Edmund Spenser Quotes

137 Sourced Quotes

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
As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place.

Edmund Spenser
As when in Cymbrian plaine
An heard of bulles, whom kindly rage doth sting,
Doe for the milky mothers want complaine,
And fill the fieldes with troublous bellowing.

Edmund Spenser
The noble heart, that harbours virtuous thought,
And is with child of glorious great intent,
Can never rest, until it forth have brought
Th' eternal brood of glory excellent.

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

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

Edmund Spenser
For of the soul the body form doth take;
For soul is form, and doth the body make.

Edmund Spenser
How oft do they their silver bowers leave
To come to succour us that succour want!

Edmund Spenser
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne.
For a man by nothing is so well bewrayd,
As by his manners.

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

Edmund Spenser
Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day
Didst make thy triumph over death and sin:
And, having harrowed hell, didst bring away
Captivity thence captive, us to win.

Edmund Spenser
But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad;
Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad.

Edmund Spenser
Who will not mercie unto others show,
How can he mercy ever hope to have?

Edmund Spenser
O happy earth,
Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread!

Edmund Spenser
Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,
Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes,
And blesseth her with his two happy hands.

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

Edmund Spenser
Dan Chaucer, well of English undefiled,
On Fame's eternal beadroll worthy to be filed.

Edmund Spenser
For all that fair is, is by nature good;
That is a sign to know the gentle blood.

Edmund Spenser
But on his breast a bloody cross he bore,
The dear remembrance of his dying Lord.

Edmund Spenser
What man that sees the ever-whirling wheel
Of Change, the which all mortal things doth sway,
But that thereby doth find, and plainly feel,
How Mutability in them doth play
Her cruel sports, to many men's decay?

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
Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,
And layes the soul to sleepe in quiet grave?
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please.

Edmund Spenser
For all that Nature by her mother-wit
Could frame in earth.

Edmund Spenser
Full little knowest thou that hast not tried, What hell it is, in suing long to bide: To lose good days, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed today, to be put back tomorrow; To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow.

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
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
For who so list into the heavens looke, And search the courses of the rowling spheares, Shall find that from the point, where first they tooke Their setting forth, in these few thousand yeares They all are wandred much; that plaine appears.

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

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
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