Edmund Spenser (c ) Amoretti (1595)

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1 Edmund Spenser (c ) Amoretti (1595) SONNET I HAPPY ye leaves when as those lily hands, which hold my life in their dead doing might shall handle you and hold in loves soft bands, like captives trembling at the victor's sight. And happy lines, on which with starry light, those lamping eyes will deign sometimes to look and read the sorrows of my dying spright, written with tears in hearts close bleeding book. And happy rhymes bath'd in the sacred brook, of Helicon whence she derived is, when ye behold that Angels blessed look, my soul's long lacked food, my heaven's bliss. Leaves, lines, and rhymes, seek her to please alone, whom if ye please, I care for other none

2 SONNET I (Original text) Happy ye leaues when as those lilly hands, which hold my life in their dead doing might shall handle you and hold in loues soft bands, lyke captiues 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 deriued is, when ye behold that Angels blessed looke, my soules long lacked foode, my heauens blis. Leaues, lines, and rymes, seeke her to please alone, whom if ye please, I care for other none

3 SONNET VI BE nought dismayed that her unmoved mind, doth still persist in her rebellious pride: such love not like to lusts of baser kind, The harder won, the firmer will abide. The durefull Oake, whose sap is not yet dried, is long ere it conceive the kindling fire: but when it once doth burn, it doth divide great heat, and makes his flames to heaven aspire. So hard it is to kindle new desire, in gentle breast that shall endure for ever: deep is the wound, that dints the parts entire with chaste affects, that naught but death can sever. Then think not long in taking little pain to knit the knot, that ever shall remain

4 SONNET VI (Original text) Be nought dismayd that her vnmoued mind doth still persist in her rebellious pride: such loue 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 conceiue the kindling fyre: but when it once doth burne, it doth diuide great heat, and makes his flames to heauen aspire. So hard it is to kindle new desire, in gentle brest that shall endure for euer: deepe is the wound, that dints the parts entire with chast affects, that naught but death can seuer. Then thinke not long in taking litle paine to knit the knot, that euer shall remaine

5 SONNET XXX MY love is like to ice, and I to fire; how comes it then that this her cold so great is not dissolv'd through my so hot desire, but harder grows the more I her intreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat is not delayed by her heart frozen cold: but that I burn much more in boiling sweat, and feel my flames augmented manifold? What more miraculous thing may be told that fire which all things melts, should harden ice: and ice which is congeal'd with senseless cold, should kindle fire by wonderful device. Such is the power of love in gentle mind, that it can alter all the course of kind

6 SONNET XXX (Original text) My loue is lyke to yse, and I to fyre; how comes it then that this her cold so great is not dissolu'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 feel my flames augmented manifold? What more miraculous thing may be told that fire which all things melts, should harden yse: and yse which is congeald with sencelesse cold, should kindle fyre by wonderfull deuyse? Such is the powre of loue in gentle mind, that it can alter all the course of kynd

7 SONNET XXXIV Like as a ship, that through the Ocean wide, by conduct of some star doth make her way, whenas a storm hath dimmed her trusty guide, out of her course doth wander far astray. So I whose star, that wont with her bright ray, me to direct, with clouds is over-cast, do wander now, in darkness and dismay, through hidden perils round about me placed. 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 carefull comfortless, in secret sorrow and sad pensiveness

8 SONNET XXXIV (Original text) 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 ouercast, 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 louely light to cleare my cloudy grief. Till then I wander carefull comfortlesse, in secret sorrow and sad pensiuenesse

9 SONNET XLV LEAVE lady in your glass of crystal clean, Your goodly self for evermore to view: and in my self, my inward self I mean, most lively like behold your semblant true. Within my heart, though hardly it can show, thing so divine to view of earthly eye: the fair Idea of your celestial hue, and every part remains immortally: And were it not that, through your cruelty, with sorrow dimmed and deform'd it were: the goodly image of your visnomy, clearer then crystal would therein appear. But if your self in me ye plain will see, remove the cause by which your fair beams darkened be

10 SONNET XLV (Original text) Leaue lady in your glasse of christall clene, Your goodly selfe for euermore to vew: and in my selfe, my inward selfe I meane, most liuely lyke behold your semblant trew. Within my hart, though hardly it can shew thing so diuine to vew of earthly eye: the fayre Idea of your celestiall hew, and euery 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, remoue the cause by which your fayre beames darkned be

11 SONNET LXIII AFTER long storms and tempest's sad assay, Which hardly I endured heretofore: in dread of death and dangerous dismay, with which my silly bark was tossed sore. I do at length descry the happy shore, in which I hope ere long for to arrive, fair soil it seems from far and fraught with store of all that dear and dainty is alive. Most happy he that can at last achieve the joyous safety of so sweet a rest: whose least delight sufficeth to deprive remembrance of all pains which him opprest. All pains are nothing in respect of this, all sorrows short that gain eternal bliss

12 SONNET LXIII (Original text) After 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: Doe at length descry the happy shore, in which I hope ere long for to arryue, fayre soyle it seemes from far & fraught with store of all that deare and daynty is alyue. Most happy he that can at last atchyue the ioyous safety of so sweet a rest: whose least delight sufficeth to depriue remembrance of all paines which him opprest. All paines are nothing in respect of this, all sorrowes short that gaine eternall blisse

13 SONNET LXXV ONE day I wrote her name upon the strand, 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 immortalize, for I my self shall like to this decay, and eek my name be wiped out likewise. Not so, (quoth 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

14 SONNET LXXV (Original text) One day I wrote her name vpon the strand, but came the waues 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 selue shall lyke to this decay, and eek my name bee wyped out lykewize. Not so, (quod I) let baser things deuize to dy in dust, but you shall liue by fame: my verse your vertues rare shall eternize, and in the heuens wryte your glorious name. Where whenas death shall all the world subdew, our loue shall liue, and later life renew

15 SONNET LXXXVIII SINCE I have lacked the comfort of that light, The which was wont to lead my thoughts astray: I wander as in darkness of the night, afraid of every danger's least dismay. Ne aught I see, though in the clearest day, when others gaze upon their shadows vain: but th' only image of that heavenly ray, whereof some glance doth in mine eye remain. Of which beholding th'idæa plain, through contemplation of my purest part: with light thereof I do my self sustain, and thereon feed my love-affamished heart. But with such brightness whilst I fill my mind, I starve my body and mine eyes do blind

16 SONNET LXXXVIII (Original text) Since I haue 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 euery daungers least dismay. Ne ought I see, though in the clearest day, when others gaze vpon theyr shadowes vayne: but th'onely image of that heauenly ray, whereof some glance doth in mine eie remayne. Of which beholding th'idæa playne, throgh contemplation of my purest part: with light thereof I doe my selfe sustayne, and thereon feed my loue-affamisht hart. But with such brightnesse whylest I fill my mind, I starue my body and mine eyes doe blynd

17 SONNET LXXXIX Like as the Culver on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate; and in her songs sends many a wishful vow, for his return that seems to linger late. So I alone now left disconsolate, mourn to my self the absence of my love: and wandring here and there all desolate, seek with my plaints to match that mournful dove. Ne joy of aught that under heaven doth hove, can comfort me, but her own joyous sight: whose sweet aspect both God and man can move, in her unspotted pleasance to delight. Dark is my day, whiles her fair light I miss, and dead my life that wants such lively bliss

18 SONNET LXXXIX (Original text) Lyke as the Culuer on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate: and in her songs sends many a wishfull vow, for his returne that seemes to linger late; So I alone now left disconsolate, mourne to my selfe the absence of my loue: and wandring here and there all desolate, seek with my playnts to match that mournful doue: Ne ioy of ought that vnder heauen doth houe, can comfort me, but her owne ioyous sight: whose sweet aspect both God and man can moue, in her vnspotted pleasauns to delight. Dark is my day, whyles her fayre light I mis, and dead my life that wants such liuely blis

SONNET 130 by William Shakespeare My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then

SONNET 130 by William Shakespeare My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red; If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow