Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Astrophel and StellaXLVIII. Soul’s joy! bend not those morning stars from me!
Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)S
Where Virtue is made strong by Beauty’s might,
Where Love is Chasteness, Pain doth learn Delight,
And Humbleness grows one with Majesty:
Whatever may ensue, O let me be
Co-partner of the riches of that sight!
Let not mine eyes be hell-driven from that light!
O look! O shine! O let me die and see!
For though I oft myself of them bemoan,
That through my heart their beamy darts be gone;
Whose cureless wounds, even now, most freshly bleed:
Yet since my death wound is already got;
Dear Killer! spare not thy sweet cruel shot!
A kind of grace it is, to slay with speed.