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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!

Edmund Spenser

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Edmund Spenser
Died: 1599
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
London
England
Edmund Spencer
Make
Flesh
Men
Teach
Living
War
Cursed
Spirit
Woe
Firsts
Bite
First
Bites
Way
Steel

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The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
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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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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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Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion
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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.
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Sluggish idleness--the nurse of sin.
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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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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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Be bold, and everywhere be bold.
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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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The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite.
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Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.
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Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
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For take thy ballaunce if thou be so wise, And weigh the winds that under heaven doth blow Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise Or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth flow.
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Then came October, full of merry glee.
Edmund Spenser
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The nightingale is sovereign of song.
Edmund Spenser
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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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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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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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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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