Sir Philip Sidney(1554–1586)
Sonnet 1
Loving in truth, and fain 0 in verse my love to show,eager
That she dear she might take some pleasure of my pain,
Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain,
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe:
Studying inventions7 fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburned brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay;support
Invention, Nature's child, fled stepdame Study's blows;
And others' feet8 still seemed but strangers in my way.
Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes,9
Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite:
"Fool, said my Muse1 to me, "look in thy heart, and write.