[Mrs Anne Killigrew — Painted by herself]
POEMS
(1686)
by
Mrs. Anne Killigrew
A Facsimile Reproduction
with an Introduction
by
Richard Morton
Gainesville, Florida
Scholars' Facsimiles & Reprints
1967
Scholars' Facsimiles & Reprints
1605 N. W. 14th Avenue
Gainesville, Florida 32601, U.S.A.
Harry R. Warfel, General Editor
Reproduced from a Copy in
and with the permission of
The Alexander Turnbull Library
Wellington, New Zealand
L. C. Catalog Card Number: 67-10177
Manufactured in the U.S.A.
THE
TABLE.
| |
Page |
| Alexandreis. |
1 |
| To the Queen. |
6 |
| A Pastoral Dialogue. |
11 |
| On Death. |
13 |
| First Epigram, Upon being contended with a Little. |
15 |
| The Second Epigram, On Billinda. |
ibid. |
| The Third Epigram, On an Atheist. |
16 |
| The Fourth Epigram, On Galla. |
17 |
| A Farewel to Worldly Joys. |
18 |
| The Complaint of a Lover. |
19 |
| Love, the Soul of Poetry. |
22 |
To my Lady Berkley, Afflicted upon her Son my
Lord Berkley's early Engaging in the Sea-Service. |
24 |
St. John Baptist Painted by her Self in the Wilderness,
with Angels appearing to him, and with a Lamb by him. |
27 |
Herodias's Daughter presenting to her Mother St. Johns Head
in a Silver Charger, also Painted by her self. |
ibid. |
On a Picture Painted by her self, representing two Nymphs of
Diana's, one in a posture to Hunt, the other Batheing. |
28 |
| An Invective against Gold. |
30 |
| The Miseries of Man. |
32 |
| Upon the saying that my Verses were made by another. |
44 |
| On the Birth-Day of Queen Katherine. |
47 |
To my Lord Colrane, in Answer to his Complemental
Verses sent me under the Name of Cleanor. |
49 |
| The Discontent. |
51 |
| A Pastoral Dialogue. |
57 |
| A Pastoral Dialogue. |
63 |
On my Aunt Mrs. A. K. drowned under London-Bridge
in the Queens Barge, 1641. |
76 |
| On a young Lady, whose Lord was Travelling. |
77 |
On the Dutchess of Grafton, under the Name of
Allinda, a Song. |
79 |
| Penelope to Ulysses. |
81 |
| An Epitaph on her Self. |
82 |
| An Ode. |
ibid. |
| Extemporary Counsel, given to a young Gallant in a Frolic. |
84 |
| Cloris Charms Dissolv'd by Eudora. |
85 |
| Upon a Little Lady under the Discipline of an Excellent Person. |
92 |
| On the soft and gentle motions of Eudora. |
99 |
INTRODUCTION
Condemnation by a great poet has lasting impact,
while the effects of praise seldom endure; Shadwell remains
MacFlecknoe in our minds, Shaftesbury Achitophel, but
Anne Killigrew, "A Grace for Beauty, and a Muse for Wit,"
is virtually forgotten. Her book of verses is known essentially
because of John Dryden's commendatory Ode. Yet
we may justify a study of her own poems. Dryden's piece
is not a generalised encomium; obviously he had read her
verses, and his analysis of her art is firmly based.
Our understanding of this famous poem, then, depends to
some degree on our knowledge of Anne Killigrew's
output.
[1]
Her verses deserve attention on their own merits—Dryden
may well be thought more gallant than scrupulous,
but undeniably the poems have an appealing wit, a picturesque
imagination and a touching personal candour.
The facts of Anne Killigrew's short life are succinctly
and elegantly related by Anthony Wood.
[2]
She was born about 1660, the daughter of Dr. Henry Killigrew, Royalist,
theologian and sometime dramatist, and related through
his family to the other theatrical Killigrews—Thomas, the
author of The Parson's Wedding, and Sir William, her uncles;
and Thomas, the author of Chit-Chat, and Charles, Master of
the Revels, her cousins. Dr. Killigrew became Chaplain to
the Duke of York and in 1663 Master of the Savoy. Anne
Killigrew grew up to join the household of the doleful Mary
of Modena, Duchess of York, as Maid of Honour. A companion
in this office was Anne Finch, Countess of
Winchelsea. Mistress Killigrew's poems reflect some of the
sparkle of Restoration court life, but more of the sorrow
produced by Mary of Modena's consistent unpopularity.
After a short battle with the smallpox, Anne Killigrew died
on 16 June, 1685, to the "unspeakable Reluctancy" of her
many loving relations and friends.
After her untimely death, Dr. Killigrew worked to produce
a memorial edition of her papers, and invited Dryden
to write the prefatory poem. The publication was swift:
less than three months after her death the volume was
licensed to be printed (30 September, 1685) and listed in
the Stationers' Register (2 October). It was listed in the
Term Catalogue for November, and advertised in The Observator
on 2 November, 1685.
[3]
The date of 1686 on the
title page must have been anticipated by actual publication.
The poetry in the volume can be described in Dryden's
terms:
Art she had none, yet wanted none:
For Nature did that Want supply.
Anne Killigrew lacked the artistry which comes from discipline
and practice (which Anne Finch had time to
develop), but she felt that the prompting of passion outweighed
the niceties of form:
Here take no Care, take here no Care, my Muse,
Nor ought of Art or Labour use....
The ruggeder my Measures run when read,
They'l livelier paint th' unequal Paths fond Mortals tread,
(p. 51)
Her verses belong to the generalising conventions of
strong-minded Denham and limpid Waller:
Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn,
That it seem'd borrow'd.
Yet to judge from her lively objections (pp. 44-47), the
attempt to class her as a plagiarist was unjustified. Court
poetry in the age was so uniform that apparent echoes are
a matter of course. We may compare her
The bloody Wolf, the Wolf does not pursue;
The Boar, though fierce, his Tusk will not embrue
In his own Kind, Bares, not on Bares do prey:
Then art thou, Man, more savage far than they,
(p. 37)
with Rochester's Satyr against Mankind:
Birds, feed on Birds, Beasts, on each other prey,
But Savage Man alone, does Man betray,
or Waller on the death of Lady Rich, "But savage beasts,
or men as wild as they!" Anne Killigrew's use of stock
epithets and polite locutions mark a conventionality which
inevitably borders on the derivative. But at her best, as for
example "On the Birth-Day of Queen Katherine,"
(p. 47), she
is able to move effectively beyond the conventional. The
conflict between the formal occasion and the dismal weather
becomes a surprising symbol of paradox, and the dream
and scriptural consolation come to have an intensity more
metaphysical than courtly. Similarly, in the unfinished
"Ode," (p. 82), or in parts of the "Pastoral Dialogue,"
(p. 63),
she produces some forceful and startling images.
The individuality of her works lies in their firm,
evangelical moral tone, which is clearly distinguishable
from the genteel piety of her contemporaries. Dryden's
comment:
So cold herself, whilst she such Warmth exprest,
'Twas Cupid bathing in Diana's Stream,
is an apt description of, say, her "Pastoral Dialogue,"
(pp. 63-75.) Anne Killigrew's interest in poetic theory is notable;
her early "Alexandreis" prays for the "frozen style" to be
warmed with a "Poetique fire," and her "Love, the Soul
of Poetry," contrasts the flatness of commonplace verse with
the rapture and heat produced by a subject which "Enlarg'd
his Fancy, and set free his Muse." The poem "To My Lord
Colrane" meditates on her slothful muse and its awakening
of life. Throughout her writings she keeps the poet's
didactic end in view and has a high regard for the nature
of her art. Something of the severity of the York household
is reflected in the writings of the Maid of Honour.
The present text is reproduced, by kind permission,
from the beautiful copy in the Alexander Turnbull Library,
Wellington. This volume, originally in Dr. Philip Bliss's
collection, is listed in the Huth Catalogue (1913), p. 1207,
and described by W. C. Hazlitt, Second Series of Bibliographical
Collections and Notes (1882), p. 328. It contains
on the flyleaf a MS poem by E. E., transcribed below. The
Rev. Joseph Hunter, British Museum Add. MSS. 24492,
Vol. VI, p. 100, suggests that E. E. was Edmund Elys,
[4] the
learned and contentious author of occasional poems
(Verses on Several Occasions, 1699) and theological pamphlets
(for example, Epistola ad Sam. Parkerum S.T.P.,
1680). The generally vivacious style of the verse and the
reference to the debate with Dr. Parker suggest that the
identification is just, but the relationship between Mrs. Elys
and the Killigrews is not known. Pages 72 and 73 are
skipped, and pages 68 and 69 are misnumbered 60 and 61.
The self-portrait of Anne Killigrew prefixed to the
Poems and printed herein as the frontispiece shows that
she was a competent if conventional artist. Her descriptions
of her paintings, pp. 27-29, suggest that here too
moral and scriptural topics predominated over courtly
affairs. E. E., Dryden and the writer of the Epitaph agree
on Anne Killigrew's sanctity and gravity of mind. The modern
reader may gain from her book of verse a moving
insight into the thoughts and preoccupations of a young
lady at court in the declining years of the Stuarts.
Richard Morton
McMaster University
Hamilton, Ontario
November 28, 1965
Several of Anne Killigrew's friends and relatives appear
in the volume:
| sig.b2 |
"her Warlike Brother" is Henry Killigrew (d. 1712), commodore
in the 1680's and eventually Admiral, who was on duty in the
Mediterranean when Dryden wrote. |
| |
|
| p. 24 |
Lady Berkeley and her son are the wife and son, John, of John, first
Baron Berkeley of Stratton (d.1687). John the younger was lieutenant
in 1685 and attained the rank of Admiral in 1688. |
| |
|
| p. 49 |
Lord Colrane is Henry Hare, second Baron Coleraine (1636-1708),
the distinguished antiquary. A copy of the Poems bearing
his bookplate, dated 1702, is in the University of Michigan Library. |
| |
|
| p. 76 |
Mrs. A. K., the victim of this extraordinary accident shortly before
the civil broils, was probably Anne, daughter of Sir Robert Killigrew,
the poetess's grandfather. |
| |
|
| p. 79 |
The Duchess of Grafton is the daughter of Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington
and wife of Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Grafton and son to Charles II and
Barbara Villiers. |
On the Death
of
The Truly Virtuous
Mrs. Anne Killigrew
who was Related to my (Deceased) Wife.
I cannot Mourn thy Fate, Sweet Mayd, but Joy
That Thou art gone from all this Worlds Annoy,
From th' hurry of this cursed Age, that draws
Heav'ns Vengeance down by th' breach of all the Laws.
Of GOD, & Man: ther's nothing here but Noise
And Interruption of True Peacefull Joyes.
That which they Pleasure call is Sport for Apes
Which turns the Phansie to a thousand Shapes
And Wrests the Mind from that Celestial Sphear
To which Its Nature ever would adhere
That by a Constant Revolution
Its Rest & Motion ever might be ONE
That which my Mind hath ever Sought, thy Mind
Tho Compast with these walls of Clay did Find:
Pure Quintessential Love, Aethereal Flame,
Which Always shines, & Alwayes is the Same:
Here's no faint trembling Flame: all Bright appears
'Tis ne're blown out with Sighs, nor quencht with tears.
Thy Soul Enflames my Love: the Unitie
I had with Her, who was Allie'd to Thee
Is Now made Perfect: Our Souls Mutual Flame
Tho Higher in Degree in Nature's still the same.
Her, Thee, & All the Glorious Souls Above
I Now Enioy, whilst in You All I Love
The Boundless Spring of Joy to Ev'ry Mind
That knowes what's Truly Fair & Knowes what's Truly Kind.
How have I Labour'd to Depress the Pride
Of one [Dr. Parker] that strives Illustrious Truth to Hide
In the Thick Bushes of Learn'd Sophistrie,
Which he that Enters hardly sees the Skie?
Truth that thy Splendid Soul did clearly see
And of it made a plain Discoverie.
And having Conquer'd Fate, Thou leavst those Arms [Her Poems]
By which Mankind may Conquer All their Harms
And make them Serve their Noble Purposes.
All Good to Gain, All Evil to Repress.
How Bravely did thy Melibaeus shew
The Madness of that Love most men pursue
And how Youth may their strongest Lusts subdue!
O Happy Mayd, who didst so soon Espie
In This Dark Life, that All is Vanitie!
May thy Bright Love, All Youthfull Minds Inspire,
And like the SUN, put out all other Fire;
May all the Virtuous Celebrate thy Name;
All Poets Hearts Partake of thy Great Flame
That all their Ardors & their Flights may be
The Flames that Fly up to the Deitie;
That DAVID's Muse they all may Imitate,
Sing Virtues Triumphs ore the Power of Fate:
That all their Works Resembling Hea'vn may prove
The Blest Effects of Glory, Power, & Love.
E. E. 1685.
POEMS
BY
Mrs Anne Killigrew.
Immodicis brevis est ætas, & rara Senectus.
Mart. l. 6. Ep. 29.
These POEMS are Licensed to be Published,
Sept. 30. 1685.
Ro. L'Estrange.
LONDON:
Printed for Samuel Lowndes, over against Exeter Exchange
in the Strand. 1686.
THE
PUBLISHER
TO THE
READER.
Reader, dost ask, What Work we here display?
What fair and Novel Piece salutes the Day?
Know, that a Virgin bright this POEM writ,
A Grace for Beauty, and a Muse for Wit!
Who, when none higher in Loves Courts might sway,
Despis'd the Mertile, for the nobler Bay!
Nor could Apollo or Minerva tell,
Whither her Pen or Pencil did excel!
But while these Pow'rs laid both to her their Claime,
Behold, a Matron of a Heavenly Frame,
Antique, but Great and Comely in her Meen,
Upon whose gorgeous Robe inscrib'd was seen
}
Divine Vertue, took her from both away,
}
And thus with Anger and Disdain did say,
}
Of Me she Learn'd, with You she did but Play.
To the Pious Memory
Of the Accomplisht Young LADY
Mrs Anne Killigrew,
Excellent in the two Sister-Arts of Poësie, and Painting.
An ODE.
I.
Thou Youngest Virgin-Daughter of the Skies,
Made in the last Promotion of the Blest;
Whose Palmes, new pluckt from Paradise,
In spreading Branches more sublimely rise,
Rich with Immortal Green above the rest:
Whether, adopted to some Neighbouring Star,
Thou rol'st above us, in thy wand'ring Race,
Or, in Procession fixt and regular,
Mov'd with the Heavens Majestick Pace;
Or, call'd to more Superiour Bliss,
Thou tread'st, with Seraphims, the vast Abyss.
What ever happy Region be thy place,
Cease thy Celestial Song a little space;
(Thou wilt have Time enough for Hymns Divine,
Since Heav'ns Eternal Year is thine.)
Hear then a Mortal Muse thy Praise rehearse,
In no ignoble Verse;
But such as thy own voice did practise here,
When thy first Fruits of Poesie were giv'n;
To make thy self a welcome Inmate there:
While yet a young Probationer,
And Candidate of Heav'n.
II.
If by Traduction came thy Mind,
Our Wonder is the less to find
A Soul so charming from a Stock so good;
Thy Father was transfus'd into thy Blood:
So wert thou born into the tuneful strain,
(An early, rich, and inexhausted Vain.)
But if thy Præexisting Soul
Was form'd, at first, with Myriads more,
It did through all the Mighty Poets roul,
Who Greek or Latine Laurels wore.
And was that Sappho last, which once it was before.
If so, then cease thy flight, O Heav'n-born Mind!
Thou hast no Dross to purge from thy Rich Ore.
}
Nor can thy Soul a fairer Mansion find,
}
Than was the Beauteous Frame she left behind:
}
Return, to fill or mend the Quire, of thy Celestial kind.
III.
May we presume to say, that at thy Birth,
New joy was sprung in Heav'n, as well as here on Earth.
}
For sure the Milder Planets did combine
}
On thy Auspicious Horoscope to shine,
}
And ev'n the most Malicious were in Trine.
Thy Brother-Angels at thy Birth
Strung each his Lyre, and tun'd it high,
That all the People of the Skie
Might know a Poetess was born on Earth.
And then if ever, Mortal Ears
Had heard the Musick of the Spheres!
And if no clust'ring Swarm of Bees
On thy sweet Mouth distill'd their golden Dew,
'Twas that, such vulgar Miracles,
Heav'n had not Leasure to renew:
For all the Blest Fraternity of Love
Solemniz'd there thy Birth, and kept thy Holyday above.
IV.
O Gracious God! How far have we
Prophan'd thy Heav'nly Gift of Poesy?
Made prostitute and profligate the Muse,
Debas'd to each obscene and impious use,
Whose Harmony was first ordain'd Above
For Tongues of Angels, and for Hymns of Love?
O wretched We! why were we hurry'd down
This lubrique and adult'rate age,
(Nay added fat Pollutions of our own)
T'increase the steaming Ordures of the Stage?
What can we say t'excuse our Second Fall?
Let this thy Vestal, Heav'n, attone for all!
Her Arethusian Stream remains unsoil'd,
Unmixt with Forreign Filth, and undefil'd,
Her Wit was more than Man, her Innocence a Child!
V.
Art she had none, yet wanted: anon
For Nature did that Want supply,
So rich in Treasures of her Own,
She might our boasted Stores defy:
Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn,
That it seem'd borrow'd, where 'twas only born.
Her Morals too were in her Bosome bred
By great Examples daily fed,
What in the best of Books, her Fathers Life, she read.
And to be read her self she need not fear,
Each Test, and ev'ry Light, her Muse will bear,
Though Epictetus with his Lamp were there.
Ev'n Love (for Love sometimes her Muse exprest)
Was but a Lambent-flame which play'd about her Brest:
Light as the Vapours of a Morning Dream,
So cold herself, whilst she such Warmth exprest,
'Twas Cupid bathing in Diana's Stream.
VI.
Born to the Spacious Empire of the Nine,
One would have thought, she should have been content
To manage well that Mighty Government:
But what can young ambitious Souls confine?
}
To the next Realm she stretcht her Sway,
}
For Painture neer adjoyning lay,
}
A plenteous Province, and alluring Prey.
A Chamber of Dependences was fram'd,
(As Conquerors will never want Pretence,
When arm'd, to justifie the Offence)
And the whole Fief, in right of Poetry she claim'd.
The Country open lay without Defence:
For Poets frequent In-rodes there had made,
And perfectly could represent
The Shape, the Face, with ev'ry Lineament;
And all the large Demains which the Dumb-sister sway'd
All bow'd beneath her Government,
Receiv'd in Triumph wheresoe're she went.
Her Pencil drew, what e're her Soul design'd,
And oft the happy Draught surpass'd the Image in her Mind.
The Sylvan Scenes of Herds and Flocks,
And fruitful Plains and barren Rocks,
Of shallow Brooks that flow'd so clear,
The Bottom did the Top appear;
Of deeper too and ampler Flouds,
Which as in Mirrors, shew'd the Woods;
Of lofty Trees with Sacred Shades,
And Perspectives of pleasant Glades,
}
Where Nymphs of brightest Form appear,
}
And shaggy Satyrs standing neer,
}
Which them at once admire and fear.
The Ruines too of some Majestick Piece,
Boasting the Pow'r of ancient Rome or Greece,
Whose Statues, Freezes, Columns broken lie,
And though deface't, the Wonder of the Eie,
What Nature, Art, bold Fiction e're durst frame,
Her forming Hand gave Shape unto the Name.
So strange a Concourse ne're was seen before,
But when the peopl'd Ark the whole Creation bore.
VII.
The Scene then chang'd, with bold Erected Look
Our Martial King the Eye with Reverence strook:
For not content t'express his Outward Part,
Her hand call'd out the Image of his Heart,
}
His Warlike Mind, his Soul devoid of Fear,
}
His High-designing Thoughts, were figur'd there,
}
As when, by Magick, Ghosts are made appear.
Our Phenix Queen was portrai'd too so bright,
Beauty alone could Beauty take so right:
Her Dress, her Shape, her matchless Grace,
Were all observ'd, as well as heav'nly Face.
With such a Peerless Majesty she stands,
As in that Day she took from Sacred hands
The Crown; 'mong num'rous Heroins was seen,
More yet in Beauty, than in Rank, the Queen!
Thus nothing to her Genius was deny'd,
But like a Ball of Fire the further thrown,
Still with a greater Blaze she shone,
And her bright Soul broke out on ev'ry side.
What next she had design'd, Heaven only knows,
To such Immod'rate Growth her Conquest rose,
That Fate alone their Progress could oppose.
VIII.
Now all those Charmes, that blooming Grace,
The well-proportion'd Shape, and beauteous Face,
Shall never more be seen by Mortal Eyes;
In Earth the much lamented Virgin lies!
Not Wit, nor Piety could Fate prevent;
Nor was the cruel Destiny content
To finish all the Murder at a Blow,
To sweep at once her Life, and Beauty too;
But, like a hardn'd Fellon, took a pride
To work more Mischievously slow.
And plunder'd first, and then destroy'
O double Sacriledge on things Divine,
To rob the Relique, and deface the Shrine!
But thus Orinda dy'd:
Heav'n, by the same Disease, did both translate,
As equal were their Souls, so equal was their Fate.
IX.
Mean time her Warlike Brother on the Seas
His waving Streamers to the Winds displays,
And vows for his Return, with vain Devotion, pays.
Ah, Generous Youth, that Wish forbear,
The Winds too soon will waft thee here!
Slack all thy Sailes, and fear to come,
Alas, thou know'st not, Thou art wreck'd at home!
No more shalt thou behold thy Sisters Face,
Thou hast already had her last Embrace.
But look aloft, and if thou ken'st from far,
Among the Pleiad's a New-kindl'd Star,
If any sparkles, than the rest, more bright,
'Tis she that shines in that propitious Light.
X.
When in mid-Aire, the Golden Trump shall sound,
To raise the Nations under ground;
When in the Valley of Jehosaphat,
The Judging God shall close the Book of Fate;
And there the last Assizes keep,
For those who Wake, and those who sleep;
When ratling Bones together fly
From the four Corners of the Skie,
When Sinews o're the Skeletons are spread,
Those cloath'd with Flesh, and Life inspires the Dead;
}
The Sacred Poets first shall hear the Sound,
}
And formost from the Tomb shall bound:
}
For they are cover'd with the lightest Ground
And streight, with in-born Vigour, on the Wing,
Like mounting Larkes, to the New Morning sing.
There Thou, Sweet Saint, before the Quire shalt go,
As Harbinger of Heav'n, the Way to show,
The Way which thou so well hast learn'd below.
J. Dryden.
The Epitaph
Engraved on her TOMB.
P. M. S.
Annæ Killigrew,
Doctoris KILLIGREW Filiæ,
Quæ in ipso Ætatis flore Obiit.
Junii 16. 1685.
Heu jacet, fato victa,
Quæ stabat ubique victrix
Forma, ingenio, religione;
Plura collegerat in se Unâ,
Quàm vel sparsa mireris in omnibus!
Talem quis pingat, nisi penicillo quod tractavit?
Aut quis canat, nisi Poëta sui similis?
Cum tanta sciret, hoc Unum ignoravit,
Quanta, nempe, esset;
Aut si norit.
Mirare Modestiam,
Tantis incorruptam dotibus.
Laudes meruisse satis illi fuit,
Has ne vel audiret, laudatores omnes fugerat,
Contenta paterno Lare,
Dum & sibi Aula patebat adulatrix.
Mundum sapere an potuit,
Quæ ab infantia Christum sapuerat?
Non modo semper Virgo,
Sed & virginum Exemplar.
Gentis suæ Decus,
Ævi Splendor,
Sexus Miraculum.
Nullâ Vertute inferior cuiquam,
Cuilibet superior multâ.
Optimi Deliciæ patris,
Etiam numerosâ optimâque prole fortunatissimi:
Priorem tamen invidit nemo,
(Seu frater, seu soror)
Quin potius coluere omnes, omnibus suavem & officiosam,
Amorisque commune Vinculum & Centrum.
Vix ista credes. Hanc si nescieris;
Credet majora qui scierit.
Abi Viator, & Plange:
Si eam plangi oporteat,
Cui, tam piè morienti,
Vel Cœlites plauserint.
The Same
