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The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney

In Three Volumes
Sidney, Philip (1554-1586)

collapse sectionI, II. 
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.]
  
[What length of verse can serve brave Mopsas good to show?]
  
[Transformd in shew, but more transformd in minde]
  
[Come shepheards weedes, become your masters minde]
  
[Now thanked be the great God Pan]
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The first Eclogues.
  
[We love, and have our loves rewarded.]
  
[Come Dorus, come, let songs thy sorowes signifie]
  
[As I my little flocke on Ister banke]
  
[In faith, good Histor, long is your delay]
  
[You Gote-heard Gods, that love the grassie mountaines]
  
[If mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande]
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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.
  
[Thou Rebell vile, come, to thy master yelde]
  
[Dorus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion]
  
[And are you there old Pas? in troth I ever thought]
  
[I joye in griefe, and doo detest all joyes]
  
[Faire rocks, goodly rivers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace?]
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[THE THIRD BOOKE OF THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.]
  
[Unto a caitife wretch, whom long affliction holdeth]
  
[Amphialus song to Philoclea.]
  
[The Fire to see my woes for anger burneth]
  
[Since that to death is gone the shepheard hie]
  
[Phæbus farewell, a sweeter Saint I serve]
  
[Since that the stormy rage of passions darcke]
  
[Harke plaintfull ghostes, infernall furies harke]
  
[Howe is my Sunn, whose beames are shining bright]
  
[A banisht man, long bard from his desire]
  
[My true love hath my hart, and I have his]
  
[O words which fall like sommer deaw on me]
  
[Do not disdaine, ô streight up raised Pine]
  
[Sweete roote say thou, the roote of my desire]
  
[You goodly pines, which still with brave assent]
  
[Like divers flowers, whose divers beauties serve]
  
[Locke up, faire liddes, the treasure of my harte]
  
[Why doost thou haste away]
  
[O stealing time the subject of delaie]
  
[My Lute which in thy selfe thy tunes enclose]
  
[When two Sunnes do appeare]
  
[Aurora now thou shewst thy blushing light]
  
[Beautie hath force to catche the humane sight.]
  
[Let him drinke this, whome long in armes to folde]
  
[Get hence foule Griefe, the canker of the minde]
  
[Vertue, beawtie, and speach, did strike, wound, charme]
  
[The love which is imprinted in my soule]
  
[Let mother earth now decke her selfe in flowers]
  
[A neighbor mine not long agoe there was]
  
[Who doth desire that chaste his wife should be]
  
[The ladd Philisides]
  
[As I my little flocke on Ister banke]
  
[In faith, good Histor, long is your delay]
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THE FOURTH BOOKE OF THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
  
[Who hath his hire, hath well his labour plast]
  
[O night the ease of care the pledge of pleasure]
  
[Since wayling is a bud of causefull sorowe]
  
[Since that to death is gone the shepheard hie]
  
[Farewell ô Sunn, Arcadias clearest light]
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THE FIFTH BOOKE OF THE COUNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
  
[Since natures workes be good, and death doth serve]
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POEMS FIRST PRINTED IN THE FOLIO OF 1593.
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The First Ecloges.
  
[—Fortune, Nature, Love, long have contended about me]
  
[A shepheards tale no height of stile desires]
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The Second Eclogues.
  
[Up, up Philisides, let sorrowes goe]
  
[Downe, downe Melampus; what? your fellow bite?]
  
[My muse what ail's this ardour]
  
[Reason, tell me thy mind, if here be reason]
  
[O sweet woods the delight of solitarines!]
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POEMS FROM THE OLD ARCADIA
  
[Feede one my sheepe my chardge my comforte feede]
  
[Swete glove the swetenes of my secrett blisse]
  
[The merchant man whome gayne dothe teache the sea]
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Syr P. S. His Astrophel and Stella.
  
SIR P. S. HIS ASTROPHEL AND STELLA.
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OTHER SONNETS OF VARIABLE VERSE.
 1. 
First Sonnet.
 2. 
Second Sonnet.
 3. 
Third Sonnet.
 4. 
Fourth Sonnet.
 5. 
The fifth Sonnet.
 6. 
The sixth Sonnet.
 7. 
The seventh Sonnet.
 8. 
The eighth.
 9. 
The ninth Sonnet.
 10. 
The tenth Sonnet.
  
SONNET XXXVII.
  
ELEVENTH SONG.
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CERTAINE SONETS WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY: Never before printed.
  
[Since shunning paine, I ease can never find]
  
[When Love puft up with rage of hy disdaine]
  
[The fire to see my wrongs for anger burneth]
  
[The Nightingale as soone as Aprill bringeth]
  
[Sleepe Babie mine, Desire nurse Beautie singeth]
  
[O faire, ô sweet, when I do looke on thee]
  
[The scourge of life, and deaths extreame disgrace]
  
[You better sure shall live, not evermore]
  
[Unto no body my woman saith she had rather a wife be]
  
[Faire seeke not to be feard, most lovely beloved by thy servants]
  
[Like as the Dove which seeled up doth flie]
  
E. D.
  
[My mistresse lowers and saith I do not love]
  
[In wonted walkes, since wonted fancies change]
  
[If I could thinke how these my thoughts to leave]
  
A Farewell.
  
[Finding those beames, which I must ever love]
  
The 7. Wonders of England.
  
[Who hath his fancie pleased]
  
The smokes of Melancholy.
  
[When to my deadlie pleasure]
  
[No, no, no, no, I cannot hate my foe]
  
[Al my sense thy sweetnesse gained]
  
[What changes here, ô haire]
  
[Of this high grace with blisse conjoyn'd]
  
[Ring out your belles, let mourning shewes be spread]
  
[Thou blind mans marke, thou fooles selfe chosen snare]
  
[Leave me ô Love, which reachest but to dust]
  
A DIALOGUE BETWEENE TWO SHEPHERDS, utterd in a pastorall shew, at Wilton.
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TWO PASTORELS, MADE BY SIR PHILLIP SIDNEY.
  
[Joyne mates in mirth to me]
  
Dispraise of a Courtly life.
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[THE LADY OF MAY]
  
SUPPLICATION.
  
[Come Espilus, come now declare thy skill]
  
[Silvanus long in love, and long in vaine]
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Volume III
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TRANSLATIONS.
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THE PSALMS OF DAVID.
 I. 
Psalm I. Beatus vir.
 II. 
Psalm II. Quare fremuerunt gentes.
 III. 
Psalm III. Domine quid multiplic
 IV. 
Psalm IV. Cum invocarem.
 V. 
Psalm V. Verba mea auribus.
 VI. 
Psalm VI. Domine ne in furore.
 VII. 
Psalm VII. Domine, Deus meus.
 VIII. 
Psalm VIII. Domine, Dominus.
 IX. 
Psalm IX. Confitebor tibi.
 X. 
Psalm X. Ut quid Domine?
 XI. 
Psalm XI. In Domino confido.
 XII. 
Psalm XII. Salvum me fac.
 XIII. 
Psalm XIII. Usque quo, Domine?
 XIV. 
Psalm XIV. Dixit insipiens.
 XV. 
Psalm XV. Domine, quis habitabit?
 XVI. 
Psalm XVI. Conserva me.
 XVII. 
Psalm XVII. Exaudi Domine justitiam.
 XVIII. 
Psalm XVIII. Diligam te.
 XIX. 
Psalm XIX. Cœli enarrant.
 XX. 
Psalm XX. Exaudiat te Dominus.
 XXI. 
Psalm XXI. Domine in virtute.
 XXII. 
Psalm XXII. Deus Deus meus.
 XXIII. 
Psalm XXIII. Dominus regit me.
 XXIV. 
Psalm XXIV. Domini est terra.
 XXV. 
Psalm XXV. Ad te, Domine.
 XXVI. 
Psalm XXVI. Judica me, Domine.
 XXVII. 
Psalm XXVII. Dominus illuminatio.
 XXVIII. 
Psalm XXVIII. Ad te Domine.
 XXIX. 
Psalm XXIX. Afferte Domino.
 XXX. 
Psalm XXX. Exaltabo te Domine.
 XXXI. 
Psalm XXXI. In te Domine speravi.
 XXXII. 
Psalm XXXII. Beati, quorum.
 XXXIII. 
Psalm XXXIII. Exultate justi.
 XXXIV. 
Psalm XXXIV. Benedicam Domino.
 XXXV. 
Psalm XXXV. Judica, Domine.
 XXXVI. 
Psalm XXXVI. Dixit injustus.
 XXXVII. 
Psalm XXXVII. Noli æmulari.
 XXXVIII. 
Psalm XXXVIII. Domine ne in furore.
 XXXIX. 
Psalm XXXIX. Dixi custodiam.
 XL. 
Psalm XL. Expectans expectavi.
 XLI. 
Psalm XLI. Beatus qui intelligit.
 XLII. 
Psalm XLII. Quemadmodum.
 XLIII. 
Psalm XLIII. Judica me Deus.
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Volume IV
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The First Booke or Acte of the Countess of Pembrookes ARCADIA
  
[Thy Elder care shall from thy carefull face]
  
[Transformde in shewe, but more transformde in mynde]
  
[What lengthe of verse can serve, brave Mopsas good to showe]
  
[Come Shepearde weedes become youre Masters mynde]
  
[Now thancked bee the great god Pan]
  
[Come Dorus come, Let Songes thy sorrowes signify]
  
[Pore Paynters ofte, with silly Poettes joyne]
  
[Upp, upp Philisides, Let sorowes goo]
  
[Downe, Downe Melampus, what? youre fellowe byte?]
  
[Fortune, Nature, Love, longe hathe contended aboute mee]
  
[Yf myne eyes can speake to doo harty Arrant]
  
[Lady reserved by the heavens to doo Pastors Company, honor?]
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The Second Booke or Acte
  
[In vayne, myne eyes yow Laboure to amend]
  
[Lett not Oulde age disgrace my hye desyer]
  
[Synce so myne Eyes are subject to her sighte]
  
[My Sheepe are Thoughtes wch I bothe guyde & serve]
  
[Yee Living Powers enclosde in stately shryne]
  
[My wordes, in hope to blase my stedfast mynde]
  
[Loved I am, and yet Complayne of Love]
  
[Over these Brookes trusting to ease myne eyes]
  
[With twoo straunge fyers of equall heate possest]
  
[Feede on my sheepe, my Charge, my Comforte, feede?]
  
[Leave of my sheepe, yt ys no tyme to feede]
  
[A Hatefull Cry, with hate to heale]
  
[Apollo greate, whose beames the greater worlde do lighte]
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HERE BEGIN THE SECOND EGLOGUES.
  
[Thow Rebell vyle, come, to thy Master yeelde]
  
[Dorus tell mee, where ys thy wonted Motyon?]
  
[And are yow there oulde Pas? in trouthe I ever thoughte]
  
[As I behynde a Busshe did sitt]
  
[Alas how longe this Pillgrimage dothe last]
  
[Fayre Rockes, goodly Rivers, sweete Woodes, when shall I see peace?]
  
[My Muse, what ailes this Ardoure?]
  
[Reason, tell mee thy Mynde, yf here bee Reason?]
  
[O sweete woodes, the Delighte of Solitarynes?]
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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.
  
[Lett Mother Earthe, now deck her self in flowers]
  
[A Neighboure myne, not longe agoo there was]
  
[Who, dothe Desyer that Chaste his wyfe shoulde bee]
  
[As I my litle Flock on Ister Bancke]
  
[In faythe good Histor, Longe ys youre delay]
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The Fourthe Booke or Acte.
  
[Who hathe hys Hyer, hathe Well his Laboure plaste]
  
[O Nighte the ease of Care the pledge of pleasure]
  
[Synce wayling ys a budd of Causefull Sorrowe]
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HERE BEGIN THE FOURTHE EGLOGUES.
  
[Yee goteheard Gods that love the grassy Mounteynes?]
  
[Now was oure Heavenly vaulte deprived of the Lighte]
  
[Unto the Caytiff wretche whome long affliction holdeth]
  
[Since that to deathe ys gon̄ the Shepeheara hye]
  
[Farewell O Sunne, Arcadias clearest Lighte]
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The Fifte and Last Booke or Acte.
  
[Since Natures worckes bee good and Deathe dothe serve]
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APPENDIX
 I. 
I O my thoughtes, sweete foode my onely owner

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307

[You better sure shall live, not evermore]

[_]

Translated out of Horace, which beginnes Rectius vives.

You better sure shall live, not evermore
Trying high seas, nor while seas rage you flee,
Pressing too much upon ill harbourd shore.
The golden meane who loves, lives safely free
From filth of foreworne house, and quiet lives,
Releast from Court, where envie needes must be.
The windes most oft the hugest Pine-tree greeves:
The stately towers come downe with greater fall:
The highest hills the bolt of thunder cleeves:
Evill happes do fill with hope, good happes appall
With feare of change, the courage well preparde:
Fowle Winters as they come, away they shall.
Though present times and past with evils be snarde,
They shall not last: with Citherne silent muse,
Apollo wakes, and bow hath sometime sparde.
In hard estate with stowt shew valor use,
The same man still in whom wise doome prevailes,
In too full winde draw in thy swelling sailes.
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