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The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania

Written by the right honorable the Lady Mary Wroath

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[Deare Loue, alas, how haue I wronged thee]
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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121

[Deare Loue, alas, how haue I wronged thee]

Deare Loue, alas, how haue I wronged thee,
That ceaselesly thou still dost follow me?
My heart of Diamond cleare, and hard I find,
May yet be pierc'd with one of the same kind,
Which hath in it ingrauen a loue more pure,
Then spotlesse white, and deepe still to endure,
Wrought in with teares of neuer resting paine,
Caru'd with the sharpest point of curs'd disdaine.
Raine oft doth wash away a slender marke,
Teares make mine firmer, and as one small sparke
In straw may make a fier from sparkes of loue
Kindles incessantly in me to moue;
While cruelst you, doe onely pleasure take,
To make me faster ty'd to scornes sharpe stake,
Tis harder, and more strength must vsed be
To shake a tree, then boughes we bending see:
So to moue me it was alone your power
None else could ere haue found a yeelding hower
Curs'd be subiection, yet blest in this sort,
That 'gainst all but one choice, my heart a fort
Hath euer lasted: though beseig'd, not mou'd,
But by their misse my strength the stronger prou'd
Resisting with that constant might, that win
They scarce could parly, much lesse foes get in.
Yet worse then foes your slighnings proue to be,
When careles you no pitie take on me.
Make good my dreames, wherein you kind appeare,
Be to mine eyes, as to my soule, most deare.
From your accustomed strangenesse, at last turne;
An ancient house once fir'd, will quickly burne,
And wast vnhelp'd, my long loue claimes a time
To haue aid granted to this height I clime.
A Diamond pure, and hard, an vnshak't tree
A burning house find helpe, and prize in mee.