Bradstreet, Anne. , original publisher, 1678. Literature in Context: An Open Anthology. https://anthologydev.lib.virginia.edu/work/Bradstreet/bradstreet-earth. Accessed: 2020-04-05T23:48:20.587Z
1The next in place, Earth judg'd to be her due,
2Sister, in worth I come not short of you;
3In wealth and use I doe surpasse you all,
4And Mother Earth, of old, men did me call,
5Such was my fruitfulnesse; an
6Which none ere gave, nor you could claime of right,
7Among my praises this I count not least,
8I am th'origniall of man and beast,
9To tell what fruits my fat soyle yeelds,
10In vine-yards, orchards, gardens, and corne fields,
11Their kinds, their tasts, their colours, and their smels,
12Would so passe time, I could say nothing else;
13The rich and poore, wife, foole, and every sort,
14Of these so common things, can make report:
15To tell you of my Countries, and my regions
16Soone would they passe, not hundreds, but legions,
17My cities famous, rich, and populous,
18Whose numbers now are growne innumerous;
19I have not time to thinke of every part,
20Yet let me name my , 'tis my heart
21For Learning, Armes, and Arts, I love it well:
22But chiefly, cause the Muses there did dwell;
23I'le here skip o're my mountaines, reaching skies,
24Whether Pyrenian, or the Alpes; both lyes
25On either side the country of the ,
26Strong forts from the Spanish and Italian braules,
27And huge great , longer then the rest,
28Dividing great Armenia from the least,
29And , whose steep sides, none foote upon,
30But farewell all, for deare mount Helicon,
31And wonderous high Olimpus, of such fame,
32That heaven selfe was oft call'd by that name;
33Sweet , I dote too much on thee,
34Unless thou prove a better friend to me;
35But ile skip o're these Hills, not touch a ,
36Nor yet Walk about or roam. Source: Oxford English Dictionary, in Temple vale;
37Ile here let goe, my Lions of Numedia,
38My Panther, and my leopards of Libia,
39The Behemoth, and rare found Unicorne,
40Poysons sure antidote lyes in his horne.
41And my Hyena (imitates mans voyce)
42Out of huge numbers, I might pick my choyce,
43Thousands in woods, and planes, both wild, and tame,
44But here, or there, I list now none: name;
45No, though the fawning dog did urge me sore
46In his behalfe to speak a word the more;
47Whose trust, and valour I might here commend:
48But time's too short, and precious so to spend.
49But hark, ye worthy Merchants who for prize
50Send forth your well man'd ships, where fun doth rise
51After three years, when men and meat is spent
52My rich commodities payes double rent.
53Ye , my Drugs that come from thence
54Doe cure your patients, fill your purse with pence;
55Besides the use you have, or Hearbs and Plants,
56That with the lesse cost, neare home, supplyes your wants.
57But Marriners, where got you ships and sailes?
58And Oares to row, when both my sisters failes?
59Your tackling, Anchor, Compasse too, is mine;
60Which guides, when Sun, nor Moon, nor Stars do shine
61Ye mighty kinds, who for your lasting fames
62Built cities, Monuments call'd by your names;
63What those compiled heapes of stones?
64That your ambition laid, ought but my bones?
65Ye greedy misers who do dig for gold;
66For gemmes, for silver, treasures which I hold:
67Will nor my goodly face, your rage suffice?
68Buy you will see what in my bowls lyes?
69And ye , all trades and forts;
70My bounty calls you forth to make reports,
71If ought have to use, to wear, to eate?
72But what I freely yeeld upon your sweat?
73And sister, thou (for all thine ire)
74Well knowest, my fuell must maintain thy fire.
75As I ingenuously (with thanks) confesse
76My cold, thy (fruitful) heat, doth crave no lesse:
77But how my cold, dry temper, works upon
78The melancholy constitution.
79How the Autumnal season I do sway;
80And how I force the grey head to obey.
81I should here make a short, yet true narration,
82But that the method is my imitation.
83Now might I shew my adverse quality,
84And how I oft work mans mortality
85He sometimes findes, his toyling paine,
86Thistles and thornes, where he expected graine;
87My sap, to plants and trees, I must not grant,
88The Vine, the Olive, and the Figtree want:
89The Corne, and Hay, both fall before they'r mowne;
90And buds from fruitfull trees, before they'r blowne.
91Then dearth prevailes, That Nature to suffice,
92The tender mother on her Infant flyes:
93The Husband knowes no Wife, nor father sons;
94But to all outrages their hunger runnes.
95Dreadful expamples, soon I might produce,
96But to such auditours 'twere of no use
97Again, when Delvers dare in hope of gold,
98To ope those veines of Mine, audacious bold:
99While they thus in my seem to dive;
100Before they know, they are inter'd alive.
101Ye affrighted , appall'd how you do shake
102If one you feele me, your foundation, quake,
103Because in the abysse of my darke wombe:
104Your Cities and your selves I oft intombe.
105O dreadfull ! that this is true,
106 and all his Company well knew.
107And since, faire Italy full sadly knowes.
108What she hath lost by these my dreadfull woes.
109And Rome, her Curtius, can't forget I think;
110Who bravely rode into my yawning chinke.
111Again, what veines of poyson in me lye;
112As Stibium and unfixt Mercury:
113With divers moe, nay, into plants it creeps;
114In hot, and cold, and some with sleeps,
115Thus I occasion death to man and beast,
116When they seek food, and harme mistrust the least.
117Much might I say, of the Arabian sands;
118Wherein whole Armies I have overthrown;
119But windy sister, 'twas when you have blown.
120Ile say no more, yet this thing adde I must,
121Remember sonnes, your mould is of my dust
122And after death, whether inter'd, or burn'd;
123As earth at first, so earth into return'd.