Sonnet XII

Related poetry:

1. Sonnet LVII SWeet warriour when shall I haue peace with you? High time it is, this warre now ended were: Which I no lenger can endure to sue, Ne your incessant battry more to beare: So weake my powres, so sore my wounds appeare, That wonder is how I should liue a iot, Seeing my hart through […]...
2. Sonnet IX LOng-while I sought to what I might compare Those powrefull eies, which lighte[n] my dark spright, Yet find I nought on earth to which I dare Resemble th’ymage of their goodly light. Not to the Sun: for they doo shine by night; Nor to the Moone: for they are changed neuer; Nor to the Starres: […]...
3. Sonnet XLVIII INnocent paper whom too cruell hand, Did make the matter to auenge her yre: And ere she could thy cause wel vnderstand, Did sacrifize vnto the greedy fyre. Well worthy thou to haue found better hyre, Then so bad end for hereticks ordayned: Yet heresy nor treason didst conspire, But plead thy maisters cause vniustly […]...
4. 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 […]...
5. Sonnet LXXVII Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne, A goodly table of pure yvory: All spred with iuncats, fit to entertayne, The greatest Prince with pompous roialty. Mongst which there in a siluer dish did ly, Twoo golden apples of vnualewd price: Far passing those which Hercules came by, Or those which Atalanta […]...
6. 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 for me to purchace peace, Or make agreement with her thrilling eyes: But that their cruelty doth still increace, And dayly […]...
7. Sonnet XXXI Ah why hath nature to so hard a hart, Giuen so goodly giftes of beauties grace? Whose pryde depraues each other better part, And all those pretious ornaments deface. Sith to all other beastes of bloody race, A dreadfull countenaunce she giuen hath: That with theyr terrour al the rest may chace, And warne to […]...
8. Sonnet XLVI WHen my abodes prefixed time is spent, My cruell fayre streight bids me wend my way: But then fro[m] heauen most hideous stormes are sent As willing me against her will to stay. Whom then shall I or heauen or her obay, The heauens know best what is the best for me: But as she […]...
9. Sonnet VII Fayre eyes, the myrrour of my mazed hart, What wondrous vertue is contaynd in you The which both lyfe and death forth fro[m] you dart Into the obiect of your mighty view? For when ye mildly looke with louely hew, Then is my soule with life and loue inspired: But when ye lowre, or looke […]...
10. Sonnet 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. And yet the Lyon that is Lord of power, And reigneth ouer euery beast in field: In his […]...
11. Sonnet VIII MOre then most faire, full of the liuing fire, Kindled aboue vnto the maker neere: No eies buy ioyes, in which al powers conspire, That to the world naught else be counted deare. Thrugh your bright beams doth not ye blinded guest, Shoot out his darts to base affections wound: But Angels come to lead […]...
12. Sonnet XXXVII WHat guyle is this, that those her golden tresses, She doth attyre vnder a net of gold: And with sly skill so cunningly them dresses, That which is gold or heare, may scarse be told? Is it that mens frayle eyes, which gaze too bold, She may entangle in that golden snare: And being caught […]...
13. Sonnet V RVdely 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 vnworthy most enuide. For in those lofty lookes is close implide, Scorn of base things, & sdeigne of soule dishonor: Thretning rash eies which gaze on her […]...
14. Sonnet LXXI I Ioy to see how in your drawen work, Your selfe vnto the Bee ye doe compare; And me vnto the Spyder that doth lurke, In close awayt to catch her vnaware. Right so to your selfe were caught in cunning snare Of a deare foe, and thralled to his loue: In whose streight bands […]...
15. 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 […]...
16. Sonnet LXVI TO all those happy blessings which ye haue, With plenteous hand by heauen vpon you thrown: This one disparagement they to you gaue, That ye your loue lent to so meane a one. Yee whose high worths surpassing paragon, Could not on earth haue found one fit for mate, Ne but in heauen matchable to […]...
17. Sonnet VI BE nought dismayd that her vnmoued mind, Doth still persist in her rebellious pride: Such loue not lyke to lusts of baser kynd, The harder wonne, the firmer will abide. The durefull Oake, whose sap is not yet dride, Is long ere it conceiue the kindling fyre: But when it once doth burne, it doth […]...
18. Jock of Hazeldean Why weep ye by the tide, ladie? Why weep ye by the tide? I’ll wed ye to my youngest son, And ye sall be his bride: And ye sall be his bride, ladie, Sae comely to be seen” But aye she loot the tears sown fa’ For Jock of Hazeldean. “Now let this wilfu’ grief […]...
19. Sonnet XXXIII GReat wrong I doe, I can it not deny, To that most sacred Empresse my dear dred, Not finishing her Queene of faery, That mote enlarge her liuing prayses dead: But lodwick, this of grace to me aread: Doe ye not thinck th’accomplishment of it, Sufficient worke for one mans simple head, All were it […]...
20. Sonnet XXXV MY hungry eyes through greedy couetize, Still to behold the obiect of their paine: With no contentment can themselues suffize, But hauing pine and hauing not complaine. For lacking it they cannot lyfe sustayne, And hauing it they gaze on it the more: In their amazement lyke Narcissus vaine Whose eyes him staru’d: so plenty […]...
21. 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 […]...
22. Sonnet LII SO oft as homeward I from her depart, I goe lyke one that hauing lost the field: Is prisoner led away with heauy hart, Despoyld of warlike armes and knowen shield. So doe I now my selfe a prisoner yeeld, To sorrow and to solitary paine: From presence of my dearest deare exylde, Longwhile alone […]...
23. Sonnet 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? For loe my loue doth in her selfe containe All this worlds riches that may farre be found, If Saphyres, loe her […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. Sonnet LXIII AFter long stormes and tempests sad assay, Which hardly I endured heretofore: In dread of death and daungerous dismay, With which my silly barke was tossed sore. I doe at length descry the happy shore, In which I hope ere long for to arryue, Fayre soyle it seemes from far & fraught with store Of […]...
26. 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, […]...
27. Sonnet XLII THe loue which me so cruelly tormenteth, So pleasing is in my extreamest paine: That all the more my sorrow it augmenteth, The more I loue and doe embrace my bane. Ne doe I wish (for wishing were but vaine) To be acquit fro my continuall smart: But ioy her thrall for euer to remayne, […]...
28. Sonnet XLIII SHall I then silent be or shall I speake? And if I speake, her wrath renew I shall: And if I silent be, my hart will breake, Or choked be with ouerflowing gall. What tyranny is this both my hart to thrall, And eke my toung with proud restraint to tie? That nether I may […]...
29. 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 loue embased. For had the equall heuens so much you graced In this as in the rest, ye mote inuent Som […]...
30. Sonnet LXXIIII MOst happy letters fram’d by skilfull trade, With which that happy name was first defynd: The which three times thrise happy hath me made, With guifts of body, fortune and of mind. The first my being to me gaue by kind, From mothers womb deriu’d by dew descent, The second is my souereigne Queene most […]...
31. Sonnet LV SO oft as I her beauty doe behold, And therewith doe her cruelty compare: I maruaile of what substance was the mould The which her made attonce so cruell faire. Not earth; for her high thoghts more heauenly are, Not water; for her loue doth burne like fyre: Not ayre; for she is not so […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. Sonnet LIII THe Panther knowing that his spotted hyde, Doth please all beasts but that his looks the[m] fray: Within a bush his dreadfull head doth hide, To let them gaze whylest he on them may pray. Right so my cruell fayre with me doth play, For with the goodly semblant of her hew: She doth allure […]...
34. Sonnet XXVII FAire proud now tell me why should faire be proud; Sith all worlds glorie is but drosse vncleane: And in the shade of death it selfe shall shroud, How euer now thereof ye little weene. That goodly Idoll now so gay beseene, Shall doffe her fleshes borowd fayre attyre: And be forgot as it had […]...
35. Sonnet XXV HOw long shall this lyke dying lyfe endure, And know no end of her owne mysery: But wast and weare away in termes vnsure, Twixt feare and hope depending doubtfully. Yet better were attonce to let me die, And shew the last ensample of your pride: Then to torment me thus with cruelty, To proue […]...
36. An Epitaph On Sr John Walter, Lord Cheife Baron Farewell Example, Living Rule farewell; Whose practise shew’d goodness was possible, Who reach’d the full outstretch’d perfection Of Man, of Lawyer, and of Christian. Suppose a Man more streight than Reason is, Whose grounded Habit could not tread amisse Though Reason slepd; a Man who still esteem’d His wife his Bone; who still his children […]...
37. 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 […]...
38. Sonnet 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 moou’d with reason or with rewth, To graunt small respit to my restlesse toile: But greedily her fell intent poursewth, Of my poore […]...
39. Sonnet LXXX AFter so long a race as I haue run Through Faery land, which those six books co[m]pile Giue leaue to rest me being halfe fordonne, And gather to my selfe new breath awhile. Then as a steed refreshed after toyle, Out of my prison I will breake anew: And stoutly will that second worke assoyle, […]...
40. 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 warre, The which my selfe against my selfe doe make: Whilest my weak powres of passions warreid arre. No skill can […]...