Poems by Henry Howard

All Poems Original Poems Translations

1 2 3 › »

Geue Place Ye Louers, Here Before

Geue place ye louers, here before

That spent your bostes and bragges in vaine:

My Ladies beawtie passeth more

The best of yours, I dare well sayen,

Than doth the sonne, the candle light:

Or brightest day, the darkest night.

And thereto hath a trothe as iust,

by Henry Howard

Suche Waiwarde Waies Hath Love That Moste Parte In Discorde

Suche waiwarde waies hath love that moste parte in discorde;

Our willes do stand wherby our hartes but seldom dooth accorde.

Disceyte is his delight, and to begyle and mocke

The symple hertes which he doth stryke with froward dyvers stroke.

He cawseth hertes to rage with golden burninge darte,

And doth alaye with ledden cold agayne the tothers harte.

Hot gleames of burning fyre and easye sparkes of flame

In balaunce of unegall weight he pondereth by ame.

by Henry Howard

In Cypres Springes, Wheras Dame Venus Dwelt

In Cypres springes, wheras dame Venus dwelt,

A well so hote that who so tastes the same,

Were he of stone, as thawed yse shuld melt,

And kindled fynde his brest with secret flame;

Whose moist poison dissolved hath my hate.

This creping fier my cold lymms so oprest

That in the hart that harbred fredom late

Endles dispaire long thraldom hath imprest.

by Henry Howard

The Fansy, Which That I Haue Serued Long

The fansy, which that I haue serued long,

That hath alway bene enmy to myne ease,

Semed of late to rue vpon my wrong,

And bad me flye the cause of my misease.

And I forthwith dyd prease out of the throng,

That thought by flight my painfull hart to please

Som other way: tyll I saw faith more strong:

And to my self I sayd: alas, those dayes

by Henry Howard

When Ragyng Loue With Extreme Payne

When ragyng loue with extreme payne

Most cruelly distrains my hart:

When that my teares, as floudes of rayne,

Beare witnes of my wofull smart:

When sighes haue wasted so my breath,

That I lye at the poynte of death:

I call to minde the nauye greate,

by Henry Howard

Harpalus An Ancient English Pastoral

Phylida was a faire mayde,

As fresh as any flowre;

Whom Harpalus the herdman prayde

To be his paramour.

Harpalus, and eke Corin,

Were herdmen both yfere;

And Phylida could twist and spinne,

And thereto sing full clere.

by Henry Howard

I Never Saw Youe, Madam, Laye Aparte

I never saw youe, madam, laye aparte

Your cornet black in colde nor yet in heate

Sythe first ye knew of my desire so greate

which other fances chased cleane from my harte.

Whiles to my self I did the thought reserve

That so unware did wounde my wofull brest

Pytie I saw within your hart dyd rest;

But since ye knew I did youe love and serve

by Henry Howard

Complaint Of The Absence Of Her Lover Being Upon The Sea

O HAPPY dames! that may embrace

The fruit of your delight,

Help to bewail the woful case

And eke the heavy plight

Of me, that wonted to rejoice

The fortune of my pleasant choice:

Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.

In ship, freight with rememberance

by Henry Howard

Of Thy Life, Thomas, This Compass Well Mark

Of thy life, Thomas, this compass well mark:

Not aye with full sails the high seas to beat,

Ne by coward dread, in shunning storms dark,

On shallow shores thy keel in peril freat

. [to fret]Whoso gladly halseth

the golden mean [to embrace]

Void of dangers advisedly hath his home,

Not with loathsome muck, as a den unclean,

by Henry Howard

Too Dearly Had I Bought

Too dearly had I bought my green and youthful years,

If in mine age I could not find when craft for love appears;

And seldom though I come in court among the rest,

Yet can I judge in colors dim as deep as can the best.

Where grief torments the man that suff'reth secret smart,

To break it forth unto some friend it easeth well the heart.

So stands it now with me for my beloved friend:

This case is thine for whom I feel such torment of my mind,

by Henry Howard

Lady Surrey's Lament For Her Absent Lord

Good ladies, you that have your pleasure in exile,

Step in your foot, come take a place, and mourn with me a while,

And such as by their lords do set but little price,

Let them sit still: it skills them not what chance come on the dice.

But ye whom Love hath bound by order of desire

To love your lords, whose good deserts none other would require:

Come you yet once again, and set your foot by mine,

Whose woeful plight and sorrows great no tongue may well define.

by Henry Howard

The Ages Of Man

Laid in my quiet bed, in study as I were,

I saw within my troubled head a heap of thoughts appear,

And every thought did show so lively in mine eyes,

That now I sigh'd, and then I smil'd, as cause of thought did rise.

I saw the little boy, in thought how oft that he

Did wish of God to scape the rod, a tall young man to be;

The young man eke, that feels his bones with pains oppress'd,

How he would be a rich old man, to live and lie at rest;

by Henry Howard