Astrophel and Stella: 8

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Loue borne in Greece, of late fled from his natiue place,Forc'd by a tedious proofe, that Turkish hardned hartIs no fit marke to pierce with his fine pointed dart:And pleasd with our soft peace, staid here his flying race,But finding these North climes do coldly him embrace,Not vsed to frozen clips, he straue to find some part,Wherewith most ease and warmth he might employ his art:At length he perch'd himselfe in Stellas joyfull face,Whose faire skin, beamy eyes like mourning sun on snow,Deceiu'd the quaking boy, who thought from so pure light,Effects of liuely heate, must needs in nature grow.But she most faire, most cold, made him thence take his flightTo my close heart, where while some firebrands he did lay,He burnt vnwares his wings, and cannot flie away.

© Sir Philip Sidney