 | The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney |  |
167
[Phaebus Farewell, a sweeter Sainte, I serve]
Phaebus Farewell, a sweeter Sainte, I serve,
The hye Conceyptes, thy heavenly wisdome breede,
My thoughtes forgett My thoughtes wch never swerve,
From her in whome ys sowne theyre Freedoms feede,
And in whose eyes my daily Doome I reede.
The hye Conceyptes, thy heavenly wisdome breede,
My thoughtes forgett My thoughtes wch never swerve,
From her in whome ys sowne theyre Freedoms feede,
And in whose eyes my daily Doome I reede.
Phebus Farewell a Sweeter Sainte, I serve,
Thow arte farr of, thy Kingdome ys above,
Shee heaven on Earthe wch beutyes doo preserve,
Thy Beames I like, but her Clere Rayes I Love,
Thy force I feare, her force I still doo proove.
Thow arte farr of, thy Kingdome ys above,
Shee heaven on Earthe wch beutyes doo preserve,
Thy Beames I like, but her Clere Rayes I Love,
Thy force I feare, her force I still doo proove.
Phebus yeelde up thy Title in my mynde?
Shee dothe possess, thy Image ys defaste?
But yf thy Rage, some brave Revenge will fynde,
On her, in mee who hathe thy Temple raste;
Employ thy mighte, that shee thy fyers may taste.
And howe muche more her wrothe surmounteth thee,
Make her asmuche more base by Loving mee.
Shee dothe possess, thy Image ys defaste?
But yf thy Rage, some brave Revenge will fynde,
On her, in mee who hathe thy Temple raste;
Employ thy mighte, that shee thy fyers may taste.
And howe muche more her wrothe surmounteth thee,
Make her asmuche more base by Loving mee.
| The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney | |