Astrophil and
Stella, Sonnet
105
Unhappy sight, and hath she vanished by,
So near,
in so good time, so free a
place?
Dead
glass, dost thou thy object so
embrace
As what my heart still sees, thou canst not spy?
I swear by her I love and lack, that I
Was not
in fault, who bent thy
dazzling race
Only
unto the heaven of
Stella’s face,
Counting but dust what in the way did lie.
But
cease, mine eyes, your tears do
witness well
That you, guiltless thereof, your nectar missed.
Cursed be the page from whom the bad torch fell,
Cursed be the night which did your strife resist,
Cursed be
the coachman which
did drive so fast,
With no
worse curse than absence
makes me taste.