ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 12 by PHILIP SIDNEY

Cupid, because thou shin'st in Stella's eyes,
That from her locks, thy day-nets, none 'scapes free,
That those lips swell, so full of thee they be,
That her sweet breath makes oft thy flames to rise,
That in her breast thy pap well sugared lies,
That her grace gracious makes thy wrongs, that she,
What words so e'er she speaks, persuades for thee,
That her clear voice lifts thy fame to the skies;
Thou countest Stella thine, like those whose powers,
Having got up a breach by fighting well,
Cry, 'Victory, this fair day all is ours!'
O no, her heart is such a citadel,
So fortified with wit, stored with disdain,
That to win it, is all the skill and pain.

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