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The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney

In Three Volumes
Sidney, Philip (1554-1586)

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Volume I, [Volume II]
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THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA
  
[dedication]
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[THE FIRST BOOKE OF THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.]
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THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
  
[In vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende]
  
[Let not old age disgrace my high desire]
  
[Since so mine eyes are subject to your sight]
  
[My sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serve]
  
[You living powres enclosed in stately shrine]
  
[My words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde]
  
[What toong can her perfections tell]
  
[Alas how long this pilgrimage doth last?]
  
[Poore Painters oft with silly Poets joyne]
  
[Loved I am, and yet complaine of Love]
  
[Over these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes]
  
[Me thought some staves he mist: if so, not much amisse]
  
[Wyth two strange fires of equall heate possest]
  
[A hatefull cure with hate to heale]
  
[Thy elder care shall from thy carefull face]
  
[Apollo great, whose beames the greater world do light]
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The second Eclogues.
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[THE THIRD BOOKE OF THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.]
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THE FOURTH BOOKE OF THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
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THE FIFTH BOOKE OF 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.
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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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118

[Feede on my sheepe, my Charge, my Comforte, feede?]

Feede on my sheepe, my Charge, my Comforte, feede?
With Sunnes approche, youre pasture fertile growes,
O, onely Sunne, that, suche a frute can breede,
Feede on my sheepe youre fayre sweete feeding flowes
Eche flower, eche herbe dothe to youre service yeelde
O blessed Sunne, whence all this blessing goes,
119

Feede on my sheepe, possess youre fruitfull fielde,
No Wolves dare howle, no murrayne can prevayle,
And from the stormes oure sweetest Sunne will sheelde,
Feede on my Sheepe, sorrowe hathe stricken sayle.
Enjoy my Joyes as yow did taste my payne,
While oure sonne shynes, no Cloudy greeves assayle.
Feede on my Sheepe, youre Native Joyes meynteyne,
Youre wolle ys riche, no toungue can tell my gayne.
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