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SONNET, ON BEHOLDING THE PORTRAITURE OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, IN THE GALLERY AT PENSHURST.
  
  
  
  
  
  
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9

SONNET, ON BEHOLDING THE PORTRAITURE OF SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, IN THE GALLERY AT PENSHURST.

The man that looks, sweet Sidney, in thy face,
Beholding there love's truest majesty,
And the soft image of departed grace,
Shall fill his mind with magnanimity:
There may he read unfeign'd humility,
And golden pity, born of heav'nly brood,
Unsullied thoughts of immortality,
And musing virtue, prodigal of blood:
Yes, in this map of what is fair and good,
This glorious index of a heav'nly book,
Not seldom, as in youthful years he stood,
Divinest Spenser would admiring look;
And, framing thence high wit and pure desire,
Imagin'd deeds, that set the world on fire!