ANNE BRADSTREET

[The chief poetess of the colonial time was born in England about 1612, the daughter of Thomas Dudley; and was married in 1628 to Simon Bradstreet. In 1630 she came to America, where both her father and her husband later served as governors of Massachusetts. Here she became the mother of eight children, and performed faithfully the manifold household and social duties that devolved on a woman of her station; and in some way she also found time to write a considerable body of verse. A great part of this was taken to England by her brother-in-law, and published in London in 1650, with the title "The Tenth Muse Lately sprung up in America. Or Severall Poems, compiled with great Variety of Wit and Learning," etc. The author appears to have been far too modest and too sensible to approve this absurd designation, and it is unfortunate that her work was weighted down with it. A second edition, published in Boston in 1678, six years after Mrs. Bradstreet's death, contained a number of additional poems, and showed many changes made by the author in those that had appeared earlier. Mrs. Bradstreet seems never to have sought publicity, and it is probable that many of her more personal poems, such as the last two in the selections that follow, were never intended to be printed. Besides her poems, she wrote for members of her family a short account of her religious experiences, and a series of "Meditations, Divine and Morall," of which a few specimens are given later.

Anne Bradstreet's avowed master was the French poet Du Bartas, whose works had been translated into English by Sylvester; though some of her later poems show influence of the school of Spenser. Her ambitious verses

those not relating to personal affairs and intended for her family — were didactic. The greater part of "The Tenth Muse" was taken up by five poems: "The Four Elements," "The Four Humours in Man's Constitution," "The Four Ages of Man," "The Four Seasons of the Year," and "The Four Monarchies." The last and longest of these "quaternions" is based on Sir Walter Raleigh's "History of the World." "Contemplations," which is usually considered the author's best poem, first appeared in the edition of 1678. It is given complete in the following pages, and serves to illustrate most of her excellences and her weaknesses. A few stanzas show genuine emotion, an appreciation of nature unusual in her day, and an ear for musical verse; others show lapses into the prosaic, and above all, the author's tendency to sacrifice everything to rather profitless moralizing. Faulty as Mrs. Bradstreet's work is, however, it gives evidence of more genuine poetic feeling than any other body of verse written in America in the seventeenth century, and deserves study as the work of a pioneer.

The selections follow the edition of Anne Bradstreet's works, by John Harvard Ellis, 1867. The poem entitled "Longing for Heaven," and the "Meditations," were first printed in this edition, from the author's manuscript. "Contemplations" and "To my Dear and Loving Husband" first The others were included in "The Tenth appeared in the edition of 1678. Muse." The text of all these poems, except the two printed for the first time by Mr. Ellis, is that of the edition of 1678.]

PROLOGUE

I

To sing of Wars, of Captains, and of Kings,
Of Cities founded, Common-wealths begun,
For my mean pen are too superiour things:
Or how they all, or each their dates have run
Let Poets and Historians set these forth,
My obscure Lines shall not so dim their worth.

2

But when my wondring eyes and envious heart
Great Bartas sugar'd lines, do but read o're
Fool I do grudg the Muses did not part
'Twixt him and me that overfluent store;
A Bartas can, do what a Bartas will
But simple I according to my skill.

3

From school-boyes tongue no rhet'rick we expect
Nor yet a sweet Consort from broken strings,

Nor perfect beauty, where's a main defect:
My foolish, broken, blemish'd Muse so sings
And this to mend, alas, no Art is able,
'Cause nature, made it so irreparable.

4

Nor can I, like that fluent sweet tongu'd Greek,
Who lisp'd at first, in future times speak plain
By Art he gladly found what he did seek

A full requital of his, striving pain

Art can do much, but this maxime's most sure
A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.

5

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
Who says my hand a needle better fits,
A Poets pen all scorn I should thus wrong,
For such despite they cast on Female wits:
If what I do prove well, it won't advance,
They'l say it's stoln, or else it was by chance.

6

But sure the Antique Greeks were far more mild
Else of our Sexe, why feigned they those Nine
And poesy made, Calliope's own Child;

So 'mongst the rest they placed the Arts Divine,
But this weak knot, they will full soon untie,
The Greeks did nought, but play the fools & lye.

7

Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are Men have precedency and still excell,

It is but vain unjustly to wage warre:

Men can do best, and women know it well
Preheminence in all and each is yours;

Yet grant some small acknowledgement of ours.

8

And oh ye high flown quills that soar the Skies, And ever with your prey still catch your praise, If e're you daigne these lowly lines your eyes Give Thyme or Parsley wreath, I ask no bayes, This mean and unrefined ure of mine

Will make you glistring gold, but more to shine.

OF THE FOUR AGES OF MAN

[The introductory section of the poem]

Lo now four other act upon the stage,
Childhood and Youth, the Manly & Old age;
The first son unto flegm, Grand-child to water,
Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature.
The second frolick, claims his pedegree
From blood and air, for hot and moist is he.
The third of fire and Choler is compos'd
Vindicative and quarrelsome dispos'd.
The last of earth, and heavy melancholy,
Solid, hating all lightness and all folly.
Childhood was cloth'd in white & green to show
His spring was intermixed with some snow:
Upon his head nature a Garland set

Of Primrose, Daizy & the Violet.

Such cold mean flowrs the spring puts forth betime
Before the sun hath throughly heat the clime.
His Hobby striding did not ride but run,
And in his hand an hour-glass new begun,
In danger every moment of a fall,

And when tis broke then ends his life and all:
But if he hold till it have run its last,
Then may he live out threescore years or past.
Next Youth came up in gorgeous attire,
(As that fond age doth most of all desire)
His Suit of Crimson and his scarfe of green,
His pride in's countenance was quickly seen,
Garland of roses, pinks and gilli-flowers
Seemed on's head to grow bedew'd with showers:
His face as fresh as is Aurora fair,
When blushing she first 'gins to light the air.
No wooden horse, but one of mettal try'd,
He seems to fly or swim, and not to ride.
Then prancing on the stage, about he wheels,
But as he went death waited at his heels.

The next came up in a much graver sort,
As one that cared for a good report,
His sword by's side, and choler in his eyes,
But neither us'd as yet, for he was wise:
Of Autumns fruits a basket on his arm,

His golden God in's purse, which was his charm.
And last of all to act upon this stage
Leaning upon his staff came up Old Age,
Under his arm a sheaf of wheat he bore,
An harvest of the best, what needs he more?
In's other hand a glass ev'n almost run,
Thus writ about This out then am I done.
His hoary hairs, and grave aspect made way,
And all gave ear to what he had to say.
These being met each in his equipage
Intend to speak according to their age:
But wise Old age did with all gravity
To childish Childhood give precedency,
And to the rest his reason mildly told,
That he was young before he grew so old.
To do as he each one full soon assents,
Their method was that of the Elements,

That each should tell what of himself he knew,
Both good and bad, but yet no more then's true.
With heed now stood three ages of frail man,
To hear the child, who crying thus began:

SPRING

[From "The Four Seasons of the Year"]

Another four I've left yet to bring on,
Of four times four the last Quaternion,
The Winter, Summer, Autumn & the Spring,
In season all these Seasons I shall bring:
Sweet Spring like man in his Minority,

At present claim'd and had priority.

With smiling face and garments somewhat green, She trim'd her locks, which late had frosted been,