Sonnet 55
Muses, I oft invoked your whole ayde,With choisest flowres, my speech t’engarland so,That it disguisde, in true (but naked) show,Might winne some grace in your sweet skill arraide;And oft whole troupes of saddest words I stayde,Striving abroade, a forraging to goe,Untill by your inspiring I might know,How their blacke banners might be best displaid.But now I meane no more your helpe to trye.Nor other sugering of speech to prove,But on her name uncessantly to cry.For let me but name her whom I doe love,So sweete sounde straight my eares and hart doe hit,That I well finde no eloquence like it.
Words in this poem
- winne v. t.
- To gain by superiority in competition or contest; to obtain by victory over competitors or rivals; as, to win the prize in a gate; to win money; to win a battle, or to win a country. [OE. winnen, AS. winnan to strive, labor, fight, endure; akin to OFries. winna, OS. winnan, D. winnen to win, gain, G. gewinnen, OHG. winnan to strive, struggle,]
- untill prep.
- To; unto; towards; -- used of material objects. [OE. until, ontil; un- (as in unto) + til till; cf. Dan. indtil, Sw. intill. See Unto, and Till, prep.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Sonnet 55 is in the public domain. This text is taken from Sir P.S.: His Astrophel and Stella Wherein the excellence of sweete poesie is concluded, Project Gutenberg ebook #56375; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Philip Sidney, Sonnet 55, in Astrophel and Stella (1591), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #56375, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/sidney-astrophel/sonnet-55.html, id L04811.
Form and metre
Sonnet 55 is 14 lines in a single stanza. It rhymes ABBAABBACDCDEE. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 86%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABBAABBACDCDEE aydeA · soB · showB · arraideA · staydeA · goeB · knowB · displaidA · tryeC · proveD · cryC · loveD · hitE · itE
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Muses, I oft invoked your whole ayde, | 10 | /˘··˘/˘··· |
| With choisest flowres, my speech t’engarland so, | 10 | ···/······ |
| That it disguisde, in true (but naked) show, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Might winne some grace in your sweet skill arraide; | 10 | ·········· |
| And oft whole troupes of saddest words I stayde, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Striving abroade, a forraging to goe, | 10 | /˘········ |
| Untill by your inspiring I might know, | 10 | ˘/··˘/˘··· |
| How their blacke banners might be best displaid. | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| But now I meane no more your helpe to trye. | 10 | ·········· |
| Nor other sugering of speech to prove, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| But on her name uncessantly to cry. | 10 | ·········· |
| For let me but name her whom I doe love, | 10 | ·········· |
| So sweete sounde straight my eares and hart doe hit, | 10 | ·········· |
| That I well finde no eloquence like it. | 10 | ·····/˘˘·· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.