Anne Killigrew was an English poet. Born in London, Killigrew is perhaps best known as the subject of a famous elegy by the poet John Dryden entitled To The Pious Memory of the Accomplish'd Young Lady Mrs. Anne Killigrew (1686). She was however a skilful poet in her own right, and her Poems were published posthumously in 1686. Dryden compared her poetic abilities to the famous Greek poet of antiquity, Sappho. Killigrew died of smallpox aged 25.
Early Life and Inspiration
Anne Killigrew was born in early 1660, before the Restoration, at St. Martin's Lane in London England. Not much is known about her mother Judith Killigrew, but her father Dr. Henry Killigrew has ... more »
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Anne Killigrew Poems
Tell me thou safest End of all our Woe, Why wreched Mortals do avoid thee so: Thou gentle drier o'th' afflicteds Tears, Thou noble ender of the Cowards Fears;
Extemporary Counsel Given To A Young Gal...
As you are Young, if you'l be also Wise, Danger with Honour court, Quarrels despise; Believe you then are truly Brave and Bold,
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:
A Farewel To Worldly Joys
FArewel ye Unsubstantial Joyes, Ye Gilded Nothings, Gaudy Toyes, Too long ye have my Soul misled, Too long with Aiery Diet fed:
First Epigram: Upon Being Contented with...
1 We deem them moderate, but Enough implore, 2 What barely will suffice, and ask no more: 3 Who say, (O Jove) a competency give, 4 Neither in Luxury, or Want we'd live.
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.
[I.] Arise my Dove, from mid'st of Pots arise, Thy sully'd Habitation leave, To Dust no longer cleave,
On The Soft And Gentle Motions Of Eudora
Divine Thalia strike th' Harmonious Lute, But with a Stroke so Gentle as may sute The silent gliding of the Howers,
An Epitaph On Her Self.
When I am Dead, few Friends attend my Hearse, And for a Monument, I leave my VERSE.
The Miseries of Man
1 In that so temperate Soil Arcadia nam'd, 1 For fertile Pasturage by Poets fam'd; 2 Stands a steep Hill, whose lofty jetting Crown, 3 Casts o'er the neighbouring Plains, a seeming Frown;
A Pastoral Dialogue
Dorinda. Sabæan Perfumes fragrant Roses bring, With all the Flowers that Paint the gaudy Spring: Scatter them all in young Alexis's way,
St. John Baptist Painted By Her Self In ...
The Sun's my Fire, when it does shine, The hollow Spring's my Cave of Wine, The Rocks and Woods afford me Meat; This Lamb and I on one Dish eat:
I. 1 Here take no Care, take here no Care, my Muse,
On My Aunt Mrs. A. K.
The Darling of a Father Good and Wise, The Vertue, which a Vertuous Age did prize; The Beauty Excellent even to those were Faire,
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Tell me thou safest End of all our Woe,
Why wreched Mortals do avoid thee so:
Thou gentle drier o'th' afflicteds Tears,
Thou noble ender of the Cowards Fears;
Thou sweet Repose to Lovers sad dispaire,
Thou Calm t'Ambitions rough Tempestuous Care.
If in regard of Bliss thou wert a Curse,
And then the Joys of Paradise art worse;
Yet after Man from his first Station fell,
And God from Eden Adam did expel,
Thou wert no more an Evil, but Relief;
The Balm and Cure to ev'ry Humane Grief:
Through thee (what Man had forfeited before)
He now enjoys, and ne'r ...