Global Utilities

Mary Wroth's Poetry: An Electronic Edition

Wroth Poem - F9 - Led by the powre of griefe, to waylings brought

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.8.

Led by the powre of griefe, to waylings brought
    by faulce conſiete of change fall'ne on my part,
    I ſeeke for ſome ſmale eaſe by lines, wch bought,
    increaſeth paine; griefe is nott cur'd by art:

Ah! how vnkindnes moues wt in the hart
    wch still is true, and free from changing thought
    What vnknowne woe itt breeds; what endles ſmart
    wth ceaſles teares wch cauſeleſsly ar brought.

Itt makes mee now to shunn all shining light,
    and ſeeke for blackest clouds mee light to giue,
    wch to all others, only darknes driue,
    they on mee shine, for ſunn diſdaines my ſight

Yett though I darke do liue I triumph may
Vnkindnes, nor this wrong shall loue allay
8.

Led by the power of grief, to wailings brought
    By false conceit of change fallen on my part,
    I seek for some small ease by lines, which bought,
    Increaseth* pain; grief is not cured by art:

Ah! how unkindness moves within the heart
    Which still is true, and free from changing thought
    What unknown woe it breeds; what endless smart
    With ceaseless tears which causelessly are brought*.

It makes me now to shun all shining light,
    And seek for blackest clouds me light to give,
    Which to all others, only darkness drive,
    They on me shine, for sun disdains my sight

Yet though I dark do live I triumph may
    Unkindness, nor this wrong shall love allay.


'increaseth' = 'increase the' in P.
'are brought' = 'are wrought' in P.

The power of grief features in a number of AS sonnets; for example, in 93: 'What sobs can give words grace my grief to show?'.
8.

Ledd by the power of griefe to wailings brought,
    By falſe conceit of change fallen on my part;
    I ſeeke for ſome ſmale eaſe by lines which bought,
    Increaſe the paine; griefe is not cur'd by Art.

Ah! how vnkindneſſe moues within the heart,
    Which ſtill is true and free from changing thought:
    What vnknowne woe it breeds, what endleſſe ſmart,
    With ceaſleſſe teares which cauſeleſly are wrought.

It makes me now to ſhun all ſhining light,
    And ſeeke for blackeſt clouds me light to giue:
    Which to all others onely darkneſſe driue;
    They on me ſhine, for Sunne diſdaines my ſight.

Yet though I darke doe liue, I triumph may,
Vnkindnes, nor this wrong ſhall loue allay.
8.

Led by the power of grief, to wailings brought
    By false conceit of change fallen on my part,
    I seek for some small ease by lines, which bought,
    Increase the pain; grief is not cured by art:

Ah! how unkindness moves within the heart
    Which still is true, and free from changing thought
    What unknown woe it breeds; what endless smart
    With ceaseless tears which causelessly are wrought.

It makes me now to shun all shining light,
    And seek for blackest clouds me light to give,
    Which to all others, only darkness drive,
    They on me shine, for sun disdains my sight

Yet though I dark do live I triumph may;
    Unkindness, nor this wrong, shall love allay.



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