Philip Sidney (1554–86)

All poems by Philip Sidney on Kalliope, ordered alphabetically by title.

A

Ah, bed! the field where Ioyes peace some do see

Alas, haue I not pain enough, my friend

Alas, whence came this change of lookes? If I

And do I see some cause a hope to feede

As good to write, as for to lie and grone

A strife is growne between Vertue and Loue

B

Because I breathe not loue to euery one

Because I oft in darke abstracted guise

Be your words made, good Sir, of Indian ware

C

Come, let me write. And to what end? To ease

Come, Sleepe! O Sleepe, the certaine knot of peace

Cupid, because thou shin’st in Stellaes eyes

D

Deere, why make you more of a dog then me

Desire, though thou my old companion art

Dian, that faine would cheare her friend the Night

Doubt there hath beene when with his golden chaine

Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes entendeth

E

Enuious wits, what hath bene mine offence

F

Faire eyes, sweet lips, dear heart, that foolish I

Fly, fly, my friends; I haue my deaths wound, fly

Fy, schoole of Patience, fy! your Lesson is

G

Go, my Flocke, go, get you hence

Good brother Philip, I haue borne you long

Griefe, find the words; for thou hast made my braine

H

Haue I caught my heau’nly iewell

Hauing this day my horse, my hand, my launce

High way, since you my chiefe Pernassus be

His mother deere, Cupid offended late

Hope, art thou true, or doest thou flatter me

I

I curst thee oft, I pitie now thy case

If Orpheus voyce had force to breathe such musickes loue

I might (vnhappy word!) O me, I might

In a groue most rich of shade

I neuer dranke of Aganippe well

In highest way of heau’n the Sun did ride

In martiall sports I had my cunning tride

In nature, apt to like, when I did see

In truth, O Loue, with what a boyish kind

I on my horse, and Loue on me, doth trie

I see the house, (my heart thy selfe containe!)

It is most true that eyes are form’d to serue

L

Late tyr’d with wo, euen ready for to pine

Leaue, me, O loue which reachest but to dust

Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust

Let dainty wits crie on the Sisters nine

Like some weak lords neighbord by mighty kings

Loue, borne in Greece, of late fled from his natiue place

Loue, by sure proofe I may call thee vnkind

Loue, still a Boy, and oft a wanton is

Louing in trueth, and fayne in verse my loue to show

M

Morpheus, the liuely sonne of deadly Sleepe

Muses, I oft inuoked your holy ayde

My mouth doth water, and my breast doth swell

My Muse may well grudge at my heau’nly ioy

My true-love hath my heart and I have his

My words I know do well set forth my minde

N

No more, my deare, no more these counsels trie

Not at the first sight, nor with a dribbed shot

Now that of absence the most irksom night

Nymph of the garden where all beauties be

O

O absent presence! Stella is not here

O deare Life, when shall it bee

O eyes, which do the spheres of beauty moue

Of all the Kings that euer here did raigne

O fate, O fault, O curse, child of my blisse!

Oft with true sighs, oft with vncalled teares

O grammer-rules, O now your vertues show

O happie Thames, that didst my Stella beare!

O how the pleasant ayres of true loue be

O ioy to high for my low stile to show

O kisse, which dost those ruddie gemmes impart

On Cupids bowe how are my heart-strings bent

Onely Ioy, now here you are

O teares! no teares, but raine, from Beauties skies

Out, traytor Absence, dar’st thou counsell me

O you that heare this voice

P

Pardon mine ears, both I and they do pray

Phoebus was iudge betweene Ioue, Mars, and Loue

Q

Queen Virtues Court, which some call Stellaes face

R

Reason, in faith thou art well seru’d that still

Rich fooles there be whose base and filthy heart

S

She comes, and streight therewith her shining twins do moue

Some louers speake, when they their Muses entertaine

Soules ioy, bend not those morning starres from me

Stella is sicke, and in that sicke-bed lies

Stella oft sees the very face of wo

Stella, since thou so right a princesse art

Stella, the fullnesse of my thoughts of thee

Stella, the onely planet of my light

Stella, thinke not that I by verse seeke fame

Stella, whence doth these new assaults arise

Stella, while now, by Honours cruell might

Sweet kisse, thy sweets I faine would sweetly endite

Sweet-swelling lip, well maist thou swell in pride

T

The curious wits, seeing dull pensiuenesse

The wisest scholler of the wight most wise

This night, while sleepe begins with heauy wings

Those lookes, whose beames be ioy, whose motion is delight

Thou blind mans marke, thou fooles selfe-chosen snare

Thou blind man’s mark, thou fool’s self-chosen snare

Though dustie wits dare scorne Astrologie

Thought, with good cause thou lik’st so well the night

V

Vertue, alas, now let me take some rest

Vnhappie sight, and hath shee vanisht by

W

What, haue I thus betray’d my libertie

What may words say, or what may words not say

When far-spent Night perswades each mortall eye

When I was forst from Stella euer deere

When my good Angell guides me to the place

When Nature made her chief worke, Stellas eyes

When Sorrow (vsing mine owne fiers might)

Where be those roses gone, which sweetned so our eyes?

Whether the Turkish new moone minded be

While fauour fed my hope, delight with hope was brought

Who hauing made, with many fights, his owne

Who is it that this darke night

Whose senses in so euill consort their stepdame Nature laies

Who will in fairest booke of Nature know

With how sad steps, O Moone, thou climbst the skies!

With what sharp checkes I in myself am shent

Y

Yet sighes, deare sighs, indeede true friends you are

Your words, my friend, (right healthfull caustiks), blame

You that do search for euery purling spring

You that with Allegories curious frame