Once I rejoiced in company, And now my chief and sole delight Is from my friends away to fly And keep alone my wearied sprite. Thy face divine and my desire From flesh have me transform'd to fire. O Nature! thou that first didst frame Her lips of precious rubies' mould, Why didst thou not that time devise, And grief on grief, doth heap with store, To make her heart of wax alone And not of flint and marble stone? O Lady! show thy favour yet : Let not thy servant die for thee! Where Rigour ruled let Mercy sit! Let Pity conquer Cruelty! Let not Disdain, a fiend of hell, Possess the place where Grace should dwell! ONCE MUSING AS I SAT, And candle burning by, When all were hush'd, I might discern A simple sely Fly, That flew before mine eyes, With free rejoicing heart, And here and there with wings did play, When she had play'd her fill; I that have reason? No: I live, and so dost thou ; But I live all in pain, And subject am to Her, alas! That makes my grief her gain. (If God were so content) That thou with pen wert placed here And I sat in thy place: Then I should joy as thou dost now, And thou shouldst wail thy case. 00000000 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY THE MEETING NA GROVE, most rich of shade, May, then young, his pied weeds showing, Astrophel with Stella sweet Did for mutual comfort meet, Both within themselves oppressed, But each in the other blessed. Him great harms had taught much care, Wept they had, alas the while! Sigh they did but now betwixt Restless rest, and living dying. E Their ears hungry of each word But, when their tongues could not speak, Love itself did silence break ; Stella! sovereign of my joy, Stella, in whose shining eyes Are the lights of Cupid's skies, Whose beams, where they once are darted, Love therewith is straight imparted! Stella, whose voice, when it speaks, Senses all asunder breaks! Stella, whose voice, when it singeth, Stella, in whose body is Writ each character of bliss ; Save thy mind, which yet surpasseth! Grant, O grant, but speech, alas! SIDNEY Grant - O Dear! on knees I pray, (Knees on ground he then did stay ), That, not I, but since I love you, Time and place for me may move you. Never season was more fit; Never room more apt for it; Smiling air allows my reason; These birds sing-"Now use the season!" This small wind, which so sweet is, Each tree in its best attiring, Love makes earth the water drink; There his hands, in their speech, fain Would have made tongue's language plain ; But her hands, his hands repelling, Gave repulse all grace excelling. Then she spake her speech was such As not ears but heart did touch; Astrophel! said she, my love Thy grief more than death would grieve me. II |