The Hesperides & Noble Numbers Part 8

_Cess_, the parish a.s.sessment for church purposes.

101. BARLEY-BREAK; OR, LAST IN h.e.l.l.

We two are last in h.e.l.l; what may we fear To be tormented or kept pris'ners here?

Alas! if kissing be of plagues the worst, We'll wish in h.e.l.l we had been last and first.

_Barley-break_, a country game resembling prisoners' base. See Note.

_h.e.l.l_, the "middle den," the occupants of which had to catch the other players.

102. THE DEFINITION OF BEAUTY.

Beauty no other thing is than a beam Flashed out between the middle and extreme.

103. TO DIANEME.

Dear, though to part it be a h.e.l.l, Yet, Dianeme, now farewell: Thy frown last night did bid me go, But whither only grief does know.

I do beseech thee ere we part, If merciful as fair thou art, Or else desir'st that maids should tell Thy pity by love's chronicle, O Dianeme, rather kill Me, than to make me languish still!

'Tis cruelty in thee to th' height Thus, thus to wound, not kill outright; Yet there's a way found, if you please, By sudden death to give me ease; And thus devis'd, do thou but this-- Bequeath to me one parting kiss, So sup'rabundant joy shall be The executioner of me.

104. TO ANTHEA LYING IN BED.

So looks Anthea, when in bed she lies O'ercome or half betray'd by tiffanies, Like to a twilight, or that simpering dawn That roses show when misted o'er with lawn.

Twilight is yet, till that her lawns give way; Which done, that dawn turns then to perfect day.

_Tiffanies_, gauzes.

_Lawn_, fine linen.

105. 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 Ixion's cloud you be White, warm, and soft to lie with me.

_Pelops' arm_, which Jove gave him to replace the one eaten by Ceres at the feast of Tantalus.

_Ixion's cloud_, to which Jove, for his deception, gave the form of Juno.

106. A COUNTRY-LIFE: TO HIS BROTHER, MR. THO. HERRICK.

Thrice, and above, bless'd, my soul's half, art 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 practise, with intent To grow the sooner innocent By studying to know virtue, and to aim More at her nature than 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-pleased 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 instruct that those who have the itch Of craving more are never rich.

These things thou know'st to th' height, and dost prevent That plague; because thou art content With that heav'n gave thee with a wary hand, More blessed in thy bra.s.s than land, To keep cheap nature even and upright; To cool, not c.o.c.ker appet.i.te.

Thus thou canst 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 sentinel doth keep, With those deeds done by day, which ne'er affright Thy silken slumbers in the night.

Nor has the darkness power to usher in Fear to those sheets that know no sin; But still thy wife, by chaste intentions led, Gives thee each night a maidenhead.

The damask'd meadows and the pebbly streams Sweeten and make soft your dreams: The purling springs, groves, birds, and well-weav'd bowers, With fields enamelled with flowers, 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 Chanticlere Warns the last watch; but with the dawn dost rise 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 Inde, And back again, tortured with fears, doth fly, Untaught to suffer poverty.

But thou at home, bless'd with securest ease, Sitt'st, and believ'st that there be seas And watery 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 bra.s.s 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 compa.s.s taking small advice, Buy'st travel at the lowest price.

Nor are thine ears so deaf but thou canst 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 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 mov'd 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.

Be so, bold spirit; stand centre-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 appet.i.te be fed Or with the first or second bread, Who keep'st no proud mouth for delicious cates: Hunger makes coa.r.s.e meats delicates.

Canst, and unurg'd, forsake that larded fare, Which art, not nature, makes so rare, To taste boil'd nettles, colworts, beets, and eat These and sour herbs as dainty meat, While soft opinion makes thy Genius say, _Content makes all ambrosia_.

Nor is it that thou keep'st this stricter size So much for want as exercise: To numb the sense of dearth, which should sin haste it, Thou might'st but only see't, not taste it.

Yet can thy humble roof maintain a choir Of singing crickets by the fire: And the brisk mouse may feast herself with crumbs Till that the green-eyed kitling 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 canst 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 own self, and known to few.

Thus let thy rural sanctuary be Elysium to thy wife and thee; There to disport yourselves with golden measure: _For seldom use commends the pleasure_.

Live, and live blest, thrice happy pair; let breath, But lost to one, be the other's death.

And as there is one love, one faith, one troth, Be so one death, one grave to both.

Till when, in such a.s.surance live ye may, Nor fear or wish your dying day.

_Bra.s.s_, money.

_c.o.c.ker_, pamper.

_Neat_, dainty.

_Spirting-salt_, the "saliente mica" of Horace, See Note.

_Lar_, the "closet-G.o.ds," or G.o.ds of the house.

_Colworts_, cabbages.

_Size_ or _a.s.size_, a fixed allowance of food, a ration.

107. DIVINATION BY A DAFFODIL.

When a daffodil I see, Hanging down his head towards me, Guess I may what I must be: First, I shall decline my head; Secondly, I shall be dead; Lastly, safely buried.

108. TO THE PAINTER, TO DRAW HIM A PICTURE.

Come, skilful Lupo, now, and take Thy bice, thy umber, pink, and lake; And let it be thy pencil's strife, To paint a Bridgeman to the life: Draw him as like too, as you can, An old, poor, lying, flattering man: His cheeks bepimpled, red and blue; His nose and lips of mulberry hue.

Then, for an easy fancy, place A burling iron for his face: Next, make his cheeks with breath to swell, And for to speak, if possible: But do not so, for fear lest he Should by his breathing, poison thee.

_Bice_, properly a brown grey, but by transference from "blue bice" and "green bice," used for blue and green.

_Burling iron_, pincers for extracting knots.

111. A LYRIC 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: Crowned with cl.u.s.ters 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 ere long Death will come and mar the song: Then shall Wilson and Gotiere Never sing or play more here.