CALIFORNIA

Sir Philip Sidney

I. Sonnets and

Quatorzains

Heart's Transcript

LOVING in truth, and fain in verse my love to show, That she, dear She, might take some pleasure of my pain,

Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her
know,

Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,—
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe;
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain;

Oft turning others leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burned
brain.

But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay;

Invention, Nature's child, fled step-dame Study's blows;

And others' feet still seemed but strangers in my way. Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,

Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite,

Fool," said my Muse to me, "Look in thy heart, and

write."

(Astrophel and Stella, I.)

NOT at the first sight, nor with a dribbed shot,
Love gave the wound, which while I breathe will bleed;
But known worth did in mine of time proceed,
Till, by degrees, it had full conquest got.

I saw, and liked; I liked, but loved not;

I loved, but straight did not what Love decreed :
At length, to Love's decrees, I, forced, agreed,
Yet with repining at so partial lot.

Now, even that footstep of lost liberty
Is gone, and now, like slave-born Muscovite,
I call it praise to suffer tyranny;
And now employ the remnant of my wit
To make myself believe that all is well,
While, with a feeling skill, I paint my hell.

(Astrophel and Stella, II.)

LET dainty wits cry on the Sisters nine,
That, bravely masked, their fancies may be told;
Or-Pindar's apes-flaunt they in phrases fine,
Enam'ling with pied flowers their thoughts of gold;
Or else let them in stately glory shine,

Ennobling new-found tropes with problems old;
Or with strange similes enrich each line,
Of herbs or beasts which Ind or Afric hold.
For me, in sooth, no Muse but one I know:
Phrases and problems from my reach do grow ;
And strange things cost too dear for my poor sprites.
How then? Even thus: In Stella's face I read
What Love and Beaty be; then all my deed

But copying is what in her Nature writes.

(Astrophel and Stella, III.)

"Yet . . .I must Stella love"

It is most true that eyes are formed to serve
The inward light, and that the heav'nly part
Ought to be King, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebels to Nature, strive for their own smart.
It is most true, what we call Cupid's dart
An image is, which for ourselves we carve,
And, fools, adore in temple of our heart,

Till that good God make church and churchmen starve.
True, that true beauty Virtue is indeed,
Whereof this beauty can be but a shade,
Which elements with mortal mixture breed.
True, that on earth we are but pilgrims made,
And should in soul up to our country move:
True-and yet true, that I must Stella love.

(Astrophel and Stella, V.)

Stella's Face

QUEEN Virtue's Court, which some call Stella's face, Prepared by Nature's choicest furniture,

Hath his front built of alabaster pure;

Gold is the covering of that stately place.

The door, by which sometimes comes forth her grace,
Red porphyry is, which lock of pearl makes sure,
Whose porches rich-which name of cheeks endure-
Marble, mixed red and white, do interlace.

The windows now-through which this heav'nly guest
Looks over the world, and can find nothing such,
Which dare claim from those lights the name of best-
Of touch they are, that without touch do touch,
Which Cupid's self, from Beauty's mind did draw :
Of touch they are, and poor I am their straw.

(Astrophel and Stella, IX.)

Love's Childlikeness

IN truth, O Love, with what a boyish kind
Thou dost proceed in thy most serious ways,
That when the heav'n to thee his best displays,
Yet of that best thou leav'st the best behind!
For, like a child that some fair book doth find,
With gilded leaves or coloured vellum plays,
Or, at the most, on some fine picture stays,
But never heeds the fruit of writer's mind;
So, when thou saw'st in Nature's cabinet,
Stella, thou straight look'st babies in her eyes;
In her cheeks' pit thou didst thy pitfold set,
And in her breast bo-peep or crouching lies,
Playing and shining in each outward part;
But, fool, seek'st not to get into her heart.

(Astrophel and Stella, XI.)

Stella-Truest Nurse of Fame

You that do search for every purling spring
Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,
And every flower, not sweet perhaps, which grows
Near thereabouts, into your poesy wring;
You that do dictionary's method bring
Into your rhymes, running in rattling rows;
You that poor Petrarch's long-deceased woes
With new-born sighs and denizened wit do sing-
You take wrong ways; those far-set helps be such
As do bewray a want of inward touch,

And sure, at length stolen goods do come to light;
But if, both for your love and skill, your name
You seek to nurse at fullest breasts of Fame,

Stella behold, and then begin to indite.

(Astrophel and Stella, XV.)

Amor Præceptor

ON Cupid's bow how are my heart-strings bent,
That see my wrack, and yet embrace the same!
When most I glory, then I feel most shame ;
I willing run, yet while I run repent;
My best wits still their own disgrace invent.
My very ink turns straight to Stella's name;
And yet my words, as them my pen doth frame,
Advise themselves that they are vainly spent.
For though she pass all things, yet what is all
That unto me, who fare like him that both
Looks to the skies and in a ditch doth fall?
O let me prop my mind, yet in his growth,
And not in nature for best fruits unfit.
"Scholar," saith Love, "bend hitherward thy wit."
(Astrophel and Stella, XIX.)

Love's Astrology

THOUGH dusty wits dare scorn astrology;
And fools can think those lamps of purest light-
Whose number, ways, greatness, eternity,
Promising wonders, wonders do invite-
To have for no cause birthright in the sky
But for to spangle the black weeds of night,
Or for some brawl which in that chamber hie
They should still dance to please a gazer's sight;—
For me, I do Nature unidle know,

And know great causes great effects procure,
And know those bodies high rain on the low.
And if these rules did fail, proof makes me sure,
Who oft fore-judge my after-following race,
By only those two stars in Stella's face.

(Astrophel and Stella, XXVI.)