Astrophel and Stella: 6

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Some Louers speake when they their Muses entertaine,Of hopes begot by feare, of wot not what desires:Of force of heau'nly beames, infusing hellish paine:Of liuing deaths, deare wounds, faire stormes and freshing fires.Someone his song in Ioue, and Ioues strange tales attires,Bordred with buls & swans, powdred with golden raine:Another humbler wit to shepheards pipe retires,Yet hiding royall bloud full oft in rurall vaine.To some a sweetest plaint, a sweetest stile affords,While teares powre out his inke, & sighs breath out his words:His paper pale dispaire, and paine his pen doth moue.I can speake what I feele, and feele as much as they,But thinke that all the Map of my state I display,When trembling voice brings forth that I do Stella loue.

© Sir Philip Sidney