A selection from the lyrical poems of Robert Herrick Part 11

73. ON HIMSELF

Weep for the dead, for they have lost this light; And weep for me, lost in an endless night; Or mourn, or make a marble verse for me, Who writ for many. BENEDICTE.

74. ON HIMSELF

Lost to the world; lost to myself; alone Here now I rest under this marble stone, In depth of silence, heard and seen of none.

75. 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 wood-nymphs my cold corpse inter, Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister!

For epitaph, in foliage, next write this: HERE, HERE THE TOMB OF ROBIN HERRICK IS!

76. THE OLIVE BRANCH

Sadly I walk'd within the field, To see what comfort it would yield; And as I went my private way, An olive-branch before me lay; And seeing it, I made a stay, And took it up, and view'd it; then Kissing the omen, said Amen; Be, be it so, and let this be A divination unto me; That in short time my woes shall cease, And love shall crown my end with peace.

77. THE PLAUDITE, OR END OF LIFE

If after rude and boisterous seas My wearied pinnace here finds ease; If so it be I've gain'd the sh.o.r.e, With safety of a faithful oar; If having run my barque 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 act's doubtful, but (we say) It is the last commends the Play.

AMORES

78. TO GROVES

Ye silent shades, whose each tree here Some relique of a saint doth wear; Who for some sweet-heart'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 Encarved upon the leaves and rind.

Give way, give way to me, who come Scorch'd with the self-same martyrdom!

And have deserved as much, Love knows, As to be canonized 'mongst those Whose deeds and deaths here written are Within your Greeny-kalendar.

--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, As a drink-offering to the dead; By all those true-love knots, that be With mottoes carved on every 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 remember'd in your story.

AMORES

79. MRS ELIZ: WHEELER, UNDER THE NAME OF THE LOST SHEPHERDESS

Among the myrtles as I walk'd Love and my sighs thus intertalk'd: Tell me, said I, in deep distress, Where I may find my Shepherdess?

--Thou fool, said Love, know'st thou not this?

In every thing that's sweet she is.

In yond' carnation go and seek, There thou shalt find her lip and cheek; In that enamell'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, 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 flowers, thy joys must die; And in the turning of an eye; And all thy hopes of her must wither, Like those short sweets here knit together.

80. A 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!

81. 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 gla.s.s; Which burnt me so, that I do think The fire of h.e.l.l it was.

Give me my earthen cups again, The crystal I contemn, Which, though enchased 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.

82. UPON JULIA'S CLOTHES

Whenas in silks my Julia goes, Till, then, methinks, how sweetly flows That liquefaction of her clothes!

Next, when I cast mine eyes, and see That brave vibration each way free; O how that glittering taketh me!

83. THE BRACELET TO JULIA