Sonnet XLVIII

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1. 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, […]...
2. 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 […]...
3. Sonnet II VNquiet thought, whom at the first I bred, Of th’inward bale of my loue pined hart: And sithens haue with sighes and sorrowes fed, Till greater then my wombe thou woxen art. Breake forth at length out of the inner part, In which thou lurkest lyke to vipers brood: And seeke some succour both to […]...
4. Poem 95 VNto his mother straight he weeping came, And of his griefe complayned: Who could not chose but laugh at his fond game, Though sad to see him pained. Think now (quod she) my sonne how great the smart Of those whom thou dost wound: Full many thou hast pricked to the hart, That pitty neuer […]...
5. 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 many a dropping teare, And long intreaty soften her hard hart: That she will once vouchsafe my plaint to heare, Or […]...
6. 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 […]...
7. 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 […]...
8. 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 […]...
9. 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 […]...
10. 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 then disarmed did remaine, A wicked ambush which lay hidden long In the close couert of her guilefull eyen, Thence breaking […]...
11. 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 […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. 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 […]...
14. 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) that hast but little priefe: In deep discouery of the mynds disease, Is not the hart of all the body chiefe? […]...
15. Sonnet XLVIII How careful was I, when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, That to my use it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, Most worthy of comfort, now my greatest grief, Thou, best of dearest and mine […]...
16. 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 […]...
17. Sonnet XLVIII: Cupid, I Hate Thee Cupid, I hate thee, which I’d have thee know; A naked starveling ever may’st thou be. Poor rogue, go pawn thy fascia and thy bow For some few rags wherewith to cover thee. Or, if thou’lt not, thy archery forbear, To some base rustic do thyself prefer, And when corn’s sown or grown into the […]...
18. Sonnet XIIII REtourne agayne my forces late dismayd, Vnto the siege by you abandon’d quite, Great shame it is to leaue like one afrayd, So fayre a peece for one repulse so light. Gaynst such strong castles needeth greater might, Then those small forts which ye were wont belay, Such haughty mynds enur’d to hardy fight, Disdayne […]...
19. 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 […]...
20. 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 […]...
21. 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 […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. 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, […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. The Silent Lover ii WRONG not, sweet empress of my heart, The merit of true passion, With thinking that he feels no smart, That sues for no compassion. Silence in love bewrays more woe Than words, though ne’er so witty: A beggar that is dumb, you know, May challenge double pity. Then wrong not, dearest to my heart, My […]...
26. 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: […]...
27. 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 […]...
28. 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 […]...
29. 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 […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. Sonnet LI DOe I not see that fayrest ymages Of hardest Marble are of purpose made? For that they should endure through many ages, Ne let theyr famous moniments to fade. Why then doe I, vntrainde in louers trade, Her hardnes blame which I should more co[m]mend? Sith neuer ought was excellent assayde, Which was not hard […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. 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 her intreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat Is not delayd by her hart frosen cold: But that I […]...
34. Sonnet III THe souerayne beauty which I doo admyre, Witnesse the world how worthy to be prayzed: The light wherof hath kindled heauenly iyre, In my fraile spirit by her from basenesse raysed. That being now with her huge brightnesse dazed, Base thing I can no more endure to view: But looking still on her I stand […]...
35. The Gardener XLVIII: Free Me Free me from the bonds of your Sweetness, my love! Nor more of this Wine of kisses. This mist of heavy incense stifles My heart. Open the doors, make room for the Morning light. I am lost in you, wrapped in the Folds of your caresses. Free me from your spells, and give Me back […]...
36. 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 […]...
37. 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 […]...
38. Modern Love XLVIII: Their Sense Their sense is with their senses all mixed in, Destroyed by subleties these women are! More brain, O Lord, more brain! or we shall mar Utterly this fair garden we might win. Behold! I looked for peace, and thought it near. Our inmost hearts had opened, each to each. We drank the pure daylight of […]...
39. Sonnet XVII THe glorious portraict of that Angels face, Made to amaze weake mens confused skil: And this worlds worthlesse glory to embase, What pen, what pencill can expresse her fill? For though he colours could deuize at will, And eke his learned hand at pleasure guide: Least trembling it his wormanship should spill, Yet many wondrous […]...
40. Sonnet XL MArk when she smiles with amiable cheare, And tell me whereto can ye lyken it: When on each eyelid sweetly doe appeare, An hundred Graces as in shade to sit. Lykest it seemeth in my simple wit Vnto the fayre sunshine in somers day: That when a dreadfull storme away is flit, Thrugh the broad […]...