Edmund Spenser Quotes & Sayings

How many perils doe enfold The righteous man to make him daily fall. — Edmund Spenser

All for love, and nothing for reward. — Edmund Spenser

Then came October, full of merry glee. — Edmund Spenser

Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small. — Edmund Spenser

Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song. — Edmund Spenser

Sluggish idleness
the nurse of sin. — Edmund Spenser

The whiles some one did chaunt this louely lay;
Ah see, who so faire thing doest faine to see,
In springing flowre the image of thy day;
Ah see the Virgin Rose, how sweetly shee
Doth first peepe forth with bashfull modestee,
That fairer seemes, the lesse ye see her may;
Lo see soone after, how more bold and free
Her bared bosome she doth broad display;
Loe see soone after, how she fades, and falles away.

So passeth, in the passing of a day,
Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the flowre,
Ne more doth flourish after first decay,
That earst was sought to decke both bed and bowre,
Of many a Ladie, and many a Paramowre:
Gather therefore the Rose, whilest yet is prime,
For soone comes age, that will her pride deflowre:
Gather the Rose of love, whilest yet is time,
Whilest louing thou mayst loued be with equall crime. — Edmund Spenser

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

O but," quoth she, "great griefe will not be tould,
And can more easily be thought, then said."
"Right so"; quoth he, "but he, that never would,
Could never: will to might gives greatest aid."
"But grief," quoth she, "does great grow displaid,
If then it find not helpe, and breedes despaire."
"Despaire breedes not," quoth he, "where faith is staid."
"No faith so fast," quoth she, "but flesh does paire."
"Flesh may empaire," quoth he, "but reason can repaire. — Edmund Spenser

Nothing under heaven so strongly doth allure the sense of man, and all his mind possess, as beauty's love. — Edmund Spenser

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

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

Each goodly thing is hardest to begin. — Edmund Spenser

All that in this delightful garden grows should happy be and have immortal bliss. — Edmund Spenser

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

She bathed with roses red,
And violets blew.
And all the sweetest flowres
That in the forrest grew. — Edmund Spenser

And thus of all my harvest-hope I have Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care. — Edmund Spenser

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

Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time. — Edmund Spenser

Full many mischiefs follow cruel wrath;
Abhorred bloodshed and tumultuous strife
Unmanly murder and unthrifty scath,
Bitter despite, with rancor's rusty knife;
And fretting grief the enemy of life;
All these and many evils more, haunt ire. — Edmund Spenser

And painful pleasure turns to pleasing pain. — Edmund Spenser

Hard it is to teach the old horse to amble anew. — Edmund Spenser

Men, when their actions succeed not as they would, are always ready to impute the blame thereof to heaven, so as to excuse their own follies. — Edmund Spenser

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? — Edmund Spenser

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

Ah lucklesse babe, borne vnder cruell starre,
And in dead parents balefull ashes bred,
Full litle weenest thou, what sorrowes are
Left thee for portion of thy liuelihed,
Poore Orphane in the wide world scattered,
As budding braunch rent from the natiue tree,
And throwen forth, till it be withered:
Such is the state of men: thus enter wee
Into this life with woe, and end with miseree. — Edmund Spenser

Woe never wants, where every cause is caught, and rash Occasion makes unquiet life. — Edmund Spenser

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? — Edmund Spenser

The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne. — Edmund Spenser

Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, Ease after war, death after life does greatly please. — Edmund Spenser

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

For all that faire is, is by nature good;That is a signe to know the gentle blood. — Edmund Spenser

Fretting grief the enemy of life. — Edmund Spenser

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

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

For deeds to die, however nobly done, And thoughts of men to as themselves decay, But wise words taught in numbers for to run, Recorded by the Muses, live for ay. — Edmund Spenser

For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought. — Edmund Spenser

And all for love, and nothing for reward. — Edmund Spenser

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

So let us love, dear Love, like as we ought;
Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught. — Edmund Spenser

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

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

Gold all is not that doth golden seem. — Edmund Spenser

Thrice happy she that is so well assured Unto herself and settled so in heart That neither will for better be allured Ne fears to worse with any chance to start, But like a steddy ship doth strongly part The raging waves and keeps her course aright; Ne aught for tempest doth from it depart, Ne aught for fairer weather's false delight. Such self-assurance need not fear the spight Of grudging foes; ne favour seek of friends; But in the stay of her own stedfast might Neither to one herself nor other bends. Most happy she that most assured doth rest, But he most happy who such one loves best. — Edmund Spenser

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

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

For we by conquest, of our soveraine might,And by eternall doome of Fate's decree,Have wonne the Empire of the Heavens bright. — Edmund Spenser

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

[...] one louing howre
For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:
A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre — Edmund Spenser

For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds,
And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds; — Edmund Spenser

Fondnesse it were for any being free,
To covet fetters, though they golden bee. — Edmund Spenser

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

Faire Ladies, that to loue captiued arre,
And chaste desires do nourish in your mind,
Let not her fault your sweet affections marre,
Ne blot the bounty of all womankind;
'Mongst thousands good one wanton Dame to find:
Emongst the Roses grow some wicked weeds;
For this was not to loue, but lust inclind;
For loue does alwayes bring forth bounteous deeds,
And in each gentle hart desire of honour breeds. — Edmund Spenser

The poets' scrolls will outlive the monuments of stone. Genius survives; all else is claimed by death. — Edmund Spenser

Change still doth reign, and keep the greater sway. — Edmund Spenser

Ah for pittie, wil ranke Winters rage,
These bitter blasts neuer ginne tasswage?
The keene cold blowes throug my beaten hyde,
All as I were through the body gryde.
My ragged rontes all shiver and shake,
As doen high Towers in an earthquake:
They wont in the wind wagge their wrigle tailes,
Perke as Peacock: but nowe it auales. — Edmund Spenser

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

What more felicitie can fall to creature Than to enjoy delight with libertie, And to be lord of all the workes of Nature, To raine in th' aire from earth to highest skie, To feed on flowres and weeds of glorious feature. — Edmund Spenser

Much can they praise the trees so straight and high, The sailing pine,the cedar proud and tall, The vine-prop elm, the poplar never dry, The builder oak, sole king of forests all, The aspin good for staves, the cypress funeral, The laurel, meed of mighty conquerors And poets sage, the fir that weepest still, The yew obedient to the bender's will, The birch for shafts, the sallow for the mill, The myrrh sweet-bleeding in the bitter wound, The warlike beech, the ash for nothing ill, The fruitful olive, and the platane round, The carver holm, the maple seldom inward sound. — Edmund Spenser

I hate the day, because it lendeth light
To see all things, but not my love to see. — Edmund Spenser

His Lady sad to see his sore constraint,
Cried 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 distaine,
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. — Edmund Spenser

Unhappie Verse, the witnesse of my unhappie state,
Make thy selfe fluttring wings of thy fast flying
Thought — Edmund Spenser

The nightingale is sovereign of song. — Edmund Spenser

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

Together linkt with adamantine chains. — Edmund Spenser

Her angel's face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place. — Edmund Spenser

The fish once caught, new bait will hardly bite. — Edmund Spenser

What man so wise, what earthly wit so ware,
As to descry the crafty cunning train,
By which deceit doth mask in visor fair,
And cast her colours dyed deep in grain,
To seem like truth, whose shape she well can feign,
And fitting gestures to her purpose frame,
The guiltless man with guile to entertain? — Edmund Spenser

The noblest mind the best contentment has — Edmund Spenser

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

And painefull pleasure turnes to pleasing paine. — Edmund Spenser

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

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

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

Thankfulness is the tune of angels. — Edmund Spenser

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

Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere;
Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough;
Sweet is the eglantine, but stiketh nere;
Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough;
Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough;
Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill;
Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough;
And sweet is moly, but his root is ill. — Edmund Spenser

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

Not so (quoth he) love most aboundeth there.
For all the walls and windows there are writ,
All full of love, and love, and love my deare,
And all their talke and studie is of it.
Ne any there doth brave or valiant seeme,
Unlesse that some gay Mistresse badge he bears:
Ne any one himselfe doth ought esteeme,
Unlesse he swin in love up to the ears.
But they of love and of his sacred lere,
(As it should be) all otherwise devise,
Then we poore shepheards are accustomd here,
And him do sue and serve all otherwise.
For with lewd speeches and licentious deeds,
His mightie mysteries they do prophane,
And use his ydle name to other needs,
But as a complement for courting vaine.
So him they do not serve as they professe,
But make him serve to them for sordid uses,
Ah my dread Lord, that doest liege hearts possesse,
Avenge they selfe on them for their abuses. — Edmund Spenser

He that strives to touch the starts, oft stumbles at a straw. — Edmund Spenser

It is the mind that maketh good of ill, that maketh wretch or happy, rich or poor. — Edmund Spenser

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. — Edmund Spenser

The ever-whirling wheele Of Change, to which all mortal things doth sway. — Edmund Spenser

Yet nothing did he dread, but euer was ydrad. — Edmund Spenser

Where justice grows, there grows eke greater grace. — Edmund Spenser

All that in this world is great or gay,
Doth, as a vapor, vanish and decay. — Edmund Spenser

Vain-glorious man, when fluttering wind does blow
In his light wing's, is lifted up to sky;
The scorn of-knighthood and true chivalry.
To think, without desert of gentle deed
And noble worth, to be advanced high,
Such praise is shame, but honour, virtue's meed,
Doth bear the fairest flower in honourable seed. — Edmund Spenser

The mind maketh good or ill, wretch or happy, rich or poor. — Edmund Spenser

Here haue I cause, in men iust blame to find,
That in their proper prayse too partiall bee,
And not indifferent to woman kind,
To whom no share in armes and cheualrie
They do impart, ne maken memorie
Of their brave gestes and prowess martiall;
Scarse do they spare to one or two or three,
Rowme in their writs; yet the same writing small
Does all their deeds deface, and dims their glories all,
But by record of antique times I find,
That women wont in warres to beare most sway,
And to all great exploits them selues inclind:
Of which they still the girlond bore away,
Till enuious Men fearing their rules decay,
Gan coyne straight laws to curb their liberty;
Yet sith they warlike armes haue layd away:
They haue exceld in artes and policy,
That now we foolish men that prayse gin eke t'enuy. — Edmund Spenser

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

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

But times do change and move continually. — Edmund Spenser

Men call you fayre, and you doe credit it,
For that your self ye daily such doe see:
But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit,
And vertuous mind, is much more praysd of me.
For all the rest, how ever fayre it be,
Shall turne to nought and loose that glorious hew:
But onely that is permanent and free
From frayle corruption, that doth flesh ensew.
That is true beautie: that doth argue you
To be divine and borne of heavenly seed:
Deriv'd from that fayre Spirit, from whom al true
And perfect beauty did at first proceed.
He onely fayre, and what he fayre hath made,
All other fayre lyke flowres untymely fade. — Edmund Spenser

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 dissolv'd through my so hot desire,
But harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
Is not delay'd 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 congeal'd 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. — Edmund Spenser

There is nothing lost, but may be found, if sought.
(No hay nada perdido, que no pueda encontrarse, si se lo busca) — Edmund Spenser

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

Those that were up themselves, kept others low;
Those that were low themselves, held others hard;
He suffered them to ryse or greater grow;
But every one did strive his fellow down to throw. — Edmund Spenser

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

Pour out the wine without restraint or stay,
Pour not by cups, but by the bellyful,
Pour out to all that wull. — Edmund Spenser

Much more profitable and gracious is doctrine by example than by rule. — Edmund Spenser