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Pray ponder these verses which briefly do show them.
1 Written towards 1630; the oldest known composition in Eng. lish verse by an American colonist.
And when it is growing some spoil there is made
ANNE BRADSTREET. [Born in England in 1613, daughter of Thomas Dudley, steward to the Earl of Lincoln ; died in New England in 1672. She married in 1629 Simon Bradstreet, who appears at that date to have been the successor to her father as the Earl's steward : in the following year all three, with other Nonconformists, settled in New England. As may readily be inferred from the very early age at which she left her native shores, Mrs. Bradstreet, as an authoress, belongs exclusively to America. The first collection of her poems was published at Boston in 1640, with the long title of Several Poems, compiled with great variety of wit and learning, full of delizht, wherein especially is contained a Complete Discourse and De scription of the Four Elements, Constitutions, Ages of Man, and Seasons of the Year; together with an Exact Epitome of the Three First Monarchies, viz.: the Assyrian, Persian, and Grecian, and the Beginning of the Roman Commonwealth to the end of their last King; with divers other pleasant and serious Poems. By a Gentlewoman of New England. This volume was reprinted in London in 1650 ; the lofty title of “The Tenth Muse, lately sprung up in America,” being awarded to the authoress. Besides her literary deservings, Mrs. Bradstreet appears to have been a loveable anál excellent woman. Both her father and her husband became Gcvernors of Massachusetts. After her death, the latter married again ; and, living not much less than a century, was termed “the Nestor of New England.” Many of Mrs. Bradstreet's descendants --among them the poet Dana—have been distinguished for ability.)
ELEGY ON A GRANDCHILD. FAREWELL, dear child, my heart's too much content,
Farewell, sweet babe, the pleasure of mine eye;
Then ta'en away into eternity.
By Nature trees do rot when they are grown,
And plums and apples throughly ripe do fall, And corn and grass are in their season mown,
And time brings down what is both strong and tall. But plants new-set to be eradicate, And buds new-blown to have so short a date, Is by His hand alone that Nature guides, and Fate.
TO HER HUSBAND:
WRITTEN IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. How soon, my dear, death may my steps attend, How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend, We both are ignorant. Yet love bids me These farewell lines to recommend to thee, That, when that knot's untied that made us one, I may seem thine, who in effect am none. And, if I see not half my days that's due, What Nature would God grant to yours and you. The many faults that well you know I have Let be interred in my oblivious grave; If any worth or virtue is in me, Let that live freshly in my memory. And when thou feel'st no grief, I no harms, Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms; And, when thy loss shall be repaid with gains, Look to my little babes, my dear remains, And, if thou lov'st thyself or lovest me, These oh protect from stepdame's injury! And, if chance to thine eyes doth bring this verse, With some sad sighs honour my absent hearse; And kiss this paper, for thy love's dear sake, Who with salt tears this last farewell doth take.
WASHINGTON ALLSTON. (Born in 1779, died in 1843. Known principally as a painter. His longest poem named The Sylphs of the Seasons, published in 1813)
That sad, unearthly strain,
And dropped them from the skies.
-never came from aught below
That veils the world I see.
“For all I see around me wears
The hue of other spheres ;
So like angelic bliss."
When the last lingering ray
In music to her soul.