Wouldst babbling be with sense and love in me;
I rather wished thee climb the Muses' hill,
Or reach the fruit of Nature's choicest tree;
or seek heaven's course, or heaven's inside to see.
Why shouldst thou toil our thorny soil to till?
Leave sense, and those which sense's object be:
Deal thou with powers of thoughts, leave love to will.
But thou wouldst needs fight both with love and sense,
With sword of wit, giving wounds of dispraise,
Till down-right blows did foil thy cunning fence;
For soon as they strake thee with Stella's rays,
reason thou kneel'dst and offeredst straight to prove
by reason good, good reason her to love.
Sir Philip Sidney
No comments:
Post a Comment