Some have too much, yet still do crave;

I little have, and seek no more :

They are but poor, though much they have;
And I am rich with little store :

They poor, I rich; they beg, I give ;
They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.
I laugh not at another's loss,

I grudge not at another's gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss ;
My state at one doth still remain :
I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.

Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
Their wisdom by their rage of will;
Their treasure is their only trust,

A cloaked craft their store of skill:
But all the pleasure that I find
Is to maintain a quiet mind.

My wealth is health and perfect ease;
My conscience clear my chief defence,
I neither seek by bribes to please
Nor by deceit to breed offence.
Thus do I live; thus will I die :
Would all did so as well as I!

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.

1554-1586.

HEART AND SOUL.

O Fair! O Sweet! when I do look on thee

In whom all joys so well agree,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

This you hear is not my tongue Which once said what I conceived: For it was of use bereavèd,

With a cruel answer stung.

No! though tongue to roof be cleaved,
Fearing lest he chastised be,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

O Fair! O Sweet! when I do look on thee In whom all joys so well agree,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

Just accord all music makes :
In thee just accord excelleth,
Where each part in such peace dwelleth
One of other beauty takes.

Since then truth to all minds telleth
That in thee lives harmony,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

O Fair! O Sweet! when I do look on thee In whom all joys so well agree,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

They that heaven have known do say

That whoso this grace obtaineth,

To see what fair sight there reigneth,
Forced are to sing alway:

So then since that heaven remaineth
In thy face I plainly see,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

O Fair! O Sweet! when I do look on thee In whom all joys so well agree,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

Sweet! think not I am at ease

For because my chief part singeth:
This song from death-sorrow springeth,
As from swan in last disease:
For no dumbness nor death bringeth
Stay to true love's melody,

Heart and soul do sing in me.

THE MEETING.

In a grove, most rich of shade,
Where birds wanton music made,

May, then young, his pied weeds showing,
New-perfumed with flowers fresh growing,

Astrophel with Stella sweet

Did for mutual comfort meet,
Both within themselves oppressed,
But each in the other blessed.

Him great harms had taught much care,
Her fair neck a foul yoke bare ;
But her sight his cares did banish,
In his sight her yoke did vanish.

Wept they had, alas the while!
But now tears themselves did smile,
While their eyes, by love directed,
Interchangeably reflected.

Sigh they did but now betwixt
Sighs of woes were glad sighs mix'd;
With arms cross'd, yet testifying
Restless rest, and living dying.

Their ears hungry of each word
Which the dear tongue would afford,
But their tongues restrain'd from walking
Till their hearts had ended talking.

But, when their tongues could not speak,

Love itself did silence break;

Love did set his lips asunder,

Thus to speak in love and wonder.

Stella! sovereign of my joy,

Fair triumpher of annoy!

Stella, star of heavenly fire!
Stella, loadstar of desire!

Stella, in whose shining eyes
Are the lights of Cupid's skies,

Whose beams, where they once are darted,
Love therewith is straight imparted!

Stella, whose voice, when it speaks,
Senses all asunder breaks !

Stella, whose voice, when it singeth,
Angels to acquaintance bringeth!

Stella, in whose body is

Writ each character of bliss ;
Whose face all all beauty passeth,
Save thy mind, which yet surpasseth!

Grant, O grant,—but speech, alas!
Fails me, fearing on to pass;
Grant,-O me! what am I saying?
But no fault there is in praying :

Grant-O Dear! on knees I pray,
(Knees on ground he then did stay),
That, not I, but since I love you,

Time and place for me may move you.

Never season was more fit;

Never room more apt for it ;

Smiling air allows my reason;

These birds sing-" Now use the season!"

This small wind, which so sweet is,

See how it the leaves doth kiss!

Each tree in its best attiring,
Sense of love to love inspiring.

Love makes earth the water drink;
Love to earth makes water sink;

And, if dumb things be so witty,
Shall a heavenly grace want pity?

There his hands, in their speech, fain
Would have made tongue's language plain;
But her hands, his hands repelling,

Gave repulse all grace excelling.

Then she spake

her speech was such

As not ears but heart did touch;
While such wise she love denied
As yet love she signifièd.

Astrophel! said she,-my love
Cease in these effects to prove !
Now be still! yet still believe me,

Thy grief more than death would grieve me.

If that any thought in me

Can taste comfort but of thee,

Let me, fed with hellish anguish,

Joyless, hopeless, endless languish !

If those eyes you praisèd be
Half so dear as you to me,

Let me home return stark-blinded

Of those eyes, and blinder-minded!

If to secret of my heart

I do any wish impart

Where thou art not foremost placed,
Be both wish and I defacèd!

If more may be said, I say ;
All my bliss in thee I lay :
If thou love, my love content thee!
For all love, all faith is meant thee.

Trust me, while I thee deny,
In myself the smart I try;