University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania

Written by the right honorable the Lady Mary Wroath
Wroth, Mary (ca. 1586-ca. 1640)

collapse section 
[section]
collapse section 
Urania
  
[Vnseene, vnknowne, I here alone complaine]
  
[Here all alone in silence might I mourne]
  
[Heart drops distilling like a new cut-vine]
  
[Adieu sweet Sun]
  
[Beare part with me most straight and pleasant Tree]
  
[My thoughts thou hast supported without rest]
  
[Drowne me not you cruell teares]
  
[The Sunne hath no long iourney now to goe]
  
[Sweete solitarines, ioy to those hearts]
  
[Deare Loue, alas, how haue I wronged thee]
  
[Stay mine eyes, these floods of teares]
  
[Deare, how doe thy winning eyes]
  
[Loue what art thou? A vaine thought]
  
[Who can blame me if I loue?]
  
[Pray thee Diana tell mee, is it ill]
  
[Teares some times flow from mirth, as well as sorrow]
  
[How doe I finde my soules extreamest anguish]
  
[Gone is my ioy, while here I mourne]
  
[When I with trembling aske if you loue still]
  
[You powers diuine of loue-commanding eyes]
  
[You pure and holy fire]
  
[Loue peruse me, seeke, and finde]
  
[From victory in loue I now am come]
  
[I who doe feele the highest part of griefe]
  
[Blame me not dearest, though grieued for your sake]
  
[Loue among the clouds did houer]
  
[Infernall Spirits listen to my moanes]
  
[The ioy yon say the Heauens in motion trie]
  
[As these drops fall: so Hope drops now on me]
  
[You, who ending neuer saw]
  
[Cruell Remembrance alas now be still]
  
[Vnquiet griefe, search further in my heart]
  
[Losse my molester at last patient be]
  
[O that I might but now as senselesse bee]
  
[Deare, though vnconstant, these I send to you]
  
[Why doe you so much wish for raine, when I]
collapse section 
Lindamira's Complaint.
 1. 
1.
 2. 
2.
 3. 
3.
 4. 
4.
 6. 
6
 7. 
7
  
[From a long way, and Pilgrimage for Loue]
  
[Did I boast of liberty?]
  
[Loue farewell I now discouer]
  
[Faithfull louers keepe from hence]
  
[Egypts Pyramid's inclose their Kings]
  
[If a cleere fountaine still keeping a sad course]
  
[That which to some their wishes ends present]
  
[Fond aged man, why doe you on me gaze]
  
[A Sheephard who no care did take.]
  
[Rise, rise from sluggishnes, fly fast my Deere]
  
[Haue I lost my liberty]
  
[Loue growne proud with victory]
  
[This no wonder's of much waight]
collapse section 
PAMPHILIA, TO AMPHILANTHVS.
 1. 
1
 2. 
2
 3. 
3
 4. 
4
 5. 
5
 6. 
6
  
Song. 1.
 7. 
7
 8. 
8.
 9. 
9.
 10. 
10.
 11. 
11.
 12. 
12.
  
Song. 2.
 13. 
13.
 14. 
14.
 15. 
15.
 16. 
16.
 17. 
17.
 18. 
18.
  
Song. 3.
 19. 
19.
 20. 
20.
 21. 
21.
 22. 
22.
 23. 
23.
 24. 
24.
  
Song. 4.
 25. 
25.
 26. 
26.
 27. 
27.
 28. 
28.
 29. 
29.
 30. 
30.
  
Song. 5.
 31. 
31.
 32. 
32.
 33. 
33.
 34. 
34.
 35. 
35.
 36. 
36.
  
Song. 6.
 37. 
37.
 38. 
38.
 39. 
39.
 40. 
40.
 41. 
41.
 42. 
42.
  
Song. 7.
 43. 
43.
 44. 
44.
 45. 
45.
 46. 
46.
 47. 
47.
 48. 
48.
  
Sonnet.
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
Song.
collapse section 
[section]
 1. 
Sonnet. 1.
 2. 
2.
 3. 
3.
 4. 
4.
 5. 
5.
 6. 
6.
 7. 
7.
 8. 
8.
 9. 
9.
  
Song.
  
Song.
  
[section]
collapse section 
A Crowne of Sonnets dedicated to Love.
 1. 
1
 2. 
2.
 3. 
3.
 4. 
4.
 5. 
5.
 6. 
6.
 7. 
7.
 8. 
8.
 9. 
9.
 10. 
10.
 11. 
11.
 12. 
12.
 13. 
13.
 14. 
14.
collapse section 
Song. 1.
 1. 
[subsection]
 3. 
3.
 4. 
4.
collapse section 
[section]
 1. 
1.
 2. 
2.
 3. 
3.
 4. 
4.
 5. 
5.
 6. 
6.
 7. 
7.
 8. 
8.
 9. 
9.

collapse section Collapse All | Expand All expand section
previous section The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania
next section

Song.

I that am of all most crost,
Hauing, and that had haue lost,
May with reason thus complaine,
Since loue breeds loue, and Loues paine.
That which I did most desire,
To allay my louing fire,
I may haue, yet now must misse,
Since another Ruler is.
Would that I no Ruler had,
Or the seruice not so bad,
Then might I with blisse enioy
That which now my hopes destroy.
And that wicked pleasure got,
Brings with it the sweetest lot:
I that must not taste the best,
Fed, must starue, and restlesse rest.
previous section The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania
next section