Chapter 3
XXI. The glorious image of my Maker's beauty, my sovereign saint, the idol of my thought, dare not henceforth above the bounds of duty to accuse of pride or rashly blame for aught, your being as she is divinely wrought and of the brood of angels heavenly born, and with a crew of blessed saints up-brought, each of which did her with their gifts adorn,
the bud of joy, the blossom of the morn, the beam of light whom mortal eyes admire. What reason is it then but she should scorn base things that to her love too bold aspire? Such heavenly forms ought rather worshiped be than dare be loved by men of mean degree. XXII. Blend, Blemish.
The weary year his race now having run, the new begins his compassed course anew, with show of morning mild he hath begun, betokening peace and plenty to ensue. So let us, which this change of weather view, change eke our minds and former lives amend. The old year's sins for past let us eschew, and fly the faults with which we did offend. Then shall the new year's joy forth freshly send into the glooming world his gladsome
ray, and all these storms, which now his beauty blend, shall turn to calms and a timely clear So likewise, love, cheer you your heavy sprite, and change old year's annoy to new delight. XXIII. After long storms and tempest sad to say, which hardly I endured heretofore, and dread of death and dangerous dismay with which my silly bark was tossed and sore, I do at length
describe the happy shore in which I hope ere long for to arrive. Fair soil it seems from far, and fraught with store of all that dear and dainty is alive, most happy he that can at last to chive the joyous safety of so sweet a rest, whose least delight sufficeth to deprive remembrance of all pains which him oppressed. All pains are nothing in respect of this, all sorrows short that gain eternal bliss.
XXIV. Bellemowers. I have not discovered what flower is here meant. See, coming to kiss her lips, such grace I found, me seemed I smelt a garden of sweet flowers that dainty odors from them threw around, for damsels fit to deck their lovers'
bowers. Her lips did smell like unto gilly flowers, her ruddy cheeks like unto roses red, her snowy brows like buttered bellemowers, her lovely eyes like pinks but newly spread, her goodly bosom like a strawberry bread, her neck like to a bunch of columbines, her breast like lilies ere their leaves be shed, her nipples like young blossom jessamines. Such fragrant flowers do give most odor a smell, but her sweet odor did them all excel.
XXV. The doubt which ye misdeem, fair love, is vain, that fondly fear to lose your libertie, when losing one two liberties ye gain, and make him bond that bondage erst did fly. Sweet be the bands the which true love doth tie, without constraint or dread of any ill. The gentle bird feels no captivity within her cage, but sings and feeds her fill. Their
pride dare not approach, nor discord spill the league twix them that loyal loveth bound, but simple truth and mutual good-will seeks with sweet peace to sav each other's wound. Their faith doth fearless dwell in brazen tower, and spotless pleasure builds her sacred bower. XXVI.
To all those happy blessings which ye have with plenteous hand by heaven upon your throne, this one disparagement they to you gave, that ye your love lent to so mean a one. Ye whose high worths surpassing paragon could not on earth have found one fit for mate, ne'er but in heaven matchable to none, why did ye stoop unto so lowly state? But ye thereby much greater glory gait than had ye sorted with a prince's peer. For now your light doth more itself
dilate, and in my darkness greater doth appear. Yet since your light hath once illumined me, with my reflex yours shall increase it be. XXVII. Like as a huntsman, after weary chase, seeing the game from him escaped 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 dear returned 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 good will her firmly tied. Strange thing me seemed to see a beast so wild, so goodly won, with her own will beguiled.
XXVIII. Harrowed, Despoiled. 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, this joyous day, dear Lord, with joy begin, and grant that we for whom thou didst die, being
with thy dear blood clean washed from sin, may live forever in felicity, and that thy love we weighing worthily, may likewise love thee for the same again, and for thy sake, that all like dearest by, with love may one another entertain. So let us love, dear love, like as we ought. Love is the lesson which the Lord has taught. XXIX.
The famous warriors of the antique world used trophies to erect in stately wise, in which they would the records have enrolled of their great deeds and valorous emprise. What trophy then shall I most fit devise, in which I may record the memory of my love's conquest, peerless beauty's prize, adorned with honor, love, and chastity? Even this verse, vowed to eternity, shall be thereof immortal monument, and tell her praise to all posterity that
may admire such world's rare wonderment, the happy purchase of my glorious spoil, gotten at last with labor and long toil. XXX. Notes. Make. Made. Prime. Spring. Fresh spring, the herald of love's mighty king, in whose coat armor richly are displayed all sorts of flowers, the which on earth do spring,
in goodly colors, gloriously arrayed. Go to my love, where she is careless laid, yet in her winter's bower not well awake. Tell her the joyous time will not be stayed, unless she do him by the forelock take. Bid her therefore herself soon ready make to wait on love amongst his lovely crew, where every one that misseth then her make shall be by him immersed with penance due. Make haste therefore, sweet love, while it is prime, for none can call again
the passage time. XXX. A joy to see how in your draw and work yourself unto the bee you do compare, and me unto the spider that doth lurk in close await to catch her unaware. Right so yourself were caught in cunning snare of a dear foe, and thrallied to his love, in whose straight bands ye now
kept Hivedar so firmly that ye never may remove. But as your work is woven all about with woodbind flowers and fragrant eglantine, so sweet your prison you in time shall prove, with many dear delights bedeck'd fine, and all thenceforth eternal peace shall see between the spider and the gentle bee. XXX.
Oft when my spirit doth spread her bolder wings in mind to mount up to the purest sky, it down is weighed with thought of earthly things, and clogged with burden of mortality, where, when that sovereign beauty it doth spy, resembling heaven's glory in her light, drawn with sweet pleasures baited back doth fly, and unto heaven forgets her former flight. There my frail fancy, fed with full delight doth bathe in bliss, and mantleth most at
ease, nethinks of other heaven but how it might her heart's desire with most contentment please. Heart need not wish none other happiness but here on earth to have such heaven's bliss. XXX. Being myself kept hived here in care, my heart, who none with servile bands can tie but the fair tresses of your golden hair, breaking his prison, forth to you doth fly. Like as
a bird that in one's hand doth spy desired food, do it doth make his flight, even so my heart, that want on your fair eye to feed his fill, flies back unto your sight. Do you him take? And in your bosom bright gently in cage, that he may be your thrall? Perhaps he there may learn with rare delight to sing your name and praises over all. That it are after may you not repent him lodging in your bosom to have lent.
XXX. Most happy letters framed by skillful trade, with which that happy name was first designed, the which three times thrice happy hath me made, with gifts of body, fortune, and of mind. The first ray being to me gave by kind from mother's womb derived by due descent. The second is my sovereign queen most kind, that honor and large riches to me lent. The
third, my love, my life's last ornament, by whom my spirit out of dust was raised, to speak her praise and glory excellent, of all alive most worthy to be praised. Ye three Elizabeths, for ever live, that three such graces did unto me give. XXX. One day I wrote a 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 as prey. Vain man, said she, that dust in vain as say a mortal thing so to immortalize, for I myself shall like to this decay, and eke my name be wiped out likewise. Not so, but I shall quote I, let baser things devise to die in dust, but you shall live by fame. My verse, your virtues rare shall eternize, and in the heavens write your glorious name, where when
as death shall all the world subdue our love shall live, and later life renew. XXVI. Fair bosom, fraught with virtues' richest treasure, the nest of love, the lodging of delight, the bower of bliss, the paradise of pleasure, the sacred harbor of that heavenly sprite! How was I ravished with your lovely sight, and my frail thoughts too rashly led
astray, while diving deep through amorous insight on the sweet spoil of beauty they did pray, and twixt her paps like early fruit in May, whose harvest seemed to hasten now apace, they loosely did their wanton wings display, and there, to rest, themselves did boldly place. Sweet thoughts! I envy your so happy rest, which oft I wished, yet never was so blessed.
XXVII. Noted. Unvalued. Invaluable. Was it a dream? Or did I see it plain? A goodly table of pure ivory all spread with junkets, fit to entertain the greatest prince with pompous royalty, amongst which there in a silver dish did lie two golden apples of unvalued price, far passing those which Hercules came by, or those which Atalanta did entice. Exceeding sweet, yet
void of sinful vice, that many sought, yet none could ever taste. Sweet fruit of pleasure brought from paradise by love himself, and in his garden placed. Her breast that table was, so richly spread. My thoughts, the guests, which would thereon have fed. XXVIII. Lacking my love, I go from place to place like a young fawn that late hath lost the hind, and seek each where, where last I saw her face, whose image yet I carry fresh
in mind. I seek the fields, with her late footing signed, I seek her bower, with her late presence decked, yet nor in field nor bower I can her find, yet field and bower are full of her aspect. But when mine eyes I thereunto direct, they idly back return to me again, and when I hope to see their true object, I find myself but fed with fancy's vain. Cease then mine eyes to seek herself to see, and let my thoughts behold herself
in me. XXVIX. Men call you fair, and you do credit it, for th'irself ye daily such to see. But the true fair, that is, the gentle wit and virtuous mind, is much more praised of me. For all the rest, however fair it be, shall turn to naught, and lose that glorious hue. But only that is permanent, and free from frail corruption that doth flesh ensue.
That is true beauty. That doth argue you to be divine, and born of heavenly seed, derived from that fair spirit from whom all true and perfect beauty did at first proceed. He only fair, and what he fair hath made. All other fair, like flowers, untimely fade. XXX. Notes. A soil discharge, Mew, prison retreat. After so long a race as I have run through Fairyland, which those six books compile, give leave to rest me, being half fordone,
and gather to myself new breath awhile. Then, as a steed refresh it after toil, out of my prison I will break anew, and stoutly with that second work a soil with strong endeavour and attention due. Till then give leave to me in pleasant Mew to sport my Mews and sing my love's sweet praise, the contemplation of whose heavenly hue my spirit to an higher pitch will raise. But let her praises yet be low and mean, fit for the handmaid of the
Fairy Queen. XXX. Fair is my love, when her fair golden hairs with the loose wind ye waving chance to mark. Fair when the rose in her red cheeks appears, or in her eyes the fire of love does spark. Fair when her breast, like a rich laden bark with precious merchandise, she forth doth lay. Fair when that cloud of pride which oft doth dark her goodly light with smiles
she drives away. But fairest she when so she doth display the gate with pearls and rubies richly dyed through which her words so wise to make their way, to bear the message of her gentle sprite. The rest be works of nature's wonderment, but this the work of heart's astonishment. XXX. Invent, light upon, find. Joy of my life! Full oft for loving you I bless my lot that was so lucky placid. But then the more your own mishap I rue, that are so much by so mean
love imbased. For had the equal heavens so much you gracied in this as in the rest, ye moat invent some heavenly wit whose verse should have been so great as to be the first invent some heavenly wit whose verse should have enchasted your glorious name in golden monument. But since ye deign so goodly to relent to me your thrall, in whom is little worth, that little that I am shall all be spent in setting your immortal praises forth,
whose lofty argument uplifting me shall lift you up unto an high degree. XXX. Let not one spark of filthy, lustful fire break out that may her sacred peace molest. Nay one light glance of sensual desire attempt to work her gentle minds unrest. But pure affections bred in spotless breast and modest thoughts breathe from well-tempered sprites go visit her in her chaste bower of rest, accompanied with angelic delights. There fill
yourself with those most joyous sights the which myself could never yet attain, but speak no word to her of these sad plights which her too constant stiffness doth constrain. Only behold her rare perfection, and bless your fortune's fair election. 84. Notes. Mavis. Songthrush. Entire. Inward. The world that cannot deem of worthy things when I do praise her say I do but flatter. So does the cuckoo when the Mavis sings begin
his witless note apace to clatter. But they that skill not of so heavenly matter all that they know not envy or admire. Rather than envy, let them wonder at her, but not to deem of her desert aspire. Deep in the closet of my parts entire her worth is written and with a golden quill, that me with heavenly fury doth inspire and my glad mouth with her sweet praises fill, which when as fame in her shrill trump shall thunder, let the world
choose to envy or to wonder. 85. Venomous tongue. Tipped with vile adders' sting of that self-kind with which the Furies fell their snaky heads do comb, from which a spring of poisoned words and spiteful speeches well, let all the plagues and horrid pains of hell upon thee fall for thine accursed hire, that with false-forged lies which thou didst tell in my true love did stir up coals
of ire. The sparks were of, let Kendall thine own fire and catching hold on thine own wicked head consume thee quite, that didst with guile conspire in my sweet peace such breaches to a bread. Shame be thy mead and mischief thy reward, due to thyself that it for me prepared. 86. Since I did leave the presence of my love, many long weary days I have outworn, and many
nights that slowly seemed to move their sad protract from evening until morn. For when as day the heaven doth adorn, I wish that night the noisiest day would end, and when as night hath thus of light forlorn, I wish that day would shortly re-ascend. Thus I the time with expectation spend, and feign my grief with changes to the time of the day. I the time with expectation spend, and feign my grief with changes to beguile, that further
seems his term still to extend, and maketh every minute seem a mile. So sorrow still doth seem too long to last, but joyous hours do fly away too fast. 87. Since I have lacked the comfort of that light, the which was wont to lead my thoughts astray, I wander as in darkness of the night, afraid of every danger's least dismay. Nay ought I see, though in the clearest day, when others gaze upon their shadows' vein, but
the only image of that heavenly ray whereof some glance doth in mine eye remain, of which beholding the idea plain, through contemplation of my purest part, with light thereof I do myself sustain, and thereon feed my love-affamished heart. But with such brightness whilst I fill my mind, I starve my body, and mine eyes do blind. 88. CULVER, DOVE, HOVE, HOVER EXIST.
Like as the culver on the barren bough sits mourning for the absence of her mate, and in her songs sends many a wishful vow for his return that seems to linger late, so I alone now left disconsolate, mourn to myself the absence of my love, and wandering here and there all desolate, seek with my plaits to match that mournful dove, ne' joy of ought that under heaven doth hove can comfort me but her own joyous sight, whose sweet aspect
both God and man can move, in her unspotted pleasance to delight. Dark is my day, while so fair light I miss, and dead my life that wants such lively bliss.
