Top 151 Quotes & Sayings by Edmund Spenser - Page 2

Fly from wrath; sad be the sights and bitter fruits of war; a thousand furies wait on wrathful swords.

Woe to the man that first did teach the cursed steel to bite in his own flesh, and make way to the living spirit!

Waking love suffereth no sleepe: Say, that raging love dothe appall the weake stomacke: Say, that lamenting love marreth the musicall.

And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain.

But angels come to lead frail minds to rest in chaste desires, on heavenly beauty bound. You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within; you stop my tongue, and teach my heart to speak.

Me seemes the world is runne quite out of square,From the first point of his appointed sourse,And being once amisse growes daily wourse and wourse.

Yet is there one more cursed than they all, That canker-worm, that monster, jealousie, Which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, Turning all love's delight to misery, Through fear of losing his felicity.

So furiously each other did assayle, As if their soules they would attonce haue rent Out of their brests, that streames of bloud did rayle Adowne, as if their springes of life were spent; That all the ground with purple bloud was sprent, And all their armours staynd with bloudie gore, Yet scarcely once to breath would they relent, So mortall was their malice and so sore, Become of fayned friendship which they vow'd afore.

There is continual spring, and harvest there Continual, both meeting at one time: For both the boughs do laughing blossoms bear, And with fresh colours deck the wanton prime, And eke attonce the heavy trees they climb, Which seem to labour under their fruits load: The whiles the joyous birds make their pastime Amongst the shady leaves, their sweet above, And their true loves without suspicion tell abroad.

All flesh doth frailty breed!

So passeth, in the passing of a day, Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre

He oft finds med'cine, who his griefe imparts; But double griefs afflict concealing harts, As raging flames who striveth to supresse.

At last, the golden orientall gate Of greatest heaven gan to open fayre, And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his mate, Came dauncing forth, shaking his dewie hayre; And hurls his glistring beams through gloomy ayre.

Through knowledge we behold the world's creation, How in his cradle first he fostered was; And judge of Nature's cunning operation, How things she formed of a formless mass.

There learned arts do flourish in great honour And poets's wits are had in peerless price; Religion hath lay power, to rest upon her, Advancing virtue, and suppressing vice. For end all good, all grace there freely grows, Had people grace it gratefully to use: For God His gifts there plenteously bestows, But graceless men them greatly do abuse.

I trow that countenance cannot lie,Whose thoughts are legible in the eie.

To be wise and eke to love, Is granted scarce to gods above.

The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.

No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on grownd, No arborett with painted blossoms drest And smelling sweete, but there it might be fownd To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete smels al arownd.

Hasty wrath and heedless hazardy do breed repentance late and lasting infamy.

The man whom nature's self had made to mock herself, and truth to imitate.

From good to bad, and from bad to worse, From worse unto that is worst of all, And then return to his former fall.

Like as the culver on the bared bough Sits mourning for the absence of her mate

Gather therefore the Rose, whilst yet is prime, For soon comes age, that will her pride deflower: Gather the Rose of love, whilst yet is time.

Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song.

But as it falleth, in the gentlest hearts Imperious love hath highest set his throne, And tyrannizeth in the bitter smarts Of them, that to him buxom are and prone.

For of the soule the bodie forme doth take; For the soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.

Greatest god below the sky.

Bright as does the morning star appear, Out of the east with flaming locks bedight, To tell the dawning day is drawing near.

The Patron of true Holinesse, Foule Errour doth defeate: Hypocrisie him to entrappe, Doth to his home entreate.

Ah! when will this long weary day have end, And lende me leave to come unto my love? - Epithalamion

Fretting grief the enemy of life.

Man's wretched state, That floures so fresh at morne, and fades at evening late.

For that which all men then did virtue call, Is now called vice; and that which vice was hight, Is now hight virtue, and so used of all: Right now is wrong, and wrong that was is right

Good is no good, but if it be spend, God giveth good for none other end.

In youth, before I waxe' d old, The blind boy,Venus' baby, For want of cunning made me bold, In bitter hive to grope for honey.

Change still doth reign, and keep the greater sway.

For take thy ballaunce if thou be so wise, And weigh the winds that under heaven doth blow; Or weigh the light that in the east doth rise; Or weigh the thought that from man's mind doth flow.

Then came October, full of merry glee.

Vaine is the vaunt, and victory unjust, that more to mighty hands, then rightfull cause doth trust.

What though the sea with waves continuall Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all ; Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought : For whatsoever from one place doth fall Is with the tyde unto another brought : For there is nothing lost, that may be found if sought.

Lastly came Winter cloathed all in frize, Chattering his teeth for cold that did him chill; Whilst on his hoary beard his breath did freese, And the dull drops, that from his purpled bill As from a limebeck did adown distill: In his right hand a tipped staffe he held, With which his feeble steps he stayed still; For he was faint with cold, and weak with eld; That scarce his loosed limbes he hable was to weld.

This iron world bungs down the stoutest hearts to lowest state; for misery doth bravest minds abate.

What man that sees the ever-whirling wheel Of Change, the which all mortal things doth sway.

A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine.

For next to Death is Sleepe to be compared; Therefore his house is unto his annext: Here Sleepe, ther Richesse, and hel-gate them both betwext.

But Justice, though her dome she doe prolong, Yet at the last she will her owne cause right.

After her came jolly June, arrayed All in green leaves, as he a player were; Yet in his time he wrought as well as played, That by his plough-irons mote right well appear. Upon a crab he rode, that did him bear, With crooked crawling steps, an uncouth pace, And backward rode, as bargemen wont to fare, Bending their force contrary to their face; Like that ungracious crew which feigns demurest grace.

Hard it is to teach the old horse to amble anew.

For easy things, that may be got at will, Most sorts of men do set but little store.

Oft stumbles at a straw.

Rising glory occasions the greatest envy, as kindling fire the greatest smoke.

Ill seemes (sayd he) if he so valiant be, That he should be so sterne to stranger wight; For seldom yet did living creature see That courtesie and manhood ever disagree.

For evil deeds may better than bad words be borne.

Death is an equall doome To good and bad, the common In of rest.

The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring, His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.

Joy may you have and gentle hearts content Of your loves couplement: And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love, With her heart-quelling Sonne upon you smile

In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.

Where justice grows, there grows eke greater grace.

Go little book, thy self present, As child whose parent is unkent: To him that is the president Of noblesse and of chivalry, And if that Envy bark at thee, As sure it will, for succour flee.