EARLY RENAISSANCE POETRY: THE POEMS
Source Text: Ferguson, Margaret, et al (eds). The Norton Anthology of Poetry. Fifth Edition. New York: W.W. Norton, 2005. 1
1503 – 1542
The Long Love That in My Thought Doth Harbor1
The long˚ love, that in my thought doth harbour,˚ enduring/lodge And in mine heart doth keep his residence,
Into my face presseth with bold pretence,
And therein campeth, spreading his banner.2
She that me learneth˚ to love and suffer, teaches And wills that my trust and lust’s negligence
Be reined3 by reason, shame and reverence,
With his hardiness˚ taketh displeasure. boldness Wherewithal, unto the heart's4 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.
Whoso List5 to Hunt
Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, ˚ female deer 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 in diamonds, in letters plain
There is written her fair neck round about:
Noli me tangere,6 for Caesar's I am;
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.
My galley charged˚ with forgetfulness loaded Thorough˚ sharp seas in winter nights doth pass through 'Tween rock and rock; and eke˚ mine enemy, alas, also That is my lord,8 steereth with cruelness;
And every oar a thought in readiness,
As though that death were light in such a case.
An endless wind doth tear the sail apace
Of forced sighs and trusty fearfulness.
A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain,
Hath done the wearied cords9 great hinderance;
Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance.
The stars10 be hid that led me to this pain;
Drowned is reason that should me consort, ˚ accompany And I remain despairing of the port.
Queen Elizabeth 1
[The Doubt of Future Foes Exiles My Present Joy]11
The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy;12 For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects' faith doth ebb,
Which should not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the web. But clouds of joys untried do cloak aspiring minds,
Which turn to rain of late repent by changed course of winds. The top of hope supposed the root upreared shall be,13
And fruitless all their grafted guile,14 as shortly ye shall see. The dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds,
Shall be unsealed by worthy wights15 whose foresight falsehood finds. The daughter of debate that discord aye doth sow
Shall reap no gain where former rule still peace hath taught to know. No foreign banished wight16 shall anchor in this port;
Our realm brooks not seditious sects, let them elsewhere resort.
My rusty sword through rest shall first his edge employ
To poll their tops17 that seek such change or gape for future joy.
Sir Walter Ralegh
Ca. 1552 – 1618
A Vision upon the Fairy Queen18
Methought I saw the grave where Laura19 lay,
Within that temple where the vestal flame20
Was wont˚ to burn; and, passing by that way,...
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