The Poetry Corner

Astrophel and Stella - Sonnet XLV

By Philip Sidney (Sir)

Stella oft sees the very face of wo Painted in my beclowded stormie face, But cannot skill to pitie my disgrace, Not though thereof the cause herself she know: Yet, hearing late a fable which did show Of louers neuer knowne, a grieuous case, Pitie thereof gate in her breast such place, That, from that sea deriu'd, teares spring did flow. Alas, if Fancie, drawne by imag'd things Though false, yet with free scope, more grace doth breed Than seruants wracke, where new doubts honour brings; Then thinke, my deare, that you in me do reed Of louers ruine some thrise-sad tragedie. I am not I: pitie the tale of me.