A Quote by Edmund Spenser

Ah, fool! faint heart fair lady ne'er could win. — © Edmund Spenser
Ah, fool! faint heart fair lady ne'er could win.
Faint heart ne'er won fair lady.
And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair.
And let us mind, faint heart ne'er wan A lady fair. Wha does the utmost that he can Will whyles do mair.
I ne'er could any lustre see In eyes that would not look on me; I ne'er saw nectar on a lip But where my own did hope to sip.
The next day, to the joy of all of Arthur's court, Sir Gareth was wed to the fair Lady Lyonesse of Cornwall. All who beheld the couple declared that ne'er had so handsome a knight wed so beautiful a maiden. At the same time, Sir Gaheris was wedded to the Lady Lynet, younger sister to the Lady Lyonesse. They looked alright too.
Faint heart never won fair lady! Nothing venture, nothing win Blood is thick, but water's thin In for a penny, in for a pound It's Love that makes the world go 'round!
faint heart never won fair lady
Ah, yet, e'er I descend to th' grave, May I a small House and a large Garden have. And a few Friends, and many Books both true, Both wise, and both delightful too. And since Love ne'er will from me flee, A mistress moderately fair, And good as Guardian angels are, Only belov'd and loving me.
Had I a heart for falsehood framed, I ne'er could injure you.
Such night in England ne'er had been, nor ne'er again shall be.
Alas! the praise given to the ear Ne'er was nor ne'er can be sincere.
Fro and to in my dreams to you To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne'er more again will I sing this song Ne'er more will I hear the harp.
Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
Wouldst thou wisely, and with pleasure, Pass the days of life's short measure, From the slow one counsel take, But a tool of him ne'er make; Ne'er as friend the swift one know, Nor the constant one as foe.
Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.
Tis strange the miser should his cares employTo gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy;Is it less strange the prodigal should wasteHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
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