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EDMUND SPENSER

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Like as a ship, that through the ocean wide
By conduct of some star doth make her way,
Whenas a storm hath dimmed her trusty
guide,

Out of her course doth wander far astray;
So I, whose star, that wont with her bright ray
Me to direct, with clouds is overcast,
Do wander now, in darkness and dismay,
Through hidden perils round about me placed;
Yet hope I well that, when this storm is past,
My Helice, the lodestar of my life,
Will shine again, and look on me at last,
With lovely light to clear my cloudy grief:
Till then I wander careful, comfortless,
In secret sorrow and sad pensiveness.

PROTHALAMION

ΙΟ

Calm was the day, and through the trembling
air

Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play,
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair;
When I (whom sullen care,

ΙΟ

Through discontent of my long fruitless stay
In princes' court, and expectation vain
Of idle hopes, which still do fly away,
Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain)
Walked forth, to ease my pain,
Along the shore of silver streaming Thames;
Whose rutty1 bank, the which his river hems,
Was painted all with variable flowers,
And all the meads adorned with dainty gems,
Fit to deck maidens' bowers,

And crown their paramours,
Against the bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my

song.

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As each had been a bride:

And each one had a little wicker basket,
Made of fine twigs, entrailèd curiously,
In which they gathered flowers to fill their
flasket,

And with fine fingers cropt full feateously 1
The tender stalks on high.

Of every sort which in that meadow grew
They gathered some; the violet, pallid blue,
The little daisy, that at evening closes,
The virgin lily, and the primrose true,
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With store of vermeil roses,

To deck their bridegroom's posies,
Against the bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my

song.

With that, I saw two swans of goodly hue
Come softly swimming down along the Lee; 38
Two fairer birds I yet did never see;

The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew
Did never whiter shew,

Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be
For love of Leda, whiter did appear;
Yet Leda was, they say, as white as he,
Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near;
So purely white they were,

That even the gentle stream, the which them
bare,

Seemed foul to them, and bade his billows

spare

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To wet their silken feathers, lest they might
Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair,
And mar their beauties bright,
That shone as heaven's light,
Against their bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my
song.

Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers
their fill,

Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,
As they came floating on the crystal flood;
Whom when they saw, they stood amazed
still,

Their wondering eyes to fill;

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Them seemed they never saw a sight so fair
Of fowls so lovely, that they sure did deem
Them heavenly born, or to be that same pair
Which through the sky draw Venus' silver
team;
For sure they did not seem

To be begot of any earthly seed,

1
1 neatly

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Upon your bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song."

ΙΙΟ

So ended she; and all the rest around
To her redoubled that her undersong,
Which said their bridal day should not be long:
And gentle Echo from the neighbour ground
Their accents did resound.

So forth those joyous birds did pass along,
Adown the Lee, that to them murmured low,
As he would speak, but that he lacked a
tongue,

Yet did by signs his glad affection show,
Making his stream run slow.

And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell
'Gan flock about these twain, that did excel
The rest, so far as Cynthia1 doth shend 2 121
The lesser stars. So they, enrangèd well,
Did on those two attend,

And their best service lend,

Against their wedding day, which was not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my

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I 20

Whose dreadful name late through all Spain
did thunder,

And Hercules' two pillars standing near
Did make to quake and fear:

Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry! 150
That fillest England with thy triumph's fame,
Joy have thou of thy noble victory,
And endless happiness of thine own name,
That promiseth the same;

That through thy prowess and victorious arms
Thy country may be freed from foreign harms;
And great Elisa's glorious name may ring
Through all the world, filled with thy wide
alarms,

Which some brave muse may sing
To ages following,

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Upon the bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

From those high towers this noble lord issuing,
Like radiant Hesper when his golden hair
In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fair,
Descended to the river's open viewing,
With a great train ensuing.

Above the rest were goodly to be seen
Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature
Beseeming well the bower of any queen, 170
With gifts of wit, and ornaments of nature,
Fit for so goodly stature,

That like the twins of Jove they seemed in
sight,

Which deck the baldrick of the heavens
bright;

They two, forth pacing to the river's side,
Received those two fair brides, their love's

delight;

Which, at th' appointed tide,

Each one did make his bride,

178

Against their bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

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For, through infusion of celestial power
The duller earth it quickeneth with delight,
And life-full spirits privily doth pour
Through all the parts, that to the looker's sight
They seem to please. That is thy sovereign
might,

O Cyprian queen! which, flowing from the
beam

Of thy bright star, thou into them dost stream.

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How vainly then do idle wits invent
That beauty is nought else but mixture made
Of colours fair, and goodly temp'rament 3 66
Of pure complexions, that shall quickly fade
And pass away, like to a summer's shade;
Or that it is but comely composition
Of parts well measured, with meet disposition!

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Hath white and red in it such wondrous power, That it can pierce through th' eyes unto the heart,

And therein stir such rage and restless stour,* As nought but death can stint his dolour's smart?

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Or can proportion of the outward part
Move such affection in the inward mind,
That it can rob both sense, and reason blind?

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Either by chance, against the course of kind,
Or through unaptness in the substance found,
Which it assumed of some stubborn ground,
That will not yield unto her form's direction,
But is deformed with some foul imperfection.

And oft it falls (ay me, the more to rue!)
That goodly beauty, albe heavenly borne,
Is foul abused, and that celestial hue,
150
Which doth the world with her delight adorn,
Made but the bait of sin, and sinners' scorn,
Whilst every one doth seek and sue to have it,
But every one doth seek but to deprave it.

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Ah, then, my hungry soul! which long hast
fed

On idle fancies of thy foolish thought,
And, with false beauty's flattering bait misled,
Hast after vain deceitful shadows sought, 291
Which all are fled, and now have left thee
nought

But late repentance through thy follies' prief; 1
Ah! cease to gaze on matter of thy grief:

And look at last up to that Sovereign Light,
From whose pure beams all perfect beauty
springs,
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That kindleth love in every godly spright,
Even the love of God; which loathing brings
Of this vile world and these gay-seeming

things:

With whose sweet pleasures being so possessed,
Thy straying thoughts henceforth forever rest.

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554-1586)

ASTROPHEL AND STELLA

I

Loving in truth, and fain 2 in verse my love to show,

That she, dear she, might take some pleasure
of my pain,

Pleasure might cause her read, reading might
make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace
obtain,

1 proof 2 desirous

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"Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart, and write."

XV

You that do search for every purling spring
Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,
And every flower, not sweet perhaps, which
grows

Near thereabouts, into your poesie wring;1
Ye that do dictionary's method bring
Into your rimes, running in rattling rows;
You that poor Petrarch's long-deceased woes
With new-born sighs and denizen'd wit do
sing;

You take wrong ways; those far-fet2 helps be
such

As do bewray a want of inward touch,3 ΙΟ And sure, at length stol'n goods do come to light:

But if, both for your love and skill, your

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