<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374357" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Hymne In Honour Of Love</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love, that long since hast to thy mighty powre<br>Perforce subdude my poor captived hart,<br>And raging now therein with restlesse stowre,<br>Doest tyrannize in everie weaker part,<br>Faine would I seeke to ease my bitter smart<br>By any service I might do to thee,<br>Or ought that else might to thee pleasing bee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now t'asswage the force of this new flame,<br>And make thee more propitious in my need,<br>I meane to sing the praises of thy name,<br>And thy victorious conquests to areed,<br>By which thou madest many harts to bleed<br>Of mighty victors, with wide wounds embrewed,<br>And by thy cruell darts to thee subdewed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Onely I fear my wits, enfeebled late <br>Through the sharp sorrowes which thou hast me bred,<br>Should faint, and words should faile me to relate<br>The wondrous triumphs of thy great god-hed:<br>But, if thou wouldst vouchsafe to overspred<br>Me with the shadow of thy gentle wing, <br>I should enabled be thy actes to sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, then, O come, thou mightie God of Love!<br>Out of thy silver bowres and secret blisse,<br>Where thou dost sit in Venus lap above,<br>Bathing thy wings in her ambrosial kisse, 25<br>That sweeter farre than any nectar is,<br>Come softly, and my feeble breast inspire<br>With gentle furie, kindled of thy fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And ye, sweet Muses! which have often proved<br>The piercing points of his avengefull darts,<br>And ye, fair Nimphs! which oftentimes have loved<br>The cruel worker of your kindly smarts,<br>Prepare yourselves, and open wide your harts<br>For to receive the triumph of your glorie,<br>That made you merie oft when ye were sorrie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And ye, faire blossoms of youths wanton breed!<br>Which in the conquests of your beautie bost,<br>Wherewith your lovers feeble eyes you feed,<br>But sterve their harts, that needeth nourture most,<br>Prepare your selves to march amongst his host,<br>And all the way this sacred hymne do sing,<br>Made in the honor of your soveraigne king.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Great God of Might, that reignest in the mynd,<br>And all the bodie to thy hest doest frame,<br>Victor of gods, subduer of mankynd,<br>That doest the lions and fell tigers tame,<br>Making their cruell rage thy scornfull game,<br>And in their roring taking great delight,<br>Who can expresse the glorie of thy might?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or who alive can perfectly declare <br>The wondrous cradle of thine infancie,<br>When thy great mother Venus first thee bare,<br>Begot of Plenty and of Penurie,<br>Though elder then thine own nativitie,<br>And yet a chyld, renewing still thy yeares,<br>And yet the eldest of the heavenly peares?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For ere this worlds still moving mightie masse<br>Out of great Chaos ugly prison crept,<br>In which his goodly face long hidden was<br>From heavens view, and in deep darknesse kept,<br>Love, that had now long time securely slept<br>In Venus lap, unarmed then and naked,<br>Gan reare his head, by Clotho being waked:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And taking to him wings of his own heat,<br>Kindled at first from heavens life-giving fyre,<br>He gan to move out of his idle seat;<br>Weakly at first, but after with desyre<br>Lifted aloft, he gan to mount up hyre,<br>And, like fresh eagle, made his hardy flight<br>Thro all that great wide wast, yet wanting light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet wanting light to guide his wandring way,<br>His own faire mother, for all creatures sake,<br>Did lend him light from her owne goodly ray;<br>Then through the world his way he gan to take,<br>The world, that was not till he did it make,<br>Whose sundrie parts he from themselves did sever.<br>The which before had lyen confused ever.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The earth, the ayre, the water, and the fyre,<br>Then gan to raunge themselves in huge array,<br>And with contrary forces to conspyre<br>Each against other by all meanes they may,<br>Threatning their owne confusion and decay:<br>Ayre hated earth, and water hated fyre,<br>Till Love relented their rebellious yre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He then them tooke, and, tempering goodly well<br>Their contrary dislikes with loved meanes,<br>Did place them all in order, and compell<br>To keepe themselves within their sundrie raines,<br>Together linkt with adamantine chaines;<br>Yet so as that in every living wight <br>They mix themselves, and shew their kindly might.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So ever since they firmely have remained,<br>And duly well observed his beheast;<br>Through which now all these things that are contained<br>Within this goodly cope, both most and least,<br>Their being have, and daily are increast<br>Through secret sparks of his infused fyre,<br>Which in the barraine cold he doth inspyre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thereby they all do live, and moved are<br>To multiply the likenesse of their kynd, <br>Whilest they seeke onely, without further care,<br>To quench the flame which they in burning fynd;<br>But man, that breathes a more immortall mynd,<br>Not for lusts sake, but for eternitie,<br>Seekes to enlarge his lasting progenie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For having yet in his deducted spright<br>Some sparks remaining of that heavenly fyre,<br>He is enlumind with that goodly light,<br>Unto like goodly semblant to aspyre;<br>Therefore in choice of love he doth desyre<br>That seemes on earth most heavenly to embrace,<br>That same is Beautie, borne of heavenly race.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For sure, of all that in this mortall frame<br>Contained is, nought more divine doth seeme,<br>Or that resembleth more th'immortall flame<br>Of heavenly light, than Beauties glorious beam.<br>What wonder then, if with such rage extreme<br>Frail men, whose eyes seek heavenly things to see,<br>At sight thereof so much enravisht bee?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which well perceiving, that imperious boy <br>Doth therewith tip his sharp empoisned darts,<br>Which glancing thro the eyes with countenance coy<br>Kest not till they have pierst the trembling harts,<br>And kindled flame in all their inner parts,<br>Which suckes the blood, and drinketh up the lyfe,<br>Of carefull wretches with consuming griefe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thenceforth they playne, and make full piteous mone<br>Unto the author of their balefull bane:<br>The daies they waste, the nights they grieve and grone,<br>Their lives they loath, and heavens light disdaine;<br>No light but that whose lampe doth yet remaine<br>Fresh burning in the image of their eye,<br>They deigne to see, and seeing it still dye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The whylst thou, tyrant Love, doest laugh and scorne<br>At their complaints, making their paine thy play;<br>Whylest they lye languishing like thrals forlorne,<br>The whyles thou doest triumph in their decay;<br>And otherwhyles, their dying to delay,<br>Thou doest emmarble the proud hart of her<br>Whose love before their life they doe prefer.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So hast thou often done (ay me the more!)<br>To me thy vassall, whose yet bleeding hart<br>With thousand wounds thou mangled hast so sore,<br>That whole remaines scarse any little part;<br>Yet to augment the anguish of my smart,<br>Thou hast enfrosen her disdainefull brest,<br>That no one drop of pitie there doth rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why then do I this honor unto thee,<br>Thus to ennoble thy victorious name,<br>Sith thou doest shew no favour unto mee,<br>Ne once move ruth in that rebellious dame,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Somewhat to slacke the rigour of my flame?<br>Certes small glory doest thou winne hereby,<br>To let her live thus free, and me to dy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But if thou be indeede, as men thee call,<br>The worlds great parent, the most kind preserver<br>Of living wights, the soveraine lord of all,<br>How falles it then that with thy furious fervour<br>Thou doest afflict as well the not-deserver,<br>As him that doeth thy lovely heasts despize,<br>And on thy subiects most doth tyrannize?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet herein eke thy glory seemeth more,<br>By so hard handling those which best thee serve,<br>That, ere thou doest them unto grace restore,<br>Thou mayest well trie if they will ever swerve,<br>And mayest them make it better to deserve,<br>And, having got it, may it more esteeme;<br>For things hard gotten men more dearely deeme.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So hard those heavenly beauties be enfyred,<br>As things divine least passions doe impresse;<br>The more of stedfast mynds to be admyred,<br>The more they stayed be on stedfastnesse;<br>But baseborne minds such lamps regard the lesse,<br>Which at first blowing take not hastie fyre;<br>Such fancies feele no love, but loose desyre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Love is lord of truth and loialtie,<br>Lifting himself out of the lowly dust<br>On golden plumes up to the purest skie,<br>Above the reach of loathly sinfull lust,<br>Whose base affect, through cowardly distrust<br>Of his weake wings, dare not to heaven fly,<br>But like a moldwarpe in the earth doth ly.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His dunghill thoughts, which do themselves enure<br>To dirtie drosse, no higher dare aspyre;<br>Ne can his feeble earthly eyes endure<br>The flaming light of that celestiall fyre<br>Which kindleth love in generous desyre,<br>And makes him mount above the native might<br>Of heavie earth, up to the heavens hight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Such is the powre of that sweet passion,<br>That it all sordid basenesse doth expell,<br>And the refyned mynd doth newly fashion<br>Unto a fairer forme, which now doth dwell<br>In his high thought, that would it selfe excell;<br>Which he beholding still with constant sight,<br>Admires the mirrour of so heavenly light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whose image printing in his deepest wit,<br>He thereon feeds his hungrie fantasy,<br>Still full, yet never satisfyde with it;<br>Like Tantale, that in store doth sterved ly,<br>So doth he pine in most satiety;<br>For nought may quench his infinite desyre,<br>Once kindled through that first conceived fyre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thereon his mynd affixed wholly is,<br>Ne thinks on ought but how it to attaine;<br>His care, his ioy, his hope, is all on this,<br>That seemes in it all blisses to containe,<br>In sight whereof all other blisse seemes vaine:<br>Thrice happie man, might he the same possesse,<br>He faines himselfe, and doth his fortune blesse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And though he do not win his wish to end,<br>Yet thus farre happie he himselfe doth weene,<br>That heavens such happie grace did to him lend<br>As thing on earth so heavenly to have seene,<br>His harts enshrined saint, his heavens queene, <br>Fairer then fairest in his fayning eye,<br>Whose sole aspect he counts felicitye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then forth he casts in his unquiet thought,<br>What he may do her favour to obtaine;<br>What brave exploit, what perill hardly wrought,<br>What puissant conquest, what adventurous paine,<br>May please her best, and grace unto him gaine;<br>He dreads no danger, nor misfortune feares,<br>His faith, his fortune, in his breast he beares.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou art his god, thou art his mightie guyde,<br>Thou, being blind, letst him not see his feares,<br>But carriest him to that which he had eyde,<br>Through seas, through flames, through thousand swords and speares;<br>Ne ought so strong that may his force withstand,<br>With which thou armest his resistlesse hand.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Witnesse Leander in the Euxine waves,<br>And stout Aeneas in the Troiane fyre,<br>Achilles preassing through the Phrygian glaives,<br>And Orpheus, daring to provoke the yre<br>Of damned fiends, to get his love retyre;<br>For both through heaven and hell thou makest way,<br>To win them worship which to thee obay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if by all these perils and these paynes<br>He may but purchase lyking in her eye,<br>What heavens of ioy then to himselfe he faynes!<br>Eftsoones he wypes quite out of memory<br>Whatever ill before he did aby:<br>Had it beene death, yet would he die againe,<br>To live thus happie as her grace to gaine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet when he hath found favour to his will,<br>He nathemore can so contented rest,<br>But forceth further on, and striveth still<br>T'approch more neare, till in her inmost brest<br>He may embosomd bee and loved best;<br>And yet not best, but to be lov'd alone;<br>For love cannot endure a paragone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fear whereof, O how doth it torment<br>His troubled mynd with more then hellish paine!<br>And to his fayning fansie represent<br>Sights never seene, and thousand shadowes vaine,<br>To breake his sleepe and waste his ydle braine:<br>Thou that hast never lov'd canst not beleeve<br>Least part of th'evils which poore lovers greeve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The gnawing envie, the hart-fretting feare,<br>The vaine surmizes, the distrustfull showes,<br>The false reports that flying tales doe beare,<br>The doubts, the daungers, the delayes, the woes,<br>The fayned friends, the unassured foes,<br>With thousands more then any tongue can tell,<br>Doe make a lovers life a wretches hell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet is there one more cursed then they all,<br>That cancker-worme, that monster, Gelosie,<br>Which eates the heart and feedes upon the gall,<br>Turning all Loves delight to miserie,<br>Through feare of losing his felicitie.<br>Ah, gods! that ever ye that monster placed<br>In gentle Love, that all his ioyes defaced!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By these, O Love! thou doest thy entrance make<br>Unto thy heaven, and doest the more endeere<br>Thy pleasures unto those which them partake,<br>As after stormes, when clouds begin to cleare,<br>The sunne more bright and glorious doth appeare;<br>So thou thy folke, through paines of Purgatorie,<br>Dost beare unto thy blisse, and heavens glorie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There thou them placest in a paradize<br>Of all delight and ioyous happy rest,<br>Where they doe feede on nectar heavenly-wize,<br>With Hercules and Hebe, and the rest<br>Of Venus dearlings, through her bountie blest;<br>And lie like gods in yvory beds arayd,<br>With rose and lillies over them displayd.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There with thy daughter Pleasure they doe play<br>Their hurtlesse sports, without rebuke or blame,<br>And in her snowy bosome boldly lay<br>Their quiet heads, devoyd of guilty shame,<br>After full ioyance of their gentle game;<br>Then her they crowne their goddesse and their queene,<br>And decke with floures thy altars well beseene.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ay me! deare Lord, that ever I might hope,<br>For all the paines and woes that I endure,<br>To come at length unto the wished scope<br>Of my desire, or might myselfe assure<br>That happie port for ever to recure!<br>Then would I thinke these paines no paines at all,<br>And all my woes to be but penance small.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then would I sing of thine immortal praise<br>An heavenly hymne such as the angels sing,<br>And thy triumphant name then would I raise<br>Bove all the gods, thee only honoring;<br>My guide, my god, my victor, and my king:<br>Till then, drad Lord! vouchsafe to take of me<br>This simple song, thus fram'd in praise of thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edmund+Spenser">Edmund Spenser</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374357" data-title="An Hymne In Honour Of Love de Edmund Spenser" data-description="Love, that long since hast to thy mighty powre Perforce subdude my poor captived hart, And raging now therein with restlesse stowre, Doest tyrannize in everie weaker part, Faine would I seeke to ease my bitter smart By any service I might do to th..."></div> </div> </div>

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