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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519348" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Astrophel and Stella: XXIII</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=519348" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness<br> Bewray itself in my long-settl'd eyes,<br> Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise,<br> With idle pains and missing aim do guess.<br> Some, that know how my spring I did address,<br> Deem that my Muse some fruit of knowledge plies;<br> Others, because the prince my service tries,<br> Think that I think state errors to redress;<br> But harder judges judge ambition's rage--<br> Scourge of itself, still climbing slipp'ry place--<br> Holds my young brain captiv'd in golden cage.<br> O fool or over-wise! alas, the race<br> Of all my thoughts hath neither stop nor start<br> But only Stella's eyes and Stella's heart.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Philip+Sidney">Philip Sidney</a></strong></div>

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