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Amoretti: Sonnet 10 Post by :lonestar Category :Poems Author :Edmund Spenser Date :March 2011 Read :2148

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Amoretti: Sonnet 10


Unrighteous Lord of love, what law is this,
That me thou makest thus tormented be,
The whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse
Of her freewill, scorning both thee and me?
See! how the Tyrannesse doth ioy to see
The hugh massacres which her eyes do make,
And humbled harts brings captive unto thee,
That thou of them mayst mightie vengeance take.
But her proud hart doe thou a little shake,
And that high look, with which she doth comptroll
All this worlds pride, bow to a baser make*,
And al her faults in thy black booke enroll:
That I may laugh at her in equall sort
As she doth laugh at me, and makes my pain her sport.

(* _Make_, mate.)

(The end)
Edmund Spenser's poem: Amoretti: Sonnet 10

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Amoretti: Sonnet 11 Amoretti: Sonnet 11

Amoretti: Sonnet 11
Dayly when I do seeke and sew for peace,And hostages doe offer for ray truth,She, cruell warriour, doth her selfe addresseTo battell, and the weary war renew'th;Ne wilbe moov'd, with reason or with rewth*,To graunt small respit to my restlesse toile;But greedily her fell intent poursewth,Of my poore life to make unpittied spoile.Yet my poore life, all sorrowes to assoyle,I would her yield, her wrath to pacify;But then she seeks, with torment and turmoyle,To force me live, and will not let me dy. All paine hath end, and every war hafh peace; But mine, no price nor prayer may

Amoretti: Sonnet 9 Amoretti: Sonnet 9

Amoretti: Sonnet 9
Long-while I sought to what I might compareThose powrefull eies which lighten my dark spright;Yet find I nought on earth, to which I dareResemble th'ymage of their goodly light.Not to the sun, for they doo shine by night;Nor to the moone, for they are changed never;Nor to the starres, for they have purer sight;Nor to the fire, for they consume not ever;Nor to the lightning, for they still persever;Nor to the diamond, for they are more tender;Nor unto cristall, for nought may them sever;Nor unto glasse, such basenesse mought offend her. Then to the Maker selfe they likest be,