poems and authors

literatura ii

The long love that in my thought doth harbor,

And in mine heart doth keep his residence,

Into my face presseth with bold pretense

And therein campeth, spreading his banner.

She that me learneth° to love and suffer

And will that my trust and lust’s negligence

Be reined by reason, shame, and reverence,

With his hardiness taketh dis plea sure.

Wherewithal° unto the heart’s forest he fleeth,

Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry,

And there him hideth, and not appeareth.

What may I do, when my master feareth,

But in the field with him to live and die?

For good is the life ending faithfully.

the long love than in my thought doth harbor — wyatt

Whoso list° to hunt, I know where is an hind,°

But as for me, alas, I may no more.

The vain travail° hath wearied me so sore,°

I am of them that farthest cometh behind.

Yet may I, by no means, my wearied mind

Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore,

Fainting I follow. I leave off, therefore,

Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.

Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,°

As well as I, may spend his time in vain.

And graven with diamonds in letters plain

There is written, her fair neck round about,

“Noli me tangere, for Caesar’s I am,

And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.

whoso list to hunt — wyatt

And she me caught in her arms long and small;

Therewithall sweetly did me kiss

And softly said, “Dear heart, how like you this?”

It was no dream: I lay broad waking.

But all is turned thorough my gentleness

Into a strange fashion of forsaking;

And I have leave to go of her goodness,

And she also, to use newfangleness.

But since that I so kindly am served

I would fain know what she hath deserved.

they flee from me — wyatt

They flee from me that sometime did me seek

With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.

I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,

That now are wild and do not remember

That sometime they put themself in danger

To take bread at my hand; and now they range,

Busily seeking with a continual change.

they flee from me — wyatt

The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,
    With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale;
    The nightingale with feathers new she sings,
    The turtle to her make hath told her tale.
    Summer is come, for every spray now springs,
    The hart hath hung his old head on the pale,
    The buck in brake his winter coat he flings,
    The fishes float with new repaired scale,
    The adder all her slough away she slings,
  The swift swallow pursueth the flyës smale,
  The busy bee her honey now she mings—
  Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale.
  And thus I see, among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

the soote season - surrey

Love that doth reign and live within my thought
And built his seat within my captive breast,
Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought,
Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.
But she that taught me love and suffer pain,
My doubtful hope and eke my hot desire
With shamefast look to shadow and refrain,
Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire.
And coward Love then to the heart apace
Taketh his flight, where he doth lurk and plain
His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.
For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pain;
Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove:
Sweet is the death that taketh end by love.

Love That Doth Reign And Live within my thought — surrey

What guyle is this, that those her golden tresses
She doth attyre under a net of gold,
And with sly skill so cunningly them dresses,
That which is gold or haire may scarse be told?
Is it that mens frayle eyes, which gaze too bold,
She may entangle in that golden snare;
And, being caught, may craftily enfold
Their weaker harts, which are not wel aware?
Take heed therefore, myne eyes, how ye doe stare
Henceforth too rashly on that guilefull net,
In which if ever ye entrapped are,
Out of her bands ye by no meanes shall get.
Fondnesse it were for any, being free,
To covet fetters, though they golden bee!

spenser, amoretti, sonnet 37

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.

spenser, amoretti, sonnet 54

Coming to kisse her lyps, (such grace I found)
Me seemd I smelt a gardin of sweet flowres:
That dainty odours from them threw around
For damzels fit to decke their lovers bowres.
Her lips did smell lyke unto Gillyflowers,
Her ruddy cheekes lyke unto Roses red:
Her snowy browes lyke budded Bellamoures,
Her lovely eyes lyke Pincks but newly spred,
Her goodly bosome lyke a Strawberry bed,
Her neck lyke a bounch of Cullambynes:
Her brest lyke lillyes, ere theyr leaves be shed,
Her nipples lyke yong blossomd Jessemynes,
Such fragrant flowres doe give most odorous smell,
But her sweet odour did them all excell.

spenser, amoretti, sonnet 64 (coming to kisse her lips)

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.

spenser, amoretti, sonnet 67 (like a huntsman)

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."

spenser, amoretti, sonnet 75 (one day i wrote her name)

Some lovers speak when they their Muses entertain,
Of hopes begot by fear, of wot not what desires:
Of force of heav'nly beams, infusing hellish pain:
Of living deaths, dear wounds, fair storms, and freezing fires.

Some one his song in Jove, and Jove's strange tales attires,
Broidered with bulls and swans, powdered with golden rain;
Another humbler wit to shepherd's pipe retires,
Yet hiding royal blood full oft in rural vein.

To some a sweetest plaint a sweetest style affords,
While tears pour out his ink, and sighs breathe out his words:
His paper pale despair, and pain his pen doth move.

I can speak what I feel, and feel as much as they,
But think that all the map of my state I display,
When trembling voice brings forth that I do Stella love.

sir philip sidney, astrophil and stella, sonnet 6

My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell,
My tongue doth itch, my thoughts in labor be:
Listen then, lordings, with good ear to me,
For of my life I must a riddle tell.

Toward Aurora's court a nymph doth dwell,
Rich in all beauties which man's eye can see:
Beauties so far from reach of words, that we
Abase her praise, saying she doth excel:

Rich in the treasure of deserv'd renown,
Rich in the riches of a royal heart,
Rich in those gifts which give th'eternal crown;

Who though most rich in these and every part,
Which make the patents of true worldly bliss,
Hath no misfortune, but that Rich she is.

sir philip sidney, astrophil and stella, sonnet 37

Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance

Guided so well that I obtain'd the prize,

Both by the judgment of the English eyes

And of some sent from that sweet enemy France;

Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance,

Town folks my strength; a daintier judge applies

His praise to sleight which from good use doth rise;

Some lucky wits impute it but to chance;

Others, because of both sides I do take

My blood from them who did excel in this,

Think Nature me a man of arms did make.

How far they shot awry! The true cause is,

Stella look'd on, and from her heav'nly face

Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.

sir philip sidney, astrophil and stella, sonnet 41

I never drank of Aganippe well,
Nor ever did in shade of Tempe sit,
And Muses scorn with vulgar brains to swell;
Poor layman I, for sacred rites unfit.

Some do I hear of poets' fury tell,
But (God wot) wot not what they mean by it:
And this I swear by blackest brook of hell,
I am no pick-purse of another's wit.

How fall it then, that with so smooth an ease
My thoughts I speak, and what I speak doth flow
In verse, and that my verse best wits doth please?

Guess we the cause. "What, it it thus?" Fie, no.
"Or so?" Much less. "How then?" Sure, thus it is:
My lips are sweet, inspir'd with Stella's kiss.

sir philip sidney, astrophil and stella, sonnet 74

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

   So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

   So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

shakespeare, sonnet 18

Devouring time, blunt thou the lion's paws

And make the earth devour her own sweet brood,

Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws

And burn the long-liv'd phoenix in her blood,

Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st,

And do what e'er thou wilt, swift-footed time,

To the wide world and all her fading sweets:

But I forbid thee one most heinous crime,

O carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,

Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen,

Him in thy course untainted do allow

For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.

   Yet do thy worst, old time, despite thy wrong,

   My love shall in my verse ever live young.

shakespeare, sonnet 19

Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore,

So do our minutes hasten to their end;

Each changing place with that which goes before,

In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

Nativity, once in the main of light,

Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,

Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,

And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth

And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,

Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,

And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:

And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,

Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

shakespeare, sonnet 60

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

   As any she belied with false compare.

shakespeare, sonnet 130

Two loves I have of comfort and despair,

Which like two spirits do suggest me still

The better angel is a man right fair,

The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.

To win me soon to hell, my female evil

Tempteth my better angel from my side,

And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,

Wooing his purity with her foul pride.

And, whether that my angel be turn’d fiend,

Suspect I may, yet not directly tell,

But being both from me both to each friend,

I guess one angel in another’s hell.

   Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,

   Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

shakespeare, sonnet 144

In this strange labyrinth how shall I turn?
Ways are on all sides while the way I miss
If to the right hand, there, in love I burn;
Let me go forward, therein danger is;
If to the left, suspicion hinders bliss,
Let me turn back, shame cries I ought return.
Nor faint though crosses with my fortunes kiss;
Stand still is harder, although sure to mourn.
Thus let me take the right, or left-hand way,
Go forward, or stand still, or back retire;
I must these doubts endure without allay
Or help, but travail find for my best hire.
Yet that which most my troubled sense doth move
Is to leave all, and take the thread of love.

mary wroth, sonnet 77

relevant info about thomas wyatt

• whoso list to hunt

• Adapted Italian forms to English poetry

• they flee from me

• introduced the sonnet to english literature

• paved the way for the english sonnet (three quatrains + couplet)

• his poetry survives mainly through manuscripts

relevant info about surrey

• born into powerful aristocratic family (descended from kings on both sides).

• used family ties to free his friend, poet thomas wyatt, from the tower of london

• created the english sonnet form: three quatrains and a couplet (abab cdcd efef gg), later used by shakespeare.

• his use of blank verse influenced later elizabethan poetry, setting a standard for english rhythm and fluency.

• likely drawn to virgil’s epic because it symbolized survival and continuity after disaster (mirroring england’s own turmoil).

• the soote season

  • love that dot reign and live within my thought

relevant info about edmund spenser

• ambition to become the great english poet of his age, unique in a time when poetry was secondary to courtly or political pursuits

• succeded despite humble origins

• "the shepeardes calender” = used archaic language to honor chaucer + pastoral simplicity

• created spenserian sonnet

• adapted italian canzone

• epithalamion

• amoretti

• the faerie queene = chivalry epic

relevant info about sir philip sidney

• arcadia = epic romance in prose

• the defense of poesy

• astrophil and stella

• astrophil and stella established the sonnet cycle

relevant info about shakespeare

• venus and adonis

• the rape of lucrece

• sonnets

• much ado nothing

• as you like it

• hamlet

• macbeth

• married anne hathaway

• othello

what is a volta?

the turn of thought or argument

italian sonnet

One octet and one sestet, ABBAABBA + CDECDE or CDCDCD

oxymoron

conjunction of two words with meanings that contradict themselves.

conceit

an extended metaphor that is developed throughout the whole poem

paradox

opposition of ideas or themes

english/shakespearian sonnet

a sonnet of three quatrains and a couplet, rhyme scheme of ABAB CDCD EFEF GG

spenserian sonnet

three quatrains + couplet, ABAB BCBCB CDCD EE