Robert Herrick

“ THE TRANSFIGURATION Immortal clothing I put on So soon as, Julia, I am gone To mine eternal mansion. Thou, thou art here, to human sight Clothed all with incorrupted light; —But yet how more admir'dly bright Wilt thou appear, when thou art set In thy refulgent thronelet, That shin'st thus in thy counterfeit!
102. 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 sweet-heart down. Be she rough, or smooth of skin; When I touch, I then begin For to let affection in. ”

“ When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart, and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the house doth sigh and weep, And the world is drown'd in sleep, Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When his potion and his pill, Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing but to kill, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the passing-bell doth toll, And the furies in a shoal Come to fright a parting soul, Sweet Spirit, comfort me! ”

“ Then, while fates suffer, live thou free, As is 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; Nor 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 frolic, sing and play, And thus less last, than live our day. ”

“ The pleasing wife, the house, the ground Must all be left, no one plant found To follow thee, Save only the curst 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; But vanish'd man, Like to a lily lost, ne'er can, Ne'er can repullulate, or bring His days to see a second spring. ”

“ And dancing 'bout the mystic 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 cherry, Though not so fresh, yet full as merry As the cricket, The untamed 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. ”

“ But serving courts and cities, be Less happy, less enjoying thee. 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 loved rest, Bring'st home the ingot from the West. No, thy ambition's master-piece 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. ”

“ TO HIS DYING BROTHER, MASTER WILLIAM HERRICK Life of my life, take not so soon thy flight, But stay the time till we have bade good-night. Thou hast both wind and tide with thee; thy way As soon dispatch'd is by the night as day. Let us not then so rudely henceforth go Till we have wept, kiss'd, sigh'd, shook hands, or so. There's pain in parting, and a kind of hell When once true lovers take their last farewell. What? shall we two our endless leaves take here Without a sad look, or a solemn tear? He knows not love that hath not this truth proved, Love is most loth to leave the thing beloved. ”

“ Such is thy house, whose firm foundations trust Is more in thee than in her dust, Or depth; these last may yield, and yearly shrink, When what is strongly built, no chink Or yawning rupture can the same devour, But fix'd it stands, by her own power And well-laid bottom, on the iron and rock, Which tries, and counter-stands the shock And ram of time, and by vexation grows The stronger. Virtue dies when foes Are wanting to her exercise, but, great And large she spreads by dust and sweat. Safe stand thy walls, and thee, and so both will, Since neither's height was raised by th'ill Of others ”

“ But yet for love's-sake, let thy lips do this,— Give my dead picture one engendering kiss; Work that to life, and let me ever dwell In thy remembrance, Julia. So farewell.
100. HIS LAST REQUEST TO JULIA I have been wanton, and too bold, I fear, To chafe o'er-much 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 Julia, 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. ”

“ The fringe that circumbinds it, too, Is spangle-work of trembling dew, Which, gently gleaming, makes a show, Like frost-work glitt'ring on the snow. Upon this fetuous board doth stand Something for shew-bread, and at hand (Just in the middle of the altar) Upon an end, the Fairy-psalter, Graced with the trout-flies' curious wings, Which serve for watchet ribbonings. Now, we must know, the elves are led Right by the Rubric, which they read: And if report of them be true, They have their text for what they do; Ay, and their book of canons too. ”

“ 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 seest a present God-like power Imprinted in each herb and flower: And smell'st the breath of great-eyed kine, Sweet as the blossoms of the vine. Here thou behold'st thy large sleek neat Unto the dew-laps up in meat: And, as thou look'st, the wanton steer, The heifer, cow, and ox draw near, To make a pleasing pastime there. ”

“ Kisses and favours are sweet things; But those have thorns, and these have stings.
188. 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. 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 I! ”

“ 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 grow.
93. THE CAPTIVE BEE; OR, THE LITTLE FILCHER As Julia once a-slumb'ring lay, It chanced a bee did fly that way, After a dew, or dew-like shower, To tipple freely in a flower; For some rich flower, he took the lip Of Julia, and began to sip ”

“ THE BRIDE-CAKE This day, my Julia, thou must make 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 bride-cake there'll be spice.
30. THE OLD WIVES' PRAYER Holy-Rood, come forth and shield Us i' th' city and the field; Safely guard us, now and aye, From the blast that burns by day; And those sounds that us affright In the dead of dampish night; Drive all hurtful fiends us fro, By the time the cocks first crow. ”

“ Ai me! how shall my grief be still'd? Or where else shall we find One like to me, who must be kill'd For being too-too-kind?
104. TO DIANEME I could but see thee yesterday Stung by a fretful bee; And I the javelin suck'd away, And heal'd the wound in thee. A thousand thorns, and briars, 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 staunch the blood the while. If thou, composed of gentle mould, Art so unkind to me ”

“ A PARANAETICALL, OR ADVISIVE VERSE TO HIS FRIEND, MR JOHN WICKS Is this a life, to break thy 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 ”

“ We'll eat our bean with that full mirth As we were lords of all the earth. Well, 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 self-same heart, that vow Which made us one, shall ne'er undo, Or ravel so, to make us two. Live in thy peace ”

“ There, filling maunds with cowslips, you May find your Amarillis. HER. What have the meads to do with thee, Or with thy youthful hours? Live thou at court, where thou mayst be The queen of men, not flowers. Let country wenches make 'em fine With posies, since 'tis fitter For thee with richest gems to shine, And like the stars to glitter. AMARIL. 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. I prithee stay. AMARIL. I must away; Let's kiss first, then we'll sever ”

“ We have short time to stay, as you; We have as short a spring; 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's dew, Ne'er to be found again.
199. 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. You're the maiden posies; And so graced, To be placed 'Fore damask roses. —Yet, though thus respected, By and by Ye do lie, Poor girls, neglected. ”

“ Where kissing that, I'll twice kiss thee. To thee a sheep-hook I will send, Be-prank'd with ribbands, to this end, This, this alluring hook might be Less for to catch a sheep, than me. 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 ribbands, 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. ”

“ 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 Tyrian balm; for when We two are dead, The world with us is buried. Then live we free As is the air, and let us be Our own fair wind, and mark each one Day with the white and lucky stone. We are not poor, although we have No roofs of cedar, nor our brave Baiae, nor keep Account of such a flock of sheep; Nor bullocks fed To lard the shambles; barbels bred To kiss our hands ”

“ Put purple grapes or cherries in- To glass, and they will send More beauty to commend Them, from that clean and subtle skin, Than if they naked stood, And had no other pride at all, But their own flesh and blood, And tinctures 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. ”

“ When of these truths thy happier knowledge lies More in thine ears than in thine eyes. And when thou hear'st by that too true report, Vice rules the most, or all, at court, Thy pious wishes are, though thou not there, Virtue had, and moved her sphere. But thou liv'st fearless; and thy face ne'er shows Fortune when she comes, or goes; But with thy equal thoughts, prepared 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 perplex'd Grows still the stronger, strongly vex'd. ”

“ Let me, when I kiss a maid, Taste her lips, so overlaid With love's sirop, that I may In your temple, when I pray, Kiss the altar, and confess There's in love no bitterness.
221. TO BACCHUS: A CANTICLE Whither dost thou hurry me, Bacchus, being full of thee? This way, that way, that way, this,— Here and there a fresh Love is; That doth like me, this doth please; —Thus a thousand mistresses I have now: yet I alone, Having all, enjoy not one!
222. 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. ”

“ And in the rind of every comely tree I'll carve thy name, and in that name kiss thee. MON. Set with the sun, thy woes! SIL. The day grows old; And time it is our full-fed flocks to fold. CHOR. The shades grow great; but greater grows our sorrow:— But let's go steep Our eyes in sleep; And meet to weep To-morrow.
38. 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. ”