Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Amoretti and EpithalamionSonnet LXXXII. Joy of my life! full oft for loving you
Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)J
I bless my lot, that was so lucky placed:
But then the more your own mishap I rue,
That are so much by so mean love embased;
For, had the equal heavens so much you graced
In this as in the rest, ye mote invent
Some heavenly wit, whose verse could have enchased
Your glorious name in golden monument.
But since ye deigned so goodly to relent
To me your thrall, in whom is little worth;
That little, that I am, shall all be spent
In setting your immortal praises forth:
Whose lofty argument, uplifting me,
Shall lift you up unto an high degree.