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from
Pamphilia to Amphilanthus
by Lady Mary Wroth
SONNET 42
IF ever love had force in humane
brest,
If ever he could move in pensive heart:
Or if that he such powre could but impart,
To breed those flames, whose heat brings ioys unrest.
Then looke on me; I am to these adrest,
I am the soule that feeles the greatest smart:
I am that heartlesse Trunck of hearts depart;
And I that One, by love, and griefe opprest.
None ever felt the truth of loves great misse
Of eyes till I deprived was of blisse;
For had he seene, he must have pitty show'd.
I should not have beene made this Stage of woe,
Where sad Disasters haue their open show:
O no, more pitty he had sure bestow'd.
Source:
British Women Writers. Dale Spender and Janet Todd,
Eds.
New York: Peter Bedrick Books, 1989. 15.
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