Which cutting off through hasty accidents,
Ye would not stay your due time to expect,
But promist both to recompense;
Be unto her a goodly ornament,
And for short time an endless monument.
HIS holy season fit to fast and pray
Men to devotion ought to be inclined :
Therefore, I likewise on so holy day
For my sweet Saint some service fit will find.
Her temple fair is built within my mind.
In which her glorious image placed is;
On which my thoughts do day and night attend
Like sacred priests that never think amiss.
There I to her as the author of my bliss
Will build an altar to appease her ire :
And on the same my heart will sacrifice,
Burning in flames of pure and chaste desire:
The which vouchsafe O goddess! to accept
Amongst thy dearest relics to be kept.
LIKE as a ship that through the ocean wide
By conduct of some star doth make her way
Whenas a storm hath dimm'd her trusty guide,
Out of her course doth wander far astray,
So I whose star, that wont with her bright ray
1 Sonnets from the "Amoretti," a series of love sonnets, written by Spenser about 1592-94. These are numbers 22, 34, 55, 73, 75, 81.
Me to direct, with clouds is overcast,
Do wander now, in darkness and dismay,
Through hidden perils round about me plac'd.
Yet hope I well, that when this storm is past,
My Helice the lodestar of my life
Will shine again, and look on me at last,
With lovely light to clear my cloudy grief.
Till then I wander careful comfortless,
In secret sorrow and sad pensiveness.
So oft as I her beauty do behold,
And therewith do her cruelty compare,
I marvel of what substance was the mould
The which her made at once so cruel fair.
Not earth; for her high thoughts more heavenly are:
Not water; for her love doth burn like fire:
Not air; for she is not so light or rare :
Not fire; for she doth freeze with faint desire.
Then needs another element inquire
Whereof she mote be made; that is the sky :
For to the heaven her haughty looks aspire,
And eke her mind is pure and immortal high.
Then sith to heaven ye likenèd are the best,
Belike in mercy as in all the rest.
BEING myself captivèd here in care
My heart, (whom none with servile bands can tie
But the fair tresses of your golden hair)
Breaking his prison, forth to you doth fly.
Like as a bird that in one's hand doth spy
Desired food, to it doth make his flight:
Even so my heart, that wont on your fair eye
To feed his fill, flies back unto your sight.
Do you him take, and in your bosom bright,
Gently encage, that he may be your thrall:
Perhaps he there may learn with rare delight,
To sing your name and praises over all.
That it hereafter may you not repent,
Him lodging in your bosom to have lent.
NE day I wrote her name upon the strand 1
But came the waves and washed it away :
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
Vain man, said she, that dost in vain assay
A mortal thing so to immortalise
For I myself shall like to this decay
And eke my name be wiped out likewise.
Not so, (quod I) let baser things devise
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame :
My verse your virtues rare shall eternise,
And in the heavens write your glorious name.
Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,
Our love shall live, and later life renew.
"Well I remember how you smiled
To see me write your name upon
The soft sea sand-'O! what a child!
You think you're writing upon stone!'
I have since written what no tide
Shall ever wash away, what men
Unborn shall read o'er ocean wide
And find Ianthe's name again."
`AIR is my Love when her fair golden hairs
With the loose wind ye waving chance to mark
Fair, when the rose in her red cheeks appears;
Or in her eyes the fire of love does spark.
Fair, when her breast, like a rich laden bark,
With precious merchandize she forth doth lay;
Fair, when that cloud of pride, which oft doth dark
Her goodly light, with smiles she drives away.
But fairest she, when so she doth display
The gate, with pearls and rubies richly dight,
Through which her words so wise do make their way
To bear the message of her gentle spright.
The rest be works of nature's wonderment :
But this the work of heart's astonishment.
SONNETS FROM "ASTROPHEL AND STELLA "1
HEN Nature made her chief work-Stella's eyes;
In colour black, why wrapt she beams so bright?
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest lustre, mixed of shades and light?
Or did she else that sober hue devise,
In object best to knit and strength our sight?
Lest if no veil these brave gleams did disguise,
They sun-like should more dazzle than delight.
Or would she her miraculous power show?
That whereas black seems beauty's contrary;
She, even in black, doth make all beauties flow!
But so and thus, she minding Love should be
Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed;
To honour all their deaths, which for her bleed.
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
1 These are sonnets 7, 31, 39, 41, 54, 73.
WITH how sad steps, O Moon! thou climb'st the
How silently! and with how wan a face!
it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries ?
Sure, if that long with love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,
I read it in thy looks. Thy languisht grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then even of fellowship, O Moon! tell me,
Is constant love deemed there, but want of wit ?
Are beauties there, as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved; and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there, ungratefulness?
'OME, Sleep! O Sleep! the certain knot of peace!
The baiting place of wit! the balm of woe!
The poor man's wealth! the prisoner's release!
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low!
With shield of proof, shield me from out the press
Of those fierce darts, Despair at me doth throw!
O make in me those civil wars to cease!
I will good tribute pay if thou do so.
Take thou of me, smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,
A rosy garland, and a weary head:
And if these things, as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace; thou shalt in me
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.
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