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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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Sonnet.
  
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A Crowne of Sonnets dedicated to Love.
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554

[This no wonder's of much waight]

This no wonder's of much waight,
'Tis the hell of deepe deceit.
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