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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.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Fear
Monster
Canker
Heart
Jealousy
Gall
Love
Monsters
Worm
Turning
Felicity
Delight
Feeds
Misery
Eats
Losing
Cursed
Upon
Worms

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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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Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.
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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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Then came October, full of merry glee.
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Fly from wrath sad be the sights and bitter fruits of war a thousand furies wait on wrathful swords.
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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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The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
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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.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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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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And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
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How many great ones may remember'd be, Which in their days most famously did flourish, Of whom no word we hear, nor sign now see, But as things wip'd out with a sponge do perish, Because the living cared not to cherish No gentle wits, through pride or covetize, Which might their names forever memorize!
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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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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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So much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule.
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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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There learned arts do flourish in great honour And poets's wits are had in peerless price Religion hath lay power, to rest upon her, Advancing virtue, and suppressing vice. For end all good, all grace there freely grows, Had people grace it gratefully to use: For God His gifts there plenteously bestows, But graceless men them greatly do abuse.
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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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