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The Works Ofsr. Philip Sidneyin Prose and Verse
The Works Ofsr Philip Sidneyin Prose and Verse Author:Philip Sidney General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1724 Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million book... more »s for free. Excerpt: Did wifdom this our wretched time efpy In one true cheft to rob all virtue's treafure ? lour doleful tunes fweet Mufes now apply . 'And if that any counfel you to meafure Your doleful tunes, to them ftill plaining fay, To well felt grief plaint is the only pleafure. - O light of fun, which is intitled day : O well thou doft that thou no longer bideft; For mourning night her black weeds may dif- play. O Pfalw with good caufe thy face thou hideft, Rather than have thy all beholding eye Foul'd with this fight, while thou thy chariot guideft, And well (methinks becomes this vaulty sky A ftately tomb to cover him deceafed. Your doleful tunes fweet Mufes now apply. O Philomela with thy breaft opprefled By fhame and grief, help, help me to lament Such curfed harms as cannot be redrefled. Or if thy mourning notes be fully fpent, Then give a quiet ear unto my plaining : For I to teach the world complaint am bent. You dimmy clouds, which well employ your ftain- This chearful air with your obfcured chear, Witnefs your woful tears with daily raining. And if, O fun, thou ever didft appear, In fhape, which by man's eye might be perceived : Virtue is dead, now fet thy triumph here. Now fet thy triumph in this world, bereaved Of what was good, where now no good doth lie : And by the pomp our lofs will be conceived, O notes of mine, your felves together tie : With too much grief methinks you are diffolved. Your dolefuj tunes fweet Mufes now apply. Time ever old, and young it ftill revolved Within it's felf, and never tafted end : But mankind is for aye to nought refolved, The filt...« less