^J(oUc.rt- /^tancli 
 
 HI^ AUTOGMAFHE, AT^D 5EA1L .
 
 SELECT 
 
 POEMS 
 
 FROM THE 
 OR 
 
 WORKS BOTH HUMAN AND DIVINE, 
 ROBERT HERRICK, Esq. 
 
 WITH 
 
 OCCASIONAL REMARKS 
 
 BT 
 
 J. N. 
 
 ACCOMPANIED ALSO IVITH THE HEAD, 
 
 AUTOGRAPHE, AND SEAL OF 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 Effugient av'tdos carm'ina nostra rogos. 
 
 ovid: 
 BRISTOL. 
 
 PRINTtD AND PUBLISHED BY J. M. GUTCH, 
 15, SMALL STREET. 
 
 SOLD ALSO BY MESSRS. LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND 
 ORME, PATERNOSTER ROW, 
 
 AND I. MILLER, 72, CHANCERY LANE LONDON, 
 
 /t/c)
 
 p/? 
 
 35jZ 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It is a matter of much surprise, and more 
 regret, that the poets of the sixteenth, and se- 
 venteenth centuries should remain so lone over- 
 looked. A very few have been republished, 
 but the generality have for years lain mouldering 
 on the shelf. Of the many that were cotempo- 
 rary, or nearly so, with the author I would now 
 again introduce to public notice, Suckling, 
 Carew, and Marvell are the principal who have 
 hitherto been fortunate enough to claim a rescue 
 from oblivion by republication; their poems 
 entire having been reprinted by the late inge- 
 nious Thomas Davies, bookseller; the first in 
 1770, and the two last in 1772 : indeed Marvell's 
 works, since that period, have been very splen- 
 didly edited, by captain Edward Thompson, in 
 three volumes 4to. 1776. But many other poets 
 of distinguished merit, and of eminence flou- 
 rished about their day, who are now little 
 known, except by name ; I will instance Shirley, 
 Habington, Cokayn, Cartwright, Beedome, 
 Lovelace, Stanley, Heath, and Hall (John). A 
 long list of other deserving votaries of the muse 
 might be adduced. 
 
 674762
 
 II. 
 
 Had our late learned poetick biographer but 
 preserved and illustrated the writings of those 
 earlier bards, who, on examination, prove to 
 be the sources from whence many of our first 
 English poets of the last century drew some of 
 their most delicious stores, how would he have 
 served the cause of truth, and literature. Praise* 
 worthy indeed had been his pen, if, instead of 
 recording the names of Sprat, Blackmore, Duke, 
 Yalden, Watts, with similar others, whose rays 
 of genius so dimly shine, it had given further 
 publicity to such as those of Surrey, Wyat, 
 Raleigh, Marlow, Wither, Carew, and Herrick. 
 This is a subjett that has been touched upon 
 before by Mr. Headley, in the Introdu6lion to his 
 Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry. 
 
 It was in the year l648, and rather in latter 
 life, at the very period too, we may well pre- 
 sume, when he was ejedled from his vicarage, 
 as he signs himself £sq, that Robert Herrick 
 published his Jlesperides, or Works both Unman and 
 Divine; no portion of which till now, great as 
 is their merit, have ever undergone a reprint ; F 
 sav portion, for to republish all were unneces- 
 sary ; many are better withdrawn from the 
 publick eye. Like Catullus, this bard has indis- 
 criminately blended pieces of the most beautiful, 
 and delicate kind, with others of a far different 
 description. Golden fruit, and delicious, can 
 the HesperiJcs of Herrick afford the tasteful 
 reader; though some of it mav suffer a liUlc 
 from the blight of indelicacy.
 
 iii. 
 
 When I 6rst had in idea the republication of 
 these poems, it was my design to preface them 
 with a short sketch of the author's history ; and 
 I had long since coUefted my scanty materials for 
 the purpose from every known source : but, just 
 as I was about to mould them into the form of a 
 life, the last edition of Dr. Nathaniel Drake's 
 ingenious and amusing work, Literary Jhnirs^ 
 fell into my hands, in which I found that he had 
 anticipated me : every circumstance I had ob- 
 tained this gentleman was already in possession 
 of; and he had so elegantly inwove them with 
 those three numbers* of his book, which he 
 allots to Herrick, that for me to embody them 
 again, thus recently, in a biographical shape, 
 must have been considered as nothing short of 
 plagiarism. Most of the few anecdotes, howe- 
 ver, handed down to us, respefting the life of 
 this poet, will be found interspersed throughout 
 the remarks I shall have occasion to make on 
 some of his pieces. 
 
 By the way, it is but justice to observe, in 
 this place, that Dr. Drake is principally indebt- 
 ed for his information to Mr. John Nichols' la- 
 borious work of Leicestershire^ in folio. See 
 vol. 2, part 2, page 6 13. His observations also 
 on the writings, and genius of Herrick are so 
 judicious, sufficient, and satisfadlory, that they 
 leave nothing further for criticism to undertake. 
 I may perhaps differ in opinion from him, when 
 
 * No«. 42, 43, and 44.
 
 IV. 
 
 he asserts, that out of the fourteen hundred 
 poems, or better, of which Herrick's works con- 
 sist, one hundred only could be selected by the 
 hand of taste. In seleding with such limitation, 
 too many beauties, I am persuaded, would be 
 left behind: I have presented the public with 
 nearly three times that number, and I trust the 
 offering will not be thought intrusive ; yet I 
 will not say, but that I may have been too pro- 
 fuse in my display of these choice flowers, and 
 have woven too luxuriant a wreath, incited by 
 my partiality for their original cultivator.
 
 TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS, AND MOST 
 HOPEFUL PRINCE, 
 
 CHARLES, 
 
 PRINCE OF WALES*. 
 
 IVELL may my book come forth like public day. 
 When such a light as you are leads the way; 
 Who are my worlcs creator^ and alone 
 The fame ojit, and the expansion. 
 And look how all those heavnly lamps acquire 
 Liight from the sun, that inexhaustedfre ! 
 So all my morn, and evning stars from you 
 Have their existence, and their infuence too. 
 Full is my book rf glories, but all these 
 JBy you become im?nor/al substances, 
 
 * Afterwards King Charles the Second.
 
 S'EfBCT POEMS, 
 
 Sfc. 
 
 W, 
 
 TO HIS MUSE. 
 
 HITHER, mad maiden, wilt thou roam? 
 Far safer 'twere to stay at home ; 
 Where thou may'st sit, and piping please 
 The poor and private cottages : 
 Since cotes, and hamlets best agree 
 With this thy meaner minstrelsy : 
 There, with the reed, thou may'st express 
 The shepherd's fleecy happiness ; 
 And with thy eclogues intermix 
 Some smooth, and harmless bucolics ; 
 There, on a hillock thou may'st sing 
 Unto a handsome shepherdliug ; 
 
 Poem I,] William Cleland, a poet of no small merif, 
 though not very generally known, who wrote a short time 
 afrer Herrick, and whose poems vt'ere first printed 1658, 
 then again after his death 1697, has a beautiful ode to 
 Fancy, where he speaks and advises in a similar tone: 
 
 Hollo, my Fancy, whithfer would'st thou go f 
 In melancholy fancy 
 Out of thyself? 
 All the world surveying. 
 Nowhere staying, 
 J ust like a fairy elf" ? 
 
 Hollo, my Fancy, hollo ! 
 
 Stay, stay at home with me ; 
 I can no longer follow. 
 For thou haft betray'd me ! 
 Scott, in the notes to his Minstve/sy of the ScoHhb Sor. 
 Jsr, vol. ."., page 201, mentions this writer, as a rigid non- 
 conformist at the time of the revolution, He yr-xi shin in 
 the tield, 1639. 
 
 r. 2 
 
 t
 
 Or to a girl that keeps the neat, 
 
 With breath more sweet than 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 do not go. 
 
 Or fly abroad to seek for woe : 
 
 Contempts in courts, and cities dwell ; 
 
 No critic haunts the poor man's cell. 
 
 Where thou may'st 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. 
 
 II. 
 
 UPON Julia's recovery. 
 
 Droop, droop no more, nor hang the head, 
 Ye roses almost withered ; 
 Now strength, and newer purple get, 
 Each here-declining violet. 
 O primroses ! let this day be 
 A resurredion unto ye ; 
 And to all flowers allied in blood. 
 Or sworn to that sweet sisterhood : 
 For health on Julia's cheek hath shed 
 Claret, and cream commingled. 
 And those her lips do now appear 
 As beams of coral, but more clear. 
 
 * Thus too Petrarch addresses, and concludes bis twenty- 
 sixth Canzone : 
 
 poverella mia, come se' rczsa i 
 Credo che tel conoscbi ; 
 Rlmanti in qiiesti hoscbi.
 
 in. 
 
 THE PARLIAMENT OF ROSES. 
 TO JULIA. 
 
 I dreamt the roses one time went 
 To meet, and sit in parliament : 
 The place for these, and for the rest 
 Of flowers, was thy spotless breast, 
 Over the which a state was drawn 
 Of tiffany, or cobweb lawn : 
 Then, in that parley, all those pow'rs 
 Voted the rose the queen of flow'rs ; 
 But so, as that herself should be 
 The maid of honour unto thee. 
 
 IV. 
 
 TO PERILLA. 
 
 Ah, my Perilla ! dost thou grieve to see 
 Me, day by day, to steal away from thee ? 
 Age calls me hence ; and my grey hairs bid come, 
 And haste away to mine eternal home : 
 'Twill not be long, Perilla, after this. 
 That I must give thee the supremest kiss : 
 Dead when I am, first cast in salt, and bring 
 Part of the cream from that religious spring. 
 With which, Perilla, wash my hands and feet; 
 That done, then wind me in that very sheet 
 Which wrapt thy smooth limbs, when thou didst 
 
 implore 
 The gods prote<5tion, but the night before; 
 Follow me weeping to my turf, and there 
 Let fall a primrose, and with it a tear ; 
 Then, lastly, let some weekly strewings be 
 Devoted to the memory of me ; 
 Then shall my ghost not walk about ; but keep 
 Still in the cool, and silent shades of sleep. 
 
 £ 3
 
 V. 
 
 A SONG TO THE MASKERS. 
 
 Come down, and dance ye in the toil 
 
 Of pleasures to a heat ; 
 But if to moisture, let the oil 
 
 Of roses be your sweat. 
 
 Not only to yourselves assume 
 These sweets, but let them fly 
 
 From this to that ; and so perfume 
 E'en all the standers by. 
 
 As goddess Isis, when she went, 
 Or glided through the street, 
 
 Made all that touch'd her with her scent, 
 And whom she touch'd, turn sweet. 
 
 VI. 
 
 TO HIS MISTRESS.-i 
 
 Help me 1 help me ! now I call 
 To my pretty witchcrafts all : 
 Old I am, and cannot do 
 That I was accustom'd to: 
 Bring your magics, spells, and charms, 
 To enflesh my thighs, and arms. 
 Is there no way to beget 
 In my limbs their former heat ? 
 ^son had, as poets feign. 
 Baths to make him young again : 
 Find that med'cine, if you can. 
 For your dry, decrepid man, 
 Who would fain his strength renew. 
 Were it but to pleasure you.
 
 VII. 
 NO LOATHSOMENESS IN LOVE. 
 
 What I fancy I approve, 
 No dislike there is in love : 
 Be' my mistress short, or tall, 
 And distorted therewithal ; 
 Be she likewise one of those, 
 That an acre hath of nose ; 
 Be her forehead, and her eyes 
 Full of incongruities; 
 Be her checks so shallow too, 
 As to shew her tongue wag through 
 Be her lips ill hung, or set ; 
 And her grinders black as jet ; 
 Has she thin hair, hath she none ; 
 She's to me a paragon. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE WEEPING CHERRY. 
 
 I saw a cherry weep, and why ? 
 
 AVhy wept it ; but for shaR:ie, 
 Because my Julia's lip was by. 
 
 And did out-red the same ? 
 
 But, pretty fondling, let not fall 
 
 A tear at all for that. 
 Which rubies, corals, scarlets, all. 
 
 For tinfture, wonder at. 
 
 Poem VII.] Might not the ingenious author of The 
 Duenna have had his eye upon this compoition of Htr- 
 rick's, when he wrote that sprightly song : 
 
 Give Isaac the nymph who no beauty can boast. 
 
 But health and good humour, to make bcr his toast, &c.?
 
 IX. 
 
 THE CARCANET. 
 
 Instead of orient pearls, of jet 
 I sent my love a carcanet :* 
 About her spotless neck she knit 
 The lace, to honour me, or it: 
 Then think how rapt was I, to see 
 My jet t'inthrall such ivory ! 
 
 X. 
 
 HOW THE WALLFLOWER CAME FIRST, AND 
 WHY SO CALLED. 
 
 Why this flow'r is now call'd so, 
 List, sweet maids, and you shall know. 
 Understand, this firstling was 
 Once a brisk and bonny lass. 
 Kept as close as Danae was, 
 Who a sprightly springal lov'd j 
 And, to have it fully prov'd. 
 Up she got upon a wall. 
 Tempting down to slide withal : 
 But the silken twist untied, 
 So she fell, and bruis'd, she died. 
 Love, in pity of the deed. 
 And her loving, luckless speed, 
 Turn'd her to this plant, we call 
 Kow the flower of the wall. 
 
 • The carcanet was a gold, or other ornamental chain, worn 
 round the neck. Carcan originally signified an iron collar 
 to confine malefadtors to a post. Nicot, in his Grand Die. 
 iionaire, defines it, ornement d'ar qu'on mist au col (Set demoim 
 tellcs.
 
 XF. 
 
 TO HIS MISTRESS OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER 
 TOYING, OR TALKING. 
 
 You say I love not, 'cause I do not play- 
 Still with your curls, and kiss the time away ; 
 You blame me too, because I can't devise 
 Some sport, to please those babies in your eyes* : 
 By love's religion, 1 must here confess it. 
 The most I love, when I the least express it ! 
 Small griefs find tongues ; full casks are ever found 
 To give, if any, yet but little sound ; 
 Deep waters noiseless are ; and this we know. 
 That chiding streams betray small depth below: 
 So when love speechless is, it doth express 
 A depth in love, and that depth bottomless. 
 Now since my love is tongueless, know me such, 
 Who speak but little, 'cause I love so much. 
 
 XII. 
 
 UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES. 
 
 I have lost, and lately, these 
 Many dainty mistresses ; 
 Stately Julia, prime of all ; 
 Sappho next, a principal ; 
 Smooth Anthea, for a skin 
 White, and heaven-like crystalline ; 
 
 * This sportive conceit was imagined perhaps before, and 
 certainly since Herrick wrote. 
 
 See wliere little Cupid lies, 
 Looking babies in lier eyes. 
 
 Drayton. 
 
 Thus in our looks some propagation lies, 
 for we make babies in each others eyes. 
 
 Little, alias Moore,
 
 8 
 
 Sweet Eledtra ; and the choice 
 Myrrha, for the lute, and voice ; 
 Next, Corinna, for her wit, 
 And the graceful use of it ; 
 With Perilla : all are gone ; 
 Only Herrick's left alone, 
 For to number sorrow by 
 Their departures hence, and die. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE DREAM. 
 
 Methought, last night Love in an anger came, 
 And brought a rod, so whipp'd me with the same ; 
 Myrtle the twigs were, merely to imply 
 Love strikes, but 'tis with gentle cruelty. 
 Patient I was; Love pitiful grew then. 
 And strok'd the stripes, and I was whole again. 
 Thus, like a bee. Love gentle still doth bring 
 Honey to salve, where he before did sting. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 ON HIMSELF. 
 
 Young I was, but now am old. 
 But I am not yet grown cold; 
 I can play, and I can twine 
 *Bout a virgin like a vine; 
 In her lap too I can lie 
 Melting, and in fancy die ; 
 And return to life, if she 
 Claps my cheek, or kisseth me: 
 Thus, and thus it now appears 
 That our love outlasts our years.
 
 XV. 
 
 love's play at pushpin. 
 
 Love and myself, believe me, on a day 
 At childish pushpin, for our sport, did play : 
 I put, he push'd, and, heedless of my skin. 
 Love prick'd my finger with a golden pin ; 
 Since which it festers so, that I can prove 
 'Twas but a trick to poison me with love : 
 Little the wound was, greater was the smart; 
 The finger bled, but burnt was all my heart. 
 
 XVl. 
 
 THE ROSARY. 
 
 One ask'd me where the roses grew ? 
 
 1 bade him not go seek ; 
 But forthwith bade my Julia shew 
 
 A bud in either cheek. 
 
 UPON CUPID. 
 
 Old wives have often told, how they 
 Saw Cupid bitten by a flea ; 
 And thereupon, in tears half drown'd, 
 He cry'd aloud : « Help, help the wound! " 
 He wept ; he sobb'd ; he call'd to some 
 To bring him lint, and balsamum ; 
 To make a tent, and put it in 
 Where the stiletto pierc'd the skin : 
 Which being done, the fretful pain 
 Assuag'd, and he was well again.
 
 10 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE PARCiE, OR THE ARMLET. 
 
 Three lovely sisters working were, 
 
 As they were closely set, 
 Of soft and dainty maiden hair, 
 
 A curious armlet. 
 
 I smiling ask'd them what they did ? 
 
 Fair destinies, all three ! 
 Who told me they had drawn a thread 
 
 Of life, and 'twas for me. 
 
 They shcw'd me then how fine 'twas spun 5 
 
 And I reply'd thereto : 
 I care not now how soon 'tis done, 
 
 Or cut, if cut by you. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 TO ROBIN-RED-BREAST. 
 
 Laid out for dead ; let thy last kindness be 
 With leaves, and moss-work for to cover me ; 
 And, while the woodnymphs my cold corps inter. 
 Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister ! 
 For epitaph, in foliage next write this : 
 « Here, here the tomb of Robert Herrick is !" 
 
 XX. 
 
 DISCONTENTS IN DEVON. 
 
 More discontents I never had. 
 Since I was born, than here ; 
 
 Poem XX.] As the nineteen years residenceof our poet 
 at his vicarage of Dean Prior, in Devonshire, to which he 
 was presented by Charles the First, in 1629, seems so re-
 
 11 
 
 Where I have been, and still am sad, 
 In this dull Devonshire. 
 
 Yet, justly too, I must confess, 
 
 I ne'er invented such 
 Ennobled numbers for the press. 
 
 Than v^^here I loath'd so much. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 CHERRY-RIPE. 
 
 CHERRY-ripe, ripe, ripe (I cry) 
 Full and fair ones ; come, and buy ! 
 If so be you ask me, where 
 They do grow ? I answer, there. 
 Where my Julia's lips do smile ; 
 There's the land, or cherry isle ; 
 Whose plantations fully show, 
 All the year, where cherries gi-ow. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE VISION. TO ELECTRA. 
 
 I dreamt we both were in a bed 
 Of roses, almost smothered ; 
 
 markable and distressful an era of his life, I have adduced 
 this one little piece for a specimen of his querulous style. 
 It was at this residence, says Dr. Drake, that he composed 
 the greater part of his poems ; though 1 am inclined to think, 
 from the last line but one of this poem, only his Noble Num. 
 bers, or Pious Pieces, as he denominates them for the seem- 
 ing sake of alliteration. His Dialogue from Horace evi. 
 dently bears an earlier date. What occasioned the discon- 
 tents recorded, is not known ; the ejedlment from his vica- 
 rage in 1648, by reason of the civil wars, most likely pro- 
 duced still greater, from consequent poverty, till his rein- 
 statement 12 years afterwards. One John Syms, according 
 to the Register of Dean Prior, occupied the benefice in the 
 interim. Poverty, the lot of the generality of poets, stems, 
 by the way, to have often attached to poor Herrick, from 
 the supplicatory letters to his more wealthy relatives, which 
 Mr. Nichols has preserved to u». See his Lsicestershir;, 
 vol. 2. part 2.
 
 12 
 
 The warmth, and sweetness had me there 
 Made lovingly familiar ; 
 But that I heard thy sweet breath say. 
 Faults done by night will blush by day. 
 I kiss'd thee panting, and I call 
 Night to the record ! that was all. 
 But, ah, if empty dreams so please ; 
 Love, give me more such nights as these ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 THE SUCCESSION OF THE FOUR SWEET MONTHS. 
 
 First April, she with mellow show'rs, 
 Opens the way for early flow'rs ; 
 Then after her comes smiling May, 
 In a more rich and sweet array ; 
 Next enters June, and brings us more 
 Gems than those two that went before ; 
 Then, lastly, July comes, and she 
 More wealth brings in than all those three. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 OF LOVE. 
 
 How Love came in I do not know, 
 Whether by th' eye, or ear, or no ; 
 Or whether with the soul it came 
 At first, infused with the same ; 
 Whether in part 'tis here, or there ; 
 Or, like the soul, whole ev'ry-where: 
 This troubles me ; but I, as well 
 As any other, this can tell ; 
 That, when from hence she does depart, 
 The outlet then is from the heart.
 
 13 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE ROCK OF RUBIES, AND THE QUARRY OF 
 PEARLS. 
 
 Some ask'd mc where the rubies grew ; 
 
 And nothing I did say, 
 But with my finger pointed to 
 
 The Hps of Julia. 
 
 Some ask'd how pearls did grow, and where ; 
 
 Then spoke I to my girl 
 To part her lips, and shew them there 
 
 The quarrelets of pearl. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 UPON ROSES. 
 
 Under a lawn, than skies more clear, 
 Some ruffled roses nestling were ; 
 And, snugging there, they seem'd to lie 
 As in a flow'ry nunnery; 
 
 They blush'd, and look'd more fresh than flow'rs 
 Quicken'd of late by pearly show'rs; 
 And all because they were possest 
 But of the heat of Julia's breast. 
 Which, as a warm and moisten'd spring. 
 Gave them their ever flourishing. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 THE CHEAT OF CUPID, OR THE UNGENTLE 
 GUEST. 
 
 One silent night, of late, 
 When ev'ry creature rested. 
 
 Poem XXVll.J Among the numerous translations, and 
 imitations of this favourite ode oi the Teian liard, we »hA\
 
 14 
 
 Came one unto my gate, 
 
 And, knocking, me molested. 
 
 Who's that, said I, beats there. 
 And troubles thus the sleepy ? 
 
 Cast off, said he, all fear, 
 And let not locks thus keep ye ; 
 
 For I a boy am, who 
 
 By moonless nights have swerved. 
 And all with show'rs wet through, 
 
 And e'en with cold half starved. 
 
 I pitiful arose. 
 
 And soon a taper lighted, 
 And did myself disclose 
 
 Unto the lad benighted : 
 
 I saw he had a bow. 
 
 And wings too which did shiver ; 
 And, looking down below, 
 
 I spy'd he had a quiver. 
 
 1 to my chimney's shine 
 
 Brought him, as Love professes, 
 And chaff'd his hands with mine. 
 
 And dried his dropping tresses. 
 
 But when he felt him warm'd ; 
 
 Let's try this bow of our's. 
 And string, if they be harm'd. 
 
 Said he, with these late show'rs. 
 
 perhaps find none excelling the present in what the French 
 
 denominate la belle simple : 
 
 Anac. Od.5.
 
 15 
 
 Forthwith his bow he bent. 
 
 And wedded string and arrow. 
 And struck me, that it went 
 
 Quite through my heart and marrow. 
 
 Then, laughing loud, he flew 
 
 Away, and thus said, flying, 
 Adieu, mine host, adieu ! 
 
 I'll leave thy heart a-dying. 
 
 XXVIIl. 
 
 DELIGHT IN DISORDER. 
 
 A sweet disorder in the dress 
 Kindles in clothes a wantonness ; 
 A lawn about the shoulders thrown 
 Into a fine distradlion ; 
 An erring lace, which here and there 
 Inthralls the crimson stomacher; 
 A cufF negleftful, and thereby 
 Ribands to flow confusedly ; 
 A winning wave, deserving note, 
 In the tempestuous petticoat ; 
 A careless shoe-string, in whose tie 
 I see a wild civility; 
 Do more bewitch me, than when art 
 I? too precise in every part. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 KISSING USURY. 
 
 BlANCHA, let 
 Me pay the debt 
 
 Poem XXIX.] These lines breathe of Catullus, and Se- 
 cundus. See of the former Carmen 5 ; and of the latter
 
 16 
 
 I owe thee for a kiss 
 
 Thou lend'st to me ; 
 And I to thee 
 
 Will render ten for this : 
 
 If thou wilt say. 
 
 Ten will not pay 
 For that so rich a one; 
 
 I'll clear the sum, 
 
 If it will come 
 Unto a million. 
 
 By this I guess, 
 
 Of happiness 
 Who has a little measure, 
 
 He must of light 
 
 To th' utmost mite 
 Make payment for his pleasure. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE BAG OF THE BEE. 
 
 About the sweet bag of a bee 
 
 Two cupids fell at odds ; 
 And, whose the pretty prize should be, 
 
 They vow'd to ask the gods. 
 
 Which Venus hearing, thither came. 
 And for their boldness stript them ; 
 
 And, taking thence from each his flame. 
 With rods of myrtle whipt them. 
 
 Poem XXX.] This little elegant composition is likewise 
 found in a colledtion of poetry entitled, ff^it a sportinz in a 
 flcasant Grove ofneiu Fandes, by H. B. 1657.
 
 17 
 
 Which done, to still their wanton* cries, 
 When quiet grown she'd seen them, 
 
 She kiss'd, and wip'd their dove-like eyes, 
 And gave the bag between them. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 TO HIS MISTRESS. 
 
 Choose me your valentine; 
 
 Next, let us marry ; 
 Love to the death will pine, 
 
 If we long tarry. 
 
 * " the wantons," in IVit a spotting^ \^c. 
 
 Poem XXXI.] No chronicle affords us any satisfadlnry 
 information respedling the rites of saint Valentine, a Ro- 
 man bishop beheaded under the emperor Claudius, whose 
 festival is observed on the fourteenth of February. There 
 is a rural tradition, that about this period birds chuse their 
 mates ; and it is a very ancient custom, on the day of the 
 festival, for young people, particularly among the lower 
 orders, to seledt valentines, or sweethearts, by drawing of 
 lots. To this ceremony no occurrence in the saint's life 
 could have given rise, thinks Mr. Brand, who has searched 
 the legend. See his Ubservatkus on Popular Antiquities. 
 
 Chaucer makes nature speak thus to the feathered tribe 
 on this anniversary : 
 
 Ye know well, how on St. Valentine's day 
 By my statute, and through my governaunce 
 Ye doe chese your makes, and after flie away 
 With hem, as I pricke you with pleasaunce. 
 
 Assemble ofFoules. 
 
 And thus says John Lidgate's poem, written in praise of 
 <iueen Catherine, consort to Henry the fifth : 
 
 Seynte Valentyne, of custom yeere by yeere, 
 
 Men have an usaiince in this regioun 
 To loke and serche Cupide's kalendere, 
 
 And chuse their choyse hy grete affeccioun; 
 
 Suche as ben prike with Cupide's mocioun, 
 Takyng theyre choyse as their sort doth falls: 
 But I love oon whiche excellith alle. 
 
 c 2
 
 18 
 
 Promise, and keep your vows, 
 
 Or vow ye never ; 
 Love's dodrine disallows 
 
 Troth -breakers ever. 
 
 You have broke promise twice, 
 
 Dear, to undo me ; 
 If you prove faithless thrice. 
 
 None then will woo ye. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 TO THE GENEROUS READER. 
 
 See, and not see ; and, if thou chance t' espy 
 Some aberrations in my poetry. 
 Wink at small faults, the greater ne'ertheless 
 Hide, and with them their father's nakedness. 
 Let's do our best, our watch and ward to keep : 
 *Homer himself in a long woik may sleep. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 TO ELECTRA. 
 
 More white than whitest lilies far, 
 Or snow, or whitest swans, you are ; 
 More white than are the whitest creams, 
 Or moonlight tinselling the streams ; 
 More white than pearls, or Juno's thigh, 
 Or Pelops' arm of ivory. 
 True, I confess, such whites as these 
 May me delight, not fully please; 
 Till, like Lxion's cloud, you be 
 White, warm, and soft to lie with me. 
 
 *Quandoque bonus dormitaf Homertis. 
 
 HoRAT. Art. Poet. ver. 259.
 
 19 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 A COUNTRY LIFE. 
 TO HIS BROTHER, THOMAS HERRICK. 
 
 Thrice, and above blest, my soul's half, ait thou 
 
 In thy both last, and better vow; 
 Could'st leave the city, for exchange, to see 
 
 The country's sweet simplicity, 
 And it to know, and pradtice; with intent 
 
 To grow the sooner innocent. 
 By studying to know virtue ; and to aim 
 
 More at her nature, tlian her name : 
 The last is but the least; the first doth tell 
 
 Ways less to live, than to live well ; 
 And both are known to thee, who now can'st live 
 
 Led by thy conscience, to give 
 Justice to soon-pleas'd nature, and to show 
 
 Wisdom and she together go. 
 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 instrud, 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 
 
 PoRM XXXIV.] The brother, to whom these lines are 
 addressed, was the third child of Nicholas Herrick, as our 
 poet was the sixth ; and, it is believed, was the father of the 
 Thomas Herrick, who in 1668 resided at Market-Harbo- 
 rough, and issued a trader's token there; and grandfather 
 to the Thomas, who was curate of Harborough, and pub- 
 lished some sermons and poems; the latter were published 
 in 4to. at Cambridge, 1791 ; among the most remarkable Is 
 the Submarine Vbyage^ of some length. See Michols' Lticcs- 
 tersbire^ vol. 2. part 2. page 632. 
 
 c3
 
 '20 
 
 With that Heav'n gave thee with a wary hand. 
 
 More blessed in thy brass than land. 
 To keep cheap ijature even and upright ; 
 
 To cool, not cocker appetite : 
 Thus thou can'st tersely live to satisfy - 
 
 The belly chiefly, not the eye; 
 Keeping the barking stomach wisely quiet. 
 
 Less with a neat than needful 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 beautiful as chaste ; 
 By whose warm side thou dost securely sleep, 
 
 While Love the centinel doth keep, 
 With those deeds done by day, which ne'er affright 
 
 Thy silken slumbers in the night. 
 Nor has the darkness pow'r to usher in 
 
 Feair to those sheets, that know no sin. 
 The damask'd meadows, and the pebbly streams 
 
 Sweeten, and make soft your dreams; 
 The purling springs, groves, birds, and well-weav'd 
 bowr's. 
 
 With fields enamelled with flow'rs. 
 Present their shapes ; while fantasy discloses 
 
 Millions of lilies mix'd with roses : 
 Then dream ye hear the lamb by many a bleat 
 
 Woo'd to come suck the milky teat ; 
 While Faunus in the vision comes, to keep 
 
 From rav'ning wolves the fleecy sheep: 
 With thousand such enchanting dreams, that meet 
 
 To make sleep not so sound, as sweet : 
 Nor can these figures so thy rest endear, 
 
 As not to rise when chanticleer 
 Warns the last watCh ; but with the dawn dost rise
 
 21 
 
 To work, but first to sacrifice ; 
 Making thy peace with heav'n, for some late fault, 
 
 With holy meal and spirting salt ; 
 Which done, thy painful thumb this sentence tells us, 
 
 " Jove for our labour all things sells us." 
 Nor are thy daily, and devout affairs, 
 
 Attended with those desp'rate cares 
 Th' industrious merchant has, who, for to find 
 
 Gold, runneth to the Western Ind 
 And back again ; tortur'd with fears, doth (ly. 
 
 Untaught to suffer poverty. 
 But thou at home, blest with securest ease, 
 
 Sitt'st, and believ'st that there be seas 
 And wat'ry dangers ; while thy whiter hap 
 
 But sees these things within thy map ; 
 And, viewing them with a more safe survey, 
 
 Mak'st easy fear unto thee say, 
 « A heart thrice wall'd with oak and brass that man* 
 
 « Had, first durst plough the ocean !" 
 But thou at home, without or tide or gale, 
 
 Can'st in thy map securely sail. 
 Seeing those painted countries ; and so guess 
 
 By those fine shades their substances ; 
 And, from thy compass taking small advice, 
 
 Buy'st travel at the lowest price. 
 Nor are thine ears so deaf, but thou can'st hear. 
 
 Far more with wonder than with fear. 
 Fame tell of states, of countries, courts, and kings, 
 
 And believe there be such things; 
 When of these truths, thy happier knowledge lies 
 
 * nil roBur, et tcs triplex 
 
 Circa peSius erat, qui fragilcm truci 
 
 Commis'lt felago ratem 
 Frimui . 
 
 HoRAT. Odes. Lib. 1.
 
 22 
 
 More in thine ears than in thine eyes. 
 And when thou hear'st by that too true report 
 
 Viee rules the most, or all at court ; 
 Thy pious wishes are, though thou not there, 
 
 Virtue had, and mov'd her sphere. 
 But thou liv'st fearless ; and thy face ne'er shews 
 
 Fortune when she comes, or goes ; 
 But with thy equal thoughts prepar'd dost stand 
 
 To take her by the either hand : 
 Nor car'st which comes the first, the foul, or fair ; 
 
 A wise man ev'ry way lies square ; 
 And, like a surly oak with storms perplext, 
 
 Grows still the stronger, strongly vext ; 
 Be so, bold spirit ! stand center-like unmov'd ; 
 
 And be not only thought, but prov'd 
 To be what I report thee; and inure 
 
 Thyself, if want comes, to endure ; 
 And so thou dost ; for thy desires are 
 
 Confin'd to live with private Lar : 
 Not curious whether appetite be fed 
 
 Or with the first, or second bread: 
 Who keep'st no proud mouth for delicious cates ; 
 
 Hunger makes coarse meals delicates : 
 Can'st, and unurg'd, forsake that larded fare. 
 
 Which art, not nature, makes so rare, 
 To taste boil'd nettles, coleworts, beets, and eat 
 
 These and sour herbs, as dainty meat j 
 While soft opinion makes thy genius say, 
 
 " Content makes all ambrosia." 
 Nor is it that thou keep'st this stridler size 
 
 So much for want, as exercise ; 
 
 To numb the sense of dearth, which, should sin 
 
 haste it. 
 Thou might'st but only see't, not taste it.
 
 23 
 
 Yet can thy humble roof maintain a quire 
 
 Of singing crickets by thy fire ; 
 And the brisk mouse may feast herself with crumbs, 
 
 Till that the green-ey'd killing comes; 
 Then to her cabin, blest she can escape 
 
 The sudden danger of a rape. 
 And thus thy little well-kept stock doth prove 
 
 Wealth cannot make a life, but love. 
 Nor art thou so close-handed, but can'st spend, 
 
 Counsel concurring with the end, 
 As well as spare ; still conning o'er this theme, 
 
 To shun the first and last extreme. 
 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 ownself, and known to few. 
 Thus let thy rural sandtuary be 
 
 Elysium to thy wife, and thee ; 
 Tliere to disport yourselves with golden measure ; 
 
 For seldom use commends the pleasure. 
 Live, and live blest, thrice happy pair I 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 fear, nor wish your dying day. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 LYRICK TO MIRTH. 
 
 While the milder fates consent, 
 Let's enjoy our merriment ; 
 Drink, and dance, and pipe, and play ; 
 Kiss our dollies night and day :
 
 24 
 
 Crown'd with clusters of the vine, 
 Let us sit and quaff our wine; 
 Call on Bacchus, chant his praise, 
 Shake the thyrse, and bite the bays ; 
 Rouse Anacreon from the dead, 
 And return him drunk to bed ; 
 Sing o'er Horace, for e'er long 
 Death will come, and mar the song. 
 Then shall A^''ilson, and Goutire* 
 Never sing, or play more here. 
 
 XXXVL 
 
 UPON Julia's riband. 
 
 As shews the air, when with a rainbow grac'd. 
 So smiles that riband 'bout my Julia's waist ; 
 
 Or like nay, 'tis that zonulet of love, 
 
 -j- Wherein all pleasures of the world are wove. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 THE FROZEN ZONE, OR JULIA DISDAINFUL. 
 
 Whither, say, whither shall I fly, 
 To slack these flames wherein I fry ? 
 To the treasures shall I go 
 Of the rain, frost, hail, and snow ? 
 
 * A celebrated musical composer, and lutanist, much in 
 favour with Charles the first. 
 
 f A nearly similar conceit occurs in the following lines 
 of a cotemporary bard, from his poem on a Girdle, which he 
 denominates 
 
 A narrow compass ; and yet there 
 Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair; 
 Give me but what this riband bound, 
 'lake all the rest the sun goes round ! 
 
 Waller.
 
 25 
 
 Shall I search the under ground, 
 Where all damps and mists are found ? 
 Shall I seek for speedy ease 
 All the floods, and frozen seas ; 
 Or descend into the deep, 
 Where eternal cold does keep ? 
 These may cool ; but there's a zone 
 Colder yet than any one, 
 That's my Julia's breast, where dwells 
 Such destru(ftive icicles, 
 As that the congelation will 
 Me sooner starve, than those can kill. 
 
 XXXVilI. 
 
 TO THE PATRON OF POETS, 
 MR. ENDYMION PORTER. 
 
 Let there be patrons, patrons like to thee. 
 Brave Porter ! poets ne'er will wanting be. 
 Fabius, and Cotta, Lentulus, all live 
 In thee, thou man of men ! who here dost give 
 Not only subjeft matter for our wit, 
 But likewise oil of maintenance to it ; 
 For which, before thy threshold we'll lay down 
 Our thyrse for sceptre, and our bays for crown : 
 For, to say truth, all garlands are thy due, 
 The laurel, myrtle, oak, and ivy too. 
 
 Poem XXXVIII.] The gentleman to whom these lines 
 are addressed was in the court of James, and of Charles the 
 first ; with whom he was a great favourite by reason of his 
 wit and learning. He appears to have died abroad, and to 
 have been the Mxcenas of his day. His family was fnmi 
 Glocestershire, in the neighbourhood of Campden. He 
 died 1641,
 
 ii& 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 THE SADNESS OF THINGS rOR SAPPHo's 
 SICKNESS. 
 
 Lilies will languish, violets look ill, 
 Sickly the primrose, pale the daffodil ; 
 That gallant tulip will hang down his head, 
 Like to a virgin newly ravished; 
 Pansies will weep, and marygolds will wither. 
 And keep a fast and funeral together; 
 If Sappho droop, daisies will open never. 
 But bid good-night, and close their lids for ever. 
 
 XL. 
 
 THE TEAR, SENT TO MRS. DOROTHY KENEDAY 
 FROM STAINES. 
 
 Glide, gentle streams, and bear 
 Along with you my tear 
 
 To that coy girl. 
 
 Who smiles, yet slays 
 
 Me with delays. 
 And strings my tears as pearl. 
 
 See, see ! she's yonder set, 
 Making a carcanet 
 
 Of maiden flowers: 
 
 There, there present 
 
 This orient, 
 And pendant pearl of ours. 
 
 Then say, I've sent one more 
 Gem to enrich her store. 
 
 And that is all 
 
 Which I can send.
 
 27 
 
 Or vainly spend ; 
 For tears no more will fall. 
 
 Nor will I seek supply 
 
 Of them, the spring's once dry ; 
 
 But I'll devise. 
 
 Among the lest, 
 
 A way that's best 
 How I may save mine eyps. 
 
 Yet say, should she condemn 
 Me to surrender them. 
 
 Then say, my part 
 
 Must be to weep 
 
 Out them, to keep 
 A poor, yet loving heart. 
 
 Say too, she would have this, 
 She shall ; then my hope is. 
 
 That when I'm poor, 
 
 And nothing have 
 
 To send, or save, 
 I'm sure she'll ask no more. 
 
 XLI. 
 EPITAPH UPON A CHILD. 
 
 Virgins promis'd, when I died. 
 That they would, each primrose-tide. 
 
 Poem XLI.] This charming morceau is in the true spi- 
 rit of the Greek epigram, wiiich consisted not so much in 
 point, as in elegant concise expression. In this stile of com- 
 position Herrick seems to have been singularly happy. The 
 reader will be gratified with many pieces of a similar nature^ 
 4S he proceeds.
 
 28 
 
 Duly morn and ev'ning come, 
 And with flowers dress my tomb : 
 Having promib'd ; pay your debts. 
 Maids, and here strew violets. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 UPON MRS. ELIZABETH WHEELER, UNDER THE 
 NAME OF AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Sweet Amaryllis by a spring's 
 Soft, and soul-melting murmurings 
 Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew 
 A robin-red-breast, who, at view 
 l^ot seeing her at all to stir, 
 Brought leaves and moss to cover her; 
 But while he perking there did pry 
 About the arch of either eye. 
 The lid began to let out day : 
 At which poor robin flew away ; 
 And seeing her not dead, but all disleav'd. 
 He chirpt for joy to see himself deceiv'd. 
 
 XLlll. 
 
 TO MYRRHA HARD-HEARTED. 
 
 Fold now thine arms, and hang the head, 
 Like to a lily withered ; 
 Next, look thou like a sickly moon, 
 Or like Jocasta in a swoon ; 
 Then weep, and sigh, and softly go ; 
 Like to a widow drown'd in woe. 
 
 Poem XLII.] The lady complimented in this poem vras 
 probably a relation by marriage. Herrick's first cousm, 
 Martha, the seventh daughter of his uncle Robert, marriea 
 Mr. John Wheeler.
 
 Or, like a virgin full of ruth 
 For the lost sweetheart of her youth : 
 And all because, fair maid, thou art 
 Insensible of all my smart, 
 And of those evil days that be 
 Now posting on to punish thee. 
 The gods are easy, and condemn 
 All such as are not soft like them. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 THE EYE. 
 
 Make me a heav'n, and make me theie 
 Many a less and greater sphere ; 
 Make me the straight and oblique lines, 
 The motions, lations, and the signs ; 
 Make me a chariot, and a sun, 
 And let them througii a zodiac run ; 
 Next, place me zones and tropics there, 
 With all the seasons of the year ; 
 Make me a sunset, and a night ; 
 And then present the morning's light 
 Cloth'd in her chamlets of delight ; 
 To these, make clouds to pour down rain, 
 With weather foul, then fair again : 
 And when, wise artist, that thou hast 
 With all that can be this heav'n grac'd; 
 Ah ! what is then this curious sky, 
 But only my Corinna's eye i
 
 30 
 
 XLV. 
 THE WOUNDED CUPID. 
 
 Cupid, as he lay among 
 Roses, by a bee was stung. 
 Whereupon, in anger flying 
 To his mother, said thus, crying, 
 Help, O helpt your boy's a dying ! 
 And why, my pretty lad ? said she. 
 Then, blubbering, replied he, 
 A winged snake has bitten me. 
 Which country people call a bee. 
 At which she smil'd ; then with her hairs 
 And kisses drying up his tears , 
 Alas, said she, my wag ! if this 
 Such a pernicious torment is ; 
 Come tell me then, how great's the smart 
 Of those thou woundest with thy dart ? 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 THE VISION. 
 
 Sitting alone, as one forsook. 
 Close by a silver-shedding brook , 
 With hands held up to Love, I wept ; 
 And, after sorrows spent, I slept : 
 Then in a vision I did see 
 A glorious form appear to me ; 
 A virgin's face she had ; her dress 
 
 Poem XLV.] We have here another very elegant trans- 
 lation from Anacreon : 
 
 Epw5 wot' h poo<3JO"i, &c. 
 
 Anac. Od. 40.
 
 31 
 
 Was like a sprightly Spartaness ; 
 
 A silver bow, with green silk strung, 
 
 Down from her comely shoulders hung ; 
 
 And, as she stood, the wanton air 
 
 Dandled the ringlets of her hair ; 
 
 Her legs were such Diana shews, 
 
 When, tuck'd up, she a hunting goes, 
 
 With buskins shorten'd to descry 
 
 The happy dawning of her thigh; 
 
 Which when I saw, I made access 
 
 To kiss that tempting nakedness ; 
 
 But she forbad me with a wand 
 
 Of myrtle she had in her hand ; 
 
 And, chiding me, said : " Hence, remove, 
 
 " Hfrrick ! _ Thou art too coarse to love." 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 DISSUASIONS FROM IDLENESS. 
 
 Cynthius, pluck ye by the ear; 
 That ye may good dodlrine hear. 
 Play not with the maiden hair. 
 For each ringlet there's a snare : 
 Cheek, and eye, and lip, and chin, 
 These are traps to take fools in: 
 Arms, and hands, and all parts else, 
 Are but toils, or manacles, 
 Set on purpose to inthrall 
 Men, but slothfuls most of all. 
 Live employ'd, and so live free 
 From these fetters ; like to me, 
 Who have found, and still can prove, 
 *The lazy man the most doth love. 
 
 * Tbus the great master of love's art : 
 
 Cciiit amir rebus ; res apt, tutus irts, 
 
 Ovid. Remec!. Amor. v. TjJ
 
 32 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 EPITHALAMIUM, 
 TO SIR THOMAS SOUTHWELL AND HIS LADY. 
 
 Now, now's the time, so oft by truth 
 Promis'd should coine to crown your youth. 
 
 Then, fair ones, do not wrong 
 
 Your joys by staying long, 
 
 Or let love's fire go out 
 
 By ling'ring thus in doubt ; 
 
 But learn, that time once lost 
 
 Is ne'er redeem'd by cost. 
 Then away come, Hymen ; guide 
 To the bed the bashful bride ^ 
 
 * * * * # at *♦ 
 
 These precious, pearly, purling tears 
 But spring from ceremonious fears j 
 And 'tis but native shame. 
 That hides the loving flame 
 And may awhile controul 
 The soft and am'rous soul ; 
 But yet love's fire will waste 
 Such bashfulness at last. 
 Then away come. Hymen ; guide 
 To the bed the bashful bride ! 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Poem XLVllI. | To point out to the classic reader how, 
 and where the spirit of (JatuUus, Secundus, and Bonefonius 
 is transfused into this little poem, would be needless. The 
 gentleman who is the subjeciT: of it I cannot conjedture ; he 
 was perhaps ofno great publicity, some rural retired knight; 
 as I do not meet with any such person recorded in books, 
 or otherwise diatinguisbcd, about Herrick's period.
 
 33 
 
 On, on devoutly ; make no stay, 
 While Domiduca* leads the way; 
 
 And Genius, who attends 
 
 The bed for lucky ends : 
 
 With Juno go the Hours, 
 
 And Graces strewing flow'rs ; 
 
 And the boys with sweet tunes sing. 
 
 Hymen, O Hymen bring 
 Home the turtles ; Hymen guide 
 To the bed the bashful bride ! 
 
 Behold, how Hymen's taper light 
 
 Shews you how much is spent of night. 
 See, see the bridegroom's torch 
 Half wasted in the porch ; 
 And now those tapers five. 
 That shew the womb shall thrive, 
 Their silv'ry flames advance. 
 To tell, all prosp'rous chance 
 
 Still shall crown the happy life 
 
 Of the good man, and the wife ! 
 
 Move forward then your rosy feet, 
 
 And make whate'er they touch turn sweet. 
 May all like flow'ry meads 
 Smell, where your soft foot treads j 
 And ev'ry thing assume 
 To it the like perfume ; 
 As Zephirus, when he spires 
 Through woodbines and sweetbriars. 
 
 Then away come. Hymen ; guide 
 
 To the bed the bashful bride ! 
 
 ' A coined word, I presume, for the paranympha, fto, 
 nitia, or bridemaid attending the bride. 
 
 »2
 
 34 
 
 And now the yellow veil at last 
 Over her fragrant cheek is cast; 
 Now seems she to express 
 A bashful willingnesF,* 
 Shewing a heart consenting. 
 As with a will repenting : 
 Then gently lead her on 
 With wise suspicion ; 
 For that, matrons say, a measure 
 Of that passion sweetens pleasure. 
 
 You, you that be her nearest kin, 
 fNow o'er the threshold force her in. 
 But, to avert the worst, 
 Let her her fillets first 
 Knit to the posts ; this point 
 Rememb'ring, to anoint 
 The sides ; for 'tis a charm 
 Strong against future harm, 
 And the evil deeds, the which 
 There was hidden by the witch. 
 
 * 
 
 No fatal owl the bedstead keeps 
 
 With direful notes to fright your sleeps ; 
 
 No Furies hereabout 
 
 To put the tapers out 
 
 * Tardet ingenuus pudor. 
 
 Catullus. Epithal. Julise & Manlii. 
 
 Transfer amine cum bono 
 Limen aurtolot fedtt. 
 
 Idem.
 
 35 
 
 Watch, or did make the bed ; 
 
 'Tis omen full of dread : 
 
 But all fair signs appear 
 
 Within the chamber here: 
 Juno here far oflfdoth stand, 
 Cooling sleep with charming wand. 
 
 Virgins, weep not ; 'twill come when. 
 As she, so you'll be ripe for men : 
 
 Then grieve her not with saying, 
 
 She must no more a Maying, 
 
 Or by rose-buds divine 
 
 Who'll be her valentine ; 
 
 Nor name those wanton rakes, 
 
 You've had at barleybrakes : 
 But now kiss her ; and thus say, 
 Take time, lady, while ye may. 
 
 Now bar the doors, the bridegroom puts* 
 The eager boys to gather nuts :f 
 
 And now both love and time 
 
 To their full height do climb : 
 
 Let kisses, in their close, 
 
 Breath as the damask rose : 
 
 Teach nature now to know. 
 
 Lips can make cherries grow 
 Sooner, than she ever yet 
 In her wisdom could beget. || 
 
 • ClaudisU ostia •virginet. Idem. 
 
 t The ceremony of throwing nuts at a wedding, which 
 boys scrambled for, was of Athenian origin. Besides Catul- 
 lus, Virgil and many other classic writers mention the 
 custom ; hence nucibus reliiiis became proverbial, for the re- 
 nouncing of childhood. See Persius. i'a/, 1. wr. 10. 
 
 II The last six lines of this stanza are arranged differently 
 from what they are in the original, for very proper reasons.
 
 36 
 
 On your minutes, hours, days, months, year?, 
 Drop the fat blessing of the spheres ! 
 
 Tliat good, which heav'n can give, 
 
 To make you bravely live, 
 
 Fall, like a spangling dew, 
 
 By day and night on you ! 
 
 May fortune's lily hand 
 
 Open at your command ; 
 With all the lucky birds, to side 
 With the bridegroom and the bride ! 
 
 Let bounteous fate your spindles full 
 Fill, and wind up with whitest wool; 
 
 Let them not cut the thread 
 
 Of life, until ye bid ! 
 
 May death yet come at last. 
 
 And not with desp'rate haste ; 
 
 But when ye both can say. 
 
 Come, let us now away ! 
 Be ye to the barn then borne 
 Two, like two ripe shocks of corn ! 
 
 XLIX. 
 LOVE PERFUMES ALL PARTS. 
 
 If I kiss Anthea's breast. 
 There I smell the phoenix' nest ; 
 If her lip, the most sincere 
 Altar of incense I smell there ; 
 * Fingers, hands, and arms are all 
 Richly aromatical : 
 Goddess Isis can't transfer 
 Musks and ambers more from her ; 
 Nor can Juno sweeter be. 
 When she lies with Jove, than she. 
 
 • In this line it was thought better to deviate a little froiVk 
 the original.
 
 37 
 
 THE CRUEL MAID. 
 
 And, crue! maid, because I see 
 You scornful of my love and me, 
 I'll trouble you no more; but go 
 My way, where you shall never know 
 What is become of me ; there I 
 Will find me out a path to die, 
 Or learn some way how to forget 
 You, and your name, for ever : yet 
 Ere I go hence, know this from me. 
 What will in time your fortune be ; 
 This to yonr coyness I will tell. 
 And having spoke it once, farewell ! 
 The lily will not long endure. 
 Nor the snow continue pure ; 
 The rose, the violet one day 
 See; both these lady-fiow'rs decay; 
 And you must fade as well as they: 
 And, it may chance that love may turn. 
 And, like to mine, make your heart burn, 
 And weep to see't ; yet this thing do. 
 That my last vow commends to you ; 
 When you shall see that I am dead. 
 For pity let a tear be shed ; 
 And, with your mantle o'er me cast, 
 Give my cold lips a kiss at last : 
 If twice you kiss, you need not fear 
 That I shall stir, or live more here : 
 Next hollow out a tomb to cover 
 Me, me, the most despised lover
 
 38 
 
 And write thereon : " this, reader, know, 
 *Love kill'd this man." No more but so. 
 
 LI. 
 
 TO DIANEME. 
 
 Sweet, 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, your's yet free: 
 Be you not proud of that rich hair, 
 Which wantons with the love-sick air ; 
 When as that ruby which you wear. 
 Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, 
 Will last to be a precious stone, 
 When all your world of beauty's gone. 
 
 LII. 
 
 HIS MISERY IN A MISTRESS. 
 
 Water, water 1 espy ! 
 Come, and cool ye, all who fry 
 In your love; but none as I. 
 
 Though a thousand showers be 
 Still a falling, yet I see 
 Not one drop to light on me. 
 
 Happy you, who can have seas 
 For to quench ye, or some ease 
 From your kinder mistresses ! 
 
 * Huic mlstro fatum dura puellafuit. 
 
 FRortaT: Eleg, 1. Ub.2.ver. ult.
 
 39 
 
 I have one, and she alone, 
 
 Of a thousand thousand known, 
 
 Dead to all compassion. 
 
 Such an one, as will repeat 
 
 Both the cause, and make the heat 
 
 More by provocation great. 
 
 Gentle friends, though I despair 
 Of my cure, do you beware 
 Of those girls which cruel are. 
 
 LIIL 
 
 TO A GENTLEWOMAN OBJECTING TO HIM HIS 
 GREY HAIRS. 
 
 Am I despis'd, because you say, 
 And I dare swear, that I am grey ? 
 Know, lady, you have but your day ; 
 And time will come, when you shall wear 
 Such frost and snow upon your hair. 
 And when, though long, it comes to pass, 
 You question with your looking-glass, 
 And in that sincere crystal seek. 
 But find no rose-bud in your cheek, 
 Nor any bed to give the shew 
 Where such a rare carnation grew ; 
 Ah ! then too late, close in your chamber keeping, 
 
 It will be told 
 
 That you are old, 
 By those true tears y'arc weeping.
 
 40 
 
 LIV. 
 VPON CUPID. 
 
 Love like a gypsey lately came, 
 
 And did me much importune 
 To see my hand ; that by the same 
 
 He might foretell my fortune. 
 
 He saw my palm ; and then, said he, 
 
 I tell thee, by this score here, 
 That thou, within few months, shalt be 
 
 The youthful prince d'amour here. 
 
 I smil'd, and bade him once more prove, 
 And by some cross line shew it ; 
 
 That I could ne'er be prince of love, 
 Though here the princely poet. 
 
 LV. 
 
 UPON A BLACK TWIST ROUKD THE ARM OF 
 THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE. 
 
 I saw about her spotless wrist 
 Of blackest silk a curious twist ; 
 
 Poem LV.J Thi? personage most probably was Marga- 
 ret, third daughter of Francis Earl of Bedford, and lady of 
 James Hay, the second of that name Earl of Carlisle, 
 who succeeded his father James 1636; she being the then 
 countess at the time Herrick published his Hesperidcs. Yet 
 might the poet have written his lines on the lady Lucy, se- 
 cond wife of James first earl of Carlisle, who was celebrat- 
 ed for her wit and beauty, and at the time Herrick's book 
 came out must have been about the age of fifty; she was 
 daughter of Henry Percy ninth earl of Northumberland : 
 her charadler is found drav/n up at the head of A ColleSlion 
 of LtUers made liy Sir Tobie Maibetvs, Knt. and dedicated 
 to her ladyship ; it is a curious, and now rare little book, 
 printed 1660. Waller wrote many elegant verses on this 
 *' Bright Carlisle of the court of heaven."
 
 41 
 
 Which, circumvolving gently there, 
 Inthrall'd her arm as prisoner : 
 Dark was the jail ; but as if light 
 Had met t'engender with the night, 
 Or so as darkness made a stay- 
 To shew at once both night and day. 
 I fancy more— But, if there be 
 Such freedom in captivity, 
 I beg of Love, that ever I 
 May in like chains of darkness lie. 
 
 LVI. 
 A RING PRESENTED TO JULIA. 
 
 Julia, I bring 
 To thee this ring. 
 
 Made for thy finger fit ; 
 To shew by this 
 That our love is, 
 
 Or should be, like to it. 
 
 Close though it be. 
 
 The joint is free; 
 So, when love's yoke is on, 
 
 It must not gall. 
 
 Or fret at all 
 With hard oppression: 
 
 But it must play 
 Still either way, 
 And be too such a yoke, 
 As not too wide 
 To overslide. 
 Or be so strait to choak.
 
 42 
 
 So we, who bear 
 
 This beam, must rear 
 Ourselves to such a height, 
 
 As that the stay 
 
 Of either may- 
 Create the burthen light. 
 
 And as this round 
 
 Is no where found 
 To flaw, or else to sever ; 
 
 So let our love 
 
 As endless prove, 
 And pure as gold for ever. 
 
 LVII. 
 Julia's petticoat. 
 
 Thy azure robe I did behold, 
 As airy as the leaves of gold. 
 Which erring here, and wand'ring there, 
 Pleas'd with transgression ev'ry-where : 
 Sometimes 'twould pant, and sigh, and heave, 
 As if to stir it scarce had leave ; 
 But having got it, thereupon, 
 'Twould make a brave expansion ; 
 And, pounc'd with stars, it shew'd to me 
 Like a celestial canopy : 
 Sometimes 'twould blaze, and then abate. 
 Like to a flame grown moderate: 
 
 Poem LVII.] I'he various undulations of this garment 
 of his fair-one is a trifling circumstance so happily touched 
 upon, as to render it interesting, and exquisite. The torch 
 of genius only could in so small a spark kindle such brilli- 
 ancy.
 
 Sometimes away 'twould wildly fling, 
 Then to thy thighs so closely cling, 
 That some conceit did melt me down, 
 As lovers fall into a swoon ; 
 And all confus'd I there did He 
 Drown'd in delights, but could not die* 
 That leading cloud I follow'd still. 
 Hoping t'have seen of it my fill ; 
 But ah ! I could not ; should it move 
 To life eternal, I could love. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 CORINNA's going a MAYING. 
 
 Get up, get up for shame; the blooming mom 
 Upon her wings presents the God unshorn : 
 See how Aurora throws her fair, 
 Fresh-quilted colours through the air : 
 Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 
 The dew bespangling herb and tree : 
 Each flow'r has wept, and bow'd toward the east, 
 Above an hour since ; yet you not drest ; 
 Nay, not so much as out of bed ; 
 When all the birds have mattins said. 
 And sung their thankful hymns : 'tis sin, 
 Nay, profanation to keep in ; 
 When as a thousand virgins on this day. 
 Spring sooner than the lark, to fetch in May ! 
 
 Poem LVIII. | The ceremony of going a Maying, and 
 the May festivitiei, were once of great notoriety; though 
 now almost in disuse, or but faintly shadowed in the lower 
 orders of people : they were observed by royalty even. 
 Stowe, quoting Hall, gives an account of Henry the 
 eighth's riding a Maying, With his queen, Catharine, to the 
 high ground on Shooter's Hill, accompanied by a train of 
 the nobility.
 
 44 
 
 Rise, and put on your foliage, and be seen 
 To come forth like the spring tinne fresh, and gteen, 
 And 6weet as Flora. Take no care 
 For jewels for your gown, or hair : 
 Fear not, the leaves will strew 
 Gems 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 himself, or else stands still 
 Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in 
 
 praying ; 
 Few beads are best, when once we go a Maying ! 
 
 Come, my Corinna, come ; and, coming, mark 
 How each field turns a street, each street a park 
 Made green, and trimm'd with trees; see how 
 Devotion gives each house a bough, 
 Or branch ; each porch, each door, ere this, 
 An ark, a tabernacle is 
 Made up of whitethorn neatly interwove , 
 As if here were those cooler shades of love. 
 Can such delights be in the street. 
 And open fields, and we not see't ? 
 Come, we'll abroad ; and let's obey 
 The proclamation made for May, 
 And sin no more, as we have done, by staying ; 
 But my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying !
 
 45 
 
 There's not a budding boy, or girl this day 
 But is got up, and gone to bring in May : 
 A deal of youth, ere this, is come 
 Back, and with whitethorn laden home : 
 Some have dispatch'd their cakes and cream, 
 Before that we have left to dream ; 
 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 kiss, both odd and even ; 
 Many a glance too has been sent 
 From out the eye, love's firmament; 
 Many a jest told of the keys betraying 
 This night, and locks pick'd; yet we're not a Maying! 
 
 Come, let us go, while we are in our prime, 
 And take the harmless folly of the time: 
 
 We shall grow old apace, and die 
 
 Before we know our liberty : 
 
 Our life is short, and our days run 
 
 As fast away as does the sun : 
 And, as a vapour, or a drop of rain 
 Once lost, can ne'er be found again; 
 
 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 endless night.* 
 Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying. 
 Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying ! 
 
 * This concluding stanza is in the same spirit with Cn- 
 tullus'3 fifth Carmen.
 
 ■16 
 
 lAK. 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWIXT HORACE AND LYDlA, 
 
 TRANSLATED, ANNO 1627, 
 
 AND SET BY MR. RO. RAMSEY. 
 
 Hor. While, Lydia, I was lov'd of thee, 
 Nor any was preferr'd 'fore me 
 To hug thy whitest neck ; than I 
 The Persian king liv'd not more happily. 
 
 Lji:^. While thou no other didst affeft. 
 Nor Chloe was of more respeft ; 
 Then Lydia, far-fam'd Lydia, 
 I flouriah'd more than Roman Ilia. 
 
 Hor, Now Thracian Chloe governs me, 
 Skilful i'th' harp, and melody; 
 For whose affedion, Lydia, I, 
 So fate spares her, am well content to die. 
 
 Lyd. My heart now set on fire is 
 
 By Ornith's son, young Calais ; 
 For whose commutual flames here I, 
 To save his life, twice am content to die. 
 
 Hor. Say, our first loves we should revoke; 
 And, scvcr'd, join in brazen yoke ; 
 Admit I Chloe put away. 
 And love again love-cast-oflf Lydia ! 
 
 Poem IJX.| Dr. Drake supposes that the present may 
 have been the tirst attempt made, in our language, to natu- 
 ralize this celebrated ninth ode of Horace's third Book ; but 
 I much doubt it. The original beauty of the composition 
 must have tempted the pen of many a translator long be- 
 fore the days of Herrick ; and many a version of this ode 
 may now lie unnoticed among the latent treasures of Iite= 
 rature,
 
 47 
 
 Ljd. Though mine be brighter than the star; 
 Thou lighter than the cork by far, 
 Rough as th' Adriatic sea ; yet I 
 Will live with thee, or else for thee will die. 
 
 THE CAPTIVED BEE, OR, THE LITTLE FILCHER. 
 
 As Julia once a slurab'ring lay, 
 It chanc'd a bee did fly that way, 
 After a dew, or dew-like show'r. 
 To tipple freely in a fiow'r. 
 For some rich flow'r he took the lip 
 Of Julia, and began to sip ; 
 But when he felt he suck'd from thence 
 Honey, and in the quintessence ; 
 He drank so much he scarce could stir; 
 So Julia took the pilferer : 
 And thus surprised, as filchers use. 
 He thus began himself t'excuse : 
 Sweet lady.flow'r ! I never brought 
 Hither the least one thieving thought; 
 But taking those rare lips of your's 
 For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flow'rs ; 
 I thought I might there take a taste. 
 Where so much syrup ran at waste : 
 *Besides, know this, I never sting 
 
 Poem LX^ In this, perhaps more than in any other 
 producSlion, Herrick may be pronounced truly Anacreontic. 
 
 Drake. 
 *One would almost imagine that Herrick here had in view 
 the caution, which Secundus gives the bee, in his Basia ; 
 and that the little inscdt attended to it. 
 
 Htii ! n»n et stimulis compungite molle lahelhtm ; 
 
 Ex oiulis stimulus ■viLrat et ilia pareis. 
 Creditc non ullum patictur -vulnus inultum : 
 Leniter innocUiC mclla legatis apes. 
 
 Jo.\N. Sec. Basium 19.
 
 48 
 
 The floxv'r that gives me nourishing ; 
 But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay 
 For honey that I bear away. 
 This said, he laid his little scrip 
 Of honey 'fore her ladyship ; 
 And told her, as some tears did fall, 
 That, that he took, and that was all. 
 At which she smil'd ; and bade him go 
 And take his bag ; but thus much know, 
 When next he came a pilf 'ring so. 
 He should from her full lips derive 
 Honey enough to fill hisrhive. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 AN ODE TO MASTER ENDYMION PORTER, 
 UPON HIS brother's DEATH. 
 
 Not all thy flushing suns are set, 
 
 Herrick, as yet ; 
 Nor doth this far-drawn hemisphere 
 Frown, and look sullen ev'ry-where. 
 Days may conclude in nights; and suns may rest,^ 
 
 As dead, within the west ; 
 Yet the next morn re-gild 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 loom of life undone : 
 
 * Here we have a beautiful amplification of the three 
 following lines from Catullus: 
 
 Holes occ'idertf et redire pOisunt ; 
 J^obis, cum stmel occldit brevis Inx, 
 Nox tst perfdua una dormienda. 
 
 Catul. Carm. 5.
 
 49 
 
 The staff, the elm, the prop, the shelt'ring wall 
 
 Whereon my vine did crawl, 
 Now, now blown down, needs must the old stock 
 fall. 
 
 Yet, Porter, while thou keep'st alive, 
 
 In death I thrive ; 
 And, like a phoenix, re-aspire 
 From out my nard, and fun'ral fire : 
 And, as I prune my feather'd youth, so I 
 Do marv'l how I could die. 
 When I had thee, my chief preserver, by. 
 
 I'm up, I'm up, and bless that hand. 
 Which makes me stand 
 Now as I do ; and but for thee, 
 I must confess, I could not be. 
 The debt is paid ; for he, who doth resign 
 Thanks to the gen'rous vine. 
 Invites fresh grapes to fill his press with wine. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 TO CHERRY BLOSSOMS. 
 
 Ye may simper, blush, and smile. 
 And perfume the air awhile ; 
 But, sweet things, ye must be gone ; 
 Fruit, ye know, is coming on. 
 Then, ah then, where is your grace, 
 When as cherries come in place ? 
 
 E 2
 
 So 
 
 LXIH. 
 TO PANSIES. 
 
 Ah, cruel love, must I endure 
 Thy many scorns, and find no cure ? 
 Say, are thy mcd'cines made to be 
 Helps to all others but to me ? 
 I'll leave thee, and to pansies come ; 
 Comforts you'll afford me some : 
 You can ease my heart, and do 
 What love could ne'er be brought unto. 
 
 LXIV. 
 ON GILLYFLOWERS BEGOTTEN. 
 
 What was't that fell but now 
 From that warm kiss of ours ? 
 
 Look, look, by love, I vow 
 They were two gillyflow'rs ! 
 
 Let's kiss, and kiss again ; 
 
 For if so be our closes 
 Make gillyflowers, then 
 
 I'm sure they'll fashion roses.
 
 51 
 
 J LXV. 
 THE LILY IN A CRYSTAL. 
 
 You have beheld a smiling rose, 
 
 When virgins' hands have drawn 
 O'er it a cobweb lawn ; 
 
 And here, you see, this lily show*, 
 Tomb'd in a crystal stone, 
 
 More fair in this transparent case, 
 Than when it grew alone, 
 And had but single grace. 
 
 You see how cream but naked is ; 
 
 Nor dances in the eye 
 
 Without a strawberry. 
 Or some fine tindure like to this, 
 
 Which draws the sight thereto 
 More by that wantoning with it, 
 
 Than when the paler hue 
 
 No mixture did admit. 
 
 You see how amber through the streams 
 More gently strokes the sight. 
 With some conceal'd delight. 
 
 Than when he darts his radiant beams 
 Into the boundless air; 
 
 Where either too much light his worth 
 Doth all at once impair, 
 Or set it little forth. 
 
 Poem LXV-] The fashionable fair of Herrick's day, as 
 well as of the present, it would seem, sometimes made too 
 free a display of their charms; for which they are admo- 
 nished in this apt, and elegant chain of similitudes. 
 
 1)3
 
 52 
 
 Put purple grapes or cherries in 
 To glass, and they will send 
 More beauty to commend 
 
 Them, from that clean and subtile skin, 
 Than if they naked stood, 
 
 And had no other pride at all 
 
 But their own flesh and blood. 
 And tindtures natural. 
 
 Thus lily, rose, grape, cherry, cream, 
 
 And strawberry do stir 
 
 More love, when they transfer 
 A weak, a soft, a broken beam. 
 
 Than if they should discover 
 At full their proper excellence, 
 
 Without some scene cast over. 
 
 To juggle with the sense. 
 
 Thus let this crystal lily be 
 
 A rule, how far to teach 
 
 Your nakedness must reach ; 
 And that, no further than we see 
 
 Those glaring colours laid 
 By art's wise hand; but to this end 
 
 They should obey a shade. 
 
 Lest they too far extend. 
 
 So though y'are white as swan or snow, 
 And have the pow'r to move 
 A world of men to love ; 
 
 Yet when your lawns and silks shall flow,
 
 53 
 
 And that white cloud divide 
 Into a doubtful twilight; then, 
 Then will your hidden pride 
 Raise greater fires in men. 
 
 ; LXVI. 
 
 THE WELCOME TO SACK. 
 
 So soft streams meet, so springs with gladder 
 smiles 
 Meet after long divorcement by the isles ; 
 When Love, the child of likeness, urgcth on 
 Their crystal natures to an union : 
 So meet stol'n kisses, when the moony nights 
 Call forth fierce lovers to their wish'd delights; 
 As I meet thee. — Soul of my life and fame ! 
 Eternal lamp of love, whose radiant flame 
 
 Poem LXVI.J Our poet seems to have been gifted with 
 no small portion of the conviviality, and propensity of that 
 bon-vivant, FalstafF. His relish for sack he records him- 
 self in pretty marked charad1:ers, as the reader may per^ 
 ceive : whether, like the facetious knight, he flavoured it 
 with sugar, the legend does not inform us. In the first 
 poem of that rare little book, Musarum DelicU ; or tie 
 Muses' Recreatinn, by Sir John Mennis, and Dr. James 
 Smith, 16j6, which poem by the way is addressed to Mr. 
 John Wicks, or Weeks, the friend of Herrick, his partia- 
 lity for this liquor is again mentioned : 
 
 Ships lately from the islands came 
 
 With wines, thou never heard'st their name, 
 
 Montefiasco, Frontiniac, 
 
 Vernaccio, and that old Sack 
 
 Young Herrick took, to entertain 
 
 The Muses in a sprightly vein. 
 At one time the bard appears to have quarrelled with his 
 favourite beverage, and writes a sportive piece on the occa- 
 sion ,entitled. His Farewell to Sad, which is rather inferi- 
 or; to this he alludes in the thirty-ninth verse of this poem, 
 which has some unnecessary, and rather objecftionable lines, 
 rendering it tedious ; they are therefore here omitted.
 
 54. 
 
 Outglares the heaven's *Osiris ; and thy gleams 
 
 Outshine the splendour of the midday beams ! 
 
 Welcome, O welcome, my illustrious spouse ! 
 
 Welcome as are the ends unto my vows ! 
 
 Aye, far more welcome than the happy soil 
 
 The sea-scourg'd merchant, after all his toil, 
 
 Salutes with tears of joy, when fires betray 
 
 The smoky chimnies of his Ithaca! 
 
 Where hast thou been so long from my embraces, 
 
 Poor pitied exile ? Tell me ; did thy graces 
 
 Fly discontented hence, and for a time 
 
 Did rather choose to bless another clime ? 
 
 Or went'st thou to this end the more to move me, 
 
 By thy short absence, to desire and love thee ? 
 
 Why frowns my sweet? Why wont miy saint 
 
 confer 
 Favours on me, her fierce idolater ? 
 Why are those looks, those looks the which have 
 
 been 
 Time past so fragrant, sickly now drawn i-n, 
 Like a dull twilight ? Tell me; and the fault 
 I'll expiate with sulphur, hair, and salt ; 
 And with the crystal humour of the spring 
 Purge hence the guilt, and kill this quarrelling. 
 Wilt thou not smile, or tell me what's amiss ? 
 Have I been cold to hug thee; too remiss. 
 Too temp'rate in embracing? Tell me; has desire 
 To thee-ward died in th' embers, and no fiie 
 Left in this rak'd-up ash-heap, as a mark 
 To testify the glov/ing of a spark ? 
 Have I divorc'd thee only to combine 
 In hot adult'ry with another virine ? 
 
 * The sun.
 
 6S 
 
 True, I confess I left thee ; and appeal 
 'Twas done by me, more to confirm my zeal, 
 And double my affedtion on thee ; as do those, 
 Whose love grows more inflam'd by being foes ; 
 But to forsake thee ever ! could there be 
 A thought of such like possibility, 
 When thou thyself dar'st say, thy isles shall lack 
 Grapes, before Herrick leaves canary sack ? 
 Thou mak'st me airy, aftive to be born. 
 Like Iphyclus, upon the tops of corn : 
 Thou mak'st me nimble as the winged Hours, 
 To dance and caper on the heads of flow'rs, 
 And ride the sunbeams. Can there be a thing 
 Under the heav'nly *Isis, that can bring 
 More love unto my life, or can present 
 My genius with a fuller blandishment ? 
 Illustrious idol ! could th' Egyptians seek 
 Help from the garlick, onion, and the leek ; 
 And pay no vows to thee, who wast their best 
 God, and far moie transcendent than the rest? 
 Had Cassius, that weak water-drinker, known 
 Thee in thy vine, or had but tasted one 
 Small chalice of thy frantick liquor ; he, 
 As the wise Cato, had approv'd of thee. 
 
 And till I turn apostate to thy love. 
 Which here I vow to serve, do not remove 
 Thy fires from me ; but Apollo's curse 
 Blast these like aftions, or a thing that's worse ; 
 When these circumstants shall but live to see 
 The time, that I prevaricate from thee ! 
 
 * The moon.
 
 66 
 
 Call me " the son of beer;" and then confine 
 Me to the tap, the toast, the turf ! Let wine 
 Ne'er shine upon me ! May my numbers all 
 Run to a sudden death, and funeral ! 
 And last when thee, dear spouse, I disavow ; 
 Ne'er may prophetick Daphne crown my brow ! 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 IMPOSSIBILITIES." 
 TO HIS FRIEND. 
 
 My faithful friend, if you can see 
 The fruit to grow up, or the tree ; 
 If you can see the colour come 
 Into the blushing pear, or plumb ; 
 If you can see the Avater grow 
 To cakes of ice, or flakes of snow ; 
 If you can see that drop of rain. 
 Lost in the wild sea, once again ; 
 If you can see how dreams do creep 
 Into the brain by easy sleep ; 
 Then there is hope that you may see 
 Her love me once, who now hates me. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 TO LIVE MERRILY, AND TO TRUST TO GOOD 
 VERSES. 
 
 Now is the time for mirth; 
 
 Nor cheek, nor tongue be dumb ; 
 For with the flow'ry earth 
 
 The golden pomp is come.
 
 57 
 
 The golden pomp is come ; 
 
 For now each tree does wear, 
 Made of her pap and gum. 
 
 Rich beads of amber here. 
 
 Now reigns the rose; and now 
 Th' Arabian dew besmears 
 
 My uncontrouled brow, 
 And my retorted hairs. 
 
 Homer, this health to thee 
 
 In sack of such a kind. 
 That it would make thee see. 
 
 Though thou wert ne'er so blind. 
 
 Next Virgil I'll call forth, 
 To pledge this second health 
 
 In wine, whose each cup's worth 
 An Indian commonwealth. 
 
 A goblet next I'll drink 
 
 To Ovid ; and suppose, 
 Made he the pledge, he'd think 
 
 The world had all one nose.* 
 
 Then this immensive cup 
 
 Of aromatic wine, 
 Catullus, I quaff up 
 
 To that terse muse of thine. 
 
 Wild I am now with heat : 
 O Bacchus ! cool thy rays ; 
 
 Or, frantic, I shall eat 
 Thy thyrse, and bite the bays. 
 
 * Alluding to Ovid's eognomcn, or surname.
 
 58 
 
 Round, round the roof does run ; 
 
 And, being ravish 'd thus, 
 Come, I will drink a tun 
 
 To my Propertius. 
 
 Now to Tibullus next : 
 This flood I drink to thee ; 
 
 But stay, I see a text 
 That this presents to me. 
 
 Behold, Tibullus lies 
 
 Here burnt, whose small return 
 Of ashes scarce suffice 
 
 To fill a little urn ! 
 
 Trust to good verses then ; 
 
 They only will aspire. 
 When pyramids, as men, 
 
 Are lost in th' funeral fire. 
 
 And when all bodies meet. 
 In Lethe to be drown'd ; 
 
 Then only numbers sweet 
 With endless life are crown'd. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 LIPS TONGUELESS. 
 
 For my part, I never care 
 For those lips, that tonguetied are ; 
 
 Poem 1,X1X.] This little jeu-d'esprit is possibly ground- 
 ed on the following lines : 
 
 Si linguam ctaiiso tenes in ore^ 
 
 FriiBus projicies amoris omne$ : 
 Vtrbosa gaudet Venus logueld . 
 
 Catux,. Carm. 52.
 
 i9 
 
 Telltales I would have them be 
 Of my mistress, and of me : 
 Let them prattle how that I 
 Sometimes freexe, and sometimes fry ; 
 Let them tell how she doth move 
 Fore, or backward in her love : 
 Let them speak by gentle tones 
 One, and th'othcr's passions; 
 How we watch, and seldom sleep ; 
 How by willows we do weep ; 
 How by stealth we meet, and then 
 Kiss, and sigh, so pai't again : 
 This the lips we will permit 
 For to tell, not publish it. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 TO VIOLETS. 
 
 Welcome, maids of honour. 
 
 You do bring 
 
 In the spring. 
 And wait upon her. 
 
 She has virgins many, 
 
 Fresh and fair ; 
 
 Yet you are 
 More sweet than any. 
 
 Ye are maiden posies. 
 
 And so grac'd, 
 
 To be plac'd 
 'Fore damask roses.
 
 60 
 
 Yet, though thus respeded, 
 
 By and by 
 
 Ye do lie, 
 Poor girls, negledled. 
 
 , LXXI. 
 
 TO CxiRNATlONS. 
 A SONG. 
 
 Stay while ye will, or go ; 
 
 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 wear, 
 Play ye at hide or seek, 
 
 I'm sure to find ye there. 
 
 ; LXXII. 
 
 TO THE VIRGINS, 
 TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME. 
 
 Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, 
 Old Time is still a flying ; 
 
 Poem LXXU.] This is perhaps the sweetest of our 
 poet's lyrick effusions; to point it out to the reader of taste 
 as such were unnecessary. It may however be observed, 
 that the beginning of it has furnished words to one of the 
 most delightful glees our elegant composer Hook ever pro- 
 duced. The excellence of Herrick in this species of versi- 
 fication is alluded to, in a quaint satire called, Nafs on 
 Parnassus, l^c. 1G58. 
 
 Flaccus Horace, 
 He was but a sour-ass, 
 And good for nothing but Lyrick ; 
 There's but one to be found 
 In all English ground 
 Writes as well ;— who is higbt Robert Herrici.
 
 61 
 
 And this same flovv'r, that smiles to-day, 
 To-morrow will be dying. 
 
 The glorious lamp of heav'n, the sun, 
 
 The higher he's a getting; 
 The sooner will his race be run. 
 
 And nearer he's to setting. 
 
 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, go marry : 
 For, having lost but once your prime, 
 
 You may for ever tarry. 
 
 LXXIIl. 
 
 TO THE LARK. 
 
 Good speed, for I this day 
 Betimes my mattins say ; 
 Because I do 
 Begin to woo; 
 Sweet singing lark. 
 Be thou the clerk. 
 And know thy when 
 To say, amen : 
 And, if I prove 
 Blest in my love ; 
 Then thou shalt be 
 High-priest to me,
 
 62 
 
 At my return. 
 
 To incense burn ; 
 Anci so to solemnize 
 Love's, and my sacrifice. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 A MEDITATION FOR HIS MISTRESS. 
 
 You are a tulip seen to-day ; 
 But, dearest, of so short a stay, 
 That where you grew scarce man can say. 
 
 You are a lovely July-flow'r ; 
 
 Yet one rude wind, or ruffling show'r 
 
 Will force you hence, and in an hour. 
 
 You are a sparkling rose in th' bud ; 
 Yet lost, ere that chaste flesh and blood 
 Can shew where you or grew, or stood. 
 
 You are a full-spread, fair-set vine, 
 And can with tendrils love entwine ; 
 Yet dried, ere you distil your wine. 
 
 You are like balm inclosed well 
 In amber, or some crystal shell ; 
 Yet lost ere you transfuse your smell. 
 
 You are a dainty violet; 
 
 Yet wither'd, ere you can be set 
 
 Within the virgin's coronet. 
 
 You are the queen all flow'rs among; 
 But die yon must, fair maid, ere long, 
 As he, the maker of this song.
 
 6 
 
 o. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 THE BLEEDING HAND; OR, THE SPRIG OF 
 EGLANTINE GIVEN TO A MAID. 
 
 From this bleeding hand of mine 
 Take this sprig of eglantine j 
 Which, though sweet unto your smell, 
 Yet the fretful biiar will tell, 
 He who plucks the sweets shall prove 
 Many thorns to be in love. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 THE FAIRY TEMPLE ; OR, OBEROn's CHAPEL. 
 
 DEDICATED TO MR. JOHN MERRIFIELD, 
 
 COUNSELLOR AT LAW. 
 
 Rare temples thou hast seen, I know, 
 And rich for in and outward show: 
 Survey this chapel, built alone. 
 Without or lime, or wood, or stone; 
 Then say, if thou hast seen more fine 
 Than this, the fairies' once, now thine. 
 
 A way enchas'd with glass and beads 
 There is, that to the chapel leads ; 
 Whose structure, for his holy rest. 
 Is here the halcyon's curious nest; 
 Into the which who looks shall see 
 His temple of idolatry, 
 Where he of godheads has such store, 
 As Rome's Pantheon had not more. 
 
 Poem LXXVI.] Our poet seems more particularly to 
 have delighted in drawing tlie manner, and costume of the 
 fairy world. He has devoted several of his most elaborate 
 poems to these sportive creations of fancy, in which a vari- 
 ety of curious, and minute imagery is appositely introduced. 
 
 Dr.ikk.
 
 64 
 
 His house of Rimmon* this he calls, 
 Girt with small bones instead of walls ; 
 First, in a niche more black than jet 
 His idol cricket there is set ; 
 Then, in a polish'd oval by- 
 There stands his idol beetle-fly : 
 Next, in an arch akin to this 
 His idol canker seated is ; 
 Then, in a round is plac'd by these 
 His golden god cantharides : 
 So that where'er ye look, ye see 
 No capital, no cornice free, 
 Or frieze, from this fine frippery. 
 Now this the fairies would have known, 
 Their's is a mix'd religion; 
 And some have heard the elves it call 
 Part pagan, part papistical. 
 If unto me all tongues were granted, 
 1 could not speak the saints here painted ; 
 Saint Tit, saint Nit, saint Is, saint Itis, 
 Who against Mab's state plac'd here right is ; 
 Saint Will-o'-th'-wisp, of no great bigness, 
 But alias call'd here Fatuus ignis; 
 Saint Frip, saint Trip, saint fill, saint Filly ; 
 Neither those other saintships will I 
 Here go about for to recite, 
 Their number almost infinite ; 
 Which one by one here set down are 
 In this most curious calendar. 
 First, at the entrance of the gate, 
 A little puppet-priest doth wait, 
 
 * A Hebrew word signifying a pomegranate, and was an 
 idol mentioned in scripture. Kings ii. ch, 5. ver. 18.
 
 65 
 
 Who squeaks to all the comers there, 
 *' Favour your tongues, who enter here; 
 ** Pure hands bring hither without stain :" 
 A second pules, " hence, hence, profane !" 
 Hard by i'the shell of half a nut 
 The holy water there is put ; 
 A little brush of squirrel's hairs, 
 Compos'd of odd, not even pairs, 
 Stands in the platter, or close by, 
 To purge the fairy family. 
 Near to the altar stands the priest. 
 There ofF'ring up the holy grist, 
 Ducking in mood, and perfedl tense, 
 With, much good do't him, reverence. 
 The altar is not here foursquare. 
 Nor in a form triangular ; 
 Nor made of glass, or wood, or stone. 
 But of a little transverse bone. 
 Which boys, and bruckled* children call. 
 Playing for points and pins, cockall ; 
 Whose linen drap'ry is a thin. 
 Subtile, and dudile codling's skin ; 
 Which o'er the board is smoothly spread. 
 With little seal-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 feateous board doth stand 
 Something for showbread ; and at hand, 
 Just in the middle of the altar. 
 Upon an end, the fairy psalter, 
 
 * Dirty, a north.country wotiX, 
 s 2
 
 66 
 
 Grac'd with the trout-fly's curious wings. 
 
 Which serve for watchet ribandings. * 
 
 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 do j 
 
 Aye, and their book of canons too j 
 
 And, as Sir Thomas Parson tells. 
 
 They have their book of articles ; 
 
 And, if that fairy knight not lies. 
 
 They have their book of homilies. 
 
 And other scriptures, that design 
 
 A short, but righteous discipline. 
 
 The bason stands the board upon, 
 
 To take the free oblation ; 
 
 A little pindust, which they hold 
 
 More precious, than we prize our gold ; 
 
 Which charity they give to many 
 
 Poor of the parish, if there's any. 
 
 Upon the ends of these neat rails, 
 
 Hatch'd with the silver light of snails, 
 
 The elves, in formal manner, fix 
 
 Two pure and holy candlesticks ; 
 
 In either which a small tall bent 
 
 Bums, for the altar's ornament. 
 
 For sandlity, they have to these 
 
 Their curious copes, and surplices 
 
 Of cleanest cobweb, hanging by 
 
 In their religious vestry. 
 
 They have their ash-pans, and their brooms, 
 
 To purge the chapel, and the rooms ; 
 
 Their many mumbling mass-priests here. 
 
 And many a dapper chorister;
 
 67 
 
 Their ush'ring vergers here likewise, 
 
 Their canons, and their chanteries ; 
 
 Of cloister monks they have enow. 
 
 Aye, and their abbey lubbers too; 
 
 And, if their legend do not lye. 
 
 They much affecft the papacy ; 
 
 And, since the last is dead, there's hope 
 
 Elf Boniface shall next be pope. 
 
 They have their cups, and chalices; 
 
 Their pardons, and indulgencies; 
 
 Their beads of nits, bells, books, and wax 
 
 Candles, forsooth, and other knacks; 
 
 Their holy oil, their fasting spittle. 
 
 Their sacred salt here not a little ; 
 
 Dry chips, old shoes, rags, grease, and bones, 
 
 Beside their fumigations ; 
 
 Many a trifle too, and trinket, 
 
 And for what use scarce man would think it. 
 
 Next then, upon the chanter's side 
 
 An apple-core is hung up dry'd. 
 
 With rattling kernels, which is rung 
 
 To call to morn and evensong. 
 
 The saint to which the most he prays, 
 
 And offers incense nights and days, 
 
 The lady of the lobster is, 
 
 Whose footpace he doth stroke and kiss, 
 
 And humbly chives of saffron brings 
 
 For his most cheerful offerings ; 
 
 When, after these, he's paid his vows. 
 
 He lowly to the altar bows ; 
 
 And then he dons the silkworm's shed, 
 
 Like a Turk's turban on his head. 
 
 And rev'rently departeth thence, 
 
 Hid in a cloud of frankincense ; 
 
 F 3
 
 68 
 
 And, by the glowworm's light well guided, 
 Goes to the feast that's now provided. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 THE PLAUDITE, OR END OF LIFE. 
 
 If, after rude and boist'rous seas, 
 My weary'd pinnace here finds ease; 
 If so it be, I've gain'd the shore, 
 With safety of a faithful oar ; 
 If, having run my bark on ground, 
 Ye see the aged vessel crown'd ; 
 What's to be done, but on the sands 
 Ye dance, and sing, and now clap hands ? 
 The first afl's doubtful ; but we say. 
 It is the last commends the play. 
 
 _l LXXVlir. 
 
 TO MUSICK TO BECALM HIS FEVER. 
 
 Charm me asleep, and melt me so 
 
 With thy delicious numbers ; 
 That, being ravish'd, hence I go 
 Away in easy slumbers ! 
 Ease my sick head. 
 And make my bed, 
 Thou pow'r, that can'st sever 
 From me this ill ; 
 And quickly still. 
 Though thou not kill. 
 My fever ! 
 
 Poem l,XXVn.] These lines have an evident reference 
 to the Pbasclus of Catullus, or fifth Carmen
 
 6.9 
 
 Thou sweetly can'st convert the same, 
 
 From a consuming fire. 
 Into a gentle-liking flame ; 
 And make it thus expire : 
 Then make me weep 
 My pains asleep, 
 And give me such reposes, 
 That I, poor I, 
 May think, thereby, 
 I live and die 
 
 'Mongst roses ! 
 
 Fall on me like a silent dew. 
 
 Or like those maiden show'rs, 
 Which, by the peep of day, do strew 
 A baptism o'er the flow'rs ! 
 Melt, melt my pains 
 With thy soft strains ; 
 That, having ease me given, 
 With full delight 
 I leave this light. 
 And take my flight 
 For heaven ! 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 UPON CUPID. 
 
 As lately I a garland bound 
 'Mongst roses, I there Cupid found ; 
 I took him, put him in my cup, 
 And, drunk with wine, I drank him up : 
 Hence then it is, that my poor breast 
 Could never since find any rest. 
 
 Poem LXXIX.J We are reminded by this little poem 
 oi that beautifnl old catch : 
 
 Care thou canker of our joys, &c.
 
 70 
 
 I 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 THE CHANGES. 
 TO CORINNA. 
 
 Be not proud, but now incline 
 Your soft car to discipline. 
 You have changes in your life. 
 Sometimes peace, and sometimes strife ; 
 You have ebbs of face, and flows. 
 As your health or comes, or goes j 
 You have hopes, and doubts, and fears 
 Numberless, as are your hairs ; 
 You have pulses that do beat 
 High, and passions less of heat ; 
 You are young, but must be old; 
 And, to these, ye must be told. 
 Time, ere long, will come and plough 
 Loathed furrows in your brow ; 
 And the dimness of your eye 
 Will no other thing imply ; 
 
 But you must die, 
 
 As well as I. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 TO THE ROSE. 
 SONG. 
 
 Go, happy rose, and interwove 
 With other flowers, bind my love ; 
 Tell her too, she must not be 
 Longer flowing, longer free. 
 That so oft has fetter'd me.
 
 71 
 
 Say, if she's fretful, I have bands. 
 
 Of pearl, and gold, to bind her hands ; 
 Tell her, if she struggle still, 
 I have myrtle rods at will 
 For to tame, though not to kill. 
 
 Take thou my blessing thus, and go 
 And tell her this, but do not so; 
 Lest a handsome anger fly 
 Like a lightning from her eye. 
 And burn thee up as well as L 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 HIS RECANTATION. 
 
 Love, I recant, 
 And pardon crave 
 That lately I offended ; 
 But 'twas, 
 Alas! 
 To make a brave. 
 But no disdain intended. 
 
 No more I'll vaunt ; 
 For now I see. 
 Thou only hast the pow'r 
 To find. 
 And bind 
 A heart that's free, 
 And slave it in an hour*
 
 72 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 THE HOCK-CART, OR HARVEST-HOME. 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MILDMAY, EARL 
 
 OF WESTMORLAND. 
 
 Come, sons of summer ; by whose toil 
 We are the lords of wine, and oil ; 
 By whose tough labours, and rough hands, 
 We rip up first, then reap our lands : 
 Crown'd with the ears of corn, 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 malkin ; there a sheet 
 As spotless, pure, as it is sweet ; 
 The horses, mares, and frisking fillies, 
 Chid all in linen white as lilies : 
 The harvest swains, and wenches bound ' 
 For joy, to see the hock-cart crown'd; 
 About the cart, hear, how the rout 
 Of rural younglings raise the shout, 
 
 Poem LXXXIH.J The nobleman to whom this poem 
 is addressed was Fane, the second earl of Westmorland. 
 He married Grace, daughter of Sir William Thorneyhurst, 
 Knt. of Kent; and again married Mary, daughter of Ho- 
 race lord Vere of Tilbury, and widow of Sir Roger Towns- 
 hend, Knt. of Raynham, Norfolk. 
 
 The Hock-cart means the rejoicing cart, or that which 
 brings home the last load of corn, terminating the harvest. 
 Hock-tide, or Heag-tide, signifying High-tide, the height 
 or noon of merrimerit (from beag or hcah, Saxon, high) was 
 a festivity annually observed by the English, in commemo- 
 ration of the death of Hardicanute in 1042, which delivered 
 them from the Danish yoke. All landlords were used to 
 receive from their tenants annually a certain fine called 
 Hock-Tuesday-money, for allowing them to keep this holi- 
 day, which took place on the Tuesday after Easter week. 
 It answers to the Fugalia of the Romans, feasts celebrating 
 the expulsion of their kings.
 
 13 
 
 Pressing before, some coming after, 
 
 Those with a shout, and these with laughter: 
 
 Some bless the cart, some kiss the sheaves, 
 
 Some prank them up with oaken leaves ; 
 
 Some cross the thill-horse, some with great 
 
 Devotion stroke the home-borne wheat ; 
 
 While other rusticks, less attent 
 
 To prayers than to merriment. 
 
 Run after with their breeches rent. 
 
 Well, on, brave boys, to your lord's hearth, 
 
 Glitt'ring with fire ; where, for your mirth, 
 
 Ye shall see first the large and chief 
 
 Foundation of your feast, fat beef ; 
 
 With upper stories, mutton, veal. 
 
 And bacon, which makes full the meal ; 
 
 With sev'ral dishes standing by, 
 
 As here a custard, there a pie. 
 
 And here all tempting frumenty : 
 
 And, for to make the merry cheer, 
 
 If smirking wine be wanting here. 
 
 There's that which drowns all care, stout beer ; 
 
 Which freely drink to your lord's health. 
 
 Then to the plough the commonwealth ; 
 
 Next to your flails, your fanes, your fats, 
 
 Then to the maids with wheaten hats. 
 
 To the rough sickle, and crook'd sithe. 
 
 Drink, frolick boys, till all be blithe : 
 
 Feed, and grow fat ; and, as ye eat, 
 
 Be mindful that the lab'ring neat. 
 
 As you, may have their fill of meat : 
 
 And know, besides, ye must revoke 
 
 The patient ox unto the yoke ; 
 
 And all go back unto the plough 
 
 And harrow, though they're hang'd up now :
 
 74 
 
 And, ye must know your lord's word's true, 
 *' Feed him ye must, whose food fills you :" 
 And that this pleasure is like rain. 
 Not sent ye for to drown your pain, 
 But for to make it spring again. 
 
 V / LXXXIV. 
 
 NOT TO LOVE. 
 
 He that will not love must be 
 My scholar, and learn this of me: 
 There be in love as many fears 
 As the summer's corn has ears; 
 Sighs, and sobs, and sorrows more 
 Than the sand that makes the shore ; 
 Freezing cold, and fiery heats. 
 Fainting swoons, and deadly sweats; 
 Now an ague, then a fever. 
 Both tormenting lovers ever. 
 Would'st thou know, besides all these, 
 How hard a woman 'tis to please ; 
 How cross, how sullen, and how soon 
 She shifts, and changes like the moon ; 
 How false, how hollo vir she's in heart; 
 And how she is her own least part ; 
 How high she's priz'd, and worth but small; 
 Little thou'lt love, or not at all. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 TO THE WESTERN WIND. 
 
 Sweet western wind, whose luck it is. 
 
 Made rival with the air. 
 To give Perenna's lip a kiss. 
 
 And fan her wanton hair.
 
 75 
 
 Bring me but one; I'll promise thee, 
 
 Instead of common show'rs, 
 Thy wings shall be cmbalm'd by me, 
 
 And all beset with flow'rs. 
 
 LXXXVl. 
 
 UPON THE DEATH OF HI3 SPARROVT. 
 AN ELEGY. 
 
 Why do not all fresh maids appear 
 To work love's sampler only here. 
 Where spring-time smiles throughout the year ? 
 Are not here rose-buds, pinks, all flow'rs 
 Nature begets by th' sun and show'rs, 
 Met in one herse-cloth, to o'erspread 
 The body of the under-dead ? 
 Phil, the late dead, the late dead dear ! 
 O, may no eye distil a tear, 
 For you once lost, who weep not here ! 
 Had Lesbia, too, too kind, but known 
 This sparrow, she had scorn'd her own; 
 And for this dead, which under lies. 
 Wept out her heart, as well as eyes. 
 But endless peace sit here, and keep 
 My Phil, the time he has to sleep ; 
 And thousand virgins come and weep. 
 To make these flow'ry carpets show 
 Fresh as their blood, and ever grow, 
 Till passengers shall spend their doom; 
 Not Virgil's gnat had such a tomb ! 
 
 Poem LXXXVI. J Catullus's celebrated little elegy on 
 the death of Lesbia's sparrow, and Virgil'n gnat, are poem* 
 too well known to every classic reader to need a commeut 
 here.
 
 76 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW. 
 
 Why do ye weep, sweet babes ? Can tears 
 Speak grief in you, 
 Who were but born 
 Just as the modest morn 
 Teem'd her refreshing dew ? 
 Alas! you have not known that show'r 
 That mars a flow'r; 
 Nor felt th' unkind 
 Breath of a blasting wind ; 
 Nor are ye worn with years ; 
 
 Or warp'd, as we, 
 Who think it strange to see 
 Such pretty flow'rs, like to orphans young, 
 To speak by tears 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 lullaby ? 
 Or that ye have not seen as yet 
 The violet ? 
 Or brought a kiss 
 From that sweetheart to this? 
 No, no; this soriow, shown 
 
 By your tears shed, 
 Would have this ledture read, 
 " That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, 
 " Conceiv'd with grief are, and with tears brought 
 « forth."
 
 77 
 
 '^ LXXXVUI. 
 TO THE WILLOW TREE. 
 
 Thou art to all lost love the best, 
 
 The only true plant found ; 
 Wherewith young men and maids distrest, 
 
 And left of love, are crown'd. 
 
 When once the lover's rose is dead, 
 
 Or laid aside forlorn; 
 Then willow garlands 'bout the head, 
 
 Bedew'd with tears, are worn. 
 
 When with negledt, the lover's bane, 
 
 Poor maids rewarded be 
 For their love lost ; their only gain 
 
 Is but a wreath from thee. 
 
 And underneath thy cooling shade. 
 
 When weary of the light, 
 The love-spent youth, and love-sick maid 
 
 Come to weep out the night. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 MRS. ELIZABETH WHEELER, 
 UNDER THE NAME OF THE LOST SHEPHERDESS. 
 
 Among the myrtles as I walk'd, 
 Love and my sighs thus intertalk'd : 
 
 Poem LXXXIX.] This elegant morceau is likewise 
 found, under the title of the Inquiry, in Carew's poems, 
 which were twice printed, the last edition in 1642, anterior 
 to Herrick's book. There was besides a modern reprint of 
 them, by T. Davies, in 17"'2. See the advertisement. Not- 
 withstanding this, 1 ani inclined to think, with Dr. Drake, 
 that the poem was written by Kerrick ; its variations from 
 the copy of Carew, he observes, bear indubitable marks of
 
 Tell me, said I, in deep distress, 
 
 Where I may find my shepherdess. 
 
 Thou fool, said Love, know'st thou not this. 
 
 In ev'ry thing that's sweet she is ? 
 
 In yon carnation go and seek, 
 
 There thou shalt find her lip and cheek; 
 
 In that eaamell'd pansy by, 
 
 There thou shalt have her curious eye; 
 
 In bloom of peach, and rose's bud, 
 
 There waves the streamer of her blood. 
 
 'Tis true, said I; and thereupon 
 
 I went to pluck them one by one, 
 
 its being the original. Besides, it is improbable that Herrick, 
 who superintended, and arranged his own produdlions, and 
 who must have been familiar with the volume of his ingeni- 
 ous rival, would have republished this piece as his own, if he 
 had not possessed a prior claim to it. But I will give the poem 
 05 it stands in Carew, that the reader may judge for himself 
 
 Amongst the myrtles as I walk'd, 
 Love and my sighs thus intertalk'd : 
 Tell me, said I, in deep distress. 
 Where may I find my shepherdess ? 
 Thou fool, said Love, know'st thou not this. 
 In ev'ry thing that's good she is ? 
 in yonder tulip go and seek. 
 There thou maystfind her lip, her cheek; 
 In yon enamell'd pansy by, 
 There thou shalt have her curious eye; 
 In bloom of peach, in rosy bud, 
 There wave the streamers of her blood; 
 In brightest lilies that there stand. 
 The emblems of her whiter hand; 
 In yonder rising hill there smell 
 Such sweets as in her bosom dwelL 
 'Tis true, said I; and thereupon 
 I went to pluck them one by one, 
 'I'o make of parts a union; 
 But on a sudden all was gone : 
 With that I stopt ; said Love, these be, 
 Pond man, resemblances of thee ; 
 And, as these flow'rs, thy joys shall die, 
 E'en in the twinkling of an eye : 
 And all thy hopes of her shall wither, 
 Like these short sweets thus knit together.
 
 79 
 
 To make of parts an union ; 
 
 But on a sudden all were gone : 
 
 At which I stopp'd. Said Love, these be 
 
 The true resemblances of thee ; 
 
 For, as these flow'rs, thy joys must die, 
 
 And in the turning of an eye ; 
 
 And all thy hopes of her must wither. 
 
 Like those short sweets ere knit together. 
 
 XC. 
 
 THE poet's good WISHES 
 FOR THE MOST HOPEFUL AND HANDSOME PRINCE, 
 THE DUKE OF YORK.* 
 
 May his pretty Dukeship grow 
 Like to a rose of Jericho ; 
 Sweeter far than ever yet 
 Show'rs, or sunshines could beget ! 
 May the Graces, and the Hours 
 Strew his hopes, and him with flow'rs ; 
 And so dress him up with love. 
 As to be the chick of Jove ! 
 May the thrice-three Sisters sing 
 Him, the sov'reign of their spring; 
 And entitle none to be 
 Prince of Helicon, but he ! 
 May his soft foot, where it treads, 
 Gardens thence produce, and meads; 
 And those meadows full be set 
 With the rose, and violet 1 
 
 * Afterwards king James the second of England. These 
 lines were evidently written during our poet's first residenc e 
 at Dean Prior,
 
 80 
 
 May his ample name be known 
 To the last succession ; 
 And his aftions high be told 
 Through the world, but writ in gold ! 
 
 XCI. 
 
 TO ANTHEA, 
 WHO MAY COMMAND HIM ANY THING. 
 
 Bid me to live, and I will live 
 
 Thy protestant to be ; 
 Or bid me love, and I will give 
 
 A loving heart to thee. 
 
 A heart as soft, a heart as kind, 
 
 A heart as sound and free. 
 As in the whole world thou can'st find, 
 
 That heart I'll give to thee. 
 
 Bid that heart stay, and it will stay, 
 
 To honor thy decree ; 
 Or bid it languish quite away, 
 
 And 't shall do so for thee. 
 
 Bid me to weep, and I will weep, 
 
 While I have eyes to see ; 
 And having none, yet I will keep 
 
 A heart to weep for thee. 
 
 Bid me despair, and I'll despair. 
 Under that cypress tree j 
 
 Poem XCI.] The melody of these lines cannot, I think, 
 for the measure in which they are vsritten, be easily ex- 
 ceeded. The second, and fifth stanzas have peculiar me- 
 rit ; and the burst of passion in the last must be felt by 
 every one. Drake.
 
 81 
 
 Qr bid me die, and I will dare 
 E'en death, to die for thee. 
 
 Thou art my life, my love, my heart, 
 
 The very eyes of me ; 
 And hast command of every part, 
 
 To live and die for thee. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 TO MEADOWS. 
 
 Ye have been fresh, and green ; 
 
 Ye have been fill'd with flow'rs; 
 And ye the walks have been. 
 
 Where maids have spent their hours. 
 
 You have beheld, how they 
 With wicker arks did come. 
 
 To kiss, and bear away 
 The richer cowslips home. 
 
 You've heard them sweetly sing. 
 
 And seen them in a round j 
 Each virgin, like a spring. 
 
 With honeysuckles crown'd. 
 
 But now we see none here, 
 Whose silv'ry feet did tread, 
 
 And with dishevell'd hair 
 Adorn'd this smoother mead. 
 
 Like unthrifts, having spent 
 Your stock, and needy grown, 
 
 You're left here to lament 
 Your poor estates alone. 
 
 G a
 
 82 
 XCIII. 
 
 I CALL, AND I CALL. 
 
 I call, I call !— Who do ye call ?— 
 The maids to catch this cowslip ball : 
 But, since these cowslips fading be, 
 Troth, leave the flowers, and, maids, take me 
 Yet, if that neither you will do. 
 Speak but the word, and I'll take you. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 NUPTIAL SONG, OR EPITH ALAMIUM, 
 ON SIR *CLIPSEBY CREW AND HIS LADY. 
 
 What's that we see from far; the spring of day 
 Bloom'd from the east ; or fair injewell'd May 
 Blown out of April ; or some new 
 Star fiU'd with glory to our view. 
 Reaching at heaven, 
 To add a nobler planet to the seven ? 
 
 Say ; or do we not descry 
 Some goddess, in a cloud of tiffany 
 To move ; or rather the 
 Emergent Venus from the sea ? 
 
 * Sir Clipseby Crew, of Crew Hall, Cheshire, married 
 Jane, second daughter, and coheiress of John Pulteney,Esq. 
 of Misterton, Leicestershire. She died in 1639, and he in 
 1618, the year in which Herrick pubUshed his book. Sir 
 CHpseby was the son of Sir Randal, or Randolph Crew, 
 lord chief justice of the upper, or king's bench, serving un- 
 der two kings, James, and Charles the first, though but two 
 years in employ. He was discharged from his office, 1626; 
 and purchased Crew Hall, which became his residence. His 
 lady, Julian, daughter, and coheiress of John Clipseby, Esq. 
 of Clipseby, Northamptonshire, was gentlewoman attend- 
 ing on my Lady of Shrewsbury. She died 1023. Fuller, in 
 his ChcsLire IVorthiei, says : " I saw this worthy judge in 
 " health 1642, but he survived not long after."
 
 83 
 
 'Tis she, 'tis she ! or else some more divine 
 Enh'ghten'd substance. Mark how from the shrine 
 
 Of holy saints she paces on, 
 
 Treading upon vermilion 
 
 And amber, spice- 
 jng the chafF'd air with fumes of paradise ! 
 
 Then come on, come on ; and yield 
 A savour like unto a blessed field, 
 
 When the bedabbled morn 
 
 Washes the golden ears of corn. 
 
 See where she comes ; and smell how all the street 
 Breathes vineyards and pomegranates. O how sweet ! 
 
 As a fir'd altar is each stone, 
 
 Perspiring pounded cinnamon. 
 The phoenix' nest, 
 Built up of odours, burneth in her breast. 
 
 Who therein would not consume 
 His soul to ash heaps in that rich perfume ; 
 Bestroking fate, the while 
 
 He burns to embers on the pile ? 
 
 Hymen, O Hymen ! 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, 
 
 ■* These lines clearly belong to the bard of Verona. 
 Hymen Hymenae ! 
 Cinge tempora Jloribus 
 
 Suavaolentis amaraci ; 
 Flammeum cape; iatus hue 
 Hue veni, niveo gerent 
 Liuteum pede soccum. 
 
 Catullus. Epitbal. Juli% & Manlii. 
 
 G 3
 
 $4 
 
 In his desires 
 More tow'ring, more disparkling than thy fires j 
 
 Shew her how his eyes do turn 
 And roll about, and in their motions burn 
 Their balls to cinders ; haste, 
 Or else to ashes he will waste. 
 
 Glide by the banks of virgins then; and pass 
 The show'rs of roses, lucky four-leav'd grass j 
 The while the cloud of younglings sing. 
 And drown ye with a flow'ry spring ; 
 While some repeat 
 Your praise, and bless you, sprinkling you with 
 wheat ; 
 While that others do divine, 
 *' Blest is the bride on whom the sun doth shine !'* 
 And thousands gladly wish 
 You multiply, as doth a fish. 
 
 And, beauteous bride, we do confess you're wise. 
 In dealing forth these bashful jealousies : 
 
 In Love's name do so ; and a price 
 
 Set on yourself, by being nice : 
 But yet take heed ; 
 What now you seem, be not the same indeed, 
 
 And turn apostate ; Love will 
 Part of the way be met, or sit stone-still. 
 
 On then ; and though you slow- 
 
 'y go, yet howsoever go. 
 
 And now y'are enter'd ; see the codled cook 
 Runs from his torrid zone, to pry, and look.
 
 86 
 
 And bless his dainty mistress. 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'ry not t' 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. 
 
 Quickly, quickly then prepare ; 
 And let the young men, and the bridemaids share 
 Your garters ; and their joints 
 
 Encircle with the bridegroom's points. 
 
 By the bride's eyes, and by the teeming life 
 Of her green hopes, we charge ye, that no stiife. 
 Farther than gentleness tends, gets place 
 Among ye, striving for her lace ! 
 O do not fall 
 Foul in these noble pastimes ; lest ye call 
 
 Discord in, and so divide 
 The youthful bridegroom, and the fragrant bride : 
 Which Love forefend ; but spoken, 
 Be't to your praise, no peace was broken !
 
 96 
 
 And, to enchant ye more, see every where 
 About the roof a syren in a sphere, 
 
 As we think, singing to the din 
 
 Of many a warbling cherubin : 
 O mark ye how 
 The soul of nature melts in numbers ; now 
 
 See a thousand cupids fly 
 To light their tapers at the bride's bright eye ! 
 To bed ; or her they'll tire. 
 
 Were she an element of fire. 
 
 And, to your more bewitching, see the proud. 
 Plump bed bear up, and swelling like a cloud. 
 
 Tempting the two too modest. Can 
 
 Ye see it brustle like a swan, 
 And you be cold 
 To meet it, when it woos and seems to fold 
 
 The arms to hug it i Throw, throw 
 Yourselves into the mighty overflow 
 
 Of that white pride, and drown 
 
 The night with you in floods of down. 
 
 The bed is ready, and the maze of Love 
 Looks for the treaders ; every-where is wove 
 
 Wit, and new mystery; read, and 
 
 Put in practice, to understand 
 
 And know each wile, 
 Each hieroglyphick of a kiss, or smile ; 
 
 And do it to the full ; reach 
 High in your conceit ; and some way teach 
 Nature, and art one more 
 
 Play, than they ever knew before,
 
 87 
 
 If needs we must, for ceremony's sake, 
 
 Bless a sackposset ; luck go with it ! Take 
 The night charm quickly ; you have spells 
 And magicks for to end, and hells 
 To pass; but such, 
 
 And of such torture, as no one would grutch 
 To live therein for ever, fry, 
 
 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 sow 
 Up in a sheet your bride ; and what if so 
 
 It be with rock, or walls of brass 
 
 Ye tow'r her up, as Dan'ae was ; 
 Think you that this, 
 Or hell itself a pow'rful bulwark is ? 
 
 I tell ye 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 hush'd in silence. — Midwife moon, 
 
 With all her owl-ey'd issue, begs a boon 
 
 Which you must grant, that's entrance ; with 
 Which extradl all we can call pith, 
 And quintessence 
 
 Of planetary bodies ; so commence 
 All fair constellations 
 
 Looking upon ye, that, that nations 
 
 Springing fro m two such fires, 
 
 May blaze the virtue of their sires.
 
 S8 
 
 xcv. 
 
 TO ALL YOUNG MEN THAT LOVE. 
 
 I could wish you all, who love, 
 That ye could your thoughts remove 
 From your mistresses, and be 
 Wisely wanton, like to me : 
 I could wish you dispossest 
 Of that fiend that mars your rest. 
 And with tapers comes to fright 
 Your weak senses in the night: 
 I could wish ye all, who fry, 
 Cold as ice, or cool as 1 : 
 But, if flames best like ye, then 
 Much good do't ye, gentlemen. 
 I a merry heart will keep, 
 While you wring your hands, and weep. 
 
 XCVl. 
 
 NO FAULT IN WOMEN. 
 
 No fault in women, to refuse 
 The offer which they most would chuse : 
 No fault in women, to confess 
 How tedious they are in their dress : 
 No fault in women, to lay on 
 The tindlure of vermilion ; 
 And there to give the cheek a die 
 Of white, where nature doth deny : 
 No fault in women, to make shew 
 Of largeness, when they're nothing so, 
 (When, true it is, the outside swells 
 With inward buckram, little else :)
 
 89 
 
 No fault in women, though they be 
 But seldom from suspicion free : 
 No fault in womankind at all. 
 If they but slip, and never fall. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 oberon's feast. 
 
 Shapcot, to thee the fairy state 
 I with discretion dedicate ; 
 Because thou prizest things that are 
 Curious, and unfamiliar. 
 Take first the feast ; these dishes gone, 
 We'll see the fairy court anon. 
 
 A little mushroom table spread ; 
 After short prayers, they set on bread, 
 A moon-parch'd grain of purest wheat, 
 With some small glitt'ring grit, to eat 
 His choicest bits with ; then in a trice 
 They make a feast less great than nice. 
 But, all this while his eye is serv'd, 
 We must not think his ear was starv'd ; 
 But that there was in place, to stir 
 His spleen, the chirring grashopper, 
 The merry cricket, puling fly. 
 The piping gnat for minstrelsy : 
 
 Poem XCVll.J Mr. Thomas Shapcot, to whom these 
 verses are addressed, was a celebrated lawyer. 
 
 All the little circumstance, and detail of imagery belong- 
 ing to those children of fancy, the fairies, our poet here 
 most happily delineates. And he is not surpassed in his 
 pidlure either by Shakspeare's Q«.w Mab, in Romeo and 
 Juliet; Drayton's NymphiJia; or that elegant little piece, 
 King Oberons Apparel, found in the Masarum DtUcite-, a 
 small colle<ftion before noticed in the note to poem Co".
 
 90 
 
 And now we must imagine first 
 
 The elves present, to quench his thirst, 
 
 A pure seedpearl of infant dew, 
 
 Brought and besweeten'd in a blue 
 
 And pregnant violet ; which done, 
 
 His killing eyes begin to run 
 
 Quite through the table, where he spies 
 
 The horns of pap'ry butterflies. 
 
 Of which he eats ; anil tastes a little 
 
 Of what we call the cuckow's spittle : 
 
 A little furze-ball pudding stands 
 
 By, yet not blessed by his hands. 
 
 That was too coarse ; but then forthwith 
 
 He ventures boldly on the pith 
 
 Of sugar'd rush, and eats the sag 
 
 And well-bestrutted bee's sweet bag ; 
 
 Gladding his palate with some store 
 
 Of emmet's eggs : what would he more. 
 
 But beards of mice, a newt's stew'd thigh, 
 
 A bloated earwig, and a fly ; 
 
 With the red-capp'd worm, that is shut 
 
 Within the concave of a nut. 
 
 Brown as his tooth ; a little moth, 
 
 Late fatten'd in a piece of cloth ; 
 
 With wither'd cherries; mandrakes' ears; 
 
 Moles' eyes ; to these, the slain stag's tears; 
 
 The undluous dewlaps of a snail ; 
 
 The broke heart of a nightingale 
 
 O'ercome in music ; with a wine 
 
 Ne'er ravish'd from the flatt'ring vine, 
 
 But gently press'd from the soft side 
 
 Of the most sweet and dainty bride. 
 
 Brought in a dainty daisy, which 
 
 He fully quaffs up to bewitch
 
 91 
 
 His blood to height ? This done, commended 
 Grace by his priest, the feast is ended. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 TO VIRGINS. 
 
 Hear, yc virgins ; and I'll teach 
 What the times of old did preach. 
 Rosamond was in a bower 
 Kept, as Danae in a tower ; 
 But yet Love, who subtile is. 
 Crept to that, and came to this : 
 Be ye lock'd up, like to these, 
 Or the rich Hesperides, 
 Or those babies in your eyes 
 *In their crystal nunneries : 
 Notwithstanding, Love will win, 
 Or else force a passage in : 
 And as coy be as you can ; 
 Gifts will get ye, or the man. 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 THE BELMAN. 
 
 From noise of scarefires rest ye free ; 
 From murder's benedicite ; 
 From all mischances, that may fright 
 Your pleasing slumbers in the night ! 
 Mercy secure ye all ; and keep 
 The goblin from ye, while ye sleep ! 
 
 *This conceit, contained also in poem 11, is here still 
 more beautifully touched upon .Besitles the bards mention- 
 ed in my note to that poem, 1 find another who has 
 ad opted it : 
 
 When th' am'rous youth looks babies in your eyes. 
 Robert Heath. Clarastdla. 
 
 Poem XCIX.] In ancient times, the watchman, when 
 he cried the hours, was accustomed likewise to recite bene-
 
 Past one o'clock, and almost two 5 
 My masters all, good day to you. 
 
 C. 
 
 UPON PRUDENCE BALDWIN 
 HER SICKNESS. 
 
 Pru, my dearest maid, is sick, 
 Almost to be lunatick : 
 ^sculapius, come, and bring 
 Means for her recovering ; 
 And a gallant cock shall be 
 Offer'd up by her to thee. 
 
 diAions, and other carmina, to drive away the fairiei?, and 
 demons of the night. Thus Shakspeare, in his Cymbeline, 
 Adl 2, Sc. 2. 
 
 From fairies, and the tempters of the night, 
 
 Guard me, beseech ye ! 
 
 And Milton, in his 11 Penseroso : 
 
 The belman's drowsy charm, 
 
 To bless the doors from nightly harm. 
 
 Take the following lines also to the same purport : 
 Saint Francis, and saint Benedight ! 
 Bless this house from wicked wight ; 
 From the nightmare, and the goblin 
 I'hac is hight Goodfellow Robin, 
 Keep it, &c. 
 
 CaRTWRIGHt's Ordinary. A^.3. Sc. 1. 
 
 Herrick was alive to all the superstitions of his age ; and 
 his colleclion abounds with amulets, and charms against 
 the liendf , and spedlres of Gothic mythology. 
 
 Drake. 
 
 PoF.M C.J It would appear that our poet had a favourite 
 maidservant, who was sometimes the subjedt of his song; 
 and this is the first of hi* poems wherein we find her men- 
 tioned. Pliillips, in his Theatrum Poetarum, very unjustly 
 says, that he was influenced by no other nymph, or goddess 
 than Pru; and Grainger, as unjustly and flippantly, adds, 
 that, from the efFedls of her inspiration, she was but indif- 
 ferently qualified for a tenth muse. But Phillips surely had 
 not seen nis numerous verses to Julia, and those to Anthea, 
 Dianeme, Ele<5l;ra, Sappho, Myrrha, Biancha, Corinna, 
 and Perilla, as well as to other ladies of no fi^ftitious name.
 
 CI. 
 
 TO APOLLO. 
 
 A SHORT HYMN. 
 
 Phoebus, when that I a verse. 
 Or some numbers more rehearse ; 
 Tune my words, that they may fall 
 Each way smoothly musical : 
 For which favour there shall be 
 Swans devoted unto thee. 
 
 CII. 
 
 A HYMN TO BACCHUS. 
 
 Bacchus, let me drink no more; 
 Wild are seas that want a shore. 
 When our drinking has no stint, 
 There is no one pleasure in't. 
 I have drank up, for to please 
 Thee, that great cup Hercules. 
 Urge jio more, and there shall br 
 Daffodills giv'n up to thee. 
 
 cm. 
 
 ON HIMSELF. 
 
 Here down my wearied limbs I'll lay. 
 My pilgrim's staff, ray weed of grey, 
 My palmer's hat, my scallop's shell. 
 My cross, my cord ; and all farewell ! 
 For, having now my journey done, 
 Just at the setting of the sun, 
 
 Poem CII. J This, and indeed the two preceding poemf . 
 •hew how much Herrick had cultivated a taste for the 
 chastity, and simplicity of the Greek epigram.
 
 Here I have found a chamber fit, 
 
 God and good friends be thank'd for it! 
 
 Where if I can a lodger be 
 
 A little while, from tramplers free, 
 
 At my uprising next, I shall, 
 
 If not requite, yet thank ye all. 
 
 Meanwhile, the holy-rood hence fright 
 
 The fouler fiend, and evil spright, 
 
 From scaring you or your's this night ! 
 
 CIV. 
 
 UPON A CHILD THAT DIED. 
 
 Here she lies, a pretty bud. 
 Lately made of flesh and blood j 
 Who as soon fell fast asleep. 
 As her little eyes did peep. 
 Give her strewings, but not stir 
 The earth that lightly covers her ! 
 
 CV. 
 CONTENT, NOT GATES. 
 
 'Tis not the food, but the content, 
 That makes the table's merriment : 
 Where trouble serves the board, we eat 
 The platters there, as soon as meat. 
 A little pipkin, with a bit 
 Of mutton, or of veal in it, 
 Set on my table, trouble-free. 
 More than a feast contenteth me.
 
 95 
 cvi. 
 
 THE GOOD-NIGHT, OR BLESSING. 
 
 Blessings in abundance come 
 To the bride, and to her groom ! 
 May the bed, and this short night 
 Know the fulness of delight ! 
 Pleasures many here attend ye ; 
 And, ere long, a boy Love send ye, 
 Curl'd, and comely, and so trim, 
 Maids in time may ravish him ! 
 Thus a dew of graces fall 
 On ye both ! Good-night to all! 
 
 CVII. 
 
 TO DAFFODILS. 
 
 Fair daffodils, we weep to see 
 You haste away so soon ; 
 As yet the early-rising sun 
 Has not attain'd his noon : 
 Stay, stay, 
 Until the hast'ning day 
 
 Has run 
 But to the evensong ; 
 And, having pray'd together, we 
 Will go with you along ! 
 
 We have short time to stay, as you ; 
 We have as short a spring. 
 
 Poem CVII.] These lines may serve to convince us, how 
 greatly our bard excelled in the moral, and pathetic. Hig 
 choice of measure too is admirably adapted to the strain.
 
 DC 
 
 As quick a growth to meet decay, 
 As you, or any thing : 
 
 We die, 
 As your hours do; and dry 
 
 Away 
 Like to the summer's rain, 
 Or as the pearls of morning dew 
 Ne'er to be found again. 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 UPON A LADY THAT DIED IN CHILDBED, ANI» 
 LEFT A DAUGHTER BEHIND HER 
 
 As gillyflowers do but stay 
 To blow, and seed, and so away ; 
 So you, sweet lady, sweet as May, 
 The garden's glory liv'd awhile, 
 To lend the world your scent, and smile : 
 But, when your own fair print was set 
 Once in a virgin flosculef, 
 Sweet as yourself, and newly blown. 
 To give that life resign'd your own ; 
 But so, as still the mother's pow'r 
 Lives in the pretty lady-llow'r. 
 
 CIX, 
 
 A new-year's-gift 
 
 SENT TO SIR SIMEON STEWARD. 
 
 No news of navies burnt at seas ; 
 No noise cf late-spawn'd Tityries ; 
 
 I'oEM CIX.'I The gentleman here addressed was, I presume, 
 Sir Simeon StewardjorStuartjKnt.orX'ambridgeshire, whose 
 tldest son, Robert, niarritd Mary, youngest daughter of Sir
 
 97 
 
 No closet plot, or open vent, 
 That frights men with a parliament ; 
 No new device, or late-found trick. 
 To read by th' stars the kingdom's sick j 
 No gin to catch the state, or wring 
 The freeborn nostrils of the king, 
 We send to you ; but here a jolly 
 Verse, crown'd with ivy and with holly ; 
 That tells of winter's tales, and mirth 
 That milkmaids make about the hearth ; 
 Of Christmas sports ; the wassail bowl, 
 That's tost up, after fox-i'th'-hole ; 
 Of blindman's-bufF; and of the care 
 That young men have to shoe the mare ; 
 Of twelfthtide cakes, of pease, and beans. 
 Wherewith ye make those merry scenes, 
 When as ye chuse your king and queen. 
 And cry out, " hey, for our town green !" 
 Of ash-hcaps, in the which ye use 
 Husbands and wives by streaks to chuse ; 
 Of crackling laurel, which foresounds 
 A plenteous harvest to your grounds ; 
 
 Thomas Reresby, Knt. of Thribergh, Yorkshire. Such a 
 personage at least was living at the period Herrick wrote. 
 And I conclude he was the same with Sir Simon Steward, 
 a knight made by James the first, of whom Fuller, in his 
 CambriJj;reshire Worthies, says thus: *' I remember he lived, 
 " after he was knighted, a fellow-commoner in Trinity 
 " Hall." 
 
 The first eight lines of the poem have a probable re- 
 ference to political circumstances, seemingly belonging to 
 the period of time at which it was composed; and, as these 
 perhaps cannot be satisfacflorily ascertained, so the lines 
 must of cours^ remain obscure to the readers of our day. 
 Whether the burning of the Spanish Armada, and the Gun- 
 powder-plot may be among the matter alluded to, v.'hich 
 has been suggested, I will not decide : the one event took 
 place three years before our poet's birth, the other fourteen 
 after. Robert Herrick would appear to have been born 
 1.^91 ; he was at least baptized August 24th of that year. 
 
 H 2
 
 1)8 
 
 Of these, rind such-like things, for shift, 
 
 We send instead of new-year's-gift: 
 
 Read then, and, when your faces shine 
 
 With buxom meat and cap'ring wine, 
 
 Rcmc:iiber us in cups full crown'd. 
 
 And let our city health go round, 
 
 (^iiite through the young maids and the men, 
 
 To the ninth number, if not ten ; 
 
 Until the fired chcsnuts leap 
 
 For joy, to see the fruits ye reap 
 
 From the plump chalice, and the cup, 
 
 That tempts till it be tossed up: 
 
 Then, as ye sit about your embers. 
 
 Call not to mind those fled Decembers ; 
 
 But think on these that are t' appear. 
 
 As daughters to the instant year : 
 
 Sit crown'd with rose-buds ; and carouse 
 
 Till Liber Pater* twirls the house 
 
 About your ears; and lay upon 
 
 The year, your cares, that's fled and gonej 
 
 And let the russet swains the plough, 
 
 And harrow hang up, resting nowj 
 
 And to the bagpipe all address. 
 
 Till sleep takes place of weariness : 
 
 And thus throughout with Christmas plays 
 
 Frolick the full twelve holidays. 
 
 ex. 
 
 MATTINS, OR MORNING PRAYER. 
 
 When with the virgin morning thou dost risc» 
 Crossing thyself, come thus to .s;icrifice : 
 First wash thy heart in innocence ; then bring 
 Pure hands, pure habits, pure pure every thing } 
 
 * Bacchus.
 
 99 
 
 Next to the altar humbly kneel, and thence 
 Give up thy soul in clouds of frankincense ; 
 Thy golden censers, fill'd with odours sweet, 
 Shall make thy anions with their ends to meet. 
 
 CXF. 
 
 EVENSONG. 
 
 Begin with Jove ; then is the work half done, 
 And runs most smoothly, when 'tis well begun : 
 Jove's is the first and last ; the morn's his due. 
 The midst is thine ; but Jove's the ev'ning too : 
 As sure as mattins does to him belong, 
 So sure he lays claim to the evensong. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 THE BRACELET. 
 TO JULIA. 
 
 Why I tie about thy wrist, 
 Julia, this my silken twist, 
 For what other reason is't, 
 
 But to shew thee how in pirt 
 Thou my pretty captive art ? 
 But thy bondslave is my heart. 
 
 'Tis but silk that bindeth thee; 
 Knap the thread, and thou art free; 
 But 'tis otherwise with mc; 
 
 FOEM CXI. J So Guarinijin his Pastor FHo,4//o l. S'i-. 1. 
 Clii ben commincla ha la met a Jd otra; 
 Ni si commincia Len, se mn Jai cielg. 
 
 a 3
 
 ]00 
 
 I am bound, and fast bound, so 
 That from thee I cannot go ; 
 If I could, I would not so. 
 
 CXIII. 
 HYMN TO NEPTUNE. 
 
 Mighty Neptune, may ij please 
 Thcc, the recior of the seas, 
 That my bade may safely run 
 Through thy wat'ry region ; 
 And a tunny-fish shall be 
 Offer'd up, with thanks to thee, 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 THE KISS. 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 Among thy fancies, tell me this : 
 What is the thing we call a kiss ? — 
 I shall resolve ye what it is : 
 
 It is a creature born, and bred 
 Between the lips all cherry red ; 
 By love, and warm desires fed ; 
 And makes more soft the bridal bed : 
 
 It is an active flame, that flics 
 First to the babies* of the eyes, 
 And charms them there with lullabies; 
 And stills the bride too when she cries: 
 
 Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear. 
 It frisks, and flies ; now here, now there j 
 'Tis now far off, and then 'tis near ; 
 And here, and there, and every-whcre.— 
 
 * See poems 11, & 99.
 
 101 
 
 Has it a speaking virtue ? — Yes. — 
 How speaks it, say ?^Do you but this, 
 Part your join'd lips, then speaks your kiss ; 
 And this love's sweetest language is. — 
 
 Has it a body ? — Aye, and wings, 
 With thousand rare encolourings; 
 And, as it flies, it gently sings, 
 Love honey yields, but never stings. 
 
 * 
 
 cxv. 
 
 THE ADMONITION. 
 
 Sef.'st thou those diamonds, which she Vv'ears 
 
 In that rich carcanet ; 
 Or those, on herdishevell'd hairs, 
 
 Fair pearls in order set ? 
 Believe, young man, all those were tears 
 
 By wretched wooers sent 
 In mournful hyacinths and rue. 
 
 That figure discontent ; 
 Which, when not warmed by her view. 
 
 By cold negledt each one 
 Congeal'd to pearl and stone ; 
 
 Which precious spoils upon her 
 She wears, as trophies of her honour. 
 Ah, then, consider what all this implies ; 
 She that will wear thy tears, would wear iliine eyes 
 
 Poem CXV.J Tlif gallant conceit of this short poem is 
 perhaps unetjuuUed by any. amatory writer.
 
 102 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 HIS AGE. 
 
 PEDICATED TO HIS PECULIAR FRIEND, 
 
 MR. JOHN WICKES, 
 
 UNDER THE NAME OF POSTHUMUS. 
 
 *Ah, Posthumus! our years hence fly, 
 And leave no sound : nor piety, 
 
 Or prayers, or vow. 
 Can keep the wrinkle from the brow ; 
 
 But we must on. 
 As fate does lead or draw us. None, 
 None, Posthumus, could e'er decline 
 The doom of cruel Proserpine. 
 
 The pleasing wife, the house, the ground 
 Must all be left ; no one plant found 
 
 To follow thee. 
 Save only the curs'd cypress tree. 
 
 A merry mind 
 Looks forward, scorns what's left behind : 
 Let's live, my Wickes, then, while we may; 
 And here enjoy our holiday. 
 
 We've seen the past, best times; and these 
 Will ne'er return : we see the seas. 
 
 And moons to wane; 
 But they fill up their ebbs again : 
 
 Poem CXVI. J I suspec5l the person to whom this poem 
 is dedicated to have been the John Wicks, or Weekes, men- 
 tioned by Wood in hia Fasti Oxoniemis, page 39, vol. 2, a 
 facetious charadter, and popular preacher ; he suffered much 
 for the royal cause in the reign of Charles the first. 
 
 » HORAT. Ode 14. Lib, 2.
 
 103 
 
 But vanish'd man, 
 Like to a lily lost, ne'er can. 
 Ne'er can repuliulatc, or bring 
 His days to sec a second spring. 
 
 But on we must ; and thither tend 
 Where Ancus, and rich Tullus blend* 
 
 Their sacred seed : 
 Thus has infernal Jove decreed : 
 
 We must be made 
 Ere long a song, ere long a shade. 
 Why then, since life to us is short. 
 Let's make it full up by our sport. 
 
 Crown we our heads with roses then. 
 And 'noint with Syrian balm ; for whenf 
 
 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 lucky stone. 
 
 We are not poor ; although we have 
 JNo roofs of cedar, nor our brave 
 Baijc, nor keep 
 Account of such a flock of sheep, 
 
 ♦HORAT. 0Je7. Lifj.'i. 
 
 fHoRAT. OJe \\. Lib. '2. Heffick's book has r;VMi», 
 which, 1 presume, is a misprint. 
 
 tHoRAT. OdeU. Lib. 2.
 
 101 
 
 Nor bullocks fed 
 To hrd the shambles ; barbels bred 
 To kiss our hands ; nor do we wish 
 For Pollio's lampries in our dish. 
 
 If we can meet, and so confer 
 Both by a shining saltcellar ;* 
 
 And have our roof, 
 Although not arch'd, yet weather-proof ; 
 
 And ceiling free 
 From that cheap candle-bawdery ;-j- 
 We'll eat our bean with that full mirth. 
 As we were lords of all the earth. 
 
 V7ell then ; on what seas we are tost. 
 Our comfort is, we can't be lost: 
 
 Let the winds drive 
 Our bark, yet she will keep alive 
 
 Amidst the deeps : 
 'Tis constancy, my Wickes, which keeps 
 The pinnace up ; which, though she errs 
 I'th' seas, she saves her passengers. 
 
 Say, we must part ; sweet mercy bless 
 Us both i'th' sea, camp, wilderness ! 
 
 Can we so far 
 Stray, to become less circular 
 
 Than we are now ? 
 No, no ; that selfsame heart, that vow 
 Which made us one shall ne'er undo, 
 Or ravel, so to make us two. 
 
 * Ho RAT. OJe 16. Lib. 2. 
 
 f Obscene words, and figures made with candle.smoke, 
 not unfrequently met with in the habitations of the vulgar, 
 shewing a viciousness which is thus cheaply indulged.
 
 103 
 
 Live in thy peace; as for myself, 
 When I am bruised on the shelf 
 
 Of time, and show 
 My locks bchung with frost and snow; 
 
 Whra with the rheum, 
 The cough, the phthisick, I consume 
 Unto an ahnost nothing ; then 
 The ages fled I'll call again, 
 
 And witli a tear compare these last 
 Lame, and bad limes with those are past ; 
 
 While Baucis by, 
 My old lean wife, shall kiss it dry: 
 
 And so we'll sit 
 By th' fire, foretelling snow, and slit,* 
 And weather, by our achesjf grown 
 Now old enough to be our own 
 
 True calendars ; as puss's ear 
 
 Wash'd o'er's, to tell what change is near. 
 
 Then, to assuage 
 The gripings of the chine by age, 
 
 I'll call my young 
 liilus to sing such a song 
 I made upon my Julia's breast, 
 And of her blush at such a feast : 
 
 * For sleet. 
 
 f Had a certain aclor of rhe present (Jay recollecfled this 
 line of Herrick's ; being, I understand, det-p-read in old 
 English lore; he might have cited it for authority in pro- 
 nouncing acbes as a di'jsynabis.
 
 106 
 
 Then shall he read that flow'r of mine 
 Inclos'd within a crystal shrine ; 
 
 A primrose next ; 
 A piece then of a higher text, 
 
 For to beget 
 In me a more transcendant heat, 
 Than that insinuating fire 
 Which crept into each aged sire, 
 
 When the fair Helen from her eyes 
 Shot forth her loving sorceries ;* 
 
 At which I'll rear 
 Mine aged limbs above my chair ; 
 
 And, hearing it, 
 Flutter and crow, as in a fit 
 Of fresh concupiscence, and cry, 
 " No lust there's like to poetry !" 
 
 Thus frantick, crazy man, God wot! 
 I'll call to mind things half forgot ; 
 
 And oft between 
 Repeat the times that I have seen. 
 
 Thus ripe with tears. 
 And twisting my lulus' hairs. 
 Doting, I'll weep and say, <' in truth, 
 " Baucis, these were my sins of youth," 
 
 * Alluding to the admiration expressed by the Grecian 
 isages on the appearance of ihe beauteous Helen ; when they 
 had assembled before the Scxan gate, to witness the single 
 combat between Menelaus and Paris, which was to have 
 decided the fate of Troy : 
 
 'I'hese, when the Spartan queen approach'd the tow'r, 
 
 In secret owr/d resistless beauty's pow'r; 
 
 They cried: •' no wonder, such celestial charms 
 
 " For nine long years have set the world in arms !" 
 
 Pope's Homer. Iliads.
 
 107 
 
 Then next I'll cause my hopeful lad. 
 If a wild apple can be had, 
 
 To crown the hearth j 
 Lar thus conspiring with our mirth ; 
 
 Then to infuse 
 Our browner ale into the cruse, 
 Which sweetly spic'd, we'll 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 frolick'd with, 
 Such as could well 
 Bear up the magic bough and spell, 
 And, dancing 'bout the mystick thyrse, 
 Give up the just applause to verse. 
 
 To those, and then again to thee 
 We'll drink, my Wickes ; until we be 
 
 Plump as the chciry, 
 Though not so fresh, yet full as merry 
 
 As the cricket, 
 The untam'd heifer, or the pricket ; 
 Until our tongues shall tell our ears. 
 We're younger by a score of years : 
 
 Thus, 'till we see the fire less shine 
 From th' embers than the kitling's eyne, 
 
 We'll still sit up. 
 Sphering about the wassail cup 
 
 To all those times 
 Which gave me honour for my rhymes : 
 The coal once spent, we'll then to bed. 
 Far more than night bewearied.
 
 108 
 
 CXVIl. 
 
 A SHORT HYMN TO VENUS. 
 
 Goddess, I do love a girl 
 Kuby-lip'd, and tooth'd with pearl; 
 If so be 1 may but prove 
 Lucky in this maid I love, 
 I will promise there shall be 
 Myrtles offi;r'd up to thee. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 UPON A DELAYING LADY. 
 
 Come, eome away ; 
 
 Or let me go : 
 Must I here stay 
 
 Because y'are slow. 
 And will continue so ? — 
 Troth, lady, no : 
 
 I scorn to be 
 
 A slave to state ; 
 And, since I'm free, 
 
 I will not wait 
 Henceforth, at such a rate, 
 For needy fate : 
 
 If you desire 
 
 My spark, should glow, 
 The peeping fire 
 
 You must blow ; 
 Or I shall quickly grow 
 To frost, or snow.
 
 109 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 UPON HIS JULIA. 
 
 Will ye hear what I can say 
 Briefly of my Julia ? 
 Black and rolling is her eye, 
 Double chinn'd, rnd forehead higli, 
 Lips she has all ruby red, 
 Cheeks like cream enclareted, 
 And a nose that is the grace 
 And proscenium of her face ; 
 So that we may guess by these 
 The other parts will richly please. 
 
 cxx. 
 
 HYMN TO VENUS, AND CUPID. 
 
 Seaborn goddess, let me be 
 By thy son thus grac'd, and thee; 
 That, whene'er I woo, I find 
 Virgins coy, but not unkind ; 
 Let me, when I kiss a maid, 
 Taste her lips so overlaid 
 With love's syrup, that I may 
 In your temple, when I pray, 
 Kiss the altar, and confess 
 There's in love no bitterness. 
 
 CXXI. 
 
 THE MEADOW VERSE, OR ANNIVERSARY OF 
 MRS. BRIDGET LOWMAN. 
 
 Come with the spring-thne forth, fair maid; and ba 
 This year again the meadow's deity :
 
 IJO 
 
 Yet, cie ye enter, give usleave to set 
 
 Upon your head this flow'ry coronet ; 
 
 To make this neat distindion from the rest, 
 
 You are the prime and princess of the feast, 
 
 To which with silver feet lead you the way. 
 
 While sweet-breath nymphs attend on you this day : 
 
 This is your hour ; and best you may command. 
 
 Since you are lady of this fairy land : 
 
 Full mirth wait on you ; and such mirth as shall 
 
 Cherish the cheek, but make none blush at all I 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 HYMN TO JUNO. 
 
 Stately goddess, do thou please. 
 Who art chief at marriages. 
 But to dress the bridal bed, 
 When my love and I shall wed; 
 And a peacock proud shall be 
 Offer 'd up by us to thee. 
 
 CXXIir, 
 
 CHOP-CHERRY. 
 
 Thou gav'st me leave to kiss ; 
 
 Thou gav'st me leave to woo ; 
 Thou mad'st me think by this. 
 
 And that, thou lov'dst me too: 
 
 But I shall ne'er forget 
 How, for to make thee merry. 
 
 Thou mad'st me chop ; but yet 
 Another snapp'd the cherry.
 
 Ill 
 
 CXXIV. 
 
 TO THE MOST LEARNED AND ARCH-ANTIQUARY, 
 MR. JOHN SELDEN. 
 
 I, who have favour'd many, come to be 
 Grac'd now at last, or glorified by thee. 
 Lo ! I the lyrick prophet, who have set 
 On many a head the Delphic coronet, 
 Come unto thee for laurel, having spent 
 My wreaths on those, who little gave or lent. 
 Give me the Daphne, that the world may know it, 
 Whom they neglecfled thou hast crown'd a poet.* 
 A city here of heroes I have made 
 Upon the rock, whose firm foundation laid, 
 Shall never shrink ; where, making thine abode, 
 Live thou a Selden, that's a demi-god. 
 
 cxxv. 
 
 UPON HIMSELF. 
 
 f 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 lyricks. 
 
 * That Herrick was in habits of intimacy with Selden Is 
 pretty certain, and from this line it would appear that h» 
 had no small share in his esteem. 
 
 f Non omn'ts mortar. 
 
 Ho RAT. Ode 30. Li^. 1.
 
 112 
 
 CXXVI. 
 PRAY, AND PROSPER. 
 
 "First offer incense; then thy field and meads 
 Shall smile, and smell the better by thy beads; 
 The spangling dew, *dredg'd o'er the grass, shall be 
 Turn'd all to mel, and manna there, for thee ; 
 Butter of amber, cream, and wine, and oil 
 Shall run as rivers all throughout thy soil : 
 Would'st thou to sincere silver turn thy mould ; 
 Pray once, twice pray, and turn thy ground to gold 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 HIS LACHRIMyE, 
 OR MIRTH TURNED TO MOURNING. 
 
 Call me no more, 
 
 As heretofore. 
 The musick of a feast ; 
 
 Since now, alas ! 
 
 The mirth that was 
 In me is dead, or ceas'd. 
 
 Before I went 
 
 To banishment 
 Into the loathed West ; 
 
 1 could rehearse 
 
 A lyrick verse, 
 And speak it with the best. 
 
 * Besprinkled. To dredge is now used only in a culinary 
 «ense, signifying, to strew flour over meat while roasting.
 
 113 
 
 But time, ah me ! 
 Has laid, I see. 
 My organ fast asleep ; 
 And turn'd my voice 
 Into the noise 
 Of those that sit, and weep. 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 TO THE MOST FAIR AND LOVELY MRS. ANN 
 SOAME, NOW LADY ABDIE. 
 
 So smell those odours that do rise 
 From out the wealthy spiceries ; 
 So smells the flow'r of blooming clove. 
 Or roses smother'd in the stove ; 
 So smells the air of spiced wine, 
 Or essences of jessamine ; 
 So smells the breath about the hives, • 
 When well the work of honey thrives, 
 And all the busy fadors come 
 Laden with wax and honey home ; 
 So smell those neat and woven bow'rs, 
 All overarch'd with orange flow'rs, 
 And almond blossoms, that do mix 
 To make rich these aromaticks ; 
 So smell those bracelets, and those bands 
 Of amber chaf 'd between the hands, 
 
 Poem CXXVIIl.J These lines would seem a pretty close 
 imitation of Martial. Efiifi. 06. Lib. 3, The lady to whom 
 they are addrest was daughter of Sir Thomas Soame, Knt. 
 and second wife of Sir Thomas Abdie, of Felix Hall, Bart, 
 consequently a relative of our poet's by the side of his mo- 
 ther, whose sister Ann married Sir Stephen Soame, Knt. 
 lord^mayor of London in 1598. 
 
 I 2
 
 114 
 
 When thus enkindled they transpire 
 A noble perfume fronn the fire. 
 The wine of cherries, and to these 
 The cooling breath of respasses ;* 
 The smell of morning's milk, and cream j 
 Butter of cowslips mix'd with them ; 
 Of roasted warden, or bak'd pear, 
 These arc not to be reckon'd here ; 
 When as the meanest part of her 
 Smells like the maiden pomander. 
 Thns sweet she smells ; or what can be 
 More lik'd by her, or lov'd by me. 
 
 cxxix. 
 
 UPON HIS KINSWOMAN, 
 MRS. ELIZABETH HERRICK. 
 
 Sweet virgin, that I do not set 
 The pillars up of weeping jet, 
 
 * By this word no doubt raspberries are intended. Thus 
 Wither : 
 
 The shrubbie fields are raspice-orchards there. 
 
 Mistress of Philarets. IntroduB. 
 
 The word would seem to occur in an old metrical Ro- 
 mance, entitled the Squyr of loiv Devre, enumerating certain 
 wines; and by it raspberry wine, I should imagine, wa« 
 intended. 
 
 Mountrosc, and wine of Greek, 
 
 Both algracle, and respice eke^ 
 
 Antioche, and bastarde, 
 
 Pyment abo, and ganarde, 
 
 Mr. Ritson however i]ueries if spice iv'ine be not meant ; 
 JVlr. Warton, quoting the poem, certainly has (/ifj/i/«; yet, 
 from the word pymetit, which is acknowledged to mean 
 spke ivine, coming in so immediately after, 1 should rather 
 interpret respice raspberry wine. See Ritson's Metrical Ro- 
 mances, vol. 3, page 176 ; and Warton 's Hist. £n^. Poet. vol. 
 1, page 177. 
 
 Poem CXXIX.] The fair subject of these lines, who
 
 115 
 
 Or mournful marble ; let thy shade 
 
 Not wratliful seem, or fright the maid, 
 
 Who hither at her wonted hours 
 
 Shall come to strew thy earth with flow'rs. 
 
 No ; know, blest maid, when there's not one 
 
 Remainder left of brass or stone, 
 
 Thy living epitaph shall be. 
 
 Though lost in them, yet found in me. 
 
 Dear, in thy bed of roses then, 
 
 'Til this world shall dissolve as men, 
 
 Sleep, while we hide thee from the light. 
 
 Drawing thy curtains round. — Good night ! 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 TO HIS VALENTINE, 
 ON ST. valentine's DAY. 
 
 Oft have I heard both youths and virgins say, 
 Birds choose their mates, and couple too, this day ; 
 But, by their flight I never can divine, 
 When I shall couple with my valentine. 
 
 CXXXI. 
 
 UPON MR. BEN JONSON. 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 After the rare arch-poet, Jonson, died, 
 The sock grew loathsome, and the buskin's pride, 
 
 evidently died unmarried, would seem to have been the 
 poet's niece, Elizabeth, fourth daughter of his brother Mi- 
 cholas Herrick, a merchant in London, who was living in 
 1664, and died at the age of ~5. 
 
 Poem CXXX.] See the note to poem 31. 
 I 3
 
 116 
 
 Together with the stage's glory, stood 
 
 Each hke a poor and pitied widoMhood: 
 
 The cirque prophan'd was, and all postures rackt ; 
 
 For men did strut, and stride, and stare, — not a<5t : 
 
 Then temper flew from words, and men did squeak. 
 
 Look red, and blow, and bluster, — but not speak : 
 
 No holy rage, or frantick fires did stir, 
 
 Or flash about the spacious theatre; 
 
 No clap of hands, or shout, or praises proof 
 
 Did crack the playhouse sides, or cleave her roof: 
 
 Artless the scene was, and that monstrous sin 
 
 Of deep and arrant ignorance came in, 
 
 Such ignorance as theirs was, who once hiss'd* 
 
 At thy unequall'd play, the Alchymist : 
 
 O fie upon 'em ! Lastly too, all wit 
 
 In utter darkness did, and still will sit, 
 
 Sleeping the luckless age out ; till that she 
 
 Her resurredlion has again with thee. 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 vow TO MARS. 
 
 Store of courage to me grant. 
 Now I 'm turn'd a combatant : 
 Help me so, that I my shield. 
 Fighting, lose not in the field ; 
 That's the greatest shame of all, 
 That in warfare can befall. 
 Do but this, and there shall be 
 Oifer'd up a wolf to thee ! 
 
 * Early in life our poet is said to have formed an intima- 
 cy with this celebrated playwright, whose excellent piece, 
 the Alchymist, meant to lash the dupes of imposition and 
 absurdity, found, as it would seem, no very favourable re- 
 ception in his day ; indeed Jonson was not popular, when 
 living, either as an a(5tor, or author. It is too frequently 
 left for posterity to award the meed due to merit.
 
 117 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 HOW PANSIES, OR HEARTS-EASE CAME FIRST. 
 
 Frolic K virgins once these were, 
 Over-loving, living here ; 
 Being here their ends denied, 
 Ran for sweethearts mad, and died. 
 Love, in pity of their tears. 
 And their loss in blooming years. 
 For their restless here-spent hours. 
 Gave them heart's ease turn'd to flow'rs. 
 
 CXXXIV. 
 
 THE MAD maid's SONG. 
 
 Good monow to the day so fair ; 
 
 Good morning, sir, to you ; 
 Good morrow to mine own torn hair, 
 
 Bedabbled with the dew : 
 
 Good morning to this primrose too ; 
 
 Good morrow to each maid, 
 That will with flow'rs the tomb bestrew 
 
 Wherein my love is laid. 
 
 Ah, woe is me, woe woe is me J 
 
 Alack, and welladay ! 
 For pity, sir, find out that bee 
 
 Which bore my love away. 
 
 Poem CXXXIV.] I do not recolledl any little poem in 
 t,ur language that for elegance, sweetness, and pathos, can 
 vie with the present. Though the reader of se^^ibility may 
 not be able to point out its beauties precisely, yet he mu'.t 
 feel them. Why that judicious seledtor, Mr. Ellis, should 
 have rejedled the third, and fourth stanzas I cannot ima- 
 gine ; the fourth is singularly tender.
 
 lis 
 
 I'll seek him in your bonnet brave, 
 
 I'll seek him in your eyes ; 
 Nay, now I think they've made his grave 
 
 I'th' bed of stravi^berries : 
 
 I'll seek him there ; I know ere this 
 The cold, cold earth doth shake him ; 
 
 But I will go, or send a kiss 
 By you, sir, to awake him. 
 
 Pray hurt him not ; though he be dead, 
 He knows well who do love him. 
 
 And who with green turfs rear his head. 
 And who do rudely move him. 
 
 He's soft and tender, pray take heed. 
 With bands of cowslips bind him, 
 
 And bring him home ; — but 'tis decreed 
 That I shall never find him ! 
 
 • cxxxv. 
 
 TO BACCHUS. 
 A CANTICLE. 
 
 *Whither dost thou hurryf me, 
 Bacchus, being full of thee ? 
 This way, that way, that way, this. 
 Here, and there a fresh love is j 
 That doth like me, this doth please : 
 Thus a thousand mistresses 
 I have now ; yet I alone. 
 Having all, enjoy not one. 
 
 * Ho RAT. Ode 25. Lib. 3, 
 
 ■)■ This word perhaps better expresses what Herrick in- 
 tended, though his text has ivborry.
 
 no 
 
 CXXXVI. 
 TO SYCAMORES. 
 
 I'm sick of love ; O let me lie 
 Under your shades, to sleep or die ! 
 Either is welcome, so I have 
 Or here my bed, or here my grave. 
 Why do you sigh, and sob, and keep 
 Time with the tears that I do weep ? 
 Say, have ye sense, or do you prove 
 What crucifixions are in love ? 
 I know ye do ; and that's the why 
 You sigh for love, as well as I. 
 
 CXXXVII, 
 
 A PASTORAL SUNG TO THE KING. 
 
 MONTANO, SILVIO, AND MIRTILLO, SHEPHERDS, 
 
 Man. Bad are the times. — 5/7. And worse than 
 
 they are we. 
 Mon. Troth, bad are both ; worce fruit, and ill the 
 
 tree ; 
 The feast of shepherds fails. — 5/7. None crowns the 
 
 cup 
 Of wassail now, or sets the quintell* up ; 
 And he who us'd to lead the country round, 
 Youthful Mirtillo, here he comes, grief-drown'd. 
 Both. Let's cheer him up. — 5//. Behold him weep. 
 
 ing-ripe. 
 Mir. Ah, Amarillis, farewell mirth and pipe ; 
 Since thou art gone, no more I mean to play 
 Tp these smooth lawns my mirthful roundelay. 
 
 * Or quintin.
 
 120 
 
 Dear Amarillis ! — Man. Hark \—Sil. Mark I— Mir. 
 This earth grew sweet 
 
 Where, Amarillis, thou didst set thy feet. 
 
 £ot/j. Poor pitied youth ! Mir. And here the 
 
 breath of kine, 
 
 And sheep, grew more sweet by that breath of thine. 
 
 This flock of wool, and this rich lock of hair. 
 
 This ball of cowslips, these she gave me here. 
 
 Sil. Words sweet as love itself. Montane, hark ! 
 
 Mir. This way she came, and this way too she 
 M'ent ; 
 
 How each thing smells divinely redolent^ 
 
 Like to a field of beans when newly blown. 
 
 Or like a meadow being lately mown ! 
 
 Mon. A sweet, sad passion. 
 
 Mir. In dewy mornings, when she came this way, 
 
 Sweet bents would bow to give my love the day ; 
 And, when at night she folded had her sheep, 
 Daisies would shut, and, closing, sigh and weep. 
 Besides, ah me ! since she went hence to dwell, 
 The voice's daughter ne'er spake syllable : 
 But she is gone. — 5/7. Mirtillo, tell us whither. 
 Mir. Where she, and I shall never meet together. 
 Mon. Forefend 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. 
 Mon. 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 weep, 
 And with my sighs call home my bleating sheep; 
 And in the rind of ev'ry comely tree 
 I'll carve thy name, and in that name kiss thee.
 
 121 
 
 Mon. Set with the sun thy woes. — 5/7. The day- 
 grows old, 
 And time it is our full-fed flocks to fold. 
 
 Chorus. The shades grow great, but greater grows 
 our sorrow ; 
 
 But let's go steep 
 Our eyes in sleep, 
 And meet to weep 
 To-morrow. 
 
 CXXXVIII. 
 
 THE POET LOVES A MISTRESS, 
 BUT NOT TO MARRY. 
 
 I do not love to wed, 
 
 Though I do like to woo ; 
 
 And for a maidenhead 
 I'll beg, and buy it too. 
 
 I'll praise, and I'll approve 
 Those maids that never vary ; 
 
 And fervently I'll love, 
 But yet I would not marry. 
 
 For why ? That man is poor 
 Who hath but one of many ; 
 
 But crown'd he is with store. 
 That single may have any. 
 
 Why then, say, what is he. 
 To freedom so unknown, 
 
 Who, having two or three, 
 Will be content with one ?
 
 122 
 
 CXXXIX. 
 
 THE WILLOW GARLAND. 
 
 A willow garland thou didst send 
 Perfum'd, last day, to me; 
 
 Which did but only this portend, 
 I was forsook by thee. 
 
 Since so it is, I'll tell thee what ; 
 
 To-morrow thou shalt see 
 Me wear the willow, after that 
 
 To die upon the tree. 
 
 As beasts unto the altars go 
 With garlands dress'd, so I 
 
 Will with my willow wreath also 
 Come forth, and sweetly die« 
 
 CXL, 
 
 HYMN 
 TO SIR CLIPSBEY CREW. 
 
 'TwAs not Love's dart, 
 
 Or any blow 
 
 Of want, or foe. 
 Did wound my heart 
 With an eternal smart s 
 
 But only you, 
 
 My sometimes known 
 
 Companion, 
 My dearest Crew, 
 That me unkindly slew. 
 
 May your fault die. 
 And have no name 
 In books of fame j
 
 123 
 
 Or let it lie 
 Forgotten now, as I. 
 
 We parted are, 
 
 And now no more. 
 
 As heretofore, 
 By jocund Lar 
 Shall be familiar. 
 
 But, though we sever. 
 
 My Crew shall see 
 
 That I will be 
 Here faithless never. 
 But love my Clipsbey ever. 
 
 CXLI. 
 
 UPON Julia's breast, 
 
 I Have ye beheld, with much delight, 
 A red rose peeping through a white ; 
 Or else a cherry, double-grac'd. 
 Within a lily, centre-plac'd ; 
 Or ever mark'd the pretty beam 
 A strawberry shews half drown'd in cream ; 
 Or seen rich rubies blushing through 
 A pure smooth pearl, and orient too ? 
 So like to this, nny all the rest. 
 Appears my Julia's budding breast. 
 
 CXLII. 
 
 TO daisies, 
 NOT TO SHUT SO SOON. 
 
 Shut not so soon ; the dull-ey'd night 
 Has not as yet begun 
 
 Poem CXLI. J The last line of this dainty morceau is a 
 little altered from the original, a liberty for which the edi- 
 tor trusts be will be pardoned.
 
 124 
 
 To make a seizure on the light, 
 Or to seal up the sun : 
 
 No marigolds yet closed are. 
 
 No shadows yet appear ; 
 Nor doth the early shepherd's star 
 
 Shine like a spangle here. 
 
 Stay but till my Julia close 
 
 Her life-begetting eye; 
 And let the whole world then dispose 
 
 Itself to live, or die. 
 
 CXLIll. 
 
 oberon's palace. 
 
 After the feast, my Shapcot, sec 
 The fairy court I give to thee ; 
 Where we'll present our Oberon led, 
 Half tipsy, to the fairy bed. 
 Where Mab he finds, who there doth lie 
 Not without mickle majesty : 
 AVhich done, and thence remov'd the light, 
 We'll wish both them, and thee good night. 
 
 Full as the bee with thyme, and red 
 As cherry harvest, now high fed 
 For lust and aftion, on he'll go 
 To lie with Mab ; though all say no : 
 Lust has no ears, he's sharp as thorn, 
 And fretful ; carries hay in's horne,* 
 
 Poem CXLFII.J This poem may be considered as a 
 continuation of, or sequel to poem 97, and is addressed to 
 the same Mr. Thomas Shapoot, lawyer. 
 
 * Fenitm habct In cornu. 
 
 tioRAT. Sat. 4. Lib. 1.
 
 125 
 
 And lightning in his eyes ; and flings 
 
 Among the elves, if mov'd, the stings 
 
 Of peltish* wasps ; we'll know Tiis guard ; 
 
 " Kings though they're hated, will be fear'd." 
 
 Wine lead him on. Thus to a grove, 
 
 Sometimes devoted unto love, 
 
 Tinsell'd with twilight, he and they, 
 
 Led by the shine of snails, a way 
 
 Beat with their num'rous feet, which by 
 
 Many a neat perplexity. 
 
 Many a turn, and many a cross 
 
 Track, they redeem a bank of moss, 
 
 Spungy and swelling, and far more 
 
 Soft than the finset Lemsterf ore, 
 
 Mildly dispark'ling like those fires 
 
 Which break from the injewell'd tires 
 
 Of curious brides, or like those mites 
 
 Of candied dew in moony nights : 
 
 Upon this convex all the flow'rs 
 
 Nature begets by th' sun, and showr's, 
 
 Are to a wild digestion brought; 
 
 As if Love's sampler here was wrought, 
 
 Or Cytherea's ceston,J which 
 
 All with temptation doth bewitch. 
 
 Sweet airs move here, and more divine 
 
 Made by the breath of great-ey'd kine, 
 
 Who, as they low, impcarl with milk 
 
 The four-lcav'd grass, or moss-like silk. 
 
 •angry .—Phillips, in his IVorU of Words, interprets to 
 pdt^ in one sense, " to be in a chafe, or lit of anger, to fret, 
 " fume." And Dr. Bevis, K>,g. Dja. gives to fdt the signi- 
 fication of " heat, chafe, passion." 
 
 f Leominster. 
 I Or cestus.
 
 12G 
 
 The breath of monkies, met to mix 
 With musk-flies, are th' aromaticks 
 Which cense this arch ; and here and there. 
 And farther off, and every-vvhere 
 Throughout that brave mosaick yard. 
 Those picks or diamonds in the card, 
 With pips of hearts, of club, and spade. 
 Are here most neatly interlaid. 
 Many a counter, many a die 
 Half-rotten and without an eye, 
 Lies here about; and, for to pave 
 The excellency of this cave, 
 Squirrels', and children's teeth late shed, 
 Are neatly here inchequered 
 With brownest toadstones, and the gum 
 That shines upon the bluer plumb, 
 The nails fall'n off by whitflaws ;* art's 
 Wise hand enchasing here those warts, 
 Which we to others from ourselves 
 Sell, and brought hither by the elves. 
 The tempting mole, stol'n from the neck 
 Of the shy virgin, seems to deck 
 The holy entrance ; where within 
 The room is hung with the blue skin 
 Of shifted snake, cnfriez'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 glowworm's eyes, the shining scales 
 Of silv'ry fish, wheat-straws, the snail's 
 Soft candlelight, the kitling's eyne. 
 Corrupted wood, serve here for shine ; 
 
 * The same with wbiilo-w.
 
 127 
 
 No glaring light of broad-fac'd day. 
 Or other over- radiant ray- 
 Ransacks this room, but what weak beams 
 Can make refleded from these gems. 
 And multiply ; such is the light. 
 But ever doubtful, day or night. 
 By this quaint taper-light he winds 
 His errors up ; and now he finds 
 His moon-t.mn'd Mab as somewhat sick, 
 And, Love knows, tender as a chick. 
 Upon six plump dandelions high- 
 Rear'd lies her elvish majesty. 
 Whose .woolly bubbles seem'd to drown 
 Her mabship in obedient down ; 
 For either sheet was spread the caul 
 That doth the infant's face inthrall 
 When it is born, by some enstyl'd 
 The lucky omen of the child ; 
 And next to these two blankets, o'er- 
 Cast of the finest gossamer ; 
 And then a rug of carded wool, 
 Which, sponge-like, drinking in the dull 
 Light of the moon, seem'd to comply,* 
 Cloud-like, the dainty deity: 
 Thus soft she lies ; and overhead 
 A spinner's circle is bespread 
 With cobweb curtains, from the roof 
 So neatly sunk, as that no proof 
 Of any tackling can declare 
 
 What gives it hanging in the air* 
 
 ******** 
 
 * This word would here seem to mean inivrap, envelope 
 a sense in which I have never before seen it used: yet, ac- 
 cording to one of Skinner's derivations of it, from comf;!!- 
 care, l.ar. though not in his acceptation of the same; and 
 according to Johnson's conjectured derivation from co^j. 
 flitr, in- fliiTy Fr. it certainly may have such signification.
 
 128 
 
 the king's undress'd ; and now, upon 
 The gnat's watchword, the elves are gone. 
 And now the bed, and Mab possess'd 
 Of this great little kingly guest ; 
 We'll nobly think, what's to be done 
 He'll do, no doubt.— This flax is spun. 
 
 CXLIV. 
 TO OENONE. 
 
 What, conscience, say, is it in thee. 
 
 When I a heart had one. 
 To take away that heart from me, 
 
 And to retain thy own ? 
 
 For shame, or pity now incline 
 
 To play a loving part ; 
 Either to send me kindly thine, 
 
 Or give me back my heart: 
 
 Covet not both ; but if thou dost 
 Kesolve to part with neither; 
 
 Why, yet to shew that thou art just> 
 Take me and mine together. 
 
 CXl.V. 
 TO GROVES. 
 
 Ye silent shades, whose each tree here 
 Some relick of a saint doth wear. 
 Who for some sweetheart's sake did prove 
 The fire and martyrdom of love ; 
 Here is the legend of those saints 
 That died for love, and their complaints ; 
 Their wounded hearts, and names, we find. 
 Encarv'd upon the leaves and rind.
 
 129 
 
 Give way, give way to me, who come 
 Scorch'd with the selfsame martyrdom ; 
 And have dcscrv'd as much, Love knows, 
 As to be canoni/.'d 'mongst those 
 Wliose deeds, and deaths are written here 
 Withiii your greeny calendar. 
 By all those virgins' fillets hung 
 Upon your boughs, and requiems sung 
 For saints and souls departed hence. 
 Here honour'd still with frankincense; 
 By all those tears that have been shed 
 Asa drink-offering to the dead ; 
 By all those trueloveknots, that be 
 With mottos cai-v'd on cv'ry tree ; 
 By sweet saint Phillis, pity me ; 
 By dear saint Iphis, and the rest 
 Of all those other saints now blest, 
 Me, me forsaken, here admit 
 Among your myrtles to be writ ; 
 That my poor name may have the glory 
 To live remembcr'd in your story ! 
 
 CXLVI. 
 
 EPITAPH UPON A VIRGIN. 
 
 Here a solemn fast we keep : 
 While all beauty lies asleep, 
 Hush'd be all things; no noise here 
 But the toning of a tear, 
 Or a sigh of such as bring 
 Cowslips for her covering. 
 
 k2
 
 130 
 
 CXLVII. 
 TO JEALOUSY. 
 
 O Jealousy, that art 
 The canker of the heart. 
 And mak'st all hell 
 Where thou dost dwell ; 
 For pity be 
 No fury, or no firebrand to me I 
 
 Far from me I'll remove 
 All thoughts of irksome love. 
 
 And turn to snow. 
 
 Or crystal grow. 
 
 To keep still free, 
 O soul-tormenting Jealousy, from thee ! 
 
 CXLVIII. 
 
 UPON LOVE. 
 
 Love, I have broke 
 
 Thy yoke, 
 The neck is free ; 
 But, when I'm next 
 
 Love-vext, 
 Then shackle me. 
 
 'Tis better yet 
 
 To fret 
 The feet or hands. 
 
 Than to enthrall, 
 
 Or gall 
 
 The neck with bands.
 
 131 
 
 CXLIX. 
 
 THE PARTING VERSE, 
 
 OR CHARGE TO HIS SUPPOSED* VVIFE| 
 
 WHEN HE TRAVELLED. 
 
 Go hence, and, with this parting kiss 
 Which joins tvs^o souls, remember this : 
 Though thou beest young, kind, soft, and fair, 
 And may'st draw thousands with a hair; 
 Yet let these glib temptations be 
 Furies to others, friends to me. 
 Look upon all; and, though on fire 
 Thou set'st their hearts, let chaste desire 
 Steer thee to me ; and think, me gone. 
 In having all, that thou hast none. 
 I^Tor so immured would I have 
 Thee live, as dead and in thy grave. 
 But walk abroad; yet wisely well 
 Stand, for my coming, sentinel ; 
 And think, as thou dost walk the street, 
 Me or my shadow thou dost meet. 
 I know a thousand greedy eyes 
 Will on thy features tyrannise. 
 In my short absence ; yet behold 
 Them like some pidture, or some mould 
 Fashion'd like thee ; which though t'have ears 
 And eyes, it neither sees or hears. 
 Gifts will be sent, and letters, which 
 Are the expressions of that itch 
 And salt, which frets thy suitors ; fly 
 Both, lest thou lose thy liberty; 
 
 * There is no reason to believe that Herrick was ever 
 married; strongly as he seems to enter into the feelings of 
 conjugal tenderness, and fidelity. 
 
 K 3
 
 132 
 
 For that once lost, thou'It fall to one, 
 
 Then prostrate to a million : 
 
 But if they woo thee, do thou say. 
 
 As that chaste queen of Ithaca 
 
 Did to her :uitors: this web done. 
 
 Undone as oft as done, I'm won. 
 
 I will not urge thee, for I know. 
 
 Though thou art young, thou canst say no, 
 
 And no again ; and so deny 
 
 Those thy lust-burning incubi. 
 
 Let them enstyle thee, fairest fair,* 
 
 The pearl of princes ; yet despair 
 
 That so thou art, because thou must 
 
 Believe, love speaks it not, but lust. 
 
 And this their flatt'ry does commend 
 
 Thee chiefly for their pleasure's end. 
 
 I am not jealous of thy faith. 
 
 Or will be ; for the axiom saith, 
 
 lie that doth susped;, does haste 
 
 A gentle mind to be unchaste : 
 
 No, live thee to thyself, and keep 
 
 Thy thoughts as cold as is thy sleep ; 
 
 And let thy dreams be only fed 
 
 With this, that I am in thy bed ; 
 
 And thou, then turning in that sphere. 
 
 Waking shalt find me sleeping there. 
 
 But yet if boundless lust must scale 
 
 Thy fortress, and will needs prevail. 
 
 * The parallelism of this passage with the following of his 
 cotemporary Carew, is very striking, : 
 
 Think not, cause men flatt'ring say, 
 Y'are fresh as April, sweet as May, 
 Bright as is the morning star, 
 That you are so.
 
 !3: 
 
 And wildly force a passage in ; 
 
 Banish consent, and 'tis no sin 
 
 Of thine: so Lucrccc fell, and the 
 
 Chaste Syracusian Cyanc ; 
 
 So Medullina fell ; yet none 
 
 Of these had imputation 
 
 For the least trespass, 'cause the mind 
 
 Here was not with the aift combin'd : 
 
 The body sins not ; 'tis the will 
 
 That makes the adion good, or ill : 
 
 And if thy fall should this way come. 
 
 Triumph in such a martyrdom. 
 
 I will not ovcrlong enlarge 
 
 To thee this my religious charge: 
 
 Take this compression ; so by this 
 
 Means I shall kn.ow what other kiss 
 
 Is mix'd with mine ; and truly know, 
 
 Returning, if 't be mine or no ; 
 
 Keep it 'till then : and now, my spouse, 
 
 For my wish'd safety pay thy vows, 
 
 And pray'rs to Venus ; if it please 
 
 The great blue Ruler of the seas, 
 
 Not many fuU-fac'd moons shall wain 
 
 Lean-horn'd, before I come again 
 
 As one triumphant; when I find 
 
 In thee all faith of womankind. 
 
 Nor would I have thee think, that thou 
 
 Had'st pow'r thyself to keep this vow ; 
 
 But, having scap'd temptation's shelf. 
 
 Know virtue taught thee, not thyself.
 
 134 
 
 CL. 
 
 TO BLOSSOMS. 
 
 Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, 
 Why do ye fall so fast ? 
 Your date is not so past, 
 
 But you may stay yet here awhile 
 To blush, and gently smile. 
 And go at last. 
 
 What, were ye born to be 
 
 An hour or half 's delight, 
 And so to bid good night ? 
 
 'Twas pity nature brought ye forth 
 Merely 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'er so brave : 
 
 And after they have shown their pride, 
 Like you, awhile ; they glide 
 Into the grave. 
 
 Poem CL.] The same critique will apply to this, as to 
 poem 107. Neither Carew, nor Waller, observes Dr. Drake, 
 r,aveaiiy thing that can equal the tender melancholylof this, 
 and of some other such effusions. The concluding lines of 
 each stanza are peculiarly impressive, and pleasing.
 
 13^ 
 
 CLI. 
 
 THK WASSAIL. 
 
 Give way, give way ye gates ; and win 
 An easy blessing to your bin, 
 And basket, by our ent'ring in. 
 
 May both with manchet stand replete ; 
 Your larders too so hung with meat, 
 That, though a thousand thousand eat, 
 
 Yet ere twelve moons shall whirl about 
 Their silv'ry spheres, there's none may doubt, 
 But more's sent in than was serv'd out. 
 
 Next may your dairies prosper so, 
 As that your pans no ebb may know ; 
 But if they do, the more to flow 
 
 Like to a solemn, sober stream, 
 Bank'd all with lilies ; and the cream 
 Of sweetest cowslips filling them. 
 
 Then may your plants be press'd with fruit ; 
 Nor bee, or hive you have be mute, 
 But sweetly sounding like a lute. 
 
 Poem CLI.'J A set of revellers, it would seem, had gone 
 to the house of some churl, in their jollity, v/heitj they met 
 with but cold reception. It was a country custom, on new- 
 year's-eve, and twelfth. night, to go from house to house 
 with a ivasset or ivasiait bowl, vvhich was ptesented to 
 every person of the company, with this Saxon greeting, 
 tuacs heal, that is, be of I eotth ; and it vi'as a sort of challenge 
 to mirth and festivity, which always ensued. In time ivas. 
 sail became to signity drunkenness^ inti.mperance. See Ma. 
 lone's notes to Shakspeare, in several places, on this word; 
 and Mr. Selden's notes to Drayton's Polyolbion.
 
 136 
 
 Next may your duck, and teeming hen. 
 Both to the cock's tread say amen ; 
 And for their two eggs render ten. 
 
 Last may your harrows, shares, and ploughs, 
 Your stacks, your stocks, your sweetest mows, 
 All prosper by your virgin vows. 
 
 Alas ! we bless ', but see none here. 
 That brings us either ale, or beer : 
 In a dry house all things are near. 
 
 Let's leave a longer time to wait. 
 Where rust and cobwebs bind the gate, 
 And all live here with needy fate, 
 
 Where chimnies do for ever weep 
 
 For want of warmth, and stomachs keep 
 
 With noise the servants' eyes from sleep. 
 
 It is in vain to sing, or stay 
 
 Our free feet here, but we'll away ; 
 
 Yet to the Lares this we'll say : 
 
 The time will come, when you'll be sad, 
 And reckon this for fortune bad, 
 T'ave lost the good ye might have had. 
 
 CLII,- 
 UPON JULIA'S HAIR FILLED WITH DEW, 
 
 Dew sate on Julia's hair, 
 ' And spangled too, 
 Like leaves that laden are 
 With trembling dew j
 
 i:i7 
 
 Or glitter'd to my sight, 
 
 As when the beams 
 Have their refleded light 
 
 Danc'd by the streams, 
 
 CLUI. 
 
 UPON HIMSELF. 
 
 I could never love indeed ; 
 Never sec mine own heart bleed; 
 Never crucify my life 
 Or for w^idow^, maid, or wife. 
 
 I could never seek to please 
 One, or many mistresses ; 
 Never like their lips, to swear 
 Oil of roses still smelt there, 
 
 1 could never break my sleep, 
 Fold mine arms, sob, sigh, or weep } 
 Never beg ; or humbly woo 
 With oaths, and lies, as others do. 
 
 I could never walk alone. 
 Put a shirt of sackcloth on, 
 Never keep a fast, or pray 
 For good luck in love that day j 
 
 But have hitherto liv'd free 
 As the air that circles me ; 
 And kept credit with my heart. 
 Neither broke i'th' whole, or part.
 
 138 
 
 CLIV. 
 
 AN ECLOGUE, 
 
 BETWEEN ENDYMION SORTER, AND LYCIDAS 
 HERRICK. 
 
 End. Ah, Lycidas, come tell me why, 
 
 Thy whilom merry oat 
 By thee doth so ncglcdted lie. 
 
 And never purls a note ? 
 
 I prithee speak. — Lye. I will. — End. Say on. 
 
 Lye. 'Tis thou, and only thou, 
 That art the cause, Endymion. 
 
 Ejid. For love's sake, tell me how. 
 
 Lye. In this regard, that thou dost play 
 
 Upon another plain ; 
 And for a rural roundelay 
 
 Strik'st now a courtly strain : 
 
 Thou leav'st our hills, our dales, our bow'i-s. 
 
 Our finer-fleeced sheep, 
 Unkind to us, to spend thine hours 
 
 Where shepherds should not keep : 
 
 '» 
 
 I mean the court : let Latmos be 
 My lov'd Endymion's court. 
 
 End. But I the courtly state would see, 
 Lye. Then see it in report : 
 
 What has the court to do with swains, 
 Where Phillis is not known ? 
 
 Nor does it mind the rustick strains 
 Of us, or Coridon :
 
 139 
 
 Break, if thou lov'st us, this delay. 
 
 End. Dear Lycidas, ere long, 
 I vow by Pan, to come away, 
 
 And pipe unto thy song. 
 
 Lye. Then Jessamine, with Florabcll, 
 
 And dainty Amarillis, 
 With handsome-handed Drosomel, 
 
 Shall prank thy hook with lilies : 
 
 Then Tityrus, and Condon, 
 And Thyrsis, they shall follow. 
 
 With all the rest ; while thou alone 
 Shalt lead, like young Apollo : 
 
 And, 'till thou com'st, thy Lycidas 
 
 In ev'ry genial cup 
 Shall write in spice, Endymion 'twas 
 
 That kept his piping up. 
 
 CLV. 
 
 THE BED OF TULIPS. 
 
 Bright tulips, we do know 
 You had your coming hither ; 
 
 And fading time docs show, 
 That ye must quickly wither. 
 
 Your sisterhoods may stay. 
 And smile here for your hour ; 
 
 But ye must die away, 
 E'en as the meanest flow'r.
 
 no 
 
 Come virgins then, and see 
 Your frailties, and bemoan ye ; 
 
 For, lost like these, 'twill be 
 As time had never known ye* 
 
 CLVI. 
 
 TO THE WATER NYMPHS, 
 DRINKING AT A FOUNTAIN. 
 
 Reach with your whiter hands to me 
 
 Some crystal of the spring ; 
 And I about the cup shall see 
 
 Fresh lilies flourishing : 
 
 Or else, sv/eet nymphs, do you but this j 
 
 To th' glass your lips incline ; 
 And 1 shall see, by that one kiss. 
 
 The water turn'd to wine. 
 
 CLVir. 
 
 UPON A FLY. 
 
 A golden fly one shew'd to me, 
 CIcs'd in a box of ivory, 
 Where both seem'd proud; the fly, to have 
 His burial in an iv'ry grave ; 
 The ivory took state to hold 
 A corpse as bright as burnish'd gold : 
 One fate had both, both equal grace. 
 The buried, and the burying-place. 
 
 Poem CLVI.] The elegance, and natural melody of 
 these lines are exquisite; and would seem to challenge the 
 taste, and skill of the musical composer.
 
 HI 
 
 Not Virgil's gnat, to whom the spring* 
 All (low'rs sent to his burying ; 
 Not Martial's bee, which in a bead 
 Of <imber quick was buried ; 
 Nor that fine worm that docs inter 
 Herself i'th' silken sepulchre ; 
 Nor my rare f Phil, that lately was 
 With lilies tomb'd up in a glass ; 
 More honour had than this same lly. 
 Dead, and clos'd up in ivory. 
 
 Cl.VIII. V 
 
 TO JULIA. 
 
 Julia, when thy Herrick dies. 
 Close thou up thy poet's eyes ; 
 And his last breath, let it be 
 Taken in by none but thee. 
 
 CLIX. 
 
 HOW HE WOULD DRINK HIS WINE. 
 
 Fill me my wine in crystal ; thus, and thus 
 I see't in puris naturalibus. 
 Unmix'd, I love to have it smirk, and shine; 
 'Tis sin, I know, 'tis sin so throttle wine. 
 What madman's he, that, when it sparkles so, 
 Will cool his flames, or quench his fires with snow ? 
 
 • Whatever of classic allusion is here made must be too 
 generally known to require explanation. 
 
 f His sparrow. See poem 86. 
 
 Poem Cl.VIlI. ] The voluptuous pathos of this little po- 
 em is perfectly in ihe style ot TibuUus; and, though con- 
 sisting but of four lines, more povtrerfully impresses the 
 heart than many pages of modern amatory poetry. 
 
 Dk.\ke. 

 
 1 42 
 CLX. 
 
 UPON LOVE. 
 
 I held Love's head while it did ache ; 
 
 But so it chanc'd to be, 
 The cruel pain did his forsake, 
 
 And forthwith came to me. 
 
 Ah me ! how shall my grief be still'd ; 
 
 Or where else shall we find 
 One like to me, Vv-ho must be kill'd 
 
 For being too, too kind ? 
 
 CLXI. 
 
 TO THE LADY CREW, 
 UPON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD. 
 
 Why, madam, will ye longer weep, 
 *When as your baby's lull'd asleep; 
 And, pretty child, feels now no more 
 Those pains it lately felt before. 
 AH now is silent, groans are fled ; 
 Your child lies still, yet is not dead ; 
 But rather like a flovv'r hid here, 
 To spring again another year. 
 
 CLXU. 
 
 ON HIMSELF. 
 
 Born I was to meet with age, 
 And to walk life's pilgrimage ; 
 
 * When as, formerly written as one word, ^^^ used by 
 our early English poets to signify simply -wlai ; and -^bcre- 
 a, , ill like manner, to signify ivhere. 
 
 Poem CLXII.l A more happy example of the truly 
 Anacreontic styli does not perhaps exist, and cannot be 
 formed, in our language.
 
 Much I know of time is spent, 
 
 Tell I can't what's resident ; 
 
 Howsoever, cares adieu ! 
 
 I'll have nought to say of you ; 
 
 But I'll spend my coming hours 
 
 Drinking wine, and crown'd with (low'rs. 
 
 CLXIII. 
 
 TO PHILLIS, 
 TO LOVE, AND LIVE WITH HIM. 
 
 Live, live with me ; and thou shalt see 
 The pleasures I'll prepare for thee ; 
 What sweets the country can afford 
 Shall bless thy bed, and bless thy board : 
 The soft sweet moss shall be thy bed. 
 With crawling woodbine overspread ; 
 By which the silver-shedding streams 
 Shall gently melt thee into dreams : 
 Thy clothing, next, shall be a gown 
 Made of the fleece's purest down ; 
 The tongues of kids shall be thy meat ; 
 Their milk thy drink ; and thou shalt eat 
 
 Poem CLXIII.J Every reader perusing the present po- 
 em must immediately have his recolledtion turned to that 
 much admired composition, Marlowe's Passionate Shepherd; 
 and the Nvrnph's Reply, by Sir Walter Raleigh ; as likewise 
 to that pretty imitation of these pieces, entitled the Bait, by 
 Dr. Donne, who has given a piscatory turn to his lines: 
 the three poems are preserved in Walton's Complete dingier, 
 a most fascinating little book. Our poet's friend, Mr, 
 Charles Cotton, has likewise a very pretty imitation of the 
 same, entitled An Invitation to Fhillis. See his Poem?, pub- 
 lished 1689, page 463. But surely the reader will agree with 
 me, that Herrick has improved upon, and surpassed them 
 all ; he is far richer in poetical imagery, and has equal sim- 
 plicity and sweetness.
 
 144 
 
 The paste of filberts for thy bread, 
 With cream of cowslips buttered : 
 Thy feasting-tables shall be hills 
 With daisies spread, and daffodils ; 
 Where thou shalt sit, and redbreast by. 
 For meat, shall give thee melody : 
 I'll give thcc chains, and carcanets 
 Of piimroses and violet*; ; 
 A bag, and bottle thou shalt have. 
 That richly wrought, and this as brave ; 
 So that as either shall express 
 The wearer's no mean shepherdess: 
 At shearing times, and yearly wakes. 
 When Themilis his pastime makes. 
 There thou shalt be, and be the wit. 
 Nay more, the feast and grace of it ; 
 On holidays, when virgins meet 
 To dance the hays with nimble feet, 
 Thou shalt come forth, and then appear 
 
 The queen of roses for that year; 
 
 And, having danc'd 'bove all the best. 
 
 Carry the garland from the rest: 
 
 In wicker baskets maids shall bring 
 
 To thee, my dearest shepherdling. 
 
 The blushing apple, bashful pear. 
 
 And shamefac'd plumb, all simp'ring there ; 
 
 Walk in the groves, and thou shalt find 
 
 The name of Phillis in the rind ^ 
 
 Of every straight and smooth-skinn'd tree ; 1 
 
 Where, kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee : 
 
 To thee a sheephook I will send, 
 
 Beprank'd with ribands, to this end. 
 
 That this alluring hook might be 
 
 Less for to catch a sheep, than me:
 
 145 
 
 Thou shalt have possets; wassails fine*, 
 Not made of ale, but spiced wine ; 
 To make thy maids and self free mirth, 
 All sitting near the glitt'ring hearth : 
 Thou shalt have ribands, roses, rings, 
 Gloves, garters, stockings, shoes, and strings 
 Of winning colours, that shall move 
 Others to lust, but me to love: 
 These, nay, and more thine own shall be, 
 If thou wilt love, and live with me. 
 
 CLXIV. 
 
 UPON HER FEET. 
 
 Her pretty feet. 
 Like snails, did creep 
 
 A little out ; and then. 
 As if they started at bopecp, 
 
 Did soon draw in again. 
 
 * See note to poem 151. 
 
 Poem CLXIV.l A nearly similar thought occurs in a 
 cotemporary poet, who perhaps wrote rather prior to 
 Herrick, being born twenty-two years before him, and dy- 
 ing at an early period of life : 
 
 Her feet beneath her petticoat, 
 Like little mice, stole in and out, 
 As if they fear'd the light : &c. 
 
 Sir J. Suckling's Balladon a Wedding. 
 
 hi
 
 146 
 CLXV. 
 
 UPON HIS GREY HAIRSy 
 
 Fly me not, though I be greyy 
 Lady, this I know you'll say ; 
 Better look the roses red, 
 When with white commingled. 
 Black your hairs are, mine are white ; 
 This begets the more delight, 
 When things meet most opposite ; 
 As in pictures we descry 
 Venus standing Vulcan by. 
 
 CLXVL 
 vow TO MINERVA. 
 
 Goddess, I begin an art j 
 Come thou in, with thy best part. 
 For to make the texture lie 
 Each way smooth and civilly ; 
 And a broad-fac'd owl shall be 
 OfFer'd up with vows to thee. 
 
 CLXVII. 
 
 TO ELECTRA. 
 
 'Trs ev'ning, my sweet. 
 And dark ; let us meet ; 
 Long time ne've here been a toying j 
 
 Poem CLXV.] We have here before us a lovely little 
 compound of what is original, and translated. The first 
 four lines only are almost a perfect versification of an ode 
 of the jolly Grecian : 
 
 Mri ^j $vV''f> 'of!!i(roi, &c. 
 
 Anac. Od.Si.
 
 147 
 
 And never, as yet, 
 That season could get. 
 Wherein t'have had an cnjoyjpg. 
 
 For pity, or shame, 
 Thco let not love's flanje 
 
 Be ever and ever a spending ; 
 Since now to the port 
 The path is but short. 
 
 And yet our way has no ending. 
 
 Time flies away fast. 
 
 Our hours do waste ; 
 The while we never remember 
 
 How soon our life here 
 
 Grows old with the year, 
 That dies with the next December. 
 
 CLXVIIt 
 TO DrANEME. 
 
 Give me one kiss. 
 
 And no more ; 
 If so be, this 
 
 Makes you poor* 
 To enrich you, 
 
 I'll restore. 
 For that one, two 
 
 Thousand score. 
 
 L 3
 
 148 
 
 CLXIX. 
 ODE TO SIR CLIPSF.BY CREW. 
 
 Here we securely live ; and eat 
 The cream of meat j 
 And keep eternal fires. 
 By which we sit, and do divine, 
 As wine 
 And rage inspires. 
 
 If full, we charm ; then call upon 
 Anacreon 
 To grace the frantick thyrse ; 
 And, having drunk, we raise a shout 
 Throughout, 
 To praise his verse. 
 
 Then cause we Horace to be read ; 
 Which sung or said, 
 A goblet to the brim, 
 Of lyric wine, both swell'd and crown'd, 
 Around 
 We quaff to him. 
 
 Thus, thus we live ; and spend the hours 
 In wine and flow'rs ; 
 And make the frolick year, 
 The month, the week, the instant day 
 To stay 
 The longer here.
 
 149 
 
 Come then, brave knight, and see the cell 
 Wherein I dwell ; 
 And nny ench.intnnents too, 
 Which love and noble freedom 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. 
 
 CLXX. 
 HIS CONTENT IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 Here, here I live with what my board 
 Can with the smallest cost afford ; 
 Though ne'er so mean the viands be. 
 They well content my Pru a.id me :* 
 Or pea, or bean, or wort, or beet, 
 W^hatever comes content makes sweet : 
 Here we rejoice, because no rent 
 We pay for our poor tenement 
 Wherein we rest, and never fear 
 The landlord, or the usurer : 
 The quarterday does not affright 
 Our peaceful slumbers in the night : 
 We eat our own ; and batten more, 
 Because we feed on no man's score ; 
 But pity those whose flanks grow great, 
 Swell'd with the lard of others' meat : 
 
 * See a note to poem 100.
 
 150 
 
 We bless oiir fortunes, when we see 
 Our own beloved privacy ; 
 And like our living, where we're known 
 To very few, or else to none. 
 
 CLXXI. 
 
 THE FAIRIES. 
 
 If ye will with Mab find grace ; 
 Set each platter in his place. 
 Rake the fire up, and get 
 Water in ere sun be set, 
 Wash your pails, and cleanse your dairies, 
 (Sluts are loathsome to the fairies) 
 Sweep your house ; who doth not so, 
 Ma,b will pinch her by the toe. 
 
 CLXXII . 
 
 ART ABOVE NATURE. 
 TO JULIA. 
 
 When I behold a forest spread 
 With silken trees upon thy head ; 
 And when I see that other dress 
 Of flowers set in comeliness : 
 When I behold another grace 
 In the ascent of curious lace. 
 Which like a pinacle doth shew 
 The top, and the topgallant too : 
 Then, when I see thy tresses bound 
 Into an oval, square, or round; 
 And knit in knots far more than I 
 Can tell by tongue, or true love tie : 
 Next, when those lawny films I see 
 Play with a wild civility j
 
 151 
 
 And all those airy silks to flow, 
 Alluring me, and tempting so : 
 i must confess, mine eye and heart 
 Dotes less on nature than on art. 
 
 CLXXIII. 
 
 UPON LOVE. 
 
 I play'd with love, as with the fire 
 
 The wanton satyr did ; 
 Nor did I know, or could descry 
 
 What under there was hid. 
 
 That satyr he but burnt his lips, 
 But mine's the greater smart ; 
 
 For, kissing love's dissembling chips, 
 The fire scorch'd my heart. 
 
 CLXXIV, 
 
 ON THE LOSS OF HIS FINGER. 
 
 One of the fiive straight branches of my hand 
 Is lopt already, and the rest but stand 
 Expeding when to fall, which soon will be : 
 Fjrst dies the leaf, the bough next, next the tree. 
 
 CLXXV. 
 
 HYMN TO THE GRACES. 
 
 When I love, as some have told. 
 Love I shall when I am old. 
 O ye Graces ! make me fit 
 For the welcoming of it : 
 Clean my rooms, as temples be, 
 T' entertain that deity : 
 
 Poem CLXXIV.] I have adduced this short poem merely 
 to record a trifling personal circumstance belonging to its 
 author, which may to some readers be matter of curiosity.
 
 152 
 
 Give me words wherewith to woo. 
 Suppling and successful too ; 
 Winning postures, and withal 
 Manners each way musical ; 
 Sweetness to allay my sour. 
 And unsmooth behaviour : 
 For I know you have the skill 
 Vines to prune, though not to kill ; 
 And of any wood ye see* 
 You can make a Mercury. 
 
 CLXXVI. 
 
 THE APPARITION OF HIS MISTRESS, 
 CALLING HIM TO ELYSIUM. 
 Desitnt nonnullo. 
 
 Com E then ; and, like two doves with silv'ry wings, 
 Let our souls fly to th' shades, where ever springs 
 Sit smiling in the meads ; where balm and oil, 
 Roses, and cassia crown the untill'd soil ; 
 Where no disease reigns, or infedion comes 
 To blast the air, but ambergris and gums 
 This, that, and ev'ry thicket doth transpire 
 More sweet, than storax from the hallowed fire } 
 Where ev'ry tree a wealthy issue bears 
 Of fragrant apples, blushing plumbs, or pears ; 
 
 * This is a reverse of the old Latin adage : 
 £x quo'j'is ligno non [it Mercurius. 
 
 Poem CLXXVI.] Tibullus, ar.d Shakspeare would 
 seem to have occurred to our bard in this composition 1 he 
 beginning is a pretty close imitation of the former, in ftis 
 S:fcription of eV^ium, Eleg. 3. Lib. 1, Hie ^/-^ -f^r 
 ^igent, 13-.. And his apparition certainly takes leave after 
 a manner somewhat similar to that of Hamlet s ghost, m 
 his interview with the young Dane, bis son.
 
 153 
 
 And all the shrubs with sparkling spangles shew 
 Like morning sunshine tinselling the dew. 
 Here in green meadows sits eternal May, 
 PurQing the margents; while perpetual day 
 So double gilds the air, as that no night 
 Can ever rust th' enamel of the light : 
 Here naked younglings, handsome striplings run 
 Their goals for virgins' kisses; which when done, 
 Then unto dancing forth the learned round 
 Commixt they meet, with endless roses crown'd; 
 And here we'll sit on primrose banks, and see 
 Love's chorus led by Cupid ; and we'll be 
 Two loving followers too unto the grove, 
 Where poets sing the stories of our love : 
 There thou shalt hear divine Musaeus sing 
 Of Hero, and Leander ; then I'll bring 
 Thee to the stand, where honour'd Homer reads 
 His Odysseys, and his high Iliads ; 
 About whose throne the crowd of poets throng, 
 To hear the incantation of his tongue : 
 To Linus, then to Pindar ; and, that done, 
 I'll bring thee, Herrick, to Anacreon, 
 Quaffing his full-crown'd bowls of burning wine, 
 And in his raptures speaking lines of thine. 
 Like to his subje(5t ; and, as his frantick 
 Looks shew him truly Bacchanalian like, 
 Besmear'd with grapes, welcome he shall thee thi- 
 ther. 
 Where both may rage, both drink and dance to- 
 gether. 
 Then stately Virgil, witty Ovid, by 
 Whom fair Corinna sits, and doth comply* 
 With iv'ry wrists his laureat head, and steeps 
 His eye in dew of kisses, while he sleeps : 
 • See a note to poem 143.
 
 154 
 
 Then soft Catullus, sh.irp-fang'd Martial, 
 And tovv'ring Lucan, Horace, Juvenal, 
 And snaky Persius ; these, and those whom rage, 
 Dropp'd for the jars of heav'n, fiU'd t'engage 
 All times unto their frenzies ; thou shalt there 
 Behold them in a spacious theatre:* 
 Among which glories, crown'd with sacred bays, 
 And flatt'ring ivy, two recite their plays, 
 Beaumont and Fletcher, swans, to whom all ears 
 Listen, while they, like syrens in their spheres. 
 Sing their Evadne ; and still more for thee 
 There yet remains to know, than thou canst see 
 By glimm'ring of a fancy: do but come. 
 And there I'll shew thee that capacious room. 
 In which thy father Jonson now is plac'd 
 As in a globe of radiant fire, and grac'd 
 To be in that orb crown'd, that doth include 
 Those prophets of the former magnitude, 
 And he one chief. — But hark ; I hear the cock. 
 The belman of the night, proclaim 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 ! 
 
 ^ CLXXVII. 
 
 LOVE LIGHTLY PLEASED, 
 
 Let fair or foul my mistress be. 
 Or low or tall, she pleaseth me ; 
 Or let her walk or stand or sit. 
 The posture her's, I'm pleas'd with it j 
 Or let her tongue be still or stir. 
 Graceful is ev'ry thing from her ;
 
 155 
 
 Or let her grant or else deny. 
 My love will fit each history. 
 
 CLXXVIII. 
 
 THE PRIMROSE. 
 
 Ask me why I send you here 
 This sweet infanta of the year ? 
 Ask me why I send to you 
 This primrose, thus bepearl'd with dew ? 
 I will whisper to your ears, 
 The sweets of love are mix'd with tears. 
 
 Ask me why this flow'r does show 
 So yellow green, and sickly too ? 
 Ask me why the stalk is weak 
 And bending, yet it doth not break ? 
 I will answer, these discover 
 What fainting hopes are in a lover. 
 
 Poem CLXXVHI.] This poem is also found in Ca- 
 revv's collecSlion, and is in the same predicament with 
 poem 89; the observations on which will in every respect 
 apply to it. As Carew's copy differs from Herrick's in al- 
 most every line, I will transcribe it entire, that the reader 
 may judge for himself which has the fairest claim to origi- 
 nalness. 
 
 Ask me why I send you here, 
 This firstling of the infant year; 
 Ask me why I send to you 
 This primrose all bepearl'd with dew ; 
 1 strait will whisper in your ears. 
 The sweets of love are wash'd with tears- 
 Ask me why this flow'r doth shew 
 So yellow, green, and «ickly too; 
 A?k me why the stalk is weak. 
 And bending, yet it doth not break ; 
 I must tell you, these discover 
 What doubt* and fears are in a lover.
 
 156 
 
 CLXXIX. 
 
 THE TITHE. 
 
 TO THE BRIDE. 
 
 If nine times you your bridegroom kiss, 
 The tenth you know the parson's is ; 
 Pay then your tithe, and, doing thus, 
 Prove in your bridebed numerous ! 
 If children you have ten, Sir John 
 Wont for his tenth part ask you one. 
 
 CLXXX. 
 
 NO LUCK IN LOVE. 
 
 I do love I know not what, 
 Sometimes this, and sometimes that ; 
 AH conditions I aim at. 
 
 But, as luckless, I have yet 
 Many shrewd disasters met, 
 To gain her whom I would get. 
 
 Therefore now I'll love no more, 
 
 As I've doted heretofore ; 
 
 He, who must be, shall be poor. 
 
 CLXXXI, 
 
 THE HEADACH. 
 
 My head doth ache ; 
 O Sappho, take 
 
 Thy fillet, 
 And bind the pain; 
 Or bring some bane 
 
 To kill it !
 
 157 
 
 But les3 that part, 
 Than my poor heart, 
 
 Now is sick; 
 One kiss from thee 
 Will counsel be, 
 
 And physick. 
 
 CLXXXII. 
 
 HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON. 
 
 When I a verse shall make; 
 
 Know I have pray'd thee. 
 For old religion's sake. 
 
 Saint Ben, to aid me. 
 
 Make the way smooth for me, 
 
 When I, thy Herrick, 
 Honouring thee, on my knee 
 
 Offer my lyrick. 
 
 Candles I'll give to thee. 
 
 And a new altar ; 
 And thou, saint Ben, shalt be 
 
 Writ in my psalter ! 
 
 , CLXXXIII. 
 
 T 
 
 THE BAD SEASON MAKES THE POET SAD, 
 
 Dull to myself, 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 ; 
 
 Poem Cl.XXXIII.] Tliis was probably written charing 
 his eje(5tment from his vicirage, and ulcer the death of 
 Chades the lirst.
 
 1.58 
 
 Sick is the land to th' heart, and doth endure 
 More dang'rous faintings by her desp'rate cure i 
 But if that golden age would come again, 
 And *Charles here rule as he before did reign ; 
 If smooth and unperplex'd the seasons were, 
 As when the sweet Maria lived here ; 
 I should delight to have my curls half drown'd 
 In f Syrian dews, and head with roses crown'd j 
 And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead. 
 Knock at a star with my exalted head.f 
 
 CLXXXIV. 
 
 PURPOSES. 
 
 No wrath of men, or rage of seas 
 Can shake a just man's purposes ; 
 No threats of tyrants, or the grim 
 Visage of them can alter him ; 
 But what he doth at first intend, 
 That he holds firmly to the end. 
 
 CLXXXV. 
 
 TO THE MAIDS, 
 TO WALK ABROAD. 
 
 Come sit we under yonder tree, 
 Where merry as the maids we'll be ; 
 And, as on primroses we sit, 
 We'll venture, if we can, at wit : 
 
 » In this, and the two following lines, Charles the first, 
 an d his consort, are no doubt alluded to. 
 f The text has Tyrian. See a note to poem 115. page 103. 
 
 t Sublimifiriam sldcra -vertice. 
 
 HoRAT. Odel. Lib. 1. 
 
 Poem CLXXXIV. J These lines must have been sug- 
 gested by the following : 
 
 Justum et tenacem propositi virum, \:fc. 
 
 HoRAT. Ode 3. Lib. 3.
 
 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 talk, but tell 
 No cruel truths of Philomel ; 
 Or Phillis, whom hard fate forc'd on 
 To kill herself for Demophoon : 
 But fables we'll 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 : 
 Next we will ad how young men woo ; 
 And sigh, and kiss, as lovers do ; 
 And talk 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'll draw lots who shall buy, 
 And gild the bays, and rosemary ; 
 What posies for our wedding rings, 
 What gloves we'll give, and ribandings ; 
 And, smiling at ourselves, decree 
 Who then the joining priest shall be ; 
 What short sweet prayers shall be said ; 
 And how the posset shall be made 
 With cream of lilies, not ot kine. 
 And maiden's-blush, for spiced wine : 
 Thus having talk'd, we'll next commend 
 A kiss to each ; and so we'll end. 
 
 M
 
 160 
 
 CLXXXVI. 
 
 THE NIGHTPIECE. 
 TO JULIA. 
 
 Her eyes the glowworm lend thee. 
 The shooting stars attend thee ; 
 
 And the elves also, 
 
 Whose little eyes glow 
 Like sparks of fire, befriend thee ! 
 
 No will-o'.th'-wisp mislight thee, 
 Nor snake, nor slowworm bite thee ; 
 
 But on, on thy way. 
 
 Not making a stay. 
 Since ghost there'^ none to affright thee ! 
 
 Let not the dark thee cumber ; 
 
 What though the moon does slumber, 
 The stars of the night 
 Will lend thee their light, 
 
 Like tapers clear without number ! 
 
 Then, Julia, let me woo thee. 
 Thus, thus, to come unto me ; 
 
 And, when I shall meet 
 
 Thy silv'ry feet. 
 My soul I'll pour into thee ! 
 
 Poem CLXXXVI.] Dr. Drake remarks, that, even 
 in his amatory strain, our poet takes every opportunity of 
 inserting imagery drawn from the vulgar superstition of 
 bis (lay. 
 
 
 I
 
 161 
 
 CLXXXVII. 
 
 TO SIR CLIPSEBY CREW. 
 
 Give me wine, and give me meat, 
 
 To create in me a heat ; 
 
 That my pulses high may beat. 
 
 Cold, and hunger never yet 
 
 Could a noble verse beget ; 
 
 But your bowls with sack replete. 
 
 Give me these, my knight ; and try 
 In a minute's space how I 
 Can run mad, and prophesy. 
 
 Then, if any piece proves new 
 And rare, I'll say, my dearest Crew, 
 It was full inspir'd by you. 
 
 CLXXXVIII. 
 
 UPON LOVE. 
 
 In a dream. Love bade me go 
 
 To the gallies, there to row. 
 
 In the vision I ask'd, why ? 
 
 Love as briefly did reply, 
 "Twas better there to toil, than prove 
 The turmoils they endure that love. 
 
 I awoke ; and then I knew 
 What Love said was too, too true : 
 Henceforth therefore I will be, 
 As from Love, from trouble free : 
 None pities him that's in the snare, 
 x\nd, warn'd before, would not beware. 
 
 M 2
 
 16'2 
 
 CLXXXIX. 
 
 CONNUBII FLORES, 
 OR THE WELLWISHES AT WEDDINGS. 
 
 Chorus ef PrUitj. 
 
 From the temple to your home 
 May a thousand blessings come ; 
 And a sweet concurring stream 
 Of all joys, to join with them! 
 
 Chorus of Youths. 
 
 Happy day, 
 Make no long stay 
 
 Here 
 In thy sphere j 
 But give thy place to night. 
 That she 
 » As tbee 
 
 May be 
 Partaker of this sight ! 
 And, since it was thy care 
 To see the younglings wed, 
 'Tis fit that night the pair 
 Should see safe brought to bed. 
 
 Chorus of Old Mtn. 
 
 Go to your banquet then ; but use delight. 
 So as to rise still with an appetite : 
 Love is a thing most nice ; and must be fed 
 To such a height, but never surfeited : 
 What is beyond the mean is ever ill ; 
 'Tis best to feed love, but not over-fill: 
 Go then discreetly to the bed of pleasure ; 
 And this remember, virtue keeps the measure.
 
 1G3 
 
 Chorus of Firgins. 
 
 Lucky signs we have descried 
 To encourage on the bride ; 
 And to these we have espied, 
 
 Not a kissing Cupid flies 
 Here about, but has his eyes, 
 To imply his love is wise. 
 
 Chorus of Shepherds. 
 
 Here we present a fleece, 
 To make a piece 
 Of cloth; 
 Nor, fair, must you be loth 
 Your finger to apply 
 To housewifery : 
 Then, then begin 
 To spin ; 
 And, sweetling, mark you, what a web will come 
 Into your chests, drawn by your painful thumb. 
 
 Chorus of Matrons. 
 
 Set you to your wheel, and wax 
 Rich, by the dudile wool and flax : 
 Yarn is an income ; and the housewives' thread 
 The larder fills with meat, the bin with bread. 
 
 Chorus of Old Men. 
 
 Let wealth come in by comely thrift. 
 And not by any sordid shift ; 
 
 'Tis haste 
 
 Makes waste j 
 
 M 4
 
 164. 
 
 Extremes have still their fault; 
 The softest fire makes the sweetest malt ; 
 Who gripes too hard the dry, and slipp'ry sand 
 Holds none at all, or little, in his hand. 
 
 Chorus of Virgins. 
 
 Goddess of pleasure, youth, and peace, 
 Give them the blessing of increase ! 
 And thou, Lucina, that dost hear 
 The vows of those that children bear, 
 When as her April hour draws near. 
 Be thou then propitious there ! 
 
 Chorus of Tout hs. 
 
 Far hence be all speech, that may anger move j 
 Sweet words must nourish soft, and gentle love. 
 
 General Chorus. 
 
 Live in the love of doves ; and, having told 
 The ravens' years, go hence more ripe than old | 
 
 CXC. 
 
 UPON LOVE. 
 
 A crystal vial Cupid brought, 
 
 Which had a juice in it ; 
 Of which who drank, he said, no thought 
 
 Of love he should admit. 
 
 I, greedy of the prize, did drink. 
 
 And emptied soon the glass. 
 Which burnt me so, that I do think 
 
 The fire of hell it was.
 
 IG^ 
 
 Give me my earthen cups again ; 
 
 The crystal I contemn, 
 Which, though enchas'd with pearls, contain 
 
 A deadly draught in them. 
 
 And thou, O Cupid ! come not to 
 
 My threshold ; since I see. 
 For all I have, or else can do, 
 
 Thou still wilt cozen me. 
 
 CXCI. 
 
 , THE BEGGAR 
 TO MAB, THE FAIRY OUEEN. 
 
 Please your grace, from out your store 
 Give an alms to one that's poor. 
 That your rnickle may have more ! 
 Black I'm grov/n for want of meat ; 
 Give me then an ant to eat. 
 Or the cleft ear of a mouse 
 Ovcr-sour'd in drink of souse ; 
 Or, sweet lady, reach to me 
 The abdomen of a bee ; 
 Or commend a cricket's hip. 
 Or his huckson,* to my scrip: 
 Give, for bread, a little bit 
 Of a pea that 'gins to chit ; 
 And my full thanks take for it : 
 
 Poem CXCI.] We perhaps have never before been pre- 
 sented by any dealer in tidlion with such a personage as the 
 present, a mendicant fairy : it was left for the pen of a 
 Herrick to delineate this chara^er; how he has succeeded 
 in it let the reader determine. 
 
 * This is perhaps a provincialism for fjudldone, or hipbone.
 
 166 
 
 Flour of furze-balls, that's too good 
 For a man in needihood ; 
 But the meal of mill-dust can 
 Well content a craving man : 
 Any orts the elves refuse 
 Well will serve the beggar's use ; 
 But if this may seem too much 
 For an alms, then give me such 
 Little bits as nestle there 
 In the prisoner's panier: 
 So a blessing light upon 
 You, and mighty Oberon ; 
 That your plenty last, till when 
 I return your alms again ! 
 
 CXCll. 
 
 UPON A CHILD. 
 
 Here a pretty baby lies, 
 Sung asleep with lullabies ; 
 Pray be silent, and not stir 
 Th' easy earth that covers her. 
 
 CXCllI. 
 FAREWELL FROST, OR WELCOME THE SPRING. 
 
 Fled are the frosts, arid now the fields appear 
 Recloth'd in fresh and verdant diaper ; 
 Thaw'd are the snows, and now the lusty spring 
 Gives to each mead a neat enamelling : 
 The palms put forth their gems, and every tree 
 Now swaggers in her leafy gallantry. 
 
 Poem CXCIII.] In the present poem the classic reader 
 will readily trace the fourth Ode of the fir&t Book, and the 
 twelfth of the fourth Book of Horace.
 
 167 
 
 The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly sings 
 
 With warb'ling notes her Terrean sufferings, 
 
 What gentle winds perspire ; as if here 
 
 Never had been the northern plunderer, 
 
 To strip the trees and fields to their distress, 
 
 Leaving them to a pitied nakedness : 
 
 And look, how when a frantick storm doth tear 
 
 A stubborn oak, or holm, long growing there, 
 
 But luU'd to calmness; then succeeds a breeze, 
 
 That scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees : 
 
 So when this war, which, tempest-like, doth spoil 
 
 Our salt, our corn, our honey, wine, and oil, 
 
 Falls to a temper, and doth mildly cast 
 
 His inconsiderate frenzy off, at last ; 
 
 The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease, 
 
 Bring in her bill once more the branch of peace. 
 
 CXCIV. 
 
 THE HAG. 
 
 The hag is astride 
 
 This night for to ride. 
 The Devil and she together, 
 
 Through thick and through thin, 
 
 Now out and then in, 
 Though ne'er so foul be the weather. 
 
 A thorn, or a bur 
 She takes for a spur ; 
 With a lash of a bramble she rides now ; 
 
 Poem CXC[V.J We have here one of those poemb 
 which Dr. Drake adduces, as being employed in describing 
 the more terrific agency of witchcraft.
 
 168 
 
 Through brakes and through briers. 
 O'er ditches and mires, 
 She follows the spirit that guides now. 
 
 No beast for his food 
 
 Dares now range the wood, 
 But hush'd in his lair he lies lurking ; 
 
 While mischiefs by these, 
 
 On land and on seas. 
 At noon of night are a working. 
 
 The storm will arise, 
 
 And trouble the skies 
 This night ; and, more for the wonder, 
 
 The ghost from the tomb 
 
 Affrighted shall come, 
 Call'd out by the clap of the thunder. 
 
 cxcv. 
 
 A BACCHANALIAN VERSE, 
 
 Fill me a mighty bowl 
 
 Up to the brink. 
 
 That I may drink 
 Unto my Jonson's soul. 
 
 Crown it again, again j 
 
 And thrice repeat 
 
 That happy heat ; 
 To drink to thee, my Ben. 
 
 Poem CXCV. J The jovial bard of Tecs begins this 
 strain ; 
 
 Bpoma TTtEi'v clu.vTi' 
 
 Anac. Oi.21.
 
 IG'J 
 
 Well I can quaff, I see, 
 
 To th' number five, 
 
 Or nine ; but thrive 
 In frenzy ne'er like thee, 
 
 CXCVI. 
 
 THE COUNTRY LIFE. 
 
 TO THE HONOURED MR. ENDYMION PORTER, 
 
 GROOM OF THE BEDCHAMBER TO HIS MAJESTY. 
 
 Sweet country life I to such unknown. 
 Whose lives are others, not their own ; 
 But, serving courts and cities, be 
 Less happy, less enjoying th;e. 
 Thou never plough'st the ocean's foam. 
 To seek and bring rough pepper home ; 
 Nor to the Eastern Ind dost rove, 
 To bring from thence the scorched clove ; 
 Nor, with the loss of thy lov'd rest, 
 Bring'st home the ingot from the West : 
 No, thy ambition's masterpiece 
 Flies no thought higher than a fleece, 
 Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear 
 All scores, and so to end the year ; 
 But walk'st about thine own dear bounds, 
 Not envying others' larger grounds ; 
 For well thou know'st, 'tis not th' extent 
 Of land makes life, but sweet content. 
 When now the cock, the ploughman's horn, 
 Calls forth the lily-wristcd morn. 
 Then to thy corn-fields thou dost go, 
 Which though well soird,yet thou dost know, 
 
 Poem CXCVI. ) This is a most spirited, and beautiful 
 imitation gf Horace's second £podc.
 
 170 
 
 That the best compost for the lands 
 Is the wise master's feet and hands : 
 There at the plough thou find'st thy team, 
 With a hind whistling there to them ; 
 And cheer' st them up by singing, how 
 The kingdom's portion is the plough; 
 This done ; then to th' enamell'd meads 
 Thou go'st ; and, as thy foot there treads. 
 Thou see'st a present godlike pow'r 
 Imprinted in each herb, and flow'r ; 
 And smell'st the breath of great-ey'd kine, 
 Sweet as the blossoms of the vine : 
 Here thou behold'st thy large sleek neat 
 Unto the dewlaps up in meat ; 
 And, as thou look'st, the wanton steer, 
 The heifer, cow, and ox draw near, 
 To make a pleasing pastime there : 
 These seen, thou go'st to view thy flocks 
 Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox ; 
 And find'st their bellies there as full 
 Of short sweet grass, as backs with wool ; 
 And leav'st them, as they feed and fill ; 
 A shepherd piping on a hill. 
 For sport, for pageantry, and plays, 
 Thou hast thy eves and holidays, 
 On which the young men and maids meet, 
 To exercise their dancing feet. 
 Tripping the comely country round, 
 With daffodils and daisies crown'd. 
 Thy wakes, thy *quintels, here thou hast. 
 Thy may-poles too with garlands grac'd, 
 
 * Or quintins. 
 
 I
 
 ni 
 
 Thy morris-dancc, thy Whitsun ale, 
 Thy shearing feasts which never fail, 
 Thy harvest-home, thy wassail bowl* 
 That's toss'd up after fox-i'th'-holc, 
 Thy mummeries, thy tweifthtide kings 
 And queens, thy Christmas rcvellings, 
 Thy nutbrown mirth, thy russet wit. 
 And no man pays too dear for it: 
 To these, thou hast thy times to go 
 And trace the hare i'th' treach'rous snow, 
 Thy witty wiles to draw and get 
 The lark into the trammel net ; 
 Thou hast thy cockroad,f and thy glade 
 To take the precious pheasant made, 
 Thy lime-twigs, snares, and pitfalls then 
 To catch the pilf 'ring birds, not men. 
 
 O happy life! if that their good;}; 
 The husbandmen but understood ; 
 Who all the day themselves do please. 
 And younglings, with such sports as these; 
 And, lying down, have nought t'affright 
 Sweet sleep, that makes more short the night; 
 
 Catera desunt 
 
 CXCVII. 
 
 TO KLECTRA. 
 
 
 I dare not ask a kiss, 
 I dare not beg a smile; 
 
 * See poem 151. 
 
 fThis word, which Herrick writes " cockrood," means, 
 
 according to Phillips and Bailey, World of Words and Er>fr. 
 
 Iha. " a sort of net contrived chiefly for the catching of 
 
 woodcocks." But 1 should rather interpret it : " a beat or 
 
 iuiint, where nets and springes are laid for that purpose." 
 
 \ fortunatos nimium^ sua si bona noririt, 
 
 Agrici^hs ! Vi R G I L. Georg. 2.
 
 172 
 
 Lest, having that, or this, 
 I might grow proud the while* 
 
 No, no; the utmost share 
 
 Of my desire shall be 
 Only to kiss that air. 
 
 That lately kissed thee. 
 
 CXCVIII. 
 
 What kind of mistress he would have* 
 
 Be the mistress of my choice 
 Clean in manners, clear in voice ; 
 Be she witty more than wise ; 
 Pure enough, though not precise ; 
 Be she shewing in her dress, 
 Like a civil wilderness. 
 That the curious may dete<5t 
 Order in a sweet negleft ; 
 Be she rolling in her eye, 
 Tempting all the passers-by; 
 And each ringlet of her hair 
 An enchantment, or a snare, 
 For to catch the lookers-on, 
 But herself held fast by none ; 
 Let her Lucrece all day be, 
 Thais in the night to me ; | 
 
 Be she such, as neither will J 
 
 Famish me, nor over-fill.
 
 17.0 
 
 CXCIX. 
 
 TO HIS FRIEND, MR, JOHN WICKES.* 
 
 Is this a life ; to break tliy sleep, 
 To rise as soon as day doth peep, 
 To tire thy patient ox or ass 
 By noon, and let thy good days pass; 
 Not knowing this, that Jove decrees 
 Some mirth t' adulce man's miseries ? 
 No ; 'tis a life, to have thine oil 
 Without extortion from thy soil ; 
 Thy faithful fields to yield thee grain, 
 Although with some, yet little pain ; 
 To have thy mind, and nuptial bed 
 With fears, and cares uncumbered ; 
 A pleasing wife, that by thy side 
 Lies softly panting like a bride : 
 This is to live, and to endear 
 Those minutes time has lent us here. 
 Then while fates suffer, live thou free 
 As in that air that circles thee ; 
 And crown thy temples too; and let 
 Thy servant, not thy own self, sweat 
 To strut thy barns with sheaves of wheat* 
 Time steals away like to a stream, 
 And we glide hence away with them : 
 No sound recalls the hours once fled. 
 Or roses being withered. 
 Or us, my friend, when we are lost 
 Like to a dew, or melted frost. 
 Then live we mirthful while we should, 
 And turn the iron age to gold; 
 Let's feast, and frolick, sing, and play ; 
 And thus less last than live our day. 
 * See a note to poem 116.
 
 17- 
 
 Whose life with care is overcast, 
 That man's not said to live, but last ; 
 Nor is't a life, seven years to tell, 
 But for- to live that half seven w^ell ; 
 And that we'll 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. 
 
 CC. 
 
 HYMN TO THE LARES. 
 
 It was, and still my care is 
 To worship ye, the Lares, 
 With crowns of greenest parsley. 
 And garlick chives not scarcely, 
 For favours here to warm me. 
 And not by fire to harm me ; 
 For gladding so my hearth here. 
 With inoffensive mirth here. 
 That while the wassail bowl here 
 With -j-North-down ale doth troll here. 
 No syllable doth fall here 
 To mar the mirth at all here y 
 
 * Omnium 
 
 Versatur urna : serius ocyus 
 Sors exitura, et nos in tzternum 
 Exilium impositura cymbtc. 
 
 HoRAT. Ode 3. Lib. 2. 
 
 t North.doivn, or Norton.do-wn, as it is marked in some 
 old maps, was a spot about twelve mile; distant from our 
 poet's residence, Dean Prior; and would appear to have 
 had as high reputation tor good ale formerly, as Crediton 
 in the sanie county, has now. The place is, I believe, hardly 
 known at present.
 
 175 
 
 For which, O chimney-keepers ! 
 I dare not call ye sweepers, 
 So long as I am able 
 To keep a country table, 
 Great be my fare, or small cheer, 
 I'll eat and drink up all here. 
 
 CCl. 
 
 TO ANTHEA. 
 
 Come, Anthea, know thou this, 
 Love at no time idle is; 
 Let's be doing, though we play 
 But at pushpin half the day; 
 Chains of sweet bents let us make, 
 Captive one or both to take ; 
 In v/hich bondage we will lie. 
 Souls transfusing thus, and die. 
 
 ecu. 
 
 THE FUNERAL RITES OF THE ROSE. 
 
 The rose was sick, and smiling died ; 
 And, being to be sandified. 
 About the bed there sighing stood 
 The sweet and flow'ry sisterhood : 
 Some hung the head ; while some did bring. 
 To wash her, water from the spring ; 
 Some laid her forth ; while others wept; 
 But all a solemn fast there kept : 
 
 Poem CCII.] The fiction which this little poem pre- 
 sents to us is truly original, and beautifully simple.
 
 1/6 
 
 The holy sisters some among 
 The sacred dirge, and trental* sung : 
 But ah, what sweets smelt every-where. 
 As heav'n had spent all perfumes there I 
 At last, when prayers for the dead, 
 And rites were all accomplished; 
 They, weeping, spread a lawny loom, 
 And clos'd her up as in a tomb. 
 
 CCIll.] 
 THE RAINBOW, OR CURIOUS COVENANT. 
 
 Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rainj 
 And, as they thus did entertain 
 The gentle beams from Julia's sight 
 To mine eyes levell'd opposite, 
 O thing admir'd ! there did appear 
 A curious rainbow smiling there; 
 Which was the covenant, that she 
 No more would drown mine eyes, or me. 
 
 CCIV. 
 
 STOOLBALL. 
 
 At stoolball, Lucia, let us play 
 
 For sugar-cakes and wine, 
 Or for a tansy let us pay ; 
 
 The loss or thine or mine. 
 
 * The trental was a service of thirty masses, which were 
 usually celebrated, upon as many different days, for the 
 dead. See Du Cange, Glossarium ad Serif tores medics, et in- 
 fime Latinitatis. 
 
 Poem CCIV. 1 This game would seem of great antiquity. 
 It is enumerated by the second Randall Holme of Chester,
 
 177 
 
 If thou, my dear, 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 debt. 
 
 And have for all a kiss. 
 
 CCV. 
 
 TO SAPPHO. 
 
 Let us now take time, and play. 
 Love, and live here while we may. 
 Drink rich wine, and make good cheer, 
 While we have our being here ; 
 For, once dead, and laid i'th' grave. 
 No return from thence we have. 
 
 among his AuncLnt Customs in Games used by Boys and dries, 
 merily sett out in Verse : 
 
 Any they dare chalenge for to throw the sledge, 
 To jumpe, or leape ovir ditch, or hedge ; 
 To wrastle, play at stool ball, or to run, 
 To pich the barre, or to shoote of a gimne ; &c. 
 
 See Strutt's Manners, and Customs cf the English. Vol.3. 
 Page 147. It is also mentioned by one of our bards of no 
 very late date, quoting of whom, Johnson defines if. " a 
 " play where balls are driven from stool to stool." 
 
 While Betty dances on the green, 
 And Susan i« at stoolball seen. 
 
 Prior's Alma. Canfo 1. 
 M 2
 
 CCVI. 
 
 THE MAY-POLE. 
 
 The may-pole is up; 
 
 Now give me the cup, 
 I'll drink to the garlands around It; 
 
 But first unto those, 
 
 Whose hands did compose 
 The glory of flow'rs that crown'd it. 
 
 A health to my girls, 
 
 Whose husbands may earls 
 Or lords be, granting my wishes; 
 
 And, when that ye wed 
 
 To the bridal bed. 
 Then multiply all like to fishes. 
 
 CCVII. 
 
 THE BRACELET OF PEARL. 
 TO SYLVIA. 
 
 I brake Ihy bracelet 'gainst my will ; 
 
 And wretched I did see 
 Thee discomposed then, and still 
 
 Art discontent with me. 
 
 One gem was lost ; and I will get 
 
 A richer pearl for thee, 
 Than ever, dearest Sylvia, yet 
 
 Was drunk to Anthony : 
 
 Poem CCVI "j The May-pole, and all the May-riles, 
 emanating from the Roman Flotalia, or Festival of Flora, 
 would form a very copious history, and not unentertaining. 
 See note to poem 58. 1 will refer my readers, on this 
 subjc-dt, to Strutt's Manners and Customs of the Er,^tish, also 
 to Brand's Observations on popular Antiquities.
 
 179 
 
 Or, for revenge, I'll tell thee what 
 
 Thou for the breach shalt do ; 
 First crack the strings, and after that 
 
 Cleave thou my heart in two. 
 
 .J CCVIII. 
 
 HOW ROSES CAME RED. 
 
 'Tis said, as Cupid danc'd among 
 The gods, he down the nedar flung; 
 Which, on the white rose being shed. 
 Made it for ever after red. 
 
 CCIX. 
 
 BUCOLICK, 
 
 OR DISCOURSE OF NEATHERDS. 
 
 First Neatherd. 
 Come blithful neatherds, let us lay 
 A wager who the best shall play, 
 Of thee, or I, the roundelay ; 
 That fits the business of the day. 
 
 Chorus. 
 And Lalage the judge shall be, 
 To give the prize to thee, or me. 
 
 Second Neatherd. 
 Content, begin ; and I will bet 
 A heifer smooth, and black as jet. 
 In every part alike complete. 
 And wanton as a kid as yet. 
 
 Poem CCVI1I.J The metamorphosis contained in thest 
 four lines is of exquisite invention : it is a happy specimen 
 of the curiosaftluitas.
 
 180 
 
 Chorus, 
 And Lalage, with cow-like eyes, 
 Shall be disposeress of the prize. 
 
 FirJt Neatherd. 
 Against thy heifer I will here 
 Lay to thy stake a lusty steer, 
 With gilded horns, and burnish'd clear. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Why then begin ; and let us hear 
 The soft, the sweet, the mellow note, 
 That gently purls from cither's oat. 
 
 Second Neatherd. 
 The stakes are laid; let's now apply 
 Each one to make his melody. 
 
 Lalage. 
 The equal umpire shall be I, 
 Who'll hear, and so judge righteously. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Much time is spent in prate ; begin, 
 And sooner play the sooner win. [He plajs.] 
 
 First Neatherd. 
 That's sweetly touch'd, I must confess ; 
 Thou art a man of worthiness : 
 But hark, how I can now express 
 My love unto my neatherdess. [He sings.] 
 
 Chorus. 
 A sugar'd note ; and sound as sweet 
 As kine, when they at milking meet. 
 
 * First Neatherd. 
 Now for to win thy heifer fair, 
 I'll strike thee such a nimble air, 
 That thou shalt say thyself, 'tis rare ; 
 And title me without compare. 
 
 * The text gives this stanza to a Fourth Neatherd; which, 
 1 presume, is a misprint; as the sense requires it should 
 be given to the First.
 
 181 
 
 Chorus. 
 Lay by awhile your pipes, and rest; 
 Since both have here deserved best. 
 
 Second Neatherd. 
 To get thy steerling, once again 
 I'll play thee such another strain, 
 That thou shalt swear, my pipe does reign 
 Over thine oat as sovereign. [He sings.] 
 
 Chorus. 
 And Lalage shall tell, by this. 
 Whose now the prize and wager is. 
 
 First Neatherd. 
 Give me the ^r\zQ.— Second. The day is mine. 
 
 First Neatherd. 
 Not so ; my pipe has silenc'd thine ; 
 And hadst thou wager'd twenty kine, 
 They were mine own. — Lalage. In love combine. 
 
 Chorus. 
 And lay we down our pipes together, 
 As weary, not o'ercome by either.* 
 
 CCX. 
 
 HIS GRANGE, 
 OR PRIVATE WEALTH. 
 
 Though clock, 
 To tell how night draws hence, I've none ; 
 
 A cock 
 I have, to sing how day draws on : 
 
 I have 
 A maid, my Pru, by good luck sent. 
 
 To save 
 That little fates me gave or lent : 
 
 A hen 
 
 * Et viduta tu di^nus, it hie, 
 
 ViRG. Eel. 3..
 
 182 
 
 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 ear 
 
 Lets loose 
 Her tongue, to tell what danger's near : 
 
 A lamb 
 1 keep, tame, with my morsels fed ; 
 
 Whose dam 
 An orphan left him, lately dead : 
 
 A cat 
 I keep, that plays about my house, 
 
 Grown fat 
 With eating many a miching mouse : 
 
 To these 
 A *Tracy I do keep, whereby 
 
 1 please 
 The more my rural privacy ; 
 
 Which are 
 But toys to give my heart some ease. 
 
 Where care 
 None is, slight things do lightly please, 
 
 I CCXI. 
 
 GOOD PRECEPTS, OR COUNSEL.' 
 
 In all thy need, be thou possest 
 Still with a well-prepared breast ; 
 Nor let the shackles make thee sad ; 
 Thou canst but have what others had : 
 And this, for comfort, thou must knovr ; 
 Times that are ill won't still be so. 
 
 * His spaniel
 
 18 
 
 <r» 
 
 Clouds will not ever pour down rain,* 
 A sullen day will clear again ; 
 First peals of thunder we must hear, 
 Then lutes and harps shall strike the ear. 
 
 GCXll. 
 
 A TERNARY OF LITTLES, 
 WPON A PIPKIN OF JELLY SENT TO A LADY. 
 
 A little saint best fits a little shrine, 
 A little prop best fits a little vine; 
 As my small cruse best fits my little wine. 
 
 A little seed best fits a little soil, 
 A little trade best fits a little toil; 
 As my small jar best fits my little oil. 
 
 A little bin best fits a little bread, 
 A little garland fits a little head ; 
 As my small stuff best fits my little shed. 
 
 A little hearth best fits a little fire, 
 
 A little chapel fits a little quire ; 
 
 As my small bell best fits my little spire. 
 
 A little stream best fits a little boat, 
 
 A little lead best fits a little float ; 
 
 As my small pipe best fits my little note. 
 
 ♦ Non semper Imbret nuhibus hhpidos 
 Manant in agros, 
 
 HoRAT. Ode 9. Lib. 2.
 
 1S4 
 
 A little meat best fits a little belly ; 
 
 As sweetly, lady, give me leave to tell ye. 
 
 This little pipkin fits this little jelly. 
 
 CCXIII. 
 UPON THE ROSES IN JULIA'S BOSOM. 
 
 Thrice happy roses, so much grac'd, to have 
 Within the bosom of my love your grave ! 
 Die when ye will, your sepulchre is known ; 
 Your grave her bosom is, the lawn the stone. 
 
 CCXIV. 
 
 THE APRON OF FLOWERS. 
 
 To gather flowers Sappho went ; 
 
 And homeward she did bring, 
 Within her lawny continent. 
 
 The treasure of the spring. 
 
 She smiling blush'd, and blushing smil'd. 
 
 And, sweetly blushing thus, 
 She look'd as she'd been got with child 
 
 By young Favonius, 
 
 Her apron gave, as she did pass. 
 
 An odour more divine. 
 More pleasing too, than ever was 
 
 The lap of Proserpine.
 
 185 
 ccxv. 
 
 TO ELECTRA. 
 LOVE LOOKS FOR LOVE. 
 
 Love love begets ; then never be 
 Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee : 
 Tigers and bears, I've heard some say, 
 For proffer'd love will love repay ; 
 None are so harsh> but, if they find 
 Softness in others, will be kind : 
 AfTedion will afFedion move ; 
 Then you must like, because I love. 
 
 CCXVI. 
 
 LOVE DISLIKES NOTHING. 
 
 Whatsoever thing I see; 
 Rich, or poor although it be; 
 'Tis a mistress unto me. 
 
 Be my girl or fair, or brown; 
 Does she smile, or does she frown ; 
 Still I write a sweetheart down. 
 
 Be she rough, or smooth of skin ; 
 When I touch, I then begin 
 For to let affedtion in. 
 
 Be she bald, or does she weaf 
 Locks incurl'd of other hair ; 
 I shall find enchantment there. 
 
 Poem CCXVI.] The note to poem 7 will equally apply 
 t« the present.
 
 IZG 
 
 Be she whole, or be she rent ; 
 So my fancy be content ; 
 She's to me most excellent. 
 
 Be she fat, or be she lean; 
 Be she sluttish, be she clean : 
 I'm a man for every scene. 
 
 CCXVII. 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 Burn or drown me, choose ye whether, 
 So I may but die together ; 
 Thus to slay me by degrees 
 Is the height of cruelties ; 
 What needs twenty stabs, v/hen one 
 Strikes me dead as any stone? 
 O, shew mercy then, and be 
 Kind at once to murder me ! 
 
 CCXVIII. 
 
 THE V/AKE. 
 
 Come, Anthca, let us two 
 Go to feast, as others do : 
 " Tarts and custards, creams and cakes, 
 Are the junkcts still at wakes; 
 Unto which the tribes resort, 
 Where the business is the sport : 
 Morris-dancers thou shalt see, 
 Marian too, in pageantry ; 
 And a rnimick, to devise 
 Many grinning properties: 
 Players there will be, and those 
 Base in a(5lion as in clothes ;
 
 187 
 
 Yet, with strutting, they will please 
 The incurious villages : 
 Near the dying of the day 
 There will be a cudgcl-pl.iy, 
 Where a coxcomb will be broke 
 Ere a good word can be spoke ; 
 But the anger ends all here, 
 Drench'd in ale, or drown'd in beer. 
 
 Happy rusticks, best content 
 With the cheapest merriment ; 
 And possess no other fear 
 Than to want the wake next year. 
 
 CCXIX. 
 
 THE PETER-PENNY. 
 
 Fresh strewings allow 
 
 To my sepulchre now, 
 To make my lodging the sweeter ; 
 
 A staff, or a wand 
 
 Put then in my hand. 
 With a penny to pay saint Peter. 
 
 Who has not a cross 
 
 Must sit with the loss. 
 And no whit further must venture ; 
 
 Since the porter he 
 
 Will paid have his fee. 
 Or else not one there must enter. 
 
 Who, at a dead lift. 
 
 Can't send, for a gift, 
 A pig to the priest for a roaster, 
 
 Shall hear his clerk say. 
 
 By yea and by nay. 
 No penny, no pater-nostcr.
 
 183 
 ccxx. 
 
 UPON HIS KINSWOMAN, 
 Ml S> 
 
 Here lies a virgin, and as sweet 
 As e'er was wrapt in winding sheet: 
 Her name if next you would have known, 
 The marble speaks it Mary Stone; 
 Who dying in her blooming years, 
 This stone, for namesake, melts to tears. 
 If, fragrant virgins, you'll but keep 
 A fast, while jets and marbles weep ; 
 And, praying, strew some roses on her; 
 You'll do my niece abundant honour. 
 
 CCXXI, 
 
 A CON'JURATION TO ELECTRA. 
 
 By those soft tods of wool, 
 With which the air is full ; 
 By all those tindlures there. 
 That paint the hemisphere; 
 By dews, and drizzling rain, 
 That swell the golden grain; 
 By all those sweets that be, 
 I'th' flow'ry nunnery; 
 By silent nights, and the 
 Three forms of Hecate ; 
 By all aspedts that bless 
 The sober sorceress, 
 
 Poem CCXX.] All the information I can give relative 
 to the Bedfordshire family of Stone may be seen in the uot« 
 to potm 271.
 
 189 
 
 While juice she strains, and pith, 
 To make her philters with ; 
 By time, that hastens on 
 Things to perfe<^ion ; 
 And by yourself, the best 
 Conjurement of the rest; 
 O, my Eledra, be 
 In love with none but me ! 
 
 CCXXII. 
 THE SPELL. 
 
 Holy water, come, and bring ; 
 Call in salt for seasoning ; 
 Set the brush for sprinkling : 
 
 Sacred spittle bring ye hither ; 
 Meal, and it now mix together ; 
 And a little oil to either : 
 
 Give the tapers here their light ; 
 Ring the saints' bell, to affright 
 Far from hence the evil sprite. 
 
 CCXXlll. 
 
 HYMN TO BACCHUS. 
 
 I sing thy praise, lacchus. 
 Who with thy thyrse dost thwack us j 
 And yet thou dost so back us 
 With boldness, that we fear 
 No Brutus ent'ring here, 
 Nor Cato the severe.
 
 190 
 
 What though the lidors threat us, 
 We know they dare not beat us, 
 So long as thou dost heat us. 
 When we thy orgies sing, 
 Each cobler is a king ; 
 Nor dreads he any thing : 
 And, though he do not rave, 
 Yet he'll the courage have 
 To call my lord-mayor knave: 
 Besides too, in a brave ; 
 Although he has no riches, 
 But walks with dangling breeches. 
 And skirts that want their stiches. 
 And shews his naked flitches ; 
 Yet he'll be thought or seen 
 So good as George a Green,* 
 And calls his blowze his queen. 
 And speaks in language keen. 
 
 O Bacchus! let us be 
 From cares, and troubles free j 
 And thou shalt hear how we 
 Will chant new hymns to thee. 
 
 * The poet, in this line, seems to have a reference to the 
 ■following passage in the old anonymous comedy, Giorge a 
 Green, Pinner of Wahcf.eld : 
 
 CUDDY. 
 
 — ^ Had king James been as good as George a Greent, 
 Yet Billy Musgrove would have fought with him. 
 
 EDWARD. 
 
 As George a Greene ? 
 1 pray thee. Cuddy, let me question tliee. 
 Much have I heard, since I came to my crown, 
 Many in manner of proverb say, 
 
 " Were he as good as Geotgt a Greene, I would Strike him 
 « sure." 
 
 For what concerns that noted outlaw Robin Hood, and 
 George the Pinner, in this comedy, the reader is referred 
 to a ballad in Evans' CoUcaion of Old Ballads, Vol. 1. page 
 99. which is mentioned by Drayton, in his Polyolbion, Song 
 28. Richard liraithwaite also notices the subject, in hi*
 
 191 
 
 CCXXIV. 
 
 PSALM, OR HYMN 
 TO THE GRACES. 
 
 Glory be to the Graces, 
 That do, in public places. 
 Drive thence whate'er encumbers 
 The list'ning to my numbers! 
 
 Honour be to the Graces, 
 Who do, with sweet embraces, 
 Shew they are well contented 
 With what I hare invented ! 
 
 Worship be to the Graces, 
 Who do from sour faces. 
 And lungs that would infed: me, 
 For evermore protect mc ! 
 
 CCXXV. 
 
 HYMN 
 TO THE MUSES. 
 
 Honour to you, who sit 
 Near to the well of wit, 
 And drink your fill of it ! 
 
 Glory and worship be 
 
 To you, sweet maids thrice three, 
 
 Who Still inspire me; 
 
 Strappado for the Devil, 1615. 8vo. page 203. Pinner, or 
 finder, it may here be proper to remark, signifies -warden 
 of the pinfolds. Mr. titeevena, who wrote at a very recent 
 period, observed, that the figure of this rustic hero, George 
 a Greene,was still preserved on a sign at the bottom of Gray s 
 inn Lane. See Dodsley's ColUaian of Old FIjxs, Vol ;5.
 
 192 
 
 And teach me how to sing, 
 Unto the lyric string, 
 My measures ravishing ! 
 
 Then, while I sing your praise, 
 My priesthood crown with bays 
 Green to the end of days ! 
 
 CCXXVI. 
 UPON Julia's clothes. 
 
 When as in silks my Julia goes, 
 Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows: 
 That liqucfadion of her clothes. 
 
 Next, when I cast mine eyes, and sec 
 That brave vibration each way free, 
 O how that glitt'ring taketh me ! 
 
 CCXXVII. 
 
 UPON PRU, HIS MAID. 
 
 In this little urn is laid 
 Prudence Baldwin, once my maid; 
 From whose happy spark here let 
 Spring the purple violet. 
 
 Poem CCXXVI.] This is written in the same spirit 
 with poem 57, to which the reader may refer. 
 
 Poem CCXXVIi.] We have here what would seem tht 
 last tribute of kindness paid to bis favourite servant.
 
 193 
 
 CCXXVHI. 
 
 CEREMON'lES FOR CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Come, bring with a noise, 
 
 My merry merry boys, 
 The Christmas log to the firing; 
 
 While my good dame, she 
 
 Bids ye all be free. 
 And drink to your hearts' desiring. 
 
 With the last year's brand 
 
 Light the new block ; and. 
 For good success in his spending, 
 
 On your psalt'ries play, 
 
 That sweet luck may 
 Come while the log is a teending.* 
 
 Drink now the strong beer. 
 Cut the white loaf here ; 
 
 The while the meat is a shredding 
 For the rare mince-pie. 
 And the plumbs standing by 
 
 To fill the paste that's a kneading. 
 
 CCXXIX. 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 ANOTHER CEREMONY. 
 
 Come, guard this night the Christmas piej 
 That the thief, though ne'er so sly, 
 With his flesh-hooks don't come nigh, 
 To catch it 
 
 * kindling. A word of Saxon derivation. 
 o 2
 
 194 
 
 from him, who all alone sits there, 
 Having his eyes still in his ear, 
 And a deal of nightly fear. 
 To watch it. 
 
 ccxxx. 
 
 TO SAPPHO. 
 
 Sappho, I will choose to go 
 Where the northern winds do blow- 
 Endless ice, and endless snow; 
 
 Rather than I once would see 
 But a winter's face in thee, 
 To benum my hopes and me. 
 
 CCXXXL 
 
 THE BRIDECAKE. 
 
 This day, my Julia, thou must mak* 
 For mistress bride the wedding cake ; 
 Knead but the dough, and it will be 
 To paste of almonds turn'd by thee ; 
 Or kiss it thou but once or twice. 
 And for the bridecake there'll be spice, 
 
 CCXXXII. 
 
 THE MAIDEN BLUSH. 
 
 So look the mornings, when the sua 
 Paints them with fresh vermilion ; 
 So cherries blush, and cath'rine pears, 
 And apricots, in youthful years ; 
 So corals look more lovely red, 
 And rubies lately polished ;
 
 195 
 
 So purest diaper doth sliine, 
 Stain'd by the beams of claret wine; 
 As Julia looks, when she doth dress 
 Her either cheek with bashfulness. 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 TO JULIA, 
 IN HER DAWN, OR DAYBREAK. 
 
 By the next kindling of the day. 
 
 My Julia, thou shalt see, 
 Ere Are Mary thou canst say, 
 
 I'll come and visit thee. 
 
 Yet, ere thou counsell'st with thy glass, 
 
 Appear thou to mine eyes 
 Naked and smooth, as she that was 
 
 The prime of paradise. 
 
 If blush thou must, then blush thou through 
 A lawn ; that thou may'st look 
 
 As purest pearls, or pebbles do. 
 When peeping through a brook. 
 
 As lilies shrin'd in crystal, so 
 
 Do thou to me appear ; 
 Or damask roses, when they grow 
 
 To SNveet acquaintance there. 
 
 3
 
 196 
 ccxxxiv. 
 
 TO DIANEME. 
 
 I could but see thee yesterday 
 
 Stung by a fretful bee ; 
 And I the jav'Iin suck'd away, 
 
 And heal'd the wound in thee. 
 
 A thousand thorns, and briers, and stings 
 
 I have in my poor breast ; 
 Yet ne'er can see that salve, which brings 
 
 My passions any rest. 
 
 As love shall help 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 dismal stories will be told 
 
 Of those that cruel be ! 
 
 , ccxxxv: 
 
 TO ELECTRA. 
 
 Shall I go to Love, and tell 
 Thou art all turn'd icicle ? 
 Shall I say her altars be 
 Disadorn'd, and scorn'd by thee ? 
 O beware, in time submit ! 
 Love has yet no wrathful fit : 
 If her patience turns to ire. 
 Love is then consuming fire. 
 
 Poem CCXXXV.] It would seem that the poet has here 
 chosen to personify Love as a female, which is a novelty. 
 The word her occurring Ijoth in the Sd, and 7th line leaves 
 no room to suppose a misprint.
 
 19; 
 
 CCXXXVI. 
 TO MRS. AMIE PORTER. 
 
 Ah me ! I love ; give him your hand to kiss, 
 Who both your wooer, and your poet is. 
 Nature has precompos'd us both to love ; 
 Your part's to grant, my scene must be to move. 
 Dear, can you like ; and, liking, love your poet ? 
 If you say ay, blush-guiltiness will shew it. 
 Mine eyes must woo you, though I sigh the while ; 
 True love is tongueless as a crocodile : 
 And you may find in love these differing parts ; 
 Wooers have tongues of ice, but burning hearts. 
 
 CCXXXVII. 
 UPON A MAID. 
 
 \ Here she lies, in beds of spice, 
 Fair as Eve in paradise ; 
 For her beauty it was such, 
 Poets could not praise too much. 
 Virgins come, and in a ring 
 Her supremest requiem sing ; 
 Then depart, but see ye tread 
 Lightly, lightly o'er the dead. 
 
 CCXXXVIII. 
 
 TO HIS BOOK. 
 
 Make haste, away ! and let one be 
 A friendly patron unto thee ;
 
 198 
 
 Lest, rapt from hence, I see thee lie 
 
 Torn for the uses of pastry j* 
 
 Or see thy injur'd leaves serve well 
 
 To make loose govpns for mackei'el j 
 
 Or see the grocers, in a trice. 
 
 Make hoods of thee to serve out spice. 
 
 CCXXXIX. 
 
 THE DELAYING BRIDK. 
 
 Why SO slowly do you move 
 To the centre of your love ? 
 On your niceness though we wait, 
 Yet the hours say 'tis late : 
 Coyness takes us to a measure; 
 But, o'eradted, deads the pleasure : 
 Go to bed, and care not when 
 Cheerful day shall spring again. 
 One brare captain did command,f 
 By his word, the sun to stand ; 
 One short charm, if you but say, 
 Will enforce the moon to stay 
 Till you warn her hence. Away ! 
 T'ave your blushes seen by day. 
 
 * These remind me of some lines 1 have formerly met 
 with, but where I do not recoUedt, on Christmas being a 
 very happy time 
 
 For those who deal in books, 
 Not sold to readers, but to pastrycooks ; 
 Learn'd works despis'd by those to merit blind, 
 'I'hey now, well weigh'd, their certain value find. 
 Blest lot of paper, falsely titled waste, 
 To wrap those cates which authors seldom taste ! 
 
 See, on this subjedl, Catullus, Carmen 90, De Smyrni 
 Cinna; Martial, Epig. 87, Lib.A\ andPersius, Sat. 1. 
 
 t Joshua. Chap. 10. ver. 13.
 
 199 
 
 CCXL. 
 AGE UNFIT FOR LOVE. 
 
 Maidens tell mc I am old; 
 Let me in my glass behold. 
 Whether smooth, or not, I be ; 
 Or if hair remains to me. 
 Well ! or be't, or be't not so ; 
 This for certainty I know, 
 111 it fits old men to play. 
 When that death bids come away. 
 
 CCXLI. 
 
 UPON LOVE. 
 
 Love brought me to a silent grove; 
 
 And shew'd me there a tree, 
 Where some had hang'd themselves for love; 
 
 And gave a twist to me. 
 
 The halter was of silk and gold. 
 That he reach'd forth unto me, 
 
 No otherwise, than if he would 
 By dainty things undo me. 
 
 He bade me then that necklace use ; 
 
 And told me too, he maketh 
 A glorious end by such a noose. 
 
 His death for love that taketh. 
 
 'Tvvas but a dream ; but had I been 
 
 There really alone, 
 My desp'rate fears in love had seen 
 
 Mine executioD.
 
 200 
 
 CCXLII. 
 
 THE SACRIFICE, 
 
 BY WAY OF DISCOURSE BETWIXT HIMSELf 
 
 AND JULIA. 
 
 Herrick. 
 Come ; and let's in solemn wise 
 Both address to sacrifice ; 
 Old religion first commands. 
 That we wash our hearts, and hands. 
 Is the beast exempt from stain. 
 Altar clean, no fire prophane ? 
 Are the garlands, is the nard 
 Ready here? 
 
 jfulia. 
 All well prepar'd ; 
 With the wine that must be shed, 
 'Twixt the horns, upon the head 
 Of the holy beast we bring 
 For our trespass-offering. 
 
 Herrick. 
 All is well : now next to these 
 Put we on pure surpHces ; 
 And, with chaplets crown'd, we'll roast 
 With perfumes the holocaust ; 
 And, while we the gods invoke, 
 Read acceptance by the smoke. 
 
 CCXLIII. 
 
 HYMN TO CUPID. 
 
 Thou, thou that bear'st the sway, 
 With whom the sea-nymphs play, 
 And Venus every way :
 
 201 
 
 When I embrace thy knee, 
 And make short pray'rs to thee, 
 In love then prosper me. 
 
 This day I go to woo ; 
 Instrii(5t me how to do 
 This work thou putt'st me to. 
 
 From shame my face keep free; 
 From -scorn, I beg of thee, 
 Love, to deliver me. 
 
 So shall I sing thy praise, 
 And to thee altars raise. 
 Unto the end of days. 
 
 CCXLIV. 
 
 HOW HIS SOUL CAME INSNARED. 
 
 My soul would one day go and seek 
 For roses ; and in Julia's cheek 
 A riches of those sv^^eets she found, 
 As in another Rosamond : 
 But, gathering roses as she was. 
 Not knowing what would come to pass, 
 It chanc'd a ringlet of her hair 
 Caught my poor soul, as in a snare ; 
 Which ever since has been in thrall, 
 Yet freedom she enjoys withal.
 
 202 
 
 CCXLV. 
 
 UPON Julia's hair 
 
 BUNDLED UP IN A GOLDEN NET. 
 
 Tell me; what needs those rich deceits. 
 These golden toils, and trammel-nets, 
 To take thine hairs ; when they are known 
 Already tame, and all thine own ? 
 'Tis I am wild ; and more than hairs 
 Deserve these meshes, and those snares. 
 ,Set free thy tresses ; let them (low 
 As airs do breathe, or winds do blow j* 
 And let such curious networks be 
 Less set for them, than spread for me. 
 
 CCXLVI. 
 
 THE SHOWER OF BLOSSOMS. 
 
 Love in a show'r of blossoms came 
 Down, and half 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 roll'd there, 
 Without a thought of hurt or fear, 
 
 * This couplet may remind us of those beautiful lines of 
 Richard Lovelace To Amarantha, that she -would dishevel her 
 tair. 
 
 Amaraiitha, sweet and fair, 
 
 Ah, braid no more that shining hair ! 
 
 As my curious hand or eye, 
 
 Hov'ring round thee, let it fly : 
 
 Let it fly as unconfin'd 
 
 As its calm ravisher the wind, 
 
 Who bath left his darling th' east 
 
 To wanton o'er that spicy nest. &c.
 
 Q03 
 
 Love turn'd himself into a bee, 
 
 And with his javMin wounded me; 
 
 From which mishap this use I make: 
 
 Where most sweets are, there lies a snake ; 
 
 Kisses, and favours are sweet things ; 
 
 But those have thorns, and these have stings. 
 
 ccxLVir. 
 
 A DEFENCE FOR WOMEN. 
 
 Naught are all women : I say no, 
 Since for one bad, one good I know ; 
 For Clytemnestra most unkind, 
 Loving Alcestis there we find j 
 For one Medea that was bad, 
 A good Penelope was had ; 
 For wanton Lais, then wc have 
 Chaste Lucrece, or a wife as grave : 
 And thus through womankind we see 
 A good, and bad. Sirs, credit me. 
 
 CCXLVIII. 
 
 CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS EVE. 
 
 Down with the rosemary and bays, 
 
 Down with the misletoe ; 
 Instead of holly, now upraise 
 
 The greener box, for show. 
 
 Poem CCXLVIII.J In former times, foliage, and flowers 
 were much more frequently employed in the internal deco- 
 ration of houses, than at present; and different kinds were 
 allotted to difl'erent seasons. The bay, holly, and misletoe, 
 at Christmas, are not yet exploded. Strutt, in his Manners 
 and Customs of the English, informs us, from Hollingshed, 
 that our ancestors used to strew their houses with rushes, 
 which were carefully spread over the floors, till carpets 
 came in fashion ; and it is still a pradlice to cover the 
 ground with rushes in m:iny churches, at Whitsuntide.
 
 204 
 
 The holly hitherto did sway j 
 
 Let box now domineer, 
 Until the dancing Easter day, 
 
 Or Easter's eve appear : 
 
 Then youthful 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 flow'rs beside. 
 Both of a fresh, and fragrant kin, 
 To honour Whitsuntide: 
 
 Green rushes then, and sweetest bents, 
 
 With cooler oaken boughs, 
 Come in for comely ornaments, 
 
 To readorn the house. 
 
 CCXLIX. 
 
 CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMAS DAY. 
 
 Kindle the Christmas brand, and then 
 
 Till sunset let it burn ; 
 Which quench'd, then lay it up again, 
 
 Till Christmas next return. 
 
 Part must be kept, wherewith to teend* 
 
 The Christmas log next year ; 
 And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend 
 
 Can do no mischief there. 
 
 Poem CCXLIX.] These two stanzas are curious, inas- 
 much as they record an old superstitious ceremony, which 
 I do not recolle(5l to have before met with. 
 • See note to poem 228.
 
 205 
 
 CCL. 
 
 TO BIANCHA. 
 TO BLESS HIM. 
 
 Would I woo, and would I win ; 
 Would I well my work begin ; 
 Would I evermore be crown'd 
 With the end that I propound ; 
 Would I frustrate, or prevent 
 All aspccfts malevolent ; 
 Thwart all wizards ; and, with these, 
 Dead all black contingencies ; 
 Place my words, and all works else, 
 In most happy parallels : 
 All will prosper, if so be 
 I be kiss'd, or bless'd by thee. 
 
 CCLl. 
 
 UPON MR. WILLIAM LAWES, 
 THE RARE MUSICIAN. 
 
 Should I not put on blacks, when each one here 
 Comes with his cypress, and devotes a tear ? 
 Should I not grieve, my Lawes, when every lute, 
 Viol, and voice is, by thy loss, struck mute j 
 
 Poem CCLl.] William Lawes, and his brother Henry, 
 were two of the most esteemed musicians of the age in 
 which they lived. William, the disci|)le of Giovanni Co- 
 perario, and who was killed at the siege of Chester, Sep. 26, 
 1645, was by many thought superior to Henry. Fuller, in 
 his Wiltshire Worthies, asserts that he made above thirty 
 several sorts ofmusick, for voices, and instruments; and 
 composed for each as aptly, as if he had studied that one 
 only, Henry Lawes was the friend of Milton, and of Wal- 
 ler. To him our poet was particularly attached.
 
 206 
 
 Thy loss, brave man ! whose numbers have been 
 
 hurlM, 
 And no less prais'd, than spread throughout the 
 
 world ? 
 Some have thee call'd Amphion ; some of us 
 Nam'd thee Terpander, or sweet Orpheus ; 
 Some this, some that ; but all in this agree, 
 Musick had both her birth, and death with thee. 
 
 CCLIL 
 
 UPON BEN JONSOV. 
 
 Here lies Jonson, with the rest 
 Of the poets, but the best. 
 Reader, would'st thou more have known ? 
 Ask his story, not the stone ; 
 That will speak, what this can't tell 
 Of his glory. So farewell. 
 
 CCLIII. 
 
 ODE 
 
 FOR THE same!. 
 
 Ah, Ben ! 
 
 Say how, or when 
 
 Shall we, thy guests, 
 
 Meet at those lyrick feasts 
 
 Made at the Sun, 
 
 The Dog, the triple Tun ;* 
 
 Where we such clusters had, 
 
 As made us nobly wild, not mad ? 
 
 And yet each verse of thine 
 
 Outdid the meat, outdid the frolick wine. 
 
 * Certain celebrated taverns of those days.
 
 207 
 
 My Ben ! 
 
 Or come again, 
 
 Or send to us 
 
 Thy wit's great overplus : 
 
 But teacii us yet 
 
 Wisely to husband it ; 
 
 Lest we that talent spend ; 
 
 And, having once brought to an end 
 
 That precious stock, the store 
 
 Of such a v^'it the world should have no more. 
 
 CCLIV. 
 
 A REQUEST 
 TO THE GRACES. 
 
 Ponder my words, if so that any be 
 Known guilty here of incivility : 
 Let what is graceless, discompos'd, and rude, 
 With sweetness, smoothness, softness, be endu'd; 
 Teach it to blush, to curtsy, lisp, and shew 
 Demure, but yet full of temptation too. 
 Numbers ne'er tickle, or but lightly please,* 
 Unless they have some wanton carriages ; 
 This if ye do, each piece will here be good, 
 And graceful made by your neat sisterhood. 
 
 Thus the poet of Verona, in a similar strain : 
 
 Nnm castum esse decet pium poetam 
 Jpsum : "jersiculos nihil necesse est ; 
 Qui turn deniqutf babent salcm ac leptremf 
 Si sunt molliculi, ac parum pudici, 
 £t, quod pruriat, incitare possunt . 
 
 Catul. Carmen 16.
 
 208 
 
 CCLV. 
 
 HAPPINESS TO HOSPITALITY, 
 OR A HEARTY WISH TO GOOD HOUSEKEEPING. 
 
 First, may the hand of bounty bring 
 Into the daily offering 
 Of full provision such a store, 
 Till that the cook cries, bring no more ! 
 Upon your hogsheads never fall 
 A drought of wine, ale, beer, at all ; 
 But, like full clouds, may they from thence 
 Diffuse their mighty influence ! 
 Next, let the lord and lady here 
 Enjoy a christ'ning year by year ; 
 And this good blessing back them still, 
 T'have boys, and girls too, as they will ; 
 Then from the porch may many a bride 
 Unto the holy temple ride. 
 And thence return, short prayers said, 
 A wife most richly married ! 
 Last, may the bride and bridegroom bs 
 Untouch'd by cold sterility ; 
 But in their springing blood so play, 
 As that in lustres few they may. 
 By laughing too, and lying down, 
 People a city or a town ! 
 
 CCLVl. 
 
 TO THE RIVER, 
 WHERE JULIA BATHED. 
 
 How fierce was I, when I did see 
 My Julia wash herself in thee !
 
 20g 
 
 So lilies thorough crystal look, 
 
 So purest pebbles in the brook, 
 
 As in the river Julia did, 
 
 Half with a lawn of water hid. 
 
 Into thy streams myself I threw ; 
 
 And, struggling there, I kiss'd thee too ; 
 
 And more had done, it is confest, 
 
 Had not thy waves forbid the rest. 
 
 CCLVII. 
 
 UPON CUPID. 
 
 Love like a beggar came to me, 
 With hose and doublet torn. 
 
 His shirt bedangling from his knee. 
 With hat and shoes out worn. 
 
 He ask'd an alms; I gave him bread, 
 
 And meat too, for his need ; 
 Of which when he had fully fed. 
 
 He wish'd me all good speed. 
 
 Away he went ; but, as he turn'd. 
 
 In faith I know not how ! 
 He touch'd me so, as that I burn, 
 
 And am tormented now. 
 
 Love's silent flames, and fires obscure 
 
 Then crept into my heart ; 
 And, though I saw no bow, I'm sure 
 
 His finger was the dart. 
 
 Poem CCLVLI.] Our poet has before portrayed a fairy 
 beggar. See poem 191. Me now gives us l>ove in a 
 fnendicant form. The style of this little Anacreontic sketch 
 will somewhat remind us of the third Ode of the sportive 
 Teian. 
 
 p2
 
 210 
 
 CCLVIII. 
 
 HYMN 
 TO LOVE. 
 
 I 
 ( 
 
 I V7ill confess, 
 With cheerfulness, 
 
 Love is a thing so likes me; 
 That, let her lay- 
 On me all day, 
 
 I'll kiss the hand that strikes me. Jl 
 
 I will not, I, 
 
 Now blubb'ring cry : 
 It, ah ! too late repents me. 
 
 That I did fall 
 
 To love at all ; 
 Since love so much contents me. 
 
 No, no ; I'll be 
 
 In fetters free : 
 While others they sit wringing 
 
 Their hands for pain, 
 
 I'll entertain 
 The wounds of love with singing. 
 
 With flow'rs, and wine, 
 
 And cakes divine, 
 To strike me I will tempt thee ; 
 
 Which done, no more 
 
 I'll come before 
 Thee and thine altars empty.
 
 211 
 
 CCLIX. 
 
 TO HIS HONOURED & MOST INGENIOUS FRIEND, 
 MR. CHARLES COTTON. 
 
 For brave comportment, wit without offence, 
 Words fully flowing yet of influence. 
 Thou art that man of men ; the man alone 
 Worthy the publick. admiration ; 
 Who with thine own eyes read'st what we do write. 
 And giv'pt our numbers euphony and weight ; 
 Tell'st when a verse springs high, how understood 
 To be, or not, born of the royal blood : 
 What state above, what symmetry below 
 Lines have, or should have, thou the best canst 
 
 show : 
 For which, my Charles, it is my pride to be 
 Not so much known, as to be lov'd of thee ; 
 Long may I live so, and my wreath of bays 
 Be less another's laurel than thy praise ! 
 
 CCLX. 
 
 TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND, MR. JOHN HALL, 
 STUDENT OF GRAY'S INN. 
 
 Tell me, young man, or did the muses bring 
 Thee less to taste, than to drink up their spring; 
 
 Poem CCLIX.] This witty, humorous characfler was 
 of a Staffordshire family, and flourished in the reign of 
 Charles the second, and James the second. His Virgil 
 Travestie, and his translation of Alantaijr'ie's Essays will 
 render him long celebrated. 
 
 Poem CCI>X.] The gentleman, to whom this poem is 
 addressed, was born 16'27, and died in his 29th year. He 
 published a coUedlion of poems in 1646, and with them a 
 Second Bo»i of Jivine Fi/ems, which are highly spoken of. He 
 also wrote several tracSls, as well learned, as political; and 
 
 r 3
 
 212 
 
 That none hereafter should be thought, or be 
 A poet, or a poet like, but thee ? 
 "What was thy birth, thy star that makes thee known, 
 At twice ten years, a prime and publick one ? 
 Tell us thy nation, kindred ; or the whence 
 Thou hadst, and hast thy mighty influence, 
 That makes thee lov'd, and of the men desir'd, 
 And no less prais'd than of the maids admir'd. 
 Put on thy laurel then ; and, in that trim. 
 Be thou Apollo, or the type of him ; 
 Or let the unshorn god lend thee his lyre, 
 And next to him be master of the quire, 
 
 ccLxr. 
 
 THE DELUGE. 
 
 Drowning, drowning I espy 
 Coming from my Julia's eye ; 
 'Tis some solace in our smart 
 To have friends to bear a part ; 
 I have none, but must be sure 
 Th' inundation to endure. 
 Shall not times hereafter te 11 
 This, for no mean miracle ; 
 When the waters by their fall 
 Threatcn'd ruin unto all. 
 Yet the deluge here was known 
 Of a world to drown but one ? 
 
 would seem to have been a great favourite with Oliver 
 Cromwell. Wood, in his Athena Oxonienses,Yo\. 1. Col. 533. 
 observes : *' Had not his debauches, and intemperance di- 
 " verted him from the more serious studies, he had made an 
 « extraordinary person ; for no man had ever done so great 
 " things at his age."
 
 21 
 
 > 
 
 ^ CCLXII. 
 
 CRUTCHES. 
 
 Thou see'st me, Lucia, this year droop; 
 Three zodiacs fiU'd more, I shall stoop ; 
 Let crutches then provided be, 
 To shore up my debility : 
 Then, while thou laugh'st, I'll sighing cry, 
 A ruin underpropt am I : 
 Don will I then my beadsman's* gown ; 
 And, when so feeble I am grown, 
 As my weak shoulders cannot bear 
 The burden of a grashopper ; 
 Yet, with the bench of aged sires,f 
 When I and they keep termly fires, 
 With my weak voice I'll sing or say:}: 
 Some odes I made of Lucia ; 
 
 * An almsman, or one that prays for a benefadlor. Mr. 
 Selden says, in his Titlts of Honour, that he had seen a pe- 
 tition from a bishop to our king, Henry the fifth, subscril). 
 ed with " your worship's beadsman." Glossoorai'hia. 
 
 t This couplet may imply a wish to spend his old-age 
 with his former associates at the college where he was edu- 
 cated, or afterwards resided, which some assert was at Ox- 
 ford, others will have it at Cambridge ; Wood says the for- 
 mer, and places him at All Souls, being eledted from i^t. 
 John's college. But Nichols.in his Leicestershire, Vol. 2, Part 
 2, page 631, 1 think, sufficiently proves, from documentspre- 
 served, that he was of Cambridge, being entered a fellow- 
 commoner there, at St. John's college, about 1G15, by his 
 uncle and guardian, Sir William Herrick. In 1618, he re- 
 moved to Trinity Hall, as less expensive, and studied the 
 law, but afterwards took orders; atid, through the patron- 
 age of the Earl of Exeter, was presented to Dean Prior by 
 Charles the first, 
 
 I From the preceding mention of the grashopper, con- 
 nedted with his weak voice, it may be presumed that our 
 poet had in view Homer's similitude with resped; to i'ceble 
 garrulous old men, in bis third Iliad: 
 
 'Eo-OXoI r{\Tiyi<T(Ti)> eo*xot£J, o<te x.ccW vXw
 
 214 
 
 Then will I heave my wither'd hand 
 To Jove the mighty, for to stand 
 Thy faithful friend, and to pour down 
 Upon thee many a benison. 
 
 CCLXIII. 
 
 CEREMONY UPON CANDLEMAS EVE. 
 
 Down with the rosemary, and so 
 Down with the bays, and misletoe ; 
 Down with the holly, ivy, all 
 Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas hall ; 
 That so the superstitious find 
 No one least branch there left behind: 
 For look, how many leaves there be 
 Negledled there, maids, trust to mc ! 
 So many goblins you shall see. 
 
 CCLXIV. 
 
 A BUCOLICK, 
 BETWIXT LACON AND THYRSIS, 
 
 Lacon. 
 For a kiss or two, confess 
 What doth cause this pensiveness, 
 Thou most lovely neatherdess ? 
 Why so lonely on the hill ; 
 Why thy pipe by thee so still, 
 That ere while was heard so shrill ? 
 Tell me, do thy kine now fall 
 To fulfil the milking-pail ? 
 Say, what is't that thou dost ail ? 
 
 Poem CCLXIV.] Thyrsis, in this poem, is applied to a 
 female charadler. I do not recoUedt to have seen it before 
 jjiven to a shepherdess by any pastoral writer.
 
 21* 
 
 Thy r SIS. 
 None of these ; but out, alas ! 
 A mischance is come to pass ; 
 And I'll tell thee what it was : 
 See, mine eyes are weeping ripe. 
 
 Lac on. 
 Tell, and I'll lay dowu my pipe. 
 
 Tbyrsis. 
 I have lost my lovely steer, 
 That to me was far more dear 
 Than these kine which I milk here; 
 Broad of forehead, large of eye, 
 Party-colour'd like a pie. 
 Smooth in each limb as a die ; 
 Clear of hoof, and clear of horn, 
 Sharply pointed as a thorn ; 
 "With a neck by yoke unworn. 
 From the which hung down by strings, 
 Balls of cowslips, daisy rings, 
 Interplac'd by ribandings; 
 Faultless ev'ry way for shape, 
 Not a straw could him escape, 
 Ever gamesome as an ape; 
 But yet harmless as a sheep. 
 Pardon, Lacon, if I weep ; 
 Tears will spring where woes are deep. 
 Now, ah me ! ah me ! last night 
 Came a mad dog, and did bite. 
 Aye, and kill'd my dear delight. 
 
 Lacon. 
 Alack, for grief !
 
 216 
 
 Thyrsls. 
 But I'll be brief. 
 Hence I must ; for time doth call 
 Me, and my sad playmates all. 
 To his ev'ning funeral. 
 Live long, Lacon ; so adieu ! 
 
 Lacsn. 
 Mournful maid, farewell to you ; 
 Earth afford ye flow'rs to strew ! 
 
 CCLXV. 
 
 TO BIANCHA. 
 
 Ah, Biancha ! now I see 
 It is noon, and past, with me j 
 In a while it will strike one, 
 Then, Biancha, I am gone. 
 Some effusions let me have 
 Offer'd on my holy grave ; 
 Then, Biancha, let me rest 
 With my face towards the east, 
 
 CCLXVI. 
 ANACREONTIC VERSE. 
 
 Brisk methinks I am, and fine, 
 When I drink my cap'ring wine ; 
 Then to love I do incline, 
 When I drink my wanton wine ; 
 And I wish all maidens mine. 
 When I drink my sprightly wine ; 
 Well I sup, and well I dine. 
 When I drink my frolick wine ; 
 But I languish, lour, and pine. 
 When I want my fragrant wine.
 
 217 
 
 CCLXVIU 
 
 UPON LOVE. 
 BY WAY OF QUESTION AND ANSWER, 
 
 I bring ye love. Quest. What will love do ? 
 
 jins. Like, and dislike yc. 
 I bring ye love. Quest. What will love do ? 
 
 Ans. Stroke ye, to strike ye. 
 
 I bring ye love. Quest. What will love do ? 
 
 Ans. Love will befool ye. 
 I bring ye love. Quest. What will love do ? 
 
 Ans. Heat ye, to cool ye. 
 
 I bring ye love. Quest. What will love do ? 
 
 Ans. Love gifts will send ye. 
 I bring ye love. Quest. What will love do ? 
 
 Ans. Stock ye, to spend ye. 
 
 I bring ye love. Quest. What will love do ? 
 
 Ans. Love will fulfil ye. 
 I bring ye love. Quest. What will love do ? 
 
 Ans. Kiss ye, to kill ye. 
 
 CCLXVIII. 
 
 vow TO VENUS. 
 
 Happily I had a sight 
 Of my dearest dear last night ; 
 Make her this day smile on me, 
 And I'll roses give to thee.
 
 218' 
 
 CCLXIX. 
 
 COMFORT TO A YOUTH, 
 THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE. 
 
 What needs complaints, 
 When she a place 
 Has with the race 
 Of saints ? 
 
 In endless mirth, 
 She thinks not on 
 What's said or done 
 In earth. 
 
 She sees no tears, 
 Or any tone 
 Of thy deep groan 
 She hears : 
 
 Nor does she mind. 
 Or think on't now. 
 That ever thou 
 Wast kind. 
 
 But, chang'd above, 
 She likes not there. 
 As she did here, 
 Thy love. 
 
 Forbear therefore. 
 And lull asleep 
 Thy woes, and weep 
 No more.
 
 219 
 
 CCLXX. 
 
 SAINT distaff's day, 
 OR THE MORROW AFTER TWELFTH DAY. 
 
 Partly work, and partly play 
 Ye must, on saint Distaff's day : 
 From the plough soon free your team, 
 Then come home, and fodder them : 
 If the maids a spinning go ; 
 Burn the flax, and fire the tow, 
 Scorch their plackets, but beware 
 That ye singe no maiden hair : 
 Bring in pails of water, then 
 Let the maids bewash the men : 
 Give saint Distaff all the right, 
 Then bid Christmas sport good-night ; 
 And, next morrow, every one 
 To his own vocation. 
 
 Poem CCLXX.J 1 have not hitherto met with any re. 
 cord of this saint, nor was I aware that such ever occurred 
 in our calendar. It would be curious to ascertain if the ho- 
 ly personage were inserted in Poo- Robin s Almanack, which, 
 it is apprehended, was first published in 1662, and of which 
 Herrick wras the reputed author, according to a tradition 
 prevalent in the country where he resided ; but nothing 
 exists to confirm the conjedture. Yet, observes Mr. Ni- 
 chols : " This date agrees well enough with tbe time when, 
 " being deprived of his vicarage, Herrick returned to i,on- 
 " don; and, finding his means but scanty, it is not at all 
 " improbable that so versatile a genius might endeavour to 
 " eke out a subsistence in some way by his pen." But our 
 worthy historian is surely here guilty of an anachronism]; for 
 Herrick was restored to his vicarage, we learn, in 1660, or 
 perhaps a little before, as, according to Dean Prior register, 
 John Syms quitted it 1658. It is then to be supposed that 
 our poet was again in afHuence, or at least little needed to 
 have recourse to almanack-making. St. Distafi" is perhaps 
 only a coinage of our poet's, to designate the day, when, the 
 Christmas vacation being over, good housewives, with 
 others, resumed their usual employments.
 
 220 
 CCLXXT. 
 
 HIS TEARS TO THAMASISi 
 
 I send, I send here my supremest kiss 
 To thee, my silver-footed Thamasis : 
 No more shall I reiterate thy strand. 
 Whereon so many stately strudtures stand ; 
 Nor in the summer's sweeter cv'nings go 
 To bathe in thee, as thousand others do : 
 No more shall I along thy crystal glide, 
 In barge with boughs and rushes beautifi'd, 
 With soft smooth virgins, for our chaste disport) 
 To Richmond, Kingston, and to Hampton Court : 
 Never again shall I, with finny oar, 
 Put from, or draw unto the faithful shore ; 
 And, landing here, or safely landing there, 
 Make way to my beloved Westminster ;* 
 Or to the golden Cheapside, where the earth 
 Of Julia Herrick gave to me my birth. 
 May all clean nymphs, and curious water dames. 
 With swan-like state, lloat up and down thy 
 
 streams ; 
 No drought upon thy wanton waters fall. 
 To make them lean and languishing at all ; 
 
 * This line, and the subsequent couplet, seem to throw 
 some light on the poet's history, which is involved in great 
 f/hscurity. His birthplace in London, and the christian 
 appellation ot his mother (whose family name was Stone, be- 
 ing daughter of William Stone, of Segenhoe, Bedfordshire) 
 are defined. Perhaps the epithet given to Cheapside may 
 have an allusion to his father's trade, which Was that of gold- 
 smith. It would likewise seem, from the expression of 
 " beloved Westminster," that he had been educated in the 
 law line, which has been a dubious point. May not the 
 " tetmly fires," in poem 26"2, also serve to prove this ; al- 
 luding to terms kept at one of the inns of court, where he 
 was a student .■* But the same may, 1 am well aware, apply 
 to university terms.
 
 221 
 
 No rufHing winds come hither, to disease 
 
 Thy pure and silver-wristed naiades: 
 
 Keep up your state, yc streams ; and, as ye spring, 
 
 Never make sick your banks by surfeiting ; 
 
 Grow young with tides ; and, though I sec ye never, 
 
 Receive this vow : so fare ye well, for ever ! 
 
 y 
 
 CCLXXII. 
 
 TWELFTH-NIGHT, 
 OR KING AND QUEEN. 
 
 Now, now the mirth comes. 
 With the cake full of plumbs, 
 
 Where bean's the king of the sport here j 
 Beside, we must know 
 The pea also 
 
 Must revel, as queen, in the court here. 
 
 Begin then to chuse, 
 
 This night as ye use. 
 Who shall for the present delight here, 
 
 Be a king by the lot. 
 
 And who shall not 
 Be twelfth-day queen for the night here. 
 
 Which known, let us make 
 
 Joy-sops with the cake ; 
 And let not a man then be seen here. 
 
 Who, unurg'd, will not drink. 
 
 To the base from the brink, 
 A health to the king and the queen here. 
 
 • Herrick's receipt for the it ait el, or -watsail bow! is quite 
 orthodox. The erudite Steevens, in his comment to Shak- 
 speare's Macbeth, Adl 1. Sc. 7. on the word ivastcl (whicli 
 is still in use in the midland counties) informs us, thjt the 
 •wastei bowl was composed of lambs.wool, i. e. roasted ap- 
 ples in strong beer, with sugar and spice. See the note to 
 poem 151,
 
 Orycy 
 
 Next, crown the bowl full 
 
 With gentle lambs-wool ;* 
 Add sugar, nutmeg, and ginger, 
 
 With store of ale too ; 
 
 And thus ye must do 
 To make the wassail a swinger. 
 
 Give then to the king 
 
 And queen wassailing ; 
 And, though with ale ye be wet here, 
 
 Yet part ye from hence 
 
 As free from offence 
 As when ye innocent met here. 
 
 CCLXXIII. 
 
 THE tinker's song. 
 
 Along, come along, 
 Let's meet in a throng 
 
 Here of tinkers ; 
 And quaff up a bowl. 
 As big as a cowl. 
 
 To beer-drinkers. 
 
 The pole of the hop 
 Place in the ale-shop, 
 
 To bethwack us, 
 If ever we think 
 So much as to drink 
 
 Unto Bacchus. 
 
 Who frolick will be 
 For little cost, he 
 
 Must not vary 
 From beer-broth at all» 
 So much as to call 
 
 For canary.
 
 223 
 CCLXXIV. 
 
 TO ANTHEA. 
 
 SiCK is Anthea, sickly is the spring, 
 The primrose sick, and sickly ev'iy thinjj; 
 The while my dear Anthea does but droop, 
 The tulips, lilies, daffodils do stoop : 
 But when again she's got her healthful hour, 
 Each bending then will rise a proper flow'r. 
 
 ., CCLXXV. 
 
 TO HIS PECULIAR FRIEND, 
 MR. JO. VVICKES. 
 
 Since shed, or cottage I have none; 
 I sing the more that thou hast one ; 
 To whose glad threshold, and free door 
 I may a poet come, though poor ; 
 And eat with thee a savoury bit, 
 Paying but common thanks for it : 
 Yet should I chance, my Wickes, to see 
 An over-leaven look in thee, 
 To sour the bread, and turn the beer 
 To an exalted vinegar ; 
 Or should'st thou prize me as a dish 
 Of thrice-boil'd worts, or third day's fish ; 
 I'd rather hungry go and come. 
 Than to thy house be burdensome ; 
 Yet, in my depth of grief-, I'd be 
 One that should drop his beads for thee. 
 
 Poem CCLXXIV.] These remind me of some very 
 beautiful lines, on Chloe tveeping, by one of our amatory 
 bards, 1 think Prior : 
 
 See, whilst thou weep'st, fair Chloe, see 
 The world in sympathy with thee, &c.
 
 224 
 
 CCLXXVI. 
 
 A DIALOGUE, 
 
 BETWIXT HIMSELF, AND MRS. ELIZABETH 
 
 WHEELER 
 
 •UNDER THE NAME OF AMARYLLIS. 
 
 Herrick. 
 My dearest love, since thou wilt go, 
 
 And leave me here behind thee ; 
 For love or pity, let me knovy 
 
 The place where I may find thee. 
 
 Amaryllis. 
 In country meadows, pearl'd with dew, 
 
 And set about with lilies ; 
 There, filling maunds* with cowslips, yoti 
 
 May find your Amaryllis. 
 
 Herrlck. 
 What have the meads to do with thee, 
 
 Or with thy youthful hours ? 
 Live thou at court, where thou may'st be 
 
 The queen of men, not flow'rs. 
 
 Let country wenches make 'em fine 
 
 With posies ; since 'tis fitter 
 For thee with richest gems to shine, 
 And like the stars to glitter. 
 
 Amaryllis. 
 You set too high a rate upon 
 
 A shepherdess so homely. 
 Her. Believe it, dearest, there's not one 
 
 I'th' court that's half so comely. 
 
 * ilfaawJ is a hand-basket: thewordisShakspearean.and 
 still familiar in Somersetshire, Malone observes. Many 
 ^lossographers define it a wicker basket with two lids.
 
 225 
 
 1 pray thee stay. — Am. I must away. 
 
 Her. Let's kiss first, then we'll sever. 
 Both. And, though we bid adieu to-day, 
 
 We shall not part for ever. 
 
 CCLXXYII. 
 
 ON HIMSELF. 
 
 A weari'd pilgrim, I have wandcr'd here 
 Twice five and twenty, bate me bnt one year : 
 Long have I lasted in this world, 'tis true ; 
 But yet those years, that I have liv'd, but few. 
 Who, by his grey hairs, doth his lustres tell. 
 Lives not those years, but he that lives them well. 
 One man has reach'd his sixty years ; but he. 
 Of all those threescore, has not liv'd half three. 
 He lives, who lives to virtue; men, who cast 
 Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last. 
 
 CCLXXVIII. 
 
 HIS COVENANT, OR PROTESTATION, 
 TO JULIA. 
 
 Why dost thou wound and break my heart. 
 As if we should for ever part ? 
 Hast thou not heard an oath from me; 
 After a day, or two, or three, 
 I would come back and live with thee ? 
 Take, if thou dost distrust that vow, 
 This second protestation now : 
 Upon thy cheek that spangled tear. 
 Which sits as dew of roses there. 
 That tear shall scarce be dri'd, before 
 I'll kiss the threshold of thy door. 
 Then weep not, sweet; but thus much know, 
 I'm half return'd before I go. 
 
 q2
 
 220 
 
 -4- 
 
 CCLXXIX. 
 
 HIS LAST REQUEST TO JULIA. 
 
 I have been wanton, aud too bold, I fear, 
 To chafe o'ermuch the virgin's cheek, or ear: 
 Beg for my pardon, Julia ; he doth win 
 Grace with the gods, who's sorry for his sin : 
 That done, my Juha, dearest Julia ! come, 
 And go with me to chuse my burial room. 
 My fates are ended ! When thy Herrick dies, 
 Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes. 
 
 CCLXXX. 
 
 . THE PILLAR OF FAME. 
 
 Fame's pilllar here at last we set, 
 Out-during marble, brass, or jet; 
 Charm'd, and enchanted so. 
 As to withstand the blow 
 Of overthrow : 
 Nor shall the seas. 
 Or outrages 
 
 Of storms, o'erbear 
 What v.e iiprear : 
 Tho' kingdoms fall; 
 This pillar never shall 
 Decline, or waste at all ; 
 But stand for ever by his own 
 Firm, and well-fix'd foundation. 
 
 Poem CCI.XXIX.] There h exquisite pathos, and sim- 
 plicity in tjie last sentence of this little poem; perfedly 
 correfpondir.g with poem 158. 
 
 Poem CCLXXX.J Horatian to the last is the bard 
 Robert Herrick, concluding what he terms his Works 
 Human witb an imitation of 
 
 Exci^i monumentum are fer ennuis, \5c, 
 
 HoRAT. Ode ult. Lib. 3.
 
 / have selected the four follo'wing piecesy 
 as the most poetical specimens of our author's 
 Noble Numbers, or Pious Pieces; the in- 
 feriority of IV hie h is generally allowed even 
 by his ivarmest admirers, notivithstanding 
 the encomiums that are passed upon them in 
 ffood's AlHENX.
 
 228 
 
 I. 
 
 TO GOD, 
 ON HIS SICKNESS. 
 
 What though my harp, and viol be 
 Both hung upon the willow tree ; 
 What though my bed be now my grave, 
 And for my house I darkness have ; 
 What though my healthful days are fled, 
 And I lie number'd with the dead : 
 Yet I have hope, by thy great power. 
 To spring, though now a wither'd flow'r. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE STAR SONG. 
 
 A CAROL TO THE KING, SUNG AT WHITEHALL. 
 
 Flourish of Mus'uL, then fullo-uied the Song. 
 
 Tell us, thou clear and heav'nly tongue, 
 Where is the babe but lately sprung ; 
 Lies he the lily banks among ? 
 Or say, if this new birth of our's 
 Sleeps, laid within some ark of flow'rs . 
 Spangled with dew-light ? Thou canst clear 
 All doubts, and manifest the where. 
 Declare to us, bright star, if we shall seek 
 Him in the morning's blushing cheek; 
 Or search the beds of spices through, 
 To find him out ? 
 
 Star. 
 No ; this ye need not do ; 
 But only come, and see him rest 
 A princely babe in's mother's breast.
 
 229 
 
 Chorus. 
 He's seen, he's seen ! Why then around 
 Let's kiss the sweet, and holy ground ; 
 And all rejoice that we have found 
 A king, before conception crown 'd. 
 Come then, come then ; and let us bring 
 Unto our pretty, twelfthtide king 
 Each one his sev'ral offering ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 And, when night comes, we'll give him wassailing; 
 And, that his treble honours may be seen. 
 We'll chuse him king, and make his mother queen. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE widows' tears, 
 OR DIRGE OF DORCAS. 
 
 Come pity us, all ye, who see 
 Our harps hung on the willow tree ;* 
 Come pity us, ye passers by. 
 Who see or hear poor widows cry ; 
 Come pity us, and bring your ears 
 And eyes to pity widows' tears. 
 
 Chorus. 
 And, when you are come hither, 
 
 Then we will keep 
 
 A fast, and weep 
 Our eyes out all together. 
 
 For Tabitha, who dead lies here. 
 Clean wash'd, and laid out for the bier, 
 O modest matrons ! weep and wail ; 
 For now the corn and wine must fail; 
 
 * See K. David's Psalm IZl. vcr. 2.
 
 230 
 
 The basket and the bin of bread, 
 Wherewith so many souls were fed, 
 
 ChoriiS' 
 Stand empty here for ever : 
 
 And, ah, the poor 
 
 At thy worn door 
 Shall be relieved never ! 
 
 Woe-worth the time ! woe-worth the day, 
 That reav'd us of thee, Tabitha ! 
 For we have lost, with thee, the meal. 
 The bits, the morsels, and the deal 
 Of gentle paste, and yielding dough. 
 That thou on widows didst bestow. 
 
 Chorus. 
 All's gone, and death hath taken 
 
 Away from us* 
 
 Our maundy ; thus 
 Thy widows stand forsaken. 
 
 Ah, Dorcas, Dorcas ! now adieu 
 
 We bid the cruse, and pannier too ; 
 
 Aye, and the flesh, f for and the fish 
 
 Dol'd to us in that lordly dish. 
 
 We take our leaves now of the loom, 
 
 From whence the housewives' cloth did come 
 
 * Or maud, figuratively put for bounty, from the maund, 
 or basket, which contained ir. See the diaioiiary defini- 
 tions of Maundy-Thursday, a day on which our poten- 
 tates of yore washed the poor's feet, and distributed gifts 
 among them from the royal almsbasket. 
 
 ■f For and may perhaps be intended for 'forehand, i. e. 
 befotchand; heretofore. Shakspeare has " 'forehand sin. ' 
 See Much adis about Nothing; Ac5t 4. Sc. 1.
 
 231 
 
 Chorus. 
 The web affords now nothing ; 
 
 Thou being dead, 
 
 The worsted thread 
 Is cut, that made us clothing. 
 
 Farewell the flax, and reamingf wool. 
 With which thy house was plentiful ; 
 Farewell the coats, the garments, and 
 The sheets, the rugs, made by thy hand ; 
 Farewell thy fire, and thy light, 
 That ne'er went out by day, or night : 
 
 Chorus. 
 No ; or thy zeal so speedy. 
 
 That found a way, 
 
 By peep of day, 
 To feed, and clothe the needy. 
 
 But -h, alas I the almond bough, 
 And olive branch is wither'd now ; 
 The wine-press now is ta'en from us, 
 The saffron, and the calamus ; 
 The spice, and spikenard hence is gone, 
 The storax, and the cinnamon. 
 
 Chorus . 
 The carol of our gladness 
 
 Has taken wing ; 
 
 And our late spring 
 Of mirth is turn'd to sadness. 
 
 ^Stretching into cloth by spinning and weaving. To 
 ream, in the West-country Exmore dialed, is to stmtck. 
 See Grose's Frovineial Clouary.
 
 232 
 
 How wise wast thou in all thy ways I 
 How worthy of rcspedl and praise ! 
 How matron-like didst thou go drest, 
 How soberly, above the rest 
 Of those, that prank it with their plumes, 
 And jet it with their choice perfumes ! 
 
 Chorus. 
 Thy vestures were not flowing ; 
 
 Nor did the street 
 
 Accuse thy feet 
 Of mincing in their going. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Sleep with thy beauties here, while we 
 Will shew these garments made by thee : 
 These were the coats ; in these are read 
 The monuments of Dorcas dead : 
 These were thy adts ; and thou shalt have 
 These hung, as honours, o'er thy grave : 
 
 Chorus. 
 And, after us distressed. 
 
 Should fame be dumb ; 
 
 Thy very tomb 
 Would cry out, thou art blessed I 
 
 IV. 
 
 HIS saviour's words, going to the cross. 
 
 Have, have ye no regard, all ye 
 Who pass this way, to pity me, 
 Who am a man of misery ?
 
 <j'i 
 
 23^J 
 
 A man both bruis'd, and broke ; and one 
 Who suffers not here for mine own, 
 But for my friends' transgression ! 
 
 Ah, Sion's daughters ! do not fear 
 
 The cross, the cords, the nails, the spear, 
 
 The myrrh, the gall, the vinegar ; 
 
 For Christ, your loving saviour, hath 
 Dnmk up the wine of God's fierce wrath j 
 Only there's left a little froth. 
 
 Less for to taste, than for to shew 
 What bitter cups had been your due. 
 Had he not drunk them up for you. 
 
 When the present sheet of this volume was at the press, 
 I was favoured with a letter from the Rev. Mr. Samuel 
 Herrick, of Brampton, near Market Harborough, to whom, 
 as a descendant of the family, I had applied for any anec- 
 dotes he might be in possession of respecfting our poet; but 
 he could furnish nothing beyond what his relatives had be- 
 fore communicated to Mr. Nichols, for his History of Lei- 
 cesterihire. His letter was however accompanied with a 
 copy of a very elegant little collecStion of Poems, entitled 
 First Fligbtt, written by his elder brother John, a lieutenant 
 in the 15th dragoons, and printed 4to. 1797; the author 
 died in his 35th year during their publication. This proves, 
 that the poetic spark has been kept alive in the Herrick fa- 
 tamily even to the present times. See note to poem J4.
 
 TABLE 
 
 Op xas TITLES op bach FOEM. 
 
 POEM P^lGt 
 
 1. To his Muse. 1 
 
 ■2. Upon Julia's Recoverv. 2 
 
 3. The Parliament of Roses. To Julia. 3 
 
 4. To PeriUa. 3 
 
 5. A Song to the Maskers. 4 
 
 6. To his Mistresses. 4 
 7' No Loathsomeness in Love. 5 
 
 8. The weeping Cherry. 5 
 
 9. The Carcanet. 6 
 10. How the Wallflower came first, and why 
 
 so called. 6 
 
 lit To his Mistress objecting to him neither 
 
 toying, or talking, 7 
 
 1 2. Upon the Loss of his Mistresses. 7 
 
 13. The Dream. 8 
 
 14. On Himself. 8 
 
 15. Love's Play at Pushpin. 9 
 
 16. The Rosary. g 
 17- Upon Cupid. g 
 
 18. The Parca.', or the Armlet. 10 
 
 19. To Robin-Red-Breasl. 10 
 
 20. Discontents in Devon. 10 
 
 21. Cherry-ripe. 11 
 
 22. The Vision. To Eledra. 11 
 
 23. The Succession of the four sweet Months. 12 
 
 24. Of Love. 12
 
 236 
 
 FOtM PAG£ 
 
 25. The Rock of Rubies, and the Quarry 
 
 of Pearls. 13 
 
 '26. Upon Roses. 13 
 
 27. The Cheat of Cupid, or the ungentle 
 
 Guest. 13 
 
 28. Delight in Disorder. i5 
 
 29. Kisbing Usury. 15 
 
 30. The bag of the Bee. 16 
 
 31. To his Mistress. 1/ 
 
 32. To the generous Reader. 18 
 
 33. To Eledra. 18 
 
 34. A Country Life. To his Brother, Tho- 
 
 mas Herrick. I9 
 
 35. Lyrick to Mirth. 23 
 
 36. Upon Julia's Riband. 24 
 
 37. The frozen Zone, or Julia disdainful. 24 
 
 38. To the Patron of Poets, Mr. Endy- 
 
 mion Porter. 25 
 
 39. The Sadness of Things for Sappho's 
 
 Sickness. 26 
 
 40. The Tear, sent to Mrs. Dorothy Ke- 
 
 neday from Staines. 26 
 
 41. Epitaph upon a Child. 27 
 
 42. Upon Mrs. Elizabeth Wheeler, under 
 
 the Name of Amaryllis, 28 
 
 43. To Myrrha hard-hearted. 28 
 
 44. The Eye. 29 
 
 45. The wounded Cupid. So 
 
 46. The Vision. 30 
 
 47. Dissuasions from Idleness. 31 
 
 48. Epithalamium, to Sir Thomas South- 
 
 well and his Lady. 32 
 
 4g. Love perfumes all Parts. 36 
 
 50. The cruel Maid. 37 
 
 51. To Dianeme. 38 
 
 52. His Misery in a Mistress. 38 
 
 53. To a Gentlewoman objefting to him 
 
 his grey Hairs. 39
 
 237 
 
 fOtM rACU 
 
 54. Upon Cupid. 40 
 
 55. Upon a black Twist round the Arm of 
 
 the Countess of CarHsle. 40 
 
 56. A Ring presented to Julia. 41 
 
 57. Julia's Tetticoat. 42 
 
 58. Corinna's going a Maying. 43 
 5g. A Dialogue between Horace &: Lydia, 
 
 translated Anno I627, and set by Mr. 
 Ro. Ramsey. 46 
 
 60. The captived Bee, or, the little Filcher. 47 
 
 61. An Ode to Master Endymion Porter, 
 
 upon his Brother's Death. 48 
 
 62. To Cherry Blossoms. 49 
 
 63. To Pansies. 50 
 
 64. On Gillyflowers begotten, 50 
 
 65. The Lily in a Crystal. 51 
 
 66. The Welcome to Sack, 53 
 
 67. Impossibilities. To his Friend. 56 
 08. To live merrily, and to trust to good 
 
 Verses. 56 
 
 6q. Lips tongueless. 58 
 
 70. To Violets, 59 
 
 71. To Carnations, A Song. 60 
 
 72. To the \'irgins, to make much of Time. 60 
 
 73. To the Lark, 61 
 
 74. A Meditation for his Mistress. 62 
 
 75. The bleeding Hand; or the Sprig of 
 
 Eglantine given to a Maid, 63 
 
 76. The Fairy Temple, or Oberon's Cha- 
 
 pel, Dedicated to Mr, John Merri- 
 
 field, Counsellor at Law. 63 
 
 77- The Plaudite, or End of Life. 68 
 
 78. To Musick to becalm his Fever. 68 
 
 7Q- Upon Cupid. Qg 
 
 SO. The Changes. To Corinna. 70 
 
 81. To the Rose. Song. 70 
 
 82. His Recantation. 7 1
 
 23S 
 
 rOEM FAOt 
 
 83. The Hock-Cart, or Harvest-Home. 
 
 To the Right Honourable Mildmay, 
 Earl of Westmoreland. 72 
 
 84. Not to love. 74 
 
 85. To the Western Wind. 74 
 
 86. Upon the Death of his Sparrow. An 
 
 Elegy. 75 
 
 87. To Primroses filled with Morning Dew. 7(5 
 
 88. To the Willow Tree. 77 
 Sg. Mrs. Elizabeth Wheeler, imdcr the 
 
 Name of the lost Shepherdess. 77 
 
 90. The Poet's good Wishes for the most 
 
 hopeful and handsome Prince, the 
 Duke of York. 79 
 
 91. To Anthea, who may command him 
 
 any Thing. 80 
 
 92. To Meadows. 81 
 
 93. 1 call, and I call. 82 
 
 94. Nuptial Song, or Epithalamium, on 
 
 Sir Clipseby Crew, and his Lady. 82 
 
 g5. To all young Men that love. 88 
 
 g6. No Fault in Women. 88 
 
 g7. Oberon's Feast. 89 
 
 98. To Virgins. 9I 
 
 gg. The Belman. gi 
 
 100. Upon Prudence Baldwin her Sickness. 92 
 
 101. To Apollo. A short Hymn. 93 
 
 102. A Hymn to Bacchus. 93 
 
 103. On Himself. 93 
 
 104. Upon a Child that died. 94 
 
 105. Content, not Gates. 94 
 
 106. The Good-Night, or Blessing. gs 
 
 107. To Daffodils. gs 
 
 108. Upon a Lady that died in Childbed, 
 
 and left a Daughter behind her. 96 
 
 109. A New-Year's-Gift sent to Sir Simeon 
 
 Steward. 96 
 
 1 10. Mattins, or Morning Prayer. 98
 
 239 
 
 POEM PACE 
 
 111. Evensong. QQ 
 
 112. The Bracelet. To Julia. (jg 
 
 113. Hymn to Neptune. 100 
 
 114. The Kiss. A Dialogue. 100 
 
 115. The Admonition. 101 
 110\ His Age. Dedicated to his peculiar 
 
 Friend, Mr. John Wickes, under 
 
 the Name of Posthumus. 102 
 
 117. A short Hymn to Venus. 108 
 
 118. Upon a delaying Lady. 108 
 
 119. Upon his Julia. lOy 
 
 120. Hymn to Venus, and Cupid. I0t> 
 
 121. The Meadow Verse, or Anniversary 
 
 of Mrs. Bridget Lowman. 109 
 
 122. Hymn to Juno. 110 
 
 123. Chop-Cherry. 110 
 
 124. To the most learned and Arch-Anti- 
 
 quary, Mr. John Selden. lU 
 
 125. Upon Himself. Ill 
 
 126. Pray, and prosper. 112 
 
 127. His Lachrimfe, or Mirth turned to 
 
 Mourning. 112 
 
 128. To the most fair and lovely Mrs. 
 
 Ann Soamc, now Lady Abdie. 113 
 
 129. Upofi his KinsM'oman, Mrs. Eliza- 
 
 beth Herrick. 114 
 
 130. To his Valentine, on St. Valentine's 
 
 Day. 1 1 5 
 
 131. Upon Mr. Ben Jonson. Epigram. 115 
 
 132. Vow to Mars. 116 
 
 133. How Pansies, or Hearts-Ease came 
 
 first. 117 
 
 134. The mad Maid's Song. 1 1 7 
 
 135. To Bacchus. A Canticle. 118 
 
 136. To Sycamores. .II9 
 
 137. A Pastoral sung to the King. Mon- 
 
 tano, Silvio, and Mirtillo, Shep- 
 herds. 119 
 
 R 3
 
 240 
 
 rOEM PACE 
 
 138. The Poet loves a Mistress, but not 
 
 to marrv. 121 
 
 139. The Willow Garland. 122 
 
 140. Hvmn to Sir Clipseby Crew. 122 
 
 141. Upon Julia's Breast. 123 
 
 142. To Daisies, not to shut so soon. 123 
 
 143. Oberon's Palace. 124 
 
 144. To Oenone. 128 
 
 145. To Groves. 128 
 
 146. Epitaph upon a Virgin. 129 
 
 147. To Jealousy. 130 
 
 148. Upon Love. 130 
 
 149. The parting Verse, or Charge to 
 
 his supposed Wife, when he tra- 
 velled. 131 
 
 150. To Blossoms. 134 
 151.. The Wassail. 135 
 
 152. Upon Julia's Hair filled with Dew. 136 
 
 153. Upon Himself. 137 
 
 154. An Eclogue, between Endymion 
 
 Porter, and Lycidas Herrick. 133 
 
 155. The Bed of Tulips. 139 
 
 156. To the Water-Nymphs, drinking at 
 
 a Fountain. 140 
 
 157. Upon a Fly. 140 
 
 158. To Julia. 141 
 
 159. How he would drink his Wine. 14X 
 
 160. Upon Love. 142 
 
 161. To the Lady Crew, upon the Death 
 
 of her Child. 142 
 
 162. On Himself. 142 
 J 63. To Phillis, to love, and live with him. 143 
 
 164. Upon her Feet. 145 
 
 165. Upon his grey Hairs. 146 
 
 166. Vow to Minerva. 146 
 
 167. To Eleftra. 146 
 
 168. To Dianeme. 14/ 
 
 169. Ode to Sir Clipseby Crew. 148
 
 241 
 
 FOCM 
 
 PAOn 
 
 170. His Content in the Country. 1^9 
 
 171- The Fairies. 150 
 
 172 Art above Nature. To Julia. 150 
 
 173. Upon Love. ^5' 
 
 J 74. On the Loss of his Finger. 1 5 1 
 
 17.5. Hymn to the Graces. 151 
 
 176. The Apparition of his Mistress, call- 
 
 ing him to Elysium. ^52 
 
 177. Love lightly pleased. 151- 
 
 178. The Primrose. J 55 
 
 179. The Tithe. To the Bride. 156 
 
 180. No Luck in Love. 15^ 
 
 181. The Headach. 156 
 
 182. His Prayer to Ben Jonson. ^^7 
 
 183. The bad Season makes the Poet sad. 157 
 
 184. Purposes. 158 
 
 185. To the Maids, to walk abroad. 158 
 
 186. The Nightpiece. To Julia. 160 
 
 187. To Sir Clipseby Crew. I61 
 
 188. Upon Love. I61 
 
 189. Connubii Flores, or the Wellwishes 
 
 at Weddings. l62 
 
 190. Upon Love. I^l 
 
 191. The Beggar to Mab, the Fairy Queen 165 
 
 192. Upon a Child. l6d 
 
 193. Farewell Frost, or welcome the 
 
 Spring. 166 
 
 194. The Hag. 16'7 
 
 195. A Bacchanalian Verse. 168 
 
 196. The Country Life. To the honour- 
 
 ed Mr. Endymion Porter, Groom 
 
 of the Bedchamber to His Majesty. I69 
 
 197. To Electra. 171 
 
 198. What Kind of Mistress he would have. 1 72 
 
 199. To his Friend, Mr. John Wickes. 173 
 
 200. Hymn to the Lares. 17-^ 
 
 201. To Anthea. 175 
 
 202. The Funeral-Rites of the Rose. 175
 
 242 
 
 rOEM lACP 
 
 203. The Rainbow, or curious Cove* 
 
 nant. J 76 
 
 204. Stoolball. 17(5 
 
 205. To Sappho. 177 
 
 206. The May-Pole. 178 
 20/. The Bracelet of Pearl. To Sylvia. 1/8 
 208. How Roses came red. 179 
 20g. Bucolick, or Discourse of Neatherds. 1/9 
 
 210. His Grange, or private Wealth. 181 
 
 211. Good Precepts, or Counsel. 182 
 
 212. A Ternary of Littles, upon a Pipkin 
 
 of Jelly sent to a Lady. 183 
 
 213. Upon the Roses in Julia's Bosom. 184 
 
 214. The Apron of Flowers. ] 84 
 
 215. To Electra. Love looks for Love. 185 
 
 216. Love dishkes Nothing. 185 
 
 217. A Song. 186 
 
 218. The Wake. 186 
 
 219. The Peter-Penny. 187 
 
 220. Upon his Kinswoman, M. S. 188 
 
 221. A Conjuration to Electra. 188 
 
 222. The Spell. I89 
 
 223. Hymn to Bacchus. I89 
 
 224. Psalm, or Hymn to the Graces. I91 
 
 225. Hymn to the Muses. Ipl 
 
 226. Upon Julia's Clothes. 102 
 
 227. Upon Pru, his Maid. I92 
 
 228. Ceremonies for Christmas. 193 
 
 229. Christmas Eve. Another Ceremony. 193 
 
 230. To Sappho. ' 194 
 
 231. The Bridecake. I94 
 
 232. The maiden Blush. 194 
 
 233. To Julia, in her Dawn, or Daybreak. I95 
 
 234. To Dianeme. I96 
 
 235. To Electra. I96 
 
 236. To Mrs. Amie Porter. 197 
 
 237. Upon a Maid. 197 
 
 238. To his Book. 197
 
 FOEM 
 
 
 PACK 
 
 239. 
 
 The delaying Bride. 
 
 198 
 
 240. 
 
 Age unfit for Love. 
 
 199 
 
 241. 
 
 Upon Love. 
 
 199 
 
 242. 
 
 The Sacrifice, by way of Discourse 
 
 
 
 betwixt Himself and' Julia. 
 
 200 
 
 243. 
 
 Hymn to Cupid. 
 
 200 
 
 244. 
 
 How his Soul came insnared. 
 
 201 
 
 245. 
 
 Upon Julia's Hair bundled up in a 
 
 
 
 golden Net. 
 
 202 
 
 246. 
 
 The Shower of Blossoms. 
 
 202 
 
 247. 
 
 A Defence for Women. 
 
 203 
 
 248. 
 
 Ceremonies for Candlemas Eve. 
 
 203 
 
 249. 
 
 Ceremonies for Candlemas Day. 
 
 204 
 
 250. 
 
 To Biancha. To bless him. 
 
 205 
 
 251. 
 
 Upon Mr. William Lawes, the rare 
 
 
 
 Musician. 
 
 205 
 
 352. 
 
 Upon Ben Jonson. 
 
 206 
 
 253. 
 
 Ode for the same. 
 
 206 
 
 254. 
 
 A Request to the Graces. 
 
 20; 
 
 255. 
 
 Happiness to Hospitality, or a hearty 
 
 
 
 Wish to good Housekeeping. 
 
 20s 
 
 256. 
 
 To the River, where Julia bathed. 
 
 208 
 
 257. 
 
 Upon Cupid. 
 
 209 
 
 258. 
 
 Hymn to Love. 
 
 2iO 
 
 259. 
 
 To his honoured, and most ingenious 
 
 
 
 Friend, Mr. Charles Cotton. 
 
 211 
 
 260. 
 
 To his worthy Friend, A Jr. John 
 
 
 
 Hall, Student of Gray's Inn. 
 
 211 
 
 261. 
 
 The Deluge. 
 
 212 
 
 262. 
 
 Crutches. 
 
 213 
 
 263. 
 
 Ceremony upon Candlemas Eve. 
 
 214 
 
 264. 
 
 A Bucolick, betwixt Lacon and 
 
 
 
 Thyrsis. 
 
 214 
 
 265. 
 
 To Biancha. 
 
 216 
 
 266. 
 
 Anacreontic Verse. 
 
 216 
 
 267. 
 
 Upon Love. By way of Question 
 
 
 
 and Answer. 
 
 217 
 
 268. 
 
 Vow to Venus. 
 
 217
 
 244 
 
 roEM PAGE 
 
 269. Comfort to a Youth, that had lost 
 
 his Love. 318 
 
 270. Saint Distaff's Day, or the Morrow 
 
 after Twelfth-Day. 2ig 
 
 271. His Tears to Thaniasis. 220 
 
 272. Twelfth-Night, or King and Queen. 22J 
 
 273. The Tinker's Song. 222 
 
 274. To Anthea. 223 
 
 275. To his peculiar Friend, Mr. Jo. 
 
 Wickes, 223 
 
 276. A Dialogue, betwixt Himself, and 
 
 Mrs. Elizabeth Wheeler under the 
 Name of Amaryllis. 224 
 
 277. On Himself. 225 
 
 278. His Covenant, or Protestation, to 
 
 Julia. 225 
 
 279. His last Request to Julia. 220 
 2sb. The Pillar of Fame. 226 
 
 1. To God, on his Sickness. 228 
 
 2. The Star Song. A Carol to the 
 
 King, sung at Whitehall. 228 
 
 3. The Widows' Tears, or Dirge of 
 
 Dorcas, 229 
 
 4. His Saviour's Words, going to the 
 
 Cross. 232
 
 ALPHABETICAL TABLE 
 
 OF ALL 
 
 THE POEMS. 
 
 PAOS 
 
 About the sweet bag of a bee 16 
 
 A crystal vial Cupid brought, 164 
 
 After the feast, my Shapcot, see 124 
 
 After the rare arch-poet, Jonson, died, 115 
 
 A golden fly one shew'd to me, 140 
 
 Ah, Ben! 206 
 
 Ah, Biancha ! now I see 216 
 
 Ah, cruel love, must I endure 50 
 
 Ah, Lycidas, come tell me why, 1S8 
 Ah me ! I love; give him your hand to kiss, 197 
 
 Ah, my Perilla ! dost thou grieve to see 3 
 
 Ah, Posthumus ! our years hence fly, 102 
 
 A little saint best fits a little shrine, 183 
 
 Along, come along, 222 
 
 Am I despis'd, because you say, 39 
 
 Among the myrtles as I walk'd, 77 
 
 Among thy fancies, tell me this : loo 
 
 And, cruel maid, because I see 37 
 
 As gillyflowers do but ^tay ^6 
 
 As Julia once a slumb'ring lay, 47 
 
 Ask me why I send you here 155 
 
 As lately I a garland bound 69 
 As shews the air, when with a rainbow grac'd, 24 
 
 A sweet disorder in the dress 15 
 
 At stoolball, Lucia, let us play 176 
 
 A weari'd pilgrim, I have wander'd here 225 
 
 A willow garland thou didst send 122
 
 246 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Bacchus, let me drink no more; 93 
 
 Bad arc the times. — And worse than they are we. 119 
 Begin with Jove ; then is the work half done, 99 
 
 Be not proud, but now incline 70 
 
 Be the mistress of my choice 172 
 
 Biancha, let 15 
 
 Bid me to live, and I will live 80 
 
 Blessings in abundance come 95 
 
 Born 1 was to meet with age, 142 
 
 Bright tulips, we do know 139 
 
 Brisk methinks I am, and fine, 216 
 
 Burn or drown me, choose ye whether, 186 
 
 By the next kindling of the day, 195 
 
 By those soft tods of wool, 188 
 
 Call me no more, 112 
 
 Charm me asleep, and melt me so 68 
 
 Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, (I cry) 11 
 
 Choose me your valentine ; 17 
 
 Come ; and let's in solemn wise 200 
 
 Come, Anthea, know thou this, 175 
 
 Come, Anthea, let us two 186 
 
 Come blithful neatherds, let us lay 179 
 
 Come, bring with a noise, 193 
 
 Come, come away ; 108 
 
 Come down, and dance ye in the toil 4 
 
 Come guard this night the Christmas pie ; 193 
 
 Come pity us, all ye, who see 229 
 
 Come sit we under yonder tree, 158 
 
 Come, sons of summer ; by whose toil 72 
 
 Come then ; and like two doves with silv'ry 
 
 wings, 152 
 
 Come with the spring-time forth, fair maid ; 
 
 and be 109 
 
 Cupid, as he lay among 30 
 
 Cynthius, pluck ye by the ear; 31 
 
 Dew sate on Julia's hair, 136 
 
 Down with the rosemary and bays, 203 
 
 Down with the rosemary, and so 214 
 
 Droop, droop no more, nor hang the head 2 
 
 Drowning, drowning I espy 212
 
 247 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Dull to myself, and almost dead to these 157 
 
 Fair daffodils, we weep to see 95 
 
 Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, 1 34 
 
 Fame's pillar here at last we set, 22G 
 
 Fill me a mighty bowl 168 
 
 Fill me my wine in crystal ; thus, and thus 141 
 
 First April, she with mellow show'rs 12 
 
 First, may the hand of bounty bring 208 
 
 First offer incense ; then thy field and meads 112 
 Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appear 166 
 
 Fly me not, though I be grey, 146 
 
 Fold now thine arms, and hang the head, 28 
 
 For a kiss or two, confess 214 
 For brave comportment, wit without offence, 211 
 
 For my part, I never care 58 
 
 Fresh strewings allow 187 
 
 Frolick virgins once these were, 117 
 
 From noise of scarefires rest ye free ; 91 
 
 From the temple to your home 162 
 
 From this bleeding hand of mine €3 
 
 Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, 60 
 Get up, get up for shame ; the blooming morn 43 
 
 Give me one kiss, 147 
 
 Give me wine, and give me meat, 161 
 
 Give way, give way ye gates ; and win 135 
 
 Glide, gentle streams, and bear 2G 
 
 Glory be to the Graces, 191 
 
 Goddess, I begin an art ; 1 itj 
 
 Goddess, I do love a girl 103 
 
 Go, happy rose, and interwove 70 
 
 Go hence, and, with this parting kiss 131 
 
 Good morrow to the day so fair ; 117 
 
 Good speed, for I this day 61 
 
 Happily I had a sight 217 
 
 Have, have ye no regard, all ye 232 
 
 Have ye beheld, with much delight, 123 
 
 Hear, ye virgins ; and I'll teach 91 
 
 Help me ! help me ! now I call 4 
 
 Here a pretty baby lies, 16G
 
 248 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Here a solemn fast we keep : 129 
 
 Here down my wearied limbs I'll lay, 93 
 
 Here, here I live with what my board 149 
 
 Here lies a virgin, and as sweet 188 
 
 Hero lies Jonson, with the rest 20G 
 
 Here she lies, a pretty bi;d, 94 
 
 Here she lies, in bed of spice, 197 
 
 Here we securely live ; and eat 148 
 
 Her eyes the glowworm lend thee, 160 
 
 Her pretty feet, 145 
 
 He that will not love must be 74 
 
 Holy water, come, and bring ; 189 
 
 Honour to you, who sit 191 
 
 How fierce was I, when I did see 208 
 
 How Love came in I do not know, 12 
 
 I brake thy bracelet 'gainst my will ; 178 
 
 I bring ye love. — What will love do ? 217 
 
 I call, I call !— Who do ye call ? 82 
 
 I could but see thee yesterday 196 
 
 I could never love indeed ; 137 
 
 I could wish you all, who love, 88 
 
 1 dare not ask a kiss, 171 
 
 I do love I know not what, - 156 
 
 1 do not love to wed, 121 
 
 I dreamt the roses one time went 3 
 
 I dreamt we both were in a bed 11 
 
 If, after rude and boist'rous seas, 68 
 
 If I kiss Anthea's breast, 36 
 
 h' nine times you your bridegroom kiss, 156 
 
 If ye will with Mab lind grace ; 150 
 
 I have been wanton, and too bold, I fear, 226 
 
 I have lost, and lately, theae 7 
 
 I held Love's head while it did ache ; 142 
 
 I'm sick of love; O let me lie 119 
 
 In a dream, Love bade me go 161 
 
 In all thy need be thou possest 182 
 
 Instead of orient pearls, of jet 6 
 
 In this little urn is laid 192 
 
 I play'd with love, as with the fire 151 
 
 I saw about her spotless wrist 40 
 
 I saw a cherry weep, and why ? 5
 
 249 
 
 PACC 
 
 I send, I send here my siipremest kiss 320 
 
 I sing thy praise, lacchus, 189 
 
 Is this a life ; to break thy sleep, 173 
 
 It was, and still my care is 175 
 
 Julia, I bring 41 
 
 Julia, when thy Herrick dies, 141 
 
 I, who have favoured many, come to be ill 
 
 I will confess, 210 
 
 Kindle the Christmas brand, and then 204 
 
 Laid out for dead ; let thy last kindness be 10 
 
 Let fair or foul my mistress be, 154 
 
 Let there be patrons, patrons like to thee, 25 
 
 Let us now take time, and play, 177 
 
 Lilies will languish, violets look ill, 26 
 
 Live, live with me ; and thou shalt see 143 
 
 Love and myself, believe me, on a day 9 
 
 Love brought me to a silent grove ; 199 
 
 Love, I have broke 130 
 
 Love in a show'r of blossoms came 202 
 
 Love, I recant, 71 
 
 Love like a beggar came to me, 209 
 
 Love like a gypsey lately came, 40 
 
 Love love begets ; then never be 185 
 
 Maidens tell me I am old ; 199 
 
 Make haste, away ! and let one be 197 
 
 Make me a heav'n, and make me there 29 
 
 May his pretty Dukeship grow 79 
 Methought, last night Love in an anger came, 8 
 
 Mighty Neptune, may it please 100 
 
 Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain.; 176 
 
 More discontents I never had, 10 
 
 More white than whitest lilies far, 18 
 
 My dearest love, since thou wilt go, 224 
 
 My faithful friend, if you can see 56 
 
 My head doth ache ; 1.56 
 
 My soul would one day go and seek 201
 
 250 
 
 PACE 
 
 Naught are all women : I say nO| 20S 
 
 No fault in women, to refuse 88 
 
 No news of navies burnt at seas ; 96 
 
 Not all thy flushing suns are set, 48 
 
 Now is the time for mirth ; 56 
 
 Now, now's the time, so oft by truth 32 
 
 Now, now the mirth comes, 221 
 
 No wrath of men, or rage of seas 158 
 
 Oft have I heard both youths and virgins say, 115 
 
 O jealousy, that art 130 
 
 Old wives have often told, how they 9 
 
 One ask'd me where the roses grew ? 9 
 One of the five straight branches of my hand 151 
 
 One silent night, of late, 13 
 
 Partly work, and partly play 219 
 
 Phoebus, when that I a verse, 93 
 
 Please your grace, from out your store 165 
 
 Ponder my words, if so that any be 207 
 
 Pru, my dearest maid, is sick, 92 
 
 Rare temples thou hast seen, I know, 63 
 
 Reach with your whiter hands to me 140 
 
 Sappho, I vrill choose to go 194: 
 
 Seaboin goddess, let me be 109 
 See, and not see ; and, if thou chance t'espy 18 
 See'st thou those diamonds, which she wears 101 
 
 Shall I go to Love, and tell 196 
 
 Shapcot, to thee the fairy state 89 
 
 Should I not put on blacks, when each one 
 
 here 205 
 
 Shut not so soon ; the dull-ey'd night 123 
 
 Sick is Anthea, sickly is the spring, 223 
 
 Since shed, or cottage I have none ; 223 
 
 Sitting alone, as one iVrsook, 30 
 
 So look the mornings, when the sun 194 
 
 Some ask'd me where the rubies grew; 13 
 
 So smell those odours that do rise 113 
 So soft streams meet, so springs with gladder 
 
 smiles 53
 
 251 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Stately goddess, do thou please, 1 lo 
 
 Stay while ye will, or go; ^^ 
 
 Store of courage to me grant, 1 j^ 
 
 Sweet Amaryllis by a spring's 28 
 
 Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes, ^g 
 
 Sweet country life ! to such unknown, lea 
 
 Sweet virgin, that I do not set 114 
 
 Sweet western wind, whose luck it is, 74 
 
 Tell me; what needs those rich deceits, oQ'y 
 
 Tell me, young man, or did the muses bring '"^u 
 
 Tell us, thou clear and heav'niy tongue, 'joa 
 
 The hag is astride jg,^ 
 
 The may-pole is up ; ,75 
 
 1 he rose was sick, and smiling died ; 175 
 
 This day, my Julia, thou must make 194 
 
 Thou art to all lost love the best, 77 
 
 Thou gav'st me leave to kiss ; Uq 
 
 Though clock, . 
 
 Thou see'st me, Lucia, this year droop ; 013 
 Thou shalt not all die; for while Love's fire " 
 
 shines j,. 
 
 Thou, thou that bear'st the sway, 200 
 
 Three lovely sisters working were, 10 
 Thrice, and above blest, my soul's half, art 
 
 thou jg 
 Thnce happy roses, so much grac'd, to have 184 
 
 Thy azure robe I did behold, 42 
 
 'Tis ev'ning, my sweet, 14g 
 
 ^'Tis not the food, but the content, 94 
 
 'Tis said, as Cupid danc'd among 179 
 
 To gather flowers Sappho went ; 1 34 
 
 'Twas not Love's dart, 1 20 
 
 Under a lawn, than skies more clear, 13 
 
 Virgins promis'd, when I died, 27 
 
 Water, water I espy ! 3g 
 
 Welcome, maids of honour, ,^9 
 
 What conscience, say, is it in thee, 128 
 
 What I fancy I approve g
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 What needs complaints, 218 
 
 Whatsoever thing I see; 185 
 What's that we see from far ; the spring of 
 
 day 82 
 
 What though my harp, and viol be 228 
 
 What was't that fell but now 50 
 
 When as in silks my Julia goes, 192 
 
 When I a verse shall make ; 157 
 
 When I behold a forest spread 1 50 
 
 When I love, as some have told, 151 
 When with the virgin morning thou dost rise, 98 
 
 While, Lydia, I was lov'd of thee, 46 
 
 While the milder fates consent, 23 
 
 Whither dost thou hurry me, 118 
 
 Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roam ? l 
 
 Whither, say, whither shall I fly, 24 
 
 Why do not all fresh maids appear V5 
 Why dost thou wound and break my heart, 225 
 
 Why do ye weep, sweet babes ? 76 
 
 Why I tie about thy wrist, 99 
 
 Why, madam, will ye longer weep, 142 
 
 Why so slowly do you move 198 
 
 Why this flow'r is now call'd so, 6 
 
 Will ye hear what I can say 109 
 
 Would I woo, and would I win ; 205 
 
 Ye have been fresh, and green ; 81 
 
 Ye may simper, blush, and smile, 49 
 
 Ye silent shades, whose each tree here 128 
 
 You are a tulip seen to-day ; 62 
 
 You have beheld a smiling rose, 51 
 
 Young I was, but now am old, 8 
 
 You say I love not, 'cause I do not play 7
 
 For these transgressions y luhich thou here dost sec. 
 Condemn the printer, reader, and not me. 
 Who gave him forth good grain ; though he mistook 
 The seedy so sovj'd these tares throughout my book. 
 
 R. H, J. N. 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 4 Line 16 yir mistress rfa^/ mistresses 
 
 17 notes! /or wantons, rrar/ wantons' 
 
 19 notes S for 1791 >eud i691 
 
 27 4 Me , in spring's 
 
 82 15 dele , after shame and put it after flame 
 
 in next line 
 
 35 22 for Breatli read Breathe 
 
 — notes 1 dele j in flaudiste 
 67 5 Jor lye read lie 
 75 16 dele , after tear 
 
 78 2 f>ut ? after shepherdess 
 
 93 19 /or DalFodills /fji Daffodils 
 
 — 21 dele 's after scallop 
 
 102 noteti 3 for Oxoniensis read Oxonienses 
 
 115 last dele , after loachsome and put ; 
 
 122 15 for Clipsbey read Clipsebt 
 
 123 12 for Clipsbey read Clipseby 
 
 124 last dele e in horne 
 
 125 14 /or finse' r^ja' finest 
 128 8 dele , ajter What 
 133 23 for wain read wane 
 
 157 notes last add to the note Indeed if it alludes, as it 
 seemingly doe-, tn the fate of that 
 unfortunare monarch, Herrick must 
 have composed it while his book was 
 ia the press. 
 
 166 10 /or panier reaiy pannier 
 
 175 (first so marked) should be 174 
 
 181 note 1 tor -vidiila md -jitula 
 
 215 20 for by read with 
 
 230 16 dele * at us, and put it at maundy in tbs 
 
 next line. 
 
 249 1 for 320 put '2.20 
 
 J. M. Gutcb, Printer, 15, S.mall Street, Bristol,
 
 '■{Y.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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 AA 000 381 976