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The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania

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

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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]
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Lindamira's Complaint.
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[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]
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PAMPHILIA, TO AMPHILANTHVS.
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A Crowne of Sonnets dedicated to Love.
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4.

Louers learne to speake but truth,
Sweare not, and your oathes forgoe,
Giue your age a constant youth,
Vow no more then what you'le doe.
Thinke it sacriledge to breake
What you promise, shall in loue
And in teares what you doe speake
Forget not, when the ends you proue.
Doe not thinke it glory is
To entice, and then deceiue,
Your chiefe honors lye in this,
By worth what wonne is, not to leaue.
'Tis not for your fame to try,
What we weake, not oft refuse,
In our bounty our faults lye,
When you to doe a fault will chuse.
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Fye leaue this, a greater gaine,
tis to keepe when you haue won,
Then what purchas'd is with paine,
Soone after in all scorne to shun.
For if worthlesse to be priz'd,
Why at first will you it moue?
And if worthy, why dispis'd?
You cannot sweare, and lie, and loue.
Loue alasse you cannot like,
Tis but for a fashion mou'd,
None can chuse, and then dislike,
Vnlesse it be by fashood prou'd.
But your choyce is, and your loue.
How most number to deceiue,
As if honors claime did moue
Like Popish Law, none safe to leaue.
Flye this folly, and returne
Vnto truth in Loue, and try,
None but Martir's happy burne,
More shamefull ends they haue that lye.
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