Astrophil
and Stella by Philip
Sidney
Sonnet
1
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-burn’d brain.
But words came halting forth,
wanting Invention’s stay,
Invention, Nature’s child, fled
step-dame Study’s blows,
And others’ feet still seem’d 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”.
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