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Astrophil and Stella

A Cycle of Sonnets and Songs by

Sir Philip Sidney

Part I (1-30) | II (31-60) | III (61-84) | IV (85-90) | V (91-108)

I see the house; my heart thyself contain,: Beware full sails drown not thy tott'ring barge,; Lest joy, by nature apt sprites to enlarge,; Thee to ty wrack beyond thy limits strain.
Nor do like lords, whose weak confused brain: Not pointing to fit folks each undercharge,; While every office themselves will discharge,; With doing all, leave nothing done but pain.
But give apt servants their due place: let eyes: See beauty's total sum summ'd in her face;; Let ears hear speech, which wit to wonder ties;
Let breath suck up those sweets; let arms embrace: The globe of weal, lips Love's indentures make:; Thou but of all the kingly tribute take.

Fourth Song

Only joy, now here you are,
Fit to hear and ease my care:
Let my whispering voice obtain
Sweet reward for sharpest pain.
Take me to thee, and thee to me.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."
Night hath clos'd all in her cloak,
Twinkling stars love-thoughts provoke:
Danger hence good care doth keep;
Jeaousy itself doth sleep:
Take me to thee, and thee to me.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."
Better place no wit can find
Cupid's yoke to loose or bind:
These sweet flowers on fine bed, too,
Us in their best language woo:
Take me to thee, and thee to me.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."
This small light the moon bestows
Serves thy beams but to disclose,
So to raise my hap more high;
Fear not else, none can us spy:
Take me to thee, and thee to me.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."
That you heard was but a mouse,
Dumb sleep holdeth all the house
Yet asleep; methinks they say:
"Young folks, take time while you may."
Take me to thee, and thee to me.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."
Niggard Time threats, if we miss
This large offer of our bliss,
Long stay ere he grant the same:
Sweet, then, while each thing doth frame,
Take me to thee, and thee to me.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."
You fair mother is abed,
Candles out and curtains spread;
She thinks you do letters write,
Write, but let me first endite:
Take me to thee, and thee to me.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."
Sweet alas, why strive you thus?
Concord better fitteth us;
Leave to Mars the force of hands,
Your power in your beauty stands:
Take me to thee, and thee to me.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."
Woe to me! And do you swear
Me to hate? But I forbear.
Cursed be my destines all,
That brought me so high, to fall;
Soon with my death I will please thee.
"No, no, no, no, my dear, let be."

Alas, whence come this change of looks? If I: Have chang'd desert, let mine own conscience be; A still-felt plague, to self-condemning me:; Let woe gripe on my heart, shame load mine eye.
But if all faith, like spotless ermine lie: Safe in my soul, which only doth to thee; (As his sole object of felicity); With wings of love in air of wonder fly,
Oh ease your hand, treat not so hard your slave:: In justice pains come not till faults do call.; Or if I needs, sweet Judge, must torments have,
Use something else to chasten me withal: Than those blest eyes, where all my hopes do dwell.; No doom should make one's heav'n become his hell.

Fifth Song

While favor fed my hope, delight with hope was brought,
Thought waited on delight, and speech did follow thought;
Then drew my tongue and pen records unto thy glory:
I thought all words were lost, that were not spent of thee;
I thought each place was dark but where thy lights would be,
And all ears worse than deaf, that heard not out thy story.
I said thou wert most fair, and so indeed thou art;
I said thou wert most sweet, sweet poison to my heart;
I said my soul was thine (oh that I then had lied!)
I said thine eyes were stars, thy breasts the milk'n way;
Thy fingers Cupid's shafts, thy voice the angels' lay:
And all I said so well, as no man it denied.
But now that hope is lost, unkindness kills delight;
Yet thought and speech do live, though metamorphos'd quite:
For Rage now rules the reins, which guided were by Pleasure.
I think now of thy faults, who late thought of thy praise;
That speech falls now to blame, which did thy honor raise;
The same key open can, which can lock up a treasure.
Thou then whom partial heavens conspir'd in one to frame,
The proof of Beauty's worth, th'inheritrix of fame,
The mansion seat of bliss, and just excuse of lovers;
See now those feathers pluck'd, wherewith thou flewst most high:
See what clouds of reproach shall dark thy honor's sky.
Whose own fault casts him down, hardly hhigh seat recovers.
And oh, my Muse, though oft you lull'd her in your lap,
And then a heav'nly child gave her ambrosian pap,
And to that brain of hers your hidd'nest gifts infus'd,
Since she, disdaining me, doth you in me disdain,
Suffer not her to laugh, while both we suffer pain:
Princes in subjects wrong'd, must deem themselves abus'd.
Your client poor my self, shall Stella handle so?
Revenge, revenge, my Muse! Defiance' trumpet blow:
Threat'n what may be done, yet do more than you threat'n.
An, my suit granted is; I feel my breast doth swell.
Now child, a lesson new you shall begin to spell:
Sweet babes must babies have, but shrewd girls must be beaten.
Think now no more to hear of warm fine-odor'd snow,
Nor blushing lilies, nor pearls' ruby-hidden row,
Nor of that golden sea, whose waves in curls are broken:
But of thy soul, so fraught with such ungratefulness,
As where thou soon mightst help, most faith dost most oppress,
Ungrateful who is call'd, the worst of evils is spoken.
Yet worse than worst, I say thou art a thief. A thief?
Now God forbid. A thief, and of worst thieves the chief:
Thieves steal for need, and steal but goods, which pain recovers,
But thou rich in all joys, dost rob my joys from me,
Which cannot be restor'd by time nor industry:
Of foes the spoil is evil, far worse of constant lovers.
Yet gentle English thieves do rob, but will not slay;
Thou English murd'ring thief, wilt have hearts for thy prey:
The name of murd'rer now on thy fair forehead sitteth:
And ev'n while I do speak, my death wounds bleeding be,
Which (I protest) proceed from only cruel thee:
Who may and will not save, murder in truth committeth.
But murder, private fault, seems but a toy to thee.
I lay then to thy charge unjustest tyranny,
If rule by force without all claim a tyrant showeth;
For thou dost lord my heart, who am not born thy slave,
And, which is worse, makes me, most guiltless, torments have;
A rightful prince by unright deeds a tyrant groweth.
Lo, you grow proud with this, for tyrants make folk bow:
Of foul rebellion then I do appeach thee now;
Rebel by Nature's law, rebel by law of reason,
Thou, sweetest subject, wert born in the realm of Love,
And yet against thy prince thy force dost daily prove:
No virtue merits praise, once touch'd with blot of treason.
But valiant rebels oft in fools' mouths purchase fame:
I now then stain thy white with vagabonding shame,
Both rebel to the son, and vagrant from the mother;
For wearing Venus' badge in every part of thee,
Unot Diana's train thou runaway didst flee:
Who faileth one, if false, though trusty to another.
What, is not this enough? Nay, far worse cometh here;
A witch I say thou art, though thou so fair appear;
For I protest, my sight ne'er thy face enjoyeth,
Bit I in me am chang'd, I am alive and dead:
My feet are turn'd to roots; my heart becometh lead;
No witchcraft is so evil, as which man's mind destroyeth.
Yet witches may repent, thou art far worse than they.
Alas, that I am forc'd such evil of thee to say,
I say thou art a devil, though cloth'd in angel's shining:
For thy face tempts my soul to leave the heav'n for thee,
And thy words of refuse, do pour ev'n hell on me:
Who tempt, and tempted plague, are devils in true defining.
You then, ungrateful thief, you murd'ring tyrant you,
You rebel runaway, to lord and lady untrue,
You witch, you devil (alas) you still of me belov'd,
You see what I can say; mend yet your froward mind,
And such skill in my Muse you reconcil'd shall find,
That all these cruel words your praises shall be prov'd.

Sixth Song

Oh you thathear this voice,
Oh you that see this face,
Say whether of the choice
Deserves the former place:
Fear not to judge this 'bate,
For it is void of hate.
This side doth Beauty take,
For that doth Music speak,
Fit orators to make
The strongest judgments weak:
The bar to plead their right
Is only true delight.
Thus doth the voice and face
These gentle lawyers wage
Like loving brothers' case
For father's heritage:
That each, while each contends,
Itself to other lends.
For Beauty beautifies
With heav'nly hue and grace
The heav'nly harmonies;
And in this faultless face
The perfect beauties be
A perfect harmony.
Music more loft'ly swells
In speeches nobly plac'd:
Beauty as far excels
In action aptly grac'd:
A friend each party draws
To countenance his cause.
Love more affected seems
To Beauty's lovely light,
And Wonder more esteems
Of Music's wondrous might:
But both to both so bent,
As both in both are spent.
Music doth witness call
The ear, his truth to try:
Beauty brings to the hall
The judgment of the eye:
Both in their objects such
As no exceptions touch.
The common sense, which might
Be arbiter of this,
To be forsooth upright,
To both sides partial is:
He lays on this chief praise,
Chief praise on that he lays.
The Reason, princess high,
Whose throne is in the mind,
Which Music can in sky
And hidden beauties find:
Say whether thou wilt crown
With limitless renown.

Seventh Song

Whose senses in so evil consort, their stepdame Nature lays,
That ravishing delight in them most sweet tunes do not raise;
Or, if they do delight therein, yet are so cloy'd with wit,
As with sententious lips to set a title vain on it:
Oh let them hear these sacred tunes, and learn in wonder's schools
To be in things past bounds of wit, fools, if they be not fools.
Who have so leaden as, as not to see sweet Beauty's show,
Or seeing, have so wooden wits, as not that worth to know;
Or knowing, have so muddy minds, as not to be in love;
Or loving, have so frothy thoughts, as eas'ly thence to move:
Oh let them see these heav'nly beams, and in fair letters read
A lesson fit, both sight and skill, love and firm love to breed.
Hear then, but then with wonder hear; see, but adoring see
No mortal gifts, no earthly fruits, now here descended be:
See, do you see this face? A face? nay image of the skies,
Of which the two life-giving lights are figur'd in her eyes:
Hear you this soul-invading voice, and count it but a voice?
The very essense of their tunes, when angels do rejoice.

Eighth Song

In a grove most rich of shade,
Where birds wanton music made,
May, then young, his pied weeds showing,
New perfum'd with flowers growing,
Astrophil with Stella sweet
Did for mutual comfort meet,
Both within themselves oppress'd,
But each in the other bless'd.
Him great harms had taught much care,
Her fair neck a foul yoke bare;
But her sight his cares did banish,
In his sight her yoke did vanish.
Wept they did, but now betwixt
Sighs of woe were glad sights mix'd,
With arms cross'd, yet testifying
Restless rest, and living dying.
Their ears hungry of each word,
Which the dear tongue would afford,
But their tongues restrain'd from walking
Till their hearts had ended talking,
But when their tongues could not speak,
Love itself did silence break;
Love did set his lips asunder,
Thus to speak in love and wonder:
"Stella, sovereign of my joy,
Fair triumpher of annoy,
Stella star of heavn'ly fire,
Stella lodestone of desire;
"Stella, whose voice when it speaks,
Senses all asunder breaks;
Stella, whose voice when it singeth,
Angels to acquaintance bringeth;
"Stella, in whose body is
Writ each character of bliss,
Whose face all, all beauty passeth,
Save thy mind, which yet surpasseth:
"Grant, oh grant--but speech alas
Fails me, fearing on to pass--
Grant, oh me, what am I saying?
But no fault there is in praying.
"Grant, oh 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,
See how it the leaves doth kiss;
Each tree in his best attiring,
Sense of love to love inspiring.
"Love makes earth the water drink,
Love to earth makes water sink;
And if dumb things be so witty,
Shall a heav'nly grace want pity?"
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 ear but heart did touch:
While such wise she love denied,
As yet love she signified.
"Astrophil," said she, "my love,
Cease in these effects to prove:
Now be still, yet still believe me,
Thy grief more than death would grieve me.
"If that any thought in me
Can taste comfort but of thee,
Let me, fed with hellish anguish,
Joyless, hopeless, endless languish.
"If those eyes you praised, be
Halft so dear as you to me,
Let me home return, stark blinded
Of those eyes, and blinder minded.
"If to secret of my heart
I do any wish impart
Where thou art not foremost plac'd,
Be both wish and I defac'd.
"If more may be said, I say,
All my bliss in thee I lay;
If thou love, my love content thee,
For all love, all faith is meant thee.
"Trust me, while I thee deny,
In myself the smart I try;
Tyrant Honor doth thus use thee
Stella's self might not refuse thee.
"Therefore, dear, this no more move,
Lest, though I leave not thy love,
Which too deep in me is fram'd,
I should blush when thou art nam'd."
Therewithal away she went,
Leaving him so passion-rent
With what she had done and spoken,
That therewith my song is broken.

Ninth Song

Go, my flock, go get you hence,
Seek a better place of feeding,
Where you may have some defence
From the storms in my breast breeding,
And showers from my eyes proceeding.
Leave a wretch, in whom all woe
Can abide to keep no measure,
Meyy flock, such one forego,
Unto whom mirth is displeasure,
Only rich in mischief's treasure.
Yet alas, before you go,
Hear you woeful master's story,
Which to stones I else would show:
Sorrow only then hath glory
When 'tis excellently sorry.
Stella, fiercest shepherdess,
Fiercest but yot fairest ever;
Stella, whom oh heav'ns do bless,
Though against me she persever,
Though I bliss inherit never.
Stella hath refused me,
Stella, who more love hath prov'd
In this caitiff heart to be,
Than can in good ewes be mov'd
Toward lambkins best belov'd.
Stella hath refused me,
Astrophil, that so well serv'd,
In this pleasant spring must see,
While in pride flowers be preserv'd,
Himself only winter-starv'd.
Why alas doth she then swear
That she loveth me so dearly,
Seeing me so long to bear
Coals of love that burn'd so clearly;
And yet leave me helpless merely?
Is that love? Forsooth, I trow,
If I saw my good dog griev'd,
And a help for him did know,
My love should not be believ'd
But he were by me reliev'd.
No, she hates me, wellaway,
Faining love, somewhat to please me:
For she knows, if she display
All her hate, death soon would seize me,
And of hideous torments ease me.
Then adieu, dear flock, adieu:
But alas, if in your straying
Heav'nly Stella meet with you,
Tell her in your piteous blaying,
Her poor slave's unjust decaying.

When I was forc'd from Stella, ever dear: Stella, food of my thoughts, heart of my heart;; Stella, whose eyes make all my tempests clear,; By iron laws of duty to depart:
Alas I found that she with me did smart;: I saw that tears did in her eyes appear;; I saw that sighs her sweetest lips did part,; And her sad words my saddest sense did hear.
For me, I wept to see pearls scatter'd so;: I sigh'd her sighs, and wailed for her woe,; Yet swam in joy, such love in her was seen.
Thus, while th'effect most bitter was to me,: And nothing than the couse more sweet could be,; I had been vex'd, if vex'd I had not been.

Out, traitor Absence, darest thou counsel me: From my dear captainess to run away,; Because in brave array here marched she; That to win me, oft shows a present pay?
Is faith so weak? Or is such force in thee?: When sun is hid, can stars such beams display?; Cannot heav'n's food, once felt, keep stomachs free; From base desire on earthly cates to prey?
Tush, Absence, while thy mists eclipse that light,: My orphan sense flies to th'inward sight; Where memory sets forth the beams of love;
That where before heart lov'd and eyes did see,: In heart both sight and love now coupl'd be;; United powers make each the stronger prove.

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 seems long, and longs for long-stay'd night;: The night as tedious, woos th'approach of day;; Tir'd with the dusty toils of busy day,; Languish'd with horrors of the silent night;
Suffering the evils both of the day and night,: While no night is more dark than is my day,; Nor no day hath less quiet than my night:
With such bad misture of my night and day,: That living thus in blackest winter night,; I feel the flames of hottest summer day.

Stella, think not that I by verse seek fame,: Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee;; Thine eyes my pride, thy lips my history:; If thou praise not, all other praise is shame.
Nor so ambitious am I, as to frame: A nest for praise in my young laurel tree:; In truth I swear, I wish not there should be; Grav'd in mine epitaph a poet's name:
Ne if I would, could I just title make,: That any laud to me thereof should grow,; Without my plumes from others' wings I take.
For nothing from my wit or will doth flow,: Since all my words thy beauty doth indite,; And Love doth hold my hand, and makes me write.