Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) (84 page)

Ring ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne,
And leave your wonted labors for this day:
This day is holy; doe ye write it downe,
That ye for ever it remember may.
This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight,
  
265
With Barnaby the bright,
From whence declining daily by degrees,
He somewhat loseth of his heat and light,
When once the Crab behind his back he sees.
But for this time it ill ordainèd was,
  
270
To chose the longest day in all the yeare,
The shortest night, when longest fitter weare:
Yet never day so long, but late would passe.
Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away,
And bonefiers make all day;
  
275
And daunce about them, and about them sing,
That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.

Ah! when will this long weary day have end,
And lende me leave to come unto my love?
How slowly do the houres theyr numbers spend?
  
280
How slowly does sad Time his feathers move?
Hast thee, O fayrest Planet, to thy home,
Within the Westerne fome:
Thy tyrèd steedes long since have need of rest.
Long though it be, at last I see it gloome,
  
285
And the bright evening-star with golden creast
Appeare out of the East.
Fayre childe of beauty! glorious lampe of love!
That all the host of heaven in rankes doost lead,
And guydest lovers through the nights sad dread,
  
290
How chearefully thou lookest from above,
And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light,
As joying in the sight
Of these glad many, which for joy doe sing,
That all the woods them answer, and their eccho ring.
  
295

Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights fore-past;
Enough it is that all the day was youres:
Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast,
Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures.
The night is come, now soon her disaray,
  
300
And in her bed her lay;
Lay her in lillies and in violets,
And silken courteins over her display,
And odourd sheetes, and Arras coverlets,
Behold how goodly my faire love does ly,
  
305
In proud humility!
Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took
In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras,
Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was,
With bathing in the Acidalian brooke.
  
310
Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon,
And leave my love alone,
And leave likewise your former lay to sing:
The woods no more shall answere, nor your eccho ring.

Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected,
  
315
That long daies labour doest at last defray,
And all my cares, which cruell Love collected,
Hast sumd in one, and cancellèd for aye:
Spread thy broad wing over my love and me,
That no man may us see;
  
320
And in thy sable mantle us enwrap,
From feare of perrill and foule horror free.
Let no false treason seeke us to entrap,
Nor any dread disquiet once annoy
The safety of our joy;
  
325
But let the night be calme, and quietsome,
Without tempestuous storms or sad afray:
Lyke as when Jove with fayre Alcmena lay,
When he begot the great Tirynthian groome:
Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie
  
330
And begot Majesty.
And let the mayds and yong men cease to sing;
Ne let the woods them answer nor theyr eccho ring.

Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares
Be heard all night within, nor yet without:
  
335
Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden feares,
Breake gentle sleepe with misconceivèd dout.
Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadfull sights,
Make sudden sad affrights;
Ne let house-fyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes,
  
340
Ne let the Pouke, nor other evill sprights,
Ne let mischivous witches with theyr charmes,
Ne let hob Goblins, names whose sence we see not,
Fray us with things that be not;
Let not the shriech Oule nor the Storke be heard,
  
345
Nor the night Raven, that still deadly yels:
Nor dammèd ghosts, cald up with mighty spels,
Nor griesly vultures, make us once affeard:
Ne let th’ unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking
Make us to wish theyr choking.
  
350
Let none of these theyr drery accents sing;
Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring.

But still let Silence trew night-watches keepe,
That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne,
And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe,
  
355
May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne;
The whiles an hundred little wingèd loves,
Like divers-fethered doves,
Shall fly and flutter round about your bed,
And in the secret darke, that none reproves,
  
360
Their prety stealthes shal worke, and snares shal spread
To filch away sweet snatches of delight,
Conceald through covert night.
Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will!
For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your toyes,
  
365
Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes,
Then what ye do, albe it good or ill.
All night therefore attend your merry play,
For it will soone be day:
Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing;
  
370
Ne will the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring.

Who is the same, which at my window peepes?
Or whose is that faire face that shines so bright?
Is it not Cinthia, she that never sleepes,
But walkes about high heaven al the night?
  
375
O! fayrest goddesse, do thou not envy
My love with me to spy:
For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought
And for a fleece of wooll, which privily
The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought,
  
380
His pleasures with thee wrought.
Therefore to us be favourable now;
And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge,
And generation goodly dost enlarge,
Encline thy will t’effect our wishfull vow,
  
385
And the chaste wombe informe with timely seed,
That may our comfort breed:
Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing;
Ne let the woods us answere, nor our Eccho ring.

And thou, great Juno! which with awful might
  
390
The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize;
And the religion of the faith first plight
With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize;
And eeke for comfort often callèd art
Of women in their smart;
  
395
Eternally bind thou this lovely band,
And all thy blessings unto us impart.
And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle hand
The bridale bowre and geniall bed remaine,
Without blemish or staine;
  
400
And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves delight
With secret ayde doest succor and supply,
Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny;
Send us the timely fruit of this same night.
And thou, fayre Hebe! and thou, Hymen free!
  
405
Grant that it may so be.
Till which we cease your further prayse to sing;
Ne any woods shall answer, nor your Eccho ring.

And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods,
In which a thousand torches flaming bright
  
410
Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly clods
In dreadful darknesse lend desirèd light;
And all ye powers which in the same remayne,
More then we men can fayne!
Poure out your blessing on us plentiously,
  
415
And happy influence upon us raine,
That we may raise a large posterity,
Which from the earth, which they may long possesse
With lasting happinesse,
Up to your haughty pallaces may mount;
  
420
And for the guerdon of theyr glorious merit,
May heavenly tabernacles there inherit,
Of blessèd Saints for to increase the count.
So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this,
And cease till then our tymely joyes to sing:
  
425
The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring!

Song! made in lieu of many ornaments,
With which my love should duly have been dect,
Which cutting off through hasty accidents,
Ye would not stay your dew time to expect,
  
430
But promist both to recompens;
Be unto her a goodly ornament,
And for short time an endlesse moniment.

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

A Ditty

In praise of Eliza, Queen of the Shepherds

Edmund Spenser (1552–1599)

SEE where she sits upon the grassie greene,
  
(O seemely sight!)
Yclad in Scarlot, like a mayden Queene,
  
And ermines white:
Upon her head a Cremosin coronet
  
5
With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set:
  
Bay leaves betweene,
  
And primroses greene,
Embellish the sweete Violet.

Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face
  
10
  
Like Phœbe fayre?
Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace,
  
Can you well compare?
The Redde rose medled with the White yfere,
In either cheeke depeincten lively chere:
  
15
  
Her modest eye,
  
Her Majestie,
Where have you seene the like but there?

I see Calliope speede her to the place,
  
Where my Goddesse shines;
  
20
And after her the other Muses trace
  
With their Violines.
Bene they not Bay braunches which they do beare,
All for Elisa in her hand to weare?
  
So sweetely they play,
  
25
  
And sing all the way,
That it a heaven is to heare.

Lo, how finely the Graces can it foote
  
To the Instrument:
They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,
  
30
  
In their meriment.
Wants not a fourth Grace to make the daunce even?
Let that rowme to my Lady be yeven.
  
She shal be a Grace,
  
To fyll the fourth place,
  
35
And reigne with the rest in heaven.

Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine,
  
With Gelliflowres;
Bring Coronations, and Sops-in-wine
  
Worne of Paramoures:
  
40
Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies,
And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and lovèd Lillies:
  
The pretie Pawnce,
  
And the Chevisaunce,
Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice.
  
45

Now ryse up, Elisa, deckèd as thou art
  
In royall aray;
And now ye daintie Damsells may depart
  
Eche one her way.
I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe:
  
50
Let dame Elisa thanke you for her song:
  
And if you come hether
  
When Damsines I gether,
I will part them all you among.

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

Perigot and Willie’s Roundelay

Edmund Spenser (1552–1599)

IT fell upon a holly eve,
 
Hey ho, hollidaye!
When holly fathers wont to shrieve,
 
Now gynneth this roundelay.
Sitting upon a hill so hye,
  
5
 
Hey ho, the high hyll!
The while my flocke did feede thereby,
 
The while the shepheard selfe did spill:

I saw the bounching Bellibone,
 
Hey ho, Bonibell!
  
10
Tripping over the dale alone:
 
She can trippe it very well;
Well decked in a frocke of gray,
 
Hey ho, gray is greete!
And in a kirtle of greene, saye,
  
15
 
The greene is for maydens meete.

A chapelet on her head she wore,
 
Hey ho, chapelet!
Of sweete violets therein was store,
 
— She sweeter then the violet.
  
20
My sheepe did leave theyr wonted foode,
 
Hey ho, seely sheepe!
And gazd on her, as they were wood,
 
— Woode as he, that did them keepe.

As the bonnilasse passed bye,
  
25
 
Hey ho, bonilasse!
She rovde at me with glauncing eye,
 
As cleare as the christall glasse:
All as the sunnye beame so bright,
 
Hey ho, the sunne beame!
  
30
Glaunceth from Phœbus face forthright,
 
So love into my hart did streame:

Or as the thonder cleaves the cloudes,
 
Hey ho, the thonder!
Wherein the lightsome levin shroudes,
  
35
 
So cleaves thy soule asonder:
Or as Dame Cynthias silver raye
 
Hey ho, the moonelight!
Upon the glyttering wave doth playe:
 
Such play is a pitteous plight!
  
40

The glaunce into my heart did glide,
 
Hey ho, the glyder!
Therewith my soule was sharply gryde;
 
Such woundes soone wexen wider.
Hasting to raunch the arrow out,
  
45
 
Hey ho, Perigot!
I left the head in my hart roote:
 
It was a desperate shot.

There it ranckleth ay more and more,
 
Hey ho, the arrowe!
  
50
Ne can I find salve for my sore:
 
Love is a cureless sorrowe.
And though my bale with death I brought,
 
Hey ho, heavie cheere!
Yet should thilk lasse not from my thought:
  
55
 
So you may buye gold to deare.

But whether in paynefull love I pyne,
 
Hey ho, pinching payne!
Or thrive in welth, she shalbe mine.
 
But if thou can her obteine.
  
60
And if for gracelesse griefe I dye,
 
Hey ho, graceless griefe!
Witnesse, shee slewe me with her eye:
 
Let thy follye be the priefe.

And you that sawe it, simple shepe,
  
65
 
Hey ho, the fayre flocke!
For priefe thereof my death shall weepe,
 
And mone with many a mocke.
So learnd I love on a hollye eve, —
 
Hey ho, holidaye!
  
70
That ever since my hart did greve:
 
Now endeth our roundelay.

List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

List of Poets in Alphabetical Order