Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 41. Is it her nature, or is it her will

Is it her nature, or is it her will,
To be so cruell to an humbled foe?
If nature, then she may it mend with skill;
If will, then she at will may will forgoe.
But if her nature and her will be so,
That she will plague the man that loves her most,
And take delight t’encrease a wretches woe,
Then all her natures goodly guifts are lost;
And that same glorious beauties ydle boast
Is but a bayt such wretches to beguile,
As, being long in her loves tempest tost,
She meanes at last to make her pitious spoyle.
  O fayrest fayre! let never it be named,
  That so fayre beauty was so fowly shamed. 

1. Amoretti 11. Dayly when I do seeke and sew for peace
2. Amoretti 28. The laurel-leafe which you this day doe weare
3. Amoretti 77. Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne?
4. Amoretti 65. The doubt which ye misdeeme, fayre Love, is vaine
5. Amoretti 34. Lyke as a ship, that through the ocean wyde

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