Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)

RUDELY thou wrongest my dear heart’s desire,

In finding fault with her too portly pride.

The thing which I do most in her admire

Is of the world unworthy most envìde:

For in those lofty looks is close implied

Scorn of base things, and ’sdain of foul dishonor;

Threatening rash eyes which gaze on her so wide,

That loosely they ne dare to look upon her.

Such pride is praise; such portliness is honor,

That boldened innocence bears in her eyes;

And her fair countenance, like a goodly banner,

Spreads in defiance of all enemies.

Was never in this world aught worthy tried,

Without some spark of such self-pleasing pride.