Verses upon the Burning of our House, July 18th, 1666
Verses upon the Burning of our House, July 18th, 1666
Original Text
Anne Bradstreet, manuscript of meditations, Stevens Memorial Library, North Andover, Mass., reproduced in Anne Bradstreet, The Tenth Muse (1650), a facsimile reproduction with an introduction by Josephine K.
1In silent night when rest I took,
2For sorrow near I did not look,
3I waken'd was with thund'ring noise
4And piteous shrieks of dreadful voice.
5That fearful sound of "fire" and "fire,"
6Let no man know is my Desire.
7I starting up, the light did spy,
8And to my God my heart did cry
9To straighten me in my Distress
10And not to leave me succourless.
11Then coming out, behold a space
12The flame consume my dwelling place.
13And when I could no longer look,
14I blest his grace that gave and took,
15That laid my goods now in the dust.
16Yea, so it was, and so 'twas just.
17It was his own; it was not mine.
18Far be it that I should repine,
19He might of all justly bereft
20But yet sufficient for us left.
21When by the Ruins oft I past
22My sorrowing eyes aside did cast
23And here and there the places spy
24Where oft I sate and long did lie.
25Here stood that Trunk, and there that chest,
26There lay that store I counted best,
27My pleasant things in ashes lie
28And them behold no more shall I.
29Under the roof no guest shall sit,
30Nor at thy Table eat a bit.
31No pleasant talk shall 'ere be told
32Nor things recounted done of old.
33No Candle 'ere shall shine in Thee,
34Nor bridegroom's voice ere heard shall bee.
35In silence ever shalt thou lie.
36Adieu, Adieu, All's Vanity.
37Then straight I 'gin my heart to chide:
38And did thy wealth on earth abide,
39Didst fix thy hope on mouldring dust,
40The arm of flesh didst make thy trust?
41Raise up thy thoughts above the sky
42That dunghill mists away may fly.
43Thou hast a house on high erect
44Fram'd by that mighty Architect,
45With glory richly furnished
46Stands permanent, though this be fled.
47It's purchased and paid for too
48By him who hath enough to do.
49A price so vast as is unknown,
50Yet by his gift is made thine own.
51There's wealth enough; I need no more.
53The world no longer let me love;
54My hope and Treasure lies above.
Notes
52] pelf: wealth. Back to Line
RPO poem Editors
Ian Lancashire
RPO Edition
RPO 1997.
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