And with thy wit illustrate Englands fame, 10
Dawnting thereby our neighboures auncient pride,
That do for poesie challendge cheefest name.
So we that live, and ages that succeede,
With great applause thy learned works shall reede.
Ah! Colin, whether on the lowly plaine, 15
Pyping to shepherds thy sweete roundelaies,
Or whether singing, in some lofty vaine,
Heroick deedes of past or present daies,
Or whether in thy lovely mistris praise
Thou list to exercise thy learned quill, 20
Thy Muse hath got such grace, and power to please,
With rare invention, bewtified by skill,
As who therein can ever joy their fill?
O therefore let that happy Muse proceede
To clime the height of Vertues sacred hill, 25
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.
Amoretti
Amoretti I
HAPPY ye leaves! when as those lilly hands,
Which hold my life in their dead doing might,
Shall handle you, and hold in loves soft bands,
Lyke captives trembling at the victors sight.
And happy lines! on which, with starry light, 5
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 derived is, 10
When ye behold that angels blessed looke,
My soules long lacked foode, my heavens blis.
Leaves, lines, and rymes, seeke her to please alone,
Whom if ye please, I care for other none.
Amoretti II
Unquiet thought, whom at the first I bred 15
Of th’ inward bale of my love pined hart,
And sithens have with sighes and sorrowes fed,
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, 20
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 25
Pardon for thee, and grace for me intreat.
Which if she graunt, then live, and my love cherish,
If not, die soone, and I with thee will perish.
Amoretti III
The soverayne beauty which I doo admyre,
Witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed; 30
The light wherof hath kindled heavenly 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 35
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 ravisht is with fancies wonderment. 40
Yet in my hart I then both speake and write
The wonder that my wit cannot endite.
Amoretti IV
New Yeare, forth looking out of Janus gate,
Doth seeme to promise hope of new delight,
And bidding th’ old adieu, his passed date 45
Bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spright;
And calling forth out of sad Winters night
Fresh Love, that long hath slept in cheerlesse bower,
Wils him awake, and soone about him dight
His wanton wings and darts of deadly power. 50
For lusty Spring now in his timely howre
Is ready to come forth, him to receive;
And warnes the Earth, with divers colord flowre
To decke hir selfe, and her faire mantle weave.
Then you, faire flowre, in whom fresh youth doth raine, 55
Prepare your selfe new love to entertaine.
Amoretti V
Rudely 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 unworthy most envide. 60
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 upon her.
Such pride is praise, such portlinesse is honor, 65
That boldned innocence beares in hir eies,
And her faire countenance, like a goodly banner,
Spreds in defiaunce of all enemies.
Was never in this world ought worthy tride,
Without some spark of such self-pleasing pride. 70
Amoretti VI
Be nought dismayd that her unmoved mind
Doth still persist in her rebellious pride:
Such love, not lyke to lusts of baser kynd,
The harder wonne, the firmer will abide.
The durefull oake, whose sap is not yet dride, 75
Is long ere it conceive the kindling fyre:
But when it once doth burne, it doth divide
Great heat, and makes his flames to heaven aspire.
So hard it is to kindle new desire
In gentle brest, that shall endure for ever: 80
Deepe is the wound that dints the parts entire
With chast affects, that naught but death can sever.
Then thinke not long in taking litle paine
To knit the knot that ever shall remaine.
Amoretti VII
Fayre eyes, the myrrour of my mazed hart, 85
What wondrous vertue is contaynd in you,
The which both lyfe and death forth from you dart
Into the object of your mighty view?
For when ye mildly looke with lovely hew,
Then is my soule with life and love inspired: 90
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 ever lovely, as becomes you best,
That your bright beams, of my weak eies admyred, 95
May kindle living fire within my brest.
Such life should be the honor of your light,
Such death the sad ensample of your might.
Amoretti VIII
More then most faire, full of the living fire
Kindled above unto the Maker neere: 100
No eies, but joyes, in which al powers conspire,
That to the world naught else be counted deare:
Thrugh your bright beams doth not the blinded guest
Shoot out his darts to base affections wound;
But angels come, to lead fraile mindes to rest 105
In chast desires, on heavenly 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. 110
Dark is the world where your light shined never;
Well is he borne that may behold you ever.
Amoretti IX
Long-while I sought to what I might compare
Those powrefull eies which lighten my dark spright;
Yet find I nought on earth to which I dare 115
Resemble th’ ymage of their goodly li
ght.
Not to the sun; for they doo shine by night:
Nor to the moone; for they are changed never:
Nor to the starres; for they have purer sight:
Nor to the fire; for they consume not ever: 120
Nor to the lightning; for they still persever:
Nor to the diamond; for they are more tender:
Nor unto christall; for nought may them sever:
Nor unto glasse; such basenesse mought offend her.
Then to the Maker selfe they likest be, 125
Whose light doth lighten all that here we see.
Amoretti X
Unrighteous Lord of Love, what law is this,
That me thou makest thus tormented be,
The whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse
Of her freewill, scorning both thee and me? 130
See how the tyrannesse doth joy to see
The huge massacres which her eyes do make,
And humbled harts brings captive unto thee,
That thou of them mayst mightie vengeance take!
But her proud hart doe thou a little shake, 135
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. 140
Amoretti XI
Dayly when 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 moov’d with reason or with rewth, 145
To graunt small respit to my restlesse toile;
But greedily her fell intent poursewth,
Of my poore life to make unpitteid spoile.
Yet my poore life, all sorrowes to assoyle,
I would her yield, her wrath to pacify: 150
But then she seekes, with torment and turmoyle,
To force me live, and will not let me dy.
All paine hath end, and every war hath peace;
But mine no price nor prayer may surcease.
Amoretti XII
One day I sought with her hart-thrilling eies 155
To make a truce, and termes to entertaine,
All fearlesse then of so false enimies,
Which sought me to entrap in treasons traine.
So as I then disarmed did remaine,
A wicked ambush, which lay hidden long 160
In the close covert of her guilefull eyen,
Thence breaking forth, did thick about me throng.
Too feeble I t’ abide the brunt so strong,
Was forst to yeeld my selfe into their hands:
Who me captiving streight with rigorous wrong, 165
Have ever since me kept in cruell bands.
So, ladie, now to you I doo complaine,
Against your eies that justice I may gaine.
Amoretti XIII
In that proud port which her so goodly graceth,
Whiles her faire face she reares up to the skie, 170
And to the ground her eie lids low embaseth,
Most goodly temperature ye may descry:
Myld humblesse mixt with awfull majesty.
For looking on the earth, whence she was borne,
Her minde remembreth her mortalitie: 175
What so is fayrest shall to earth returne.
But that same lofty countenance seemes to scorne
Base thing, and thinke how she to heaven may clime,
Treading downe earth as lothsome and forlorne,
That hinders heavenly thoughts with drossy slime. 180
Yet lowly still vouchsafe to looke on me;
Such lowlinesse shall make you lofty be.
Amoretti XIV
Retourne agayne, my forces late dismayd,
Unto the siege by you abandon’d quite.
Great shame it is to leave, like one afrayd, 185
So fayre a peece for one repulse so light.
Gaynst such strong castles needeth greater might
Then those small forts which ye were wont belay:
Such haughty mynds, enur’d to hardy fight,
Disdayne to yield unto the first assay. 190
Bring therefore all the forces that ye may,
And lay incessant battery to her heart;
Playnts, prayers, vowes, ruth, sorrow, and dismay;
Those engins can the proudest love convert.
And if those fayle, fall down and dy before her; 195
So dying live, and living do adore her.
Amoretti XV
Ye tradefull merchants, that with weary toyle
Do seeke most pretious things to make your gain,
And both the Indias of their treasures spoile,
What needeth you to seeke so farre in vaine? 200
For loe! my love doth in her selfe containe
All this worlds riches that may farre be found:
If saphyres, loe! her eies be saphyres plaine;
If rubies, loe! hir lips be rubies sound;
If pearles, hir teeth be pearles both pure and round; 205
If yvorie, her forhead yvory weene;
If gold, her locks are finest gold on ground;
If silver, her faire hands are silver sheene:
But that which fairest is but few behold,
Her mind, adornd with vertues manifold. 210
Amoretti XVI
One day as I unwarily did gaze
On those fayre eyes, my loves immortall light,
The whiles my stonisht hart stood in amaze,
Through sweet illusion of her lookes delight,
I mote perceive how, in her glauncing sight, 215
Legions of loves with little wings did fly,
Darting their deadly arrowes, fyry bright,
At every rash beholder passing by.
One of those archers closely I did spy,
Ayming his arrow at my very hart: 220
When suddenly, with twincle of her eye,
The damzell broke his misintended dart.
Had she not so doon, sure I had bene slayne;
Yet as it was, I hardly scap’t with paine.
Amoretti XVII
The glorious pourtraict of that angels face, 225
Made to amaze weake mens confused skil,
And this worlds worthlesse glory to embase,
What pen, what pencill, can expresse her fill?
For though he colours could devize at will,
And eke his learned hand at pleasure guide, 230
Least, trembling, it his workmanship should spill,
Yet many wondrous things there are beside.
The sweet eye-glaunces, that like arrowes glide,
The charming smiles, that rob sence from the hart,
The lovely pleasance, and the lofty pride, 235
Cannot expressed be by any art.
A greater craftesmans hand thereto doth neede,
That can expresse the life of things indeed.
Amoretti XVIII
The rolling wheele, that runneth often round,
The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare: 240
And drizling drops, that often doe redound,
The firmest flint doth in continuance weare:
Yet cannot I, with many a dropping teare
And long intreaty, soften her hand hart,
That she will once vouchsafe my plaint to heare, 245
Or looke with pitty on my payneful smart.
But when I pleade, she bids me play my part,
And when I weep, she sayes teares are but water,
And when I sigh, she sayes I know the art,
And when I waile, she turnes hir selfe to laughter. 250
So do I weepe, and wayle, and pleade in vaine,
Whiles she as steele and flint doth still remay
ne.
Amoretti XIX
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trompet shrill hath thrise already sounded,
That warnes al lovers wayt upon their king, 255
Who now is comming forth with girland crouned.
With noyse whereof the quyre of byrds resounded
Their anthemes sweet, devized of Loves prayse,
That all the woods theyr ecchoes back rebounded,
As if they knew the meaning of their layes. 260
But mongst them all which did Loves honor rayse,
No word was heard of her that most it ought,
But she his precept proudly disobayes,
And doth his ydle message set at nought.
Therefore, O Love, unlesse she turne to thee 265
Ere cuckow end, let her a rebell be.
Amoretti XX
In vaine I seeke and sew to her for grace,
And doe myne humbled hart before her poure:
The whiles her foot she in my necke doth place,
And tread my life downe in the lowly floure. 270
And yet the lyon, that is lord of power,
And reigneth over every beast in field,
In his most pride disdeigneth to devoure
The silly lambe that to his might doth yield.
But she, more cruell and more salvage wylde, 275
Than either lyon or the lyonesse,
Shames not to be with guiltlesse bloud defylde,
But taketh glory in her cruelnesse.
Fayrer then fayrest, let none ever say
That ye were blooded in a yeelded pray. 280
Amoretti XXI
Was it the worke of Nature or of Art,
Which tempred so the feature of her face,
That pride and meeknesse, mixt by equall part,
Doe both appeare t’ adorne her beauties grace?
For with mild pleasance, which doth pride displace, 285
She to her love doth lookers eyes allure;
And with sterne countenance back again doth chace
Their looser lookes that stir up lustes impure.
With such strange termes her eyes she doth inure,
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