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Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sonnets 3. Who so list to hount: I know where is an hynd, But, as for me: helas, I may no more. The vayne travail hath werid me so sore, I ame of theim, that farthest cometh behinde Yet, may I by no means, my weried mynde Drawe from the Der; but as she fleeth afore Faynting I folowe. I leve of therefore: Sins in a nett I seeke to hold the wynde. Who list her hount: I put him out of dowbte: As well as I: may spend his time in vain. And graven with Diamonds in letters plain: There is written, her faier neck rounde abowte: Noli me tangere for Cesars I ame And wylde for to hold: though I seme tame. 12. I fynde no peace and all my warr is done, I fere and hope, I burn and freise like yse, I fley above the wynde, yet can I not arrise, And noght I have and all the worold I seson; That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison; And holdeth me not; yet can I scape nowise: Nor letteth me live nor dye at my devise: And yet of deth it gyveth me occasion. Withoute Iyen I se; and without tong I plain: I desire to perisshe, and yet I aske helthe; I love an othr: and thus I hate myself; I fede me in sorrowe: and laugh in all my pain: Likewise displeaseth me both deth and lyff: And my delite is causer of this stryff. 14. My galy charged with forgetfulnes, Thorrough sharpe sees, in wynter nyghtes doeth pas, Twene Rock and Rock: and eke myn enemy, alas, That is my Lorde, sterith with cruelnes. And every owre a thought in redines: As tho that deth were light in such a case; An endles wynd doeth tere the sayll a pase, Of forced sightes and trusty ferefulnes. A rayn of teris: a clowde of derk disdain, Hath done the wered cordes great hinderaunce: Wrethed with error and eke with ignoraunce. The starres be hid that led me to this pain: Drowned is reason that should me comfort: And I remain dispering of the port.

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Sir Philip Sidney, Astrophil and Stella 1. Louing in trueth, and fayne in verse my loue to show, That she, deare Shee, might take som pleasure of my paine, Pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pittie winne, and pity grace obtaine, I sought fit wordes to paint the blackest face of woe; Studying inuentions fine, her wits to entertaine, Oft turning others leaues, to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitfull showers vpon my sun-burnd brain. But words came halting forth, wanting Inuentions stay; Inuention, Natures childe, fledde step-dame Studies blowes; And others feet still seemde but strangers in my way. Thus, great with childe to speak, and helplesse in my throwes, Biting my trewand pen, beating myselfe for spite, Fool, said my Muse to me, looke in thy heart, and write. 5. It is most true that eyes are formd to serue The inward light, and that the heauenly part Ought to be King, from whose rules who do swerue, Rebels to nature, striue for their owne smart. It is most true, what we call Cupids dart An image is, which for ourselues we carue, And, foolse, adore in temple of our hart, Till that good god make church and churchmen starue. True, that true beautie virtue is indeed, Whereof this beautie can be but a shade, Which, elements with mortal mixture breed. True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made, And should in soule up to our countrey moue: True, and yet true that I must Stella loue. 31. With how sad steps, O Moone, thou climbst the skies! How silently, and with how wanne a face! What, may it be that euen in heaunly place That busie archer his sharpe arrowes tries? Sure, if that long-with-loue-acquainted eyes Can iudge of loue, thou feelst a louers case, I reade it in thy lookes: thy languist grace, To me that feele the like, thy state discries. Then, eun of fellowship, O Moone, tell me, Is constant loue deemd there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they aboue loue to be loud, and yet Those louers scorn whom that loue doth possesse? Do they call vertue there vngratefulnesse?

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Sir Philip Sidney, Astrophil and Stella 71. Who will in fairest booke of Nature know How vertue may best lodgd in Beautie be, Let him but learne of Loue to reade in thee, Stella, those faire lines which true goodnesse show. There shall he find all vices ouerthrow, Not by rude force, but sweetest soueraigntie Of reason, from whose light those night-birds flie, That inward sunne in thine eyes shineth so. And, not content to be Perfections heire Thy selfe, doest striue all minds that way to moue, Who marke in thee what is in thee most faire: So while thy beautie drawes the heart to loue, As fast thy vertue bends that loue to good: But, ah, Desire still cries, Giue me some food.

Edmund Spenser, Amoretti 1. Happy ye leaues when as those lilly hands, which hold my life in their dead doing might shall handle you and hold in loues soft bands, lyke captiues trembling at the victors sight. And happy lines, on which with starry light, those lamping eyes will deigne sometimes to look and reade the sorrowes of my dying spright, written with teares in harts close bleeding book. And happy rymes bathd in the sacred brooke, of Helicon whence she deriued is, when ye behold that Angels blessed looke, my soules long lacked foode, my heauens blis. Leaues, lines, and rymes, seeke her to please alone, whom if ye please, I care for other none. 15. Ye tradefull Merchants that with weary toyle, do seeke most pretious things to make your gain: and both the Indias of their treasures spoile, what needeth you to seeke so farre in vaine? For loe my loue doth in her selfe containe all this worlds riches that may farre be found; if Saphyres, loe her eies be Saphyres plaine, if Rubies, loe hir lips be Rubies found; If Pearles, hir teeth be pearles both pure and round; if Yuorie, her forhead yuory weene; if Gold, her locks are finest gold on ground; if siluer, her faire hands are siluer sheene, But that which fairest is, but few behold, her mind adornd with vertues manifold.

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Edmund Spenser, Amoretti 30. My loue is lyke to yse, and I to fyre; how comes it then that this her cold so great is not dissolud through my so hot desyre, but harder growes the more I her intreat? Or how comes it that my exceeding heat is not delayd by her hart frosen cold: but that I burne much more in boyling sweat, and feel my flames augmented manifold? What more miraculous thing may be told that fire which all things melts, should harden yse: and yse which is congeald with sencelesse cold, should kindle fyre by wonderfull deuyse. Such is the powre of loue in gentle mind, that it can alter all the course of kynd. 34. Lyke as a ship, that through the Ocean wyde, by conduct of some star doth make her way, whenas a storme hath dimd her trusty guyde, out of her course doth wander far astray. So I whose star, that wont with her bright ray, me to direct, with cloudes is ouer-cast, doe wander now, in darknesse and dismay, through hidden perils round about me plast. Yet hope I well, that when this storme is past, My Helice the lodestar of my lyfe will shine again, and looke on me at last, with louely light to cleare my cloudy grief. Till then I wander carefull comfortlesse, in secret sorrow and sad pensiuenesse. 54. Of this worlds Theatre in which we stay, My loue lyke the Spectator ydly sits beholding me that all the pageants play, disguysing diuersly my troubled wits. Sometimes I ioy when glad occasion fits, and mask in myrth lyke to a Comedy: soone after when my ioy to sorrow flits, I waile and make my woes a Tragedy. Yet she beholding me with constant eye, delights not in my merth no[r] rues my smart: but when I laugh she mocks, and when I cry she laughes, and hardens euermore her hart. What then can moue her? if nor merth, nor mone, she is no woman, but a sencelesse stone.

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Edmund Spenser, Amoretti 59. Thrise happie she, that is so well assured Vnto her selfe and setled so in hart: that nether will for better be allured, ne feard with worse to any chaunce to start, But like a steddy ship doth strongly part the raging waues, and keepes her course aright: ne ought for tempest doth from it depart, ne ought for fayrer weathers false delight. Such selfe assurance need not feare the spight, of grudging foes, ne fauour seek of friends: but in the stay of her owne stedfast might, nether to one her selfe nor other bends. Most happy she that most assured doth rest, but he most happy who such one loues best. 63. After long stormes and tempests sad assay, Which hardly I endured heretofore: in dread of death and daungerous dismay, with which my silly barke was tossed sore. I doe at length descry the happy shore, in which I hope ere long for to arryue, fayre soyle it seemes from far & fraught with store of all that deare and daynty is alyue. Most happy he that can at last atchyue the ioyous safety of so sweet a rest: whose least delight sufficeth to depriue remembrance of all paines which him opprest. All paines are nothing in respect of this, all sorrowes short that gaine eternall blisse. 64. Comming to kisse her lyps, (such grace I found) Me seemd I smelt a gardin of sweet flowres: that dainty odours from them threw around for damzels fit to decke their louers bowres. Her lips did smell lyke vnto Gillyflowers, her ruddy cheekes, lyke vnto Roses red: her snowy browes lyke budded Bellamoures her louely eyes lyke Pincks but newly spred, Her goodly bosome lyke a Strawberry bed, her neck lyke to a bounch of Cullambynes: her brest lyke lillyes, ere theyr leaues be shed, her nipples lyke yong blossomd Iessemynes, Such fragrant flowres doe giue most odorous smell, but her sweet odour did them all excell.

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Edmund Spenser, Amoretti 67. Lyke as a huntsman after weary chace, Seeing the game from him escapt away: sits downe to rest him in some shady place, with panting hounds beguiled of their pray. So after long pursuit and vaine assay, when I all weary had the chace forsooke, the gentle deare returnd the selfe-same way, thinking to quench her thirst at the next brooke. There she beholding me with mylder looke, sought not to fly, but fearelesse still did bide: till I in hand her yet halfe trembling tooke, and with her owne goodwill hir fyrmely tyde. Strange thing me seemd to see a beast so wyld, so goodly wonne with her owne will beguyld. 75. One day I wrote her name vpon the strand, but came the waues and washed it away: agayne I wrote it with a second hand, but came the tyde, and made my paynes his pray. Vayne man, sayd she, that doest in vaine assay, a mortall thing so to immortalize. for I my selue shall lyke to this decay, and eek my name bee wyped out lykewize. Not so, (quod I) let baser things deuize, to dy in dust, but you shall liue by fame: my verse your vertues rare shall eternize, and in the heuens wryte your glorious name. Where whenas death shall all the world subdew, our loue shall liue, and later life renew. 77. Was it a dreame, or did I see it playne, a goodly table of pure yvory: all spred with iuncats, fit to entertayne, the greatest Prince with pompous roialty. Mongst which there in a siluer dish did ly, twoo golden apples of vnualewd price: far passing those which Hercules came by, or those which Atalanta did entice. Exceeding sweet, yet voyd of sinfull vice, That many sought yet none could euer taste, sweet fruit of pleasure brought from paradice: By loue himselfe and in his garden plaste. Her brest that table was so richly spredd, my thoughts the guests, which would thereon haue fedd.

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Francesco PetrarcaRime, CXC Una candida cerva sopra lerba verde mapparve, con duo corna doro, fra due riviere, allombra dun alloro, levandol sole, a la stagione acerba. Era sua vista s dolce superba, chilasciai per seguirla ogni lavoro; come lavaro, chen cercar tesoro, con diletto laffano disacerba. Nessun mi tocchi -al bel collo dintorno scritto avea di diamanti e di topazlibera farmi al mio Cesare parve. Et eral sol gi vlto al mezzo giorno; Gli occhi miei stanchi di mirar non saz, Quandio caddi nelacqua, et ella sparve. Francesco PetrarcaIn Vita, CXXXVII Passa la nave mia colma doblio per aspro mare, a mezza notte, il verno enfra Scilla e Caribdi; et al governo siedel signore, anzil nimico mio; a ciascun remo un penser pronto e rio che la tempesta el fin par chabbi a scherno; la vela rompe un vento umido, eterno di sospir, di speranze e di desio; pioggia di lagrimar, nebbia di sdegni bagna e rallenta le gi stanche sarte, che son derror con ignoranzia attorto. Celansi i duo mei dolci usati segni; morta fra londe la ragion e larte: tal chincomincio a desperar del porto. El Brocense Pasa mi nave el mar, de olvido llena, a media noche, y en cruel invierno, por Scila y por Caribde, y al gobierno preside el seor mo, que es mi pena; a cada remo un pensamiento suena que tal tormenta tiene por mal tierno; la vela rompe un viento de ay! eterno, y de deseo, y de esperanza buena; lluvia de lloro y niebla de la afrenta las jarcias con errores retorcidas y ya casi podridas humedece. Y estas mis dos lumbreras ascondidas, arte y razn perdidas, en tormenta tal, que ya mi esperanza desfallece. Francesco PetrarcaIn Vita, XC Pace non trovo e non da far guerra, e temo e spero, et ardo e son un ghiaccio, e volo sopral cielo e giaccio in terra, e nulla stringo, e tuttol mondo abraccio. Tal m in pregion, che non mapre n serra, n per suo mi riten n scioglie il laccio, e non mancide Amore e non mi sferra, n mi vuol vivo n mi trae dimpacio. Veggio senza occhi e non lingua e grido, e bramo di perir e cheggio aita, e in odio me stesso ed amo altrui. Pascomi di dolor, piangendo rido, egualmente mi spiace morte e vita: in questo stato son, Donna, per vui. Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sonnet 14. My galley, chargd with forgetfulness, Through sharp seas, in winter nights doth pass Tween rock and rock; and eke mine enemy, alas, That is my Lord steereth with cruelness. And every oar a thought in readiness, As though that death were light in such a case. An endless wind doth tear the sail apace Of forcd sighs and trusty fearfulness. A rain of tears, a cloud of dark disdain, Hath done the wearied cords great hinderance, Wreathed with error and eke with ignorance. The stars be hid that led me to this pain, Drownd is reason that should me consort, And I remain despairing of the port. Henry Howard, the Earl of Surrey, Sonnet Set me whereas the sun doth parch the green, Or where his beams may not dissolve the ice, In temprate heat, where he is felt and seen; With proud people, in presence sad and wise; Set me in base or yet in high degree, In the long night or in the shortest day, In clear weather or where mists thickest be, In lost youth or when my hairs be grey; Set me in earth, in heaven, or yet in hell, In hill, in dale, or in the foaming flood; Thrall or at large, alive whereso I dwell, Sick or in health, in ill fame or in good: Yours will I be, and with that only thought Comfort myself, when that my hap is naught.

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Shakespeare--Sonnets, 1 From fairet creatures we deire increae, That thereby beauties Roe might neuer die, But as the riper hould by time deceae His tender heire might beare his memory: But thou contracted to thine owne bright eyes, Feedt thy lights flame with elf-ubtantial fewell, Making a famine where aboundance lies, Thy elfe thy foe, to thy weet elfe too cruell: Thou that art now the worlds freh ornament, And only herauld to the gaudy pring, Within thine owne bud buriet thy content, And tender chorle, makt wat in niggarding: Pitty the world, or ele this glutton be, To eate the worlds due, by the graue and thee. Shakespeare--Sonnets, 116 Let me not to the marriage of true mindes Admit impediments, loue is not loue Which alters when it alteration findes, Or bends with the remouer to remoue. O no, it is an euer fixed marke That lookes on tempets and is neuer haken; It is the tar to euery wandring barke, Whoe worths vnknowne, although his higth be taken. Lous not Times foole, though roie lips and cheeks Within his bending ickles compae come, Loue alters not with his breefe houres and weekes, But bears it out euen to the edge of doome: If this be error, and vpon me proued, I neuer writ, nor no man euer loued. Shakespeare--Sonnets, 129 Shakespeare--Sonnets, 73 That time of yeeare thou mait in me behold, When yellow leaues, or none, or few, doe hange Vpon thoe boughes which hake againt the could, Bare rnwd quiers where late the weet birds ang. In me thou eet the twi-light of uch day, As after Sun-et fadeth in the Wet, Which by and by blacke night doth take away, Deaths econd elfe that eals vp all in ret. In me thou eet the glowing of uch fire, That on the ahes of his youth doth lye, As the deathbed, whereon it mut expire, Conumd with that which it was nurriht by. This thou perceut, which makes thy loue more trong, To loue that well, which thou mut leaue ere long. Shakespeare--Sonnets, 117 Accue me thus, that I haue canted all, Wherein I hould your great deerts repay, Forgot vpon your dearet loue to call, Whereto al bonds do tie me day by day, That I haue frequent binne with vnknown mindes And giuen to time your owne deare purchad right, That I haue hoyted aile to al the windes Which hould tranport me farthet from your ight. Booke both my wilfulnee and errors downe, And on iut proofe urmie accumilate, Bring me within the leuel of your frowne, But hoote not at me in your wakened hate: Since my appeale aies I did triue to prooue The contancy and virtue of your loue. ShakespeareSonnets, 138

Thexpence of Spirit in a wate of hame When my loue weares that he is made of truth, Is lut in action, and till action, lut I do beleeue her though I know he lyes, Is periurd, murdrous, blouddy full of blame, That he might thinke me ome vntuterd youth, Sauage, extreame, rude, cruell, not to trut, Vnlearned in the worlds fale ubtilties. Inioyd no ooner but dipied traight, Thus vainely thinking that he thinkes me young, Past reaon hunted, and no ooner had Although he knowes my dayes are pat the bet, Pat reaon hated as a wollowed bayt, Simply I credit her fale peaking tongue, On purpoe layd to make the taker mad. On both ides thus is imple truth uppret: Made in purut and in poeion o, But wherefore ayes he not he is vniut? Had, hauing, and in quet to haue extreame, And wherefore ay not I that I am old? A blie in proofe and proud and very wo, O loues bet habit is in eeming trut, Before a ioy propoed behind a dreame, And age in loue loues not thaue yeares told. All this the world well knowes yet none knowes well, Therefore I lye with her, and he with me, To hun the heauen that leads men to this hell. And in our faults by lyes we flattered be.

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Francisco de Medrano, XXIX No s cmo, ni cundo, ni qu cosa sent, que me llenaba de dulzura: s que lleg a mis brazos la hermosura, de gozarse conmigo cudiciosa. S que lleg, si bien, con temerosa vista, resist apenas su figura: luego pasm, como el que en noche escura, perdido el tino, el pie mover no osa. Sigui gran gozo a aqueste pasmo, o sueo no s cundo, ni cmo, ni qu ha sido que lo sensible todo puso en calma. Ignorallo es saber; que es bien pequeo el que puede abarcar solo el sentido y ste pudo caber en sola el alma. Fray Damin de Cornejo Esta maana, en Dios y enhorabuena sal de casa y vneme al mercado; vi un ojo negro al parecer rasgado, Blanca la frente y rubia la melena. Llegu y le dije: Gloria de mi pena, muerto me tiene vivo tu cuidado, vulveme el alma, pues me la has robado Con ese encanto de spid o sirena. Pas, pas, mir, mir, vio, vila; dio muestras de querer, hice otro tanto; gui, guin, tosi, tos, segula. Fuse a su casa, y sin quitarse el manto, alz, llegu, toqu, bes, cubrla, Dej el dinero, y fuime como un santo.

Francisco de Quevedo, 336 Ay Floralba! So que te Dirlo? S, pues que sueo fue: que te gozaba. Y quin, si no un amante que soaba, juntara tanto infierno a tanto cielo? Mis llamas con tu nieve y con tu yelo, cual suele opuestas flechas de su aljaba, mezclaba Amor, y honesto las mezclaba, como mi adoracin en su desvelo. Y dije: Quiera Amor, quiera mi suerte, que nunca duerma yo, si estoy despierto, y que si duermo, que jams despierte. Mas despert del dulce desconcierto; y vi que estuve vivo con la muerte, y vi que con la vida estaba muerto.

Garcilaso de la Vega, V Escrito st en mi alma vuestro gesto y cuanto yo escribir de vos deseo: vos sola lo escribisteis; yo lo leo tan solo que aun de vos me guardo en esto. En esto estoy y estar siempre puesto, que aunque no cabe en m cuanto en vos veo, de tanto bien lo que no entiendo creo, tomando ya la fe por presupuesto. Yo no nac sino para quereros; mi alma os ha cortado en su medida; por hbito del alma misma os quiero; cuanto tengo confieso yo deberos; por vos nac, por vos tengo la vida, Por vos he de morir, y por vos muero.

Atribuido a Quevedo El vulgo comnmente se aficiona a la que sabe que es doncella y moza, porque ans le parece al que la goza que le coge la flor de su persona. Yo, para m, ms quiero una matrona que con mil arteficios se remoza, y, por gozar de aquel que la retoza, una hora de la noche no perdona. La doncella no hace de su parte, cuando la gozan, cosa que aproveche, ni se menea, ni da dulces besos. Mas la otra lo hace de tal arte, y amores os dir, que en miel y en leche convierte las medulas de los huesos.

Sor Juana, Soneto Al que ingrato me deja, busco amante; al que amante me sigue, dejo ingrata; constante adoro a quien mi amor maltrata; maltrato a quien mi amor busca constante. Al que trato de amor, hallo diamante, y soy diamante al que de amor me trata; triunfante quiero ver al que me mata, y mato al que me quiere ver triunfante. Si a ste pago, padece mi deseo; si ruego a aqul, mi pundonor enojo: de entrambos modos infeliz me veo. Pero yo, por mejor partido, escojo de quien no quiero, ser violento empleo, que, de quien no me quiere, vil despojo.

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Luis de Gngora, CLXVI Mientras por competir con tu cabello, oro bruido al sol relumbra en vano; mientras con menosprecio en medio el llano mira tu blanca frente el lilio bello; mientras a cada labio, por cogello, siguen ms ojos que al clavel temprano; y mientras triunfa con desdn lozano del luciente cristal tu gentil cuello; goza cuello, cabello, labio y frente, antes que lo que fue en tu edad dorada oro, lilio, clavel, cristal luciente, no slo en plata o viola troncada se vuelva, mas t y ello juntamente en tierra, en humo, en polvo, en sombra, en nada. Jorge Luis Borges, Ajedrez I En su grave rincn, los jugadores rigen las lentas piezas. El tablero los demora hasta el alba en su severo mbito en que se odian los colores. Adentro irradian mgicos rigores las formas: torre homrica, ligero caballo, armada reina, rey postrero, oblicuo alfil y peones agresores. Cuando los jugadores se hayan ido, cuando el tiempo los haya consumido, ciertamente no habr cesado el rito. En el Oriente se encendi esta guerra cuyo anfiteatro es hoy toida la tierra. Como el otro, este juego es infinito.

Francisco de Quevedo, 471 Cerrar podr mis ojos la postrera sombra que me llevare el blanco da, y podr desatar esta alma ma hora a su afn ansioso lisonjera: mas no, de esotra parte, en la ribera dexar la memoria, en donde arda: nadar sabe millama la agua fra, y perder el respeto a ley severa. Alma que a todo un dios prisin ha sido, venas que humor a tanto fuego han dado, medulas que han gloriosamente ardido: su cuerpo dexar, no su cuidado; sern ceniza, mas tendrn sentido; polvo sern, mas polvo enamorado.

Jorge Luis Borges, Ajedrez II Tenue rey, sesgo alfil, encarnizada reina, torre directa y pen ladino sobre lo negro y blanco del camino buscan y libran su batalla armada. No saben que la mano sealada del jugador gobierna su destino, no saben que un rigor adamantino sujeta su albedro y su jornada. Tambin el jugador es prisionero (la sentencia es de Omar) de otro tablero de negras noches y de blancos das. Dios mueve al jugador, y ste, la pieza. Qu dios detrs de Dios la trama empieza de polvo y tiempo y sueo y agonas?

Manuel Altolaguirre, La niebla La niebla si es cercana me parece que oculta algn dolor, velo que niega a unos ojos la luz, a los que ciega con un blancor de llanto que estremece; pero si no es cercana, si se mece altsima en el cielo, si navega por los espacios donde riega con lluvia y no con llanto, me parece como el origen gris de toda cosa. Es turbia la creacin, y considera que en el principio fue la nebulosa, sin que mirada alguna se escondiera tras esa bruma blanda y misteriosa, de la vida tal vez causa primera.

Sor Juana, Soneto Este que ves, engao colorido, que del arte ostentando los primores, con falsos silogismos de colores es cauteloso engao del sentido; ste, en quien la lisonja ha pretendido excusar de los aos los horrores, y venciendo del tiempo los rigores triunfar de la vejez y del olvido, es un vano artificio del cuidado, es una flor al viento delicada, es un resguardo intil para el hado: es una necia diligencia errada, es un afn caduco y, bien mirado, es cadver, es polvo, es sombra, es nada.