Like as a ship, that through the ocean wide By conduct of some star doth make her way, Whenas a storm hath dimmed her trusty guide,
Out of her course doth wander far astray; So I, whose star, that wont with her bright ray Me to direct, with clouds is overcast, Do wander now, in darkness and dismay, Through hidden perils round about me placed; Yet hope I well that, when this storm is past, My Helice, the lodestar of my life, Will shine again, and look on me at last, With lovely light to clear my cloudy grief: Till then I wander careful, comfortless, In secret sorrow and sad pensiveness.
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air
Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play, A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair; When I (whom sullen care,
Through discontent of my long fruitless stay In princes' court, and expectation vain Of idle hopes, which still do fly away, Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain) Walked forth, to ease my pain, Along the shore of silver streaming Thames; Whose rutty1 bank, the which his river hems, Was painted all with variable flowers, And all the meads adorned with dainty gems, Fit to deck maidens' bowers,
And crown their paramours, Against the bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my
As each had been a bride:
And each one had a little wicker basket, Made of fine twigs, entrailèd curiously, In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,
And with fine fingers cropt full feateously 1 The tender stalks on high.
Of every sort which in that meadow grew They gathered some; the violet, pallid blue, The little daisy, that at evening closes, The virgin lily, and the primrose true, 31 With store of vermeil roses,
To deck their bridegroom's posies, Against the bridal day, which was not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my
With that, I saw two swans of goodly hue Come softly swimming down along the Lee; 38 Two fairer birds I yet did never see;
The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew Did never whiter shew,
Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be For love of Leda, whiter did appear; Yet Leda was, they say, as white as he, Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near; So purely white they were,
That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,
Seemed foul to them, and bade his billows
To wet their silken feathers, lest they might Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair, And mar their beauties bright, That shone as heaven's light, Against their bridal day, which was not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers their fill,
Ran all in haste to see that silver brood, As they came floating on the crystal flood; Whom when they saw, they stood amazed still,
Their wondering eyes to fill;
Them seemed they never saw a sight so fair Of fowls so lovely, that they sure did deem Them heavenly born, or to be that same pair Which through the sky draw Venus' silver team; For sure they did not seem
To be begot of any earthly seed,
Upon your bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song."
So ended she; and all the rest around To her redoubled that her undersong, Which said their bridal day should not be long: And gentle Echo from the neighbour ground Their accents did resound.
So forth those joyous birds did pass along, Adown the Lee, that to them murmured low, As he would speak, but that he lacked a tongue,
Yet did by signs his glad affection show, Making his stream run slow.
And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell 'Gan flock about these twain, that did excel The rest, so far as Cynthia1 doth shend 2 121 The lesser stars. So they, enrangèd well, Did on those two attend,
And their best service lend,
Against their wedding day, which was not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my
Whose dreadful name late through all Spain did thunder,
And Hercules' two pillars standing near Did make to quake and fear:
Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry! 150 That fillest England with thy triumph's fame, Joy have thou of thy noble victory, And endless happiness of thine own name, That promiseth the same;
That through thy prowess and victorious arms Thy country may be freed from foreign harms; And great Elisa's glorious name may ring Through all the world, filled with thy wide alarms,
Which some brave muse may sing To ages following,
Upon the bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
From those high towers this noble lord issuing, Like radiant Hesper when his golden hair In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fair, Descended to the river's open viewing, With a great train ensuing.
Above the rest were goodly to be seen Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature Beseeming well the bower of any queen, 170 With gifts of wit, and ornaments of nature, Fit for so goodly stature,
That like the twins of Jove they seemed in sight,
Which deck the baldrick of the heavens bright;
They two, forth pacing to the river's side, Received those two fair brides, their love's
Which, at th' appointed tide,
Each one did make his bride,
Against their bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
For, through infusion of celestial power The duller earth it quickeneth with delight, And life-full spirits privily doth pour Through all the parts, that to the looker's sight They seem to please. That is thy sovereign might,
O Cyprian queen! which, flowing from the beam
Of thy bright star, thou into them dost stream.
How vainly then do idle wits invent That beauty is nought else but mixture made Of colours fair, and goodly temp'rament 3 66 Of pure complexions, that shall quickly fade And pass away, like to a summer's shade; Or that it is but comely composition Of parts well measured, with meet disposition!
Hath white and red in it such wondrous power, That it can pierce through th' eyes unto the heart,
And therein stir such rage and restless stour,* As nought but death can stint his dolour's smart?
Or can proportion of the outward part Move such affection in the inward mind, That it can rob both sense, and reason blind?
Either by chance, against the course of kind, Or through unaptness in the substance found, Which it assumed of some stubborn ground, That will not yield unto her form's direction, But is deformed with some foul imperfection.
And oft it falls (ay me, the more to rue!) That goodly beauty, albe heavenly borne, Is foul abused, and that celestial hue, 150 Which doth the world with her delight adorn, Made but the bait of sin, and sinners' scorn, Whilst every one doth seek and sue to have it, But every one doth seek but to deprave it.
Ah, then, my hungry soul! which long hast fed
On idle fancies of thy foolish thought, And, with false beauty's flattering bait misled, Hast after vain deceitful shadows sought, 291 Which all are fled, and now have left thee nought
But late repentance through thy follies' prief; 1 Ah! cease to gaze on matter of thy grief:
And look at last up to that Sovereign Light, From whose pure beams all perfect beauty springs, 296
That kindleth love in every godly spright, Even the love of God; which loathing brings Of this vile world and these gay-seeming
With whose sweet pleasures being so possessed, Thy straying thoughts henceforth forever rest.
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554-1586)
ASTROPHEL AND STELLA
Loving in truth, and fain 2 in verse my love to show,
That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
"Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart, and write."
You 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 poesie wring;1 Ye that do dictionary's method bring Into your rimes, running in rattling rows; You that poor Petrarch's long-deceased woes With new-born sighs and denizen'd wit do sing;
You take wrong ways; those far-fet2 helps be such
As do bewray a want of inward touch,3 ΙΟ And sure, at length stol'n goods do come to light:
But if, both for your love and skill, your
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