From Englands Helicon, ed. Hugh Macdonald, The Muses' Library (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1950), pp. 8-9.

As withereth the Primrose by the river,
As fadeth Sommers-sunne from gliding fountaines;
As vanisheth the light blowne bubble ever,
As melteth snow vpon the mossie Mountaines.
So melts, so vanisheth, so fades, so withers,
The Rose, the shine, the bubble and the snow,
Of praise, pompe, glorie, joy (which short life gathers,)
Faire praise, vaine pompe, sweet glory, brittle joy.
The withered Primrose by the mourning river,
The faded Sommers-sunne from weeping fountaines:
The light-blowne bubble, vanished for ever,
The molten snow vpon the naked mountaines,
Are Emblems that the treasures we up-lay,
Soone wither, vanish, fade, and melt away.

For as the snowe, whose lawne did over-spread
Th'ambitious hills, which Giant-like did threat
To pierce the heaven with theyr aspiring head,
Naked and bare doth leave their craggie seate.
When as the bubble, which did emptie flie
The daliance of the undiscerned winde:
On whose calme rowling waves it did relie,
Hath shipwrack made, where it did daliance finde:
And when the Sun-shine which dissolv'd the snow,
Cullourd the bubble with a pleasant varie,
And made the rathe and timely Primrose grow,
Swarth clowdes with-drawne (which longer time doe tarie)


Oh what is praise, pompe, glory, joy, but so
As shine by fountaines, bubbles, flowers or snow?
E. B.

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From Englands Helicon, ed. Hugh Macdonald, The Muses' Library (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1950), p. 112.

Loves Queene long wayting for her true-Love,
Slaine by a Boare which he had chased,
Left off her teares, and me embraced,
She kist me sweete, and call'd me new-Love.
With my silver haire she toyed,
In my stayed lookes she joyed.
Boyes (she sayd) breede beauties sorrow:
Olde men cheere it even and morrow.

My face she nam'd the seate of favour,

All my defects her tongue defended,
My shape she prais'd, but most commended
My breath more sweete then Balme in savour.
Be old man with me delighted,
Loue for loue shall be requited.
With her toyes at last she wone me:
Now she coyes that hath vndone me.
Ignoto

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From Sir Philip Sidney, Selected Poems, ed. Katherine Duncan-Jones, Oxford Paperback English Texts (1973; rpt. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982), p. 137.

Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance,
Guided so well, that I obtained the prize,
Both by the judgement of the English eyes
And of some sent from that sweet enemy, France;
Horsemen my skill in horsemanship advance;
Town-folks my strength; a daintier judge applies
His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise;
Some lucky wits impute it but to chance;
Others, because of both sides I do take
My blood from them, who do excel in this,
Think nature me a man of arms did make.
How far they shoot awry! The true cause is,
Stella looked on, and from her heavenly face,
Sent forth the beams, which made so fair my race.

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The poems above might well be compared with more than a few moments to be found in Spenser's Faerie Queene. Quotations come from the text edited by Richard Bear found on The Edmund Spenser Home Page, we find, e.g.:

• 2.4.34-35:

  Then gan the Palmer thus, most wretched man,
  That to affections does the bridle lend;
  In their beginning they are weake and wan,
  But soone through suff'rance grow to fearefull end;
  Whiles they are weake betimes with them contend:
  For when they once to perfect strength do grow,
  Strong warres they make, and cruell battry bend
  Gainst fort of Reason, it to ouerthrow:
  Wrath, gelosie, griefe, loue this Squire haue layd thus low.

  Wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue do thus expell:
  Wrath is a fire, and gealosie a weede,
  Griefe is a flood, and loue a monster fell;
  The fire of sparkes, the weede of little seede,
  The flood of drops, the Monster filth did breede:
  But sparks, seed, drops, and filth do thus delay;
  The sparks soone quench, the springing seed outweed,
  The drops dry vp, and filth wipe cleane away:
  So shall wrath, gealosie, griefe, loue dye and decay.
  

  ---

• 2.6.12-13:

  It was a chosen plot of fertile land,
  Emongst wide waues set, like a litle nest,
  As if it had by Natures cunning hand,
  Bene choisely picked out from all the rest,
  And laid forth for ensample of the best:
  No daintie flowre or herbe, that growes on ground,
  No arboret with painted blossomes drest,
  And smelling sweet, but there it might be found
  To bud out faire, and her sweet smels throw all around.

  No tree, whose braunches did not brauely spring;
  No braunch, whereon a fine bird did not sit:
  No bird, but did her shrill notes sweetly sing;
  No song but did containe a louely dit:
  Trees, braunches, birds, and songs were framed fit,
  For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease.
  Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his weake wit
  Was ouercome of thing, that did him please;
  So pleased, did his wrathfull purpose faire appease.
  

  ---

• In addition to a variety of passages on revolt, rebellion, a modern reader of Spenser might also want to consider the passages just quoted as if they provided part of the context for a passage such as this one (2.7.44-47), in which Guyon, visiting the Cave of Mammon, encounters Philotime:

  A route of people there assembled were,
  Of euery sort and nation vnder skye,
  Which with great vprore preaced to draw nere
  To th'vpper part, where was aduaunced hye
  A stately siege of soueraigne maiestye;
  And thereon sat a woman gorgeous gay,
  And richly clad in robes of royaltye,
  That neuer earthly Prince in such aray
  His glory did enhaunce, and pompous pride display.

  Her face right wondrous faire did seeme to bee,
  That her broad beauties beam great brightnes threw
  Through the dim shade, that all men might it see:
  Yet was not that same her owne natiue hew,
  But wrought by art and counterfetted shew,
  Thereby more louers vnto her to call;
  Nath'lesse most heauenly faire in deed and vew
  She by creation was, till she did fall;
  Thenceforth she sought for helps, to cloke her crime withall.

  There, as in glistring glory she did sit,
  She held a great gold chaine ylincked well,
  Whose vpper end to highest heauen was knit,
  And lower part did reach to lowest Hell;
  And all that preace did round about her swell,
  To catchen hold of that long chaine, thereby
  To clime aloft, and others to excell:
  That was Ambition, rash desire to sty,
  And euery lincke thereof a step of dignity.

  Some thought to raise themselues to high degree,
  By riches and vnrighteous reward,
  Some by close shouldring, some by flatteree;
  Others through friends, others for base regard;
  And all by wrong wayes for themselues prepard.
  Those that were vp themselues, kept others low,
  Those that were low themselues, held others hard,
  Ne suffred them to rise or greater grow,
  But euery one did striue his fellow downe to throw.