1 Goe my flocke, goe get you hence Seeke some other place of feeding, Where you may haue some defence, Fro the stormes in my breast breeding, And showers from mine eyes proceeding. 2 Leaue a wretch in whom all woe Can abide to keepe no measure. Merry flocke such one forgoe, Vnto whom Myrth is displeasure, Onely rich in measures treasure. 3 Yet alas before you goe Heare your wofull Maisters story, Which to stones I else would shew, Sorrow onely then hath glory When tis excellently sorry. 4 Stella, fayrest Shepherdesse, Fayrest but yet cruelst euer, Stella, whom the heau'ns still blesse, Though against me she perseuer, Though I blisse inherit neuer. 5 Stella, hath refused mee : Stella, who more Loue hath proued In this Catiffe hart to be Then can in good to vs be moued Towards Lambe-kins best beloued. 6 Stella, hath refused mee Astrophel, that so well serued, In this pleasant spring ( Muse ) see While in pride Flowers be preseru'd Himselfe onely Winter-starued. 7 Why alas then doth she sweare That she loueth mee so deerely, Seeing mee so long to beare Coales of Loue that burne so cleerely, And yet leaue me hopelesse meerely. 8 Is that Loue ? forsooth I trow If I saw my good Dogge griened And a help for him did know My Loue should not be belieued But hee were by mee relieued. 9 No she hates mee ( well away ) Fayning Loue, somewhat to please mee, Knowing, if she should display All her hate, Death soone would seize me, And of hideous torments ease me. 10 Then my flocke now adew, But alas, if in your straying Heauenly Stella meet with you, Tell her in your pittious blaying, Her poore slaues iust decaying.
Sir Philip Sidney ("Astrophel and Stella", Song No IX)