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Doth leade unto your lovers blissfull At length they all to mery London came, bower,
To mery London, my most kyndly nurse, Joy may you have and gentle hearts con That to me gave this lifes first native
tent Of your loves couplement:
95 Though from another place I take my And let faire Venus, that is Queene of name,
An house of auncient fame. With her heart-quelling sonne upon you There when they came, whereas those smile,
bricky towres, Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to The which on Themmes brodé aged backe
doe ryde, All loves dislike, and friendships faultie Where now the studious lawyers have their guile
bowers, For ever to assoile.
There whylome wont the Templer Knights Let endlesse peace your steadfast hearts to byde,
Till they decayd through pride: And blessed plentie wait upon your bord; Next whereunto there standes a stately And let your bed with pleasures chast place, abound,
Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly That fruitfull issue may to you afford,
grace Which may your foes confound,
105 Of that great lord which therein wont to And make your joyes redound,
dwell, Upon your brydale day, which is not long: Whose want too well now feeles my Sweete Themmes, run softlie, till I end freendles case:
140 my song."
But ah! here fits not well
Olde woes, but joyes to tell, So ended she; and all the rest around Against the bridale daye, which is not To her redoubled that her undersong,
long: Which said, their bridale daye should not Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I end be long
my song.. And gentle Eccho from the neighbour ground
Yet therein now doth lodge a noble Their accents did resound.
145 So forth those joyous birdes did passe Great Englands glory and the worlds wide along,
wonder, Adowne the lee, that to them murmurde Whose dreadfull name late through all
115 Spaine did thunder, As he would speake, but that he lackt a And Hercules two pillors standing neere tong,
Did make to quake and feare. Yeat did by signes his glad affection show, Faire branch of honor, flower of chevalrie, Making his streame run slow.
That fillest England with thy triumphes And all the foule which in his flood did fame,
Joy have thou of thy noble victorie, Gan flock about these twaine, that did ex And endlesse happinesse of thine owne
cell The rest so far as Cynthia doth shend That promiseth the same: The lesser starres. So they, enranged well, That through thy prowesse and victorious Did on those two attend,
155 And their best service lend,
Thy country may be freed from forraine Against their wedding day, which was not harmes: long:
And great Elisaes glorious name may Sweete Themmes, run softly, till I end ring my song
Through al the world, fil'd with thy wide
Which some brave Muse may sing A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain, To ages following,
160 Hath done the wearied cords great hinUpon the brydale day, which is not long: derance; Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I Wreathèd with error and eke with ignoend my song.
The stars be hid that led me to this pain; From those high towers this noble lord Drowned is Reason, that should me issuing,
comfort; Like radiant Hesper when his golden And I remain, despairing of the port.
DESCRIPTION OF SPRING, WHEREfeature,
IN EACH THING RENEWS, SAVE Beseeming well the bower of anie queene,
ONLY THE LOVER With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,
The sootel season that bud and bloom Fit for so goodly stature:
forth brings, That like the twins of Jove they seem'd in
With green hath clad the hill and eke the sight,
vale; Which decke the bauldricke of the heavens
The nightingale with feathers new she bright.
sings; They two, forth pacing to the rivers side,
The turtle to her makea hath told her tale: Received those two faire brides, their loves
Summer is come, for every spray now delight,
springs; Which, at th' appointed tyde,
The hart hath hung his old head on the Each one did make his bryde,
pale; Against their brydale day, which is not
The buck in brake his winter coat he long:
flings; Sweete Themmes, runne softly, till I end
The fishes flete with new repaired scale; my song
The adder all her slough away she slings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale; ELIZABETHAN SONNETEERS
The busy bee her honey now she mings. * 11
And thus I see among these pleasant SIR THOMAS WYATT (1503?-1642)
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow THE LOVER COMPARETH HIS STATE TO A SHIP IN PERILOUS
springs! STORM TOSSED ON THE SEA
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1664-1686) My galley, chargèd with forgetfulness, Thorough sharp seas, in winter nights
From ASTROPHEL AND STELLA Tween rock and rock; and eke mine
enemy, alas, That is my lord, steereth with cruelness; Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love And every oar, a thought in readiness,
to show, As though that death were light in such a That she, dear she, might take some case;
pleasure of my pain,An endless wind doth tear the sail apace Of forcèd sighs and trusty fearfulness;
face of woe,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading
XXXIX might make her know,
Come, Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of I sought fit words to paint the blackest
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's reStudying inventions fine, her wits to enter
Th'indifferent judge between the high and Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence
low; would flow
With shield of proof shield me from out Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my
the prease sunburned brain.
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth But words came halting forth, wanting
1, Invention's stay;
O make in me those civil wars to cease; Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame I will good tribute pay, if thou do so. Study's blows;
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest And others' feet still seemed but strangers
bed, in my way
A chamber deaf of noise and blind of Thus, great with child to speak, and help
light, less in my throes,
A rosy garland and a weary head: Biting my truant pen, beating myself And if these things, as being thine in for spite;
right, “Fool,” said my Muse to me, “look in
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt thy heart, and write!”
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image XXXI
XLI With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
Having this day my horse, my hand, my How silently, and with how wan a lance face!
Guided so well that I obtained the prize, What, may it be that even in heavenly Both by the judgment of the English place
eyes That busy archer his sharp arrows tries! And of some sent from that sweet enemy Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted France; eyes
Horsemen my skill in horsemanship Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's advance,
Town folks my strength; a daintier judge I read it in thy looks: thy languished applies grace
His praise to sleight which from good use To me, that feel the like, thy state de doth rise; scries.
Some lucky wits impute it but to chance; Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell Others, because of both sides I do take
My blood from them who did excel in Is constant love deemed there but want of
Think Nature me a man-at-arms did Are beauties there as proud as here they
How far they shot awry! the true cause Do they above love to be loved, and is, yet
Stella looked on, and from her heavenly Those lovers scorn whom that love face doth possess?
Sent forth the beams which made so Do they call virtue there ungrateful fair my race. ness?
With which my silly bark was tossèd sore, EDMUND SPENSER (1652?-1699) I do at length descry the happy shore, 5
In which I hope ere long for to arrive:
Fair soil it seems from far, and fraught
with store XXIV
Of all that dear and dainty is alive. When I behold that beauty's wonderment, Most happy he that can at last achieve And rare perfection of each goodly part, The joyous safety of so sweet a rest; Of nature's skill the only complement, Whose least delight sufficeth to deprive I honor and admire the Maker's art. Remembrance of all pains which him opBut when I feel the bitter, baleful smart 5 pressed Which her fair eyes unwares do work in All pains are nothing in respect of this, me,
All sorrows short that gain eternal That death out of their shiny beams do bliss. dart,
LXX I think that I a new Pandora see: Whom all the gods in council did agree Fresh Spring, the herald of love's mighty Into this sinful world from heaven to send, king, That she to wicked men a scourge should In whose coat-armor richly are displayed be,
All sorts of flowers the which on earth do For all their faults with which they did spring, offend.
In goodly colors gloriously arrayed; But since ye are my scourge, I will Go to my love, where she is careless laid, intreat
Yet in her winter's bower not well awake; That for my faults ye will me gently Tell her the joyous time will not be stayed, beat.
Unless she do him by the forelock take; XXXIV
Bid her therefore herself soon ready make
To wait on Love amongst his lovely Like as a ship, that through the ocean wide
crew; By conduct of some star doth make her
Where everyone that misseth then her way,
make Whenas a storm hath dimmed her trusty Shall be by him amercedwith penance > guide,
due. Out of her course doth wander far astray;
Make haste, therefore, sweet love, whilst So I, whose star, that wont with her bright
it is prime; 5
For none can call again the passed Me to direct, with clouds is overcast,
time. Do wander now in darkness and dismay, Through hidden 'perils round about me
LXXV placed. One day I wrote her name upon
the Yet hope I well, that when this storm is
But came the waves and washed it away; My Helicé, the lodestar of my life,
Again I wrote it with a second hand, Will shine again, and look on me at last,
But came the tide and made my pains With lovely light to clear my cloudy grief; Till then I wander careful, comfort
“Vain man,” said she, “that dost in vain less,
5 In secret sorrow and sad pensiveness.
A mortal thing so to immortalize:
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out like-
“Not so," quoth I, “let baser things In dread of death, and dangerous dis- devise may,
To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
MICHAEL DRAYTON (1663–1631) My verse your virtues rare shall eternize, And in the heavens write your glorious SINCE THERE'S NO HELP
name. Where, whenas death shall all the world Since there's no help, come, let us kiss an subdue,
part! Our love shall live, and later life Nay, I have done, you get no more o renew."
And I am glad, yea, glad, with all my
heart, Men call you fair, and you do credit it,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free. For that yourself ye daily such do see;
Shake hands for ever, cancel all
5 And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows, For all the rest, however fair it be,
5 Shall turn to nought and lose that glorious
That we one jot of former love retain. hue;
Now at the last gasp of Love's latest
breath, But only that is permanent and free From frail corruption that doth flesh ensue.
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless
lies: That is true beauty; that doth argue you To be divine, and born of heavenly seed; 10
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of
death, Derived from that fair Spirit from whom
And Innocence is closing up his eyes, all true And perfect beauty did at first proceed:
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have
given him over, He only fair, and what he fair hath
From death to life thou might'st him made; All other fair, like flowers, untimely
yet recover! fade.
SAMUEL DANIEL (1562-1619)
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616)
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of
6 And often is his gold complexion dimmed; 1
By chance or nature's changing course un-''
his shade, And never wake to feel the day's dis When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: dain.