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the Lord to follow us with his blessings, that we might love him again. I find here so much to do, as I doubt I shall not come down these three weeks; but, thou mayest be sure, I will stay no longer than my occasions shall enforce me.

I must now begin to prepare thee for our long parting, which grows very near. I know not how to deal with thee by arguments; for if thou wert as wise and patient as ever woman was, yet it must needs be a great trial to thee, and the greater, because I am so dear to thee. That which I must chiefly look at in thee, for a ground of contentment, is thy godliness. If now the Lord be thy God, thou must show it by trusting in him, and resigning thyself quietly to his good pleasure. If now Christ be thy Husband, thou must show what sure and sweet intercourse is between him and thy soul, when it shall be no hard thing for thee to part with an earthly, mortal, infirm husband for his sake. The enlargement of thy comfort in the communion of the love and sweet familiarity of thy most holy, heavenly, and undefiled Lord and Husband, will abundantly recompense whatsoever want or inconvenience may come by the absence of the other. The best course is to turn all our reasons and discourse into prayers; for he only can help, who is Lord of sea and land, and hath sole power of life and death.

It is now near eleven of the clock, and I shall write again erelong (if God will). The good Lord bless thee and all thy company. My broth. and sister salute you all. Commend my hearty love to my good sister F. and all the rest. Tell her I wrote to Mr. Dummer so soon as I came to town; and, if I can, I will speak with him, before John go down. So I kiss my sweet wife, and rest

January 31, 1629.

Thy frail, yet faithful husband,

Jo. WINTHROP.

MY

A FAREWELL FROM THE "ARBELLA."

[Written to Mrs. Winthrop from aboard Ship,off Yarmouth, April 3, 1630.]

Y LOVE, MY JOY, MY FAITHFUL ONE, I suppose thou didst not expect to have any more letters from me till the return of our ships; but so is the good pleasure of God, that the wind should not serve yet to carry us hence. He will do all things in his own time, and that shall be for the best in the end. We acknowledge it a great mercy to us, that we went not out to sea on Monday, when the wind was fair for one day; for we had been exposed, ever since, to sore

tempests and contrary winds. I praise God, we are all in good health, and want nothing. For myself, I was never at more liberty of body and mind these many years. The Lord make me thankful and wise to improve his blessings for the furtherance of his own work. I desire to resign myself wholly to his gracious disposing. Oh that I had an heart so to do, and to trust perfectly in him for his assistance in all our ways. We find him still going along with us. He hath brought in the heart of the master of our ship to afford us all good respect, and to join with us in every good action. Yesterday he caused his seamen to keep a fast with us, wherein the Lord assisted us and our minister very comfortably; and when five of the clock came, I had respite to remember thee (it being Friday), and to parley with thee, and to meet thee in spirit before the Lord.

I am uncertain whether I shall have opportunity to send these to thee; for, if the wind turn, we shall soon be gone. Therefore I will not write much. I know it will be sufficient for thy present comfort, to hear of our welfare; and this is the third letter I have written to thee, since I came to Hampton, in requital of those two I received from thee, which I do often read with much delight, apprehending so much love and sweet affection in them, as I am never satisfied with reading, nor can read them without tears; but whether they proceed from joy, sorrow, or desire, or from that consent of affection which I always hold with thee, I cannot conceive. Ah, my dear heart, I ever held thee in high esteem, as thy love and goodness hath well deserved; but (if it be possible) I shall yet prize thy virtue at a greater rate, and long more to enjoy thy sweet society than ever before. I am sure thou art not short of me in this desire. Let us pray hard, and pray in faith, and our God, in his good time, will accomplish our desire. Oh, how loath am I to bid thee farewell! but, since it must be, farewell, my sweet love, farewell. Farewell, my dear children and family. The Lord bless you all, and grant me to see your faces once again. Come, (my dear), take him and let him rest in thine arms, who will ever remain, Thy faithful husband,

JO. WINTHROP.

Commend my love to all our friends at Castleins, Mr. Leigh and his wife, my neighbor Cole and his wife, and all the rest of our good friends and neighbors, and our good friends at Maplested, when you see them, and those our worthy and kind friends at Assington, etc. My brother Arthur hath carried himself very soberly since he came on shipboard, and so hath Mr. Brand's son, and my cousin Ro. Sampson. I hope their friends shall hear well of them.

To my very loving Wife, MRS. WINTHROP,

the elder, at Groton, in Suffolk, d'd.

MOST

Margaret Winthrop.

Third wife of John Winthrop.

A PURITAN WIFE TO HER HUSBAND.

[Written about 1627.]

OST DEAR AND LOVING HUSBAND, I cannot express my love to you, as I desire, in these poor, lifeless lines; but I do heartily wish you did see my heart, how true and faithful it is to you, and how much I do desire to be always with you, to enjoy the sweet comfort of your presence, and those helps from you in spiritual and temporal duties, which I am so unfit to perform without you. It makes me to see the want of you, and wish myself with you. But I desire we may be guided by God in all our ways, who is able to direct us for the best; and so I will wait upon him with patience, who is allsufficient for me.

I shall not need to write much to you at this time. My brother Gostling can tell you any thing by word of mouth. I praise God, we are all here in health, as you left us, and are glad to hear the same of you and all the rest of our friends at London. My mother and myself remember our best love to you, and all the rest. Our children remember their duty to you. And thus, desiring to be remembered in your prayers, I bid my good husband good-night. Little Samuel thinks it is time for me to go to bed; and so I beseech the Lord to keep you in safety, and us all here. Farewell, my sweet husband.

Your obedient wife,

MARGARET WINTHROP.

DE

THE TRUST OF A GODLY WOMAN.

[Mrs. Winthrop to her Husband.]

EAR IN MY THOUGHTS, I blush to think how much I have neglected the opportunity of presenting my love to you. Sad thoughts possess my spirits, and I cannot repulse them; which makes me unfit for any thing, wondering what the Lord means by all these troubles among us. Sure I am, that all shall work to the best to them that love God, or rather are loved of him. I know he will bring light out of obscurity, and make his righteousness shine forth as clear as the noonday. Yet I find in myself an adverse spirit, and a trem

bling heart, not so willing to submit to the will of God as I desire. There is a time to plant, and a time to pull up that which is planted, which I could desire might not be yet. But the Lord knoweth what is best, and his will be done. But I will write no more. Hoping to see thee to-morrow, my best affections being commended to yourself, the rest of our friends at Newton, I commit thee to God.

Sad BOSTON, 1637.

To her honored Husband, }

these be delivered.

Your loving wife,

MARGARET WINTHROP

Anne Bradstreet.

BORN in Northampton, England, 1612-13. DIED at Andover, Mass., 1672.

OF THE FOUR AGES OF MAN.

[The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America. 1650.]

L

O, now four other act upon the stage,

Childhood and Youth, the Manly and Old age:
The first son unto phlegm, grandchild to water,
Unstable, supple, cold and moist's his nature.
The second, frolic, claims his pedigree

From blood and air, for hot and moist is he.
The third of fire and choler is compos'd,
Vindicative and quarrelsome dispos'd.

The last of earth and heavy melancholy,

Solid, hating all lightness and all folly.

Childhood was cloth'd in white and green to show

His spring was intermixed with some snow:

Upon his head nature a garland set

Of Primrose, Daisy and the Violet.

Such cold mean flowers the spring puts forth betime,

Before the sun hath thoroughly heat the clime.

His hobby striding did not ride but run,

And in his hand an hour-glass new begun,

In danger every moment of a fall,

And when 't is broke then ends his life and all:

But if he hold till it have run its last,
Then may he live out threescore years or past.

Next Youth came up in gorgeous attire

(As that fond age doth most of all desire),

His suit of crimson and his scarf of green,

His pride in's countenance was quickly seen;

Garland of roses, pinks and gillyflowers

Seemed on's head to grow bedew'd with showers.

His face as fresh as is Aurora fair,
When blushing she first 'gins to light the air.
No wooden horse, but one of mettle tried,
He seems to fly or swim, and not to ride.
Then prancing on the stage, about he wheels,
But as he went death waited at his heels.
The next came up in a much graver sort,
As one that cared for a good report,

His sword by's side, and choler in his eyes,

But neither us'd as yet, for he was wise;

Of Autumn's fruits a basket on his arm,

His golden god in 's purse, which was his charm.
And last of all to act upon this stage
Leaning upon his staff came up Old Age,
Under his arm a sheaf of wheat he bore,

An harvest of the best, what needs he more?
In's other hand a glass ev'n almost run,
Thus writ about: "This out, then am I done."

A LOVE-LETTER TO HER HUSBAND.

[Several Poems compiled with great Variety of Wit and Learning. 1678.]

HEBUS make haste, the day's too long, begone,

PH

The silent night's the fittest time for moan;

But stay this once, unto my suit give ear,

And tell my griefs in either Hemisphere:

(And if the whirling of thy wheels don't drown'd

The woful accents of my doleful sound),

If in thy swift career thou canst make stay,

I crave this boon, this errand by the way:

Commend me to the man more lov'd than life,

Show him the sorrows of his widow'd wife,

My dumpish thoughts, my groans, my brackish tears,
My sobs, my longing hopes, my doubting fears,

And, if he love, how can he there abide?

My interest's more than all the world beside.

He that can tell the stars or Ocean sand,

Or all the grass that in the meads do stand,
The leaves in th' woods, the hail or drops of rain,
Or in a cornfield number every grain,

Or every mote that in the sunshine hops,
May count my sighs and number all my drops.
Tell him, the countless steps that thou dost trace,
That once a day thy spouse thou mayst embrace;
And when thou canst not treat by loving mouth,
Thy rays afar, salute her from the south.
But for one month I see no day (poor soul)

Like those far situate under the pole,

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