Poems begining by A

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Oft with true sighes, oft with vncalled teares,Now with slow words, now with dumbe eloquenceI Stellas eyes assaid, invade her eares;But this at last is her sweet breath'd defence:That who indeed in felt affection beares,So captiues to his Saint both soule and sense,That wholly hers, all selfnesse he forbeares,Then his desire he learnes his liues course thence

Astrophel and Stella: 60

© Sir Philip Sidney

When my good Angell guides me to the place,Where all my good I doe in Stella see,That heau'n of joyes throwes onely downe on meThundred disdaines and lightnings of disgrace:But when the ruggedest step of Fortunes raceMakes me fall from her sight, then sweetly sheWith words, wheerein the Muses treasures be,Shewes loue and pitie to my absent case

Astrophel and Stella: 59

© Sir Philip Sidney

Deare, why make you more of a dog then me?If he do loue, I burne, I burne in loue:If he waite wel, I neuer thence would moue:If he be faire, yet but a dog can be

Astrophel and Stella: 58

© Sir Philip Sidney

Doubt there hath bene when with his golden chaine,The Oratour so farre mens harts doth bind,That no pace else their guided steps can find,But as he them more short or slack doth raine

Astrophel and Stella: 57

© Sir Philip Sidney

Wo, hauing made with many fights his owneEach sense of mine, each gift, each power of mind,Growne now his slaues, he forst them out to findThe thorowest words, fit for woes selfe to grone,Hoping that when they might find Stella alone,Before she could prepare to be vnkind,Her soule arm'd but with such a dainty rind,Should soone be pierc'd with sharpnesse of the mone

Astrophel and Stella: 56

© Sir Philip Sidney

Fy schoole of Patience, Fy, your lesson isFar far too long to learne it without booke:What a whole week without one peece of looke,And thinke I should not your large precepts misse?When I might read those letters faire of blisse,Which in her face teach vertue, I could brookeSomewhat thy lead'n counsels, which I tooke,As of a friend that meant not much amisse:But now that I alas do want her sight,What, dost thou think that I can euer takeIn thy cold stuffe a flegmatike delight?No Patience, if thou wilt my good, then makeHer come, and heare with patience my desire,And then with patience bid me beare my fire

Astrophel and Stella: 55

© Sir Philip Sidney

Muses, I oft invoked your holie ayde,With choisest flowers my speech to engarland so;That it despis'de in true but naked shew,Might winne some grace in your sweet grace arraid

Astrophel and Stella: 54

© Sir Philip Sidney

Because I breath not loue to euerie one,Nor do not vse set colours for to weare,Nor nourish speciall lockes of vowed haire,Nor giue each speech a full poynt of a grone,The courtly Nymphs, acquainted with the moneOf them, who in their lips Loues standerd beare;What he? say they of me, now I dare sweare,He cannot loue: no, no, let him alone

Astrophel and Stella: 53

© Sir Philip Sidney

In martiall sports I had my cunning tride,And yet to breake more staues did me addresse:While with the peoples shouts I must confesse,Youth, luck, and praise, euen fild my veines with prideWhen Cupid hauing me his slaue descride,In Marses liuery, prauncing in the presse:What now sir foole, said he, I would no lesse,Looke here, I say, I look'd and Stella spide

Astrophel and Stella: 52

© Sir Philip Sidney

A strife is growne betweene Vertue and Loue,While each pretends that Stella must be his:Her eyes, her lips, her all, saith Loue do this,Since they do weare his badge, most firmely prooue

Astrophel and Stella: 51

© Sir Philip Sidney

Pardon mine eares, both I and they do pray,So may your tongue still fluently proceed,To them that do such entertainment need,So may you still haue somewhat new to say

Astrophel and Stella: 50

© Sir Philip Sidney

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

Astrophel and Stella: 49

© Sir Philip Sidney

I on my horse, and Loue on me doth trieOur horsemanships, while by strange worke I proueA horseman to my horse, a horse to Loue;And now mans wrongs in me poore beast descrie

Astrophel and Stella: 48

Soules joy, bend not those morning starres from me,Where Vertue is made strong by Beauties might,Where Loue is chastnesse, Paine doth learne delight,And Humblenesse growes one with Majestie

Astrophel and Stella: 47

What haue I thus betrayed my libertie?Can those black beames such burning markes engraue,In my free side or am I borne a slaue,Whose necke becomes such yoke of tyranny?Or want I sense to feele my miserie?Or sprite, disdaine of such disdaine to haue?Who for long faith, tho daily helpe I craue,May get no almes but scorne of beggerie

Astrophel and Stella: 46

I curst thee oft, I pittie now thy case,Blind-hitting boy, since she that thee and meRules with a becke, so tyrannizeth thee,That thou must want or foode, or dwelling place

Astrophel and Stella: 45

Stella oft sees the very face of woPainted in my beclowded stormie face:But cannot skill to pitie my disgrace,Not though thereof the cause her selfe she know

Astrophel and Stella: 44

My words I know do well set forth my mind,My mind bemones his sense of inward smart;Such smart may pittie claime of any hart,Her heart, sweet heart, is of no Tigers kind:And yet she heares, and yet no pitie I find;But more I crie, lesse grace she doth impart,Alas, what cause is there so ouerthwart,That Noblenesse it selfe makes thus vnkind?I much do guesse, yet finde no truth saue this,That when the breath of my complaints doth tuchThose daintie dores vnto the Court of blisse,The heau'nly nature of that place is such,That once come there, the sobs of mine annoyesAre metamorphos'd straight to tunes of joyes

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