Anne Bradstreet - The Four Seasons of the Year

Anne Bradstreet was the first woman to be recognized as an accomplished New World Poet. Her volume of poetry The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America ... received considerable favorable attention when it was first published in London in 1650. Eight years after it appeared it was listed by William London in his Catalogue of the Most Vendible Books in England, and George III is reported to have had the volume in his library. Bradstreet's work has endured, and she is still considered to be one of the most important early American poets.

 

The first section of The Tenth Muse ... includes four long poems, known as the quaternions:

 

"The Four Elements,"

"The Four Humors of Man,"

"The Four Ages of Man,"

"The Four Seasons"

 

Each poem consists of a series of orations; the first by earth, air, fire, and water; the second by choler, blood, melancholy, and flegme; the third by childhood, youth, middle age, and old age; the fourth by spring, summer, fall, and winter. In these quaternions Bradstreet demonstrates a mastery of physiology, anatomy, astronomy, Greek metaphysics, and the concepts of medieval and Renaissance cosmology. Although she draws heavily on Sylvester's translation of du Bartas and Helkiah Crooke's anatomical treatise Microcosmographia (1615), Bradstreet's interpretation of their images is often strikingly dramatic. Sometimes she uses material from her own life in these historical and philosophical discourses.

 

- The Poetry Foundation

 

The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America,
printed at London, 1650

 

 

The Four Seasons of the Year

by Anne Bradstreet, c.1612-1672

 

Spring

Another four I've left yet to bring on,
Of four times four the last Quaternion,
The Winter, Summer, Autumn & the Spring,
In season all these Seasons I shall bring:
Sweet Spring like man in his Minority,
At present claim'd, and had priority.
With smiling face and garments somewhat green,
She trim'd her locks, which late had frosted been,
Nor hot nor cold, she spake, but with a breath,
Fit to revive, the nummed earth from death.
Three months (quoth she) are 'lotted to my share
March, April, May of all the rest most fair.
Tenth of the first, Sol into Aries enters,
And bids defiance to all tedious winters,
Crosseth the Line, and equals night and day,
(Stil adds to th'last til after pleasant May)
And now makes glad the darkned northern wights
Who for some months have seen but starry lights.
Now goes the Plow-man to his merry toyle,
He might unloose his winter locked soyl:
The Seeds-man too, doth lavish out his grain,
In hope the more he casts, the more to gain:
The Gardner now superfluous branches lops,
And poles erects for his young clambring hops.
Now digs then sowes his herbs, his flowers & roots
And carefully manures his trees of fruits.
The Pleiades their influence now give,
And all that seem'd as dead afresh doth live.
The croaking frogs, whom nipping winter kil'd
Like birds now chirp, and hop about the field,
The Nightingale, the black-bird and the Thrush
Now tune their layes, on sprayes of every bush.
The wanton frisking Kid, and soft-fleec'd 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
The pinching North-west wind of cold December.
My second moneth is April, green and fair,
Of longer dayes, and a more temperate Air:
The Sun in Taurus keeps his residence,
And with his warmer beams glanceth from thence
This is the month whose fruitful showrs produces
All set and sown for all delights and uses:
The Pear, the Plum, and Apple-tree now flourish
The grass grows long the hungry beast to nourish.
The Primrose pale, and azure violet
Among the virduous grass hath nature set,
That when the Sun on's Love (the earth) doth shine
These might as lace set out her garment fine.
The fearfull bird his little house now builds
In trees and walls, in Cities and in fields.
The outside strong, the inside warm and neat;
A natural Artificer compleat.
The clocking hen her chirping chickins leads
With wings & beak defends them from the gleads
My next and last is fruitfull pleasant May,
Wherein the earth is clad in rich aray,
The Sun now enters loving Gemini,
And heats us with the glances of his eye,
Our thicker rayment makes us lay aside
Lest by his fervor we be torrifi'd.
All flowers the Sun now with his beams discloses,
Except the double pinks and matchless Roses.
Now swarms the busy, witty, honey-Bee,
VVhose praise deserves a page from more then me
The cleanly Huswifes Dary's now in th'prime,
Her shelves and firkins fill'd for winter time.
The meads with Cowslips, Honey-suckles dight,
One hangs his head, the other stands upright:
But both rejoyce at th'heavens clear smiling face,
More at her showers, which water them a space.
For fruits my Season yields the early Cherry,
The hasty Peas, and wholsome cool Strawberry.
More solid fruits require a longer time,
Each Season hath his fruit, so hath each Clime:
Each man his own peculiar excellence,
But none in all that hath preheminence.
Sweet fragrant Spring, with thy short pittance fly
Let some describe thee better then can I.
Yet above all this priviledg is thine,
Thy dayes still lengthen without least decline:


Summer

When Spring had done, the Summer did begin,
With melted tauny face, and garments thin,
Resembling Fire, Choler, and Middle age,
As Spring did Air, Blood, Youth in's equipage.
Wiping the sweat from of her face that ran,
With hair all wet she puffing thus began;
Bright June, July and August hot are mine,
In'th first Sol doth in crabbed Cancer shine.
His progress to the North now's fully done,
Then retrograde must be my burning Sun,
Who to his southward Tropick still is bent,
Yet doth his parching heat but more augment
Though he decline, because his flames so fair,
Have throughly dry'd the earth, and heat the air.
Like as an Oven that long time hath been heat,
Whose vehemency at length doth grow so great,
That if you do withdraw her burning store,
Tis for a time as fervent as before.
Now go those frolick Swains, the Shepherd Lads
To wash the thick cloth'd flocks with pipes full glad
In the cool streams they labour with delight
Rubbing their dirty coats till they look white:
Whose fleece when finely spun and deeply dy'd
With Robes thereof Kings have been dignifi'd.
Blest rustick Swains, your pleasant quiet life,
Hath envy bred in Kings that were at strife,
Careless of worldly wealth you sing and pipe,
Whilst they'r imbroyl'd in wars & troubles rise:
VVhich made great Bajazet cry out in's woes,
Oh happy shepherd which hath not to lose.
Orthobulus, nor yet Sebastia great,
But whist'leth to thy flock in cold and heat.
Viewing the Sun by day, the Moon by night
Endimions, Dianaes dear delight,
Upon the grass resting your healthy limbs,
By purling Brooks looking how fishes swims.
If pride within your lowly Cells ere haunt,
Of him that was Shepherd then King go vaunt.
This moneth the Roses are distil'd in glasses,
VVhose fragrant smel all made perfumes surpasses
The Cherry, Gooseberry are now in th'prime,
And for all sorts of Pease, this is the time.
July my next, the hott'st in all the year,
The sun through Leo now takes his Career,
VVhose flaming breath doth melt us from afar,
Increased by the star Canicular.
This Month from Julius Cæsar took its name,
By Romans celebrated to his fame.
Now go the Mowers to their slashing toyle,
The Meadowes of their riches to dispoyle,
VVith weary strokes, they take all in their way,
Bearing the burning heat of the long day.
The forks and Rakes do follow them amain,
VVhich makes the aged fields look young again.
The groaning Carts do bear away this prize.
To Stacks and Barns where it for Fodder lyes.
My next and last is August fiery hot
(For much, the Southward Sun abateth not)
This Moneth he keeps with Virgo for a space,
The dryed Earth is parched with his face.
August of great Augustus took its name,
Romes second Emperour of lasting fame,
With sickles now the bending Reapers goe
The russling tress of terra down to mowe;
And bundles up in sheaves, the weighty wheat,
Which after Manchet makes for Kings to eat:
The Barly, Rye and Pease should first had place,
Although their bread have not so white a face.
The Carter leads all home with whistling voyce,
He plow'd with pain, but reaping doth rejoyce;
His sweat, his toyle, his careful wakeful nights,
His fruitful Crop abundantly requites.
Now's ripe the Pear, Pear-plumb, and Apricock,
The prince of plumbs, whose stone's as hard as Rock
The Summer seems but short, the Autumn hasts
To shake his fruits, of most delicious tasts
Like good old Age, whose younger juicy Roots
Hath still ascended, to bear goodly fruits.
Until his head be gray, and strength be gone.
Yet then appears the worthy deeds he'th done:
To feed his boughs exhausted hath his sap,
Then drops his fruits into the eaters lap.


Autumn

Of Autumn moneths September is the prime,
Now day and night are equal in each Clime,
The twelfth of this Sol riseth in the Line,
And doth in poizing Libra this month shine.
The vintage now is ripe, the grapes are prest,
Whose lively liquor oft is curs'd and blest:
For nought so good, but it may be abused,
But its a precious juice when well its used.
The raisins now in clusters dryed be,
The Orange, Lemon dangle on the tree:
The Pomegranate, the Fig are ripe also,
And Apples now their yellow sides do show.
Of Almonds, Quinces, Wardens, and of Peach,
The season's now at hand of all and each.
Sure at this time, time first of all began,
And in this moneth was made apostate Man:
For then in Eden was not only seen,
Boughs full of leaves, or fruits unripe or green,
Or withered stocks, which were all dry and dead,
But trees with goodly fruits replenished;
Which shews nor Summer, Winter nor the Spring
Our Grand-Sire was of Paradice made King:
Nor could that temp'rate Clime such difference make,
If scited as the most Judicious take.
October is my next, we hear in this
The Northern winter-blasts begin to hiss.
In Scorpio resideth now the Sun,
And his declining heat is almost done.
The fruitless Trees all withered now do stand,
Whose sapless yellow leavs, by winds are fan'd,
Which notes when youth and strength have past their prime
Decrepit age must also have its time.
The Sap doth slily creep towards the Earth
There rests, until the Sun give it a birth.
So doth old Age still tend unto his grave,
Where also he his winter time must have;
But when the Sun of righteousness draws nigh,
His dead old stock, shall mount again on high.
November is my last, for Time doth haste,
We now of winters sharpness 'gins to tast.
This moneth the Sun's in Sagitarius,
So farre remote, his glances warm not us.
Almost at shortest is the shorten'd day,
The Northern pole beholdeth not one ray.
Now Greenland, Groanland, Finland, Lapland, see
No Sun, to lighten their obscurity:
Poor wretches that in total darkness lye,
With minds more dark then is the dark'ned Sky.
Beaf, Brawn, and Pork are now in great request,
And solid meats our stomacks can digest.
This time warm cloaths, full diet, and good fires,
Our pinched flesh, and hungry mawes requires:
Old, cold, dry Age and Earth Autumn resembles,
And Melancholy which most of all dissembles.
I must be short, and shorts, the short'ned day,
What winter hath to tell, now let him say.


Winter

Cold, moist, young flegmy winter now doth lye
In swadling Clouts, like new born Infancy
Bound up with frosts, and furr'd with hail & snows,
And like an Infant, still it taller grows;
December is my first, and now the Sun
To th'Southward Tropick, his swift race doth run:
This moneth he's hous'd in horned Capricorn,
From thence he 'gins to length the shortned morn,
Through Christendome with great Feastivity,
Now's held, (but ghest) for blest Nativity.
Cold frozen January next comes in,
Chilling the blood and shrinking up the skin;
In Aquarius now keeps the long wisht Sun,
And Northward his unwearied Course doth run:
The day much longer then it was before,
The cold not lessened, but augmented more.
Now Toes and Ears, and Fingers often freeze,
And Travellers their noses sometimes leese.
Moist snowie February is my last,
I care not how the winter time doth haste.
In Pisces now the golden Sun doth shine,
And Northward still approaches to the Line,
The Rivers 'gin to ope, the snows to melt,
And some warm glances from his face are felt;
Which is increased by the lengthen'd day,
Until by's heat, he drive all cold away,
And thus the year in Circle runneth round:
Where first it did begin, in th'end its found.
My Subjects bare, my Brain is bad,
Or better Lines you should have had:
The first fell in so nat'rally,
I knew not how to pass it by;
The last, though bad I could not mend,
Accept therefore of what is pen'd,
And all the faults that you shall spy
Shall at your feet for pardon cry.





 

Anne Bradstreet - The Four Elements

Anne Bradstreet was the first woman to be recognized as an accomplished New World Poet. Her volume of poetry The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America ... received considerable favorable attention when it was first published in London in 1650. Eight years after it appeared it was listed by William London in his Catalogue of the Most Vendible Books in England, and George III is reported to have had the volume in his library. Bradstreet's work has endured, and she is still considered to be one of the most important early American poets.

 

The first section of The Tenth Muse ... includes four long poems, known as the quaternions:

 

"The Four Elements,"

"The Four Humors of Man,"

"The Four Ages of Man,"

"The Four Seasons"

 

Each poem consists of a series of orations; the first by earth, air, fire, and water; the second by choler, blood, melancholy, and flegme; the third by childhood, youth, middle age, and old age; the fourth by spring, summer, fall, and winter. In these quaternions Bradstreet demonstrates a mastery of physiology, anatomy, astronomy, Greek metaphysics, and the concepts of medieval and Renaissance cosmology. Although she draws heavily on Sylvester's translation of du Bartas and Helkiah Crooke's anatomical treatise Microcosmographia (1615), Bradstreet's interpretation of their images is often strikingly dramatic. Sometimes she uses material from her own life in these historical and philosophical discourses.

 

- The Poetry Foundation



The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America,
printed at London, 1650

The Four Elements

by Anne Bradstreet, c.1612-1672

The Fire, Air, Earth and water did contest
Which was the strongest, noblest and the best,
Who was of greatest use and might'est force;
In placide Terms they thought now to discourse,
That in due order each her turn should speak;
But enmity this amity did break
All would be chief, and all scorn'd to be under
Whence issu'd winds & rains, lightning & thunder
The quaking earth did groan, the Sky lookt black
The Fire, the forced Air, in sunder crack;
The sea did threat the heav'ns, the heavn's the earth,
All looked like a Chaos or new birth:
Fire broyled Earth, & scorched Earth it choaked
Both by their darings, water so provoked
That roaring in it came, and with its source
Soon made the Combatants abate their force
The rumbling hissing, puffing was so great
The worlds confusion, it did seem to threat
Till gentle Air, Contention so abated
That betwixt hot and cold, she arbitrated
The others difference, being less did cease
All storms now laid, and they in perfect peace
That Fire should first begin, the rest consent,
The noblest and most active Element.





 

Anne Bradstreet - The Four Ages of Man

Anne Bradstreet was the first woman to be recognized as an accomplished New World Poet. Her volume of poetry The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America ... received considerable favorable attention when it was first published in London in 1650. Eight years after it appeared it was listed by William London in his Catalogue of the Most Vendible Books in England, and George III is reported to have had the volume in his library. Bradstreet's work has endured, and she is still considered to be one of the most important early American poets.

 

The first section of The Tenth Muse ... includes four long poems, known as the quaternions:

"The Four Elements,"

"The Four Humors of Man,"

"The Four Ages of Man,"

"The Four Seasons"

Each poem consists of a series of orations; the first by earth, air, fire, and water; the second by choler, blood, melancholy, and flegme; the third by childhood, youth, middle age, and old age; the fourth by spring, summer, fall, and winter. In these quaternions Bradstreet demonstrates a mastery of physiology, anatomy, astronomy, Greek metaphysics, and the concepts of medieval and Renaissance cosmology. Although she draws heavily on Sylvester's translation of du Bartas and Helkiah Crooke's anatomical treatise Microcosmographia (1615), Bradstreet's interpretation of their images is often strikingly dramatic. Sometimes she uses material from her own life in these historical and philosophical discourses.

- The Poetry Foundation

The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America,
printed at London, 1650

The Four Ages of Man

by Anne Bradstreet, c.1612-1672

[Introduction]

 

Lo now! four other acts upon the stage,

Childhood, and Youth, the Manly, and Old-age.

The first: son unto Phlegm, grand-child to water,

Unstable, supple, moist, and cold’s his Nature.

The second: frolic claims his pedigree;

From blood and air, for hot and moist is he.

The third of fire and choler is compos’d,

Vindicative, and quarrelsome dispos’d.

The last, of earth and heavy melancholy,

Solid, hating all lightness, and all folly.

Childhood was cloth’d in white, and given to show,

His spring was intermixed with some snow.

Upon his head a Garland Nature set:

Of Daisy, Primrose, and the Violet.

Such cold mean flowers (as these) blossom betime,

Before the Sun hath throughly warm’d the clime.

His hobby striding, did not ride, but run,

And in his hand an hour-glass new begun,

In dangers every moment of a fall,

And when ‘tis broke, then ends his life and all.

But if he held till it have run its last,

Then may he live till threescore years or past.

Next, youth came up in gorgeous attire

(As that fond age, doth most of all desire),

His Suit of Crimson, and his Scarf of Green.

In’s countenance, his pride quickly was seen.

Garland of Roses, Pinks, and Gillyflowers

Seemed to grow on’s head (bedew’d with showers).

His face as fresh, as is Aurora fair,

When blushing first, she ‘gins to red the Air.

No wooden horse, but one of metal try’d:

He seems to fly, or swim, and not to ride.

Then prancing on the Stage, about he wheels;

But as he went, death waited at his heels.

The next came up, in a more graver sort,

As one that cared for a good report.

His Sword by’s side, and choler in his eyes,

But neither us’d (as yet) for he was wise,

Of Autumn fruits a basket on his arm,

His golden rod in’s purse, which was his charm.

And last of all, to act upon this Stage,

Leaning upon his staff, comes up old age.

Under his arm a Sheaf of wheat he bore,

A Harvest of the best: what needs he more?

In’s other hand a glass, ev’n almost run,

This writ about: This out, then I am done.

His hoary hairs and grave aspect made way,

And all gave ear to what he had to say.

These being met, each in his equipage

Intend to speak, according to their age,

But wise Old-age did with all gravity

To childish childhood give precedency,

And to the rest, his reason mildly told:

That he was young, before he grew so old.

To do as he, the rest full soon assents,

Their method was that of the Elements,

That each should tell what of himself he knew,

Both good and bad, but yet no more then’s true.

With heed now stood, three ages of frail man,

To hear the child, who crying, thus began.

 

 

Childhood

 

Ah me! conceiv’d in sin, and born in sorrow,

A nothing, here to day, but gone to morrow,

Whose mean beginning, blushing can’t reveal,

But night and darkness must with shame conceal.

My mother’s breeding sickness, I will spare,

Her nine months’ weary burden not declare.

To shew her bearing pangs, I should do wrong,

To tell that pain, which can’t be told by tongue.

With tears into this world I did arrive;

My mother still did waste, as I did thrive,

Who yet with love and all alacity,

Spending was willing to be spent for me.

With wayward cries, I did disturb her rest,

Who sought still to appease me with her breast;

With weary arms, she danc’d, and By, By, sung,

When wretched I (ungrate) had done the wrong.

When Infancy was past, my Childishness

Did act all folly that it could express.

My silliness did only take delight,

In that which riper age did scorn and slight,

In Rattles, Bables, and such toyish stuff.

My then ambitious thoughts were low enough.

My high-born soul so straitly was confin’d

That its own worth it did not know nor mind.

This little house of flesh did spacious count,

Through ignorance, all troubles did surmount,

Yet this advantage had mine ignorance,

Freedom from Envy and from Arrogance.

How to be rich, or great, I did not cark,

A Baron or a Duke ne’r made my mark,

Nor studious was, Kings favours how to buy,

With costly presents, or base flattery;

No office coveted, wherein I might

Make strong my self and turn aside weak right.

No malice bare to this or that great Peer,

Nor unto buzzing whisperers gave ear.

I gave no hand, nor vote, for death, of life.

I’d nought to do, ‘twixt Prince, and peoples’ strife.

No Statist I: nor Marti’list i’ th’ field.

Where e’re I went, mine innocence was shield.

My quarrels, not for Diadems, did rise,

But for an Apple, Plumb, or some such prize.

My strokes did cause no death, nor wounds, nor scars.

My little wrath did cease soon as my wars.

My duel was no challenge, nor did seek.

My foe should weltering, with his bowels reek.

I had no Suits at law, neighbours to vex,

Nor evidence for land did me perplex.

I fear’d no storms, nor all the winds that blows.

I had no ships at Sea, no fraughts to loose.

I fear’d no drought, nor wet; I had no crop,

Nor yet on future things did place my hope.

This was mine innocence, but oh the seeds

Lay raked up of all the cursed weeds,

Which sprouted forth in my insuing age,

As he can tell, that next comes on the stage.

But yet me let me relate, before I go,

The sins and dangers I am subject to:

From birth stained, with Adam’s sinful fact,

From thence I ‘gan to sin, as soon as act;

A perverse will, a love to what’s forbid;

A serpent’s sting in pleasing face lay hid;

A lying tongue as soon as it could speak

And fifth Commandment do daily break;

Oft stubborn, peevish, sullen, pout, and cry;

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

As many was my sins, so dangers too,

For sin brings sorrow, sickness, death, and woe,

And though I miss the tossings of the mind,

Yet griefs in my frail flesh I still do find.

What gripes of wind, mine infancy did pain?

What tortures I, in breeding teeth sustain?

What crudities my cold stomach hath bred?

Whence vomits, worms, and flux have issued?

What breaches, knocks, and falls I daily have?

And some perhaps, I carry to my grave.

Sometimes in fire, sometimes in water fall:

Strangely preserv’d, yet mind it not at all.

At home, abroad, my danger’s manifold

That wonder ‘tis, my glass till now doth hold.

I’ve done: unto my elders I give way,

For ‘tis but little that a child can say.

 

 

Youth

 

My goodly clothing and beauteous skin

Declare some greater riches are within,

But what is best I‘ll first present to view,

And then the worst, in a more ugly hue,

For thus to do we on this Stage assemble,

Then let not him, which hath most craft dissemble.

Mine education, and my learning‘s such,

As might my self, and others, profit much:

With nurture trained up in virtue‘s Schools;

Of Science, Arts, and Tongues, I know the rules;

The manners of the Court, I likewise know,

Nor ignorant what they in Country do.

The brave attempts of valiant Knights I prize

That dare climb Battlements, rear‘d to the skies.

The snorting Horse, the Trumpet, Drum I like,

The glist‘ring Sword, and well advanced Pike.

I cannot lie in trench before a Town,

Nor wait til good advice our hopes do crown.

I scorn the heavy Corslet, Musket-proof;

I fly to catch the Bullet that‘s aloof.

Though thus in field, at home, to all most kind,

So affable that I do suit each mind,

I can insinuate into the breast

And by my mirth can raise the heart deprest.

Sweet Music rapteth my harmonious Soul,

And elevates my thoughts above the Pole.

My wit, my bounty, and my courtesy

Makes all to place their future hopes on me.

This is my best, but youth (is known) alas,

To be as wild as is the snuffing Ass,

As vain as froth, as vanity can be,

That who would see vain man may look on me:

My gifts abus‘d, my education lost,

My woful Parents‘ longing hopes all crost;

My wit evaporates in merriment;

My valour in some beastly quarrel‘s spent;

Martial deeds I love not, ‘cause they’re virtuous,

But doing so, might seem magnanimous.

My Lust doth hurry me to all that’s ill,

I know no Law, nor reason, but my will;

Sometimes lay wait to take a wealthy purse

Or stab the man in’s own defence, that’s worse.

Sometimes I cheat (unkind) a female Heir

Of all at once, who not so wise, as fair,

Trusteth my loving looks and glozing tongue

Until her friends, treasure, and honour’s gone.

Sometimes I sit carousing others’ health

Until mine own be gone, my wit, and wealth.

From pipe to pot, from pot to words and blows,

For he that loveth Wine wanteth no woes.

Days, nights, with Ruffins, Roarers, Fiddlers spend,

To all obscenity my ears I bend,

All counsel hate which tends to make me wise,

And dearest friends count for mine enemies.

If any care I take, ‘tis to be fine,

For sure my suit more than my virtues shine.

If any time from company I spare,

‘Tis spent in curling, frisling up my hair,

Some young Adonais I do strive to be.

Sardana Pallas now survives in me.

Cards, Dice, and Oaths, concomitant, I love;

To Masques, to Plays, to Taverns still I move;

And in a word, if what I am you’d hear,

Seek out a British, bruitish Cavalier.

Such wretch, such monster am I; but yet more

I want a heart all this for to deplore.

Thus, thus alas! I have mispent my time,

My youth, my best, my strength, my bud, and prime,

Remembring not the dreadful day of Doom,

Nor yet the heavy reckoning for to come,

Though dangers do attend me every hour

And ghastly death oft threats me with her power:

Sometimes by wounds in idle combats taken,

Sometimes by Agues all my body shaken;

Sometimes by Fevers, all my moisture drinking,

My heart lies frying, and my eyes are sinking.

Sometimes the Cough, Stitch, painful Pleurisy,

With sad affrights of death, do menace me.

Sometimes the loathsome Pox my face be-mars

With ugly marks of his eternal scars.

Sometimes the Frenzy strangely mads my Brain

That oft for it in Bedlam I remain.

Too many’s my Diseases to recite,

That wonder ‘tis I yet behold the light,

That yet my bed in darkness is not made,

And I in black oblivion’s den long laid.

Of Marrow full my bones, of Milk my breasts,

Ceas’d by the gripes of Serjeant Death's Arrests:

Thus I have said, and what I’ve said you see,

Childhood and youth is vain, yea vanity.

 

 

Middle Age

 

Childhood and youth forgot, sometimes I’ve seen,

And now am grown more staid that have been green,

What they have done, the same was done by me:

As was their praise, or shame, so mine must be.

Now age is more, more good ye do expect;

But more my age, the more is my defect.

But what’s of worth, your eyes shall first behold,

And then a world of dross among my gold.

When my Wild Oats were sown, and ripe, and mown,

I then receiv’d a harvest of mine own.

My reason, then bad judge, how little hope

Such empty seed should yield a better crop.

I then with both hands graspt the world together,

Thus out of one extreme into another,

But yet laid hold on virtue seemingly:

Who climbs without hold, climbs dangerously.

Be my condition mean, I then take pains

My family to keep, but not for gains.

If rich, I’m urged then to gather more

To bear me out i’ th’ world and feed the poor;

If a father, then for children must provide,

But if none, then for kindred near ally’d;

If Noble, then mine honour to maintain;

If not, yet wealth, 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 sent,

Whose loins I’ve cloth’d, and bellies I have fed,

With mine own fleece, and with my household bread.

Yea, justice I have done, was I in place,

To cheer the good and wicked to deface.

The proud I crush’d, th’oppressed I set free,

The liars curb’d but nourisht verity.

Was I a pastor, I my flock did feed

And gently lead the lambs, as they had need.

A Captain I, with skill I train’d my band

And shew’d them how in face of foes to stand.

If a Soldier, with speed I did obey

As readily as could my Leader say.

Was I a laborer, I wrought all day

As cheerfully as ere I took my pay.

Thus hath mine age (in all) sometimes done well;

Sometimes mine age (in all) been worse than hell.

In meanness, greatness, riches, poverty

Did toil, did broil; oppress’d, did steal and lie.

Was I as poor as poverty could be,

Then baseness was companion unto me.

Such scum as Hedges and High-ways do yield,

As neither sow, nor reap, nor plant, nor build.

If to Agriculture I was ordain’d,

Great labours, sorrows, crosses I sustain’d.

The early Cock did summon, but in vain,

My wakeful thoughts up to my painful gain.

For restless day and night, I’m robb’d of sleep

By cankered care, who sentinel doth keep.

My weary breast rest from his toil can find,

But if I rest, the more distrest my mind.

If happiness my sordidness hath found,

‘Twas in the crop of my manured ground:

My fatted Ox, and my exuberous Cow,

My fleeced Ewe, and ever farrowing Sow.

To greater things I never did aspire,

My dunghill thoughts or hopes could reach no higher.

If to be rich, or great, it was my fate.

How was I broil’d with envy, and with hate?

Greater than was the great’st was my desire,

And greater still, did set my heart on fire.

If honour was the point to which I steer’d,

To run my hull upon disgrace I fear’d,

But by ambitious sails I was so carried

That over flats, and sands, and rocks I hurried,

Opprest, and sunk, and sack’d, all in my way

That did oppose me to my longed bay.

My thirst was higher than Nobility

And oft long’d sore to taste on Royalty,

Whence poison, Pistols, and dread instruments

Have been curst furtherers of mine intents.

Nor Brothers, Nephews, Sons, nor Sires I’ve spar’d.

When to a Monarchy my way they barr'’d,

There set, I rid my self straight out of hand

Of such as might my son, or his withstand,

Then heapt up gold and riches as the clay,

Which others scatter like the dew in May.

Sometimes vain-glory is the only bait

Whereby my empty school is lur’d and caught.

Be I of worth, of learning, or of parts,

I judge I should have room in all men’s hearts;

And envy gnaws if any do surmount.

I hate for to be had in small account.

If Bias like, I’m stript unto my skin;

I glory in my wealth I have within.

Thus good, and bad, and what I am, you see,

Now in a word, what my diseases be:

The vexing Stone, in bladder and in reins,

Torments me with intolerable pains;

The windy cholic oft my bowels rend,

To break the darksome prison, where it’s penn’d;

The knotty Gout doth sadly torture me,

And the restraining lame Sciatica;

The Quinsy and the Fevers often distaste me,

And the Consumption to the bones doth waste me,

Subject to all Diseases, that’s the truth,

Though some more incident to age, or youth;

And to conclude, I may not tedious be,

Man at his best estate is vanity.

 

 

Old Age

 

What you have been, ev’n such have I before,

And all you say, say I, and something more.

Babe's innocence, Youth’s wildness I have seen,

And in perplexed Middle-age have been,

Sickness, dangers, and anxieties have past,

And on this Stage am come to act my last.

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

But now, Bis pueri senes is too true.

In every Age I’ve found much vanity.

An end of all perfection now I see.

It’s not my valour, honour, nor my gold,

My ruin’d house, now falling can uphold;

It’s not my Learning, Rhetoric, wit so large,

Now hath the power, Death’s Warfare, to discharge.

It’s not my goodly house, nor bed of down,

That can refresh, or ease, if Conscience frown;

Nor from alliance now can I have hope,

But what I have done well, that is my prop.

He that in youth is godly, wise, and sage

Provides a staff for to support his age.

Great mutations, some joyful, and some sad,

In this short Pilgrimage I oft have had.

Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smil’d on me,

Sometimes, again, rain’d all adversity;

Sometimes in honour, sometimes in disgrace,

Sometime an abject, then again in place:

Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen.

In various times of state I’ve also been.

I’ve seen a Kingdom flourish like a tree

When it was rul’d by that Celestial she,

And like a Cedar others so surmount

That but for shrubs they did themselves account.

Then saw I France, and Holland sav’d, Calais won,

And Philip and Albertus half undone.

I saw all peace at home, terror to foes,

But ah, I saw at last those eyes to close,

And then, me thought, the world at noon grew dark

When it had lost that radiant Sun-like spark.

In midst of griefs, I saw some hopes revive

(For ‘twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive);

I saw hopes dash’t, our forwardness was shent,

And silenc’d we, by Act of Parliament.

I’ve seen from Rome, an execrable thing,

A plot to blow up Nobles and their King.

I’ve seen designs at Ree and Cades cross’t,

And poor Palatinate for every lost.

I’ve seen a Prince to live on others’ lands,

A Royal one, by alms from Subjects’ hands.

I’ve seen base men, advanc’d to great degree,

And worthy ones, put to extremity,

But not their Prince’s love, nor state so high,

Could once reverse, their shameful destiny.

I’ve seen one stabb’d, another lose his head,

And others fly their Country through their dread.

I’ve seen, and so have ye, for ‘tis but late,

The desolation of a goodly State.

Plotted and acted so that none can tell

Who gave the counsell, but the Prince of hell.

I’ve seen a land unmoulded with great pain,

But yet may live to see’t made up again.

I’ve seen it shaken, rent, and soak’d in blood,

But out of troubles ye may see much good.

These are no old wives’ tales, but this is truth.

We old men love to tell, what’s done in youth.

But I return from whence I stept awry;

My memory is short and brain is dry.

My Almond-tree (gray hairs) doth flourish now,

And back, once straight, begins apace to bow.

My grinders now are few, my sight doth fail,

My skin is wrinkled, and my cheeks are pale.

No more rejoice, at music’s pleasant noise,

But do awake at the cock’s clanging voice.

I cannot scent savours of pleasant meat,

Nor sapors find in what I drink or eat.

My hands and arms, once strong, have lost their might.

I cannot labour, nor I cannot fight:

My comely legs, as nimble as the Roe,

Now stiff and numb, can hardly creep or go.

My heart sometimes as fierce, as Lion bold,

Now trembling, and fearful, sad, and cold.

My golden Bowl and silver Cord, e’re long,

Shall both be broke, by wracking death so strong.

I then shall go whence I shall come no more.

Sons, Nephews, leave, my death for to deplore.

In pleasures, and in labours, I have found

That earth can give no consolation sound

To great, to rich, to poor, to young, or old,

To mean, to noble, fearful, or to bold.

From King to beggar, all degrees shall find

But vanity, vexation of the mind.

Yea, knowing much, the pleasant’st life of all

Hath yet amongst that sweet, some bitter gall.

Though reading others’ Works doth much refresh,

Yet studying much brings weariness to th’ flesh.

My studies, labours, readings all are done,

And my last period can e’en elmost run.

Corruption, my Father, I do call,

Mother, and sisters both; the worms that crawl

In my dark house, such kindred I have store.

There I shall rest till heavens shall be no more;

And when this flesh shall rot and be consum’d,

This body, by this soul, shall be assum’d;

And I shall see with these same very eyes

My strong Redeemer coming in the skies.

Triumph I shall, o’re Sin, o’re Death, o’re Hell,

And in that hope, I bid you all farewell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poems by Anne Bradstreet

 

To My Dear and Loving Husband

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 you can.

I prizeprize Value thy love more than whole mines of gold,

Or all the riches that the Eastthe East East Indies, southeast Asia, including India; the English East India Company began in 1600. doth hold.

My love is such that rivers cannot quench,My ... rivers cannot quench Compare the Song of Solomon: “Muche water can not quenche love, nether can the floods drowne it." (Geneva Bible) Also, quench could mean to satisfy.

Nor oughtought Anything but love from thee give recompenserecompense Return payment; reward.

Thy love is such I can no way repay;

The heavens reward thee manifoldmanifold In abundance, I pray.

Then while we live, in love let’s so perseverpersever Both to continue steadfastly, and in the Theological sense to remain in a state of grace. An earlier spelling of the word “persevere.”,

That when we live no more, we may live ever.

- Anne Bradstreet, c. 1612-1672






Title page, second (posthumous) edition
of Bradstreet's poems, 1678

A Letter to Her Husband

My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay more,
My joy, my magazine, of earthly store,
If two be one, as surely thou and I,
How stayest 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,
My Sun is gone so far in's zodiac,
Whom whilst I 'joyed, nor storms, nor frost I felt,
His warmth such fridged colds did cause to melt.
My chilled limbs now numbed lie forlorn;
Return; return, sweet Sol, from Capricorn;
In this dead time, alas, what can I more
Than view those fruits which through thy heart I bore?
Which sweet contentment yield me for a space,
True living pictures of their father's face.
O strange effect! now thou art southward gone,
I weary grow the tedious day so long;
But 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.
Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence,
Till nature's sad decree shall call thee hence;
Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone,
I here, thou there, yet both but one.

- Anne Bradstreet, c. 1612-1672

 

 

 

 

By Night when Others Soundly Slept

By night when others soundly slept
And hath at once both ease and Rest,
My waking eyes were open kept
And so to lie I found it best.

I sought him whom my Soul did Love,
With tears I sought him earnestly.
He bow'd his ear down from Above.
In vain I did not seek or cry.

My hungry Soul he fill'd with Good;
He in his Bottle put my tears,
My smarting wounds washt in his blood,
And banisht thence my Doubts and fears.

What to my Saviour shall I give
Who freely hath done this for me?
I'll serve him here whilst I shall live
And Loue him to Eternity.

- Anne Bradstreet, c. 1612-1672




Biography - http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/anne-bradstreet

Wikipedia - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Bradstreet





 

Review: "An Exaltation of Larks," by James Lipton

1993 Edition

50 Collective Nouns to Bolster Your Vocabulary

http://mentalfloss.com/article/33580/50-collective-nouns-bolster-your-vocabulary

 

Lucas Reilly

January 18, 2013

Collective nouns may seem like quirky ways to describe groups, but 500 years ago, they were your ticket to the in-crowd. Most collective nouns, or “terms of venery,” were coined during the 15th century. Many were codified in books of courtesy, like the 1486 classic Book of St. Albans. St. Albans was a handbook for medieval gentlemen, and it contained essays on hawking, hunting, and heraldry. Appended to the hunting chapter sits a list of 164 collective nouns, titled “The Compaynys of Beestys and Fowlys.” (Contrary to the title, many terms actually describe people—a biting example of ye olde satire.)

 

As silly as some sound today, the phrases were formal and proper descriptions. St. Albans was, after all, a vocabulary-booster, a primer designed to help gentlemen-in-training avoid the embarrassment of “some blunder at the table.” Over the next century, the book’s popularity bloomed. Similar courtesy handbooks caught on, and by the end of the 16th century, a slew of collective nouns had entered the lexicon.

 

Some have achieved widespread currency and acceptance, like a “flight of stairs,” “a board of trustees,” and a “school of fish.” Others, like a “murder of crows,” barely cling on. However, a handful of obscure phrases have made a comeback, thanks to James Lipton’s wonderful compendium of collective nouns, An Exaltation of Larks. Here are a few from Lipton’s book that you should add to your repertoire.

 

1. Business of Ferrets

2. Labor of Moles

3. Mustering of Storks

4. Shrewdness of Apes

5. Gam of Whales

6. Smack of Jellyfish

7. Host of Angels

8. Fusillade of Bullets

9. Baptism of Fire

10. Quiver of Arrows

11. Tissue of lies

12. Murder of Crows

13. Unkindness of Ravens

14. Dule of Doves

15. Clowder, Cluster, or Clutter of Cats

16. Kindle of Kittens

17. Mute of Hounds

18. Pass of Asses

19. Ostentation of Peacocks

20. Team of Ducks (when flying)

21. Paddling of Ducks (when on water)

22. Trip of Goats

23. Sloth, or Sleuth, of Bears

24. Charm of Finches

25. Hill of Beans

26. String of Ponies

27. Hand of Bananas

28. College of Cardinals

29. Shock of Corn

30. Band of Men

31. Knot of Toads

32. Wedge of Swans (when flying)

33. Parliament of Owls

34. Superfluity of Nuns

35. Abominable Sight of Monks

36. Untruth of Summoners

37. Doctrine of Doctors

38. Damning of Jurors

39. Sentence of Judges

40. Rascal of Boys

41. Gaggle of Women

42. Gaggle of Gossips

43. Impatience of Wives

44. Tabernacle of Bakers

45. Poverty of Pipers

46. Fighting of Beggars

47. Neverthriving of Jugglers

48. Herd of Harlots

49. Worship of Writers

50. Hastiness of Cooks

 

According to Lipton, the terms above “are authentic and authoritative. They were used, they were correct, and they are useful, correct—and available—today.”

 

 

1991 Edition

Synopses & Reviews

http://www.powells.com/biblio/2-9780140170962-1

Publisher Comments:

An "exaltation of larks"? Yes! And a "leap of leopards," a "parliament of owls," an "ostentation of peacocks," a "smack of jellyfish," and a "murder of crows"! For those who have ever wondered if the familiar "pride of lions" and "gaggle of geese" were only the tip of a linguistic iceberg, James Lipton has provided the definitive answer: here are hundreds of equally pithy, and often poetic, terms unearthed by Mr. Lipton in the Books of Venery that were the constant study of anyone who aspired to the title of gentleman in the fifteenth century. When Mr. Lipton's painstaking research revealed that five hundred years ago the terms of venery had already been turned into the Game of Venery, he embarked on an odyssey that has given us a "slouch of models," a "shrivel of critics," an "unction of undertakers," a "blur of Impressionists," a "score of bachelors," and a "pocket of quarterbacks."

 

This ultimate edition of An Exaltation of Larks is Mr. Lipton's brilliant answer to the assault on language and literacy in the last decades of the twentieth century. In it you will find more than 1,100 resurrected or newly minted contributions to that most endangered of all species, our language, in a setting of 250 witty, beautiful, and remarkably apt engravings.

 

About the Author

 

James Lipton is the creator, executive producer, writer, and host of Inside the Actors Studio, which is seen in eighty-nine million homes in America on the Bravo network, and in 125 countries, and has received fourteen Emmy nominations. He is the author of the novel Mirrors, which he then adapted and produced for the screen, and of the American literary perennial An Exaltation of Larks, and has written the book and lyrics of two Broadway musicals. His television productions include Jimmy Carter’s Inaugural Gala, the first presidential concert ever televised; twelve Bob Hope birthday specials, reaching record-breaking audiences; and The Road to China, the first American entertainment program from the People’s Republic. He is a vice president of the Actors Studio, is the founder and dean emeritus of the Actors Studio Drama School at Pace University, has received three honorary PhDs, is a recipient of France’s Chevalier de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres, and has been awarded the Lifetime Achievement Emmy by the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.

 

 

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Amazon.com - Most Helpful Customer Reviews

 

5.0 out of 5 stars

A Delight of Words

April 4, 2001

By F. Hamilton

Format:Paperback

 

Here's a real gem! AN EXALTATION OF LARKS (Ultimate Edition) is the culmination of more than two decades of Lipton's research of "nouns of multitude," which he prefers to call "terms of venery." (noun archaic usage - the practice or sport of hunting; the chase; more commonly the gratification of (sexual) desire.)

 

Many of these terms are commonplace: plague of locusts, pride of lions, litter of pups. Imagine, though, hearing these expressions for the first time. Lipton invites us to "sharpen our senses by restoring the magic to the mundane."

 

Lipton traced a number of these terms back to the 1400s, specifically to THE BOOK OF ST. ALBANS, printed in 1486. In addition to today's ordinary terms, he discovered some that had a fresh sound, precisely because they had not made the 500-year journey to our modern era.

 

Lipton identifies six sources of inspiration for the terms. He lists these "Families" with the following examples:

 

1. Onomatopoeia ("a formation of a word by imitation"): a murmuration of starlings, a gaggle of geese.

 

2. Characteristic (by far the largest Family): a leap of leopards, a skulk of foxes.

 

3. Appearance: a knot of toads, a parliament of owls.

 

4. Habitat: a shoal of bass, a nest of rabbits.

 

5. Comment (pro or con depending on viewpoint): a richness of martens, a cowardice of curs.

 

6. Error (in transcription or printing; sometimes preserved for centuries): "school" of fish was originally intended to be "shoal."

 

Lipton enthusiastically joined the "game" of coining terms, which had been in progress for more than 500 years. In 1968 he published his first EXALTATION OF LARKS, which contained 175 terms -- some from Middle English, some original. Neither the hardbound nor the paperback edition went out of print before the Ultimate Edition (with more than 1,000 terms) was published in 1991. As Lipton puts it, textbooks and various media "used the book like sourdough to leaven new batches of terms."

 

Lipton believes that a pun or a play on words detracts from the vigor of a term. Alliteration, likewise, is unnecessary. Rather the success of the term hinges on identifying the "quintessential part" of the group of people or things and allowing it to represent the whole: a blur of impressionists, a brood of hens, a quiver of arrows. (Lipton's research on this last item revealed that as early as 1300 a poetic soul rejected the available words "case" and "scabbard" and turned "quiver" into a noun.)

 

AN EXALTATION OF LARKS includes a few pages detailing Lipton's lexical odysseys and triumphs. Most of the book comprises the lists themselves. The origin of some of the terms is explained, and more than 250 of the terms are illustrated with witty engravings by Grandville, a 19th Century French lithographer. More than half the book lists terms in 25 categories, such as professions (an aroma of bakers), daily life (a belch of smokestacks), and academe (a discord of experts).

 

Lipton includes several versions of games in which players coin new terms. His index lists his 1,000+ terms with a blank replacing the first item, which is the source of a term's poetry. The reader is thus encouraged to discern the essence of the thing collected. The page number facilitates the comparison of newly coined terms with existing ones.

 

AN EXALTATION OF LARKS is indeed "a word lover's garden of delights."

 

 

 

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Images of Engravings by Grandville

Go here for many more images

 

~ click any image below to enlarge ~