Aemilia Lanyer

Aemilia Lanyer (1569—1645) is the first woman writing in English to have sought patronage to publish a substantial volume of poetry. Her father was a court musician who died when she was just seven. She was eighteen when her mother died, and she attracted the attention of Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, who was Queen Elizabeth's lord chamberlain. She became his mistress, for several years, but when she became pregnant by him, she was forced to marry one of the court musicians. This doesn't seem to be a promising start for a woman who eventually wrote important Christian verse. Another puzzling chapter in her life sees her visiting an astrologer, Simon Forman, several times in 1597.

Her book, Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum (1611), begins with several dedicatory poems; all are written to women, one of which is Mary Sidney Herbert—famous for her verse translations of the Psalms. She gives credit for her conversion to the countess dowager of Cumberland, to whom the book is primarily dedicated. The section known as "Eve's Apology", which is written from the perspective of Pilate's wife, is seeking to divert blame from Eve for the fall of mankind, in part by pointing out Adam's responsibility:
-----But surely Adam cannot be excused,
-----Her fault though great, yet he was most to blame;
-----What Weakness offered, Strength might have refused,
-----Being Lord of all, the greater was his shame:
-----Although the Serpent's craft had her abused,
-----God's holy word ought all his actions frame,
-----For he was Lord and King of all the earth,
-----Before poor Eve had either life or breath.

The central focus of the title poem, "Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum" ("Hail God King of the Jews"), is Christ's passion. The entire poem is 1,840 lines. The poem is interesting because of it's particularly female perspective—showing her to be an early voice of Christian feminism.

from Salve Deus Rex Judaeorum

Therefore I humbly for his Grace will pray,
That he will give me Power and Strength to Write,
That what I have begun, so end I may,
As his great Glory may appear more bright;
Yea in these Lines I may no further stray,
Than his most holy Spirit shall give me Light:
That blindest Weakness be not over-bold,
The manner of his Passion to unfold.
In other Phrases than may well agree
With his pure Doctrine, and most holy Writ,
That Heaven's clear eye, and all the World may see,
I seek his Glory, rather than to get
The Vulgars breath, the seed of Vanity,
Nor Fames loud Trumpet care I to admit;
But rather strive in plainest Words to show,
The Matter which I seek to undergo.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. His new poetry collection, Conspiracy of Light: Poems Inspired by the Legacy of C.S. Lewis, is available from Wipf & Stock as is his earlier award-winning collection, Poiema.

Philip Sidney

Sir Philip Sidney (1554—1586) may be considered the father of English literary criticism. In his "The Defence of Poesy", Sidney argued that poetry, by which he meant literature, was able to rouse its readers to virtue. Although this is not the intent of many writers today, this was Sidney's focus and purpose. In 1583 he began his project of versifying the Psalms, which was interrupted by his death. His sister, Mary Sidney Herbert, completed the project in 1599.

He was involved politically in the cause of uniting Protestant Europe against the Roman Catholics of Spain. In 1581 he became a member of parliament, and in 1584 Queen Elizabeth I appointed him governor of Flushing (in the Netherlands). In fighting against the Spanish at the Battle of Zutphen, a musket-shot broke his thighbone; twenty three days later he died.

Psalm 93

Clothed with state, and girt with might,
Monarch-like Jehovah reigns,
He who earth's foundation pight—
Pight at first, and yet sustains;
He whose stable throne disdains
Motions shock and age's flight;
He who endless one remains
One, the same, in changeless plight.

Rivers,—yea though the rivers roar,
Roaring though sea-billows rise,
Vex the deep, and break the shore,—
Stronger art thou, Lord of skies!
Firm and true thy promise lies
Now and still as heretofore:
Holy worship never dies
In thy house where we adore.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. His new poetry collection, Conspiracy of Light: Poems Inspired by the Legacy of C.S. Lewis, is available from Wipf & Stock as is his earlier award-winning collection, Poiema.

Susanna Childress

Susanna Childress lives in Michigan, where she is on the faculty of Hope College. She is the author of two books: Jagged With Love (Wisconsin) which won the Britttingham Prize, and Entering the House of Awe (New Issues Press) which won the prize in poetry from the Society of Midland Authors.

Billy Collins praised her first book by saying, "Susanna Childress writes at the cutting edge of the long tradition of love poetry. Her poems often involve tense negotiations between a sharp cultural intelligence and a body that craves fulfillment..." Her poems dwell, often without rational connections, in the spaces where emotion is what really makes sense. They deal with yearning, pain, anxiety and joy, in a way that doesn't try to explain what can only be experienced."

Over the past seven years, Susanna's husband, Joshua Banner, has been setting some of her poems to music. The result is The Necessary Dark. The CD will be released in November, 2013, although videos can now be seen on her web site.

The following poem is from Entering the House of Awe.

From The Hyssop Tub------VI

Mary---Mary Countess---of Pembroke sister of the Queen's fallen
---------one---you
proffered this translation---this paraphrase---lines that perhaps
as you had---Laura---speak through---------Petrarch------you give this
---------woman
something---of her own------(the male Black-Throated Green Warbler
has been known to sing---466 songs---in one hour---to call a mate) for
it is not---let the bones you have crushed---rejoice but---that bruised
---------bones---may
dance away---their sadness---It is after all---to lepers God has been
assigned------------their purging---part cedar wood---part crimson
---------yarn---pair
of doves---------------hyssop------------Rabbinic commentary offers You
---------were proud
like the cedar and the Holy One---Blessed be He---humbled you
like---------this hyssop that---is crushed---by everyone------At the
---------crucifixion
I lifted------------a sponge of vinegared wine on a branch of
---------hyssop---------So
who's up for being ground---like mint or white sage------What's---the
---------chance
you take---------to give------------only and not---only------then---we
---------dance

Posted with permission of the poet.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the award-winning author of the poetry collections Poiema (Wipf & Stock) and So The Moon Would Not Be Swallowed (Rubicon Press). They are both available at: www.dsmartin.ca

Mary Sidney Herbert

Mary Sidney Herbert (1561—1621) the Countess of Pembroke, is one of the first English women to be acknowledged as a significant writer. She was influential in many aspects of the society of her day. She established “The Wilton Circle” — a literary group which included Edmund Spenser and her brother, Sir Philip Sidney. She was also accomplished as a poet and theologian.

Her brother had been working on a verse translation of the Psalms at the time of his death (1586) — having completed the first 43 Psalms. Mary continued the project, translating Psalms 44 to 150. Her Psalm translations became very influential on the subsequent generation of British poets — particularly on John Donne and George Herbert.

In 1601, King James I visited her at Wilton, where he was entertained by Shakespeare’s company The King’s Men. Shakespeare’s first folio (1623) was dedicated to two of her sons.

Psalm 52

Tyrant, why swell'st thou thus,
------Of mischief vaunting?
Since help from God to us
------Is never wanting.

Lewd lies thy tongue contrives,
------Loud lies it soundeth;
Sharper than sharpest knives
------With lies it woundeth.

Falsehood thy wit approves,
------All truth rejected:
Thy will all vices loves,
------Virtue neglected.

Not words from cursed thee,
------But gulfs are poured;
Gulfs wherein daily be
------Good men devoured.

Think'st thou to bear it so?
------God shall displace thee;
God shall thee overthrow,
------Crush thee, deface thee.

The just shall fearing see
------These fearful chances,
And laughing shoot at thee
------With scornful glances.

Lo, lo, the wretched wight,
------Who God disdaining,
His mischief made his might,
------His guard his gaining.

I as an olive tree
------Still green shall flourish:
God's house the soil shall be
------My roots to nourish.

My trust in his true love
------Truly attending,
Shall never thence remove,
------Never see ending.

Thee will I honour still,
------Lord, for this justice;
There fix my hopes I will
------Where thy saints' trust is.

Thy saints trust in thy name,
------Therein they joy them:
Protected by the same,
------Naught can annoy them.

Entry written by D.S. Martin. He is the award-winning author of the poetry collections Poiema (Wipf & Stock) and So The Moon Would Not Be Swallowed (Rubicon Press). They are both available at: www.dsmartin.ca