XXIX. All my sense thy sweetness gained

Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)

To the tune of a Neapolitan Villanelle

ALL my sense thy sweetness gained;

Thy fair hair my heart enchained;

My poor reason thy words moved,

So that thee, like heaven, I loved.

Fa la la leridan, dan dan dan deridan;

Dan dan dan deridan deridan dei.

While to my mind, the outside stood

For messengers of inward good.

Now thy sweetness sour is deemed,

Thy hair, not worth a hair esteemed,

Reason hath thy words removed,

Finding that but words they proved.

Fa la la leridan, dan dan dan deridan;

Dan dan dan deridan deridan dei.

For no fair sign can credit win,

If that the substance fail within.

No more in thy sweetness, glory!

For thy knitting hair, be sorry!

Use thy words, but to bewail thee!

That no more thy beams avail thee.

Dan, dan, [i.e., Fa la la leridan, &c.]

Dan, dan.

Lay not thy colours more to view!

Without the picture be found true.

Woe to me! alas, she weepeth!

Fool in me! What folly creepeth!

Was I to blaspheme enraged,

Where my soul I have engaged?

Dan, dan,

Dan, dan.

And wretched! I must yield to this;

The fault I blame, her chasteness is.

Sweetness! sweetly pardon folly!

Tie me, hair! your captive wholly!

Words! O words of heavenly knowledge!

Know my words, their faults acknowledge.

Dan, dan,

Dan, dan.

And all my life, I will confess

The less I love, I live the less.