Saturday, April 12, 2008

Another.

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.

4 comments:

neophyte said...

Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

rml said...

funny—that was exactly my reaction.

Renaissance Girl said...

Yeah. I covet that last line.

dkm said...

Since I’m no Stanley Fish I guess I’d better come clean. I have a student whom I’m trying to convert to poetry (she absolutely hates it), and I’ve been using you daily additions as grist for the mill. All except “Elegy,” because, well, you know. So easy to take THAT one wrong (lol). Thanks for the help.