The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney In Three Volumes |
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The smokes of Melancholy.
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| XXX. |
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| I. |
 | The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney |  |
The smokes of Melancholy.
Who hath ever felt the change of love,
And knowne those pangs that the loosers prove,
May paint my face without seeing mee,
And write the state how my fancies bee,
The lothsome buds growne on sorrowes tree.
And knowne those pangs that the loosers prove,
May paint my face without seeing mee,
And write the state how my fancies bee,
The lothsome buds growne on sorrowes tree.
But who by hearesay speakes, and hath not fully felt
What kind of fires they be in which those spirits melt,
Shall gesse, and faile, what doth displease,
Feeling my pulse, misse my disease.
What kind of fires they be in which those spirits melt,
Shall gesse, and faile, what doth displease,
Feeling my pulse, misse my disease.
O no, O no, tryall onely shewse
The bitter juice of forsaken woes,
Where former blisse present evils do staine,
Nay former blisse addes to present paine,
While remembrance doth both states containe.
The bitter juice of forsaken woes,
Where former blisse present evils do staine,
Nay former blisse addes to present paine,
While remembrance doth both states containe.
316
Come learners then to me, the modell of mishappe,
Engulfed in despaire, slid downe from fortunes lappe:
And as you like my double lot,
Tread in my steppes, or follow not.
Engulfed in despaire, slid downe from fortunes lappe:
And as you like my double lot,
Tread in my steppes, or follow not.
For me alas I am full resolv'd,
Those bands alas shall not be dissolv'd,
Nor breake my word though reward come late,
Nor faile my faith in my failing fate,
Nor change in change, though change change my state.
Those bands alas shall not be dissolv'd,
Nor breake my word though reward come late,
Nor faile my faith in my failing fate,
Nor change in change, though change change my state.
But alwayes one my selfe with eagle eyde trueth to flie,
Up to the sunne, although the sunne my wings do frie:
For if those flames burne my desire,
Yet shall I die in Phænix fire.
Up to the sunne, although the sunne my wings do frie:
For if those flames burne my desire,
Yet shall I die in Phænix fire.
| The Complete Works of Sir Philip Sidney | |