Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Astrophel and StellaXCIII. O fate! O fault! O curse! child of my bliss!
Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)O
What sobs can give words grace my grief to show?
What ink is black enough to paint my woe?
Through me, wretched me! even S
Yet T
Witness with me, that my foul stumbling so
From carelessness did in no manner grow;
But wit confused with too much care, did miss.
And do I then myself this vain ’scuse give?
I have (live I, and know this!) harmèd thee!
Though worlds quite me, shall I me self forgive?
Only with pains, my pains thus eased be,
That all thy hurts in my heart’s rack I read:
I cry thy sighs, my Dear! thy tears I bleed.