CI. Stella is sick, and in that sick bed lies

Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)

STELLA is sick, and in that sick bed lies

SWEETNESS, which breathes and pants, as oft as she;

And GRACE, sick too, such fine conclusions tries,

That Sickness brags itself best graced to be.

BEAUTY is sick, but sick in such fair guise

That in that paleness BEAUTY’s white we see;

And JOY, which is inseparate from those eyes.

STELLA now learns—strange case!—to weep in thee.

LOVE moves thy pain, and like a faithful page,

As thy looks stir, comes up and down to make

All folks prest at thy will, thy pain to assuage.

Nature with care sweats for her darling’s sake:

Knowing worlds pass ere she enough can find

Of such heaven stuff, to clothe so heavenly a mind.