EPIGRAM S. I.* IN youth, before I waxed old, II. As Diane hunted on a day, She chaunst to come where Cupid lay, His quiver by his head: One of his shafts she stole away, And one of hers did close convay, Into the others stead: With that Love wounded my Loves hart, * In the folio of 1611, these four short pieces are appended to the Sonnets. The second and third are translated from Marot's Epigrams, Liv. III. No. 5, De Diane, and No. 24, De Cupido et de sa Dame. C. III. I SAW, in secret to my dame And said to her, "All hayle, my mother! Not knowing Venus from the other. IV. UPON a day, as Love lay sweetly slumbring All in his mothers lap, A gentle Bee, with his loud trumpet murm'ring, Whereof when he was wakened with the noyse, And saw the beast so small, "Whats this," quoth he, “that gives so great a voyce, That wakens men withall?” In angry wize he flies about, And threatens all with corage stout. To whom his mother, closely1 smiling, sayd, "Twixt earnest and 'twixt game: "See! thou thy selfe likewise art lyttle made, If thou regard the same. 1 Closely, secretly. 10 And yet thou suffrest neyther gods in sky, Nor men in earth, to rest: Theyr sleepe thou doost molest. Then eyther change thy cruelty, Or give lyke leave unto the fly." Nathelesse, the cruell boy, not so content, And in his hand, with heedlesse hardiment, But when on it he hasty hand did lay, The Bee him stung therefore. "Now out, alas," he cryde, "and welaway! I wounded am full sore. The fly, that I so much did scorne, Hath hurt me with his little horne." Unto his mother straight he weeping came, Who could not chuse but laugh at his fond game, Though sad to see him pained. 15 20 25 30 "Think now," quoth she, "my son, how great the smart Of those whom thou dost wound : Full many thou hast pricked to the hart, Therefore, henceforth some pitty take, She tooke him streight full pitiously lamenting, 35 40 She wrapt him softly, all the while repenting She drest his wound, and it embaulmed well And then she bath'd him in a dainty well, The well of deare delight. Who would not oft be stung as this, To be so bath'd in Venus blis ? The wanton boy was shortly wel recured Of that his malady ; But he soone after fresh again enured1 45 50 His former cruelty. And since that time he wounded hath my selfe 55 With his sharpe dart of love, And now forgets the cruell carelesse elfe His mothers heast 2 to prove. So now I languish, till he please My pining anguish to appease. 1 Enured, practised. 2 Heast, command 60 SONNETS WRITTEN BY SPENSER, COLLECTED FROM THE ORIGINAL PUBLICATIONS IN WHICH THEY APPEARED. I.* To the right worshipfull, my singular good frend, HARVEY, the happy above happiest men Of this worldes stage, doest note with critique pen And, as one carelesse of suspition, Ne fawnest for the favour of the great, Of faulty men, which daunger to thee threat: 1 Read, consider. 2 Entreat, treat. *From "Foure Letters and certaine Sonnets especially touching Robert Greene, and other parties by him abused," &c. London, 1592. TODD. |