add api usage examples for cpp and python binding

2018-12-15 02:43:34 +01:00
parent 4517be935c
commit 1c07e5b4dc
379 changed files with 12162 additions and 15 deletions
@@ -1,6 +1,9 @@
 cmake_minimum_required (VERSION 2.6)

+# --- Options ---
+
 set(BUILD_BINDINGS_PYTHON OFF CACHE BOOL "Build the SourcetrailDB Python bindings.")
+set(BUILD_EXAMPLES ON CACHE BOOL "Build the examples.")

 set(PROJECT_NAME "SourcetrailDB")

@@ -37,10 +40,10 @@ string(REGEX REPLACE "v[0-9]+_db([0-9]+)_.*" "\\1" DATABASE_VERSION "${GIT_VERSI
 string(REGEX REPLACE "v[0-9]+_db[0-9]+_p([0-9])-.*" "\\1" PATCH_VERSION "${GIT_VERSION_NUMBER}")
 set(VERSION_STRING "v${INTERFACE_VERSION}_db${DATABASE_VERSION}_p${PATCH_VERSION}")

-message(STATUS ${INTERFACE_VERSION})
-message(STATUS ${DATABASE_VERSION})
-message(STATUS ${PATCH_VERSION})
-message(STATUS ${VERSION_STRING})
+message(STATUS "SourcetrailDB Version: ${VERSION_STRING}")
+message(STATUS "Interface Version: ${INTERFACE_VERSION}")
+message(STATUS "Database Version: ${DATABASE_VERSION}")
+message(STATUS "Patch Version: ${PATCH_VERSION}")

 configure_file(
 	${CMAKE_CURRENT_SOURCE_DIR}/version.txt.in
@@ -48,6 +51,7 @@ configure_file(
 )


+# --- Core ---

 set(LIB_CORE "lib_core")
 set(CORE_SOURCE_DIR "${CMAKE_SOURCE_DIR}/core") # can be accessed in subdirectory CMake files
@@ -55,9 +59,31 @@ set(CORE_BINARY_DIR "${CMAKE_BINARY_DIR}/core") # can be accessed in subdirector

 add_subdirectory(${CORE_SOURCE_DIR} ${CORE_BINARY_DIR})

+
+# --- Python Binding ---
+
 if (BUILD_BINDINGS_PYTHON)
-	message(STATUS "SourcetrailDB Python bindings will be built.")
+	message(STATUS "The SourcetrailDB Python bindings will be built.")
+
+	set(PYTHON_BINDING_OUTPUT_DIR "")
 	add_subdirectory("${CMAKE_SOURCE_DIR}/bindings_python" "${CMAKE_BINARY_DIR}/bindings_python")
 else()
-	message(STATUS "Building SourcetrailDB Python bindings will be skipped. You can enable building this target by setting 'BUILD_BINDINGS_PYTHON' to 'ON'.")
+	message(STATUS "Building the SourcetrailDB Python bindings will be skipped. You can enable building this target by setting 'BUILD_BINDINGS_PYTHON' to 'ON'.")
+endif()
+
+
+# --- Examples ---
+
+if (BUILD_EXAMPLES)
+	message(STATUS "The examples will be built.")
+	add_subdirectory("${CMAKE_SOURCE_DIR}/examples/cpp_api_example")
+	add_subdirectory("${CMAKE_SOURCE_DIR}/examples/cpp_poetry_indexer")
+
+	if (BUILD_BINDINGS_PYTHON)
+		add_subdirectory("${CMAKE_SOURCE_DIR}/examples/python_binding_example")
+	else()
+		message(STATUS "Skip python binding sample. You can enable building it by setting 'BUILD_BINDINGS_PYTHON' to 'ON'.")
+	endif()
+else()
+	message(STATUS "Building examples will be skipped. You can enable building examples by setting 'BUILD_EXAMPLES' to 'ON'.")
 endif()
@@ -140,7 +140,7 @@ sourcetrail::SourcetrailDBWriter writer;
 writer.open("MyProject.srctrldb");

 int fileId = writer.recordFile("C:/example/Bar.cpp");
-int referencedSymbolId = writer.recordFileLanguage(fileId, "cpp"); // this enables syntax highlighting for predefined languages
+writer.recordFileLanguage(fileId, "cpp"); // this enables syntax highlighting for predefined languages

 writer.close();
 ```
@@ -6,6 +6,7 @@ set(PACKAGE_NAME "sourcetraildb")

 set(RESOURCES_SWIG_DIR "${CMAKE_CURRENT_SOURCE_DIR}/../resources_swig")
 set(GENERATED_SRC_DIR "${CMAKE_CURRENT_BINARY_DIR}/src")
+set(PYTHON_BINDING_OUTPUT_DIR ${CMAKE_CURRENT_BINARY_DIR} PARENT_SCOPE)

 set(SWIG_INTERFACE_FILE "${RESOURCES_SWIG_DIR}/interface/${PACKAGE_NAME}.i")

@@ -35,7 +36,7 @@ swig_add_library(
 	${PACKAGE_NAME}
 	TYPE SHARED
 	LANGUAGE python
-	OUTPUT_DIR ${CMAKE_CURRENT_BINARY_DIR}
+	OUTPUT_DIR ${PYTHON_BINDING_OUTPUT_DIR}
 	OUTFILE_DIR ${GENERATED_SRC_DIR}
 	SOURCES ${SWIG_INTERFACE_FILE} ${RESOURCES_SWIG_DIR}/src/${PACKAGE_NAME}.cpp
 )
@@ -38,7 +38,7 @@ namespace sourcetrail

 	std::string serializeNameHierarchyToDatabaseString(const NameHierarchy& nameHierarchy);
 	std::string serializeNameHierarchyToJson(const NameHierarchy& nameHierarchy);
-	NameHierarchy deserializeNameHierarchyFromJson(const std::string& serializedNameHierarchy);
+	NameHierarchy deserializeNameHierarchyFromJson(const std::string& serializedNameHierarchy, std::string* error = nullptr);
 }

 #endif // SOURCETRAIL_NAME_HIERARCHY_H
@@ -48,6 +48,7 @@ namespace sourcetrail

 		int getSupportedDatabaseVersion() const;
 		const std::string& getLastError() const;
+		void setLastError(const std::string& error) const;
 		void clearLastError();

 		bool open(const std::string& databaseFilePath);
@@ -61,7 +61,7 @@ namespace sourcetrail
 		return j.dump(4);
 	}

-	NameHierarchy deserializeNameHierarchyFromJson(const std::string& serializedNameHierarchy)
+	NameHierarchy deserializeNameHierarchyFromJson(const std::string& serializedNameHierarchy, std::string* error)
 	{
 		typedef nlohmann::json json;

@@ -110,9 +110,19 @@ namespace sourcetrail
 				}
 			}
 		}
+		catch (json::exception& e)
+		{
+			if (error)
+			{
+				*error = e.what();
+			}
+		}
 		catch (...)
 		{
-			// do nothing
+			if (error)
+			{
+				*error = "Exception thrown during NameHierarchy deserialization";
+			}
 		}

 		return nameHierarchy;
@@ -59,6 +59,11 @@ namespace sourcetrail
 		return m_lastError;
 	}

+	void SourcetrailDBWriter::setLastError(const std::string& error) const
+	{
+		m_lastError = error;
+	}
+
 	void SourcetrailDBWriter::clearLastError()
 	{
 		m_lastError.clear();
@@ -0,0 +1,35 @@
+cmake_minimum_required (VERSION 2.6)
+
+set(EXAMPLE_NAME "cpp_api_example")
+
+# --- Configure Build ---
+
+set(EXAMPLE_SRC_FILES
+	src/main.cpp
+)
+
+set(EXAMPLE_HDR_FILES
+)
+
+add_executable(${EXAMPLE_NAME} ${EXAMPLE_SRC_FILES} ${EXAMPLE_HDR_FILES})
+
+target_include_directories(${EXAMPLE_NAME} PUBLIC
+	"${CORE_SOURCE_DIR}/include"
+)
+
+target_link_libraries(${EXAMPLE_NAME} ${LIB_CORE})
+
+
+# --- Configure Sourcetrail Project File ---
+
+add_custom_command(
+	TARGET ${EXAMPLE_NAME} POST_BUILD
+    COMMAND ${CMAKE_COMMAND} -E copy $<TARGET_FILE:${EXAMPLE_NAME}> ${CMAKE_CURRENT_BINARY_DIR}/${EXAMPLE_NAME}
+)
+
+set(API_EXAMPLE_DATA_PATH "${CMAKE_CURRENT_SOURCE_DIR}/data")
+
+configure_file(
+	"${CMAKE_CURRENT_SOURCE_DIR}/${EXAMPLE_NAME}.srctrlprj.in"
+	"${CMAKE_CURRENT_BINARY_DIR}/${EXAMPLE_NAME}.srctrlprj"
+)
@@ -0,0 +1,18 @@
+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" ?>
+<config>
+    <source_groups>
+        <source_group_78efd997-84bf-4db6-9736-f5ddd702053c>
+            <custom_command>./cpp_api_example $DB_PATH $DB_VERSION $SOURCE_PATH</custom_command>
+            <name>Custom Command Source Group</name>
+            <source_extensions>
+                <source_extension>.cpp</source_extension>
+            </source_extensions>
+            <source_paths>
+                <source_path>@API_EXAMPLE_DATA_PATH@/example.cpp</source_path>
+            </source_paths>
+            <status>enabled</status>
+            <type>Custom Command Source Group</type>
+        </source_group_78efd997-84bf-4db6-9736-f5ddd702053c>
+    </source_groups>
+    <version>7</version>
+</config>
@@ -0,0 +1,24 @@
+
+/*
+ * MyType
+ *
+ * This is a multiline comment
+ */
+
+namespace api
+{
+
+class MyType
+    : public BaseType
+{
+public:
+    void my_method(bool do_send_signal) const
+    {
+        if (do_send_signal)
+        {
+            Client::send_signal();
+        }
+    }
+}
+
+}
@@ -0,0 +1,129 @@
+#include <fstream>
+#include <iostream>
+
+#include "SourcetrailDBWriter.h"
+
+int main(int argc, const char *argv[])
+{
+	sourcetrail::SourcetrailDBWriter dbWriter;
+
+	std::cout << "SourcetrailDB Poetry Indexer" << std::endl;
+	std::cout << std::endl;
+	std::cout << "SourcetrailDB version: " << dbWriter.getVersionString() << std::endl;
+	std::cout << "Supported database version: " << dbWriter.getSupportedDatabaseVersion() << std::endl;
+	std::cout << std::endl;
+
+	if (argc != 4)
+	{
+		std::cout << "usage: poetry_indexer <database_path> <database_version> <source_path>";
+	}
+
+	std::string dbPath = argv[1];
+	int dbVersion = std::stoi(argv[2]);
+	std::string sourcePath = argv[3];
+
+	if (dbVersion != dbWriter.getSupportedDatabaseVersion())
+	{
+		std::cout << "error: binary only supports database version: " << dbWriter.getSupportedDatabaseVersion()
+			<< ". Requested version: " << dbVersion << std::endl;
+		return 1;
+	}
+
+	// open database by passing .srctrldb or .srctrldb_tmp path
+	if (!dbWriter.open(dbPath))
+	{
+		std::cout << "error: " << dbWriter.getLastError() << std::endl;
+		return 1;
+	}
+
+	// start recording with faster speed
+	if (!dbWriter.beginTransaction())
+	{
+		std::cout << "error: " << dbWriter.getLastError() << std::endl;
+		return 1;
+	}
+
+	// record source file by passing it's absolute path
+	int fileId = dbWriter.recordFile(sourcePath);
+	dbWriter.recordFileLanguage(fileId, "cpp"); // record file language for syntax highlighting
+
+
+	// record comment
+	dbWriter.recordCommentLocation({ fileId, 2, 1, 6, 3 });
+
+
+	// record namespace "api"
+	sourcetrail::NameHierarchy namespaceName { "::", { { "", "api", "" } } };
+	int namespaceId = dbWriter.recordSymbol(namespaceName);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolDefinitionKind(namespaceId, sourcetrail::DEFINITION_EXPLICIT);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolKind(namespaceId, sourcetrail::SYMBOL_NAMESPACE);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolLocation(namespaceId, { fileId, 8, 11, 8, 13 });
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolScopeLocation(namespaceId, { fileId, 8, 1, 24, 1 });
+
+
+	// record class "MyType"
+	sourcetrail::NameHierarchy className = namespaceName;
+	className.nameElements.push_back( { "", "MyType", "" } );
+	int classId = dbWriter.recordSymbol(className);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolDefinitionKind(classId, sourcetrail::DEFINITION_EXPLICIT);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolKind(classId, sourcetrail::SYMBOL_CLASS);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolLocation(classId, { fileId, 11, 7, 11, 12 });
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolScopeLocation(classId, { fileId, 11, 1, 22, 1 }); // gets highlight when active
+
+
+	// record inheritance reference to "BaseType"
+	int baseId = dbWriter.recordSymbol( { "::", { { "", "BaseType", "" } } } );
+	int inheritanceId = dbWriter.recordReference(baseId, classId, sourcetrail::REFERENCE_INHERITANCE);
+	dbWriter.recordReferenceLocation(inheritanceId, { fileId, 12, 14, 12, 21 });
+
+
+	// add child method "void my_method() const"
+	sourcetrail::NameHierarchy methodName = className;
+	methodName.nameElements.push_back( { "void", "my_method", "() const" } );
+	int methodId = dbWriter.recordSymbol(methodName);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolDefinitionKind(methodId, sourcetrail::DEFINITION_EXPLICIT);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolKind(methodId, sourcetrail::SYMBOL_METHOD);
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolLocation(methodId, { fileId, 15, 10, 15, 18 });
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolScopeLocation(methodId, { fileId, 15, 5, 21, 5 }); // gets highlight when active
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolSignatureLocation(methodId, { fileId, 15, 5, 15, 45 }); // used in tooltip
+
+
+	// record parameter type "bool"
+	int typeId = dbWriter.recordSymbol({ "::", { { "", "bool", "" } } });
+	int typeuseId = dbWriter.recordReference(methodId, typeId, sourcetrail::REFERENCE_TYPE_USAGE);
+	dbWriter.recordReferenceLocation(typeuseId, { fileId, 15, 20, 15, 23 });
+
+
+	// record parameter "do_send_signal"
+	int localId = dbWriter.recordLocalSymbol("do_send_signal");
+	dbWriter.recordLocalSymbolLocation(localId, { fileId, 15, 25, 15, 38 });
+	dbWriter.recordLocalSymbolLocation(localId, { fileId, 17, 13, 17, 26 });
+
+
+	// record function call reference to "send_signal()"
+	int funcId = dbWriter.recordSymbol({ "::", { { "", "Client", "" }, { "", "send_signal", "()" } } });
+	dbWriter.recordSymbolKind(funcId, sourcetrail::SYMBOL_FUNCTION);
+	int callId = dbWriter.recordReference(methodId, funcId, sourcetrail::REFERENCE_CALL);
+	dbWriter.recordReferenceLocation(callId, { fileId, 19, 13, 19, 33 });
+
+
+	// record error
+	dbWriter.recordError("Really? You missed that \";\" again?", false, { fileId, 22, 1, 22, 1 });
+
+
+	// end recording
+	if (!dbWriter.commitTransaction())
+	{
+		std::cout << "error: " << dbWriter.getLastError() << std::endl;
+		return 1;
+	}
+
+	// check for errors before finishing
+	if (dbWriter.getLastError().size())
+	{
+		std::cout << "error: " << dbWriter.getLastError() << std::endl;
+		return 1;
+	}
+
+	return 0;
+}
@@ -0,0 +1,35 @@
+cmake_minimum_required (VERSION 2.6)
+
+set(EXAMPLE_NAME "poetry_indexer")
+
+# --- Configure Build ---
+
+set(EXAMPLE_SRC_FILES
+	src/main.cpp
+)
+
+set(EXAMPLE_HDR_FILES
+)
+
+add_executable(${EXAMPLE_NAME} ${EXAMPLE_SRC_FILES} ${EXAMPLE_HDR_FILES})
+
+target_include_directories(${EXAMPLE_NAME} PUBLIC
+	"${CORE_SOURCE_DIR}/include"
+)
+
+target_link_libraries(${EXAMPLE_NAME} ${LIB_CORE})
+
+
+# --- Configure Sourcetrail Project File ---
+
+add_custom_command(
+	TARGET ${EXAMPLE_NAME} POST_BUILD
+    COMMAND ${CMAKE_COMMAND} -E copy $<TARGET_FILE:${EXAMPLE_NAME}> ${CMAKE_CURRENT_BINARY_DIR}/${EXAMPLE_NAME}
+)
+
+set(POETRY_INDEXER_DATA_PATH "${CMAKE_CURRENT_SOURCE_DIR}/data")
+
+configure_file(
+	"${CMAKE_CURRENT_SOURCE_DIR}/${EXAMPLE_NAME}.srctrlprj.in"
+	"${CMAKE_CURRENT_BINARY_DIR}/${EXAMPLE_NAME}.srctrlprj"
+)
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+Licensed under "CCO: Public Domain" (https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/)
@@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
+CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
+Elegies, Book One, 5
+
+In summers heat and mid-time of the day
+To rest my limbs upon a bed I lay,
+One window shut, the other open stood,
+Which gave such light as twinkles in a wood,
+Like twilight glimpse at setting of the sun
+Or night being past, and yet not day begun.
+Such light to shamefaced maidens must be shown,
+Where they may sport, and seem to be unknown.
+Then came Corinna in a long loose gown,
+Her white neck hid with tresses hanging down:
+Resembling fair Semiramis going to bed
+Or Lais of a thousand wooers sped.
+I snatched her gown, being thin, the harm was small,
+Yet strived she to be covered therewithal.
+And striving thus as one that would be cast,
+Betrayed herself, and yielded at the last.
+Stark naked as she stood before mine eye,
+Not one wen in her body could I spy.
+
+What arms and shoulders did I touch and see,
+How apt her breasts were to be pressed by me?
+How smooth a belly under her waist saw I?
+How large a leg, and what a lusty thigh?
+To leave the rest, all liked me passing well,
+I clinged her naked body, down she fell,
+Judge you the rest: being tired she bad me kiss,
+Jove send me more such afternoons as this.
@@ -0,0 +1,13 @@
+CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
+from Hero and Leander: "It lies not in our power to love or hate"
+
+It lies not in our power to love or hate,
+For will in us is overruled by fate.
+When two are stripped, long ere the course begin,
+We wish that one should lose, the other win;
+And one especially do we affect
+Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
+The reason no man knows; let it suffice
+What we behold is censured by our eyes.
+Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
+Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
@@ -0,0 +1,182 @@
+CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
+Hero and Leander
+
+On Hellespont, guilty of true love's blood,
+In view and opposite two cities stood,
+Sea-borderers, disjoin'd by Neptune's might;
+The one Abydos, the other Sestos hight.
+At Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero the fair,
+Whom young Apollo courted for her hair,
+And offer'd as a dower his burning throne,
+Where she could sit for men to gaze upon.
+The outside of her garments were of lawn,
+The lining purple silk, with gilt stars drawn;
+Her wide sleeves green, and border'd with a grove,
+Where Venus in her naked glory strove
+To please the careless and disdainful eyes
+Of proud Adonis, that before her lies;
+Her kirtle blue, whereon was many a stain,
+Made with the blood of wretched lovers slain.
+Upon her head she ware a myrtle wreath,
+From whence her veil reach'd to the ground beneath;
+Her veil was artificial flowers and leaves,
+Whose workmanship both man and beast deceives;
+Many would praise the sweet smell as she past,
+When 'twas the odour which her breath forth cast;
+And there for honey bees have sought in vain,
+And beat from thence, have lighted there again.
+About her neck hung chains of pebble-stone,
+Which lighten'd by her neck, like diamonds shone.
+She ware no gloves; for neither sun nor wind
+Would burn or parch her hands, but, to her mind,
+Or warm or cool them, for they took delight
+To play upon those hands, they were so white.
+Buskins of shells, all silver'd, used she,
+And branch'd with blushing coral to the knee;
+Where sparrows perch'd, of hollow pearl and gold,
+Such as the world would wonder to behold:
+Those with sweet water oft her handmaid fills,
+Which as she went, would chirrup through the bills.
+Some say, for her the fairest Cupid pin'd,
+And looking in her face, was strooken blind.
+But this is true; so like was one the other,
+As he imagin'd Hero was his mother;
+And oftentimes into her bosom flew,
+About her naked neck his bare arms threw,
+And laid his childish head upon her breast,
+And with still panting rock'd there took his rest.
+So lovely-fair was Hero, Venus' nun,
+As Nature wept, thinking she was undone,
+Because she took more from her than she left,
+And of such wondrous beauty her bereft:
+Therefore, in sign her treasure suffer'd wrack,
+Since Hero's time hath half the world been black.
+
+         Amorous Leander, beautiful and young
+(Whose tragedy divine Musus sung),
+Dwelt at Abydos; since him dwelt there none
+For whom succeeding times make greater moan.
+His dangling tresses, that were never shorn,
+Had they been cut, and unto Colchos borne,
+Would have allur'd the vent'rous youth of Greece
+To hazard more than for the golden fleece.
+Fair Cynthia wish'd his arms might be her sphere;
+Grief makes her pale, because she moves not there.
+His body was as straight as Circe's wand;
+Jove might have sipt out nectar from his hand.
+Even as delicious meat is to the taste,
+So was his neck in touching, and surpast
+The white of Pelops' shoulder: I could tell ye,
+How smooth his breast was, and how white his belly;
+And whose immortal fingers did imprint
+That heavenly path with many a curious dint
+That runs along his back; but my rude pen
+Can hardly blazon forth the loves of men,
+Much less of powerful gods: let it suffice
+That my slack Muse sings of Leander's eyes;
+Those orient cheeks and lips, exceeding his
+That leapt into the water for a kiss
+Of his own shadow, and, despising many,
+Died ere he could enjoy the love of any.
+Had wild Hippolytus Leander seen,
+Enamour'd of his beauty had he been.
+His presence made the rudest peasant melt,
+That in the vast uplandish country dwelt;
+The barbarous Thracian soldier, mov'd with nought,
+Was mov'd with him, and for his favour sought.
+Some swore he was a maid in man's attire,
+For in his looks were all that men desire,
+A pleasant smiling cheek, a speaking eye,
+A brow for love to banquet royally;
+And such as knew he was a man, would say,
+"Leander, thou art made for amorous play;
+Why art thou not in love, and lov'd of all?
+Though thou be fair, yet be not thine own thrall."
+
+         The men of wealthy Sestos every year,
+For his sake whom their goddess held so dear,
+Rose-cheek'd Adonis, kept a solemn feast.
+Thither resorted many a wandering guest
+To meet their loves; such as had none at all
+Came lovers home from this great festival;
+For every street, like to a firmament,
+Glister'd with breathing stars, who, where they went,
+Frighted the melancholy earth, which deem'd
+Eternal heaven to burn, for so it seem'd
+As if another Pha{"e}ton had got
+The guidance of the sun's rich chariot.
+But far above the loveliest, Hero shin'd,
+And stole away th' enchanted gazer's mind;
+For like sea-nymphs' inveigling harmony,
+So was her beauty to the standers-by;
+Nor that night-wandering, pale, and watery star
+(When yawning dragons draw her thirling car
+From Latmus' mount up to the gloomy sky,
+Where, crown'd with blazing light and majesty,
+She proudly sits) more over-rules the flood
+Than she the hearts of those that near her stood.
+Even as when gaudy nymphs pursue the chase,
+Wretched Ixion's shaggy-footed race,
+Incens'd with savage heat, gallop amain
+From steep pine-bearing mountains to the plain,
+So ran the people forth to gaze upon her,
+And all that view'd her were enamour'd on her.
+And as in fury of a dreadful fight,
+Their fellows being slain or put to flight,
+Poor soldiers stand with fear of death dead-strooken,
+So at her presence all surpris'd and tooken,
+Await the sentence of her scornful eyes;
+He whom she favours lives; the other dies.
+There might you see one sigh, another rage,
+And some, their violent passions to assuage,
+Compile sharp satires; but, alas, too late,
+For faithful love will never turn to hate.
+And many, seeing great princes were denied,
+Pin'd as they went, and thinking on her, died.
+On this feast-dayO cursed day and hour!
+Went Hero thorough Sestos, from her tower
+To Venus' temple, where unhappily,
+As after chanc'd, they did each other spy.
+So fair a church as this had Venus none:
+The walls were of discolour'd jasper-stone,
+Wherein was Proteus carved; and over-head
+A lively vine of green sea-agate spread,
+Where by one hand light-headed Bacchus hung,
+And with the other wine from grapes out-wrung.
+Of crystal shining fair the pavement was;
+The town of Sestos call'd it Venus' glass:
+There might you see the gods in sundry shapes,
+Committing heady riots, incest, rapes:
+For know, that underneath this radiant flower
+Was Danae's statue in a brazen tower,
+Jove slyly stealing from his sister's bed,
+To dally with Idalian Ganimed,
+And for his love Europa bellowing loud,
+And tumbling with the rainbow in a cloud;
+Blood-quaffing Mars heaving the iron net,
+Which limping Vulcan and his Cyclops set;
+Love kindling fire, to burn such towns as Troy,
+Sylvanus weeping for the lovely boy
+That now is turn'd into a cypress tree,
+Under whose shade the wood-gods love to be.
+And in the midst a silver altar stood:
+There Hero, sacrificing turtles' blood,
+Vail'd to the ground, veiling her eyelids close;
+And modestly they opened as she rose.
+Thence flew Love's arrow with the golden head;
+And thus Leander was enamoured.
+Stone-still he stood, and evermore he gazed,
+Till with the fire that from his count'nance blazed
+Relenting Hero's gentle heart was strook:
+Such force and virtue hath an amorous look.
+
+         It lies not in our power to love or hate,
+For will in us is over-rul'd by fate.
+When two are stript, long ere the course begin,
+We wish that one should lose, the other win;
+And one especially do we affect
+Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
+The reason no man knows, let it suffice,
+What we behold is censur'd by our eyes.
+Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
+Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?
@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
+CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE
+The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
+
+Come live with me and be my love,
+And we will all the pleasures prove,
+That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
+Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
+
+And we will sit upon the Rocks,
+Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,
+By shallow Rivers to whose falls
+Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
+
+And I will make thee beds of Roses
+And a thousand fragrant posies,
+A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
+Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;
+
+A gown made of the finest wool
+Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
+Fair lined slippers for the cold,
+With buckles of the purest gold;
+
+A belt of straw and Ivy buds,
+With Coral clasps and Amber studs:
+And if these pleasures may thee move,
+Come live with me, and be my love.
+
+The Shepherds Swains shall dance and sing
+For thy delight each May-morning:
+If these delights thy mind may move,
+Then live with me, and be my love.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE MARGARET CAVENDISH
+An Epilogue to the Above
+
+Sir Charles into my chamber coming in,
+When I was writing of my Fairy Queen;
+I praysaid hewhen Queen Mab you do see
+Present my service to her Majesty:
+And tell her I have heard Fame's loud report
+Both of her beauty and her stately court.
+When I Queen Mab within my fancy viewed,
+My thoughts bowed low, fearing I should be rude;
+Kissing her garment thin which fancy made,
+I knelt upon a thought, like one that prayed;
+And then, in whispers soft, I did present
+His humble service which in mirth was sent;
+Thus by imagination I have been
+In Fairy court and seen the Fairy Queen.
@@ -0,0 +1,13 @@
+DUCHESS OF NEWCASTLE MARGARET CAVENDISH
+The Duchess to Her Readers
+
+A Poet am I neither born nor bred,
+But to a witty poet married:
+Whose brain is fresh and pleasant as the Spring,
+Where Fancies grow and where the Muses sing.
+There oft I lean my head, and listening, hark,
+To catch his words and all his fancies mark:
+And from that garden show of beauties take
+Whereof a posy I in verse may make.
+Thus I, that have no gardens of my own,
+There gather flowers that are newly blown.
@@ -0,0 +1,36 @@
+E. E. CUMMINGS
+[in Just-]
+
+in Just-
+spring          when the world is mud-
+luscious the little
+lame balloonman
+
+whistles          far          and wee
+
+and eddieandbill come
+running from marbles and
+piracies and it's
+spring
+
+when the world is puddle-wonderful
+
+the queer
+old balloonman whistles
+far          and             wee
+and bettyandisbel come dancing
+
+from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
+
+it's
+spring
+and
+
+         the
+
+                  goat-footed
+
+balloonMan          whistles
+far
+and
+wee
@@ -0,0 +1,37 @@
+E. E. CUMMINGS
+[little tree]
+
+little tree
+little silent Christmas tree
+you are so little
+you are more like a flower
+
+who found you in the green forest
+and were you very sorry to come away?
+see          i will comfort you
+because you smell so sweetly
+
+i will kiss your cool bark
+and hug you safe and tight
+just as your mother would,
+only don't be afraid
+
+look          the spangles
+that sleep all the year in a dark box
+dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
+the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
+
+put up your little arms
+and i'll give them all to you to hold
+every finger shall have its ring
+and there won't be a single place dark or unhappy
+
+then when you're quite dressed
+you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
+and how they'll stare!
+oh but you'll be very proud
+
+and my little sister and i will take hands
+and looking up at our beautiful tree
+we'll dance and sing
+"Noel Noel"
@@ -0,0 +1,20 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti I: Happy ye leaves when as those lilly hands
+
+Happy ye leaves when as those lilly hands,
+Which hold my life in their dead doing might
+Shall handle you and hold in loves soft bands,
+Lyke captives trembling at the victors sight.
+And happy lines, on which with starry light,
+Those lamping eyes will deigne sometimes to look
+And reade the sorrowes of my dying spright,
+Written with teares in harts close bleeding book.
+And happy rymes bathd in the sacred brooke,
+Of Helicon whence she derived is,
+When ye behold that Angels blessed looke,
+My soules long lacked foode, my heavens blis.
+Leaves, lines, and rymes, seeke her to please alone,
+Whom if ye please, I care for other none. 
+
+
+ 
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti III: The Sovereign Beauty
+
+The sovereign beauty which I do admire,
+Witness the world how worthy to be praised:
+The light whereof hath kindled heavenly fire
+In my frail spirit, by her from baseness raised;
+That being now with her huge brightness dazed,
+Base thing I can no more endure to view;
+But looking still on her, I stand amazed
+At wondrous sight of so celestial hue.
+So when my tongue would speak her praises due,
+It stopped is with thought's astonishment:
+And when my pen would write her titles true,
+It ravish'd is with fancy's wonderment:
+Yet in my heart I then both speak and write
+The wonder that my wit cannot endite.
@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti IV: "New yeare forth looking out of Janus gate"
+
+New yeare forth looking out of Janus gate,
+Doth seeme to promise hope of new delight:
+And bidding thold Adieu, his pass
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LIV: Of this worlds Theatre in which we stay
+
+Of this worlds Theatre in which we stay,
+My love lyke the Spectator ydly sits
+Beholding me that all the pageants play,
+Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
+Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits,
+And mask in myrth lyke to a Comedy:
+Soone after when my joy to sorrow flits,
+I waile and make my woes a Tragedy.
+Yet she beholding me with constant eye,
+Delights not in my merth nor rues my smart:
+But when I laugh she mocks, and when I cry
+She laughes, and hardens evermore her hart.
+What then can move her? if not merth nor mone,
+She is no woman, but a sencelesse stone.
@@ -0,0 +1,18 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LV: So oft as I her beauty do behold
+
+So oft as I her beauty do behold,
+And therewith do her cruelty compare,
+I marvel of what substance was the mould
+The which her made at once so cruel-fair.
+Not earth; for her high thoughts more heavenly are:
+Not water; for her love doth burn like fire:
+Not air; for she is not so light or rare:
+Not fire; for she doth freeze with faint desire.
+
+Then needs another element inquire
+Whereof she might be made; that is, the sky.
+For to the heaven her haughty looks aspire,
+And eke her love is pure immortal high.
+Then since to heaven ye likened are the best,
+Be like in mercy as in all the rest.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXII: "The weary yeare his race now having run"
+
+The weary yeare his race now having run,
+The new begins his compast course anew:
+With shew of morning mylde he hath begun,
+Betokening peace and plenty to ensew.
+So let us, which this chaunge of weather vew,
+Chaunge eeke our mynds and former lives amend,
+The old yeares sinnes forepast let us eschew,
+And fly the faults with which we did offend.
+Then shall the new yeares joy forth freshly send,
+Into the glooming world his gladsome ray:
+And all these stormes which now his beauty blend,
+Shall turne to caulmes and tymely cleare away.
+So likewise love cheare you your heavy spright,
+And chaunge old yeares annoy to new delight.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXVI: "To all those happy blessings which ye have"
+
+To all those happy blessings which ye have,
+With plenteous hand by heaven upon you thrown:
+This one disparagement they to you gave,
+That ye your love lent to so meane a one.
+Yee whose high worths surpassing paragon,
+Could not on earth have found one fit for mate,
+Ne but in heaven matchable to none,
+Why did ye stoup unto so lowly state.
+But ye thereby much greater glory gate,
+Then had ye sorted with a princes pere:
+For now your light doth more it selfe dilate,
+And in my darknesse greater doth appeare.
+Yet since your light hath once enlumind me,
+With my reflex yours shall encreased be.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXVII: Like as a Huntsman
+
+Like as a huntsman after weary chase,
+Seeing the game from him escap'd away,
+Sits down to rest him in some shady place,
+With panting hounds beguiled of their prey:
+So after long pursuit and vain assay,
+When I all weary had the chase forsook,
+The gentle deer return'd the self-same way,
+Thinking to quench her thirst at the next brook.
+There she beholding me with milder look,
+Sought not to fly, but fearless still did bide:
+Till I in hand her yet half trembling took,
+And with her own goodwill her firmly tied.
+Strange thing, me seem'd, to see a beast so wild,
+So goodly won, with her own will beguil'd.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXX: Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king
+
+Fresh spring the herald of loves mighty king,
+In whose cote armour richly are displayed
+All sorts of flowers the which on earth do spring
+In goodly colours gloriously arrayd:
+Goe to my love, where she is carelesse layd,
+Yet in her winters bowre not well awake:
+Tell her the joyous time wil not be staid
+Unless she doe him by the forelock take.
+Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make,
+To wayt on love amongst his lovely crew:
+Where every one that misseth then her make,
+Shall be by him amearst with penance dew.
+Make hast therefore sweet love, whilest it is prime,
+For none can call againe the passed time.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXXI: I joy to see how in your drawen work
+
+I joy to see how in your drawen work,
+Your selfe unto the Bee ye doe compare;
+And me unto the Spyder that doth lurke,
+In close awayt to catch her unaware.
+Right so your selfe were caught in cunning snare
+Of a deare for, and thralled to his love:
+In whose streight bands ye now captived are
+So firmely, that ye never may remove.
+But as your whole worke is woven all about,
+With woodbynd flowers and fragrant Enlantine:
+So sweet your prison you in time shall prove,
+With many deare delights bedecked fyne,
+And all thensforth eternall peace shall see
+Betweene the Spyder and the gentle Bee.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXXIV: Most Happy Letters
+
+Most happy letters, fram'd by skilful trade,
+With which that happy name was first design'd:
+The which three times thrice happy hath me made,
+With gifts of body, fortune, and of mind.
+The first my being to me gave by kind,
+From mother's womb deriv'd by due descent,
+The second is my sovereign Queen most kind,
+That honour and large richesse to me lent.
+The third my love, my life's last ornament,
+By whom my spirit out of dust was raised:
+To speak her praise and glory excellent,
+Of all alive most worthy to be praised.
+Ye three Elizabeths for ever live,
+That three such graces did unto me give.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXXIX: Men Call you Fair
+
+Men call you fair, and you do credit it,
+For that your self ye daily such do see:
+But the true fair, that is the gentle wit,
+And vertuous mind, is much more prais'd of me.
+For all the rest, how ever fair it be,
+Shall turn to naught and lose that glorious hue:
+But only that is permanent and free
+From frail corruption, that doth flesh ensue.
+That is true beauty: that doth argue you
+To be divine, and born of heavenly seed:
+Deriv'd from that fair Spirit, from whom all true
+And perfect beauty did at first proceed.
+He only fair, and what he fair hath made,
+All other fair, like flowers untimely fade.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote her Name
+
+One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
+But came the waves and washed it away:
+Again I wrote it with a second hand,
+But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
+"Vain man," said she, "that dost in vain assay,
+A mortal thing so to immortalize;
+For I myself shall like to this decay,
+And eke my name be wiped out likewise."
+"Not so," (quod I) "let baser things devise
+To die in dust, but you shall live by fame:
+My verse your vertues rare shall eternize,
+And in the heavens write your glorious name:
+Where whenas death shall all the world subdue,
+Our love shall live, and later life renew."
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXXXI: Fayre is my love, when her fayre golden heares
+
+Fayre is my love, when her fayre golden heares,
+With the loose wynd ye waving chance to marke:
+Fayre when the rose in her red cheekes appears,
+Or in her eyes the fyre of love does sparke.
+Fayre when her brest lyke a rich laden barke,
+With pretious merchandize she forth doth lay:
+Fayre when that cloud of pryde which oft doth dark
+Her goodly light with smiles she drives away,
+But fayrest she, when so she doth display
+The gate with pearles and rubyes richly dight:
+Throgh which her words so wise do make their way
+To beare the message of her gentle spright.
+The rest be works of natures wonderment,
+But this the worke of harts astonishment.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti LXXXIX: Lyke as the Culver on the bared bough
+
+Lyke as the Culver on the bared bough,
+Sits mourning for the absence of her mate:
+And in her songs sends many a wishfull vow,
+For his returne that seemes to linger late,
+So I alone now left disconsolate,
+Mourne to my selfe the absence of my love:
+And wandring here and there all desolate,
+Seek with my playnts to match that mournful dove:
+Ne joy of ought that under heaven doth hove,
+Can comfort me, but her owne joyous sight:
+Whose sweet aspect both God and man can move,
+In her unspotted pleasauns to delight.
+Dark is my day, whyles her fayre light I mis,
+And dead my life that wants such lively blis.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti VIII: More then most faire, full of the living fire
+
+More then most faire, full of the living fire,
+Kindled above unto the maker neere:
+No eies but joyes, in which al powers conspire,
+That to the world naught else be counted deare.
+Thrugh your bright beams doth not the blinded guest
+Shoot out his darts to base affections wound?
+But Angels come to lead fraile mindes to rest
+In chast desires on heavenly beauty bound.
+You frame my thoughts and fashion me within,
+You stop my toung, and teach my hart to speake,
+You calme the storme that passion did begin,
+Strong thrugh your cause, but by your vertue weak.
+Dark is the world, where your light shined never;
+Well is he borne, that may behold you ever.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti XIII: "In that proud port, which her so goodly graceth"
+
+In that proud port, which her so goodly graceth,
+Whiles her faire face she reares up to the skie:
+And to the ground her eie lids low embaseth
+Most goodly temperature ye may descry,
+Myld humblesse mixt with awfull majesty,
+For looking on the earth whence she was borne:
+Her minde remembreth her mortalitie,
+What so is fayrest shall to earth returne.
+But that same lofty countenance seemes to scorne
+Base thing, and thinke how she to heaven may clime:
+Treading downe earth as lothsome and forlorne,
+That hinders heavenly thoughts with drossy slime.
+Yet lowly still vouchsafe to looke on me,
+Such lowlinesse shall make you lofty be.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti XV: Ye tradefull Merchants that with weary toyle
+
+Ye tradefull Merchants that with weary toyle,
+Do seeke most pretious things to make your gain:
+And both the Indias of their treasures spoile,
+What needeth you to seeke so farre in vaine?
+For loe my love doth in her selfe containe
+All this worlds riches that may farre be found,
+If Saphyres, loe hir eies be Saphyres plaine,
+If Rubies, loe hir lips be Rubies sound:
+If Pearles, hir teeth be pearles both pure and round;
+If Yvorie, her forhead yvory weene;
+If Gold, her locks are finest gold on ground;
+If silver, her faire hands are silver sheene;
+But that which fairest is, but few behold,
+Her mind adornd with vertues manifold.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti XXII: This Holy Season
+
+This holy season, fit to fast and pray,
+Men to devotion ought to be inclin'd:
+Therefore I likewise on so holy day,
+For my sweet saint some service fit will find.
+Her temple fair is built within my mind,
+In which her glorious image placed is,
+On which my thoughts do day and night attend,
+Like sacred priests that never think amiss.
+There I to her as th' author of my bliss,
+Will build an altar to appease her ire:
+And on the same my heart will sacrifice,
+Burning in flames of pure and chaste desire:
+The which vouchsafe, O goddess, to accept,
+Amongst thy dearest relics to be kept.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti XXIII: Penelope for her Ulisses sake
+
+Penelope for her Ulisses sake,
+Devizd a Web her wooers to deceave:
+In which the worke that she all day did make
+The same at night she did again unreave:
+Such subtile craft my Damzell doth conceave,
+Th importune suit of my desire to shnone:
+For all that I in many dayes doo weave,
+In one short houre I find by her undonne.
+So when I thinke to end that I begonne,
+I must begin and never bring to end:
+For with one looke she spils that long I sponne,
+And with one word my whole years work doth rend.
+Such labour like the Spyders web I fynd,
+Whose fruitless worke is broken with least wynd.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Amoretti XXX: My Love is like to ice, and I to fire
+
+My Love is like to ice, and I to fire:
+How comes it then that this her cold so great
+Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,
+But harder grows the more I her entreat?
+Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
+Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,
+But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
+And feel my flames augmented manifold?
+What more miraculous thing may be told,
+That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,
+And ice, which is congeald with senseless cold,
+Should kindle fire by wonderful device?
+Such is the power of love in gentle mind,
+That it can alter all the course of kind.
@@ -0,0 +1,330 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+An Hymn In Honour Of Beauty
+
+AH whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me?
+What wontless fury dost thou now inspire
+Into my feeble breast, too full of thee?
+Whilst seeking to aslake thy raging fire,
+Thou in me kindlest much more great desire,
+And up aloft above my strength dost raise
+The wondrous matter of my fire to praise.
+
+That as I erst in praise of thine own name,
+So now in honour of thy mother dear,
+An honourable hymn I eke should frame,
+And with the brightness of her beauty clear,
+The ravish'd hearts of gazeful men might rear
+To admiration of that heavenly light,
+From whence proceeds such soul-enchanting might.
+
+Thereto do thou, great goddess, queen of beauty,
+Mother of love, and of all world's delight,
+Without whose sovereign grace and kindly duty
+Nothing on earth seems fair to fleshly sight,
+Do thou vouchsafe with thy love-kindling light
+T' illuminate my dim and dulled eyne,
+And beautify this sacred hymn of thine:
+
+That both to thee, to whom I mean it most,
+And eke to her, whose fair immortal beam
+Hath darted fire into my feeble ghost,
+That now it wasted is with woes extreme,
+It may so please, that she at length will stream
+Some dew of grace into my withered heart,
+After long sorrow and consuming smart.
+
+WHAT time this world's great Workmaster did cast
+To make all things such as we now behold,
+It seems that he before his eyes had plac'd
+A goodly pattern, to whose perfect mould
+He fashion'd them as comely as he could;
+That now so fair and seemly they appear,
+As nought may be amended anywhere.
+
+That wondrous pattern, wheresoe'er it be,
+Whether in earth laid up in secret store,
+Or else in heaven, that no man may it see
+With sinful eyes, for fear it to deflore,
+Is perfect Beauty, which all men adore;
+Whose face and feature doth so much excel
+All mortal sense, that none the same may tell.
+
+Thereof as every earthly thing partakes
+Or more or less, by influence divine,
+So it more fair accordingly it makes,
+And the gross matter of this earthly mine,
+Which clotheth it, thereafter doth refine,
+Doing away the dross which dims the light
+Of that fair beam which therein is empight.
+
+For, through infusion of celestial power,
+The duller earth it quick'neth with delight,
+And lifeful spirits privily doth pour
+Through all the parts, that to the looker's sight
+They seem to please. That is thy sovereign might,
+O Cyprian queen, which flowing from the beam
+Of thy bright star, thou into them dost stream.
+
+That is the thing which giveth pleasant grace
+To all things fair, that kindleth lively fire,
+Light of thy lamp, which, shining in the face,
+Thence to the soul darts amorous desire,
+And robs the hearts of those which it admire;
+Therewith thou pointest thy son's poison'd arrow,
+That wounds the life, and wastes the inmost marrow.
+
+How vainly then do idle wits invent,
+That beauty is nought else but mixture made
+Of colours fair, and goodly temp'rament
+Of pure complexions, that shall quickly fade
+And pass away, like to a summer's shade;
+Or that it is but comely composition
+Of parts well measur'd, with meet disposition.
+
+Hath white and red in it such wondrous power,
+That it can pierce through th' eyes unto the heart,
+And therein stir such rage and restless stour,
+As nought but death can stint his dolour's smart?
+Or can proportion of the outward part
+Move such affection in the inward mind,
+That it can rob both sense and reason blind?
+
+Why do not then the blossoms of the field,
+Which are array'd with much more orient hue,
+And to the sense most dainty odours yield,
+Work like impression in the looker's view?
+Or why do not fair pictures like power shew,
+In which oft-times we nature see of art
+Excell'd, in perfect limning every part?
+
+But ah, believe me, there is more than so,
+That works such wonders in the minds of men;
+I, that have often prov'd, too well it know,
+And whoso list the like assays to ken,
+Shall find by trial, and confess it then,
+That beauty is not, as fond men misdeem,
+An outward shew of things, that only seem.
+
+For that same goodly hue of white and red,
+With which the cheeks are sprinkled, shall decay,
+And those sweet rosy leaves, so fairly spread
+Upon the lips, shall fade and fall away
+To that they were, even to corrupted clay;
+That golden wire, those sparkling stars so bright,
+Shall turn to dust; and lose their goodly light.
+
+But that fair lamp, from whose celestial ray
+That light proceeds, which kindleth lovers' fire,
+Shall never be extinguish'd nor decay;
+But when the vital spirits do expire,
+Unto her native planet shall retire;
+For it is heavenly born and cannot die,
+Being a parcel of the purest sky.
+
+For when the soul, the which derived was,
+At first, out of that great immortal Spright,
+By whom all live to love, whilom did pass
+Down from the top of purest heaven's height
+To be embodied here, it then took light
+And lively spirits from that fairest star,
+Which lights the world forth from his fiery car.
+
+Which power retaining still or more or less,
+When she in fleshly seed is eft enraced,
+Through every part she doth the same impress,
+According as the heavens have her graced,
+And frames her house, in which she will be placed,
+Fit for herself, adorning it with spoil
+Of th' heavenly riches which she robb'd erewhile.
+
+Thereof it comes that these fair souls, which have
+The most resemblance of that heavenly light,
+Frame to themselves most beautiful and brave
+Their fleshly bower, most fit for their delight,
+And the gross matter by a sovereign might
+Tempers so trim, that it may well be seen
+A palace fit for such a virgin queen.
+
+So every spirit, as it is most pure,
+And hath in it the more of heavenly light,
+So it the fairer body doth procure
+To habit in, and it more fairly dight
+With cheerful grace and amiable sight.
+For of the soul the body form doth take:
+For soul is form, and doth the body make.
+
+Therefore wherever that thou dost behold
+A comely corpse, with beauty fair endued,
+Know this for certain, that the same doth hold
+A beauteous soul, with fair conditions thewed,
+Fit to receive the seed of virtue strewed.
+For all that fair is, is by nature good;
+That is a sign to know the gentle blood.
+
+Yet oft it falls that many a gentle mind
+Dwells in deformed tabernacle drown'd,
+Either by chance, against the course of kind,
+Or through unaptness in the substance found,
+Which it assumed of some stubborn ground,
+That will not yield unto her form's direction,
+But is deform'd with some foul imperfection.
+
+And oft it falls, (ay me, the more to rue)
+That goodly beauty, albe heavenly born,
+Is foul abus'd, and that celestial hue,
+Which doth the world with her delight adorn,
+Made but the bait of sin, and sinners' scorn,
+Whilst every one doth seek and sue to have it,
+But every one doth seek but to deprave it.
+
+Yet nathemore is that fair beauty's blame,
+But theirs that do abuse it unto ill:
+Nothing so good, but that through guilty shame
+May be corrupt, and wrested unto will:
+Natheless the soul is fair and beauteous still,
+However flesh{"e}s fault it filthy make;
+For things immortal no corruption take.
+
+But ye fair dames, the world's dear ornaments
+And lively images of heaven's light,
+Let not your beams with such disparagements
+Be dimm'd, and your bright glory dark'ned quite;
+But mindful still of your first country's sight,
+Do still preserve your first informed grace,
+Whose shadow yet shines in your beauteous face.
+
+Loathe that foul blot, that hellish firebrand,
+Disloyal lust, fair beauty's foulest blame,
+That base affections, which your ears would bland,
+Commend to you by love's abused name,
+But is indeed the bondslave of defame;
+Which will the garland of your glory mar,
+And quench the light of your bright shining star.
+
+But gentle Love, that loyal is and true,
+Will more illumine your resplendent ray,
+And add more brightness to your goodly hue,
+From light of his pure fire; which, by like way
+Kindled of yours, your likeness doth display;
+Like as two mirrors, by oppos'd reflection,
+Do both express the face's first impression.
+
+Therefore, to make your beauty more appear,
+It you behoves to love, and forth to lay
+That heavenly riches which in you ye bear,
+That men the more admire their fountain may;
+For else what booteth that celestial ray,
+If it in darkness be enshrined ever,
+That it of loving eyes be viewed never?
+
+But, in your choice of loves, this well advise,
+That likest to yourselves ye them select,
+The which your forms' first source may sympathize,
+And with like beauty's parts be inly deckt;
+For, if you loosely love without respect,
+It is no love, but a discordant war,
+Whose unlike parts amongst themselves do jar.
+
+For love is a celestial harmony
+Of likely hearts compos'd of stars' concent,
+Which join together in sweet sympathy,
+To work each other's joy and true content,
+Which they have harbour'd since their first descent
+Out of their heavenly bowers, where they did see
+And know each other here belov'd to be.
+
+Then wrong it were that any other twain
+Should in love's gentle band combined be
+But those whom Heaven did at first ordain,
+And made out of one mould the more t' agree;
+For all that like the beauty which they see,
+Straight do not love; for love is not so light
+As straight to burn at first beholder's sight.
+
+But they, which love indeed, look otherwise,
+With pure regard and spotless true intent,
+Drawing out of the object of their eyes
+A more refined form, which they present
+Unto their mind, void of all blemishment;
+Which it reducing to her first perfection,
+Beholdeth free from flesh's frail infection.
+
+And then conforming it unto the light,
+Which in itself it hath remaining still,
+Of that first Sun, yet sparkling in his sight,
+Thereof he fashions in his higher skill
+An heavenly beauty to his fancy's will;
+And it embracing in his mind entire,
+The mirror of his own thought doth admire.
+
+Which seeing now so inly fair to be,
+As outward it appeareth to the eye,
+And with his spirit's proportion to agree,
+He thereon fixeth all his fantasy,
+And fully setteth his felicity;
+Counting it fairer than it is indeed,
+And yet indeed her fairness doth exceed.
+
+For lovers' eyes more sharply sighted be
+Than other men's, and in dear love's delight
+See more than any other eyes can see,
+Through mutual receipt of beam{"e}s bright,
+Which carry privy message to the spright,
+And to their eyes that inmost fair display,
+As plain as light discovers dawning day.
+
+Therein they see, through amorous eye-glances,
+Armies of loves still flying to and fro,
+Which dart at them their little fiery lances;
+Whom having wounded, back again they go,
+Carrying compassion to their lovely foe;
+Who, seeing her fair eyes' so sharp effect,
+Cures all their sorrows with one sweet aspect.
+
+In which how many wonders do they rede
+To their conceit, that others never see,
+Now of her smiles, with which their souls they feed,
+Like gods with nectar in their banquets free;
+Now of her looks, which like to cordials be;
+But when her words' embassade forth she sends,
+Lord, how sweet music that unto them lends.
+
+Sometimes upon her forehead they behold
+A thousand graces masking in delight;
+Sometimes within her eyelids they unfold
+Ten thousand sweet belgards, which to their sight
+Do seem like twinkling stars in frosty night;
+But on her lips, like rosy buds in May,
+So many millions of chaste pleasures play.
+
+All those, O Cytherea, and thousands more
+Thy handmaids be, which do on thee attend,
+To deck thy beauty with their dainties' store,
+That may it more to mortal eyes commend,
+And make it more admir'd of foe and friend:
+That in men's hearts thou may'st thy throne install,
+And spread thy lovely kingdom over all.
+
+Then Io, triumph! O great Beauty's Queen,
+Advance the banner of thy conquest high,
+That all this world, the which thy vassals bene,
+May draw to thee, and with due fealty
+Adore the power of thy great majesty,
+Singing this hymn in honour of thy name,
+Compil'd by me, which thy poor liegeman am.
+
+In lieu whereof grant, O great sovereign,
+That she whose conquering beauty doth captive
+My trembling heart in her eternal chain,
+One drop of grace at length will to me give,
+That I her bounden thrall by her may live,
+And this same life, which first fro me she reaved,
+May owe to her, of whom I it received.
+
+And you, fair Venus' darling, my dear dread,
+Fresh flower of grace, great goddess of my life,
+When your fair eyes these fearful lines shall read,
+Deign to let fall one drop of due relief,
+That may recure my heart's long pining grief,
+And shew what wondrous power your beauty hath,
+That can restore a damned wight from death.
@@ -0,0 +1,459 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Epithalamion
+
+Ye learned sisters which have oftentimes
+Beene to me ayding, others to adorne:
+Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes,
+That even the greatest did not greatly scorne
+To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes,
+But joyed in theyr prayse.
+And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,
+Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,
+Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,
+And teach the woods and waters to lament
+Your dolefull dreriment.
+Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside,
+And having all your heads with girland crownd,
+Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound,
+Ne let the same of any be envide:
+So Orpheus did for his owne bride,
+So I unto my selfe alone will sing,
+The woods shall to me answer and my Eccho ring.
+
+Early before the worlds light giving lampe,
+His golden beame upon the hils doth spred,
+Having disperst the nights unchearefull dampe,
+Doe ye awake, and with fresh lusty hed,
+Go to the bowre of my beloved love,
+My truest turtle dove,
+Bid her awake; for Hymen is awake,
+And long since ready forth his maske to move,
+With his bright Tead that flames with many a flake,
+And many a bachelor to waite on him,
+In theyr fresh garments trim.
+Bid her awake therefore and soone her dight,
+For lo the wished day is come at last,
+That shall for al the paynes and sorrowes past,
+Pay to her usury of long delight:
+And whylest she doth her dight,
+Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing,
+That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring.
+
+Bring with you all the Nymphes that you can heare
+Both of the rivers and the forrests greene:
+And of the sea that neighbours to her neare,
+Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene.
+And let them also with them bring in hand
+Another gay girland
+For my fayre love of lillyes and of roses,
+Bound truelove wize with a blew silke riband.
+And let them make great store of bridale poses,
+And let them eeke bring store of other flowers
+To deck the bridale bowers.
+And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,
+For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong
+Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along,
+And diapred lyke the discolored mead.
+Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,
+For she will waken strayt,
+The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing,
+The woods shall to you answer and your Eccho ring.
+
+Ye Nymphes of Mulla which with carefull heed,
+The silver scaly trouts doe tend full well,
+And greedy pikes which use therein to feed,
+(Those trouts and pikes all others doo excell)
+And ye likewise which keepe the rushy lake,
+Where none doo fishes take,
+Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light,
+And in his waters which your mirror make,
+Behold your faces as the christall bright,
+That when you come whereas my love doth lie,
+No blemish she may spie.
+And eke ye lightfoot mayds which keepe the deere,
+That on the hoary mountayne use to towre,
+And the wylde wolves which seeke them to devoure,
+With your steele darts doo chace from comming neer,
+Be also present heere,
+To helpe to decke her and to help to sing,
+That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring.
+
+Wake, now my love, awake; for it is time,
+The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed,
+All ready to her silver coche to clyme,
+And Phoebus gins to shew his glorious hed.
+Hark how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies
+And carroll of loves praise.
+The merry Larke hir mattins sings aloft,
+The thrush replyes, the Mavis descant playes,
+The Ouzell shrills, the Ruddock warbles soft,
+So goodly all agree with sweet consent,
+To this dayes merriment.
+Ah my deere love why doe ye sleepe thus long,
+When meeter were that ye should now awake,
+T'awayt the comming of your joyous make,
+And hearken to the birds lovelearned song,
+The deawy leaves among.
+For they of joy and pleasance to you sing,
+That all the woods them answer and theyr eccho ring.
+
+My love is now awake out of her dreames,
+And her fayre eyes like stars that dimmed were
+With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beames
+More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere.
+Come now ye damzels, daughters of delight,
+Helpe quickly her to dight,
+But first come ye fayre houres which were begot
+In Joves sweet paradice, of Day and Night,
+Which doe the seasons of the yeare allot,
+And al that ever in this world is fayre
+Doe make and still repayre.
+And ye three handmayds of the Cyprian Queene,
+The which doe still adorne her beauties pride,
+Helpe to addorne my beautifullest bride:
+And as ye her array, still throw betweene
+Some graces to be seene,
+And as ye use to Venus, to her sing,
+The whiles the woods shal answer and your eccho ring.
+
+Now is my love all ready forth to come,
+Let all the virgins therefore well awayt,
+And ye fresh boyes that tend upon her groome
+Prepare your selves; for he is comming strayt.
+Set all your things in seemely good aray
+Fit for so joyfull day,
+The joyfulst day that ever sunne did see.
+Faire Sun, shew forth thy favourable ray,
+And let thy lifull heat not fervent be
+For feare of burning her sunshyny face,
+Her beauty to disgrace.
+O fayrest Phoebus, father of the Muse,
+If ever I did honour thee aright,
+Or sing the thing, that mote thy mind delight,
+Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse,
+But let this day let this one day be myne,
+Let all the rest be thine.
+Then I thy soverayne prayses loud will sing,
+That all the woods shal answer and theyr eccho ring.
+
+Harke how the Minstrels gin to shrill aloud
+Their merry Musick that resounds from far,
+The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling Croud,
+That well agree withouten breach or jar.
+But most of all the Damzels doe delite,
+When they their tymbrels smyte,
+And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet,
+That all the sences they doe ravish quite,
+The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street,
+Crying aloud with strong confused noyce,
+As if it were one voyce.
+Hymen io Hymen, Hymen they do shout,
+That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill
+Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill,
+To which the people standing all about,
+As in approvance doe thereto applaud
+And loud advaunce her laud,
+And evermore they Hymen Hymen sing,
+That al the woods them answer and theyr eccho ring.
+
+Loe where she comes along with portly pace
+Lyke Phoebe from her chamber of the East,
+Arysing forth to run her mighty race,
+Clad all in white, that seemes a virgin best.
+So well it her beseemes that ye would weene
+Some angell she had beene.
+Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,
+Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres a tweene,
+Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre,
+And being crowned with a girland greene,
+Seeme lyke some mayden Queene.
+Her modest eyes abashed to behold
+So many gazers, as on her do stare,
+Upon the lowly ground affixed are.
+Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold,
+But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud,
+So farre from being proud.
+Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing,
+That all the woods may answer and your eccho ring.
+
+Tell me ye merchants daughters did ye see
+So fayre a creature in your towne before?
+So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,
+Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store,
+Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright,
+Her forehead yvory white,
+Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded,
+Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte,
+Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded,
+Her paps lyke lyllies budded,
+Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre,
+And all her body like a pallace fayre,
+Ascending uppe with many a stately stayre,
+To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre.
+Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze,
+Upon her so to gaze,
+Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,
+To which the woods did answer and your eccho ring.
+
+But if ye saw that which no eyes can see,
+The inward beauty of her lively spright,
+Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree,
+Much more then would ye wonder at that sight,
+And stand astonisht lyke to those which red
+Medusaes mazeful hed.
+There dwels sweet love and constant chastity,
+Unspotted fayth and comely womenhed,
+Regard of honour and mild modesty,
+There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne,
+And giveth lawes alone.
+The which the base affections doe obay,
+And yeeld theyr services unto her will,
+Ne thought of thing uncomely ever may
+Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill.
+Had ye once seene these her celestial threasures,
+And unrevealed pleasures,
+Then would ye wonder and her prayses sing,
+That al the woods should answer and your eccho ring.
+
+Open the temple gates unto my love,
+Open them wide that she may enter in,
+And all the postes adorne as doth behove,
+And all the pillours deck with girlands trim,
+For to recyve this Saynt with honour dew,
+That commeth in to you.
+With trembling steps and humble reverence,
+She commeth in, before th'almighties vew:
+Of her ye virgins learne obedience,
+When so ye come into those holy places,
+To humble your proud faces;
+Bring her up to th'high altar that she may,
+The sacred ceremonies there partake,
+The which do endlesse matrimony make,
+And let the roring Organs loudly play
+The praises of the Lord in lively notes,
+The whiles with hollow throates
+The Choristers the joyous Antheme sing,
+That al the woods may answere and their eccho ring.
+
+Behold whiles she before the altar stands
+Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes
+And blesseth her with his two happy hands,
+How the red roses flush up in her cheekes,
+And the pure snow with goodly vermill stayne,
+Like crimsin dyde in grayne,
+That even th'Angels which continually,
+About the sacred Altare doe remaine,
+Forget their service and about her fly,
+Ofte peeping in her face that seemes more fayre,
+The more they on it stare.
+But her sad eyes still fastened on the ground,
+Are governed with goodly modesty,
+That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry,
+Which may let in a little thought unsownd.
+Why blush ye love to give to me your hand,
+The pledge of all our band?
+Sing ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing,
+That all the woods may answere and your eccho ring.
+
+Now al is done; bring home the bride againe,
+Bring home the triumph of our victory,
+Bring home with you the glory of her gaine,
+With joyance bring her and with jollity.
+Never had man more joyfull day then this,
+Whom heaven would heape with blis.
+Make feast therefore now all this live long day,
+This day for ever to me holy is,
+Poure out the wine without restraint or stay,
+Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,
+Poure out to all that wull,
+And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,
+That they may sweat, and drunken be withall.
+Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall,
+And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine,
+And let the Graces daunce unto the rest;
+For they can doo it best:
+The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing,
+To which the woods shal answer and theyr eccho ring.
+
+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,
+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 ordained was,
+To chose the longest day in all the yeare,
+And 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,
+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?
+How slowly does sad Time his feathers move?
+Hast thee O fayrest Planet to thy home
+Within the Westerne fome:
+Thy tyred steedes long since have need of rest.
+Long though it be, at last I see it gloome,
+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 nightes dread,
+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 echo ring.
+
+Now ceasse ye damsels your delights forepast;
+Enough is it, that all the day was youres:
+Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast:
+Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures.
+Now night is come, now soone her disaray,
+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
+In proud humility;
+Like unto Maia, when as Jove her tooke,
+In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras,
+Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was,
+With bathing in the Acidalian brooke.
+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 shal answere, nor your echo ring.
+
+Now welcome night, thou night so long expected,
+That long daies labour doest at last defray,
+And all my cares, which cruell love collected,
+Hast sumd in one, and cancelled for aye:
+Spread thy broad wing over my love and me,
+That no man may us see,
+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:
+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,
+And begot Majesty.
+And let the mayds and yongmen 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:
+Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden feares,
+Breake gentle sleepe with misconceived dout.
+Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadful sights
+Make sudden sad affrights;
+Ne let housefyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes,
+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:
+Nor the night Raven that still deadly yels,
+Nor damned 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.
+Let none of these theyr drery accents sing;
+Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring.
+
+But let stil Silence trew night watches keepe,
+That sacred peace may in assurance rayne,
+And tymely sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe,
+May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne,
+The whiles an hundred little winged loves,
+Like divers fethered doves,
+Shall fly and flutter round about your bed,
+And in the secret darke, that none reproves,
+Their prety stelthes 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,
+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,
+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?
+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 woll, which privily,
+The Latmian shephard once unto thee brought,
+His pleasures with thee wrought.
+Therefore to us be favorable now;
+And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge,
+And generation goodly dost enlarge,
+Encline thy will t'effect our wishfull vow,
+And the chast 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
+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 called art
+Of women in their smart,
+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,
+And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves delight
+With secret ayde doest succour 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,
+Grant that it may so be.
+Til which we cease your further prayse to sing,
+Ne any woods shal answer, nor your Eccho ring.
+
+And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods,
+In which a thousand torches flaming bright
+Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly clods,
+In dreadful darknesse lend desired light;
+And all ye powers which in the same remayne,
+More then we men can fayne,
+Poure out your blessing on us plentiously,
+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,
+And for the guerdon of theyr glorious merit
+May heavenly tabernacles there inherit,
+Of blessed 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,
+The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring.
+
+Song made in lieu of many ornaments,
+With which my love should duly have bene dect,
+Which cutting off through hasty accidents,
+Ye would not stay your dew time to expect,
+But promist both to recompens,
+Be unto her a goodly ornament,
+And for short time an endlesse moniment.
@@ -0,0 +1,644 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+from The Faerie Queene: Book I, Canto I
+
+Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske,
+As time her taught in lowly Shepheards weeds,
+Am now enforst a far unfitter taske,
+For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
+And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds;
+Whose prayses having slept in silence long,
+Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds
+To blazon broad emongst her learned throng:
+Fierce warres and faithful loves shall moralize my song.
+Helpe then, O holy Virgin chiefe of nine,
+Thy weaker Novice to performe thy will,
+Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne
+The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still,
+Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill,
+Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long
+Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill,
+That I must rue his undeserved wrong:
+O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong.
+And thou most dreaded impe of highest Jove,
+Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart
+At that good knight so cunningly didst rove,
+That glorious fire it kindled in his hart,
+Lay now thy deadly Heben bow apart,
+And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde:
+Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart,
+In loves and gentle jollities arrayd,
+After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd.
+And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright,
+Mirrour of grace and Majestie divine,
+Great Lady of the greatest Isle, whose light
+Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world doth shine,
+Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne,
+And raise my thoughts too humble and too vile,
+To thinke of that true glorious type of thine,
+The argument of mine afflicted stile:
+The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dred a-while.
+
+i
+A Gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine,
+Y cladd in mightie armes and silver shielde,
+Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine,
+The cruell markes of many a bloudy fielde;
+Yet armes till that time did he never wield:
+His angry steede did chide his foming bitt,
+As much disdayning to the curbe to yield:
+Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt,
+As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt.
+
+ii
+But on his brest a bloudie Crosse he bore,
+The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
+For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore,
+And dead as living ever him ador'd:
+Upon his shield the like was also scor'd,
+For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had:
+Right faithfull true he was in deede and word,
+But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
+Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.
+
+iii
+Upon a great adventure he was bond,
+That greatest Gloriana to him gave,
+That greatest Glorious Queene of Faerie lond,
+To winne him worship, and her grace to have,
+Which of all earthly things he most did crave;
+And ever as he rode, his hart did earne
+To prove his puissance in battell brave
+Upon his foe, and his new force to learne;
+Upon his foe, a Dragon horrible and stearne.
+
+iv
+A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside,
+Upon a lowly Asse more white then snow,
+Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide
+Under a vele, that wimpled was full low,
+And over all a blacke stole she did throw,
+As one that inly mournd: so was she sad,
+And heavie sat upon her palfrey slow;
+Seemed in heart some hidden care she had,
+And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad.
+
+v
+So pure an innocent, as that same lambe,
+She was in life and every vertuous lore,
+And by descent from Royall lynage came
+Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore
+Their scepters stretcht from East to Westerne shore,
+And all the world in their subjection held;
+Till that infernall feend with foule uprore
+Forwasted all their land, and them expeld:
+Whom to avenge, she had this Knight from far compeld.
+
+vi
+Behind her farre away a Dwarfe did lag,
+That lasie seemd in being ever last,
+Or wearied with bearing of her bag
+Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past,
+The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast,
+And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine
+Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast,
+That every wight to shrowd it did constrain,
+And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain.
+
+vii
+Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at hand,
+A shadie grove not far away they spide,
+That promist ayde the tempest to withstand:
+Whose loftie trees yclad with sommers pride,
+Did spred so broad, that heavens light did hide,
+Not perceable with power of any starre:
+And all within were pathes and alleies wide,
+With footing worne, and leading inward farre:
+Faire harbour that them seemes; so in they entred arre.
+
+viii
+And foorth they passe, with pleasure forward led,
+Joying to heare the birdes sweete harmony,
+Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred,
+Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell sky.
+Much can they prayse the trees so straight and hy,
+The sayling Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
+The vine-prop Elme, the Poplar never dry,
+The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all,
+The Aspine good for staves, the Cypresse funerall.
+
+ix
+The Laurell, meed of mightie Conquerours
+And Poets sage, the Firre that weepeth still,
+The Willow worne of forlorne Paramours,
+The Eugh obedient to the benders will,
+The Birch for shaftes, the Sallow for the mill,
+The Mirrhe sweete bleeding in the bitter wound,
+The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
+The fruitfull Olive, and the Platane round,
+The carver Holme, the Maple seeldom inward sound.
+
+x
+Led with delight, they thus beguile the way,
+Untill the blustring storme is overblowne;
+When weening to returne, whence they did stray,
+They cannot find that path, which first was showne,
+But wander too and fro in wayes unknowne,
+Furthest from end then, when they neerest weene,
+That makes them doubt, their wits be not their owne:
+So many pathes, so many turnings seene,
+That which of them to take, in diverse doubt they been.
+
+xi
+At last resolving forward still to fare,
+Till that some end they finde or in or out,
+That path they take, that beaten seemd most bare,
+And like to lead the labyrinth about;
+Which when by tract they hunted had throughout,
+At length it brought them to a hollow cave,
+Amid the thickest woods. The Champion stout
+Eftsoones dismounted from his courser brave,
+And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse spere he gave.
+
+xii
+Be well aware, quoth then that Ladie milde,
+Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash provoke:
+The danger hid, the place unknowne and wilde,
+Breeds dreadfull doubts: Oft fire is without smoke,
+And perill without show: therefore your stroke
+Sir knight with-hold, till further triall made.
+Ah Ladie (said he) shame were to revoke
+The forward footing for an hidden shade:
+Vertue gives her selfe light, through darkenesse for to wade.
+
+xiii
+Yea but (quoth she) the perill of this place
+I better wot then you, though now too late
+To wish you backe returne with foule disgrace,
+Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the gate,
+To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate.
+This is the wandring wood, this Errours den,
+A monster vile, whom God and man does hate:
+Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then
+The fearefull Dwarfe:) this is no place for living men.
+
+xiv
+But full of fire and greedy hardiment,
+The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide,
+But forth unto the darksome hole he went,
+And looked in: his glistring armor made
+A litle glooming light, much like a shade,
+By which he saw the ugly monster plaine,
+Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide,
+But th'other halfe did womans shape retaine,
+Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine.
+
+xv
+And as she lay upon the durtie ground,
+Her huge long taile her den all overspred,
+Yet was in knots and many boughtes upwound,
+Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred
+A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed,
+Sucking upon her poisonous dugs, eachone
+Of sundry shapes, yet all ill favored:
+Soone as that uncouth light upon them shone,
+Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone.
+
+xvi
+Their dam upstart, out of her den effraide,
+And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile
+About her cursed head, whose folds displaid
+Were stretcht now forth at length without entraile.
+She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle
+Armed to point, sought backe to turne againe;
+For light she hated as the deadly bale,
+Ay wont in desert darknesse to remaine,
+Where plaine none might her see, nor she see any plaine.
+
+xvii
+Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv'd, he lept
+As Lyon fierce upon the flying pray,
+And with his trenchand blade her boldly kept
+From turning backe, and forced her to stay:
+Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray,
+And turning fierce, her speckled taile advaunst,
+Threatning her angry sting, him to dismay:
+Who nought aghast, his mightie hand enhaunst:
+The stroke down from her head unto her shoulder glaunst.
+
+xviii
+Much daunted with that dint, her sence was dazd,
+Yet kindling rage, her selfe she gathered round,
+And all attonce her beastly body raizd
+With doubled forces high above the ground:
+Tho wrapping up her wrethed sterne arownd,
+Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge traine
+All suddenly about his body wound,
+That hand or foot to stirre he strove in vaine:
+God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine.
+
+xix
+His Lady sad to see his sore constraint,
+Cride out, Now now Sir knight, shew what ye bee,
+Add faith unto your force, and be not faint:
+Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee.
+That when he heard, in great perplexitie,
+His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine,
+And knitting all his force got one hand free,
+Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine,
+That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine.
+
+xx
+Therewith she spewd out of her filthy maw
+A floud of poyson horrible and blacke,
+Full of great lumpes of flesh and gobbets raw,
+Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke
+His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe:
+Her vomit full of bookes and papers was,
+With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke,
+And creeping sought way in the weedy gras:
+Her filthy parbreake all the place defiled has.
+
+xxi
+As when old father Nilus gins to swell
+With timely pride above the Aegyptian vale,
+His fattie waves do fertile slime outwell,
+And overflow each plaine and lowly dale:
+But when his later spring gins to avale,
+Huge heapes of mudd he leaves, wherein there breed
+Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly male
+And partly female of his fruitfull seed;
+Such ugly monstrous shapes elsewhere may no man reed.
+
+xxii
+The same so sore annoyed has the knight,
+That welnigh choked with the deadly stinke,
+His forces faile, ne can no longer fight.
+Whose corage when the feend perceiv'd to shrinke,
+She poured forth out of her hellish sinke
+Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small,
+Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke,
+Which swarming all about his legs did crall,
+And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all.
+
+xxiii
+As gentle Shepheard in sweete even-tide,
+When ruddy Phoebus gins to welke in west,
+High on an hill, his flocke to vewen wide,
+Markes which do byte their hasty supper best;
+A cloud of combrous gnattes do him molest,
+All striving to infixe their feeble stings,
+That from their noyance he no where can rest,
+But with his clownish hands their tender wings
+He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.
+
+xxiv
+Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of shame,
+Then of the certaine perill he stood in,
+Halfe furious unto his foe he came,
+Resolv'd in minde all suddenly to win,
+Or soone to lose, before he once would lin;
+And strooke at her with more then manly force,
+That from her body full of filthie sin
+He raft her hatefull head without remorse;
+A streame of cole black bloud forth gushed from her corse.
+
+xxv
+Her scattred brood, soone as their Parent deare
+They saw so rudely falling to the ground,
+Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare,
+Gathred themselves about her body round,
+Weening their wonted entrance to have found
+At her wide mouth: but being there withstood
+They flocked all about her bleeding wound,
+And sucked up their dying mothers blood,
+Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good.
+
+xxvi
+That detestable sight him much amazde,
+To see th'unkindly Impes of heaven accurst,
+Devoure their dam; on whom while so he gazd,
+Having all satisfide their bloudy thurst,
+Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse burst,
+And bowels gushing forth: well worthy end
+Of such as drunke her life, the which them nurst;
+Now needeth him no lenger labour spend,
+His foes have slaine themselves, with whom he should contend.
+
+xxvii
+His Ladie seeing all, that chaunst, from farre
+Approcht in hast to greet his victorie,
+And said, Faire knight, borne under happy starre,
+Who see your vanquisht foes before you lye:
+Well worthy be you of that Armorie,
+Wherein ye have great glory wonne this day,
+And proov'd your strength on a strong enimie,
+Your first adventure: many such I pray,
+And henceforth ever wish, that like succeed it may.
+
+xxviii
+Then mounted he upon his Steede againe,
+And with the Lady backward sought to wend;
+That path he kept, which beaten was most plame,
+Ne ever would to any by-way bend,
+But still did follow one unto the end,
+The which at last out of the wood them brought.
+So forward on his way (with God to frend)
+He passed forth, and new adventure sought;
+Long way he travelled, before he heard of ought.
+
+xxix
+At length they chaunst to meet upon the way
+An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad,
+His feete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray,
+And by his belt his booke he hanging had;
+Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad,
+And to the ground his eyes were lowly bent,
+Simple in shew, and voyde of malice bad,
+And all the way he prayed, as he went,
+And often knockt his brest, as one that did repent.
+
+xxx
+He faire the knight saluted, louting low,
+Who faire him quited, as that courteous was:
+And after asked him, if he did know
+Of straunge adventures, which abroad did pas.
+Ah my deare Sonne (quoth he) how should, alas,
+Silly old man, that lives in hidden cell,
+Bidding his beades all day for his trespas,
+Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell?
+With holy father sits not with such things to mell.
+
+xxxi
+But if of daunger which hereby doth dwell,
+And homebred evill ye desire to heare,
+Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell,
+That wasteth all this countrey farre and neare.
+Of such (said he) I chiefly do inquere,
+And shall you well reward to shew the place,
+In which that wicked wight his dayes doth weare:
+For to all knighthood it is foule disgrace,
+That such a cursed creature lives so long a space.
+
+xxxii
+Far hence (quoth he) in wastfull wildernesse
+His dwelling is, by which no living wight
+May ever passe, but thorough great distresse.
+Now (sayd the Lady) draweth toward night,
+And well I wote, that of your later fight
+Ye all forwearied be: for what so strong,
+But wanting rest will also want of might?
+The Sunne that measures heaven all day long,
+At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean waves emong.
+
+xxxiii
+Then with the Sunne take Sir, your timely rest,
+And with new day new worke at once begin:
+Untroubled night they say gives counsell best.
+Right well Sir knight ye have advised bin,
+(Quoth then that aged man;) the way to win
+Is wisely to advise: now day is spent;
+Therefore with me ye may take up your In
+For this same night. The knight was well content:
+So with that godly father to his home they went.
+
+xxxiv
+A little lowly Hermitage it was,
+Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side,
+Far from resort of people, that did pas
+In travell to and froe: a little wyde
+There was an holy Chappell edifyde,
+Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say
+His holy things each morne and eventyde:
+Thereby a Christall streame did gently play,
+Which from a sacred fountaine welled forth alway.
+
+xxxv
+Arrived there, the little house they fill,
+Ne looke for entertainement, where none was:
+Rest is their feast, and all things at their will;
+The noblest mind the best contentment has.
+With faire discourse the evening so they pas:
+For that old man of pleasing wordes had store,
+And well could file his tongue as smooth as glas;
+He told of Saintes and Popes, and evermore
+He strowd an Ave-Mary after and before.
+
+xxxvi
+The drouping Night thus creepeth on them fast,
+And the sad humour loading their eye liddes,
+As messenger of Morpheus on them cast
+Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleepe them biddes.
+Unto their lodgings then his guestes he riddes:
+Where when all drownd in deadly sleepe he findes,
+He to his study goes, and there amiddes
+His Magick bookes and artes of sundry kindes,
+He seekes out mighty charmes, to trouble sleepy mindes.
+
+xxxvii
+Then choosing out few wordes most horrible,
+(Let none them read) thereof did verses frame,
+With which and other spelles like terrible,
+He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly Dame,
+And cursed heaven, and spake reprochfull shame
+Of highest God, the Lord of life and light;
+A bold bad man, that dar'd to call by name
+Great Gorgon, Prince of darknesse and dead night,
+At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put to flight.
+
+xxxviii
+And forth he cald out of deepe darknesse dred
+Legions of Sprights, the which like little flyes
+Fluttring about his ever damned hed,
+A-waite whereto their service he applyes,
+To aide his friends, or fray his enimies:
+Of those he chose out two, the falsest twoo,
+And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes;
+The one of them he gave a message too,
+The other by him selfe staide other worke to doo.
+
+xxxix
+He making speedy way through spersed ayre,
+And through the world of waters wide and peepe,
+To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire.
+Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe,
+And low, where dawning day doth never peepe,
+His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed
+Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe
+In silver deaw his ever-drouping hed,
+Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spred.
+
+xl
+Whose double gates he findeth locked fast,
+The one faire fram'd of burnisht Yvory,
+The other all with silver overcast;
+And wakefull dogges before them farre do lye
+Watching to banish Care their enimy,
+Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe.
+By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly,
+And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned deepe
+In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he takes keepe.
+
+xli
+And more, to lulle him in his slumber soft,
+A trickling streame from high rocke tumbling downe
+And ever-drizling raine upon the loft,
+Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne
+Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne:
+No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,
+As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne,
+Might there be heard: but carelesse Quiet lyes,
+Wrapt in eternall silence farre from enemyes.
+
+xlii
+The messenger approching to him spake,
+But his wast wordes returnd to him in vaine:
+So sound he slept, that nought mought him awake.
+Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with paine,
+Whereat he gan to stretch: but he againe
+Shooke him so hard, that forced him to speake.
+As one then in a dreame, whose dryer braine
+In tost with troubled sights and fancies weake,
+He mumbled soft, but would not all his silence breake.
+
+xliii
+The Sprite then gan more boldly him to wake,
+And threatned unto him the dreaded name
+Of Hecate: whereat he gan to quake,
+And lifting up his lumpish head, with blame
+Halfe angry asked him, for what he came.
+Hither (quoth he) me Archimago sent,
+He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely tame,
+He bids thee to him send for his intent
+A fit false dreame, that can delude the sleepers sent.
+
+xliv
+The God obayde, and calling forth straight way
+A diverse dreame out of his prison darke,
+Delivered it to him, and downe did lay
+His heavie head, devoide of carefull carke,
+Whose sences all were straight benumbed and starke.
+He backe returning by the Yvorie dore,
+Remounted up as light as chearefull Larke,
+And on his litle winges the dreame he bore
+In hast unto his Lord, where he him left afore.
+
+xlv
+Who all this while with charmes and hidden artes,
+Had made a Lady of that other Spright,
+And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender partes
+So lively, and so like in all mens sight,
+That weaker sence it could have ravisht quight:
+The maker selfe for all his wondrous witt,
+Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight:
+Her all in white he clad, and over it
+Cast a blacke stole, most like to seeme for Una fit.
+
+xlvi
+Now when that ydle dreame was to him brought,
+Unto that Elfin knight he bad him fly,
+Where he slept soundly void of evill thought
+And with false shewes abuse his fantasy,
+In sort as he him schooled privily:
+And that new creature borne without her dew,
+Full of the makers guile, with usage sly
+He taught to imitate that Lady trew,
+Whose semblance she did carrie under feigned hew.
+
+xlvii
+Thus well instructed, to their worke they hast,
+And comming where the knight in slomber lay,
+The one upon his hardy head him plast,
+And made him dreame of loves and lustfull play,
+That nigh his manly hart did melt away,
+Bathed in wanton blis and wicked joy:
+Then seemed him his Lady by him lay,
+And to him playnd, how that false winged boy,
+Her chast hart had subdewd, to learne Dame pleasures toy.
+
+xlviii
+And she her selfe of beautie soveraigne Queene,
+Faire Venus seemde unto his bed to bring
+Her, whom he waking evermore did weene,
+To be the chastest flowre, that ay did spring
+On earthly braunch, the daughter of a king,
+Now a loose Leman to vile service bound:
+And eke the Graces seemed all to sing,
+Hymen {i}{_o} Hymen, dauncing all around,
+While freshest Flora her with Yvie girlond crownd.
+
+xlix
+In this great passion of unwonted lust,
+Or wonted feare of doing ought amis,
+He started up, as seeming to mistrust
+Some secret ill, or hidden foe of his:
+Lo there before his face his Lady is,
+Under blake stole hyding her bayted hooke,
+And as halfe blushing offred him to kis,
+With gentle blandishment and lovely looke,
+Most like that virgin true, which for her knight him took.
+
+l
+All cleane dismayd to see so uncouth sight,
+And halfe enraged at her shamelesse guise,
+He thought have slaine her in his fierce despight:
+But hasty heat tempring with sufferance wise,
+He stayde his hand, and gan himselfe advise
+To prove his sense, and tempt her faigned truth.
+Wringing her hands in wemens pitteous wise,
+Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle ruth,
+Both for her noble bloud, and for her tender youth.
+
+li
+And said, Ah Sir, my liege Lord and my love,
+Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate,
+And mightie causes wrought in heaven above,
+Or the blind God, that doth me thus amate,
+For hoped love to winne me certaine hate?
+Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die.
+Die is my dew: yet rew my wretched state
+You, whom my hard avenging destinie
+Hath made judge of my life or death indifferently.
+
+lii
+Your owne deare sake forst me at first to leave
+My Fathers kingdome, There she stopt with teares;
+Her swollen hart her speach seemd to bereave,
+And then againe begun, My weaker yeares
+Captiv'd to fortune and frayle worldly feares,
+Fly to your faith for succour and sure ayde:
+Let me not dye in languor and long teares.
+Why Dame (quoth he) what hath ye thus dismayd?
+What frayes ye, that were wont to comfort me affrayd?
+
+liii
+Love of your selfe, she said, and deare constraint
+Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night
+In secret anguish and unpittied plaint,
+Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned quight.
+Her doubtfull words made that redoubted knight
+Suspect her truth: yet since no'untruth he knew,
+Her fawning love with foule disdainefull spight
+He would not shend, but said, Deare dame I rew,
+That for my sake unknowne such griefe unto you grew.
+
+liv
+Assure your selfe, it fell not all to ground;
+For all so deare as life is to my hart,
+I deeme your love, and hold me to you bound;
+Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse smart,
+Where cause is none, but to your rest depart.
+Not all content, yet seemd she to appease
+Her mournefull plaintes, beguiled of her art,
+And fed with words, that could not chuse but please,
+So slyding softly forth, she turnd as to her ease.
+
+lv
+Long after lay he musing at her mood,
+Much griev'd to think that gentle Dame so light,
+For whose defence he was to shed his blood.
+At last dull wearinesse of former fight
+Having yrockt a sleepe his irkesome spright,
+That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,
+With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:
+But when he saw his labour all was vaine,
+With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.
@@ -0,0 +1,201 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+from The Shepheardes Calender: April
+
+THENOT    &      HOBBINOLL
+Tell me good Hobbinoll, what garres thee greete?
+What? hath some Wolfe thy tender Lambes ytorne?
+Or is thy Bagpype broke, that soundes so sweete?
+Or art thou of thy loved lasse forlorne?
+
+Or bene thine eyes attempred to the yeare,
+Quenching the gasping furrowes thirst with rayne?
+Like April shoure, so stremes the trickling teares
+Adowne thy cheeke, to quenche thy thristye payne.
+
+HOBBINOLL
+Nor thys, nor that, so muche doeth make me mourne,
+But for the ladde, whome long I lovd so deare,
+Nowe loves a lasse, that all his love doth scorne:
+He plongd in payne, his tressed locks dooth teare.
+
+Shepheards delights he dooth them all forsweare,
+Hys pleasaunt Pipe, whych made us meriment,
+He wylfully hath broke, and doth forbeare
+His wonted songs, wherein he all outwent.
+
+THENOT
+What is he for a Ladde, you so lament?
+Ys love such pinching payne to them, that prove?
+And hath he skill to make so excellent,
+Yet hath so little skill to brydle love?
+
+HOBBINOLL
+Colin thou kenst, the Southerne shepheardes boye:
+Him Love hath wounded with a deadly darte.
+Whilome on him was all my care and joye,
+Forcing with gyfts to winne his wanton heart.
+
+But now from me hys madding mynd is starte,
+And woes the Widdowes daughter of the glenne:
+So nowe fayre Rosalind hath bredde hys smart,
+So now his frend is chaunged for a frenne.
+
+THENOT
+But if hys ditties bene so trimly dight,
+I pray thee Hobbinoll, recorde some one:
+The whiles our flockes doe graze about in sight,
+And we close shrowded in thys shade alone.
+
+HOBBINOLL
+Contented I: then will I singe his laye
+Of fayre Elisa, Queene of shepheardes all:
+Which once he made, as by a spring he laye,
+And tuned it unto the Waters fall.
+
+Ye dayntye Nymphs, that in this blessed Brooke
+         doe bathe your brest,
+Forsake your watry bowres, and hether looke,
+         at my request:
+And eke you Virgins, that on Parnasse dwell,
+Whence floweth Helicon the learned well,
+         Helpe me to blaze
+         Her worthy praise,
+Which in her sexe doth all excell.
+
+Of fayre Eliza be your silver song,
+         that blessed wight:
+The flowre of Virgins, may shee florish long,
+         In princely plight.
+For shee is Syrinx daughter without spotte,
+Which Pan the shepheards God of her begot:
+         So sprong her grace
+         Of heavenly race,
+No mortall blemishe may her blotte.
+
+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,
+With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set:
+         Bayleaves betweene,
+         And Primroses greene
+Embellish the sweete Violet.
+
+Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face,
+         Like Ph{oe}be 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.
+         Her modest eye,
+         Her Majestie,
+Where have you seene the like, but there?
+
+I sawe Ph{oe}bus thrust out his golden hedde,
+         upon her to gaze:
+But when he sawe, how broade her beames did spredde,
+         it did him amaze.
+He blusht to see another Sunne belowe,
+Ne durst againe his fyrye face out showe:
+         Let him, if he dare,
+         His brightnesse compare
+With hers, to have the overthrowe.
+
+Shewe thy selfe Cynthia with thy silver rayes,
+         and be not abasht:
+When shee the beames of her beauty displayes,
+         O how art thou dasht?
+But I will not match her with Latonaes seede,
+Such follie great sorow to Niobe did breede.
+         Now she is a stone,
+         And makes dayly mone,
+Warning all other to take heede.
+
+Pan may be proud, that ever he begot
+         such a Bellibone,
+And Syrinx rejoyse, that ever was her lot
+         to beare such an one.
+Soone as my younglings cryen for the dam,
+To her will I offer a milkwhite Lamb:
+         Shee is my goddesse plaine,
+         And I her shepherds swayne,
+Albee forswonck and forswatt I am.
+
+I see Calliope speede her to the place,
+         where my Goddesse shines:
+And after her the other Muses trace,
+         with their Violines.
+Bene they not Bay braunches, which they doe beare,
+All for Elisa in her hand to weare?
+         So sweetely they play,
+         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,
+         in their meriment.
+Wants not a fourth grace, to make the daunce even?
+Let that rowme to my Lady be yeven:
+         She shalbe a grace,
+         To fyll the fourth place,
+And reigne with the rest in heaven.
+
+And whither rennes this bevie of Ladies bright,
+         raunged in a rowe?
+They bene all Ladyes of the lake behight,
+         that unto her goe.
+Chloris, that is the chiefest Nymph of al,
+Of Olive braunches beares a Coronall:
+         Olives bene for peace,
+         When wars doe surcease:
+Such for a Princesse bene principall.
+
+Ye shepheards daughters, that dwell on the greene,
+         hye you there apace:
+Let none come there, but that Virgins bene,
+         to adorne her grace.
+And when you come, whereas shee is in place,
+See, that your rudeness doe not you disgrace:
+         Binde your fillets faste,
+         And gird in your waste,
+For more finesse, with a tawdrie lace.
+
+Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine,
+         With Gelliflowres:
+Bring Coronations, and Sops in wine,
+         worne of Paramoures.
+Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies,
+And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and loved Lillies:
+         The pretie Pawnce,
+         And the Chevisaunce,
+Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice.
+
+Now ryse up Elisa, decked as thou art,
+         in royall aray:
+And now ye daintie Damsells may depart
+         echeone her way,
+I feare, I have troubled your troupes to longe:
+Let dame Eliza thanke you for her song.
+         And if you come hether,
+         When Damsines I gether,
+I will part them all you among.
+
+THENOT
+And was thilk same song of Colins owne making?
+Ah foolish boy, that is with love yblent:
+Great pittie is, he be in such taking,
+For naught caren, that bene so lewdly bent.
+
+HOBBINOLL
+Sicker I hold him, for a greater fon,
+That loves the thing, he cannot purchase.
+But let us homeward: for night draweth on,
+And twincling starres the daylight hence chase.
+
+THENOTS EMBLEME
+O quam te memorem virgo?
+
+HOBBINOLLS EMBLEME
+O dea certe.
@@ -0,0 +1,157 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+from The Shepheardes Calender: October
+
+PIERCE       &         CUDDIE
+Cuddie, for shame hold up thy heavye head,
+And let us cast with what delight to chace,
+And weary thys long lingring Phoebus race.
+Whilome thou wont the shepheards laddes to leade,
+In rymes, in ridles, and in bydding base:
+Now they in thee, and thou in sleepe art dead.
+
+CUDDY
+Piers, I have pyped erst so long with payne,
+That all mine Oten reedes bene rent and wore:
+And my poore Muse hath spent her spared store,
+Yet little good hath got, and much lesse gayne,
+Such pleasaunce makes the Grashopper so poore,
+And ligge so layd, when Winter doth her straine.
+
+The dapper ditties, that I wont devise,
+To feede youthes fancie, and the flocking fry,
+Delighten much: what I the bett for thy?
+They han the pleasure, I a sclender prise.
+I beate the bush, the byrds to them doe flye:
+What good thereof to Cuddie can arise?
+
+PIERS
+Cuddie, the prayse is better, then the price,
+The glory eke much greater then the gayne:
+O what an honor is it, to restraine
+The lust of lawlesse youth with good advice:
+Or pricke them forth with pleasaunce of thy vaine,
+Whereto thou list their trayned willes entice.
+
+Soone as thou gynst to sette thy notes in frame,
+O how the rurall routes to thee doe cleave:
+Seemeth thou dost their soule of sence bereave,
+All as the shepheard, that did fetch his dame
+From Plutoes balefull bowre withouten leave:
+His musicks might the hellish hound did tame.
+
+CUDDIE
+So praysen babes the Peacoks spotted traine,
+And wondren at bright Argus blazing eye:
+But who rewards him ere the more for thy?
+Or feedes him once the fuller by a graine?
+Sike prayse is smoke, that sheddeth in the skye,
+Sike words bene wynd, and wasten soone in vayne.
+
+PIERS
+Abandon then the base and viler clowne,
+Lyft up thy selfe out of the lowly dust:
+And sing of bloody Mars, of wars, of giusts.
+Turne thee to those, that weld the awful crowne,
+To doubted Knights, whose woundlesse armour rusts,
+And helmes unbruzed wexen dayly browne.
+
+There may thy Muse display her fluttryng wing,
+And stretch her selfe at large from East to West:
+Whither thou list in fayre Elisa rest,
+Or if thee please in bigger notes to sing,
+Advaunce the worthy whome shee loveth best,
+That first the white beare to the stake did bring.
+
+And when the stubborne stroke of stronger stounds,
+Has somewhat slackt the tenor of thy string:
+Of love and lustihed tho mayst thou sing,
+And carrol lowde, and leade the Myllers rownde,
+All were Elisa one of thilke same ring.
+So mought our Cuddies name to Heaven sownde.
+
+CUDDYE
+Indeed the Romish Tityrus, I heare,
+Through his Mecoenas left his Oaten reede,
+Whereon he earst had taught his flocks to feede,
+And laboured lands to yield the timely eare,
+And eft did sing of warres and deadly drede,
+So as the Heavens did quake his verse to here.
+
+But ah Mecoenas is yclad in claye,
+And great Augustus long ygoe is dead:
+And all the worthies liggen wrapt in leade,
+That matter made for Poets on to play:
+For ever, who in derring doe were dreade,
+The loftie verse of hem was loved aye.
+
+But after vertue gan for age to stoupe,
+And mighty manhode brought a bedde of ease:
+The vaunting Poets found nought worth a pease,
+To put in preace emong the learned troupe.
+Tho gan the streames of flowing wittes to cease,
+And sonnebright honour pend in shamefull coupe.
+
+And if that any buddes of Poesie,
+Yet of the old stocke gan to shoote agayne:
+Or it mens follies mote be forst to fayne,
+And rolle with rest in rymes of rybaudrye:
+Or as it sprong, it wither must agayne:
+Tom Piper makes us better melodie.
+
+PIERS
+O pierlesse Poesye, where is then thy place?
+If nor in Princes pallace thou doe sitt:
+(And yet is Princes pallace the most fitt)
+Ne brest of baser birth doth thee embrace.
+Then make thee winges of thine aspyring wit,
+And, whence thou camst, flye backe to heaven apace.
+
+CUDDIE
+Ah Percy it is all to weake and wanne,
+So high to sore, and make so large a flight:
+Her peeced pyneons bene not so in plight,
+For Colin fittes such famous flight to scanne:
+He, were he not with love so ill bedight,
+Would mount as high, and sing as soote as Swanne.
+
+PIERS
+Ah fon, for love does teach him climbe so hie,
+And lyftes him up out of the loathsome myre:
+Such immortall mirrhor, as he doth admire,
+Would rayse ones mynd above the starry skie.
+And cause a caytive corage to aspire,
+For lofty love doth loath a lowly eye.
+
+CUDDIE
+All otherwise the state of Poet stands,
+For lordly love is such a Tyranne fell:
+That where he rules, all power he doth expell.
+The vaunted verse a vacant head demaundes,
+Ne wont with crabbed care the Muses dwell.
+Unwisely weaves, that takes two webbes in hand.
+
+Who ever casts to compasse weightye prise,
+And thinks to throwe out thondring words of threate:
+Let powre in lavish cups and thriftie bitts of meate,
+For Bacchus fruite is frend to Phoebus wise.
+And when with Wine the braine begins to sweate,
+The nombers flowe as fast as spring doth ryse.
+
+Thou kenst not Percie howe the ryme should rage.
+O if my temples were distaind with wine,
+And girt in girlonds of wild Yvie twine,
+How I could reare the Muse on stately stage,
+And teache her tread aloft in buskin fine,
+With queint Bellona in her equipage.
+
+But ah my corage cooles ere it be warme,
+For thy, content us in thys humble shade:
+Where no such troublous tydes han us assayde,
+Here we our slender pipes may safely charme.
+
+PIERS
+And when my Gates shall han their bellies layd:
+Cuddie shall have a Kidde to store his farme.
+
+CUDDIES EMBLEME
+Agitante calescimus illo
@@ -0,0 +1,24 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Iambicum Trimetrum
+
+Unhappy verse, the witness of my unhappy state,
+Make thy self flutt'ring wings of thy fast flying
+Thought, and fly forth unto my love, wheresoever she be:
+Whether lying restless in heavy bed, or else
+Sitting so cheerless at the cheerful board, or else
+Playing alone careless on her heavenly virginals.
+If in bed, tell her, that my eyes can take no rest:
+If at board, tell her, that my mouth can eat no meat:
+If at her virginals, tell her, I can hear no mirth.
+Asked why? say: waking love suffereth no sleep:
+Say that raging love doth appal the weak stomach:
+Say, that lamenting love marreth the musical.
+Tell her, that her pleasures were wont to lull me asleep:
+Tell her, that her beauty was wont to feed mine eyes:
+Tell her, that her sweet tongue was wont to make me mirth.
+Now do I nightly waste, wanting my kindly rest:
+Now do I daily starve, wanting my lively food:
+Now do I always die, wanting thy timely mirth.
+And if I waste, who will bewail my heavy chance?
+And if I starve, who will record my cursed end?
+And if I die, who will say: "This was Immerito"?
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+['Joy of my life, full oft for loving you']
+
+Joy of my life, full oft for loving you
+    I bless my lot, that was so lucky placed:
+    But then the more your own mishap I rue,
+    That are so much by so mean love embased.
+For had the equal heavens so much you graced
+    In this as in the rest, ye might invent
+    Some heavenly wit, whose verse could have enchased
+    Your glorious name in golden monument.
+But since ye deignd so goodly to relent
+    To me your thrall, in whom is little worth,
+    That little that I am shall all be spent
+    In setting your immortal praises forth;
+Whose lofty argument uplifting me
+    Shall lift you up unto an high degree.
@@ -0,0 +1,192 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+Prothalamion
+
+CALM was the day, and through the trembling air
+Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play,
+A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
+Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair;
+When I whose sullen care,
+Through discontent of my long fruitless stay
+In prince's court, and expectation vain
+Of idle hopes, which still do fly away
+Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain,
+Walked forth to ease my pain
+Along the shore of silver streaming Thames,
+Whose rutty bank, the which his river hems,
+Was painted all with variable flowers,
+And all the meads adorned with dainty gems,
+Fit to deck maidens' bowers,
+And crown their paramours,
+Against the bridal day, which is not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
+
+There, in a meadow, by the river's side,
+A flock of nymphs I chanced to espy,
+All lovely daughters of the flood thereby,
+With goodly greenish locks, all loose untied,
+As each had been a bride;
+And each one had a little wicker basket,
+Made of fine twigs, entrailed curiously,
+In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,
+And with fine fingers cropt full featously
+The tender stalks on high.
+Of every sort, which in that meadow grew,
+They gathered some; the violet pallid blue,
+The little daisy, that at evening closes,
+The virgin lily, and the primrose true,
+With store of vermeil roses,
+To deck their bridegrooms' posies
+Against the bridal day, which was not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
+
+With that, I saw two swans of goodly hue
+Come softly swimming down along the Lee;
+Two fairer birds I yet did never see.
+The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew,
+Did never whiter shew,
+Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be
+For love of Leda, whiter did appear:
+Yet Leda was they say as white as he,
+Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near.
+So purely white they were,
+That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,
+Seemed foul to them, and bade his billows spare
+To wet their silken feathers, lest they might
+Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair,
+And mar their beauties bright,
+That shone as heaven's light,
+Against their bridal day, which was not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
+
+Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers their fill,
+Ran all in haste, to see that silver brood,
+As they came floating on the crystal flood.
+Whom when they saw, they stood amazed still,
+Their wondering eyes to fill.
+Them seemed they never saw a sight so fair,
+Of fowls so lovely, that they sure did deem
+Them heavenly born, or to be that same pair
+Which through the sky draw Venus' silver team;
+For sure they did not seem
+To be begot of any earthly seed,
+But rather angels, or of angels' breed:
+Yet were they bred of Somers-heat they say,
+In sweetest season, when each flower and weed
+The earth did fresh array,
+So fresh they seemed as day,
+Even as their bridal day, which was not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
+
+Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
+Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,
+That to the sense did fragrant odours yield,
+All which upon those goodly birds they threw,
+And all the waves did strew,
+That like old Peneus' waters they did seem,
+When down along by pleasant Tempe's shore,
+Scattered with flowers, through Thessaly they stream,
+That they appear through lilies' plenteous store,
+Like a bride's chamber floor.
+Two of those nymphs meanwhile, two garlands bound,
+Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found,
+The which presenting all in trim array,
+Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crowned,
+Whilst one did sing this lay,
+Prepared against that day,
+Against their bridal day, which was not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
+
+'Ye gentle birds, the world's fair ornament,
+And heaven's glory, whom this happy hour
+Doth lead unto your lovers' blissful bower,
+Joy may you have and gentle heart's content
+Of your love's complement:
+And let fair Venus, that is queen of love,
+With her heart-quelling son upon you smile,
+Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove
+All love's dislike, and friendship's faulty guile
+For ever to assoil.
+Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord,
+And blessed plenty wait upon your board,
+And let your bed with pleasures chaste abound,
+That fruitful issue may to you afford,
+Which may your foes confound,
+And make your joys redound
+Upon your bridal day, which is not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.'
+
+So ended she; and all the rest around
+To her redoubled that her undersong,
+Which said their bridal day should not be long.
+And gentle echo from the neighbour ground
+Their accents did resound.
+So forth those joyous birds did pass along,
+Adown the Lee, that to them murmured low,
+As he would speak, but that he lacked a tongue,
+Yet did by signs his glad affection show,
+Making his stream run slow.
+And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell
+Gan flock about these twain, that did excel
+The rest so far as Cynthia doth shend
+The lesser stars. So they, enranged well,
+Did on those two attend,
+And their best service lend,
+Against their wedding day, which was not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
+
+At length they all to merry London came,
+To merry London, my most kindly nurse,
+That to me gave this life's first native source;
+Though from another place I take my name,
+An house of ancient fame.
+There when they came, whereas those bricky towers,
+The which on Thames' broad aged back do ride,
+Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers
+There whilom wont the Templar Knights to bide,
+Till they decayed through pride:
+Next whereunto there stands a stately place,
+Where oft I gained gifts and goodly grace
+Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,
+Whose want too well now feels my friendless case.
+But ah, here fits not well
+Old woes but joys to tell
+Against the bridal day, which is not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
+
+Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer,
+Great England's glory, and the world's wide wonder,
+Whose dreadful name late through all Spain did thunder,
+And Hercules' two pillars standing near
+Did make to quake and fear:
+Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry,
+That fillest England with thy triumph's fame,
+Joy have thou of thy noble victory,
+And endless happiness of thine own name
+That promiseth the same:
+That through thy prowess and victorious arms,
+Thy country may be freed from foreign harms;
+And great Elisa's glorious name may ring
+Through all the world, filled with thy wide alarms,
+Which some brave Muse may sing
+To ages following,
+Upon the bridal day, which is not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
+
+From those high towers this noble lord issuing,
+Like radiant Hesper when his golden hair
+In th'Ocean billows he hath bathed fair,
+Descended to the river's open viewing,
+With a great train ensuing.
+Above the rest were goodly to be seen
+Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature
+Beseeming well the bower of any queen,
+With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature,
+Fit for so goodly stature;
+That like the twins of Jove they seemed in sight,
+Which deck the baldric of the heavens bright.
+They two forth pacing to the river's side,
+Received those two fair birds, their love's delight;
+Which, at th' appointed tide,
+Each one did make his bride
+Against their bridal day, which is not long:
+      Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
@@ -0,0 +1,113 @@
+EDMUND SPENSER
+The Shepheardes Calender: January
+
+Januarie. gloga prima. ARGVMENT.
+
+    IN this fyrst glogue Colin clout a shepheardes boy complaineth him of his vnfortunate loue, being but newly (as semeth) enamoured of a countrie lasse called Rosalinde: with which strong affection being very sore traueled, he compareth his carefull case to the sadde season of the yeare, to the frostie ground, to the frosen trees, and to his owne winterbeaten flocke. And lastlye, fynding himselfe robbed of all former pleasaunce and delights, hee breaketh his Pipe in peeces, and casteth him selfe to the ground.
+
+
+COLIN Cloute.
+
+
+A Shepeheards boye (no better doe him call)
+when Winters wastful spight was almost spent,
+All in a sunneshine day, as did befall,
+Led forth his flock, that had been long ypent.
+So faynt they woxe, and feeble in the folde,
+That now vnnethes their feete could them vphold.
+
+
+All as the Sheepe, such was the shepeheards looke,
+For pale and wanne he was, (alas the while,)
+May seeme he lovd, or els some care he tooke:
+Well couth he tune his pipe, and frame his stile.
+Tho to a hill his faynting flocke he ledde,
+And thus him playnd, the while his shepe there fedde.
+
+
+Ye gods of loue, that pitie louers payne,
+(if any gods the paine of louers pitie:)
+Looke from aboue, where you in ioyes remaine,
+And bowe your eares vnto my doleful dittie.
+And Pan thou shepheards God, that once didst loue,
+Pitie the paines, that thou thy selfe didst proue.
+
+
+Thou barrein ground, whome winters wrath hath wasted,
+Art made a myrrhour, to behold my plight:
+Whilome thy fresh spring flowrd, and after hasted
+Thy sommer prowde with Daffadillies dight.
+And now is come thy wynters stormy state,
+Thy mantle mard, wherein thou mas-kedst late.
+
+
+Such rage as winters, reigneth in my heart,
+My life bloud friesing wtih vnkindly cold:
+Such stormy stoures do breede my balefull smarte,
+As if my yeare were wast, and woxen old.
+And yet alas, but now my spring begonne,
+And yet alas, yt is already donne.
+
+
+You naked trees, whose shady leaves are lost,
+Wherein the byrds were wont to build their bowre:
+And now are clothd with mosse and hoary frost,
+Instede of bloosmes, wherwith your buds did flowre:
+I see your teares, that from your boughes doe raine,
+Whose drops in drery ysicles remaine.
+
+
+All so my lustfull leafe is drye and sere,
+My timely buds with wayling all are wasted:
+The blossome, which my braunch of youth did beare,
+With breathed sighes is blowne away, & blasted,
+And from mine eyes the drizling teares descend,
+As on your boughes the ysicles depend.
+
+
+Thou feeble flocke, whose fleece is rough and rent,
+Whose knees are weak through fast and evill fare:
+Mayst witnesse well by thy ill gouernement,
+Thy maysters mind is ouercome with care.
+Thou weak, I wanne: thou leabe, I quite forlorne:
+With mourning pyne I, you with pyning mourne.
+
+
+A thousand sithes I curse that carefull hower,
+Wherein I longd the neighbour towne to see:
+And eke tenne thousand sithes I blesse the stoure,
+Wherein I sawe so fayre a sight, as shee.
+Yet all for naught: snch [such] sight hath bred my bane.
+Ah God, that loue should breede both ioy and payne.
+
+
+It is not Hobbinol, wherefore I plaine,
+Albee my loue he seeke with dayly suit:
+His clownish gifts and curtsies I disdaine,
+His kiddes, his cracknelles, and his early fruit.
+Ah foolish Hobbinol, thy gyfts bene vayne:
+Colin them gives to Rosalind againe.
+
+
+I loue thilke lasse, (alas why doe I loue?)
+And am forlorne, (alas why am I lorne?)
+Shee deignes not my good will, but doth reproue,
+And of my rurall musick holdeth scorne.
+Shepheards deuise she hateth as the snake,
+And laughes the songes, that Colin Clout doth make.
+
+
+Wherefore my pype, albee rude Pan thou please,
+Yet for thou pleasest not, where most I would:
+And thou vnlucky Muse, that wontst to ease
+My musing mynd, yet canst not, when thou should:
+Both pype and Muse, shall sore the while abye.
+So broke his oaten pype, and downe dyd lye.
+
+
+By that, the welked Phoebus gan availe,
+His weary waine, and nowe the frosty Night
+Her mantle black through heauen gan overhaile.
+Which seene, the pensife boy halfe in despight
+Arose, and homeward drove his sonned sheepe,
+Whose hanging heads did seeme his carefull case to weepe.
@@ -0,0 +1,26 @@
+ELINOR WYLIE
+Full Moon
+
+My bands of silk and miniver
+Momently grew heavier;
+The black gauze was beggarly thin;
+The ermine muffled mouth and chin;
+I could not suck the moonlight in.
+
+Harlequin in lozenges
+Of love and hate, I walked in these
+Striped and ragged rigmaroles;
+Along the pavement my footsoles
+Trod warily on living coals.
+
+Shouldering the thoughts I loathed,
+In their corrupt disguises clothed,
+Morality I could not tear
+From my ribs, to leave them bare
+Ivory in silver air.
+
+There I walked, and there I raged;
+The spiritual savage caged
+Within my skeleton, raged afresh
+To feel, behind a carnal mesh,
+The clean bones crying in the flesh.
@@ -0,0 +1,37 @@
+ELINOR WYLIE
+Valentine
+
+Too high, too high to pluck
+My heart shall swing.
+A fruit no bee shall suck,
+No wasp shall sting.
+
+If on some night of cold
+It falls to ground
+In apple-leaves of gold
+Ill wrap it round.
+
+And I shall seal it up
+With spice and salt,
+In a carven silver cup,
+In a deep vault.
+
+Before my eyes are blind
+And my lips mute,
+I must eat core and rind
+Of that same fruit.
+
+Before my heart is dust
+At the end of all,
+Eat it I must, I must
+Were it bitter gall.
+
+But I shall keep it sweet
+By some strange art;
+Wild honey I shall eat
+When I eat my heart.
+
+O honey cool and chaste
+As clovers breath!
+Sweet Heaven I shall taste
+Before my death.
@@ -0,0 +1,76 @@
+ELINOR WYLIE
+Wild Peaches
+
+                                  1 
+
+When the world turns completely upside down
+You say well emigrate to the Eastern Shore
+Aboard a river-boat from Baltimore;
+Well live among wild peach trees, miles from town,
+Youll wear a coonskin cap, and I a gown
+Homespun, dyed butternuts dark gold color.
+Lost, like your lotus-eating ancestor,
+Well swim in milk and honey till we drown.
+
+The winter will be short, the summer long,
+The autumn amber-hued, sunny and hot,
+Tasting of cider and of scuppernong;
+All seasons sweet, but autumn best of all.
+The squirrels in their silver fur will fall
+Like falling leaves, like fruit, before your shot.
+
+
+                                  2 
+
+The autumn frosts will lie upon the grass
+Like bloom on grapes of purple-brown and gold.
+The misted early mornings will be cold;
+The little puddles will be roofed with glass.
+The sun, which burns from copper into brass,
+Melts these at noon, and makes the boys unfold
+Their knitted mufflers; full as they can hold
+Fat pockets dribble chestnuts as they pass.
+
+Peaches grow wild, and pigs can live in clover;
+A barrel of salted herrings lasts a year;
+The spring begins before the winters over.
+By February you may find the skins
+Of garter snakes and water moccasins
+Dwindled and harsh, dead-white and cloudy-clear.
+
+
+                                  3 
+
+When April pours the colors of a shell
+Upon the hills, when every little creek
+Is shot with silver from the Chesapeake
+In shoals new-minted by the ocean swell,
+When strawberries go begging, and the sleek
+Blue plums lie open to the blackbirds beak,
+We shall live well  we shall live very well.
+
+The months between the cherries and the peaches
+Are brimming cornucopias which spill
+Fruits red and purple, sombre-bloomed and black;
+Then, down rich fields and frosty river beaches
+Well trample bright persimmons, while you kill
+Bronze partridge, speckled quail, and canvasback.
+
+
+                                  4 
+
+Down to the Puritan marrow of my bones
+Theres something in this richness that I hate.
+I love the look, austere, immaculate,
+Of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones.
+Theres something in my very blood that owns
+Bare hills, cold silver on a sky of slate,
+A thread of water, churned to milky spate
+Streaming through slanted pastures fenced with stones.
+
+I love those skies, thin blue or snowy gray,
+Those fields sparse-planted, rendering meagre sheaves;
+That spring, briefer than apple-blossoms breath,
+Summer, so much too beautiful to stay,
+Swift autumn, like a bonfire of leaves,
+And sleepy winter, like the sleep of death.
@@ -0,0 +1,160 @@
+FORD MADOX FORD
+In October 1914 [Antwerp]
+
+I 
+GLOOM! 
+An October like November; 
+August a hundred thousand hours, 
+And all September, 
+A hundred thousand, dragging sunlit days, 
+And half October like a thousand years . . . 
+And doom! 
+That then was Antwerp. . . 
+                              In the name of God, 
+How could they do it? 
+Those souls that usually dived 
+Into the dirty caverns of mines; 
+Who usually hived 
+In whitened hovels; under ragged poplars; 
+Who dragged muddy shovels, over the grassy mud, 
+Lumbering to work over the greasy sods. . . 
+Those men there, with the appearance of clods 
+Were the bravest men that a usually listless priest of God 
+Ever shrived. . . 
+And it is not for us to make them an anthem. 
+If we found words there would come no wind that would fan them 
+To a tune that the trumpets might blow it, 
+Shrill through the heaven that's ours or yet Allah's, 
+Or the wide halls of any Valhallas. 
+We can make no such anthem. So that all that is ours 
+For inditing in sonnets, pantoums, elegiacs, or lays 
+Is this: 
+In the name of God, how could they do it? 
+
+
+II 
+For there is no new thing under the sun, 
+Only this uncomely man with a smoking gun 
+In the gloom. . . 
+What the devil will he gain by it? 
+Digging a hole in the mud and standing all day in the rain by it 
+Waiting his doom; 
+The sharp blow, the swift outpouring of the blood, 
+Till the trench of gray mud 
+Is turned to a brown purple drain by it. 
+Well, there have been scars 
+Won in many wars . . .
+Punic, 
+Lacedmonian, wars of Napoleon, wars for faith, wars for honour, for love, for possession, 
+But this Belgian man in his ugly tunic, 
+His ugly round cap, shooting on, in a sort of obsession, 
+Overspreading his miserable land, 
+Standing with his wet gun in his hand . . . 
+Doom! 
+He finds that in a sudden scrimmage, 
+And lies, an unsightly lump on the sodden grass . . . 
+An image that shall take long to pass! 
+
+
+III 
+For the white-limbed heroes of Hellas ride by upon their horses 
+Forever through our brains. 
+The heroes of Cressy ride by upon their stallions; 
+And battalions and battalions and battalions 
+The Old Guard, the Young Guard, the men of Minden and of Waterloo, 
+Pass, for ever staunch, 
+Stand, for ever true; 
+And the small man with the large paunch, 
+And the gray coat, and the large hat, and the hands behind the back, 
+Watches them pass 
+In our minds for ever . . . 
+But that clutter of sodden corses 
+On the sodden Belgian grass 
+That is a strange new beauty. 
+
+
+IV 
+With no especial legends of marchings or triumphs or duty, 
+Assuredly that is the way of it, 
+The way of beauty . . . 
+And that is the highest word you can find to say of it. 
+For you cannot praise it with words 
+Compounded of lyres and swords, 
+But the thought of the gloom and the rain 
+And the ugly coated figure, standing beside a drain, 
+Shall eat itself into your brain: 
+And you will say of all heroes, They fought like the Belgians! 
+And you will say: He wrought like a Belgian his fate out of gloom. 
+And you will say: He bought like a Belgian his doom. 
+And that shall be an honourable name; 
+Belgian shall be an honourable word; 
+As honourable as the fame of the sword, 
+As honourable as the mention of the many-chorded lyre, 
+And his old coat shall seem as beautiful as the fabrics woven in Tyre. 
+
+
+V 
+And what in the world did they bear it for? 
+I don't know. 
+And what in the world did they dare it for? 
+Perhaps that is not for the likes of me to understand. 
+They could very well have watched a hundred legions go 
+Over their fields and between their cities 
+Down into more southerly regions. 
+They could very well have let the legions pass through their woods, 
+And have kept their lives and their wives and their children and cattle and goods. 
+I don't understand. 
+Was it just love of their land? 
+Oh, poor dears! 
+Can any man so love his land? 
+Give them a thousand thousand pities 
+And rivers and rivers of tears 
+To wash off the blood from the cities of Flanders. 
+
+
+VI 
+This is Charing Cross; 
+It is midnight; 
+There is a great crowd 
+And no light. 
+A great crowd, all black that hardly whispers aloud. 
+Surely, that is a dead womana dead mother! 
+She has a dead face; 
+She is dressed all in black; 
+She wanders to the bookstall and back, 
+At the back of the crowd; 
+And back again and again back, 
+She sways and wanders. 
+
+This is Charing Cross; 
+It is one o'clock. 
+There is still a great cloud, and very little light; 
+Immense shafts of shadows over the black crowd 
+That hardly whispers aloud. . . 
+And now! .  . That is another dead mother, 
+And there is another and another and another. . . 
+And little children, all in black, 
+All with dead faces, waiting in all the waiting-places, 
+Wandering from the doors of the waiting-room 
+In the dim gloom. 
+These are the women of Flanders.
+They await the lost. 
+They await the lost that shall never leave the dock; 
+They await the lost that shall never again come by the train 
+To the embraces of all these women with dead faces; 
+They await the lost who lie dead in trench and barrier and foss, 
+In the dark of the night. 
+This is Charing Cross; it is past one of the clock; 
+There is very little light. 
+
+There is so much pain. 
+
+
+LEnvoi 
+And it was for this that they endured this gloom; 
+This October like November, 
+That August like a hundred thousand hours, 
+And that September, 
+A hundred thousand dragging sunlit days, 
+And half October like a thousand years. . . 
+Oh, poor dears!
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+GEORGE CHAPMAN
+A Coronet for his Mistress, Philosophy
+
+Muses that sing love's sensual empery,
+And lovers kindling your enraged fires
+At Cupid's bonfires burning in the eye,
+Blown with the empty breath of vain desires;
+You that prefer the painted cabinet
+Before the wealthy jewels it doth store ye,
+That all your joys in dying figures set,
+And stain the living substance of your glory;
+Abjure those joys, abhor their memory,
+And let my love the honour'd subject be
+Of love, and honour's complete history.
+Your eyes were never yet let in to see
+The majesty and riches of the mind,
+But dwell in darkness; for your god is blind.
@@ -0,0 +1,20 @@
+GEORGE CHAPMAN
+Bridal Song
+
+O come, soft rest of cares! come, Night!
+       Come, naked Virtues only tire,
+The reaped harvest of the light
+    Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire,
+       Love calls to war:
+             Sighs his alarms,
+       Lips his swords are,
+             The fields his arms.
+
+Come, Night, and lay thy velvet hand
+    On glorious Days outfacing face;
+And all thy crowned flames command
+    For torches to our nuptial grace.
+       Love calls to war:
+             Sighs his alarms,
+       Lips his swords are,
+             The field his arms.
@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
+GEORGE GASCOIGNE
+And If I Did, What Then?
+
+And if I did, what then?
+Are you aggrievd therefore?
+The sea hath fish for every man,
+And what would you have more?
+
+   Thus did my mistress once,
+Amaze my mind with doubt;
+And poppd a question for the nonce
+To beat my brains about.
+
+   Whereto I thus replied:
+Each fisherman can wish
+That all the seas at every tide
+Were his alone to fish.
+
+   And so did I (in vain)
+But since it may not be,
+Let such fish there as find the gain,
+And leave the loss for me.
+
+   And with such luck and loss
+I will content myself,
+Till tides of turning time may toss
+Such fishers on the shelf.
+
+   And when they stick on sands,
+That every man may see,
+Then will I laugh and clap my hands,
+As they do now at me.
@@ -0,0 +1,44 @@
+GEORGE GASCOIGNE
+Fie, Pleasure, Fie!
+
+Fie pleasure, fie! thou cloyest me with delight,
+Thou fillst my mouth with sweetmeats overmuch;
+I wallow still in joy both day and night:
+I deem, I dream, I do, I taste, I touch,
+No thing but all that smells of perfect bliss;
+Fie pleasure, fie! I cannot like of this.
+
+   To taste (sometimes) a bait of bitter gall,
+To drink a draught of sour ale (some season)
+To eat brown bread with homely hands in hall,
+Doth much increase mens appetites, by reason,
+And makes the sweet more sugard that ensues,
+Since minds of men do still seek after news.
+
+   The pamperd horse is seldom seen in breath,
+Whose manger makes his grace (oftimes) to melt;
+The crammed fowl comes quickly to his death;
+Such colds they catch in hottest haps that swelt;
+And I (much like) in pleasure scawled still,
+Do fear to starve although I feed my fill.
+
+   It might suffice that Love hath built his bower
+Between my ladys lively shining eyes;
+It were enough that beautys fading flower
+Grows ever fresh with her in heavenly wise;
+It had been well that she were fair of face,
+And yet not rob all other dames of grace.
+
+   To muse in mind, how wise, how fair, how good,
+How brave, how frank, how courteous, and how true
+My lady is, doth but inflame my blood
+With humours such as bid my health adieu;
+Since hap always when it is clomb on high,
+Doth fall full low, though erst it reachd the sky.
+
+   Lo, pleasure, lo! lo thus I lead a life
+That laughs for joy, and trembleth oft for dread;
+Thy pangs are such as call for changes knife
+To cut the twist, or else to stretch the thread,
+Which holds yfeer the bundle of my bliss:
+Fie, pleasure, fie! I dare not trust to this.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+GEORGE GASCOIGNE
+For That He Looked Not upon Her
+
+You must not wonder, though you think it strange,
+To see me hold my louring head so low,
+And that mine eyes take no delight to range
+About the gleams which on your face do grow.
+The mouse which once hath broken out of trap
+Is seldom ticed with the trustless bait,
+But lies aloof for fear of more mishap,
+And feedeth still in doubt of deep deceit.
+The scorched fly, which once hath scaped the flame,
+Will hardly come to play again with fire,
+Whereby I learn that grievous is the game
+Which follows fancy dazzled by desire:
+So that I wink or else hold down my head,
+Because your blazing eyes my bale have bred.
@@ -0,0 +1,56 @@
+GEORGE GASCOIGNE
+The Lullaby of a Lover
+
+     Sing lullaby, as women do,
+Wherewith they bring their babes to rest,
+And lullaby can I sing too
+As womanly as can the best.
+With lullaby they still the child,
+And if I be not much beguiled,
+Full many wanton babes have I
+Which must be stilled with lullaby.
+
+     First lullaby my youthful years;
+It is now time to go to bed,
+For crooked age and hoary hairs
+Have won the haven within my head.
+With lullaby, then, youth be still;
+With lullaby content thy will;
+Since courage quails and comes behind,
+Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind.
+
+     Next, lullaby my gazing eyes,
+Which wonted were to glance apace.
+For every glass may now suffice
+To show the furrows in my face;
+With lullaby then wink awhile,
+With lullaby your looks beguile;
+Let no fair face nor beauty bright
+Entice you eft with vain delight.
+
+     And lullaby, my wanton will;
+Let reason's rule now reign thy thought,
+Since all too late I find by skill
+How dear I have thy fancies bought;
+With lullaby now take thine ease,
+With lullaby thy doubts appease.
+For trust to this: if thou be still,
+My body shall obey thy will.
+
+     Eke lullaby, my loving boy,
+My little Robin, take thy rest;
+Since age is cold and nothing coy,
+Keep close thy coin, for so is best;
+With lullaby be thou content,
+With lullaby thy lusts relent,
+Let others pay which hath mo pence;
+Thou art too poor for such expense.
+
+     Thus lullaby, my youth, mine eyes,
+My will, my ware, and all that was.
+I can no mo delays devise,
+But welcome pain, let pleasure pass;
+With lullaby now take your leave,
+With lullaby your dreams deceive;
+And when you rise with waking eye,
+Remember then this lullaby.
@@ -0,0 +1,53 @@
+GEORGE SANTAYANA
+Before a Statue of Achilles
+
+                                    I
+
+Behoild Pelides with his yellow hair,
+Proud child of Thetis, hero loved of Jove;
+Above the frowning of his brows of wove
+A crown of gold, well combed, with Spartan care.
+Who might have seen him, sullen, great, and fair,
+As with the wrongful world he proudly strove,
+And by high deeds his wilder passion shrove,
+Mastering love, resentment, and despair.
+He knew his end, and Phoebus arrow sure
+He braved for fame immortal and a friend,
+Despising life; and we, who know our end,
+Know that in our decay he shall endure
+And all our childrens hearts to grief inure,
+With whose first bitter battles his shall blend.
+
+                                    II
+
+Who brought thee forth, immortal vision, who
+In Phthia or in Tempe brought thee forth?
+Out of the sunlight and the sapful earth
+What god the simples of thy spirit drew?
+A goddess rose from the green waves, and threw
+Her arms about a king, to give thee birth;
+A centaur, patron of thy boyish mirth,
+Over the meadows in thy footsteps flew.
+Now Thessaly forgets thee, and the deep
+Thy keeled bark furrowed answers not thy prayer;
+But far away new generations keep
+Thy laurels fresh; where branching Isis hems
+The lawns of Oxford round about, or where
+Enchanted Eton sits by pleasant Thames.
+
+                                    III
+
+I gaze on thee as Phidias of old
+Or Polyclitus gazed, when first he saw
+These hard and shining limbs, without a flaw,
+And cast his wonder in heroic mould.
+Unhappy me who only may behold,
+Nor make immutable and fix in awe
+A fair immortal form no worm shall gnaw,
+A tempered mind whose faith was never told!
+The godlike mien, the lions lock and eye,
+The well-knit sinew, utter a brave heart
+Better than many words that part by part
+Spell in strange symbols what serene and whole
+In nature lives, nor can in marble die.
+The perfect body itself the soul.
@@ -0,0 +1,26 @@
+GEORGE SANTAYANA
+Cape Cod
+
+The low sandy beach and the thin scrub pine,
+The wide reach of bay and the long sky line,
+O, I am sick for home!
+
+The salt, salt smell of the thick sea air,
+And the smooth round stones that the ebbtides wear,
+When will the good ship come?
+
+The wretched stumps all charred and burned,
+And the deep soft rut where the cartwheel turned,
+Why is the world so old?
+
+The lapping wave, and the broad gray sky
+Where the cawing crows and the slow gulls fly,
+Where are the dead untold?
+
+The thin, slant willows by the flooded bog,
+The huge stranded hulk and the floating log,
+Sorrow with life began!
+
+And among the dark pines, and along the flat shore,
+O the wind, and the wind, for evermore!
+What will become of man?
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+GEORGE SANTAYANA
+There may be Chaos still around the World
+
+There may be chaos still around the world,
+This little world that in my thinking lies;
+For mine own bosom is the paradise
+Where all my lifes fair visions are unfurled.
+Within my natures shell I slumber curled,
+Unmindful of the changing outer skies,
+Where now, perchance, some new-born Eros flies,
+Or some old Cronos from his throne is hurled.
+I heed them not; or if the subtle night
+Haunt me with deities I never saw,
+I soon mine eyelids drowsy curtain draw
+To hide their myriad faces from my sight.
+They threat in vain; the whirlwind cannot awe
+A happy snow-flake dancing in the flaw.
@@ -0,0 +1,70 @@
+GEORGE SANTAYANA
+To. W. P.
+
+I
+
+Calm was the sea to which your course you kept,
+Oh, how much calmer than all southern seas!
+Many your nameless mates, whom the keen breeze
+Wafted from mothers that of old have wept.
+All souls of children taken as they slept
+Are your companions, partners of your ease,
+And the green souls of all these autumn trees
+Are with you through the silent spaces swept.
+Your virgin body gave its gentle breath
+Untainted to the gods. Why should we grieve,
+But that we merit not your holy death?
+We shall not loiter long, your friends and I;
+Living you made it goodlier to live,
+Dead you will make it easier to die.
+
+II
+
+With you a part of me hath passed away;
+For in the peopled forest of my mind
+A tree made leafless by this wintry wind
+Shall never don again its green array.
+Chapel and fireside, country road and bay,
+Have something of their friendliness resigned;
+Another, if I would, I could not find,
+And I am grown much older in a day.
+But yet I treasure in my memory
+Your gift of charity, your mellow ease,
+And the dear honour of your amity;
+For these once mine, my life is rich with these.
+And I scarce know which part may greater be,
+What I keep of you, or you rob of me.
+
+III
+
+Your bark lies anchored in the peaceful bight
+Until a kinder wind unfurl her sail;
+Your docile spirit, winged by this gale,
+Hath at the dawning fled into the light.
+And I half know why heaven deemed it right
+Your youth, and this my joy in youth, should fail;
+God hath them still, for ever they avail,
+Eternity hath borrowed that delight.
+For long ago I taught my thoughts to run
+Where all the great things live that lived of yore,
+And in eternal quiet float and soar;
+There all my loves are gathered into one,
+Where change is not, nor parting any more,
+Nor revolution of the moon and sun.
+
+IV
+
+In my deep heart these chimes would still have rung
+To toll your passing, had you not been dead;
+For time a sadder mask than death may spread
+Over the face that ever should be young.
+The bough that falls with all its trophies hung
+Falls not too soon, but lays its flower-crowned head
+Most royal in the dust, with no leaf shed
+Unhallowed or unchiselled or unsung.
+And though the after world will never hear
+The happy name of one so gently true,
+Nor chronicles write large this fatal year,
+Yet we who loved you, though we be but few,
+Keep you in whatsoeer is good, and rear
+In our weak virtues monuments to you.
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+GIOVANNI BATTISTA GUARINI
+The Microcosm
+
+Man of himselfs a little world, but joind
+With woman, woman for that end designd,
+(Hear cruel fair one whilst I this rehearse!)
+He makes up then a complete universe.
+Man, like this sublunary world, is born
+The sport of two cross planets, love, and scorn:
+Woman the other world resembles well,
+In whose looks Heavn is, in whose breast Hell.
@@ -0,0 +1,26 @@
+GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE
+Ocean of Earth
+
+I have built a house in the middle of the Ocean
+Its windows are the rivers flowing from my eyes
+Octopi are crawling all over where the walls are
+Hear their triple hearts beat and their beaks peck against the windowpanes
+
+House of dampness
+House of burning
+Seasons fastness
+Season singing
+The airplanes are laying eggs
+Watch out for the dropping of the anchor
+
+Watch out for the shooting black ichor
+It would be good if you were to come from the sky
+The skys honeysuckle is climbing
+The earthly octopi are throbbing
+And so very many of us have become our own gravediggers
+Pale octopi of the chalky waves O octopi with pale beaks
+Around the house is this ocean that you know well
+  And is never still
+
+
+Translated from the French 
@@ -0,0 +1,14 @@
+GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE
+The Lady
+
+Knock knock He has closed his door
+The gardens lilies have started to rot
+So who is the corpse being carried from the house
+
+You just knocked on his door
+
+And trot trot
+
+Trot goes little lady mouse
+
+Translated from the French 
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+HART CRANE
+A Name for All
+
+Moonmoth and grasshopper that flee our page
+And still wing on, untarnished of the name
+We pinion to your bodies to assuage
+Our envy of your freedomwe must maim
+
+Because we are usurpers, and chagrined
+And take the wing and scar it in the hand.
+Names we have, even, to clap on the wind;
+But we must die, as you, to understand.
+
+I dreamed that all men dropped their names, and sang
+As only they can praise, who build their days
+With fin and hoof, with wing and sweetened fang
+Struck free and holy in one Name always.
@@ -0,0 +1,168 @@
+HART CRANE
+For The Marriage of Faustus and Helen
+
+I
+
+The mind has shown itself at times
+Too much the baked and labeled dough
+Divided by accepted multitudes.
+Across the stacked partitions of the day
+Across the memoranda, baseball scores,
+The stenographic smiles and stock quotations
+Smutty wings flash out equivocations.
+
+The mind is brushed by sparrow wings;
+Numbers, rebuffed by asphalt, crowd
+The margins of the day, accent the curbs,
+Convoying divers dawns on every corner
+To druggist, barber and tobacconist,
+Until the graduate opacities of evening
+Take them away as suddenly to somewhere
+Virginal perhaps, less fragmentary, cool.
+
+         There is the world dimensional for
+       those untwisted by the love of things
+       irreconcilable ...
+
+And yet, suppose some evening I forgot
+The fare and transfer, yet got by that way
+Without recall,lost yet poised in traffic.
+Then I might find your eyes across an aisle,
+Still flickering with those prefigurations
+Prodigal, yet uncontested now,
+Half-riant before the jerky window frame.
+
+There is some way, I think, to touch
+Those hands of yours that count the nights
+Stippled with pink and green advertisements.
+And now, before its arteries turn dark
+I would have you meet this bartered blood.
+Imminent in his dream, none better knows
+The white wafer cheek of love, or offers words
+Lightly as moonlight on the eaves meets snow.
+
+Reflective conversion of all things
+At your deep blush, when ecstasies thread
+The limbs and belly, when rainbows spread
+Impinging on the throat and sides ...   
+Inevitable, the body of the world
+Weeps in inventive dust for the hiatus
+That winks above it, bluet in your breasts.
+
+The earth may glide diaphanous to death;
+But if I lift my arms it is to bend
+To you who turned away once, Helen, knowing
+The press of troubled hands, too alternate
+With steel and soil to hold you endlessly.
+I meet you, therefore, in that eventual flame
+You found in final chains, no captive then
+Beyond their million brittle, bloodshot eyes;
+White, through white cities passed on to assume
+That world which comes to each of us alone.
+Accept a lone eye riveted to your plane,
+Bent axle of devotion along companion ways
+That beat, continuous, to hourless days
+One inconspicuous, glowing orb of praise.
+
+
+       II
+
+Brazen hypnotics glitter here;
+Glee shifts from foot to foot,
+Magnetic to their tremulo.
+This crashing opera bouffe,
+Blest excursion! this ricochet
+From roof to roof
+Know, Olympians, we are breathless
+While nigger cupids scour the stars!
+
+A thousand light shrugs balance us
+Through snarling hails of melody.
+White shadows slip across the floor
+Splayed like cards from a loose hand;
+Rhythmic ellipses lead into canters
+Until somewhere a rooster banters.
+
+Greet naivelyyet intrepidly
+New soothings, new amazements
+That cornets introduce at every turn
+And you may fall downstairs with me
+With perfect grace and equanimity.
+Or, plaintively scud past shores
+Where, by strange harmonic laws
+All relatives, serene and cool,
+Sit rocked in patent armchairs.
+
+O,I have known metallic paradises
+Where cuckoos clucked to finches
+Above the deft catastrophes of drums.
+While titters hailed the groans of death
+Beneath gyrating awnings I have seen
+The incunabula of the divine grotesque.
+This music has a reassuring way.
+
+The siren of the springs of guilty song
+Let us take her on the incandescent wax
+Striated with nuances, nervosities
+That we are heir to: she is still so young,
+We cannot frown upon her as she smiles,
+Dipping here in this cultivated storm
+Among slim skaters of the gardened skies.
+
+
+       III
+
+Capped arbiter of beauty in this street
+That narrows darkly into motor dawn,
+You, here beside me, delicate ambassador
+Of intricate slain numbers that arise
+In whispers, naked of steel;
+                                       religious gunman!
+Who faithfully, yourself, will fall too soon,
+And in other ways than as the wind settles
+On the sixteen thrifty bridges of the city:
+Let us unbind our throats of fear and pity.
+
+                                             We even,
+Who drove speediest destruction
+In corymbulous formations of mechanics,
+Who hurried the hill breezes, spouting malice
+Plangent over meadows, and looked down
+On rifts of torn and empty houses
+Like old women with teeth unjubilant
+That waited faintly, briefly and in vain:
+
+We know, eternal gunman, our flesh remembers
+The tensile boughs, the nimble blue plateaus,
+The mounted, yielding cities of the air!
+
+That saddled sky that shook down vertical
+Repeated play of fireno hypogeum
+Of wave or rock was good against one hour.
+We did not ask for that, but have survived,
+And will persist to speak again before
+All stubble streets that have not curved
+To memory, or known the ominous lifted arm
+That lowers down the arc of Helens brow
+To saturate with blessing and dismay.
+
+A goose, tobacco and cologne
+Three winged and gold-shod prophecies of heaven,
+The lavish heart shall always have to leaven
+And spread with bells and voices, and atone
+The abating shadows of our conscript dust.
+
+Anchises navel, dripping of the sea,
+The hands Erasmus dipped in gleaming tides,
+Gathered the voltage of blown blood and vine;
+Delve upward for the new and scattered wine,
+O brother-thief of time, that we recall.
+Laugh out the meager penance of their days
+Who dare not share with us the breath released,
+The substance drilled and spent beyond repair
+For golden, or the shadow of gold hair.
+
+Distinctly praise the years, whose volatile
+Blamed bleeding hands extend and thresh the height
+The imagination spans beyond despair,
+Outpacing bargain, vocable and prayer.
@@ -0,0 +1,87 @@
+HART CRANE
+from The Bridge: Quaker Hill
+
+Perspective never withers from their eyes;   
+They keep that docile edict of the Spring
+That blends March with August Antarctic skies:   
+These are but cows that see no other thing   
+Than grass and snow, and their own inner being   
+Through the rich halo that they do not trouble   
+Even to cast upon the seasons fleeting
+Though they should thin and die on last years stubble.
+
+And they are awkward, ponderous and uncoy . . .   
+While we who press the cider mill, regarding them
+We, who with pledges taste the bright annoy   
+Of friendships acid wine, retarding phlegm,
+Shifting reprisals (til who shall tell us when
+The jest is too sharp to be kindly?) boast
+Much of our store of faith in other men
+Who would, ourselves, stalk down the merriest ghost.
+
+Above them old Mizzentop, palatial white   
+Hostelryfloor by floor to cinquefoil dormer   
+Portholes the ceilings stack their stoic height.   
+Long tiers of windows staring out toward former   
+Facesloose panes crown the hill and gleam   
+At sunset with a silent, cobwebbed patience . . .   
+
+See them, like eyes that still uphold some dream   
+Through mapled vistas, cancelled reservations!
+
+High from the central cupola, they say
+Ones glance could cross the borders of three states;   
+But I have seen deaths stare in slow survey   
+From four horizons that no one relates . . .   
+Weekenders avid of their turf-won scores,
+Here three hours from the semaphores, the Czars
+Of golf, by twos and threes in plaid plusfours   
+Alight with sticks abristle and cigars.
+
+This was the Promised Land, and still it is
+To the persuasive suburban land agent
+In bootleg roadhouses where the gin fizz
+Bubbles in time to Hollywoods new love-nest pageant.   
+Fresh from the radio in the old Meeting House   
+(Now the New Avalon Hotel) volcanoes roar
+A welcome to highsteppers that no mouse
+Who saw the Friends there ever heard before.
+
+What cunning neighbors history has in fine!   
+The woodlouse mortgages the ancient deal   
+Table that Powitzky buys for only nine-   
+Ty-five at Adams auction,eats the seal,   
+The spinster polish of antiquity . . .   
+Who holds the lease on time and on disgrace?   
+What eats the pattern with ubiquity?
+Where are my kinsmen and the patriarch race?
+
+The resigned factions of the dead preside.   
+Dead rangers bled their comfort on the snow;   
+But I must ask slain Iroquois to guide
+Me farther than scalped Yankees knew to go:   
+Shoulder the curse of sundered parentage,   
+Wait for the postman driving from Birch Hill   
+With birthright by blackmail, the arrant page   
+That unfolds a new destiny to fill . . . .   
+
+So, must we from the hawks far stemming view,   
+Must we descend as worms eye to construe   
+Our love of all we touch, and take it to the Gate
+As humbly as a guest who knows himself too late,
+His news already told? Yes, while the heart is wrung,
+Ariseyes, take this sheaf of dust upon your tongue!
+In one last angelus lift throbbing throat
+Listen, transmuting silence with that stilly note
+
+Of pain that Emily, that Isadora knew!
+While high from dim elm-chancels hung with dew,
+That triple-noted clause of moonlight
+Yes, whip-poor-will, unhusks the heart of fright,
+Breaks us and saves, yes, breaks the heart, yet yields
+That patience that is armour and that shields
+Love from despairwhen love forsees the end
+Leaf after autumnal leaf
+                                    break off,
+                                                   descend
+                                                               descend
@@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
+HART CRANE
+from The Bridge: Southern Cross
+
+I wanted you, nameless Woman of the South,
+No wraith, but utterlyas still more alone
+The Southern Cross takes night
+And lifts her girdles from her, one by one
+High, cool,
+wide from the slowly smoldering fire
+Of lower heavens,
+vaporous scars!
+
+Eve! Magdalene!
+or Mary, you?
+
+Whatever callfalls vainly on the wave.
+O simian Venus, homeless Eve,
+Unwedded, stumbling gardenless to grieve
+Windswept guitars on lonely decks forever;
+Finally to answer all within one grave!
+
+And this long wake of phosphor,
+iridescent
+Furrow of all our traveltrailed derision!
+Eyes crumble at its kiss. Its long-drawn spell
+Incites a yell. Slid on that backward vision
+The mind is churned to spittle, whispering hell.
+
+I wanted you . . . The embers of the Cross
+Climbed by aslant and huddling aromatically.
+It is blood to remember; it is fire
+To stammer back . . . It is
+Godyour namelessness. And the wash
+
+All night the water combed you with black
+Insolence. You crept out simmering, accomplished.
+Water rattled that stinging coil, your
+Rehearsed hairdocile, alas, from many arms.
+Yes, Evewraith of my unloved seed!
+
+The Cross, a phantom, buckleddropped below the dawn.
+Light drowned the lithic trillions of your spawn.
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+HART CRANE
+from The Bridge: The Dance
+
+Notes:
+Then you shall see her truly--your blood remembering its first invasion of her secrecy, its first encounters with her kind, her chieftain lover...his shade that haunts the lakes and hills
@@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
+HART CRANE
+Repose of Rivers
+
+The willows carried a slow sound,
+A sarabande the wind mowed on the mead.
+I could never remember
+That seething, steady leveling of the marshes
+Till age had brought me to the sea.
+
+Flags, weeds. And remembrance of steep alcoves
+Where cypresses shared the noons
+Tyranny; they drew me into hades almost.
+And mammoth turtles climbing sulphur dreams
+Yielded, while sun-silt rippled them
+Asunder ...
+
+How much I would have bartered! the black gorge
+And all the singular nestings in the hills
+Where beavers learn stitch and tooth.
+The pond I entered once and quickly fled
+I remember now its singing willow rim.
+
+And finally, in that memory all things nurse;
+After the city that I finally passed
+With scalding unguents spread and smoking darts
+The monsoon cut across the delta
+At gulf gates ... There, beyond the dykes
+
+I heard wind flaking sapphire, like this summer,
+And willows could not hold more steady sound.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY
+"Alas, so all things now do hold their peace!"
+
+Alas, so all things now do hold their peace!
+   Heaven and earth disturbed in no thing;
+The beasts, the air, the birds their song do cease,
+   The nightes car the stars about doth bring;
+Calm is the sea; the waves work less and less:
+   So am not I, whom love, alas! doth wring,
+Bringing before my face the great increase
+   Of my desires, whereat I weep and sing,
+In joy and woe, as in a doubtful case.
+   For my sweet thoughts sometime do pleasure bring:
+But by and by, the cause of my disease
+   Gives me a pang that inwardly doth sting,
+When that I think what grief it is again
+To live and lack the thing should rid my pain.   
@@ -0,0 +1,51 @@
+HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY
+Complaint of the Absence of Her Love Being Upon the Sea
+
+O happy dames, that may embrace
+The fruit of your delight,
+Help to bewail the woeful case
+And eke the heavy plight
+Of me, that wonted to rejoice
+The fortune of my pleasant choice;
+Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.
+
+In ship, freight with remembrance
+Of thoughts and pleasures past,
+He sails that hath in governance
+My life while it will last;
+With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,
+Furthering his hope, that is his sail,
+Toward me, the sweet port of his avail.
+
+Alas! how oft in dreams I see
+Those eyes that were my food;
+Which sometime so delighted me,
+That yet they do me good;
+Wherewith I wake with his return,
+Whose absent flame did make me burn:
+But when I find the lack, Lord, how I mourn!
+
+When other lovers in arms across
+Rejoice their chief delight.
+Drowned in tears, to mourn my loss
+I stand the bitter night
+In my window, where I may see
+Before the winds how the clouds flee.
+Lo! what a mariner love hath made of me!
+
+And in green waves when the salt flood
+Doth rise by rage of wind,
+A thousand fancies in that mood
+Assail my restless mind.
+Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe,
+That with the spoil of my heart did go,
+And left me; but, alas! why did he so?
+
+And when the seas wax calm again
+To chase fro me annoy,
+My doubtful hope doth cause me pain;
+So dread cuts off my joy.
+Thus is my wealth mingled with woe,
+And of each thought a doubt doth grow;
+Now he comes! Will he come? Alas, no, no!
+ 
@@ -0,0 +1,51 @@
+HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY
+Wyatt Resteth Here
+
+Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest;
+Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,
+And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;
+Such profit he of envy could obtain.
+
+A head, where wisdom mysteries did frame,
+Whose hammers beat still in that lively brain
+As on a stith, where some work of fame
+Was daily wrought, to turn to Britains gain.
+
+A visage, stern and mild; where both did grow,
+Vice to condemn, in virtues to rejoice;
+Amid great storms whom grace assured so,
+To live upright and smile at fortunes choice.
+
+A hand that taught what might be said in rhyme;
+That reft Chaucer the glory of his wit;
+A mark the which (unperfited, for time)
+Some may approach, but never none shall hit.
+
+A tongue that served in foreign realms his king;
+Whose courteous talk to virtue did enflame
+Each noble heart; a worthy guide to bring
+Our English youth, by travail unto fame.
+
+An eye whose judgment no affect could blind,
+Friends to allure, and foes to reconcile;
+Whose piercing look did represent a mind
+With virtue fraught, reposed, void of guile.
+
+A heart where dread yet never so impressed
+To hide the thought that might the truth avaunce;
+In neither fortune lift, nor so repressed,
+To swell in wealth, nor yield unto mischance.
+
+A valiant corps, where force and beauty met,
+Happy, alas! too happy, but for foes,
+Lived, and ran the race that nature set;
+Of manhoods shape, where she the mold did lose.
+
+But to the heavens that simple soul is fled,
+Which left with such, as covet Christ to know
+Witness of faith that never shall be dead:
+Sent for our health, but not received so.
+
+Thus, for our guilt, this jewel have we lost;
+The earth his bones, the heavens possess his ghost.
+Amen.
@@ -0,0 +1,27 @@
+HENRY VIII, KING OF ENGLAND
+Green Groweth the Holly
+
+Green groweth the holly,
+So doth the ivy.
+Though winter blasts blow never so high,
+Green groweth the holly.
+
+As the holly groweth green
+And never changeth hue,
+So I am, ever hath been,
+Unto my lady true.
+
+As the holly groweth green
+With ivy all alone
+When flowers cannot be seen
+And greenwood leaves be gone,
+
+Now unto my lady
+Promise to her I make,
+From all other only
+To her I me betake.
+
+Adieu, mine own lady,
+Adieu, my special
+Who hath my heart truly
+Be sure, and ever shall.
@@ -0,0 +1,23 @@
+HENRY VIII, KING OF ENGLAND
+If Love Now Reigned As It Hath Been
+
+If love now reigned as it hath been
+And were rewarded as it hath sin,
+
+Noble men then would sure ensearch
+All ways whereby they might it reach,
+
+But envy reigneth with such disdain
+And causeth lovers outwardly to refrain,
+
+Which puts them to more and more
+Inwardly most grievous and sore.
+
+The fault in whom I cannot set,
+But let them tell which love doth get
+
+To lovers I put now sure this case:
+Which of their loves doth get them grace?
+
+And unto them which doth it know
+Better than do I, I think it so.
@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
+HENRY VIII, KING OF ENGLAND
+Though that Men do Call it Dotage
+
+Though that men do call it dotage,
+Who loveth not wanteth courage;
+
+And whosoever may love get,
+From Venus sure he must it fet
+
+Or else from her which is her heir,
+And she to him must seem most fair.
+
+With eye and mind doth both agree.
+There is no boot: there must it be.
+
+The eye doth look and represent,
+But mind afformeth with full consent.
+
+Thus am I fixed without grudge:
+Mine eye with heart doth me so judge.
+
+Love maintaineth all noble courage.
+Who love disdaineth is all of the village:
+
+Such loversthough they take pain
+It were pity they should obtain,
+
+For often times where they do sue
+They hinder lovers that would be true.
+
+For whoso loveth should love but once.
+Change whoso will, I will be none.
@@ -0,0 +1,39 @@
+ISABELLA WHITNEY
+A Communication Which the Author Had to London, Before She Made Her Will
+
+The time is come, I must depart
+   from thee, ah famous city;
+I never yet to rue my smart,
+   did find that thou hadst pity.
+Wherefore small cause there is, that I
+   should grieve from thee to go;
+But many women foolishly,
+   like me, and other moe,
+Do such a fixed fancy set,
+   on those which least deserve,
+That long it is ere wit we get   
+   away from them to swerve.
+But time with pity oft will tell   
+   to those that will her try,
+Whether it best be more to mell,
+   or utterly defy.
+And now hath time me put in mind
+   of thy great cruelness,
+That never once a help would find,
+   to ease me in distress.
+Thou never yet wouldst credit give
+   to board me for a year;
+Nor with apparel me relieve,
+   except thou payed were.
+No, no, thou never didst me good,
+   nor ever wilt, I know.
+Yet am I in no angry mood,
+   but will, or ere I go,
+In perfect love and charity,
+   my testament here write,
+And leave to thee such treasury,
+   as I in it recite.
+Now stand aside and give me leave
+      to write my latest will;
+And see that none you do deceive
+   of that I leave them till.
@@ -0,0 +1,27 @@
+IVOR GURNEY
+Ballad of the Three Spectres
+
+As I went up by Ovillers
+   In mud and water cold to the knee,
+There went three jeering, fleering spectres,
+   That walked abreast and talked of me.
+ 
+The first said, Heres a right brave soldier
+   That walks the dark unfearingly;
+Soon hell come back on a fine stretcher,
+   And laughing for a nice Blighty.
+ 
+The second, Read his face, old comrade,
+   No kind of lucky chance I see;
+One day hell freeze in mud to the marrow,
+   Then look his last on Picardie.
+ 
+Though bitter the word of these first twain
+   Curses the third spat venomously;
+Hell stay untouched till the wars last dawning
+   Then live one hour of agony.
+ 
+Liars the first two were. Behold me
+   At sloping arms by one  two  three;
+Waiting the time I shall discover
+   Whether the third spake verity.
@@ -0,0 +1,20 @@
+IVOR GURNEY
+I Saw England  July Night
+
+She was a village
+Of lovely knowledge
+The high roads left her aside, she was forlorn, a maid 
+Water ran there, dusk hid her, she climbed four-wayed.
+Brown-gold windows showed last folk not yet asleep;
+Water ran, was a centre of silence deep,
+Fathomless deeps of pricked sky, almost fathomless
+Hallowed an upward gaze in pale satin of blue.
+And I was happy indeed, of mind, soul, body even
+Having got given
+A sign undoubtful of a dear England few
+Doubt, not many have seen,
+That Will Squele he knew and was so shriven.
+Home of Twelfth Night  Edward Thomas by Arras fallen,
+Borrow and Hardy, Sussex tales out of Roman heights callen.
+No madrigals or field-songs to my all reverent whim;
+Till I got back I was dumb.
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+IVOR GURNEY
+Photographs
+
+Lying in dug-outs, joking idly, wearily;
+   Watching the candle guttering in the draught;
+Hearing the great shells go high over us, eerily
+   Singing; how often have I turned over, and laughed
+ 
+With pity and pride, photographs of all colours,
+   All sizes, subjects: khaki brothers in France;
+Or mother's faces worn with countless dolours;
+   Or girls whose eyes were challenging and must dance,
+ 
+Though in a picture only, a common cheap
+   Ill-taken card; and childrenfrozen, some
+(Babies) waiting on Dicky-bird to peep
+   Out of the handkerchief that is his home
+ 
+(But he's so shy!). And some with bright looks, calling
+   Delight across the miles of land and sea,
+That not the dread of barrage suddenly falling
+   Could quite blot outnot mud nor lethargy.
+ 
+Smiles and triumphant careless laughter. O
+   The pain of them, wide Earth's most sacred things! 
+Lying in dug-outs, hearing the great shells slow
+   Sailing mile-high, the heart mounts higher and sings.
+ 
+But onceO why did he keep that bitter token
+   Of a dead Love?that boy, who, suddenly moved,
+Showed me, his eyes wet, his low talk broken,
+   A girl who better had not been beloved.
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+IVOR GURNEY
+Servitude
+
+If it were not for England, who would bear
+This heavy servitude one moment more?
+To keep a brothel, sweep and wash the floor
+Of filthiest hovels were noble to compare
+With this brass-cleaning life. Now here, now there
+Harried in foolishness, scanned curiously o'er
+By fools made brazen by conceit, and store
+Of antique witticisms thin and bare.
+
+Only the love of comrades sweetens all,
+Whose laughing spirit will not be outdone.
+As night-watching men wait for the sun
+To hearten them, so wait I on such boys
+As neither brass nor Hell-fire may appal,
+Nor guns, nor sergeant-major's bluster and noise.
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+IVOR GURNEY
+Song [Only the wanderer]
+
+Only the wanderer
+   Knows England's graces,
+Or can anew see clear
+   Familiar faces.
+
+And who loves joy as he
+   That dwells in shadows?
+Do not forget me quite,
+   O Severn meadows.
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+IVOR GURNEY
+Strange Service
+
+Little did I dream, England, that you bore me
+Under the Cotswold hills beside the water meadows,
+To do you dreadful service, here, beyond your borders
+And your enfolding seas.
+ 
+I was a dreamer ever, and bound to your dear service,
+Meditating deep, I thought on your secret beauty,
+As through a child's face one may see the clear spirit
+Miraculously shining.
+ 
+Your hills not only hills, but friends of mine and kindly,
+Your tiny knolls and orchards hidden beside the river
+Muddy and strongly flowing, with shy and tiny streamlets
+Safe in its bosom.
+ 
+Now these are memories only, and your skies and rushy sky-pools
+Fragile mirrors easily broken by moving airs ...
+But deep in my heart for ever goes on your daily being,
+And uses consecrate.
+ 
+Think on me too, O Mother, who wrest my soul to serve you
+In strange and fearful ways beyond your encircling waters;
+None but you can know my heart, its tears and sacrifice;
+None, but you, repay.
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+IVOR GURNEY
+To His Love
+
+He's gone, and all our plans
+   Are useless indeed.
+We'll walk no more on Cotswold
+   Where the sheep feed
+   Quietly and take no heed.
+ 
+His body that was so quick
+   Is not as you
+Knew it, on Severn river
+   Under the blue
+   Driving our small boat through.
+ 
+You would not know him now ...
+   But still he died
+Nobly, so cover him over
+   With violets of pride
+   Purple from Severn side.
+ 
+Cover him, cover him soon!
+   And with thick-set
+Masses of memoried flowers
+   Hide that red wet
+   Thing I must somehow forget.
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+IVOR GURNEY
+To the Poet Before Battle
+
+Now, youth, the hour of thy dread passion comes;
+Thy lovely things must all be laid away;
+And thou, as others, must face the riven day
+Unstirred by rattle of the rolling drums,
+Or bugles' strident cry. When mere noise numbs
+The sense of being, the sick soul doth sway,
+Remember thy great craft's honour, that they may say
+Nothing in shame of poets. Then the crumbs
+Of praise the little versemen joyed to take
+Shall be forgotten; then they must know we are,
+For all our skill in words, equal in might
+And strong of mettle as those we honoured; make
+The name of poet terrible in just war,
+And like a crown of honour upon the fight.
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+IVOR GURNEY
+To the Prussians of England
+
+When I remember plain heroic strength
+And shining virtue shown by Ypres pools,
+Then read the blither written by knaves for fools
+In praise of English soldiers lying at length,
+Who purely dream what England shall be made
+Gloriously new, free of the old stains
+By us, who pay the price that must be paid,
+Will freeze all winter over Ypres plains.
+Our silly dreams of peace you put aside
+And brotherhood of man, for you will see
+An armed mistress, braggart of the tide,
+Her children slaves, under your mastery.
+We'll have a word there too, and forge a knife,
+Will cut the cancer threatens England's life.
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+JOHN DONNE
+A Lecture upon the Shadow
+
+Stand still, and I will read to thee
+A lecture, love, in love's philosophy.
+         These three hours that we have spent,
+         Walking here, two shadows went
+Along with us, which we ourselves produc'd.
+But, now the sun is just above our head,
+         We do those shadows tread,
+         And to brave clearness all things are reduc'd.
+So whilst our infant loves did grow,
+Disguises did, and shadows, flow
+From us, and our cares; but now 'tis not so.
+That love has not attain'd the high'st degree,
+Which is still diligent lest others see.
+
+Except our loves at this noon stay,
+We shall new shadows make the other way.
+         As the first were made to blind
+         Others, these which come behind
+Will work upon ourselves, and blind our eyes.
+If our loves faint, and westwardly decline,
+         To me thou, falsely, thine,
+         And I to thee mine actions shall disguise.
+The morning shadows wear away,
+But these grow longer all the day;
+But oh, love's day is short, if love decay.
+Love is a growing, or full constant light,
+And his first minute, after noon, is night.
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+JOHN DONNE
+A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
+
+As virtuous men pass mildly away,
+   And whisper to their souls to go,
+Whilst some of their sad friends do say
+   The breath goes now, and some say, No:
+
+So let us melt, and make no noise,
+   No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
+'Twere profanation of our joys
+   To tell the laity our love.
+
+Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears,
+   Men reckon what it did, and meant;
+But trepidation of the spheres,
+   Though greater far, is innocent.
+
+Dull sublunary lovers' love
+   (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
+Absence, because it doth remove
+   Those things which elemented it.
+
+But we by a love so much refined,
+   That our selves know not what it is,
+Inter-assured of the mind,
+   Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.
+
+Our two souls therefore, which are one,
+   Though I must go, endure not yet
+A breach, but an expansion,
+   Like gold to airy thinness beat.
+
+If they be two, they are two so
+   As stiff twin compasses are two;
+Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
+   To move, but doth, if the other do.
+
+And though it in the center sit,
+   Yet when the other far doth roam,
+It leans and hearkens after it,
+   And grows erect, as that comes home.
+
+Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
+   Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
+Thy firmness makes my circle just,
+   And makes me end where I begun.
@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
+JOHN DONNE
+A Valediction: of Weeping
+
+          Let me pour forth
+My tears before thy face, whilst I stay here,
+For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they bear,
+And by this mintage they are something worth,
+         For thus they be
+         Pregnant of thee;
+Fruits of much grief they are, emblems of more,
+When a tear falls, that thou falls which it bore,
+So thou and I are nothing then, when on a diverse shore.
+
+         On a round ball
+A workman that hath copies by, can lay
+An Europe, Afric, and an Asia,
+And quickly make that, which was nothing, all;
+         So doth each tear
+         Which thee doth wear,
+A globe, yea world, by that impression grow,
+Till thy tears mix'd with mine do overflow
+This world; by waters sent from thee, my heaven dissolved so.
+
+         O more than moon,
+Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere,
+Weep me not dead, in thine arms, but forbear
+To teach the sea what it may do too soon;
+         Let not the wind
+         Example find,
+To do me more harm than it purposeth;
+Since thou and I sigh one another's breath,
+Whoe'er sighs most is cruellest, and hastes the other's death.
@@ -0,0 +1,32 @@
+JOHN DONNE
+Air and Angels
+
+Twice or thrice had I lov'd thee,
+Before I knew thy face or name;
+So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame
+Angels affect us oft, and worshipp'd be;
+         Still when, to where thou wert, I came,
+Some lovely glorious nothing I did see.
+         But since my soul, whose child love is,
+Takes limbs of flesh, and else could nothing do,
+         More subtle than the parent is
+Love must not be, but take a body too;
+         And therefore what thou wert, and who,
+                I bid Love ask, and now
+That it assume thy body, I allow,
+And fix itself in thy lip, eye, and brow.
+
+Whilst thus to ballast love I thought,
+And so more steadily to have gone,
+With wares which would sink admiration,
+I saw I had love's pinnace overfraught;
+         Ev'ry thy hair for love to work upon
+Is much too much, some fitter must be sought;
+         For, nor in nothing, nor in things
+Extreme, and scatt'ring bright, can love inhere;
+         Then, as an angel, face, and wings
+Of air, not pure as it, yet pure, doth wear,
+         So thy love may be my love's sphere;
+                Just such disparity
+As is 'twixt air and angels' purity,
+'Twixt women's love, and men's, will ever be.
@@ -0,0 +1,23 @@
+JOHN DONNE
+Break of Day
+
+Tis true, tis day, what though it be?
+O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
+Why should we rise because tis light?
+Did we lie down because twas night?
+Love, which in spite of darkness brought us hither,
+Should in despite of light keep us together.
+
+Light hath no tongue, but is all eye;
+If it could speak as well as spy,
+This were the worst that it could say,
+That being well I fain would stay,
+And that I loved my heart and honour so,
+That I would not from him, that had them, go.
+
+Must business thee from hence remove?
+Oh, thats the worst disease of love,
+The poor, the foul, the false, love can
+Admit, but not the busied man.
+He which hath business, and makes love, doth do
+Such wrong, as when a married man doth woo.
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+JOHN DONNE
+Elegy IX: The Autumnal
+
+No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace
+         As I have seen in one autumnal face.
+Young beauties force our love, and that's a rape,
+         This doth but counsel, yet you cannot scape.
+If 'twere a shame to love, here 'twere no shame;
+         Affection here takes reverence's name.
+Were her first years the golden age? That's true,
+         But now she's gold oft tried and ever new.
+That was her torrid and inflaming time,
+         This is her tolerable tropic clime.
+Fair eyes, who asks more heat than comes from hence,
+         He in a fever wishes pestilence.
+Call not these wrinkles, graves; if graves they were,
+         They were Love's graves, for else he is no where.
+Yet lies not Love dead here, but here doth sit
+         Vow'd to this trench, like an anachorit;
+And here till hers, which must be his death, come,
+         He doth not dig a grave, but build a tomb.
+Here dwells he; though he sojourn ev'rywhere
+         In progress, yet his standing house is here:
+Here where still evening is, not noon nor night,
+         Where no voluptuousness, yet all delight.
+In all her words, unto all hearers fit,
+         You may at revels, you at council, sit.
+This is Love's timber, youth his underwood;
+         There he, as wine in June, enrages blood,
+Which then comes seasonabliest when our taste
+         And appetite to other things is past.
+Xerxes' strange Lydian love, the platan tree,
+         Was lov'd for age, none being so large as she,
+Or else because, being young, nature did bless
+         Her youth with age's glory, barrenness.
+If we love things long sought, age is a thing
+         Which we are fifty years in compassing;
+If transitory things, which soon decay,
+         Age must be loveliest at the latest day.
+But name not winter faces, whose skin's slack,
+         Lank as an unthrift's purse, but a soul's sack;
+Whose eyes seek light within, for all here's shade;
+         Whose mouths are holes, rather worn out than made;
+Whose every tooth to a several place is gone,
+         To vex their souls at resurrection:
+Name not these living death's-heads unto me,
+         For these, not ancient, but antique be.
+I hate extremes, yet I had rather stay
+         With tombs than cradles, to wear out a day.
+Since such love's natural lation is, may still
+         My love descend, and journey down the hill,
+Not panting after growing beauties. So,
+         I shall ebb on with them who homeward go.
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+JOHN DONNE
+Elegy V: His Picture
+
+Here take my picture; though I bid farewell
+Thine, in my heart, where my soul dwells, shall dwell.
+'Tis like me now, but I dead, 'twill be more
+When we are shadows both, than 'twas before.
+When weather-beaten I come back, my hand
+Perhaps with rude oars torn, or sun beams tann'd,
+My face and breast of haircloth, and my head
+With care's rash sudden storms being o'erspread,
+My body'a sack of bones, broken within,
+And powder's blue stains scatter'd on my skin;
+If rival fools tax thee to'have lov'd a man
+So foul and coarse as, oh, I may seem then,
+This shall say what I was, and thou shalt say,
+"Do his hurts reach me? doth my worth decay?
+Or do they reach his judging mind, that he
+Should now love less, what he did love to see?
+That which in him was fair and delicate,
+Was but the milk which in love's childish state
+Did nurse it; who now is grown strong enough
+To feed on that, which to disus'd tastes seems tough."
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+JOHN DONNE
+Holy Sonnets: Show me dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear
+
+Show me dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear.
+What! is it she which on the other shore
+Goes richly painted? or which, robb'd and tore,
+Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
+Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year?
+Is she self-truth, and errs? now new, now outwore?
+Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore
+On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?
+Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
+First travel we to seek, and then make love?
+Betray, kind husband, thy spouse to our sights,
+And let mine amorous soul court thy mild Dove,
+Who is most true and pleasing to thee then
+When she'is embrac'd and open to most men.
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+JOHN DONNE
+Holy Sonnets: Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
+
+Since she whom I lov'd hath paid her last debt
+To nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
+And her soul early into heaven ravished,
+Wholly in heavenly things my mind is set.
+Here the admiring her my mind did whet
+To seek thee, God; so streams do show the head;
+But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
+A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
+But why should I beg more love, whenas thou
+Dost woo my soul, for hers off'ring all thine,
+And dost not only fear lest I allow
+My love to saints and angels, things divine,
+But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
+Lest the world, flesh, yea devil put thee out.
@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+JOHN DONNE
+Holy Sonnets: Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
+
+Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
+Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste,
+I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
+And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
+I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
+Despair behind, and death before doth cast
+Such terror, and my feebled flesh doth waste
+By sin in it, which it towards hell doth weigh.
+Only thou art above, and when towards thee
+By thy leave I can look, I rise again;
+But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
+That not one hour I can myself sustain;
+Thy grace may wing me to prevent his art,
+And thou like adamant draw mine iron heart.
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				`Licensed under "CCO: Public Domain" (https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/)`