Edmund Spenser

I hate the day, because it lendeth light

— Edmund Spenser

Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.

— Edmund Spenser

Aye me, how many perils do enfold

— Edmund Spenser

I trow that countenance cannot lie, Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.

— Edmund Spenser

Death slue not him, but he made death his ladder to the skies.

— Edmund Spenser

I learned have, not to despise, What ever thing seemes small in common eyes.

— Edmund Spenser

So every spirit, as it is most pure, For the soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.

— Edmund Spenser

For all that faire is, is by nature good; That is a signe to know the gentle blood.

— Edmund Spenser

To kerke the narre from God more farre, Oft stombles at a strawe.

— Edmund Spenser

What more felicitie can fall to creature To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature.

— Edmund Spenser

I hate the day, because it lendeth light To see all things, but not my love to see.

— Edmund Spenser

Tell her the joyous Time will not be staid, Unlesse she doe him by the forelock take.

— Edmund Spenser

I was promised on a time I received nor rhyme nor reason.

— Edmund Spenser

Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, And blesseth her with his two happy hands.

— Edmund Spenser

Calm was the day, and through the trembling air Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair

— Edmund Spenser

Sweete Themmes runne softly, till I end my Song.

— Edmund Spenser

With that I saw two swans of goodly hue For love of Leda, whiter did appear

— Edmund Spenser

Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song.

— Edmund Spenser

A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine.

— Edmund Spenser

But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad; Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

— Edmund Spenser

The noblest mind the best contentment has.

— Edmund Spenser

A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name Great Gorgon, Prince of darknesse and dead night.

— Edmund Spenser

Ay me, how many perils doe enfold The righteous man, to make him daily fall!

— Edmund Spenser

As when in Cymbrian plaine And fill the fieldes with troublous bellowing.

— Edmund Spenser

Entire affection hateth nicer hands.

— Edmund Spenser

That darksome cave they enter, where they find Musing full sadly in his sullein mind.

— Edmund Spenser

Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease, Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.

— Edmund Spenser

O happy earth, Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread!

— Edmund Spenser

No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd, To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al arownd.

— Edmund Spenser

And is there care in Heaven? And is there love In heavenly spirits to these Creatures bace?

— Edmund Spenser

How oft do they their silver bowers leave To come to succour us that succour want!

— Edmund Spenser

And all for love, and nothing for reward.

— Edmund Spenser

Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound.

— Edmund Spenser

Through thicke and thin, both over banke and bush In hope her to attaine by hooke or crooke.

— Edmund Spenser

Into the woods thenceforth in hast she went, Who al this while lay bleeding out his hart-bloud neare.

— Edmund Spenser

Her berth was of the wombe of morning dew, And her conception of the joyous Prime.

— Edmund Spenser

Roses red and violets blew, And all the sweetest flowres that in the forrest grew.

— Edmund Spenser

And as she lookt about, she did behold, Be not too bold.

— Edmund Spenser

Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled, On Fames eternall beadroll worthie to be fyled.

— Edmund Spenser

For all that Nature by her mother-wit Could frame in earth.

— Edmund Spenser

As withered weed through cruell winters tine, And gins to spread his leafe before the faire sunshine.

— Edmund Spenser

Me seemes the world is runne quite out of square, And being once amisse growes daily wourse and wourse.

— Edmund Spenser

Who will not mercie unto others show, How can he mercy ever hope to have?

— Edmund Spenser

Ill can he rule the great, that cannot reach the small.

— Edmund Spenser

But Justice, though her dome [doom] she doe prolong, Yet at the last she will her owne cause right.

— Edmund Spenser

A monster, which the Blatant beast men call, A dreadfull feend of gods and men ydrad.

— Edmund Spenser

The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne. As by his manners.

— Edmund Spenser

And in his hand a sickle he did holde, To reape the ripened fruits the which the earth had yold.

— Edmund Spenser

For we by conquest, of our soveraine might, Have wonne the Empire of the Heavens bright.

— Edmund Spenser