Astrophil and Stella
by Philip Sidney
- Loving in trueth, and fayne my love in verse to show
- Not at first sight, nor with a dribbing shot
- Let Daintie wittes cry on the Sisters nine
- Vertue (alas) now let me take some rest
- It is most true, that eyes are found to serve
- Some Lovers speake, when they their Muses entertaine
- When nature made her chiefe worke, Stella’s eyes
- Love borne in Greece, of late fled from his native place
- Queene Vertues Court, which some call Stellas face
- Reason, in faith thou art well serv’d, that still
- In truth oh Love: with what a boyish kinde
- Cupid because thou shin’st in Stellas eyes
- Phœbus was Judge, betweene Jove, Mars, & love
- Alas, have I not paine enough my friend
- You that do search for every purling spring
- In nature apt to like, when I did see
- His mother deere Cupid offended late
- With what strange checkes I in my selfe am shent
- On Cupids bowe, how are my hart strings bent?
- Fly, flye my friends, I have my deathes wound, flye
- Your words my freend right helthfull caustickes blame
- In highest way of heaven the Sunne did ride
- The curious wits, seeing dull pensivenes
- Rich fooles there there be, whose base and filthie hart
- The wisest scholler of the wight most wise
- Though duskie wits dare scorne Astrologie
- Because I oft in darke abstracted guise
- You that with allegories curious frame
- Like some weake Lords Neighbord by mightie kings
- Whether the Turkish new Moone minded be
- With how sad steps ô Moone thou clim’st the skyes
- Morpheus the lively sonne of deadlie Sleepe
- I might, unhappy word, (woe me) I might
- Come let me write, and to what end? to ease
- What may words say? or what may words not say
- Stella, whence doth these newe assaults arise
- My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell
- This night while sleepe begins, with heavie wings
- Come Sleepe, ô Sleepe, the certaine knot of peace
- As good to write, as for to lie and groane
- Having this days, my horse, my hand, my Launce
- O Eyes which doe the Spheres of beautie move
- Faire eyes, sweet lips, deere hart, that foolish I
- My words I know doe well set forth my minde
- Stella oft sees the verie face of woes
- I curst thee oft, I pittie now thy case
- What, have I thus betraide my libertie
- Soules joy, bend not those morning starres from me
- I on my horse, and Love on me doth trie
- Stella, the fulnes of my thoughts of thee
- Pardon mine eares, both I and they doe pray
- A Strife is growne betweene Vertue and Love
- In Martiall sportes I had my cunning tryde
- Because I breathe not love to every one
- Fie schoole of Patience, fie, your Lesson is
- Muses, I oft invoked your whole ayde
- Woe having made with many sighs his owne
- Doubt there hath beene, when with his golden chaine
- Deere, why make you more of a dogge than me?
- When my good Angell guides me to the place
- Oft with true sighes, oft with uncalled teares
- Late tyr’d with woe, even ready for to pine
- Oh Grammer rules, oh now your vertues showe
- No more my deere, no more these Counsels try
- Love, by sure proofe I may call thee unkinde
- And doe I see some cause a hope to feede
- Hope art thou true or doost thou flatter me?
- Stella, the only Plannet of my light
- Oh joy, too high for my Love still to showe
- My Muse may well grudge at my heavenly joy
- Who will in fayrest booke of nature know
- Desire, though thou mine olde companion art
- Love still a Boy, and oft a wanton is
- I Never dranke of Aganippe well
- Of all the Kings that ever heere did raigne
- Shee comes, and straight therewith her shining twins do move
- Those lookes, whose beames be joy, whose motion is delight
- Oh how the pleasant ayres of true love bee
- Sweete kisse, thy sweetes I faine would sweetely indite
- Sweet swelling lip well maiest thou swell in pride
- O Kisse which doth those ruddie gemmes impart
- Nymph of the garden where all beauties be
- Good brother Philip I have forborne you long
- High way since you my chiefe Pernassus be
- I see the house my harte thy selfe containe
- Alas whence comes this change of lookes?
- When I was forst from Stella ever deare
- Out Traytour absence dar’st thou counsell mee
- Now that of absence the most yrksome night
- Stella, thinke not that I by verse seeke fame
- Stella, while now by honours cruell might
- Be your words made (good sir) of Indean ware
- O Fate, ô fault, O curst child of my blisse
- Greefe find the words, for thou hast made my braine
- Yet sighes, deare sighes, in deede true friends you are
- Though with good cause thou lik’st so well the night
- Dian that faine would cheare her friend the Night
- Ah bed the feeld where joyes peace some do see
- When farre spent night perswades each mortall eie
- Oh teares, no teares, but shoures from beauties skyes
- Stella is sicke, and in that sick-bed lyes
- Where be those Roses, which so sweetned earst our eyes?
- O happie Thames that didst my Stella beare
- Envious wits what hath beene mine offence
- Unhappie sight and hath shee vanisht by
- O absent presence Stella is not here
- Stella since thou so right a Princesse art
- When sorrow (using my owne Siers might)
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