If^rNBLF B 4 1 OT Oba m ZP3: m^}>ii; THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA GIFT OF PROFESSOR LEON J. RICHARDSON 7o^ /f". ^^/X fie THE LYRIC POETS HERRICK GIFT CONTENTS PAGE I The Argument of His Book . To his Muse 2 To his Booke 3 When He would have his Verses Read . 3 To live merrily, and to trust to Good Verses 4 The Parliament of Roses ... 6 The Rosarie 7 Cherrie-ripe 7 Upon Julia's Voice .... 7 Upon Roses 8 To Julia 9 The Rock of Rubies .... 9 Upon Julia's Haire fill'd with Dew . 10 Upon Julia's Recovery .... 10 His sailing from Julia .... 11 His Request to Julia . . . . n If, deare Anthea 12 ToAnthea 12 To Daffadills 13 To Daisies, not to shut so soone . . 14 The Night-piece iS The Cheat of Cupid .... 16 The Bag of the Bee .... 17 70 Contents. The Wounded Cupid . Cupid cupped Upon Cupid .... The Captiv'd Bee . A Meditation for his Mistresse To the Water Nymphs, Drinking Fountain . Pansies .... To Violets . To a Bed of Tulips To the Virgins Why Flowers change Colour To Carnations The Wallflower . How Roses came Red . How Violets came Blew How Lillies came White To Primroses . To Blossoms . To Meddowes The mad Maid's Song To Musique . His Poetrie his Pillar Divination by a Daffadill The Olive-Branch . To Julia . The Plaudite . To Sylvia VI at the Contents. PAGE My Muse in Meads .... 3^ His Lacrime . 37 On Himself . 38 TheDreame . 38 ToAnthea . 39 His Embalming . 39 To Robin Redbreast 40 The Bracelet to Julia . 40 On Julia's Breath . 41 Upon his Julia 41 A Short Hymne to Venu s 42 The Kisse . 42 To his Mistresse . 43 To Virgins . 44 Chop-Cherry . 44 I call and I call . 45 A Lyrick to Mirth . 45 To the Western Wind . 46 The Bleeding Hand 46 The Suspition : upon his over-muci Familiarity with a Gentlewoman 47 To the Lark 48 The Bubble . 49 Upon Electra 49 Upon a Black Twist . 49 Upon a Flie . . 50 To Dianeme . . 51 The Vision to Electra S3 Contents. PAGE The Showre of Blossomes • • • 53 How his Soule came ensnared . . 54 Upon Love 54 To Julia, in her Dawn, or Daybreake . 55 The Transfiguration .... 56 Crutches 56 His Teares to Thamasis ... 57 His last Request to Julia ... 58 To Julia 59 Upon Julia's Clothes .... 59 Delight in Disorder .... 59 The Carkanet 60 Julia's Petticoat 60 The Eye 62 The Apron of Flowers .... 62 Disswasions from Idlenesse ... 63 The Sadnesse of Things ... 64 The Lost Shepardesse . ... 64 Corinna's Going a Maying ... 65 To the Maids to Walke Abroad . . 68 The Bell-man 69 The Hag 70 The Old Wives Prayer .... 71 The Fairies 71 Upon Mistresse Susanna Southwell her Cheeks 72 To Musick 72 Lyrick for Legacies .... 73 viii Contents. Death of Upon the Losse of his Mistresses . The Departure of the Good Daemon Upon his Departure Hence To his Paternall Countrey To the Nightingale To the Yew and Cypresse No Shipwrack of Vertue His CavaUer . To the Lady Crew, upon the her Child Upon a Maide An Epitaph upon a Virgin Upon a Child that Dyed To his dying Brother, Master William Herrick . An ode to Master Endymion Upon Himselfe A Nuptiall Song . The Poet's Good Wishes The Meddow Verse To Groves An Ode to Sir Clipsebie Crew A Country Life His Content in the Country The Hock-cart, or Harvest Home . The Country Life . His Fare- well to Sack A Pastorall . Porter PAGE 73 74 74 75 75 75 76 76 77 77 78 79 79 80 82 83 89 90 91 92 94 » 99 100 102 104 107 Contents. A Paranseticall, or Advisive Verse, to his Friend, M. John Wicks . To the Little Spinners . The Fairie Temple Oberon's Feast Oberon's Palace The Beggar to Mab, the Fairie Queen Stool-Ball His Charge to JuUa The Bad Season niakes the Poet Sad His Age .... His Returne to London His Winding Sheet The Funerall Rites of the Rose To the Rose .... An Ode for Ben Johnson His Prayer to Ben Johnson . A Bacchanalian Verse . Upon the Troublesome Times On Himselfe .... An Hymne to the Muses Not every Day fit for Verse . Anacreontick Verse To be Merry The Bride-Cake . Charmes The Ceremonies for Christmasse Day Ceremonies for Candlemasse Eve . Contents. I'AGE To the Genius of his House . . . i43 His Grange, or Private Wealth 144 A Beucolick .... 14s Lacon and Thyrsis 147 A Dialogue . 149 Upon Love . ISO ToOenone . ISO The Primrose iSi A Thanksgiving to God 152 The Bell-man 154 Proof to no Purpose 154 To finde God iSS His Prayer for Absolution 156 His Letanie . 156 Honours are Hindrances 158 To His Saviour, a Child iS8 To His Sweet Saviour . 159 His Creed . 160 Grace for a Child . 160 A Christmas Carol! 161 The New-Yeeres Gift . 162 An Ode .... 164 To keepe a True Lent . 16S The White Island . 166 Upon Time . 167 To his Peculiar Friend . 168 The Dirge of Jephthahs Daughter 169 Comfort to a Youth that had 1< )sthi 5L0V e 172 Contents. PAGE The Christian Militant .... 173 To his Conscience 174 To God 175 To God, on his Sicknesse . . . 175 To Anthea 176 On Himselfe 176 Buriall 177 The Apparition of his Mistresse . . 177 To his Booke 180 Eternitie 181 The Last Line 181 INTRODUCTION. XlERRiCK follows Campion closely in the natural order of the lyric poets, but though the two poets have many points of con- tact, he owes nothing directly to his ex- quisite forerunner. He did, on the other hand, owe a very great deal to Ben Jonson, and is to be counted, for all critical ends and purposes, among the redoubtable "Sons of Ben," His five poems addressed to his master, especially his brief ode and the "lyric feasts" of which it speaks, — " Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun," recall at once the famous Fleet - Street Academe, in which he studied to some pur- pose. If, in that school for poets, Jonson's "Underwoods" may count as the academic groves, then Herrick's " Hesperides " were the late last fruits from their noble stock. From his father in poetry, Herrick learnt admirable doctrine. He learnt to qualify the Elizabethan music with a Latin note, without losing anything of the finer impulse of his own tongue. He kept his lyric simplicity, and never let the new influences, which waxed hot in Donne and grew cold irj Introduction. Cowley, so much as breathe upon his verse. Ben Jonson, and his own genius and born sense of the lyric style, defended him against the fleeting fashions of the pseudo-meta- physical poetry. Indeed, his poems, which casual readers have thought artless, are really the result of consummate art, and of the happiest combination of natural inspiration and conscious craftsmanship. In earlier youth, he was for a time a goldsmith's apprentice, and it is not too fanciful, perhaps, to con- sider, as some critics have done, that he gained something of his sense of form, and his fine art of turning the lyric into a sort of tiny and finished jewel, from his experi- ences in his uncle's workshop in Golden Cheapside. In Golden Cheapside ("Golden." partly because of the goldsmiths' shops that abounded there, partly because of the cross at the end of Wood-Street and other such gilded splendours ; ) he was born, in August 1591. On the 24th of that month he was baptised at St Vedast's Church, Foster Lane, where his father, Nicholas Herrick, also practised the gold- smith's craft. Nicholas died, under suspicion of suicide, by a fall from an upper window of his house, in 1592. The suspicion is borne out by the action of the Bishop of Bristol, who, as High Almoner, attempted to sequester the goods and chattels of the deceased on grounds of ''felo-de-se"; and succeeded in compounding his claim for ,^220. Meanwhile the dead goldsmith's family, eight in number, xiv Introduction. left town for Hampton Court, where a pos- thumous child was born, " at Harry Campion's house," a name which, under the circum- stances, sounds suggestive. Robert, who more than once recalls Hampton with delight in his poems, was the youngest but one in the family. His school-days, according to the little evidence we have, were probably passed between Hamp- ton and London. When he left school, in 1607, he was apprenticed for ten years to his uncle William, a younger brother of Nicholas Herrick, who still carried on his business, in which, it is likely, the widow still retained an interest. With his uncle, the poet did not, evidently, find himself much in sympathy ; and a lyric fancy is not the best reconciler, when one is young, and one's elders and every-day avocation grow tedious. Before his apprenticeship had run out, Herrick succeeded in persuading his uncle that the goldsmith's was not his destined r61e, and he was entered as an under- graduate of St John's College, Cambridge. It is quite possible that he effected this step by diplomatically hinting a decided leaning to the law ; for with his guardian, who was on the way to make a fortune after gaining a knighthood, the law was like to be an in- telligible argument ; while he himself, no doubt, saw in the law only a convenient ladder to other things, with poetry at the top of all. ^t Cambridge, his uncle kept him on a rather straitened allowance, as we find from more than one appeal, written Introduction. in amusingly euphuistic terms, as if to make an impression on a guardian who was to be affected by a certain parade of Latin and fine phrases. On grounds of economy, the undergraduate presently converted him- self from a law to an arts student, and migrated from St John's to Trinity Hall, on the time-honoured plea of the Church. This only shews again that he had no very clear idea of what he wanted to do, beyond putting himself in the liberal way to be a poet and a gentleman, and to get as much entertainment out of life as possible. But how did he Hve on leaving Cambridge ? He did not take his M.A. till 1620. He did not receive his presentation to the vicarage of Dean Prior until nine years later. Probably he contrived to exist on the residue of the small means — some four or five hundred pounds — which came to him from his father's estate ; and to study life and cultivate the lyric arts in London in his own way, sitting at the feet of Ben Jonson. It is clear that he entered with zest into the life which some of his poems, actively or retrospectively inspired, written then or afterwards, suggest : " Wild I am now with heat ; O Bacchus, cool thy rays ! Or frantic, I shall eat The thyrse, and bite the bays. " Round, round, the roof does run; And being ravished thus, Come, I will drink a tun To my Propertius ! " xvi Introduction. This is no divinity student's note. In his "Farewell unto Poetrie " he is still more explicit. They kept it up in those days, as he reminds us in his most extravagant lines : morning, noon, and night; nay, "past noon of night," and so on again, through "the fresh and fairest flourish of the morn" ; fleeting the time, " With flame and rapture, drinking to the odd Number of wine, which makes us full with God. And in that mystic frenzy, we have hurled (As with a tempest) nature through the world, And in a whirl-wind twirl'd her home, aghast At that which in her ecstasy had past." Fortunately, if Ben Jonson lent his sanction to this vahant roystering, he did not let the illusions of sack disguise the true severity of poetry. He laid down the law for his sons with no uncertain sound. No son of mine, he said in effect, and how plainly one seems to hear him say it !— will think "he can leap forth suddenly a poet by dreaming he hath been in Parnassus, or by having washt his lips, as they say, in Helicon. There goes more to his making than so ; for to Nature, Exercise, Imitation, and Study, Art must be added, to make all these perfect. And though these challenge much to them- selves in the making up of our maker, it is Art only can lead him to perfection." This is very good gospel, and in Herrick's case it fell on plastic ears. " Let's strive to be the best ! the Gods, we know it, Pillars and men, hate an indifferent poet." ID b xvii Introduction. There is the same text paraphrased from Horace by himself; excellently concentrated in a couplet. To these splendid follies and Jonsonian dissertations over liberal sack and the rarer vintage of the "Underwoods" and the "Forest," Herrick, all too soon for his own satisfaction, was to bid good-bye. His four or five hundred pounds could not last long, under stress of the lyric levees at "The Sun, the Dog, the Triple Tun." In 1829, as we said, he was presented to Dean Prior, and Devonshire seemed the end of the world to him. His " Farewell unto Poetrie," already quoted from, was written no doubt at this time ; evidently he thought he was bidding farewell not only to town but to poetry. As a matter of fact, his own poetry was only at its begin- ning. Almost all the poems which have done most to win him a familiar fame in our own time— such lyrics as "To Daffadils," "To Blossoms," and the rest— were written after he went " . . . to banishment Into the loathed West." It was there, in the "dull Devonshire," that bored him often to extinction, that he found the lyric moments which inspired those golden rhymes of the country life, its festivals and its flowers, by which he chiefly has his fame in the wider world that is not literary. He carried his Catullus to the country with him, and the Devonshire daffodils and "July flowers," the village maids and rural feasts, Introduction. did the rest. If he had remained in London, he might- have been lost in the indistinctive crowd of the minor poets, so far as the world's recognition of him went. Even as it was, it was to take a couple of centuries to gild his laurel. Of Dean Bourne itself, I cannot do better than quote from Mr Grosart's pleasant account of the place. From Brent, which lies some sixteen miles from Plymouth, the road approaches by quiet hamlets and pleasant meadows, with here and there glimpses of distant hills ; and presently, fording a stream, where a little stone foot-bridge crosses alongside, reaches the narrow lane which leads down to Dean Church. Here, looking down from the high-road, the traveller sees the church and vicarage, with surrounding farm-buildings and cottages, set amid trees in a deep and narrow valley. Dean Prior lies about a mile further on. The "rude River. . . by which sometime he lived,"— Dean Bourne, flows down through the court and passes close to Dean Prior. There, in that lonely vicarage, with his maid and housekeeper, Prue ; his spaniel, Tracy; his pet lamb or pet pig; his hens and his geese; and, if we take the plain testimony of his "Thanksgiving," his cows he settled down into the pastoral life which suited his genius better than it did his Lon- don-bred tastes. Both his disgust and his delight are vigorously expressed by him at different moments, according to his mood. Introduction. His memories of Golden Cheapside, and of Fleet -Street, and the tavern nights of old, continually haunt him. " London my home is ; though by hard fate sent Into a long and irksome banishment ; Yet since call'd back, henceforward let me be, O native country, repossess'd by thee ! " This he wrote in 1648, when with his fellow parsons, he was ejected on the coming of the Commonwealth. He was then fifty-seven, and he returned to town, only to find it sadly changed. It seems the thought of London, and the necessity of reminding his friends there of his existence, and his present predicament, prompted him at last to collect his poems, previously only published, to the number of some sixty pieces, in "Wit's Recreations." In 1648 his book, " Hesperides," and " Noble Numbers," was published — not with any con- spicuous success. His old circle, indeed, was by this time broken up. Ben Jonson was gone, and his influence had waned. So the "Hesperides," anything but "timely for- tunate," as their poet wished, must be counted among the books that have missed, in their author's lifetime, their golden moment. Three years before Herrick's return to London, Milton's earlier poems had appeared ; but it was not Milton, but Cowley, who marks for us the taste and fashion in poetry of the time. Cowley's poems, excellently second-rate ; finely conceived, admirably Introduction. phrased, but hardly inspired ; ran through edition after edition in this period. Her- rick's passed all but unnoticed. The same thing goes on in every period ; and no doubt we have our over-indulged Cowleys and our overlooked Herricks to-day. There is the consolation of those who do not please their public, and wish to believe they write poems for posterity. With the publication of the " Hesperides " and the "Noble Numbers," Herrick's career as a poet closes. The years intervening, ere the Restoration restored him, too, to his living at Dean Prior, were not, clearly, fortunate ones for him. His income, m spite of the stated provision for outlawed parsonry, soon dwindled to almost nothing. He had rich relations, it is true ; but what is the pro- verbial lot of the poor relation? And Herrick had a restless wit, quite apt to revenge itself for meagre hospitalities and to alarm diffident hosts. In the end he was as glad to get back to his parishioners, and to his dull Devonshire, as he had previously been to leave them. He died at Dean Prior in 1674, at the ripe age of eighty-four, and was buried in the church, where now a memorial tablet commemorates him. Of his fame, if he sometimes expressed a naive mistrust of it, he felt fairly secure, it is clear, on the whole. Mr Andrew Lang once objected, in a lost leader, to the rhyming of "Herrick" with "lyric" by a modern rhymer, but Herrick himself was fond of the Introduction. rhyme, used it more than once, and in the following quatrain used it yet again, to emphasise his faith in himself and his poetry : " Thou shalt not all die ; for while Love's fire shines Upon his altar, men shall read thy lines ; And learn'd musicians shall, to honour Herrick's Fame, and his name, both set and sing his lyrics." Herrick quite accepted the theory that lyric poetry must hold to music as well as to pros- ody. He was not, like Campion, a musician himself, but he shews in numerous places in the "Hesperides" how much music counted to him. To Henry Lawes, in particular, who set some six poems of his, Herrick wrote eight lines, in which he mentions also Jacques Gouter, and other famous lutinists and musicians of the time : Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere : Then if thy voice commingle with the string, I hear in thee the rare Laniere to sing. Or curious Wilson. Tell me, canst thou be Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three, Three unto whom the whole world gave applause ? Yet their three praises praise but one : That's Lawes." In his valuable notes to the little volume of Herrick, in the Canterbury Series, Mr H. P. Home reminds us that Lawes set to music poems by Milton, Lovelace, Carew, and Ben Jonson, and adds, "at the present day he is Introduction. chiefly remembered for having composed, in 1634, the songs for ' Comus.' He published several books of music, and amongst them his ' Choice Psalms ' in 1648, for which Milton wrote the sonnet addressed to him." Lawes, it is interesting to note, learnt music from that Coperio, or Coprario (John Cooper, to wit), who was associated with Campion. Beside those set by Lawes, it is evident that many other of Herrick's poems were specially written, and are perfectly devised, for music, as various settings, old and new, may shew. A natural ear for music, in both kinds ; a lyrical fancy ; a consummate sense of words ; a fortunate schooling at the hands of Ben Jon- son and certain Elizabethans, or of Catullus, Horace, and Martial ; a congenial life for poetry, although in a London that was per- haps too lively, and a Devonshire that was too dull ; all these were Herrick's, and went to make him what he was. Like Campion, he had an ear for music, but he never sacri- ficed a single song to the exigencies of a lute or theorbo. Like Donne, he had a subtle wit, but he rarely sacrificed a poem for the sake of even a finest conceit. And if his pastoral tunes have a classic accompaniment, and his love-lyrical note recalls other Julias than those of a Jacobean London, everything he wrote, good and bad, is unmistakeably " toucht (like lawful plate)," as he claims ; unmistakeably and inimitably his own. In all English lyric poetry, there are very few to compare with him. You may begin with xxiii Introduction. Tennyson, and count only a score of names backwards, and then reduce the score to a scant half dozen, and still Herrick's note is heard, clear, distinct above all. Indeed, that note, so long neglected, is now grown almost too familiar, so that we are in danger, perhaps, of forgetting how fine it is. This as it may be, Herrick, as much as Burns or Shelley, can count to-day on that greater public, who know not Campion, and to whom his rare master, Ben Jonson, is little more than a name. E. R. — /^/\/\A — The Argument of his Book. Hesperides. " Hock- carts " (1. 3) were the last carts in from the harvest- field. " Wakes " were not funeral, but village feasts. 1 SING of brooks, of blossomes, birds, and bowers : Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes. Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridall- cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have accesse By these, to sing of cleanly-wantonnesse. I sing of dewes, of raines, and piece by piece Of balme, of oyle, of spice, and amber-greece. I sing of times trans-shifting ; and I write How roses first came red, and lillies white. I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing The court of Mab, and of the Fairie-king. I write of hell ; I sing, and ever shall, Of heaven, and hope to have it after all. 10 A Lyric Poems. Hesperides. " Coats ' To his Muse. (l. 5), cotes, cots. "Neat" (1. 13), Oxen. Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roame? Farre safer 'twere to stay at home ; Where thou mayst sit, and piping please The poore and private cottages. Since coats and hamlets best agree With this thy meaner minstralsie. There with the reed, thou raayest expresse The shepherds fleecy happinesse : And with thy eclogues intermixe Some smooth and harmlesse beucolicks. There on a hillock thou mayst sing Unto a handsome shephardling ; Or to a girle (that keeps the neat) With breath more sweet then violet. There, there, perhaps, such lines as these May take the simple villages. But for the court, the country wit Is despicable unto it. Stay then at home, and doe not goe Or flie abroad to seeke for woe. Contempts in courts and cities dwell ; No critick haunts the poore mans cell : Where thou mayst hear thine own lines read By no one tongue, there, censured. That man's unwise will search for ill, And may prevent it, sitting still. Herrick. To his Booke. Hesperldes. NA/ HILE thou didst keep thy candor undefil'd, Deerely I lov'd thee, as my first-borne child : But when I saw thee wantonly to roame From house to house, and never stay at home ; I brake my bonds of love, and bad thee goe, Regardlesse whether well thou sped'st, or no. On'with thy fortunes then, what e'er they be ; If good rie smile, if bad I'le sigh for thee. II. i O read my booke the virgin shie May blush, while Brutus standeth by : But when he's gone, read through what's writ, And never staine a cheeke for it. When He would Hesperides. "Thyrse-' (1. 7), 'A javehn twind have his Verses with ivy." Orgies (i. s), T^ J "Songs to Bacchus.'*— -^^^^' (Herricic). In sober mornings, doe not thou reherse The holy incantation of a verse ; But when that men have both well drunke, and fed, Let my enchantments then be sung, or read. 3 Lyric Poems. When laurell spirts i'th' fire, and when the hearth ^ Smiles to it selfe, and guilds the roofe with mirth ; When up the thryse is rais'd, and when the sound Of sacred orgies flyes, A round, a round. When the rose raignes, and locks with oint- ments shine, Let rigid Cato read these lines of mine. — /'AA/V'— To live Merrily, and to trust to Good Verses. ->> tossed back. Hesperides. " Pap" (1. and to trust to 7). sap, " Retorted " (1. JN ow is the time for mirth, Nor cheek, or tongue be dumbe : For with the flowrie earth. The golden pomp is come. The golden pomp is come ; For now each tree do's weare, Made of her pap and gum. Rich beads of amber here. Now raignes the rose, and now Th' Arabian dew besmears My uncontrolled brow, And my retorted haires. 4 Herrick. Homer, this health to thee, In sack of such a kind, That it vvo'd make thee see, Though thou wert ne'er so blind. Next, Virgil, He call forth. To pledge this second health In wine, whose each cup's worth An Indian common-wealth. A goblet next He drink To Ovid ; and suppose, Made he the pledge, he'd think The world had all one nose. Then this immensive cup Of aromatike wine, Catullus, I quaffe up To that terce muse of thine. Wild I am now with heat ; O Bacchus ! coole thy raies ! Or frantick I shall eate Thy thyrse, and bite the bayes. Round, round, the roof do's run ; And being ravisht thus. Come, I will drink a tun To my Propertius. Now, to TibuUus, next, This flood I drink to thee : But stay ; I see a text. That this presents to me. S Lyric Poems. Behold, Tibullus lies Here burnt, whose smal return Of ashes, scarce suffice To fill a little urne. Trust to good verses then ; They onely will aspire, When pyramids, as men, Are lost, i'th'funerall fire. And when all bodies meet In Lethe to be drown'd ; Then onely Numbers sweet. With endless life are crown'd. —Af\J\f\r\r— The Parliament ^ ,. ^^ To Julia.— Hesperides. of Roses. 1 DREAMT the roses one time went To meet and sit in parliament : The place for these, and for the rest Of flowers, was thy spotlesse breast : Over the which a state was drawne Of Tiffanie, or cob-web lawne ; Then in that parly, all those powers Voted the rose, the Queen of flowers. But so, as that herself should be The maide of honour unto thee. 6 Herrick. The Rosarie. Hesperides. vJne ask'd me where the roses grew? I bade him not goe seek ; But forthwith bade my Juha shew A bud in either cheek. — www— Cherrie-ripe. Hesperides. V_/HERRiE-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and faire ones ; come, and buy : If so be, you ask me where They doe grow ? I answer, There, Where my Juha's lips doe smile ; There's the land, or Cherry-ile : Whose plantations fully show All the yeere, where cherries grow, — WWV/— Upon Julia's ^ r . Hesperides. Voice. OO smooth, so sweet, so silv'ry is thy voice, As, could they hear, the damn'd would make no noise ; But listen to thee, walking in thy chamber, Melting melodious words to lutes of amber. 7 Lyric Poems. Againe. W HEN I thy singing next shall heare, He wish I might turne all to eare, To drink in notes, and numbers, such As blessed soules cann't heare too much : Then melted down, there let me lye Entranc'd, and lost confusedly : And by thy musique strucken mute, Die, and be turn'd into a lute. Upon Roses. Hesperides. U NDER a lawne, then skyes more cleare, Some ruffled roses nestling were ; And snugging there, they seem'd to lye As in a flowrie nunnery : They blush'd, and look'd more fresh than flowers Quickned of late by pearly showers ; And all, because they were possest But of the heat of Julia's breast : Which as a warme, and moistned spring, Gave them their ever flourishing. —www- Herrick. To Julia. " Dardanium " (1. 8). " A bracelet, from Dar- danus so call'd." — Herrick. Hesperides. Jnlow rich and pleasing thou, my Julia, art, In each thy dainty, and peculiar part ! First, for thy queen-ship on thy head is set Of flowers a sweet commingled coronet : About thy neck a carkanet is bound. Made of the rubie, pearle, and diamond : A golden ring, that shines upon thy thumb : About thy wrist, the rich Dardanium. Between thy breast, then doune of swans n\ore white, There playes the saphire with the chrysolite. No part besides must of thy selfe be known. But by the topaz, opal, calcedon. — WWv — The Rock of ' 1' Hesperides lulips. JDright tulips, we do know, You had your comming hither ; And fading-time do's show, That ye must quickly wither. Your sister-hoods may stay, And smile here for your houre ; But dye ye must away : Even as the meanest flower. Come, virgins, then, and see Your frailties ; and bemone ye ; For lost hke these, 'twill be, As time had never known ye. — ^/VVW— To the Virgins. ,^."^:: ?l"^^ 7^^^ ^^ o iuue. Hesperides. vJather ye rose-buds while ye may. Old Time is still a-flying : And this same flower that smiles to-day, To morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a getting ; The sooner will his race be run. And neerer he's to setting. Herrick, That age is best, which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer ; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time ; And while ye may, goe marry : For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry. — A/WVv— Why Flowers 1 r^ , Hesperides. change Colour. 1 HESE fresh beauties, we can prove, Once were virgins sick of love, Turn'd to flowers. Still in some Colours goe, and colours come. — www— To Carnations. a Song. Hesperides Otay while ye will, or goe ; And leave no scent behind ye : Yet trust me, I shall know The place, where I may find ye : Within my Lucia's cheek, Whose livery ye weare, Play ye at hide or seek, I'm sure to find ye there. 25 How the Wall-flower came first, and why so called. " Springall" (1. 6), a youth. W HY this flower is now call'd so, List, sweet maids, and you shal know. Understand, this first-Ung was Once a brisk and bonny lasse, Kept as close as Danae was : Who a sprightly springall lov'd, And to have it fully prov'd. Up she got upon a wall, Tempting down to slide withall : But the silken twist unty'd, So she fell, and bruis'd, she dy'd. Love, in pitty of the deed, And her loving-lucklesse speed, Turn'd her to this plant, we call Now, The Flower of the Wall, — »a/V\a/^ How Roses came Red. Hesperides JtvoSES at first were white, Till they co'd not agree, Whether my Sapho's breast, Or they more white sho'd be. 26 Herrick. But being vanquisht quite, A blush their cheeks bespred ; Since which, beleeve the rest, The roses first came red. --A/\/\/Vv — How Violets y^. Hesperides. came Blew. J-/OVE on a day, wise poets tell, Some time in wrangling spent. Whether the violets sho'd excell, Or she, in sweetest scent. But Venus having lost the day, Poore girles, she fell on you ; And beat ye so, as some dare say, Her blowes did make ye blew. — A/Ww— How Lillies WTWi. Hesperides. came White. W KITE though ye be ; yet, lillies, know From the first ye were not so : But He tell ye What befell ye ; Cupid and his mother lay In a cloud ; where both did play, 27 Lyric Poems. He with his pretty finger prest The rubie niplet of her breast ; Out of the which, the creame of Hght, Like to a dew, Fell downe on you, And made ye white. — /\/\/Vw- To Primroses • " ^'^^''^ '""'^^ Moming- lO rnmrObeS. j^^^^,, Hesperides. w. HY doe ye weep, sweet babes ? can tears Speak griefe in you, Who were but borne Just as the modest morne Teem'd her refreshing dew ? Alas, you have not known that shower. That marres a flower ; Nor felt th'unkind Breath of a blasting wind ; Nor are ye worne with yeares ; Or warpt, as we, Who think it strange to see, Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young. To speak by teares, before ye have a tongue. Speak, whimp'ring younglings, and make known The reason, why Ye droop, and weep ; Is it for want of sleep ? Or childish lullabie ? 23 Herrick. Or that ye have not seen as yet The violet ? Or brought a kisse From that sweet-heart, to this ? No, no, this sorrow shown By your teares shed, Wo'd have this lecture read. That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, Conceiv'd with grief are, and with tears brought forth. — WW^'^ To Blossoms. Hesperldes. r* AIRE pledges of a fruitful! tree. Why do yee fall so fast ? Your date is not so past ; But you may stay yet here a while, To blush and gently smile ; And go at last. What, were yee borne to be An houre or half s delight ; And so to bid goodnight? Twas pitie Nature brought yee forth Meerly to shew your worth, And lose you quite. But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'r so brave : And after they have shown their pride. Like you a while : they glide Into the grave. 29 Lyric Poems. To MeddoweS. Hesperides. 1 E have been fresh and gi-een, Ye have been fill'd with flowers : And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their houres. You have beheld, how they With wicker arks did come To kisse, and beare away The richer couslips home. Y'ave heard them sweetly sing, And seen them in a round : Each virgin, like a Spring, With hony-succles crown' d. But now, we see, none here, Whose silv'rie feet did tread. And with dishevell'd haire, Adorn'd this smoother mead. Like unthrifts, having spent Your stock, and needy grown, Y'are left here to lament Your poore estates, alone. Herrick. The Mad Maid's Song. He<;perides. VJooD morrow to the day so fair ; Good morning, sir, to you : Good morrow to mine own torn hair Bedabled with the dew. Good morning to this primrose too ; Good morrow to each maid ; That will with flowers the tomb bestrew, Wherein my Love is laid. Ah ! woe is mee, woe, woe is me, Alack and welladay ! For pitty, sir, find out that bee, Which bore my Love away. rie seek him in your bonnet brave ; He seek him in your eyes ; Nay, now I think th'ave made his grave r th'bed of strawburies. He seek him there ; I know, ere this, The cold, cold earth doth shake him ; But I will go, or send a kisse By you, sir, to awake him. Pray hurt him not ; though he be dead, He knowes well who do love him. And who with green-turfes reare his head, And who do rudely move him. Lyric Poems. He's soft and tender (pray take heed) With bands of cow-shps bind him ; And bring him home ; but 'tis decreed, That I shall never find him. __ ,^ . " To becalme his fever.' To MuSique : Hespendes. V^HARM me asleep, and melt me so With thy delicious numbers ; That being ravisht, hence I goe Away in easie slumbers. Ease my sick head, And make my bed. Thou power that canst sever From me this ill : And quickly still : Though thou not kill My fever. Thou sweetly canst convert the same From a consuming fire, Into a gentle-licking flame. And make it thus expire. Then make me weep My paines asleep ; And give me such reposes, That I, poore I, May think, thereby, I live and die 'Mongst roses. Herrick. Fall on nie like a silent dew, Or like those maiden showrs, Which, by the peepe of day, doe strew A baptime o're the flowers. Melt, melt my paines. With thy soft straines ; That having ease me given, With full delight, I leave this light ; And take my flight For heaven. — W\/\/V" — His Poetrie his ,^.,, Hesperides. Pillar. o, 'nely a little more I have to write, Then He give o're, And bid the world good-night. 'Tis but a flying minute, That I must stay, Or linger in it ; And then I must away. O Time that cut'st down all And scarce leav'st here Memoriall Of any men that were. lo c 33 Lyric Poems. How many lye forgot In vaults beneath ? And piece-meale rot Without a fame in death ? Behold this living stone, I reare for me, Ne'r to be thrown Downe, envious Time, by thee. Pillars let some set up, If so they please, Here is ray hope, And my pyramides. — 'a.' "Fame's black lips" The SllSpitlOn : (,^^^ ,j„^)_ «Fame was painted with black lips, puffing at a trumpet, like And must we part, because some say, Loud is our love, and loose our play, And more then well becomes the day ? Alas for pitty ! and for us Most innocent, and injur'd thus. Had we kept close, or play'd within, Suspition now had been the sinne, And shame had folio w'd long ere this, T'ave plagu'd, what now unpunisht is. But we as fearlesse of the sunne, As faultlesse ; will not wish undone, What now is done : since cohere no sin Unbolts the doore, ?io shame comes in. Then, comely and most fragrant maid, Be you more warie, then afraid Of these reports ; because you see The fairest most suspected be. The common formes have no one eye. Or eare of burning jealousie To follow them : but chiefly, where Love makes the cheek, and chin a sphere To dance and play in : trust me, there Suspicion questions every haire. Come, you are faire ; and sho'd be seen While you are in your sprightfuU green : 47 Lyric Poems. And what though you had been cnibrac't By me, were you for that unchast ? No, no, no more then is yond' moone. Which shining in her perfect noone ; In all that great and glorious light. Continues cold, as is the night. Then, beauteous maid, you may retire ; And as for me, my chast desire Shall move t' wards you ; although I see Your face no more : so live you free From Fame's black lips, as you from me. —J\/\/\fV^~ To the Lark. Hesperides. Ljood speed, for I this day Betimes my mattens say Because I doe Begin to wooe : Sweet singing lark. Be thou the dark. And know thy when To say. Amen. And if I prove Blest in my love ; Then thou shalt be High-priest to me. At my returne. To incense burne ; And so to solenmize Love's, and my sacrifice. 48 Herrick. The Bubble. a Song. Hespendes. i o my revenge, and to her desp'rate feares, Flie, thou made bubble of my sighs and tears. In the wild aire, when thou hast rowl'd about, And, like a blasting planet, found her out ; Stoop, mount, passe by to take her eye, then glare Like to a dreadful! comet in the aire : Next, when thou dost perceive her fixed sight, For thy revenge to be most opposite ; Then like a globe, or ball of wild-fire, flie, And break thy self in shivers on her eye. -WWW— Upon EleCtra. Hesperides. W HEN out of bed my love doth spring, ' Tis but as day a kindling : But when she's up and fully drest, 'Tis then droad day throughout the east. — vVWv— Upon a Black " Rounding the arme .^ . of the Countesse of Twist : Carlile." Hesperides. 1 SAW about her spotlesse wrist. Of blackest silk, a curious twist ; Which, circumvolving gently, there Enthrall'd her arme, as prisoner, lo D 49 Lyric Poems. Dark was the jayle ; but as if light Had met t' engender with the night ; Or so, as darknesse made a stay To shew at once, both night and day. I fancie more ! but if there be Such freedome in captivity ; I beg of Love, that never I May in like chains of darknesse lie. " Phil," a pet bird ; in this instance stuffed and Upon a FHe. p^^ »" --^ s'^^^ <=^^^- (Compare Sidney.) Hes- perides. A GOLDEN flie once shew'd to me, Clos'd in a box of yvorie : Where both seem'd proud ; the flie to have His buriall in an yvorie grave : The yvorie tooke state to hold A corps as bright as burnisht gold. One fate had both ; both equall grace ; The buried, and the burying-place. Not Virgils gnat, to whom the spring All flowers sent to'is burying. Not Marshalls bee, which in a bead Of amber quick was buried. Nor that fine worme that do's interre Her selfe i'th' silken sepulchre. Nor my rare Phil, that lately was With lillies tomb'd up in a glasse ; More honour had, then this same flie ; Dead, and closed up in yvorie. 50 To Dianeme. OWEET, be not proud of those two eyes, Which star-like sparkle in their skies : Nor be you proud, that you can see All hearts your captives ; yours, yet free : Be you not proud of that rich haire, Which wantons with the love-sick aire : When as that rubie, which you weare, Sunk from the tip of your soft eare, Will last to be a precious stone. When all your world of beautie's gone. i co'n but see thee yesterday Stung by a fretfuU bee ; And I the javelin suckt away. And heal'd the wound in thee. A thousand thorns, and bryars & stings, I have in my poore brest ; Yet ne'r can see that salve which brings My passions any rest. 51 Lyric Poems. As Love shall helpe me, I admire How thou canst sit and smile, To see me bleed, and not desire To stench the blood the while. If thou compos' d of gentle mould Art so unkind to me ; What dismall stories will be told Of those that cruell be ? -Deare, though to part it be a hell, Yet, Dianeme, now farewell : Thy frown, last night, did bid me goe ; But whither, onely grief do's know. I doe beseech thee, ere we part, (If mercifull, as faire thou art ; Or else desir'st that maids sho'd tell Thy pitty by Loves-chronicle) O Dianeme, rather kill Me, then to make me languish stil ! 'Tis cruelty in thee to'th'height. Thus, thus to wound, not kill out-right Yet there's a way found, if thou please, By sudden death to give me ease : And thus devis'd, doe thou but this Bequeath to me one parting kisse : So sup'rabundant joy shall be The executioner of me. — 'A/X/S/v — 58 Herrick. The Vision to T^, . Hesperides. Electra. 1 dream'd we both were in a bed Of roses, almost smothered : The warmth and sweetnes had me there Made lovingly familiar ; But that I heard thy sweet breath say, Faults done by night, will blush by day : I kist thee panting, and I call Night to the record ! that was all. But ah ! if empty dreames so please, Love, give me more such nights as these. ~-A/\J\/V'— The Showre of _,, Hesperidei. Blossomes. J-/OVE in a showre of blossomes came Down, and halfe drown'd me with the same The blooms that fell were white and red ; But with such sweets commingled, As whether, this, I cannot tell My sight was pleas'd more, or my smell : But true it was, as I rowl'd there. Without a thought of hurt, or feare ; Love turn'd himselfe into a bee, And with his javelin wounded me : 53 Lyric Poems. From which mishap this use I make, IV/iere most su7. Herrick. She smiling blusht, and blushing smil'd, And sweetly blushing thus, She lookt as she'd been got with child By young Favonius, Her apron gave (as she did passe) An odor more divine, More pleasing too, then ever was The lap of Proserpine. — A/\/Vw~ Disswasions - -. ,, Hesperides. from Idlenesse. V_yYNTHius pluck ye by the eare, That ye may good doctrine heare. Play not with the maiden-haire ; For each ringlet there's a snare. Cheek, and eye, and lip, and chin ; These are traps to take fooles in. Armes, and hands, and all parts else, Are but toiles, or manicles Set on purpose to enthrall Men, but slothfulls most of all. Live employ'd, and so live free From these fetters ; like to me Who have found, and still can prove, The lazie man the most doth love. 63 Lyric Poems. TheSadnesse ..j.^, gapho's sick- of Things : nesse. ■ Hesperides. LiLLiES will languish ; violets look ill ; Sickly the prim-rose ; pale the daffadill : That gallant tulip will hang down his head, Like to a virgin newly ravished. Pansies will weep ; and marigolds will wither ; And keep a fast, and funerall together, If Sapho droop ; daisies will open never, But bid good-night, and close their lids for ever, — w\/\/w— "Mrs EHz. Wheeler, 1 he L/OSt under the name of the ShepardeSSe. Lost Shepardesse.- Hes- ^ perides. Among the mirtles, as I walkt, Love and my sighs thus intertalkt : Tell me, said I, in deep distresse, Where I may find my shepardesse. Thou foole, said Love, know'st thou not this ? In every thing that's sweet, she is. In yond' carnation goe and seek. There thou shalt find her lip and cheek : In that ennamel'd pansie by, There thou shalt have her curious eye : 64 Herrick. In bloome of peach, and roses bud, There waves the streamer of her blood. 'Tis true, said I, and thereupon I went to pluck them one by one, To make of parts an union ; But on a sudden all were gone. At which I stopt ; said Love, these be The true resemblances of thee ; For as these flowers, thy joyes must die. And in the turning of an eye ; And all thy hopes of her must wither, Like those short sweets ere knit together. Corinna's Going a Maying. . " Tlie god unshorne " Gonig a (I. 2), Apollo. Hesper- ides. vJET up, get up for shame, the blooming morne Upon her wings presents the god unshorne. See how Aurora throwes her faire Fresh-quilted colours through the aire : Get up, sweet Slug-a-bed, and see The dew-bespangling herbe and tree Each flower has wept, and bow'd toward the east, Above an houre since ; yet you not drest, Nay ! not so much as out of bed ? When all the birds have mattens seyd, lo E 65 Lyric Poems. And sung their thankful! hymnes : 'tis sin, Nay, profanation to keep in, When as a thousand virgins on this day, Spring, sooner then the lark, to fetch in May. Rise ; and put on your foliage, and be scene To come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and greene ; And sweet as Flora. Take no care For jewels for your gowne, or haire : Feare not ; the leaves will strew Gemms in abundance upon you : Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, Against you come, some orient pearls unwept : Come, and receive them while the light Hangs on the dew-locks of the night : And Titan on the eastern hill Retires himselfe, or else stands still Til you come forth. Wash, dresse, be briefe in praying : Few beads are best, when once we goe a Maying. Come, my Corinna, come ; and comming, marke How each field turns a street ; each street a parke Made green, and trimm'd with trees : see how Devotion gives each house a bough, Or branch : each porch, each doore, ere this, An arke a tabernacle is Made up of white-thorn neatly entcrwove ; As if here were those cooh^r shades of love. 66 Herrick. Can such delights be in the street, And open fields, and we not see't? Come, we'll abroad ; and let's obay The proclamation made for May : And sin no more, as we have done by staying ; But, my Corinna, come, let's goe a Maying. There's not a budding boy, or girle, this day, But is got up, and gone to .bring in May. A deale of youth, ere this, is come Back, and with White-thorn laden home. Some have dispatcht their cakes and creame, Before that we have left to dreame : And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth. And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth : Many a green-gown has been given ; Many a kisse, both odde and even : Many a glance too has been sent From out the eye, love's firmament : Many a jest told of the keyes betraying That night, and locks pickt, yet w'are not a Maying. Come, let us goe, while we are in our prime ; And take the harmlesse follie of the time. We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty. Our life is short ; and our dayes run As fast away as do's the sunne : And as a vapour, or a drop of raine Once lost, can ne'r be found againe : 67 Lyric Poems. So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade ; All love, all liking, all delight Lies drown'd with us in endlesse night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying ; Come, my Corinna, come, let's goe a Maying. — A/\/\/V^- To the Maids "Draw-jrloves" (1. 5) to Walke IJZ Abroad. perldes f„ WT^U.f. a game with the fingers cO Waike and bits of paper. Hes- V^OME sit we under yonder tree, Where merry as the maids we'l be. And as on primroses we sit, We'l venter (if we can) at wit : If not, at draw-gloves we will play ; So spend some minutes of the day : Or else spin out the thread of sands. Playing at questions and commands : Or tell what strange tricks Love can do, By quickly making one of two. Thus we will sit and talke ; but tell No cruell truths of Philomell, Or Phillis, whom hard Fate forc't on, To kill her selfe for Demophon. But fables we'l relate ; how Jove Put on all shapes to get a love : As now a satyr, then a swan ; A bull but then ; and now a man. 68 Herrick. Next we will act, how young men wooe ; And sigh, and kiss, as lovers do : And talke of brides ; and who shall make That wedding-smock, this bridal-cake ; That dress, this sprig, that leaf, this vine ; That smooth and silken Columbine. This done, we'l draw lots, who shall buy And guild the baies and rosemary : What posies for our wedding rings ; What gloves we'l give, and ribanings : . And smiling at our selves, decree, Who then the joyning priest shall be. What short sweet prayers shall be said ; And how the posset shall be made With cream of lillies (not of kine) And maiden's-blush, for spiced wine. Thus, having talkt, we'l next commend A kiss to each ; and so we'l end. — WVW— The Bell-man. Hesperides. i^ ROM noise of scare-fires rest ye free, From murders benedicitie. From all mischances, that may fright Your pleasing slumbers in the night : Mercie secure ye all, and keep The goblin from ye, while ye sleep. Past one aclock, and almost two, My masters all, Good day to you. Hesperides. i HE Hag is astride, This night for to ride ; The Devill and shee together : Through thick, and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne'r so foule be the weather. A thorn or a burr She takes for a spurre : With a lash of a bramble she rides now. Through brakes and through bryars, O're ditches, and mires, She followes the spirit that guides now. No beast, for his food. Dares now range the wood ; But husht in his laire he lies lurking : While mischeifs, by these, On land and on seas, At noone of night are a working, The storme will arise. And trouble the skies ; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the tomb Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the thunder. 70 Herrick. The Old Wives Hespendes. Prayer. riOLY-ROOD come forth and shield Us i'th' citie, and the field : Safely guard us, now and aye, From the blast that burns by day ; And those sounds that us affright In the dead of dampish night. Drive all hurtfull feinds us fro, By the time the cocks first crow. The Fairies. Hesperldes. I F ye will with Mab find grace, Set each platter in his place : Rake the fier up, and get Water in, ere sun be set. Wash your pailes, and dense your dairies Sluts are loathsome to the fairies : Sweep your house : who doth not so, Mab will pinch her by the toe. — *AAA^~ Lyric Poems. Upon Mistresse Susanna South- Hespende well her Cheeks. R, .ARE are thy cheeks, Susanna, which do show Ripe cherries smihng, while that others blow. To Musick. J,;;;' ^°"^-' ""^"^- iVlusiCK, thou Queen of Heaven, care- charming spel, That strik'st a stilnesse into hell : Thou that tam'st tygers, and fierce storms, that rise, With thy soule-melting lullabies : Fall down, down, down, from those thy chiming spheres. To charme our soules, as thou enchant'st our eares. — WVW— 72 Herrick. Lyrick for "^ . Hespendes. Legacies. (jToLD I've none, for use or show, Neither silver to bestow At my death ; but thus much know, That each lyrick here shall be Of my love a legacie, Left to all posterity. Gentle friends, then doe but please, To accept such coynes as these ; As my last remembrances. — vvA/W— Upon the Losse , . ■« ,r . Hesperides. of his Mistresses. i HAVE lost, and lately, these Many dainty mistresses : Stately Julia, prime of all ; Sapho next, a principall : Smooth Anthea, for a skin White, and heaven-like chrystalline ; Sweet Electra, and the choice Myrha, for the lute, and voice. Next, Corinna, for her wit, And the graceful use of it : With Perilla : all are gone ; Onely Herrick' s left alone, For to number sorrow by Their departures hence, and die. 73 Lyric Poems. The Departure of the Good Hesperldes. Daemon. W HAT can I do in poetry, Now the good spirit's gone from me ? Why nothing now, but lonely sit. And over-read what I have writ. —J'AJVv^- Upon his De- parture Hence. Hesperides. i HUS I Passe by, And die : As one, Unknown, And gon : I'm made A shade, And laid I'th grave, There have My cave. Where tell I dwell, Farewell. 74 Herrick. To his Paternall ^ Hesperides. Countrey. O earth! earth! earth! heare thou my voice, and be Loving, and gentle for to cover me : Banish'd from thee I Hve ; ne'r to return, Unlesse thou giv'st my small remains an urne. —t4\l\t\h— To the Nightin- ..^nd Robin Red- CT3_le \ brest." Hesperides. When I departed am, ring thou my knell, Thou pittifuU, and pretty Philomel : And when I'm laid out for a corse ; then be Thou sexton, red-brest, for to cover me. — vWW— To the Yew and ..^o grace his CypreSSe : Funerall." Hesperide-,. IJOTH you two have Relation to the grave : And where The fun' rail-trump sounds, you are there. 75 Lyric Poems. I shall be made Ere long a fleeting shade : Pray come, And doe some honour to my tomb. Do not deny My last request ; for I Will be ThankfuU to you, or friends, for me. —'AA/vv— NoShipWrack ..^0 a Friend" Hes- of Vertue. perides. 1 HOU sail'st with others in this Argus here ; Nor wrack or bulging thou hast cause to feare : But trust to this, my noble passenger ; Who swims with vertue, he shall still be sure Ulysses-like, all tempests to endure ; And 'midst a thousand gulfs to be secure. His Cavalier. Hesperldes. VJTiVE me that man, that dares bestride The active sea-horse, and with pride, Through that huge field of waters ride : Who, with his looks too, can appease The ruffling winds and raging seas. In mid'st of all their outrages. 76 Herrick. This, this a virtuous man can doe, Saile against rocks, and split them too I ! and a world of pikes passe through. -www— To the Lady Crew, upon the Death of her Child. HesperiJes. Why, madam, will ye longer weep. When as your baby's lull'd asleep? And, pretty child, feeles now no more Those paines it lately felt before. All now is silent ; groanes are fled : Your child lyes still, yet is not dead : But rather like a flower hid here To spring againe another yeare. Upon a Maide. Hespendes I. JriERE she lyes, in bed of spice, Faire as Eve in paradice : For her beauty it was such Poets co'd not. praise too much. 77 Lyric Poems. Virgins, come, and in a ring Her supreamest requiem sing ; Then depart, but see ye tread Lightly, lightly ore the dead. VJTONE she is a long, long way, But she has decreed a day Back to come, and make no stay So we keepe, till her returne Here, her ashes, or her urne. — ^AA/W— An Epitaph ,,^^^ „ TT' • Hesperides. Upon a Virgin. ri ERE a solemne fast we keepe, While all beauty lyes asleep, Husht be all things ; no noyse here, But the toning of a teare : Or a sigh of such as bring Cowslips for her covering. -vvw»^- Herrick. Upon a Child that Dyed. Hesperide. ll-ERE she lies, a pretty bud, Lately made of flesh and blood : Who, as soone, fell fast asleep, As her little eyes did peep. Give her strewings ; but not stir The earth, that lightly covers her. li. ERE a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies : Pray be silent, and not stirre Th' easie earth that covers her. — A/WV^ — To his dying Brother, Master William Hesperides. Herrick. Life of my life, take not so soone thy flight, But stay the time till we have bade Good night. Thou hast both wind and tide with thee ; thy way As soone dispatcht is by the night, as day. Lyric Poems. Let us not then so rudely henceforth goe Till we have wept, kist, sigh't, shook hands, or so. There's paine in parting ; and a kind of hell. When once true-lovers take their last fare-well. What? shall we two our endlesse leaves take here Without a sad looke, or a solemne teare ? He knowes not love, that hath not this truth proved. Love is most loth to leave the thing beloved. Pay we our vowes, and goe ; yet when we part, Then, even then, I will bequeath my heart Into thy loving hands : for He keep none To warnie my breast, when thou my pulse art gone. No, here He last, and walk, a harmless shade, About this urne, wherein thy dust is laid, To guard it so, as nothing here shall be Heavy, to hurt those sacred seeds of thee. An Ode to Master Endy- ^"^TJ"'' ^?'^""' '' Death.' Hespendes. mion Porter: IN OT all thy flushing sunnes are set, Herrick, as yet : Nor doth this far-drawn hemisphere Frown, and look sullen ev'ry where. 80 Herrick. Dales may conclude in nights ; and suns may- rest, As dead, within the west ; Yet the next morne, re-guild the fragrant east. Alas for me ! that I have lost E'en all almost : Sunk is my sight ; set is my sun ; And all the loome of life undone : The staffe, the elme, the prop, the shelt'ring wall, Whereon my vine did crawle, Now, now, blowne downe ; needs must the old stock fall. Yet, Porter, while thou keep'st alive, In death I thrive : And like a Phenix re-aspire From out my narde, and fun'rall fire : And as I prune my feather'd youth, so I Doe mar'l how I co'd die, When I had thee, my chiefe preserver, by. I'm up, I'm up, and blesse that hand. Which makes me stand Now as I doe ; and but for thee, I must confesse, I co'd not be. The debt is paid : for he who doth resigne Thanks to the gen'rous vine ; Invites fresh grapes to fill his presse with wine. Lyric Poems. Upon HimSelfe. Hesperides. i co'd never love indeed ; Never see mine own heart bleed : Never crucifie my life ; Or for widow, maid, or wife, I co'd never seeke to please One, or many mistresses : Never like their lips, to sweare Oyle of roses still smelt there. I co'd never breake my sleepe. Fold mine armes, sob, sigh, or weep Never beg, or humbly wooe With oathes, and lyes, as others do. I co'd never walke alone ; Put a shirt of sackcloth on : Never keep a fast, or pray For good luck in love (that day). But have hitherto liv'd free, As the aire that circles me : And kept credit with my heart, Neither broke i'th whole, or part. -^fAA/^ — A Nuptiall Song : w, " Or Epithalamie, on Sir Clipseby Crew and his Lady." Hesperides. hat's that we see from far? the spring of day Bloom'd from the east, or faire injewel'd May Blowne out of April ; or some new- Star fill'd with glory to our view. Reaching at heaven, To adde a nobler planet to the seven ? Say, or doe we not descrie Some goddesse, in a cloud of tiffanie To move, or rather the Emergent Venus from the sea ? 'Tis she ! 'tis she ! or else some more divine Enlightned substance ; mark how from the shrine Of holy saints she paces on. Treading upon vermilion And amber ; spice- ing the chafte aire with fumes of paradise. Then come on, come on, and yeeld A savour like unto a blessed field, When the bedabled morne Washes the golden eares of corne, 83 Lyric Poems. See where she comes ; and smell how all the street Breathes vine-yards and pomgranats ; O how sweet ! As a fir'd altar, is each stone, Perspiring pounded cynamon. The phenix nest, Built up of odours, burneth in her breast. Who therein wo'd not consume His soule to ash-heaps in that rich perfume? Bestroaking Fate the while He burnes to embers on the pile. Himen, O Himen ! tread the sacred ground ; Shew thy white feet, and head with marjoram crown' d : Mount up thy flames, and let thy torch Display the bridegroom in the porch. In his desires More towring, more disparkUng then thy fires : Shew her how his eyes do turne And roule about, and in their motions burne Their balls to cindars : haste, Or else to ashes he will waste. Glide by the banks of virgins then, and passe The shewers of roses, lucky foure-leav'd grasse: The while the cloud of younglings sing, And drown yee with a flowrie spring : While some repeat Your praise, and bless you, sprinkling you with wheat ; 84 Herrick. While that others doe divine ; Blest is the bHde, on whom the sun doth shine ; And thousands gladly wish You multiply, as doth a fish. And beautious bride we do confess y'are wise, In dealing forth these bashfull jealousies ; In Love's name do so ; and a price Set on your selfe, by being nice : But yet take heed ; What now you seem, be not the same indeed, And turne apostate : Love will Part of the way be met ; or sit stone-still. On then, and though you slow- ly go, yet, howsoever, go. And now y'are enter'd ; see the codled cook Runs from his torrid zone, to prie, and look, And blesse his dainty mistresse : see. The aged point out. This is she, Who now must sway The house (Love shield her) with her yea and nay : And the smirk butler thinks it Sin, in's nap'rie, not to express his wit ; Each striving to devise Some gin, wherewith to catch your eyes. To bed, to bed, kind turtles, now, and write This the short'st day, and this the longest night ; But yet too short for you : 'tis we. Who count this night as long as three. Lying alone. Telling the clock strike ten, eleven, twelve, one. 85 Lyric Poems. Quickly, quickly then prepare ; And let the young-men and the bride-maids share Your garters ; and their joynts Encircle with the bride-grooms points. By the bride's eyes, and by the teeming life Of her green hopes, we charge ye, that no strife, Farther then gentleness tends, gets place Among ye, striving for her lace : O doe not fall Foule in these noble pastimes, lest ye call Discord in, and so divide The youthfull bride-groom, and the fragrant bride ; Which Love forefend ; but spoken, Be't to your praise, no peace was broken. Strip her of spring-time, tender whimpring maids. Now autumne's come, when all those llowrie aids Of her delay es must end ; dispose That lady-smock, that pansie, and that rose Neatly apart ; But for prick-madam, and for gentle-heart ; And soft maidens-blush, the bride Makes holy these, all others lay aside : Then strip her, or unto her Let him come, who dares undo her. And to enchant yee more, see every where About the roofe a syren in a sphere, 86 Herrick. As we think, singing to the dinne Of many a warbHng cherubim : O marke yee how The soule of nature melts in numbers ; now See, a thousand Cupids flye, To light their tapers at the bride's bright eye. To bed ; or her they'l tire, Were she an element of fire. And to your more bewitching, see, the proud Plumpe bed beare up, and swelling like a cloud, Tempting the two too modest ; can Yee see it brusle like a swan. And you be cold To meet it, when it woo's and seemes to fold The armes to hugge it ? throw, throw Your selves into the mighty over-flow Of that white pride, and drowne The night, with you, in floods of downe. The bed is ready, and the maze of love Lookes for the treaders ; every where is wove Wit and new misterie ; read, and Put in practise, to understand And know each wile, Each hieroglyphick of a kisse or smile ; And do it to the full ; reach High in your own conceipt, and some wa teach Nature and art, one more Play, then they ever knew before. If needs we must for ceremonies-sake, Blesse a sack-posset ; luck go with it ; take 87 i Lyric Poems. The night-charme quickly ; you have spells, And magicks for to end, and hells. To passe ; but such And of such torture as no one would grutch To live therein for ever : frie And consume, and grow again to die, And live, and in that case Love the confusion of the place. But since it must be done, dispatch, and sowe Up in a sheet your bride, and what if so It be with rock, or walles of brasse, Ye towre her up, as Danae was ; Thinke }^ou that this, Or hell it selfe a powerful! bulwarke is ? I tell yee no ; but like a Bold bolt of thunder he will make his way, And rend the cloud, and throw The sheet about, like flakes of snow. All now is husht in silence ; midwife-moone, With all her owle-ey'd issue, begs a boon Which you must grant ; that's entrance with Which extract, all we can call pith And quintiscence Of planetary bodies ; so commence All faire constellations Looking upon yee, that, that nations Springing from two such fires May blaze the vertue of their sires. The Poet's Good Wishes M " For the most hope- ful! and handsome Prince, the Duke of Yorke." Hesperides. AY his pretty duke-ship grow Like t'a rose of Jericho : Sweeter far, then ever yet Showrs or sun-shines co'd beget. May the graces, and the hewers Strew his hopes, and him with flowers : And so dresse him up with love, As to be the chick of Jove. May the thrice-three-sisters sing Him the soveraigne of their spring : And entitle none to be Prince of Hellicon, but he. May his soft foot, where it treads, Gardens thence produce and meads ; And those meddowes full be set With the rose, and violet May his ample name be knowne To the last succession : And his actions high be told Through the world, but writ in gold. 89 Lyric Poems. The MeddoW "Or Anlversary to ■^j Mistris Bridget Low- V ci Sc. man." Hesperides. C< I. 'OME with the spring-time forth, fair maid, and be This year again, the medow's deity. Yet ere ye enter, give us leave to set Upon your head this flowry coronet : To make this neat distinction from the rest ; You are the prime, and princesse of the feast : To which, with silver feet lead you the way, While sweet-breath nimphs, attend on you this day. This is your houre ; and best you may com- mand, Since you are lady of this fairie land. Full mirth wait on you ; and such mirth as shall Cherrish the cheek, but make none blush at all. The parting Verse, the Feast there ENDED. i— 'OTH to depart, but yet at last, each one Back must now go to's habitation : Not knowing thus much, when we once do sever. Whether or no, that we shall meet here ever. As for my self, since time a thousand cares And griefs hath fil'de upon my silver hairs ; 90 Herrick. 'Tis to be doubted whether I next yeer, Or no, shall give ye a re-meeting here. If die I must, then my last vow shall be, You'l with a tear or two, remember me, Your sometime poet ; but if fates do give Me longer date, and more fresh springs to live Oft as your field, shall her old age renew, Herrick shall make the meddow-verse for you. —j'AA/v^ To Groves. Hesperldes. Y EE silent shades, whose each tree here Some relique of a saint doth weare : Who for some sw^eet-hearts sake, did prove The fire, and martyrdome of love. Here is the legend of those saints That di'd for love ; and their complaints : Their wounded hearts ; and names we find Encarv'd upon the leaves and rind. Give way, give way to me, who come Scorch't with the selfe-same martyrdome ; And have deserv'd as much, Love knowes, As to be canoniz'd 'mongst those, Whose deeds, and deaths here written are Within your greenie-kalendar : By all those virgins fillets hung Upon your boughs, and requiems sung For saints and soules departed hence, (Here honour'd still with frankincense) By all those teares that have been shed, As a drink-offering, to the dead : 91 Lyric Poems. By all those true-love-knots, that be With motto's carv'd on every tree, By sweet S. Phillis ; pitie me : By deare S. Iphis ; and the rest, Of all those other saints now blest ; Me, me, forsaken, here admit Among your mirtles to be writ : That my poore name may have the glory To live remembred in your story. An Ode to Sir ClipSebie Hesperides. Crew. H, ERE we securely live, and eate The crcame of meat ; And keep eternal fires. By which we sit, and doe divine As wine And rage inspires. If full we charme ; then call upon Anacreon To grace the frantick thyrse : And having drunk, we raise a shout Throughout To praise his verse. 92 Herrick. Then cause we Horace to be read, Which sung, or seyd, A goblet, to the brim. Of lyrick wine, both swell'd and crown'd, A round We quaffe to him. Thus, thus, we live, and spend the houres In wine and flowers : And make the froUick yeere, The month, the week, the instant day To stay The longer here. Come then, brave knight, and see the cell Wherein I dwell ; And my enchantments too ; Which love and noble freedome is ; And this Shall fetter you. Take horse, and come ; or be so kind. To send your mind (Though but in numbers few) And I shall think I have the heart. Or part Of Clipseby Crew. --vA/VW— 93 " To his brother, M. A Country Life. ^^°= ?r''''".. ^^""^^ ^ ides. Brasse, money. " Tearcely," temperately. 1 HRICE, and above blest, my soules halfe, art thou, In thy both last, and better vow : Could'st leave the city, for exchange, to see The countries sweet simplicity : And it to know, and practice ; with intent To grow the sooner innocent : By studying to know vertue ; and to aime More at her nature, then her name : The last is but the least ; the first doth tell Wayes lesse to live, then to live well : And both are knowne to thee, who now can'st live Led by thy conscience ; to give Justice to soone-pleas'd nature ; and to show, Wisdome and she together goe, And keep one centre : this with that conspires. To teach man to confine desires : And know, that riches have their proper stint. In the contented mind, not mint. And can'st instruct, that those who have the itch Of craving more, are never rich. These things thou know'st to'th'height, and dost prevent That plague ; because thou art content 94 Herrick. With that Heav'n gave thee with a vvarie hand, (More blessed in thy Brasse, then land) To keep cheap nature even, and upright ; To coole, not cocker appetite. Thus thou canst tearcely live to satisfie The belly chiefly ; not the eye : Keeping the barking stomach wisely quiet, Lesse with a neat, then needfuU diet. But that which most makes sweet thy country life, Is, the fruition of a wife : Whom, stars consenting with thy fate, thou hast Got, not so beautifull, as chast : By whose warme side thou dost securely sleep, While Love the centinell doth keep. With those deeds done by day, which n'er affright Thy silken slumbers in the night. Nor has the darknesse power to usher in Feare to those sheets, that know no sin. But still thy wife, by chast intentions led. Gives thee each night a maidenhead. The damaskt medowes, and the peebly streames Sweeten, and make soft your dreames : The purling springs, groves, birds, and well- weav'd bowrs. With fields enameled with flowers, Present their shapes ; while fantasie discloses Millions of lillies mixt with roses. Then dream, ye heare the lamb by many a bleat Woo'd to come suck the milkie teat ; 95 Lyric Poems While Faunus in the vision comes to keep, From rav'ning wolves, the fleecie sheep. With thousand such enchanting dreams, that meet To make sleep not so sound, as sweet : Nor can these figures so thy rest endeare, As not to rise when Chanticlere Warnes the last watch ; but with the dawne dost rise To work, but first to sacrifice ; Making thy peace with heav'n, for some late fault, With holy-meale, and spirting-salt. Which done, thy painfull thumb this sentence tells us, Jove for our labour all thifigs sells us. Nor are thy daily and devout affaires Attended with those desp'rate cares, Th' industrious merchant has ; who for to find Gold, runneth to the Western Inde, And back again ; tortur'd with fears, doth fly, Untaught, to suffer poverty. But thou at home, blest with securest ease, Sitt'st, and beleev'st that there be seas. And watrie dangers ; while thy whiter hap, But sees these things within thy map. And viewing them with a more safe survey, Mak'st easie feare unto thee say, A heart thrice waWd with oke, and brasse, that man Had, first, durst plow the ocean. But thou at home without or tyde or gale, Canst in thy map securely saile : Seeing those painted countries ; and so guesse q6 Herrick. By those fine shades, their substances : And from thy com passe taking small advice, Buy'st travell at the lowest price. Nor are thine eares so deafe, but thou canst heare, Far more witli wonder, then with feare, Fame tell of states, of countries, courts, and kings ; And beleeve there be such things : When of these truths, thy happyer knowledge lyes, More in thine eares, then in thine eyes. And when thou hear'st by that too-true-report. Vice rules the most, or all at court : Thy pious wishes are, though thou not there, Vertue had, and mov'd her sphere. But thou liv'st fearlesse ; and thy face ne'r shewes Fortune when she comes, or goes. But with thy equall thoughts, prepar'd dost stand, To take her by the either hand : Nor car'st which comes the first, the foule or faire ; A wise man evry way lies square. And like a surly oke, with storms perplext ; Growes still the stronger, strongly vext. Be so, bold spirit ; stand center - like, un- mov'd ; And be not onely thought, but prov'd To be what I report thee ; and inure Thy selfe, if want comes to endui-e : And so thou dost : for thy desires are Confin'd to Hve with private Larr : Lyric Poems. Not curious whether appetite be fed, Or with the first, or second bread. Who keep' St no proud mouth for dehcious cates : Hunger makes coorse meats, delicates. Can'st, and unurg'd, forsake that larded fare, Which art, not nature, makes so rare ; To taste boyl'd nettles, colworts, beets, and eate These, and sowre herbs, as dainty meat ? While soft opinion makes thy Genius say, Content makes all ambrosia. Nor is it, that thou keep'st this stricter size So much for want, as exercise : To numb the sence of dearth, which sho'd sinne haste it, Thou might'st but onely see't, not taste it. Yet can thy humble roofe maintaine a quire Of singing crickits by thy fire : And the brisk mouse may feast her selfe with crums. Till that the gieen-ey'd kitling comes. Then to her cabbin, blest she can escape The sudden danger of a rape. And thus thy little-well-kept stock doth prove, Wealth can?iot make a life, but Love. Nor art thou so close-handed, but can'st spend (Counsell concurring with the end) As well as spare : still conning o'r this theame. To shun the first, and last extreame. Ordaining that thy small stock find no breach, Or to exceed thy tether's reach ; But to live round, and close, and wisely true To thine owne selfe ; and knowne to few. Thus let thy rurall sanctuary be Elizium to thy wife and thee ; 98 Herrick. There to disport your selves with golden measure ; For seldome use commends the pleasure. Live, and live blest ; thrice happy paire ; let breath, But lost to one, be th' others death. And as there is one love, one faith, one troth, Be so one death, one grave to both. Till when, in such assurance live, ye may Nor feare, or wish your dying day. — «aA/W— His Content in ,. r^ . Hesperides. the Country. JlIere, here I live with what my board, Can with the smallest cost afford. Though ne'r so mean the viands be. They well content my Prew and me. Or pea, or bean, or wort, or beet, What ever comes, content makes sweet : Here we rejoyce, because no rent We pay for our poore tenement : Wherein we rest, and never feare The landlord, or the usurer. The quarter-day do's ne'r affright Our peacefull slumbers in the night. We eate our own, and batten more. Because we feed on no mans score : But pitie those, whose flanks grow great, Swel'd with the lard of others meat. 99 Lyric Poems. We blesse our fortunes, when we see Our own beloved privacie : And like our living, where w'are known To very few, or else to none. The Hock-cart, "Maukin" (i. 9). or Harvest ^^^^^f ,f "'• , "f J)" horse (1. 21), shaft- Home. horse." Hesperides. LyOME, sons of Summer, by whose toile, We are the lords of wine and oile : By whose tough labours, and rough hands, We rip up first, then reap our lands. Crown'd with the eares of corne, now come, And, to the pipe, sing harvest home. Come forth, my lord, and see the cart Drest up with all the country art. See, here a maukin, there a sheet, As spotlesse pure, as it is sweet : The horses, mares, and frisking fillies. Clad, all, in hnnen, white as lillies. The harvest swaines, and wenches bound For joy, to see the hock-cart crown'd. About the cart, heare, how the rout Of rurall younglings raise the shout ; Pressing before, some coming after, Those with a shout, and these with laughter. Some blesse the cart ; some kisse the sheaves Some prank them up with oaken leaves : Some crosse the fill-horse ; some with great Devotion, stroak the home-borne wheat : Herrick. While other rusticks, lesse attent To prayers, then to merryment, Run after with their breeches rent. Well, on, brave boyes, to your lord's hearth, Glitt'ring with fire ; where, for your mirth, Ye shall see first the large and cheefe Foundation of your feast, fat beefe : With upper stories, mutton, veale And bacon, which makes full the meale. With sev'rall dishes standing by, As here a custard, there a pie, And here all tempting frumentie. And for to make the merry cheere, If smirking wine be wanting here, There's that, which drowns all care, stout beere ; Which freely drink to your lord's health, Then to the plough, the common-wealth ; Next to your flailes, your fanes, your fatts ; Then to the maids with wheaten hats : To the rough sickle, and crookt sythe, Drink, froUick, boyes, till all be blythe. Feed, and grow fat ; and as ye eat. Be mindfuU, that the lab'ring neat, As you, may have their fill of meat. And know, besides, ye must revoke The patient oxe unto the yoke, And all goe back unto the plough And harrow, though they'r hang'd up now. And, you must know, your lord's word's true. Feed him ye must, whose food fils you. And that this pleasure is like raine, Not sent ye for to drowne your paine, But for to make it spring againe. The Country Life. " To the honoured M. End. Porter, Groome of the Bed-chamber to His Maj." Hesperides. "Cockrood" (p. 104), road thro' a game pre- serve. OWEET country life, to such unknown, Whose hves are others, not their own ! But serving courts, and cities, be Less happy, less enjoying thee. Thou never plow'st the oceans foame To seeke, and bring rough pepper home : Nor to the Eastern Ind dost rove To bring from thence the scorched clove. Nor, with the losse of thy lov'd rest, Bring'st home the ingot from the West. No, thy ambition's master-piece Flies no thought higher then a fleece : Or how to pay thy hinds, and cleere All scores ; and so to end the yeere : But walk' St about thine own dear bounds. Not envying others larger grounds : For well thou know'st, 'tis not tK extent Of land makes life, but siueet content. When now the cock (the plow-mans home) Calls forth the lilly-wristed morne ; Then to thy corn-fields thou dost goe, Which though well soyl'd, yet thou dost know, That the best compost for the lands Is the wise masters feet, and hands. I03 Herrick. There at the plough thou find'st thy teanie With a hind whistling there to them : And cheer'st them up, by singing how The kingdoms portion is the plow. This done, then to th' enameld meads Thou go'st ; and as thy foot there treads. Thou seest a present God-like power Imprinted in each herbe and flower : And smell'st the breath of great-ey'd kine, Sweet as the blossomes of the vine. Here thou behold'st thy large sleek neat Unto the dew-laps up in meat : And, as thou look'st, the wanton steere, The heifer, cow, and oxe draw neere To make a pleasing pastime there. These seen, thou go'st to view thy flocks Of sheep, safe from the wolfe and fox, And find'st their bellies there as full Of short sweet grasse, as backs with wool. And leav'st them, as they feed and fill, A shepherd piping on a hill. For sports, for pagentrie, and playes, Thou hast thy eves, and holydayes ; On which the young men and maids meet, To exercise their dancing feet : Tripping the comely country round, With daffadils and daisies crown'd. Thy wakes, thy quintels, here thou hast, Thy May-poles too with garlands grac't : Thy Morris-dance ; thy Whitsun-ale ; Thy sheering-feast, which never faile. Thy harvest home ; thy wassaile bowle, That's tost up after Fox i'th' hole. Thy mummeries ; thy Twelfe-tide kings Lyric Poems. And queenes ; thy Christmas revellings : Thy nut-brovvne mirth ; thy russet wit ; And no man payes too deare for it. To these, thou hast thy times to goe And trace the hare i'th' trecherous snow : Thy witty wiles to draw, and get The larke into the trainmell net : Thou hast thy cockrood, and thy glade To take the precious phesant made : Thy lime-twigs, snares, and pit-falls then To catch the pilfring birds, not men. O happy life ! if that their good The husbandmen but understood ! Who all the day themselves doe please. And younglings, with such sports as these. And, lying down, have nought t' affright Sweet sleep, that makes more short the night. Ccetera desunt His Fare-well ^ , [1629]. Hesperides. to Sack. Jr AREWELL, thou thing, time-past so knowne, so deare To me, as blood to life and spirit : neare. Nay, thou more neare then kindred, friend, man, wife, Male to the female, soule to body : life To quick action, or the warme soft side Of the resigning, yet resisting bride. 104 Herrick. The kisse of virgins ; first-fruits of the bed ; Soft speech, smooth touch, the lips, the maidenhead : These, and a thousand sweets, co'd never be So neare, or deare, as thou wast once to me. O thou the drink of gods, and angels ! wine That scatter'st spirit and lust ; whose purest shine. More radiant then the summers sun-beams shows ; Each w^ay illustrious, brave ; and like to those Comets we see by night ; whose shagg'd por- tents Fore-tell the comming of some dire events : Or some full flame, which with a pride aspires, Throwing about his wild, and active fires. 'Tis thou, above nectar, O divinest soule ! (Eternall in thy self) that canst controule That, which subverts whole nature, grief and care ; Vexation of the mind, and damn'd despaire. 'Tis thou, alone, who with thy mistick fan. Work' St more then wisdome, art, or nature can. To rouze the sacred madnesse ; and awake The frost-bound-blood, and spirits ; and to make Them frantick with thy raptures, flashing through The soule, like lightning, and as active too. 'Tis not Apollo can, or those thrice three Castalian sisters, sing, if wanting thee. Horace, Anacreon both had lost their fame, Hadst thou not fill'd them with thy fire and flame. Lyric Poems. Phsebean splendour ! and thou Thespian spring ! Of which, sweet swans must drink, before they sing Their true-pac'd numbers, and their holy-layes, Which makes them worthy cedar, and the bayes. But why ? why longer doe I gaze upon Thee with the eye of admiration ? Since I must leave thee ; and enforc'd, must say To all thy witching beauties, Goe, away. But if thy whimpring looks doe ask me why ? Then know, that nature bids thee goe, not I. 'Tis her erroneous self has made a braine Uncapable of such a soveraigne. As is thy powerfuU selfe. Prethee not smile ; Or smile more inly ; lest thy looks beguile My vowes denounc'd in zeale, which thus much show thee. That I have sworn, but by thy looks to know thee. Let others drink thee freely ; and desire Thee and their lips espous'd ; while I admire, And love thee ; but not taste thee. Let my muse Faile of thy former helps ; and onely use Her inadult'rate strength : what's done by me Hereafter, shall smell of the lamp, not thee. — A/VW^- io6 Herrick. "Sung to the King." Ap . <|i Motitano, Silvio, and raStOrall. MirtUlo, Shepheards. Hesperides. Mott. Jl5ad are the times. Sil. And wors then they are we. Mon. Troth, bad are both ; worse fruit, and ill the tree : The feast are shepheards fail. Sil. None crowns the cup Of wassaile now, or sets the quintell up : And he, who us'd to leade the country-round, Youthfull Mirtillo, here he comes, grief drownd. Ainbo. Lets cheer him up. Sil. Behold him weeping ripe. Mir. Ah ! Amarillis, farewell mirth and pipe ; Since thou art gone, no more I mean to play, To these smooth lawns, my mirthfuU roundelay. Dear Amarillis ! Mon. Hark ! Sil. mark : Mir. this earth grew sweet Where, Amarillis, thou didst set thy feet. Avibo. Poor pittied youth ! Mir. And here the breth of kine And sheep, grew more sweet, by that breth of thine. This flock of wooll, and this rich lock of hair. This ball of cow-slips, these she gave me here. Sil. Words sweet as love it self. Montano, hark. Mir. This way she came, and this way too she went ; How each thing smells divinely redolent ! 107 Lyric Poems. Like to a field of beans, when newly blown ; Or like a medow being lately mown. Mon. A sweet-sad passion. Mir. In dewie-mornings when she came this way, Sweet bents wode bow, to give my love the day : And when at night, she folded had her sheep, Daysies wo'd shut, and closing, sigh and weep. Besides, ai me ! since she went hence to dwell. The voices daughter nea'r spake syllable. But she is gone. Sil. Mirtillo, tell us whether, Mir. Where she and I shall never meet together. Mon. Fore- fend it Pan, and Pales do thou please To give an end : Mir. To what ? Sil. such griefs as these. Mir. Never, O never ! Still I may endure The wound I suffer, never find a cure. Mont. Love for thy sake will bring her to these hills And dales again: Mir. No I will languish still ; And all the while my part shall be to weepe ; And with my sighs, call home my bleating sheep : And in the rind of every comely tree He carve thy name, and in that name kisse thee : Mon. Set with the sunne, thy woes : Sil. The day grows old : And time it is our full-fed flocks to fold. Char. The shades grow great ; but greater growes our sorrow, io8 Herrick. But lets go steepe Our eyes in sleepe ; And meet to vveepe To morrow. — A/WVv— A Paranaeticall, or Advisive Verse, to his Hesperides. Friend, M. John Wicks. Is this a life, to break thy sleep? To rise as soon as day doth peep ? To tire thy patient oxe or asse By noone, and let thy good dayes passe, Not knowing this, that Jove decrees Some mirth, t'adulce mans miseries? No ; 'tis a life, to have thine oyle. Without extortion, from thy soyle : Thy faithfull fields to yeeld thee graine, Although with some, yet little paine : To have thy mind, and nuptiall bed. With feares, and cares uncumbered : A pleasing wife, that by thy side Lies softly panting like a bride.. This is to live, and to endeere Those minutes. Time has lent us here. Then, while Fates suffer, live thou free, As is that ayre that circles thee, 109 Lyric Poems. And crown thy temples too, and let Thy servant, not thy own self, sweat, To strut thy barnes with sheafs of wheat. Time steals away like to a stream, And we glide hence away with them. No sound recalls the houres oncejled, Or roses, beitig withered : Nor us, my friend, when we are lost, Like to a deaw, or melted frost. Then live we mirthfull, while we should. And turn the iron age to gold. Let's feast, and frolick, sing, and play. And thus lesse last, then live our day. Whose life with care is overcast, That marl's not said to live, but last : Nor is't a life, seven yeares to tell, But for to live that half seven well : And that wee'l do : as men, who know, Some few sands spent, we hence must go. Both to be blended in the urn. From whence there's never a return. — A/\/\JV' — To the Little (" SpInner " was an old f-. . name for Spider.) Hes- Spinners. perides. 1 EE pretty huswives, wo'd ye know The worke that I wo'd put )^e to? This, this it sho'd be, for to spin, A lawn for me, so fine and thin, As it might serve me for my skin, no Herrick. For cruell Love ha's me so whipt, That of my skin, I all am stript ; And shall dispaire, that any art Can ease the rawnesse, or the smart ; Unlesse you skin again each part. Which mercy if you will but do I call all maids to witnesse too What here I promise, that no broom Shall now, or ever after come To wrong a spinner or her loome. "Or, Oberon's Chap- _,, _, . . pell." Dedicated to Mr The rairie John MerrifieW, Coun- Tf^nrnlf' • seller at Law. Hesperides. ICIIipiC. "Bruckelied" (1. 64\ wet and dirty. JtvARE temples thou hast seen, I know, And rich for in and outward show : Survey this chappell, built, alone, Without or lime, or wood, or stone : Then say, if one th'ast seene more fine Then this, the fairies once, now thine. The Temple. A way enchac't with glasse and beads There is, that to the chappel leads : Whose structure, for his holy rest. Is here the halcion's curious nest : Into the which who looks shall see His temple of idolatry : Where he of god-heads has such store, As Rome's Pantheon had not more. His house of Rimmon, this he calls. Girt with small bones, instead of walls. First, in a neech, more black then jet, His idol-cricket there is set : Then in a polisht ovall by There stands his idol-beetlc-flie : Next in an arch, akin to this. His idol-canker seated is : J Herrick. Then in a round, is plac't by these, His golden god, Cantharides. So that where ere ye look, ye see, No capitoll, no cornish free, Or freeze, from this fine fripperie. Now this the fairies wo'd have known, Theirs is a mixt religion. And some have heard the elves it call Part pagan, part papisticall. If unto me all tongues were granted, I co'd not speak the saints here painted. Saint Tit, Saint Nit, Saijit Is, Saint Itis, Who 'gainst Mabs state plac't here right is. Saint Will o'th'wispe, of no great bignes, But alias call'd here fahius ignis. Saint Frip, Saint Trip, Saint Fill, S. Fillie, Neither those other-saint-ships will I Here goe about for to recite Their number, almost infinite, Which one by one here set downe are In this most curious calendar. First, at the entrance of the gate, A little-puppet-priest doth wait. Who squeaks to all the commers there. Favour your tongues, who enter here. Pure hands bring hither, without staine. A second pules, Hence, hence, profane. Hard by, i'th' shell of halfe a nut. The holy-water there is put : A little brush of squirrils haires, Compos'd of odde, not even paires, Stands in the platter, or close by. To purge the fairie family. Neere to the altar stands the priest, Lyric Poems. There off'ring up the holy-grist : Ducking in mood, and perfect tense, With (much-good-do't him) reverence. The altar is not here foure-square, Nor in a forme triangular ; Nor made of glasse, or wood, or stone, But of a little transverce bone ; Which boyes, and bruckel'd children call (Playing for points and pins) cockall. Whose linnen-drapery is a thin Subtile and ductile codlin's skin ; Which o're the board is smoothly spred, With little seale-work damasked. The fringe that circumbinds it too, Is spangle-work of trembling dew, Which, gently gleaming, makes a show, Like frost-work glitt'ring on the snow. Upon this fetuous board doth stand Something for shew-bread, and at hand (Just in the middle of the altar) Upon an end, the fairie-psalter, Grac't with the trout-flies curious wings. Which serve for watched ribbanings. Now, we must know, the elves are led Right by the rubrick, which they read. And if report of them be true, They have their text for what they doe ; I, and their book of Canons too. And, as Sir Thomas Parson tells, They have their book of Articles : And if that fairie knight not lies, They have their book of Homilies : And other Scriptures, that designe A short, but righteous discipline. 1x4 Herrick. The bason stands the board upon To take the free-oblation : A little pin-dust ; which they hold More precious, then we prize our gold : Which charity they give to many Poore of the parish, if there's any. Upon the ends of these neat railes Hatcht, with the silver-light of snails, The elves, in formall manner, fix Two pure, and holy candlesticks : In either which a small tall bent Burns for the altar's ornament. For sanctity, they have, to these Their curious copes and surplices Of cleanest cobweb, hanging by In their religious vesterie. They have their ash-pans, and their brooms To purge the chappel and the rooms : Their many mumbling masse-priests here, And many a dapper chorister. There ush'ring vergers, here likewise, Their canons, and their chaunteries : Of cloyster-monks they have enow, I, and their abby-lubbers too : And if their legend doe not lye, They much affect the papacie : And since the last is dead, there's hope, Elve Boniface shall next be pope. They have their cups and chalices ; Their pardons and indulgencies ; Their beads of nits, bels, books, and wax Candles, forsooth, and other knacks : Their holy oyle, their fasting-spittle ; Their sacred salt here, not a little. 115 Lyric Poems. Dry chips, old shooes, rags, grease, and bones Beside their fumigations. To drive the devill from the cod-piece Of the fryar, of work an odde-piece. Many a trifle too, and trinket, And for what use, scarce man wo'd think it. Next, then, upon the chanters side An apples-core is^hung up dry'd, With ratling kirnils, which is rung To call to morn, and even-song. The saint, to which the most he prayes And offers incense nights and dayes. The lady of the lobster is, Whose foot-pace he doth stroak and kisse ; And, humbly, chives of saffron brings, For his most cheerfull offerings. When, after these, h'as paid his vows, He lowly to the altar bows : And then he dons the silk-worms shed, Like a Turks turbant on his head, And reverently departeth thence. Hid in a cloud of frankincense : And by the glow-worms light wel guided, Goes to the feast that's now provided. —'A/Vvv— Herrick. Oberon's* Feast. Hesperides. ShAPCOT! to thee the fairy state I, ivith discretion, dedicate. Because thou prizest things that are Curious, and un-familiar. Take first the feast ; these dishes gone ; Wee' II see the fairy-court anon. Pi. LITTLE mushroome table spred, After short prayers, they set on bread ; A moon-parcht grain of purest wheat, With some small glit'ring gritt, to eate His choyce bitts with ; then in a trice They make a feast lesse great then nice. But all this while his eye is serv'd, We must not thinke his eare was sterv'd But that there was in place to stir His spleen, the chirring grashopper ; The merry cricket, puling fiie. The piping gnat for minstralcy. And now, we must imagine first, The elves present to quench his thirst A pure seed-pearle of infant dew, Brought and besweetned in a blew And pregnant violet ; which done, His kitling eyes begin to runne Quite through the table, where he spies The homes of paperie butterflies, Of which he eates, and tastes a little Of that we call the cuckoes spittle. 117 Lyric Poems. A little fuz-ball pudding stands By, yet not blessed by his hands, That was too coorse ; but then forthwith He ventures boldly on the pith Of sugred rush, and eates the sagge And well bestrutted bees sweet bagge : Gladding his pallat with some store Of emit eggs ; what wo'd he more ? But beards of mice, a newt's stew'd thigh, A bloated earewig, and a file ; With the red-capt worme, that's shut Within the concave of a nut, Browne as his tooth. A httle moth. Late fatned in a piece of cloth : With withered cherries ; mandrakes eares ; Moles eyes ; to these, the slain stags teares : The unctuous dewlaps of a snaile ; The broke-heart of a nightingale Ore-come in musicke ; with a wine, Ne're ravisht from the flattering vine, But gently prest from the soft side Of the most sweet and dainty bride, Brought in a dainty daizie, which He fully quaffs up to bewitch His blood to height ; this done, commended Grace by his priest ; The feast is ended. — j\VVw— Ii8 Oberon's Palace. Hespendes. -A.FTEK the feast, my Shapcot, see, The fairie court I give to thee : Where we'le present our Oberon led Halfe tipsie to the fairie bed. Where Mab he finds ; who there doth lie Not without mickle majesty. Which, done ; and thence remov'd the light, We'l wish both them and thee, good night. Full as a bee with thyme, and red. As cherry harvest, now high fed For lust and action ; on he'l go. To lye with Mab, though all say no. Lust ha's no eares ; he's sharpe as thorn ; And fretfuU, carries hay in's home. And lightning in his eyes ; and flings Among the elves, if mov'd, the stings Of peltish wasps ; we'l know his guard Kings though th'are hated, will be fear\i. Wine lead him on. Thus to a grove, Sometimes devoted unto Love, Tinseld with twilight, he, and they Lead by the shine of snails ; a way Beat with their num'rous feet, which by Many a neat perplexity, Many a turn, and man" a crosse- Track they redeem a bank of mosse 119 Lyric Poems. Spungie and swelling, and farre more Soft then the finest Lemster ore. Mildly disparkling, like those fiers, Which break from the injeweld tyres Of curious brides ; or like those mites Of candi'd dew in moony nights. Upon this convex, all the flowers. Nature begets by th' sun, and showers, Are to a wilde digestion brought. As if Love's sampler here was wrought : Or Citherea's ceston, which All with temptation doth bewitch. Sweet aires move here ; and more divine Made by the breath of great ey'd-kine, Who as they lowe empearl with milk The four-leav'd grasse, or mosse-like silk. The breath of munkies met to mix With musk-flies, are th' aromaticks. Which cense this arch ; and here and there. And farther off, and every where. Throughout that brave mosaick yard Those picks or diamonds in the card : With peeps of harts, of club and spade, Are here most neatly inter-laid. Many a counter, many a die. Half rotten, and without an eye. Lies here abouts ; and for to pave The excellency of this cave, Squirrils' and children's teeth late shed. Are neatly here enchequered. With brownest toadstones, and the gum That shines upon the blewer plum. The nails fain off by whit-flawes : Art's Wise hand enchasing here those warts. Herrick. Which we to others, from our selves, Sell, and brought hither by the elves. The tempting mole, stoln from the neck Of the shie virgin, seems to deck The holy entrance ; where within The roome is hung with the blew skin Of shifted snake : enfreez'd throughout With eyes of peacocks trains, and trout- flies curious wings ; and these among Those silver-pence, that cut the tongue Of the red infant, neatly hung. The glow-wormes eyes ; the shining scales Of silv'rie fish ; wheat-strawes, the snailes Soft candle-light ; the killing's eyne ; Corrupted wood ; serve here for shine. No glaring light of bold-fac't day, Or other over radiant ray Ransacks this roome ; but what weak beams Can make reflected from these jems, And multiply ; such is the light, But ever doubtfuU day, or night. By this quaint taper-light he winds His errours up ; and now he finds His moon-tann'd Mab, as somewhat sick, And, Love knowes, tender as a chick. Upon six plump dandillions, high- Rear'd, lyes her elvish-majestie : Whose woollie-bubbles seem'd to drowne Hir Mab-ship in obedient downe. For either sheet, was spread the caule That doth the infants face enthrall, When it is born : (by some enstyl'd The luckie omen of the child) And next to these two blankets ore- Lyric Poems. Cast of the finest gossamore. And then a rug of carded wooll, Which, spunge-Uke drinkhig in the dull- Light of the moon, seem'd to comply, Cloud-like, the daintie deitie. Thus soft she lies : and over-head A spinners circle is bespread, With cob-web-curtains : from the roof So neatly sunck, as that no proof Of any tackling can declare What gives it hanging in the aire. The fringe about this, are those threds Broke at the losse of maiden-heads : And all behung with these pure pearls, Dropt from the eyes of ravisht girles Or writhing brides ; when, panting, they Give unto love the straiter way. For musick now ; he has the cries Of fained-lost-virginities ; The which the elves make to excite A more unconquer'd appetite. The king's undrest ; and now upon The gnats-watch-word the elves are gone. And now the bed, and Mab possest Of this great-little-kingly-guest. We'll nobly think, what's to be done, He'll do no doubt ; Thisfiax is spun. -^AfVv^f— Herrick. The Beggar to Mab, t] Queen. •n/r 1 ^1 -r> • • •' Huckson" (1. ii), the Mab, the Fame hock. Hesperides. Jr LEASE your grace, from out your store, Give an almes to one that's poore. That your mickle, may have more. Black I'm grown for want of meat ; Give me then an ant to eate ; Or the cleft eare of a mouse Over-sowr'd in drinke of souce : Or, sweet lady, reach to me The abdomen of a bee ; Or commend a crickets-hip. Or his huckson, to my scrip. Give for bread, a little bit Of a pease, that 'gins to chit. And my full thanks take for it. Floure of fuz-balls, that's too good For a man in needy-hood : But the meal of mill-dust can Well content a craving man. Any orts the elves refuse Well will serve the beggars use. But if this may seem too much For an almes ; then give me such Little bits, that nestle there In the pris'ners panier. So a blessing light upon You, and mighty Oberon : That your plenty last till when, I return your almes agen. »23 Lyric Poems. Stool-ball was a kind ^fnnl "Rail °^ primitive cricket, ides. /xT Stool-ball, Lucia, let us play, For sugar-cakes and wine ; Or for a transie let us pay, The losse or thine, or mine. If thou, my deere, a winner be At trundling of the ball. The wager thou shalt have, and me, And my misfortunes all. But if, my sweetest, I shall get, Then I desire but this ; That likewise I may pay the bet. And have for all a kisse. His Charge to «AthisDe.th;' Hes- Julia : perides. Uearest of thousands, now the time drawes neere. That with my lines, my life must full-stop here. Cut off thy haires ; and let thy teares be shed Over my turfe, when I am buried. Then for effusions, let none wanting be, Or other rites that doe belong to me ; As Love shall helpe thee, when thou do'st go hence Unto thy everlasting residence. Herrick. The Bad Season makes the Poet Sad. Hesperides. D, 'ULL to m)' selfe, and almost dead to these My many fresh and fragrant mistresses : Lost to all musick now ; since every thing Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing. Sick is the land to'th' heart ; and doth endure More dangerous faintings by her desp'rate cure. But if that golden age wo'd come again, And Charles here rule, as he before did raign ; If smooth and unperplext the seasons were, As when the sweet Maria lived here : I sho'd delight to have my curies halfe drown'd In Tyrian dewes, and head with roses crown'd. And once more yet (ere I am laid out dead) Knock at a starve with 7ny exalted head. I2S His Asre. "Dedicated to his peculiar friend, M. John Wickes, under the name of Posthumus." Hesper- ides. "Pricket" (v. i8), a young stag, /Vh Posthumus ! our yeares kence flye, And leave no sound ; nor piety, Or prayers, or vow Can keepe the wrinkle from the brow : But we must on. As Fate do's lead or draw us ; none. None, Posthumus, co'd ere decline The doome of cruell Proserpine. The pleasing wife, the house, the ground Must all be left, no one plant found To follow thee, Save only the curst-cipresse tree : A merry mind Looks forward, scornes what's left behind : Let's live, my Wickes, then, while we may, And here enjoy our holiday. Wave seen the past-best times, and these Will nere return, we see the seas, And moons to wain ; But they fill up their ebbs again : But vanisht man. Like to a lilly-lost, nere can, Nere can repuUulate, or bring His dayes to see a second spring. 126 Herrick. But on we must, and thither tend, Where Anchus and rich TuUus blend Their sacred seed : Thus has infernall Jove decreed ; We must be made, Ere long, a song, ere long, a shade. Why then, since life to us is short. Lets make it full up, by our sport. Crown we our heads with roses then. And 'noint with Tirian balme ; for when We two are dead. The world with us is buried. Then live we free. As is the air, and let us be Our own fair wind, and mark each one Day with the white and luckie stone. We are not poore ; although we have No roofs of cedar, nor our brave Baice, nor keep Account of such a flock of sheep ; Nor bullocks fed To lard the shambles : barbels bred To kisse our hands, nor do we wish For PoUio's lampries in our dish. If we can meet, and so conferre, Both by a shining salt-seller ; And have our roofe, Although not archt, yet weather proofe, And seeling free. From that cheape candle baudery : We'le eate our beane with that full mirth, As we were lords of all the earth. 127 Lyric Poems. Well then, on what seas we are tost, Our comfort is, we can't be lost. Let the winds drive Our barke ; yet she will keepe alive Amidst the deepes ; 'Tis constancy, my Wickes, which keepes The pinnace up ; which though she erres I'th' seas, she saves her passengers. Say, we must part, sweet mercy blesse, Us both i'th' sea, camp, wildernesse. Can we so farre Stray, to become lesse circular. Then we are now ? No, no, that selfe same heart, that vow, Which made us one, shall ne'r undoe ; Or ravell so, to make us two. Live in thy peace ; as for my selfe. When I am bruised on the shelfe Of time, and show My locks behung with frost and snow : When with the reume. The cough, the ptisick, I consume Unto an almost nothing ; then. The ages fled. He call agen : And with a teare compare these last Lame, and bad times, with those are past. While Baucis by. My old leane wife, shall kisse it dry : And so we'l sit By 'th'fire, foretelling snow and slit. And weather by our aches, grown Now old enough to be our own Herrick. True calendars, as pusses eare Washt o'er, to tell what change is neare : Then to asswage The gripings of the chine by age ; rie call my young liilus to sing such a song I made upon my Julia's brest ; And of her blush at such a feast. Then shall he read that flowre of mine Enclos'd within a christall shrine : A primrose next ; A piece, then of a higher text : For to beget In me a more transcendant heate, Then that insinuating fire, Which crept into each aged sire. When the faire Hellen, from her eyes; Shot forth her loving sorceries : At which rie reare Mine aged limbs above my chaire : And hearing it, Flutter and crow, as in a fit Of fresh concupiscence, and cry, A^o lust theres like to poetry. Thus frantick crazie man, God wot, He call to mind things half forgot : And oft between, Repeat the times that I have seen ! Thus ripe with tears, And twisting my liilus hairs ; Doting, He weep and say, In truth, Baucis, these were my sins of youth. Lyric Poems. Then next He cause my hopeful! lad, If a wild apple can be had, To crown the hearth, Larr thus conspiring with our mirth, Then to infuse Our browner ale into the cruse : Which sweetly spic't, we'l first carouse Unto the Genius of the house. Then the next health to friends of mine, Loving the brave Burgundian wine, High sons of Pith, Whose fortunes I have frolickt with : Such as co'd well Bear up the magick bough, and spel : And dancing 'bout the mystick Thyrse, Give up the just applause to verse : To those, and then agen to thee We'l drink, my Wickes, untill we be Plump as the cherry. Though not so fresh, yet full as merry As the crickit ; The untam'd heifer, or the pricket, Untill our tongues shall tell our ears, Ware younger by a score of years. Thus, till we see the fire lesse shine From th' embers, then the kitlings 63116, We'l still sit up, Sphering about the wassail cup, To all those times. Which gave me honour for my rhimes, The cole once spent, we'l then to bed, Farre more then night bewearied. 130 Herrick. His Returne to -r 1 Hesperides. London. r* ROM the dull confines of the drooping west, To see the day spring from the pregnant east, Ravisht in spirit, I come, nay more, I flie To thee, blest place of my nativitie ! Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground, With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd. O fruitfull Genius ! that bestowest here An everlasting plenty, yeere by yeere. place ! O people ! manners ! frani'd to please All nations, customes, kindreds, languages ! 1 am a free-born Roman ; suffer then, That I amongst you live a citizen. London my home is : though by hard fate sent Into a long and irksome banishment ; Yet since cal'd back ; henceforward let me be, O native countrey, repossest by thee ! For, rather then Tie to the west return, I'le beg of thee first here to have mine urn. Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall ; Give thou my sacred reliques buriall. — 'Vvw- 131 Lyric Poems. His Winding Sheet. Hesperides. V-^OME thou, who art the wine, and wit Of all I've writ : The grace, the glorie, and the best Piece of the rest. Thou art of what I did intend The all, and end. And what was made, was made to meet Thee, thee my sheet. Come then, and be to my chast side Both bed, and bride. We two, as reliques left, will have One rest, one grave. And, hugging close, we will not feare Lust entring here : Where all desires are dead, or cold As is the mould : And all affections are forgot, Or trouble not. Here, here the slaves and pris'ners be From shackles free : And weeping widowes long opprest Doe here find rest. The wronged client ends his lawes Here, and his cause. Here those long suits of Chancery lie Quiet, or die : And all Star-chamber-bils doe cease, Or hold their peace. 132 Herrick. Here needs no court for our request, Where all are best ; All wise ; all equall ; and all just Alike i'th' dust. Nor need we here to feare the frown e Of Court, or Crown. Where Fortune bears no s^vay dre thin^fs, There all are Kings, In this securer place we'l keep, As luU'd asleep ; Or for a little time we'l lye, As robes laid by ; To be another day re-worne, Turn'd, but not torn : Or like old testaments ingrost, Lockt up, not lost : And for a while lye here conceal'd. To be reveal' d Next, at that great Platonick yeere, And then meet here. The Funerall Rites of the Hesperldes. Rose. 1 HE rose was sick, and smiling di'd ; And, being to be sanctifi'd. About the bed, there sighing stood The sweet, and flowrie sisterhood. Some hung the head, while some did bring (To wash her) water from the spring. I3J Lyric Poems. Some laid her forth, while others wept, But all a solemne fast there kept. The holy sisters some among The sacred dirge and trentall sung. But ah ! what sweets smelt every where, As Heaven had spent all perfumes there. At last, when prayers for the dead, And rites were all accomplished ; They, weeping, spread a lawnie loomc, And clos'd her up, as in a tombe. To the Rose. Song. Hesperides. VJTOE, happy rose, and enterwove With other flowers, bind my love. Tell her too, she must not be. Longer flowing, longer free, That so oft has fetter'd me. Say, if she's fretfull, I have bands Of pearle, and gold, to bind her hands : Tell her, if she struggle still, I have mirtle rods, at will, For to tame, though not to kill. Take thou my blessing, thus, and goe. And tell her this, but doc not so. Lest a handsome anger flye. Like a lightning, from her eye. And burn thee up, as well as I. An Ode for Ben Johnson. Ah Ben ! Say how, or when Shall we thy guests Meet at those lyrick feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the triple Tunne ? Where we such clusters had, As made us nobly wild, not mad ; And yet each verse of thine Out-did the meate, out-did the frohck wine. My Ben ! Or come agen : Or send to us, Thy wits great over-plus ; But teach us yet Wisely to husband it ; Lest we that tallent spend : And having once brought to an end That precious stock ; the store Of such a wit the world sho'd have no more. -wv\/\/w- 135 Lyric Poems. His Prayer to Ben Johnson. Hesperides. W HEN I a verse shall make, Know I have praid thee, For old religions sake, Saint Ben, to aide me. Make the way smooth for me, When I, thy Herrick, Honouring thee, on my knee Offer my lyrick. Candles He give to thee. And a new altar ; And thou, Saint Ben, shall be Writ in my Psalter. A Bacchanalian - y. Hespeiidea Verse. Jr ILL me a mighty bowle Up to the brim : That I may drink Unto my Johnsons soule. Crowne it agen agen ; And thrice repeat That happy heat ; To drink to thee my Ben. i;6 Herrick. Well I can quaffe, I see, To th' number five, Or nine ; but thrive In frenzie ne'r like thee. Upon the Troublesome iiespeiides. Times. \J ! times most bad, Without the scope Of hope Of better to be had ! Where shall I goe, Or whither run To shun This publique overthrow ? No places are (This I am sure) Secure In this our wasting warre. Some storms w'ave past Yet we must all Down fall. And perish at the last. »37 Lyric Poems. " Trentalls," Masses On Himselfe. ^Z '^%f^f' '" ^-'^^ °[ thirty. (Italian, Trcnta.) Hesperides. Ile sing no more, nor will I longer write Of that sweet lady, or that gallant knight : lie sing no more of frosts, snowes, dews and showers ; No more of groves, meades, springs, and wreaths of flowers : Ile write no more, nor will I tell or sing Of Cupid, and his wittie coozning : Ile sing no more of death, or shall the grave No more my dirges, and my trentalls have. — A/\/Wv— An Hymne to the Muses. """p^"'^^- rloNOUR to you who sit ! Neere to the well of wit ; And di ink your fill of it. Glory and worsliip be ! To you, sweet maids (thrice three) Who still inspire me. And teach me how to sing Unto the lyrick string My measures ravishing. Then while I sing your praise, My priest-hood crown with bayes Green, to the end of dayes. Herrick. Not every Day _ « ^ _ Hesperides. fit for Verse. i IS not ev'ry day, that I Fitted am to prophesie : No, but when the spirit fils The fantastick pannicles Full of fier ; then I write As the Godhead doth indite. Thus inrag'd, my lines are hurl'd, Like the Sybells, through the world. Look how next the holy fier Either slakes, or doth retire ; So the fancie cooles, till when That brave spirit comes agen. Anacreontick Hesperides. Verse. JDkisk methinks I am, and fine, When I drinke my capring wine : Then to love I do endine, When I drinke my wanton wine : And I wish all maidens mine, When I drinke my sprightly wine : Well I sup, and well I dine. When I drinke my frolick wine : But I languish, lowre, and pine. When I want my fragrant wine. 139 Lyric Poems. To be Merry. Hespeiides. JL 'ETS now take our time ; While w'are in our prime ; And old, old age is a farre off : For the evill evill dayes Will come on apace ; Before we can be aware of. The Bride-Cake. He.perides. i HIS day, my Julia, thou must make For mistresse bride, the wedding cake : Knead but the dow, and it will be To paste of almonds turn'd by thee : Or kisse it thou, but once, or twice, And for the bride-cake ther'l be spice. CharmeS. Hesperides. 1 HIS He tell ye by the way, Maidens, when ye leavens lay, Crosse your dow, and your dispatch, Will be better for your batch. Herrick. Another. 1 N the morning when ye rise, Wash your hands, and cleanse your eyes. Next be sure ye have a care, To disperse the water farre. For as farre as that doth hght, So farre keepes the evill spright. Another. 1 F yc feare to be affrighted When ye are, by chance, benighted : In your pocket for a trust, Carrie nothing but a crust : For that holy piece of bread Charmes the danger, and the dread. — www— The Ceremonies for Christmasse Hespende>. Day. 1\.INDLE the Christmas brand and then Till sunne-set, let it burne ; Which quencht, then lay it up agen, Till Christmas next returne. Part must be kept wherewith to teend The Christmas log next yeare ; And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend. Can do no mischiefe, there. Lyric Poems. Ceremonies for Candlemasse Hesperides. Eve. I. J-^OWN with the rosemary and ba)'es, Down with the misleto ; Instead of holly, now up-raise The greener box, for show. The holly hitherto did sway ; Let box now domineere ; Untill the dancing Easter-day, Or Easters eve appeare. Then youthfull box which now hath grace, Your houses to renew ; Grown old, surrender must his place, Unto the crisped yew. When yew is out, then birch comes in. And many flowers beside ; Both of a fresh, and fragrant kinne To honour Whitsontide. Green rushes then, and sweetest bents, With cooler oken boughs ; Come in for comely ornaments, To re-adorn the house. Thus times do shift ; each tiling his turne do's hold; A^ezi' things succeed, as former iliivgs grmv old. I|2 Herrick. II. UowN with the rosemary, and so Down with the baies, and misletoe : Down with the holly, ivie, all, Wherewith ye drest the Christmas hall That so the superstitious find No one least branch there left behind : For look, how many leaves there be Neglected there, maids, trust to me. So many goblins you shall see. To the Genius of his House. Hesperides. (command the roofe, great Genius, and from thence Into this house powre downe thy influence, That through each room a golden pipe may run Of living water by thy benizon. Fulfill the larders, and with strengthning bread Be evermore these bynns replenished. Next, like a bishop consecrate my ground. That luckie fairies here may dance their round : And after that, lay downe some silver pence. The masters charge and care to recomponce. Charme then the chambers ; make the beds for ease. More then for peevish pining sicknesses. Fix the foundation fast, and let the roofe Grow old with time, but yet keep weather- proofe. 143 ^^^ His Grane^e, or He^pendes. "Michm- rnvate Wealth, (i. 26), spaniel." 1 HOUGH clock, To tell how night drawes hence, I've none, A cock, I have, to sing how day dra\ves on. I have A maid, my Prew, by good luck sent, To save That little, Fates me gave or lent. A hen I keep, which creeking day by day, Tells when She goes her long white egg to lay. A goose I have, which, with a jealous eare. Lets loose Her tongue, to tell what danger's neare, A lamb I keep (tame) with my morsells fed. Whose dam An orphan left him (lately dead.) A cat I keep, that playes about my house, Grown fat, Herrick. With eating many a miching mouse. To these A trasy I do keep, whereby I please The more my rurall privacie : Which are But toyes, to give my heart some ease : Where care None is, shght things do hghtly please. — ^AfVW— Or, Discourse of Neat- A Beucolick : l!'OME to me God ; but do not come To me, as to the gen'rall doome, In power ; or come Thou in that state, When Thou Thy lawes didst promulgate. When as the mountains quak'd for dread, And sullen clouds bound up his head. No, lay thy stately terrours by, To talke with me familiarly ; For if Thy thunder-claps I heare, I shall lesse swoone, then die for feare. Speake thou of love and I'le reply By way of epithalamie, Or sing of mercy, and I'le suit To it my vioU and my lute : Thus let Thy lips but love distill, Then come my God, and hap what will. To God, on his . , Noble Numbers. Sicknesse. vV HAT though my harp, and vioU be Both hung upon the willow-tree ? What though my bed be now my grave. And for my house I darknesse have ? What though my healthfuU dayes are fled And I lie numbred with the dead ? Yet I have hope, by Thy great power, To spring ; though now a wither'd flower. 175 Lyric Poems. To Anthea. Hesperldes. OiCK is Anthea, sickly is the spring, The primrose sick, and sickly every thing : The while my deer Anthea do's but droop, The tulips, lillies, daffadills do stoop ; But when again sh'as got her healthfull houre, Each bending then, will rise a proper flower. -w\/\/V/— On Himselfe. Hesperides. Weepe for the dead, for they have lost this light : And weepe for me, lost in an endlesse night. Or mourne, or make a marble verse for me, Who writ for many. Bencdicite, II. jL«OST to the world ; lost to my selfe ; alone Here now I rest under this marble stone : In depth of silence, heard, and scene of none. -^AA/w- 176 Herrick. Buriall. Hesperides. JVL AN may want land to live in ; but for all, Nature finds out some place for buriall. The Apparition ..^^nj^g ^.^ ,^ of his MistreSSe : EUzium." Hesperides. Desunt tionmdla C>OME then, and like two doves with silv'rie wings, Let our soules flie to'th' shades, where ever springs Sit smiling in the meads ; where balme and oile, Roses and cassia crown the untill'd soyle. Where no disease raignes, or infection comes To blast the aire, but amber-greece and gums. This, that, and ev'ry thicket doth transpire More sweet, then storax from the hallowed fire : Where ev'ry tree a wealthy issue beares Of fragrant apples, blushing plums, or peares : And all the shrubs, with sparkling spangels, shew Like morning-sun-shine tinsilling the dew. Here in green meddowes sits eternall May, Purfling the margents, while perpetuall day lo M 177 Lyric Poems. So double gilds the aire, as that no night Can ever rust th'enamel of the light. Here, naked younglings handsome striplings run Their goales for virgins kisses ; which when done, Then unto dancing forth the learned round Commixt they meet, with endlesse roses crown'd. And here we'l sit on primrose-banks, and see Love's chorus led by Cupid ; and we'l be Two loving followers too unto the grove, Where poets sing the stories of our love. There thou shall hear divine Musaeus sing Of Hero, and Leander ; then He bring Thee to the stand, where honour'd Homer reades His Odisees, and his high Iliads. About whose throne the crowd of poets throng To heare the incantation of his tongue : To Linus, then to Pindar ; and that done, He bring thee Herrick to Anacreon, Quaffing his full-crown'd bowles of burning wine. And in his raptures speaking lines of thine, Like to his subject ; and as his frantick- Looks, shew him truly Bacchanalian like, Besmear'd with grapes ; welcome he shall thee thither. Where both may rage, both drink and dance together. Then stately Virgil, witty ONid, by Whom faire Corinna sits, and doth comply With yvorie wrists, his laureat head, and steeps His eye in dew of kisses, while he sleeps. 173 Herrick. Then soft Catullus, sharp-fang'd Martial, And towring Lucan, Horace, Juvenal, And snakie Perseus, these, and those, whom rage (Dropt for the jarres of heaven) fiU'd t'engage All times unto their frenzies ; thou shall there Behold them in a spacious theater. Among which glories, crown' d with sacred bayes. And flatt'ring ivie, two recite their plaies, Beumont and Fletcher, swans, to whom all eares Listen, while they, like syrens in their spheres, Sing their Evadne ; and still more for thee There yet remaines to know, then thou can'st see By glim'ring of a fancie : doe but come, And there He shew thee that capacious roome In which thy father Johnson now is plac't, As in a globe of radiant fire, and grac't To be in that orbe crown'd, that doth include Those prophets of the former magnitude. And he one chiefe ; but harke, I heare the cock. The bell-man of the night, proclaime the clock Of late struck one ; and now I see the prime Of day break from the pregnant east, 'tis time I vanish ; more I had to say ; But night determines here, away. 'AA'w- 179 Hesperides. 'OE thou forth, my booke, though late Yet be timely fortunate. It may chance good-luck may send Thee a kinsman, or a friend, That may harbour thee, when With my fates neglected lye. If thou know'st not where to dwell. See, the fier's by : Farewell. IVIake haste away, and let one be A friendly patron unto thee : Lest rapt from hence, I see thee lye Torn for the use of pasterie : Or see thy injur'd leaves serve well, To make loose gownes for mackarell : Or see the grocers in a trice, Make hoods of thee to serve out spice. ~^Af\/V<^— 1 80 Herrick. Eternitie. Noble Numbers. \J YEARES ! and age ! farewell : Behold I go, Where I do know Infinitie to dwell. And these mine eyes shall see All times, how they Are lost i'th' sea Of vast eternitie. Where never moone shall sway The starres ; but she, And night, shall be Drown'd in one endlesse day. -w\/vv^— The Last Line. Hesperides. 1 o his Book's end this last line he'd have plac't, Jocond his Muse was ; but his Life was chast. x8i PRINTED BY TURNBULL AND SPEARS EDINBURGH J 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 5 c 1 >o ^o !>. 3 -o < 3> 5 m Z 4^ (^C ^o^V'^' T,"n 21A-50m-ll,'62 G«neral Library ^ University of California i LC BERKELEY LIBRARIES CD311DS57M