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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
Living
War
Cursed
Spirit
Woe
Firsts
Bite
First
Bites
Way
Steel
Make
Flesh
Men
Teach

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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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For if good were not praised more than ill, None would chuse goodness of his own free will.
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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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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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Greatest god below the sky.
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The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.
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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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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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Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.
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Ill seemes (sayd he) if he so valiant be, That he should be so sterne to stranger wight For seldom yet did living creature see That courtesie and manhood ever disagree.
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Then came October, full of merry glee.
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I learned have, not to despise,What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.
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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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Nothing under heaven so strongly doth allure the sense of man, and all his mind possess, as beauty's love.
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Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.
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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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So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.
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Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.
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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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What though the sea with waves continuall Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought : For whatsoever from one place doth fall Is with the tyde unto another brought : For there is nothing lost, that may be found if sought.
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