Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. I. Early Poetry: Chaucer to Donne

Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)

Two Sonnets

THOU blind man’s mark, thou fool’s self-chosen snare,

Fond fancy’s scum, and dregs of scattered thought:

Band of all evils; cradle of causeless care;

Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought:

Desire! Desire! I have too dearly bought,

With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware;

Too long, too long, asleep thou hast me brought,

Who should my mind to higher things prepare.

But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought;

In vain thou mad’st me to vain things aspire;

In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire;

For Virtue hath this better lesson taught,—

Within myself to seek my only hire,

Desiring nought but how to kill Desire.

LEAVE me, O Love, which reachest but to dust;

And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things;

Grow rich in that which never taketh rust;

Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.

Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might

To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be;

Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light,

That doth both shine, and give us sight to see.

O take fast hold; let that light be thy guide

In this small course which birth draws out to death,

And think how ill becometh him to slide,

Who seeketh heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.

Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see:

Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me!