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Then came October, full of merry glee.
Edmund Spenser
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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Merry
Autumn
Full
Came
Glee
October
More quotes by Edmund Spenser
For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
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Oft stumbles at a straw.
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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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For all that faire is, is by nature goodThat is a signe to know the gentle blood.
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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
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Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
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Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind.
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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
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What though the sea with waves continuall Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought : For whatsoever from one place doth fall Is with the tyde unto another brought : For there is nothing lost, that may be found if sought.
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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
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For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.
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I learned have, not to despise,What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.
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The poets scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives all else is claimed by death.
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Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,And layes the soul to sleepe in quiet grave?Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.
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I was promised on a time To have reason for my rhyme From that time unto this season, I received nor rhyme nor reason.
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But angels come to lead frail minds to rest in chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within you stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.
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Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!
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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would chuse goodness of his own free will.
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Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath Abhorred bloodshed and tumultuous strife Unmanly murder and unthrifty scath, Bitter despite, with rancor's rusty knife And fretting grief the enemy of life All these and many evils more, haunt ire.
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