Poems by Anne Killigrew

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First EPIGRAM. (Upon being Contented with a Little)



We deem them moderate, but Enough implore,
What barely will suffice, and ask no more:
Who say, (O Jove) a competency give,
Neither in Luxury, or Want we'd live.
But what is that, which these Enough do call?
If both the Indies unto some should fall,
Such Wealth would yet Enough but onely be,
And what they'd term not Want, or Luxury.
Among the Suits, O Jove, my humbler take;
A little give, I that Enough will make.

Poems by Anne Killigrew

HERODIAS Daughter presenting to her Mother St. JOHN's Head in a Charger, also Painted by her self



Behold, dear Mother, who was late our Fear,
Disarm'd and Harmless, I present you here;
The Tongue ty'd up, that made all Jury quake,
And which so often did our Greatness shake;

No Terror sits upon his Awful Brow,
Where Fierceness reign'd, there Calmness triumphs now;
As Lovers use, he gazes on my Face,
With Eyes that languish, as they sued for Grace;
Wholly subdu'd by my Victorious Charms,
See how his Head reposes in my Arms.
Come, joyn then with me in my just Transport,
Who thus have brought the Hermite to the Court.

Poems by Anne Killigrew

Love, the Soul of Poetry



WHen first Alexis did in Verse delight,
His Muse in Low, but Graceful Numbers walk't,
And now and then a little Proudly stalk't;
But never aim'd at any noble Flight:
The Herds, the Groves, the gentle purling Streams,
Adorn'd his Song, and were his highest Theams.
But Love these Thoughts, like Mists, did soon disperse,
Enlarg'd his Fancy, and set free his Muse,
Biding him more Illustrious Subjects choose;
The Acts of Gods, and God-like Men reherse.
From thence new Raptures did his Breast inspire,
His scarce Warm-Heart converted was to Fire....

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Poems by Anne Killigrew

On the Birth-Day of Queen Katherine



WHile yet it was the Empire of the Night,
And Stars still check'r'd Darkness with their Light,
From Temples round the cheerful Bells did ring,
But with the Peales a churlish Storm did sing.
I slumbr'd; and the Heavens like things did show,
Like things which I had seen and heard below.
Playing on Harps Angels did singing fly,
But through a cloudy and a troubl'd Sky,

Some fixt a Throne, and Royal Robes display'd,
And then a Massie Cross upon it laid.
I wept: and earnestly implor'd to know,
Why Royal Ensigns were disposed so.
An Angel said, The Emblem thou hast seen,
Denotes the Birth-Day of a Saint and Queen....

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Poems by Anne Killigrew

The Complaint of a Lover



Seest thou younder craggy Rock,
Whose Head o'er-looks the swelling Main,
Where never Shepherd fed his Flock,
Or careful Peasant sow'd his Grain.
No wholesome Herb grows on the same,
Or Bird of Day will on it rest;
'Tis Barren as the Hopeless Flame,
That scortches my tormented Breast.

Deep underneath a Cave does lie,
Th' entrance hid with dismal Yew,
Where Phebus never shew'd his Eye,
Or cheerful Day yet pierced through....

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Poems by Anne Killigrew

The Miseries of Man



In that so temperate Soil Arcadia nam'd,
For fertile Pasturage by Poets fam'd;
Stands a steep Hill, whose lofty jetting Crown,
Casts o'er the neighbouring Plains, a seeming Frown;
Close at its mossie Foot an aged Wood,
Compos'd of various Trees, there long has stood,
Whose thick united Tops scorn the Sun's Ray,
And hardly will admit the Eye of Day.
By oblique windings through this gloomy Shade,
Has a clear purling Stream its Passage made,
The Nimph, as discontented seem'd t'ave chose
This sad Recess to murmur forth her Woes.
To this Retreat, urg'd by tormenting Care,
The melancholly Cloris did repair,

As a fit Place to take the sad Relief
Of Sighs and Tears, to ease oppressing Grief.
Near to the Mourning Nimph she chose a Seat,
And these Complaints did to the Shades repeat....

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Poems by Anne Killigrew

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