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Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Chaucer
English
Fame
Wells
Well

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Then came October, full of merry glee.
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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
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Rising glory occasions the greatest envy, as kindling fire the greatest smoke.
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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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Nothing under heaven so strongly doth allure the sense of man, and all his mind possess, as beauty's love.
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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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The nightingale is sovereign of song.
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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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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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Foul jealousy! that turnest love divine to joyless dread, and makest the loving heart with hateful thoughts to languish and to pine.
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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
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For next to Death is Sleepe to be compared Therefore his house is unto his annext: Here Sleepe, ther Richesse, and hel-gate them both betwext.
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For easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.
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What more felicitie can fall to creature Than to enjoy delight with libertie, And to be lord of all the workes of Nature, To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie, To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature.
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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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At last, the golden orientall gate Of greatest heaven gan to open fayre, And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his mate, Came dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre And hurls his glistring beams through gloomy ayre.
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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
Edmund Spenser
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Fly from wrath sad be the sights and bitter fruits of war a thousand furies wait on wrathful swords.
Edmund Spenser
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All that in this delightful garden grows should happy be and have immortal bliss.
Edmund Spenser
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Make haste therefore, sweet love, whilst it is prime, For none can call again the passed time.
Edmund Spenser