spotted hyde,
Doth please all beasts but that his looks thẽthem fray:
within a bush his dreadfull head doth hide,
to let them gaze whylest he on them may pray.
Right so my cruell fayre with me doth play,
for with the goodly semblant of her hew:
she doth allure me to mine owne decay,
and then no mercy will vntounto me shew.
Great shame it is, thing so diuinedivine in view,
made for to be the worlds most ornament:
to make the bayte her gazers to embrew,
good shames to be to ill an instrument.
But mercy doth with beautie best agree,
as in theyr maker ye them best may see.
OFOf this worlds Theatre in which we stay,
My louelove lyke the Spectator ydly sits
beholding me that all the pageants play,
disguysing diuerslydiversly my troubled wits.
Sometimes I ioyjoy when glad occasion sits,
and mask in myrth lyke to a Comedy:
soone after when my ioyjoy to sorrow flits,
I waile and make my woes a Tragedy.
Yet she beholding me with constant eye,
delights not in my merth nor rues my smart:
but when I laugh she mocks, and when I cry
she laughes, and hardens euermoreevermore her hart.
What then can mouemove her? if nor merth nor mone,
she is no woman, but a sencelesse stone.
SOSo oft as I her beauty doe behold,
And therewith doe her cruelty compare:
I maruailemarvaile of what substance was the mould
the which her made attonce so cruell faire.
Not earth; for her high thoghts more heauenlyheavenly are,
not water; for her louelove doth burne like fyre:
not ayre; for she is not so light or rare,
not fyre; for she doth friese with faint desire.
Then needs another Element inquire
whereof she mote be made; that is the skye.
for to the heauenheaven her haughty lookes aspire:
and eke her mind is pure immortall hye.
Then sith to heauenheaven ye lykened are the best,
be lyke in mercy as in all the rest:
FAyreFayre ye be sure, but cruell and vnkindunkind,
As is a Tygre that with greedinesse
hunts after bloud, when he by chance doth find
a feeble beast, doth felly him oppresse.
Fayre be ye sure but proud and pittilesse,
as is a storme, that all things doth prostrate:
finding a tree alone all comfortlesse,
beats on it strongly it to ruinate.
Fayre be ye sure, but hard and obstinate,
as is a rocke amidst the raging floods:
gaynst which a ship of succour desolate,
doth suffer wreck both of her selfe and goods.
That ship, that tree, and that same beast am I,
whom ye doe wreck, doe ruine, and destroy.
SWeetSweet warriour when shall I hauehave peace with
you?
High time it is, this warre now ended were:
which I no lenger can endure to sue,
ne your incessant battry more to beare:
So weake my powres, so sore my wounds appeare,
that wonder is how I should liuelive a iotjot,
seeing my hart through launched eueryevery where
with thousand arrowes, which your eies hauehave shot:
Yet shoot ye sharpely still, and spare me not,
but glory thinke to make these cruel stoures,
ye cruell one, what glory can be got,
in slaying him that would liuelive gladly yours?
Make peace therefore, and graunt me timely grace.
that al my wounds wil heale in little space.
SONNET. LVIII.
By her that
is most assured to her selfe.
WEakeWeake is th’assurance that weake flesh reposeth,
In her owne powre and scorneth others ayde:
that soonest fals when as she most supposeth,
her selfe assurd, and is of nought affrayd.
All flesh is frayle, and all her strength vnstaydunstayd,
like a vaine bubble blowen vpup with ayre:
deuouringdevouring tyme &and changeful chance hauehave prayd,
her glories pride that none may it repayre.
Ne none so rich or wise, so strong or fayre,
but fayleth trusting on his owne assurance:
and he that standeth on the hyghest stayre
fals lowest: for on earth nought hath enduraunce.
Why then doe ye proud fayre, misdeeme so farre,
that to your selfe ye most assured arre.
THriseThrise happie she, that is so well assured
VntoUnto her selfe and setled so in hart:
that nether will for better be allured,
ne feard with worse to any chaunce to start,
But like a steddy ship doth strongly part
the raging waueswaves and keepes her course aright:
ne ought for tempest doth from it depart,
ne ought for fayrer weathers false delight.
Such selfe assurance need not feare the spight,
of grudging foes, ne fauourfavour seek of friends:
but in the stay of her owne stedfast might,
nether to one her selfe nor other bends.
Most happy she that most assured doth rest,
but he most happy who such one louesloves best.
THeyThey that in course of heauenlyheavenly spheares are
skild,
To eueryevery planet point his sundry yeare:
in which her circles voyage is fulfild,
as Mars in three score yeares doth run his spheare
So since the winged God his planet cleare,
began in me to mouemove, one yeare is spent:
the which doth longer vntounto me appeare,
then al those fourty which my life outwent.
Then by that count, which louerslovers books inuentinvent,
the spheare of Cupid fourty yeares containes:
which I hauehave wasted in long languishment,
that seemd the longer for my greater paines.
But let my louesloves fayre Planet short her wayes
this yeare ensuing, or else short my dayes.
THeThe glorious image of the makers beautie,
My soueraynesoverayne saynt, the Idoll of my thought,
dare not henceforth aboueabove the bounds of dewtie,
t’accuse of pride, or rashly blame for ought.
For being as she is diuinelydivinely wrought,
and of the brood of Angels heuenly borne:
and with the crew of blessed Saynts vpbroughtupbrought,
each of which did her with theyr guists adorne;
The bud of ioyjoy, the blossome of the morne,
the beame of light, whom mortal eyes admyre:
what reason is it then but she should scorne,
base things that to her louelove too bold aspire?
Such heauenlyheavenly formes ought rather worshipt be,
then dare be lou’dlov’d by men of meane degree.
THeThe weary yeare his race now hauinghaving run,
The new begins his compast course anew:
with shew of morning mylde he hath begun,
betokening peace and plenty to ensew,
So let vsus, which this chaunge of weather vew,
chaunge eeke our mynds and former liueslives amend
the old yeares sinnes forepast let vsus eschew,
and fly the faults with which we did offend.
Then shall the new yeares ioyjoy forth freshly send,
into the glooming world his gladsome ray:
and all these stormes which now his beauty blend,
shall turne to caulmes and tymely cleare away.
So likewise louelove cheare you your heauyheavy spright,
and chaunge old yeares annoy to new delight.
AFterAfter long stormes and tempests sad assay,
Which hardly I endured heretofore:
in dread of death and daungerous dismay,
with which my silly barke was tossed sore.
I doe at length descry the happy shore,
in which I hope ere long for to arryuearryve,
fayre soyle it seemes from far &and fraught with store
of all that deare and daynty is alyuealyve.
Most happy he that can at last atchyueatchyve,
the ioyousjoyous safety of so sweet a rest:
whose least delight sufficeth to depriuedeprive,
remembrance of all paines which him opprest.
All paines are nothing in respect of this,
all sorrowes short that gaine eternall blisse.
COmmingComming to kisse her lyps, (such grace I
found)
Me seemd I smelt a gardin of sweet flowres:
that dainty odours from them threw around
for damzels fit to decke their louerslovers bowres.
Her lips did smell lyke vntounto Gillyflowers,
her ruddy cheekes lyke vntounto Roses red:
her snowy browes lyke budded Bellamoures,
her louelylovely eyes lyke Pincks but newly spred,
Her goodly bosome lyke a Strawberry bed,
her neck lyke to a bounch of Cullambynes:
her brest lyke lillyes, ere theyr leauesleaves be shed,
her nipples lyke yong blossomd IessemynesJessemynes,
Such fragrant flowres doe giuegive most odorous smell,
but her sweet odour did them all excell.
THeThe doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre louelove, is
vaine
That fondly feare to loose your liberty,
when loosing one, two liberties ye gayne,
and make him bond that bondage earst dyd fly.
Sweet be the bands, the which true louelove doth tye,
without constraynt or dread of any ill:
the gentle birde feeles no captiuitycaptivity
within her cage, but singes and feeds her fill.
There pride dare not approch, nor discord spill
the league twixt them, that loyal louelove hath bound:
but simple truth and mutuall good will,
seekes with sweet peace to saluesalve each others woũdwound
There fayth doth fearlesse dwell in brasen towre,
and spotlesse pleasure builds her sacred bowre.
TOTo all those happy blessings which ye
hauehave,
with plenteous hand by heauenheaven
vponupon you thrown:
this one disparagement they to you gauegave,
that ye your louelove lent to so meane a one.
Yee whose high worths surpassing paragon,
could not on earth hauehave found one fit for mate,
ne but in heauenheaven matchable to none,
why did ye stoup vntounto so lowly state.
But ye thereby much greater glory gate,
then had ye sorted with a princes pere:
for now your light doth more it selfe dilate,
and in my darknesse greater doth appeare.
Yet since your light hath once enlumind me,
with my reflex yours shall encreased be.
Lyke as a huntsman after weary chace,
Seeing the game from him escapt away:
sits downe to rest him in some shady place,
with panting hounds beguiled of their pray.
So after long pursuit and vaine assay,
when I all weary had the chace forsooke,
the gentle deare returnd the selfe-same way,
thinking to quench her thirst at the next brooke.
There she beholding me with mylder looke,
sought not to fly, but fearelesse still did bide:
till I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke,
and with her owne goodwill hir fyrmely tyde.
Strange thing me seemd to see a beast so wyld,
so goodly wonne with her owne will beguyld.
MOstMost glorious Lord of lyfe that on this
day,
Didst make thy triumph ouerover death and sin:
and hauinghaving harrowd hell didst bring away,
captiuitycaptivity thence captiuecaptive
vsus to win.
This ioyousjoyous day, deare Lord, with ioyjoy begin,
and grant that we for whom thoutbou diddest dye
being with thy deare blood clene washt from sin,
may liuelive for euerever in felicity.
And that thy louelove we weighing worthily,
may likewise louelove thee for the same againe:
and for thy sake that all lyke deare didst buy,
with louelove may one another entertayne.
So let vsus
louelove, deare louelove, lyke as we ought,
louelove is the lesson which the Lord vsus taught.
THeThe famous warriors of the anticke world,
VsedUsed Trophees to erect in stately wize:
in which they would the records hauehave enrold,
of theyr great deeds and valarous emprize.
What trophee then shall I most fit deuizedevize,
in which I may record the memory
of my louesloves conquest, peerelesse beauties prise.
adorn’d with honour, louelove, and chastity.
EuenEven this verse vowd to eternity,
shall be thereof immortall moniment:
and tell her prayse to all posterity,
that may admire such worlds rare wonderment.
The happy purchase of my glorious spoile,
gotten at last with labour and long toyle.
FreshFResh spring the herald of louesloves mighty
king,
In whose cote armour richly are displayd,
all sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring
in goodly colours gloriously arrayd.
Goe to my louelove, where she is carelesse layd,
yet in her winters bowre not well awake:
tell her the ioyousjoyous time wil not be staid
vnlesseunlesse she doe him by the forelock take.
Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make,
to wayt on louelove amongst his louelylovely crew:
where eueryevery one that misseth then her make,
shall be by him amearst with penance dew.
Make hast therefore sweet louelove, whilest it is prime,
for none can call againe the passed time.
I
Ioyioyjoy to see how in your drawen work,
Your selfe vntounto the Bee ye doe compare;
and me vntounto the Spyder that doth lurke,
in close awayt to catch her vnawareunaware.
Right so your selfe were caught in cunning snare
of a deare foe, and thralled to his louelove:
in whose streight bands ye now captiuedcaptived are
so firmely, that ye neuernever may remoueremove.
But as your worke is wouenwoven all about,
with woodbynd flowers and fragrant Eglantine:
so sweet your prison you in time shall proueprove,
with many deare delights bedecked fyne.
And all thensforth eternall peace shall see.
betweene the Spyder and the gentle Bee.
OFtOft when my spirit doth spred her bolder
winges,
In mind to mount vpup to the purest sky:
it down is weighd with thoght of earthly things
and clogd with burden of mortality,
Where when that soueraynesoverayne beauty it doth spy,
resembling heauensheavens glory in her light:
drawne with sweet pleasures bayt, it back doth fly,
and vntounto
heauenheaven forgets her former flight.
There my fraile fancy fed with full delight,
doth bath in blisse and mantleth most at ease:
ne thinks of other heauenheaven, but how it might
her harts desire with most contentment please.
Hart need not wish none other happinesse,
but here on earth to hauehave such heuenshevens blisse.
BEingBeing my selfe captyuedcaptyved here in care,
My hart, whom none with seruileservile bands can tye:
but the fayre tresses of your golden hayre,
breaking his prison forth to you doth fly.
Lyke as a byrd that in ones hand doth spy
desired food, to it doth make his flight:
eueneven so my hart, that wont on your fayre eye
to feed his fill, flyes backe vntounto your sight.
Doe you him take, and in your bosome bright,
gently encage, that he may be your thrall:
perhaps he there may learne with rare delight,
to sing your name and prayses ouerover all.
That it hereafter may you not repent,
him lodging in your bosome to hauehave lent.
MOstMost happy letters fram’d by skilfull
trade,
with which that happy name was first desynd:
the which three times thrise happy hath me made,
with guifts of body, fortune and of mind.
The first my being to me gauegave by kind,
from mothers womb deriu`dderiv’d by dew descent,
the second is my souereignesovereigne Queene most kind,
that honour and large richesse to me lent.
The third my louelove, my liueslives last ornament,
by whom my spirit out of dust was raysed:
to speake her prayse and glory excellent,
of all aliuealive most worthy to be praysed.
Ye three Elizabeths for euerever
liuelive,
that three such graces did vntounto me giuegive.
ONeOne day I wrote her name vponupon the strand,
but came the waueswaves and washed it a way:
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 selueselve shall lyke to this decay,
and eek my name bee wyped out lykewize.
Not so, (quod I) let baser things deuizedevize,
to dy in dust, but you shall liuelive by fame:
my verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
and in the heuenshevens wryte your glorious name.
Where whenas death shall all the world subdew,
our louelove shall liuelive, and later life renew.
FAyreFayre bosome fraught with vertues richest
tresure,
The neast of louelove, the lodging of delight:
the bowre of blisse, the paradice of pleasure,
the sacred harbour of that heuenlyhevenly spright.
How was I rauishtravisht with your louelylovely sight,
and my frayle thoughts too rashly led astray?
whiles diuingdiving deepe through amorous insight,
on the sweet spoyle of beautie they did pray.
And twixt her paps like early fruit in May,
whose haruestharvest seemd to hasten now apace:
they loosely did theyr wanton winges display,
and there to rest themseluesthemselves did boldly place.
Sweet thoughts I enuyenvy your so happy rest,
which oft I wisht, yet neuernever was so blest.
Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne,
a goodly table of pure yvory:
all spred with iuncatsjuncats, fit to entertayne,
the greatest Prince with pompous roialty.
Mongst which there in a siluersilver dish did ly,
twoo golden apples of vnualewdunvalewd price:
far passing those which Hercules came by,
or those which Atalanta did entice.
Exceeding sweet, yet voyd of sinfull vice,
That many sought yet none could euerever taste,
sweet fruit of pleasure brought from paradice:
By louelove himselfe and in his garden plaste.
Her brest that table was so richly spredd,
my thoughts the guests, which would thereon hauehave
fedd.
Lackyng my louelove I go from place to place,
lyke a young fawne that late hath lost the hynd:
and seeke each where, where last I sawe her face,
whose ymage yet I carry fresh in mynd.
I seeke the fields with her late footing synd,
I seeke her bowre with her late presence deckt,
yet nor in field nor bowre I her can fynd:
yet field and bowre are full of her aspect,
But when myne eyes I thereunto direct,
they ydly back returne to me agayne,
and when I hope to see theyr trew obiectobject,
I fynd my selfe but fed with fancies vayne.
Ceasse then myne eyes, to seeke her selfe to see,
and let my thoughts behold her selfe in mee:
MEnMen call you fayre, and you doe credit it,
For that your selfe ye dayly such doe see:
but the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,
and vertuous mind is much more praysd of me.
For all the rest, how euerever fayre it be,
shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew:
but onely that is permanent and free
from frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew.
That is true beautie: that doth argue you
to be diuinedivine and borne of heauenlyheavenly seed:
deriu’dderiv’d from that fayre Spirit, from whom al true
and perfect beauty did at first proceed.
He onely fayre, and what he fayre hath made,
all other fayre lyke flowres vntymelyuntymely fade.
AFterAfter so long a race as I hauehave run
Through Faery land, which those six books cõpilecompile
giuegive
leaueleave to rest me being halfe fordonne,
and gather to my selfe new breath awhile.
Then as a steed refreshed after toyle,
out of my prison I will breake anew:
and stoutly will that second worke assoyle,
with strong endeuour and attention dew.
Till then giuegive
leaueleave to me in pleasant mew,
to sport my muse and sing my louesloves sweet praise:
the contemplation of whose heauenlyheavenly hew,
my spirit to an higher pitch will rayse.
But let her prayses yet be low and meane,
fit for the handmayd of the Faery Queene.
Fayre is my louelove, when her fayre golden
heares,
with the loose wynd ye wauingwaving chance to marke:
fayre when the rose in her red cheekes appeares,
or in her eyes the fyre of louelove does sparke.
Fayre when her brest lyke a rich laden barke,
with pretious merchandize she forth doth lay:
fayre whẽwhen that cloud of pryde, which oft doth dark
her goodly light with smiles she driuesdrives away.
But fayrest she, when so she doth display,
the gate with pearles and rubyes richly dight:
throgh which her words so wise do make their way
to beare the message of her gentle spright,
The rest be works of natures wonderment,
but this the worke of harts astonishment.
IOy
Joy
Joy of my life, full oft for louingloving you
I blesse my lot, that was so lucky placed:
but then the more your owne mishap I rew,
that are so much by so meane louelove embased.
For had the equall heuenshevens so much you graced
in this as in the rest, ye mote inuentinvent
som heuenlyhevenly wit, whose verse could hauehave enchased
your glorious name in golden moniment.
But since ye deignd so goodly to relent
to me your thrall, in whom is little worth,
that little that I am, shall all be spent,
in setting your immortall prayses forth.
Whose lofty argument vpliftinguplifting me,
shall lift you vpup
vntounto an high degree.
MYMy hungry eyes, through greedy couetizecovetize,
Still to behold the obiectobject of theyr payne:
with no contentment can themseluesthemselves suffize,
but hauinghaving pine, and hauinghaving not complayne
For lacking it, they cannot lyfe sustayne,
and seeing it, they gaze on it the more:
in theyr amazement lyke Narcissus vayne
whose eyes him staru’dstarv’d: so plenty makes me pore.
Yet are myne eyes so filled with the store
of that fayre sight, that nothing else they brooke:
but loath the things which they did like before,
and can no more endure on them to looke.
All this worlds glory seemeth vayne to me,
and all theyr shewes but shadowes sauingsaving she.
LEtLet not one sparke of filthy lustfull fyre
breake out, that may her sacred peace molest:
ne one light glance of sensuall desyre:
Attempt to work her gentle mindes vnrestunrest.
But pure affections bred in spotlesse brest,
&and modest thoughts breathd frõfrom wel tẽpredtempred sprites
goe visit her in her chast bowre of rest,
accompanyde with angelick delightes.
There fill your selfe with those most ioyousjoyous sights,
the which my selfe could neuernever yet attayne:
but speake no word to her of these sad plights,
which her too constant stiffenesse doth constrayn.
Onely behold her rare perfection,
and blesse your fortunes fayre election.
THeThe world that cannot deeme of worthy
things,
when I doe praise her, say I doe but flatter:
so does the Cuckow, when the Mauis sings,
begin his witlesse note apace to clatter.
But they that skill not of so heauenlyheavenly matter,
all that they know not, enuyenvy or admyre,
rather then enuyenvy let them wonder at her,
but not to deeme of her desert aspyre.
Deepe in the closet of my parts entyre,
her worth is written with a golden quill:
that me with heauenlyheavenly fury doth inspire,
and my glad mouth with her sweet prayses fill.
Which when as fame in her shrill trump shal thunder
let the world chose to enuyenvy or to wonder.
VEnemousVenemous toung tipt with vile adders sting,
Of that selfe kynd with which the Furies fell
theyr snaky heads doe combe, from which a spring
of poysoned words and spitefull speeches well.
Let all the plagues and horrid paines of hell,
vponupon thee fall for thine accursed hyre:
that with false forged lyes, which thou didst tel,
in my true louelove did stirre vpup coles of yre,
The sparkes whereof let kindle thine own fyre,
and catching hold on thine owne wicked hed
consume thee quite, that didst with guile conspire
in my sweet peace such breaches to hauehave bred.
Shame be thy meed, and mischiefe thy reward.
dew to thy selfe that it for me prepard.
SInceSince I did leaueleave the presence of my louelove,
Many long weary dayes I hauehave outworne:
and many nights, that slowly seemd to mouemove,
theyr sad protract from eueningevening
vntilluntill morne.
For when as day the heauenheaven doth adorne,
I wish that night the noyous day would end:
and when at night hath vsus of light forlorne,
I wish that day would shortly reascend.
Thus I the time with expectation spend,
and faine my griefe with chaunges to beguile,
that further seemes his terme still to extend,
and maketh eueryevery minute seeme a myle.
So sorrow still doth seeme too long to last,
but ioyousjoyous houres doo fly away too fast.
SInceSince I hauehave lackt the comfort of that
light,
The which was wont to lead my thoughts astray:
I wander as in darkenesse of the night,
affrayd of eueryevery dangers least dismay.
Ne ought I see, though in the clearest day,
when others gaze vponupon theyr shadowes vayne:
but th’onely image of that heauenlyheavenly ray,
whereof some glance doth in mine eie remayne.
Of which beholding th’Idæa playne,
through contemplation of my purest part:
with light thereof I doe my selfe sustayne,
and thereon feed my loue-affamishtlove-affamisht hart.
But with such brightnesse whylest I fill my mind,
I staruestarve my body and mine eyes doe blynd.
LYkeLyke as the CuluerCulver on the bared bough,
Sits mourning for the absence of her mate:
and in her songs sends many a wishfull vew,
for his returne that seemes to linger late.
So I alone now left disconsolate,
mourne to my selfe the absence of my louelove:
and wandring here and there all desolate,
seek with my playnts to match that mournful douedove
Ne ioyjoy of ought that vnderunder
heauenheaven doth houehove,
can comfort me, but her owne ioyousjoyous sight:
whose sweet aspect both God and man can mouemove,
in her vnspottedunspotted pleasauns to delight.
Dark is my day, whyles her fayre light I mis,
and dead my life that wants such liuelylively blis.
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