 | The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney |  |
[O sweete woodes, the Delighte of Solitarynes?]
O sweete woodes, the Delighte of Solitarynes?
O howe muche I doo like youre solitarynes,
Where Mans mynde hathe a freed Consideracyon,
Of goodnes, to receyve Lovely direction,
Where Sences do beholde the order of heavenly Hoaste,
And wyse thoughtes do beholde what the Creator ys,
Contemplacyon here holdeth his onely seate,
Bounded with no Limittes borne wth a winge of hope,
Clymes even unto the Starres Nature ys under yt.
Naughte disturbes thy quyett all to thy service yeelde,
Eche sighte Drawes on a thought, thoughte Mother of scyence,
Sweete Byrdes kyndely do graunte harmony unto thee.
Fayre Trees, shade ys ynoughe fortification,
Nor Daunger to thy self, yf not in thy self.
O howe muche I doo like youre solitarynes,
Where Mans mynde hathe a freed Consideracyon,
Of goodnes, to receyve Lovely direction,
Where Sences do beholde the order of heavenly Hoaste,
And wyse thoughtes do beholde what the Creator ys,
Contemplacyon here holdeth his onely seate,
Bounded with no Limittes borne wth a winge of hope,
Clymes even unto the Starres Nature ys under yt.
Naughte disturbes thy quyett all to thy service yeelde,
Eche sighte Drawes on a thought, thoughte Mother of scyence,
Sweete Byrdes kyndely do graunte harmony unto thee.
Fayre Trees, shade ys ynoughe fortification,
Nor Daunger to thy self, yf not in thy self.
O sweete woodes the Delighte of Solitarynes?
O howe muche do I like youre solitarynes,
Here, no treason ys hidd vailed in Innocency,
Nor Envyes snaky eye fyndes any harboure here,
Nor Flaterers venymous Insinuations,
Nor Cunning Humoristes pudled opinyons.
Nor Courteous Ruyning of proffered usury,
Nor Tyme prattled away, Cradle of Ignorance,
Nor tryffling Tytle of vanity daseleth us.
Nor golden Manackles stande for a Paradyse,
Here wronges name ys unhearde, Sclaunder a Monster ys.
Keepe thy Spirite from abuse, here no abuse dothe haunte,
What Man graftes in a Tree dissimulation.
O howe muche do I like youre solitarynes,
Here, no treason ys hidd vailed in Innocency,
158
Nor Flaterers venymous Insinuations,
Nor Cunning Humoristes pudled opinyons.
Nor Courteous Ruyning of proffered usury,
Nor Tyme prattled away, Cradle of Ignorance,
Nor tryffling Tytle of vanity daseleth us.
Nor golden Manackles stande for a Paradyse,
Here wronges name ys unhearde, Sclaunder a Monster ys.
Keepe thy Spirite from abuse, here no abuse dothe haunte,
What Man graftes in a Tree dissimulation.
O sweete woodes the Delighte of Solitarynes?
O howe well do I like youre solitarynes?
Yet Dere sowle, yf a Sowle closde in a Mansion,
As sweete as vyolettes, fayre as a Lilly ys,
Streighte as a Cedar, a voyce staynes the Canarie Birdes
Whose shade safety dothe holde, Daunger avoydeth her.
Suche wysdome, that in her lives speculation.
Suche goodnes, that in her Simplicity tryumphes,
Where Envyes snakye eye wincketh or else dyeth,
Slaunder wanteth, a Pretext Flatery gone beyonde.
O yf suche a one hathe bent to a Lovely lyfe,
Her stepps glad wee receyve, glad wee receyve her eyes,
And thincke not shee dothe hurt oure solitarynes?
For, suche Company deckes suche solitarynes.
O howe well do I like youre solitarynes?
Yet Dere sowle, yf a Sowle closde in a Mansion,
As sweete as vyolettes, fayre as a Lilly ys,
Streighte as a Cedar, a voyce staynes the Canarie Birdes
Whose shade safety dothe holde, Daunger avoydeth her.
Suche wysdome, that in her lives speculation.
Suche goodnes, that in her Simplicity tryumphes,
Where Envyes snakye eye wincketh or else dyeth,
Slaunder wanteth, a Pretext Flatery gone beyonde.
O yf suche a one hathe bent to a Lovely lyfe,
Her stepps glad wee receyve, glad wee receyve her eyes,
And thincke not shee dothe hurt oure solitarynes?
For, suche Company deckes suche solitarynes.
| The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney | |