Astrophel and Stella: 50

Stella, the fulnesse of my thoughts of theeCannot be staid within my panting brest,But they do swell and struggle forth of me,Till that in words thy figure be exprest.And yet as soone as they so formed be,According to my Lord Loues owne behest:With sad eyes I their weake proportion see,To portrait that which in this world is best.So that I cannot chuse but write my mind,And cannot chuse but put out that I write,While these poore babes their death in birth do find:And now my pen these lines had dashed quite,But that they stopt his furie from the same,Because their forefront bare sweet Stellas name.