Edmund Spenser (Эдмунд Спенсер)

Amoretti 17. The glorious pourtraict of that angels face

The glorious pourtraict of that angels face,
Made to amaze weake mens confused skil,
And this worlds worthlesse glory to embase,
What pen, what pencill, can expresse her fill?
For though he colours could devize at will,
And eke his learned hand at pleasure guide,
Least, trembling, it his workmanship should spill*,
Yet many wondrous things there are beside:
The sweet eye-glaunces, that like arrowes glide,
The charming smiles, that rob sence from the hart,
The lovely pleasance, and the lofty pride,
Cannot expressed be by any art.
  A greater craftesmans hand thereto doth neede,
  That can expresse the life of things indeed.

[* Spill, spoil] 

1. Amoretti 14. Retourne agayne, my forces late dismayd
2. Amoretti 61. The glorious image of the Makers beautie
3. Amoretti 36. Tell me, when shall these wearie woes have end
4. Amoretti 24. When I behold that beauties wonderment
5. Amoretti 10. Unrighteous Lord of love, what law is this

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