POEMS FROM ANNE FINCH, COUNTESS OF WINCHELSEA (1661-1720)

CONTENTS

1.  "Adam Posed"
2.  "The Bird and the Arras"
3.  "The Introduction"
4.  "The Apology"
5.  "Nocturnal Reverie"
6.  "On Myself"
7.  "To a Nightingale"
8.  "A Supplication to the Joys of Heaven"



ADAM POSED

Could our first father, at his toilsome plough,
Thorns in his path, and labour on his brow,
Clothed only in a rude unpolished skin,
Could he a vain, fantastic nymph have seen,
In all her airs, in all her antic graces,                       5
Her various fashions, and more various faces;
How had it posed that skill, which late assigned
Just appellations to each several kind,
A right idea of the sight to frame;
T' have guessed from what new element she came,                 10
T' have hit the wavering form, or given this thing a name!

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THE BIRD AND THE ARRAS

By near resemblance see that bird betrayed
Who takes the well wrought arras for a shade,
There hopes to perch and with a cheerful tune
O'er-pass the scorchings of the sultry noon.
But soon repulsed by the obdurate scene                         5
How swift she turns, but turns alas in vain.
That piece a grove, this shows an ambient sky,
Where imitated fowl their pinions ply,
Seeming to mount in flight and aiming still more high.
All she outstrips, and with a moment's pride                    10
Their understation silent does deride,
Till the dashed ceiling strikes her to the found,
No intercepting shrub to break the fall is found;
Recovering breath the window next she gains,
Nor fears a strop from the transparent panes.                   15

But we digress and leave th' imprisoned wretch,
Now sinking low, now on a loftier stretch,
Fluttering in endless circles of dismay
Till some kind hand directs the certain way,
Which through the casement an escape affords,                   20
And leads to ample space, the only Heaven of birds.

Notes
11.  Lower position

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THE INTRODUCTION

Did I my lines intend for public view,
How many censors would their faults pursue.
Some would, because such words they do affect,
Cry they're insipid, empty, uncorrect:
And many have attained, dull and untaught,
The name of wit only by finding fault.
True judges might condemn their want of wit,
And all might say, they're by a woman writ.
Alas! a woman that attempts the pen,
Such an intruder on the rights of men,                          10
Such a presumptuous creature, is esteemed,
The fault can by no virtue be redeemed.
They tell us, we mistake our sex and way:
Good breeding, fashion, dancing, dressing, play
Are the accomplishments we should desire;
To write, or read, or think or to inquire
Would cloud our beauty and exhaust our prime;
Whilst the dull manage of a servile house
Is held by some, our utmost art, and use.                       20
    Sure, 'twas not ever thus, nor are we told
Fables of women that excelled of old
To whom, by the diffusive hand of Heaven,
Some share of wit and poetry was given.
On that glad day on which the Ark returned,
The holy pledge for which the land had mourned,
The joyful tribes attend it on the way
The Levites do the sacred charge convey,
Whilst various instruments before it play;
Here, holy virgins in the concert join                          30
The softer notes to soften and refine
And with alternate verse complete the hymn divine.
Lo! the young poet, after God's own heart,
By him inspired and taught the Muses' art,
Returned from conquest, a bright chorus meets,
That sing his slain ten thousand in the streets.
In such loud numbers they his acts declare,
Proclaim the wonders of his early war,
That Saul upon the vast applause does frown
And feels its mighty thunder shake the crown.                   40
What can the threatened judgment now prolong?
Half of the kingdom is already gone;
The fairest half, whose influence guides the rest,
Have David's empire o'er their hearts confessed.
     A woman here leads fainting Israel on:
She fights, she wins, she triumphs with a song,
Devout, majestic, for the subject fit,
And far above her arms exalts her wit,
Then, to the peaceful, shady palm withdraws
And rules the rescued nation with her laws.                     50
How are we fallen, fallen by mistaken rules!
And education's more than nature's fools,
Debarred from all improvements of the mind
And to be dull expected and designed;
And if someone would soar above the rest
With warmer fancy and ambition pressed,
So strong th' opposing faction still appears,
The hopes to thrive can ne'er outweigh the fears.
Be cautioned, then, my Muse and still retired;
Nor be despised, aiming to be admired;                          60
Conscious of wants, still with contracted wing,
To some few friends and to thy sorrows sing;
For groves of laurel thou wert never meant;
Be dark enough thy shades, and be thou there content. (pub. 1713)

Notes
25-32. 1 Chronicles 15. 33-44. 1 Samuel 18.
45-50. The judge Deborah:  Judges 4-5.


THE APOLOGY

'Tis true I write and tell me by what Rule
I am alone forbid to play the fool
To follow through the Groves a wand'ring Muse
And fain'd Idea's for my pleasures chuse
Why shou'd it in my Pen be helf a fault 
While Mira paints her face, to paint a thought
Whilst Lamia to the manly Bumper flys
And borrow'd Spirits sparkle in her Eyes?
Why shou'd it be in me a thing so vain
To heat with Poetry my colder Brain?                            10

But I write ill and there-fore shou'd forbear.
Does Flavia cease now at her fortieth year
In ev'ry Place to let that face be seen
Which all the town rejected at fifteen?
Each Woman has her weakness; mine indeed
Is still to write tho' hopeless to succeed.
Nor to the Men is this so easy found
Ev'n in most Works with which the Wits abound
(So weak are all since our first breach with Heav'n)
There's less to be Applauded than forgiven.                     20

Note:  "Apology," in its older sense, means "pleading off from a charge 
or imputation, whether expressed, implied, or only conceived as possible; 
defence of a person, or vindication of an institution, etc., from 
accusation or aspersion" (OED).



A NOCTURNAL REVERIE

In such a night, when every louder wind
Is to its distant cavern safe confined
And only gentle Zephyr fans his wings,
And lonely PhilomelÊ, still waking, sings
Or from some tree, famed for the owl's delight,
She, hallooing clear, directs the wanderer right;
In such a night, when passing clouds give place
Or thinly veil the heavens' mysterious face;
When in some river overhung with green
The waving moon and trembling leaves are seen;                  10
When freshened grass now bears itself upright
And makes cool banks to pleasing rest invite,
Whence springs the woodbind and the bramble-rose
And where the sleepy cowslip sheltered grows,
Whilst now a paler hue the foxglove takes
Yet checkers still with red the dusky brakes;
When scattered glow-worms, but in twilight fine,
Show trivial beauties watchÊ their hour to shine,
Whilst SalisburyÊ stands the test of every light
In perfect charms and perfect virtue bright;                    20
When odors, which declined repelling day,
Through temperate air uninterrupted stray;
When darkened groves their softest shadows wear
And falling waters we distinctly hear;
When through the gloom more venerable shows
Some ancient fabricÊ, awful in repose,
While sunburnt hills their swarthy locks conceal
And swelling haycocks thicken up the vale;
When the loosened horse now, as his pasture leads,
Comes slowly grazing through th'adjoining meads,                30
Whose stealing pace and lengthened shade we fear
Till torn up foliage in his teeth we hear;
When nibbling sheep at large pursue their food,
And unmolested kine rechew the cud;
When curlews cry beneath the village walls,
And to her struggling brood the partridge calls:
Their shortlived jubilee the creatures keep,
Which but endures whilst tyrant man does sleep;
When a sedate content the spirit feels,
And no fierce light disturbs whilst it reveals;                 40
But silent musings urge the mind to seek
Something too high for syllables to speak,
Till the free soul, to a composedness charmed,
Finding the elements of rage disarmed,
O'er all below a solemn quiet grown,
Joys in th'inferior world and thinks it like her own;
In such a night let me abroad remain
Till morning breaks and all's confused again,
Our cares, our toils, our clamors are renewed
Or pleasures, seldom reached, again pursued.                    50

1713

Notes
4. Nightingale.
18. To watch.
19. Anne Tufton, Countess of Salisbury. 
26. Building.




ON MYSELF

Good Heaven, I thank thee, since it was designed
I should be framed, but of the weaker kind,
That yet, my soul is rescued from the love
Of all those trifles which their passions move.
Pleasures, and praise, and plenty have with me                  5
But their just value.  If allowed they be,
Freely and thankfully as much I taste
As will not reason or religion waste.
If they're denied, I on myself can live,
And slight those aids unequal chance does give.                 10
When in the sun, my wings can be displayed,
And in retirement, I can bless the shade.



TO THE NIGHTINGALE

Exert thy voice, sweet harbinger of spring!
   This moment is thy time to sing,
   This moment I attend to praise,
And set my numbers to they lays.
   Free as thine shall be my song;
   As they music, short, or long.
Poets, wild as thee, were born,
   Pleasing best when unconfined,
   When to please is least designed,
Soothing but their cares to rest;                               10
   Cares do still their thoughts molest,
   And still th' unhappy poet's breast,
Like thine, when best he sings, is placed against a thorn.
She begins, Let all be still!
   Muse, they promise now fulfill!
Sweet, oh! sweet, still sweeter yet
Can thy words such accents fit,
Canst thou syllables refine,
Melt a sense that shall retain
Still some spirit of the brain,                                 20
Till with sounds like these it join.
   'Twill not be! then change thy note;
   Let division shake thy throat.
Hark! Division now she tries;
Yet as far the Muse outflies.
   Cease then, prithee, cease thy tune;
   Trifler, wilt thou sing till *June*?
Till thy business all lies waste,
And the time of building's past!
   Thus we poets that have speech,                              30
Unlike what they forests teach,
   If a fluent vein be shown
   That's transcendant to our own,
Criticize, reform, or preach,
Or censure what we cannot reach.

Notes
23.  Variation on a melody, fluttering a voice in trills and runs.




A SUPPLICATION TO THE JOYS OF HEAVEN

{Wellesley College, Margaret Clapp Library, MS. 108-9}

To the Superior World to Solemn Peace
To Regions where Delights shall never cease
To Living Springs and to Celestial shade
For change of pleasure not Protection made
To Blissfull Harmonys o'erflowing source                        5
Which Strings or stops can neither bind or Force
But wafting Air for ever bears along
Perpetual Motion with perpetual Song
On which the Blest in Symphonies ascend
And towards the Throne with Vocal ardours bend                  10
To Radial light o'er spreading Boundless space
To the safe Goal of our well ended race
To shelter where the weary shall have rest
And where the wicked never shall molest
To that Jerusalem which ours below                              15
Did but in type and faint resemblance shew
To the first born and ransom'd Church above
To Seraphims whose whole composures love
To active Cherubins whom wings surround
Not made to rest tho' on imortal ground                         20
But still suspended wait with flaming joy
In swift commands their vigour to employ
Ambrosial dews distilling from their plumes
Scattering where e'er they pass innate perfumes
To Angells of innumerable sorts                                 25
Subordinate in the etherial Courts
To Men refin'd from every gross allay
Who taught the Flesh the Spirit to obey
And keeping late futurity in view
Do now possess what long they did persue                        30
To Jesus founder of the Christian race
And kind dispenser of the Gospell grace
Bring me my God in my accomplish't time
From weakness freed and from degrading crime
Fast by the Tree of life be my retreat                          35
Whose leaves are Med'cin and whose fruit is meat
Heal'd by the first and by the last renew'd
With all perfections be my Soul endued
My form that has the earthly figure borne
Take the Celestial in its Glorious turn                         40
My temper frail and subject to dismay
Be stedfast there spiritualiz'd and gay
My low Poetick tendency be rais'd
Till the bestower worthily is prais'd
Till Dryden's numbers for Cecilia's feast                       45
Which sooth depress inflame and shake the breast
Vary the passions with each varying line
Allow'd below all others to outshine
Shall yeild to those above shall yeild to mine
In sound in sense in emphasis Divine                            50
Stupendious are the heights to which they rise
Whose anthems match the musick of the skies
Whilst that which art we call when studied here
Is nature there in its sublimest sphere
And the pathetick now so hard to find                           55
Flows from the gratefull transports of the mind
With Poets who supernal voices raise
And here begin their never ending layes
With those who to the brethren of their Lord
In all distress a warm relief afford                            60
With the Heroick Spirits of the brave
Who durst be true when threatn'd with the Grave
And when from evil in triumphant sway
Who e'er departed made himself a prey
To sanguine perils to penurious care                            65
To scanty cloathing and precarious fare
To lingring solitude exhausting thoughts
Unsuccour'd losses and imputed faults
With these let me be join'd when Heaven reveals
The judgment which admits of no appeals                         70
And having heard from the deciding throne
Well have ye suffer'd wisely have ye Done
Henceforth the Kingdom of the blest is yours
For you unfolds its everlasting doors
With joyfull Allelujahs let me hail                             75
The strength that o'er my weakness cou'd prevail
Upheld me here and raised my feeble clay
To this felicity for which I pray
Thro' him whose intercession I implore
And Heaven once enter'd prayer shall be no more 80
Loud acclamations shall its place supply
And praise the breath of Angells in the sky.

Finisht February 6th 1717/18