Or why doe not faire pictures like powre shew,
In which oftimes we Nature see of Art
Exceld, in perfect limming every part?
But ah! beleeve me, there is more then so, 85
That workes such wonders in the minds of men.
I, that have often prov’d, too well it know;
And who so list the like assayes to ken
Shall find by tryall, and confesse it then,
That Beautie is not, as fond men misdeeme, 90
An outward shew of things that onely seeme.
For that same goodly hew of white and red,
With which the cheekes are sprinckled, shal decay,
And those sweete rosy leaves, so fairely spred
Upon the lips, shall fade and fall away 95
To that they were, even to corrupted clay.
That golden wyre, those sparckling stars so bright
Shall turne to dust, and loose their goodly light.
But that faire lampe, from whose celestiall ray
That light proceedes which kindleth lovers fire, 100
Shall never be extinguisht nor decay;
But when the vitall spirits doe expyre,
Unto her native planet shall retyre;
For it is heavenly borne, and can not die,
Being a parcell of the purest skie. 105
For when the soule, the which derived was,
At first, out of that great immortall Spright,
By whom all live to love, whilome did pas
Downe from the top of purest heavens hight,
To be embodied here, it then tooke light 110
And lively spirits from that fayrest starre,
Which lights the world forth from his firie carre.
Which powre retayning still, or more or lesse,
When she in fleshly seede is eft enraced,
Through every part she doth the same impresse, 115
According as the heavens have her graced,
And frames her house, in which she will be placed,
Fit for her selfe, adorning it with spoyle
Of th’ heavenly riches which she robd erewhyle.
Thereof it comes that these faire soules, which have 120
The most resemblance of that heavenly light,
Frame to themselves most beautifull and brave
Their fleshly bowre, most fit for their delight,
And the grosse matter by a soveraine might
Tempers so trim, that it may well be seene 125
A pallace fit for such a virgin queene.
So every spirit, as it is most pure,
And hath in it the more of heavenly light,
So it the fairer bodie doth procure
To habit in, and it more fairely dight 130
With chearefull grace and amiable sight.
For of the soule the bodie forme doth take:
For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.
Therefore, where ever that thou doest behold
A comely corpse, with beautie faire endewed, 135
Know this for certaine, that the same doth hold
A beauteous soule, with faire conditions thewed,
Fit to receive the seede of vertue strewed.
For all that faire is, is by nature good;
That is a signe to know the gentle blood. 140
Yet oft it falles that many a gentle mynde
Dwels in deformed tabernacle drownd,
Either by chaunce, against the course of kynd,
Or through unaptnesse in the substance fownd,
Which it assumed of some stubborne grownd, 145
That will not yield unto her formes direction,
But is deform’d with some foule imperfection.
And oft it falles (ay me, the more to rew!)
That goodly Beautie, albe heavenly borne,
Is foule abusd, and that celestiall hew, 150
Which doth the world with her delight adorne,
Made but the bait of sinne, and sinners scorne;
Whilest every one doth seeke and sew to have it,
But every one doth seeke but to deprave it.
Yet nathemore is that faire Beauties blame, 155
But theirs that do abuse it unto ill:
Nothing so good, but that through guilty shame
May be corrupt, and wrested unto will.
Nathelesse the soule is faire and beauteous still,
How ever fleshes fault it filthy make: 160
For things immortall no corruption take.
But ye, faire dames, the worlds deare ornaments,
And lively images of heavens light,
Let not your beames with such disparagements
Be dimd, and your bright glorie darkned quight, 165
But mindfull still of your first countries sight,
Doe still preserve your first informed grace,
Whose shadow yet shynes in your beauteous face.
Loath that foule blot, that hellish fierbrand,
Disloiall lust, faire Beauties foulest blame, 170
That base affections, which your eares would bland,
Commend to you by loves abused name;
But is indeede the bondslave of defame;
Which will the garland of your glorie marre,
And quench the light of your bright shyning starre. 175
But gentle love, that loiall is and trew,
Will more illumine your resplendent ray,
And adde more brightnesse to your goodly hew,
From light of his pure fire, which, by like way
Kindled of yours, your likenesse doth display, 180
Like as two mirrours, by opposd reflexion,
Doe both expresse the faces first impression.
Therefore, to make your beautie more appeare,
It you behoves to love, and forth to lay
That heavenly riches which in you ye beare, 185
That men the more admyre their fountaine may;
For else what booteth that celestiall ray,
If it in darknesse be enshrined ever,
That it of loving eyes be vewed never?
But in your choice of loves, this well advize, 190
That likest to your selves ye them select,
The which your forms first sourse may sympathize,
And with like beauties parts be inly deckt:
For if you loosely love without respect,
It is no love, but a discordant warre, 195
Whose unlike parts amongst themselves do jarre.
For love is a celestiall harmonie
Of likely harts composd of starres concent,
Which joyne together in sweete sympathie,
To worke ech others joy and true content, 200
Which they have harbourd since their first descent
Out of their heavenly bowres, where they did see
And know ech other here belov’d to bee.
Then wrong it were that any other twaine
Should in loves gentle band combyned bee, 205
But those whom Heaven did at first ordaine,
And made out of one mould the more t’ agree:
For all that like the beautie which they see
Streight do not love: for love is not so light,
As streight to burne at first beholders sight. 210
But they which love indeede looke otherwise,
With pure regard and spotlesse true intent,
Drawing out of the object of their eyes
A more refyned forme, which they present
Unto their mind, voide of all blemishment; 215
Which it reducing to her first perfection,
Beholdeth free from fleshes frayle infection.
And then conforming it unto the light,
Which in it selfe it hath remaining still,
Of that first sunne, yet sparckling in his sight, 220
Thereof he fashions in his higher skill
An heavenly beautie to his fan
cies will,
And it embracing in his mind entyre,
The mirrour of his owne thought doth admyre.
Which seeing now so mly faire to be, 225
As outward it appeareth to the eye,
And with his spirits proportion to agree,
He thereon fixeth all his fantasie,
And fully setteth his felicitie,
Counting it fairer then it is indeede, 230
And yet indeede her fairenesse doth exceede.
For lovers eyes more sharply sighted bee
Then other mens, and in deare loves delight
See more then any other eyes can see,
Through mutuall receipt of beames bright, 235
Which carrie privie message to the spright
And to their eyes that inmost faire display
As plaine as light discovers dawning day.
Therein they see, through amorous eye-glaunces,
Armies of Loves still flying too and fro, 240
Which dart at them their litle fierie launces:
Whom having wounded, backe againe they go,
Carrying compassion to their lovely foe;
Who, seeing her faire eyes so sharpe effect,
Cures all their sorrowes with one sweete aspect. 245
In which how many wonders doe they reede
To their conceipt, that others never see!
Now of her smiles, with which their soules they feede,
Like gods with nectar in their bankets free,
Now of her lookes, which like to cordials bee; 250
But when her words embassade forth she sends,
Lord, how sweete musicke that unto them lends!
Sometimes upon her forhead they behold
A thousand graces masking in delight;
Sometimes within her eye-lids they unfold 255
Ten thousand sweet belgards, which to their sight
Doe seeme like twinckling starres in frostie night;
But on her lips, like rosy buds in May,
So many millions of chaste pleasures play.
All those, O Cytherea, and thousands more 260
Thy handmaides be, which do on thee attend,
To decke thy beautie with their dainties store,
That may it more to mortall eyes commend,
And make it more admyr’d of foe and frend;
That in mens harts thou mayst thy throne enstall, 265
And spred thy lovely kingdome over all.
Then Iö, tryumph! O great Beauties Queene,
Advance the banner of thy conquest hie,
That all this world, the which thy vassals beene,
May draw to thee, and with dew fealtie 270
Adore the powre of thy great majestie,
Singing this hymne in honour of thy name,
Compyld by me, which thy poore liegeman am.
In lieu whereof graunt, O great soveraine,
That she, whose conquering beautie doth captive 275
My trembling hart in her eternall chaine,
One drop of grace at length will to me give,
That I her bounden thrall by her may live,
And this same life, which first fro me she reaved,
May owe to her, of whom I it receaved. 280
And you, faire Venus dearling, my deare dread,
Fresh flowre of grace, great goddesse of my life,
When your faire eyes these fearefull lines shal read,
Deigne to let fall one drop of dew reliefe,
That may recure my harts long pyning griefe, 285
And shew what wondrous powre your beauty hath,
That can restore adamned wight from death.
An Hymne of Heavenly Love
LOVE, lift me up upon thy golden wings,
From this base world unto thy heavens hight,
Where I may see those admirable things
Which there thou workest by thy soveraine might,
Farre above feeble reach of earthly sight, 5
That I thereof an heavenly hymne may sing
Unto the God of Love, high heavens king.
Many lewd layes (ah, woe is me the more!)
In praise of that mad fit which fooles call love,
I have in th’ heat of youth made heretofore, 10
That in light wits did loose affection move.
But all those follies now I do reprove,
And turned have the tenor of my string,
The heavenly prayses of true love to sing.
And ye that wont with greedy vaine desire 15
To reade my fault, and wondring at my flame,
To warme your selves at my wide sparckling fire,
Sith now that heat is quenched, quench my blame,
And in her ashes shrowd my dying shame:
For who my passed follies now pursewes, 20
Beginnes his owne, and my old fault renewes.
BEFORE this worlds great frame, in which al things
Are now containd, found any being place,
Ere flitting Time could wag his eyas wings
About that mightie bound, which doth embrace 25
The rolling spheres, and parts their houres by space,
That high eternall Powre, which now doth move
In all these things, mov’d in it selfe by love.
It lov’d it selfe, because it selfe was faire;
(For faire is lov’d;) and of it selfe begot 30
Like to it selfe his eldest Sonne and Heire,
Eternall, pure, and voide of sinfull blot,
The firstling of his joy, in whom no jot
Of loves dislike or pride was to be found,
Whom he therefore with equall honour crownd. 35
With him he raignd, before all time prescribed,
In endlesse glorie and immortall might,
Together with that third from them derived,
Most wise, most holy, most almightie Spright,
Whose kingdomes throne no thought of earthly wight 40
Can comprehend, much lesse my trembling verse
With equall words can hope it to reherse.
Yet, O most blessed Spirit, pure lampe of light,
Eternall spring of grace and wisedome trew,
Vouchsafe to shed into my barren spright 45
Some little drop of thy celestiall dew,
That may my rymes with sweet infuse embrew,
And give me words equall unto my thought,
To tell the marveiles by thy mercie wrought.
Yet being pregnant still with powrefull grace, 50
And full of fruitfull love, that loves to get
Things like himselfe, and to enlarge his race,
His second brood, though not in powre so great,
Yet full of beautie, next he did beget,
An infinite increase of angels bright, 55
All glistring glorious in their Makers light.
To them the heavens illimitable hight
(Not this round heaven, which we from hence behold,
Adornd with thousand lamps of burning light,
And with ten thousand gemmes of shyning gold) 60
He gave as their inheritance to hold,
That they might serve him in eternall blis,
And be partakers of those joyes of his.
There they in their trinall triplicities
About him wait, and on his will depend, 65
Either with nimble wings to cut the skies,
When he them on his messages doth send,
Or on his owne dread presence to attend,
Where they behold the glorie of his light,
And caroll hymnes of love both day and night. 70
Both day and night is unto them all one,
For he his beames doth still to them extend,
That darknesse there appeareth never none;
Ne hath their day, ne hath their blisse an end,
But there their termelesse time in pleasure spend; 75
Ne ever should
their happinesse decay,
Had not they dar’d their Lord to disobay.
But pride, impatient of long resting peace,
Did puffe them up with greedy bold ambition,
That they gan cast their state how to increase 80
Above the fortune of their first condition,
And sit in Gods owne seat without commission:
The brightest angell, even the Child of Light,
Drew millions more against their God to fight.
Th’ Almighty, seeing their so bold assay, 85
Kindled the flame of his consuming yre,
And with his onely breath them blew away
From heavens hight, to which they did aspyre,
To deepest hell, and lake of damned fyre;
Where they in darknesse and dread horror dwell, 90
Hating the happie light from which they fell.
So that next off-spring of the Makers love,
Next to himselfe in glorious degree,
Degendering to hate, fell from above
Through pride; (for pride and love may ill agree) 95
And now of sinne to all ensample bee:
How then can sinfull flesh it selfe assure,
Sith purest angels fell to be impure?
But that Eternall Fount of love and grace,
Still flowing forth his goodnesse unto all, 100
Now seeing left a waste and emptie place
In his wyde pallace, through those angels fall,
Cast to supply the same, and to enstall
A new unknowen colony therein,
Whose root from earths base ground worke shold begin. 105
Therefore of clay, base, vile, and next to nought,
Yet form’d by wondrous skill, and by his might,
According to an heavenly patterne wrought,
Which he had fashiond in his wise foresight,
He man did make, and breathd a living spright 110
Into his face most beautifull and fayre,
Endewd with wisedomes riches, heavenly, rare.
Such he him made, that he resemble might
Himselfe, as mortall thing immortall could;
Him to be lord of every living wight 115
He made by love out of his owne like mould,
In whom he might his mightie selfe behould:
For love doth love the thing belov’d to see,
That like it selfe in lovely shape may bee.
But man, forgetfull of his Makers grace, 120
No lesse then angels, whom he did ensew,
Fell from the hope of promist heavenly place,
Into the mouth of death, to sinners dew,
And all his off-spring into thraldome threw:
Where they for ever should in bonds remaine 125
Of never dead, yet ever dying paine.
Till that great Lord of Love, which him at first
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