'To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew' by John Dryden
AI and Tech Aggregator
Download Mp3s Free
Tears of the Kingdom Roleplay
Best Free University Courses Online
TOTK Roleplay
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,
Made in the last promotion of the Blest;
Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
Rich with immortal green above the rest:
Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,
Thou roll'st above us, in thy wand'ring race,
Or, in procession fix'd and regular,
Mov'd with the Heavens' majestic pace:
Or, call'd to more superior bliss,
Thou tread'st, with seraphims, the vast abyss.
What ever happy region is thy place,
Cease thy celestial song a little space;
(Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine,
Since Heav'n's 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 poesy were giv'n;
To make thyself a welcome inmate there:
While yet a young probationer,
And Candidate of Heav'n.
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 vein.)
But if thy preexisting soul
Was form'd, at first, with myriads more,
It did through all the mighty poets roll,
Who Greek or Latin 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 choir, of thy celestial kind.
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 sky
Might know a poetess was born on earth;
And then if ever, mortal ears
Had heard the music 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 leisure to renew:
For all the blest fraternity of love
Solemniz'd there thy birth, and kept thy Holyday above.
O Gracious God! How far have we
Profan'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 hurried 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, atone for all!
Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil'd,
Unmix'd with foreign filth, and undefil'd,
Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child!
Art she had none, yet wanted none:
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 bosom bred
By great examples daily fed,
What in the best of Books, her Father's 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 express'd)
Was but a lambent-flame which play'd about her breast:
Light as the vapours of a morning dream,
So cold herself, whilst she such warmth express'd,
'Twas Cupid bathing in Diana's stream.
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 stretch'd her sway,
For painture near adjoining lay,
A plenteous province, and alluring prey.
A chamber of dependences was fram'd,
(As conquerors will never want pretence,
When arm'd, to justify th'offence)
And the whole fief, in right of poetry she claim'd.
The country open lay without defence:
For poets frequent inroads there had made,
And perfectly could represent
The shape, the face, with ev'ry lineament:
And all the large domains which the Dumb-sister sway'd,
All bow'd beneath her government,
Receiv'd in triumph wheresoe'er she went,
Her pencil drew, what e'er 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 floods,
Which as in mirrors, show'd the woods;
Of lofty trees, with sacred shades,
And perspectives of pleasant glades,
Where nymphs of brightest form appear,
And shaggy satyrs standing near,
Which them at once admire and fear.
The ruins too of some majestic piece,
Boasting the pow'r of ancient Rome or Greece,
Whose statues, friezes, columns broken lie,
And tho' defac'd, the wonder of the eye,
What Nature, art, bold fiction e'er durst frame,
Her forming hand gave feature to the name.
So strange a concourse ne'er was seen before,
But when the peopl'd Ark the whole creation bore.
The scene then chang'd, with bold erected look
Our martial king the sight 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 magic, ghosts are made appear.
Our phoenix queen was portray'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 the crown from sacred hands:
Before a train of heroines was seen,
In beauty foremost, as 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 its progress could oppose.
Now all those charms, 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, not 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 harden'd felon, took a pride
To work more mischievously slow,
And plunder'd first, and then destroy'd.
O double sacrilege on things divine,
To rob the relique, and deface the shrine!
But thus Orinda died:
Heav'n, by the same disease, did both translate,
As equal were their souls, so equal was their fate.
Meantime 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 sails, and fear to come,
Alas, thou know'st not, thou art wreck'd at home!
No more shalt thou behold thy sister's 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.
When in mid-air, the golden trump shall sound,
To raise the nations under ground;
When in the valley of Jehosophat,
The Judging God shall close the book of fate;
And there the last Assizes keep,
For those who wake, and those who sleep;
When rattling bones together fly,
From the four corners of the sky,
When sinews o'er the skeletons are spread,
Those cloth'd with flesh, and life inspires the dead;
The sacred poets first shall hear the sound,
And foremost from the tomb shall bound:
For they are cover'd with the lightest ground,
And straight, with in-born vigour, on the wing,
Like mounting larks, to the new morning sing.
There thou, sweet saint, before the choir shall go,
As harbinger of Heav'n, the way to show,
The way which thou so well hast learn'd below.
Editor 1 Interpretation
To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew
John Dryden's elegy, "To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew," is a magnificent work of art that pays tribute to a young woman who was taken away too soon. The poem is a celebration of her life, her art, and her faith, and it is a testament to Dryden's skill as a poet.
The Poem's Structure
The poem is divided into three stanzas, each consisting of twelve lines. Each line is written in iambic pentameter, which gives the poem a musical quality. The rhyme scheme is ABABCCDEDEFF, which is typical of a heroic couplet. The first two stanzas are written in the past tense, while the final stanza is written in the present tense, giving the poem a sense of immediacy.
The Poem's Content
The poem begins by describing Anne Killigrew's beauty and talent as an artist. Dryden uses vivid imagery to paint a picture of her as a young woman who possessed both physical and artistic beauty:
Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the blest; Whose palms, new-pluck'd from Paradise, In spreading branches more sublimely rise, Rich with immortal green above the rest: Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star, Thou roll'st above us, in thy wand'ring race, Or, in procession fix'd and regular, Mov'd with the heav'ns' majestic pace;
The second stanza focuses on Anne's faith and her devotion to God. Dryden describes her as someone who was deeply committed to her religion and who lived her life according to its teachings:
Yet, if thy amber fountain entertain (For him who now uplifts his limpid urn, Whose sacred drops beneath the bright moonbeam Of Cynthia purest shine, and tremble in the beam,) The thirst, that from the soul doth rise, Shall see itself, that rather water is Than any alien tears, which, ebbing, mourn Like the loud wearied winds, but make no noise, Like the still hearth, still music, lessen'd by stillness,
In the final stanza, Dryden addresses Anne directly and speaks to her as if she is still alive. He tells her that her memory will live on and that her art and her faith will continue to inspire others:
So, when the last and dreadful hour This crumbling pageant shall devour, The trumpet shall be heard on high, The dead shall live, the living die, And music shall untune the sky.
The Poem's Themes
The primary theme of the poem is the celebration of a life that was cut short. Dryden honors Anne Killigrew's memory by highlighting her beauty, her talent, and her faith. He also explores the theme of the relationship between art and faith, suggesting that the two are intertwined and that both are essential to a meaningful and fulfilling life.
Another theme that emerges from the poem is the idea of mortality. Anne's untimely death serves as a reminder that life is fleeting and that we must make the most of the time we have. Dryden suggests that Anne's memory, her art, and her faith will all endure long after she is gone, and that this is a form of immortality.
The Poem's Language and Imagery
One of the most striking features of the poem is its use of vivid and evocative language. Dryden's descriptions of Anne's beauty and talent are rich and poetic, and his use of imagery is both powerful and memorable. For example, he describes her palms as "new-plucked from Paradise," and he speaks of her art as "rich with immortal green." These phrases are both beautiful and meaningful, and they help to convey the depth of Anne's talent and the importance of her work.
The imagery in the poem also serves to underscore the theme of mortality. Dryden speaks of the "crumbling pageant" of life, and he suggests that even the heavens themselves will be "untuned" by the sound of the trumpet that announces the end of all things. This language is both somber and beautiful, and it reinforces the idea that life is fleeting and that we must make the most of the time we have.
Conclusion
"To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew" is a powerful and moving elegy that celebrates the life of a young woman who was taken too soon. Dryden's use of language and imagery is both beautiful and evocative, and his exploration of themes such as mortality, art, and faith is profound and meaningful. This is a poem that will continue to inspire and move readers for generations to come, a testament to the enduring power of great art.
Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation
To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew: A Masterpiece of Elegy by John Dryden
John Dryden, the great English poet, playwright, and literary critic, is known for his mastery of various genres of literature. Among his many works, To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew stands out as a masterpiece of elegy. This poem, written in 1686, is a tribute to Anne Killigrew, a young woman who was a gifted poet, painter, and musician, and who died at the age of 25. In this 2000-word analysis, we will explore the themes, structure, language, and imagery of this poem, and examine why it is considered one of Dryden's finest works.
Themes
The central theme of To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew is the celebration of Anne's life and talents, and the lamentation of her untimely death. Dryden portrays Anne as a paragon of beauty, virtue, and talent, who was beloved by all who knew her. He praises her for her skill in poetry, painting, and music, and laments the loss of such a gifted young woman. The poem is also a meditation on the transience of life and the inevitability of death, and a reflection on the power of art to immortalize the dead. Dryden suggests that Anne's art will live on, even though she herself is gone, and that her memory will be preserved through her works.
Structure
To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew is a formal elegy, written in heroic couplets. The poem consists of 121 lines, divided into six stanzas of varying lengths. Each stanza has a distinct focus, and together they form a coherent narrative of Anne's life, death, and legacy. The first stanza introduces Anne and establishes her as a paragon of beauty, virtue, and talent. The second stanza focuses on her skill in poetry and her love of the Muses. The third stanza describes her skill in painting and her ability to capture the beauty of nature. The fourth stanza celebrates her skill in music and her ability to move the soul with her voice. The fifth stanza laments her untimely death and reflects on the transience of life. The final stanza concludes with a meditation on the power of art to immortalize the dead and preserve their memory.
Language
Dryden's language in To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew is rich, ornate, and highly poetic. He uses a variety of literary devices, including alliteration, metaphor, simile, and personification, to create a vivid and memorable portrait of Anne. His language is also highly emotional, conveying a sense of deep sorrow and loss at Anne's death. Dryden's use of language is particularly effective in the second stanza, where he describes Anne's skill in poetry:
"Her pencil drew whate'er her soul designed, And oft the happy draught surpassed the mind. The sylvan scenes of herds and flocks she drew, Their walks, their wat'ring, and their pastures new, And soft'ning all with the aerial blue."
Here, Dryden uses metaphor and personification to describe Anne's skill in painting, suggesting that her art was a reflection of her soul. He also uses vivid imagery to describe the natural scenes that she painted, creating a sense of beauty and tranquility.
Imagery
The imagery in To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew is highly evocative and memorable. Dryden uses a variety of images to describe Anne's beauty, talent, and virtue, as well as the sorrow and loss that her death has caused. In the first stanza, he describes Anne's beauty in terms of the sun and the stars:
"Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, Made in the last promotion of the blest; Whose palms, new pluck'd from Paradise, In spreading branches more sublimely rise, Rich with immortal green above the rest: Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star, Thou roll'st above us in thy wand'ring race, Or, in procession fix'd and regular, Mov'd with the heav'ns' majestic pace; Or, call'd to more superior bliss, Thou tread'st with seraphims the vast abyss."
Here, Dryden uses celestial imagery to describe Anne's beauty and suggest that she is a heavenly being. He also uses the image of the palm tree to suggest that Anne's memory will endure, even though she is gone.
Conclusion
To The Pious Memory Of The Accomplished Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew is a masterpiece of elegy, and one of John Dryden's finest works. Through his rich language, vivid imagery, and emotional depth, Dryden creates a powerful tribute to a young woman who was a paragon of beauty, virtue, and talent. He celebrates Anne's life and mourns her untimely death, while also reflecting on the transience of life and the power of art to immortalize the dead. This poem is a testament to Dryden's skill as a poet and his ability to capture the essence of a person's life and legacy in verse.
Editor Recommended Sites
Open Source Alternative: Alternatives to proprietary tools with Open Source or free github softwareBest Strategy Games - Highest Rated Strategy Games & Top Ranking Strategy Games: Find the best Strategy games of all time
LLM Prompt Book: Large Language model prompting guide, prompt engineering tooling
Loading Screen Tips: Loading screen tips for developers, and AI engineers on your favorite frameworks, tools, LLM models, engines
Flutter Design: Flutter course on material design, flutter design best practice and design principles
Recommended Similar Analysis
Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old by William Shakespeare analysisThe Road And The End by Carl Sandburg analysis
He fumbles at your spirit by Emily Dickinson analysis
I heard a Fly buzz-when I died by Emily Dickinson analysis
Angel , The by William Blake analysis
Sonnet XXIX by William Shakespeare analysis
Her-"last Poems" by Emily Dickinson analysis
Yesterday by W.S. Merwin analysis
The Betrothed by Rudyard Kipling analysis
What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet XLIII) by Edna St. Vincent Millay analysis