Poem by Edmund Spenser

Amoretti 8. More then most faire, full of the living fire

More then most faire, full of the living fire
Kindled above unto the Maker nere,
No eies, but ioyes, in which al powers conspire,
That to the world naught else be counted deare!
Thrugh your bright beams doth not the blinded guest
Shoot out his darts to base affections wound;
But angels come, to lead fraile mindes to rest
In chast desires, on heavenly beauty bound.
You frame my thoughts, and fashion me within;
You stop my toung, and teach my hart to speake;
You calme the storme that passion did begin,
Strong thrugh your cause, but by your vertue weak.
   Dark is the world where your light shined never;
   Well is he borne that may behold you ever.

1. Amoretti 61. The glorious image of the Makers beautie
2. Amoretti 14. Retourne agayne, my forces late dismayd
3. Amoretti 24. When I behold that beauties wonderment
4. Amoretti 80. After so long a race as I have run
5. Amoretti 36. Tell me, when shall these wearie woes have end

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