The Stella of Sydney's poetry, and the Philoclea of his Arcadia, was the Lady Penelope Devereux, the elder sister of the favourite Essex. While yet in her childhood, she was the destined bride of Sydney, and for several years they were considered as almost engaged to each other: it was natural, therefore, at this time, that he should be accustomed to regard her with tenderness and unreproved admiration, and should gratify both by making her the object of his poetical raptures. She was also less openly, but even more ardently, loved by young Charles Blount, afterwards Lord Mountjoy, who seems to have disputed with Sydney the first place in her heart. She is described as a woman of exquisite beauty, on a grand and splendid scale; dark sparkling eyes; pale brown hair; a rich vivid complexion; a regal brow and a noble figure. Sydney tells us that she was at first "most fair, most cold;"--and the beautiful sonnet, "With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb'st the sky![102] How silently, and with how wan a face!" refers to his earlier feelings. He describes a tilting-match, held in presence of the Queen and Court, in which he came off victor-- Having this day my horse, my hand, my lance, Guided so well, that I obtained the prize, &c.[103] "Stella looked on," he says, "and from her fair eyes sent forth the encouraging glance that gave him victory." These soft and brilliant eyes are often and beautifully touched upon; and it must be remarked, never without an allusion to the _modesty_ of their expression. O eyes! that do the spheres of beauty move, Which while they make Love conquer, conquer Love. And on some occasion, when she turned from him bashfully, he addresses her in a most impassioned strain,-- Soul's joy! bend not those morning stars from me, Where virtue is made strong by beauty's might, Where love is chasteness--pain doth learn delight And humbleness doth dwell with majesty: Whatever may ensue, O let me be Copartner of the riches of that sight; Let not mine eyes be hell-driven from that light. O look! O shine! O let me die, and see![104] Another, "To Sleep," is among the most beautiful, and I believe more generally known. Lock up, fair lids! the treasure of my heart! &c. There is also much vivacity and earnest feeling in the lines addressed to one who had lately left the presence of Stella, and of whom he inquires of her welfare. Whoever has known what it is to be separated from those beloved, to ask after them with anxious yet suppressed fondness, of some unsympathising acquaintance, to be alternately tantalised and _desesperé_, by their vague and careless replies, will understand, will feel their truth and beauty. Even the quaint, petulant commencement is true to the sentiment: Be your words made, good Sir, of Indian ware, That you allow me them at so small rate? ....*....*....*....*