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For his return, that seems to linger late; So I alone, now left disconsolate, Mourn to myself the absence of my love, And wandering here and there all desolate,

Seek with my plaints to match that mournful dove.

Ne joy of ought that under heaven doth hove

Can comfort me, but her own joyous sight,

Whose sweet aspect both god and man can move,

In her unspotted pleasance to delight: Dark is my day whiles her fair light I miss,

And dead my life, that wants such lively bliss.

ASTROPHEL (SIR PHILIP SIDNEY).

"Woods, hills, and rivers, now are desolate,

Sith he is gone, the which them all did grace;

And all the fields do wail their widow state,

Sith death their fairest flower did late deface:

The fairest flower in field that ever grew Was Astrophel; that was we all may rue.

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Hearing the ly priest that to her speaks,

And blesses her with his two happy hands,

How red the roses flush up in her cheeks!

And the pure snow, with goodly vermil stain,

Like crimson dy'd in grain,

That even the angels, which continually About the sacred altar do remain, Forget their service, and about her fly, Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair

The more they on it stare;

But her sad eyes, still fast'ned on the ground,

Are governed with goodly modesty, That suffers not one look to glance

awry.

Which may let in a little thought unsound.

Why blush ye, Love! to give to me your hand,

The pledge of all your band?

Sing, ye sweet angels! Alleluia sing, That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring.

"Now all is done: bring home the bride again,

Bring home the triumph of our victory: Bring home with you the glory of her

gain,

With joyance bring her, and with jollity. Never had man more joyful day than this,

Whom Heaven would heap with bliss. Make feast, therefore, now all this livelong day,

This day for ever to me holy is; Pour out the wine without restraint or stay,

Pour not by cups, but by the belly-full: Pour out to all that wull,

And sprinkle all the posts and walls with wine,

That they may sweat, and drunken be withal:

Crown ye god Bacchus with a coronal, And Hymen also crown with wreaths of vine,

And let the Graces dance unto the rest, For they can do it best,

The whiles the maidens do their carol

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"Ring ye the bells, ye young men of the town,

And leave your wonted labors for this day;

This day is holy; do you write it down, That ye for ever it remember may.

"Now cease, ye damsels! your delights forepast,

Enough it is that all the day was yours; Now day is done, and night is nighing fast,

Now bring the bride into the bridal bowers;

Now night is come, now soon her dis

array, And in her bed her lay;

Lay her in lilies and in violets,

And silken curtains over her display, And odor'd sheets, and arras coverlets. Behold how goodly my fair love does lie,

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[PHILIP SIDNEY was the eldest son of the well-known Sir Henry Sidney, President of Wales and Lord Deputy of Ireland under Elizabeth, and through his mother, Lady Mary Dudley, grandson of the Duke of Northumberland executed in 1553, and nephew of Lord Leicester. He was born at Penshurst, Nov. 29, 1554; he entered Shrewsbury School, Oct. 17, 1564, on the same day as his friend and biographer, Fulke Greville, afterwards Lord Brooke; and in 1568 he was sent to Christ Church, Oxford. From May 1572 to May 1575 Sidney was abroad, in France, Germany, and Italy; sheltered in Sir Francis Walsingham's house in Paris on the night of St. Bartholomew, and spending a considerable time at Frankfort with Hubert Languet, the reformer, afterwards his constant correspondent. In 1575 he appeared at Elizabeth's Court, and took part in the Kenilworth progress. In 1577 he was sent as English ambassador to Rodolph II., at Prague, returning the same year. He seems to have made acquaintance with Harvey and Spenser in 1578, and in 1580, while he was in retirement at Penshurst, after his letter of remonstrance to the Queen on the Anjou match, he and his sister, the well-known Countess of Pembroke, produced a joint poetical version of the Psalms, and the Arcadia was begun (published 1590). He returned to Court in the autumn of 1580, and the Astrophel and Stella sonnets (published 1591) probably date from the following year. The Apologie for Poetrie was written in or about 1581 (the first known edition is that of London, 1595). Sidney was knighted in the same year. In 1583 he married Frances, daughter of Sir Francis Walsingham, and was for the second time a member of Parliament. Nov., 1584, he was appointed governor of Flushing, and nearly two years later, on Sept. 22, 1586, received his fatal wound at the battle of Zutphen. A complete edition of Sidney's poems was published by the Rev. A. B. Grosart, London, 1877.

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Morpheus, the lively son of deadly Sleep,
Witness of life to them that living die,
A prophet oft, and oft an history,
A poet eke, as humors fly or creep;
Since thou in me so sure a power dost
keep,

That never I with clos'd-up sense do lie,
But by thy work my Stella I descry,
Teaching blind eyes both how to smile
and weep;

Vouchsafe, of all acquaintance, this to tell,

Whence hast thou ivory, rubies, pearl, and gold,

To show her skin, lips, teeth, and head so well?

Fool! answers he; no Indes such treasures hold;

But from thy heart, while my sire charmeth thee,

Sweet Stella's image I do steal to me.

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