Post by moira on May 16, 2008 19:09:41 GMT 2
Elizabeth Plantagenet, or Elizabeth of York (1466-1503)
I first came across Elizabeth of York's "irregular sestina" at night
in a small old anthology of women poets: The Distaff Muse edited
and compiled by Clifford Bax and Meum Stewart. It was there it was
called "a irregular sestina" and described as follows:
The sestina as an elaborate form invened by the troubador Arnaut Daniel
(twelth century) who was praised by Dante. The reader will notice that the
last six lines of the first stanza in the poem successively form the first
lines of the stanzas which follow. 'Twin' means break apart or separate into
two. 'A lusty pin' means a strong peg or a stable foundation. Not many poets
have declared 'My joys be double where others are but thin ...'
While it might resemblance a sestina because some of the words
repeat, it's actually to rhyme royal. Rhyme royal was a much favored
form of the 15th century (Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde is rhyme
royal). Rhyme royal has 7 line stanzas which rhyme ababbcc.
I Pray to Venus
My heart is set upon a lusty pin;
I pray to Venus of good continuance,
For I rejoice the case that I am in,
Deliver'd from sorrow, annex'd to pleasance,
Of all comfort having abundance;
This joy and I, I trust, shall never twin
My heart is set upon a lusty pin.
I pray to Venus of good continuance
Since she hath set me in the way of ease;
My hearty service with my attendance
So to continue it ever I may please;
Thus voiding from all pensful disease,
Now stand I whole far from all grievance
I pray to Venus of good continuance.
For I rejoice the case that I am in,
My gladness is such that giveth me no pain,
And so to sorrow never shall I blynne,
And though I would I may not me refrain;
My heart and I so set 'tis certain
We shall never slake, but ever new begin
For I rejoice the case that I am in.
Deliver'd from sorrow, annex'd to pleasance,
That all my joy I set as aught of right,
To please as after my simple suffisance
To me the goodliest, most beauteous in sight;
A very lantern to all other light,
Most to my comfort on her remembrance
Deliver'd from sorrow, annex'd to pleasance.
Of all comfort having abundance,
As when that I think that goodlihead
Of that most feminine and meek countenance
Very mirror and star of womanhead;
Whose right good fame so large abroad doth spread,
Full glad for me to have recognisance
Of all comfort having abundance.
This joy and I, I trust, shall never twin,
So that I am so far forth in the trace,
My joys be double where others' are but thin,
For I am stably set in such a place,
Where beauty 'creaseth and ever willeth grace,
Which is full famous and born of noble kin
This joy and I, I trust, shall never twin.
I could find only one other poem attributed to Elizabeth of York, and
not in a printed anthology but rather Chadwyck-Healey This is not a
poem about happiness I really do like it. Very stark
Item: more silver to pawn.
Item: the blue gown to mend.
Item; a fair child born.
Item: a husband, no friend,
Courteous, constant, and mean.
Item: his mother, who sends
Grown children away. In the hour
Their black envoys call, I taste pity;
She is safe; who desires no power.
The river lies frozen. I see
The wasted list strike to a flare,
The ash sputter. He wanted me.
That winter spun misrule's season,
The hall-fires flung red, as my hair,
More generous. I had left prison
Of the sanctuary church. I was free.
In a world of terrible colour
His gaze enfolded me
Then his hands on my breasts. In their quiet
My brothers lay under the stair.
He drew me from the dance's riot,
He gave me a dress of that colour
He had given his sick wife: flame,
Silk, hair, great fires' glimmer.
I burnt it: with the crackle
Old collars use when starched,
At my mother's word, in our lodging
As Henry's army marched.
I knew his prayer: damnation,
Or snatched, to dazzling day
To kill: be torn by thorn trees.
Is there no other way?
The careful gown is mended.
I pray, from brutal sin.
I pull the patched wool over,
The silk peels off my skin.
*************
Eldest child to Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville, she was courted by
Richard III, and then married to his enemy, Henry VII (Tudor); from
the time of her marriage, her history is a series of pregnancies and
then death. This is from the ODNB:
"Five children survived infancy: Arthur (1486-1502), Margaret (b. 29
November 1489), Henry (b. 28 June 1491), Mary (1496-1533)
and Edmund (b. 21-2 February 1499). Several other children died
in infancy, including Elizabeth (b. 2 July 1492) and Katherine
(her last child). But by the time of the queen's own death only
Margaret, Mary, and Henry were still alive. Arthur had died on 2
April 1502, and the news reached the court at Greenwich in the early
hours of Tuesday 4 April.
As to her literary pursuits, this is what the same article by
Rosemary Horrox says:
"Elizabeth played a full role in courtly pursuits. In her
more bookish pursuits she is again closely associated with her
mother-in-law [Margaret Beaufort]. Both women sponsored Caxton's
printing of The Fifteen Oes in 1491, and a few years later they
jointly gave a copy of Wynkyn de Worde's printing of Walter Hilton's
Scala perfectionis to Elizabeth's lady-in-waiting Margery Roos. But
if, in the sphere of literary devotion, Elizabeth can be seen as
Margaret's protege, in other areas she took a more independent line.
She rewarded the court composers William Cornish and Robert Fayrfax
for a Christmas carol and an anthem of Our Lady and St Elizabeth
respectively. Secular court revels were a large part of her life as
well, with frequent references in her accounts to minstrels and disguisings.
Hunting features less often, but she kept a pack of greyhounds
(presumably for coursing small game rather than as elegant pets)
and a goshawk. Less predictably, she had a hand in the
design of Henry's new building at Greenwich, where in 1502 Robert
Vertue was working from a plan devised by the queen."
Cecily Heron by Hans Holbein; she was a member of Sir Thomas More's household.
The oblique style, indirect stance, language -- these remind me of[/size][/blockquote][/font]
the famous Thomas Wyatt ("They flee from me that sometime did me seek
... ") Elizabeth connects the troubadour poets with the early
Renaissance. In The Distaff Muse, the editors tell us that More
wrote an elegy about her at her death.
Elizabeth's irregular sestina presents the woman's point of view: I've
wondered if she rejoices because she's not pregnant or didn't die in the
last pregnancy .
Ellen