Classic Audiobook Collection - Four Hymns by Edmund Spenser ~ Full Audiobook [poetry]

Episode Date: October 20, 2025

Four Hymns by Edmund Spenser audiobook. Genre: poetry Four Hymns is Edmund Spenser's celebrated sequence of devotional and philosophical poems that traces a powerful ascent from earthly desire to spiritual contemplation. Written in Spenser's richly musical verse, the collection unfolds through four linked hymns: two that explore the pull of human love and the allure of beauty as they are experienced in the world, and two that turn the same energies upward toward divine love and heavenly beauty. Spenser speaks as both poet and seeker, wrestling with how passion can uplift as well as mislead, and how the senses, imagination, and intellect can be disciplined into a ladder toward wisdom. Along the way, classical mythology and Renaissance Platonism mingle with Christian devotion, creating a layered meditation on what it means to yearn, to admire, and to be transformed by what one loves. Rather than telling a single story, Four Hymns offers a sustained argument in lyric form, inviting listeners to follow a gradual reorientation of the heart from the transient to the eternal. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:19:26) Chapter 02 (00:35:49) Chapter 03 (00:53:43) Chapter 04 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Four hymns made by Edmund Spencer, read by Thomas Fokane. To the right honorable and most virtuous ladies, the Lady Margaret, Countess of Cumberland, and the Lady Marie, Countess of Warwick. Note, the Countess of Warwick's name was Anne, not Mary, odd. Return to text. Having in the greener times of my youth composed these former true hymns in the praise of love and beauty,

and finding that the same too much pleased those of like age and disposition, which being too vehemently carried with that kind of affection, to rather suck out poison to their strong passion than honey to their honest delight. I was moved by the one of you two most excellent ladies to call in the same, but being unable so to do by reason that many copies thereof were formerly scattered abroad, I resolved at least to amend, and by way of retraction, to reform them, making, instead of those two hymns of earthly or natural love and beauty, two others of heavenly and celestial,

the which I do dedicate jointly under you two honorable sisters, as to the most excellent and rare ornaments of all true love and beauty, both in the one and the other kind, humbly beseeching you to vouchsafe the patronage of them, and to accept this my humble service in view of the great graces and honourable favours which you daily show unto me, until such time as I may, by better means, yield you some more notable testimony of my thankful mind and dutable devotion. And even so, I pray for your happiness. Greenwich, this 1 September, 1596, Your Honours most bounden ever in all humble service, Edmund Spencer.

in him in honour of love. Love that long since Hasth to thy mighty power For force subdued my poor cap-tided art, And raging now therein With restless stour, As to tyrannize in every weaker part, Fain would I seek to ease,

My bitter smarge, By any service I might be to thee, Or art that else might to be pleasing me. And now, to sway the force of this new flame, and make thee more propitious in my need, I mean to sing the praises of thy name, and thy victorious conquests to a reed, by which thou madeest many hearts to bleed of mighty victors,

with wide wounds and brune, and by their cruel dogs, to these adieu. Only, I fear my wits, and feebly, through the sharp sorrows which thou hast been bred, should faint, and words should fail me to relate the wonder triumphs of thy great god here. But if thou would sprout safe to overspread

me with the shadow of thy gentle wing, I should enable thee thy acts to sing. Come then, oh come thou mighty god of love, out of thy silver boughs and secret bliss, where thou didst sit in Venus lap above, bathing thy

wings in her ambrosial kiss, that sweeter far than any nectar is, come softly and my feeble breast inspire with gentle fury kindle of thy fire And ye sweet muses Which have often proved

The piercing points Of his avengeful darts And ye fair newfs Which oftentimes have loved The cruel worker of your kindly smarts Prepare yourselves And open wide your hearts For to receive the triumph of your glory

But made you marry off and you were sorry. And ye fair blossoms of youth's wanton greed, Which in the conquests of your beauty boast, Wherewith your lover's people eyes you feed, That starve their hearts, that needeth nurture most, Prepare yourselves to march amongst his host, And all the way this sacred hymn do sing,

Made in the honour of your sovereign king, Great God of might, but reignest in the mind, and all the body to thy hastest frame, victor of gods, subduer of mankind, the dust of lions and fell tigers tame, making their cruel rage thy scornful game,

and in their roaring, taking great delight, who can express the glory of thy might, or who alive can perfectly declare the wondrous cradle of thy infancy, when thy great mother Venus first be there, begot of plengy and of penury, though elder than thine own nativity, and yet a child renewing still thy years, and yet the eldest of the heavenly peers. For ere this world's still moving mighty mass of the great chaos out of the prison crept, in which his goodly face long hidden was from heaven's view and in deep darkness kept,

love that had now long time securely slept in Venus lap, unarmed then and naked, can rear his head by clothed though being waked, and, taking to him wings of his own heat, him with the first from heaven's life-giving fire, began to move out of his idle seat, weekly at first, but after the desire lifted aloft, began to mount up higher, and, like fresh evil, made his hearty flight to all that great wide waste, yet wanting light.

Yet wanting light to guide his wandering way, his own fair mother, for all preachers' sake, should lend him light in her own goodly way. Then, through the world his way he began to take. The world that was not, said he did make, whose sundry parts he from themselves did sever, for which before that line confuses effort

The earth, the air, the water, and the fire Then began to arrange themselves In huge array, and with Contrary forces to conspire Each against other, by all means they may, threatening their own confusion and decay. Air hated earth, And water hated fire,

So love relented their rebelliousire. He then then took, and, tempting goodly well their contrary dislikes with loved means, did place them all in order, and compelled to keep themselves within their sundry rains, together linked with adamantine chains, yet so as that in every living white they mix themselves and show their kind of might.

So ever since, they firmly have remained, and duly well-observed his death, through which now all these things that are contained within this goodly hope, but most and least, their being half, and daily are increased whose secret sparks of his infusive fire,

which in the barren cold he doesn't fire. Thereby they all do live, and movidar to multiply the likeness of their kind, whilst they seek only without further care to quench the flame which they in burning find. But man, that breathes a more immortal mind, not for lusts's sake, but for eternity, seeks to enlarge his lasting progeny.

For having yet in his deducted sprite some sparks remaining of that heaven fire, he is illumined with that goodly light, and a light could be similar to his fire. Therefore, in choice of love, he doth desire that seems on earth most heavenly to embrace. That same is beauty, born of heaven grace. the shore of all that in this mortal frame contain it is not more divine that seem or that resemblet more the mortal flame of heavenly light than beauties long as we

what wonder then if with such rage extreme frail men whose eyes seek heavenly things to see that sight thereof so much enravished which well-perceiving that imperious boy doth there with tip his sharpened poison tarts which glancing through the eyes with fountain and scoy rest not till they have pierced the trembling hearts and kindled flame in all their inner parts who sucks the blood and drinketh up the life of careful wretches with consuming grief thenceforth they plain and make full piteous moan unto the author of their baleful bane the days they waste the nights they grieve and groan their lives they loathe and heaven's light disdain no light but that whose lamp doth yet remain fresh burning in the image of their eye they did to see and seeing it still die So whilst thou, tyrant love, Just laugh and scorn at their complaints, Making their pain thy play, Whilst they lie languishing like brawls forlorn,

The whilst thou dost triumph in their decay, And otherwise they're dying to delay, Thou dost in marvel the proud heart of her whose love Before their life was born. So hast thou often done, I need more. To me, thy vassal, whose yet bleeding heart with thousand wounds thou mangled hast so sore that whole

remains scarce any little part. Yet to augment the anguish of my smart, thou hast in frozen her disdainful breast, that no one drop of pity there doth rest. Why then do I dishonour unto thee, thus too noble by victorious name, said thou dost show no favour unto me, now once move Ruth in that rebellious dame? Somewhat to slap the rigour of my flame? Certain small glory dost thou win hereby, to let her live thus free, and be to die. But if thou be, in Jesus men,

he call the world's great parent, the most kind preserver of living whites, the sovereign lord of all, how falls at them that with thy furious fervor thou dost afflict as well than not deser as him that doth thy lovely pests to spy. and on my subjects most doth tyrannies. Yet, ye unique thy glory seemeth more,

By so hard handling those with best be served, That ere thou dost them unto gracious store, Thou mayst well try if they will ever swerve, And mayst them make it better to deserve, And having got it, may it more esteem, For things hard dot and men more dearly deem, So hard those heavenly duties be and thought, as things divine least passions do impress.

The more of steadfast minds to be admired, the more they stay at be on steadfastness. But base-born minds, such lamps regard the less, which, at first, blowing, take not hasty fire. Such fences feel no love, but loose desire. For love is lord of truth and loyalty, lifting himself out of the lowly dust on golden plumes, out to the purest sky, above the reach of Lotha's sin for lust, whose base affect, through cowardly distrust of his weak wings,

dare not to heaven fly, but like our mouldwork in the earth doth lie. His dung-hill thoughts with to themselves ennured to dirty dross, no higher dare aspire. Again his people earthly eyes endure the flaming light at that celestial fire which kindle of love in generous desire

and makes him mount above the native might of heavy earth, up to the heaven's height. Such is the power of that sweet passion that it all-sordid baseness doth expel, and the refined mind that newly fashioned unto a fairer form which now doth dwell in his high thought that food itself itself, which, he beholding still with constant sight, admires the mirror of so heavenly light, whose image printing in his deepest wit, he thereon feeds his hungry fantasy, still full, yet never satisfied with him, by Tanta that in store doth starve at law. So doth he fine in most

society, for not may quench his infinite desire, once kindled to that first conceited fire. Thereon his mind affixed and wholly is, the things on of art but how it you attain, his care, his joy, his hope, is all on this, that seems, in it all blisses to contain, in sight whereof, all other bliss seems vain. Christ, having man might he be the same possess, he thanks himself, and of his fortune less. And though he do not win his wish to end, yet thus far happy he himself doth mean that heaven's such happy grace did to him lend as thing on earth so evidently his heart's enshrined as saint, his heavens squeam, fairer than fairest in his deigning eye, whose sole aspect he counts felicity.

Then forth he casts in his unquiet thought what he may do, a favor to obtain, or grave of spite, of peril hardly rot, what wheeced in conquest, but adventurous pain, make lose are best, and grace unto the game. He dreads no danger, nor misfortune fears, his faith, his fortune, in his breast, he bears.

Thou art his god, thou art his mighty guide. Thou, he blind, lets him not see his fears, but carryest him to that which he had died, through seas, through flames, through thousand swords and spears,

they are so strong that may His fortresses stand, he quits thou armist, just resistless hand. Witness Leander in the Eucine waves, and stout aneus in the Trojan fire. Achilles, pressing through the friggin glaves, and Orpheus, daring to provoke the ire of jammed fiends to get his love retired. For both through heaven and hell thou make's way, to win them worship, if to be a thing. and if by all these perils and these pains he may but purchase liking in her eye what heavens of joy then do himself he pains at soon as he wipes white out of memory whatever ill before he took the bide had it been death yet would he die again to live thus happy as a grace to gain yet when he hath found favourit in his will he know the more and so consented rest but forso further on and strived still to approach more near till in her inmost breast he may imbosom be a loving best and yet not best but to be loved alone for love cannot endure her paragraph

The fear were of, oh, how it doth foment his troubled mind, with more than hellish pain, and to his feigning fancy represent sights never seen and thousand shadowed gain, to break his sleep and waste his idle brain. Thou that hast never loved, hast not believe these thoughts of evils with fool love is greed. The gnawing envy, the heart-threatened fear, the vain surmises, the distrustful, shows the false reports that flying tales do bear, the doubts the dangers, the delays, the woes, the fainted friends, the unassured foes, that thousands more than any tongue can tell, who make a lover's life a let's hair. Yet is there one more person than they are, that canker world,

that monster jealousy, which eats the heart and feeds upon the gall, turning all love's delight to misery, through fear, of losing his felicity. Now gods that ever ye that monster placed in gentle love, that all his joy is detaste. By thee, so love,

thou dost thy entrance make unto thy heaven, and thus the more endear thy pleasures unto those which them partake, as after storms when clouds begin to clear, the sun more bright and glorious of thee.

So thou thy folk, through pains of peace. Hergatory, just bear into thy bliss and heaven's glory. There thou thou then placesst in a paradise of all delight and joyous happy rest, where they do feed on nectar heavenly wives with her kidneys and Eve, and the rest of Venus darlings, to her bount to bless, and lie like gods in ivory beds array, with rose and lilies over them to spray. There, with thy daughter's pleasure, they do play their hurtless porch,

without the beautiful blame, and in her snowy bosom boldly lay their quiet heads devoid of guilty shame, after full joyance of their gentle game. Then, her they crown their goddess and their queen, and decked with flowers thy altars well deceived. I, me, dear Lord, that ever I might hope for all the pains and woes that I endure

to come at length under the wished scope of my desire, or might myself assure that half, be forth forever to the cure. Then would I think these pains no pains at all, and all my woes to be but penn and small. Then would I sing of thine immortal praise

in heavenly hymn, such as the angels sing, and thy triumphant name, then would I raise of all the gods, thee own honouring. My guide, my God, my victor, and my king. Till then, draught,

folks say it to take of me this simple song, thus framed in praise of people. End of part one of four hymns by Edmund Spencer, recording by Thomas Copeland. Part two of four hymns by Edmund Spencer. This liver-box recording is in the public domain, recording by Thomas Copeland. In him in honor of beauty,

Ah, whither love wilt thou now carry me? What wantless fury dost thou now, now inspire into my feeble breast too full of thee. Whilst seeking to asslake thy raging fire, thou in me kindlest much more great desire, and up aloft above my strength doth raise the wondrous matter of my fire to praise. That as I erst in praise of thine own name, so now, in honour of thy mother, dear, an honorable hymn Ieek should frame, and with the brightness of her beauty clear the ravished hearts of gazeful men might rear to admiration

of that heavenly light from whence proceeds such soul-enchanting might. There too, do thou great goddess queen of beauty, mother of love and of all world's delight, without whose sovereign grace and kindly duty nothing on earth seems fair to fleshly sight, do thou vouchsafe with thy love kindling light

to luminate my dim and dulladine, and beautify this sacred hymn of thine, that both to thee to whom I mean it most, And eke to her, whose their immortal beam hath darted fire Into my feeble ghost, That now it waste it is with woes extreme, It may so please that she at length will stream Some dew of grace into my withered heart,

After long sorrow and consuming smart. What time this world's great workmaster did cast to make all things such as we now behold, it seems that he before his eyes had placed a goodly pattern to whose perfect mould he fashioned them as comely as he could, that now so fair and seemly they appear as not may be amended anywhere. That wondrous pattern, wheresoeverare it be, whether in earth laid up in secret store or else in heaven that no man may at sea with sinful eyes, for fear it due to floor, is perfect beauty, which all men adore, whose face and feature does so much excel all mortal sense that none the same may tell. Thereof, as every earthly thing partakes, or more or less, by influence divine,

so it more fair accordingly it makes, and the gross matter of this earthly mind which closes it, thereafter doth refine, doing away the dross which dims the light of that fair beam which therein is impite. For, through infusion of celestial power, the duller earth it quickneth with delight, and lifeful spirits privily doth pour through all the parts, that to the looker's sight they seem to please. That is thy sovereign might, O Cyprian queen, which, flowing from the beam of thy bright star, thou into them dost stream. That is the thing which giveth pleasant grace to all things fair, that kindleth lively fire, light of thy lamb,

which, shining in the face, thence to the soul darts amorous desire, and robs the hearts of those which it admire. Therewith thou pointest thy son's poisoned arrow, that wounds the life and wastes the inmost marrow. How vainly then do idle wits, invent that beauty is not else but mixture made of colors fair, and goodly temperament of pure complexions, that shall quickly fade and pass away, like to a summer shade,

or that it is but comely composition of parts well measured with meat disposition, hath white and red in it such wondrous power, that it can pierce through the eyes unto the heart, and therein stir such rage and restless stour as naught but death can stint his doversmart, or can proportion of the outward part move such affection in the inward mind that it can rob both sense and reason-blind?

Why do not then the blossoms of the field, which are arrayed with much more orient you, and, to the sense most dainty odors you, work like impression in the looker's view? Or why do not fare pictures like power show, in which oftentimes we nature see of art excelled in perfect limning every part but ah believe me there is more than so that work such wonders in the minds of men i that have often proved too well it know and whoso list the like assays to can shall find by trial and confess it then that beauty is not as fond men misdeem an outward show of things that only seem for that same goodly hue of white and red with which the cheeks are sprinkled shall decay and those sweet rosy leaves so fairly spread upon the lips shall fade and fall away to that they were even to corrupted clay

That golden wire, those sparkling stars so bright, shall turn to dust and lose their goodly light. But that fair lamp, from whose celestial ray that light proceeds, which kindleth lover's fire, shall never be extinguished nor decay. But when the vital spirits do aspire unto her native planet shall retire. For it is heavenly born and cannot die, being a parcel of the purest sky. For when the soul, the which derived it was at first out of that great immortal sprite,

by whom all lived to love, while home did pass down from the top of purest heaven's height to be embodied here, it then took light and lively spirits from that fairest star, which lights the world forth from his fiery car. which power retaining still, or more or less, when she in fleshly seed is effed and raced? Note afterwards planted, return to text. Through every part she doth the same impress, according as the heavens ever graced, and frames her house in which she will be placed fit for herself, adorning it with spoil of heavenly riches which she robbed erewhile.

there of it comes that these fair souls which have the most resemblance of that heavenly light frame to themselves most beautiful and brave their fleshly bower most fit for their delight and the gross matter by a sovereign might temper so trim that it may well be seen a palace fit for such a virgin queen so every spirit as it is most pure and hath in it the more of heavenly light so it the fairer body doth procure to habit in, And it more fairly dight with cheerful grace and amiable sight. For of the soul the body form doth take, For soul is form, and doth the body make.

Therefore, wherever that thou dost behold a comely corpse with beauty fair and dude, Know this for certain, That the same doth hold of beauty as soul with fair conditions viewed. fit to receive the seed of virtue strewed. For all that fair is is, is by nature good. That is a sign to know the gentle blood. Yet oft it falls that many a gentle mind dwells in a deformed tabernacle drowned, either by chance against the course of kind,

or through unaptness in the substance found which it assumed of some stubborn ground that will not yield into her form's direction, but is deformed with some foul imperfection. And oft it falls, I'm me the mortaroo, that goodly beauty, or be heavenly born, is foul abused,

and that celestial hue which doth the world, with her delight adorn, made but the bait of sin and sinner scorn, whilst everyone doth seek and sue to have it, but everyone doth seek but to deprave it. yet now the more is it fair beauty's blame but theirs that do abuse it under ill nothing so good but that through guilty shame may be corrupt and rested under will nevertheless the soul is fair and beauty is still however flesh is fault it filthy make for things immortal no corruption take but ye fair dames the world's dear ornaments and lively images of heaven's light

Let not your beams with such disparagements be dimmed, And your bright glory darkened quite, But mindful still of your first country's sight, Do still preserve your first informant grace, Whose shadow yet shines in your beauteous face. Loat, that foul blot, that hellish firebrand, Disloyal lust, fair beauties, foulest blame, That base affections, which your ears would bland,

commend to you by love's abuser name, but is indeed the bon slave of defame, which will the garland of your glory mar, and quench the light of your bright shining star. But gentle love, that loyal is and true, will more illumine your resplendent ray, and add more brightness to your goodly hue, from light of his pure fire,

which, by the way, kindled of yours, your likeness doth display, Like as two mirrors by opposed reflection do both express the face's first impression. Therefore, to make your beauty more appear, it you behooves to love, and forth to lay that heavenly riches which in you be bare, that men the more admire their fowlain may. For else, what booteth that celestial ray, if it in darkness be enshrined it ever, that it of loving eyes be view it, never? but in your choice of loves this well advise, that likest to yourselves she them select, the which performs first source may sympathize,

and with like beauty's parts be inly decked. For if you loosely love without respect, it is not love, but a discordant war whose unlike parts amongst themselves do jar. For love is a celestial harmony of likely hearts composed of Star's consent. Note, of similar hearts combined by Star's Consent, returned a text, which joined together in sweet sympathy

to work each other's joy and true content, which they have harbored since their first descent out of their heavenly bowers, where they did see and know each other here beloved to be. Then wrong it were that any other Twain should in love's gentle band combined it be but those whom heaven did it first ordain, and made out of one mold the more degree. For all that like the beauty which they see straight do not love, for love is not so light as straight to burn at first beholder's sight, but they which love indeed look otherwise with pure

regard and spotless true intent, drawing out of the object of their eyes a more refined form which they present unto their mind, void of all blemishment, which it reducing to her first perfection, beholdeth free from flesh's frail infection, and then conforming it unto the light which in itself it hath remaining still of that first sun, yet sparkling in his sight, thereof he fashions in his higher skill

and heavenly beauty to his fancy's will, and it embracing in his mind and tire the mirror of his own thought doth admire, which, seeing now so inly fair to be as outward it appeareth to the eye, and with his spirit's proportion to agree, he thereon fixeth all his fantasy,

and fully seteth his felicity, counting it fairer that it is indeed, and yet, indeed, her fairness doth exceed. For lover's eyes, more sharply sightedly than other men's, and in dear love's delight See more than any other eyes can see Through mutual receipt of bema's bright Which carry privy message to the sprite

And to their eyes that in most fair display As plain as light discovers dawning day Therein they see through amorous eye glances Armies of love still flying to and fro Which dart at them their little fiery lances whom, having wounded, back again they go, carrying compassion to their lovely foe, who, seeing her fair eyes so sharp effect, cures all their sorrows with one sweet aspect, in which how many wonders do they read to their conceit that others never see?

Now of her smiles, with which their souls they feed, like gods with nectar and their banquets free, now of her looks, which like to cordials be. But when her words in Basset forth she sends, Lord, how sweet music that'll do them lends. Sometimes upon her forehead they behold a thousand graces masking in delight. Sometimes within her eyelids they unfold ten thousand sweet bell-guards, which to their sight do seem like twinkling stars in frosty night. But on her lips, like rosy,

buds in May, so many millions of chaste pleasures play. All those, O Sitheria, and thousands more, thy handmaids be, which do on the attend, to deck thy beauty with their dainties store, that it may more to mortal eyes commend, and make it more admired a foe than friend, that in men's hearts thou mayst thy throne and stall, and spread thy lovely kingdom over all. Then I, O great beauties, queen, Advance the banner of thy conquest high, That all this world,

The which thy vassals been, May draw to thee, and with due fealty, Adore the power of thy great majesty, Singing this hymn in honour of thy name, compiled by me, which thy poor Liegman am. In you whereof, grand, O great sovereign, that she whose conquering beauty doth captiv my trembling heart in her eternal chain, one drop of grace at length will to me give,

that I her bound and thrall by her may live, and this same life which first from me she reved may owe to her of whom I have received. And you, fair Venus darling, my dear dread, fresh flower of grace, great goddess of my life, When your fair eyes These fearful lines shall read Dain to let fall one drop of due relief That may recur my heart's long pining grief

And show what wondrous power your beauty have That can restore a damned white from death End of part two of four hymns by Edmund Spencer Recording by Thomas Copeland Part three of four hymns by Edmunds Spencer. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Thomas Copeland. In hymn of heavenly love. Note. See the sixth canto of the third book of the fairy queen, especially the second and the 32nd stanzas, which, with his hymns of heavenly love and heavenly

beauty, are evident proofs of Spencer's attachment to the Platonic school. Wharton, return to text. Love lift me up upon thy golden wings From this base world Unto thy heaven's height Where I may see those admirable things Which there thou workest by thy sovereign might Far above that feeble reach of earthly sight

That I thereof an heavenly hymn may sing Unto the god of love, high heaven's king Many lewd lays Our woes me the more in praise of that mad fit which fools call love, I have in the heat of youth made heretofore, that in light wits did lucifection move. But all those follies now I do reprove,

and turn it have the tenor of my string, the heavenly praises of true love to sing. And ye that one with greedy vain desire to read my fault, and, wondering at my flame to warm yourselves at my wide sparkling fire, sith now that heat is quenched, quench my blame, and in her ashes shroud my dying shame, for who my passive follies now pursues, begins his own, and my old fault renews. Before this world's great frame, in which all things are now contained, found any being place, ere flitting time could wag his I.S. wings about that mighty bound, which doth embrace the rolling spheres, and parts their hours by space, that high eternal power which now doth move in all these things, move in itself by love. It loved itself because its self was fair, but fair is loved, and of itself begot light to itself his eldest son and heir, eternal, pure, and void of sin,

sinful blot, the firstling of his joy, in whom no jot of love's dislike or pride was to be found, whom he therefore with equal honor crowned. With him he reigned, before all time prescribed, in endless glory and immortal might, together with that third from them derived, most wise, most holy, most almighty sprite, whose kingdom's throne no thoughts of earthly white can comprehend, much less my trembling verse With equal words Can hope it to rehearse Yet, O most blessed spirit

Pure lamp of light Eternal spring of grace And wisdom true Thouche safe To shed upon my bearing spright Some little drop of thy celestial dew That may my rhymes With sweet infuse and brew

And give me words equal Unto my thought To tell the marvels By thy mercy rot Yet, yet, being pregnant still with powerful grace and full of fruitful love, that loves to get things like himself, and to enlarge his race, his second crude, though not of power so great, yet full of beauty, next he did beget, an infinite increase of angels bright, all glistering glorious

in their maker's light. To them, the heaven's illimitable height, not this round heaven which we from hence behold, adored with thousand lamps of burning light, and with ten thousand gems of shining gold, he gave as their inheritance to hold, that they might serve him in eternal bliss, and be partakers of those joys of his. There they in their trinal triplicities about him wait. Note, verse 64, trinal triplicities, see the fairy queen, book one, canto 12, line 39, 8. returned to text. There they and their trinal triplicities about him wait and on his will depend, either with nimble wings to cut the skies,

when he them on his messages doth send, or on his own dread presence to attend, where they behold the glory of his light, and carol hymns of love both day and night. Both day and night is under them all one, for he his beams doth under them extend, that darkness there appeareth never none, Nay hath their day, nor hath their bliss, an end.

But there their termless time and pleasure spend, Nay ever should their happiness decay, Had thought they dared their lord to disobey. But pride, impatient of long-resting peace, Did puff them up with greedy bold ambition, That they came cast their state how to increase above the fortune of their first condition, and sit in God's own seat without commission.

The brightest angel, even the child of light, drew millions more, against their God to fight. The Almighty, seeing their so bold assay, kindled the flame of his consuming ire, and with his only breath, them blew away from heaven's height,

to which they did aspire, to deepest hell and lake of damnedest, fire, where they in darkness and dread horror dwell, hating the happy light from which they fell. So that next offspring of the maker's love, next to himself in glorious degree, degendering to hate, fell from above through pride. Poor pride and love may ill agree, and now of sin to awe and Zambelby. How then can sinful flesh itself assure sith purest angels fail to be, impure. But that eternal fount of love and grace, still flowing forth his goodness unto all, now seeing left a waste and empty place in his wide palace through those angels fall,

cast to supply the same and to install a new, unknown colonel therein, whose roots from earth's base groundwork should begin. Therefore, of clay, base, vile, and next to naught, yet formed by wondrous skill and by his might according to an heavenly pattern rock, which he had fashioned in his wise foresight, he man did make, and breathed a living sprite into his face, most beautiful and fair, endued with wisdom's riches, heavenly, rare. Such he him made that he resembled might himself,

as mortal thing immortal could, him to be lord of every living white he made by love out of his own like mold, in whom he might his mighty self behold. For love doth love the thing beloved to see, that like itself in lovely shape may be. But man, forgetful of his maker's grace, no less than angels whom he did ensue, fell from the hope of promised heavenly place

into the mouth of death to sinners due, and all his offspring into thraldom through, where they forever should in bonds remain of never dead, yet ever-dying pain, till that great lord of love, which him at first made of mere love, and after like it well, seeing him lie like creature long accursed

in that deep horror of despair in hell, him, wretch, in duel, would let no longer dwell, but cast out of that bondage to redeem, and pay the price, always debt extreme. Out of the bosom of eternal bliss, in which he reigned with his glorious sire, he down descended like a most demiss and abject thrall in flesh's frail attire,

that he for him might pay sins deadly higher, and him restore unto that happy state in which he stood before his hapless fate. In flesh at first the guilt committed was, therefore in flesh it must be satisfied. Nor spirit nor angel, though they man surpass, could make amends to God for man's misguide, but only man himself, who self did slide.

So, taking flesh of sacred virgin's womb, for man's dear sake, he did a man become. And that most blessed body which was born, without all blemish or reproachful blame, he freely gave to be both rent and torn of cruel hands, who, with despiteful shame reviling him, that their most vile became, at length him nailed on a gallow tree and slew the just by most unjust decree. Oh, huge and most unspeakable impression of love's deep wound That pierced the piteous heart of that dear Lord With so entire affection,

And sharply lancing every inner part, Dollers of death into his soul to dart, Doing him die that never it deserved, To free his foes that from his hest had swerved. What heart can feel least touch of so sore launch, Or thought can think the depth of so dear wound, Whose bleeding source their streams yet never staunch, But still do flow, and freshly still redound,

To heal the sores of sinful souls unsound, And cleanse the guilt of that infected crime, Which was enrooted in all fleshly slime. O blessed well of love, O flower of grace, O glorious morning star, O lamp of light, Most lively image of thy father's face, Eternal king of glory, Lord of might,

Meek Lamb of God before all worlds behight. Note, named, return to text. How can we thee requite for all this good, Or what comprise that thy most precious blood? Note, prize, price, return to text. text. Yet not thou ask'st, in lieu of all this love, but love of us, for girton of thy pain. I, me, what can us less than that behove? Had he required life for us again? Had it been wrong to ask his own with gain? He gave us life. He restored it, lost. Then life were least that us so

little cost. But he, our life, hath left unto us free, free that was thrall, and blessed that was bad. Neot demands, but that we loving be, as he himself hath loved us beforehand, and bound thereto with an eternal band. Him first to love that us so dearly bought, and next our brethren, till his image wrought. Him first to love great right and reason is, Who first to us our life and being gave, And after, when we ferrette had amiss, Us wretches from the second death did save,

And last, the food of life which now we have, Even he himself, in his dear sacrament, To feed our hungry souls unto us lent. Then next, to love our brethren, that were made of that self-mould and that self-maker's hand that we, and to the same again shall fade, where they shall have like heritage of land. However, here on higher steps we stand, which also were with self-same price redeemed that we, however of us light esteemed.

And were they not? Yet since that loving Lord commanded us to love them for his sake, even for his sake and for his sacred word which in his last bequest he to us spake, we should them love, and with their needs partake, knowing that whatsoever to them we give, we give to him by whom we all do live. Such mercy, he by his most holy read unto us taught, and to approve it true, and sampled it by his most righteous deed, showing us mercy, miserable crew,

that we the like should to the wretches shoot, and love our brethren, thereby to approve how much himself that love at us we love. Then rouse thyself, O earth, out of thy soil, in which thou wallowest like to a filthy swine, and dost thy mind in dirty pleasures moil, unmindful of that dearest lord of thine, lift up to him thy heavy clouded hind that thou this sovereign bounty mayst behold,

and read through love his mercies manifold. Begin from first, where he encradled was in simple cratch, wrapped in a wad of hay, between the toilful ox and humble ass, and in what rags, and in how base array the glory of our heavenly riches lay. when him the silly shepherds came to see Whom greatest princes sought on lowest knee From thence, read on the story of his life, His humble carriage, his unfaulty ways,

His cankered foes, his fights, his toil, His strife, his pains, his poverty, His sharp assays, through which he passed his miserable days, Offending none, and doing good to all, Yet being maliced, both by great and great, and small. And look at last, how of most wretched whites he taken was, betrayed and false accused, how with most scornful taunts and fell despites he was reviled, disgraced, and foul abused, how scourged, how crowned, how buffeted, how bruised, and lastly, how twixt robbers crucified

with bitter wounds through hands, through feet, and sighed. Then let thy flinty heart that feels no pain, M. Pierce it be with pitiful remorse, And let thy bowels bleed in every vein At sight of his most sacred heavenly course, So torn and mangled with malicious force, And let thy soul, who sins his sorrows rot, Melt into tears, and groan in grieve at thought,

With sense whereof, whilst thy so softened spirit is inly touched, and humbled with meek zeal through meditation of his endless merit, lift up thy mind to the author of thy wheel, and to his sovereign mercy to appeal, learn him to love that loved thee so dear, and in thy breast his blessed image bear. With all thy heart, with all thy soul and mind,

thou must him love, and his behest embrace, all other loves with which the world doth blind weak fancies, and stir up affection's base, thou must renounce and utterly displace, and give thyself unto him, full and free, that full and freely gave himself to thee. Then shall thou feel thy spirit so possessed and ravished with devouring great desire of his dear self, that shall thy feeble breast inflame with love, and set thee all on full, fire with burning zeal through every part and tire. Note, entire inward, returned a text, that in no earthly thing thou shalt delight but in his sweet and amiable sight. Thenceforth,

all world's desire will in thee die, and all earth's glory on which men do gaze seem dirt and tross in thy pure-sighted eye, compared to that celestial beauty's blaze, whose glorious beams all fleshly sensedeth days, with admiration of their passing light, blinding the eyes, and lumining the sprite. Then shall thy ravished soul inspired be with heavenly thoughts, far above human skill, and thy bright, radiant eyes shall plainly see thy D.E. of his pure glory, present still before thy face, that all thy spirit shall fill with sweet enragement of celestial love, kindled through sight of those fair things above.

End of Part 3 of Four Hymns by Edmund Spencer, recording by Thomas Copeland. Part 4 of Four Hymns by Edmund Spencer. This Libre Vox recording is in the public domain. recording by Thomas Copeland. An hymn of heavenly beauty. Wrapped with the rage of mine own ravish thought, through contemplation of those goodly sights and glorious images in heaven rot,

whose wondrous beauty, breathing sweet delights, do kindle love in high conceited sprites, I fain to tell the things that I behold, but feel my wits to fail and tongue to fold. Vouch safe then, O thou most almighty sprite, From whom all gifts of wit and knowledge flow, To shed into my breast some sparkling light of thine eternal truth, That I may show some little beams to mortal eyes below,

Of that immortal beauty there with thee, Which in my weak distrotted mind I see. That with the glory of so goodly sight, The hearts of men which fondly here admire fair seeming shows, and feed on vain delight, transported with celestial desire of those fair forms, may lift themselves up higher, and learn to love with zealous, humble duty, the eternal fountain of that heavenly beauty. Beginning then below, with the easy view of this base world, subject to fleshly eye,

from thence to mount aloft by order due to contemplation of the mortal sky, of the sore falcon, so I learned to flage, lie that flags a while her fluttering wings beneath till she herself for stronger flight can grieve. Note, sore falcon, a young falcon, a hawk that has not yet shed its first feathers, which are sorrow, returned to text. Then look, who list thy gavisful eyes to feed with sight of that is fair, look on the frame of this wide universe, and therein read the endless kinds of creatures which by name thou canst not count, much less their nature's aim,

all which are made with wondrous wise respect, and all with admirable beauty decked. First, the earth, an adamantine pillars founded amid the sea engirt with brazen bands, then there, still flitting, but yet firmly bounded on every side with piles of flaming brands,

never consumed nor quenched with more, mortal hands. And last, that mighty shining crystal wall, wherewith he hath encompassed this all. By view whereof it plainly may appear that still as everything doth upward tend and further is from earth, so still more clear and fair it grows, till to his perfect end of purest beauty it at last ascend. Air more than water, fire much more than air, and heaven than fire appears more pure and fair. Look thou no further, but affix thine eye on that bright, shiny round, still-moving mass, the house of blessed God, which men call sky,

all sowed with glistering stars more thick than grass, whereof each other doth in brightness pass. But those two most which ruling night and day, as king and queen the heaven's empire sway. And tell me then, What hast thou ever seen That to their beauty may compare it be? Or can the sight that is most sharp and keen

Endure their captain's flaming head to see? How much less those, much higher in degree, And so much fairer and much more than these, as these are fairer than the land and seas. For far above these heavens, which here we see, be others, far exceeding these in light, not bounded, not corrupt as these same be, but infinite in largeness and in height, unmoving, uncorrupt, and spotless bright, that need no sun to illuminate their spheres, but their own native light far passing theirs.

and as these heavens still by degrees arise until they come to their first movers bound that in his mighty compass doth comprise and carry all the rest with him around so those likewise do by degrees redound note that is exceed the one the other returned to text by degrees redound and rise more fair

till they at last arrive to the most fair were to they all do strive. Fair is the heaven where happy souls have place, in full enjoyment of felicity, whence they do still behold the glorious face of the divine eternal majesty. More fair is that, for those IDs on high enrange it be,

which Plato so admired, and pure intelligences from God inspired. Yet fairer is that heaven in which to reign the sovereign powers and mighty potentates which, in their high protections, do contain all mortal princes and imperial states, and fairer yet, whereas the royal seats and heavenly dominations are set, from whom all earthly governance is fed. Yet far more fair be those bright cherubins, which all with golden wings are overdight, and those eternal burning seraphans, which from their faces dart out fiery light,

yet fairer than they both, and much more bright, be the angels and archangels, which attend on God's own person without rest or end. These thus, in fair, each other far excelling, as to the highest they approach more near, yet is that highest far beyond all telling fairer than all the rest which there appear. though all their beauties joined together were. How then can mortal tongue hope to express the image of such endless perfectness?

Cease then my tongue and lend unto my mind leave to bethink how great that beauty is, whose utmost part so beautiful I find. How much more those essential parts of his, his truth, his love, his wisdom, and his bliss, his great, His doom, His mercy, and his might, by which he lends us of himself a sight. Those unto all He daily doth display, and show himself in the image of His grace, as in our Looking-glass, through which he may be seen of all his creatures' violent base that are unable else to see his face, his glorious face, which glistereth else so bright that

the angel's selves cannot endure his sight. But we, frail lights whose sight cannot sustain the sun's bright beams when he on us doth shine, but that their points rebutted back again are dulled, how can we see with feeble eye in the glory of that majesty divine, in sight of whom both sun and moon are dark, compared to his least resplendent spark? The means, therefore, which unto us is lent him to behold, is on his works to look, which he hath made in beauty excellent, and in the same as in a brazen book to read and registered in every nook his goodness which his beauty doth declare, for all that's good is beautiful and fair. Thence, gathering plumes of perfect speculation to imp the wings of thy high-flying mind, mount up aloft through heavenly contemplation from this dark

world, whose damps the soul to blind, and, like the native brood of eagle's kind, on that bright sun of glory fixed thine eyes, cleared from gross mists of frail infirmities. Humbled with fear and awful reverence before the footstool of his majesty, throw thyself down with trembling innocence, ne dare look up with corruptible eye on the dread face of that great deity, for fear lest if he chanced to look on thee thou turn to naught and quite confounded thee, that lowly fall before his mercy seat, close covered with the Lamb's integrity, from the just wrath of his avengeful threat that sits upon the righteous throne on high. His throne is built upon eternity, more firm and durable than steel or brass,

or the hard diamond, which them both doth pass. His sceptre is the rod of righteousness, With which he bruiseth all his foes to dust, And the great dragon strongly doth repress under the rigor of his judgment just. His seat is truth, to which the faithful trust. From whence proceed her beam so pure and bright That all about him shedeth glorious light. Light far exceeding that bright blazing spark

Which darted is from Titan's flaming head, that with his beams illumineseth the dark and dampish air whereby all things are red Note, perceived, return to text. Whose nature yet so much is marvellous of mortal wits That it doth much amaze The greatest wizards which thereon do gaze.

About that immortal light Which there doth shine is many thousand times more bright, More clear, more excellent, more glorious, more divine, through which to God all mortal actions here, and even the thoughts of men do plain appear. For from the eternal truth it doth proceed through heavenly virtue which her beams do breed. With the great glory of that wondrous light, his throne is all encompassed around, and hid in his own brightness from the sight of all that looked thereon with eyes unsound, and underneath his feet are to be found thunder and light.

and tempestuous fire the instruments of his avenging ire. There in his bosom sapiens doth sit, the sovereign deering of the deity, clad like a queen in royal robes, most fit for so great power and peerless majesty, and all with gems and jewels gorgeously adorned that brighter than the stars appear and make her native brightness seem more clear.

And on her head, a crown of purest gold is set in sign of highest sovereignty, and in her hand a sceptre she doth hold, with which she rules the house of God on high, and menagedeth the ever-moving sky, and in the same these lower creatures all, subjected to her power imperial. Both heaven and earth obey unto her will,

and all the creatures which they both contain, for of her fullness which the world doth fill, they all partake, and do in state remain as their great maker did it first ordain, through observation of her high behest, by which they first were made, and still increased. The fairness of her face no tongue can tell, for she, the daughters of all women's race, and angels eke in beauty doth excel, sparkled on her from God's own glorious face, and more increased by her own goodly grace, that it doth far exceed all human thought,

can on earth compare it be to aught. Could that painter, had he livid yet, which pictured Venus with so curious quill, that all posterity admired it, had portrayed this for all his maistering skill. She herself, had she remained still, and were as fair as fabling wit, Stoufane, could once come near this beauty sovereign.

But had those wits the wonders of their days, or that sweet Tean poet, note Anacrian, returned a text, which did spend his plenteous vein in setting forth her praise, seen but a glimpse of this which I pretend, how wondrously would he her face commend, above that idol of his feigning thought, that all the world should with his rhymes be fraught. How then dare I, the novice of his art, presumed to picture so divine a white,

Or hope to express her least perfection's part, Whose beauty fills the heavens with her light, And darks the earth with shadow of her sight. Ah, gentle muse, thou art too weak and faint the portrait of so heavenly hue to paint. Let angels, which her goodly face behold, and see at will, her sovereign praises sing, and those most sacred mysteries unfold of that fair love of mighty heaven's king. Enough is me to admire so heavenly thing, and being thus with her huge love possessed,

in the only wonder of herself to rest. But whoso may, thrice happy man him hold of all on earth, whom God so much doth grace, and lets his own beloved to behold, for in the view of her celestial face, all joy, all bliss, all happiness have place, nay aught on earth can want unto the white, who of herself can win the wishful sight. For she, out of her secret treasury, plenty of riches forth on him will pour, even heavenly riches which there hidden lie within the closet of her chastest bower,

the eternal portion of her precious dower which mighty God hath given to her free and to all those which thereof worthy be. None thereof worthy be, but those whom she vouchsafeeth to her presence to receive, and letteth them her lovely face to see, whereof such wondrous pleasures they conceive and sweet contentment,

that it doth bereave their soul of sense through infinite delight, and them transport from flesh into the sprite, in which they see such admirable things as carries them into an ecstasy, and hear such heavenly notes and carolings of God's high praise that fills the brazen sky, and feels such joy and pleasure inwardly that maketh them all-wordly cares forget, and only think on that before themselves. May from thenceforth doth any fleshly sense or idle thought of earthly things remain. But all that erst seemed sweet seems now offense, And all that pleased it earth now seems to pain.

Their joy, their comfort, their desire, their game, Is fix it all on that which now they see, all other sights but fainted shadows be. And that fair lamp which useth to inflame the hearts of men with self-consuming fire, thenceforth seems foul and full of sinful blame, and all that pomp to which proud minds aspire by name of honor and so much desire seems to them baseness, and all riches dross, and all mirth sadness, and all lucre loss. So full their eyes and their eyes,

are of that glorious sight and senses fraught with such satiety that in naught else on earth they can delight, but in the aspect of that felicity which they have written in their inward eye, on which they feed, and in their fastened mind all happy, joy and full contentment find. Ah, then my hungry soul, which long hast fed on idle fancies of thy foolish thought, and with false beauties, flattering bait misled, Hast, after vain deceitful shadows sought, Which all have fled, And now have left thee naught but late repentance,

Through thy folly's brief, Ah, cease to gaze on matter of thy grief, And look at last up to that sovereign light, From whose pure beams all perfect beauty springs, That kindleth love in every godly sprite, even the love of God, which loathing brings of this vile world and these gay-seeming things, with whose sweet pleasures being so possessed, thy straying thoughts henceforth forever rest. End of part four.

End of four hymns by Edmund Spencer.