by Homer
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Love’s Farewell
Michael Drayton (1563–1631)
SINCE there’s no help, come let us kiss and part, —
Nay I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, 5
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of love’s latest breath,
When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies, 10
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
— Now if thou would’st, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou might’st him yet decover!
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Henry Constable
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Diaphenia
Henry Constable (1562–1613)
DIAPHENIA like the daffadowndilly,
White as the sun, fair as the lily,
Heigh ho, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as my lambs
Are belovéd of their dams; 5
How blest were I if thou would’st prove me.
Diaphenia like the spreading roses,
That in thy sweets all sweets encloses,
Fair sweet, how I do love thee!
I do love thee as each flower 10
Loves the sun’s life-giving power;
For dead, thy breath to life might move me.
Diaphenia like to all things blesséd,
When all thy praises are expresséd,
Dear joy, how I do love thee! 15
As the birds do love the spring,
Or the bees their careful king:
Then in requite, sweet virgin, love me!
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Edmund Spenser
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Faerie Queene: Book I. The Legend of the Knight of the Red Crosse. Canto I
THE FIRST BOOK
OF THE FAERIE QUEENE
CONTAYNING
THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT
OF THE RED CROSSE
OR
OF HOLINESSE
I
LO! I the man, whose Muse whylome did maske,
As time her taught, in lowly shephards weeds,
Am now enforst, a farre unfitter taske,
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine oaten reeds,
And sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds; 5
Whose praises having slept in silence long,
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds
To blazon broade emongst her learned throng:
Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song.
II
Helpe then, O holy virgin, chiefe of nyne, 10
Thy weaker novice to performe thy will;
Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
Of Faerie knights, and fayrest Tanaquill,
Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long 15
Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
That I must rue his undeserved wrong:
O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.
III
And thou, most dreaded impe of highest Jove.
Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart 20
At that good knight so cunningly didst rove,
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
Lay now thy deadly heben bowe apart,
And with thy mother mylde come to mine ayde:
Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart, 25
In loves and gentle jollities arraid,
After his murdrous spoyles and bloudie rage allayd.
IV
And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright,
Mirrour of grace and majestie divine,
Great Ladie of the greatest Isle, whose light 30
Like Phœbus lampe throughout the world doth shine,
Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,
And raise my thoughtes, too humble and too vile,
To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,
The argument of mine afflicted stile: 35
The which to heare vouchsafe, O dearest dread, a while.
CANTO I
The patrone of true Holinesse
Foule Errour doth defeate:
Hypocrisie, him to entrappe,
Doth to his home entreate.
I
A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plaine,
Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did remaine,
The cruell markes of many’ a bloody fielde; 40
Yet armes till that time did he never wield:
His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:
Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt. 45
II
But on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
And dead as living ever him ador’d:
Upon his shield the like was also scor’d, 50
For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had:
Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,
But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.
III
Upon a great adventure he was bond, 55
That greatest Gloriana to him gave,
That greatest glorious queene of Faery Lond,
To winne him worshippe, and her grace to have,
Which of all earthly thinges he most did crave;
And ever as he rode his hart did earne 60
To prove his puissance in battell brave
Upon his foe, and his new force to learne;
Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearne.
IV
A lovely ladie rode him faire beside,
Upon a lowly asse more white then snow, 65
Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
Under a vele, that wimpled was full low,
And over all a blacke stole shee did throw:
As one that inly mournd, so was she sad,
And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow: 70
Seemed in heart some hidden care she had;
And by her in a line a milkewhite lambe she lad.
V
So pure and innocent, as that same lambe,
She was in life and every vertuous lore,
And by descent from royall lynage came 75
Of ancient kinges and queenes, that had of yore
Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore,
And all the world in their subjection held,
Till that infernall feend with foule uprore
Forwasted all their land, and them expeld: 80
Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far compeld.
VI
Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag,
That lasie seemd, in being ever last,
Or wearied with bearing of her bag
Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past, 85
The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast,
And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine
Did poure i
nto his lemans lap so fast,
That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain,
And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain. 90
VII
Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand,
A shadie grove not farr away they spide,
That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:
Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride,
Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide, 95
Not perceable with power of any starr:
And all within were pathes and alleies wide,
With footing worne, and leading inward farr:
Faire harbour that them seemes, so in they entred ar.
VIII
And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led, 100
Joying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,
Which, therein shrouded from the tempest dred,
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.
Much can they praise the trees so straight and hy,
The sayling pine, the cedar proud and tall, 105
The vine-propp elme, the poplar never dry,
The builder oake, sole king of forrests all,
The aspine good for staves, the cypresse funerall,
IX
The laurell, meed of mightie conquerours
And poets sage, the firre that weepeth still, 110
The willow worne of forlorne paramours,
The eugh obedient to the benders will,
The birch for shaftes, the sallow for the mill,
The mirrhe sweete bleeding in the bitter wound,
The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill, 115
The fruitfull olive, and the platane round,
The carver holme, the maple seeldom inward sound.
X
Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
Untill the blustring storme is overblowne;
When, weening to returne whence they did stray, 120
They cannot finde that path, which first was showne,
But wander too and fro in waies unknowne,
Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne:
So many pathes, so many turnings seene, 125
That which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.
XI
At last resolving forward still to fare,
Till that some end they finde, or in or out,
That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,
And like to lead the labyrinth about; 130
Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,
At length it brought them to a hollowe cave,
Amid the thickest woods. The champion stout
Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave,
And to the dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gave. 135
XII
‘Be well aware,’ quoth then that ladie milde,
‘Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke:
The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde,
Breedes dreadfull doubts: oft fire is without smoke,
And perill without show: therefore your stroke, 140
Sir knight, with-hold, till further tryall made.’
‘Ah, ladie,’ sayd he, ‘shame were to revoke
The forward footing for an hidden shade:
Vertue gives her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade.’
XIII
‘Yea, but,’ quoth she, ‘the perill of this place 145
I better wot then you; though nowe too late
To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,
Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,
To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.
This is the wandring wood, this Errours den, 150
A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:
Therefore I read beware.’ ‘Fly, fly!’ quoth then
The fearefull dwarfe: ‘this is no place for living men.’
XIV
But full of fire and greedy hardiment,
The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide, 155
But forth unto the darksom hole he went,
And looked in: his glistring armor made
A litle glooming light, much like a shade,
By which he saw the ugly monster plaine,
Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide, 160
But th’ other halfe did womans shape retaine,
Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.
XV
And as she lay upon the durtie ground,
Her huge long taile her den all overspred,
Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwound, 165
Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred
A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,
Sucking upon her poisnous dugs, eachone
Of sundrie shapes, yet all ill favored:
Soone as that uncouth light upon them shone, 170
Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.
XVI
Their dam upstart, out of her den effraide,
And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile
About her cursed head, whose folds displaid
Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile. 175
She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle,
Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe;
For light she hated as the deadly bale,
Ay wont in desert darknes to remaine,
Where plain none might her see, nor she see any plaine. 180
XVII
Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv’d, he lept
As lyon fierce upon the flying pray,
And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept
From turning backe, and forced her to stay:
Therewith enrag’d she loudly gan to bray, 185
And turning fierce, her speckled taile advaunst,
Threatning her angrie sting, him to dismay:
Who, nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst:
The stroke down from her head unto her shoulder glaunst.
XVIII
Much daunted with that dint, her sence was dazd, 190
Yet kindling rage her selfe she gathered round,
And all attonce her beastly bodie raizd
With doubled forces high above the ground:
Tho, wrapping up her wrethed sterne arownd,
Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge traine 195
All suddenly about his body wound,
That hand or foot to stirr he strove in vaine:
God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine.
XIX
His lady, sad to see his sore constraint,
Cride out, ‘Now, now, sir knight, shew what ye bee: 200
Add faith unto your force, and be not faint:
Strangle her, els she sure will strangle thee.’
That when he heard, in great perplexitie,
His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine;
And knitting all his force, got one hand free, 205
Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,
That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine.
XX
Therewith she spewd out of her filthie maw
A floud of poyson horrible and blacke,
Full of great lumps of flesh and gobbets raw, 210
Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke
His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe:
Her vomit full of bookes and papers was,
With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke,
And creeping sought way in the weedy gras: 215
Her filthie parbreake all the place defiled has.
XXI
As when old father Nilus gins to swell
With timely pride above the Aegyptian vale,
His fattie
waves doe fertile slime outwell,
And overflow each plaine and lowly dale: 220
But when his later spring gins to avale,
Huge heapes of mudd he leaves, wherin there breed
Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male
And partly femall, of his fruitful seed;
Such ugly monstrous shapes elswher may no man reed. 225
XXII
The same so sore annoyed has the knight,
That, welnigh choked with the deadly stinke,
His forces faile, ne can no lenger fight.
Whose corage when the feend perceivd to shrinke,
She poured forth out of her hellish sinke 230
Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small,
Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke,
Which swarming all about his legs did crall,
And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all.
XXIII
As gentle shepheard in sweete eventide, 235
When ruddy Phebus gins to welke in west,
High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,
Markes which doe byte their hasty supper best;
A cloud of cumbrous gnattes doe him molest,
All striving to infixe their feeble stinges, 240
That from their noyance he no where can rest,
But with his clownish hands their tender wings
He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.
XXIV
Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame
Then of the certeine perill he stood in, 245
Halfe furious unto his foe he came,
Resolvd in minde all suddenly to win,
Or soone to lose, before he once would lin;