To all those happy blessings which ye have,
With plenteous hand by heaven upon you thrown,
This one disparagement they to you gave,
That ye your love lent to so meane a one. 915
Yee, whose high worths surpassing paragon
Could not on earth have found one fit for mate,
Ne but in heaven matchable to none,
Why did ye stoup unto so lowly state?
But ye thereby much greater glory gate, 920
Then had ye sorted with a princes pere:
For now your light doth more it selfe dilate,
And in my darknesse greater doth appeare.
Yet since your light hath once enlumind me,
With my reflex yours shall encreased be. 925
Amoretti LXVII
Lyke as a huntsman, after weary chace,
Seeing the game from him escapt away,
Sits downe to rest him in some shady place,
With panting hounds beguiled of their pray:
So, after long pursuit and vaine assay, 930
When I all weary had the chace forsooke,
The gentle deare returnd the selfe-same way,
Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brooke.
There she, beholding me with mylder looke,
Sought not to fly, but fearlesse still did bide: 935
Till I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke,
And with her owne goodwill hir fyrmely tyde.
Strange thing, me seemd, to see a beast so wyld,
So goodly wonne, with her owne will beguyld.
Amoretti LXVIII
Most glorious Lord of lyfe, that on this day 940
Didst make thy triumph over death and sin,
And having harrowd hell, didst bring away
Captivity thence captive, us to win:
This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin,
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye, 945
Being with thy deare blood clene washt from sin,
May live for ever in felicity:
And that thy love we weighing worthily,
May likewise love thee for the same againe;
And for thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy, 950
With love may one another entertayne.
So let us love, deare love, lyke as we ought:
Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
Amoretti LXIX
The famous warriors of the anticke world
Used trophees to erect in stately wize, 955
In which they would the records have enrold
Of theyr great deeds and valarous emprize.
What trophee then shall I most fit devize,
In which I may record the memory
Of my loves conquest, peerelesse beauties prise. 960
Adorn’d with honour, love, and chastity?
Even this verse, vowd to eternity,
Shall be thereof immortall moniment,
And tell her prayse to all posterity,
That may admire such worlds rare wonderment; 965
The happy purchase of my glorious spoile,
Gotten at last with labour and long toyle.
Amoretti LXX
Fresh Spring, the herald of loves mighty king,
In whose cote-armour richly are displayd
All sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring, 970
In goodly colours gloriously arrayd,
Goe to my love, where she is carelesse layd,
Yet in her winters bowre, not well awake;
Tell her the joyous time will not be staid,
Unlesse she doe him by the forelock take: 975
Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make,
To wayt on Love amongst his lovely crew,
Where every one that misseth then her make
Shall be by him amearst with penance dew.
Make hast therefore, sweet love, whilest it is prime; 980
For none can call againe the passed time.
Amoretti LXXI
I joy to see how, in your drawen work,
Your selfe unto the bee ye doe compare,
And me unto the spyder, that doth lurke
In close awayt to catch her unaware. 985
Right so your selfe were caught in cunning snare
Of a deare foe, and thralled to his love:
In whose streight bands ye now captived are
So firmely, that ye never may remove.
But as your worke is woven all about 990
With woodbynd flowers and fragrant eglantine,
So sweet your prison you in time shall prove,
With many deare delights bedecked fyne:
And all thensforth eternall peace shall see
Betweene the spyder and the gentle bee. 995
Amoretti LXXII
Oft when my spirit doth spred her bolder winges,
In mind to mount up to the purest sky,
It down is weighd with thoght of earthly things,
And clogd with burden of mortality:
Where, when that soverayne beauty it doth spy, 1000
Resembling heavens glory in her light,
Drawne with sweet pleasures bayt, it back doth fly,
And unto heaven forgets her former flight.
There my fraile fancy, fed with full delight,
Doth bath in blisse, and mantleth most at ease; 1005
Ne thinks of other heaven, but how it might
Her harts desire with most contentment please.
Hart need not wish none other happinesse,
But here on earth to have such hevens blisse.
Amoretti LXXIII
Being my selfe captyved here in care, 1010
My hart, whom none with servile bands can tye,
But the fayre tresses of your golden hayre,
Breaking his prison, forth to you doth fly.
Like as a byrd, that in ones hand doth spy
Desired food, to it doth make his flight, 1015
Even so my hart, that wont on your fayre eye
To feed his fill, flyes backe unto your sight.
Doe you him take, and in your bosome bright
Gently encage, that he may be your thrall:
Perhaps he there may learne, with rare delight, 1020
To sing your name and prayses over all,
That it hereafter may you not repent,
Him lodging in your bosome to have lent.
Amoretti LXXIV
Most happy letters! fram’d by skilfull trade,
With which that happy name was first desynd, 1025
The which three times thrise happy hath me made,
With guifts of body, fortune, and of mind.
The first my being to me gave by kind,
From mothers womb deriv’d by dew descent:
The second is my sovereigne Queene most kind, 1030
That honour and large richesse to me lent:
The third, my love, my lives last ornament,
By whom my spirit out of dust was raysed,
To speake her prayse and glory excellent,
Of all alive most worthy to be praysed. 1035
Ye three Elizabeths, for ever live,
That three such graces did unto me give.
Amoretti LXXV
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Agayne I wrote it with a second hand, 1040
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 selve shall lyke to this decay,
And eek my name bee wyped out lykewize. 1045
Not so (quod I) let baser things devize
To dy in dust, but you shall live by fame:
My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
And in the hevens wryte your glorious name;
Where, whenas death
shall all the world subdew, 1050
Our love shall live, and later life renew.
Amoretti LXXVI
Fayre bosome, fraught with vertues richest tresure,
The neast of love, the lodging of delight,
The bowre of blisse, the paradice of pleasure,
The sacred harbour of that hevenly spright; 1055
How was I ravisht with your lovely sight,
And my frayle thoughts too rashly led astray!
Whiles diving deepe through amorous insight,
On the sweet spoyle of beautie they did pray,
And twixt her paps, like early fruit in May, 1060
Whose harvest seemd to hasten now apace,
They loosely did theyr wanton winges display,
And there to rest themselves did boldly place.
Sweet thoughts, I envy your so happy rest,
Which oft I wisht, yet never was so blest. 1065
Amoretti LXXVII
Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne?
A goodly table of pure yvory,
All spred with juncats fit to entertayne
The greatest prince with pompous roialty:
Mongst which, there in a silver dish did ly 1070
Twoo golden apples of unvalewd price,
Far passing those which Hercules came by,
Or those which Atalanta did entice;
Exceeding sweet, yet voyd of sinfull vice;
That many sought, yet none could ever taste; 1075
Sweet fruit of pleasure, brought from Paradice
By Love himselfe, and in his garden plaste.
Her brest that table was, so richly spredd;
My thoughts the guests, which would thereon have fedd.
Amoretti LXXVIII
Lackyng my love, I go from place to place, 1080
Lyke a young fawne that late hath lost the hynd,
And seeke each where, where last I sawe her face,
Whose ymage yet I carry fresh in mynd.
I seeke the fields with her late footing synd,
I seeke her bowre with her late presence deckt, 1085
Yet nor in field nor bowre I her can fynd;
Yet field and bowre are full of her aspect.
But when myne eyes I therunto direct,
They ydly back returne to me agayne,
And when I hope to see theyr trew object, 1090
I fynd my selfe but fed with fancies vayne.
Ceasse then, myne eyes, to seeke her selfe to see,
And let my thoughts behold her selfe in mee.
Amoretti LXXIX
Men call you fayre, and you doe credit it,
For that your selfe ye dayly such doe see: 1095
But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit
And vertuous mind, is much more praysd of me.
For all the rest, how ever fayre it be,
Shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew:
But onely that is permanent, and free 1100
From frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew.
That is true beautie: that doth argue you
To be divine, and borne of heavenly seed,
Deriv’d from that fayre Spirit from whom al true
And perfect beauty did at first proceed. 1105
He onely fayre, and what he fayre hath made;
All other fayre, lyke flowres, untymely fade.
Amoretti LXXX
After so long a race as I have run
Through Faery Land, which those six books compile,
Give leave to rest me, being halfe fordonne, 1110
And gather to my selfe new breath awhile.
Then, as a steed refreshed after toyle,
Out of my prison I will breake anew:
And stoutly will that second worke assoyle,
With strong endevour and attention dew. 1115
Till then give leave to me, in pleasant mew
To sport my muse, and sing my loves sweet praise:
The contemplation of whose heavenly hew
My spirit to an higher pitch will rayse.
But let her prayses yet be low and meane, 1120
Fit for the handmayd of the Faery Queene.
Amoretti LXXXI
Fayre is my love, when her fayre golden heares
With the loose wynd ye waving chance to marke:
Fayre, when the rose in her red cheekes appeares,
Or in her eyes the fyre of love does sparke: 1125
Fayre, when her brest, lyke a rich laden barke
With pretious merchandize, she forth doth lay:
Fayre, when that cloud of pryde, which oft doth dark
Her goodly light, with smiles she drives away.
But fayrest she, when so she doth display 1130
The gate with pearles and rubyes richly dight,
Through which her words so wise do make their way,
To beare the message of her gentle spright.
The rest be works of Natures wonderment,
But this the worke of harts astonishment. 1135
Amoretti LXXXII
Joy of my life, full oft for loving you
I blesse my lot, that was so lucky placed:
But then the more your owne mishap I rew,
That are so much by so meane love embased.
For had the equall hevens so much you graced 1140
In this as in the rest, ye mote invent
Som hevenly wit, whose verse could have enchased
Your glorious name in golden moniment.
But since ye deignd so goodly to relent
To me your thrall, in whom is little worth, 1145
That little that I am shall all be spent
In setting your immortall prayses forth:
Whose lofty argument, uplifting me,
Shall lift you up unto an high degree.
Amoretti LXXXIII
Let not one sparke of filthy lustfull fyre 1150
Breake out, that may her sacred peace molest;
Ne one light glance of sensuall desyre
Attempt to work her gentle mindes unrest:
But pure affections bred in spotlesse brest,
And modest thoughts breathd from wel tempred sprites, 1155
Goe visit her in her chast bowre of rest,
Accompanyde with angelick delightes.
There fill your selfe with those most joyous sights,
The which my selfe could never yet attayne:
But speake no word to her of these sad plights, 1160
Which her too constant stiffenesse doth constrayn.
Onely behold her rare perfection,
And blesse your fortunes fayre election.
Amoretti LXXXIV
The world, that cannot deeme of worthy things,
When I doe praise her, say I doe but flatter: 1165
So does the cuckow, when the mavis sings,
Begin his witlesse note apace to clatter.
But they that skill not of so heavenly matter,
All that they know not, envy or admyre:
Rather then envy, let them wonder at her, 1170
But not to deeme of her desert aspyre.
Deepe in the closet of my parts entyre,
Her worth is written with a golden quill:
That me with heavenly fury doth inspire,
And my glad mouth with her sweet prayses fill: 1175
Which when as Fame in her shrill trump shal thunder,
Let the world chose to envy or to wonder.
Amoretti LXXXV
Venemous toung, tipt with vile adders sting,
Of that selfe kynd with which the Furies fell
Theyr snaky heads doe combe, from which a spring 1180
Of poysoned words and spitefull speeches well,
Let all the plagues and horrid paines of hell
Upon thee fall for thine accursed hyre,
That with false forged lyes, which thou didst tel,
In my true love did stirre up coles of yre; 11
85
The sparkes whereof let kindle thine own fyre,
And catching hold on thine own wicked hed,
Consume thee quite, that didst with guile conspire
In my sweet peace such breaches to have bred.
Shame be thy meed, and mischiefe thy reward, 1190
Due to thy selfe, that it for me prepard.
Amoretti LXXXVI
Since I did leave the presence of my love,
Many long weary dayes I have outworne,
And many nights, that slowly seemd to move
Theyr sad protract from evening untill morne. 1195
For when as day the heaven doth adorne,
I wish that night the noyous day would end:
And when as night hath us of light forlorne,
I wish that day would shortly reascend.
Thus I the time with expectation spend, 1200
And faine my griefe with chaunges to beguile,
That further seemes his terme still to extend,
And maketh every minute seem a myle.
So sorrow still doth seeme too long to last;
But joyous houres doo fly away too fast. 1205
Amoretti LXXXVII
Since I have lackt the comfort of that light,
The which was wont to lead my thoughts astray,
I wander as in darknesse of the night,
Affrayd of every dangers least dismay.
Ne ought I see, though in the clearest day, 1210
When others gaze upon theyr shadowes vayne,
But th’ onely image of that heavenly ray,
Whereof some glance doth in mine eie remayne.
Of which beholding the idæa playne,
Through contemplation of my purest part, 1215
With light thereof I doe my selfe sustayne,
And thereon feed my love-affamisht hart.
But with such brightnesse whylest I fill my mind,
I starve my body, and mine eyes doe blynd.
Amoretti LXXXVIII
Lyke as the culver on the bared bough 1220
Sits mourning for the absence of her mate,
And in her songs sends many a wishfull vow
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