1795

January 1795

I really enjoy reading poetry from non-canonical writers like Mary Robinson and Barbauld because I have never been introduced to them as I was to the others. Robinson's January poem critiques the English society she lived in at the time. Without having any knowledge of the poem, one may assume the poem is one-sided after hearing it is a critique. But Robinson does not take a side, she acknowledges that there are flaws in her society and also good things in her society. Overall though, the poem seems to have a melancholy tone. The structure of this poem was intriguing to me because every line has an end rhyme and every stanza is a quatrain. The perfectly formulated structure of this poem speaks a lot to the content within the poem. As Robert Creeley says "form is never more than the extension of content." Robinson's poem speaks of a society that is filled with a variety of people and things through a formulaic structure. The society she speaks of is now controllable like the lines in her poem are which serves as very powerful contrast in the poem. Also, the rhyme scheme is consistent throughout the entire poem, making each line, regardless of its content, sound beautiful. It is also interesting to note that she wrote this poem in January, which is one of the coldest months of the year. This would be a dreary time of the year for everyone due to the cold. Again, Robinson makes sure to depict the good and bad of society but her overall tone is not the happiest of tones. The last lines of the poem, "Ruin hasten'd, peace retarded;/ Candor spurn'd, and art rewarded" end on a seemingly positive note. At first I read this and thought "well that's nice. She ended on a good note." But After reading her other poems and coming back to this one, I felt like "and art rewarded" could possibly be read sarcastically or cynically. I am not completely committed to this idea yet and I wonder what the rest of the class thinks about this line!

Mice

As we wind down the semester, it becomes more interesting to examine patterns that have persisted throughout the readings we have done. It is far more interesting to consider these new poems as being part of this anthology and part of a time period, than as an isolated entity. That being said, in Robert Burns' To a Mouse I saw a connection, not just back to Barbauld's mouse poem, but many of the poems we have read this semester.
In the first footnote of the poem, the line reads "Burns's brother claimed that this poem was composed while the poet was actually holding the plow." I'm not even sure this necessarily adds meaning to the poem, but what it does do is present the poem with a myth to go along with it. It creates a mystical aura around the poem. This same technique has been used extensively throughout the semester.
Samuel Coleridge attached a description of his inspiration for Kubla Khan. His supposed was a drug induced dream that he supposedly has transcribed perfectly for us. We also see this attempt at myth in much of Byron's work. His poems bring up questions about countless stories from his own life. Barbauld's mouse poem from last class, brought with it the myth that the mouse (I am assuming the one responsible for "writing" the petition) was set free.
All of these poems are seemingly rich with meaning, yet there is an anxiety to further validate these works with (what I mostly believe to be false) stories about where/when/how the poems were created. It seems that much of the poetry in this time period was afraid to stand alone, so it came prepackaged meaning to ensure that people would consider it. It is almost as if these poets hoped there would be tabloid rumors about their poetry the way celebrities experience rumors now.

London's Summer Morning

One thing I thought was really important to Mary Robinson's London's Summer Morning was the form, and how the poem is written in blank verse. The image that the poem creates about a typical scene on London in the morning is made stronger because of the form the Robinson uses. The enjambment that Robinson uses to make the lines run together and stop abruptly create the illusion of a busy, bustling city, crowded with people and shops and products. Although she did use punctuation quite frequently, it helped the overall form and sound of the poem because it added more of a suspension while reading the poem. There was no real consistent rhythm to the poem, emphasized by the blank verse, but this lack of rhythm also emphasized the movement in the poem and how there is no consistent movement within a city as large as London.
The one spot in which the punctuation and the stop it created felt really natrual was the final two lines of the poem, when Robinson writes, "And the poor poet wakes from busy dreams, / To paint the summer morning" (41-2). Here, the stop feels a little bit more abrupt because the first line is a complete thought, and the comma forces a stop, causing the line to feel like the poet has actually woken up from a dream. The last line of the poem also perfectly sums up exactly what Robinson has done. The rest of the poem moves so quickly through each idea, that it almost feels like a blur. To paint the images that she has described, every single stroke would have to be quick and concise, exactly like the lines she has written.

The Haunted Beach

The structure of Mary Robinson’s “The Haunted Beach” perfectly parallels the content of the poem in a jarring manner that leaves the reader feeling somewhat uncomfortable. The poem emphasizes the idea of permanence, a concept that we have seen before in other romantic poems; however, unlike the permanence desired in a poem like “Bright Star” this permanence appears, as the title suggests, as somewhat haunting – a ghost that cannot be shaken off. The cause of which is of course, the guilt of the Fisherman.

The poem has a rhythmic flow to it, mimicking the undulating waves of the ocean that are mentioned in every stanza. The lines themselves visually imitate waves in the way that they are printed on the page, alternating between being indented or not. Within each stanza is a steady rhyme scheme that is broken by a rhyming couplet in the 7^th and 8^th line and followed by the final 9^th line to complete the previous rhyme. This pattern somewhat mimics the rising and breaking of waves – lines 7 and 8 represent the crescendo of the wave as it reaches is peak before finally crashing in line 9 – fittingly, always the line mentioning the “green billows.”

The repetition of this pattern throughout the poem helps emphasize the fact that there is no escaping the ebb and flow of the ocean in the way that there is no way for the Fisherman to escape his guilt. We especially see this in the final stanza which takes place thirty years after the murder, “day after day more weary;/ For Heav’n design’d his guilty mind/ Should dwell on prospects dreary” (75-76). Robinson accurately depicts the feeling of guilt by describing it as a “strong and mystic chain” (77) that prevents him from straying. Like the ocean, and the structure of the poem, the Fisherman is unable to escape the guilt he has created for himself and thus must live with it until his death – or the end of the poem.     

Some Mary Robinson Info

Because I missed my blog post last week, I am posting this as a supplementary one for this week. This is really more-so additional biographical information about Mary Robinson than a true blog post. Mary Robinson wrote an autobiography for herself, and though she never finished it, it seems like the manuscript would be interesting. As the Norton anthology headnote for Mary Robinson notes, she "lived a more sensational life than any other poet of the period, Byron and Shelley included" (77). From what we've discussed of Byron and Shelley in class, that's saying something.

Below is an excerpt from the editor's preface of the memoirs that helps to illustrate Mary Robinson the person:

"THE author of these Memoirs, Mary Robinson, was one of the most prominent and eminently beautiful women of her day. From the description she furnishes of her personal appearance we gather that her complexion was dark, her eyes large, her features expressive of melancholy; and this verbal sketch corresponds with her portrait, which presents a face at once grave, refined, and charming. Her beauty, indeed, was such as to attract, amongst others, the attentions of Lords Lyttelton and Northington, Fighting Fitzgerald, Captain Ayscough, and finally the Prince of Wales; whilst her talents and conversation secured her the friendship and interest of David Garrick, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Charles James Fox, Joshua Reynolds, Arthur Murphy, the dramatist, and various other men of distinguished talent. [Page viii]  

Though her Memoirs are briefly sketched, they are sufficiently vivid to present us with various pictures of the social life of the period of which she was the centre. Now we find her at the Pantheon, with its coloured lamps and brilliant music, moving amidst a fashionable crowd, where large hoops and high feathers abounded, she herself dressed in a habit of pale pink satin trimmed with sable, attracting the attention of men of fashion. Again she is surrounded by friends at Vauxhall Gardens, and barely escapes from a cunning plot to abduct her–a plot in which loaded pistols and a waiting coach prominently figure; whilst on another occasion she is at Ranelagh, where, in the course of the evening, half a dozen gallants "evinced their attentions"; and ultimately she makes her first appearance as an actress on the stage of Drury Lane before a brilliant house, David Garrick, now retired, watching her from the orchestra, whilst she played Juliet in pink satin richly spangled with silver, her head ornamented with white feathers."

Here are some portraits of Mary, as well:

A Red, Red Rose

In his poem, "A Red, Red Rose," Robert Burns closely links love with time. He first compares his "newly sprung" love to a fresh rose in June (2), and then to a melody (3). Time comes up again in the next stanza when he says that his love is as deep as his lover is fair. He claims that he will love her until the seas go dry and the rocks melt with the sun (9). So, Burns suggests that his love is endless, presumably. Next, though, he pronounces: "O I will love thee still, my Dear,/ While the sands o' life shall run" (11). This image of an overturned hourglass gives the meaning of the poem a slightly different tone from the last two comparisons, however.

Why did Burns choose the word "life" rather than the sands of "time"? Using the word "time" wouldn't alter the meter or rhyme scheme, but it would fit better with the other metaphors in the poem because it would extend the idea of a forever love. Instead, Burns puts an end on that endless love by choosing to specify the point at which the sands of his life runs dry as the expiration for his love. I wonder what significance this has, especially considering the fact that in the last stanza, it seems like the lovers have to part for a time. Perhaps "the sands o' life" in this context refer to the sands of all life on earth, rather than just Burns' own? That reading might make the metaphors more compatible.

One explanation for this seeming inconsistency in comparisons is simply that love is such a difficult idea to really pin down. Burns (and everyone else) has such trouble defining the feeling that he even begins with a metaphor right off the bat. He then uses more metaphors to circle around the idea of love, but he never really lands right on it. Is it possible then, we must ask, to actually write about such an abstract feeling in a way that feels straight-up? Further, is it even remotely possible to do so in a way that refers to a generalizable love too? I honestly don't know if a poem that were more frank but more personal would also be more profound. Because then, could we apply Burns' idea of love to our own conception of it?

Here's a video version of the poem (for the sake of understanding a Scottish accent):

Of Mice and Men

I know I already posted this week but I missed my post a different week, so I thought I would make up for it. And while reading Robert Burns's "To a Mouse", I was delighted to come across the line "The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men / Gang aft agley" (39 - 40). "o' Mice an' Men" was too unique of a phrase to not be somehow linked to John Steinback's "Of Mice and Men".

I found that Steinback did in fact name his book after this line in the poem. Looking at the poem again, there is a similar theme that is found in "Of Mice and Men".

For those of you that haven't read the book (which is one of my favorites),  it's about two characters, George and Lenny, who work together in order to save enough money so that they can buy their very own home.
Burns was actually inspired to write the poem when he destroyed a mouse's "home" while ploughing. The poem then explores how the mouse picked this field and dreamt of using it to stay warm all winter and then his plan was ruined.
In "Of Mice and Men", George and Lenny's plan to buy a home ended when things went suddenly very wrong for them. I don't want to spoil the ending, but things go so wrong that it becomes impossible for the plan to ever be continued or acted upon because it wouldn't be the same.
This same themes arise in "To a Mouse". I can't help but wonder if Steinback read the poem and wanted to write about these same theme or if it was more of a coincidence.

Empires, flowers

In Barbauld’s “To a Lady, with some painted flowers” she again refers to a woman’s “empire” as she does in “The Rights of Women”---this time at the end of the poem. Still, while it is a “native empire o’er the breast” in “The Rights of Women,” in “To a Lady” the right “to please” is “Your best, your sweetest empire”—which implies that it is not necessarily the only empire. This is odd, of course, because a few lines before it says that the flowers “Were born for pleasure and delight alone.” The comparison of the woman to the flowers thus remains incomplete to a certain degree---while the flowers only have one empire, according to this speaker, the others that belong to the lady are unmentioned. The image of the speaker of the poem handing a lady flowers mirrors the poet’s presentation of the poem, and on the surface—since the poem is not outwardly critical as Jen mentioned—the poem also becomes a version of the painted flowers. Thus that the poem is all about presentation is important—one could present this poem to someone saying it was in support of or critical of the empire of woman being to please. The final suggestion that this is not the only empire can hint at a more critical reading, but can also easily be ignored.

Barbauld seems to take on a different method than Mary Wollstonecraft overall, as it kind of embraces the flowery-ness, sarcastically or not. It may seem at first a more subtle method. Wollstonecraft makes it clear in her vindication that she is not using what she calls flowery langauge—that which, perhaps, one would associate with women. She appears to do this in an attempt to gain more credibility. Of course, this in a sense separates her from the women that she is trying to argue for. And it is probably safe to assume that she did spend a lot of time crafting this kind of practiced carelessness that results from making such a statement. In this sense, Wollstonecraft isn’t necessarily more straightforward than Barbauld, who is able to use the flowerly language and flowery imagery to acknowledge the same deficit in the rights of woman. And in a sense one could say that Barbauld succeeds in doing more than just pleasing with her poem, if we read it as critical. In this sense she is able to use the flower imagery to her advantage, rather than distancing herself from it as Wollstonecraft does.

Another thing: It was interesting after reading Mary Wollstonecraft’s Vindication to look back at Barbauld’s “The Rights of Women”---what stood out to me at first was all of the military/war imagery that Barbauld uses in her poem, specifically in the third stanza. Wollstonecraft compares women to soldiers in her chapter, but in a different way---she calls them out as being uneducated just as women are and therefore showing some of the same faults that are generally assigned to women. The idea stood out when I was reading because it’s just such an interesting and I imagine shocking for anyone reading it at the time---as soldiers are generally considered as the embodiment of masculinity. In comparing them to women she of course makes a grand claim and that her ability to back up with reason makes pretty powerful. In contrast, of course, Barbauld compares women fighting to soldiers rather than the other way around. Still, overlayed with the idea that soldiers perhaps are similar to women, the poem presents a similar idea/situation.  

A Change of Season in "Eighteen Hundred and Eleven"

            “Eighteen Hundred and Eleven” acts as a eulogy for England, a country that poet Anna Laetitia Barbauld believes has been decimated by the war with France.  It also marks what Barbauld sees as the rise of America.  The poem traces what can be seen as the natural transfer of power (or, “Genius”) from nation to nation.  Therefore, the poem mixes multiple moods in its structure, transitioning from a lament of England’s reduced stature to a premonition of America’s growth as a new world power.  This change in mood is partly accomplished by the rhetoric that Barbauld uses to describe the land, for Barbauld evokes the idea that the true test of a nation’s power is how it treats its landscapes.

            Barbauld describes how nature has been devastated by the war with France.  She writes, “The tramp of marching hosts disturbs the plough, / The sword, not sickle, reaps the harvest now” (17-18).  Britain is even referred to as the “island queen” (40), demonstrating a direct connection between the monarchy and the form of land that Britain occupies.   The language of the poem evens suggests nature when not referring to it as a subject.  The matron is described as “fruitful in vain” (27) and “The rose [that] withers on its virgin thorns” (30), while the men who are condemned to die become “fallen blossoms” (26) – all artifacts of the natural world.  Moreover, Barbauld describes England’s advances in science and math as “the full harvest of the mental year” (76) – perceiving it as an accomplishment that is comparable to that of the mission to obtain food.  Map imagery is also central to the poem.  The matron looks at a map to find where her “husband, brothers, friends” (34) died, articulating how the land and the bodies of her loved ones are connected.  England’s continued influence is said to spread “from the Ganges to the pole” (81).  Later, when Barbauld describes how future generations will admire the ruins of England, she describes it as a physical trek – a sightseeing tour.  She writes, “With curious search their pilgrim steps steps shall rove / By many a ruined tower and proud alcove” (151-152) and describes how the Thames will be “choked no more with fleets” (175).  In describing these scenes, Barbauld articulates how her nation’s identity is tied to how it appears physically.  Just like nature, a country’s power will eventually diminish, for “But fairest flowers expand but to decay” (313).

            Barbauld demonstrates the United State’s natural superiority, proving that the nation has the potential to be more powerful than Britain.  When she begins writing about United States, the poet does not refer to the country by name, instead evoking its iconic landscapes.  She writes, “Nations beyond the Apalachian hills / Thy hand has planted and thy spirit fills” (83-84).  Barbauld also writes of how the dreams and poems of old Englishmen are embodied by nature in America, writing how, “Milton’s tones the raptured ear enthrall / Mixt with the roaring of Niagara’s fall” (95-96).  Barbauld once again articulates a connection between nature and the mind, and demonstrates how advancements in thinking can benefit the environment.  This association, which has been lost by England, is possible in the United States.  She writes, “Science and Art urge on the useful toil, / New mould a climate and create the soil” (229-300).

            Barbauld refers to nature as a living being, stating, “On yielding Nature urge their new demands, / And ask not gifts, but tribute, at her hands” (303-304). This line has shades of an environmentalist poem.  However, more importantly Barbauld is showing the connection between respecting nature and a nation’s position of power.  Moreover, Barbauld relates how a country cannot recreate success, just as nature itself must have a period of transition.  She writes, “Commerce, like beauty, knows no second spring” (316).  Overall, Barbauld likens the transfer of national powers to a change of season, stressing how it is inevitable but part of the natural cycle of the world.  Where one national power dies, another is born

To a Lady, with some painted flowers.

After having read Barbauld's "The Rights of Woman", which I found messy and an unfair criticism of Mary Wollstonecraft, "To a Lady, with some painted flowers" was a welcome surprise.
Within the title, the audience knows that the flowers being given to the lady, aren't real flowers but painted flowers. They are continually compared to the lady receiving them, but it is already known that all these things that both the flowers and the lady are, aren't actually authentic. What I found especially interesting is that without the word, "painted" in the title, the meaning it embodies would be gone as it isn't mentioned again throughout the poem.

"Flowers sweet, and gay, and delicate like you; / Emblems of innocence, and beauty too." (3 - 4). The characteristics mentioned are the same as those assigned to woman. But these aren't real flowers, just as these aren't the real characteristic of real woman. This is just how woman are painted to be.

Barbauld continues her point in describing the sheltering oak and the tougher yew that take on so much more in nature, against winds and storms, whereas flowers are only meant for pleasure. She reiterates the idea that both flowers and woman... and painting are all only meant to please the eye. The poem seems to grow more and more sarcastic throughout.

Barbauld doesn't attack the gender issue head-on and the poem may even seem a little simple, but she crafts her words much better than "The Rights of Woman".

To What End

“Eighteen Hundred and Eleven” is Barbauld’s last poem and, for me, it was hard not to read the poem with this knowledge in mind. Barbauld did not write the poem knowing it would be her last, but upon facing criticism decided that the poem would close her poetic career. Appropriately, the poem also concerns the predicted end of Britain, but not just of any Britain: a Britain celebrated for its (her?) empire.

The poem begins fairly bluntly and, in my opinion, in a somewhat boring, though passionate, criticism of Britain’s participation in the war against Napoleon. These early sections feature lines like: “And where the soldier gleans the scant supply / The helpless peasant but retires to die” (19-20) and “By deeds of blood is lifted into fame; / Oft o’er the daily page some soft one bends / To learn the fate of husband, brothers, friends” (32-34) and “no more on crowded matt or busy street / Friends, meeting friends, with cheerful hurry greet” (55-56). None of these are necessarily poor lines of poetry, but they seem awfully easy. Maybe not being a complete war-supporting patriot was difficult during the time of writing these verses, but the sentiment here regarding faceless soldiers, peasants, mothers, wives, and “friends meeting friends” didn’t really stir much emotion from me. But this poem has historically received enough flack (enough, in fact, that Barbauld put down her pen forever) so I’ll move on to what did interest me about the poem: its Empire and apocalypse.

Barbauld’s poem really takes off when she begins a work of geographic specificity that addresses both Britain’s power in empire and its decay. Notice how in the next lines she both acknowledges the conquering of territories by the empire and how, in this acknowledgement, it is also noticed how that power will fade: “If westward stream the light that leaves thy shores, / Still from thy lamp the streaming radiance pours, / Wide spreads thy race from Ganges to the pole, / O’ver half the Western world thy accents roll” (79-82). Noting this stretch from India to the new United States displays Barbauld’s pride in not only England, but in how vast its violent reach is through knowledge and language.

This work through the poem reminds me of our previous in-class conversation on canonization, for most of the canon was not formed in England alone, but through conquest and aggressive empire. As Barbauld writes: “Thy leading star direct their search for truth; / Beneath the spreading platane’s tent-like shade, / Or by Missouri’s rushing waters laid” (90-92). This “search for truth” comes through the arts for Barbauld, as “Nor of the bards that swept the British lyre / Shall fade one laurel, or one note expire” (99-100). What will be remembered – and what has in the past been remembered about previous civilizations – are the artworks that civilization has bestowed upon it by geniuses who are not born but “descend” (238). And, although she doesn’t paint this stretch of art in a violent language, it’s interesting how Barbauld subtly comes into this sort of vocabulary. For example: “And Milton’s tones the raptured ear enthrall” (95) is supposed to evoke a kind of “rapture,” but the closing verb “enthrall” reminds me of a sort of capture or slavery – if not literally then at least in terms of the poetic iambic pentameter that would “capture” English language verse for so long and employed by Milton frequently. Empire extends through language even after territory is re-occupied and given back to the oppressed.

Barbauld seems to not give much attention to the oppression of the people in these areas and instead focuses in pseudo-celebratory tones on London, a city featuring “Streets, where the turbaned Moslem, bearded Jew, / And woolly Afric, met the brown Hindu;” (164-165). These descriptions are cringe-worthy now, but perhaps to Barbauld they represented a kind of paradise of difference in London. Although English provides empire that conquers, Barbauld seems to see it as an umbrella that unites different populations. For even to the fallen London tourists will still come to spot “On spoils from every clime…Egyptian granites and the Etruscan vase” (209-210). London becomes a kind of living museum and collection of the whole world – a civilization and culture built on preserving a microcosm of the Other.

Where do we end up? Barbauld both celebrates England and decries its state that will lead to decay. Of course, Barbauld turns this positive into a negative and shows how this decline puts British empire with all the “great civilizations, for after every rise “Then empires fall to dust” (243). After the fall, she claims “to other climes the Genius soars, / He turns from Europe’s desolated shores” (321-322). But where to? Barbauld points her finger to the United States, ending with the lines: “Shouts to the mingled tribes from sea to sea, / And swears – Thy world, Columbus, shall be free” (333-334). Obviously looking back this is a misguided view, especially ending with another violent conquerer: Columbus. Again, though, it’s interesting that Barbauld is fascinated with “mingling” and is prepared for the decline of her own empire and the rise of a new one.

Barbauld's Destructive Spirit in "Eighteen Hundred and Eleven"

When reading Barbauld's "Eighteen Hundred and Eleven" I found the most compelling part to be from line 215 to 240 where Barbauld describes a "Spirit," which she seems to attribute the birth of society to. What I find compelling about this part is not only Barbauld's poetics, but her mission to show that it is the intangible which awoke our spirit as the human race.

I think one of the most compelling lines in this section is when the "human brute" first encounters the spirit and, "He thinks, he reasons, glows with purer fires" (222). What strikes me here is the "purer fires" which the Spirit fosters because the use of "purer" denotes that the Spirit is a refining force, not a cultivating one. Yet, if this is true, how can the Spirit be "Moody and viewless," being both exact in its refinement and chaotic? Barbauld seems to be arguing for a Spirit that is exactly tuned to the human soul, something that is meant to give rise to a human-dominated planet.

And this human-centric mentality is backed up later in the stanza where man not only rises, but "prove[s] his kingdom was not given in vain" (226). So if not for this Spirit, the earth would be wasted? I hope this is part of Barbauld's satire. The earth intended for man, though a view backed by popular religion, seems exactly opposite the man-made bloodshed and destruction Barbauld is arguing against. So maybe this Spirit is the intangible, "moody and viewless" impetus humanity has to conquer, to control, to manipulate their environment. Or I'm misreading Barbauld's satire entirely.

Two Approaches to Fighting Slavery

In Barbauld's poems "The Mouse's Petition" and "Epistle to William Wilberforce..." she addresses, in my eyes, slavery through reason and passion. Several of the other blog posts have discussed the absurdity of the mouse's plea; the reason for part of the absurdity is the intellectual nature of the mouse's speech. The mouse describes itself as a "pensive prisoner" and "forlorn", demonstrating its intelligence. It also goes on to reference Priestly's notion of the transmigration of souls (according to the footnote on page 41) and appeal to the philosophic mind (25). Yet the poem also demonstrates passion, especially through italics in lines 38 and 40. "Epistle to William Wilberforce..." is the reverse of "The Mouse's Petition" focusing more on passion while still demonstrating reason. The poem begins with the first two lines each ending in exclamation marks, and also uses much more visceral imagery like "still Afric bleeds" (15). However, reason still plays a supporting role, as the speaker references and personifies "faithful History" as an academic reason to end slavery; discussing how the future will look back on this period in time. Barbauld uses reason and passion in concert to make her argument. She uses the mouse and its predicament to demonstrate the immorality of confining and abusing an intellectual equal, and the speaker of "Epistle" highlights the emotional ugliness of slavery. Together, these poems make a powerful statement on slavery and equality.

The Mouse's Petition

I particularly enjoyed reading "The Mouse’s Petition” because I think it is a poem that it still so applicable today and furthermore one that can become applicable to a variety of contexts. The first element of tension that seems to arise on a literal level is that of a desire for knowledge (science) versus ethics and morality – a cause people still fight for today. It raises the interesting question of what is ethical? Is it OK to experiment on a mouse to discover an element that could help others in the future?

The element of the poem that I found most intriguing however, is the fact that Barbauld chooses to fight science (and potentially politics if we are examining the poem through a feminist lens) with poetry. And further, not merely poetry but a poem with somewhat of a nursery rhyme tone that as the footnote mentions was in fact taught to children. I would  expect this to trivialize the topic at hand when in fact somehow it has the opposite effect – it makes the poem somewhat sadder to actually picture it being said from the mouth of someone or something that is helpless. I particularly like lines 29-36 that as the footnote states refers to the idea of transmigration of souls (reincarnation) – the focus on the idea that life is cyclical and while one may be powerful today they may have nothing tomorrow (I also read it as a little bit funny – almost a jab at Priestley’s beliefs). I think this is a poem that can really be applied to any oppressed group of people throughout history and that universality of it distinguishes Barbauld from other poets we have read.