Thy greefe more then death would grieve me.
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f that any thought in meCon tast comfort but of thee,Let me, fed with hellish anguish,Joylesse, hopelesse, endlesse languish. xxviii INTRODUCTION, If more may be sayd, I say, All my blisse in thee I lay ; If thou love, my love content thee, For all love, all faith is meant thee. Trust me, while I thee deny.In my selfe the smart I try ;Tyran honour doth thus use thee,Stella's selfe might not refuse thee. Therefore, deere, this no more move,Least j though I leave not thy love,Which too deep in me is framed,I should blush when thou art named. " The Argument " writes Nash, with annoying glibness" cruell chastitee ; the Prologue, hope ; the Epilogue,dispaire." - It is only the Epilogue of Astrophel andStella which remains for us to recite. In the twosongs and thirty sonnets which follow Stella's finalrefusal there is much fine poetry, and yet we cannothelp feeling that Sidney's " song " is " broken." Nowhe blazes forth in anger, now he rejoices that Stellashares his unhappiness. He is absent from her, and halfchides, half excuses himself for taking any pleasurein other society. In one sonnet he is distressed by herillness, in another he records his overwhelming sorrowthat^ through some **foul stumbling" of his^tella hadbeen caused annoyance. But the prevailing tone is INTRODUCTION. xxix one of heavy, dull, despair, and in this a man ofSidney's aims and Sidney^s temperament could notabide for ever. In the 107th Sonnet he asks Stellaas the "right princesse" of all, his powers to allow acertain " great cause, which needs both use and art "to occupy for a time the chief place in his thoughts.In the next sonnet, the last of the book, he returnsbeneath the sway of "rude dispaire," but two stilllater poems, the last two of our appendix, show himin a state of calm serenity, once more hating " Desire "as his worst enemy, and looking away to things not ofthis world. Leave me, O Love, which reaches! but to dust ; And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things ; IGrow rich in that which never taketh rust ; ■* What ever fades, but fading pleasure brings.Draw in thy beames, and humble all thy might To that sweet yoke where lasting freedomes be ;WTiich breakes the clowdes, and opens forth the light. That doth both shine, and give us sight to see.O take fast hold ; let that light be thy guide In this small course which birth drawes out to death,And think how evil becommeth him to slide, Who seeketh-heav'n, and comes of heavenly breath.Then farewell, world ; thy uttermost I see :
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