Astrophil and Stella, Sonnet 99

When far spent night persuades each mortal eye,
To whom nor art nor nature granteth light,
To lay his then mark-wanting shafts of sight,
Closed with their quivers, in sleep’s armoury;
With windows ope then most my mind doth lie,
Viewing the shape of darkness and delight,
Takes in that sad hue, which with the inward night
Of his mazed powers keeps perfect harmony.
But when birds charm, and that sweet air, which is
Morn’s messenger, with rose-enameled skies,
Calls each wight to salute the flower of bliss:
In tomb of lids then buried are mine eyes,
Forced by their lord, who is ashamed to find
Such light in sense, with such a darkened mind.

I suggest you click here to open the sonnet in a separate window, so that you can refer directly to it as you read on through the analysis.

Reading note: in the phrase “mazed powers” (line 8) each word is a single syllable, and since “mazed” is a bit of a mouthful for an unstressed syllable, we should slow down for a spondee in that foot.

This poem is an elaboration on the final three lines of the previous one, with night and dawn here more neatly and evenly divided between octave and sestet. In the octave the conceit of “darting” eyes—eyes as arrows—so often applied to Stella in this sonnet sequence, is used more generically for all mortals looking about. Since these arrows (“shafts”) lack a target (“want” a “mark”) when all is dark, they should be locked up in the “armoury” of sleep. But, as he said in the previous sonnet, the speaker has got it backwards. His eyes are “windows” rather than arrows, and he keeps them open to the night because its darkness is in “perfect harmony” with his own “inward night” of melancholic thoughts. The “mazeful solitariness” of Sonnet 96 returns as “mazed powers” here, with the same double meaning.

With the fulcrum—in the conventional place, after the octave—dawn comes, and again the speaker has it backwards, as he indicated in the final lines of the previous sonnet. In a more leisurely full sestet, he spells out for three lines the “normal” response to the dawn (“each wight” is called “to salute the flower of bliss”); and for the final three lines, his own perverse behavior: to at last close his eyes, blocking the light to his “darkened mind.” (In the final line, “sense,” as in the sense of sight, is the antithesis of “mind.”) Thus ends what we might understand as a single night of misery spread out over the last four sonnets.

Next time (weekend of April 29): Sonnet 100
Jonathan Smith is Emeritus Professor of English at Hanover College, Hanover, Indiana.  

Astrophil and Stella, Sonnet 90

Stella, think not that I by verse seek fame,
Who seek, who hope, who love, who live but thee;
Thine eyes my pride, thy lips mine history;
If thou praise not, all other praise is shame.
Nor so ambitious am I as to frame
A nest for my young praise in laurel tree;
In truth, I swear, I wish not there should be
Graved in mine epitaph a poet’s name.
Ne if I would, could I just title make,
That any laud to me thereof should grow,
Without my plumes from others’ wings I take.
For nothing from my wit or will doth flow,
Since all my words thy beauty doth endite,
And love doth hold my hand, and makes me write.

I suggest you click here to open the sonnet in a separate window, so that you can refer directly to it as you read on through the analysis.

Reading note: “Ne” at the start of line 9 is pronounced to rhyme with “key,” and since it simply means “nor,” there is no pause after it.

Every once in a while, there is a pause in the “story,” for the poet/speaker to remind us of the premise underlying the entire sonnet sequence. That is the case here, in a very conventional sonnet, following the sequence’s most predictable form: an Italian sonnet rhymed ABBAABBACDCDEE, the most common scheme (60 times) in the sequence. There are full end-stops at the expected places, after line 8 (separating octave from sestet) and line 11 (splitting the sestet into two tercets).

Artifice is valued positively by Renaissance poets, and Sidney is a master of artifice. We have also been told from time to time in the sequence that others read his sonnets and apparently admire them, if not the infatuation that inspires them. So the octave here—in this most artificial of sonnets—dismisses the plausible notion that the poet celebrates Stella only to gain fame for his art. The images of fame are also the most conventional: critical acclaim by readers (the first quatrain maintains that Stella is the only reader who counts), the classical laurel-leaf crown from which the phrase “poet laureate” derives, or the designation of “poet” on one’s gravestone (which anticipates the honor of being recognized in the “Poets’ Corner” of Westminster Abbey, though Chaucer occupied the space in lonely splendor as Sidney wrote).

The fulcrum comes at the predictable spot, and the sestet moves in the direction of what he might be famous for as a poet, and that is that he does not fly on “others’ wings,” i.e., steal from other poets—as he asserted repeatedly in the early sonnets. There is no need for that (the final tercet tells us), but paradoxically he does not rely on his own “wit or will” either. As we have known since the final line of the first sonnet, it is Stella’s beauty and his own love that inspires this poetry and makes it worthy of praise.

Next time (weekend of December 25): Sonnet 91
Jonathan Smith is Emeritus Professor of English at Hanover College, Hanover, Indiana.              

Astrophil and Stella, Sonnet 89

Now that of absence the most irksome night,
With darkest shade doth overcome my day;
Since Stella’s eyes, wont to give me my day,
Leaving my hemisphere, leave me in night;
Each day seems long, and longs for long-stayed night;
The night as tedious, woos the approach of day;
Tired with the dusty toils of busy day,
Languished with horrors of the silent night,
Suffering the ills both of the day and night,
While no night is more dark than is my day,
Nor no day hath less quiet than my night;
With such bad mixture of my night and day,
That living thus in blackest winter night,
I feel the flames of hottest summer day.

I suggest you click here to open the sonnet in a separate window, so that you can refer directly to it as you read on through the analysis.

Reading notes: “tedious” in line 6 and “suffering” in line 9 are both two syllables; and “the approach” in line 6 is elided to “th’approach.”

The third of three “absence” sonnets, this one is unique among Sidney’s rhyme schemes in that only two words, “night” and “day,” are rhymed throughout. This is a characteristic merging of sound and sense because the poem is about the tiresome repetition of nights and days passing without Stella.

The idea of “absence” as something that obscures the light for which Stella is named—mentioned briefly in line 6 of the previous sonnet—here moves into a full discussion of day vs. night. The first quatrain picks up the theme of Sonnet 88, and it sounds as if we might still just be discussing the “night” of absence, but the main clause has been suspended until line 5: “Each day seems long, and longs for long-stayed night.” With one of his classic antanaclases, Sidney changes direction, suggesting the night is actually something to be desired. But quickly, within another line, we learn that no, neither is desirable, as each is just the tedious waiting for the other; time just needs to pass for the solitary lover.

At this point, just six lines in, all sense of Italian sonnet structure is gone—“the numbers altered,” as Malvolio would say. A new complex sentence begins in line 7, and does not reach its main clause until line 14; and it is just a repetitive and deliberately uninteresting alternation between the woes of day and those of night. It culminates in the final two lines by suggesting the speaker has the worst of each: a “winter night” (when nights are coldest and darkest) and a “summer day” (when days are hottest), each of course being when nights and days are longest, the real point of the poem.

Next time (weekend of December 11): Sonnet 90
Jonathan Smith is Emeritus Professor of English at Hanover College, Hanover, Indiana.