A Crown of Sonnets Dedicated to Love

by Lady Mary Wroth

In this strange Labyrinth how shall I turne,
Wayes are on all sids while the way I misse:
If to the right hand, there, in love I burne,
Let mee goe forward, therein danger is.
If to the left, suspition hinders blisse;
Let mee turne back, shame cryes I ought returne:
Nor faint, though crosses my fortunes kiss,
Stand still is harder, allthough sure to mourne.
Thus let mee take the right, or left hand way,
Goe forward, or stand still, or back retire:
I must these doubts indure without allay
Or helpe, but trauell finde for my best hire.
Yet that which most my troubled sense doth move,
Is to leave all, and take the threed of Love.

Is to leave all, and take the threed of Love,
Which line straite leades unto the soules content,
Where choice delights with pleasures wings doe move,
And idle fant'sie neuer roome had lent.
When chaste thoughts guide us, then our minds are bent
To take that good which ills from us remove:
Light of true love brings fruite which none repent;
But constant Lovers seeke and wish to prove.
Love is the shining Starre of blessings light,
The fervent fire of zeale, the roote of peace,
The lasting lampe, fed with the oyle of right,
Image of Faith, and wombe for ioyes increase.
Love is true Vertue, and his ends delight,
His flames are joyes, his bands true Lovers might.

His flames are joyes, his bandes true Lovers might,
No stain is there, but pure, as purest white,
Where no cloud can appaere to dimme his light,
Nor spot defile, but shame will soon requite.
Heere are affections, tryde by Loves just might
As Gold by fire, and black discern'd by white;
Error by truth, and darknes knowne by light,
Where Faith is vallu'd, for Love to requite.
Please him, and serve him, glory in his might
And firme hee'le be, as Innocency white,
Cleere as th'ayre, warme as Sun's beames, as day light
Just as Truth, constant as Fate, joy'd to requite.
Then love obey, strive to observe his might
And be in his brave Court a glorious light.

And be in his brave Court a glorious light
Shine in the eyes of Faith, and Constancy
Maintaine the fires of Love, still burning bright,
Not slightly sparkling, but light flaming be.
Never to slake till earth no Starres can see,
Till Sun, and Moone doe leave to us darke night,
And secound Chaos once againe doe free
Us, and the World from all devisions spight,
Till then affections which his followers are,
Governe our hearts, and proove his powers gaine,
To taste this pleasing sting, seeke with all care
For happy smarting is it with small paine.
Such as although it pierce your tender heart,
And burne, yet burning you will love the smart.

And burne, yet burning you will love the smart,
When you shall feele the waight of true desire,
So pleasing, as you would not wish your part
Of burthen showld be missing from that fire.
But faithfull and unfaigned heate aspire
Which sinne abollisheth, and doth impart
Salves to all feare, with vertues which inspire
Soules with divine love; which showes his chaste art.
And guide he is to joyings, open eyes
He hath to happinesse, and best can learne
Us, meanes how to deserve, this he descries,
Who blinde, yet doth our hiden'st thoughts discerne.
Thus we may gaine since living in blest Love,
He may our profitt, and our Tutor proove.

He may our Prophett, and our Tutor proove,
In whom alone we doe this power finde,
To joine two hearts as in one frame to moove
Two bodies, but one soule to rule the minde
Eyes which must care to one deare Object binde,
Eares to each others speach as if above
All else, they sweete, and learned were; this kind
Content of Lovers witnesseth true love.
It doth inrich the wits, and make you see
That in your selfe which you knew not before,
Forceing you to admire such guifts showld be
Hid from your knowledge, yet in you the store.
Millions of these adorne the throane of Love,
How blest bee they then, who his favours prove?

How bless'd bee they, then, who his favors prove,
A life whereof the birth is just desire?
Breeding sweete flame, which harts inuite to move,
In these lov'd eyes which kindle Cupids fire,
And nurse his longings with his thoughts intire,
Fix't on the heat of wishes form'd by Love,
Yet whereas fire destroyes, this doth aspire,
Increase, and foster all delights above.
Love will a Painter make you, such, as you
Shall able be to draw, your onely deare,
More lively, perfect, lasting, and more true
Then rarest Workeman, and to you more neere.
These be the least, then all must needs confesse,
He that shuns Love, doth love himselfe the lesse.

He that shuns Love, doth love himselfe the lesse,
And cursed he whose spirit, not admires
The worth of Love, where endlesse blessednes
Raignes, & commands, maintain'd by heav'nly fires.
Made of Vertue, joyn'd by Truth, blowne by Desires,
Strengthned by Worth, renew'd by carefulnesse,
Flaming in never changing thoughts: bryers
Of Jealousie shall heere misse welcomnesse.
Nor coldly passe in the pursutes of Love
Like one long frozen in a Sea of ice:
And yet but chastly let your passions moove,
No thought from vertuous Love your minds intice.
Never to other ends your Phant'sies place,
But where they may returne with honor's grace.

But where they may returne with Honor's grace,
Where Venus follies can no harbour winne,
But chased are, as worthlesse of the face,
Or stile of Love, who hath lasciuious beene.
Our hearts are subiect to her Sonne; where sinne
Never did dwell, or rest one minutes space;
What faults he hath in her did still beginne,
And from her breast he suck'd his fleeting pace.
If Lust be counted Love 'tis falsely nam'd,
By wickednesse, a fairer glosse to set
Upon that Vice, which else makes men asham'd
In the owne Phrase to warrant, but beget
This Childe for Love, who ought like Monster borne
Bee from the Court of Love, and Reason torne.

Bee from the Court of Love, and Reason torne,
For Love in Reason now doth put his trust,
Desert, and liking are together borne
Children of Love, and Reason, Parents just,
Reason adviser is, Love ruler must
Be of the State, which Crowne he long hath worne;
Yet so, as neither will in least mistrust
The government where no feare is of scorn.
Then reverence both their mights thus made of one,
But wantonesse, and all those errors shun,
Which wrongers be, Impostures, and alone
Maintainers of all follies ill begunne.
Fruit of a sowre, and unwholsome grownd
Unprofitably pleasing, and unsound.

Unprofitably pleasing, and unsound.
When Heaven gave liberty to fraile dull earth,
To bringe foorth plenty that in ills abound,
Which ripest, yet doe bring a certaine dearth.
A timelesse, and unseasonable birth,
Planted in ill, in worse time springing found,
Which Hemlocke like might feed a sicke-wits mirth
Where unrul'd vapours swimme in endlesse round.
Then joy we not in what we ought to shunne,
Where shady pleasures shew, but true borne fires
Are quite quench'd out, or by poore ashes won,
Awhile to keepe those coole, and wann desires.
O no, let Love his glory have, and might
Be giv'n to him, who triumphs in his right.

Be giv'n to him who triumphs in his right;
Nor fading be, but like those blossomes faire,
Which fall for good, and lose their colours bright,
Yet dye not, but with fruit their losse repaire:
So may Love make you pale with loving care,
When sweet enjoying shall restore that light,
More cleere in beauty, then we can compare,
If not to Venus in her chosen night.
And who so give themselves in this deare kinde,
These happinesses shall attend them still,
To be supplide with joyes enrich'd in minde,
With treasures of content, and pleasures fill.
Thus love to be devine, doth here appeare,
Free from all foggs, but shining faire, and cleare.

Free from all foggs, but shining faire, and cleare,
Wise in all good, and innocent in ill,
Where holly friendship is esteemed deare,
With Truth in love, and Justice in our Will.
In Love these titles onely have their fill
Of happy life-maintainer, and the meere
Defence of right, the punisher of skill,
And fraude, from whence directions doth appeare.
To thee then, Lord commander of all hearts,
Ruler of our affections, kinde, and just,
Great King of Love, my soule from faigned smarts,
Or thought of change, I offer to your trust,
This Crowne, my selfe, and all that I have more,
Except my heart, which you bestow'd before.

Except my heart, which you bestow'd before,
And for a signe of Conquest gave away
As worthlesse to be kept in your choice store;
Yet one more spotlesse with you doth not stay.
The tribute which my heart doth truely pay,
Is faith untouch'd, pure thoughts discharge the score
Of debts for me, where Constancy beares sway,
And rules as Lord, unharm'd by Envies sore,
Yet other mischiefes faile not to attend,
As enimies to you, my foes must be,
Curst Jealousie doth all her forces bend
To my undoing, thus my harmes I see.
So though in Love I fervently doe burne,
In this strange Labyrinth how shall I turne?