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The nightingale is sovereign of song.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Nightingale
Nightingales
Sovereign
Song

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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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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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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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Then came October, full of merry glee.
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My Love is like to ice, and I to fire: How comes it then that this her cold so great Is not dissolved through my so hot desire, But harder grows the more I her entreat?
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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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Such is the power of love in gentle mind, That it can alter all the course of kind.
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Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.
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Oft stumbles at a straw.
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All that in this delightful garden grows should happy be and have immortal bliss.
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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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All flesh doth frailty breed!
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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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For easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.
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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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But O the exceeding grace Of highest God, that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed angels, he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe.
Edmund Spenser
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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
Edmund Spenser
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Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play, A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair
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Each goodly thing is hardest to begin.
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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would chuse goodness of his own free will.
Edmund Spenser