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Sydney considered those who did not see the stars as causing issues on this world as fools, for great causes great effects procure/and know those bodies high reign on the low. Sydney may be wiser than the modern man, for he considers that there are causes, and reasons, and that we are driven by things […]

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We have a deck to stain and little good weather to do it. We worked until sunset, hence this is up late. Earlier in the day I had seen a photographer taking yet another photo of the Dunedin Railway station, while golden light illumined the statue of justice on the gothic law courts behind him. […]

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A young man in love is useless. An old man, in marriage to his beloved, knows that the contemplation of her eyes and attending his gaze on her is not being useless, but of great value. It is far better to preserve the family than seek great ambition. Our Kings and Rulers will sacrifice our […]

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Sydney knew the trap he had fallen into. Love was not considered sane by the Renaissance English: it was romanticized as a divine madness. You married for alliance to make families, and if lucky your wife became your lover. Unrequited love was fuel to the poet’s fire, a driver of plots for the novelist. We […]

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I do not change the spelling or transliterate this. Last night I was reading John Skelton, who has a simple poem that is quite readable, despite being a hundred years earlier. Skelton is late medieval/early renaissance, and as such, is no prig. Despite being a priest he lusts, knowing that, he doubts is instinct. He […]

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Sydney’s audience knew their Roman mythology. Cupid is the son of Venus and Mars. The conceit is that Stella is cupid’s bow, and she has an infinite amount of ammunition. I am, as usual, not altering the text: this is Elizabethan English Stella and Astrophel XVII His mother deere, Cupid offended late, Because that Mars, […]

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You do not need to have an Elizabethan vocabulary or know that carret is a double pun on the royal hair colour and jewels. You only need to know that Spenser comes from an more ancient, stoic tradtion. He is to be pitied, for love is not a God. It is poison. Stella and AstrophilXVI […]

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I don’t transliterate Stella. It is elizabethan english, the difficulty is the variance in spelling: I am taking the text from Luminarium (as I do for Sunday) and that does not adjust the spelling for modern readers. This is a Petrachian Sonnet: two quatrains and two repeated triplets. However, Stella, is the muse, though she […]

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The trouble with losing your blog data is that you have to consider if you start poetry cycles again. In this case, I have not. I am continuing with the cycle, and in this Sydney makes a fundamental error. He lets his desire cloud his judgment. His friends counseled him: Stella was outside of his […]

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