Nature poems
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Here Lies Poor Nick
© Smith Sydney
Here lies poor Nick, an honest creature,Of faithful, gentle, courteous nature;A parlour pet unspoil'd by favour,A pattern of good dog behaviour
The Archer
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
Bend back thy bow, O Archer, till the stringIs level with thine ear, thy body taut,Its nature art, thyself thy statue wroughtOf marble blood, thy weapon the poised wingOf coiled and aquiline Fate
Astrophel and Stella: Seuenth Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
Whose senses in so euill consort, their step-dame Nature laies,That rauishing delight in them most sweete tunes do not raise;Or if they doe delight therein, yet are so closed with wit,As with sententious lips to set a little vaine on it:O let them heare these sacred tunes, and learne in wonders schooles,To be in things past bounds of wit fooles, if they be not fooles
Astrophel and Stella: Fift Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
While fauour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,Thought waited on delight, and speech did follow thought:Then grew my tongue and pen records vnto thy glorie:I thought all words were lost, that were not spent of thee:I thought each place was darke but where thy lights would be,And all eares worse then deafe, that heard not out thy storie
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
Astrophel and Stella: 102
© Sir Philip Sidney
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: 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: 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: 85
© Sir Philip Sidney
I see the house, my heart thy selfe containe,Beware full sailes drowne not thy tottring barge:Least joy by nature apt sprites to enlarge,Thee to thy wracke beyond thy limits straine
Astrophel and Stella: 81
© Sir Philip Sidney
O kisse, which doest those ruddy gemmes impart,Or gemmes, or frutes of new-found Paradise,Beathing all blisse and sweetning to the heart,Teaching dumbe lips a nobler exercise
Astrophel and Stella: 80
© Sir Philip Sidney
Sweet swelling lip, well maist thou swell in pride,Since best wits thinke it were thee to admire;Natures praise, Vertues stall, Cupids cold fire,Whence words, not words, but heau'nly graces slideThe new Parnassus, where the Muses bide,Sweetner of musicke, wisedomes beautifier:Breather of life, and fastner of desire,Where Beauties blush in Honours graine is dide
Astrophel and Stella: 78
© Sir Philip Sidney
O how the pleasant aires of true loue beInfected by those vapours, which ariseFrom out that noysome gulfe, which gaping liesBetweene the jawes of hellish Iealousie
Astrophel and Stella: 71
© Sir Philip Sidney
Who will in fairest booke of Nature know,How Vertue may best lodg'd in beautie be,Let him but learne of Loue to read in theeStella, those faire lines, which true goodnesse show
Astrophel and Stella: 65
© Sir Philip Sidney
Loue by sure proofe I may call thee vnkind,That giu'st no better eare to my just cries:Thou whom to me such my good turnes should bind,As I may well recount, but none can prize:For when nak'd boy thou couldst no harbour findIn this old world, growne now so too too wise:I lodg'd thee in my heart, and being blindBy Nature borne, I gaue to thee mine eyes
Astrophel and Stella: 44
© Sir Philip Sidney
My words I know do well set forth my mind,My mind bemones his sense of inward smart;Such smart may pittie claime of any hart,Her heart, sweet heart, is of no Tigers kind:And yet she heares, and yet no pitie I find;But more I crie, lesse grace she doth impart,Alas, what cause is there so ouerthwart,That Noblenesse it selfe makes thus vnkind?I much do guesse, yet finde no truth saue this,That when the breath of my complaints doth tuchThose daintie dores vnto the Court of blisse,The heau'nly nature of that place is such,That once come there, the sobs of mine annoyesAre metamorphos'd straight to tunes of joyes
Astrophel and Stella: 41
© Sir Philip Sidney
Hauing this day my horse, my hand, my launceGuided so well that I obtain'd the prize,Both by the judgement of the English eyes,And of some sent from that sweet enemie Fraunce,Horsemen my skill in horsmanship advaunce:Towne-folkes my strength, a daintier judge appliesHis praise too slight, which from good vse doth rise:Some luckie wits impute it but to chaunce
Astrophel and Stella: 36
© Sir Philip Sidney
Stella, whence doth this new assault arise,A conquer'd golden ransackt heart to winne?Whereto long since through my long battred eyes;Whole armies of thy beauties entred in
Astrophel and Stella: 35
© Sir Philip Sidney
What may words say, or what may words not say,Where trueth itselfe must speake like flatterie?Within what bounds can one his liking stay,Where Nature doth with infinite agree?What Nestors counsell can my flames alay,Since Reason selfe doth blow the cole in me?And ah what hope, that hope should once see day,Where Cupid is sworne page to Chastity?Honour is honour'd, that thou doest possesseHim as thy slaue, and how long needy FameDoth euen grow rich, naming my Stellas name
