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And farewell mery hart, the gift of guiltlesse mindes,

And all sports, which for liues restore, varietie assignes,

Let all that sweete is voyd; in me no mirth may dwell,

Phillip, the cause of all this woe, my liues content, farewell.

Now rime, the sonne of rage, which art no kin to skill,

And endles griefe, which deads my life, yet knowes not how to kill,

Go seeke that haples tombe, which if ye hap to finde,

Salute the stones, that keep the lims, that held so good a minde.

FINIS.

LONDON

Printed by T. C. for William Ponsonbie.

AMORETTI

AND

Epithalamion.

Written not long since by Edmunde Spenser.

Printed for William
Ponsonby. 1595.

S

full Sir Robart Need

ham Knight.

Ir, to gratulate your safe return from Ireland, I had nothing SO readie, nor thought any thing so meete, as these sweete conceited Sonets, the deede of that wel deseruing gentleman, an, maister Edmond Spenser: whose name sufficiently warranting the worthinesse of the work: I do more confidently presume to publish it in his absence, vnder your name to whom (in my poore opinion) the patronage therof, doth in some respectes properly appertaine. For, besides your iudgement and delighte in learned poesie: This

G: W. senior, to the Author

D

Arke is the day, when Phœbus face is shrowded,

and weaker sights may wander soone astray : but when they see his glorious raies vnclowded,

with steddy steps they keepe the perfect way: So while this Muse in forraine landes doth stay, inuention weepes, and pens are cast aside, the time like night, depriud of chearefull day, and few do write, but (ah) too soone may slide. Then, hie thee home, that art our perfect guide, and with thy wit illustrate Englands fame, dawnting thereby our neighbors auncient pride,

that do for poesie, challendge cheefest name. So we that liue and ages that succeede.

With great applause thy learned works shall

reede.

Ah Colin, whether on the lowly plaine,

pyping to shepherds thy sweete roundelaies : or whether singing in some lofty vaine, heroick deedes, of past, or present daies. Or whether in thy louely mistris praise, thou list to exercise thy learned quill, thy muse hath got such grace, and power to please, with rare inuention bewtified by skill.

As who therein can euer ioy their fill! O therefore let that happy muse proceede to clime the height of vertues sacred hill, where endles honor shall be made thy meede. Because no malice of succeeding daies, can rase those records of thy lasting praise. G. W. I.

gentle Muse for her former perfection long wished for in Englande, nowe at the length crossing the Seas in your happy companye,

(though to your selfe vnknowne) seemeth to make choyse of you, as meetest to giue her deserued countenaunce, after her retourne: entertaine her, then, (Right worshipfull) in sorte best beseeming your gentle minde, and her merite, and take in worth my good will herein, who seeke no more, but to shew my selfe yours in all dutifull affection.

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SONNET. I.

W. P.

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. SONNET. II.

V

the first I bred,

Nquiet thought, whom at Of th'inward bale of my loue pined hart : and sithens haue with sighes and sorrowesfed, 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 liue, and my loue

cherish,

if not, die soone, and I with thee will perish.

TH

SONNET. III.

He souerayne beauty which I doo admyre, witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed:

the light wherof hath kindled heauenly 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 rauisht is with fancies wonderment: Yet in my hart I then both speake and write the wonder that my wit cannot endite.

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Ridely 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 vnworthy most enuide. 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 vpon 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 neuer in this world ought worthy tride, without some spark of such self-pleasing pride.

B

SONNET. VI.

E 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.

SONNET. VII.

of my mazed hart, what wondrous vertue is contaynd in you, the which both lyfe and death forth from you dart

into the obiect of your mighty view? For when ye mildly looke with louely hew, then is my soule with life and loue 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 euer louely, as becomes you best, that your bright beams of my weak eies admyred,

may kindle liuing fire within my brest. Such life should be the honor of your light, such death the sad ensample of your might.

M

SONNET. VIII.

Ore then most faire, full of the liuing fire, Kindled aboue vnto the maker neere : no eies but ioyes, in which al powers conspire, that to the world naught else be counted deare. Thrugh your bright beames doth not the blinded guest,

shoot out his darts to base affections wound: but Angels come to lead fraile mindes to rest in chast desires on heauenly 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, strong thrugh your cause, but by your vertue weak.

Dark is the world, where your light shined

neuer;

well is he borne, that may behold you euer.

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SONNET. X.

VNrighteous Lord of

loue, what law is this, be:

That me thou makest thus tormented the whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse of her freewill, scorning both thee and me. See how the Tyrannesse doth ioy to see the huge massacres which her eyes do make: and humbled harts brings captiues vnto 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.

DAyly when

SONNET. XI.

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'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 vnpittied 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 liue, and will not let me dy. All paine hath end and euery war hath peace, but mine no price nor prayer may surcease.

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