Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
I. To His Sonnets, on Sending Them to His MistressEdmund Spenser (1552?1599)
H
Which hold my life in their dead-doing might
Shall handle you, and hold in love’s soft bands,
Like captives trembling at the victor’s sight;
And happy lines! on which, with starry light,
Those lamping eyes will deign sometimes to look,
And read the sorrows of my dying spright
Written with tears in heart’s close-bleeding book;
And happy rhymes! bathed in the sacred brook
Of Helicon, whence she derivéd is;—
When ye behold that angel’s blessed look,
My soul’s long-lackéd food, my heaven’s bliss,
Leaves, lines, and rhymes, seek her to please alone,
Whom if ye please, I care for other none.