Anne Bradstreet and Her Time Part 5

_NEW ENGLAND._

And thus (alas) your state you much deplore, In general terms, but will not say wherefore; What medicine shall I seek to cure this woe If th' wound so dangerous I may not know?

But you, perhaps, would have me ghess it out, What hath some Hengist like that Saxon stout, By fraud or force usurp'd thy flow'ring crown, Or by tempestuous warrs thy fields trod down?

Or hath Canutus, that brave valiant Dane, The Regal peacefull Scepter from the tane?

Or is't a Norman, whose victorious hand With English blood bedews thy conquered land?

Or is't Intestine warrs that thus offend?

Do Maud and Stephen for the crown contend?

Do Barons rise and side against their King, And call in foreign aid to help the thing?

Must Edward be deposed? or is't the hour That second Richard must be clapt i' th' tower?

Or is't the fatal jarre again begun That from the red white p.r.i.c.king roses sprung?

Must Richmond's aid, the n.o.bles now implore, To come and break the Tushes of the Boar?

If none of these, dear Mother, what's your woe?

Pray do you fear Spain's bragging Armado?

Doth your Allye, fair France, conspire your wrack, Or do the Scots play false behind your back?

Doth Holland quit you ill for all your love?

Whence is the storm from Earth or Heaven above?

Is't drought, is't famine, or is't pestilence, Dost feel the smart or fear the Consequence?

Your humble Child intreats you, shew your grief, Though Arms nor Purse she hath for your relief, Such is her poverty; yet shall be found A Suppliant for your help, as she is bound.

_OLD ENGLAND._

I must confess, some of those sores you name, My beauteous body at this present maime; But forreign foe, nor feigned friend I fear, For they have work enough, (thou knowst) elsewhere.

Nor is it Alce's Son nor Henrye's daughter, Whose proud contention cause this slaughter; Nor n.o.bles siding to make John no King, French Jews unjustly to the Crown to bring; No Edward, Richard, to lose rule and life, Nor no Lancastrians to renew old strife; No Duke of York nor Earl of March to soyle Their hands in kindred's blood whom they did foil.

No crafty Tyrant now usurps the Seat, Who Nephews slew that so he might be great; No need of Tudor Roses to unite, None knows which is the Red or which the White; Spain's braving Fleet a second time is sunk, France knows how oft my fury she hath drunk; By Edward third, and Henry fifth of fame Her Lillies in mine Arms avouch the same, My sister Scotland hurts me now no more, Though she hath been injurious heretofore; What Holland is I am in some suspence, But trust not much unto his excellence.

For wants, sure some I feel, but more I fear, And for the Pestilence, who knows how near Famine and Plague, two Sisters of the Sword, Destruction to a Land doth soon afford.

They're for my punishment ordain'd on high, Unless our tears prevent it speedily.

But yet I answer not what you demand To shew the grievance of my troubled Land?

Before I tell the Effect I'le shew the Cause, Which are my sins, the breach of sacred Laws, Idolatry, supplanter of a nation, With foolish Superst.i.tious Adoration, Are liked and countenanced by men of might The gospel trodden down and hath no right; Church offices were sold and bought for gain, That Pope had hoped to find Rome here again; For Oaths and Blasphemies did ever Ear From Belzebub himself such language hear?

What scorning of the saints of the most high, What injuries did daily on them lye, What false reports, what nick-names did they take Not for their own but for their Master's sake?

And thou, poor soul, wert jeer'd among the rest, Thy flying for the truth was made a jest For Sabbath-breaking, and for drunkenness, Did ever loud profaneness more express?

From crying blood yet cleansed am not I, Martyrs and others, dying causelessly.

How many princely heads on blocks laid down For nought but t.i.tle to a fading crown!

'Mongst all the crueltyes by great ones done, Of Edward's youths, and Clarence hapless son, O Jane, why didst thou dye in flow'ring prime?

Because of royal stem, that was thy crime.

For bribery, Adultery and lyes, Where is the nation I can't parallize?

With usury, extortion and oppression, These be the Hydraes of my stout transgression.

These be the bitter fountains, heads and roots, Whence flowed the source, the sprigs, the boughs, and fruits, Of more than thou canst hear or I relate, That with high hand I still did perpetrate; For these were threatened the woful day I mockt the Preachers, put it far away; The Sermons yet upon Record do stand That cri'd destruction to my wicked land; I then believed not, now I feel and see, The plague of stubborn incredulity.

Some lost their livings, some in prison pent, Some fin'd from house and friends to exile went.

Their silent tongues to heaven did vengeance cry, Who saw their wrongs, and hath judg'd righteously, And will repay it seven fold in my lap; This is forerunner of my After clap.

Nor took I warning by my neighbors' falls, I saw sad Germany's dismantled walls, I saw her people famish'd, n.o.bles slain, The fruitful land a barren Heath remain.

I saw immov'd her Armyes foil'd and fled, Wives forc'd, babes toss'd, her houses calimed.

I saw strong Rochel yielded to her Foe, Thousands of starved Christians there also I saw poor Ireland bleeding out her last, Such crueltyes as all reports have pa.s.sed; Mine heart obdurate stood not yet aghast.

Now sip I of that cup, and just't may be The bottome dreggs reserved are for me.

NEW ENGLAND.

To all you've said, sad Mother, I a.s.sent, Your fearful sins great cause there's to lament, My guilty hands in part, hold up with you, A Sharer in your punishment's my due.

But all you say amounts to this affect, Not what you feel but what you do expect, Pray in plain terms what is your present grief?

Then let's joyn heads and hearts for your relief.

OLD ENGLAND.

Well to the matter then, there's grown of late 'Twixt King and Peers a Question of State, Which is the chief, the law or else the King.

One said, it's he, the other no such thing.

'Tis said, my beter part in Parliament To ease my groaning land, shew'd their intent, To crush the proud, and right to each man deal, To help the Church, and stay the Common-weal So many obstacles came in their way, As puts me to a stand what I should say; Old customes, new prerogatives stood on, Had they not held Law fast, all had been gone; Which by their prudence stood them in such stead They took high Strafford lower by the head.

And to their Land be't spoke, they held i' th' tower All England's Metropolitane that hour; This done, an act they would have pa.s.sed fain No Prelate should his Bishop.r.i.c.k retain; Here tugged they hard (indeed), for all men saw This must be done by Gospel, not by law.

Next the Militia they urged sore, This was deny'd (I need not say wherefore), The King displeas'd at York himself absents, They humbly beg return, shew their intents; The writing, printing, posting too and fro, Shews all was done, I'll therefore let it go;

But now I come to speak of my disaster, Contention grown, 'twixt Subjects and their Master; They worded it so long, they fell to blows, That thousands lay on heaps, here bleeds my woes; I that no wars so many years have known, Am now destroy'd and slaughter'd by mine own; But could the Field alone this strife decide, One Battle two or three I might abide.

But these may be beginnings of more woe Who knows but this may be my overthrow?

Oh, pity me in this sad Perturbation, My plundered Towns, my houses devastation, My weeping Virgins and my young men slain; My wealthy trading fall'n, my dearth of grain, The seed times come, but ploughman hath no hope Because he knows not who shall inn his Crop!

The poor they want their pay, their Children bread, Their woful--Mothers' tears unpittied.

If any pity in thy heart remain, Or any child-like love thou dost retain, For my relief, do what there lyes in thee, And recompence that good I've done to thee.

NEW ENGLAND.

Dear Mother, cease complaints and wipe your eyes, Shake off your dust, chear 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; To see those latter days of hop'd for good, Though now beclouded all with tears and blood; After dark Popery the day did clear, But now the Sun in's brightness shall appear; Blest be the n.o.bles of thy n.o.ble Land, With ventur'd lives for Truth's defence that stand; Blest be thy Commons, who for common good, And thy infringed Laws have boldly stood; Blest be thy Counties, who did aid thee still, With hearts and States to testifie their will; Blest be thy Preachers, who did chear thee on, O cry the Sword of G.o.d and Gideon; And shall I not on them with Mero's curse, That help thee not with prayers, Arms and purse?

And for myself let miseries abound, If mindless of thy State I ere be found.

These are the dayes the Churches foes to crush, To root out Popelings, head, tail, branch and rush; Let's bring Baals' vestments forth to make a fire, Their Mytires, Surplices, and all their Tire, Copes, Rotchets, Crossiers, and such empty trash, And let their Names consume, but let the flash Light Christendome, and all the world to see, We hate Romes wh.o.r.e, with all her trumpery.

Go on, brave Ess.e.x, with a Loyal heart, Not false to King, nor to the better part; But those that hurt his people and his Crown, As duty binds, expel and tread them down, And ye brave n.o.bles, chase away all fear, And to this hopeful Cause closely adhere; O Mother, can you weep and have such Peers, When they are gone, then drown yourself in tears, If now you weep so much, that then no more The briny Ocean will o'erflow your sh.o.r.e.

These, these are they I trust, with Charles our King, Out of all mists, such glorious days shall bring; That dazzled eyes beholding much shall wonder, At that thy settled peace, thy wealth and splendor.

Thy Church and weal establish'd in such manner, That all shall joy, that then display'st thy Banner; And discipline erected so I trust, That nursing Kings shall come and lick thy dust.

Then justice shall in all thy courts take place, Without respect of person, or of case; 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 Pursivants and Catchpoles want their pay.

So shall thy happy nation ever flourish, When truth and righteousness they thus shall nourish, When thus in peace, thine Armies brave send out, To sack proud Rome, and all her Va.s.sals rout; There let thy name, thy fame and glory s.h.i.+ne, As did thine Ancestors in Palestine; And let her spoyls full pay with Interest be, Of what unjustly once she poll'd from thee, Of all the woes thou canst, let her be sped And on her pour the vengeance threatened; Bring forth the Beast that rul'd the World with 's beck, And tear his flesh, and set your feet on 's neck; And make his filthy Den so desolate, To th' astonishment of all that knew his state.

This done, with brandish'd Swords to Turky goe, For then what is 't, but English blades dare do?

And lay her waste for so 's the sacred Doom, And to Gog as thou hast done to Rome.

Oh Abraham'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, And him you shall adore who now despise, Then fulness of the Nations in shall flow, And Jew and Gentile to one wors.h.i.+p go; Then follows days of happiness and rest; Whose lot doth fall, to live therein is blest.

No Canaanite shall then be found i' th' Land, And holiness on horses bell's shall stand; If this make way thereto, then sigh no more, But if it all, thou did'st not see 't before; Farewell, dear Mother, rightest cause prevail And in a while, you'll tell another tale.

This, like all her earlier work, is heavy reading, the account given by "Old Age" in her "Four Ages of Man," of what he has seen and known of Puritan affairs, being in somewhat more lively strain. But lively was an adjective to which Mistress Anne had a rooted objection. Her contemporaries indulged in an occasional solemn pun, but the only one in her writings is found in the grim turn on Laud's name, in the "Dialogue" just quoted, in which is also a sombre jest on the beheading of Strafford.

"Old Age" recalls the same period, opening with a faint--very faint--suggestion of Shakespeare's thought in his "Seven Ages."

"What you have been, even such have I before And all you say, say I, and somewhat 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, honor, nor my gold, My ruined house now falling can uphold, It's not my learning Rhetorick wit so large, Hath now the power, death's warfare to discharge, It's not my goodly state, nor bed of downs That can refresh, or ease, if Conscience frown, Nor from Alliance can I now have hope, But what I have done well that is my prop; He that in youth is G.o.dly, wise and sage, Provides a staff then to support his Age.

Mutations great, some joyful and some sad, In this short pilgrimage I oft have had; Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smiled on me, Sometime again rain'd all Adversity, Sometimes in honor, 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 nourish like a tree, When it was ruled 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 say'd Cales won, And Philip and Albertus half undone, I saw all peace at home, terror to foes, But oh, I saw at last those eyes to close.

And then methought the clay at noon grew dark, When it had lost that radiant Sunlike Spark; In midst of griefs I saw our hopes revive,

(For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive) We changed our queen for king under whose rayes We joy'd in many blest and prosperous dayes.

I've seen a Prince, the glory of our land In prime of youth seiz'd by heaven's angry hand, Which fil'd our hearts with fears, with tears our eyes, Wailing his fate, and our own destinies.

I've seen from Rome an execrable thing, A Plot to blow up n.o.bles and their King, But saw their horrid fact soon disappointed, And Land n.o.bles say'd with their annointed.