The printing of this edition of The Poems and

Mrs A Pro s e Remains of . nne Bradstreet was

Ma 1 8 A begun in y , 9 5 , and completed in pril ,

1 8 9 7 . Twelve copies on Japan paper, and one hundred and thirty -two copies on hand -made

paper, were printed, and numbered respectively from I to 1 2 and from 1 3 to

This copy is No .

()l3

NNE E T EET MRS . A RA DS R

(16 12- 167 2)

TOGETHER WITH HER

P ROSE REMAINS

WITH AN INTROD UCTION B Y

CHARLES EL IOT NORTON

' THE D UOD ECIMOS

MD CCCXCV II 1 8 Copyright , 9 7 , by The Duodecimos .

Th e D: Vm u l Pass e . EN CONT TS .

U C E INTROD TION, by Charles liot Norton EDITOR ’ S NOTE xxxiii

T H E M OF M R S E POE S . BRADSTR ET Prefatory verses by admirers To her most honored father I h Th

A n Elegy upon Sir Philip Sidney In Honor of Du Bartas In Honor of Queen Elizabeth David ’ s Lamentation To the Memory of My Father A n Epitaph on My Mother 7 Contemplations n ”i g The Flesh and the Spirit The Vanity of 511 Worldly Things x The Author to her Book Cofltfi m

Poems upon divers occasions Upon a fit of sickness Upon some distemper of body \J / Before the birth of one of her children To my dear and loving husband A letter to her husband Another Another v To her father , with some erses x In reference to her children In memory of Elizabeth Bradstreet In memory of Anne Bradstreet On Simon Bradstreet To the memory of Mercy Bradstreet rs A A funeral elegy upon M . nne Bradstreet Occasional Meditations For my dear son Simon Bradstreet Meditations divine and moral To my dear children “B ” y night, when others soundly slept For deliverance from a fever

From another sore fit . Deliverance from a fit of fainting Meditations when my soul hath been refreshed U s n E pon my o Samuel his going for ngland . For the restoration of my dear husband Upon my daughter Hannah Wiggin On my son ’ s return out of England Upon my husband his going into England In my solitary hours For the letters I recei ved from my husband ’ For my husband s safe arri val “ In silent night, when rest I took “ ” v : A s 5 weary pilgrim , now at rest U A ILL STR TIONS .

ro ntis ie ce Anne Bradstreet F p .

1 Governor Simon Bradstreet opp . v i Chief Justice Joseph Dudley Chief Justice Paul Dudley The Bradstreet Residence Hallway of the Bradstreet House

Rev . John Cotton John Winthrop John Eliot Sir Philip Sidney William Sallust Du Bartas

Extract from the Boston News Letter

o to n Win o and Eli o are ins er e ere as co n em o aneo u s C t , thr p, t t d h t p r

au an e ati ve u i ans tho rs d r pres ent P r t .

M MR S A T H E E . E A EE PO S OF NN BR DSTR T .

W hen it was proposed to me, not long since, to write an introduction to the edition of the poems of , ” Mrs A “ . nne Bradstreet which The Duodecimos e w re about to issue , many reasons compelled me to decline the task . The request , however, led me to take up once more , after an interval of many years , “ ” M Mrs the poems of the tenth use, as . Bradstreet was termed on the title -page of the first edition of her verses , and I turned to the elaborate and excellent

Mr edition of them published, thirty years ago , by . E A John Harvard llis . fter looking them through, I E came on the legy upon the truly pious , peerless, ” Mrs A and matchless gentlewoman . nne Bradstreet, n N writte by my ancestor the Reverend John orton , of

Hingham . I had quite forgotten its existence , and, on reading it, it struck me that there would be some

o f thing quaint appropriateness in my writing, at this

vi i ' W o Mrs Am e B r a drtr eet viii Tba r i tzflgr f .

long interval , in regard to her whose praises he had sung , and that the act would not be without a certain

A nd piety toward my ancestor . , further, I reflected , that as I could trace my descent in one line directly

Mrs D . from Governor Thomas udley , the father of

Bradstreet, and as the portraits of her brother, Gov

erno r Joseph Dudley, and his wife , looked down on

sat s he me every day while I at breakfast and dinner, , as my aunt many times removed, might not unjustly have a claim upon me for such token of respect to her M memory as had been asked of me . oved by these pious considerations , I revised my decision I am sorry that I cannot speak with admiration

’ Mr N of my venerable ancestor . John orton s verses ,

but their defects may , in part at least, be excused

by his youth at the time when they were written .

Mrs . B 1 6 2 tw o radstreet died in 7 , hundred and

-five E twenty years ago , and if the legy were written at that time (it first appeared in the second edition

1 6 8 Mr of her poems in 7 ) . Norton was in his

- twenty second year, and had graduated at Harvard

H is the year before . verses are artificial in senti

ment, extravagant in expression , and cumbered with

E n pedantry . The legy co tains , indeed, two tolerably CHI EF J USTIC E JOSEPH D UDLE Y .

Half-brother of Anne (D udley)Bradstreet . Fro m the o rigi nal painti ng o wned by

harles Elio t No rto n am rid e ass . P ro fess o r C , C b g , M

be Wf i rin : o rs d nne B r a drtr eet x T g f M .

m test of ti e , and it is not their poetic merit which will

an lead y one at the present day to read her verses . The little that is known of her life has been often told . She and her husband were alike of gentle blood

1 6 1 2 and gentle breeding . She was born in , and married when only sixteen years old to a youth of promise nine years older than herself. Two years

Mr 1 6 0 . later, in 3 , they accompanied her father ,

D s o Thomas udley , distinguished in the later history M of the assachusetts colony , on the memorable voy age o f Winthrop and his companions in the L a dy

r i n N W D as A el/ . w ext after inthrop , udley the fore

o f most man the emigration , and the young Bradstreet “ ” w as already one of the assistants of the Massachu setts Company, and seems to have been held in respect for his o wn character, as well as for his relationship

Mrs to one of the leaders of the party . Of . Brad street during the hard early years of the Mass achu setts settlement nothing is recorded, and in her poems s he tells us nothing of the events of her life at this '

dnd eed M a e and ~ time . It is , , a striking fact g to her

‘ f ’ r o d r f a nd n a critic ism m o n i t as w o ll i t p fi p , that in all E there is scarcely a reference to New ngland , and no word from which one might gather that it had been I ntr odu ctory xi W . New f s o written in the orld at a time so di ficult,

s o - W ho interesting , strange to these new comers

Old? All her allusions , her figures of speech , her illus tra ti o ns are drawn from the old worn -out literary

No New E stock . ngland bird sings in her pages

W W W no Ne w England flower seems to have been dear to her ; no incident or aspect of life peculiar to New England is described or even

N v referred to . othing can be gathered from her erses in regard to the modes of existence or the social experience of the first emigrants to this “ uncouth ” corner of the world, as Governor Belcher later

t e called it . Of all those hings about which w should be curious and interested to hear there is not a word .

It is noteworthy ho w little of poetic sentiment the

New Englanders displayed during the fir st century of

w as the settlement . There abundance of religious feeling ; abundance of domestic sentiment ; a quantity of verse w as written ; but in the whole mass there is scarcely one line instinct with imagination , and few that show a play of fancy or sustained liveliness of humor . The verses for the most part seem to partake \ of the ru gged character of the land which the English

and born settlers were mastering , and if every now W i Anne B r a ds tr eet Tbe r i t ng; of Mrr .

then there be a gleam of humor, as in some of the

Mr N W verses of the eccentric Reverend . athaniel ard , of which an illustration is afforded by the commenda tory piece which he prefixed to the first edition of

’ Mrs — if . Bradstreet s poems occasionally, I say , there

f w i t v be a lash of or humor, it has no nati e color , but might as well have had its origin in Old as in

e N w England . It was not that the colonists were uninstructed people, or that they lacked knowledge of letters ; but their minds were occupied mainly with other mat ters more serious to them than poetry . They were busy in providing for the essential needs of material life , and busier still in saving their souls according to a doctrine which left them little inclination for what seemed to them so trivial an occu pation as the

o ff making of verse . They were cut from association with cultivated society , and were remote alike from the current of the intellectual life of the time and from the sources of refinement and of taste . This is M ’ rs . strikingly evident even in Bradstreet s poems , which, indeed , were the best the first generation of emigrants to New England produced . She had not been deprived of books , for her father was a lover of

I ntr o du ctory xiii

—He//no lior or wn them , he is termed in his epitaph , and he left at his death a small . but choice collection

w as of some sixty volumes . She acquainted with at least three books among the most precious in the whole ” E i eene field of nglish literature , the Faerie Q , the A ’ ’ 1 rcadia, and North s Plutarch . But though s he refers to Spenser , there is no sign in her verses

s he that really cared for his poem . Her master in

” ’ D u - poetry was Bartas, in silver tongued Sylvester s

s he translation . She refers often to the delight which

i ns ir took in his poetry, and to its having been the p

1 r Ellis h iv n in hi ntro u tio n 3 s o f th e au h o r to M . as g e s I d c li t t s who m M rs B ra s ree e ers o r wh o se wo r s sh e h ad o a l . d t t r f , k pr b b y e a I n a no e h e o in o u a cu ri u resem lance i n o ne o f h er r d . t p ts t o s b “ vers es to wo s i n H am let is i n th e firs e i i o n o f h er rd . It t d t

o em s and w as chan e i n th e s eco n and it o ccu rs ne ar th e end p g d d , o f th e seco n o f the o u A es o f M an T h e vers e s o o d F r g . t d

“ ’ e ase setz the ri es o f Ser ean ea h s arres ts C d [ d] by g p j t D t ,

’ whi ch certainly s eem s to hark back to H am let s

his fell se ean ea th T rg t, d , ” -8 I s st i c in his ar es v . ii . . r t r t, 347

wo u l be o f in e es to no w h a Mrs B a s ree t h ad rea It d t r t k t t . r d t d the la h ere is eli eve no evi ence tha th ere was a co p y . T , I b , d t py ’ o f Shakespeare s plays in Mas sachu setts du ring the seventee nth xi be Wr i tin s o Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet v T g f .

ation of her muse . She begins a copy of verses in his honor, with the declaration ,

A n mong the happy wits this age hath show ,

Great, dear, sweet Bartas thou art matchless

shown , and she proceeds to extol him in terms which at last lead her to exclaim ,

Pardon if I adore , when I admire .

Mr W The Reverend . ard was not far wrong when , in his commendatory verses , he says

’ A u th re s s D a B a r ta s Girle The was a right .

’ The immense vogue and influence of Du Bartas s poems in France and in England for more than half a

1 century , contrasted with the oblivion into which ff they have fallen in both countries , a ords an illustra

s o tion not much of the mutability of taste, as of the fact that circumstances other than i ts purely poetic merit may sometimes secure for verse an immediate

1 The chie o em o f D u B a as T he We e o r th e r a o n f p rt , k, C e ti ” o f the Wo rl was firs u lishe etwee n 1 0 and 1 80 th e d, t p b d b 5 7 5 , exac a e i ncertai n t d t s u .

i be Wr i i s o r s Anne B r a ds tr eet xv T t ng f M .

“ 1 68 1 D cation of the Spanish Friar, in , ryden says I remember when I was a boy I thought inimitable Spenser a mean poet in comparison of Sylvester ’ s Du B artas , and was rapt into an extasy when I read these lines Now when the winter ’ s keener breath began a To crystallize the Baltic oce n ,

To glaze the lakes, to bridle up the floods ,

’ n rri i A d p e w g with snow the baldpate woods .

I am much deceived if this be not abominable fustian . “ ” And A rt 1 68 in his of Poetry , published in 3 , he

v again refers to the fa orite of his callow days , and, s co fli n g at him with a lively quip , says

D u bartas Thus in times past vainly writ,

Allaying sacred truth with trifling w i t;

Impertinently , and without delight,

’ ’ D e s cri b d the Israelites triumphant flight,

’ A nd M following oses o er the sandy plain ,

’ P eri sh d A with Pharaoh in the rabian main .

A nd again in the same poem , warning against bombast and fustian , he cites afresh the verses which had once charmed him , and bids the poets I ntr o du ctory xvii

Not with Du Bartas bridle up the floods,

s n - l A nd p erriwig with wool the b aldpate woods .

Even in our own century Du Bartas has not been Without admirers who have tried to restore credit to his work , and , surprising as it may seem , chief among them is Goethe . He rebukes the French for their “ contempt and neglect of The Creation , and de clares that it possesses genuine elements of poetry , though strangely mingled . The author, he says , deals with weighty and important themes which afford him

v opportunity to display a nai e view of the world , and to exhibit entertainingly , in description , narrative , and

2 didactic discourse , an immense variety of knowledge .

In this characterization of the poem Goethe u n doubtedly accounts in part for its pop u lari ty in the

Ev - early seventeenth century . en Sainte Beuve, who

’ contests Goethe s judgment , admits that Du Bartas had a certain Boeotian fertility , and that fine fragments “ may be detached from the mass of his disp ro p o r

1 ’ These li nes whi ch ran i n Dryden s head are to be fo u nd in the Fo u rth B o o k o f the Firs t D ay o f the S eco nd Week o f th e

eati o n H is firs ci Cr . t tatio n o f them is wro ng in su bsti tu ti ng “ ” “ no w fo r wo o l s .

2 ’ ' See the No es a en e to R am s au s Nefle t pp d d . W o rs Anne B ra ds tr eet xviii Tire r i tings f M .

B ” “ ti o ned . abel The vogue of The Creation was ,

i ts indeed , due rather to encyclopedic character , and

o et1c . to its p faults , than to its poetic merit It was a compilation of miscellaneous learning , and while it did not lack spirit in vers ificati o n and abounded in ingen ious imagery , its very extravagance of diction and ex cess of conceits suited the general taste . But there was a still deeper reason for its wide acceptance . The ” Creation combined piety with entertainment ; it w a s

w ho the work of a grave disciple of Calvin , invoked the

Christian muse in opposition to the pagan mistresses

w as of Ronsard and his followers . It a poem for men w h o cared more for purity of doctrine than for purity of poetry , for men more interested in the Bible than in profane literature it w as the poem of a

. v v party in religion The ersion by Syl ester, which

1 60 was published in 5 , preserved essentially the char

i s acter of the original , and there no reason for won

1 6 1 2 M der that a Puritan girl , born in , when ilton was four years old , a girl bred piously and strictly , yet inspired with some faint poetic instinct, should have found delight as well as instruction in Du Bar

’ tas s verse , and should have taken him for her master in the divine art . I ntr odu ctory xix

M rs I have said that . Bradstreet apparently did not

’ he care for Spenser s poetry . S seems to have cared “ d ” A . more, but with great reservations , for the rca ia

In her elegy upon Sir Philip Sidney , in the midst of ” “ A ' her eulogy of him , she says of the rcadia

I praise thee not for this , it is unfit, ” 1 w as . This thy shame , O miracle of wit

A nd yet, as if repenting of this condemnation , she adds, and the lines are among her most vigorous ,

“ ’ ’ But he s a beetlehead that can t descry

A world of wealth within that rubbish lie ;

A nd doth his name , his work , his honour wrong , E The brave refiner of our nglish tongue ,

That sees not learning, valor and morality ,

t Justice, friendship and kind hospitali y , ” Yea and divinity within his book .

She made some little use of North ’ s Plutarch in M her poem on The Four onarchies . But this poem is mainly a mere dry abridgment of Raleigh ’ s

1 hese ve ses are o m i e in the se co n e i io n o f h er P o e m s T r tt d d d t , and in th eir place is th e line

“ ’ H is wis e a s co ndem n d his wi t wo r d y t y rks . W o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet xx Tbc r itings f M . W ” History of the orld, which indeed I should have added to the list of noble books at her command . The poem is entirely tedious , being little more than a rhymed summary of events , with no spirit of exalta tion in recounting the fates of great nations , and no touch of animation in the narrative of the heroic deeds of individuals . It is a long , conscientious, la bo ri o u s work, which nobody perhaps will ever again read through . I have looked in vain up and down its pages to find a verse which has the genuine tower

No r stamp of poetry ; but I have not found one . have I found in any of her poems the grace and charm E of spontaneous lyrical utterance . very now and then

o a single verse shows a true , if slight, capacity for p etic expression ; as , for instance , in the poem on The Four Elements

’ My pearls that dangle at thy darling s ears

is a verse not without melodious flow ; and in her “ poem on The Four Ages of Man there is one in which a familiar epithet of Gray ’ s is anticipated

’ n l But waki g, g ad to hear the cock s shrill voice

d energy and abun ance of his vein , nothing of the pic

tu re s u en es s a o q of his broad stream of verse, and her

u is i ti o ns — q large, even remarkable for a woman in her — time and circumstances were inconsiderable in c o m

parison with his vast if superficial learning . The “ ” best of her longer poems i s called Contemplations .

It i s a series of simple religious reflections on the

beauty of nature, the goodness of God, the transiency

’ i ts of man s life and of earthly things . Several of

stanzas of seven lines have grace and ease , and occa

s i o nal metrical felicity ; and had all her work possessed

like excellence it might still be read with pleasure .

Bu t while the greater part of her poems show good

sense and good feeling, and , at times , something of

ingenuity and skill , they are devoid of inspiration , and

even of the lower enthusiasm of the understanding .

1 They are generally bald and prosaic, and their reader readily accepts her assertion concerning them

And for the same I hours not few did spend,

’ A nd enn d weary lines, though lank , I many p .

’ Mrs . Bradstreet s modest consciousness of the slen

derness of her poetic outfit is , indeed, such as to

show that s he w as a better judge of her verses than I ntr odu ctory xxiii

her too partial friends . The first edition of her

n 1 6 0 poems was published in Lo don in 5 , by her

-in- W A n brother law, the Rev . John oodbridge of dover, then on a visit to the old country . He says “ 1 in his preface to the volume, fear the displeasure of no person in the publishing of these poems but A ’ the uthor s , without whose knowledge , and con trar y to her expectation , I have presumed to bring to public view what s he re should never in such

’ s e e su n a manner the . In a little piece entitled The Author to h written apparently with a view to a second edition of it, d which h

Mrs . Bradstreet expresses with a pretty simplicity “ her feeling at seeing in print the ill -formed o lf spring of her feeble brain Let the reader turn to this little poem , and he will gain a very kindly feel ing for the gentle lady who wrote it, while its last verses will interest him as a native specimen of the Envoy ” with which the poets of the day were wont to send forth their work .

“ w as In better dress to trim thee my mind ,

’ ’ But naught save home -spun cloth i th house I find ; nne B r a ds tr eet xxiv Tbe Wr i tings of Mrs . A

’ u In this array , mongst v lgar mayst thou roam ,

’ In critics hands beware thou dost not come ;

A nd take thy w ay where yet thou art not known ;

as kt If for thy Father , say , thou hadst none ,

A nd M for thy other , she , alas , is poor ,

’ W cau s d hich her thus to send thee out of door .

’ Mrs B Some of . radstreet s occasional poems pos sess a charm of natural and simple feeling which still touches the heart . They are the expressions of her domestic sentiment, addressed to her husband or to her children ; or hymns in which she utters the de

n vo t aspirations and desires of her soul . In a little

s he paper of religious experiences , which prepared late in life as a legacy to her children , there is a pas sage which makes one wish that she had put more of her own personal experience into her verse . She “ says : A bout sixteen the Lord laid his hand sore W upon me and smote me with the smallpox . hen I f was in my a fliction I besought the Lord, and con

“ 1 h ese verses recall h o se o f S e ns er T o his B o o efixe T t p k, pr d “ ’ ” to the She pherds Calendar “ B u t if th at any ask thy nam e

Sa ho u wert base be o t with lam e y t g b . I ntr o du ctory xxv

fessed my pride and vanity , and He was entreated of me and again restored m e ; bu t I rendered not to Him d A according to the benefit received . fter a short time

I changed my condition, and was married, and came into this country , where I found a new world and new manners, at which my heart rose . But after I was convinced it was the way of God I submitted to ” W it and joined the church at Boston . ould that she w h had told us of the trials of that time , and y it was that her heart rose against the new world and the new manners to which s he had come !

Besides this reference to this early hard experience,

’ i s Mrs 3 there nothing in . Bradstreet papers to indi ff cate that she su ered, as so many of the women of ff her time and later su ered , from the black doctrine which made their lives dark with its shadow . Her religious meditations have remarkable sweetness and

and ex res s simplicity , , p a confidence in the mercies of God which it was seldom given to the tender hearted in those days to attain . Something of this spirit no doubt was due to the native sereni ty and tranquillity of her disposition, She even fronted with calmnes s the dreadfu l peril of atheism which

so l sa e dismayed many sou s, and she ys v ry s imply /y e Wr i in s rs Anne B r a ds tr eet xxvi T t g of M .

“ with regard to it, that, many times hath Satan troubled me concerning the verity of the Scriptures , many times by atheism , how I could know whether there was a God . I never saw any miracles to con w firm me, and those which I read of, how did I kno but they were feigned . That there is a God my reason would soon tell me by the wondrous works

s ee that I , the vast frame of the heaven and the earth , the order of all things , night and day, summer and winter, spring and autumn , the daily providing for this great household upon the earth , the preserving

i ts and directing of all to proper end . The considera tion of these things would with amaz ement constantly ” resolve me that there is an eternal being . This is unusual thinking and unusual writing for a Ne w Eng

o f s land woman the first generation . 3 Her life must have been occupied mainly with household cares, for she became the mother of eight children , all of whom lived to grow up . But of the special incidents of that life there are few indications either in her poems or in the remains of her prose .

ff 1 666 One event a ected her greatly . In the year , in July, not quite two months before the Great Fire of London , her own house in the pleasant township I ntr o du ctory xxv11

of Andover, which had been her home for some twenty

e . re y ars , was burned There a touches of natural feel ing in the verses which she wrote on the occasion , and one sympathizes with her when , looking at the ruins , s he reflects

Here stood that trunk , and there that chest ,

There all that store I counted best ; M y pleasant things in ashes lie,

A n d them behold no more shall I .

U sit nder thy roof no guest shall ,

Nor at thy table eat a bit .

’ No pleasant tale shall e er be told ,

No r things recounted done of old,

’ No candle e er shall shine in thee ,

’ ’ Nor bridgro o m s voice e er heard shall be ;

In silence ever shalt thou lie ,

’ ”

A s . dieu , adieu , all vanity

A mong the things which perished in the burning , and which she perhaps regretted more than others of more worth , was the conclusion of her poem on the Four

M . onarchies It remained unfinished at her death .

B u t little as we know of her daily occupations and

and ffi i s interests , di cult as it to follow even in fancy bc Wr i tin s c rs Anne B r a ds tr eet xxviii T g f M . the daily life of a housewife in New England in that early time , there is enough in the pieces addressed to her husband and to her children to indicate that in ff her home was much a ection and much happiness .

Her husband , according to such report as has come

u s down to regarding him , was an intelligent and well intentioned man , a conscientious Puritan, trustworthy

ff a in a airs , and of kindly disposition . He does not seem to have been distinguished by superior talents , but he had a character which secured the respect and confidence of his associates . His wife writes to him in terms such as she could not have used if she had not found in him all that was needed to make her content

w . ith life He long survived her , living to be ninety four years old , thus acquiring and deserving the appella tion of the Nestor of the Colony . She begins a poem , ” c To my lear and loving Husband, with the words

If ever two were one, then surely we ,

If ever man were loved by wife, then thee ;

If ever wife was happy in a man ,

Compare with me, ye women , if ye can .

Other poems addressed to him are less simple in ex

s he pression than this, and in them indulges in the

I ntr o du ctory xxix

conceits which were favored by poets of her time .

Perhaps the most am u sm g 18 one derived from her favorite Du Bartas , who , in his account of the fishes in

D a e the Fifth y of the Cr ation , tells how the mullet was distinguished above all other creatures for its

M rs fidelity to its mate . So . Bradstreet, writing to her husband, says

c Return my lear , my joy , my only love, U nto thy hind, thy mullet , and thy dove,

Who neither joys in pasture , house , nor streams ;

0 . The substance gone , me, these are but dreams

Together at one tree, oh let us browse ,

A nd u like two turtles roost within one ho se , A nd like the mullets in one river glide

’ s Let still remain but one, till death divide .

Thy loving love, and dearest dear

A t home, abroad and everywhere .

But perhaps of all her domestic poems there is none which has a truer accent of emotion than one written

’ E 1 1 66 1 n my Son s return out of ngland, July 7 ,

s o n had been away for more than four years , and she begins her verses with , ire Wr i in s rs Anne B r a ds tr eet xxx T t g of M . All praise to Him who now hath turned M y fears to joys , my sighs to song ,

M sad y tears to smiles , my to glad

’ He s come for whom I waited long .

And re again in the next year, when her husband E turned from a visit to ngland, whither he , with the

Rev . John Norton , the elder , had been sent on an

s he important mission as agents of the Colony , breaks out into praises to the Lord with,

W hat shall I render to Thy Name, Or how Thy praises speak ?

My thanks how shall I testify ?

’ ’ kno w s t m . O Lord, thou I weak

Such utterances are witnesses alike of the depth of ff her piety and the strength of her a ections .

I said just now that it w as difficult for us to recon struct in imagination the days of the New England woman of the first generation transplanted from the W Old orld . Our lives are too remote from theirs in all external conditions to enable us to picture save in outline the interests and the occupations with I ntr odu ctory xxxi

diffi which they were most concerned . But it is not

a t M rs cult to form the image of charac er like . Brad

’ street s as it is shown in her own writing, under the conditions of life which we know must have existed for her . It is the image of a sweet , devout, serene ,

ff t di s char and a ec ionate nature , of a woman faithfully g ing the multiplicity of duties which fell upon the mother of many children in those days when little help from outside could be had ; when the mother must provide for all their wants with scanty means of supply , and must watch over their health with the consciousness that little help from without was to be had in case of even serious need . I fancy her occupying herself in the intervals of household cares with the books which her own small library and ’ ff her father s a orded , and writing, with pains and modest satisfaction , the verses which were so highly esteemed at the time , but which for us have so little intrinsic interest . She cherished in herself and in her children the things of the mind and of the spirit; and if such memory as her verses have secured for her de

’ pend rather o n the rare circumstance of a woman s writing them at the time when she did, and in the place where she lived, than upon their poetic worth, xxxn Tbe Wr i tin s o Mrs nne B r a ds tr eet g f . A

it is a memory honorable to her , and it happily pre

o f serves the name a good woman , among whose de s cendants has been more than one poet whose verses

r 1 reflect lust e on her own .

H E C ARLES LIOT NORTON . A NUAR Y 1 8 J , 97 .

1 Th ro u gh o ne o f her children s he is the ancestress o f R ich ard

H enr ana thro u h a no he o f Oli ve W en ell H o lm es . y D ; g t r, r d ’ ED ITOR S NOTE .

’ Mrs The FIRST ED ITION of . Bradstreet s poems

0 w as printed in London in 1 65 . There had been a

M 1 6 8 press at Cambridge, assachusetts, since 3 , but there is no reason to suppose that this book w as ff o ered to it for printing, for the press was constantly t occupied wi h church , state , and educational docu

im o rtan ce an d ments of , had no leisure for work

em n t whW t ecessi y . W It would seem that the Rev . John oodbridge, E 1 6 who had come to New ngland in 3 4, and had ’ M Mrs . married Bradstreet s younger sister ercy, was ’ “ much impressed by his sister-i n-law s gracious de

meanor, eminent parts, pious conversation , and cour

teo u s disposition , and, upon his return for a visit to

1 6 the mother country in 47 , took with him a number h of her poems in manuscript, and had t em printed in t London wi hout the consent of the author . To jus tif y himself in his course, he secured a number of commendatory epistles in verse from friends and ad

C ae a a m a mmw m a s s e e w w m a 61 T H E TENTH MUSE

L ately fpru ngu p in AME R 1 CA . 0 R

Sev erall Po em s co m iled 3 , p s m with great vari ety o f V V it a r li and Lea ningfull o fde ght . w “ W herein e f eciall is o ntained a co m a p y c m‘ pleat di fco u rfe and defcri pti o n o f a a a Con i t ti o fiu ns, a The F o n 9 r w us o fthe Yea . 0 a To ether W lth e g an Exacft Epito m ic o f a the F o u r M i es v o narch iz . n , A ri a fly an, m Per i an j , m s c s e A lfo a Di alo u e between Old En land a d a g g n Ne w c0ncerni n the late , g tro u bles . m W i t d i ve Ot e lealan r a nd feri ns P ems . W h rs h r p o o e W W B m y a Ge n tlewo m a n i n t o fe h p arts. i L ond t nted at on fo r S te hen Boswell m p at the !igne o f B i ble i n P es - op ad A e . 1 6 m He ll y 5 0. I i ! S 5 3 2 ! ! a v a 7 s 3 “9 a a “a !a “6 6 5 i 3 t 5 } 3 } t 1 ‘ ”s 4 w 3 s a a i fi(

E - A E T H E ED TITL P G OF FIRST ITION .

G SIZ E OF T H E ORI INAL .

be Wr i tin s Mrs Anne B ra dstr eet xxxvi T g of .

r 1 6 2 M s . . Bradstreet died in 7 Six years later the E ND E S CO DITION of her Poems was printed . A t the end of the book was placed additional matter, “ with this heading : Sever a l atner p oem s m a de ey tae a u tbor upon di ner s occa si ons wer e fou nd a m ong ber pa

ers a ter ber dea tb wbi cb s be never m ea t s bou /d com e p f , n to u éli c vi ew a m on s t so ni c/y tbes e ollowin a t tbc p g f g , des i r e s om e r i ends taa t knew ber well a r e [acr e in of f , ” s or ted i s a w as . It surmised th t this edition prepared for the press by the Rev . John Norton , of Hingham, “ ” ho E w appended a Funeral legy upon the author .

John Foster was the printer of this book . He

1 66 was graduated from Harvard College in 7 , was

set 1 6 6 authorized to up a press at Boston about 7 ,

1 8 1 - A and died in 6 aged thirty three years . lthough

Mr . Foster appears to have been much respected , he was responsible for what may be called “ a deal of ff ” indi erent printing . Just what part he took in the actual labor of book -making is not known ; it is chari table to suppose that he was not bred to the art, and employed unskilful and careless workmen . In setting the types for this Second Edition a cer tain measure, or width of page, was chosen . This was roomy enough for the majority of lines in the

l - book but an occasional ong syllable verse was met, and the compositor seems to have tried hard to make each one fit the measure, and not to allow a portion of it to turn over to make another line . Thus we s s s ws aw w m ws wg 8 E V E R AL z fie

C o mpiled with great variety o fWit and Learnin full o f D eli ht g , g . in Where efpecially is co ntained a co mpleat : O 3 D i fcourfe , and D efcri tio n o f 03 : p i E L EM E NT S C ON T IT U T I O S i The Fm “ S N . . G s g A a o fMan, E A ON S o fthe Year g S S . !i s! To gether with a n exact Epito me o f h r fir t e th ee fiM anure/rye: a s s r 1 R a N,

V ie . The P E R S I A N , G R E C I A N .

n the R o m ans o m - , A ndbe i nni o C mo n wealth a g g f fi' t the end o tbeir 14 } Ki n ‘ i o f 1 g fi Wi Oher lca ant er . th divcrfe t f 8: f io ns Poems .3 p ; i B a Gentlewo man in New-E n land 4 y g . ? t T he eond E di ti o n C o r refled b he A h fl , y t u t or s i a nd nlar ed é a n A ddition O ' l f e g y ffil t a l other !if, P oems fou nd am ong]!her P apers fi’ ‘8 0 ‘Zi t bcr D eath. Q 4 ° ' B o ton Printed b obn / , F o er 1 6 8 . y f fl , 7 i

g s t l i c W i in s o rs Anne B ra ds tr eet xxxviii Tb r t g f M . frequently find words in such a case huddled together with very little space between them , sometimes none at all and when that did not avail words were abbreviated, with or without an apostrophe , capitals “ ” w as re were reduced to small letters , long and placed by short punctuation marks were omit ted , and other devices applied to accomplish the purpose . This her oic treatment was the common resort of compositors in the early stages of typog ra h p y , and had not fallen entirely into disuse in the seventeenth century , as a few examples from the Sec ’ M rs ond Edition of . Bradstreet s poems will show ; the first line of each couplet gives normal typ o gra

Mr phy , the second as . Foster printed it .

’ ’ ’ lar d He peer d , and por d, and g , and faid , for wore , ’ ’ ’ lar d He peer d, and por d , g , faid for wore , (Page V ) E f arth , thou ha t not moe countrys , vales , and mounds Earth thou haft not moe countrys vales mounds (page 1 6)

fa f Laughter (though thou y malice) lows from hence ,

th6 fa Laughter ( thou y malice) flows from hence , (Page 3 6)

Now up , now down , now chief, and then brought

under .

No w 8: bro ht up now down now chief, then g under, (page 1 8 4) I ntr o du ctory xxxix

A nd fm o te tho fe th o fe tho fe feet, legs, arms , and thighs ,

’ fm o te tho fe tho fe e tho fe and feet l gs , arms thighs (page 1 8 5 )

’ A t Foster s fonts of type were not large . certain points in each signatu re he ran out of various sorts : V V hence we frequently find for W, although the latter was in abundance in pages immediately preced

as ing; italic instead of roman marks of punctuation , , P ; and upturned commas in place of apostrophes , as , not in isolated cases , but in patches of some extent which leave no doubt of the rea son for their being . In one place capital I is replaced 1 by lower case i , and at another point by lower case , in such a way as to appear intentional because he had A not enough of the capitals . lthough the apostrophe

as was used on every page to show elision of letters , , there is no i n

o f as stance its use to indicate the possessive case, , ” ” A wi t uthors , womans wrath, Chaucers boots . Capitals were used very profusely , and without method ; on some pages few appear, on A others nearly all nouns are headed with them . specimen line i s this : His Suit of Crimson and his scarfe of green (Page 44) o m piled with great V ariety o f WW and L E A RN L I G H T I NC , fu ll o f D E 5

here n ef ccia ll i s co ntained a co leat l co u rfc and i p y , mp Defcrip tio n o f

E L E M E N T S, C ON S T I T U T I ON & The Fo u r A o e s o f M A N ,

S E A S ON S o f the Y ear. o gether wi th an e u s a E P 1 T o M B o f t he three firfi

ON R C H I S viz . the M A E ,

a s s r R I A R OM A COM MON N, N

W e nL1 14 fr m b e in S [ A , o i ts g P E R N’ i n to the nd o f thei r g g. E G R E C I A N a nd , l ail K I N G . ‘ i h div O l l i s OE M t ers ther p ea ant and fer o n P S .

' B a G T W i e ~ En Iand y E N L E OM A N n N w g .

be T H R D ED T I ON cof f efled b t e Ant/nor I I , y b , and enlarged by an Addi tion of fiveral other P 0 15 M 8 found a mong/t bet P apers after her

Deo tb .

¢ . rintcd fr m the feeo nd Editi he p o o n, in t Y ear

- D ED TITLE PA GE OF T H E THIR ITION .

SIZ E OF T H E ORI GI NA L . I ntr odu ctory xli The THIRD EDITION was printed also at

” 1 8 m Boston, in 7 5 . The na es of the publisher and

r1nte r p are not known . It was a reprint from the second edition , though by a simple change in the

- M rs title page the impression is given that . Brad street was responsible for the numerous corrections of spelling and capitalization and other improve E ments found therein . Of course the Third dition ” no t A was corrected by the uthor . The types in this edition were more accurately composed than in either of those preceding .

The FOURTH EDITION w as printed at Cam

in 8 E 1 6 A . bridge 7 for bram Cutter, of Charles E town , under the supervision of John Harvard llis ,

Mr E w as of Boston . . llis most painstaking in his labors ; his researches were original and extensive, his

u references authoritative , and his notes helpf l . H included a quantity of material not in the other edif tions , undoubtedly the remainder of that which was ’ Mrs found among . Bradstreet s papers after her death , and which she never meant should come to public ’ view . There is ground for but one difference of opinion

Mr E Mrs with . llis . He reprinted the writings of . E Bradstreet after the Second dition , retaining care fully all its wretched spelling , confusing punctuation , T H E WOR KS OF

r a b s tr t rt

I N P R O S E A N D V E R S E

E D I T E D B Y

JOHN HAR V AR D E L L IS

a barlrstomn

C T T E A B R A M E . U R

Wr i in s r s Anne B r a ds tr eet xliv Tbe t g of M .

which obscure such meaning as the lines may contain .

A s a rule, elided letters have been supplied in words ’ ” “ t like to , and in accordance with general modern usage . The reader will understand that the meter requires the slurred pronunciation formerly indicated by the apos

tro he p . For permission to use the portraits and other illus trati o ns included in this volume the especial thanks of The Duodecimos are extended to the Common wealth o f Massachusetts ; the American Antiquarian W M . Society, orcester, ass , which also kindly placed in the hands of the Publication Committee for c o m parison its perfect copy of the rare Second Edition

’ Mrs of . Bradstreet s poems ; the Lenox Library, E N New York Prof. Charles liot orton , Cambridge,

M Mr M ass . . Dudley R . Child, Boston , ass . ; and

Mr . Hollis R . Bailey , of Boston . To very many other gentlemen grateful acknowledgment of their

interest is hereby expressed .

K E . P K FRAN HO INS,

For the Publication Committee . E A A RR T .

” “ 2 1 2 1 0 “ Page , line , for coats read cotes .

2 8 Page 7 , line 7 , for read

[The poems following to page 2 8 7 inclusive are E 1 6 8 reprinted from the Second dition , 7 , of the writ

Mrs ings of . Bradstreet . The facsimile of the title page of that edition , printed on page xxxvii of this volume , is repeated in this connection as part of the text . ]

C o mpiled with great variety o fWit and Learnin full o f D eli ht g, g . Wherein ef cciall is o ntained a o m l a p y c c p e t. D ifco ur e f , and D efcriptio n o f E L EM E NT S C ONS T IT UT I ONS

A G E s o fMan, S E AS O S N o fthe Year. To gether with an exact Epito me o f the three firlt M o narchy" A S S Y R I A N, T V iz . he P E R S I A N ‘ , G R E C I A N . kt R ma - A ndbe i nning of t o ne Co m mo n wealth g ' O thttr let i to the end f /Ki ng Withdiverfe Other plcafant 8: ferio ns Poems;

B Gentlewo man in New-E n land y a g .

t o r r i / Theftoond E di i n, C o ef ed 6} the A nt s ar i 4 A ddition offsarered ariser P oem! strong/t Iver P apers

bar D eath.

B a Io n Printed b elon F o l er f , y f j , 1 67 8 .

FA CSIMIL E OF TH E TITL E-PA GE OF T H E N SECOND EDITIO .

T o tbe R ea der 4.

s o family occasions ; and more than , these poems are the fruit of but some few hours curtailed from her sleep and other refreshments . I dare add little lest

I keep thee too long . If thou wilt not believe the worth of these things in their kind when a man says it, yet believe it from a woman when thou seest

: it . This only I shall annex I fear the displeasure of no person in the publishing of these poems but the A uthor , without whose knowledge , and contrary to her t expec ation , I have presumed to bring to public view what she resolved in such a manner should never see the su n ; but I found that divers had gotten some scat tered ff t papers, a ec ed them well , were likely to have A ’ sent forth broken pieces to the uthor s prejudice, which I thought to prevent, as well as to pleasure those that earnestly desired the view of the whole . M A ’ ercury showed pollo Bartas book , M inerva this , and wished him well to look

And tell uprightly which did which excel .

v He viewed and viewed, and owed he could not tell . They bid him hemisphere his moldy nose

W hi s e ith crack d leering glasses , for it would pose

- The best brains he had in his old pudding pan , — Sex weighed , which best the woman , or the man ?

He peered, and pored , and glared , and said , forwore , ’ ’ ” m a s I e en as wise now I was before . ’ ’ They both gan laugh , and said it was no mar l ,

A as u B The uthoress w a right D artas girl . !” s o ? Good sooth quoth the old Don , tell ye me

I muse whither at length these girls will go . It half revives my chill frost -bitten blood ’ To see a woman once do aught that s good ; ’ ’ A nd chode by Chaucer s boots and Homer s furs ,

Let men look to it lest women wear the spurs .

N . WARD. M Y EA E TO D R SIST R , M T H E A UTHOR OF TH ES E PO E S .

ffi Though most that know me dare , I think , a rm ’ w as I ne er born to do a poet harm , Yet when I read your pleasant witty strains It wrought so strongly on my addle brains

s o That though my verse be not finely spun ,

And n so like yours cannot so eatly run ,

Yet am I willing, with upright intent,

To show my love without a compliment . There needs no painting to that comely face

That in its native beauty hath such grace . W hat I , poor silly I, prefix, therefore ,

Can but do this , make yours admired the more ;

And if but only this , I do attain

Content that my disgrace may be your gain .

If women I with women may compare , ’ Your works are solid, others weak as air . n Some books of wome I have heard of late ,

e s o Perus d some , witless, intricate , So void of sense and truth as if to err t Were only wished , ac ing above their sphere ; 6 T o My D ea r Sis ter

A nd all to get what, silly souls , they lack E steem to be the wisest of the pack .

Though, for your sake, to some this be permitted

To print, yet wish I many better witted ;

Their vanity makes this to be inquired,

If women are with wit and sense inspired . h Yet when your works s all come to public view, ’ ’ T afli rm ed t will be , will be confirmed, by you .

A nd I , when seriously I had revolved W hat you had done , I presently resolved ’ ’ w as Theirs the persons , not the sex s, failing,

A nd therefore did bespeak a modest vailing . E ’ You have acutely, in liza s ditty, A cquitted women , else I might with pity ’ Have wished them all to women s works to look ,

A nd m never more to eddle with their book . What you have done the s u n shall witness bear

’ ’ That for a woman s work t is very rare ;

A nd if the Nine vouchsafe the Tenth a place,

I think they rightly may yield you that grace .

But lest I should exceed , and too much love Should too too much endeared affection move

To superadd in praises , I shall cease, Lest while I please myself I should displease

The longing reader, who may chance complain ,

A nd s o requite my love with deep disdain ,

That I, your silly servant, stand in the porch, Lighting your sunlight with my blinking torch ; 8 T o My D ea r Sis ter

’ Hindering his mind s content, his sweet repose, Which your delightful poems do disclose ’ W s hen once the casket opened . Yet to you ’ ll Let this be added, then I bid adieu If you shall think it will be to your shame

To be in print, then I must bear the blame . ’ t If it be a fault, t is mine ; is shame that might Deny s o fair an infant of its right

To look abroad . I know your modest mind

l i s How you will blush, comp ain t too unkind ’ To force a woman s birth, provoke her pain , E ’ xpose her labors to the world s disdain . ’ I know you ll s ay you do defy that mint

That stamped you thus to be a fool in print . ’ T is true, it doth not now so neatly stand ’ A s if t were polished with your own sweet hand ; ’ T s o is not richly decked, so trimly attired

Yet it is such as justly is admired . ’ t i s : If it be folly , of both or neither ’ w e 11 Both you and I , both be fools together ; A nd he that says t is foolish, if my word Ma a y sway, by my consent sh ll make the third . I dare outface the world ’ s di sdain for both

If you alone profess you are not wroth . ’ Yet, if you are, a woman s wrath is little W m hen thousands else ad ire you in each tittle . W I . . Up on tire A u tbor 9

H U UPON T E A THOR . W E BY A KNO N FRI ND .

Now I believe tradition , which doth call M The uses , Virtues , Graces, females all ;

Only they are not nine , eleven , nor three A Our uthoress proves them but one unity . M ankind, take up some blushes on the score ; Monopolize p erfe ctiOn no more ; In your own arts confess yourselves outdone The moon hath totally eclipsed the su n - No t ff with her sable mantle mu ling him , But her bright silver makes his gold look dim

Just as his beams force our pale lamps to wink ,

And earthly fires within their ashes shrink . W B .

I canno t A wonder at pollo now, That he with female l!aurel crowned his brow That made him witty Had I leave to cho ose, M M y verse should be a page unto your use . 1 0 I n P r a is e of tbc A u tbor

I N A E OF T H E A U M E PR IS THOR , ISTR SS A NNE BRA DSTR EET, VIRTUE ’ S TRUE A ND L E A E N W E OF T H E IV LY P TT R , IF W U M N AD EE ORSHIPF L SI O BR STR T , ESQ; A T PR ESENT R ESIDING I N T H E OCCIDENTA L PA RTS OF THE WORLD

IN A ME A A A A -A A RIC , LI S NOV NGLI .

is What golden splendent star this so bright,

One thousand miles twice told, both day and night ,

From the orient first sprung , now from the west

- e o That shines , swift wing d Ph ebus and the r est Of all Jove ’ s fiery flames surmounting far A s doth each planet every falling star ? By whose divine and lucid light most clear ’ Nature s dark secret mysteries appear, ’ ’ aéts Heaven s , earth s , admired wonders, noble

faéi s Of kings and princes , most heroic , ’ A nd whate er else in darkness seemed to die ; Revives all things so obvious now to the eye That he who these its glittering rays views o ’ er

s ee l Shall what was done in all the wor d before . N . H .

1 2 U on Mrs nne B r a ds tr eet p . A

U N MRS A NNE A E E PO . BR DSTR T , M C H ER E ET . PO S ,

M M ’ adam, twice through the uses grove I walked ; U nder your blissful bowers I shrouding there ,

It seemed with nymphs of Helicon I talked,

- For there those sweet lipped Sisters sporting were .

A his s at pollo with sacred lute by .

v On high they made their hea enly sonnets fly,

Posies around they strewed of sweetest poesy .

t Twice have I drunk the nec ar of your lines ,

W - t hich high sublimed my mean born phan asy .

Maro nean Flushed with these streams of your wines , A bove myself rapt to an ecstasy ,

’ M w as M ethought I upon ount Hybla s top , There where I might those fragrant flowers lop

W - hence do sweet odors flow and honey spangles drop .

’ e To Venus shrine no altars rais d are , No r venomed shafts from painted quiver fly ; ’ Nor wanton cloves of Aphrodite s car

A re fluttering there , nor here forlornly lie Lorn paramours ; nor chatting birds tell news A How sage pollo Daphne hot pursues,

Or stately Jove himself is wont to haunt the stews .

no r ' drear Nor barking satyrs breathe, y clouds , E xhaled from Styx, their dismal drops distil o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 Up n M . 3

Within these fairy flowery fields, nor shrouds The screeching night -raven With his shady quill ;

l r1 c t But y strings here Orpheus nimbly hi s , A rion on his saddled dolphin sits ,

as Chanting every humor, age, and season fits .

Here silver swans with nightingales s et spells W hich sweetly charm the traveler, and raise E ’ e arth s earth d monarchs from their hidden cells ,

A nd e to appearance summon laps d days .

There heavenly air becalms the swelling frays , A nd fury fell of elements allays

his By paying every one due tribute of praise .

This seemed the site of all those verdant vales A nd e purl d springs whereat the nymphs do play, With lofty hills where poets rear their tales To heavenly vaults which heavenly sound repay ’ 3 By echo sweet rebound . Here ladies kiss , ’ Circling, nor songs , nor dance s circle miss ;

sea . But whilst those sirens sung , I sunk in of bliss

Thus weltering in delight, my virgin mind A dmits a rape ; truth still lies undescried . ’ s It singular that plural seemed, I find ; ’ ’ T was Fancy s glass alone that multiplied ;

t A rt s o Na ure with closely did combine, ’ s aw M I thought I the uses treble trine,

Which proved your lonely Muse superior to the Nine . 1 U on Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 4 p .

Your only hand those poesies did compose ; Your head the source whence all those springs did flow ; ’ Your voice whence change s sweetest notes arose ,

Your feet that kept the dance alone , I trow .

Then vail your bonnets , poetasters all ,

Strike lower amain , and at these humbly fall ,

A nd deem yourselves advanced to be her pedestal .

Should all with lowly congees laurels bring, W ’ aste Flora s magazine to find a wreath , ’ ’ t ff Or Peneus banks, were too mean o ering . Your Muse a fairer garland doth bequeath ’ To guard your fairer front : here t i s your name [ Shall stand emmarbled ; this your little frame

Shall great colossus be, to your eternal fame .

’ 11 I please myself, though I myself disgrace . W E ’ hat errors here be found are in rrata s place .

G J . RO ERS . TO H ER MOST HONORED FA TH E R MA E D UD E S . THO S L Y, Q, E E UMB E D TH S H LY PR ES NTE .

D D T . On ear Sir, of late delighted with the sight . Of your four Sisters clothed in black and tbc F ou r

P a r ts o white , f ’ saw tbc PVor d Of fairer dames the sun ne er the face , / . A ’ Though made a pedestal for dam s race .

s o Their worth shines in these rich lines you show,

Their parallels to find I scarcely know . To climb their climes I have nor strength nor skill ; ’ s o To mount high requires an eagle s quill . Yet view thereof di d cause my thoughts to soar My lowly pen might wait upon these four !

I bring my four times four, now meanly clad ,

: To do their homage unto yours , full glad

Who for their age , their worth , and quality Might seem of yours to claim precedency :

But by my humble hand thus rudely penned, m They are your bounden hand aids to attend . These same are they from whom we being have ;

These are of all the life, the nurse , the grave ;

These are the hot, the cold, the moist, the dry ,

That sink , that swim , that fill , that upwards fly ;

1 5 ir W in s o rs A nne B r a ds r e 1 6 T e r i t g f M . t e t

and Of these consist our bodies; clothes, food ,

The world , the useful , hurtful , and the good .

Sweet harmony they keep , yet jar ofttimes

Their discord doth appear by these harsh rhymes .

Yours did contest for wealth , for arts , for age ; M y first do Show their good, and then their rage . My other Fours do intermixed tell E ’ ach other s faults , and where themselves excel ;

How hot and dry contend with moist and cold ,

How air and earth no correspondence hold ,

A nd yet, in equal tempers , how they agree ,

v t How di ers natures make one uni y .

Something of all , though mean , I did intend , ’ Bu t d D u w as feared you judge Bartas my friend .

I honor him , but dare not wear his wealth .

M no y goods are true , though poor ; I love stealth ;

But if I did I durst not send them you ,

Wh o must reward a thief but with his due . I shall not need mine innocence to clear

These ragged lines will do it when they appear . t On what they are, your mild aspec I crave ; A ccept my best, my worst vouchsafe a grave .

From her that to yourself more duty owes

Than water in the boundless ocean flows .

M 20 1 6 2 arch , 4 . A NE A EE N BR DSTR T . T H E PROLOGUE .

To sing of wars , of captains , and of kings ,

Of cities founded, commonwealths begun , For my mean pen are too superior things

Or how they all , or each , their dates have run ;

s e t Let poets and historians these forth ,

M s o y obscure lines shall not dim their worth .

Bu t when my wondering eyes and envious heart B ’ ’ at artas lines do but read o er, Muses did not part ’ Twixt him and me that o verflu ent store A B Bartas can do what a artas will ,

Bu t simple I according to my skill .

’ - ex eét From school boys tongues no rhetoric we p , w Nor yet a s eet consort from broken strings , ’ No r perfect beauty where s a main defe ft:

M M s o y foolish, broken , blemished use sings ;

A nd i s this to mend, alas , no art able, ’ s o Cause nature made it , irreparable .

can - Nor I , like th at fluent, sweet tongued Greek

Wh o li s e d , p at first, in future times speak plain ; By art he gladly found what he did seek

A fil ll requital of his striving pain .

I 7 i Wr i tin s o Mr s Anne B r a ds treet 1 8 T m g f .

’ A rt s can do much, but this maxim most sure

A weak or wounded brain admits no cure .

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue W ho says my hand a needle better fits . ’ A poet s 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 ’ ’ 11 s a s as w . They y it stolen , or else it by chance

But sure the antique Greeks were far more mild , E w h e lse of our sex y feign d they those Nine , ’ And Poesy made Calliope s own child ? ’ A D So mongst the rest they placed the rts ivine . Bu t this weak knot they will full soon untie

The Greeks did naught but play the fools and lie .

Let Greeks be Greeks , and women what they are .

M en have precedency , and still excel . It is but vain unjustly to wage war

Men can do best, and women know it well . Preeminence in all and each is yours

Yet grant some small acknowledgment of ours .

A nd oh , ye high flown quills that soar the skies ,

A nd ever with your prey still catch your praise , ’ If e er you deign these lowly lines your eyes ,

Give thyme or parsley wreath ; I ask no bays . This mean and u nrefinéd ore of mine

Will make your glistering gold but more to shine .

2 0 Tbe Wr i ti n s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet g of .

’ ff The others di erence , being less , did cease ,

A ll erfe ét storms now laid, and they in p peace .

That Fire should first begin the rest consent, t The noblest and most ac ive element .

F I R E . W hat is my worth both ye and all men know .

In little time I can but little show .

B u t s a what I am , let learned Grecians y ;

- What I can do , well Skilled mechanics may ;

The benefit all living by me find, All sorts of artists here declare your mind . What tool was ever framed but by my might ?

Ye martialists, what weapons for your fight,

To try your valor by, but it must feel M ?— y force your sword, and gun, your lance of steel . ’ s Your cannon bootless , and your powder, too , W A ithout mine aid . las, what can they do

s The adverse wall s not shaked, the mine not blown ,

A nd i n despite the city keeps her own . But I with one granado or petard ’ s o Set ope those gates that fore strong were barred .

Ye husbandmen , your coulters re made by me , ’ s ee Your hoes , your mattocks , and whate er you

Subdue the earth , and fit it for your grain , That so it might in time requite your pain ;

- Though strong limbed Vulcan forged it by his skill ,

I made it flexible unto his will . Tire F o u r Elem ents 2 I

Ye cooks , your kitchen implements I frame ,

e s Your spits , pots , jacks , what l e I need not name ; Your daily food I wholesome make ; I warm ’ Your shrinking limbs , which winter s cold doth harm . ’ s Ye Paracelsians , too , in vain your skill

In chemistry unless I help you still . ’ A nd you , philosophers , if e er you made

A w as transmutation it through mine aid .

Ye silversmiths , your ore I do refine ; W hat mingled lay with earth I cause to shine . Bu t let me leave these things ; my flame aspires

To match on high with the celestial fires . The su n an orb of fire was held of old ; Our sages now another tale have told . ‘ as etl But be he what they will , yet his p A burning fiery heat we find reflect;

An d - of the self same nature is with mine, E Cold sister arth , no witness needs but thine

How doth his warmth refresh thy frozen back , A nd trim thee brave in green after thy black !

Both man and beast rejoice at his approach ,

A nd s e e birds do sing to his glittering coach .

And though naught but salamanders live in fire ,

And r a u s ta — fly py called, all else expire,

Yet men and beasts , astronomers will tell , Fixed in heavenly constellations dwell M y planets of both sexes , whose degree

Poor heathen judged worthy a deity .

2 A 2 2 Tbe Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet g f .

’ s There Orion , armed, attended by his dog ;

A hi s The Theban , stout lcides , with club ;

wh o M The valian t Perseus , edusa slew ; B The horse that killed ellerophon , then flew . M y crab , my scorpion , fishes , you may see,

The maid with balance, wain with horses three ,

The ram , the bull , the lion, and the beagle,

The bear, the goat, the raven, and the eagle, B ’ The crown , the whale, the archer, erenice s hair,

The hydra , dolphin , boys that water bear ; ’ Na y , more than these , rivers mongst stars are found

E w as ridanus , where Phaethon drowned . t Their magni ude and height should I recount , M y story to a volume would amount . Out of a multitude these few I touch ;

Your wisdom out of little gather much . ’ 11 I here let pass my choler, cause of wars ;

A nd f in luence of divers of those stars ,

W co n u n éi i o n su n hen in j with the , do more

A as ugment his heat which w too hot before . The summer ripening season I do claim ;

A nd man from thirty unto fifty frame .

Of old, when sacrifices were divine ,

w as I of acceptance the holy sign . M ong all my wonders which I might recount,

’ ’ ’ There s none more strange than [Etna s sulph ry mount The choking flames that from Vesuvius flew

- The over curious Second Pliny slew, Tbe F ou r Elem ents 2 3

A nd with the ashes that it sometimes shed

’ ’ e e Apulia s jacent parts were cov r d .

A nd though I be a servant to each man ,

c an Yet, by my force, master my masters . What famous towns to Cinders have I turned ! What lasting forts my kindled wrath hath burned ! The stately seats of mighty kings by me

In confused heaps of ashes may you see . ’ ’ W s N here inus great walled town , and Troy of old , ? Carthage, and hundred more in stories told ’ o erco m e Which when they could not be by foes ,

viéto r io u s The army , through my help , rose . ’ A nd B stately London , our Great ritain s glory , My raging flame did make a mournful story

But maugre all that I or foes could do,

That phenix from her bed is risen new .

Old sacred Zion , I demolished thee ;

’ Low great D iana s temple w as by me ;

A nd bru i tis h more than Sodom for her lust, W ith neighboring towns , I did consume to dust .

W s a i hat shall I y of l ghtning and of thunder, W hich kings and mighty ones amaze with wonder,

’ ’ W Cm sar R o m e hich made a ( S), the world s proud head ,

Foolish Caligula, creep under his bed,

tu ? Of meteors , ignes fa i, and the rest

But to leave those to the wise I judge it best .

The rich I oft make poor, the strong I maim ,

Not sparing life when I can take the same . W i in s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 4 Tbe r t gs of Mr .

A nd , in a word, the world I shall consume ,

A nd all therein, at that great day of doom ;

No t before then shall cease my raging ire,

A nd then because no matter more for fire .

No w , sisters , pray proceed ; each in your course , ”

A S . I , impart your usefulness and force

E A R TH .

E The next in place arth judged to be her due . ” s he Sister, quoth , I come not short of you ;

In wealth and use I do surpass you all ,

A nd M E other arth of old men did me call , — Such is my fruitfulness an epithet W ’ hich none e er gave, or you could claim , of right .

A u mong my praises this I co nt not least,

I am the original of man and beast . To tell what sundry fruits my fat soil yields

- fields In vineyards, gardens , orchards , and corn ,

Their kinds, their tastes , their colors , and their smells, Would so pass time I could say nothing else ;

The rich , the poor, wise , fool , and every sort,

s o Of these common things can make report . t To tell you of my coun ries and my regions , Soon would they pass not hundreds but legions ; M y cities famous , rich , and populous ,

Whose numbers now are grown innumerous .

I have not time to think of every part,

Yet let me name my Grecia, t is my heart ; Tbc F ou r Elem ents

For learning , arms , and arts I love it well , ’ M t But chiefly cause the uses here did dwell .

’ ’ ll s k I here skip o er my mountains reaching y , W A hether Pyrenean or the lps , which lie

On either side the country of the Gauls , Strong forts from Spanish and Italian brawls ;

A nd huge great Taurus, longer than the rest, Dividing great A rm eni a fro m the least ;

A n d Hemus , whose steep sides none foot upon . But farewell all for dear Mount Helicon ;

A nd wondrous high Olympus , of such fame That heaven itself w as oft called by that name ;

Parnassus sweet, I dote too much on thee , U nless thou prove a better friend to me . ’ ll ’ But I leap o er these hills , not touch a dale ,

No r will I stay, no , not in Tempe vale . N I ll here let go my lions of umidia , M y panthers and my leopards of Libya ,

The behemoth, and rare found unicorn

’ (Poison s sure antidote lies in his horn), ’ A nd my hyena (imitates man s voice);

Out of great numbers I might pick my choice ,

Thousands in woods and plains , both wild and tame .

But here or there, I list now none to name

No , though the fawning dog did urge me sore

In his behalf to speak a word the more,

W r hose t ust and valor I might here commend , ’ s But time too short and precious s o to spend . 2 6 e W i i o r s Anne B r a ds tr ee T e r t ngs f M . t

But hark you , wealthy merchants , who for prize Send forth your well -manned ships where sun doth rise A fter three years , when men and meat are spent, M y rich commodities pay double rent .

Ye Galenists , my drugs that come from thence

D o cure your patients , fill your purse with pence ;

Besides the use of roots , of herbs , and plants

That with less cost near home supply your wants .

Bu t , mariners, where got you ship and sail ,

A nd ? oars to row, when both my Sisters fail

Your tackling , anchor, compass , too , is mine,

W su n hich guides when nor moon nor stars do shine .

wh o Ye mighty kings , for your lasting fames B uilt cities , monuments , called by your names , Were those compiled heaps of massy stones That your ambition laid aught but my bones ?

w h o Ye greedy misers , do dig for gold,

For gems , for silver, treasures which I hold , Will not my goodly face your rage suffice Bu t you will s e e what in my bowels lies ?

A nd artificers ye , all trades and sorts , My bounty calls you forth to make reports

If aught you have to use , to wear, to eat, Bu t what I freely yield upon your sweat ?

A nd choleric sister, thou , for all thine ire, Well knowest my fuel must maintain thy fire ;

A s I ingenuously with thanks confess , My cold thy fruitful heat doth crave no less

bc Wr i tin s o Mr s A nne B r a ds tr ee 2 8 T g !f . t O dreadful sepulcher that this is true , Dathan and all his company well knew ;

So did that Roman , far more stout than wise , ’ Burying himself alive for honor s prize ; And since fair Italy full sadly knows

W she hat hath lost by these remediless woes . A gain , what veins of poison in me lie ;

Some kill outright, and some do stupefy

Na y , into herbs and plants it sometimes creeps ,

In heats, and colds, and gripes , and drowsy sleeps . Thus I occasion death to man and beast W hen food they seek and harm mistrust the least . Much might I s ay of the hot Libyan sand Which rise like tumbling billows on the land ’ ’ Wherein Cambyses army w as o erthro w n ’ t (But, windy sister, was when you have blown). ’ I 11 s ay no more ; but this thing add I must :

Remember, sons , your mold is of my dust ;

A nd after death, whether interred or burned , ” A S s o t earth at first, into earth re urned .

W A T E R .

E W Scarce arth had done , but the angry ater moved . ” “ she u Sister, quoth , it had f ll well behooved , A e mong your boastings, to have prais d me , P s ee Cause of your fruitfulness , as you shall .

n e leét This, your g , shows your ingratitude , A nd how your subtilty would men delude . T he F ou r Elem ents 29

’ No t u s s one of , all knows , that like to thee , E he ver, in craving from the ot r three .

Bu t thou art bound to me above the rest,

Who am thy drink, thy blood , thy sap , and best . ? If I withhold, what art thou Dead, dry lump ,

tu Thou bearest nor grass, nor plant, nor tree , nor s mp . Thy extreme thirst i s moistened by my love W ith springs below and showers from above, Or else thy su n-burned face an d gaping chops

Complain to the heavens, if I withhold my drops .

Thy bear, thy tiger, and thy lion stout, When I am gone their fiercenes s none needs doubt ;

Thy camel hath no strength, thy bull no force, ’ No r mettle s found in the courageous horse ;

Hinds leave their calves , the elephant the fens , The wolves and savage beasts forsake their dens ; The lofty eagle and the Stork fly low ; The peacock and the ostrich share in w o e ; D ’ The pine, the cedar, yea, and aphne s tree

Do cease to flourish in this misery .

M an wants his bread and wine, and pleasant fruits ; E ’ He knows such sweets lie not in arth s dry roots ,

Then seeks me out, in river and in well ,

His deadly malady I might expel .

his If I supply , heart and veins rejoice ;

hi s as If not, soon ends life, did his voice . E That this is true , arth , thou canst not deny . E I call thine gy pt this to verify , W rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 0 T bc r i tings of M .

W N hich , by my fatting ile , doth yield such store That s he can spare when nations round are poor ; ’ W o erflo w hen I run low, and not her brinks,

u To meet with want each woef l man bethinks .

A nd . such I am, in rivers, showers , and springs ’ Bu t what s the wealth that my rich ocean brings ?

s o Fishes numberless I there do hold,

If thou shouldst buy it would exhaust thy gold .

OIl There lives the y whale, whom all men know, E Such wealth , but not such like, arth , thou mayst Show, A ’ The dolphin , loving music, rion s friend,

The witty barbel , whose craft doth her commend ,

With thousands more which now I list not name,

Thy silence of thy beasts doth cause the same . ’ My pearls that dangle at thy darlings ears

No t -fish thou , but shell , yield, as Pliny clears . W as ever gem s o rich found in thy trunk ’ A s Egypt s wanton Cleopatra drunk ? Or hast thou any color can come nigh ? The Roman purple, double Tyrian dye ’ W ae hich C sar s consuls , tribunes , all adorn ,

For it to search my waves they thought no scorn .

Thy gallant, rich , perfuming ambergris I lightly cast ashore as frothy fleece ; W ith rolling grains of purest massy gold, ’ A Which Spain s mericas do gladly hold . E d arth , thou hast not more countries , vales , and moun s

: Than I have fountains , rivers, lakes, and ponds Tee F o u r Elem ents 3 ]

M W A y sundry seas, Black , hite , and driatic, A Ionian , Baltic , and the vast tlantic,

E ean g , Caspian , golden rivers five, A sphaltites Lake , where naught remains alive ; But I should go beyond thee in my boasts

If I should name more seas than thou hast coasts . ’ A n d s o be thy mountains e er high and steep ,

can I soon match them with my seas as deep . To speak of kinds of waters I neglect

M and effeéi y divers fountains , their strange ; M y wholesome baths , together with their cures ; M y water sirens , with their guileful lures ;

The uncertain cause of certain ebbs and flows , W A ’ ’ hich wondering ristotle s wit ne er knows .

Nor will I speak of waters made by art, Which can to life restore a fainting heart ;

No r r fruitful dews ; nor d ops distilled from eyes , W hich pity move , and oft deceive the wise ;

Nor yet of salt and sugar, sweet and smart

w e . Both , when list, to water we convert A las , thy ships and oars could do no good D id they but want my ocean and my flood . The wary merchant on his weary beast

Transfers his goods from south to north and east , Unless I cas e his toil and do transport e The wealthy freight unto his wish d port .

su fli ce These be my benefits , which may .

I now must show what ill there in me lies . W o s A nne B r a ds tr eet 3 2 T be r i tings f Mr .

The phlegmy constitu tion I uphold ;

All . humors , tumors , which are bred of cold

’ ’ O er childhood and o er winter I bear sway ,

A nd L una for my regent I obey .

A s I with showers ofttimes refresh the earth ,

So oft in my excess I cause a dearth ,

A nd w e t s o with abundant cool the ground,

B . y adding cold to cold, no fruit proves sound The farmer and the gras i er do complain

Of rotten sheep , lean kine, and mildewed grain . A nd with my wasting floods and roaring torrent

Their cattle, hay , and corn I sweep down current .

Na y , many times my ocean breaks his bounds,

A nd h with astonis ment the world confounds , ’ A nd swallows countries up , ne er seen again ,

A nd as that an island makes which once w main . ’ t w as Thus Britain fair, is thought, cut from France ; Sicily from Italy by the like chance ; A nd but one land w as A frica and Spain U ntil proud Gibraltar did make them twain . Some s ay I swallowed up (sure t is a notion) A t A migh y country in the tlantic Ocean .

s a I need not y much of my hail and snow, M y ice and extreme cold, which all men know ; Whereof the first s o ominous I rained ’ That Israel s enemies therewith were brained ; And of my chilling snows such plenty be ’ u l That Caucasus high mo nts are se dom free . Tbc F ou r Elem ents 3 3

’ ’ Mine ice doth glaze Europe s great rivers o er ;

su n . Till release , their Ships can sail no more All know that inundations I have made , W herein not men , but mountains , seemed to wade

A s A when chaia all under water stood, That for two hundred years it ne ’ er proved good ’ D eu cali o n s great deluge , with many more . But these are trifles to the flood of Noah ; ’ Then wholly perished earth s ignoble race,

A nd to this day impairs her beauteous face .

w o e That after times shall never feel like ,

Her confirmed sons behold my colored bow . ’ M sa ll uch might I y of wrecks ; but that I spare,

A n Air d now give place unto our sister .

A I R . ” “ A ir Content , quoth , to speak the last of you ,

as Yet am not ignorant first w my due . ’ ll I do suppose you yield, without control ,

I am the breath of every living soul .

M v ortals , what one of you that lo es not me Abundantly more than my sisters three ?

A nd E W though you love Fire , arth , and ater well ,

A ir Yet beyond all these you know to excel . ’ s hi s I ask the man condemned , that near death ,

How gladly should his gold purchase his breath ;

A nd all the wealth that ever earth did give ,

How freely should it go , so he might live . W in s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 4 T be r i t g f .

No E , arth , thy Witching trash were all but vain

If my pure air thy sons did not sustain .

The famished, thirsty man that craves supply ,

i s His moving reason , Give , lest I die ,

’ i s S So loth he to go , though nature spent,

his c To bid adieu to lear element .

v ? Nay , what are words , which do re eal the mind h w o . Speak or what they will , they are but wind

’ ’ ’ Your drums , your trumpets , and your organs sound, What is it but forced air which doth rebound ?

A nd u n such are echoes , and report of the g

That tells afar the exploit which it hath done .

Your songs and pleasant tunes, they are the same ;

And s o the notes which nightingales do frame .

Ye forging smiths, if bellows once were gone

- Your red hot work more coldly would go on . ’ t i s I Ye mariners , that fills your sails ,

And e speeds you to your port with wish d gales . W hen burning heat doth cause you faint, I cool ; ’ A nd s when I smile, your ocean like a pool .

I help to ripe the corn , I turn the mill ,

A nd with myself I every vacuum fill .

The ruddy , sweet sanguine is like to air,

A nd youth and spring sages to me compare .

M s o y moist, hot nature is purely thin ,

so e t No place subtilely made but I g in .

I grow more pure and pure as I mount higher, ’ A nd m tu when I throughly rarefied, rn fire .

6 Tbe Wr i tifl f Mrs Am e B r a ds tr e 3 g qf . e t

s ea Then of my tempests felt at and land, W hich neither ships nor houses could Withstand, ’ W ve hat woeful wrecks I made may well appear, A If naught were known but that before lgier, Where famous Charles the Fifth more loss sustained

w ar M Than in the long hot which ilan gained . A gain, what furious storms and hurricanoes

’ r B Know western isles, as Ch istopher s , arbadoes , W here neither houses, trees , nor plants I spare,

Bu t some fall down , and some fly up with air . E arthquakes so hurtful, and so feared of all ,

Imprisoned I am the original .

Then What prodigious sights I sometimes show,

A s battles pitched in the air, as countries know ; Their joining , fighting , forcing, and retreat, ! That earth appears in heaven , oh , wonder great

Sometimes red flaming swords and blazing stars,

Portentous signs of famines, plagues, and wars, Which make the mighty monarchs fear their fates B y death , or great mutation of their states . I have said less than did my sisters three ; ’ ’ s s But what their wrath or force , the same in me . ’ ve w as To add to all I said my intent, ” But dare not go beyond my element . OF T H E F OUR HUMORS I N MA N ’ N U N S CO STIT TIO .

The former four now ending their discourse ,

Ceasing to vaunt their good , or threat their force ,

Lo , other four step up , crave leave to show

The native qualities that from them flow .

But first they Wisely showed their high descent, Each eldest daughter to each element :

w as B Air Choler owned by Fire, and lood by ; E W arth knew her black swarth child, ater her fair .

All v ha ing made obeisance to each mother,

Had leave to speak , succeeding one the other . ’ Bu t mongst themselves they were at variance W hich of the four should have predominance . i Choler first hotly claimed r ght by her mother , Who had precedency of all the other ;

she But Sanguine did disdain what required ,

Pleading herself was most of all desired . M Proud elancholy , more envious than the rest,

The second, third, or last could not digest ; 3 A 3 7 b i in rs Am e B r a ds tr eet 3 8 T e Wr t gs qf M .

She was the silentest of all the four ;

Her wisdom spake not much , but thought the more . M ild Phlegm did not contest for chiefest place,

h v Only s e craved to have a acant space . W ell , thus they parle and chide ; but, to be brief,

Or will they nill they Choler will be chief.

They , seeing her impetuosity , t A present yielded to necessity .

H O ER C L . To show my high descent and pedigree

Yourselves would judge but vain prolixity . It is a ckno wle dgéd from whence I came ; It shall suffice to show you what I am

M as s ee yself and mother one , you shall ,

Bu t s he in greater, I in less , degree .

W e both once masculines , the world doth know,

No w v w e o w e feminines awhile , for lo e U nto your sisterhood, which makes us render

Our noble selves in a less noble gender .

w e Though under fire comprehend all heat, Yet man for choler i s the proper seat ;

ereét I in his heart my regal throne,

W - here monarch like I play and sway alone . m Yet many ti es , unto my great disgrace ,

v One of yoursel es are my compeers in place , W here if your rule prove once predominant,

The man proves boyish, sottish , ignorant ;

0 W i tin s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 4 Tbe r g qf . To march her pace to some is greater pain

Than by a quick encounter to be slain . ’ she 11 But be she beaten , not run away ; ’ 11 She first advise if it be not best to stay . ’ No w let s give cold white sister Phlegm her right

s he So loving unto all , scorns to fight ; ’ s he 11 If any threaten her , in a trice Convert from water to congeal ed ice ; ’ s Her teeth will chatter, dead and wan her face ,

A nd fore she be assaulted quits the place .

She dares not challenge if I speak amiss ,

s he Nor hath wit or heat to blush at this . ’ Here s three of you all see now what you are

e w ar Then yield to me pre minence in .

A h o ? gain, w fits for learning, science, arts

rarefie s intelleétu al Who the parts, ? From whence fine spirits flow, and witty notions ’ ’ Bu t t is not from our dull slow sister s motions,

No r , sister Sanguine, from thy moderate heat .

Poor spirits the liver breeds, which is thy seat . W hat comes from thence my heat refines the same, ’ A nd through the arteries sends it o er the frame ; ’ re The vital spirits they called, and well they may ,

For when they fail man turns unto his clay . The animal I claim as well as these

The nerves should I not warm , soon would they freeze .

is But Phlegm herself now provoked at this . She thinks I never shot so far amiss ; Tbe F o nr Hu nters

’ s he s . The brain challengeth , the head her seat ’ But know it s a foolish brain e that wanteth heat ; — My absence proves it plain her w it then flies

Out at her nose, or melteth at her eyes . Oh, who would miss this influence of!thine To be distilled, a drop on every line A las , thou hast no spirits ; thy company W ill feed a dropsy or a tympany ,

The palsy , gout, or cramp , or some such dolor .

Thou wast not made for soldier or for scholar . Of greasy paunch and bloated cheeks go vaunt ;

But a good head from these are dissonant . M ? But, elancholy, wouldst have this glory thine

Thou sayest thy wits are staid, subtile, and fine ; ’ T is true, when I am midwife to thy birth ’ s E Thyself as dull as is thy mother arth .

Thou canst not claim the liver, head , nor heart,

Yet hast the seat assigned, a goodly part

The sink of all us three, the hateful spleen ;

Of that black region nature made thee queen , W here pain and sore obstruction thou dost work , W here envy , malice , thy companions, lurk . ’ rt If once thou great, what follows thereupon But bodies wasting and destruction

So base thou art that baser cannot be, o The excrement adusti n of me . But I am weary to dilate your shame ;

No r is it my pleasure thus to blur your name, is e Wr i tin s Mrs A nne B r a ds r e 4 2 T g qf . t e t

Only to raise my honor to the skies ,

A s obje€ts best appear by contraries .

But arms and arts I claim, and higher things,

The princely qualities befitting kings , Whose profound heads I line with policies

’ re s o They held for oracles , they are wise ;

Their wrathful looks are death , their words are laws ;

s u b eét Their courage it foe, friend, and j awes . But one of you would make a worthy king

Like our sixth Henry , that same virtuous thing ’ That, when a varlet struck him o er the side, ‘ ’ o rso o th F , you are to blame, he grave replied .

i s Take choler from a prince , what he more e ’ Than a dead lion , by beasts triumph d o er ?

A aft gain, you know how I every part By the influence I still send from the heart ;

’ s It nor your muscles, nerves, nor this , nor that

’ s Does aught without my lively heat, that flat .

Na y , the stomach, magazine to all the rest, W ithout my boiling heat cannot digest .

A nd yet, to make my greatness still more great, What differences the s ex but only heat ?

A nd one thing more, to close up my narration,

Of all that lives I cause the propagation .

I have been sparing what I might have said . ’ ’ s I love no boasting ; that but children s trade .

n o w To what you shall say I will attend,

nd A to your weakness gently condescend .

The Wr i ti s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr ee 44 ng of . t

lau he s t Thou g at me for loving merriment,

A nd scornest all knightly sports at tournament . ’ Thou sayest I love my sword because it s gilt ;

But know I love the blade more than the hilt, Yet do abhor such temerarious deeds

A s thy unbridled barbarous choler breeds .

Thy rudeness counts good manners vanity,

A nd real compliments base flattery .

For drink , which of us twain likes it the best ’ 11 I go no farther than thy nose for test . ff Thy other sco s , not worthy of reply ,

Shall vanish as of no validity .

Of thy black calumnies this is but part, ’ 11 ' ' But now I show what soldier thou art .

A nd u though tho st used me with opprobrious spite, M y ingenuity must give thee right . ’ t Thy choler is but rage when is most pure ,

can But useful when a mixture endure . ’ A s s o t with thy mother Fire, is with thee The best of all the four when they agree ;

But let her leave the rest, then I presume

s he Both them and all things else would consume . W hilst us for thine associates thou takest, A soldier most complete in all points makest ;

w e But when thou scornest to take the help lend,

Thou art a fury or infernal fiend . ’ W s t itness the execrable deeds thou done ,

sex s o n Nor sparing nor age , nor sire nor . Tae F onr Hnnz ars 45 To satisfy thy pride and cruelty

Thou oft hast broke bounds of humanity .

Nay , should I tell , thou wouldst count me no blab , ’ s t How often for the lie thou given the stab . ’ To take the wall s a s in of so high rate

That naught but death the same may expiate .

To cross thy will, a challenge doth deserve ; ’ sheddes t r t So that blood thou bounden to preserve . ? Wilt thou this valor, courage , manhood, call ’ t No ; know is pride most diabolical . ’ t If murders be thy glory, is no less . ’ 11 I not envy thy feats nor happiness . But if in fitting time and place ’ gainst foes ’ dares t For country s good thy life thou expose, ’ Be dangers ne er so high , and courage great, ’ ll I praise that prowess, fury , choler , heat .

But such thou never art when all alone,

Yet such when we all four are joined in one .

A nd w e when such thou art, even such are ,

The friendly coadjutors still of thee .

' Nextly, the spirits thou dost wholly claim , W hich natural , vital , animal , we name .

To play philosopher I have no list,

No r yet physician , nor anatomist ; t For ac ing these I have no will nor art,

Yet shall with equity give thee thy part .

For natural , thou dost not much contest ; n For there is one, thou sayest, if some, not best . be W i in s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 46 T r t g f .

That there are some , and best, I dare aver,

u s e . Of greatest , if reason do not err What is there living which does not first derive ? His life, now animal , from vegetive

If thou givest life, I give the nourishment ; ’

t . Thine without mine is not, is evident

But I, without thy help , can give a growth ,

A s plants, trees, and small embryon knoweth .

A nd if vital spirits do flow from thee,

I am as sure the natural from me .

Be thine the nobler, which I grant, yet mine

Shall justly claim priority of thine . I am the fountain which thy cistern fills

Through warm blue conduits of my venial rills . ’ What hath the heart but what s sent from the liver ?

If thou rt the taker, I must be the giver .

Then never boast of what thou dost receive,

For of such glory I shall thee bereave . But why the heart should be usurped by thee

I must confess seems something strange to me . t The spirits through thy heat made perfec are, ’ ’ s But the material s none of thine, that clear ; Their wondrous mixture is of blood and air

The first, myself; second, my mother fair . ’ Bu t 11 I not force retorts, nor do thee wrong ;

Thy fiery yellow froth is mixed among . ’ Challenge not all cause part we do allow ; ’ Thou knowest I ve there to do as well as thou .

be W i in s o Mr s A nne B r a ds tr eet 48 T r t g f .

u Your hot, moist, cold, dry natures are but fo r . I moderately am all ; what need I more ?

A s . thus, if hot , then dry ; if moist, then cold

’ If this you can t disprove , then all I hold . ’ M ve y virtues hid , I let you dimly see

My sweet complexion proves the verity . ’ ’ s s This scarlet dye a badge of what within ,

beau tifie s One touch thereof so the skin .

Na y , could I be from all your tangs but pure , M ’ an s life to boundless time might still endure . ’ s But here one thrusts her heat, where it not required ;

So , suddenly , the body all is fired ,

A nd of the calm , sweet temper quite bereft, W hich makes the mansion by the soul soon left . M So elancholy seizes on a man , W ith her uncheerful visage , swarth and wan ;

The body dries , the mind sublime doth smother ,

A nd turns him to the womb of his earthy mother .

A n d Phlegm likewise can show her cruel art, With cold distempers to pain every part ;

s he The lungs rots , the body wears away , ’ A s she d v if lea e no flesh to turn to clay .

Her languishing diseases , though not quick , A t length, alas , demolish the fabric .

All v to pre ent, this curious care I take In the last concoction segregation make

Of all the perverse humors from mine own .

The bitter Choler, most malignant known , Tbe F anr Hnm ors 49

I turn into her cell close by my side ; The Melancholy to the spleen to abide ;

u s e Likewise the whey , some I in the veins,

The overplus I send unto the reins .

Bu t yet, for all my toil , my care, and skill , ’ It s doomed , by an irrevocable will ,

That my intents should meet with interruption ,

hi s That mortal man might turn to corruption . I might here show the nobleness of mind Of such as to the sanguine are inclined ; ’ re They liberal , pleasant , kind , and courteous ,

d beni ni o s A n u . , like the liver , all g

For arts and sciences they are the fittest,

A nd , maugre Choler, still they are the wittiest, W ith an ingenious working fantasy , A most voluminous large memory ,

And nothing wanting but solidity . w h ? But y , alas , thus tedious should I be

s ee Thousand examples you may daily .

If time I have transgressed, and been too long ,

- b Yet could not be more rief without much wrong . ’ ve o ff I scarce wiped the spots proud Choler cast,

Such venom lies in words , though but a blast . ’ No ve brags I used ; to you I dare appeal ,

If modesty my worth do not conceal . ’ I ve used no bitterness, nor taxed your name . ” A s I to you , to me do ye the same . s Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 0 Tae Wr i ti ngs of Mr .

M E N H OL Y LA C . He that with two assailants hath to do

e t v Had need be arm d well , and ac i e too Especially when friendship is pretended ; ’ s i That blow most deadly where it s intended . ’ 11 Though Choler rage and rail , I not do so ; ’ s The tongue no weapon to assault a foe .

Bu t w e sith we fight with words , might be kind

v To spare oursel es and beat the whistling wind .

s o Fair rosy sister, mightest thou scape free . ’ (I ll flatter for a time as thou didst me ; ff But when the first o ender I have laid ,

Thy soothing girds shall fully be repaid . )

Bu t , Choler, be thou cooled or chafed, I ll venture, ’ A n d in contention s lists now justly enter . W hat moved thee thus to vilify my name,

No t ? past all reason , but , in truth, all shame Thy fiery spirit shall bear away this prize ;

To play such furious pranks I am too wise .

s o If in a soldier rashness be precious,

Know in a general it is most pernicious . Nature doth teach to shield the head from harm ; ’ s The blow that aimed thereat is latched by the arm . W hen in battalia my foes I face,

I then command proud Choler stand thy place,

To use thy sword, thy courage , and thy art

There to defend myself, thy better part .

2 Tae Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 g f .

When death doth seize the man , your stock is lost ; W hen you poor bankrupts prove, then have I most . ’ ’ 11 sa t You y , here none shall e er dis urb my right ;

You, high born , from that lump then take your flight . ’ ’ s Then who man s friend, when life and all forsakes ?

His mother, mine, him to her womb retakes

Thus he is ours ; his portion is the grave . ’ Bu t ll while he lives , I show what part I have .

A nd firm first, the dry bones I justly claim ,

The strong foundation of the stately frame .

Likewise the useful spleen , though not the best, Yet is a bowel called well as the rest ;

o w e The liver, stomach , their thanks of right

The first it drains, of the last quicks appetite . Laughter (though thou say malice) flows from hence

These two in one cannot have residence . But thou most grossly dost mistake to think

r The spleen for all you th ee was made a sink .

’ Of all the rest thou s t nothing there to do ;

Bu t if thou hast, that malice is from you . A gain, you often touch my swarthy hue .

That black is black , and I am black, is true,

But yet more comely far, I dare avow,

Than is thy torrid nose or brazen brow . But that which shows how high your spite is bent

Is charging me to be thy excrement .

Thy loathsome imputation I defy .

So plain a slander needeth no reply . Tba F ea r H nnz or s 5 3

’ W s t hen by thy heat thou baked thyself to crust, ‘ ’ A nd s o l art called black Cho er,or adust,

Thou , witless , thinkest that I am thy excretion ,

So mean thou art in art as in discretion . ’ But by your leave I 11 let your greatness s ee What officer thou art to us all three

The kitchen drudge, the cleanser of the sinks , ’ That casts out all that man e er eats or drinks .

u If any doubt the tr th whence this should come , Show them thy passage to the duodenum ;

Thy biting quality still irritates ,

Till filth and thee nature exonerates . ’ rt If there thou stopped, to the liver thou dost turn in ,

And ff thence with jaundice sa ron all the skin . ’ No further time I ll spend in confutation ; ’ I tru st I ve cleared your slanderous imputation .

I now speak unto all , no more to one ; o Pray hear, admire, and learn instructi n . My virtu es yours surpass without compare

The first my constancy , that jewel rare . ’ s i Choler too rash this golden g ft to hold , A nd Sanguine is more fickle manifold ;

Here , there , her restless thoughts do ever fly,

Constant in nothing but unconstancy .

A nd what Phlegm is we know, like to her mother ; U nstable is the one , and so the other . W ith me is noble patience also found .

Impatient Choler loveth not the sound . 4A ba Wr i tin s o Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 4 T g f .

W i s sh e hat Sanguine , doth not heed nor care ,

No u w . p , now down , transported like the air ’ ’ s s Phlegm patient because her nature tame .

Bu t I by virtue do acquire the same . M y temperance , chastity , are eminent ;

B u t these with you are seldom resident . ’ No w could I stain my ruddy sister s face W ith deeper red , to show you her disgrace . But rather I With silence veil her shame

Than cause her blush while I relate the same .

No r are ye free from this enormity ,

A s he lthough bear the greatest obloquy . M y prudence , judgment, I might now reveal ; ’ t i s But wisdom my wisdom to conceal . U nto diseases not inclined as you ,

Nor cold nor hot, ague nor pleurisy ,

Nor cough nor quinsy , nor the burning fever,

aét his v I rarely feel to fierce endea or . My sickness in conceit chiefly doth lie ; ’ W s hat I imagine , that my malady .

Chimeras strange are in my fantasy ,

A nd things that never were , nor shall I see .

I love not talk ; reason lies not in length ,

Nor multitude of words argues our strength . ’

ve . I done Pray, sister Phlegm , proceed in course . ” W e ex eét shall p much sound, but little force .

ir Wr i in s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 6 T e t g of . Under Troy ’ s walls ten years will wear away

Rather than lose one beauteous Helena . But ’ t were as vain to prove this truth of mine

- su n A s at noon day to tell the doth shine . ff ’ Next di erence that twixt us twain doth lie,

Wh o ? doth possess the brain , or thou or I

w as Shame forced thee say the matter that mine , t But the spirits by which it ac s are thine .

t can s a Thou speakest ruth, and I y no less ;

t . Thy heat do h much, I candidly confess Yet without ostentation I may s ay I do as much for thee another way ;

A nd though I grant thou art my helper here, ’ i t s No debtor I because paid elsewhere .

With all your flourishes , now, sisters three,

Who c an ? is it that dare , or , compare with me

M s o y excellences are so great, many,

I am confounded fore I speak of any . ’ s The brain the noblest member, all allow ; Its form and situation will avow ;

Its ventricles, membranes, and wondrous net

s et Galen, Hippocrates , drive to a .

ff a That divine o spring, the immort l soul ,

Though it in all and every part be whole, Within this stately place of eminence

Doth doubtless keep its mighty residence . A nd surely the soul sensitive here lives,

W and hich life motion to each creature gives . Tbe F ear Hnnz ors 5 7 The conjugation of the parts to the brain Doth show hence flow the powers which they retain Within this high -built citadel doth lie

The reason , fancy , and the memory ; The faculty of speech doth here abide ; The spirits animal from hence do slide ; The five most noble senses here do dwell ’ s sa Of three it hard to y which doth excel . ’ This point now to discuss longs not to me ; ’ ll I touch the sight, greatest wonder of the three .

The optic nerve, coats , humors , all are mine,

r The wate y, glassy, and the crystalline . 0 mixture strange !0 color colorless ! Thy perfect temperament who can express ? He was no fool who thought the soul lay there

W ff s o hence her a ections , passions , speak clear .

0 0 r 0 good, O bad, t ue, traitorous eyes , What wonderment Within your balls there lies !

Of all the senses sight shall be the queen . ’ ! Yet some may wish, oh , had mine eyes ne er seen M ine likewise is the marrow of the back, Which ru ns through all the sp o ndles of the rack ; ” It is the substitute of the royal brain ; All nerves , except seven pair, to it retain , A nd the strong ligaments from hence arise

Which, joint to joint, the entire body ties .

Some other parts there issue from the brain, Whose worth and use to tell I must refrain ; W in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 8 Tbe r i t g f M .

Some curious learned Crooke may these reveal ,

But modesty hath charged me to conceal .

’ s Here my epitome of excellence, ’ ’ For what s the brain s is mine by consequence . A ! foolish brain , quoth Choler , wanting heat ’ s a t But a mad one, y I , where is too great . Phrensy is worse than folly ; one would more glad W ith a tame fool converse than with a mad .

For learning , then , my brain is not the fittest, Nor will I yield that Choler is the wittiest ;

i s Thy judgment unsafe, thy fancy little,

i s For memory the sand not more brittle . ’ A s ! gain , none fit for kingly state but thou ’ 11 If tyrants be the best, I it allow ;

But if love be as requisite as fear,

Then thou and I must make a mixture here . ’ W s ell , to be brief, I hope now Choler laid, ’ A nd 11 I pass by what sister Sanguine said . ’ To Melancholy I 11 make no reply ; The worst s he said w as instability

A nd too much talk, both which I here confess A ’ 11 warning good ; hereafter I say less . ’ ’ s n o w s Let be friends ; it time our spite were spent, L est we too late this rashness do repent . Such premises will force a s ad conclusion ; U nless we agree , all falls into confusion . Let Sanguine with her hot hand Choler hold ; To take her moist my moisture will be bold ;

T H E U A E MA N OF FO R G S OF .

aét Lo , now four other upon the stage M A e . Childhood and Youth , the anly and Old g

- W The first , son unto Phlegm , grand child to ater, ’ U s nstable , supple, cold, and moist his nature ;

The second, Frolic, claims his pedigree

Air From Blood and , for hot and moist is he ; The third of Fire and Choler is composed

Vindictive he , and quarrelsome disposed ; E M The last of arth and heavy elancholy ,

Solid, hating all lightness and all folly .

Childhood was clothed in white and green , to show His spring was intermixed with some snow; Upon his head nature a garland set

Of primrose, daisy , and the violet ;

(Such cold, mean flowers the spring puts forth betime Before the su n 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 ’ nd t i s n A when broke the ends his life and all .

60 Tba F o nr Ages 6 1

But if he hold till it have run its last,

Then may he live out threescore years or past . N ext Youth came up in gorgeous attire ,

A s that fond age doth most of all desire,

H i s hi s suit of crimson , and scarf of green . His pride in his countenance was quickly seen ;

ill flo w ers Garland of roses , pinks , and g y

hi s Seemed on head to grow, bedewed with showers ; His face as fresh as is Aurora fair W th hen , blushing , she first begins to light e air ;

No wooden horse, but one of mettle tried,

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 , A s one that cared for a good report ;

his his His sword by side, and choler in eyes ,

But neither used as yet, for he was wise ’ r Of autumn s f uits a basket on his arm ,

His golden god in his purse , which was his charm .

A nd aft o last of all to up n this stage,

ff A e Leaning upon his sta , came up Old g . U nder his arm a sheaf of wheat he bore ,

A n W harvest of the best . hat needs he more ? ’ hi s In other hand a glass e en almost run , “ T/Jis ou t t/y en a rn I done Thus writ about, , .

as eét w a His hoary hairs and grave p made y ,

nd sa A all gave ear to what he had to y . be Wr i in s a Mrs A nne B r a ds tr eet 62 T t g f .

These being met, each in his equipage , Intend to speak according to their age ; Bu t wise Old Age did with all gravity

To childish Childhood give precedency, A nd to the rest his reason mildly told

as s o That he w young before he grew old .

To do as he each one full soon assents . Their method w as that of the Elements

That each should tell what of himself he knew, ’ s u Both good and bad, but yet no more than tr e . With heed now stood three ages of frail man

ho w . To hear the child, , crying , thus began

OOD " CH I L D H . r“ Ah ! s i n 1 , me conceived in , and born with sorrow,

A - - nothing, here to day and gone to morrow, ’ Whose mean beginning blushing can t reveal , g u t night and darkness must with shame conceal ! M ’ y mother s breeding sickness I will spare, ’ Her nine months weary burden not declare ;

To show her bearing pains I should do wrong, ’ To tell those pangs which can t be told by tongue . With tears into the world I did arrive ; M y mother still did waste as I did thrive,

Who yet, with love and all alacrity,

Spending , was willing to be spent for me . W ith wayward cries I did disturb her rest, Who sought still to appease me with the breast ;

W rs A nne B r a ds tr eet 64 Tba r i tings of M . M y strokes did cause no blood, no wounds or scars ; My little wrath did end soon as my wars ;

M w a s a y duel no ch llenge , nor did seek

My foe should weltering in his bowels reek .

ve x I had no suits at law neighbors to ,

No r evidence for lands did me perplex .

I feared no storms , nor all the wind that blows ;

I had no ships at sea , nor freights to lose . — I feared no drought nor w et I had no crop ;

No r u s et yet on fut re things did my hope .

Bu t ! This was mine innocence . , ah the seeds

ra kéd Lay up of all the cursed weeds, W hich sprouted forth in mine ensuing age ,

A s he can tell that next comes on the stage .

But yet let me relate , before I go ,

c 8 111 8 and dangers I am subject to . e A ’ Stain d from birth with dam s sinful fact, Al hence I began to s in as soon as act : ’ A s perverse will , a love to what forbid, ’ A serpent s sting in pleasing face lay hid ; A lying tongue as soon as it could speak, A nd fifth commandment I do daily break ;

Oft stubborn , peevish, sullen , pout and cry ,

Then naught can please, and yet I know not why .

A s s o many are my sins , dangers , too ;

s in For brings sorrow, sickness, death, and woe ;

A nd though I miss the tossings of the mind,

Yet griefs in my frail flesh I still do find . Tbe F o nr Ages What gripes of wind mine infancy did pain ! “ What tortures I in breeding teet h s ustain !

W u hat cr dities my stomach cold hath bred ,

W v e ! hence omits , flux , and worms have issu d

W v hat breaches , knocks , and falls I daily ha e , ’ A nd some perhaps I ll carry to my grave ;

Sometimes in fire , sometimes in water, fall ,

Strangely preserved , yet mind it not at all . A t home , abroad , my dangers manifold ’ t That wonder is my glass till now doth hold . ’ I ve done ; unto my elders I gi ve w ay ; ’ t s a For is but little that a child can y .

T OUT H .

My goodly clothing and my beauteous skin

Declare some greater riches are within . ’ 11 But what is best I first present to view,

A nd w then the orst in a more ugly hue . For thus to do we on this stage assemble ; h T en let not him that hath most craft dissemble . My education and my learning such A s might myself and others profit much W e ’ ith nurture train d up in virtue s schools ,

Of science , arts, and tongues I know the rules ;

The manners of the court I also know,

A nd s o likewise what they in the country do . The brave attempts of valiant knights I prize That dare scale walls and forts reared to the skies ; ir Wr i tin s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 66 T e g f M .

The snorting horse , the trumpet, drum , I like ,

The glittering sword , the pistol , and the pike .

I cannot lie intrenched before a town ,

Nor wait till good success our hopes doth crown .

v - I scorn the hea y corselet, musket proof;

’ s l I fly to catch the bullet that a oof.

Though thus in field, at home, to all most kind, ff So a able that I can suit each mind ,

can I insinuate into the breast ,

can A nd by my mirth raise the heart depressed .

Sweet music wraps my brave , harmonious soul ; My high thoughts elevate beyond the pole ; M w it y , my bounty, and my courtesy

Make all to place their future hopes on me .

This is my best ; but youth is known , alas ,

as snu fli n To be as wild is the g ass ,

A s v c an vain as froth or anity be , That w ho would s ee vain man may look on me M y gifts abused , my education lost, ’ My woeful parents longing hopes are crossed ; My wit evaporates in merriment ; ’ My valor in some beastly quarrel s spent . ’ s My lust doth hurry me to all that ill .

I know no law nor reason but my will .

Sometimes lay wait to take a wealthy purse , — ’ Or stab the man in his own defence that s worse .

Sometimes I cheat , unkind , a female heir

w ho s o as Of all at once , , not wise fair,

68 Ti m Wr i tin s o Mr s nne d g f . A B r a s tr eet

Sometimes by fevers all my moisture drinking, M y heart lies frying, and mine eyes are sinking .

Sometimes the quinsy , painful pleurisy,

With sad affrights of death doth menace me ; Sometimes the two -fold pox me sore bem ars

With outward marks and inward loathsome scars ;

Sometimes the frenzy strangely mads my brain ,

That oft for it in bedlam I remain .

Too many my diseases to recite . The wonder is I yet behold the light ;

That yet my bed in darkness is not made , ’ A nd I in black oblivion s den now laid

Of aches my bones are full , of woe my heart

Clapped in that prison never thence to start . ’ V e s e e Thus I have said ; and what I been , you .

Childhood and Youth are vain , yea , vanity .

M D L E GE I D A .

’ ve Childhood and Youth, forgot, I sometime seen ,

A nd wh o now am grown more staid have been green .

W w as hat they have done, the same done by me ;

A s w as s o m their praise or shame, mine ust be .

No w t age is more, more good you may expec ;

Bu t defeét more mine age, the more is my . W hen my wild oats were sown , and ripe, and mown ,

I then received an harvest of mine own . My reason then bade judgehow little hope M o d y empty seed sh ul yield a better crop . Tbe Fanr Ag es 69

‘ Then with both hands I grasped the world together , Thus out of one extreme into an other ; Bu t yet laid hold on virtue seemingly

Who climbs without hold , climbs dangerously

Be my condition mean , I then take pains M y family to keep , but not for gains . A father I , for children must provide ;

But if none , then for kindred near allied . ’ m e If rich , I urg d then to gather more

To bear a part in the world, and feed the poor . n If noble , then mine ho or to maintain ;

If not, riches nobility can gain .

For time , for place , likewise for each relation ,

I wanted not my ready allegation . Yet all my powers for self ends are not spent ; For hundreds bless me for my bounty lent ’ Whose backs I ve clothed and bellies I have fed

W o n ith mine w fleece and with my household bread .

w as Yea, justice have I done ; I in place

To cheer the good , and wicked to deface .

e s et The proud I crushed , the oppress d I free ,

The liars curbed , but nourished verity .

W as I a pastor, I my flock did feed,

And gently led the lambs as they had need . A captain I , with skill I trained my band,

A nd showed them how in face of foes to stand . A soldier I , with speed I did obey

A s as readily could my leader say . 5 A 0 be Wr i in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 7 T t g f M .

W as I a laborer , I wrought all day ’ A s cheerfully as e er I took my pay . Thus hath mine age in all sometimes done well ; Sometimes again mine age been worse than hell

In meanness , greatness , riches , poverty ,

Did toil , did broil , oppressed , did steal and lie .

W as I as poor as poverty could be ,

Then baseness was companion unto me ,

Such scum as hedges and highways do yield ,

A s neither sow, nor reap , nor plant , nor build .

If to agriculture I was ordained,

Great labors , sorrows , crosses , I sustained . The early cock did summon but in vain M y wakeful thoughts up to my painful gain . My weary beast rest from his toil can find ;

But if I rest the more distressed my mind .

If happiness my sordidness hath found, ’ T ed was in the crop of my manur ground, M y thriving cattle and my new milch cow,

M fleec éd y sheep , and fruitful farrowing sow . To greater things I never did aspire ; M y dunghill thoughts or hopes could reach no higher .

w as If to be rich or great it my fate, How w as I broiled with envy and with hate !

Greater than was the greatest, was my desire , A nd thirst for honor s e t my heart on fire ; ’ A nd by ambition s sails I was s o carried

That over flats , and sands , and rocks I hurried

2 Tbe Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds r 7 g f . t eet

The asthma , megrim, palsy, lethargy ,

The quartan ague , dropsy , lunacy ’ s Subject to all distempers , that the truth,

A e Though some more incident to g or Youth . A nd to conclude I m ay not tedious be :

Man at his best estate is vanity .

OL D GE A .

W ’ hat you have been , e en such have I before ;

A n d s a w m all you y , say I , and some hat ore . ’ ’ Babe s innocence, Youth s wildness , I have seen , A nd in perplexed Middle Age have been ;

Sickness, dangers, anxieties , have passed,

A nd a& on this stage am come to my last .

I have been young, and strong, and wise as you ,

B is a er i senes But now p is too true . ’ In every age I ve found much vanity ;

A n erfeéti o n s ee end of all p now I .

’ s It not my valor, honor, nor my gold

M can y ruined house, now falling, uphold ; ’ s s o It not my learning, rhetoric, wit large Hath now the power death ’ s warfare to discharge

’ s It not my goodly state , nor bed of down , That can refresh or ease if conscience frown ;

Nor from alliance can I now have hope .

v But what I ha e done well , that , p_ _ op / h od l w He that in yout is g y, Wise, and sage ff Provides a sta then to support his age . Tae F onr Ages 7 3

M sad utations great, some joyful and some ,

In this short pilgrimage I oft have had . Sometimes the heavens with plenty smiled on me ;

Sometimes , again , rained all adversity ;

Sometimes in honor, sometimes in disgrace ;

ab eét Sometimes an j , then again in place .

Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen . ’ In various times of state I ve also been : ’ ve I seen a kingdom flourish like a tree ,

W r she hen it was uled by that celestial ,

An d s o , like a cedar, others surmount

That but for shrubs they did themselves account .

w o n Then saw I France and Holland saved, Calais ,

And A Philip and lbertus half undone .

s aw . I all peace at home, terror to foes

!s aw But , ah I at last those eyes to close ; A nd then methought the day at noon grew dark

W - hen it had lost that radiant sun like spark .

s aw In midst of griefs I our hopes revive, ’ t s For was our hope then kept our hearts alive .

W e - changed our queen for king , under whose rays

W e a joyed in many blest and prosperous d ys . ’ ve I seen a prince, the glory of our land, ’ n In prime of youth seized by heaven s angry ha d, W hich filled our hearts with fears , with tears our eyes , W ailing his fate and our own destinies . ’ I ve seen from Rome an execrable thing A plot to blow up nobles and their king ; Tbe Wr i tin s o Mr s Anne B r a ds e 7 4 g f . tr et

Bu t faét saw their horrid soon disappointed, A nd land and nobles saved , with their anointed . ’ ’ I ve princes seen to live on others lands ;

’ A royal one by gifts from strangers hands A m d ired for their magnanimity ,

Wh o lost a princedom and a monarchy . ’ ve R 6 I seen designs for and Rochelle crossed,

A nd poor Palatinate forever lost . ’ ve e I seen unworthy men advanc d high , A nd better ones suffer extremity ;

But neither favor, riches, title, state, Could length their days or once reverse their fate ’ ve I seen one stabbed , and some to lose their heads ,

A nd others flee , struck both with guilt and dread . ’ ’ ve s o t I seen, and have you , for is but late,

The desolation of a goodly state, Plotted and aéted so that none can tell Wh o gave the counsel but the prince of hell Three hundred thousand slaughtered innocents B y bloody popish , hellish miscreants .

Oh , may you live , and so you will , I trust,

To see them swill in blood until they burst . ’ e I v seen a king by force thrust from his throne,

nd A an usurper subtilely mount thereon . ’ ve I seen a state unmolded, rent in twain ;

But you may live to see it made up again . ’ ve I seen it plundered , taxed , and soaked in blood ;

s ee But out of evil you may much good .

be Wr i tin s rs Anne B r a ds t ee 7 6 T g qf M . r t

From king to beggar, all degrees shall find

But vanity , vexation of the mind .

all Yea, knowing much, the pleasantest life of Hath yet among those sweets some bitter gall : ’ Though reading others works doth much refresh ,

Yet studying much brings weariness to the flesh . M y studies , labors, readings, all are done , ’ A nd my last period now e en almost run . o Corrupti n my father I do call , M other and sisters both the worms that crawl . In my dark house such kindred I have store W here I shall rest till heavens shall be no more .

A nd when this flesh shall rot and be consumed,

This body by this soul shall be assumed, A nd I shall see with these same very eyes M m y strong Redee er coming in the skies . ’ ’ ’ s in Triumph I shall o er , o er death , o er hell .

nd A in that hope I bid you all farewell . T H E U EA T H E A FO R S SONS OF YE R .

NG SP R I .

’ A ve nother four I left yet to bring on,

Of four times four the last quaternion , W A The inter, Summer, utumn , and the Spring ;

In season all these seasons I shall bring .

m an Sweet Spring, like in his minority , A t present claimed and had priority . W ith smiling face, and garments somewhat green ,

She trimmed her locks, which late had frosted been ;

No r s he hot nor cold spake, but with a breath e Fit to revive the numb d earth from death . ” Three months , quoth she , are allotted to my share

M A Ma arch, pril , y of all the rest most fair . A Tenth of the first, Sol into ries enters ,

A nd bids defiance . to all tedious winters ;

Crosses the line, and equals night and day ; Still adds to the last till after pleasant M ay ; A nd now makes glad the darkened northern wights

Who for some months have seen but starry lights .

7 7 8 be Wr i in s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 7 T t g qf .

No w goes the plowman to his merry toil

- e He might unloose his winter lock d soil .

The seedsman , too , doth lavish out his grain

In hope the more he casts the more to gain .

The gardener now superfluous branches lops, A nd poles ereéts for his young clambering hops ;

No w digs , then sows his herbs , his flowers , and roots ,

A nd carefully manures his trees of fruits .

The Pleiades their influence now give, A n d all that seemed as dead afresh do live

The croaking frogs, whom nipping winter killed ,

Like birds now chirp and hop about the field .

The nightingale, the blackbird, and the thrush

No w tune their lays on sprays of every bush . The wanton frisking kids and soft -fle e ced lambs Do jump and play before their feeding dams ; The tender tops of budding grass they crop ;

They joy in what they have, but more in hope

For though the frost hath lost his binding power, Yet many a fleece of snow and stormy shower ’ Doth darken Sol s bright eye, makes us remember

- D The pinching north west wind of cold ecember . M A y second month is pril , green and fair,

Of longer days, and a more temperate air .

r The sun in Tau us keeps his residence,

A nd h with his warmer beams glance t from thence . This is the month whose fruitful showers produces All set and sown for all delights and uses .

8 0 Tbe W i tin s o Mr s Anne B r a dstr eet r g f .

For fruits my season yields the early cherry ,

The hasty pea, and wholesome cool strawberry . More solid fruits require a longer time ; E ach season hath his fruit, so hath each clime E ach man his own peculiar excellence , B u t none in all that hath preeminence .

fl Sweet fragrant Spring, with thy short pittance y .

Let some describe thee better than can I .

Yet above all this privilege is thine, l Thy days still engthen without least decline .

S UMME R . W hen Spring had done, then Summer did begin , W ith melted, tawny face and garments thin ,

M A e Resembling Fire, Choler , and iddle g ,

A s Air B Spring did , lood, Youth in his equipage .

W o ff iping the sweat from her face that ran,

W ff : ith hair all wet, pu ing, she thus began A Bright June, July, and ugust hot are mine . In the first Sol doth in crabbed Cancer shine ; ’ His progress to the north now 8 fii lly done ;

Then retrograde must be my burning sun ,

Who to his southward tropic still is bent, Yet doth his p at ching heat but more augment

s o Though he decline, because his flames fair

Have throughly dried the earth and heat the air . Tbe F anr Sea sons 8 1

Like as an oven that long time hath been heat, Whose vehemency at length doth grow s o great That if you do withdraw her burning store " F is for a time as fervent as before .

No w go those frolic swains , the shepherd lads ,

- To wash their thick clothed flocks , with pipes full glad .

In the cool streams they labor with delight,

Rubbing the dirty coats till they look white , Whose fleece when finely spun and deeply dyed

W v ith robes thereof kings ha e been dignified .

Blest rustic swains , your pleasant, quiet life Hath envy bred in kings that were at strife ;

Careless of worldly wealth you sing and pipe , While they re embroiled in wars and troubles rife ;

W Ba az e t cr hich made great j y out in his woes , 0 happy shepherd, which hath not to lose

Ortho bu lu s , nor yet Sebastia great, Bu t w his tleth to thy flock in cold and heat ;

Viewing the sun by day , the moon by night, E ’ D ’ ndymion s , iana s , dear delight ; U pon the grass resting your healthy limb ,

h o w By purling brooks looking fishes swim . ’ If pride within your lowly cells e er haunt, ’ Of Him that was Shepherd , then King, go vaunt .

This month the roses are distilled in glasses , W hose fragrant smell all made perfumes surpasses .

The cherry , gooseberry , now are in their prime ,

A nd i s for all sorts of pease this the time . 6 8 2 be Wr i tin s r s nne B r a ds T g qf M . A tr eet

’ s july my next, the hottest in all the year .

su n The through Leo now takes his career, W hose flaming breath doth melt us from afar, e Increas d by the star canicular .

ae This month from Julius C sar took its name , B y Romans celebrated to his fame .

No w go the mowers to their slashing toil , The meadows of their riches to despoil ; W ith weary strokes they take all in their way , B earing the burning heat of the long day . t The forks and rakes do follow hem amain , W hich makes the aged fields look young again . The groaning carts do bear away this prize

To stacks and barns , where it for fodder lies . M A y next and last is ugust, fiery hot,

su n abate th For much the southward not . This month he keeps with Virgo for a space ;

driéd e The earth is parch d with his face . A A ugust of great ugustus took its name, ’ Rome s second emperor, of lasting fame . With sickles now the bending reapers go

ru fflin The g tress of terra down to mow, A n d bundle up in sheaves the weighty wheat W hich, after, manchet makes for kings to eat .

The barley, rye , and pease should first had place ,

s o Although their bread have not white a face . The carter leads all home with whistling voice ;

He plowed with pain , but, reaping , doth rejoice ;

8 Tbe Wr i tin s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 4 g of .

Of almonds, quinces , wardens, and the peach ’ s The season now at hand of all and each .

Sure at this time time first of all began , A nd in this month w as made apostate man ; For then in Eden w as not only seen f Boughs ull of leaves , or fruits unripe or green ,

Or withered stocks which were all dry and dead, Bu t trees with goodly fruits replenished ; W W hich shows nor Summer, inter, nor the Spring

Our grandsire was of Paradise made king . No r could that temperate clime such difference

make,

If sited as the most judicious take .

W e October is my next . hear in this

- The northern winter blasts begin to hiss .

res ideth In Scorpio now the sun ,

A n d his declining heat is almost done .

The fruitless trees all withered now do stand,

Whose sapless yellow leaves by winds are fanned, Which notes when youth and strength have passed their prime

Decrepit age must also have its time .

s a The p doth slyly creep towards the earth ,

There rests until the su n give it a birth .

A e So doth Old g still tend unto his grave, Where also he his winter - time must have ; B u t when the Sun of Righteousness draws nigh,

His dead old stock shall mount agai n on high . Tko Fo a r Sea sons 8 5

November is my last, for time doth haste .

’ “’ ' W a n W e now of inter s sh rp es s gin to taste . ’ s This month the sun in Sagittarius,

u s So far remote his glances warm not .

Almost at shortest is the shortened day .

The Northern Pole beholdeth not one ray .

No w se e Greenland Finland, Lapland , No su n to lighten their obscurity

Poor wretches that in total darkness lie ,

W s k ith minds more dark than is the darkened y .

Beef, brawn , and pork are now in great request,

A n can d solid meats our stomachs digest .

This time warm clothes , full diet, and good fire e Our pinch d flesh and hungry maws require .

A e E A Old , cold, dry g and arth utumn resembles ,

A nd M elancholy , which most of all dissembles . ’ s I must be short, and short the shortened day . ” W W s a hat inter hath to tell , now let him y .

W Cold, moist, young phlegmy inter now doth lie

- o In swaddling clouts , like new b rn infancy ; B ound up with frosts , and furred with hail and snows ,

A nd , like an infant, still he taller grows .

D su n ecember is my first, and now the

his To the southward tropic swift race doth run . ’ This month he s housed in horn ed Capricorn ;

From thence begins to length the shortened morn .

6A 8 6 be Wr i in s r nne B r a ds tr eet T t g of M s . A Through Christendom with great festivity ’ No w s N t held a guessed but blest ativi y .

Cold, frozen january next comes in ,

Chilling the blood and shrinking up the skin .

A su n In quarius now keeps the long wished , A nd northward his unwearied course doth run ;

w as The day much longer than it before ,

The cold not lessened , but augmented more .

No w toes, and ears, and fingers often freeze ,

A nd travelers their noses sometimes leese . M oist, snowy February is my last .

- I care not how the winter time doth haste .

In Pisces now the golden sun doth shine,

A nd northward still approaches to the line .

The rivers begin to ope , the snows to melt, A nd some warm glances from his face are felt ; W e hich is increas d by the lengthened day , ” Till by his heat he drive all cold away ,

A nd thus the year in circle runneth round . W ’ here first it did begin , in the end it s found . ’ M su b eét s y j bare , my brain is bad ,

Or better lines you should have had .

s o The first fell in naturally , I knew not how to pass it by ;

The last, though bad, I could not mend . A ccept , therefore , of what is penned , A nd all the faults that you shall spy

cr Shall at your feet for pardon y .

8 8 be Wr i in s o Mr s Anne B ra ds tr eet T t g f .

as Of Saturn he w the original , W hom the succeeding times a god did call . W hen thus with rule he had been dignified ,

One hundred fourteen years he after died .

E US B L . N Great imrod dead, Belus the next, his son , Confirms the rule his father had begun ; Whose aéts and power are not for certainty

Left to the world by any history . But yet this blot for ever on him lies

He taught the people first to idolize .

Titles divine he to himself did take . A live and dead a god they did him make . e This is that Bel the Chaldees worship d, Whose priests in stories oft are mentioned ; This is that Baal to whom the Israelites So oft profanely offered sacred rites ; E This is Beelzebub , god of kronites ; M Likewise Baalpeor, of the oabites .

His reign was short, for, as I calculate ,

A t -fie twenty v ended his regal date .

N His father dead, inus begins his reign , A Transfers his seat to the ssyrian plain , A nd mighty Nineveh more mighty made Whose foundation w as by his grandsire laid Tae Fonr Mona r ebi es

fii rlo n s Four hundred forty g walled about, On which stood fifteen hundred towers stout ;

The walls one hundred sixty feet upright,

So broad three chariots run abreast there might . Upon the pleasant banks of Tigris ’ flood N This stately seat of warlike inus stood . N This inus for a god his father canonized,

To whom the sottish people sacrificed . This tyrant did his neighbors all oppress ; Where ’ er he warred he had too good success

Barz anes A , the great rmenian king, By force and fraud did under tribute bring ; M The edian country he did also gain ,

Pharnu s e , their king, he caus d to be slain ; A n army of three millions he led out Against the Baéi rians (but that I doubt);

Zoroaster, their king, he likewise slew,

And A all the greater sia did subdue . Semiramis from Menon did he take ; M Then drowned himself did enon for her sake .

- ift w e . F y two years he reigned, as are told

as o The world then w tw thousand nineteen old .

SE M I R A MI S . N This great oppressing inus dead and gone, His wife Semiramis usurped the throne ;

She like a brave Virago played the rex,

A nd as s ex w both shame and glory of her . 0 Tbe Wr i tin s Mrs Anne B r a ds r 9 g of . t eet

’ A Her birthplace was Philistia s scalon , B Her mother erceto , a courtezan . Others report she was a vestal nun A e ’ d djudg d to be drowned for the crime she done, ’ fish Transformed into a by Venus will,

Her beauteous face , they feign, retaining still .

fiéti o n Sure from this Dagon first began , ’ Changing the woman s face into a man . But all agree that from no lawful bed This great reno w n éd empress issued; For which she was obscurely nourished

Whence rose that fable she by birds was fed . This gallant dame unto the Baétri an war A M ccompanying her husband enon far, Taking a town such valor she did show N That inus amorous of her soon did grow, ’ A nd thought her fit to make a monarch s wife, W M hich was the cause poor enon lost his life . N She flourishing with inus long did reign , Till her ambition caused him to be slain

That, having no compeer, she might rule all , ’ s lle M Or else sought revenge for enon s fall .

Some think the Greeks this slander on her cast, A s on her life licentious and unchaste ;

That, undeserved, they blurred her name and fame

By their aspersions cast upon the same .

t n But were her vir ues more or less or no e,

She for her potency must go alone .

2 Tba Wr i tin s o M rs Anne B r a ds r ee 9 g f . t t

A n expedition to the east she made

Strato batis his country to invade . Her army of four millions did consist (Each may believe it as hi s fancy list);

Her camels , chariots , galleys, in such number

A s puzzles best historians to remember . — Bu t this is wonderful o f all those men ’ They say but twenty e er came back again ;

The river Indus swept them half away ,

Strato bati s The rest in fight did slay .

w as This last progress of this mighty queen ,

Wh o as e in her country never more w se n .

v The poets feigned her turned into a do e ,

L v eaving the world to Venus , soared abo e ; Which made the Assyrians many a day A dove within their ensigns to display .

o rt -tw o s he s he F y years reigned, and then died,

Bu t by what means we are not certified .

N S OR NI I A , Z A M E S . N His mother dead, inias obtains his right, A prince wedded to ease and to delight, Or else w as his obedience very great

s it hi s To thus long , obscure, robbed of seat .

Some write his mother put his habit on , Which made the people think they served her

But much it is , in more than forty y ears

w ar This frau d in nor peace at all appears . T ire F onr Mona r ebi es 9 3 M ore like it is , his lust with pleasures fed ,

He sought no rule till she w as gone and dead . W hat then he did of worth can no man tell , Bu t is supposed to be that Amraphel ’ ’ Who h warred with Sodom s and Gomorra s king, ’ e A Gainst whom his train d bands bram did bring .

s o n But this is far unlike, he, being U h nto a father t at all countries won, So suddenly should lose s o great a state W ith petty kings to join confederate . No r can those reasons which wise Raleigh finds

Well satisfy the most considerate minds . We may with learned Usher better say He many ages lived after that day ; A nd that Semiramis then flourished

W as s o e hen famous Troy w beleaguer d . ’ W w as hate er he , or did, or how it fell ,

We may suggest our thoughts, but cannot tell ; For Ninias and all his race are left t In deep oblivion , of ac s bereft,

A nd many hundred years in silence sit, B Save a few names a new erosus writ . A nd such as care not what befalls their fames

Ma t y feign as many ac s as he did names . ’ su fli ce It may , if all be true that s past .

w e To Sardanapalus next will make haste . W s o r s Anne B r a ds tr eet 94 Tbe r i ting f M .

N SA R D A A P A L US .

s o n Oc raz a e s Sardanapalus , to p ,

Who e t “ wallow d in all volup uousness, P That p alli ardiz i ng sot that out of doors ’ N his e er showed face, but reveled with his whores, D id wear their garbs, their gestures imitate,

A nd in their kind to excel did emulate , ’ His baseness knowing , and the people s hate , e Kept close, fearing his well deserv d fate . It chanced A rbaces brave unwarily His master like a strumpet clad did spy ; His manly heart disdained in the least

Longer to serve this metamorphosed beast .

U B ele si s nto then he brake his mind, W hom sick of his disease he soon did find . These two ruled Media and Babylon ; o Both for their king held their domini n .

B eles i s e A rbace s promis d aid,

A rbaces him fully to be repaid . The last the Medes and Persians does invite

A gainst their monstrous king to use their might . Belesi s the Chaldeans doth require

A n d A hi s the rabians, to further desire .

all These agree , and forty thousand make,

The rule from their unworthy prince to take . e These forces muster d, and in array , Sardanapalus leaves his apish play ;

be W i ti n s o rs Anne B r a ds tr ee 9 6 T r g f M . t

Bu t he once in, pursuers came too late ,

The walls and gates their haste did terminate . There with all store he was s o well provided

A rbace s That what did was but derided,

Who there encamped two years for little end . Bu t in the third the river proved his friend ;

’ For by the rain w as Tigris so o erflo w n

Part of that stately wall was overthrown .

A rba ces marches in , the town he takes ,

For few or none , it seems , resistance makes .

A nd saw now they fulfilled a prophecy , That when the river proved their enemy d Their strong walle town should suddenly be taken . B y this accomplishment their hearts were shaken . Sardanapalus did not seek to fly This his inevitable destiny ;

B u t all his wealth and friends together gets,

Then on himself and them a fire he sets . ’ w as N This last monarch of great inus race , That for twelve hundred years had held the place ;

Twenty he reigned, same time , as stories tell ,

A a That maziah w s king of Israel .

H i s father was then king , as we suppose , When jonah for their sins denounced those woes ;

He did repent, the threatening was not done,

s o n But now accomplished in his wicked .

A rbaces , thus of all becoming lord,

Ingenuously with all did keep his word . Tbe Fo nr Mona r ebi es

Of Babylon Belesis he made king, W ith overplus of all the wealth therein .

Baétrian s To he gave their liberty . N e Of inevites he caus d none to die, ff But su ered with their goods to go elsewhere , Not granting them now to inhabit there ; e For he demolish d that city great,

n M his A d unto edia transferred seat . Such was his promise which he firmly made M To edes and Persians when he craved their aid . A while he and his race aside must stand, No t pertinent to what we have in hand ;

And Belo chu s in his progeny pursue,

Who did this monarchy begin anew .

E OR B E O B L ESI S, L CH US.

Belesis settled in his new old seat

No t s o content, but aiming to be great, Encroaching still upon the bordering lands M Till esopotamia he got in his hands .

And , either by compound or else by strength, Assyria he gained also at length ; e Then did rebuild destroy d Nineveh, A costly work which none could do but he Who owned the treasures of proud Babylon

And n those that seemed with Sardanapalus go e .

For though his palace did in ashes lie, The fire those metals could not damnify 8 T be Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 9 g f .

From rubbish these with diligence he rakes .

A rbaces ff su ers all , and all he takes .

- e He, thus enriched by this new tri d gold, Raises a phenix new from grave of the old ; A nd from this heap did after ages see

A s fair a town as the first Nineveh .

W w as hen this built, and matters all in peace ,

M : olests poor Israel , his wealth to increase A M thousand talents of enahem had,

Wh as o to be rid of such a guest w glad . ’ s In sacred writ he known by name of Pul , Which makes the world of difference s o full That he and Belo chu s could not one be ;

But circumstance doth prove the verity , A nd times of both computed s o fall out

e That these two made but one w need not doubt . What else he did his empire to advance

To rest content w e must in ignorance .

- o rt his . F y eight years he reigned, race then run

- He left his new got kingdom to his son .

- T I GLA T H P I L E SE R .

Belesis T i lath s o n dead, g , his warlike ,

n Next treads those steps by which his father w o .

Damascus, ancient seat of famous kings, Under su bjeéti o n by his sword he brings ;

Rezin , their valiant king , he also slew,

nd A Syria to obedience did subdue .

1 00 Ti mWr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds r e g f . t e t

SA L MA NA SSA R OR NAB ON , ASSAR .

T i lath Salm anas sar g deceased, was next .

He Israelites more than his father vexed .

Hosea , their last king, he did invade,

A nd six t him years his ributary made .

tu But, weary of his servi de, he sought E ’ To gypt s king, which did avail him naught ;

Salm anassar For , with a mighty host,

his Besieged regal town, and spoiled his coast,

A nd did the people, nobles, and their king

Into perpetual thraldom that time bring . Those that from Joshua ’ s time had been a state Did justice now by him eradicate ;

This was that strange, degenerated brood

On whom nor threats nor mercies could do good .

Laden with honor, prisoners , and spoil , ’ Returns triumphant viéto r to his soil ; e He plac d Israel there where he thought best,

Then sent his colonies theirs to invest . ’ Thus jacob s sons in exile must remain ,

A n d see pleasant Canaan never again . W here now those ten tribes are can no man tell ,

Or how they fare, rich, poor, or ill , or well ; E Whether the Indians of the ast or West, ’ T artari ans Or wild , as yet ne er blest,

Or else those Chinese rare, whose wealth and arts

Have bred more wonder than belief in hearts . Tbe Fonr Mona r ebi es 1 o 1

But what or where they are, yet know we this

t s ee They shall re urn, and Sion with bliss .

N E SE NA CH R I B .

Salm anassar Sennacherib succeeds , W hose haughty heart is shown in words and deeds .

His wars none better than himself can boast, A ’ On Hena , rpad, and on Judah s coast, ’ ’ On Ivah s and on Sepharvaim s gods ; ’ Twixt them and Israel ’ s he knew no odds U ntil the thundering hand of heaven he felt, W hich made his army into nothing melt . W N ith shame he turned to ineveh again, ’ A nd by his sons in his idols house was slain .

ON E SAR HAD D .

s o n E His , weak sarhaddon, reigned in his place, ’ Beles i s The fifth and last of great race .

M s o n Brave erodach , the of Baladan , B In abylon lieutenant to this man ,

Of opportunity advantage takes, ’ A nd on his master s ruins hi s house makes ;

A s Beles i s his sovereign did unthrone , ’ s B So he now styled the king of abylon . A E fter twelve years did sarhaddon die,

A nd M erodach assumed the monarchy . 1 0 /y e W i in s o rs A nne B r a ds tr eet 2 T r t g f M .

E O H -B L D N M R D A C A A A . All N yield to him but ineveh , kept free U ntil his grandchild made her bow the knee . A mbassadors to Hezekiah he sent,

H is health to congratulate with compliment .

B EN- ME OD A CH R .

-M Ben erodach , successor to this king,

little s aid Of him is in anything,

Bu t t by conjec ure this , that none but he M Led King anasseh to captivity .

NA B OP OLA SSA R .

B Nabo o las s ar as rave p to this king w son . The famous Nineveh by him w as won ;

s he For fifty years , or more , had been free,

But yields her neck now to captivity . ’ A s h e s Viceroy from her foe glad to accept, ’ h s By whom in firm obedience s e kept . ’ ’ This king s less famed for all the acts he s done

s o n Than being father to so great a .

NEB UCHA D NE Z Z AR . The famous acts of this heroic king D id neither Homer, Hesiod, Virgil , sing ; Nor of hi s wars have we the certainty ’ From some Thucydides grave history ;

’ his Nor metamorphosis from Ovid s book , Nor his restoring from old legends took ;

1 0 be Wr i tin s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 4 T g qf .

Such was the situation of this place,

A s f might not him , but all the world, out ace, That in her pride s he knew not which to boast W hether her wealth or yet her strength was most . How in all merchandise she did excel None but the true Ezekiel need to tell ;

A nd for her strength , how hard she was to gain , ’ Can Babel s tired soldiers tell with pain . W t ithin an island had this ci y seat, Divided from the main by channel great ;

s he Of costly ships and galleys had store,

A nd mariners to handle sail and oar . But the Chaldeans had nor ships nor skill ; Their shoulders must their master ’ s mind fulfil

Fetched rubbish from the opposite old town ,

A nd in the channel threw each burden down , W here, after many essays , they made at last

s ea The firm land, whereon the army passed

A nd took the wealthy town . But all the gain

Requited not the loss , the toil , and pain . Full thirteen years in this strange work he spent

Before he could accomplish his intent,

A nd viéto r , though a , home his army leads W ith peeled shoulders and with balded heads . When in the Tyrian w ar this king w as hot jehoiakim his oath had clean forgot ;

Thinks this the fittest time to break his bands, ’ Whilst Babel s king thus deep engaged stands . T/ae Fonr Mona r t bi es 1 0 5 But he whose fortunes all were in the ebb ’ Had all his hopes like to a spider s w e b ;

’ i thdra s art For this great king w w p of his force,

To Judah marches with a speedy course,

A nd u nex efte d , p , finds the feeble prince, Whom he chastised thus for his proud offence

Fast bound , intends to Babel him to send,

Bu t changed his mind , and caused his life there end,

ass Then cast him out like to a naked . For this is he for whom none said A las !

s o n ff e His he su er d three months to reign , Then from his throne he plucked him down again ; B Whom , with his mother , he to abel led,

A nd t seven and thir y years in prison fed .

His uncle he established in his place,

’ Wh o was last king of holy D avid s race ;

Bu t he as perjured as Jehoiakim , ’ They lost more now than e er they lost by him . w Seven years he kept his faith , and safe he d ells,

Bu t in the eighth against his prince rebels . N The ninth came ebuchadnezzar with power, ’ Besieged his city , temple, Sion s tower,

A nd after eighteen months he took them all .

s o s o The walls strong , that stood long, now fall . The accursed king by flight could nowise fly His well -deserved and foretold misery ; ’ w rathfii l But, being caught, to Babel s king

With children , wives, and nobles all they bring, 1 06 T be Wr itin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet g f . W here to the sword all but himself were put,

A nd with that woeful sight his eyes close shut . A h , hapless man , whose darksome contemplation W as nothing but such ghastly meditation ! B In midst of abel now till death he lies , ’ sa Yet as was told ne er w it with his eyes . ’ s The temple burnt, the vessels had away , The towers and palaces brought to decay ; W here late of harp and lute were heard the noise ,

Now Zim and Jim lift up their screeching voice . A ll now of worth are captive led with tears ,

A nd s i t bewailing Sion seventy years . ’ W 3 ith all these conquests Babel king rests not,

No M E , not when oab , dom , he had got ; A Kedar and Hazor, the rabians , too, A ll vassals , at his hands for grace must sue . A E total conquest of rich gypt makes , All rule he from the ancient Pharaohs takes ; Wh o had for sixteen hundred years borne sway

’ To Babylon s proud king now yield the day . Then Put and Lud do at his mercy stand ; W ’ here er he goes he conquers every land .

tu His sump ous buildings pass all conceit,

W s o hich wealth and strong ambition made great . ’ H i s image Judah s captives worship not,

A fii rnace lthough the be seven times more hot .

u His dreams wise Daniel doth expound f ll well,

A nd his unhappy change with grief foretell .

W s rs Anne B r a ds tr e 1 0 8 Tbe r i ting of M . e t W M ars with the edes unhappily he waged, Within which broils rich Croesus was engaged ;

His army routed, and himself there slain ,

His kingdom to Belshazzar did remain .

B EL SHA AR ZZ .

Unworthy Belshazzar next wears the crown , Whose acts profane a sacred pen sets down ; His lust and cruelties in stories find

A royal state ruled by a brutish mind . His life s o base and dissolute invites The noble Persian to invade hi s rights ; t ’ Who , wi h his own and uncle s power , anon

Lays siege to his regal seat, proud Babylon .

his The coward king, whose strength lay in walls ,

To banqueting and reveling now falls ,

To show his little dread but greater store,

To cheer his friends and scorn his foes the more .

The holy vessels , thither brought long since, They caroused in ; the sacrilegious prince

Did praise his gods of metal , wood, and stone, t Protec ors of his crown and Babylon .

But He, above, his doings did deride,

A nd e with a hand soon dash d all this pride . The king upon the wall casting his eye

s The fingers of a handwriting did py , Which horrid sight he fears must needs portend

D estru éti o n . to his crown, to his person end T be F onr Mona r ebies 1 09 With quaking knees and heart appalled he cries For the soothsayers and magicians wise This language strange to read an d to unfold ; W ith gifts of scarlet robe, and chain of gold, A n d highest dignity next to the king

To him that could interpret clear this thing .

u t B dumb the gazing astrologers stand,

Am az éd at the writing and the hand . N ff one answers the a righted king intent ,

Who e x eéts s ad still p some fearful event .

A s . dead , alive he sits , as one undone In comes the queen to cheer her heartless son ; D ’ Of aniel tells , who in his grandsire s days

Was n o w as held in more account than he w .

n Da iel in haste is brought before the king ,

Who doth not flatter, nor once cloak the thing ; ’ Reminds him of his grandsire s height and fall , A nd of his own notorious sins withal

His drunkenness, and his profaneness high ,

' His pride and sottish gross idolatry . t The guil y king , with color pale and dead , “ ” “ ” Then hears his Mene and his Tekel read ;

A nd one thing did worthy a king, though late

Performed his word to him that told his fate .

That night victorious Cyrus took the town,

Wh o soon did terminate his life and crown . With him did end the race of Baladan ;

And M now the Persian onarchy began .

Tbe end tire Ass r ian Mona r t b of y y . 1 0 be Wr i in s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 T t g qf .

T H E E ND M NA B E N T H E S CO O RCHY, I G E A N B E UN UND E U D A P RSI , G R CYR S ; U B E N UN E A ND A E RI S , I G HIS CL F TH R

I N-L A W E E W H I M A U , R IGN D ITH BO T WO EA T Y RS .

’ Cyrus , Cambyses son , of Persia king, Whom lady Mandau e did to him bring ;

A s t a e s She, daughter unto great y g ;

A rba ces He , in descent, the seventh from . ’ w as A ae Cambyses of ch menes race,

’ Wh o had in Persia the lieutenant s place

v When Sardanapalus was o erthrown ,

A nd from that time had held it as his own . ’ Cyrus Darius daughter took to wife,

A nd so unite two kingdoms without strife .

Mandane Darius unto was brother,

A s o n v dopts her for his, ha ing no other .

This is of Cyrus the true pedigree,

Whose ancestors were royal in degree .

’ ’ His mother s dream , and grandsire s cruelty ,

His preservation in his misery , ff His nourishment a orded by a bitch ,

A re fit for such whose ears for fables itch . He in his younger days an army led

A Crce su s gainst great , then of Lydia head ; ’ Who - , over curious of war s event, A For information to pollo went,

I W in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 1 2 T M r i t g f M .

Gave him his life and took him for a friend,

D id to him still his chief designs commend . Next w ar the restless Cyrus thought upon

W as conquest of the stately Babylon ,

No w - s o treble walled, and moated about d That all the worl they need not fear nor doubt .

To drain this ditch he many sluices cut,

But till convenient time their heads kept shut . That night Belshazzar feasted all hi s rout

He cut those banks and let the river out,

An d to the walls securely marches on , Not finding a defendant thereupon ; E ntering the town , the sottish king he slays , U ’ pon earth s richest spoils each soldier preys .

’ Here twenty years provision good he found .

o rt -fie F y v miles this city scarce could round . ’ Chaldea s This head of kingdoms , excellence, For owls and satyrs made a residence ; Yet wondrous monuments this stately queen A thousand years after had to be seen . Cyrus doth now the Jewish captives free; A n e diét made the temple builded be ; D He, with his uncle , aniel sets on high, ’ A nd caused his foes in lions dens to die . ’ Long after this he gainst the Scythians goes , ’ A nd Tomyris s o n and army overthrows ;

W she hich to revenge hires a mighty power, A nd sets on Cyrus in a fatal hour, Tbe Foar Mona r ebi es 1 1 3

There routs his host, himself a prisoner takes , ’ A nd at one blow the world s head headless makes

wi thin a The which she bathed butt of blood,

Using such taunting words as she thought good . But Xenophon reports he died in his bed

In honor, peace, and wealth, with a gray head, A nd in his town of Pasargadae lies ;

W l n here some long after sought vain for prize , But in his tomb w as only to be found

Two Scythian bows , a sword , and target round ;

A nd A lexander , coming to the same, W ith honors great did celebrate his fame .

Three daughters and two sons he left behind , E nnobled more by birth than by their mind .

- Thirty two years in all this prince did reign, But eight whilst Babylon he did retain ;

A nd though his conquests made the earth to groan,

No w quiet lies under one marble stone, A nd with an epitaph himself did make

To show how little land he then should take .

CA MB Y SES .

Cambyses , no ways like his noble sire,

Yet to enlarge his state had some desire .

His reign with blood and incest first begins,

Then sends to find a law for these his sins . That kings with sisters match no law they find

n aft But that the Persia king may his mind . 8 1 1 be Wr i in s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 4 T t g f .

He wages war, the fifth year of his reign , ’ E ’ Gainst gypt s king , who there by him was slain ; A nd all of royal blood that came to hand e He seiz d first of life and then of land . ’ Naru s But little scaped that cruel fate , Wh o . , grown a man , resumed again his state

He next to Cyprus sends his bloody host,

Who , landing soon upon that fruitful coast,

M Eveltho n ade , their king, with bended knee

To hold his own of his free courtesy .

The temple he destroys , not for his zeal , For he would be professed god of their weal ;

t e s o Yea , in his pride , he ven ur d far To spoil the temple of great Jupiter But as they marched o ’ er those desert sands ’ e o er helm ed n The storm d dust w his daring ba ds .

But scorning thus by Jove to be outbraved , A second army he had almost graved ;

But vain he found to fight with elements ,

So left his sacrilegious bold intents . E A The gyptian pis then he likewise slew,

Laughing to scorn that sottish calvish crew .

If all this heat had been for pious end , Cambyses to the clouds we might commend ; But he that ’ fore the gods himself prefers

Is more profane than gross idolaters .

v He after this , upon suspicion ain , Unjustly caused his brother to be slain ;

1 1 6 be W itin s Mrs Anne B ra ds tr eet T r g of .

3 1 Touched with this news , to Per a he makes ;

n But in the way his sword just vengea ce takes, U nsheathes , as he his horse mounted on high,

A nd with a mortal thrust wounds him in the thigh ,

- Which ends before begun his home bred war,

So yields to death, that dreadful conqueror . ’ Grief for his brother s death he did express ,

A nd e more because he di d issueless . The male line of great Cyrus now had end ;

The female to many ages did extend . A E Babylon in gypt did he make, ’ A nd M e ero built for his fair sister s sake . E ight years he reigned, a short, yet too long, time,

o ff Cut in wickedness , in strength, and prime .

T H E I NT E R R E GN UM B E T WE E N MB Y SE S A ND D AR I US H TS A SP E S CA T .

Childless Cambyses on the sudden dead,

The princes meet to choose one in his stead,

Of which the chief were seven , called satraps,

Who , like to kings , ruled kingdoms as they please ; ’ A a Descended all of ch emenes blood,

A nd in kinsmen account to the king they stood . A nd first these noble Magi agree upon

m er dis To thrust the impostor S out of throne .

Then forces instantly they raise, and rout The king with his conspirators s o stout ; Tbe Fonr Mona r ebies 1 1 7

But yet fore this was done much blood was shed,

And two of these great peers in field lay dead . t Some write that, sorely hurt, hey escaped away ; ’ s o t But or no, sure is they won the day . All things in peace , and rebels throughly quelled, A consultation by those states w as held

ereét What form of government now to ,

res eét The old or new, which best, in what p .

The greater part declined a monarchy, ’ So late crushed by their prince s tyranny , A nd thought the people would more happy be

If governed by an aristocracy . — Bu t others thought none of the dullest brain

That better one than many tyrants reign . W hat arguments they used I know not well , ’ Too politic, it s like, for me to tell , But in conclusion they all agree

Out of the seven a monarch chosen be .

All w as envy to avoid, this thought

U su n pon a green to meet by rising , A nd he whose horse before the rest should neigh

' Of all the peers should have precedency .

They all attend on the appointed hour, Praying to fortune for a kingly power ;

Then mounting on their snorting coursers proud, ’ Darius lusty stallion neighed full loud .

The nobles all alight, bow to their king,

A nd joyful acclamations shrill they ring .

8 A e W i in s rs Anne B r a dstr eet 1 1 8 l r t g of M .

A “ !” thousand times Long live the king they cry ; Let tyranny with dead Cambyses die !”

hi s Then all attend him to royal room .

- Thanks for all this to his crafty stable groom .

R I US H YS T SP E S D A A .

eleéti o n Darius by made a king , His title to make strong omits no thing

’ w ed He two of Cyrus daughters then doth ,

T w o n of his nieces takes to uptial bed, By which he cuts their hopes for future time

That by such steps to kingdoms often climb .

A nd now a king by marriage , choice, and blood,

his Three strings to bow, the least of which is good, Yet firmly more the people ’ s hearts to bind M ade wholesome, gentle laws which pleased each mind . His courtesy and affability M uch gained the hearts of his nobility .

s o Yet, notwithstanding all he did well , B The abylonians against their prince rebel . A n host he raised the city to reduce ;

But men against those walls were of no use . ’ Z o ru s Then brave py , for his master s good ,

di sfiu res His manly face g , spares no blood,

W o ff ith his own hands cuts his ears and nose , A nd with a faithful fraud to the town he goes ,

Tells them how harshly the proud king hath dealt, That for their sakes his cruelty he felt

1 20 be Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet T g f .

They, thus backed by the king , in spite of foes

Built on and prospered till their house they close, A nd in the sixth year of his friendly reign

Set up a temple (though a less) again .

Darius on the Scythians made a war . E ntering that large and barren country far, A bridge he made, which served for boat and barge ’ O er Ister fair, with labor and with charge . ’ But in that desert, mongst his barbarous foes,

Sharp wants , not swords , his valor did oppose

His army fought with hunger and with cold, W hich to assail his royal camp were bold . By these alone his host w as pinched s o sore ff He warred defensive, not o ensive more .

his The savages did laugh at distress . Their minds by hieroglyphics they express A frog , a mouse, a bird, an arrow, sent . The king will needs interpret their intent o Possessi n of water, earth, and air ;

r s o But wise G o b y as reads not half fair .

w e woth he, Like frogs in water must dive,

Or like to mice under the earth must live,

Or fly like birds in unknown ways full quick , ” Or Scythian arrows in our sides must stick .

viétu als The king, seeing his men and spent,

w ar This fruitless began late to repent,

and Returned with little honor, less gain,

His enemies scarce seen , then much less slain . Tbe F onr M ona r t bi es 1 2 1

He after this intends Greece to invade , A a But troubles in Less si him stayed,

W s o o ff hich hushed, he straight rders his a airs

A a For ttica an rmy he prepares ,

as s o But, before , now, with ill success,

Returned with wondrous loss , and honorless . A thens , perceiving now her desperate state , A rmed all she could, which eleven thousand made ; M By brave iltiades , their chief, being led, ’ u Darius m ltitudes before them fled .

A t M w as arathon this bloody field fought, W here Grecians proved themselves right soldiers stout .

The Persians to their galleys post with speed , Where an A thenian showed a valiant deed

Pursues his flying foes then on the sand,

He stays a launching galley with his hand,

W cu t o ff hich soon , enraged, he with his left w Renews his hold, and hen of that bereft His whetted teeth he claps in the firm wood; Off flies his head , down showers his frolic blood . t Go , Persians , carry home hat angry piece

A s the best trophy which ye won in Greece .

Darius , light, yet heavy, home returns ,

A nd for revenge his heart still restless burns . A e His queen, tossa, caus d all this stir ’ t i s For Grecian maids, said, to wait on her .

She lost her aim ; her husband, he lost more

hi s His men , his coin, his honor, and store, be Wr i in s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 2 2 T t g of .

A nd the ensuing year ended his life, ’ T is thought, through grief of this successless Thirty -six years this noble prince did reign ;

s o n Then to his second did all remain .

’ ’ A s o n Xerxes, Darius and tossa s ,

Grandchild to Cyrus , now sits on the throne

(His eldest brother put beside the place, ’ Because this was first born of Cyrus race); His father not s o full of lenity

s o n A s was his of pride and cruelty . He with his crown receives a double war

E . The gyptians to reduce, and Greece to mar The first began and finished in such haste ’ t as None write by whom nor how w overpast . But for the last he made such preparation A s if to dust he meant to grind that nation Yet all his men and instruments of slaughter o Produced but derisi n and laughter .

’ A rtabafiu s Sage counsel had he taken ,

A nd Mardo niu s his cousin , young , forsaken ,

His soldiers , credit, wealth, at home had stayed, ’ A nd Greece such wondrous triumphs ne er had made . The first dehorts and lays before his eyes His father ’ s ill success in his enterprise A c gainst the Scythians , and Gre ians , too ; W hat infamy to his honor did accrue .

1 2 be Wr i tin s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 4 T g of .

A ’ Brave rtemisia, Halicarnassus queen ,

In person present for his aid was seen , Whose galleys all the rest in neatness pass

Save the Sidonians , where Xerxes was .

But hers she kept still separate from the rest,

s he For to command alone judged was best . 0 noble queen , thy valor I commend ; ’ t But pity was thine aid thou here didst lend . A t Sardis, in Lydia, all these do meet, W hither rich Pythius comes Xerxes to greet,

Feasts all this multitude of his own charge, Then gives the king a king - like gift full large

Three thousand talents of the purest gold,

W s u m hich mighty all wondered to behold . Then humbly to the king he makes request One of his five sons there might be released To be to his age a comfort and a stay ;

The other four he freely gave away .

The king calls for the youth , who being brought, Cuts him in twain for whom his sire besought ;

his Then laid parts on both sides of the way , ’ Twixt which his soldiers marched in good array . For his great love is this thy recompense ? Is this to do like Xerxes or a prince ?

Thou shame of kings , of men the detestation,

I rhetoric want to pour out execration . First thing he did that ’ s worthy of recount

’ ' ea- A s passage cut behind A thos mount . Tbe Fonr Mona r t bies 1 2 5 Next o ’ er the Hellespont a bridge he made

Of boats together coupled and there laid . But winds and waves those 1ron bands did break ; To cross the s ea such strength he found too weak ;

s ea Then whips the , and with a mind most vain He fetters casts therein the same to chain ; The workmen put to death the bridge that made

Because they wanted skill the same to have stayed . ’ Seven thousand galleys chained by Tyrians skill e Firmly at last accomplish d his will .

Seven days and nights his host, without least stay, ’ e a Was marching o er this new devis d w y . A ’ Then in bydos plains mustering his forces, He glories in his squadrons and his horses ;

Long viewing them , thought it great happiness

s o One king many subjects should possess . But yet this sight from him produced tears

That none of those could live an hundred years .

What after did ensue , had he foreseen ,

s o Of long time his thoughts had never been . Of A rtabanu s he again demands -

How of this enterprise his thought now stands .

His answer was, both sea and land he feared;

Which was not vain , as after soon appeared .

But Xerxes resolute to Thrace goes first . His host all L i s su s drinks to quench its thirst ;

’ A nd for his cattle all Pi s siru s lake

r Was sca ce enough for each a draught to take . W in s r s A nne B r a ds treet 1 2 6 Tbe r i t g of M .

ae Then , marching on to the strait Thermopyl ,

The Spartan meets him, brave Leonide . ’ This twixt the mountains lies , half acre wide, That pleasant Thessaly from Greece divide

Two days and nights a fight they there maintain , Till twenty thousand Persians fell down slain ;

A nd all that army then , dismayed, had fled But that a fugitive discovered How some might o ’ er the mountains go about

nd A wound the backs of those brave warriors stout .

behem m ed They thus , with multitude of foes ,

Laid on more fiercely their deep mortal blows .

None cries for quarter, nor yet seeks to run, ’ But on their ground they die , each mother s son . 0 ! noble Greeks , how now degenerate Where is the valor of your ancient state Whenas one thousand could a million daunt? A ! las , it is Leonidas you want This shameful viéto ry cost Xerxes dear ; A mong the rest, two brothers he lost there .

A nd as s o w as : at land, he at sea crossed Four hundred stately ships by storms were lost ;

Of vessels small almost innumerable,

The harbors to contain them were not able .

s ea Yet, thinking to outmatch his foes at , Inclosed their fleet in the strait of Euboea ;

s ea But they, as fortunate at as land,

In this strait, as the other, firmly stand,

be Wr in s o rs Anne B ra ds tr eet 1 2 8 T i t g f M .

Who , for his sake, he knew would venture far,

Chief instigator of this hapless war . A He instantly to thens sends for peace ,

That all hostility from thenceforth cease, A nd that with Xerxes they would be at one ;

So should all favor to their state be shown . A The Spartans , fearing thens would agree,

A s M had acedon , Thebes , and Thessaly,

A nd leave them out this shock now to sustain , By their ambassador they thus complain ’ ’ A ’ That Xerxes quarrel was gainst thens state, A nd they had helped them as confederate; i If in their need they should forsake the r friend,

Their infamy would last till all things end . A But the thenians this peace detest, ’ A nd thus replied unto M ardo n s request That while the su n di d r u n his endless course Against the Persians they would bend their force ; No r could the brave ambassador he sent With rhetoric gain better compliment A M acedonian born , and great commander, A No less than grandsire to great lexander .

Mardo niu s proud, hearing this answer stout, To add more to his numbers lays about ; A nd of those Greeks which by his skill he won

He fifty thousand joins unto his own . The other Greeks which were confederate

In all one hundred and ten thousand made . Tbe F ou r Monar ebies 1 29

A t The thenians could but for y thousand arm , The rest had weapons would do little harm ; But that which helped defe éts and made them bold

W as t vic ory by oracle foretold . Then for one battle shortly all provide W ’ 11 here both their controversies they decide .

Ten days these armies did each other face .

Mardo niu s viétu als , finding waste apace,

No longer dared , but bravely onset gave . The other not a hand or sword would wave Till in the entrails of their sacrifice The sign al of their victory did rise ; W hich found, like Greeks they fight, the Persians fly ,

A nd Mardo niu s troublesome now must die . ’ All s lost; and of three hundred thousand men

Three thousand only can run home again . For pity let those few to Xerxes go

To certify his final overthrow . Same day the small remainder of his fleet

M cale A The Grecians at y in sia meet, And there s o utterly they wrecked the same

a the Scarce one was left to c rry home fame .

Thus did the Greeks consume, destroy , disperse,

That army which did fright the universe .

Scorned Xerxes , hated for his cruelty ,

aft Yet ceases not to his villainy . ’ His brother s wife soli cits to his will ; e The chaste and beauteous dame refus d still . 9 0 be Wr i in s o Mr s Anne B r a ds tr ee 1 3 T t g f . t

Some years by him in this vain suit were spent,

w i n Nor prayers nor gifts could him least content, Nor matching of her daughter to his son ;

she a s as But w still when he first begun . When jealous Q e en Am estri s of this knew

- She harpy like upon the lady flew,

o ff Cut her breasts , her lips, her nose , and ears ,

nd A leaves her thus besmeared in blood and tears .

" Straight comes her lord, and finds his wife thus lie .

The sorrow of his heart did close his eye . He dying to behold that wounding sight W here he had sometime gazed with great delight, To see that face where rose and lilies stood ’ erflo w n O with torrents of her guiltless blood, To s ee those breasts where chasti ty did dwell

ha Thus cut and mangled by a g of hell , W ith laden heart unto the king he goes , e Tells as he could his unexpress d woes . But for his deep complaints and showers of tears ’ His brother s recompense was naught but jeers . e The griev d prince, finding nor right nor love,

Baétria To his household did remove . H i s brother sent soon after him a crew W hich him and his most barbarously there slew . U nto such height did grow his cruelty,

Of life no man had least security .

A t hi s last his uncle did death conspire,

nd A for that end his eunuch he did hire,

W rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 3 2 Tbe r i tings of M .

His princes , nobles, and his captains calls

To be partakers of these festivals .

His hangings white green , and purple dye, [ and W ith gold and silver beds most gorgeously . The royal wine in golden cups did pass ;

To drink more than he list none bidden was . ’ Qeen Vashti also feasts ; but fore t is ended ’ s She from her royalty, alas , suspended, A nd one more worthy placed in her room ; ’ M em u can s as By advice so w the doom . W E hat sther was and did, the story read, A nd how her countrymen from spoil s he freed; ’ ’ M 5 i Of Haman s fall , and ordecai great r se,

The might of the prince, the tribute of the isles . Good Ezra in the seventh year of his reign

Did for the Jews commission large obtain , W ’ ith gold and silver, and whate er they need ;

’ His bounty did Darius far exceed .

A nd N w ehemiah, in his t entieth year, W t ent to Jerusalem, his ci y dear,

Rebuilt those walls which long in rubbish lay, ’ A nd i o er his opposites st ll got the day . Unto this king Themistocles did fly When under ostracism he did lie For such ingratitude did A thens show

s o This valiant knight, whom they much did owe . Such royal bounty from his prince he found

That in his loyalty his heart was bound . Tbe Fonr Mona r t bies 1 3 3

The king not little joyful of this chance ,

Thinking his Grecian wars now to advance, A nd for that end great preparation made

Fair A ttica a third time to invade . ’ vex His grandsire s old disgrace did him sore, ’ His father Xerxes loss and shame much more . For punishment their breach of oath did call

This noble Greek , now fit for general .

Provisions then and season being fit,

To Themistocles this war he doth commit, Who for his wrong he could not choose but deem H i s country nor his friends would much esteem ;

But he all injury had soon forgot,

A nd his to native land could bear no hate ,

No r yet disloyal to his prince would prove,

By whom obliged by bounty and by love . Either to wrong did wound his heart s o sore

To wrong himself by death he chose before .

s ad hi s In this conflict marching on ways ,

s o Strong poison took, put an end to his days .

The king , this noble captain having lost,

- Dispersed again his newly levied host .

Rest of his time in peace he did remain ,

A nd hi s died the two and fortieth of reign .

I US NOT H US D AR .

Three sons great Artaxerxes left behind;

w as his The eldest to succeed, that mind . 9 A 1 be W i in s rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 4 T r t g of M .

His second brother with him fell at strife,

Still making war till first had lost his life . N Then the survivor is by othus slain ,

Wh o now sole monarch doth of all remain . The first two sons are by historians thought E By fair ween sther to her husband brought .

w as If so they were , the greater her moan

s he That for such graceless wretches did groan . E ’ Revolting gypt gainst this king rebels , His garrison drives out that mongst them dwells ;

s o Joins with the Greeks , and maintains their right ’ For sixty years, maugre the Persians might . A second trouble after this succeeds , W A hich from remissness in Less sia breeds .

A m o r es g , whom for Viceroy he ordained, t Revolts , reasure and people having gained,

Plunders the country, and much mischief wrought

Before things could to quietness be brought .

The king was glad with Sparta to make peace, That s o he might those troubles soon appease ; But they in A sia must first restore A ll towns held by his ancestors before .

e u The king much profit reap d by this leag e,

Regains his own , then doth the rebel break, W ’ hose strength by Grecians help was overthrown ,

A nd so each man again possessed his own .

- This king, Cambyses like, his sister wed, To which hi s pride more than his lust him led ;

1 6 e Wr i in s o Mrs Anne B r a ds 3 l t g f . tr eet

’ A nd thought it best now in his mother s time

By lower steps toward the top to climb .

e If in his enterprise h should fall short, She to the king would make a fair report ; He hoped if fraud nor force the crown would gain

o btam Her prevalence a pardon might . From the lieutenant first he takes away A Some towns , commodious in Less sia,

' still th e Pretending profit of the king , W hose rents and customs duly he sent in . i The king, find ng revenues now amended,

w as e ff For what done seem d no whit o ended . Then next he takes the Spartans into p ay

u One Greek co ld make ten Persians run away . Great care was his pretense those soldiers stout The rovers in Pisidia should drive out But lest some blacker news should fly to court

Prepares himself to carry the report, A nd for that end five hundred horse he chose . W ith posting speed on toward the king he goes .

But fame , more quick , arrives ere he comes there, A nd fills the court with tumult and with fear .

The old queen and the young at bitter jars , The last accused the first for these sad wars ; The wife against the mother still doth cry

To be the author of conspiracy .

The king , dismayed , a mighty host doth raise ,

Which Cyrus hears , and so foreslows his pace ; Tbe F ou r Mona r t bi es 1 3 7

But as he goes his forces still augments ,

r fo r hi s Seven hund ed Greeks repair intents , A nd others to be warmed by this n e w su n

his In numbers from brother daily run .

The fearful king at last musters his forces,

A nd counts nine hundred thousand foot and horses . Three hundred thousand he to Syria sent

To keep those straits his brother to prevent . ’ Their captain, hearing but of Cyrus name,

o rs o o k F his charge, to his eternal shame . This place s o made by nature and by art

Few might have kept it had they had a heart .

Cyrus despaired a passage there to gain , ’ So hired a fleet to waft him o er the main . The amazed king was then about to fly t To Baé ria , and for a time there lie,

his Had not his captains , sore against will ,

By reason and by force detained him still . Up then with speed a mighty trench he throws

For his security against his foes , i Six yards the depth and forty m les in length ,

/ Some fifty or else sixty foot in breadth ; ’ Yet for his brother s coming durst not stay ,

w a He safest was when farthest out of the y .

n Cyrus , fi ding his camp and no man there,

Wa s not a little jocund at his fear .

On this he and his soldiers careless grow,

A nd here and there in carts their arms they throw, be Wr i in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 3 8 T t g f M .

When suddenly their scouts come in and cry , “ ” A rm !A rm !The king with all his host i s nigh !

In this confusion , each man as he might

Gets on his arms , arrays himself for fight, ’ A nd ranged stood by great Euphrates side

The brunt of that huge multitude to abide , Of whose great numbers their intelligence

Was gathered by the dust that rose from thence,

W i s k hich like a m ghty cloud darkened the y ,

nd A black and blacker grew as they drew nigh .

B u t when their order and their silence saw, That more than multitudes their hearts did awe ;

e x eéted For tumult and confusion they p , ’ nd ne leéced A all good discipline to be g .

But long under their fears they did not stay,

For at first charge the Persians ran away , Which did such courage to the Grecians bring They all adored Cyrus for their king ; l So had he been , and got the vié ory,

Had not his too much valor put him by . He with s ix hundred on a squadron set

six Of thousands wherein the king was yet, A nd brought his soldiers on s o gallantly They ready were to leave their king and fly ; ” W s ee ! hom Cyrus spies, cries loud , I the man

A nd with a full career at him he ran . A nd in hi s speed a dart him hit in the eye ;

r Down Cy us falls , and yields to destiny .

0 /Je Wr i tin s o rs Anne B r a d s tr ee 1 4 T g f M . t To hinder their return by craft or force He judged his wisest and his safest course ;

Then sends that to his tent they straight address ,

A nd there all wait his mercy weaponless .

re eét The Greeks with scorn j his proud commands , A sking no favor where they feared no bands .

The troubled king his herald sends again ,

A nd sues for peace, that they his friends remain . The smiling Greeks reply they first must bait;

They were too hungry to capitulate .

The king great store of all provision sends , A nd courtesy to the utmost he pretends ; Such terror on the Persians then did fall

They quaked to hear them to each other call .

The king , perplexed, there dares not let them stay,

A n d fears as much to let them march away . ’ Bu t kings ne er want such as can serve their will , Fit instruments to accomplish what i s ill ; ’ A s T i s sa hernes kno wm p , g his master s mind,

Their chief commanders feasts , and yet more kind , W ith all the oaths and deepest flattery ,

Gets them to treat with him in privacy,

hi s But violates his honor and word,

A nd - u villain like there p ts them all to the sword .

n The Greeks , seeing their valia t captains slain ,

Chose Xenophon to lead them home again . ‘ But T i ssapherne s what he could devise Did stop the way in this their enterprise ; Tbe F ou r Mona rebies 1 4 1

ffi But when through di culties all they brake,

The country burned they no relief might take .

But on they march, through hunger and through cold , ’ O er mountains, rocks , and hills , as lions bold ; ’ ’ No r rivers course nor Persians force could stay,

But on to Trebizond they kept their way .

There was of Greeks settled a colony,

Wh o after all received them joyfully .

Thus finishing their travail , danger, pain ,

s a In peace they w their native soil again .

su s eéted The Greeks now, as the Persian king p , The A siatics ’ cowardice detected t The many vic ories themselves did gain ,

The many thousand Persians they had slain , A nd how their nation with facility M ight gain the universal monarchy .

D erc llidas They then y send with an host, Wh o with the Spartans on the Asian coast

Town after town with small resistance takes, W hich rumor makes great Artaxerxes quake .

s o The Greeks by this success encouraged ,

A esilau s t Their king g do h over go . ’ i s sa hernes s e By T p he encounter d,

fled Lieutenant to the king ; but soon he , Which overthrow incensed the king s o sore

T i s s a hern That p must be Viceroy no more .

T i thrau s te s e then is plac d in his stead, ’ Commission hath to take the other 3 head ; W o rs Anne B r a ds 1 42 Tbe r i ti ngs f M . tr eet

Of that perjurious wretch this was the fate,

W u hom the old q een did bear a mortal hate .

T i thrau s tes trusts more to his wit than arms , ’ A nd hopes by craft to quit his master s harms . He knows that many a town in Greece envies

The Spartan state , which now so fast did rise ;

To them he thirty thousand talents sent, W ith suit their arms against their foes be bent .

They to their discontent receiving hire , W ith broils and quarrels set all Greece on fire .

A es ilau s g is called home with speed .

ff w as To defend, more than o end, there need . ’ re Their winnings lost, and peace they glad to take

On such conditions as the king will make . Dissension in Greece continued s o long

Till many a captain fell , both wise and strong,

Whose courage naught but death could ever tame . ’ M E ongst these paminondas wants no fame,

Who had , as noble Raleigh doth evince, All the peculiar virtues of a prince .

But let us leave these Greeks to discord bent,

A n d t urn to Persia, as is pertinent .

The king, from foreign parts now well at ease,

- His home bred troubles sought how to appease . The two queens by his means seem to abate Their former envy and inveterate hate ;

But the old queen , implacable in strife, f By poison caused the young to lose her li e .

1 /Je W i in s o rs Anne B r a ds r eet 44 T r t g f M . t

OR AR SE S A R SA MES, .

’ A rsam es , placed now in his father s stead B e y him that late his father murder d , ’ A rsam e s w as Ochu s Some write that brother, Enthroned by Bago as in the room of the other ; ’ But why his brother fore his s o n succeeds ’ I can no reason give, cause none I read . ’ H is t w as brother , as is said, long since slain ,

A nd scarce a nephew left that now might reign . W t hat ac s he did time hath not now left penned,

But most suppose in him did Cyrus end , W hose race long time had worn the diadem , ’ s v e But now de olv d to another stem . ’ his cu Three years he reigned, then drank father s p

w ho s e t By the same eunuch first him up .

D R I US COD OMANN US A .

Ba o as s et Darius , by this g in throne,

Complotter with him in the murder done, He w as no sooner settled in hi s reign

Bu t Ba o as hi s a i g falls to practices ga n , A nd e the same sauce had serv d him , no doubt, Bu t that his treason timely was found out ;

A nd s o this wretch, a punishment too small ,

hi s Lost but life for his horrid treasons all . This Co do m annu s now upon the stage

Was his - to predecessors chamber page . Tbe Fo ar Mona r ebies 1 45

’ Some write great Cyrus line was not yet run ,

n w But from some daughter this e king was sprung . s o w e If or not cannot tell , but find

That several men will have their several mind . Yet in such differences w e may be bold With the learned and judicious still to hold ; ’ ’ A nd s this mongst all no controverted thing,

That this Darius was last Persian king , Whose wars and losses we may better tell ’ A w ho In lexander s reign , did him quell How from the top of world ’ s felici ty He fell to depths of greatest misery ; W t hose honors , reasures , pleasures , had short stay

One deluge came and swept them all away, A nd in the sixth year of his hapless reign Of all did scarce his winding -sheet remain ;

A nd sad last, a catastrophe to end ,

Be s su s n Him to the grave did traitor se d .

be End b a ona r eb T of t e P er s i n M y . 1 6 i m Wr i in s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr ee 4 T t g of . t

T H E D M NA B E N T H E THIR O RCHY, I G E A E NN N UND E A L E GR CI N, B GI I G R X A ND ER T H E GR EA T I N T H E ONE UN E A ND W E M AD H DR D T LFTH OLY PI .

’ A s o n Great lexander was wise Philip s ,

A m ntas M He to y , kings of acedon ;

The cruel , proud Olympias was his mother,

’ E as She to pirus warlike king w daughter .

This prince , his father by Pausanias slain,

-firs t The twenty of his age began to reign .

Great were the gifts of nature which he had, His education much to those did add ; By art and nature both he w as made fit

To accomplish that which long before was writ . The very day of his nativity D ’ To the ground was burned iana s temple high , A n omen of their near approaching woe W hose glory to the earth this king did throw . H i s ru le to Greece he scorned should be confined ;

v . The uni erse scarce bound his proud, vast mind

he - This is the goat which from Grecia came,

That ran in choler on the Persian ram ,

That brake his horns , that threw him on the ground ;

v To sa e him from his might no man was found .

Philip on this great conquest had an eye, But death did terminate those thoughts s o high ;

- The Greeks had chose him captain general ,

W his s o n hich honor to did now befall .

r Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 48 Tbe Wri tings of M s .

w a Then on he marched . In his y he viewed old Troy , ’ A nd on A chilles tomb with wondrous joy ff He o ered, and for good success did pray ’ To him , his mother s ancestor, men say . W A hen news of lexander came to court, To scorn at him Darius had good sport; Sends him a frothy and contemptuous letter

Styles him disloyal servant, and no better ; Reproves him for his proud audacity

’ To lift his hand gainst such a monarchy . Then to hi s lieutenant he in Asia sends

That he be taken alive , for he intends

'

To whip him well with rods , and so to bring

s o That boy malapert before the king . A h , fond, vain man , whose pen ere while In lower terms was taught a higher style ! A To river Granicus lexander hies , W hich in Phrygia near Propontis lies .

The Persians ready for encounter stand, A nd strive to keep his men from o ff the land ;

Those banks so steep the Greeks yet scramble up ,

A nd beat the coward Persians from the top ,

A nd twenty thousand of their lives bereave,

Who in their backs did all their wounds receive . This viéto ry did A lexander gain

W - ith loss of thirty four of his there slain . E Then Sardis he, and phesus , did gain ,

’ Where stood of late Diana s wondrous fane . Tbe Foa r Mona r t bi es 1 49

A nd reno wn éd by Parmenio, of fame, Miletus and Pamphylia overcame ; Halicarnassus and Pisidia

He for his master takes , with Lycia . N A ext lexander marched toward the Black Sea,

A nd G o rdiu m w a easily takes old in his y ,

- M Of ass eared idas once the regal seat, W t ’ hose touch urned all to gold, yea, e en his meat .

There the prophetic knot he cuts in twain , W hich whoso doth must lord of all remain . ’ ’ No w Mem no n s news of death , the king s Viceroy, ’ ’ A s To lexander s heart no little joy , For in that peer more valor did abide ’ Than in Darius multitude beside . A In his stead was rses placed, but durst not stay ,

s e t hi s Yet one in room , and ran away ;

His substitute , as fearful as his master,

Runs after, too , and leaves all to disaster . A Then lexander all Cilicia takes,

No s o stroke for it he struck , their hearts quake . To Greece he thirty thousand talents sends

To raise more force to further his intents . ’ Then o er he goes Darius now to meet, Wh o came with tho u sand thousands at his feet

Though some there be, perhaps more likely, write He but four hundred thousand had to fight;

The rest attendants , which made up no less, B oth sexes there were almost numberless . I OA 1 0 /J W r s Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 T e r itings of M .

s ee For this wise king had brought , to the sport, W ith him the greatest ladies of the court,

His mother, his beauteous queen and daughters, M s e e . It seems , to the acedonian slaughters ’ It s much beyond my time and little art

To show how great Darius played his part, e The splendor and the pomp he march d in ,

For since the world was no such pageant seen . Sure ’ t was a goodly sight there to behold

The Persians clad in silk and glistering gold,

The stately horses trapped , the lances gilt,

A s if addressed now all to run a tilt .

w as The holy fire borne before the host, For s u n and fire the Persians worship most ;

The priests , in their strange habit, follow after,

A n object not so much of fear as laughter .

The king sat in a chariot made of gold, W ith crown and robes most glorious to behold, ’ A nd o er hi s head his golden go ds on high

- Support a party colored canopy . A number of spare horses next were led,

’ Lest he should need them in his chariot s stead; Bu t those that saw him in this state to lie

Supposed he neither meant to fight nor fly .

He fifteen hundred had like women dressed, For thus to fright the Greeks he judged was best ; Their golden ornam ents how to s e t forth

W as k ould more time than were their bodies worth .

1 2 b W i in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 T e r t g f M .

The regal ornaments were lost, the treasure M ’ Divided at the acedonian s pleasure .

Yet all this grief, this loss , this overthrow,

Was but beginning of his future woe .

u A The royal captives bro ght to lexander, Toward them demeaned himself like a commander ;

For though their beauties were unparalleled , ’ d e Conquered himself now he who conquer d ,

Preserved their honor, used them bounteously, Commands no man should do them injury ; A nd this to A lexander is more fame

Than that the Persian king he overcame . Two hundred eighty Greeks he lost in fight

By too much heat, not wounds, as authors write . No sooner had this viétor won the fields

But all Phenicia to his pleasure yields, Of which the government he doth commit U nto Parmenio, of all most fit .

Darius, now less lofty than before, To Alexander writes he would restore

Those mournful ladies from captivity, For whom he offers him a ransom high But down his haughty stomach could not bring

To give this conqueror the style of king . A This letter lexander doth disdain, And in short terms sends this reply again A king he was , and that not only so ,

But of Darius king, as he should know . T be F onr Mona r t /z ies I S3

N A ext lexander unto Tyre doth go . His valor and his viéto ri es they know ;

To gain his love the Tyrians intend,

Therefore a crown and great provision send .

Their present he receives with thankfulness , ff Desires to o er unto Hercules , i t Prote or of their town , by whom defended,

A nd from whom he lineally descended . But they accept not this in any wise Lest he intend more fraud than sacrifice ; Sent word that Hercules his temple stood

In the old town , which then lay like a wood . With this reply he was s o deep enraged To win the town his honor he engaged ;

’ A nd B now, as abel s king did once before,

s ea He leaves not till he made the firm shore . But far less time and cost he did expend The former ru ins forwarded his end ; M ’ d oreover, he a navy at command, hi The other by s men fetched all by land . m ’ In seven onths time he took that wealthy town , ’ s Whose glory now a second time brought down .

T w o thousand of the chief he crucified, E ight thousand by the sword then also died , A nd thirteen thousand galley - slaves he made ;

A nd thus the Tyrians for mistrust were paid .

The rule of this he to Philotas gave,

s o n Who was the of that Parmenio brave . 1 be Wr in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 4 T i t g f M .

Cilicia to Socrates doth give, ’ s For now the time captains like kings may live .

' H e hze s tion Sidon he on p bestows , For that which freely comes as freely goes ;

He scorns to have one worse than had the other,

So gives his little lordship to another .

H e hm sti o n p , having chief command of the fleet, A t A Gaza now must lexander meet .

Darius , finding troubles still increase,

hi s By ambassadors now sues for peace , ’ A nd lays before great A lexander s eyes ffi The dangers, di culties , like to rise E First at uphrates what he is like to abide,

’ ’ A nd then at Tigris and Araxes side ;

These he may escape, and if he so desire A league of friendship make firm and entire . f His eldest daughter he in marriage pro fers , A nd a most princely dowry with her offers All those rich kingdoms large that do abide

’ H al s Betwixt the Hellespont and y side .

re eéts But he with scorn his courtesy j , A nd the distressed king no whit resp eéts ; ff Tells him these pro ers great in truth were none,

ff w as For all he o ers now but his own .

But quoth Parmenio , that brave commander, “ Were I as great as is great A lexander ’ ff r e e é Darius o ers I would not j t, ” But the kingdoms and the lady soon accept .

1 /oe W i in s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 6 T r t g f .

By which he was s o much encouraged

No fu tu re dangers he did ever dread . E From thence to fruitful gypt marched with speed, Where happily in his wars he did succeed ;

s e e To how fast he gained was no small wonder,

For in few days he brought that kingdom under .

Then to the fane of Jupiter he went, To be installed a god was his intent ;

The pagan priest, through hire, or else mistake,

s o n The of Jupiter did straight him make . He diabolical must needs remain

That his humanity will not retain . E ‘ Thence back to gypt goes , and in few days A Fair lexandria from the ground doth raise .

A s iéi Then settling all things in Less , E a In Syria , gypt, and Phenici , U E nto uphrates marched and over goes , ’ s For no man there his army to oppose . B Had etis but been there now with his band, A Great lexander had been kept from land .

s o But as the king , is the multitude,

A nd t now of valor both are desti ute .

Yet he, poor prince , another host doth muster

Of Persians , Scythians , Indians , in a cluster,

M en but in shape and name , of valor none , M M ost fit to blunt the swords of acedon .

Two hundred fifty thousand, by account,

Of horse and foot his army did amount . Tbe F oo r Mona r ebi es 1 5 7

tu For in his multi des his trust still lay , But on their fortitude he had small stay ; i Yet had some hope that on the sp acio u s plain

’ iéto r His numbers might the v y obtain . A ’ bout this time Darius beauteous queen ,

Who had sore travail and much sorrow seen ,

Now bids the world adieu , with pain being spent, W hose death her lord full sadly did lament . A Great lexander mourns as well as he,

s e t The more because not at liberty . W hen this sad news at first Darius hears ,

w as ff e Some injury o er d, he fears ; But when informed how royally the king e Had us d her and hers in everything , He prays the immortal gods they would reward Great A lexander for this good regard ;

A nd if they down his monarchy will throw,

Let them on him this dignity bestow .

A nd now for peace he sues , as once before,

A nd ff o ers all he did and kingdoms more ,

His eldest daughter for his princely bride ,

“ No r 511 was such match in the world beside, A nd all those countries which betwixt did lie

s ea E Phenician and great uphrates high, W E ith fertile gypt, and rich Syria,

A n d A a all those kingdoms in Less si , With thirty thousan d talents to be paid For the queen mother and the royal maid ; 1 8 Tba Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 g f .

A nd till all this be well performed and sure

Ochu s s o n his for hostage should endure . A To this stout lexander gives no ear ,

N0 e , though Parmenio plead, yet will not h ar ; W ’ d hich had he done, perhaps his fame he kept,

No r infamy had waked when he had slept . For his unlimited prosperity

Him boundless made in vice and cruelty . Thus to Darius he writes back again The firm am e nt two suns cannot contain ;

Two monarchies on earth cannot abide ,

No r h yet two monarc s in one world reside .

f s et ar The a flicted king, finding him to j ,

- Prepares against to morrow for the war . Parmenio Alexander wished that night

0 T force his camp , so vanquish them by flight ;

r For tumult in the night doth cause most d ead ,

A n e d weakness of a foe is cover d . But he disdained to steal a viéto ry The su n should witness of his valor be ;

A nd careless in his bed next morn he lies , ’ ’ 11 By captains twice he s called before he rise .

The armies joined, a while the Persians fight, A nd spilled the Greeks some blood before their flight ;

But long they stood not ere they re forced to run ,

So made an end as soon as well begun .

o r t -five A F y thousand lexander had, ’ But t is not known what slaughter here was made .

1 60 Tbe Wr i in s rs Anne B r a ds tr eet t g of M . W hilst reveling at Babylon he lies, A ntipater from Greece sends fresh supplies .

He then to Shushan goes with his new bands , ’ B u t t needs no force ; is rendered to his hands .

He likewise here a world of treasure found,

as For t w the seat of Persian kings renowned . Here stood the royal houses of delight

W lo r w ealth here kings have shown their g y , , and might , E The sumptuous palace of ween sther here , And M of good ordecai , her kinsman dear .

Those purple hangings mixed with green and white ,

Those beds of gold and couches of delight, A nd furniture the richest in all lands M ’ Now fall into the acedonian s hands .

From Shushan to Persepolis he goes , W ’ hich news doth still augment Darius woes . In his approach the governor sends word For his receipt with joy they all accord W ith open gates the wealthy town did stand,

A nd all in it was at his high command . Of all the cities that on earth were found

None like to this in riches did abound .

Though Babylon was rich, and Shushan , too ,

Yet to compare with this they might not do . Here lay the bulk of all those precious things

That did pertain unto the Persian kings ,

For when the soldiers rifled had their pleasure ,

And taken money, plate, and golden treasure, T be Fonr Mona r ebies 1 61

Statues , some gold, and silver numberless ,

Yet after all , as stories do express , The share of A lexander did amount

To an hundred thousand talents by account .

Here of his own he sets a garrison,

A s first at Shushan and at Babylon .

On their old governors titles he laid, But on their faithfulness he never stayed

Their places gave to his captains , as was just, For such revolters false what king can trust ? The riches and the pleasures of this town

n Now make this king his virtues all to drow .

w allo w eth He in all licentiousness,

In pride and cruelty to high excess .

Being inflamed with wine upon a season, illéd F with madness , and quite void of reason , ’ He at a bold proud stru mpet s lewd desire

s et Commands to this goodly town on fire .

Parmenio wise entreats him to desist,

A nd lays before his eyes, if he persist, ’ His fame s dishonor, loss unto his state, ’ A nd the just procuring of Persians hate .

his But, deaf to reason , bent to have will ,

Those stately streets with raging flame did fill .

dire éts Then to Darius he his way,

w as M Who retired as far as edia, A nd there, with sorrows, fears, and cares surrounded,

his Had now army fourth and last compounded, I I 1 62 Tbe Wr itin s Mrs Anne r a d r g of . B s t eet

Which forty thousand made . Now his intent

’ Was these in Baétri a soon to augment ; A But, hearing lexander was so near,

Thought now this once to try his fortunes here, A nd rather choose an honorable death

Than still with infamy to draw his breath .

B essu s ls But fa e, who was his chief commander, A Persuades him not to fight with lexander . With sage advice he sets before his eyes The little hope of profit like to rise ; ’ d If when he multitudes the day he lost,

s o Then with few how likely to be crossed .

This counsel for his safety he pretended,

his But to deliver him to foe intended . w Next day this treason to Darius kno n , o Transported sore with grief and passi n ,

o ff Grinding his teeth, and plucking his hair, ’ He sat o e rwhelm ed with sorrow and despair ; Then bids his servant A rtabaz u s tru e

Look to himself, and leave him to that crew Who was of hopes and comforts quite bereft

n A d by his guard and servitors all left .

Bessu s his Straight comes , and with traitorous hands

Lays hold on his lord , and, binding him with bands;

Throws him into a cart covered with hides,

Who , wanting means to resist these wrongs, abides, Then draws the cart along with chains of gold

In more despite the thralled prince to hold .

' 1 6 Tbe Wr i tin s Mrs nne B ra ds r 4 g qf . A t eet

A s Po l s tratu s thus he lay , y , a Greek, W earied with his long march, did water seek,

So chanced these bloody horses to espy, Whose wounds had made their skins of purple dye ;

To them repairs, then , looking in the cart, e Finds poor Darius pierc d to the heart,

Who, not a little cheered to have some eye

The witness of this horrid tragedy, Prays him to Alexander to commend

The just revenge of this his woeful end, A nd not to pardon such disloyalty

Of treason , murder, and base cruelty D If not because arius thus did pray, Yet that succeeding kings in safety may

Their lives enjoy, their crowns , and dignity,

’ A nd not by traitors hands untimely die . He also sends his humble thankfulness For all the kingly grace he did express

c no w To his mother, children lear, and wife gone, Which made their long restraint seem to be none ; Praying the immortal gods that sea and land

M su b e éfed ight be j to his royal hand, A nd that his rule as far extended be

A s men the rising, setting , sun shall see .

This said, the Greek for water doth entreat

To quench his thirst and to allay his heat . ” “ Of all good things , quoth he, once in my power, ’ ve I nothing left, at this my dying hour, Tbe Fo nr Mona r e/y ies 1 65

Thy service and compassion to reward ; ”

A . But lexander will, for this regard did This said, his fainting breath fleet away ,

A nd . though a monarch late , now lies like clay A nd thus must every s o n of A dam lie ;

Though gods on earth, like sons of men they die . No w to the East great A lexander goes To see if any dare his might oppose ; For scarce the world or any bounds thereon o Could bound his boundless fond ambiti n .

Such as submit, again he doth restore

Their riches , and their honors he makes more ; On A rtabaz u s more than all bestowed

For his fidelity to his master showed .

T hale s tri s A , queen of the mazons , now brought A ’ t Her train to lexander, as is thought ; Though most of reading best and soundest mind

Such country there nor yet such people find . Than tell her errand we had better spare ; T O the ignorant her title will declare .

A s A lexander in his greatness grows , So daily of his virtues doth he lose :

He baseness counts his former clemency, And not beseeming such a digni ty ; ’ H is past sobriety doth also bate , A s most incompatible to his state ;

i s His temperance but a sordid thing ,

Noways becoming such a mighty king .

1 I A W o Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 66 Tbe r i ti ngs f Mrs . His greatness now he takes to represent

firm am ent His fancied gods above the , A nd such as showed but reverence before ‘ s triétl Now are commanded y to adore . W ith Persian robes himself doth dignify, Charging the same on hi s nobility ;

His manners , habits , gestures , all did fashion

A fter that conquered and luxurious nation . His captains that were virtuously inclined Grieved at this change of manners and of mind ; The ruder sort did openly deride e l His feign d deity and foo ish pride .

The certainty of both comes to his ears ,

Bu t yet no notice takes of what he hears . W ith those of worth he still desires esteem ,

So heaps up gifts his credit to redeem, A nd for the rest new wars and travels finds

That other matters might take up their minds .

A nd Bes su s hearing makes himself a king,

Intends that traitor to his end to bring .

No w that his host from luggage might be free,

A nd with his burden no man burdened be , Commands forthwith each man his fardel bring Into the market -place before the king ; W hich done, sets fire upon those goodly spoils ,

The recompense of travels , wars , and toils , And thus unwisely in a madding fume

The wealth of many kingdoms did consume .

be W in s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 68 T r i t g of .

A nd in this sort they rather drag than bring

m alefaéto r This vile before the king, Who to Darius ’ brother gives the wretch W ith racks and tortures every limb to stretch . Here was of Greeks a town in Baétria

Whom Xerxes from their country led away . These not a little j oyed this day to see

Wherein their own had got the sovereignty ,

A nd , now revived , with hopes held up their head e From bondage long to be enfranchis d . But Alexander puts them to the sword

Without least cause from them in deed or word ,

Nor sex nor age , nor one nor other spared, But in his cruelty alike they shared; Nor reason could he give for this great wrong

But that they had forgot their mother tongue .

BaEtri a While thus some time he spent in ,

A nd in his camp strong and securely lay , Down from the mountains twenty thousand came A nd there most fiercely s et upon the same ;

Repelling these, two marks of honor got,

le Imprinted in his g by arrows shot . The Baftrians against him now rebel ;

But he their stubbornness in time doth quell .

From thence he to Jaxartes river goes , W here Scythians rude his army do oppose, A nd with their outcries in an hideous sort

Beset his camp , or military court, Tbe F o u r Mona r ebi es 1 69

Of darts and arrows made s o little spare

s o They flew thick they seemed to dark the air . But soon his soldiers forced them to a flight;

Their nakedness could not endure their might . Upon this river ’ s bank in seventeen days A goodly city doth completely raise, A Which lexandria he doth likewise name,

A nd sixty furlongs could but round the same . A A third supply ntipater now sent, Which did his former forces much augment ;

A nd being one hundred twenty thousand strong,

He enters then the Indian kings among .

Those that submit, he gives them rule again ;

Such as do not, both they and theirs are slain .

His wars with sundry nations I ll omit, A nd also of the Malliens what is writ :

His fights, his dangers , and the hurts he had ; ’ re How to submit their necks at last they glad . N To ysa he goes , by Bacchus built long since, Whose feasts are celebrated by this prince ; Nor had that drunken god one who would take u His liquors more devo tly for his sake . W ’ d hen thus ten days his brain with wine he soaked,

A nd with delicious meats his palate choked,

To the river Indus next his course he bends .

H e hae sti o n Boats to prepare p first he sends ,

Who , coming thither long before his lord, Had to his mind made all things to accord ; 1 0 be Wr i in s rs Anne B r a ds tr e 7 T t g of M . et

The vessels ready were at his command,

A nd Om hi s p , king of that part of the land, Through his persuasion Alexander meets

A nd as his sovereign lord him humbly greets .

t -s ix Fif y elephants he brings to his hand, A nd tenders him the strength of all his land ;

Presents himself first with a golden crown ,

Then eighty talents to his captains down . But A lexander made him to behold

He glory sought, no silver, no , nor gold ;

His presents all with thanks he did restore,

A nd of his own a thousand talents more . Thus all the Indian kings to him submit

But Porus stout, who will not yield as yet . To him doth A lexander thus declare : His pleasure is that forthwith he repair U ’ nto his kingdom s borders and , as due,

His homage to himself as sovereign do .

n But kingly Porus this brave a swer sent,

w as That to attend him there his intent, A nd come as well provided as he could;

But for the rest his sword advise him should . A Great lexander, vexed at this reply , Did more his valor than his crown envy ; ’ ’ s H das es He now resolved to pass y p flood, A nd there by force his sovereignty make good . Stout Porus on the banks doth ready stand To give him welcome when he comes to land;

b W i in s o rs nne B ra ds r 1 7 2 T e r t g f M . A t eet

his He for camp a greater circuit takes , A nd for hi s soldiers larger cabins makes ; His mangers he erected up so high A s never horse his provender could eye ;

Huge bridles made , which here and there he left , W hich might be found and for great wonders kept .

Twelve altars then for monuments he rears , Whereon his aéts and travels long appear ;

But doubting wearing time might these decay ,

And s o his memory would fade away, ’ He on the fair H ydasp es pleasant side

Two cities built, his name might there abide

Ni cze a Bu ce halo n First, ; the next, p , W here he entombed his stately stallion .

w as His fourth and last supply hither sent,

H das es Then down y p with his fleet he went .

Some time he after spent upon that shore, W hither ambassadors , ninety or more,

Came with submission from the Indian kings,

Bringing their presents rare and precious things .

These all he feasts in state on beds of gold, His furniture most sumptuous to behold ;

His meat and drink , attendants , everything,

To the utmost showed the glory of a king .

With rich rewards he sent them home again ,

A cknowledging their masters sovereign .

Then sailing south and coming to that shore,

Those obscure nations yielded as before . Tbe F onr Mona r ebi es 1 7 3

A city here he built, called by his name ,

u o f i Which co ld not sound too t w th too much fame . ’ Then sailing by the mouth of Indus flood,

His galleys stuck upon the flats and mud, M e Which the stout acedonians amaz d sore,

Deprived at once the use of sail and oar .

n Observing well the ature of the tide,

In those their fears they did not long abide . ’ Passing fair Indus mouth , his course he steered E ’ To the coast which by uphrates mouth appeared,

Whose inlets near unto he winter spent, Unto his starved soldiers ’ small content By hunger and by cold s o many slain

That of them all the fourth did scarce remain .

Thus winter, soldiers , and provisions spent, From thence he then unto Gedro s ia went;

A nd thence he marched into Carmania,

nd s o a A at length drew near to Persi . Now through these goodly countries as he passed M uch time in feasts and rioting did waste . ’ Then visits Cyrus sepulcher in his way , Who now obscure at Pasargadae lay ; U pon his monument his robe he spread,

nd s et his e A his crown on suppos d head .

From thence to Babylon ; some time there spent .

He at the last to royal Shushan went . A wedding feast to his nobles then he makes , ’ And Statira , Darius daughter, takes ; W i in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 74 Tbe r t g f M .

H e h ae sti o n Her sister gives to his p dear,

That by this match he might be yet more near . He fourscore Persian ladies also gave t A this same time unto his captains brave .

Six thousand guests unto this feast invites ,

Whose senses all were glutted with delights . It far exceeds my mean abilities To shadow forth these short felicities ;

S eftato rs here ' c o u ld p scarce relate the story,

s o They were rapt with this external glory .

If an ideal paradise a man would frame,

He might this feast imagine by the same .

To every guest a cup of gold he sends .

So after many days the banquet ends . A ’ Now lexander s conquests all are done, A nd his long travails past and overgone ;

H i s virtues dead, buried, and quite forgot,

But vice remains to his eternal blot . ’ Mongst those that of his cruel ty did taste

Philotas was not least nor yet the last . A ccused because he did not certify

The king of treason and conspiracy , U pon suspicion being apprehended, Nothing was proved wherein he had offended

But silence, which was of such consequence ff He was judged guilty of the same o ense . But for his father ’ s great deserts the king

His royal pardon gave for this foul thing .

b W i in s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 7 6 T e r t g f .

They knew not, wherefore best now to be done

W s o n as to despatch the father as the . A This sound advice at heart pleased lexander, Wh o was so much engaged to this commander ’ A s he would ne er confess nor yet reward, Nor could his captains bear s o great regard ; W herefore at once, all these to satisfy ,

It was decreed Parmenio should die . ’ P o l dam as Parm enio s y , who seemed friend, To do this deed they into Media send ;

He walking in his garden to and fro ,

Fearing no harm , because he none did do , M ost wickedly was slain without least crime, e The most renown d captain of his time . This is Parmenio who so much had done

s o n For Philip dead and his surviving , Who from a petty king of Macedon By him was set upon the Persian throne ;

This that Parmenio who still overcame , Yet gave his master the immortal fame ;

Who for his prudence, valor, care , and trust

Had this reward, most cruel and unjust . The next who in untimely death had part W as one of more esteem but less desert

' H e hm s tion Clitus, beloved next to p ,

A nd u o in his c ps his chief compani n . W hen both were drunk, Clitus was wont to jeer ; A lexander to rage, to kill , and swear . Tbe Fonr M ona r e/y i es Nothing more pleasing to mad Clitus ’ tongue ’ Than his master s godhead to defy and wrong ; Nothing touched A lexander to the quick L ike this against his deity to kick . B oth at a feast, when they had tippled well , Upon this dangerous theme fond Cli tus fell ;

s o From jest to earnest, and at last bold ’ Parm eni o s That of death him plainly told, ’ Which Alexander s wrath incensed s o high N aught but his life for this could satisfy .

From one stood by he snatched a partizan ,

A nd in a rage him through the body ran . ’ d Next day he tore his face for what he done, A nd would have slain himself for Clitus gone ; This pot companion he did more bemoan

Than all the wrongs to brave Parmenio done . The next of worth that suffered after these

W a s learnéd t C allis thenes , vir uous , wise ,

Who hi s loved master more than did the rest,

A s did appear in flattering him the least .

In his esteem a god he could not be, Nor would adore him fo r a dei ty ;

For this alone, and for no other cause A gainst his sovereign or against his laws ,

He on the rack his limbs in pieces rent .

w as Thus he tortured till his life was spent . On this unkingly aft doth Seneca

sa This censure pass , and not unwisely y

1 2 1 be W i A nne B r a ds 7 8 T r i t ngs of Mrs . tr eet

A Of lexander this the eternal crime , W hich shall not be obliterate by time, ’ ’ W t can hich vir ue s fame ne er redeem by far,

No r w ar all felicity of his in . W ’ ’ t hene er is said he thousand thousands slew,

Callis thenes Yea, and to death he drew .

The mighty Persian king he overcame,

Callis thene s Yea, and he killed of fame .

All w o n countries, kingdoms, provinces , he From Hellespont to the farthest o cefin ;

All w ho this he did, knows not to be true ?

B t Callis th enes u . yet, withal , he slew From Macedon his empire did extend Unto the utmost bounds of the orient ; ’ All t r this he did, yea , and much more , is t ue ,

Calli s thenes But yet , withal , he slew .

No w A M lexander goes to edia,

Finds there the want of wise Parmenio .

H e h ae s ti o n Here his chief favorite, p , dies . He celebrates his mournful obsequies ; a — wh Hangs his physici n the reason y ,

ff e H e h ae s ti o n He su er d his friend p die .

aft This , methinks , his godhead should ashame , To punish where himself deserved blame ; Or of necessity he must imply

T he a s other w the greatest deity .

The mules and horses are for sorrow shorn . The battlements from o ff the walls are torn

1 8 0 Tbe Wr i tin s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr e g of . e t

He was too subtile for his crafty foe, No r by his baits could be ensnared so ;

Bu t his excuse with humble thanks he sends ,

His age and journey long he then pretends , A nd pardon craves for his unwilling stay ; ’ s He shows his grief he forced to disobey . Before his answer came to Babylon ’ The thread of A lexander s life was spun ;

' ’ t Poison had put an end to his days , was thought,

By Philip and Cassander to him brought, A Sons to ntipater, and bearers of his cup ,

Lest of such like their father chance to sup . a But others thought, and that more gener lly,

That through excessive drinking he did die . The thirty -third of his age do all agree

This conqueror did yield to destiny . ’ s ad a When this news c me to Darius mother,

a She l id it more to heart than any other,

Nor meat, nor drink, nor comfort would she take, But pined in grief till life did her forsake ;

All she bani shéd friends shunned, yea, the light,

Till death enwrapped her in perpetual night .

’ This monarch s fame must last whilst world doth stand, A nd conquests be talked of whilst there i s land ;

His princely qualities had he retained, U nparalleled for ever had remained .

But with the world his virtues overcame, A nd so with black beclouded all his fame . Tbe F ou r Mona r ebies 1 8 1

W A ise ristotle , tutor to his youth ,

- Had so instructed him in moral truth , The principles of what he then had learned M ight to the last, when sober , be discerned . e Learning and learn d men he much regarded ,

A nd curious artists evermore rewarded .

The Iliad of Homer he still kept,

A nd under his pillow laid it when he slept . ’ A v chilles happiness he did en y , ’ hi s ft Cause Homer kept a s to memory .

Profusely bountiful without desert, For such as pleased him had both wealth and heart ;

Cruel by nature and by custom , too , A s oft his aéts throughout his reign do show; A mbitious so that naught could satisfy ,

Vain , thirsting after immortality ,

Still fearing that his name might hap to die ,

nd A fame not last unto eternity . ’ t This conqueror did oft lament, is said ,

There were no more worlds to be conquered . A This folly great ugustus did deride , For had he had but Wisdom to his pride He would have found enough there to be done

o n To govern that he had already w .

His thoughts are perished, he aspires no more ,

a Nor can he kill or save s heretofore . A god alive , him all must idolize ;

Now like a mortal , helpless man he lies .

1 2 A W o r s A nne B r a ds tr eet 1 8 2 T ire r i tings f M . Of all those kingdoms large which he had got To his posterity remained no jot ; For by that hand which still revengeth blood None of his kindred nor his race long stood ;

But as he took delight much blood to spill ,

his So the same cup to did others fill .

Four of his captains now do all divide , e A s D ani l before had prophesied . ’ The leopard down , the four wings gan to rise ,

The great horn broke , the less did tyrannize . What troubles and contentions did ensue

W e may hereafter show in season due .

A R R HI D A ?US .

’ A his s Great lexander dead, army left

Like to that giant of his eye bereft .

W w as ( hen of his monstrous bulk it the guide , His matchless force no creature could abide ; U But by lysses having lost his sight, All men began straight to contemn his might ;

For , aiming still amiss, his dreadful blows

Did harm himself, but never reached his foes . )

Now court and camp all in confusion be .

’ A 11 w ho king they have , but none can agree ; E ach captain wished this prize to bear away ,

B u t as s a none so hardy found so durst y .

A v Great lexander did lea e issue none , ’ Except by A rtabaz u s daughter one ;

rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 84 Tbe Wr i tings of M .

A nd yet not s o content unless that he M e ight be esteem d for a deity , Now lay a sp e étacle to testify ’ The wretchedness of man s mortality . A fter some time, when stirs began to calm , His body did the Egyptians embalm ; His countenance so lively did appear

That for a while they durst not come so near .

No hi s sign of poison in entrails found,

But all his bowels colored well and sound .

P erdi c cas A rrhidaau s , seeing must be king, U nder his name began to rule each thing . His chief opponent w ho controlled his sway

Wa s M eleager , whom he would take away ;

A n d by a wile he got him in his power ,

So took his life unworthily that hour, Using the name and the command of the king

a fts To authorize his in everything .

’ P erdi c cas The princes , seeing power and pride ,

For their security did now provide . A A ntigonus for his share sia takes , A nd Ptolemy next sure of Egypt makes ; Seleucus afterward held Babylon ; A M ntipater had long ruled acedon .

These now to govern for the king pretend,

B u t nothing less each one himself intends .

P erdi c cas the took no province like rest,

But held command of the army , which was best, Tbe Fo nr Mona r t ly i es 1 8 5

A nd had a higher p roje ét in his head ’ ed His master s sister secretly to w .

So to the lady covertly he sent,

That none might know to frustrate his intent . But Cleopatra this suitor did deny

L e o nnatu s For , more lovely in her eye, To whom she sent a message of her mind

That if he came good welcome he should find . In these tumultuous days the thralled Greeks

Their ancient liberty afresh now seek , A nd gladly would the yoke shake o ff laid on

s o n Sometime by Philip and his conquering . The A thenians force Antipater to fly

To Lamia , where he shut up doth lie . To brave Crateru s then he sends with speed

For succor to relieve him in his need . The like of L e o nnatu s he requires W hich at this time well suited his desires , A For to ntipater he now might go ,

w a . His lady take in the y , and no man know

A nti hilu s A p , the thenian general , With speed his army doth together call

A nd L e o nnatu s seeks to stop , that so A He join not with ntipater their foe .

A w as The thenian army the greater far, W hich did his match with Cleopatra mar, did For, fighting still While there hope remain ,

T he his w as valiant chief amidst foes slain . 1 8 6 Tbe Wr i tin s r s Anne B r a ds tr eet g of M . ’ Mongst all the princes of great A lexander

For person none was like to this commander .

No w A C rateru s to ntipater goes , Blocked up in Lamia still by his foes; L a ak ong marches through Cilici he m es ,

A n L e o nnatu s d the remains of takes . W ith them and his he into Grecia went, A ntipater released from prisonment . A fter which time the Greeks did nevermore A €t anything of worth as heretofore,

B u t v under ser itude their necks remained ,

No r former liberty or glory gained .

No w L w ar died, about the end of the amian ,

D - emosthenes , that sweet tongued orator, Who feared A ntipater would take his life A For animating the thenian strife, A nd to end his days by poison rather chose

Than fall into the hands of mortal foes .

Cra teru s A and ntipater now join , In love and in affinity combine C ra teru s doth his daughter Phila w e d T e heir friendship might the more be strengthen d . W M hilst they in acedon do thus agree, A a In si they all asunder be . P e rdi c c as grieved to s e e the princes bold

So many kingdoms in their power to hold , Yet to regain them h o whe did not kno w; ’ c a i ns s His soldiers gainst those p ta w o u ld not go .

1 8 8 be W i in s o Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet T r t g f .

Perdi c cas hears his foes are all combined .

’ ’ s d Gainst which to go he not resolved in min ,

’ Bu t first gainst Ptolemy he judged was best, N earest to him , and farthest from the rest, L eaves Eumenes the A sian coast to free

From the invasions of the other three , And with his army unto Egypt goes B rave Ptolemy to the utmost to oppose . ’ ‘ Perdi ccas su rly c arriage and his pride D id alienate the soldiers from hi s side ; ff But Ptolemy , by his a ability ,

His sweet demeanor , and his courtesy , D id make his own firm to his cause remain ,

nd A from the other side did daily gain . P erdi c cas in his pride did ill entreat

Pithon , of haughty mind and courage great,

Who s o could not brook great indignity , Bu t of his wrongs his friends doth certify ; ’ s Perdi c cas The soldiers gain t they incense ,

Wh o vow to make this captain recompense ,

A nd in a rage they , rushing to his tent, Knock out his brains ; to Ptolemy then went

A nd ff hi s o er him honors and his place ,

W Pro teéto r ith style of the him to grace . N ext day into the camp came Ptolemy,

A nd is v o fii ll recei ed of all most j y y . ff Their pro ers he refused with modesty,

Yields them to Pithon for his courtesy . T be Fo nr Mona r t bies 1 89 With What he held he was now more content

Than by more trouble to grow eminent . Now comes the news of a great viéto ry E That umenes got of the other three . ’ Had it but in Pe r di ccas life arrived W ith greater joy it would have been received . E Thus Ptolemy rich gypt did retain ,

A nd A a Pithon turned to si again .

W Perdi ccas A hilst encamped in frica ,

A A s iii ntigonus did enter , A nd fain would Eumenes draw to their side ;

But he alone most faithful did abide .

The others all had kingdoms in their eye , ’ Bu t he was true to his master s family .

Crateru s Nor could , whom he much did love,

From his fidelity once make him move .

Two battles he fought, and had of both the best, A nd brave C rate ru s slew among the rest;

s ad hi s For this strife he pours out complaints ,

A nd his beloved foe full sore laments .

I should but snip a story into bits ,

A nd aéts his great and glory much eclipse ,

d E befel To show the angers umenes ,

H is stratagems Wherein he did excel ,

His policies , how he did extricate

Himself from out of labyrinths intricate . He that at large would satisfy his mind ’ fin d In Plutarch s Lives his history may . 1 0 be Wr in s o r s Anne B r a ds tr e 9 T i t g f M . et

ffi For all that should be said let this su ce ,

He was both valiant, faithful , patient, wise . ’ Pithon s now chosen protector of the state ;

H i s E rule Queen urydice begins to hate , Sees A rrhidze u s must not king it long A If once young lexander grow more strong . Bu t that her husband serve for supplement

his To warm seat was never her intent . M She knew her birthright gave her acedon ,

w ho Grandchild to him once sat on that throne , ’ Who w as Pe rdi c cas , Philip s eldest brother,

s o n . She daughter to his , who had no other

Pithon commands , as oft she countermands ;

W s he hat he appoints , purposely withstands .

He, wearied out at last, would needs be gone,

s o Resigned his place , and let all alone . A In his room the soldiers chose ntipater,

Wh o vexed the queen more than the other far . From Macedon to A sia he came

That he might settle matters in the same .

He placed, displaced , controlled, ruled, as he list, A nd this no man durst question or resist ; For all the nobles of King Alexander

Their bonnets veiled to him as chief commander . W hen to his pleasure all things they had done, M The king and queen he takes to acedon , A Two sons of lexander, and the rest, All to be ordered there as he thought best .

1 be Wr i in s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 9 2 T t g f .

’ ft s This new prote or of another mind,

Thinks by her majesty much help to find . Cassander like his father could not s ee ’ P o l s ercho n s This y p great ability ,

aéti o ns Slights his commands , his he disclaims ,

A nd to be chief himself now bends his aims .

Such as his father had advanced to place ,

Or by his favors any way had graced ,

A re now at the devotion of the son ,

Pressed to accomplish what he would have done . ’ w a s Besides , he the young queen s favorite,

she s e t On whom, t was thought, her chief delight . U o nto these helps at home he seeks out m re, A Goes to ntigonus and doth implore , ’ his By all the bonds twixt him and father past ,

A nd for that great gift which he gave him last, By these and all to grant him some supply

l s ercho n To take down P o y p grown so high . A For this ntigonus did need no spurs ,

Hoping to gain yet more by these new stirs , f Straight furnished him with a su ficient aid , A n d s o he quick returns thus well appaid ;

W s ea ith ships at , an army for the land,

His proud opponent he hopes soon to withstand . Bu t in hi s absence Po ly s p ercho n takes Such friends away as for his interest makes B y death, by prison , or by banishment,

That no supply by these here might be lent . Tbe Fonr Mona r t bi es 1 9 3

Cassander with his host to Grecia goes,

W Po l s ercho n hom y p labors to oppose ,

Bu t s ea ed at beaten was at and foil land . ’ Cassander s forces had the upper hand . A thens with many towns in Greece beside ’ Firm for his father s sake to him abide . W hilst hot in wars these two in Greece remain, Antigonus doth all in A sia gain ; E Still labors umenes would with him side,

Bu t all in vain ; he faithful did abide, Nor mother could nor sons of A lexander

Put trust in any but in this commander .

no w The great ones begin to show their mind,

nd a A ft as opportunity they find .

A rrhidmu s , the scorned and simple king ,

M as aft ore than he bidden w could no thing .

P o l s ercho n f y p , for o fice hoping long,

Thinks to enthrone the prince when riper grown . E urydice this injury disdains ,

n A d to Cassander of this wrong complains . Hateful the name and house of Alexander Was to this proud and vindictive Cassander ; He still kept locked within his memory ’ hi s His father s danger , with family , No r thought he that indignity w as small W A hen lexander knocked his head to the wall .

These, with his love unto the amorous queen ,

D id vo w make him her servant to be seen . 1 3 W r s Anne B r a ds tr eet 1 94 T be r i tings of M .

‘ Ol m ias A rrhidze u s y p deadly hates, ’ A s all her husband s children by his mates ; ’ t She gave him poison formerly, is thought, W hich damage both to mind and body brought . She now with P o lysp er ch o n doth combine

To make the king by force his seat resign,

A nd her young grandchild in his state enthrone,

That under him she might rule all alone . For aid she goes to Epirus among her friends

The better to accomplish these her ends . E urydice , hearing what she intends , In haste unto her friend Cassander sends

hi s To leave siege at Tegea, and with speed To save the king and her in this their need ;

Then by entreaties , promises , and coin

Some forces did procure with her to join .

Olympias soon enters Macedon . The queen to meet her bravely marches on ;

Bu t s aw when her soldiers their ancient queen ,

Calling to mind what sometime she had been ,

The wife and mother of their famous kings ,

No r darts nor arrows now none shoots or flings .

The king and queen , seeing their destiny , To save their lives to A mphipolis do fly ;

B u t the old queen pursues them with her hate ,

A nd needs will have their lives as well as state .

The king by extreme torments had his end, A nd to the queen these presents s he did send

1 6 be Wr i tin s o i rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 9 T g f A . Her cousin of Epirus did what he might To raise the siege and put her foes to flight ;

Cassander is resolved there to remain ,

So succors and endeavors prove but vain . Fain would this wretched queen capitulate ;

c ar Her foe would give no , such is his hate . e The soldiers, pinch d with this scarcity ,

By stealth unto Cassander daily fly .

Olympias means to hold out to the last, Exp eéting nothing but of death to taste ;

his c casi o ns But m calling him away ,

Gives promise for her life, so wins the day . No sooner had he got her in his hand But he made in judgment her accusers stand

A nd plead the blood of friends and kindred spilt, Desiring justice might be done for guilt ;

A nd s o was he acquitted of his word, ’ For justice sake she being put to the sword .

This was the end of this most cruel queen , Whose fury scarcely paralleled hath been

The daughter, sister, mother, wife, to kings ;

But royalty no good conditions brings . ’ ’ t To her husband s death , is thought, she gave consent,

she The murderer did so much lament, W ith garlands crowned his head, bemoaned his fate ,

His sword did to Apollo consecrate . Her outrages too tedious are to relate How for no cause but her inveterate hate Tbe F o u r Mona r ebies 1 9 7 Her husband ’ s wives and children after his death

Some slew, some fried, of others stopped the breath . ’ No w in her age she s forced i o taste that cu p

W su hich she had others often made to p . M Now many towns in acedon suppressed , ’ A nd s Pella fain to yield among the rest . The funerals Cassander celebrates Of A rrhidaeu s and his queen with state ; A mong their ancestors by him they re laid,

A nd shows of lamentation for them made .

s o Old Thebes he then rebuilt, much of fame ,

A nd Cas s andria raised after his name .

But leave him building, others in their urn ; ’ s A t Let for a while now into sia urn . True Eumenes endeavors by all skill To keep Antigonus from Shushan still ;

can Having command of the treasure , he hire

Such as no threats nor favor could acquire . In divers battles he had good success ; A ntigonus came o ff still honorless . W ’ d hen victor oft he been , and so might still , Peu ce s tes did betray him by a wile A To ntigonus, who took his life unjust

Because he never would forego his trust .

Thus lost he all for his fidelity , ’ Striving to uphold his master s family .

But to a period as that did haste, E So umenes, the prop , of death must taste . 1 3 A be Wr i n s o r s Anne B r a d r 1 9 8 T ti g f M . s t eet

All A Persia now ntigonus doth gain ,

n A d master of the treasure sole remain .

Then with Seleucus straight at odds doth fall ,

A nd he for aid to Ptolemy doth call . The princes all begin now to envy A ntigonus , he growing up so high ;

Fearing his force and what might hap ere long , Enter into a combination strong

Seleucus , Ptolemy , Cassander, join ,

Lysimachus to make a fourth combines . A ntigonus , desirous of the Greeks ,

To make Cassander odious to them seeks ,

’ Sends forth his declarations near and far, A nd clears what cause he had to make this war ; ’ Cassander s outrages at large doth tell , Shows his ambitious p raéti c es as well : ’ d The mother of their king to death he put , His wife and s o n in prison close had shut ;

A nd aiming now to make himself a king,

A nd that some title he might seem to bring ,

w ed Thessalonica he had newly , D e aughter to Philip , their renown d head ;

Had built and called a city by his name ,

’ W hich none e er did but those of royal fame ; A nd in despite of their two famous kings Hateful Olynthians to Greece r ebrings ;

re édified Rebellious Thebes he had ,

W dam nifid hich their late king in dust had e .

2 00 be Wr i tin s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet T g of .

A w as Till lexander unto age grown ,

Who e then should be install d in the throne . ’ d This touched Cassander sore for what he done ,

Imprisoning both the mother and the son . He sees the Greeks now favor their young prince Whom he in durance held now and long since ; That in few years he m ust be forced or glad To render up such kingdoms as he had ;

Resolves to quit his fears by one deed done,

So puts to death the mother and her son .

This Roxane for her beauty all commend , But for one act she did just was her end No sooner w as great Alexander dead

’ B u t she D arius daughters murdered Both thrown into a well to hide her blot;

Perdi c cas as w her partner in this plot .

The heavens seemed slow in paying her the same ,

But at the last the hand of vengeance came, A nd for that double faét which she had done

her s o n The life of her must go and of . ’ P erdi c cas had before for his amiss ,

ho But by their hands w thought not once of this . ’ Cassander s deed the princes do detest, ’ t But was in show ; in heart it pleased them best . ’ re That he is odious to the world they glad,

A nd now they were free lords of what they had .

W an d hen this foul tragedy was past done, Po lysp ercho n brings up the other son T be F onr Mona r ebi es 20 1

Called Hercules , and elder than his brother,

Bu t Olympias would have prefer red the other .

The Greeks , touched with the murder done of late ,

This orphan prince began to compassionate ,

’ Begin to mutter much gainst proud Cassander,

A nd A place their hopes on the heir of lexander .

Cassander feared what might of this ensue ,

P o l s ercho n So y p to his counsel drew,

A nd gives Peloponnesus for his hire, W h o slew the prince according to desire . Thus was the race and house of A lexander E xtinct by this inhuman wretch Cassander . A ntigonus for all this doth not mourn ;

He knows to his profit this at last will turn . But that some title now he might pretend

To Cleopatra doth for marriage send .

Lysimachus and Ptolemy the same ,

' A nd s ti cks no t lewd Cassander, too , for shame .

She then in Lydia at Sardis lay , Wh ere by embassage all these princes pray . Choice above all of Ptolemy s he makes ; W ith his ambassador her journey takes . A ntigonus ’ lieutenant stays her still ’ U fii rther l ntil he know his master s wil . Antigonus now had a wolf by the ears To hold her still or let her go he fears ;

Resolves at last the princess should be slain,

So hinders him of her he could not gain . 20 be Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 T g f .

Her women are appointed for this deed ;

They for their great reward no better speed, For by command they straight were put to death

A s vile conspirators that stopped her breath . ’ A nd n o w he hopes he s ordered all so well

The world must needs believe what he doth tell . ’ e Thus Philip s house was quite extinguish d, ’ ’ E who s xcept Cassander s Wife, yet not dead, A nd by their means w ho thought of nothing less

Than vengeance just against them to express . N o w blood w as paid with blood for what was done

s o n By cruel father, mother, cruel .

” sa Thus may we hear, and fear , and ever y ,

That Hand is righteous still which doth repay .

These captains now the style of kings do take, ’ s c an For to their crowns there none title make . D emetrius first the royal style assumed, B y his example all the rest presumed . A ntigonus , himself to ingratiate , ’ D oth promise liberty to A thens state ; W ith arms and with provision stores them well ,

’ The better gainst Cassander to rebel .

Demetrius thither goes , is entertained

N o t b u t like a king , like some god they feigned ;

M w as ost grossly base their great adulation ,

Who o ffer éd . incense burnt, and oblation

These kings afresh fall to their wars again . t Deme rius of Ptolemy doth gain .

20 ba W in nne r a ds tr eet 4 T r i t gs of Mrs . A B

di e Cassander now must , his race is run ,

A nd leave the ill got kingdoms he had won . ’ T w o sons he left, born of King Philip s daughter, Wh o had an end put to their days by slaughter . Which should succeed at variance they fell ; The mother wou ld the youngest might excel ; ’ The eldest, enraged, did play the viper s part,

A nd with his sword did run her through the heart .

’ Rather than Philip s race should longer live,

He whom she gave his life her death shall give .

w as This by Lysimachus after slain , W ’ hose daughter he not long before had ta en . D emetrius is called in by the youngest s o n

A who gainst Lysimachus , from him won ;

But he a kingdom more than his friend did eye ,

Seized upon that, and slew him traitorously . ’ ’ Thus Philip s and Cassander s race both gone,

A nd so falls out to be extinét in one .

A nd e though Cassander di d in his bed, His seed to be ex tirp t was des tin éd; For blood Which was decreed that he should spill ’ Yet must his children pay for father s ill . ’ Jehu in killing A hab s house did well ;

Yet be avenged must blood of Jezebel . ’ Demetrius thus Cassander s kingdoms gains ,

nd A now in Macedon as king he reigns .

Though men and money both he hath at will ,

In neither finds content if he sits still . l o F onr Mona r t bi es 2 0 5

That Seleucus holds A sia grieves him sore ;

his Those countries large father got before .

These to recover musters all his might, A nd with his son -in -law will needs go fight ; A t migh y navy rigged , an army stout, W ith these he hopes to turn the world about, A Leaving ntigonus , his eldest son , M In his long absence to rule acedon . D emetrius with so many troubles met A s heaven and earth against him had been s e t; D isaster on disaster him pursue,

His story seems a fable more than true . ’ A t last he s taken and im p ri s o néd Within an isle that w as with pleasures fed ; E ’ njoyed whate er beseemed his royalty , e Only restrain d of his liberty . ’ A d w o n fter three years he died, left what he In Greece unto A ntigonus his son ; For his posterity unto this day ’ A a Did ne er regain one foot in si .

His body Seleucus sends to his son , W / hose obsequies wi th w o n dro u s pomp were done . N ext died the brave and noble Ptolemy,

Renowned for bounty, valor , clemency ; E Rich gypt left, and what else he had won ,

s o n To Philadelphus , his more worthy .

Of the old heroes now but two remain .

an Seleucus d Lysimachus , these twain , 2 06 ko Wr i in s Mr s Anne B r a ds treet T t g of . M ust needs go try their fortune and their might ,

n A d so Lysimachus was slain in fight . ’ ’ T w as no small joy unto Seleucus breast That now he had outlived all the rest ; E Possession of urope he thinks to take ,

A nd so himself the only monarch make . While with these hopes in Greece he did remain

Cerau nu s He was by Ptolemy slain,

The second son of the first Ptolemy,

Who for rebellion unto him did fly .

w as Seleucus a father and a friend,

Yet by him had this most unworthy end .

w e Thus with these kingly captains have done . A little now how the succession run A ntigonus , Seleucus , and Cassander , W A ith Ptolemy , reigned after lexander ; ’ Cassander s sons soon after his death were slain , So three successors only did remain ; A ntigonus his kingdoms lost and life U nto Seleucus , author of that strife ; ’ s o n D His emetrius all Cassander s gains , A nd his posterity the same retains ; ’ A Demetrius son was called ntigonus ,

A nd his again was named Demetrius . I must let pass those many battles fought Betwixt those kings and noble Pyrrhus stout A nd A E his son lexander of pire, W hereby immortal honor they acquire .

W s rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 0 8 Tba r i ting of M .

Horrid massacres , murders , cruelties ,

e M Amongst the Jews w read in accabees .

A Eu ato r w a s ntiochus p the next, By rebels and impostors daily vexed ; So many princes still were murdered

n e The royal blood was nigh exti guish d . A Then Tigranes , the great rmenian king , To take the government w as called in ; Lucullus him — the Roman general

Vanquished in fight, and took those kingdoms all .

Of Greece and Syria thus the rule did end . ’ 11 In Egypt next a little time we spend .

First, Ptolemy being dead, his famous son

Called Philadelphus did possess the throne , A t A lexandria a library did build ,

n d v A d with seven hundre thousand olumes filled . The seventy -two interpreters did seek B They might translate the ible into Greek .

s o n Ever e te s His was g , the last prince

That valor showed, virtue , or excellence . ’ hil a er e tes s o n P o p to r was Ev g .

A E i han es sat fter, p p on the throne ,

Philo m e to r Ever e te s , g again , A nd after him did false Lathyrus reign ;

’ Then A lexander in Lathyrus stead ; ’ A ho cu t o ff w . Next, uletes , Pompey s head

w e To all these names Ptolemy must add ,

For since the first they still that title had . Tbe F oo r Mona r ebi es 209

Fair Cleopatra next, last of that race,

W ae s et hom Julius C sar in royal place, M / A She, with her paramour, arc ntony , E Held for a time the gyptian monarchy , Till great Augustus had with him a fight

’ A t A étiu m , where his navy was put to flight ;

e H , seeing his honor lost, his kingdom end , D id by his sword his life soon after send . H i s brave Virago asps sets to her arms To take her life and quit her from all harms ; ’ t s he For was not death nor danger did dread,

But some disgrace in triumph to be led .

Here ends at last the Grecian monarchy,

W a i ts hich by the Rom ns had destiny .

Thus kings and kingdoms have their times and dates ,

o vertu rnin s Their standings , g , bounds , and fates ;

No w up , now down , now chief, and then brought

under . The heavens thus rule to fill the world with

wonder . A The ssyrian monarchy long time did stand , But yet the Persian got the upper hand ;

The Grecian them did utterly subdue,

A nd su b efte d millions were j unto few .

The Grecian longer than the Persian stood ,

Then came the Roman like a raging flood , A nd with the torrent of his rapid course

Their crowns , their titles, riches , bears by force . 1 4 2 1 0 be W in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet T r i t g f M .

The first was likened to a head of gold ; N ext, arms and breast of silver to behold ;

The third, belly and thighs of brass in sight ;

A nd w as . last iron , which breaketh all with might The stone out of the mountain then did rise

A nd smote those feet, those legs , those arms , and

thighs,

Then gold, silver , brass , iron , and all the store ff Became like cha upon the threshing floor .

w as The first a lion , second a bear , The third a leopard which four wings did rear ;

The last more strong and dreadful than the rest, W hose iron teeth devoured every beast, A nd when he had no appetite to eat

The residue he stamped under his feet .

Yet shall this lion , bear , this leopard , ram , All trembling stand before the powerful Lamb . W ith these three monarchies now have I done .

Bu t how the fourth their kingdoms from them won , A nd how from small beginnings it did grow

w o e To fill the world with terror and with , M y tired brain leaves to some better pen .

This task befits not women like to men .

i s For what past I blush excuse to make,

Bu t ta humbly stand some grave reproof to ke . Pardon to crave for errors i s but vain ;

su b e ét The j was too high beyond my strain .

W r s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 1 2 Tbe r i tings of M .

T H E MA M NA E N T H E RO N O RCHY, B I G U A ND A B E NN N A N FO RTH L ST , GI I G N O

2 MUNDI 3 1 3 .

’ Stout Romulus, Rome s founder and first king , W hom vestal Rhea to the world did bring , M His father was not ars, as some devised , A But mulius in armor all disguised . Thus he deceived his niece s h e might not know

r The double inju y he then did do .

Where shepherds once had coats and sheep their folds , W here swains and rustic peasants kept their holds ,

A ereét city fair did Romulus ,

res eét The mistress of the world in each p . His brother Remus there by him was slain ’ For leaping o er the wall with some disdain .

The stones at first were cemented with blood,

A nd bloody hath it proved since first it stood .

This city built, and sacrifices done, A form of government he next begun ; A hundred senators he likewise chose,

A nd with the style of Patres honored those . His city to replenish men he wants ; Great privileges then to all he grants

That will within those strong built walls reside, A nd this new gentle government abide . Of wives there was s o great a scarcity

They to their neighbors su e for a supply . Tbe F onr Mona r t bies 2 1 3

Bu t all disdain alliance then to make , So Romulus w a s forced this course to take Great shows he makes at tilt and tournament ; To s e e these sports the Sabines all are bent ;

Their daughters by the Romans then were caught . Then to recover them a field w as fought;

But in the end to final peace they come ,

A nd as R Sabines one people dwelt in ome .

The Romans now more potent begin to grow,

A nd idenate s v F they wholly o erthrow .

Bu t Romulus then comes unto his end , Some feigning to the gods he did ascend; Others the seven and thirtieth of his reign A f firm that by the Senate he was slain .

N UMA P OMP I L I US . N uma Pompilius next chose they king,

Held for his pie ty some sacred thing . To Janus he that famous temple built

s e t w as Kept shut in peace , ope when blood spilt ;

Religious rites and customs instituted,

A nd flam ens priests and likewise he deputed ,

Their augurs strange , their gestures and attire,

A nd vestal maids to keep the holy fire .

ZE eria The nymph g this to him told ,

as So to delude the people he w bold .

o rt - F y three years he ruled with generous praise , A ccounted for a god in after days . 1 4A 2 1 be Wr i i n s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 4 T t g f .

OS I L I US T UL L US H T .

H o s tiliu s w as Tullus third Roman king ,

Wh u s e o martial discipline in did bring .

War A with the ancient lbans he did wage .

s i x This strife to end brothers did engage,

’ Three called Horatii on the Romans side ,

A nd Curiatii three Albans provide .

The Romans conquer, the others yield the day,

Yet in their compaft after false they play .

The Romans , sore incensed , their general slay ,

A nd A from old lba fetch the wealth away .

Of Latin kings this was long since the seat, B t e u now demolish d to make Rome great .

- Thirty two years did Tullus reign , then die,

Left Rome in wealth and power still growing high .

N A C US MAR CI US .

N A ncu s M ext arcius sits upon the throne , N ephew unto Pompilius dead and gone .

Rome he enlarged, new built again the wall M uch stronger, and more beautiful withal . A stately bridge he over Tiber made,

Of boats and oars no more they need the aid . Fair Ostia he built; this town it stood

Close by the mouth of famous Tiber flood .

- his Twenty four years time of royal race ,

Then unto death unwillingly gives place .

2 1 6 be Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet T g f .

T A R UI NI US S UP E R B US T H E L A S T Q , KI NG OF T H E R OMA NS .

e Tarquin the proud , from manners call d so ,

his Sat on the throne when he had slain foe . t Sex us , his son , did most unworthily t Lucretia force , mirror of chasti y ;

e faét s he She loath d so the , loathed her life ,

A nd shed her guiltless blood with guilty knife .

Her husband , sore incensed to quit this wrong , W B ith Junius rutus rose , and being strong

The Tarquins they from Rome by force expel , In banishment perpetual to dwell ;

' T he government they change , a new one bring , ’ A nd people swear ne er to accept of king . Tbe F onr Mona r ebies 2 1 7

A n olo Ap gy .

T o nis b wba t s be a n w a s m intent fi g y ,

M tbon bts a nd m endea vor s tber eto bent y g y ,

Essa s I m a n m a de bu t s till a r/e ont y y , g ,

be T m or e I m u sed, tbe m or e I wa s in do u bt

Tbe s nb ett la r e m m ind a nd bo d w ea b j g , y y ,

Wi tb m a n m or e dis t onr a em ents did s ea k y g p . ‘ All tbo n bts nr tber r o r ess la id a s i de g off p g ,

Tbon b o er s u a ded I a s o deni ed t t . g f p , f

A t len tb r es olved wben m a n ea r s ba d ass ed g , y y p ,

T o r os eente m s tor to tbe la s t p y y ,

And or tbe s a m e I bonrs no t ew did s end f f p ,

And wea r lines tbon b la nk I m a n enned y , g , y p . ’ B nt f or e I cou ld a t t omplis b my des ir e

M a ers ell a r e to tbe r a in r e y p p f p y g g fi ,

And tbns m a ins wi tb better tbin s I lost y p , g , , W bi t b none ba d ca u se to wa il, nor I to boa s t.

’ No m or e I ll do s int e I ba r/e s n er ed wr et b , f ,

Altbo n b m Mona r ebi es tbeir le s do la st g y g ,

a e is i a b d Nor m tt r t tbis l s t, t e w or l now s ees ,

Ha tb m a n a es been o en bis knees y g p . D IA L OGUE BETW EEN OL D ENGL A ND A ND NEW CONC ERNING THEIR PR ES

R A 1 E NT U E NN 6 2 . T O BL S , O 4

NE W- E NGL ND A .

A las , dear mother, fairest queen and best, W ith honor, wealth, and peace happy and blest , W hat ails thee hang thy head , and cross thine arms , A nd sit in the dust to sigh these s ad alarms What deluge of new woes thus overwhelms The glories of thy ever famous realm W hat means this wailing tone , this mournful guise

A h . , tell thy daughter, she may sympathize

NG OL D E LA ND .

A rt ignorant indeed of these my woes, e Or must my forc d tongue these griefs disclose,

A nd u di ss eét m a m st myself y t ttered state, Which amazed Christendom stands wondering at ?

A nd thou a child, a limb , and dost not feel M ? y fainting , weakened body now to reel

2 1 8

A D ia log u e between Old Engla nd a nd New 2 1 9

This physic purging potion I have taken Will bring consumption or an ague - quaking U a h nless some cordi l thou fetc from high , W hich present help may ease my malady .

v ? If I decease , dost think thou shalt survi e Or by my wasting state dost think to thrive

Then weigh our case if it be not justly sad .

Let me lament alone, while thou art glad .

NE W—E NG N L A D .

A nd h d thus , alas, your state you muc eplore

In general terms , but will not say wherefore . What medicine shall I seek to cure this w o e

If the wound so dangerous I may not know .

Bu t . you , perhaps , would have me guess it out W hat , hath some Hengist like that Saxon stout B y fraud or force usurped thy flowering crown , Or by tempes tuous wars thy fields trod down

Canu tu s v D Or hath , that brave aliant ane, The regal peaceful scepter from thee ta ’ en Or is it a Norman whose viéto ri o u s hand

fi With English blood bedews thy conquered land ? Or is it intestine wars that thus offend D o Maud and Stephen for the crown contend

D o barons rise and side against their king , A nd call in foreign aid to help the thing ? M ust Edward be deposed ? Or , is it the hour That second Richard must be clapped in the tower ? 2 20 Tba Wr i tin s o Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet g f .

Or is it the fatal jar, again begun , That from the red -white pricking roses sprung ? Must Richmond’ s aid the nobles now implore To come and break the tushes of the boar ? ’ s w o e ? If none of these, dear mother , what your ’ A ? Pray , do you fear Spain s bragging rmado D oth your ally , fair France , conspire your wreck , Or do the Scots play false behind your back ? Doth Holland quit you ill for all your love ?

W v ? hence is the storm , from earth or heaven abo e

i s Is it drought, it famine , or is it pestilence D ? ost feel the smart, or fear the consequence

Your humble child entreats you show your grief.

Though arms nor purse she hath for your relief,

i s Such her poverty , yet shall be found

A as suppliant for your help , she is bound .

O D E NGL ND L A . I must confess some of those sores you name My beauteous body at this present maim ;

Bu t e foreign foe nor feign d friend I fear,

For they have work enough, thou knowest, elsewhere . ’ ’ No r is it A lci e s s o n nor Henry s daughter Whose proud contentions cause this slaughter ;

Nor nobles siding to make John no king , French Louis unjustly to the crown to bring ;

No E dward, Richard, to lose rule and life, No r no Lancastrians to renew old strife ;

2 2 2 ba W i tin s o r s Anne B r a ds tr eet T r g f M .

f Church o fices were sold and bought for gain , That Pope had hope to find Rome here again For oaths and blasphemies did ever ear From Beelzebub himself such language hear What scorning of the saints of the most high ! What injuries did daily on them lie W hat false reports, what ni cknames did they

take, ’ No t M for their own , but for their aster s sake

A nd thou , poor soul , wert jeered among the rest ;

as Thy flying for the truth w made a jest . For Sabbath -breaking and for drunkenness D id ever land profaneness more express e From crying blood yet cleans d am not I , M artyrs and others dying causelessly . How many princely heads on blocks laid down For naught but title to a fading crown ! ’ M ongst all the cruelties by great ones done ,

’ ’ 0 E s o n dward s youths, and Clarence hapless , wh ? O Jane, y didst thou die in flowering prime

B a w s . ecause of royal stem , that thy crime

For bribery , adultery , and lies Where is the nation I can ’ t paralyze W ith usury , extortion , and oppression , T hese be the hydras of my stout transgression ;

These be the bitter fountains , heads , and roots

Whence flowed the source , the sprigs , the boughs, and

fruits . A D ia logu e between Old E ngla nd a nd New 2 2 3

Of more than thou canst hear or I relate ,

That with high hand I still did perpetrate . e the For these were threaten d woeful day .

I mocked the preachers, put it far away ; The sermons yet upon record do stand

des tru fti o n That cried to my wicked land .

s ee I then believed not, now I feel and

The plague of stubborn incredulity .

v Some lost their li ings , some in prison pent,

Some , fined , from house and friends to exile went .

v cr Their silent tongues to hea en did vengeance y ,

Wh o s aw their wrongs , and hath judged righteously ,

nd v A will repay it se enfold in my lap .

This is forerunner of my afterclap .

’ N o r took I warning by my neighbors falls ’ s aw s ad I Germany s dismantled walls ,

s aw I her people famished , nobles slain, Her fruitful land a barren heath remain ;

s aw I , unmoved , her armies foiled and fled ,

W v h e i es forced, babes tossed , her ouses calcin d .

saw I strong Rochelle yielded to her foe , e Thousands of starv d Christians there also .

s aw her I poor Ireland bleeding out last, Such cruelties as all reports have passed ; M ine heart obdurate stood not yet aghast .

No w cu sip I of that p , and just it may be e The bottom dregs reserv d are for me . ' ' 2 2 W r s A ne B r a ds tr eet 4 Tbe r i tings of M . n

W- NE E NGLA ND .

’ ve s ad . To all you said, mother, I assent

Your fearful sins great cause there is to lament . M y guilty hands in part hold up with you , ’ s A sharer i n your punishment my due .

' B u t s a e ffe ét all you y amounts to this ,

No t ex e ét . what you feel , but what you do p ? Pray, in plain terms , what is your present grief ’ Then let s join heads and hearts for your relief.

OL D E NGL AND .

W ’ . r s ell , to the matter, then The e grown of . late

’ ' Twixt king and peers a qu e s ti ci n of state :

W i s ? hich the chief the law, or else the king ’ One said , it s he; the other , no such thing . ’ T is said my better part in‘Parliament

To ease my groaning land showed their intent,

To crush the proud, and right to each man deal ,

' chu rch and m a To help the , stay the com onwe l . So many obstacles came in their w ay

A s s ho u l sa puts me to a stand what I d y .

’ Old customs new prerogatives stood on;

Had they not held law fast, all had been gone , Which by their prudence stood them in such stead ff They took high . Stra ord lower by the head ,

A nd L a u d to their be it spoke, they held in the tower All E ’ ngland s metropolitan that hour .

A D ia logu e between Old Engla nd a nd New 2 2 5

aét e This done , an they would have pass d fain No prelate should his bishopric retain ;

f o r Here tugged they hard indeed, all men saw

This must be done by gospel , not by law . Next the militia they urged sore ;

s a This was denied, I need not y wherefore .

The king , displeased, at York himself absents .

They humbly beg his return , show their intents ;

The writing, printing , posting to and fro , ’ 11 Show all was done ; I therefore let it go .

B u t to s eak m di s aster now I come of . p y w _ ’ t su b eéts Contention grown wixt j and their master,

s o They worded it long they fell to blows,

c? That thousands lay on heaps . Her bleed my woes . I that no wars s o many years have known

Am o n now destroyed and slaughtered by my w .

Bu t t could the field alone his strife decide,

tw o . One battle, , or three I might abide Bu t these may be beginnings of more woe Who knows but this may be my overthrow !

sad Oh , pity me in this perturbation , ’ M ho u es y plundered towns , my j devastation , M y weeping virgins, and my young men slain ,

' M fallen m y wealthy trading , y dearth of grain .

- The seed times come, but plowman hath no hope

B w ho ecause he knows not shall in his crop .

r The poor they want their pay, their child en bread, ’ e Their woeful mothers tears unpiti d . l 5 Wr i in s o Mrs nne B r a ds r eet 2 26 Tbe t g f . A t

If any pity in thy heart remain ,

- Or any child like love thou dost retain ,

For my relief do what there lies in thee , ’ e A nd recompense that good I v done to thee .

NE W E NGLA ND .

Dear mother, cease complaints , and wipe your eyes,

o ff Shake your dust , cheer up , and now arise .

You are my mother nurse, and I , your flesh ,

Your sunken bowels gladly would refresh .

Your griefs I pity , but soon hope to see Out of your troubles much good fruit to be ;

s e e - To those latter days of hoped for good,

Though now beclouded all with tears and blood . A fter dark popery the day did Clear ;

Bu t no w the sun in his brightness shall appear . Blest be the nobles of thy noble land W ’ ith ventured lives for truth s defense that stand .

B m w ho lest be thy Com ons , for common good

A nd thy infringed laws have boldly stood . B lest be thy counties, who did aid thee still W ith hearts and states to testify their will .

B w ho lest be thy preachers , do cheer thee on ;

cr ! Oh, y the sword of God and Gideon ’ A nd shall I not on them wish Meroz curse ? That help thee not with prayers , with alms , and purse A nd for myself let miseries abound

’ If mindless of thy state I e er be found .

' Then bribes shall cease, and suits shall not stick long, Patience and purse of clients oft to wrong ;

Then high commissions shall fall to decay,

And pursuivants and catchpoles want their pay .

So shall thy happy nation ever flourish, When truth and righteousness they thus shall nourish : W hen thus in peace , thine armies brave send out

To sack proud Rome, and all her vassals rout ; n There let thy name, thy fame, and glory shi e , ’ A s did thine ancestors in Palestine,

And let her spoils full pay with interest be .

s he Of what unjustly once polled from thee . h Of all the woes t ou canst let her be sped,

A nd e on her pour the vengeance threaten d .

Brin f r th the g stt ha t ru d t e , \ g b g le h world with his beck \ 9 -

x f A nd teaffhif flesh , a nd s e t ee n fle , y our. tp his ck A nd make his filthy den s o desolate

To the astonishment of all that knew his state .

brandi s hed sw o rds o This done , with \ to Turkey g , For then what is it but English blades dare do ? ’ And e s lay her wast , for so the sacred doom,

And do to Gog as thou hast done to Rome . 0 A ’ braham s seed , lift up your heads on high, ’ For sure the day of your redemption s nigh

The scales shall fall from your long blinded eyes ,

A nd him you shall adore who now despise .

Then fulness of the nations in shall flow, A nd ew d or shi ; J ” an Gentile to gl p go E JOHN LIOT .

A N ELE GY UPON THAT HONORA BLE A ND RENOWNED KNIGHT SI R PHIL IP D NE WH O WA s UN M EL L A N SI Y, TI Y S I A T T H E E E OF U EN A N SI G Z TPH , N O

1 8 6 5 .

When England did enjoy her halcyon days

Her noble Sidney wore the crown of bays , A s well an honor to our British land

A s she that swayed the scepter with her hand . Mars and Minerva did in one agree Of arms and arts he should a pattern be ; Calliope with Terpsichore did sing

Of poesy and of music he was king .

His rhetoric struck Polyhymnia dead, M His eloquence made ercury wax red,

H is E logic from uterpe won the crown ,

More worth was his than Clio could set down . M Thalia and elpomene , say the truth, W “ A ” itness rcadia penned in his youth , A re not his tragic comedies so aéted A s if your ninefold wit had been Co m p aéted

230 D NE SIR PHILIP SI Y .

2 2 Tbe Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 g f .

Z fit hen Z ii t hen O p , p , that most fatal city M ! ade famous by thy death , much more the pity Ah !in his blooming prime death plucked this rose

Ere as cu t A w . he ripe, his thread tropos

u . Th s man is born to die, and dead is he

H efto r s ee Brave by the walls of Troy we .

w ho Oh, was near thee but did sore repine He rescued not with life that life of thine ? Bu t yet impartial fates this boon did give a Though Sidney died, his vali nt name should live .

A nd live it doth, in spite of death through fame .

Thus being overcome, he overcame . Where is that envious tongue but can afford Of this our noble Scipio some good word ? B Great artas , this unto thy praise adds m ore ,

s ad In sweet verse thou didst his death deplore . A nd phenix Spenser doth unto his life

His death present in sable to his wife,

Stella the fair , whose streams from conduits fell

For the sad loss of her dear A strophel . ’ ho w Fain would I show he fame s paths did tread ,

Bu t n o w into such labyrinths I am led, W ith endless turns , the way I find not out .

How to persist, my muse is more in doubt , Which makes me now with Sylvester confess ’ Bu t Sidney s muse can sing his worthiness . ’ The Muses aid I craved ; they had no will

de t a r To give to their r éto any quill . An Elegy up on Sir P bilip Sidney 2 3 3 With high disdain they said they gave no more

Since Sidney had exhausted all their store . ‘ They took from me the s cfibbling pen I had; I to be eased of such a task w as glad ;

Then to revenge this wrong themselves engage ,

A nd drave me from Parnassus in a rage .

Then wonder not if I no better sped , M e Since I the uses thus have injur d .

I , pensive for my fault, sat down , and then E rrata , through their leave, threw me my pen ;

M tw o y poem to conclude lines they deign , W hich writ, she bade return it to them again . ’ E ’ So Sidney s fame I leave to ngland s rolls .

’ His bones do lie interred in stately Paul s .

H er e li es in f a m e u nder tbis s tone

P bili a nd A lex ander bo tb in one p ,

H eir to tbe M u s es tbe s on o Ma rs in tr u tb , f ,

L ea rnin va or wis dom a ll in vi r u ou s o tb l t u . g , , , y His pr a is e is m u eb tbis s ba ll s ufiee my pen ’ T ba t Sidne di ed m on m os t r enowned o m en y g f . I N D U A A 1 6 1 HONOR OF B RT S, 4 .

A mong the happy wits this age hath shown ,

Great, dear, sweet Bartas, thou art matchless known . M y ravished eyes and heart, with faltering tongue ,

In humble wise have vowed their service long,

But knowing the task so great, and strength but small , ’ Gave o er the work before begun withal .

M z y da zled sight of late reviewed thy lines , W here art, and more than art, in nature shines . R e fle éti o n from theirbeaming altitude D id ’ t thaw my frozen heart s ingrati ude, W h hic rays , darting upon some richer ground , Had caused flowers and fruits soonto abound;

But barren I my daisy here do bring ,

A n homely flower in this my latter spri g . If summer or my autumn age do yield

Flowers , fruits , in garden , orchard, or in field, T hey shall be consecrated in my verse ’ A nd ff prostrate o ered at great Bartas hearse . My muse unto a child I may compare Wh o sees the riches of some famous fair ;

2 3 4

I n H onor of D u B a r ta s 2 3 5

He feeds his eyes , but understanding lacks

To comprehend the worth of all those knacks .

e We ls The glittering plate and j he admires, ’ The hats and fans , the plumes and ladies attires , A nd thousand times his amazed mind doth wish

Some part, at least, of that brave wealth were his ;

But seeing empty wishes naught obtain ,

’ A t hi s c o t night turns to mother s again ,

A nd - tells her tales , his full heart over glad ,

Of all the glorious sights his eyes have had ,

Bu t finds too soon his want of eloquence .

The silly prattler speaks no word of sense ,

Bu t seeing utterance fail his great desires ,

Sits down in silence , deeply he admires .

- Thus weak brained I, reading thy lofty style,

Thy profound learning , viewing other while

Thy art in natural philosophy ,

- Thy saint like mind in grave divinity ,

Thy piercing skill in high astronomy,

A nd curious insight in anatomy ,

Thy physic, music, and state policy,

w ar a Valor in , in pe ce good husbandry . Sure liberal nature did with art not small

In all the arts make thee most liberal . A thousand thousand times my senseless senses M oveless stand , charmed by thy sweet influences,

’ More senseless than the stones to Amphion s lute ;

M i s ine eyes are sightless , and my tongue mute , be Wr i tin s o Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 3 6 T g f . M y full astonished heart doth pant to break ,

Through grief it wants a faculty to speak . Volleys of praises could I echo then ’ ’ B s Had I an angel s voice or arta pen . ’ Bu t wishes can t accomplish my desire .

Pardon if I adore when I admire .

O France , thou didst in him more glory gain M é Than in thy artel , P pin , Charlemagne ,

Than in St . Louis , or thy last Henry great, W ho . tamed his foes in wars , in blood , and sweat

Thy fame is spread as far , I dare be bold,

In all the zones, the temperate, hot, and cold . Their trophies were but heaps of wounded slain ;

Thine the quintessence of an heroic brain . The oaken garland ought to deck their brows ;

m en Immortal bays to thee all allow,

Who w o n in thy triumphs never by wrongs, ’ L ead s t millions chained by eyes , by ears , by tongues . Oft have I wondered at the hand of heaven

ve In giving one what would have ser d seven . ’ If e er this golden gift were showered on any , Thy double portion would have s ervéd many Unto each man his riches are assigned

Of name, of state, of body, and of mind ;

Thou hadst thy part of all but of the last . 0 0 pregnant brain , comprehension vast, Thy haughty style and rap ted wit sublime All ages, wondering at, shall never climb .

I N HONOR OF THA T HIGH AND MI GH TY PRINC ESS (LUREN ELIZA BETH OF A M EM H PPY ORY .

T H E P R OE M .

A lthough , great queen , thou now in silence lie,

u s k Yet thy lo d herald, fame , doth to the y

cl- Thy wondrous worth proclaim in every ime,

A nd s o hath vowed while there is world or time . So great is thy glory and thine excellence

The sound thereof rapts every human sense , That men account it no impie ty

fles hl To say thou wert a y deity . ff Thousands bring o erings, though out of date , Thy world of honors to accumulate ; ’ M ongst hundred hecatombs of roaring verse , M ine bleating stands before thy royal hearse . Thou never didst nor canst thou no w disdain To accept the tribute of a loyal brain ; T hy clemency did erst esteem as much

The acclamations of the poor as rich , W hich makes me deem my rudeness is no wrong ,

’ Though I resound thy praises mongst the throng .

23 8 I n H onor of Qu een Eliz a betb 2 3 9

E P E M T H O .

’ No s phenix pen , nor Spenser poetry ,

’ ’ No r Speed s nor Camden s learned history ,

’ ’ ‘ E c o m aét . liza s works , wars , praise , can e er p ’ s a The world the theater where she did & . No memories nor volumes can contain

The eleven olympiads of her happy reign ,

Who s o s o was so good, just , learned, wise ,

s he w o n From all the kings on earth the prize . No r s ay I more than duly is her due ; M illions will testify that this is true . She hath wiped o ff the aspersion of her s e x

That women wisdom lack to play the rex . ’ Spain s monarch says not so , nor yet his host ;

She taught them better manners to their cost . The salic law in force no w had not been

If France had ever hoped for such a queen .

can do éto rs no w But you , , this point dispute ,

’ s She argument enough to make you mute .

- Since first the sun did run his near run race ,

A nd - earth had, once a year, a new old face ,

Since time was time, and man unmanly man , Come show me such a phenix if you can Wa s ever people better ruled than hers

W as v ? e er land more happy , freed from stirs Did ever wealth in England more abound ?

Her viétories in foreign coasts resound . W i r s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 40 Tbe r tings of M .

’ Ships more invincible than Spain s , her foe

s he A She wrecked, sacked, she sunk his rmado ; Her stately troops advanced to Lisbon ’ s wall Don Anthony in his right there to install ’ She frankly helped Franks brave distressed king ;

The states united now her fame do sing , She their protectrix was — they well do kno w

o w e Unto our dread Virago what they .

c n Her nobles sacrifi ed their oble blood,

s he Nor men nor coin spared to do them good . The rude untamed Irish s he did quell ; t Before her pic ure the proud Tyrone fell . Had ever prince such counsellors as s he ?

M s o . Herself, inerva, caused them to be Such captains and such soldiers never seen

A s su b eét s were the j of our Pallas queen . Her seamen through all straits the world did round

Terra incognita might know the sound . Her Drake came laden home with Spanish gold ; E Her ssex took Cadiz, their herculean hold .

s o But time would fail me, my tongue would, too ,

s he s he To tell of half did or could do . Semiramis to her is but obscure More infamy than fame s he did procure ; ‘ ’ o n Babel s She built her glory but walls , W ’ orld s wonder for awhile, but yet it falls . ’ ’ Fierce Tomyris (Cyrus headsman ), Scythians queen , Had put her harness o ff had s he but seen

2 2 Tbe Wr i tin s r s A nne B ra ds tr ee 4 g of M . t

E ! But happy ngland, which had such a queen ! Yea, happy , happy , had those days still been But happiness lies in a higher sphere ; E Then wonder not liza moves not here .

Full fraught with honor, riches , and with days,

s et s et She , she , like Titan in his rays . No more shall rise or set s o glorious su n

’ ’ re o l ti n Until the heavens great v u ci .

If then new things their old forms shall retain , E A liza shall rule lbion once again .

Her E i ta b p p .

Her e s leeps tbe qu een; tbis is tbe r oya l bed

O tbe da m as k r os e s r u n r om tba wbi te and r ed f p g f ,

Wbos e s weet e u m e lls tbe a ll- llin a i r p rf fi fi g .

bis r os e is i b r d s a i T w t e e ont e o lo ve r . , lyf On nei tber tr ee did gr ow s u eb r os e befor e;

be r a er a r b r T e t w s o u r a in ou loss t e m o e . g g ,

Anotber .

Her e li es tbe r ide o u eens a ttern o kin s . p f q , p f g

So bla z e i t F a m e ber e a r e ea tber s or tb win s . , ; f f y g

H er e li es tbe envi ed et u n a r a lleled r ince y p p , W bos e li vin vi r tu es s ea k tbo u b dea d lon s int e. g p , g g

I m a n wor lds as tba t a nta s ti c r a m ed f y , f f ,

I n ever one be ber r ea t r a m ed y g glo y f . DAVID ’ S LA MENTA TION F OR A U A ND A A S L JON TH N .

I I Sa m u el I . 1 9 . A las, slain is the head of Israel , ! Illustrious Saul , whose beauty did excel Upon thy places mountainous and high ! How did the mighty fall , and , falling, die

In Gath let not these things be spoken on , A Nor published in the streets of skelon ,

Lest daughters of the Philistines rejoice ,

Lest the uncircumcised lift up their voice . 0 e Gilboa mounts, let never pearl d dew

Nor fruitful showers your barren tops bestrew,

ff v Nor fields of o erings e er on you grow, ’ Nor any pleasant thing e er may you Show ;

For there the mighty ones did soon decay , The shield of Saul w as vilely cast away ; There had his dignity s o sore a foil ’ A s if his head ne er felt the sacred oil . Sometimes from crimson blood of ghastly slain ’ The bow of Jonathan ne er turned in vain ;

243 W o Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 44 T be r i tings f . Nor from the fat and spoils of mighty men W ith bloodless sword did Saul turn back again .

Pleasant and lovely were they both in life,

A nd in their death was found no parting strife .

Swifter than swiftest eagles so were they ,

Stronger than lions ramping for their prey . ’ ’ o erflo w O Israel s dames , your beauteous eyes

wh o M For valiant Saul , on ount Gilboa lies , e Who cloth d you in cloth of richest dye ,

A nd choice delights full of variety ,

On your array put ornaments of gold,

Which made you yet more beauteous to behold . t Oh , how in battle did the migh y fall

su c co r éd ! In midst of strength , not at all 0 ! lovely Jonathan , how wast thou slain

n In places high full low thou didst remai .

Distressed for thee I am, dear Jonathan ;

Thy love was wonderful , surpassing man , ’ E s xceeding all the love that feminine ,

So pleasant hast thou been , dear brother mine .

How are the mighty fallen into decay, A nd warlike weapons perished away !

Wr s o rs A nne B r a ds tr eet 2 46 Tbe i ting f M .

But now or never I must pay my sum ; W ’ 1 1 . hile others tell his worth , I not be dumb

New E One of thy founders him , ngland, know, Wh o stayed thy feeble sides when thou wast low, W ho spent his state , his strength , and years with care

c m ers That after o in them might have share .

True patriot of this little commonweal , Who is it can tax thee aught but for thy zeal ? ’ Truth s friend thou wert, to errors still a foe , W m hich caused apostates to align thee so . Thy love to true religion e ’ er shall shine

’ My father s God be -God of me and mine ! U pon the earth he did not build his nest,

But as a pilgrim what he had possessed .

v High thoughts he ga e no harbor in his heart, ff Nor honors pu ed him up , when he had part;

Those titles loathed which some too much do love,

For truly his ambition lay above . His humble mind s o loved humility

He left it to his race for legacy ,

A nd oft and oft, with speeches mild and wise, hi Gave s in charge that jewel rich to prize .

No ostentation seen in all his ways ,

A s in the mean ones of our foolish days ,

W s et hich all they have, and more, still to view

Their greatness may be judged by what they show .

His thoughts were more sublime, his actions wise ;

Such vanities he justly did despise . T o tbe Mem ory of My F a tber 2 47

’ ’ No r t w as wonder low things ne er much did move ,

For he a mansion had prepared above , For which he sighed and prayed and longed full sore He might be clothed upon for evermore ;

Oft spake of death , and with a smiling cheer

his w as He did exult end drawing near . ’ No w s fully ripe , as shock of wheat that grown ,

Death as a sickle hath him timely mown,

And in celestial barn hath housed him high , W m here storms, nor showers , nor aught can da nify

H i s generation served , his labors cease ,

A nd to his fathers gathered is in peace . Ah ’ happy soul, mongst saints and angels blest, W ho after all his toil i s now at rest ! His hoary head in righteousness w as found ;

A s joy in heaven , on earth let praise resound . Forgotten never be his memory ! His blessing rest on his posterity ! His pious footsteps followed by his race A t last will bring us to that happy place

’ W s ee here we with joy each other s face shall ,

nd b - A parted more y death shall never be .

Wi tbin tbis tom b a p a tr i o t lies

T ba t wa s botb i ou s u s t a nd wis e p , j , ,

T o tr u tb a s bi eld to r i bt a wa ll , g ,

To se a s a wbi a nd m a u l tt r ie p . be Wr i tin s o r s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 48 T g f M .

A m a az ine o bis tor g f y ,

A r iz er ood com a n p of g p y ,

a ner s leasa nt a nd s ever e I n m n p ,

bc ood bim lo ved tbe ba d did ea r T g , f ,

d be bis tim e wi tb ea r s wa s s ent A n w n y p ,

I s om e r oi ced m or e di d la m ent . f ej ,

A N E PITA PH ON M Y D EA R A ND EVER ED M E MRS HONOR OTH R . DOROTHY UD E WH O E EA ED E EM E D L Y, D C S D C B R

2 1 6 A ND H ER A GE 6 1 . 7 , 43 , OF

Her e li es

A wor tb m a tr on u ns o tted li e y of p f ,

A lo vin m o tber a nd obedi ent w e g , if ,

A r i endl nei bbor i t u l to oor f y g , p if p ,

' Wbom o t s be ed a nd clotbed wi tb ber s tor e f f ,

T o s er va nts wis e a we u l bu t et kind ly f , y ,

And as tbe did s o tbe r ewa r d did nd y y fi ,

A tr u e i ns tr u ctor ber a m il of f y ,

Tbc wbi cb s be or der ed wi tb dex ter i t y,

T be u bli c m eetin s ever did r e u ent p g f q ,

A nd in ber clos et cons ta nt bou r s s be s ent p ,

R eli iou s in a ll ber w or ds a nd wa s g y , P r epa r i ng s tillf or dea tb till end of days;

O a ll ber cbildr en i d v d o s ee f cb l r en li e t ,

Tben d i n le a b s d r t le s e m em o . , y g, f y

b W r s A nne B r a ds tr eet 2 5 0 T e r i tings of M .

' w as t bo rn Hath hundred Winters passed since thou , ’ Or thousand since thou break s t thy Shell of horn ?

s o . If , all these as naught eternity doth scorn

su n Then higher on the glistering I gazed, Whose beams were shaded by the leafy tree ;

The more I looked the more I grew amazed,

’ A nd W s ? softly said, hat glory like to thee

’ Soul of this world, this universe s eye ,

No wonder some made thee a deity .

Had I not better known , alas , the same had I .

2‘ Thou as a bridegroom from thy chamber rushes , 5? A nd as a strong man joys to run a race ;

The morn doth usher thee with smiles and blushes ,

The earth re flefis her glances in thy face .

i ns eéts v Birds , , animals , with vegeti e ,

Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive ,

v And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature di e .

Thy swift annual and diurnal course ,

r Thy daily st aight and yearly oblique path ,

Thy pleasing fervor, and thy scorching force All mortals here the feeling knowledge hath .

Thy presence makes it day , thy absence night . Quaternal seasons caused by thy might . ! Hail , creature full of sweetness , beauty, and delight Contempla tions 2 5 1

A rt thou so full of glory that no eye Hath strength thy shining rays once to behold ? A nd is thy splendid throne ereét s o high A s to approach it can no earthly mould ?

How full of glory , then must thy Creator be Who gave this bright light luster unto thee ? M A m . d ired , adored, forever be that ajesty

saw Silent, alone, where none or or heard, In pathless paths I led my wandering feet ; M y humble eyes to lofty skies I reared,

am az éd To sing some song my muse thought meet . My great Creator I would magnify t That na ure had thus decked liberally . ' But ah , and ah again , my imbecility

I heard the merry grasshopper then sing , The black -clad cricket bear a second part ;

They kept one tune and played on the same string,

Seeming to glory in their little art .

ab eft Shall creatures j thus their voices raise, ’ A nd in their kind resound their maker s praise, Whilst I as mute can warble forth no higher lays ? 2 2 bc Wr i i r s Anne B r a ds tr eet 5 T t ngs of M . W hen present times look back to ages past,

A nd men in being fancy those are dead,

It makes things gone perpetually to last, A nd calls back months and years that long since fled ; It makes a man more aged in conceit Than w as Methuselah or his grandsire great

W a s hile oftheir persons and their ét his mind doth treat .

E Sometimes in den fair he seems to be , A Sees glorious dam there made lord of all , Fan ci es the apple dangle on the tree

That turned his sovereign to a naked thrall , Who like a miscreant w as driven from that place To get his bread with pain and sweat of face

A n pe alty imposed on his backsliding race .

Here sits our grandam in retired place , A nd in her lap her bloody Cain new born ;

The weeping imp oft looks her in the face ,

Bewails his unknown hap and fate forlorn .

His mother sighs to think of paradise,

A nd s he how lost her bliss to be more wise ,

Believing him that was and is father of lies .

Here Cain and Abel come to sacrifice ;

Fruits of the earth and fatlings each doth bring . A ’ On bel s gift the fire descends from skies , ’ ff But no such sign on false Cain s o ering .

bc Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B ra ds tr eet 2 5 4 T g f .

w e Our life compare with their length of days , Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive ?

A nd w e though thus short, shorten many ways , Living s o little while we are alive

In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight ;

So unawares comes on perpetual night,

A nd puts all pleasures vain unto eternal flight .

When I behold the heavens as in their prime , A nd then the earth , though old, still clad in green ,

The stones and trees insensible of time , Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen ;

If winter come , and greenness then doth fade , A spring returns , and they re more youthful made .

But man grows old, lies down, remains where once ’ s he laid .

B y birth more noble than those creatures all , Yet seems by nature and by custom cursed No sooner born but grief and care make fall That state obliterate he had at first ;

No r youth, nor strength, nor wisdom spring

No r habitations long their names retain,

But in oblivion to the final day remain .

Shall I then praise the heavens, the trees , the earth, Because their beauty and their strength last longer ? Contempla ti ons 2 5 5

Shall I wish there or never to had birth , Because they re bigger and their bodies stronger ?

eri sh fade Nay , they shall darken , p j , and die , A nd when unmade so ever shall they lie ; But man was made for endless immortality

Under the cooling shadow of a stately elm ’ Close sat I by a goodly river s side Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm ;

A . lonely place, with pleasures dignified I once that loved the shady w o oj s s o well

Now thought the rivers did the trees excel ,

' A nd if the sun would ever shine there would I dwell .

While on the stealing stream I fixed mine eye W hich to the longed for ocean held its course , I marked nor crooks nor rubs that there did lie

Could hinder aught, but still augment its force . 0 happy flood , quoth I, that holds thy race

Till thou arrive at thy beloved place ,

o bs tru ét Nor is it rocks or shoals that can thy pace .

Nor is it enough that thou alone mayst slide, But hundred brooks in thy clear waves do meet ; So hand in hand along with thee they glide ’ To Thetis house , where all embrace and greet . W i in o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 5 6 Tbc r t gs f M .

e n t lThou mblg rue of what I count the best, t ! , could I lead my rivulets to rest So may we press to that vast mansion ever blest

Ye fish which in this liquid region abide,

That for each season have your habitation ,

Now salt, now fresh , where you think best to glide ,

To unknown coasts to give a visitation , In lakes and ponds you leave your numerous fry ;

So nature taught, and yet you know not why ,

t . You watery folk . hat know not your felicity

Look how the wantons frisk to taste the air , Then to the colder bottom straight they dive ; Eftsoon to Neptune ’ s glassy hall repair To s ee what trade the great ones there do drive ; ’ Who s ea- forage o er the spacious green field , A nd take the trembling prey before it yield ;

W i s hose armor their scales , their spreading fins their

shield .

W hile musing thus with contemplation fed,

A nd thousand fancies buzzing in my brain , ’ - The sweet tongued philomel perched o er my head, And chanted forth a most melodious strain, Which rapt me so with wonder and delight

I judged my hearing bette‘r than my sight, v u l A nd wished me wings with her a while to take my flight .

be Wr i tin s o Mr s A nne B r a ds tr eet 2 5 8 T g f .

No r hi s all losses , crosses , and vexation ,

In weight, in frequency , and long duration ,

Can make him deeply groan for that divine translation .

The mariner that on smooth waves doth glide

Sings merrily , and steers his bark with ease ,

A s if he had command of wind and tide , A nd now become great master of the seas ;

B u t suddenly a storm spoils all the sport,

A nd makes him long for a more quiet port, Which ’ gainst all adverse winds may serve for

So he that faileth in this world of pleasure,

n Feedi g on sweets , that never bit of the sour, ’ That s full of friends , of honor, and of treasure , ’ ’ s Fond fool , he takes this earth e en for heaven bower .

Bu t ff s e e sad a liction comes , and makes him ’ s Here neither honor , wealth , nor safety ;

Only above is found all with security .

O time, the fatal wreck of mortal things , That draws oblivion ’ s curtains over kings !

Their sumptuous monuments men know them not,

Their names without a record are forgot,

Their parts , their ports, their pomps , all laid in the dust, ’ ’ u Nor wit, nor gold, nor buildings scape time s r st . But he whose name is graved in the white stone

Shall last and shine when all of these are gone . T H E E A N T H E FL SH D SPIRIT .

In secret place where once I stood ,

Close by the banks of lacry m flood, I heard two sisters reason on

Things that are past and things to come .

w as who One Flesh called, had her eye On worldly wealth and vanity ;

w ho The other Spirit, did rear

Her thoughts unto a higher sphere . “ ” “ Sister, quoth Flesh, what livest thou Nothing but meditatio’ n ?

s o Doth contemplation feed thee , Regardlessly to let earth go ? Can speculation satisfy Notion without reality ?

Dost dream of things beyond the moon , A nd dost thou hope to dwell there soon ? Hast treasures there laid up in store That all in the world thou c o u ntes t poor ?

A rt s o t fancy sick, or turned a , To catch at shadows which are not ? ’ 11 Come, come , I show unto thy sense

i ts c Industry hath re ompense . What canst desire but thou mayst s e e True substance in variety ?

2 5 9 2 60 Tbc Wr i tin s Mrs A nne B ra ds tr eet g of .

? A Dost honor like cquire the same,

A s some to their immortal fame , A nd trophies to thy name erect

’ W de eét hich wearing time shall ne er j . For riches dost thou long full sore ? Behold enough of precious store ; E arth hath more silver, pearls, and gold

Than eyes can see or hands can hold . Affeétes t thou pleasure ? Take thy fill ; E arth hath enough of what you will . Then let not go what thou mayst find ” n For things unk own , only in mind . “ Be still, thou unregenerate part;

Disturb no more my settled heart,

s o For I have vowed, and will do,

Thee as a foe still to pursue, A nd combat with thee will and must

U s ee ntil I thee laid in the dust .

Sisters we are , yea, twins we be, ’ Yet deadly feud twixt thee and me ;

e For from one father are w not . A Thou by old dam wast begot,

But my arise is from above, W hence my dear Father I do love .

Thou speakest me fair, but hatest me sore ; ’ ll Thy flattering shows I trust no more . How oft thy slave hast thou me made

When I believed what thou hast said ,

2 62 T bc Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet g f .

But royal robes I shall have on ,

M su n ore glorious than the glistering . M y crown not diamonds, pearls , and gold, ’ But such as angels heads enfold . The city where I hope to dwell ’ There s none on earth can parallel

The stately walls , both high and strong , A re made of precious jasper stone ;

The gates of pearl both rich and Clear, A nd angels are for porters there ;

The streets thereof transparent gold , ’ Such as no eye did e er behold ; A crystal river there doth run ,

’ Which doth proceed from the Lamb s throne ;

Of life there are the waters sure , Which shall remain for ever pure ;

Of sun or moon they have no need, For glory doth from God proceed

- No candle there , nor yet torch light,

For there shall be no darksome night . From sickness and infirmity

For evermore they shall be free , ’ No r withering age shall e er come there ,

But beauty shall be bright and clear .

This city pure is not for thee,

For things unclean there shall not be .

If I of Heaven may have my fill ,

all . Take thou the world , and that will T H E VA NITY OF A L L WORLD LY THINGS .

A s s o . he said vanity , vain say I! O vanity , O vain all under sky

can s a Where is the man y , Lo , I have found On brittle earth a consolation sound ?

W se t ? hat, is it in honor to be on high No ; they like beasts and sons of men shall die ;

A nd whilst they live, how oft doth turn their fate

’ as He s now a captive that w king of late . W ? hat, is it in wealth , great treasures to obtain ’ s No ; that but labor, anxious care, and pain . h He eaps up riches , and he heaps up sorrow ; ’ ’ s - w ho s - ? It his to day , but his heir to morrow W ? hat, then , content in pleasures canst thou find

’ M s ore vain than all , that but to grasp the wind . The sensual senses for a time they please ; M ? eanwhile the conscience rage , Who shall appease ’ W ? No s hat, is it in beauty ; that but a snare ; ’ re - They foul enough to day that once were fair . W hat , is it in flowering youth, or manly age ?

The first is prone to vice, the last to rage .

W is ? here it, then , in wisdom , learning , arts

Sure if on earth it must be in those parts .

263 W rs Anne B ra ds tr eet 2 64 Tbc r i tings of M . Yet these the wisest man of men did find

Bu t vanity, vexation of the mind ; A nd he that knows the most doth still bemoan

He knows not all that here is to be known . W hat is it then , to do as stoics tell ? Nor laugh nor weep , let things go ill or well

Such stoics are but stocks, such teaching vain ; I M W H have ease or pain .

If not in honor, beauty , age, or treasure,

Nor yet in learning , wisdom , youth , or pleasure,

Where shall I climb , sound, seek , or search , or find That s u m m u m bonu m which may stay my mind ? ’ 3 There is a path no vulture eye hath seen, W ’ here lion fierce nor lion s whelps have been , Which leads unto that living crystal fount W ho drinks thereof the world doth naught account . ’ The depth and s ea have said t i s not in me ; W ith pearl and gold it shall not valued be .

w ho ? For sapphire, onyx, topaz, would change ’ s It hid from eyes of men ; they count it strange .

de s tru étiOn Death and the fame hath heard, ’ But where and what it is from heaven s declared . ’ It brings to honor which shall ne er decay ; ’ It stores with wealth which time can t wear away ;

It yieldeth pleasures far beyond conceit, A nd truly beau tifies without deceit ;

No r strength, nor wisdom , nor fresh youth shall fade,

see r Nor death shall , but are immo tal made .

be Wr i tin s rs A nne B r a ds tr eet T g of M .

T H E A U H ER THOR TO BOOK .

- ff Thou ill formed o spring of my feeble brain , Who after birth didst by my side remain Till snatched from thence by friends less wise than tru e

Wh o thee abroad exposed to public view, M ade thee , in rags , halting , to the press to trudge , W here errors were not lessened, all may judge, A t thy return my blushing was not small

M — in — y rambling brat print should mother call .

I cast thee by as one unfit for light , Thy visage was so irksome in my sight ;

affe éti o n Yet being mine own , at length would

s o Thy blemishes amend, if I could .

i saw I washed thy face, but more defeé s I ,

A nd o ff rubbing a spot still made a flaw .

I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,

Yet still thou runnest more hobbling than is meet .

w as In better dress to trim thee my mind ,

But naught save homespun cloth in the house I find . ’ In this array mongst vulgars mayst thou roam, ’ In critics hands beware thou dost not come,

A nd a take thy w y where yet thou art not known .

If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none ;

A nd for thy mother, she, alas , is poor,

Which caused her thus to send thee out of door . Sever a l o tber p oem s m a de by tbe a u tbor up on di vers o c

ca si ons wer e o u nd a m on ber a er s ter ber dea tb f g p p af ,

wbi cb s be never m ea nt s bo u ld com e to u bli c vi ew p ,

a m on s t wbi cb tbes e ollowin a t tbe des ir e s om e g f g , of

r i ends tba t knew ber well a r e ber e ins er ted f , .

U N A F I T OF NE A 1 6 2 PO SICK SS , NNO 3 .

.ZET A T I S SUE 1 9 . Twice ten years old not fully told

Since nature gave me breath, M y race is run , my thread is spun , D Lo , here is fatal eath . All men must die, and so must I , This cannot be revoked ; For A dam ’ s sake this word God spake

W o hen he s high provoked . — ’ Yet live I shall this life s but small

In place of highest bliss , Where I shall have all I can crave ;

o N life is like to this . ’ For what s this life but care and strife ? Since first w e came from womb

267 W i in s Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 68 Tbe r t g of .

Our strength doth waste, our time doth haste,

A nd then w e go to the tomb .

O bubble blast, how long canst last That always art a -breaking ?

No sooner blown but dead and gone , ’ ’ s E en as a word that speaking .

Oh, whilst I live this grace me give,

I doing good may be, ’ Then death s arrest I shall count best,

s Because it thy decree . ’ Bestow much cost there s nothing lost To make salvation sure ; ’ s Oh, great the gain , though got with pain ,

Comes by profession pure .

The race is run , the field is won , ’ viéto r s s ee The y mine, I ,

For ever know, thou envious foe,

The foil belongs to thee .

U ME EM E PON SO DIST P R OF BODY .

In anguish of my heart replete with woes ,

A nd wasting pains which best my body knows,

In tossing slumbers on my wakeful bed, Bedrenched with tears that flowed from mournful head

Till nature had exhausted all her store,

Then eyes lay dry, disabled to weep more,

0 Wr i in s o Mrs Anne B ra ds tr eet 2 7 Tbe t g f .

A nd feeles t when thou no grief, as I no harms ,

Who Yet love thy dead , long lay in thine arms ; A nd when thy loss shall be repaid with gains e s Look to my little bab s, my dear remain , A nd th self if thou love y , or lovedst me , i ‘ ’ ro te ét te dam s These oh p from s p injury . A nd d if chance to thine yes shall bring this verse , With some sad sighs h o rio r my absent hearse ; ’ A nd th kiss this paper for y love s dear sake,

Who with salt tears this last farewell did take . A . B .

M Y A U AND E A ND . TO . D R LOVING H SB

If ever two were one , then surely we ;

If ever man were loved by wife, then thee ;

w as If ever wife happy in a man,

Compare with me, ye women , if you can .

I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold, E Or all the riches that the ast doth hold . M y love is such that rivers cannot quench ,

N o r aught but love from thee give recompense . Thy love is such I can no w ay repay ; T h e heavens reward thee manifold, I pray . ’ Then while we live in love let s s o persevere

e That when w live no more we may live ever . A L etter to Her H u s ba nd 2 7 1

A E E H ER U BAND A EN L TT R TO H S , BS T U N UB EM L M EN PO P LIC P OY T .

M — y head, my heart, mine eyes , my life, nay, more , M y joy, my magazine of earthly store,

as If two be one, surely thou and I .

H o w s ta es t ? y thou there , whilst I at Ipswich lie So many steps head from the heart to sever ;

If but a neck soon should we be together .

I , like the earth this season , mourn in black ,

M su n s o hi s y is gone far in zodiac, Whom whilst I enjoyed nor storms nor frosts I

felt,

His warmth such frigid colds did cause to melt .

' My Chilled limbs no w numbed lie forlorn ;

u ! Ret rn , return, sweet Sol , from Capricorn

In this dead time, alas , what can I more Than view those fruits which through thy heat I bore W hich sweet contentment yield me for a space,

’ iétu r es True living p of their father s face . ’ 0 strange e ffeft !now thou art southward gone

s o I weary grow, the tedious day long ; Bu t when thou northward to me shalt return

I wish my sun may never set, but burn

Within the Cancer of my glowing breast,

The welcome house of him my dearest guest, b W n s rs nne B r a ds tr eet 2 7 2 T c r i ti g of M . A W here ever , ever stay, and go not thence ’ s ad Till nature s decree shall call thee hence .

Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone ,

I here, thou there, yet both but one . A B . .

A NOTH ER .

’ o e s Ph bus , make haste , the day too long , be gone ; ’ s The silent night the fittest time for moan .

But stay this once, unto my suit give ear, A nd tell my griefs in either hemisphere ;

’ A n d if the whirling of thy wheels don t drown

The woeful accents of my doleful sound,

If in thy swift career thou canst make stay ,

: I crave this boon, this errand by the way Commend me to the man more loved than life ; Show him the sorrows of his widowed wife M y dumpish thoughts , my groans , my brackish tears , M y sobs, my longing hopes , my doubting fears ; A nd ? if he love , how can he there abide ’ M s y interest more than all the world beside .

He that can tell the stars or ocean sand,

Or all the grass that in the meads do stand,

The leaves in the woods , the hails, or drops of rain ,

-field Or in a corn number every grain ,

Or every mote that in the sunshine hops ,

M a y count my sighs, and number all my drops . Tell him the countless steps that thou dost trace That once a day thy spouse thou mayst embrace ;

rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 7 4 Tbc Wr i tings of M . Or as the pensive dove doth all alone On withered bough most uncouthly bemoan The absence of her love and loving mate

Whose loss hath made her s o unfortunate ,

’ s ad E en thus do I , with many a deep groan ,

w ho i s Bewail my turtle true now gone , His presence and his safe return still w o o

With thousand doleful sighs and mournful Coo .

fish Or as the loving mullet, that true ,

Her fellow lost nor joy nor life doth wish, Bu t launches on that shore there for to die

W she here her captive husband doth espy , M ine being gone , I lead a joyless life .

I have a loving feer , yet seem no wife ; ’ Bu t all worst of , to him can t steer my course

I here , he there, alas , both kept by force .

t c Re urn , my lear, my joy , my only love , U nto thy hind , thy mullet, and thy dove,

Who neither joys in pasture , house, nor streams ;

The substance gone, oh me , these are but dreams .

Together at one tree oh let us browse , A nd like two turtles roost within one house , A nd like the mullets in one river glide ’ s Let still remain but one , till death divide .

Thy loving love and dearest dear, A t home, abroad , and everywhere , A . B . ‘ I n R ey er ence to H er Cbildr en 2 7 5

H ER A ER W M E E E TO F TH , ITH SO V RS S .

M u ost tr ly honored , and as truly dear , If worth in me or aught I do appear W ho can of right better demand the same ? Than may your worthy self, from whom it came

The principal might yield a greater sum ,

u Yet, handled ill , amounts but to this cr mb . ’ M s s o y stock small I know not how to pay , My bond remains in force unto this day ;

Yet for part payment take this simple mite .

’ W s here nothing to be had kings lose their right . ” Such is my debt I may not s ay Forgive ! ’ But as I can I ll pay it while I live ;

can Such is my bond none discharge but I ,

is . Yet, paying, not paid until I die

I N E E EN E H ER H D EN R F R C TO C IL R ,

2 UNE 1 6 . 3 J , 5 9

I had eight birds hatched in one nest ;

Four cocks there were, and hens the rest .

I nursed them up with pain and care ,

No r cost nor labor did I spare,

Till at the last they felt their wing ,

M . ounted the trees , and learned to sing W r s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 76 T bc r i tings of M .

Chief of the brood then took his flight

To regions far, and left me quite ; My mournful chirps I after send Till he return or I do end

Leave not thy nest, thy dam , and sire

Fly back and sing amidst this choir . M y second bird did take her flight, A nd with her mate flew out of sight ;

Southward they both their course did bend ,

A nd t seasons wain they there did spend ,

Till after , blown by southern gales , filléd They northward steered with sails . A prettier bird w as nowhere seen A long the beach , among the treen .

I have a third , of color white , On Whom I placed no small delight ;

Coupled with mate loving and true ,

Hath also bid her dam adieu , A nd where Aurora first appears

n o She w hath perched to spend her years . One to the academy flew To chat among that learned crew ; A mbition moves still in his breast

That he might chant above the rest, Striving for more than to do well

That nightingales he might excel . M y fifth, whose down is yet scarce gone, ’ I s mongst the shrubs and bushes flown,

W o Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 7 8 Tbe r i ti ngs f .

Ofttimes in grass , on trees , in flight,

Sore accidents on you may light .

Oh , to your safety have an eye ;

So happy may you live and die . Meanwhile my days in tunes I ’ ll spend Till my weak lays with me shall end ; ’ ll In shady woods I Sit and sing , Things that are past to mind I ’ 11 bring Once young and pleasant, as are you!. But former toys , not joys , adieu M y age I will not once lament ,

Bu t sing my time so near is spent, A nd from the top bough take my flight

Into a country beyond sight, W here old ones instantly grow young,

s et A nd there with seraphims song .

No s ee seasons cold nor storms they ,

But spring lasts to eternity . When each of you shall in your nest A mong your young ones take your rest , In chirping language oft them tell

You had a dam that loved you well ,

That did what could be done for young , And nursed you up till you were strong ; ’ A nd fore s he once would let you fly

She showed you joy and misery,

Taught what was good, and what was ill , W hat would save life, and what would kill . I n Mem ory of Eliz a betb B r a ds tr eet 2 7 9

Thus gone , amongst you I may live,

A nd . dead , yet speak , and counsel give

fareWell ! Farewell , my birds, , adieu

I happy am if well with you .

IN M EMORY OF M Y D EA R GRANDCHILD E A E A D R EE W H O D E LIZ B TH BR ST T,

EA E A U U 1 66 E A EA C S D G ST, 5 , B ING Y R A ND A A OL D H LF .

’ ! Farewell , dear babe , my heart s too much content ! Farewell , sweet babe, the pleasure of mine eye

w as Farewell , fair flower that for a space lent, Then taken away unto eternity ! B w h lest babe , y should I once bewail thy fate ,

s o Or sigh the days soon were terminate , Since thou art settled in an everlasting state ?

By nature trees do rot when they are grown ,

A nd plums and apples throughly ripe do fall ,

A nd corn and grass are in their season mown , A nd time brings down what is both strong and

s e t But plants new to be eradicate,

A nd s o buds new blown to have short a date , I s by His hand alone that guides nature and fate . 2 8 0 bc W i i s r Anne B r a ds tr ee T r t ng of M s . t

IN ME MORY OF MY D EA R GRA NDCHILD A NE B A E E W H O D E EA ED N R DSTR T , C S

UNE 2 0 1 66 E N E E EA J , 9 , B I G THR Y RS A ND E EN M S V ONTHS OLD . W ith troubled heart and trembling hand I write .

The heavens have Changed to sorrow my delight . How oft with disappointment have I met

W ho eS hen I on fading things my p have set . Experience might fore this have made me wise

To value things according to their price . Was ever stable joy yet found below ? Or p erfeét bliss without mixture of woe ?

s he I knew was but as a withering flower, ’ s - That here to day , perhaps gone in an hour ;

Like as a bubble , or the brittle glass ,

w as . Or like a shadow turning, as it M ore fool , then , I to look on that was lent

A s if mine own , when thus impermanent . ’ Farewell, dear child ; thou ne er shalt come to me,

But yet a while and I shall go to thee . Meantime my throbbing heart ’ s cheered up with this

Thou with thy Saviour art in endless bliss .

W r s A nne B ra ds tr eet 2 8 2 Tba r i tings of M .

sa I w the branches lopped , the tree now fall , I stood s o nigh it crushed me down withal ; My bruised heart lies sobbing at the root

s o n . That thou, dear , hath lost both tree and fruit

Thou then , on seas sailing to foreign coast, W ast ig!norant what riches thou hadst lost ; But , ah too soon those heavy tidings fly

To strike thee with amazing misery .

h o w Oh , I sympathize with thy sad heart ,

nd t hear A in thy griefs s ill a second part .

I lost a daughter dear , but thou a wife

Who loved thee more , it seemed, than her own life

she n Thou being gone, lo ger could not be ’ B she d ecause her soul sent along with thee .

s he One week only passed in pain and woe ,

nd A then her sorrows all at once did go .

A s h e babe left before She soared above ,

The fifth and last pledge of her dying love . Ere nature would it hither did arrive ;

No wonder it no longer did survive . ’ s he S So with her children four now at rest, All freed from grief, I trust, among the blest .

She one hath left, a joy to thee and me ;

s he s o The heavens vouchsafe may ever be .

Cheer up , dear son , thy fainting bleeding heart e In Him alone that caus d all this smart . What though thy strokes full s ad and grievous be ?

He knows it is the best for thee and me . Og= E E E C D E B E E U E QOE E G E O n i E O S t 03 8 3 3 g? G (S S E B E G O Q ‘ O " g ’ G rq e a a W E fi é gWf E QE Do n E] OMO E fDu bJ - $7? [E o H E E GIfl rl m ti o B GG E u o o o o u o o o o n o o o S G O

FUNERA L EL E GY UPON THA T PA T E N A ND A N V UE T R P TRO OF IRT , T H E U U E E E A ND TR LY PIO S , P RL SS , MA E EN EW MA N M RS TCHL SS G TL O . A NNE A E E A NA BR DSTR T , RIGHT P E E M H ER A G E R R T S , IRROR OF , GLO Y

H ER SEX W E EAV EN - B N OF , HOS H OR U EA N EA NE SO L , L VI G ITS RTHLY SHRI , CHOS E ITS NA TIVE HOME A ND W AS TA KEN T O I T S R EST UPO N 1 6T H

E EM E 1 6 2 S PT B R , 7 .

A s k not why hearts turn magazines of passions , A nd why that grief is Clad in several fashions ;

Wh s he c y on progress goes , and loth not borrow

The smallest respite from the extremes of sorrow . Her misery is got to such an height A s makes the earth groan to support its weight ; Such storms of w o e s o strongly have beset her

She hath no place for worse nor hope for better .

Her comfort is , if any for her be ,

can she That none show more cause of grief than . 2 8 u n r a E e u on Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 4 A F e l l gy p .

A s k not why some in mournful black are clad

s n s e t The u is ; there needs must be a Shade . A s k not why every face a sadness shrouds :

’ su n o ercas t The setting us hath with Clouds .

A s k W h s k not y the great glory of the y , w That gilds the stars ith heavenly alchemy , W hich all the world doth lighten with his rays ,

The Persian god, the monarch of the days

A s k not the reason of his ecstasy,

Paleness of late, in midnoon majesty ; Why that the palefaced empress of the night D isrobed her brother of his glorious light . D id not the language of the stars foretell A mournful scene when they with tears did swell ? Did not the glorious people of the s ky Seem sensible of future misery ? D id not the lowering heavens seem to express ’ n ? The world s great loss , and their u happiness

Behold how tears flow from the learned hill, H o w the bereaved Nine do daily fill The bosom of the fleeting air with groans A nd woeful accents , which witness their moans ;

How do the goddesses of verse, the learned choir ,

Lament their rival quill , which all admire . Could Maro ’ s muse but hear her lively strain

his He would condemn works to fire again . M ethinks I hear the patron of the spring,

r : The unshorn deity , ab uptly sing

a e u on Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 86 A F u ner l El gy p .

flatterer Like a most servile he Will show,

su b eét Though he write truth , and make the j you . ’ Virtue ne er dies ; time will a poet raise ,

Born under better stars , shall sing thy praise .

w h o Praise her list , yet he shall be a debtor , ’ For art ne er feigned nor nature framed a better . Her virt u es were s o great that they do raise A work to trouble fame , astonish praise . W henas her name doth but salute the ear,

’ M e n erfe éti n s a bs traét think that they p o hear .

- Her breast was a brave palace, a Broad street, W here all heroic ample thoughts did meet, Where nature such a tenement had ta ’ en

’ That others souls to hers dwelt in a lane .

B v eneath her feet pale en y bites her Chain ,

A nd poison malice whets her sting in vain .

Let every laurel , every myrtle bough , Be stripped for leaves to adorn and load her brow ’ ’ V iéto ri o u s wreaths , which cause they never fade

Wise elder times for kings and poets made . Let not her happy memory e ’ er lack ’ Its worth in fame s eternal almanac , Which none shall read but straight their loss

deplore,

A nd blame their fates they were not born before .

D o not old men rejoice their fates did last,

A nd infants , too , that theirs did make such haste u ner a l Ele u on rs A nne B r a ds tr ee A F gy p M . t 2 8 7 In such a welcome time to bring them forth That they might be a witness to her worth ? Wh o undertakes this s u bje ft to commend

Shall nothing find so hard as how to end .

N N JOH NORTO .

m nia R om a nw m i r a cu la e is O g nt .

MY D EA SON M A EE FOR R SI ON BR DSTR T .

tu Parents perpe ate their lives in their posterity , and their manners in their imitation . Children do natu rally rather follow the failings than the virtues of their predecessors ; but I am persuaded better things of you . You once desired me to leave something for you in writing that you might look upon when you

s ee should me no more . I could think of nothing more

fit for you , nor of more ease to myself, than these

be short meditations following . Such as they are I qu eath to you : small legacies are accepted by true friends, much more by dutiful children . I have ’ be avoided encroaching upon others conceptions, cause I would leave you nothing but mine o w n ; though in value they fall short of all in this kind , yet I presume they will be better prized by you for

’ the author s sake . The Lord bless you with grace here , and crown you with glory hereafter, that I may meet you with rejoicing at that great day of appear ing, which is the continual prayer of

’ affe éti o nate Your mother,

M 20 1 66 . A arch , 4 . B . 2 2 bc Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 9 T g f .

M ED A NE N M A IT TIONS DIVI A D OR L .

’ t w e aétio n w e There is no objeé that see, no that

w e w e do , no good that enjoy , no evil that feel or fear, but we may make some spiritual advantage of all ; and he that makes such improvement is Wise as well as pious .

M can l c an We any speak we l , but few do well . are better scholars in the theory than the practice part ; but he is a true Christian that is a proficient in both

Youth is the time of getting, middle age of improv ing, and old age of spending ; a negligent youth is usu

an ally attended by ignorant middle age , and both by an empty old age . He that hath nothing to feed on but vanity and lies must needs lie down in the bed of

s o rro vv.

A no d ballas t ship that bears much sail , and little or , is easily overset ; and that man whose head hath great abilities , and his heart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering . It is reported of the peacock that priding himself in his gay feathers he ruffles them up ; but spying his black feet he soon lets fall his plumes . So he that glories in his gifts and ado rnings should look upon his corruptions, and that will damp his high thoughts .

b Wr i i s rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 2 94 T e t ng of M .

l f Au tho rity without Wisdom is like a heavy axe with ' — fitter out an edge to bruise than polish .

The reason w hy Christians are so loth to exchange this world for a better is because they have more

: s ee sense than faith they what they enjoy, they do

i s c o m e but hope for that which to g j

w e s o If had no winter, the spring would not be pleasant ; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity , prosperity would not be s o welcome . A low man can go upright under that door where a taller is glad to stoop ; s o a man of weak faith and mean abilities may undergo a cross more . patiently than he that excels him both in gifts and graces . That house which is not often swept makes the cleanly inhabitant soon loathe it ; and that heart which is not continually purifying itself is no fit temple for the spirit of God to dwell in .

Few men are s o humble as not to be proud of their abilities ; and nothing will abase them more than this W ? hat hast thou but what thou hast received Come ,

give an account of thy stewardship . He that will undertake to Climb up a steep mountain with a great burden on his back will find it a weari some if not an impossible task ; s o he that thinks to mount to heaven clogged with the cares and riches of ’ t a this life, is no wonder if he faint by the w y . Medita ti ons D i vine a nd Mor a l 2 9 5 Corn till it has passed through the mill and been

s o ground to powder is not fit for bread . God deals with hi s servants : he grinds the m with grief and pain till they turn to dust, and then are they fit manchet

hi s for mansion .

God hath suitable comforts and supports for his children according to their several conditions if he will make his face to shine upon them . He then makes

be them lie down in green pastures , and leads them side the still waters ; if they stick in deep mire and

hi s clay , and all waves and billows go over their heads , he then leads them to the rock which i s higher than they . He that walks among briers and thorns will be very careful where he sets his foot ; and he that passes through the wilderness of this world had need pon

hi s der all steps . Want of prudence as well as piety hath brought men into great inconveniences ; but he that is well stored with both seldom is so ensnared . The skilful fisher hath his several baits for several

fish , but there is a hook under all ; Satan , that great

his 5 angler, hath sundry baits for sundry tempers of men , which they all Catch greedily at , but few per c eive the hook till it be too late .

There is no new thing under the su n; there is noth W Anne B ra ds tr ee 2 96 Tbc r i tings of Mrs . t ing that can be said or done but either that or some i t thing like hath been both done and said before .

A n aching head requires a soft pillow, and a droop ing heart a strong support .

A sore finger may disquiet the whole body , but an ulcer within destroys it ; s o an enemy without may disturb a commonwealth, but dissensions within over throw it .

It is a pleasant thing to behold the light, but sore eyes are not able to look upon it ; the pure in heart

defile d shall see God , but the in conscience shall rather choose to be buried under rocks and mountains than to behold the presence of the Lamb .

W i s bu t isdom with an inheritance good , wisdom without an inheritance is better than an inheritance without wisdom .

Lightning doth usually precede thunder , and storms rain ; and strokes do not often fall till after threatening .

s a Yellow leaves argue the want of p , and gray hairs the want of moisture ; s o dry and sapless performances are symptoms of little spiritual vigor . Iron till it be thoroughly heated is incapable to be wrought ; so God sees good to cast some men into the ffl furnace of a iction , and then beats them on his anvil into what frame he pleases .

2 8 Tbe Wr i tin s o r s Anne B r a ds t 9 g f M . r eet

s o feed upon more substantial food , yet they are child ishly sottish that they are still hugging and sucking these empty breasts , that God is forced to hedge up

’ w a a ffiiétio n their y with thorns, or lay on their loins , that s o they might shake hands with the world before it bid them farewell .

A prudent mother will not clothe her little Child with a long and cumbersome garment ; sh e easily fore — sees what events i t i s like to produce at the best but M falls and bruises, or perhaps somewhat worse . uch more will the All-wise God proportion his dispensa tions according to the stature and strength of the

s endo ents person he bestow them on . Large of honor, wealth, or a healthful body would quite over throw some weak Christian ; therefore God cuts their garments short, to keep them in such a trim that they might run the ways of his commandment .

The spring i s a lively emblem of the Resurrection . A fter a long winter w e see the leafless trees and dry stalks at the approach of the su n to resume their former vigor and beauty in a more ample manner than what they lost in the autumn . So shall it be at that R great day , after a long vacation , when the Sun of ight e o u sness shall appear : those dry bones shall arise in far more glory than that which they lost at their creation , and in this transcend the spring — that their leaf shall

sa never fail , nor their p decline . Medi ta ti ons D i vine a nd Mora l 2 9 9 A Wise father will not lay a burden on a child of seven years old which he knows is enough for one of

“ his w twice strength ; much less ill our heavenly Father, w ho aflliéti o ns hi s knows our mold, lay such upon weak children as would crush them to the dust, but according to the strength he will proportion the load .

A s h s o God ath his little children , he hath his strong

a s men , such are come to a full stature in Christ ; and many times he imposes weighty burdens on their

Bu t shoulders , and yet they go upright under them . it matters not whether the load be more or less if God hi afford s help .

erfe étio n I have seen an end of all p , said the royal prophet ; but he never said , I have seen an end of all ” W he v did sinning . hat say may be easily said by many ; but what he did not say cannot truly be uttered by any .

its Fire hath force abated by water , not by wind ; and anger must be allayed by cold words , and not by blustering threats .

A sharp appetite and a thorough co nco éti o n are a sign of an healthful body ; so a quick reception and a deliberate cogitation argue a sound mind .

W e s ee often stones hang with drops , not from any

s o innate moisture , but from a thick air about them ; may w e sometimes see marble - hearted sinners seem full of contrition , but it is not from any dew of grace 0 0 T bc Wr i tin s Mr s A nne B r a ds ee 3 g of . tr t

Within , but from some black clouds that impend them ,

e ffe éts which produce these sweating .

The words of the wise, saith Solomon , are as nails

a s — and goads , both used for contrary ends the one holds fast, the other puts forward . Such should be the precepts of the wise masters of assemblies to their hearers , not only to bid them hold fast the form of

do étrine s o sound , but also to run that they might obtain .

A shadow in the parching su n and a shelter in a blustering storm are of all seasons the most welcome ; s o a faithful friend in time of adversity is of all other most comfortable . There is nothing admits of more admiration than

’ God s various dispensation of hi s gifts among the sons

u t s o di s r o of men , betwixt whom he hath p vast a p portion that they scarcely seem made of the same lump or sprung out of the loins of one A dam : some se t in the highest dignity that mortality is capable of, and some again s o base that they are viler than the earth ; some so wise and learned that they seem like

s o angels among men , and some again ignorant and sottish that they are more like beasts than men ; some pious saints , some incarnate devils ; some exceeding

s o beautiful , and some extremely deformed ; some strong and healthful that their bones are full of mar

s o row and their breasts of milk , and some again weak

0 W o s Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 2 Tbc r i tings f Mr .

“ ” ! !A nd leech cries , Give Give , which is most

strange, the more it receives , the more empty it finds

itself, and sees an impossibility ever to be filled but

by Him in whom all fulness dwells .

u s Had not the wisest of men taught this lesson ,

that all is vanity and vexation of spirit, yet our own experience would soon have spelled it out ; for what do we obtain of all these things but it is with labor and vexation When we enjoy them it is with vanity and vexation ; and if we lose them then they are less than

vanity and more than vexation . So that we have good “ cause often to repeat that sentence, Vanity of vani

o f ties , vanity vanities ; all is vanity .

r He that is to sail into a far count y , although the

c o m ship , cabin , and provision be all convenient and

fo rtable for him, yet he hath no desire to make that

n his place of residence , but lo gs to put in at that port

hi s A where business lies . Christian is sailing through

hi s this world unto heavenly country, and here he hath many conveniences and comforts ; but he must be

o f ware desiring to make this the place of his abode, lest he meet with such tossings that may cause him ‘to long W e for shore before he sees land . must, therefore ,

as be here strangers and pilgrims , that we may plainly

declare that we seek a city above , and wait all the days of our appointed time till our change shall come . He that never felt what it was to be sick or Medi ta ti ons D i vine a nd Mor a l 3 0 3 wounded doth not much care for the company of the physician or chirurgeon ; but if he perceive a malady that threatens him with death he Will gladly entertain him whom he slighted before . So he that never felt the sickness of sin nor the wounds of a guilty conscience cares not how far he keeps from him that hath skill to cure it ; but when he finds his diseases to distress him ,

v and that he must needs perish if he ha e no remedy , will unfeignedly bid him welcome that brings a plas

his ter for his sore or a cordial for fainting .

W e read of ten lepers that were cleansed, but of one

W e that returned thanks . are more ready to receive

M en can mercies than we are to acknowledge them . u s e u great import nity when they are in distresses , and Show great ingratitude after their successes ; but he that ordereth his conversation aright will glorify him hi that heard him in the day of s trouble . The remembrance of former deliverances is a great “ support in present distresses . He that delivered ” “ v me, saith Da id , from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will deliver me from this u ncircu m ” ci sed Philistine and He that hath delivered me , “ ” saith Paul , will deliver me . God is the same

- w e yesterday , to day, and for ever ; are the same that

- as as stand in need of him , to day well yesterday , and s o shall for ever .

Great receipts call for great returns ; the more that 0 b W i in s o rs A nne B r a ds tr eet 3 4 T c r t g f M .

any man is intrusted withal , the larger his accounts n ’ stand upo God s score . It therefore behooves every man so to improve his talents that when his great M as ter shall call him to reckoning he may receive his own with advantage .

Sin and shame ever go together ; he that would be freed from the last must be sure to shun the company of the first . God doth many times both reward and punish for

aéti o n A s s ee one and the same . we in Jehu , he is rewarded with a kingdom to the fourth generation for “ taking vengeance on the house of A hab ; and yet A ” “ little while , saith God , and I will avenge the blood ” o f e hu w as ofJezebel upon the house J . He rewarded for the matter, and yet punished for the manner ; which should warn him that doth any special service for

his his God to fix eye on the command, and not on ’ o wn ends , lest he meet with Jehu s reward, which will end in punishment . He that would be content with a mean condition must not cast his eye upon one that i s in a far better

i s estate than himself, but let him look upon him that lower than he is , and, if he see that such a one bears poverty comfortably, it will help to quiet him ; but if

u nwo rthi that will not do , let him look on his own “ s a ness , and that will make him y with Jacob, I am ” less than the least of thy mercies .

0 be Wr i s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 6 T i t ng f M . throne of grace to be accepted there must be sure to carry a certificate from the court of conscience that he stands right there . He that would keep a pure heart and lead a blame ‘ less life must s e t himself always in the awful pres ence of God ; the consideration of his all - seeing eye will be a bridle to restrain from evil and a spur to

We quicken on to good duties . certainly dream of some

w e remoteness betwixt God and us , or else should not s o often fail in our whole course of life as w e do ; but he that with David sets the Lord always in his sight will not sin against him .

W e s e e in orchards some trees s o fruitful that the weight of their burden is the breaking of their limbs ; n some again are but meanly lade , and some have ‘ b t v nothing to show u lea es only , and some among

i s them are dry stalks . So it in the church, which is ’ e God s orchard : there ‘are som eminent Christians that are s o frequent in good duties that many times the weight thereof impairs both their bodies and e s tates ; and there are some , and they sincere ones , too , w h o have not attained to that fruitfulness, although they aim at p erfeéti o n ; and again there are others that have nothing to commend them but only a gay h profession, and these are but leafy Christians whic are in as much danger of being cut down as the dry

u . stalks , for both cumber the gro nd Medi ta ti ons D i vine a nd Mor a l 3 0 7

W e see in the firm am ent there is but one sun among l ff a multitude of stars , and those stars a so to di er much ‘ one from the other in regard b f bigness and bright

s n ness ; yet all receive their light from that one u . So is it in the church both militant and triumphant : there is bu t one Christ, who is the Sun of Righteousness , in the

n midst of an i numerable company of saints and angels . Those saints have their degrees even in this life : some are stars of the first magnitude , and some of a less de — gree , and others and they indeed the most in num — ber but small and obscure ; yet all receive their lus ter, be it more or less , from that glorious Sun that

A nd enlightens all in all . if some of them shine so bright while they move on earth , how transcendently Splendid shall they be when they are fixed in their heavenly spheres !

M en a t ' that have walked very extravagantly , and last bethink themselves of turning to God , the first

w hi ch th e i s thing . y eye how to reform their ways

N u rather than to beg forgiveness for their sins . at re looks more at a compensation than at a pardon ; but he that will not come for mercy without money and

n without price, but bri gs his filthy rags to barter for it, shall meet with miserable disappointment, going away a empty , be ring the reproach of his pride and folly .

All the works and doings of God are wonderful , but none more awful than hi s great work of eleéti o n W o r nne r a ds ee 3 0 8 Tbc r i tings f M s . A B tr t

W w e and reprobation . hen consider how many good

h o w parents have had bad children , and again many bad parents have had pious children , it should make us

w ho adore the sovereignty of God , will not be tied to time nor place , nor yet to persons , but takes and chooses when and where and whom he pleases . It should also teach the children of godly parents to

nu walk with fear and trembling, lest they, through

su belief, fall short of a promise . It may also be a p port to such as have or had wicked parents , that if they abide not in unbelief God is able to graft them in . The upshot of all should make us, with the apostle , to admire the justice and mercy of God, and say , How

find unsearchable are his ways , and his footsteps past ing out . The gifts that God bestows on the sons of men are not only abused, but most commonly employed for a clean contrary end than that which they were — given for as health, wealth , and honor, which might be s o many steps to draw men to God in considera tion of his bounty towards them , but have driven them

s a We the further from him, that they are ready to y , are lords ; w e will come no more at thee . If outward blessings be not as wings to help us mount upwards they will certainly prove clogs and weights that will pull us lower downward . All the comforts of this life may be compared to the

0 W i in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 1 Tbe r t g f M .

su n and the , approaching , of the appearing of the Sun of Righteousness , at whose coming they shall all rise out of their beds , the long night shall flee away , and the day of eternity shall never end . Seeing these

w e things must be , what manner of persons ought to be in all good conversation ?

A s the brands of a fire , if once severed, will of themselves go out, although you use no other means

s o to extinguish them , distance of place , together with length of time, if there be no intercourse , will cool the a ffe éti o ns of intimate friends , though there Should be no displeasance between them .

A i s good name as a precious ointment, and it is a great favor to have a good repute among good men .

i s Yet it not that which commends us to God, for by his w e balance must be weighed, and by his judgment w e as s o must be tried ; and he passes the sentence ,

S e hall w stand . W ell doth the apostle call riches deceitful riches , and they may truly be compared to deceitful friends w ho speak fair and promise much , but perform noth

s o ing , and leave those in the lurch that most relied on them . So is it with the wealth , honors , and pleasures of this world, which miserably delude men and make them put great confidence in them ; but when death threatens , and distress lays hold upon them , they prove like the reeds of Egypt that pierce instead of support Medi ta ti ons D i vine a nd M or a l 3 1 1

ing , like empty wells in the time of drought, that those that go to find water in them return with their empty pitchers ashamed .

is It admirable to consider the power of faith , by which all things are almost possible to be done . It can remove mountains , ifneed were ; it hath stayed the

su n v re course of the , raised the dead, cast out de ils ,

o f versed the order nature , quenched the violence of the

fire, made the water become firm footing for Peter to

Na walk on . y , more than all these , it hath overcome M the Omnipotent himself, as , when oses interceded for “ the people , God said to him , Let me alone that I

!- M may destroy them as if oses had been able , by the hand of faith , to hold the everlasting arms of the mighty

God of Jacob . Yea , Jacob himself, when he wrestled “ ” with God face to face in Peniel , Let me go , said “ ” that angel . I will not let thee go , replied Jacob , “ !” till thou bless me Faith is not only thus potent, but it is s o necessary that without faith there is no s al

s ee ki n s vation ; therefore, with all our g and gettings , let us above all seek to obtain this pearl of price . Some Christians do by their lusts and corruptions as the Israelites did by the Canaanites , not destroy them, but put them under tribute ; for that they could do, as they thought, with less hazard and more profit . But what w as the issue ? They became a snare unto them , pricks in their eyes and thorns in their sides , b W i in s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 1 2 T e r t g of .

and at last overcame them and kept them under slavery . So it is most certain that those that are disobedient to the command of God , and endeavor not to the utmost to drive out all their accursed inmates , but make a league with them , they shall at last fall into perpetual bondage under them unless the great dcliv erer, Christ Jesus, come to their rescue .

God hath by his providence s o ordered that no one m country hath all com odities within itself, but what i t w ants another shall supply, that so there may be a

A s mutual commerce through the world . it is with countries s o it is with men : there was never yet any one man that had all excellences ; let his parts , natural

s o and acquired , spiritual and moral , be never large , yet he stands in need of something which another man hath, perhaps meaner than himself, which shows us

erfeéti o n p is not below, as also that God will have us beholden one to another .

“ [ My honored and dear mother intended to have

filled up this book with the like observations , but was ” N Bra dstreet r . prevented by death . ote by Simon , J]

[The matter on the succeeding pages was at a later date copied into the same journal by her son Simon , “ with this note : A true copy of a book left by my honored and dear mother to her children, and found among some papers after her

b Wr i in s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 1 4 T c t g f M .

not studied in this you read to show my skill , but to declare the truth ; not to set forth myself, but the glory of God . If I had minded the former, it had been perhaps better pleasing to y o u ; but seeing the last is the best, let it be best pleasing t The method I will observe shall be 11 be gin with God ’ s dealing with me from my childhood i . s x to this day In my young years , about or seven as I take it, I began to make conscience of my ways, — and what I knew was sinful as lying, disobedience to

— I w as parents , etc . avoided it . If at any time I over

w as . taken with the like evils , it a great trouble I could not be at rest till by prayer I had confessed it

ne leét unto God . I was also troubled at the g of pri

w a . vate duties , though too often tardy that y I also found much comfort in reading the Scriptures , espe cially those places I thought most concerned my con

t o s o dition ; and as I grew have more understanding, k more solace I too in them . a long fit of sickness which I had on my bed I

, su often communed with my heart, and made my p

M s et plication to the ost High , who me free from that

afflifti o n .

Bu t as I grew up to be about fourteen or fifteen I found my heart more carnal , and, sitting loose from

God, vanity and the follies of youth take hold of me . A bout sixteen the Lord laid his hand sore upon me

- W and smote me with the small pox . hen I was in T o My D ea r Cbildr en 3 1 5

’ a ffliétio n my , I besought the Lord , and confessed my

v pride and anity , and he was entreated of me and

B u t e again restored me . I render d not to him accord ing to the benefit received . A fter a short time I Chaiiged my condition and w as married, and came into this country , where I found a new world and new manners , at which my heart rose . Bu t after I w as convinced it w as the w ay of God I submitted to it and joined to the church at A fter some time I fell into a lingering sickness e a consumption , together with a lameness, which cor refti o n I s aw the Lord sent to humble and try me and ,

’ ine ffeétu al do me good ; and it was not altogether . pleased God to keep me a long time without a

d w as chil , which a great grief to me , and cost me many prayers and tears before I obtained one ; and

v after him ga e me many more , of whom I now take the care , that as I have brought you into the world ,

an d and with great pains , weakness , cares , fears brought you to this , I now travail in birth again of you till Christ be formed in you . Among all my experiences of God ’ s gracious deal ings with me I have constantly observed this , that he

f si t hath never su fered me long to loose from him , but

affliéti o n by one or other hath made me look home,

w as s o and search .what amiss ; usually thus it hath been with me that I have no sooner felt my heart out

ex eéted co rreéti o n of order but I have p for it, which 1 6 bc Wr i tin s Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 T g of . most commonly hath been upon my own person in sickness, weakness, pains , sometimes on my soul in ’ doubts and fears of God s displeasure and my s in ceri t y towards him . Sometimes he hath smote a child with sickness , sometimes Chastened by losses in estate ; and these times , through his great mercy , have been — the times of my greatest getting and advantage yea , I have found them the times when the Lord hath mani fe s te d the most love to me . Then have I gone to me searching, and have said with David, Lord, search and try me, see What ways of wickedness are in me, ” a A nd and lead me in the w y everlasting . seldom or never but I have found either some s in I lay under

ne which God would have reformed, or some duty

leéted A nd g which he would have performed . by his help I have laid vows and bonds upon my soul to perform his righteous commands .

If at any time you are Chastened of God, take it as thankfully and joyfully as in greatest mercies ; for if ye be his ye shall reap the greatest benefit by it . It hath been no small support to me in times of dark ness when the Almighty hath hid his face from me that yet I have had abundance of sweetness and re

afli iétio n ci rcu m s e éti o n freshment after , and more p in

affli ed my walking after I have been ft . I have been with God like an untoward child, that no longer than

h as the rod been on my back , or at least in sight, but

I have been apt to forget him and myself too . Before

W s nne r a ds r ee 3 1 8 Tbc r i ting of Mrs . A B t t

I thought, were it hell itself, and could there find the

A n d love of God toward me , it would be a heaven .

v could I have been in heaven without the lo e of God,

v it would ha e been a hell to me ; for, in truth , it is the absence and presence of God that makes heaven or hell . Many times hath Satan troubled me concerning the verity of the Scriptures ; many times by atheism how

as s a I could know whether there w a God . I ne ver w any miracles to confirm me , and those which I read of how did I know but they were feigned ? That there is a God my reason would soon tell me by the — wondrous works that I s e e the vast frame of the

v hea en and the earth , the order of all things , night and day , summer and winter, spring and autumn , the daily providing for this great household upon the

direétin earth, the preserving and g of all to its proper end . The consideration of these things would with amazem ent certainly resolve me that there is an Eter B nal eing . But ho w should I know he is such a God as I w o r

as ? ship in Trinity , and such a Saviour I rely upon Though this hath thousands of times been suggested to me , yet God hath helped . me over . I have argued

s ee thus with myself: That there is a God I . If ever this God hath revealed himself, it must be in his

W v ord, and this must be it or none . Ha e I not found that operation by it that no human invention can T o My D ea r Cbildr en 3 1 9 work upon the soul ? Have not judgments befallen di vers w h o have scorned and contemned it ? Hath it not been preserved through all a ges maugre all the heathen tyrants and all of the enemies w h o have opposed it ? Is there any story but that which shows

ho w the beginnings of time, and the world came to be as w e s e e ? D o w e not know the prophecies in it fulfilled which could not have been s o long foretold by any but God himself ? When I have got o ver this block then have I an

w a other put in my y , that , admit this be the true God

w e W w h whom worship , and that be his ord , yet y may not the popish religion be the right ? They have the) W same God , the same Christ, the same ord ; they only

w e . interpret it one way , another This hath some t times s uck with me , and more it would but the vain fooleries that are in their religion , together with their lying miracles and cruel persecutions of the saints , which admit were they as they term them , yet not s o h to be dealt withal . The consideration of t ese things and many the like would soon turn me to my

o w n .

religion again 3 Bu t some new troubles I have had since the world has s e étaries been filled with blasphemy and , and some who have been accounted sincere Christians

v ha e been carried away with them , that sometimes I ? have said , Is there faith upon the earth and I have

Bu t not known what to think . then I have remem 20 bc Wr i tin s Mr s Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 T g of .

s o bered the words of Christ that it must be , and that ,

v e le ét if it were possible, the ery should be deceived “B ” “ ehold, saith our Saviour , I have told you before .

can R e That hath stayed my heart, and I now say , U turn , O my soul , to thy rest . pon this rock Christ ” Jesus will I build my faith ; and if I perish , I perish . Bu t I know all the powers of hell shall never prevail

r against it . I know whom I have t usted , and whom

v I have belie ed, and that he is able to keep that I have committed to his charge .

No w v to the King immortal , eternal , and in isible , the only wise God, be honor and glory for ever and A ever !men .

w a s This written in much sickness and weakness , and is very weakly and i m p erfe étly done ; but if you can pick

i s any benefit out of it, it the mark which I aimed at .

HER E FOLLOW S EVERA L O CCASIONA L M D A E IT TIONS .

B y night, when others soundly slept

A nd had at once both ease and rest, M y waking eyes were open kept, A n d s o to lie I found it best

I sought him whom my soul did love ; With tears I sought him earnestly ;

his He bowed ear down from above .

cr In vain I did not seek or y .

bc Wr i tin s r s nne B r a ds r T g of M . A t eet

” Oh , heal my soul , thou knowest I said , “ Though flesh consume to naught . What though in dust it shall be laid ? ” To glory it shall be brought .

v Thou heardest , thy rod thou didst remo e , A n d spared my body frail ;

s h o w eds t Thou to me thy tender love, M y heart no more might qua!il . Oh , praises to my mighty God

L s a Praise to my ord , I y ,

Wh o hath redeemed my soul from pit . Praises to him for aye !

M AN E E FRO OTH R SOR FIT .

In my distress I sought the Lord , When naught on earth could comfort give ;

A n d when my soul these things abhorred ,

Then , Lord, thou saidst unto me , Live .

Thou knowest the sorrows that I felt, M y plaints and groans were heard of thee, A nd how in sweat I seemed to melt ;

hel eds t re ardeds t Thou p and thou g me . M y wasted flesh thou didst restore, My feeble loins didst gird with strength ;

Yea , when I was most low and poor “ I said, I shall praise thee at length . Occa si ona l Medi ta ti ons 3 2 3 What shall I render to my God For all his bounty showed to me ’ E e n his for his mercies in rod , Where pity most of all I see ? M y heart I wholly give to thee ; ! Oh , make it fruitful , faithful , Lord My life shall dedicated be

To praise in thought, in deed, in word . Thou knowest no life I did require

Longer than still thy name to praise, No r aught on earth worthy desire

In drawing out these wretched days .

Thy name and praise to celebrate ,

O Lord, for aye is my request .

Oh, grant I do it in this state,

A nd then with thee, which is the best .

E M A A N D ELIVERA NC FRO FIT OF F I TING . W ! orthy art thou , O Lord of praise ’ !s But, ah it not in me ; M e y sinking h art I pray thee raise ,

So shall I give it thee .

’ ’ My life as spider s web s cu t o ff

Thus , fainting , have I said ;

A nd living man no more shall see , ” But be in silence laid . 2 Tbc Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 4 g f . M y feeble spirit thou didst revive , My doubting thou didst chide ;

A nd though as dead , madest me alive,

I here a while might abide .

Why should I live but to thy praise ? M l y ife is hid with thee .

O Lord, no longer be my days

Than I may fruitful be .

M ED ITA TIONS WHEN M Y SOUL HA TH B EEN R EFR ESHED WITH T H E CONSO L A T I ONS WHICH T H E WORLD KNOWS NOT .

w h Lord, y should I doubt any more when thou ? hast given me such assured pledges of thy love First, M thou art my Creator, I thy creature ; thou my aster,

I thy servant . But hence arises not my comfort . “ : Thou art my Father, I thy child Ye shall be my ” A sons and daughters , saith the Lord lmighty . Christ “ is my brother : I ascend unto my father and your ” m father, unto y God and your God . But lest this ” should not be enough , Thy maker is thy husband . “ Na y , more, I am a member of his body ; he, my ” head . Such privileges, had not the word of truth

who made them known , or where is the man that durst in his heart have presumed to have thought it ? So wonderful are these thoughts that my spirit fails

2 6 bc Wr i tin s o Mrs A nne B ra ds tr eet 3 T g f .

Tho u hast given me a pledge of that inheritance thou hast promised to bestow upon me . Oh , never let

m e Satan prevail against , but strengthen my faith in thee till I shall attain the end of my hopes , even the salvation of my soul . Come , Lord Jesus ; come quickly .

What God is like to him I serve ? What Saviour like to mine ?

Oh, never let me from thee swerve ,

For truly I am thine .

M . y thankful mouth shall speak thy praise , My tongu e shall talk of thee ;

On high my heart oh do thou raise,

For what thou hast done for me .

Go , worldlings, to your vanities , A nd heathen to your gods ;

Let them help in adversities ,

A nd sanctify their rods . M y God he is not like to yours , Yourselves shall judges be ;

his I find love , I know his power, A succorer of me .

i s He not man that he should lie , Nor so n of man to unsay ; Occasi ona l Medi ta ti ons 3 2 7

His word he plighted hath on high,

A nd I shall live for aye .

A nd for his sake that faithful is ,

That died but now doth live,

The first and last, that lives for aye,

Me lasting life shall give .

M y soul , rejoice thou in thy God ; Boast of him all the day ; W alk in his law, and kiss his rod;

Cleave close to him alway . W hat though thy outward man decay , Thy inward shall w ax strong ;

Thy body vile it shall be changed ,

A nd glorious made ere long . With angel ’ s wings thy soul shall mount

To bliss unseen by eye , A nd drink at unexhausted fount

Of joy unto eternity .

e Thy tears shall all be dri d up, Thy sorrows all shall flee ; ’ Thy sins shall ne er be summoned up ,

Nor come in memory .

Then shall I know what thou hast done

For me, unworthy me, W in s Mr s A nne B r a ds tr eet 3 2 8 Tbc r i t g of .

’ A nd praise thee shall e en as I ought

s ee For wonders that I .

Base world, I trample on thy face ; Thy glory I despise ;

No gain I find in aught below, For God hath made!me wise . Come, Jesus, quickly Blessed Lord , Thy face when shall I s e e ?

Oh, let me count each hour a day e Till I dissolv d be .

2 1 . 8 , 65 6 A fter much weakness and sickness , when my spirits were worn out, and many times my faith weak like wise, the Lord was pleased to uphold my drooping

A n d is heart, and to manifest his love to me . this that which stays my soul that this condition that I am in

afli iét is the best for me , for God doth not willingly , nor take delight in grieving the Children of men . He hath no benefit by my adversity , nor is he the better for my prosperity ; but he doth it for my advantage,

A nd and that I may be a gainer by it . if he knows that weakness and a frail body is the best to make me

hi s W h a vessel fit for use, y should I not bear it , not only willingly but joyfully ? The L ord knows I dare not desire that health that sometimes I have had,

0 b W in s r s Anne B ra ds tr eet 3 3 T e r i t g of M . the weakness of this outward man shall be a means to strengthen my inner man . “ Yet a little while, and he that shall come will ” come, and will not tarry .

I 1 . 3 , 65 7

A s spring the winter doth succeed,

A nd leaves the naked trees do dress ,

The earth all black is Clothed in green , A t sunshine each their joy express .

’ M s y sun returned with healing wings , My soul and body do rejoice ; M y heart exults , and praises sings

To him that heard my wailing voice .

’ M s y winter past, my storms are gone , A nd former clouds seem now all fled ; But if they must eclipse again ’ 11 as e I run where I w succor d .

I have a shelter from the storm, A shadow from the fainting heat ; I have access unto his throne

Wh o is a God so wondrous great .

Oh , thou hast made my pilgrimage

Thus pleasant, fair, and good ; Blessed me in youth and elder age ; M B y aca made a springing flood . Occa si ona l Medi ta tions 3 3 1 I studious am what I shall do To Show my duty wi th delight ;

All can i s I give but thine own ,

A nd at the most a simple mite .

Se tem ber 0 1 6 . p 3 , 5 7 It pleased God to visit me with my old distemper of weakness and fainting, but not in that sore manner sometimes he hath . I desire not only willingly , but thankfully , to submit to him, for I trust it is out of his abundant love to my straying soul which in pros

erit p y is too much in love with the world . I have found by experience I can no more live without cor reéti o n co rre c than without food . Lord, with thy

i ns tru éti o n tion give and amendment, and then thy strokes shall be welcome . I have not been refined in

u affliéti o n the f rnace of as some have been , but have rather been preserved with sugar than brine ; yet will he preserve me to his heavenly kingdom .

Thus, dear Children , have ye seen the many sick nesses and weaknesses that I have passed through to the end that, if you meet with the like, you may have recourse to the same God who hath heard and de livered me, and will do the like for you if you trust

A nd di s in him . when he shall deliver you out of tress , forget not to give him thanks, but walk more closely with him than before . This is the desire of t A your loving mo her, . B . b Wr in s o Mr s nne B r a ds r 3 3 2 T e i t g f . A t eet

UPO N M Y SON SA MUEL HIS GOING FOR

EN A ND N EM E 6 1 6 GL , OV B R , 5 7 .

s ea Thou mighty God of and land , I here resign into thy hand

s o n The of prayers , of vows , of tears ,

The Child I stayed for many years .

Thou heardest me then , and gavest him me ;

: Hear me again I give him thee . ’ s 0 He mine, but more, Lord, thine own ,

For sure thy grace on him is shown .

No friend I have like thee to trust,

For mortal helps are brittle dust .

Preserve , O Lord, from storms and wreck ,

Protect him there , and bring him back ;

A nd if thou shalt spare me a space,

s ee his That I again may face ,

Then shall I celebrate thy praise ,

A n d bless thee for it all my days .

If otherwise I go to rest,

Thy will be done , for that is best ; Persuade my heart I shall him s ee

ha ified For ever pp with thee .

Ma 1 1 1 1 . y , 66 It hath pleased God to give me a long time of res pite for these four years that I have had no great fit of sickness ; but this year, from the middle of January

be Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 3 4 T g f .

A n humble , faithful life, O Lord, For ever let me walk Let my obedience testify M y praise lies not in talk .

A ccept, O Lord, my simple mite, For more I cannot give;

W bes to w es t hat thou I shall restore,

For of thine alms I live .

FOR T H E R ESTORA TION OF M Y D EA R U A M A U N A UE H SB ND FRO B RNI G G ,

U E 1 66 1 J N , .

When fears and sorrows me beset, Then didst thou rid me out ; W hen heart did faint and spirits quail ,

Thou comfortedst me about .

rais e dst Thou him up I feared to lose, R egaves t me him again ;

Distempers thou didst chase away , W ith strength didst him sustain . M y thankful heart, with pen record The goodness of thy God ; Let thy obedience testify

He taught thee by his rod,

And f with his sta f did thee support,

That thou by both mayst learn , Occas i ona l Medi ta ti ons 3 3 5

’ A nd twixt the good and evil w ay t A t last thou migh est discern .

Praises to him w ho hath not left M y soul as destitute ,

No r hi s turned ear away from me ,

But granted hath my suit .

UPO N M Y DA UGHTE R HA NNA H WIGGIN H ER R E COVERY FROM A D A N E U E E G RO S F V R .

Blest be thy name , who didst restore To health my daughter dear When death did seem e ’ en to approach

A nd life was ended near .

s he Grant remember what thou hast done,

A nd celebrate thy praise , A nd let her conversation say

She loves thee all thy days .

ON M Y SON ’ S R ETURN OUT OF

L AN U 1 1 6 1 E 6 . NG D , J LY 7 ,

All praise to him who hath now turned M y fears to joys, my sighs to song ,

M s ad y tears to smiles , my to glad ’ s He come for whom I waited long. be Wr i i s o rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 3 6 T t ng f M .

Thou didst preserve him as he went, In raging storms didst safely keep ; Didst that ship bring to quiet port

The other sank low in the deep . From dangers great thou didst him free

w ho Of pirates were near at hand, A nd o rdere dst s o the adverse wind

That he before them got to land .

In country strange thou didst provide ,

An d friends raised him in every place , A nd courtesies of sundry sorts ’ s a From such as fore ne er w his face .

In sickness when he lay full sore , His help and his physician wert ; W hen royal ones that time did die,

healedst Thou his flesh, and cheered his heart . From troubles and encumbers thou

W — — s e t ithout all fraud didst him free , That without scandal he might come To the land of his nativity ; On eagle ’ s wings him hither brought

Through want and dangers manifold, A nd thus hath granted my request That I thy mercies might behold . ! Oh , help me pay my vows, O Lord

thankfii l That ever I may be ,

Wr i tin s Mrs A nne r a ds Tbe g of . B tr eet

U phold my heart in thee , O God , Thou art my strength and stay ;

Thou seest how weak and frail I am ,

Hide not thy face away .

I , in obedience to thy will , Thou knowest did submit ; It was my duty so to do ; 0 Lord, accept of it . Unthankfulness for mercies past Impute thou not to me ;

O Lord, thou knowest my weak desire

Was to sing praise to thee .

Lord, be thou pilot to the ship , And send them prosperous gales ;

r In storms and sickness , Lord, prese ve

Thy goodness never fails . U nto thy work he hath in hand,

Lord, grant thou good success And favor in their eyes to whom

He shall make his address .

Remember, Lord, thy folk whom thou To wilderness hast brought ; Let not thine own inheritance

Be sold away for naught, But tokens of thy favor give

With joy send back my dear, Occasiona l Medi ta ti ons 3 39

That I , and all thy servants , may

n Rejoice with heave ly cheer .

s ee Lord , let my eyes once again

Him whom thou gavest me, That we together may sing praise For ever unto thee ;

A nd the remainder of our days Shall consecrated be With an engagéd heart to sing All praises unto thee .

MY SOLITA RY HOURS IN MY D EA R U AN A E H SB D HIS BSENC .

O Lord , thou hearest my daily moan, A nd seest my dropping tears ; M y troubles all are thee before , M y longings and my fears .

Thou hitherto hast been my God, Thy help my soul hath found ;

Though loss and sickness me assailed, ’ ve Through thee I kept my ground .

A nd thy abode thou hast made with me ; With thee my soul can talk

In secret places , thee I find

Where I do kneel or walk . 0 bc Wr i tin s rs Anne B r a ds tr eet 3 4 T g of M .

Though husband dear be from me gone, W hom I do love so well , I have a more beloved one W hose comforts far excel .

Oh, stay my heart on thee , my God , Uphold my fainting soul ; A nd when I know not what to do ’ 11 I on thy mercies roll .

My weakness thou dost knowfull well Of body and of mind ; I in this world no comfort have

But what from thee I find .

Though children thou hast given me,

A nd friends I have also , Yet if I s ee thee not through them

They are no joy, but woe .

Oh, shine upon me , blessed Lord, ’ ’ E en for my Saviour s sake ;

In thee alone is more than all , ’ A nd 11 there content I take .

Oh , hear me, Lord, in this request, A s thou before hast done

Bring back my husband, I beseech,

A s thou didst once my son . So shall I celebrate thy praise E ’ en while my days shall last,

bc Wr i tin s rs Anne B r a ds tr e 3 42 T g of M . e t

Thou wast the pilot to the ship , And raised him up when he was sick ; A nd hope thou hast given of good success

In this his business and address ,

A nd that thou wilt return him back W hose presence I so much do lack .

For all these mercies I thee praise , ’ A nd so desire e en all my days .

I N THA NKFUL R E MEMBRA NC E FOR M Y EA U AN ’ A E A A SEP D R H SB D S S F RRIV L ,

M E 1 662 E . T B R 3 , W hat shall I render to thy name , Or how thy praises speak ; My thanks how shall I testify ? ’ m O Lord , thou knowest I weak .

s o can I owe much , so little

Return unto thy name,

Confusion seizes on my soul ,

A nd I am filled with shame .

Oh , thou that hearest prayers , Lord, To thee shall come all flesh ;

m e e Thou hast heard and answer d,

My plaints have had access . What did I ask for but thou gavest ? What could I more desire Occas i ona l Medi ta ti ons 3 43

’ B u t thankfulness e en all my days ?

e I humbly this requir .

Thy mercies, Lord, have been so great,

In number numberless , Impossible for to recount

Or any way express .

Oh , help thy saints that sought thy face t To re urn unto thee praise, A nd walk before thee as they ought

s triét In and upright ways .

“ [ T his w as the last thing written in that book by ”— my dear and honored mother . Note by Simon

r Bradstreet, J. ]

[“ Here follow some verses upon the burning of l o th 1 666 our house, July , . Copied out of a loose ” r paper . Note by Simon Bradstreet, J. ]

In silent night, when rest I took, n For sorrow ear I did not look . I wakened w as with thundering noise

A nd piteous shrieks of dreadful voice . That fearful sound of Fire !” and “ Fire !”

Let no man know, is my desire .

s I, starting up, the light did py , A nd to my God my heart did cry W n s o r s Anne B r a ds tr eet Tbe r i ti g f M .

To strengthen me in my distress , A nd not to leave me succorless ;

Then coming out, beheld apace

- The flame consume my dwelling place .

A nd when I could no longer look

I blest his name that gave and took , That laid my goods now in the dust ;

s o s o Yea, it was , and t was just

It was his own ; it was not mine .

Far be it that I should repine .

He might of all justly bereft ,

f u s But yet su ficient for left . When by the ruins oft I passed M y sorrowing eyes aside did cast, A nd here and there the places spy

Where oft I sat, and long did lie

Here stood that trunk , and there that chest ; There lay that store I counted best ; M y pleasant things in ashes lie,

A nd them behold no more shall I .

U sit nder thy roof no guest shall , Nor at thy table eat a bit ;

’ No pleasant tale Shall e er be told, Nor things recounted done of old ; ’ No candle e er shall shine in thee, ’ ’ r Nor bridegroom s voice e er hea d shall be .

6 Tbc Wr i tin s o Mrs Anne B r a ds tr ee 3 4 g f . t

A [ nother loose paper . ]

A s weary pilgrim, now at rest,

Hugs with delight his silent nest, His wasted limbs now lie full soft That miry steps have trodden oft ; Blesses himself to think upon His dangers past and travails done ;

su n The burning no more shall heat, Nor stormy rains on him shall beat ;

The briars and thorns no more shall scratch , Nor hungry wolves at him shall catch ;

He erring paths no more shall tread,

No r wild fruits eat, instead of bread ;

For waters cold he doth not long, For thirst no more shall parch his tongue;

No rugged stones his feet shall gall , Nor stumps nor rocks cause him to fall ; All cares and fears he bids farewell , A nd means in safety now to dwell A pilgrim I on earth, perplexed

With sins , with cares and sorrows vexed,

By age and pains brought to decay,

A nd my clay house mouldering away,

Oh , how I long to be at rest , A nd soar on high among the blest !

This body shall in Silence sleep , Mine eyes no more shall ever weep ; s wea r P il r im now a t r es t A y g , 3 47

No fainting fits shall me assail ,

Nor grinding pains my. body frail , W ’ ith cares and fears ne er cumbered be,

s ee Nor losses know, nor sorrows . What though my flesh shall there consume ? It is the bed Christ did perfu me ; A nd when a few years shall be gone

This mortal shall be clothed upon . A corrupt carcass down it lies, A glorious body it shall rise ;

e In w akness and dishonor sown , ’ t In power is raised by Christ alone .

Then soul and body shall unite, And of their maker have the sight ; Such lasting joys shall there behold

’ ’ A s ear ne er heard nor tongue e!er told . Lord , make me ready for that day

Then come , dear bridegroom , come away .

A 1 1 66 . ugust 3 , 9

M TH E DUOD ECI OS .

C WI L SON New FRAN IS , Rochelle,

V i ce P r eridefl t .

PA U L L EMP ER L Y . , Cleveland

Secr eta ry a nd T r ea m r er

W Y G A . W . IRVIN , Chicago

BEN B . T . CA LE, Rock Island, Illinois

M . E MU . D ND H GARRETT, Winchester, ass

E Y . DWARD STRATTON HOLLOWA , Philadelphia

K E P K N FRAN . HO I S, New York .

M H e N w . BRANDER ATT EWS, York

D E M . WITT ILLER, Philadelphia

B UA HER ERT ST RT STONE, Chicago .

C N LEON H . VIN E T, Philadelphia .

A . . H LP Y . W W E LE , Cincinnati