itself up to look to the sky of poetry, or rather, by a certain
rustical disdain, will become such a Mome, as to be a Momus of
poetry; then, though I will not wish unto you the ass's ears of
Midas, nor to be driven by a poet's verses, as Bubonax was, to hang
himself; nor to be rhymed to death, as is said to be done in
Ireland; yet thus much curse I must send you in the behalf of all
poets; that while you live, you live in love, and never get favour,
for lacking skill of a sonnet; and when you die, your memory die
from the earth for want of an epitaph.




POEMS




POEM: TWO PASTORALS



Made by Sir Philip Sidney, upon his meeting with his two worthy
friends and fellow poets, Sir Edward Dyer and M. Fulke Greville.

Join mates in mirth to me,
Grant pleasure to our meeting;
Let Pan, our good god, see
How grateful is our greeting.
Join hearts and hands, so let it be,