Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
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Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
Edmund Spenser
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Edmund Spenser
The laurell leafe, which you this day doe weare,
gives me great hope of your relenting mynd:
for since it is the badg which I doe beare,
ye bearing it doe seeme to me inclind:
The powre thereof, which ofte in me I find,
let it lykewise your gentle brest inspire
with sweet infusion, and put you in mind
of that proud mayd, whom now those leaves attyre:
Proud Daphne scorning Phæbus lovely fyre,
on the Thessalian shore from him did flie:
for which the gods in theyr revengefull yre
did her transforme into a laurell tree.
Then fly no more fayre love from Phebus chace,
but in your brest his leafe and love embrace.