The Irish Poet and the Natural World: An Anthology of Verse in English from the Tudors to the Romantics

Dorothy Smith (fl.1701)

129 DOROTHY SMITH (fl.1701) The arrival in Dublin of the new Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Laurence Hyde first earl of Rochester (1642–1711), in September 1701 was marked by the appearance in print of two poems of welcome by otherwise unknown Dublin poets, Dorothy Smith and Bartholomew Williams. Williams’s Pindaric ode celebrating the occasion is extraordinary – full of infelicitous images and awkward vocabulary. Dorothy Smith’s poem, on the other hand, though it contains some surprising images, is fresh and lively in its depiction of Nature’s imagined response to the arrival of the Lord Lieutenant. Her dedication to Lord Rochester, however, contains the following peculiar passage: … And if there be [in the poem] any Newness of Thought, or Softness of Expression, worthy your Notice; ’tis all the Authress cou’d have Aim’d at: Let Elevation and Sublimity, be the Praise of Men’s Ætherial Fancy, Our Sex are content to creep below, with Tenderness and Purity; which indeed, is the peculiar Nature of Pastoral Verse. To be low and Artless is a Beauty, when we wou’d make Nature Shine out. Which way, I have followed as near as I cou’d, and have rather chose to write after this manner, because, Pastorals are more suitable to a Womans Feeble and Enervate Muse … (Sig A4v) Despite her assertions of lowness, artlessness, feebleness and enervation, modern readers will find Mrs Smith’s poem entertaining, imaginative and energetic – though its imagery is eccentric, its logic muddled and its prosody irregular. The poem is a long one and the passages that follow have been chosen because they are among the most lively. The text contains, even for its time, an unusually high number of initial capital letters. from: The Shepherds JUBILEE or, a Pastoral Welcome, To his excellency the Earl of Rochester, etc. on his arrival in Ireland, written by Mrs Dorothy Smith. … Look round! How all Things now begin to smile, Since his Arrival on our Happy Isle! See, How Creation’s Face Enlivn’d seems! And Pregnant Earth with Fair Abundance Teems. See, see, the Plains, and Groves New Liveries wear! And Second Spring Through all the Fields appear.1 An Universal Joy in Nature’s seen; The Vales are Spangl’d, and the Mountains green. The Gurgling Brooks and Sprouting Fountains Play, While Tumbling Rivers, Swell with Joy the Sea. 10 a poetic liberty since Lord Rochester arrived in the month of September. 1 130 The Whistling Winds breath forth their Softest Airs, And ev’ry Leaf its Jocund Sympathy declares. The Browzing Herds their Lowing Mirth display; While on the steepy Cliffs, the Frisking Lambkins Play. The Chearful Birds too, with Unskilful Notes Assemble all, and stretch their warbling Throats. The Liquid Fry2 above the Liffee leap, Bask in the Sun, and strive to quit the Deep. Behold Aurora! Clad in all her Radiant Beams; And Sable Night, with dusky Twilight Gleams! 20 Come, Shepherds come; Your Pipes and Voices Raise, To Glad the Great Enliv’ner of your Lays.3 The Mournful Swans, that Haunt the Loughs and Springs, Their Ditty’s Change, and clap their Joyful Wings. Progne,4 no longer Chirps upon the Chimney Tops, But Trills below, and through the hedges Hops. Nay, Philome5 forgets her wonted Strains, And not in Juggings,6 on her Thorn complains, But Soars aloft, and like the Lark in Air, Chants her sweet Carrols forth, to charm the Ear. 30 The dismal Raven, and the Birds of Night No more, with Discord now, the Dying Fright. Their Dire ungrateful Screams, to Tunes are turn’d, And Songs are sung, where Lovers Rag’d and Mourn’d. Thy Presence, has these Wonders wrought, and more! All Nature owns, thy Influencing Pow’r; Yields to thy Will, and takes from thence her Charms; While thy Creation, Nature’s self Alarms. Come Shepherds, come; Your Pipes and Voices Raise, To Glad the Great Creator of your Lays. 40 young fish. 2 The echoic refrain suggests that Mrs Smith was familiar with Spenser’s ‘Epithalamium’. 3 a poetic name for a swallow. 4 the nightingale. 5 jugging = (of a nightingale or other songbird) to utter a sound like ‘jug’. 6 131 Dorothy Smith The very Forrest too, Regales your Sense,7 And now, at thy Approach, Sends Tribute thence. The Bramble, Thorn, wild Jessamin,8 and Rose, The Fragrant Honours of the Wood disclose. Oaks Gum Distil...