Sir P[HILIP] S[IDNEY]
HIS
ASTROPHEL AND STELLA.
I.
Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That She, dear She! might take some pleasure of my pain;
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain:
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe,
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain;
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburnt brain:
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay.
Invention Nature's child, fled step-dame's Study's blows;
And others' feet still seemed but strangers' in my way.
Thus great with child to speak,and helpless in my throes;
Biting my trewand pen, beating myself for spite:
"Fool!" said my Muse, "look in thy heart, and write!"
