The bulk of Bradstreet’s work is perhaps of most interest to the scholar. John Berryman’s long biographical ode “Homage to Mistress Bradstreet” (1956), however, served to reawaken a general interest in her poetry, an interest that has been sustained by the poetry’s own merits. Sometimes unjustly called “imitative,” Bradstreet works within carefully established traditions in which modern notions of originality have less meaning.
In her elegy “In Honor of Du Bartas,” an early poem in praise of the “pearl of France,” written in the rhymed iambic couplets she found in Joshua Sylvester’s translation, “the tenth muse” calls her own muse only a “child” but reverently brings her “daisy” to the religious poet’s hearse, using the same conventions that the English poet John Milton (1608-1674) did in “Lycidas” (1637). Although her funeral offering is humble, she hopes someday to do more; in other words, she intends to establish herself as a poet, a goal she would pursue with total dedication.
While Bradstreet is generally subservient to men (“Men do best, and women know it well”), recent feminist scholars have begun to show in her an independence that “subverts biblical patriarchy.” In her poem “In Honor of Queen Elizabeth,” to mention only one place, she takes issue bluntly with men in general, stating wittily: “Let such as say our sex is void of reason,/ Know ’tis slander now but once was treason.”
Her long poems written in Ipswich about 1642 on the four elements and the four humors reflect the poet’s wide reading. Bradstreet had before her the example of her respected father Thomas Dudley, who had composed a poem—no longer extant—on the four parts of the world, each represented by a sister. His approbation may have encouraged his daughter further; she...
(The entire section is 755 words.)