LXX. My Muse may well grudge at my heavenly joy

Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)

MY Muse may well grudge at my heavenly joy,

If still I force her in sad rhymes to creep;

She oft hath drunk my tears, now hopes t’enjoy

Nectar of mirth, since I, JOVE’s cup do keep.

Sonnets be not bound ’prentice to ANNOY:

Trebles sing high, as well as basses deep:

Grief, but LOVE’s winter livery is: the boy

Hath cheeks to smile as well as eyes to weep.

Come then, my Muse! show thou height of delight

In well-raised notes: my pen, the best it may

Shall paint out joy, though but in black and white.

“Cease! eager Muse!” “Peace! pen! For my sake, stay!”

I give you here my hand for truth of this:

“Wise silence is best music unto bliss.”