130. KISSING USURY
Biancha, let
Me pay the debt
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.
He must of right,
To th' utmost mite,
Make payment for his pleasure,
(By this I guess)
Of happiness
Who has a little measure.
Me pay the debt
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.
He must of right,
To th' utmost mite,
Make payment for his pleasure,
(By this I guess)
Of happiness
Who has a little measure.
131. UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES
I have lost, and lately, these
Many dainty mistresses:—
Stately Julia, prime of all;
Sapho next, a principal:
Smooth Anthea, for a skin
White, and heaven-like crystalline:
Sweet Electra, and the choice
Myrha, for the lute and voice.
Next, Corinna, for her wit,
And the graceful use of it;
With Perilla:—All are gone;
Only Herrick's left alone,
For to number sorrow by
Their departures hence, and die.
Many dainty mistresses:—
Stately Julia, prime of all;
Sapho next, a principal:
Smooth Anthea, for a skin
White, and heaven-like crystalline:
Sweet Electra, and the choice
Myrha, for the lute and voice.
Next, Corinna, for her wit,
And the graceful use of it;
With Perilla:—All are gone;
Only Herrick's left alone,
For to number sorrow by
Their departures hence, and die.
132. THE WOUNDED HEART
Come, bring your sampler, and with art
Draw in't a wounded heart,
And dropping here and there;
Not that I think that any dart
Can make your's bleed a tear,
Or pierce it any where;
Yet do it to this end,—that I
May by
This secret see,
Though you can make
That heart to bleed, your's ne'er will ache
For me.
Draw in't a wounded heart,
And dropping here and there;
Not that I think that any dart
Can make your's bleed a tear,
Or pierce it any where;
Yet do it to this end,—that I
May by
This secret see,
Though you can make
That heart to bleed, your's ne'er will ache
For me.
133. HIS MISTRESS TO HIM AT HIS FAREWELL
You may vow I'll not forget
To pay the debt
Which to thy memory stands as due
As faith can seal it you.
—Take then tribute of my tears;
So long as I have fears
To prompt me, I shall ever
Languish and look, but thy return see never.
Oh then to lessen my despair,
Print thy lips into the air,
So by this
Means, I may kiss thy kiss,
Whenas some kind
Wind
Shall hither waft it:—And, in lieu,
My lips shall send a thousand back to you.
To pay the debt
Which to thy memory stands as due
As faith can seal it you.
—Take then tribute of my tears;
So long as I have fears
To prompt me, I shall ever
Languish and look, but thy return see never.
Oh then to lessen my despair,
Print thy lips into the air,
So by this
Means, I may kiss thy kiss,
Whenas some kind
Wind
Shall hither waft it:—And, in lieu,
My lips shall send a thousand back to you.
134. CRUTCHES
Thou see'st me, Lucia, this year droop;
Three zodiacs fill'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 grasshopper;
Yet with the bench of aged sires,
When I and they keep termly fires,
With my weak voice I'll sing, or say
Some odes I made of Lucia;—
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.
Three zodiacs fill'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 grasshopper;
Yet with the bench of aged sires,
When I and they keep termly fires,
With my weak voice I'll sing, or say
Some odes I made of Lucia;—
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.
135. TO ANTHEA
Anthea, I am going hence
With some small stock of innocence;
But yet those blessed gates I see
Withstanding entrance unto me;
To pray for me do thou begin;—
The porter then will let me in.
With some small stock of innocence;
But yet those blessed gates I see
Withstanding entrance unto me;
To pray for me do thou begin;—
The porter then will let me in.
136. TO ANTHEA
Now is the time when all the lights wax dim;
And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him
Who was thy servant: Dearest, bury me
Under that holy-oak, or gospel-tree;
Where, though thou see'st not, thou may'st think upon
Me, when thou yearly go'st procession;
Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb
In which thy sacred reliques shall have room;
For my embalming, Sweetest, there will be
No spices wanting, when I'm laid by thee.
And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him
Who was thy servant: Dearest, bury me
Under that holy-oak, or gospel-tree;
Where, though thou see'st not, thou may'st think upon
Me, when thou yearly go'st procession;
Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb
In which thy sacred reliques shall have room;
For my embalming, Sweetest, there will be
No spices wanting, when I'm laid by thee.
137. TO HIS LOVELY MISTRESSES
One night i'th' year, my dearest Beauties, come,
And bring those dew-drink-offerings to my tomb;
When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise,
And there to lick th' effused sacrifice,
Though paleness be the livery that I wear,
Look ye not wan or colourless for fear.
Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show
The least grim look, or cast a frown on you;
Nor shall the tapers, when I'm there, burn blue.
This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by,—
Cast on my girls a glance, and loving eye;
Or fold mine arms, and sigh, because I've lost
The world so soon, and in it, you the most:
—Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall,
Though then I smile, and speak no words at all.
And bring those dew-drink-offerings to my tomb;
When thence ye see my reverend ghost to rise,
And there to lick th' effused sacrifice,
Though paleness be the livery that I wear,
Look ye not wan or colourless for fear.
Trust me, I will not hurt ye, or once show
The least grim look, or cast a frown on you;
Nor shall the tapers, when I'm there, burn blue.
This I may do, perhaps, as I glide by,—
Cast on my girls a glance, and loving eye;
Or fold mine arms, and sigh, because I've lost
The world so soon, and in it, you the most:
—Than these, no fears more on your fancies fall,
Though then I smile, and speak no words at all.
138. 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 gray 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' protection, 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.
Me, day by day, to steal away from thee?
Age calls me hence, and my gray 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' protection, 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.
139. 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-flower;
Yet one rude wind, or ruffling shower,
Will force you hence, and in an hour.
You are a sparkling Rose i'th' bud,
Yet lost, ere that chaste flesh and blood
Can show 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, enclosed 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 virgins coronet.
You are the Queen all flowers among;
But die you must, fair maid, ere long,
As he, the maker of this song.
But, Dearest, of so short a stay,
That where you grew, scarce man can say.
You are a lovely July-flower;
Yet one rude wind, or ruffling shower,
Will force you hence, and in an hour.
You are a sparkling Rose i'th' bud,
Yet lost, ere that chaste flesh and blood
Can show 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, enclosed 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 virgins coronet.
You are the Queen all flowers among;
But die you must, fair maid, ere long,
As he, the maker of this song.
140. TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may:
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And 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.
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And 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.
EPIGRAMS
141. POSTING TO PRINTING
Let others to the printing-press run fast;
Since after death comes glory, I'll not haste.
Since after death comes glory, I'll not haste.
142. HIS LOSS
All has been plunder'd from me but my wit:
Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.
Fortune herself can lay no claim to it.
143. THINGS MORTAL STILL MUTABLE
Things are uncertain; and the more we get,
The more on icy pavements we are set.
The more on icy pavements we are set.
144. NO MAN WITHOUT MONEY
No man such rare parts hath, that he can swim,
If favour or occasion help not him.
If favour or occasion help not him.
145. THE PRESENT TIME BEST PLEASETH
Praise, they that will, times past: I joy to see
Myself now live; this age best pleaseth me!
Myself now live; this age best pleaseth me!
146. WANT
Want is a softer wax, that takes thereon,
This, that, and every base impression,
This, that, and every base impression,
147. SATISFACTION FOR SUFFERINGS
For all our works a recompence is sure;
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure.
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure.
148. WRITING
When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
149. THE DEFINITION OF BEAUTY
Beauty no other thing is, than a beam
Flash'd out between the middle and extreme.
Flash'd out between the middle and extreme.
150. A MEAN IN OUR MEANS
Though frankincense the deities require,
We must not give all to the hallow'd fire.
Such be our gifts, and such be our expense,
As for ourselves to leave some frankincense.
We must not give all to the hallow'd fire.
Such be our gifts, and such be our expense,
As for ourselves to leave some frankincense.
151. MONEY MAKES THE MIRTH
When all birds else do of their music fail,
Money's the still-sweet-singing nightingale!
Money's the still-sweet-singing nightingale!
152. TEARS AND LAUGHTER
Knew'st thou one month would take thy life away,
Thou'dst weep; but laugh, should it not last a day.
Thou'dst weep; but laugh, should it not last a day.
153. UPON TEARS
Tears, though they're here below the sinner's brine,
Above, they are the Angels' spiced wine.
Above, they are the Angels' spiced wine.
154. ON LOVE
Love's of itself too sweet; the best of all
Is, when love's honey has a dash of gall.
Is, when love's honey has a dash of gall.
155. PEACE NOT PERMANENT
Great cities seldom rest; if there be none
T' invade from far, they'll find worse foes at home.
T' invade from far, they'll find worse foes at home.
156. PARDONS
Those ends in war the best contentment bring,
Whose peace is made up with a pardoning.
Whose peace is made up with a pardoning.
157. TRUTH AND ERROR
Twixt truth and error, there's this difference known
Error is fruitful, truth is only one.
Error is fruitful, truth is only one.
158. WIT PUNISHED PROSPERS MOST
Dread not the shackles; on with thine intent,
Good wits get more fame by their punishment.
Good wits get more fame by their punishment.
159. BURIAL
Man may want land to live in; but for all
Nature finds out some place for burial.
Nature finds out some place for burial.
160. NO PAINS, NO GAINS
If little labour, little are our gains;
Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
Man's fortunes are according to his pains.
161. TO YOUTH
Drink wine, and live here blitheful while ye may;
The morrow's life too late is; Live to-day.
The morrow's life too late is; Live to-day.
162. TO ENJOY THE TIME
While fates permit us, let's be merry;
Pass all we must the fatal ferry;
And this our life, too, whirls away,
With the rotation of the day.
Pass all we must the fatal ferry;
And this our life, too, whirls away,
With the rotation of the day.
163. FELICITY QUICK OF FLIGHT
Every time seems short to be
That's measured by felicity;
But one half-hour that's made up here
With grief, seems longer than a year.
That's measured by felicity;
But one half-hour that's made up here
With grief, seems longer than a year.
164. MIRTH
True mirth resides not in the smiling skin;
The sweetest solace is to act no sin.
The sweetest solace is to act no sin.
165. THE HEART
In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part
Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.
166. LOVE, WHAT IT IS
Love is a circle, that doth restless move
In the same sweet eternity of Love.
In the same sweet eternity of Love.
167. DREAMS
Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.
By dreams, each one into a several world.
168. AMBITION
In man, ambition is the common'st thing;
Each one by nature loves to be a king.
Each one by nature loves to be a king.
169. SAFETY ON THE SHORE
What though the sea be calm? Trust to the shore;
Ships have been drown'd, where late they danced before.
Ships have been drown'd, where late they danced before.
170. UPON A PAINTED GENTLEWOMAN
Men say you're fair; and fair ye are, 'tis true;
But, hark! we praise the painter now, not you.
But, hark! we praise the painter now, not you.
171. UPON WRINKLES
Wrinkles no more are, or no less,
Than beauty turn'd to sourness.
Than beauty turn'd to sourness.
172. CASUALTIES
Good things, that come of course, far less do please
Than those which come by sweet contingencies.
Than those which come by sweet contingencies.
173. TO LIVE FREELY
Let's live in haste; use pleasures while we may;
Could life return, 'twould never lose a day.
Could life return, 'twould never lose a day.
174. NOTHING FREE-COST
Nothing comes free-cost here; Jove will not let
His gifts go from him, if not bought with sweat.
His gifts go from him, if not bought with sweat.
175. MAN'S DYING-PLACE UNCERTAIN
Man knows where first he ships himself; but he
Never can tell where shall his landing be.
Never can tell where shall his landing be.
176. LOSS FROM THE LEAST
Great men by small means oft are overthrown;
He's lord of thy life, who contemns his own.
He's lord of thy life, who contemns his own.
177. POVERTY AND RICHES
Who with a little cannot be content,
Endures an everlasting punishment.
Endures an everlasting punishment.
178. UPON MAN
Man is composed here of a twofold part;
The first of nature, and the next of art;
Art presupposes nature; nature, she
Prepares the way for man's docility.
The first of nature, and the next of art;
Art presupposes nature; nature, she
Prepares the way for man's docility.
179. 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.
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.
180. FOUR THINGS MAKE US HAPPY HERE
Health is the first good lent to men;
A gentle disposition then:
Next, to be rich by no by-ways;
Lastly, with friends t' enjoy our days.
A gentle disposition then:
Next, to be rich by no by-ways;
Lastly, with friends t' enjoy our days.
181. THE WATCH
Man is a watch, wound up at first, but never
Wound up again; Once down, he's down for ever.
The watch once down, all motions then do cease;
The man's pulse stopt, all passions sleep in peace.
Wound up again; Once down, he's down for ever.
The watch once down, all motions then do cease;
The man's pulse stopt, all passions sleep in peace.
182. UPON THE DETRACTER
I ask'd thee oft what poets thou hast read,
And lik'st the best? Still thou repli'st, The dead.
—I shall, ere long, with green turfs cover'd be;
Then sure thou'lt like, or thou wilt envy, me.
And lik'st the best? Still thou repli'st, The dead.
—I shall, ere long, with green turfs cover'd be;
Then sure thou'lt like, or thou wilt envy, me.
183. ON HIMSELF
Live by thy Muse thou shalt, when others die,
Leaving no fame to long posterity;
When monarchies trans-shifted are, and gone,
Here shall endure thy vast dominion.
Leaving no fame to long posterity;
When monarchies trans-shifted are, and gone,
Here shall endure thy vast dominion.
NATURE AND LIFE
184. 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,
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,
185. THE SUCCESSION OF THE FOUR SWEET MONTHS
First, April, she with mellow showers
Opens the way for early flowers;
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.
Opens the way for early flowers;
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.
186. 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 a-while,
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 show 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, a-while;—they glide
Into the grave.
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past,
But you may stay yet here a-while,
To blush and gently smile;
And go at last.
What, were ye born to be
An hour or half's delight;
And so to bid good-night?
'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth,
Merely to show 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, a-while;—they glide
Into the grave.
187. THE SHOWER OF BLOSSOMS
Love in a shower 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 pleased more, or my smell;
But true it was, as I roll'd there,
Without a thought of hurt or fear,
Love turn'd himself into a bee,
And with his javelin 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.
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 pleased more, or my smell;
But true it was, as I roll'd there,
Without a thought of hurt or fear,
Love turn'd himself into a bee,
And with his javelin 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.
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!
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!
189. THE FUNERAL RITES OF THE ROSE
The Rose was sick, and smiling died;
And, being to be sanctified,
About the bed, there sighing stood
The sweet and flowery 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.
The holy sisters some among,
The sacred dirge and trental sung;
But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,
As heaven had spent all perfumes there!
At last, when prayers for the dead,
And rites, were all accomplished,
They, weeping, spread a lawny loom,
And closed her up as in a tomb.
And, being to be sanctified,
About the bed, there sighing stood
The sweet and flowery 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.
The holy sisters some among,
The sacred dirge and trental sung;
But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,
As heaven had spent all perfumes there!
At last, when prayers for the dead,
And rites, were all accomplished,
They, weeping, spread a lawny loom,
And closed her up as in a tomb.
190. THE BLEEDING HAND; OR THE SPRIG OF EGLANTINE GIVEN TO A MAID
From this bleeding hand of mine,
Take this sprig of Eglantine:
Which, though sweet unto your smell,
Yet the fretful briar will tell,
He who plucks the sweets, shall prove
Many thorns to be in love.
Take this sprig of Eglantine:
Which, though sweet unto your smell,
Yet the fretful briar will tell,
He who plucks the sweets, shall prove
Many thorns to be in love.
191. TO CARNATIONS: 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.
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.
192. TO PANSIES
Ah, Cruel Love! must I endure
Thy many scorns, and find no cure?
Say, are thy medicines 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.
Thy many scorns, and find no cure?
Say, are thy medicines 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.
193. HOW PANSIES OR HEARTS-EASE CAME FIRST
Frolic virgins once these were,
Overloving, living here;
Being here their ends denied
Ran for sweet-hearts mad, and died.
Love, in pity of their tears,
And their loss in blooming years,
For their restless here-spent hours,
Gave them hearts-ease turn'd to flowers.
Overloving, living here;
Being here their ends denied
Ran for sweet-hearts mad, and died.
Love, in pity of their tears,
And their loss in blooming years,
For their restless here-spent hours,
Gave them hearts-ease turn'd to flowers.
194. WHY FLOWERS CHANGE COLOUR
These fresh beauties, we can prove,
Once were virgins, sick of love,
Turn'd to flowers: still in some,
Colours go and colours come.
Once were virgins, sick of love,
Turn'd to flowers: still in some,
Colours go and colours come.
195. 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 mixt with tears.
Ask me why this flower 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.
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 mixt with tears.
Ask me why this flower 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.
196. 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 shower
That mars a flower,
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 flowers, 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 Sweet-heart, to this?
—No, no, this sorrow shown
By your tears shed,
Would have this lecture read,
That things of greatest, so of meanest worth,
Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth.
Speak grief in you,
Who were but born
just as the modest morn
Teem'd her refreshing dew?
Alas, you have not known that shower
That mars a flower,
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 flowers, 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 Sweet-heart, to this?
—No, no, this sorrow shown
By your tears shed,
Would have this lecture read,
That things of greatest, so of meanest worth,
Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth.
197. TO DAISIES, NOT TO SHUT SO SOON
Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night
Has not as yet begun
To make a seizure on the light,
Or to seal up the sun.
No marigolds yet closed are,
No shadows great appear;
Nor doth the early shepherds' 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.
Has not as yet begun
To make a seizure on the light,
Or to seal up the sun.
No marigolds yet closed are,
No shadows great appear;
Nor doth the early shepherds' 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.
198. TO DAFFADILS
Fair Daffadils, 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 hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
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;
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.
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon.
Stay, stay,
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
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;
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.
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.
200. THE APRON OF FLOWERS
To gather flowers, Sappha went,
And homeward she did bring
Within her lawny continent,
The treasure of the Spring.
She smiling blush'd, and blushing smiled,
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.
And homeward she did bring
Within her lawny continent,
The treasure of the Spring.
She smiling blush'd, and blushing smiled,
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.
201. 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 shows,
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 tincture, 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.
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.
Thus let this crystall'd 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 you're white as swan or snow,
And have the power to move
A world of men to love;
Yet, when your lawns and silks shall flow,
And that white cloud divide
Into a doubtful twilight;—then,
Then will your hidden pride
Raise greater fires in men.
When virgins' hands have drawn
O'er it a cobweb-lawn:
And here, you see, this lily shows,
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 tincture, 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.
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.
Thus let this crystall'd 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 you're white as swan or snow,
And have the power to move
A world of men to love;
Yet, when your lawns and silks shall flow,
And that white cloud divide
Into a doubtful twilight;—then,
Then will your hidden pride
Raise greater fires in men.