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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,

130 Love,

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,

135 accord,

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.

peer,

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,

151 dwell

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:

125

And great Elisaes glorious name may Sweete Themmes, run softly, till I end ring my song

IIO

low,

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name

armes

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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.

rance,

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.

hayre
In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fayre,
Descended to the rivers open vewing, 166 HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF
With a great traine ensuing.

SURREY (1517?-1547)
Above the rest were goodly to bee seene
Two gentle knights of lovely face and

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,

171

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,

176

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

180

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
Winter is worn, that was the flowers' bale:

And thus I see among these pleasant SIR THOMAS WYATT (1503?-1642)

things

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,

5

to show, As though that death were light in such a That she, dear she, might take some case;

5

doth pass,

I

face of woe,

5

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in me,

see.

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

peace, obtain,

The baiting-place of wit, the balm of I sought fit words to paint the blackest

woe, 5

The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's reStudying inventions fine, her wits to enter

lease, tain,

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

throw:

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

5.

Horsemen my skill in horsemanship Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's advance,

5 case;

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

this, wit?

Think Nature me a man-at-arms did Are beauties there as proud as here they

make. be?

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?

press, throng.

me

IO

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1

IO

II

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:
From AMORETTI

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

strand, past,

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,

assay

5 In secret sorrow and sad pensiveness.

A mortal thing so to immortalize:

For I myself shall like to this decay,
LXIII

And eke my name be wiped out like-
After long storms and tempests' sad assay, wise.”
Which hardly I endured heretofore,

“Not so," quoth I, “let baser things In dread of death, and dangerous dis- devise may,

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ray

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his prey:

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our

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."

me; LXXIX

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
But the true fair, that is the gentle wit
And virtuous mind, is much more praised

VOWS;

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.

of me:

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SAMUEL DANIEL (1562-1619)

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616)

XVIII

CARE-CHARMER SLEEP

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Thou art more lovely and more temperate:.
Night,

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born: May,
Relieve my languish, and restore the light; And summer's lease hath all too short a
With dark forgetting of my care, return! date;
And let the day be time enough to mourn Sometime too hot the eye of heaven i
The shipwreck of my ill-adventured shines,

5 youth:

6 And often is his gold complexion dimmed; 1
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn, And every fairl from fair sometime de-
Without the torment of the night's un clines,
truth.

By chance or nature's changing course un-''
Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires, trimmed;
To model forth the passions of the morrow; But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Never let rising sun approve you liars, Nor lose possession of that fair thou
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow.

ow'st;
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in
vain;

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