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Seccombe and Arber, comps.  Elizabethan Sonnets.  1904.
 
Sonnets and Poetical Translations
XXVII. When, to my deadly pleasure
Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)
 
WHEN, to my deadly pleasure;
When, to my lively torment,
Lady! mine eyes remained
Joined, alas, to your beams.
 
With violence of heav’nly        5
Beauty tied to virtue,
Reason abash’d retired;
Gladly my senses yielded.
 
Gladly my senses yielding,
Thus to betray my heart’s fort;        10
Left me devoid of all life.
 
They to the beamy suns went;
Where by the death of all deaths:
Find to what harm they hastened.
 
Like to the silly Sylvan;        15
Burned by the light he best liked,
When with a fire he first met.
 
Yet, yet, a life to their death,
Lady! you have reservèd!
Lady, the life of all love!        20
 
For though my sense be from me
And I be dead, who want sense;
Yet do we both live in you!
 
Turned anew, by your means,
Unto the flower that aye turns,        25
As you, alas, my sun bends.
 
Thus do I fall to rise thus,
Thus do I die to live thus,
Changed to a change, I change not.
 
Thus may I not be from you!        30
Thus be my senses on you!
Thus what I think is of you!
Thus what I seek is in you!
  All what I am, it is you!
 
 
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