The Death Of Mrs Jennings,At a time in history when female published writers were very rare, Anna Laetitia Barbauld stood out with her English Romantic style of writing poetry. She also produced a number of essays, including works on political subjects, and was a noted children’s author.
She was certainly outspoken, even into her late sixties, and she fell foul of a literary society when she published a poem called Eighteen Hundred and Eleven which, at the time of the Napoleonic wars, was derided as unpatriotic. She basically saw England as a post-war ruin and she protested vehemently about the British involvement in the war. The reviews of this poem were so vicious that she decided to lay down her pen for the rest of her life.
On The Death Of Mrs Jennings by Anna Laetitia Barbauld
‘TIS past: dear venerable shade, farewel!
Thy blameless life thy peaceful death shall tell.
Clear to the last thy setting orb has run;
Pure, bright, and healthy like a frosty sun:
Thy blameless life thy peaceful death shall tell.
Clear to the last thy setting orb has run;
Pure, bright, and healthy like a frosty sun:
And late old age with hand indulgent shed
Its mildest winter on thy favour’d head.
For Heaven prolong’d her life to spread its praise,
And blest her with a Patriarch’s length of days.
The truest praise was hers, a chearful heart,
Prone to enjoy, and ready to impart.
An Israelite indeed, and free from guile,
She show’d that piety and age could smile.
Religion had her heart, her cares, her voice;
Its mildest winter on thy favour’d head.
For Heaven prolong’d her life to spread its praise,
And blest her with a Patriarch’s length of days.
The truest praise was hers, a chearful heart,
Prone to enjoy, and ready to impart.
An Israelite indeed, and free from guile,
She show’d that piety and age could smile.
Religion had her heart, her cares, her voice;
‘Twas her last refuge, as her earlieft choice.
To holy Anna’s spirit not more dear
The church of Israel, and the house of prayer.
Her spreading offspring of the fourth degree
Fill’d her fond arms, and clasp’d her trembling knee.
Matur’d at length for some more perfect scene,
Her hopes all bright, her prospects all serene,
Each part of life sustain’d with equal worth,
And not a wish left unfulfill’d on earth,
The church of Israel, and the house of prayer.
Her spreading offspring of the fourth degree
Fill’d her fond arms, and clasp’d her trembling knee.
Matur’d at length for some more perfect scene,
Her hopes all bright, her prospects all serene,
Each part of life sustain’d with equal worth,
And not a wish left unfulfill’d on earth,
Like a tir’d traveller with sleep opprest,
Within her childrens’ arms she dropt to rest.
Farewell! thy cherish’d image, ever dear,
Shall many a heart with pious love revere:
Long, long shall mine her honour’d memory bless,
Who gave the dearest blessing I possess.
Within her childrens’ arms she dropt to rest.
Farewell! thy cherish’d image, ever dear,
Shall many a heart with pious love revere:
Long, long shall mine her honour’d memory bless,
Who gave the dearest blessing I possess.
