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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Nurse
Sin
Sluggish
Idleness

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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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For all that faire is, is by nature goodThat is a signe to know the gentle blood.
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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
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Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.
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O sacred hunger of ambitious minds.
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Waking love suffereth no sleepe: Say, that raging love dothe appall the weake stomacke: Say, that lamenting love marreth the musicall.
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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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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
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Men, when their actions succeed not as they would, are always ready to impute the blame thereof to heaven, so as to excuse their own follies.
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Ill seemes (sayd he) if he so valiant be, That he should be so sterne to stranger wight For seldom yet did living creature see That courtesie and manhood ever disagree.
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For take thy ballaunce if thou be so wise, And weigh the winds that under heaven doth blow Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise Or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth flow.
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Bright as does the morning star appear, Out of the east with flaming locks bedight, To tell the dawning day is drawing near.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
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Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?
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Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passed time.
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All that in this delightful garden grows should happy be and have immortal bliss.
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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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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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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
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She bathed with roses red, And violets blew. And all the sweetest flowres That in the forrest grew.
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