A Hymn In Honour Of Beauty
Ah whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too full of thee? Whilst seeking to aslake thy raging fire, Thou in me kindlest
Sonnet XXX
MY loue is lyke to yse, and I to fyre; How comes it then that this her cold so great Is not dissolu’d through my so hot desyre, But harder growes the more I
Sonnet XXXIX
SWeet smile, the daughter of the Queene of loue, Expressing all thy mothers powrefull art: With which she wonts to temper angry loue, When all the gods he threats with thundring dart. Sweet is
Sonnet XXXVI
TEll me when shall these wearie woes haue end, Or shall their ruthlesse torment neuer cease: But al my dayes in pining languor spend, Without hope of aswagement or release. Is there no meanes
Sonnet LX
THey that in course of heauenly spheares are skild, To euery planet point his sundry yeare: In which her circles voyage is fulfild, As Mars in three score yeares doth run his spheare So
Sonnet LXXII
OFt when my spirit doth spred her bolder winges, In mind to mount vp to the purest sky: It down is weighd with thoght of earthly things: And clogd with burden of mortality, Where
Sonnet XLIIII
When those renoumed noble Peres of Greece, Thrugh stubborn pride amongst the[m]selues did iar Forgetfull of the famous golden fleece, Then Orpheus with his harp theyr strife did bar. But this continuall cruell ciuill
Sonnet XVIII
THe rolling wheele that runneth often round, The hardest steele in tract of time doth teare: And drizling drops that often doe redound, The firmest flint doth in continuance weare. Yet cannot I with
Sonnet 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
Poem 10
TEll me ye merchants daughters did ye see So fayre a creature in your towne before, So sweet, so louely, and so mild as she, Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store, Her goodly
Sonnet LXXXII
Ioy of my life, full oft for louing 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
Sonnet XII
ONe day I sought with her hart-thrilling eies, 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
Sonnet L
LOng languishing in double malady, Of my harts wound and of my bodies greife: There came to me a leach that would apply Fit medicines for my bodies best reliefe. Vayne man (quod I)
Poem 19
LEt no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares, Be heard all night within nor yet without: Ne let false whispers breeding hidden feares, Breake gentle sleepe with misconceiued dout. Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadful
Sonnet LXXXI
Fayre is my loue, when her fayre golden heares, With the loose wynd ye wauing chance to marke: Fayre when the rose in her red cheekes appeares, Or in her eyes the fyre of