XII.

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UPID! BECAUSE thou shin'st in STELLA's eyes;
That from her locks, thy dances none 'scapes free; U
That those lips swelled, so full of thee they be,
That her sweet breath makes oft thy flames to rise;
That in her breast, thy pap well sugared lies;
That her grace, gracious makes thy wrongs; that she
What words so e'er she speak, persuades for thee:
That her clear voice lifts thy fame to the skies:

Thou countest STELLA thine, like those whose powers
Having got up a breach by fighting well,
Cry, "Victory! this fair day all is ours!"
O no! Her heart is such a citadel,
So fortified with wit, stored with disdain ;
That to win it, is all the skill and pain.

e

XIII.

HEBUS WAS judge between JOVE, MARS and LOVE;
Of those three gods, whose arms the fairest were.
Jove's golden shield did eagle sables bear,

Whose talons held young GANYMEDE above.

But in vert field, MARS bare a golden spear, Which through a bleeding heart his point did shove. Each had his crest. MARS carried VENUS' glove; JOVE on his helm, the thunderbolt did rear.

CUPID then smiles. For on his crest there lies STELLA'S fair hair. Her face, he makes his shield; Where roses gules are borne in silver field.

PHOEBUS drew wide the curtains of the skies To blaze these last: and sware devoutly then, The first, thus matched, were scantly gentlemen.

XIV.

LAS! HAVE I not pain enough? my friend! Upon whose breast, a fiercer gripe doth tire, Than did on him who first stole down the fire; While LOVE on me, doth all his quiver spend:

But with your rhubarb words ye must contend
To grieve me worse in saying, "That Desire
Doth plunge my well-formed soul even in the mire
Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end."

If that be sin, which doth the manners frame
Well stayed with truth in word, and faith of deed;
Ready of wit, and fearing nought but shame:

If that be sin, which in fixt hearts doth breed

A loathing of all loose unchastity:

Then love is sin, and let me sinful be!

XV.

OU THAT do search for every purling spring Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows; And every flower, not sweet perhaps, which grows Near thereabouts, into your poesy wring:

You that do dictionary's method bring

Into your rhymes running in rattling rows;
You that poor PETRARCH's long deceased woes,
With newborn sighs and denizened wit do sing:

You take wrong ways! Those far-fet helps be such As do bewray 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 endite.

P. Sidney.7

XVI.

N NATURE apt to like, when I did see
Beauties which were of many carats fine;
My boiling sprites did thither soon incline,
And, LOVE! I thought that I was full of thee.
But finding not those restless flames in me,
Which others said did make their souls to pine:
I thought those babes, of some pin's hurt did whine;
By my soul judging what love's pains might be.
But while I thus with this lion played,

Mine eyes (shall I say curst or blest ?) beheld
STELLA. Now she is named, need more be said?
In her sight, I a lesson new have spelled.

I now have learned love right; and learned even so,
As who by being poisoned doth poison know.

XVII.

IS MOTHER dear, CUPID offended late; Because that MARS grown slacker in her love, With pricking shot he did not throughly move, To keep the pace of their first loving state.

The boy refused for fear of MARS' hate;

Who threatened stripes, if he his wrath did prove:
But she, in chafe, him from her lap did shove;
Brake bow, brake shafts: while weeping CUPID sate.
Till that his grandame Nature pitying it,

Of STELLA's brows, made him two better bows;
And in her eyes, of arrows infinite.

O how for joy, he leaps! O how he crows!
And straight therewith-like wags new got to play-
Falls to shrewd turns; and I was in his way.

? 1581-1584.

XVIII.

ITH WHAT sharp checks I in myself am shent,
When into REASON'S audit I do go;

W

And by just counts, myself a bankrupt know
Of all those goods which heaven to me hath lent.
Unable quite, to pay even Nature's rent,
Which unto it by birthright I do owe:

And which is worse, no good excuse can show,
But that my wealth I have most idly spent.

My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys;
My wit doth strive those passions to defend,
Which for reward, spoil it with vain annoys.
I see my course to lose myself doth bend;

I see, and yet no greater sorrow take,
Than that I lose no more for STELLA's sake.

XIX.

N CUPID'S bow, how are my heart-strings bent!
That see my wrack, and yet embrace the same.
When most I glory, then I feel most shame.

I willing run; yet while I run, repent.

My best wits still their own disgrace invent.
My very ink turns straight to STELLA'S name;
And yet my words-as them, my pen doth frame-
Advise themselves that they are vainly spent.

For though she pass all things, yet what is all
That unto me; who fares like him that both
Looks to the skies and in a ditch doth fall?

O let me prop my mind, yet in his growth, And not in nature for best fruits unfit!

"Scholar!" saith LOVE, "bend hitherward your wit!"

P.

XX.

LY! FLY! my friends; I have my death wound, fly!
See there that boy! that murdering boy, I say!
Who, like a thief, hid in dark bush doth lie,

Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey!

So, tyrant! he no fitter place could spy,

Nor so fair level in so secret stay,

As that sweet black which veils the heavenly eye:
There himself with his shot, he close doth lay.

Poor passenger! pass now thereby I did,

And stayed, pleased with the prospect of the place;
While that black hue from me the bad guest hid:
But straight I saw motions of lightning grace,

And then descried the glistering of his dart;
But ere I could fly hence, it pierced my heart.

XXI.

OUR WORDS, my friend! (right healthful caustics!)

blame.

My young mind marred, whom love doth windlass so;
That mine own writings (like bad servants) show
My wits quick in vain thoughts; in virtue, lame.
"That PLATO I read for nought, but if he tame
Such coltish years; that to my birth I owe
Nobler desires: lest else that friendly foe
Great Expectation, wear a train of shame."

For since mad March great promise made of re;
If now the May of my years much decline,
What can be hoped my harvest time will be ?"

Sure you say well! Your wisdom's golden mine,
Dig deep with learning's spade! Now tell me this,
Hath this world ought so fair as STELLA is?