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    A Defence of Poesie & Poems: 'Who Love can temper thus, Good Lord, deliver us''
    A Defence of Poesie & Poems: 'Who Love can temper thus, Good Lord, deliver us''
    A Defence of Poesie & Poems: 'Who Love can temper thus, Good Lord, deliver us''
    Ebook126 pages2 hours

    A Defence of Poesie & Poems: 'Who Love can temper thus, Good Lord, deliver us''

    By Sir Philip Sidney

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    About this ebook

    Sir Philip Sidney was born on 30th November 1554 at Penshurst Place, Kent. He was educated at Shrewsbury School and Christ Church, Oxford.

    In 1572, at the age of 18, he was elected to Parliament as a Member for Shrewsbury. Despite his domestic commitments Sidney spent the next several years travelling through Germany, Italy, Poland, the Kingdom of Hungary and Austria.

    Returning to England in 1575, Sidney met Penelope Devereux who became the inspiration for his beautiful sonnet sequence ‘Astrophel and Stella’.

    Life now became rather more complicated with his quarrel with Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. The result was that Sidney challenged de Vere to a duel, which Elizabeth then forbade. Sidney wrote a long letter to the Queen explaining the foolishness of her proposed French marriage. Elizabeth bristled at his presumption, and Sidney, realising his error, retired from court.

    His artistic pursuits were more peaceful and more significant for his lasting fame. During the years of absence from court, Sidney wrote the first draft of ‘The Arcadia’ and ‘The Defence of Poesy’.

    Sidney was promoted to General of Horse in 1583, his enthusiasm for the Protestant struggle was now given a free rein when he was appointed governor of Flushing in the Netherlands in 1585. Later that year, he joined Sir John Norris in the Battle of Zutphen, fighting for the Protestant cause against the Spanish. During the battle, he was shot in the thigh.

    Sir Philip Sidney died of gangrene 26 days later, on 17th October 1586 at Arnhem. He was a mere 31 years of age.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPortable Poetry
    Release dateOct 7, 2018
    ISBN9781787802001
    A Defence of Poesie & Poems: 'Who Love can temper thus, Good Lord, deliver us''

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      Book preview

      A Defence of Poesie & Poems - Sir Philip Sidney

      A Defence of Poesie & Poems by Sir Philip Sidney

      Sir Philip Sidney was born on 30th November 1554 at Penshurst Place, Kent.  He was educated at Shrewsbury School and Christ Church, Oxford.

      In 1572, at the age of 18, he was elected to Parliament as a Member for Shrewsbury. Despite his domestic commitments Sidney spent the next several years travelling through Germany, Italy, Poland, the Kingdom of Hungary and Austria.

      Returning to England in 1575, Sidney met Penelope Devereux who became the inspiration for his beautiful sonnet sequence ‘Astrophel and Stella’.

      Life now became rather more complicated with his quarrel with Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford.  The result was that Sidney challenged de Vere to a duel, which Elizabeth then forbade. Sidney wrote a long letter to the Queen explaining the foolishness of her proposed French marriage. Elizabeth bristled at his presumption, and Sidney, realising his error, retired from court.

      His artistic pursuits were more peaceful and more significant for his lasting fame. During the years of absence from court, Sidney wrote the first draft of ‘The Arcadia’ and ‘The Defence of Poesy’.

      Sidney was promoted to General of Horse in 1583, his enthusiasm for the Protestant struggle was now given a free rein when he was appointed governor of Flushing in the Netherlands in 1585.  Later that year, he joined Sir John Norris in the Battle of Zutphen, fighting for the Protestant cause against the Spanish.  During the battle, he was shot in the thigh.

      Sir Philip Sidney died of gangrene 26 days later, on 17th October 1586 at Arnhem.  He was a mere 31 years of age.

      Index of Contents

      A DEFENCE OF POESIE

      POEMS

      TWO PASTORALS

      DISPRAISE OF A COURTLY LIFE

      DIRGE

      STANZAS TO LOVE

      A REMEDY FOR LOVE

      VERSES

      TRANSLATION

      A SONNET BY SIR EDWARD DYER

      SIR PHILIP SIDNEY’S SONNET IN REPLY

      MUST LOVE LAMENT?

      A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO SHEPHERDS

      SONG

      THE SMOKES OF MELANCHOLY

      ODE

      VERSES

      SONG

      TRANSLATION

      SONNETS

      WOOING-STUFF

      SONNETS

      SONG

      A FAREWELL

      THE SEVEN WONDERS OF ENGLAND

      FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN

      SIR PHILIP SIDNEY – A SHORT BIOGRAPHY

      SIR PHILIP SIDNEY – A CONCISE BIBLIOGRAPHY

      THE DEFENCE OF POETRY

      An Apologie For Poetrie

      When the right virtuous Edward Wotton [1] and I were at the Emperor’s court together, we gave ourselves to learn horsemanship of Gio. Pietro Pugliano; one that, with great commendation, had the place of an esquire in his stable; and he, according to the fertileness of the Italian wit, did not only afford us the demonstration of his practice, but sought to enrich our minds with the contemplation therein, which he thought most precious.  But with none, I remember, mine ears were at any time more laden, than when (either angered with slow payment, or moved with our learner-like admiration) he exercised his speech in the praise of his faculty.

      He said, soldiers were the noblest estate of mankind, and horsemen the noblest of soldiers.  He said, they were the masters of war and ornaments of peace, speedy goers, and strong abiders, triumphers both in camps and courts; nay, to so unbelieved a point he proceeded, as that no earthly thing bred such wonder to a prince, as to be a good horseman; skill of government was but a pedanteria in comparison.  Then would he add certain praises by telling what a peerless beast the horse was, the only serviceable courtier, without flattery, the beast of most beauty, faithfulness, courage, and such more, that if I had not been a piece of a logician before I came to him, I think he would have persuaded me to have wished myself a horse.  But thus much, at least, with his no few words, he drove into me, that self love is better than any gilding, to make that seem gorgeous wherein ourselves be parties.

      Wherein, if Pugliano’s strong affection and weak arguments will not satisfy you, I will give you a nearer example of myself, who, I know not by what mischance, in these my not old years and idlest times, having slipped into the title of a poet, am provoked to say something unto you in the defence of that my unelected vocation; which if I handle with more good will than good reasons, bear with me, since the scholar is to be pardoned that followeth the steps of his master.

      And yet I must say, that as I have more just cause to make a pitiful defence of poor poetry, which, from almost the highest estimation of learning, is fallen to be the laughing-stock of children; so have I need to bring some more available proofs, since the former is by no man barred of his deserved credit, whereas the silly latter hath had even the names of philosophers used to the defacing of it, with great danger of civil war among the Muses. [2]

      At first, truly, to all them that, professing learning, inveigh against poetry, may justly be objected, that they go very near to ungratefulness to seek to deface that which, in the noblest nations and languages that are known, hath been the first light-giver to ignorance, and first nurse, whose milk by little and little enabled them to feed afterwards of tougher knowledges.  And will you play the hedgehog, that being received into the den, drove out his host? [3] or rather the vipers, that with their birth kill their parents? [4]

      Let learned Greece, in any of her manifold sciences, be able to show me one book before Musæus, Homer, and Hesiod, all three nothing else but poets.  Nay, let any history he brought that can say any writers were there before them, if they were not men of the same skill, as Orpheus, Linus, and some others are named, who having been the first of that country that made pens deliverers of their knowledge to posterity, may justly challenge to be called their fathers in learning.  For not only in time they had this priority (although in itself antiquity be venerable) but went before them as causes to draw with their charming sweetness the wild untamed wits to an admiration of knowledge.  So as Amphion was said to move stones with his poetry to build Thebes, and Orpheus to be listened to by beasts, indeed, stony and beastly people, so among the Romans were Livius Andronicus, and Ennius; so in the Italian language, the first that made it to aspire to be a treasure-house of science, were the poets Dante, Boccace, and Petrarch; so in our English were Gower and Chaucer; after whom, encouraged and delighted with their excellent foregoing, others have followed to beautify our mother tongue, as well in the same kind as other arts.

      This [5] did so notably show itself that the philosophers of Greece durst not a long time appear to the world but under the mask of poets; so Thales, Empedocles, and Parmenides sang their natural philosophy in verses; so did Pythagoras and Phocylides their moral counsels; so did Tyrtæus in war matters; and Solon in matters of policy; or rather they, being poets, did exercise their delightful vein in those points of highest knowledge, which before them lay hidden to the world; for that wise Solon was directly a poet it is manifest, having written in verse the notable fable of the Atlantic Island, which was continued by Plato. [6]  And, truly, even Plato, whosoever well considereth shall find that in the body of his work, though the inside and strength were philosophy, the skin, as it were, and beauty depended most of poetry.  For all stands upon dialogues; wherein he feigns many honest burgesses of Athens speaking of such matters that if they had been set on the rack they would never have confessed them; besides, his poetical describing the circumstances of their meetings, as the well-ordering of a banquet, the delicacy of a walk, with interlacing mere tiles, as Gyges’s Ring, [7] and others; which, who knows not to be flowers of poetry, did never walk into Apollo’s garden.

      And [8] even historiographers, although their lips sound of things done, and verity be written in their foreheads, have been glad to borrow both fashion and, perchance, weight of the poets; so Herodotus entitled the books of his history by the names of the Nine Muses; and both he, and all the rest that followed him, either stole or usurped, of poetry, their passionate describing of passions, the many particularities of battles which no man could affirm; or, if that be denied me, long orations, put in the months of great kings and captains, which it is certain they never pronounced.

      So that, truly, neither philosopher nor historiographer could, at the first, have entered into the gates of popular judgments, if they had not taken a great disport of poetry; which in all nations, at this day, where learning flourisheth not, is plain to be seen; in all which they have some feeling of poetry.  In Turkey, besides their lawgiving divines they have no other writers but poets.  In our neighbour-country Ireland, where, too, learning goes very bare, yet are their poets held in a devout reverence.  Even among the most barbarous and simple Indians, where no writing is, yet have

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