All Poems

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Astrophel and Stella: 103

© Sir Philip Sidney

O happie Tems, that didst my Stella beare,I saw thy selfe with many a smiling lineVpon thy cheerefull face, joyes liuerie weare:While those faire planets on thy streams did shine

Where be those Roses gone, which sweetned so our eyes?Where those red cheeks, which oft with faire encrease did frameThe height of honor in the kindly badge of shame?Who hath the crimson weeds stolne from my morning skies?How doth the colour vade of those vermillion dies,Which nature selfe did make, and selfe engraind the same?I would know by what right this palenesse ouercameThat hue, whose force my hart still vnto thraledome ties?Galleins adoptiue sonnes, who by a beaten wayTheir judgements hackney on, the fault on sicknesse lay,But feeling proofe makes me (say they) mistake it furre:It is but loue which makes his paper perfite white,To write therein more fresh the story of delight,While beauties reddest inke Venus for him doth sturre

Astrophel and Stella: 101

© Sir Philip Sidney

Stella is sicke, and in that sicke bed liesSweetnesse, which breathes and pants as oft as she:And grace sick to, such fine conclusions tries,That sicknesse brags it selfe best graced to be

Astrophel and Stella: 100

© Sir Philip Sidney

O teares, no tears, but raine from beauties skies,Making those Lillies and those Roses grow,Which ay most faire, now more then most faire showWhile gracefull pitty beautie beautifies

Astrophel and Stella: 99

© Sir Philip Sidney

When far-spent night perswades each mortall eye,To whom nor art nor nature graunteth light,To lay his then marke wanting shafts of sight,Clos'd with their quiuers in sleeps armory;With windowes ope then most my mind doth lie,Viewing the shape of darknesse and delight,Takes in that sad hue, which with th'inward night,Of his mazde powers keepes perfit harmony:But when birds charme, and that sweet aire, which isMornes messenger, with rose enameld skiesCals each wight to salute the floure of blisse;In tombe of lids then buried are mine eyes,For'st by their Lord, who is asham'd to findSuch light in sense, with such a darkned mind

Astrophel and Stella: 98

© Sir Philip Sidney

Ah bed, the field where joyes peace some do see,The field where all my thoughts to warre be train'd,How is thy grace by my strange fortune stain'd!How thy lee shores by my sighes stormed be!With sweete soft shades thou oft invitest meTo steale some rest, but wretch I am constrain'd,(Spur'd with loues spur, though gold & shortly rain'dWith cares hard hand) to turne and tosse in thee

Astrophel and Stella: 97

© Sir Philip Sidney

Dian that faine would cheare her friend the Night,Shewes her oft at the full her fairest face,Bringing with her those starry Nymphs, whose chaseFrom heauenly standing hits each mortall wight

Astrophel and Stella: 96

© Sir Philip Sidney

Thought with good cause thou likest so well the night,Since kind or chance giues both one liuerie,Both sadly black, both blackly darkned be,Night bard from Sun, thou from thy owne Sun light;Silence in both displaies his sullen might,Slow heauinesse in both holds one degree,That full of doubts, thou of perplexitie;Thy teares expresse nights natiue moisture right

Astrophel and Stella: 95

© Sir Philip Sidney

Yet sighes, deere sighs, indeede true friends you are,That do not leaue your lest friend at the wurst,But as you with my breast I oft haue nurst,So gratefull now you waite vpon my care

Astrophel and Stella: 94

© Sir Philip Sidney

Griefe finde the words, for thou hast made my braineSo darke with misty vapours, which ariseFrom out thy heauy mould, that inbent eyesCan scarce discerne the shape of mine owne paine

Astrophel and Stella: 93

© Sir Philip Sidney

O fate, O fault, O curse, child of my blisse,What sobs can giue words grace my griefe to sho?What inke is blacke inough to paint my wo?Through me, wretch me, euen Stella vexed is

Astrophel and Stella: 92

© Sir Philip Sidney

Be your words made (good Sir) of Indian ware,That you allow me them by so small rate?Or do you cutted Spartanes imitate,Or do you meane my tender eares to spare?That to my questions you so totall are,When I demaund of Phœnix Stellas state,You say forsooth, you left her well of late:O God, thinke you that satisfies my care?I would know whether she sit or walke,How cloth'd, how waited on, sigh'd she or smilde,Whereof, with whom, how often did she talke,With what pastime, times journey she beguilde,If her lips daig'nd to sweeten my poore name,Say all, and all, well sayd, still say the same

Astrophel and Stella: 91

© Sir Philip Sidney

Stella, while now by honours cruell might,I am from you, light of my life mis-led,And that faire you my Sunne, thus ouer-spred,With absence Vaile, I liue in Sorrowes night,If this darke place yet shew like candle light,Some beauties peece as amber colourd hed,Milke hands, rose cheeks, or lips more sweet, more redOr seeing gets black, but in blacknesse bright

Astrophel and Stella: 90

Stella, thinke not that I by verse seeke fame,Who seeke, who hope; who loue, who liue but thee;Thine eyes my pride, thy lips mine history:If thou praise not, all other praise is shame

Astrophel and Stella: 89

Now that of absence the most irksome night,With darkest shade doth ouercome my day;Since Stellas eyes wont to giue me my day,Leauing my Hemisphere, leaue me in night,Each day seemes long, and longs for long-staid night,The night as tedious, wooes th'approch of day;Tired with the dustie toyles of busie day,Languisht with horrors of the silent night;Suffering the euils both of the day and night,While no night is more darke then is my day,Nor no day hath lesse quiet then my night:With such bad mixture of my night and day,That liuing thus in blackest winter night,I feele the flames of hottest sommer day

Astrophel and Stella: 88

Out traytour absence, darest thou counsell me,From my deare Captainnesse to run away?Because in braue array heere marcheth she,That to win me, oft shewes a present pay?Is faith so weake? or is such force in thee?When Sun is hid, can starres such beames display?Cannot heau'ns food once felt, keepe stomakes freeFrom base desire on earthly cates to pray

Astrophel and Stella: 87

When I was forst from Stella euer deere,Stella food of my thoughts, hart of my heart,Stella whose eyes make all my tempests cleere,By yron lawes of dutie to depart:Alas I found, that she with me did smart,I saw that teares did in her eyes appeare;I saw that sighs her sweetest lips did part,And her sad words my saddest sence did heare

Astrophel and Stella: 86

Alas, whence came this change of lookes? if IHaue chang'd desert, let mine owne conscience beA still felt plague, to selfe condemning me:Let wo gripe on my heart, shame loade mine eye,But if all faith, like spotlesse Ermine lySafe in my soule, which onely doth to thee(As his sole object of felicitie)With wings of Loue in aire of wonder flie

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