Global Utilities

Mary Wroth's Poetry: An Electronic Edition

Wroth Poem - F58 - Gon is my ioy while heere I burne

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Song

Gon is my ioy while heere I burne
    in paines of abſence, and of care,
the heau'ns for my ſad grief doe turne
    theyr face to stormes, and show dispayre;

The days ar dark, the nights oprest,
    wth cloudlike weeping for my paine,
wch in theyr acting ſeeme destrest
    ſighing like griefe for abſent gaine,

The Sunn giues place, and hids his face
    that day can now bee hardly knowne,
nor will the starrs in night yeeld grace
    to ſunn=lost heau'n by woe o'rethrowne;

Our light is fire in fearfull flames,
    the aire tempestious blasts of winde
for warmth wee haue forgott thoſe names
    ſuch colde, and stormes are vs aſsinde

And still you bleſsed heau'ns remaine
    distemperd while this curſed powre
of abſence rules, wch breeds my paine
    lett yor care bee more still to lowre.

Butt when my Sunn doth back returne
    call yours againe to giue his light
that they in flames of ioye may burne
    Both shining equall in our ſight

Song ("Gone is my joy')

Gone is my joy while here I burn*
    In pains of absence, and of care,
    The heavens for my sad grief* do turn
    Their face to storms, and show despair;

The days are dark, the nights oppressed
    With cloud-like* weeping for my pain,
    Which in their acting seem distressed
    Sighing like grief for absent gain,

The sun gives place, and hides* his face
    That day can now be hardly known,
    Nor will the stars in night yield grace
    To sun-lost* heaven by woe o'erthrown;

Our light is fire in fearful flames,
    The air tempestuous blasts of wind,
    For warmth we have forgot those names*
    Such cold,* and storms are us assigned

And still you blessed heavens remain
    Distempered while this cursed power
    Of absence rules, which breeds* my pain
    Let your care be more still to lour.

But when my sun doth back return
    Call yours again to give* his light
    That they in flames of joy may burn
    Both shining equal* in our sight.


In Urania, this song is sung by Pamphilia while she wanders alone (Book Two, fol. 178). [U18]

'burn' = 'mourn' in U.
'grief' = 'griefs' in U.
'cloud-like' = 'cloudly' [cloudily] in U.
'hides': Wroth miswrites 'hids'.
'lost' = 'robbed' in U.
'those names' = 'the name' in U.
'cold' = 'blasts' in U.
'breeds': = 'brings' in U.
'give': = 'lend' in U.
'shining equal: = 'equal shining' in U.

Gone is my ioy, while here I mourne
    In paines of abſence, and of care:
The heauens for my ſad griefes doe turne
    Their face to ſtormes, and ſhew deſpaire.

The dayes are darke, the nights oprest
    With cloud'ly weeping for my paine,
Which in ſhew acting ſeeme diſtreſt,
    Sighing like griefe for abſent gaine.

The Sunne giues place, and hides his face,
    That day can now be hardly knowne;
Nor will the ſtarres in night yeeld grace
    To Sun-robd heauen by woe o'rethrowne.

Our light is fire in fearefull flames,
    The ayre tempestious blasts of wind:
For warmth, we haue forgot the name,
    Such blasts and ſtormes are vs aſſind.

And ſtill you bleſſed heauens remaine
    Diſtemperd, while this curſed power
Of abſence rules, which brings my paine,
    Lest your care be more ſtill to lower.

But when my Sunne doth back returne,
    Call yours againe to lend his light,
That they in flames of ioy may burne,
    Both equall ſhining in our ſight.

Song ('Gone is my joy')
Gone is my joy while here I mourn
    In pains of absence, and of care,
    The heavens for my sad griefs doe turn
    Their face to storms, and show despair;

The days are dark, the nights oppressed
    With cloudly* weeping for my pain,
    Which in their acting seem distressed
    Sighing like grief for absent gain,

The sun gives place, and hides his face
    That day can now be hardly known,
    Nor will the stars in night yield grace
    To sun-robbed heaven by woe o'erthrown;

Our light is fire in fearful flames,
    The air tempestuous blasts of wind
    For warmth we have forgot the name
    Such blasts and storms are us assigned

And still you blessed heavens remain
    Distempered while this cursed power
    Of absence rules, which brings my pain
    Let your care be more still to lour.

But when my sun doth back return
    Call yours again to lend his light
    That they in flames of joy may burn
    Both equal shining in our sight.


This song is sung by Pamphilia while she wanders alone: 'her inward thoughts more busy were, and wrought, while this song came into her mind' (Book Two, fol. 178).
Cloudly: weeping like a cloud: cf. 'cloud-like' in the F version.

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