C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
From ‘Astrophel and Stella’
By Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)
D
Which now my breast, surcharged, to music lendeth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
Who keeps the key of Nature’s chiefest treasure!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only for you the heaven forgat all measure.
Who womankind at once both decks and staineth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only by you Cupid his crown maintaineth.
Who else, for whom Fame worthy trumpets wanteth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only to you her sceptre Venus granteth.
Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only through you the tree of life doth flourish.
Who long-dead beauty with increase reneweth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only at you all envy hopeless rueth.
Who makes a man live, then glad when he dieth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only of you the flatterer never lieth.
Whose force, but yours, the bolts of beauty thunders!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only with you not miracles are wonders.
Which now my breast, o’ercharged, to music lendeth!
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.