Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) (82 page)

XLV

Who all this while, with charmes and hidden artes,
Had made a lady of that other spright,
And fram’d of liquid ayre her tender partes,
  
435
So lively and so like in all mens sight,
That weaker sence it could have ravisht quight:
The maker selfe, for all his wondrous witt,
Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:
Her all in white he clad, and over it
  
440
Cast a black stole, most like to seeme for Una fit.

XLVI

Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought,
Unto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,
Where he slept soundly, void of evil thought,
And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,
  
445
In sort as he him schooled privily:
And that new creature, borne without her dew,
Full of the makers guyle, with usage sly
He taught to imitate that lady trew,
Whose semblance she did carrie under feigned hew.
  
450

XLVII

Thus well instructed, to their worke they haste,
And comming where the knight in slomber lay,
The one upon his hardie head him plaste,
And made him dreame of loves and lust-full play,
That nigh his manly hart did melt away,
  
455
Bathed in wanton blis and wicked joy.
Then seemed him his lady by him lay,
And to him playnd, how that false winged boy
Her chaste hart had subdewd to learne Dame Pleasures toy.

XLVIII

And she her selfe, of beautie soveraigne queene,
  
460
Fayre Venus, seemde unto his bed to bring
Her, whom he, waking, evermore did weene
To bee the chastest flowre that aye did spring
On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,
Now a loose leman to vile service bound:
  
465
And eke the Graces seemed all to sing
Hymen iö Hymen,
dauncing all around,
Whylst freshest Flora her with yvie girlond crownd.

XLIX

In this great passion of unwonted lust,
Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,
  
470
He started up, as seeming to mistrust
Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:
Lo! there before his face his ladie is,
Under blacke stole hyding her bayted hooke,
And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,
  
475
With gentle blandishment and lovely looke,
Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.

L

All cleane dismayd to see so uncouth sight,
And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,
He thought have slaine her in his fierce despight;
  
480
But hastie heat tempring with sufferance wise,
He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe advise
To prove his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.
Wringing her hands in wemens pitteous wise,
Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle ruth,
  
485
Both for her noble blood, and for her tender youth.

LI

And sayd, ‘Ah sir, my liege lord and my love,
Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,
And mightie causes wrought in heaven above,
Or the blind god, that doth me thus amate,
  
490
For hoped love to winne me certaine hate?
Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.
Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched state
You, whom my hard avenging destinie
Hath made judge of my life or death in differently.
  
495

LII

‘Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leave
My fathers kingdom’ — There she stopt with teares;
Her swollen hart her speech seemd to bereave;
And then againe begonne: ‘My weaker yeares,
Captiv’d to fortune and frayle worldly feares,
  
500
Fly to your fayth for succour and sure ayde:
Let me not die in languor and long teares.’
‘Why, dame,’ quoth he, ‘what hath ye thus dismayd?
What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me affrayd?’

LIII

‘Love of your selfe,’ she saide, ‘and deare constraint,
  
505
Lets me not sleepe, but waste the wearie night
In secret anguish and unpittied plaint,
Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.’
Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight
Suspect her truth: yet since no’ untruth he knew,
  
510
Her fawning love with foule disdainefull spight
He would not shend, but said, ‘Deare dame, I rew,
That for my sake unknowne such griefe unto you grew.

LIV

‘Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground;
For all so deare as life is to my hart,
  
515
I deeme your love, and hold me to you bound;
Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart,
Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.’
Not all content, yet seemd she to appease
Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,
  
520
And fed with words, that could not chose but please;
So slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her ease.

LV

Long after lay he musing at her mood,
Much griev’d to thinke that gentle dame so light,
For whose defence he was to shed his blood.
  
525
At last dull wearines of former fight
Having yrockt a sleepe his irkesome spright,
That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine
With bowres, and beds, and ladies deare delight:
But when he saw his labour all was vaine,
  
530
With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

Prothalamion

Edmund Spenser (1552–1599)

CALME was the day, and through the trembling ayre
Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster fayre;
When I, (whom sullein care,
  
5
Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay
In Princes Court, and expectation vayne
Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away,
Like empty shaddowes, did afflict my brayne,)
Walkt forth to ease my payne
  
10
Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes;
Whose rutty Bancke, the which his River hemmes,
Was paynted all with variable flowers,
And all the meades adornd with daintie gemmes
Fit to decke maydens bowres,
  
15
And crowne their Paramours
Against the Brydale dale, which is not long:
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

There, in a Meadow, by the Rivers side,
A Flocke of Nymphes I chauncèd to espy,
  
20
All lovely Daughters of the Flood thereby,
With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,
As each had bene a Bryde;
And each one had a little wicker basket,
Made of fine twigs, entraylèd curiously,
  
25
In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,
And with fine Fingers cropt full featously
The tender stalkes on hye.
Of every sort, which in that Meadow grew,
They gathered some; the Violet, pallid blew,
  
30
The little Dazie, that at evening closes,
The virgin Lillie, and the Primrose trew,
With store of vermeil Roses,
To decke their Bridegromes posies
Against the Brydale day, which was not long:
  
35
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

With that I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe
Come softly swimming downe along the Lee;
Two fairer Birds I yet did never see;
The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew,
  
40
Did never whiter shew;
Nor Jove himselfe, when he a Swan would be,
For love of Leda, whiter did appeare;
Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,
Yet not so white as these, nor nothing neare;
  
45
So purely white they were,
That even the gentle streame, the which them bare,
Seem’d foule to them, and bad his billowes spare
To wet their silken feathers, least they might
Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,
  
50
And marre their beauties bright,
That shone as heavens light,
Against their Brydale day, which was not long:
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had Flowers their fill,
  
55
Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,
As they came floating on the Cristal Flood;
Whom when they sawe, they stood amazèd still,
Their wondring eyes to fill;
Them seem’d they never saw a sight so fayre,
  
60
Of Fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme
Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre
Which through the Skie draw Venus silver Teeme:
For sure they did not seeme
To be begot of any earthly Seede,
  
65
But rather Angels, or of Angels breede;
Yet were they bred of Somers-heat, they say,
In sweetest Season, when each Flower and weede
The earth did fresh aray;
So fresh they seem’d as day,
  
70
Even as their Brydale day, which was not long:
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
Great store of Flowers, the honour of the field,
That to the sense did fragrant odours yield,
  
75
All which upon those goodly Birds they threw
And all the Waves did strew,
That like old Peneus Waters they did seeme,
When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore,
Scattred with Flowres, through Thessaly they streeme,
  
80
That they appeare, through Lillies plenteous store,
Like a Brydes Chamber flore.
Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two Garlands bound
Of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they found,
The which presenting all in trim Array,
  
85
Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they crownd,
Whil’st one did Sing this Lay,
Prepar’d against that Day,
Against their Brydale day, which was not long:
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.
  
90

‘Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament,
And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower
Doth leade unto your lovers blisfull bower,
Joy may you have, and gentle hearts content
Of your loves couplement;
  
95
And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love,
With her heart-quelling Sonne upon you smile,
Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove
All Loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile
For ever to assoile.
  
100
Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord,
And blessed Plentie wait upon your bord;
And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,
That fruitfull issue may to you afford,
Which may your foes confound,
  
105
And make your joyes redound
Upon your Brydale day, which is not long:
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softlie, till I end my Song.’

So ended she; and all the rest around
To her redoubled that her undersong,
  
110
Which said their brydale daye should not be long:
And gentle Eccho from the neighbor ground
Their accents did resound.
So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along,
Adowne the Lee, that to them murmurde low,
  
115
As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,
Yet did by signes his glad affection show,
Making his streame run slow.
And all the foule which in his flood did dwell
Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell
  
120
The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend
The lesser starres. So they, enrangèd well,
Did on those two attend,
And their best service lend
Against their wedding day, which was not long:
  
125
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

At length they all to mery London came,
To mery London, my most kyndly Nurse,
That to me gave this Lifes first native sourse,
Though from another place I take my name,
  
130
An house of auncient fame:
There when they came, whereas those bricky towres
The which on Themmes brode agèd backe doe ryde,
Where now the studious Lawyers have their bowers,
There whylome wont the Templar Knights to byde,
  
135
Till they decayd through pride:
Next whereunto there standes a stately place,
Where oft I gayned giftes and goodly grace
Of that great Lord, which therein wont to dwell,
Whose want too well now feeles my freendles case;
  
140
But ah! here fits not well
Olde woes, but joyes, to tell
Against the Brydale daye, which is not long:
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

Yet therein now doth lodge a noble Peer,
  
145
Great Englands glory, and the Worlds wide wonder,
Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine did thunder,
And Hercules two pillors standing neere
Did make to quake and feare:
Faire branch of Honor, flower of Chevalrie!
  
150
That fillest England with thy triumphes fame,
Joy have thou of thy noble victorie,
And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name
That promiseth the same;
That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes,
  
155
Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes;
And great Elisaes glorious name may ring
Through al the world, fil’d with thy wide Alarmes,
Which some brave muse may sing
To ages following,
  
160
Upon the Brydale day, which is not long:
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.

From those high Towers this noble Lord issuing,
Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hayre
In th’ Ocean billowes he hath bathèd fayre,
  
165
Descended to the Rivers open vewing,
With a great train ensuing.
Above the rest were goodly to bee seene
Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,
Beseeming well the bower of anie Queene,
  
170
With gifts of wit, and ornaments of nature,
Fit for so goodly stature,
That like the twins of Jove they seem’d in sight,
Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heavens bright;
They two, forth pacing to the Rivers side,
  
175
Received those two faire Brides, their Loves delight;
Which, at th’ appointed tyde,
Each one did make his Bryde
Against their Brydale day, which is not long:
 
Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.
  
180

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order