Monthly Archives: May 2012

Aldwincle Northamptonshire

 

Aldwincle-Northamptonshire-Dryden House

Aldwincle-Northamptonshire-Dryden House

John Dryden poet, playwright, critic was born in Aldwincle Northamptonshire in 9 August 1631 Aldwincle_Northamptonshire-All Saints Churchand Christened in the Church of All Saints where his grandfather was Rector.

The house in which he was born still stand in the shadow of All Saints Church.

All Saints Church is now in the care of The Church Conservation Trust as it is no longer needed for regular worship but remains as consecrated buildings and is of historical importance.

All Saints Church-Aldwincle Northamptonshire-10 Aug 2009
All Saints Church 2 - Aldwincle Northamptonshire-10 Aug 2009

What weight of ancient witness can prevail,

If private reason hold the public scale?

But gracious God, how well does thou provide

For erring judgements an unerring guide!

Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light,

A blaze of glory that forbids the sight.

O teach me to believe thee thus concealed,

And search no further than thyself revealed;

But her alone for my director take,

Whom thou hast promised never to forsake!

John Dryden From Confessio Fidei

Village Sign - Aldwincle Northamptonshire


 

Peakirk

Peakirk is a small village near Peterborough to the south and Stamford to the west, its name means Pega’s Church.
Peakirk-2 - St Pega
In the Eighth century St Pega had a hermitage here, she was the sister of St Guthlac who resided on the island of Clowland some 5 miles away. It is said that she lived in Clowland before being banished by him because he maintained that her form had been taken by the devil tempting him to break his vows and eat before the sun went down.

When her brother died in 714AD she attended his funeral traveling along the river Weland where tradition has it that she healed a blind man from the town of Wisbech on her way to Crowland.
Peakirk-1 - St Pegas Church
A year later Pega set out on a Pilgrimage to Rome she never returned to Peakirk, she did in 719 and her mortal remains rest in a unknown church in the eternal city but legend has it that her heart was returned to the Peakrirk to be Interned in a shrine.

Village Sign - Peakirk CambridgeshirePeakirk


 

In Memory of Violet May, Order and Method and a Lesser Known Poet.

I have a compulsion to rearrange our books, I would not go as far as to say it was a disorder but it is a desire to bring some sort of order to what has all the appearance of chaos.

The dilemma I have is do I catalogue them in alphabetical order, by author or should Dorothy L Sayers creation Lord Peter Wimsey sit dust jacket to dust jacket next to Agatha Christie’s Poirot.

Now there is a thought I could follow the great Belgian detective’s principles and arrange them in order of size.

If this all seems rather indecisive I am not completely without resolve in that I have separated the poets, not on the top shelve as some would wish, on the understanding that poetry is one of the highest forms of art but on a dedicated shelve next to the fire-place, ideal for the likes of Dante’s Inferno.

There are always some surprises in familiar stanzas by Wordsworth, Keats or Clare and even more in less familiar  as Auden, Spender or Smith.

As I placed each with the care owing on its rightful shelve position I came across a newspaper cutting from the early nineteen eighties nestled between Dryden and Eliot. It was written in nineteen seventy nine in memory of a lovely lady who was called to meet her maker in May of that year and was written by the author of these ramblings.

MAY TWENTY FITHH
I looked at you today,
And cursed the evil pen
That wrltes with twisted hand
The lines of pain upon your face.
Sleep on, druggrd sleep.
I know you think of those
Even through your pain,
That never had the time to share
From their seasonal warmth.
Sleep on.
But merciful is the Lord,
The flame you carried high,
Was from His lamp.
Sleep on today,
Tomorrow we will meet,
Sleep on today.
MAY THIRTIETH

J. P. Miller