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The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney

In Three Volumes
Sidney, Philip (1554-1586)

collapse sectionI, II. 
Volume I, [Volume II]
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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA
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POEMS FIRST PRINTED IN THE FOLIO OF 1593.
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POEMS FROM THE OLD ARCADIA
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Syr P. S. His Astrophel and Stella.
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OTHER SONNETS OF VARIABLE VERSE.
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CERTAINE SONETS WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY: Never before printed.
  
[Since shunning paine, I ease can never find]
  
[When Love puft up with rage of hy disdaine]
  
[The fire to see my wrongs for anger burneth]
  
[The Nightingale as soone as Aprill bringeth]
  
[Sleepe Babie mine, Desire nurse Beautie singeth]
  
[O faire, ô sweet, when I do looke on thee]
  
[The scourge of life, and deaths extreame disgrace]
  
[You better sure shall live, not evermore]
  
[Unto no body my woman saith she had rather a wife be]
  
[Faire seeke not to be feard, most lovely beloved by thy servants]
  
[Like as the Dove which seeled up doth flie]
  
E. D.
  
[My mistresse lowers and saith I do not love]
  
[In wonted walkes, since wonted fancies change]
  
[If I could thinke how these my thoughts to leave]
  
A Farewell.
  
[Finding those beames, which I must ever love]
  
The 7. Wonders of England.
  
[Who hath his fancie pleased]
  
The smokes of Melancholy.
  
[When to my deadlie pleasure]
  
[No, no, no, no, I cannot hate my foe]
  
[Al my sense thy sweetnesse gained]
  
[What changes here, ô haire]
  
[Of this high grace with blisse conjoyn'd]
  
[Ring out your belles, let mourning shewes be spread]
  
[Thou blind mans marke, thou fooles selfe chosen snare]
  
[Leave me ô Love, which reachest but to dust]
  
A DIALOGUE BETWEENE TWO SHEPHERDS, utterd in a pastorall shew, at Wilton.
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TWO PASTORELS, MADE BY SIR PHILLIP SIDNEY.
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[THE LADY OF MAY]
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Volume III
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Volume IV

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[Who hath his fancie pleased]

[_]

To the tune of Wilhemus van Nassaw, &c.

Who hath his fancie pleased,
With fruits of happie sight,
Let here his eyes be raised
On natures sweetest light.
A light which doth dissever,
And yet unite the eyes,
A light which dying never,
Is cause the looker dyes.
She never dies but lasteth
In life of lovers hart,
He ever dies that wasteth
In love, his chiefest part.
Thus is her life still guarded,
In never dying faith:
Thus is his death rewarded,
Since she lives in his death.
315

Looke then and dye, the pleasure
Doth answere well the paine:
Small losse of mortall treasure,
Who may immortall gaine.
Immortall be her graces,
Immortall is her minde:
They fit for heavenly places,
This heaven in it doth binde.
But eyes these beauties see not,
Nor sence that grace descryes:
Yet eyes deprived be not,
From sight of her faire eyes:
Which as of inward glorie
They are the outward seale:
So may they live still sorie
Which die not in that weale.
But who hath fancies pleased,
With fruits of happie sight,
Let here his eyes be raysed
On natures sweetest light.
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