Verse > Anthologies > Elizabethan Sonnets > Amoretti and Epithalamion

Seccombe and Arber, comps.  Elizabethan Sonnets.  1904.
Amoretti and Epithalamion by Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)
    Front Matter
I. Happy, ye leaves! when as those lily hands
II. Unquiet thought! whom at the first I bred
III. The sovereign beauty which I do admire
IV. New year, forth looking out of Janus’ gate
V. Rudely thou wrongest my dear heart’s desire
VI. Be naught dismayed that her unmoved mind
VII. Fair eyes! the mirror of my mazed heart
VIII. More than most fair, full of the living fire
IX. Long-while I sought to what I might compare
X. Unrighteous lord of love, what law is this
XI. Daily when I do seek and sue for peace
XII. One day I sought with her heart-thrilling eyes
XIII. In that proud port, which her so goodly graceth
XIV. Return again, my forces late dismayed
XV. Ye tradeful Merchants, that, with weary toil
XVI. One day as I unwarily did gaze
XVII. The glorious portrait of that Angel’s face
XVIII. The rolling wheel that runneth often round
XIX. The merry cuckoo, messenger of spring
XX. In vain I seek and sue to her for grace
XXI. Was it the work of nature or of art
XXII. This holy season, fit to fast and pray
XXIII. Penelope, for her Ulysses’ sake
XXIV. When I behold that beauty’s wonderment
XXV. How long shall this like dying life endure
XXVI. Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a briar
XXVII. Fair Proud! now tell me, why should fair be proud
XXVIII. The laurel-leaf, which you this day do wear
XXIX. See! how the stubborn damsel doth deprave
XXX. My love is like to ice, and I to fire
XXXI. Ah! why hath nature to so hard a heart
XXXII. The painful smith, with force of fervent heat
XXXIII. Great wrong I do, I can it not deny
XXXIV. Like as a ship, that through the ocean wide
XXXV. My hungry eyes, through greedy covetise
XXXVI. Tell me, when shall these weary woes have end
XXXVII. What guile is this, that those her golden tresses
XXXVIII. Arion, when, through tempest’s cruel wrack
XXXIX. Sweet smile! the daughter of the Queen of Love
XL. Mark when she smiles with amiable cheer
XLI. Is it her nature, or is it her will
XLII. The love which me so cruelly tormenteth
XLIII. Shall I then silent be, or shall I speak?
XLIV. When those renowned noble Peers of Greece
XLV. Leave, lady! in your glass of crystal clean
XLVI. When my abode’s prefixed time is spent
XLVII. Trust not the treason of those smiling looks
XLVIII. Innocent paper; whom too cruel hand
XLIX. Fair cruel! why are ye so fierce and cruel?
L. Long languishing in double malady
LI. Do I not see that fairest images
LII. So oft as homeward I from her depart
LIII. The Panther, knowing that his spotted hide
LIV. Of this world’s theatre in which we stay
LV. So oft as I her beauty do behold
LVI. Fair ye be sure, but cruel and unkind
LVII. Sweet warrior! when shall I have peace with you
LVIII. Weak is th’ assurance that weak flesh reposeth
LIX. Thrice happy she! that is so well assured
LX. They, that in course of heavenly spheres are skilled
LXI. The glorious image of the Maker’s beauty
LXII. The weary year his race now having run
LXIII. After long storms and tempests’ sad assay
LXIV. Coming to kiss her lips (such grace I found)
LXV. The doubt which ye misdeem, fair love, is vain
LXVI. To all those happy blessings, which ye have
LXVII. Like as a huntsman after weary chase
LXVIII. Most glorious Lord of life! that, on this day
LXIX. The famous warriors of antique world
LXX. Fresh Spring, the herald of love’s mighty king
LXXI. I joy to see how, in your drawen work
LXXII. Oft, when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings
LXXIII. Being myself captivéd here in care
LXXIV. Most happy letters! fram’d by skilful trade
LXXV. One day I wrote her name upon the strand
LXXVI. Fair bosom! fraught with virtue’s richest treasure
LXXVII. Was it a dream, or did I see it plain
LXXVIII. Lacking my love, I go from place to place
LXXIX. Men call you fair, and you do credit it
LXXX. After so long a race as I have run
LXXXI. Fair is my love, when her fair golden hairs
LXXXII. Joy of my life! full oft for loving you
LXXXIII. Let not one spark of filthy lustful fire
LXXXIV. The world that cannot deem of worthy things
LXXXV. Venomous tongue tipp’d with vile adders’ sting
LXXXVI. Since I did leave the presence of my love
LXXXVII. Since I have lack’d the comfort of that light
LXXXVIII. Like as the Culver, on the bared bough



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