Mary Wroth: Sonnets from Pamphilia to Amphilanthus

Mary Wroth and Love Poetry

Mary Wroth (1587-1651) was daughter to Robert Sidney, the owner of Penshurst where she was raised and educated. As niece to Sir Philip Sidney and his sister, Mary (Sidney) Herbert, Countess of Pembroke, Wroth came from a famous aristocratic and literary family. At age seventeen (in 1604) she married Sir Robert Wroth, hunting companion to King James I and a prominent member of the Jacobean court. It was an unhappy marriage. Robert was a notorious gambler, alcoholic, and adulterer, and the couple from the outset were troubled by a dispute over Robert Sidney’s payment of Mary’s dowry.

Robert Wroth’s death in 1614, a month after the birth of their son, was followed two years later by the death of the boy (a not uncommon occurrence in Wroth’s day—though surely no less painful for her than for bereft mothers of later periods when the child mortality rate was much lower). If this were not enough, the death of her son, heir to the Wroth estate, meant her losing the property to the next male heir, John Wroth. Such is the feudal law of primogeniture, according to which property in England is passed along the male line of descent.

Shortly following the death of her husband, Mary Wroth entered into a lifelong adulterous affair with her first cousin, the 3rd earl of Pembroke, William Herbert. The two appear to have shared an interest in literature and had been friends since childhood. They also had two illegitimate children, a son and daughter.

It is not surprising, then, that Wroth was drawn to the love sonnet as a literary form suited to her sensibility. Being in love with a man she could never fully have, their affair secretive (though surely known publicly, if not openly acknowledged): such real-life circumstances are analogous to the fictional construct of the European romance tradition in which passionate desire is for some reason frustrated or blocked altogether.

Pamphilia to Amphilanthus (meaning “lover of all” to “lover of two”) had circulated widely in manuscript form before being printed and published in 1621. This is a landmark publication in the history of English letters, being the first sonnet sequence by a woman, and appearing in the same era that saw publication of works by important male authors—including Ben Jonson’s Works (1616), the first folio of Shakespeare (1623), Donne’s Poems (1633), and George Herbert’s Temple (1633).

As niece to Philip Sydney, famous for his own sonnet sequence, Astrophil and Stella (“star lover and star”), Mary Wroth consciously waded into a male-dominated literary tradition, and did so at a time when sonnet writing had become largely unfashionable. But like Donne manipulating love-sonnet conventions in “Holy Sonnet XIV,” Wroth brings to that tradition a fresh perspective and formal ingenuity. She does so by engaging in a kind of subversion, mastering the discourse of her literary forbears, then reversing roles so that the lover is female, the beloved male. The beloved, moreover, seems to play a relatively minor role: Wroth concentrates instead on the speaker’s psyche and experience, and less on her relationship with the beloved than on her relationship with Love—i.e., Venus and Eros (or Cupid), the mother of Love and her son.

Many of Wroth’s sonnets, finally, are formally innovative, combining in their rhyme patterns the Italian and Shakespearean forms, and in some cases abandoning both these traditions for something altogether new.

Choose one of the poems below and do the following:

  1. Paraphrase each sentence.

  2. Identify two or three puzzling words and research their meaning in the Oxford English Dictionary.

  3. Revise your paraphrase, if necessary.

  4. Comment on one or two striking images, explaining why you think them effective.

  5. Identify any particularly striking sound effects (rhyme, alliteration or assonance, enjambment, caesurae) and explain how they enhance the meaning.

  6. Compare your poem with one by some other author whose work we’ve examined, and support your comparison by citing specific passages.

  7. Include any additional comments you care to offer.

“Sonnet 1”

When night’s blacke Mantle could most darknesse prove,
And sleepe, death’s image, did my senses hire
From knowledge of myselfe: then thoughts did move
Swifter than those most swiftnesse neede require.
In sleepe, a chariot drawne by winged desire
I saw, where sat bright Venus, Queene of Love,
And at her feete, her son, still adding fire
To burning hearts, which she did hold above.
But one heart flaming more than all the rest,
The Goddesse held, and put it to my breast.
“Dear Sonne now shut,” said she, “thus must we winne.”
He her obeyed, and martyred my poore heart.
I, waking, hoped as dreames it would depart:
Yet since, O me, a lover have I beene.

“Sonnet 40”

False hope, which feeds but to destroy, and spill
What it first breeds, unnatural to the birth
Of thine own womb; conceiving but to kill,
And plenty gives to make the greater dearth,
So tyrants do who falsely ruling earth
Outwardly grace them, and with profits fill;
Advance those who appointed are to death
To make their greater fall to please their will.
Thus shadow they their wicked vile intent,
Coloring evil with a show of good,
While in fair shows their malice so is spent;
Hope kills the heart, and tyrants shed the blood.
For hope deluding brings us to the pride
Of our desires the farther down to slide.

“Sonnet 68”

My paine still smother’d in my grieved brest,
Seekes for some ease, yet cannot passage finde,
To be discharg’d of this unwellcome guest:
When most I strive, more fast his burthens binde.
Like to a ship on Goodwin’s* cast by winde,
The more she strives, more deepe in sand is prest,
Till she be lost: so am I in this kind
Sunck, and devour’d, and swallow’d by unrest.
Lost, shipwrackt, spoyl’d, debar’d of smallest hope,
Nothing of pleasure left, save thoughts have scope,
Which wander may; goe then my thoughts and cry,
“Hope’s perish’d, Love tempest-beaten, Joy lost;
Killing Despaire hath all these blessings crost.”
Yet Faith still cries, “Love will not falsifie.”

*Goodwin Sands, a sandbank on the coast of Kent, is a notorious site of shipwreck.

©Robert Whalen, 2023