1. 1500
Grief

From “Hamlet,” Act I. Sc. 2.
  QUEEN.—Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off,
And let thine eye look like a friend on Denmark.
Do not, forever, with thy veilèd lids
Seek for thy noble father in the dust:
Thou know’st ’t is common,—all that live must die,...

Poet: William Shakespeare
The Death of Death

Sonnet Cxlvi.
poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
Fooled by those rebel powers that thee array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon...

Poet: William Shakespeare
Love to Christ

From “An Hymne of Heavenly Love”
WITH all thy hart, with all thy soule and mind,
Thou must him love, and his beheasts embrace;
All other loves, with which the world doth blind
Weake fancies, and stirre up affections base,
Thou must renounce and utterly...

Poet: Edmund Spenser
To-morrow

From the Spanish by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

LORD, what am I, that, with unceasing care,
Thou didst seek after me,—that Thou didst wait,
Wet with unhealthy dews, before my gate,
And pass the gloomy nights of winter there?
O, strange delusion, that I did...

Poet: Lope de Vega
Prayer and Repentance

From “Hamlet,” Act III. Sc. 3.
  The King.  O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon ’t,
A brother’s murder. Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
...

Poet: William Shakespeare
The Fight of Faith

   [The author of this poem, one of the victims of the persecuting Henry VIII., was burnt to death at Smithfield in 1546. It was made and sung by her while a prisoner in Newgate.]

LIKE as the armèd Knighte,
Appointed to the fielde,
With this world wil I fight,
And...

Poet: Anne Askewe
Scorn Not the Least

When words are weak and foes encountering strong,
Where mightier do assault than do defend,
The feebler part puts up enforced wrong,
And silent sees that speech could not amend.
Yet higher powers most think though they repine,—
When sun is set, the little...

Poet: Robert Southwell
“I would I were an excellent divine”

I Would I were an excellent divine,
  That had the Bible at my fingers’ ends;
That men might hear out of this mouth of mine
  How God doth make his enemies his friends;
Rather than with a thundering and long prayer
Be led into presumption, or despair....

Poet: Nicholas Breton
The Pilgrimage

Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,
  My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
  My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope’s true gauge;
  And thus I ’ll take my pilgrimage!

Blood must be my body’s balmer,
No...

Poet: Sir Walter Raleigh
Losse in Delayes

Shun delayes, they breed remorse,
Take thy time while time doth serve thee,
Creeping snayles have weakest force,
Flie their fault, lest thou repent thee.
    Good is best when soonest wrought,
    Lingering labours come to nought.

Hoyse up sayle...

Poet: Robert Southwell