---

Philip Sidney - Astrophel And Stella-Ninth Song
Work rating: Low

Go, my flock, go get you hence, 
Seek a better place of feeding, 
Where you may have some defence 
From the storms in my breast breeding, 
And showers from my eyes proceeding. 

Leave a wretch, in whom all woe 
Can abide to keep no measure, 
Meyy flock, such one forego, 
Unto whom mirth is displeasure, 
Only rich in mischief`s treasure. 

Yet alas, before you go, 
Hear you woeful master`s story, 
Which to stones I else would show: 
Sorrow only then hath glory 
When `tis excellently sorry. 

Stella, fiercest shepherdess, 
Fiercest but yot fairest ever; 
Stella, whom oh heav`ns do bless, 
Though against me she persever, 
Though I bliss inherit never. 

Stella hath refused me, 
Stella, who more love hath prov`d 
In this caitiff heart to be, 
Than can in good ewes be mov`d 
Toward lambkins best belov`d. 

Stella hath refused me, 
Astrophil, that so well serv`d, 
In this pleasant spring must see, 
While in pride flowers be preserv`d, 
Himself only winter-starv`d. 

Why alas doth she then swear 
That she loveth me so dearly, 
Seeing me so long to bear 
Coals of love that burn`d so clearly; 
And yet leave me helpless merely? 

Is that love? Forsooth, I trow, 
If I saw my good dog griev`d, 
And a help for him did know, 
My love should not be believ`d 
But he were by me reliev`d. 

No, she hates me, wellaway, 
Faining love, somewhat to please me: 
For she knows, if she display 
All her hate, death soon would seize me, 
And of hideous torments ease me. 

Then adieu, dear flock, adieu: 
But alas, if in your straying 
Heav`nly Stella meet with you, 
Tell her in your piteous blaying, 
Her poor slave`s unjust decaying.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.