Song.

"Who is it that this dark night,

"Uuderneath my window plaineth?"

It is one, who from thy sight,

Being, ah! exiled, disdaineth Every other vulgar light.

'Why, alas! and are you he?

"Be not yet those fancies changed?" Dear, when you find change in me, Tho' from me you be estranged,

Let my change to ruin be.

"Well, in absence this will die,

"Leave to see, and leave to wonder.'

Absence sure will help, if I

Can learn how myself to sunder,

From what in my heart doth lie.

“But time will these thoughts remove;

"Time doth work what no man knoweth."

Time doth as the subject prove,

With time still affection groweth

In the faithful turtle-dove.

"What if you new beauties see,

"Will they not stir new affection?" I will think they pictures be

Image-like of saint perfection, Poorly counterfeiting thee.

"Bids

you leave such minds to nourish."

Dear, do reason no such spite;

Never doth thy beauties flourish

More, than in my reason's sight.

"But the wrongs love bears, will make
"Love at length leave undertaking."
No, the more fools it doth shake,

In a ground of so firm making
Deeper still they drive the stake.

"Peace! I think that some give ear!
"Come no more, lest I get anger."
Bliss, I will my bliss forbear;
Fearing, sweet, you to endanger;

"Well, begone! begone I say!

"Lest that Argus' eyes perceive you." O unjust is fortune's sway!

Which can make me thus to leave

And from louts to run away.

you;

This Poem would admit of an ample commentary; which, with the clue that has been given him, shall be left to the reader's own judgment to supply himself.

Three more Sonnets only occupy the volume, which concludes with the following melancholy, but very characteristic essay.

Sonnet 108.

When sorrow, using mine own fire's might,
Melts down his lead into my boiling breast,
Through that dark furnace to my heart opprest,
There shines a joy from thee my only light!
But soon as thought of thee breeds my delight,
And
my young soul flutters to thee his nest;
Most rude despair my daily unbidden guest,

Clips straight my wings, straight wraps me in his night,
And makes me then bow down my head, and say,

Ah! what doth Phoebus's gold that wretch avail,
Whom iron doors doth keep from use of day?

So strangely alas! thy works in me prevail,
That in my woes for thee, thou art my joy,
And in my joys for thee, my only annoy.

The following miscellaneous selection from this volume, exhibits the most favourable remaining specimens we can find of Sir Philip Sidney's talents as a Poet.

Sonnet 6.

Some lovers speak, when they their muses entertain, Of hopes begot by fear, of wot not what desires, of force of heavenly beams, infusing hellish pain, Of living deaths, dear wounds, fair storms, and freezing fires:

Some one his songs in Jove, and Jove's strange tale

attires,

Bordered with bulls and swans, powdered with golden

rain:

Another, humbler wit, to shepherd's pipe retires, Yet, hiding royal blood, full oft in rural vein : To some, a sweetest plaint, a sweetest stile affords, While tears pour out his ink, and sighs breathe out his words;

His paper pale despair, and pain his pen doth move: I can speak what I feel, and feel as much as they, But think that all the map of my state I display

When trembling voice brings forth, that I do Stella love!

Sonnet 15.

You that do search for every purling spring,
Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,
And every flower, not sweet perhaps, that grows
Near thereabouts, into your poem's wring :
You that do Dictionary's method's bring

Into your rhymes, running in rattling rows:
You that poor Petrarch's long deceased woes,
With new-born sighs, and wit disguised do sing :-
You take wrong ways, those far-fetch'd helps be such
As do betray a want of inward touch,

And sure at length, stolen goods do come to light; But if, both for your love and skill, your name You seek to nurse at fullest breasts of fame, Stella behold! and then begin to indite.

Sonnet 23.

The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness
Betray itself in my long settled eyes,

Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise,
With idle pains, and missing aim, do guess:

Some that know how my spring I did address,

Deem that my muse some fruit of knowledge plies : Others, because the prince my service tries, Think that I aim state-errors to redress: But harder judges, judge ambition's rage,Scourge of itself, still climbing slippery place,Holds my young brain captive in golden cage. O fools, or over-wise, alas! the race Of all my thoughts have neither stop nor start, But only Stella's eyes, and Stella's heart.

Sonnet 39.

Come sleep, O sleep! the certain knot of peace,

The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,

The indifferent judge between the high and low; With shield of proof, shield me from out the press Of those fierce darts despair at me doth throw: O make in me those civil wars to cease;

I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.
Take thou of me, smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise, and blind to light,
A rosy garland, and a weary head:-

And if these things, as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt, in
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.

Sonnet 53.

In martial sports I had my cunning tried,

me,

And yet, to break more staves, did me address, While, with the people's shouts, I must confess, Youth, luck and praise, c'en filled my veins with pride. When Cupid, having me, his slave, descried In Mars's livery, prancing in the press;What now, sir fool? said he, I would no less! Look here, I say!-I looked, and Stella spied, Who, hard by, made a window send forth light. My heart then quaked, then dazzled were mine eyes,

One hand forgat to rule, th' other to fight.

Nor trumpet's sound I heard nor friendly cries: My foe came on, and beat the air for me. 'Till that her blush taught me my shame to see.