Sir Philip Sidney's Astrophel & Stella: Wherein the Excellence of Sweet Poesy is ConcludedD. Stott, 1888 - 233 стор. |
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Sir Philip Sidney's Astrophel & Stella: Wherein the Excellence of Sweet ... Philip Sidney Повний перегляд - 1888 |
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Anno Domini Arcadia Astrophel and Stella beames beautie beautie's blind blisse breast breath Countess of Pembroke Court crie cruell Cupid's dart day-nets dead deare death delight deridan desire dispaire doest doth Duke of Anjou Earl edition faire fame farre flie folio fooles give golden grace graunt grone Grosart hart hath heart heav'n heav'nly hope kisse Lady Penelope Languet leave letter light lips live lookes Lord Rich Love's lovers marriage mind misprint Muse musicke Nature's Newman night paine passion Penelope Devereux Philip Sidney poems poore praise is due Procne prove reading reason sence sense shew shine Sidney's sighs sight Sir Philip Sidney song of praise sonnet soule sprites Stella's eyes Stella's face sugred sunne sweet sweetnesse teares thee thine thinke Thomas Newman thou art thoughts tongue treasure true unto vaine vertue Vertue's words yeeld
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Сторінка 172 - LEAVE me, O Love, which reachest but to dust ; And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things ; Grow rich in that which never taketh rust ; Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings. Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be ; Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light, That doth both shine, and give us sight to see.
Сторінка 171 - Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self-chosen snare, Fond fancy's scum, and dregs of scattered thought : Band of all evils ; cradle of causeless care ; Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought : Desire ! Desire ! I have too dearly bought, With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware ; Too long, too long, asleep thou hast me brought, Who should my mind to higher things prepare.
Сторінка xxxix - I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe; Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain, Oft turning others' leaves to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burned brain.
Сторінка 29 - Is constant love deemed there but want of wit? Are beauties there as proud as here they be? Do they above love to be loved, and yet Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess? Do they call virtue there, ungratefulness?
Сторінка 29 - With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the skies, How silently, and with how wan a face, What may it be, that even in heav'nly place That busy archer his sharp arrows tries? Sure if that...
Сторінка 13 - 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.
Сторінка 86 - Good brother Philip, I have borne you long; I was content you should in favour creepe, While craftily you seem'd your cut to keepe, As though that faire soft hand did you great wrong.
Сторінка 54 - FY, schoole of Patience, Fy, your lesson is Far far too long to learne it without booke: What, a whole weeke without one peece of looke, And thinke I should not your large precepts misse? When I might reade those letters faire of blisse, Which in her face teach vertue, I could brooke...
Сторінка 121 - Now that of absence the most irksome night With darkest shade doth overcome my day; Since Stella's eyes, wont to give me my day, Leaving my hemisphere, leave me in night; Each day...
Сторінка 139 - That to each word, nay sigh of mine, you hark, As grudging me my sorrow's eloquence?