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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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Volume III
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Volume IV
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The First Booke or Acte of the Countess of Pembrookes ARCADIA
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The Second Booke or Acte
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The Thirde Booke or Acte.
  
[O sweete glove the witness of my secrett Blisse]
  
[The Merchaunt Man, whome gayne dothe teache ye Sea]
  
[The Merchaunt man, whome many seas have taughte]
  
[Phaebus Farewell, a sweeter Sainte, I serve]
  
[Synce that the Stormy Rage of passyons darcke]
  
[Hearke playntfull Ghostes, Infernall furyes harcke?]
  
[Lyke those sicke folckes in whome straunge Humors flowe]
  
[Howe ys my Sunne (whose Beames are shyning brighte]
  
[This Cave ys Darcke, but yt had never Lighte]
  
[A Banisshed man longe barrd from his Desyer]
  
[My true Love hathe my harte, and I have his]
  
[O wordes whiche falle like Som̄er Deawe on mee]
  
[Doo not Disdayne O streighte upraysed Pyne?]
  
[Sweete Roote say thow, the Roote of my Desyer?]
  
[Yow goodly Pynes whiche still with brave assent]
  
[Lyke Dyvers Flowers whose dyvers Beutyes serve]
  
[Looke up fayre Liddes, the Treasures of my harte]
  
[Whye doest thow haste away]
  
[O, Stealing tyme, the Subject of Delay]
  
[My Lute within thy self, thy Tunes enclose?]
  
[When Twoo Sunnes doo appeare]
  
[Aurora nowe thow shewest thy blusshing Lighte]
  
[Beuty hathe force to catche the Humane sighte]
  
[Let him drincke this, Whome longe in Armes to folde]
  
[Gett hence fowle greeffe, the Cancker of the mynde]
  
[Vertue Bewty and Speeche, did stryke, wounde, Charme]
  
[The Love whiche ys imprinted in my sowle]
  
[What Toungue can her perfections tell?]
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THE THIRDE EGLOGUES.
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The Fourthe Booke or Acte.
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The Fifte and Last Booke or Acte.
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APPENDIX

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[Looke up fayre Liddes, the Treasures of my harte]

Looke up fayre Liddes, the Treasures of my harte,
Preserve those Beames, this Ages onely Lighte,
To her sweete Sence, sweete Sleepe some ease imparte
Her Sence too weyke to beare her Spirites mighte,
And whyle, O Sleepe, thow closest up her sighte,
(Her sighte where Love did forge his fayrest Darte)
O Harboure all her partes in easefull plighte,
Lett no straunge Dreame make her fayre body starte:
But, yet O Dreame yf thow wilt not Departe?
In this rare Subject from thy Comon Righte,
But wilt thy self in suche a Seate delighte,
Then take my Shape and play a Lovers parte.
Kisse her from mee, and say unto her Sprite,
Till her eyes shyne, I live in darckest lighte.
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