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
186

[When I with trembling aske if you loue still]

When I with trembling aske if you loue still,
My soule afflicted lest I giue offence,
Though sensibly discerning my worst ill;
Yet rather then offend, with griefe dispence.
Faintly you say you must; poore recompence
When gratefull loue is force, I see the hill
Which marrs my prospect loue, and Oh from thence
I tast, and take of losse the poison'd pill.
While one coale liues, the rest dead all about
That still is fire: so your loue now burnd out
Tells what you were, though to deceiuing led.
The Sunne in Summer, and in Winter shewes
Like bright, but not like hot, faire false made blowes
You shine on me, but you loues heate is dead.
previous section The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania
next section