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With new-born sighs and denizen'd wit do sing,
You take wrong ways; those far-fet helps be such
As do bewray a want of inward touch,

And sure, at length stol'n goods do come to light:
But if, both for your love and skill,

your name
You seek to nurse at fullest breasts of Fame,
Stella behold, and then begin to endite.

XXXI

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With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!

What, may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries!
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case;
I read it in thy looks: thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?

Do they above love to be loved, and yet

Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue, there, ungratefulness?

Description of Arcadia

(From Arcadia, Book I, Chap. II)

There were hills which garnished their proud heights with stately trees; humble valleys whose base estate seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers; meadows enamelled with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers; thickets 5 which, being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so to, by the cheerful disposition of many well-tuned birds; each pasture stored with sheep, feeding with sober security, while the pretty lambs, with bleating oratory, craved the dams' comfort; here a shepherd's boy piping, as though he

should never be old; there a young shepherdess knitting, 10 and withal singing; and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work, and her hands kept time to her voicemusic. As for the houses of the country - for many houses came under their eye they were all scattered, no two being one by the other, and yet not so far off as that it barred 15 mutual succour; a show, as it were, of an accompanable solitariness, and of a civil wildness.

"I pray you," said Musidorus, then first unsealing his long-silent lips, "what countries be these we pass through, which are so diverse in show, the one wanting no store, the 20 other having no store but of want?"

"The country," answered Claius, "where you were cast ashore, and now are passed through, is Laconia, not so poor by the barrenness of the soil-though in itself not passing fertile as by a civil war, which, being these two years 25 within the bowels of that estate, between the gentlemen and the peasants - by them named Helots - hath in this sort, as it were, disfigured the face of nature and made it so unhospitall as now you have found it; the towns neither of the one side nor the other willingly opening their gates to 30 strangers, nor strangers willingly entering, for fear of being mistaken.

"But this country, where now you set your foot, is Arcadia; and even hard by is the house of Kalander, whither we lead you this country being thus decked with peace and the 35 child of peace, good husbandry. These houses you see so scattered are of men, as we two are, that live upon the commodity of their sheep, and therefore, in the division of the Arcadian estate, are termed shepherds; a happy people, wanting little, because they desire not much."

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EDMUND SPENSER

Una and the Lion

(From The Faerie Queene, Book I, Canto III)

I

Nought is there under heav'ns wide hollownesse,
That moves more deare compassion of mind,
Then beautie brought t'unworthie wretchednesse
Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes unkind :
I, whether lately through her brightnes blynd,
Or through alleageance and fast fealty,
Which I do owe unto all womankynd,
Feele my hart perst with so great agony,
When such I see, that all for pitty I could dy.

II

And now it is empassioned so deepe,

For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing,

That my frayle eies these lines with teares do steepe,
To thinke how she through guyleful handeling,

Though true as touch, though daughter of a king,
Though faire as ever living wight was fayre,

Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting,

Is from her knight divorced in despayre,

And her dew loves deryv'd to that vile witches shayre.

III

Yet she, most faithfull Ladie, all this while

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Forsaken, wofull, solitarie mayd,

Far from all peoples preace, as in exile,

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In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd,

To seeke her knight; who, subtily betrayd

Through that late vision which th' enchaunter wrought,
Had her abandond. She, of nought affrayd,
Through woods and wastnes wide him daily sought;
Yet wished tydinges none of him unto her brought.

IV

One day, nigh wearie of the yrksome way,
From her unhastie beast she did alight;

And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay,
In secrete shadow, far from all mens sight:
From her fayre head her fillet she undight,
And layd her stole aside. Her angels face
As the great eye of heaven shyned bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place;
Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace.

V

It fortuned, out of the thickest wood
A ramping lyon rushed suddeinly,
Hunting full greedy after salvage blood.
Soone as the royall virgin he did spy,
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily,
To have attonce devourd her tender corse;
But to the pray when as he drew more ny,

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His bloody rage aswaged with remorse,

And, with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse.

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VI

In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet,
And lickt her lilly hands with fawning tong,
As he her wronged innocence did weet.

O how can beautie maister the most strong,
And simple truth subdue avenging wrong!
Whose yielded pryde and proud submission,
Still dreading death, when she had marked long,
Her hart gan melt in great compassion,
And drizling teares did shed for pure affection.

VII

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"The lyon, lord of everie beast in field,"
Quoth she, "his princely puissance doth abate,

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And mightie proud to humble weake does yield,

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Forgetfull of the hungry rage, which late
Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate :
But he, my lyon, and my noble lord,
How does he find in cruell hart to hate
Her that him lov'd and ever most adord

As the God of my life? why hath he me abhord?"

VIII

Redounding teares did choke th' end of her plaint,
Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood;
And sad to see her sorrowfull constraint,
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood;
With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood.
At last, in close hart shutting up her payne,
Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood,
And to her snowy palfrey got agayne,

To seeke her strayed champion if she might attayne

IX

The lyon would not leave her desolate,

But with her went along, as a strong gard

Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate

Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard:

Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward,
And when she wakt, he wayted diligent,
With humble service to her will prepard:
From her fayre eyes he tooke commandement,
And ever by her lookes conceived her intent.

Sonnets

(From Amoretti)

XXXIV

Like as a ship, that through the ocean wide
By conduct of some star doth make her way,
Whenas a storm hath dimmed her trusty guide,
Out of her course doth wander far astray;