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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.

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Sleep
Death
House
Ther
Next
Gate
Unto
Gates
Compared
Therefore

More quotes by Edmund Spenser

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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 fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
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Thankfulness is the tune of angels.
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Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time.
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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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For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.
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O sacred hunger of ambitious minds.
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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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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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In vain he seeketh others to suppress, Who hath not learn'd himself first to subdue.
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Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
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Who will not mercy unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?
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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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Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.
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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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Nothing under heaven so strongly doth allure the sense of man, and all his mind possess, as beauty's love.
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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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Unhappie Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state, Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying Thought
Edmund Spenser
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For since mine eyes your joyous sight did miss, my cheerful day is turned to cheerless night.
Edmund Spenser