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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.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Divine
Languish
Heart
Pine
Love
Hateful
Foul
Jealousy
Dread
Loving
Thoughts
Joyless

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The noblest mind the best contentment has
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Unhappie Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state, Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying Thought
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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
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So Orpheus did for his owne bride, So I unto my selfe alone will sing, The woods shall to me answer and my Eccho ring.
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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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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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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
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Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
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O sacred hunger of ambitious minds.
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This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state for misery doth bravest minds abate.
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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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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?
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Oft stumbles at a straw.
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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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Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love's delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.
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Change still doth reign, and keep the greater sway.
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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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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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