Sir Philip Sidney
 

Astrophel and Stella    
 

Sonnet XLV          


Stella oft sees the very face of woe
    Painted in my beclouded stormy face,
    But cannot skill to pity my disgrace,
    Not though thereof the cause herself she know;
Yet hearing late a fable, which did show
    Of lovers never known a grievous case,
    Pity thereof gat in her breast such place
    That, from that sea derived, tears' spring did flow.
Alas, if fancy, drawn by imaged things,
    Though false, yet with free scope, more grace doth breed
    Than servant's wrack, where new doubts honor brings;
Then think, my dear, that you in me do read
    Of lovers' ruin some sad tragedy.
    I am not I; pity the tale of me.  
 
 


Source:
Poetry of the English Renaissance 1509-1660.
J. William Hebel and Hoyt H. Hudson, Eds.
New York: F. S. Crofts & Co., 1941. 113.


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