YOU knew—who knew not Astrophel? | |
| That I should live to say I knew, | |
| And have not in possession still!— | |
| Things known permit me to renew. | |
| Of him you know his merit such | 5 |
| I cannot say—you hear—too much. | |
| |
| Within these woods of Arcady | |
| He chief delight and pleasure took; | |
| And on the mountain Partheny, | |
| Upon the crystal liquid brook, | 10 |
| The muses met him every day,— | |
| Taught him to sing, and write, and say. | |
| |
| When he descended down the mount | |
| His personage seemed most divine; | |
| A thousand graces one might count | 15 |
| Upon his lovely, cheerful eyne. | |
| To hear him speak, and see him smile, | |
| You were in Paradise the while. | |
| |
| A sweet, attractive kind of grace; | |
| A full assurance given by looks; | 20 |
| Continual comfort in a face; | |
| The lineaments of gospel books; | |
| I trow that countenance cannot lie | |
| Whose thoughts are legible in the eye. | |
| |
| Above all others this is he | 25 |
| Who erst approvèd in his song | |
| That love and honor might agree, | |
| And that pure love will do no wrong. | |
| Sweet saints, it is no sin or blame | |
| To love a man of virtuous name. | 30 |
| |
| Did never love so sweetly breathe | |
| In any mortal breast before; | |
| Did never muse inspire beneath | |
| A poet’s brain with finer store. | |
| He wrote of love with high conceit, | 35 |
| And beauty reared above her height. | |
| |
