Poem 10

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1. Poem 9 LOe where she comes along with portly pace, Lyke Phoebe from her chamber of the East, Arysing forth to run her mighty race, Clad all in white, that seemes a virgin best. So well it her beseemes that ye would weene Some angell she had beene. Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre, Sprinckled […]...
2. Poem 6 My loue is now awake out of her dreame, And her fayre eyes like stars that dimmed were With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beams More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere. Come now ye damzels, daughters of delight, Helpe quickly her to dight, But first come ye fayre houres which were begot […]...
3. Sonnet LXXIX MEn call you fayre, and you doe credit it, For that your selfe ye dayly such doe see: But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit, And vertuous mind is much more praysd of me. For all the rest, how euer fayre it be, Shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew: But […]...
4. Poem 18 NOw welcome night, thou night so long expected, That long daies labour doest at last defray, And all my cares, which cruell loue collected, Hast sumd in one, and cancelled for aye: Spread thy broad wing ouer my loue and me, That no man may vs see, And in thy sable mantle vs enwrap, >From […]...
5. Poem 2 EArly before the worlds light giuing lampe, His golden beame vpon the hils doth spred, Hauing disperst the nights vnchearefull dampe, Doe ye awake and with fresh lusty hed, Go to the bowre of my beloued loue, My truest turtle doue Bid her awake; for Hymen is awake, And long since ready forth his maske […]...
6. Poem 22 ANd thou great Iuno, which with awful might The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize, And the religion of the faith first plight With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize: And eeke for comfort often called art Of women in their smart, Eternally bind thou this louely band, And all thy blessings vnto vs impart. […]...
7. Sonnet LXXVI FAyre bosome fraught with vertues richest tresure, The neast of loue, the lodging of delight: The bowre of blisse, the paradice of pleasure, The sacred harbour of that heuenly spright. How was I rauisht with your louely sight, And my frayle thoughts too rashly led astray? Whiles diuing deepe through amorous insight, On the sweet […]...
8. 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 loue does sparke. Fayre when her brest lyke a rich laden barke, With pretious merchandize she forth doth lay: Fayre whe[n] […]...
9. Poem 20 BVt let stil Silence trew night watches keepe, That sacred peace may in assurance rayne, And tymely sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe, May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne, The whiles an hundred little winged loues, Like diuers fethered doues, Shall fly and flutter round about your bed, And in the […]...
10. Poem 13 Behold whiles she before the altar stands Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes And blesseth her with his two happy hands, How the red roses flush vp in her cheekes, And the pure snow with goodly vermill stayne, Like crimsin dyde in grayne, That euen th’Angels which continually, About the sacred Altare doe […]...
11. Sonnet LXIIII COmming to kisse her lyps, (such grace I found) Me seemd I smelt a gardin of sweet flowres: That dainty odours from them threw around For damzels fit to decke their louers bowres. Her lips did smell lyke vnto Gillyflowers, Her ruddy cheekes lyke vnto Roses red: Her snowy browes lyke budded Bellamoures, Her louely […]...
12. Poem 7 NOw is my loue all ready forth to come, Let all the virgins therefore well awayt, And ye fresh boyes that tend vpon her groome Prepare your selues; for he is comming strayt. Set all your things in seemely good aray Fit for so ioyfull day, The ioyfullst day that euer sunne did see Faire […]...
13. Sonnet XVI ONe day as I vnwarily did gaze On those fayre eyes my loues immortall light: The whiles my stonisht hart stood in amaze, Through sweet illusion of her lookes delight. I mote perceiue how in her glauncing sight, Legions of loues with little wings did fly: Darting their deadly arrowes fyry bright At euery rash […]...
14. Poem 3 BRing with you all the Nymphes that you can heare Both of the riuers and the forrests greene: And of the sea that neighbours to her neare, Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene. And let them also with them bring in hand, Another gay girland For my fayre loue of lillyes and of roses, […]...
15. Poem 12 OPen the temple gates vnto my loue, Open them wide that she may enter in, And all the postes adorne as doth behoue, And all the pillours deck with girlands trim, For to recyue this Saynt with honour dew, That commeth in to you, With trembling steps and humble reuerence, She commeth in, before th’almighties […]...
16. Poem 11 BVt if ye saw that which no eyes can see, The inward beauty of her liuely spright, Garnisht with heauenly guifts of high degree, Much more then would ye wonder at that sight, And stand astonisht lyke to those which red Medusaes mazeful hed. There dwels sweet loue and constant chastity, Vnspotted fayth and comely […]...
17. Sonnet LVIII By Her That Is Most Assured To Her Selfe WEake is th’assurance that weake flesh reposeth, In her owne powre and scorneth others ayde: That soonest fals when as she most supposeth, Her selfe assurd, and is of nought affrayd. All flesh is frayle, and all her strength vnstayd, Like a vaine bubble blowen vp with ayre: Deuouring tyme & changeful chance haue prayd, […]...
18. Sonnet XLV LEaue lady, in your glasse of christall clene, Your goodly selfe for euermore to vew: And in my selfe, my inward selfe I meane, Most liuely lyke behold your semblant trew. Within my hart, though hardly it can shew, Thing so diuine to vew of earthly eye: The fayre Idea of your celestiall hew, And […]...
19. Epithalamion YE learned sisters, which have oftentimes Beene to me ayding, others to adorne, Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes, That even the greatest did not greatly scorne To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes, But joyed in theyr praise; And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne, Which death, or […]...
20. Sonnet LXXIII BEing my selfe captyued here in care, My hart, whom none with seruile bands can tye: But the fayre tresses of your golden hayre, Breaking his prison forth to you doth fly. Lyke as a byrd that in ones hand doth spy Desired food, to it doth make his flight: Euen so my hart, that […]...
21. Poem 92 VPon a day as loue lay sweetly slumbring, All in his mothers lap: A gentle Bee with his loud trumpet murm’ring, About him flew by hap. Whereof when he was wakened with the noyse, And saw the beast so small: Whats this (quoth he) that giues so great a voyce, That wakens men withall. In […]...
22. Poem 23 And ye high heauens, the temple of the gods, In which a thousand torches flaming bright Doe burne, that to vs wretched earthly clods: In dreadful darknesse lend desired light; And all ye powers which in the same remayne, More then we men can fayne, Poure out your blessing on vs plentiously, And happy influence […]...
23. Sonnet LXV THe doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre loue, is vaine That fondly feare to loose your liberty, When loosing one, two liberties ye gayne, And make him bond that bondage earst dyd fly. Sweet be the bands, the which true loue doth tye, Without constraynt or dread of any ill: The gentle birde feeles no captiuity […]...
24. Poem 93 TO whom his mother closely smiling sayd, Twixt earnest and twixt game: See thou thy selfe likewise art lyttle made, If thou regard the same. And yet thou suffrest neyther gods in sky, Nor men in earth to rest: But when thou art disposed cruelly, Theyr sleepe thou doost molest. Then eyther change thy cruelty, […]...
25. Sonnet XXII THis holy season fit to fast and pray, Men to deuotion ought to be inclynd: Therefore, I lykewise on so holy day, For my sweet Saynt some seruice fit will find. Her temple fayre is built within my mind, In which her glorious ymage placed is, On which my thoughts doo day and night attend […]...
26. Sonnet LXXXIX LYke as the Culuer on the bared bough, Sits mourning for the absence of her mate; And in her songs sends many a wishfull vew, For his returne that seemes to linger late. So I alone now left disconsolate, Mourne to my selfe the absence of my loue: And wandring here and there all desolate, […]...
27. Sonnet XXVI SWeet is the Rose, but growes vpon a brere; Sweet is the Iunipere, but sharpe his bough; Sweet is the Eglantine, but pricketh nere; Sweet is the firbloome, but his braunches rough. Sweet is the Cypresse, but his rynd is tough, Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill; Sweet is the broome-flowre, but […]...
28. Poem 16 AH when will this long vveary day haue end, And lende me leaue to come vnto my loue? Hovv slovvly do the houres theyr numbers spend? How slowly does sad Time his feathers moue? Hast thee O fayrest Planet to thy home Within the Westerne some: Thy tyred steedes long since haue need of rest. […]...
29. Sonnet LXXXIIII LEt not one sparke of filthy lustfull fyre Breake out, that may her sacred peace molest: Ne one light glance of sensuall desyre: Attempt to work her gentle mindes vnrest. But pure affections bred in spotlesse brest, & modest thoughts breathd fro[m] wel te[m]pred sprites Goe visit her in her bowre of rest, Accompanyde with […]...
30. Poem 14 NOw al is done; bring home the bride againe, Bring home the triumph of our victory, Bring home with you the glory of her gaine, With ioyance bring her and with iollity. Neuer had man more ioyfull day then this, Whom heauen would heape with blis. Make feast therefore now all this liue long day, […]...
31. Sonnet LVI FAyre ye be sure, but cruell and vnkind, As is a Tygre that with greedinesse Hunts after bloud, when he by chance doth find A feeble beast, doth felly him oppresse. Fayre be ye sure but proud and pittilesse, As is a storme, that all things doth prostrate: Finding a tree alone all comfortlesse, Beats […]...
32. Sonnet LXXXIII MY hungry eyes, through greedy couetize, Still to behold the obiect of theyr payne: With no contentment can themselues suffize, But hauing pine, and hauing not complayne For lacking it, they cannot lyfe sustayne, And seeing it, they gaze on it the more: In theyr amazement lyke Marcissus vayne Whose eyes him staru’d: so plenty […]...
33. Sonnet XLVII TRust not the treason of those smyling lookes, Vntill ye haue theyr guylefull traynes well tryde: For they are lyke but vnto golden hookes, That from the foolish fish theyr bayts doe hyde: So she with flattring smyles weake harts doth guyde, Vnto her loue and tempte to theyr decay, Whome being caught she kills […]...
34. Sonnet LIIII OF this worlds Theatre in which we stay, My loue lyke the Spectator ydly sits Beholding me that all the pageants play, Disguysing diuersly my troubled wits. Sometimes I ioy when glad occasion sits, And mask in myrth lyke to a Comedy: Soone after when my ioy to sorrow flits, I waile and make my […]...
35. Easter MOST glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day, 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, Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from […]...
36. Sonnet LXVIII MOst glorious Lord of lyfe that on this day, Didst make thy triumph ouer death and sin: And hauing harrowd hell didst bring away, Captiuity thence captiue vs to win. This ioyous day, deare Lord, with ioy begin, And grant that we for whom thou didest dye Being with thy deare blood clene washt from […]...
37. The Ball Poem What is the boy now, who has lost his ball, What, what is he to do? I saw it go Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then Merrily over-there it is in the water! No use to say ‘O there are other balls’: An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy As he stands rigid, trembling, […]...
38. The Shepheardes Calender: April APRILL: Ægloga QuartaTHENOT & HOBBINOLL Tell me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete? What? hath some Wolfe thy tender Lambes ytorne? Or is thy Bagpype broke, that soundes so sweete? Or art thou of thy loved lasse forlorne? Or bene thine eyes attempred to the yeare, Quenching the gasping furrowes thirst with rayne? Like April […]...
39. A Funeral Poem on the Death of C. E Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destin’d round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound. Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes: […]...
40. Poem (Halleck monument dedication) SAY not the Poet dies! Though in the dust he lies, He cannot forfeit his melodious breath, Unsphered by envious death! Life drops the voiceless myriads from its roll; Their fate he cannot share, Who, in the enchanted air Sweet with the lingering strains that Echo stole, Has left his dearer self, the music of […]...