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This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state for misery doth bravest minds abate.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
State
Abate
States
Bravest
Heart
Doth
Mind
Lowest
World
Iron
Misery
Hearts
Minds

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Rising glory occasions the greatest envy, as kindling fire the greatest smoke.
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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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For easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.
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But angels come to lead frail minds to rest in chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within you stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.
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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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The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
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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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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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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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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
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Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled,On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.
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I learned have, not to despise,What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.
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Those that were up themselves, kept others low Those that were low themselves, held others hard He suffered them to ryse or greater grow But every one did strive his fellow down to throw.
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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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All that in this world is great or gay, Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay.
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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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Oft stumbles at a straw.
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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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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
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