Sir Philip Sidney.
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Sir Philip Sidney (see here and here),
wrote the prose romance
Arcadia
at his sister's house, Wilton 1579-81
(originally called
The countess of Pembroke's Arcadia,
he wrote it just to amuse his sister),
the panels around the Single Cube Room at Wilton represent scenes from Arcadia,
painted in the 17th cent.,
author of Apologie for Poetrie 1581,
the earliest work of English literary criticism,
wrote the sonnet sequence
Astrophel and Stella
("Star Lover and Star")
1582, the first sonnets in English,
Astrophel and Stella has been said to be based on his passion for
his step-1st-cousin
Penelope Devereux
("Astrophil" is "Phil", she is Stella),
Penelope was mar 1581 to
Lord Rich,
and Sonnet 35 says
".. Doth even grow rich, meaning my Stella's name.",
friend of the poet
Edmund Spenser,
who also lived in Ireland (like Sidney's father),
friend of the scientific hero and martyr
Giordano Bruno,
who was in England from 1583 to 1585
(and was later burned at the stake by Rome
for advocating Copernicus' theory that
the earth goes round the sun),
knighted 1583,
mar autumn 1583 to
Frances Walsingham
and had issue:
wounded in Battle of Zutphen,
Netherlands, 22nd Sept 1586,
died at Arnhem, Netherlands,
17th Oct 1586, age 31 yrs (shortly after his father),
his death occasioned a month of mourning in England,
state funeral
at St.Paul's Cathedral
16th Feb 1587, first commoner to receive such a tribute
(not to be repeated until the death of
Nelson
in 1806),
bur St.Paul's Cathedral, London.
See resources
and works.
Although none of his work was published during his life, it circulated in manuscript form
and he was regarded as the greatest writer of his time.
Frances remarried, to Penelope's brother Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex and had issue.
Sir Philip Sidney.
See full size.
From here.
Then she spake; her speech was such,Him to her (Song 1):
So not eares, but hart did tuch:
While such-wise she love denied,
And yet love she signified.Astrophel, sayd she, my love,
Cease, in these effects, to prove;
Now be still, yet still beleeve me,
Thy griefe more than death would grieve me.If that any thought in me
Can taste comfort but of thee,
Let me, fed with hellish anguish,
Joylesse, hopelesse, endlesse languish.If those eyes you praised be
Halfe so deare as you to me,
Let me home returne, starke blinded
Of those eyes, and blinder minded;If to secret of my hart,
I do any wish impart,
Where thou art not formost placed,
Be both wish and I defaced.If more may be sayd, I say,
All my blisse in thee I lay;
If thou love, my love, content thee,
For all love, all faith is meant thee.
Who hath the eyes which marrie state with pleasure,
Who keeps the key of Nature's chiefest treasure,
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only for you the heav'n forgate all measure.Who hath the lips, where wit in fairnesse raigneth,
Who womankind at once both deckes and stayneth,
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only by you Cupid his crowne maintaineth.Who hath the haire, which, loosest, fastest tieth,
Who makes a man live, then glad when he dieth,
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only of you the flatterer never lieth.Who hath the voyce, which soule from sences thunders,
Whose force, but yours, the bolts of beautie thunders,
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only with you not miracles are wonders.Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my breast, oercharg'd, to musick lendeth,
To you, to you, all song of praise is due,
Only in you my song begins and endeth.
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