https://sonett.fontane-place.de/ Sun, 28 Jun 2026 17:04:40 +0000 MyBB https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18981 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 17:11:48 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18981 As never man but I led such a life.
First burning love doth wound my hart to death,
And when death comes at call of inward griefe,
Colde lingering hope doth feede my fainting breath
Against my will, and yeeldes my wound reliefe:
So that I live, but yet my life is such,
As death would never greve me halfe so much.
No comfort then but only this I tast,
To salve such sore, such hope will never want,
And with such hope, such life will ever last,
And with such life, such sorrowes are not skant.
Oh straunge desire, O life with torments tost
Through too much hope, mine onely hope is lost.


...



THat selfe same day, and of that day that hower,
When she doth raigne, that mocks Vulcan the smith,
And thought it meete to harbor in hir bower,
Some gallant gest for hir to dally with,
That blessed houre, that bliss and happie daye,
I thought it meete, with hastie steppes to go
Unto the lodge, wherin my Lady laye,
To laugh for joye, or else to weepe for woe.
And lo, my Lady of hir wonted grace,
First lent hir lippes to me (as for a kisse)
And after that hir bodye to imbrace,
Wherein dame nature wrought nothing amisse.
What followed next, gesse you that know the trade,
For in this sort, my F[r]ydaies feast I made.



...


THE stately Dames of Rome, their Pearles did weare,
About their neckes to beautifie their name:
But she (whome I doe serve) hir pearles doth beare,
Close in hir mouth, and smiling shewe, the same.
No wonder then, though ev'ry word she speakes,
Jewell seeme in judgement of the wise,
Since that hir sugred tongue the passage breakes,
Betweene two rockes, bedecks with pearles of prire.
Hir haire of golde, hir front of Ivory,
(A bloody heart within so white a breast)
Hir teeth of Pearle lippes Rubie, christall eye,
Needes must I honour hir above the rest:
Since she is fourmed of none other moulde,
But Rubie, Christall, Ivory, Pearle, and Golde.


...


WIth hir in armes that had my hart in holde,
I stoode of late to pleade for pitie so:
And as I did hir lovelie lookes beholde,
Shee cast a glaunce upon my rivall foe.
His fleering face provoked hir to smile,
When my salt teares were drowned in disdaine:
He glad, I sad, he laught, (alas the while)
I wept for woe: I pin'd for deadlie paine.
And when I sawe none other boote prevaile,
But reason rule must guide my skilfull minde:
Why then (quod I) olde proverbes never faile,
For yet was never good Cat out of kinde.
Nor woman true but even as stories tell,
Wonne with an egge, and lost againe with shell.



...]]> As never man but I led such a life.
First burning love doth wound my hart to death,
And when death comes at call of inward griefe,
Colde lingering hope doth feede my fainting breath
Against my will, and yeeldes my wound reliefe:
So that I live, but yet my life is such,
As death would never greve me halfe so much.
No comfort then but only this I tast,
To salve such sore, such hope will never want,
And with such hope, such life will ever last,
And with such life, such sorrowes are not skant.
Oh straunge desire, O life with torments tost
Through too much hope, mine onely hope is lost.


...



THat selfe same day, and of that day that hower,
When she doth raigne, that mocks Vulcan the smith,
And thought it meete to harbor in hir bower,
Some gallant gest for hir to dally with,
That blessed houre, that bliss and happie daye,
I thought it meete, with hastie steppes to go
Unto the lodge, wherin my Lady laye,
To laugh for joye, or else to weepe for woe.
And lo, my Lady of hir wonted grace,
First lent hir lippes to me (as for a kisse)
And after that hir bodye to imbrace,
Wherein dame nature wrought nothing amisse.
What followed next, gesse you that know the trade,
For in this sort, my F[r]ydaies feast I made.



...


THE stately Dames of Rome, their Pearles did weare,
About their neckes to beautifie their name:
But she (whome I doe serve) hir pearles doth beare,
Close in hir mouth, and smiling shewe, the same.
No wonder then, though ev'ry word she speakes,
Jewell seeme in judgement of the wise,
Since that hir sugred tongue the passage breakes,
Betweene two rockes, bedecks with pearles of prire.
Hir haire of golde, hir front of Ivory,
(A bloody heart within so white a breast)
Hir teeth of Pearle lippes Rubie, christall eye,
Needes must I honour hir above the rest:
Since she is fourmed of none other moulde,
But Rubie, Christall, Ivory, Pearle, and Golde.


...


WIth hir in armes that had my hart in holde,
I stoode of late to pleade for pitie so:
And as I did hir lovelie lookes beholde,
Shee cast a glaunce upon my rivall foe.
His fleering face provoked hir to smile,
When my salt teares were drowned in disdaine:
He glad, I sad, he laught, (alas the while)
I wept for woe: I pin'd for deadlie paine.
And when I sawe none other boote prevaile,
But reason rule must guide my skilfull minde:
Why then (quod I) olde proverbes never faile,
For yet was never good Cat out of kinde.
Nor woman true but even as stories tell,
Wonne with an egge, and lost againe with shell.



...]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18980 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 17:07:10 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18980

SEe sweete deceipt, that can it self beguile,
Behold selfe love, which walketh in a net:
And seemes unseene, yet shewes it selfe therewhile,
Before such eyes, as are in science set.
The Greene knight here, leaves out his firelocke peece
That Fancie hath not yet his last farewell.
When Foxes preach, good folke beware your geese,
But holla here, my muse to farre doth mell:
Who list to marke, what learned preacher sayeth,
Must learne withall, for to beleeve his lore:
But what he doth, that toucheth nomans fayth,
Though words with workes, (agreed) persuade the more,
The mounting kite, oft lights on homely pray
And wisest wittes, may sometimes go astray.]]>

SEe sweete deceipt, that can it self beguile,
Behold selfe love, which walketh in a net:
And seemes unseene, yet shewes it selfe therewhile,
Before such eyes, as are in science set.
The Greene knight here, leaves out his firelocke peece
That Fancie hath not yet his last farewell.
When Foxes preach, good folke beware your geese,
But holla here, my muse to farre doth mell:
Who list to marke, what learned preacher sayeth,
Must learne withall, for to beleeve his lore:
But what he doth, that toucheth nomans fayth,
Though words with workes, (agreed) persuade the more,
The mounting kite, oft lights on homely pray
And wisest wittes, may sometimes go astray.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18979 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 17:04:35 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18979
THe thriftles thred which pampred beauty spinnes,
In thraldom binds the foolish gazing eyes:
As cruell Spiders with their crafty ginnes,
In worthlesse webbes doe snare the simple Flies.
The garments gay, the glittring golden gite,
The tysing talk which flowes from Pallas pooles:
The painted pale, the (too much) red made white,
Are smiling baytes to fishe for loving fooles.
But lo, when eld in toothlesse mouth appeares,
And hoary heares in steede of beauties blaze:
Then had I wist, doth teach repenting yeares,
The tickle track of craftie Cupides maze.
Twixt faire and foule therfore, twixt great and small,
A lovely nutbrowne face is best of all.]]>
THe thriftles thred which pampred beauty spinnes,
In thraldom binds the foolish gazing eyes:
As cruell Spiders with their crafty ginnes,
In worthlesse webbes doe snare the simple Flies.
The garments gay, the glittring golden gite,
The tysing talk which flowes from Pallas pooles:
The painted pale, the (too much) red made white,
Are smiling baytes to fishe for loving fooles.
But lo, when eld in toothlesse mouth appeares,
And hoary heares in steede of beauties blaze:
Then had I wist, doth teach repenting yeares,
The tickle track of craftie Cupides maze.
Twixt faire and foule therfore, twixt great and small,
A lovely nutbrowne face is best of all.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18978 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 17:02:58 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18978
LAdy receyve, receive in gracious wise,
This ragged verse, these rude ill skribled lines:
Too base an object for your heavenly eyes,
For he that writes his freedome (lo) resignes
Into your handes: and freely yeelds as thrall
His sturdy necke (earst subject to no yoke)
But bending now, and headlong press to fall,
Before your feete, such force hath beauties stroke.
Since then mine eyes (which skornd our English dames)
In forrayne courtes have chosen you for fayre,
Let be this verse true token of my flames,
And do not drench your owne in deepe dispayre.
Onely I crave (as I nill change for new)
That you vouchsafe to thinke your servaunt trew.]]>
LAdy receyve, receive in gracious wise,
This ragged verse, these rude ill skribled lines:
Too base an object for your heavenly eyes,
For he that writes his freedome (lo) resignes
Into your handes: and freely yeelds as thrall
His sturdy necke (earst subject to no yoke)
But bending now, and headlong press to fall,
Before your feete, such force hath beauties stroke.
Since then mine eyes (which skornd our English dames)
In forrayne courtes have chosen you for fayre,
Let be this verse true token of my flames,
And do not drench your owne in deepe dispayre.
Onely I crave (as I nill change for new)
That you vouchsafe to thinke your servaunt trew.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18977 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 17:01:49 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18977
NOt stately Troye though Priam yet did live,
Could now compare Founteine bel'eaü to passe:
Nor Syrian towers, whose loftie steppes did strive,
To climbe the throne where angry Saturne was,
For outward shew the ports are of such price,
As skorne the cost which Cesar spilt in Rome:
Such works within as stayne the rare devise,
Which whilome he Apelles wrought on toome.
Swift Tiber floud which fed the Romayne pooles,
Puddle to this where Christall melts in streames,
The pleasaunt place where Muses kept their schooles,
(Not parcht with Phþbe, nor banisht from his beames)
Yeeld to those Dames, nor sight, nor fruite, nor smell,
Which may be thought these gardens to excell.]]>
NOt stately Troye though Priam yet did live,
Could now compare Founteine bel'eaü to passe:
Nor Syrian towers, whose loftie steppes did strive,
To climbe the throne where angry Saturne was,
For outward shew the ports are of such price,
As skorne the cost which Cesar spilt in Rome:
Such works within as stayne the rare devise,
Which whilome he Apelles wrought on toome.
Swift Tiber floud which fed the Romayne pooles,
Puddle to this where Christall melts in streames,
The pleasaunt place where Muses kept their schooles,
(Not parcht with Phþbe, nor banisht from his beames)
Yeeld to those Dames, nor sight, nor fruite, nor smell,
Which may be thought these gardens to excell.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18976 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 17:00:39 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18976
A Hundreth sonnes (in course but not in kind)
Can witnesse well that I possesse no joye:
The feare of death which fretteth in my mind
Consumes my hart with dread of darke anoye.
And for eche sonne a thousand broken sleepes
Devide my dreames with fresh recourse of cares:
The youngest sister sharpe hir sheare she keepes,
To cut my thred, and thus my life it weares.
Yet let such daies, such thousand restlesse nights,
Spit forth their spite, let fates eke showe their force:
Deathes daunting dart where so his buffet lights,
Shall shape no change within my friendly corse:
But dead or live, in heaven, in earth, in hell
I wilbe thine where so my carkase dwell.]]>
A Hundreth sonnes (in course but not in kind)
Can witnesse well that I possesse no joye:
The feare of death which fretteth in my mind
Consumes my hart with dread of darke anoye.
And for eche sonne a thousand broken sleepes
Devide my dreames with fresh recourse of cares:
The youngest sister sharpe hir sheare she keepes,
To cut my thred, and thus my life it weares.
Yet let such daies, such thousand restlesse nights,
Spit forth their spite, let fates eke showe their force:
Deathes daunting dart where so his buffet lights,
Shall shape no change within my friendly corse:
But dead or live, in heaven, in earth, in hell
I wilbe thine where so my carkase dwell.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18975 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 16:58:19 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18975
His Farewell.

FArewell deere Love whome I have loved and shall,
Both in this world, and in the world to come,
For proofe whereof my sprite is Charons thrall,
And yet my corpse attendant on thy toome.
Farewell deere sweete, whose wanton wyll to please
Eche taste of trouble seemed mell to me,
Farewell sweete deare, whose doubles for to appease,
I was contented thus in bale to be.
Farewell my lyfe, farewell for and my death,
For thee I lyv'd for thee nowe must I dye,
Farewell from Bathe, whereas I feele my breath
Forsake my breast in great perplexitie,
Alas how welcome were this death of mine,
If I had dyde betweene those armes of thine?]]>
His Farewell.

FArewell deere Love whome I have loved and shall,
Both in this world, and in the world to come,
For proofe whereof my sprite is Charons thrall,
And yet my corpse attendant on thy toome.
Farewell deere sweete, whose wanton wyll to please
Eche taste of trouble seemed mell to me,
Farewell sweete deare, whose doubles for to appease,
I was contented thus in bale to be.
Farewell my lyfe, farewell for and my death,
For thee I lyv'd for thee nowe must I dye,
Farewell from Bathe, whereas I feele my breath
Forsake my breast in great perplexitie,
Alas how welcome were this death of mine,
If I had dyde betweene those armes of thine?]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18974 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 16:55:25 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18974
THat selfe same tonge which first did thee entreat
To linke thy liking with my lucky love:
That trustie tonge must nowe these wordes repeate,
I love thee still, my fancie cannot move.
That dreadlesse hart which durst attempt the thought
To win thy will with mine for to consent,
Maintaines that vow which love in me first wrought,
I love thee still, and never shall repent.
That happie hande which hardely did touch,
Thy tender body to my deepe delight:
Shall serve with sword to prove my passion such
As loves thee still, much more than it can write.
Thus love I still with tongue, hand, hart and all,
And when I chaunge, let vengeance on me fall.]]>
THat selfe same tonge which first did thee entreat
To linke thy liking with my lucky love:
That trustie tonge must nowe these wordes repeate,
I love thee still, my fancie cannot move.
That dreadlesse hart which durst attempt the thought
To win thy will with mine for to consent,
Maintaines that vow which love in me first wrought,
I love thee still, and never shall repent.
That happie hande which hardely did touch,
Thy tender body to my deepe delight:
Shall serve with sword to prove my passion such
As loves thee still, much more than it can write.
Thus love I still with tongue, hand, hart and all,
And when I chaunge, let vengeance on me fall.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18973 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 16:53:31 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18973
THe Skies gan scowle, orecast with misty clowdes,
When (as I rode alone by London waye,
Cloakelesse, unclad) thus did I sing and say:
Behold quoth I, bright Titan how he shroudes
His head abacke, and yelds the raine his reach,
Till in his wrath, Dan Jove have soust the soile,
And washt me wretch which in his travaile toile.
But holla (here) doth rudenesse me appeach,
Since Jove is Lord and king of mighty power,
Which can commaund the Sunne to shewe his face,
And (when him lyst) to give the raine his place.
Why doe not I my wery muses frame,
(Although I bee well soused in this showre,)
To write some verse in honour of his name?]]>
THe Skies gan scowle, orecast with misty clowdes,
When (as I rode alone by London waye,
Cloakelesse, unclad) thus did I sing and say:
Behold quoth I, bright Titan how he shroudes
His head abacke, and yelds the raine his reach,
Till in his wrath, Dan Jove have soust the soile,
And washt me wretch which in his travaile toile.
But holla (here) doth rudenesse me appeach,
Since Jove is Lord and king of mighty power,
Which can commaund the Sunne to shewe his face,
And (when him lyst) to give the raine his place.
Why doe not I my wery muses frame,
(Although I bee well soused in this showre,)
To write some verse in honour of his name?]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18972 Sat, 24 Jul 2010 16:51:42 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=18972 I Upon my dore, to see if I satte there.
As who should say: If he be there by chance,
Yet maye he thinke I loke him every where,
No cruell, no, thou knowest and I can tell,
How for thy love I layd my lokes a side:
Though thou (par case) hast looks and liked wel,
Some newe founde lookes amide this world so wide.
But since thy lookes my love have so in chaynd
That to my lokes, thy liking now is past:
Loke where thou likest, and let thy hands be stayned,
In true loves bloud, which thou shalt lack at last,
So looke, so lack, for in these toyes thus tost,
My lookes thy love, thy lookes my life have lost.]]> I Upon my dore, to see if I satte there.
As who should say: If he be there by chance,
Yet maye he thinke I loke him every where,
No cruell, no, thou knowest and I can tell,
How for thy love I layd my lokes a side:
Though thou (par case) hast looks and liked wel,
Some newe founde lookes amide this world so wide.
But since thy lookes my love have so in chaynd
That to my lokes, thy liking now is past:
Loke where thou likest, and let thy hands be stayned,
In true loves bloud, which thou shalt lack at last,
So looke, so lack, for in these toyes thus tost,
My lookes thy love, thy lookes my life have lost.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16981 Sun, 22 Jul 2007 21:14:43 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16981 To see me hold my lowering head so low;
And that mine eyes take no delight to range
About the gleams which on your face do grow.
The mouse which once hath broken out of trap
Is seldom teased with the trustless bait,
But lies aloof for fear of more mishap,
And feedeth still in doubt of deep deceit.
The scorched fly which once hath 'scap'd the flame
Will hardly come to play again with fire.
Whereby I learn that grievous is the game
Which follows fancy dazzled by desire.
So that I wink or else hold down my head,
Because your blazing eyes my bale have bred.]]> To see me hold my lowering head so low;
And that mine eyes take no delight to range
About the gleams which on your face do grow.
The mouse which once hath broken out of trap
Is seldom teased with the trustless bait,
But lies aloof for fear of more mishap,
And feedeth still in doubt of deep deceit.
The scorched fly which once hath 'scap'd the flame
Will hardly come to play again with fire.
Whereby I learn that grievous is the game
Which follows fancy dazzled by desire.
So that I wink or else hold down my head,
Because your blazing eyes my bale have bred.]]>