664. TO HIS WORTHY FRIEND, M. ARTHUR BARTLY.
Wrapt up in sear-cloth with thine ancestry;
When of thy ragg'd escutcheons shall be seen
So little left, as if they ne'er had been;
Thou shalt thy name have, and thy fame's best trust,
Here with the generation of my Just.
Luster, a period of five years.
665. WHAT KIND OF MISTRESS HE WOULD HAVE.
Clean in manners, clear in voice;
Be she witty more than wise,
Pure enough, though not precise;
Be she showing in her dress
Like a civil wilderness;
That the curious may detect
Order in a sweet neglect;
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
Famish me, nor overfill.
667. THE ROSEMARY BRANCH.
Be 't for my bridal or my burial.
669. UPON CRAB. EPIG.
He keeps the fox fur for to face his own.
670. A PARANÆTICALL, OR ADVISIVE VERSE, TO
HIS FRIEND, M. JOHN WICKS.
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 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 sheafs 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.
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 well;
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.
Adulce, sweeten.
Strut, swell.
671. ONCE SEEN AND NO MORE.
Once past and gone, no more shall see.
672. LOVE.
Kings ought to be more lov'd than fear'd.
673. TO M. DENHAM ON HIS PROSPECTIVE POEM.
To praise those Muses and dislike our own—
Or did I walk those Pæan-gardens through,
To kick the flowers and scorn their odours too—
I might, and justly, be reputed here
One nicely mad or peevishly severe.
But by Apollo! as I worship wit,
Where I have cause to burn perfumes to it;
So, I confess, 'tis somewhat to do well
In our high art, although we can't excel
Like thee, or dare the buskins to unloose
Of thy brave, bold, and sweet Maronian muse.
But since I'm call'd, rare Denham, to be gone,
Take from thy Herrick this conclusion:
'Tis dignity in others, if they be
Crown'd poets, yet live princes under thee;
The while their wreaths and purple robes do shine
Less by their own gems than those beams of thine.
Pæan-gardens, gardens sacred to Apollo.
Nicely, fastidiously.
674. A HYMN TO THE LARES.
To worship ye, the Lares,
With crowns of greenest parsley
And garlic 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 North-down ale doth troul here,
No syllable doth fall here
To mar the mirth at all here.
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.
Troul, pass round.
675. DENIAL IN WOMEN NO DISHEARTENING TO MEN.
Their fashion is, but to say no, to take it.
676. ADVERSITY.
Adversity then breeds the discontent.
677. TO FORTUNE.
Upon my ruins, smiling yet;
Tear me to tatters, yet I'll be
Patient in my necessity.
Laugh at my scraps of clothes, and shun
Me, as a fear'd infection;
Yet, scare-crow-like, I'll walk as one
Neglecting thy derision.
678. TO ANTHEA.
Love at no time idle is;
Let's be doing, though we play
But at push-pin half the day;
Chains of sweet bents let us make
Captive one, or both, to take:
In which bondage we will lie,
Souls transfusing thus, and die.
Push-pin, a childish game in which one player placed a pin and the
other pushed it.
Bents, grasses.
679. CRUELTIES.
From the beholding death and cruelties.
680. PERSEVERANCE.
No man despairs to do what's done before.
681. UPON HIS VERSES.
The how, where, when, I question not.
These are the children I have left,
Adopted some, none got by theft;
But all are touch'd, like lawful plate,
And no verse illegitimate.
Touch'd, tested.
682. DISTANCE BETTERS DIGNITIES.
State at a distance adds to dignities.
683. HEALTH.
But a just measure both of heat and cold.
684. TO DIANEME. A CEREMONY IN GLOUCESTER.
'Gainst thou go'st a-mothering:
So that when she blesseth thee,
Half that blessing thou'lt give me.
Simnel, a cake, originally made of fine flour, eaten at Mid-Lent.
A-mothering, visiting relations in Mid-Lent, but see Note.
685. TO THE KING.
A public light, in this immensive sphere;
Some stars were fix'd before, but these are dim
Compar'd, in this my ample orb, to him.
Draw in your feeble fires, while that he
Appears but in his meaner majesty.
Where, if such glory flashes from his name,
Which is his shade, who can abide his flame!
Princes, and such like public lights as these,
Must not be look'd on but at distances:
For, if we gaze on these brave lamps too near,
Our eyes they'll blind, or if not blind, they'll blear.
Immensive, immeasurable.
686. THE FUNERAL RITES OF THE ROSE.
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 trentall 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 clos'd her up, as in a tomb.
Trentall, a service for the dead.
687. THE RAINBOW, OR CURIOUS COVENANT.
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.
688. THE LAST STROKE STRIKES SURE.
That stroke most fear'd is which is struck the last.
689. FORTUNE.
Too much she gives to some, enough to none.
690. STOOL-BALL.
For sugar-cakes and wine:
Or for a tansy let us pay,
The loss, or thine, or mine.
At trundling of the ball,
The wager thou shall have, and me,
And my misfortunes all.
Then I desire but this:
That likewise I may pay the bet
And have for all a kiss.
Stool-ball, a game of ball played by girls.
Tansy, a cake made of eggs, cream, and herbs.
691. TO SAPPHO.
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.
692. ON POET PRAT. EPIG.
In no one satire there's a mite of salt.
693. UPON TUCK. EPIG.
This Christmas, but his want wherewith says nay.
Post and pair, or slam, old games of cards. Ben Jonson calls the former a "thrifty and right worshipful game".
694. BITING OF BEGGARS.
Instead of alms, sets dogs upon the poor.
695. THE MAY-POLE.
Now give me the cup,
I'll drink to the garlands around it;
But first unto those
Whose hands did compose
The glory of flowers that crown'd it.
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.
696. MEN MIND NO STATE IN SICKNESS.
To kiss thy hand from out the coach;
That fleet of lackeys which do run
Before thy swift postillion;
Those strong-hoof'd mules which we behold
Rein'd in with purple, pearl, and gold,
And shod with silver, prove to be
The drawers of the axletree.
Thy wife, thy children, and the state
Of Persian looms and antique plate;
All these, and more, shall then afford
No joy to thee, their sickly lord.
697. ADVERSITY.
Whom whitest fortune dandled has too much.
698. WANT.
With men a loathed inconveniency.
699. GRIEF.
Discruciate a man in deep distress.
Discruciate, torture.
700. LOVE PALPABLE.
Her soul and love were palpable in this.
701. NO ACTION HARD TO AFFECTION.
Unto those that truly love.
702. MEAN THINGS OVERCOME MIGHTY.
He's lord of thy life who contemns his own.
705. THE BRACELET OF PEARL: TO SILVIA.
And, wretched, I did see
Thee discomposed then, and still
Art discontent with me.
A richer pearl for thee,
Than ever, dearest Silvia, yet
Was drunk to Antony.
Thou for the breach shall do;
First crack the strings, and after that
Cleave thou my heart in two.
706. HOW ROSES CAME RED.
The gods he down the nectar flung,
Which on the white rose being shed
Made it for ever after red.
707. KINGS.
Chose first, confirm'd next, and at last are crown'd.
708. FIRST WORK, AND THEN WAGES.
To ask our wages ere our work be done.
Preposterous, lit. hind part before.
709. TEARS AND LAUGHTER.
Thou'dst weep; but laugh, should it not last a day.
710. GLORY.
Than a man's frequent fame spoke out with praise.
711. POSSESSIONS.
Into the which we come by war.
713. HIS RETURN TO LONDON.
To see the day spring from the pregnant East,
Ravish'd in spirit I come, nay, more, I fly
To thee, bless'd place of my nativity!
Thus, thus with hallowed foot I touch the ground,
With thousand blessings by thy fortune crown'd.
O fruitful Genius! that bestowest here
An everlasting plenty, year by year.
O place! O people! Manners! fram'd to please
All nations, customs, kindreds, languages!
I am a free-born Roman; suffer, then,
That I amongst you live a citizen.
London my home is: though by hard fate sent
Into a long and irksome banishment;
Yet since call'd back; henceforward let me be,
O native country, repossess'd by thee!
For, rather than I'll to the West return,
I'll beg of thee first here to have mine urn.
Weak I am grown, and must in short time fall;
Give thou my sacred relics burial.
714. NOT EVERY DAY FIT FOR VERSE.
Fitted am to prophesy;
No; but when the spirit fills
The fantastic pannicles
Full of fire, then I write
As the godhead doth indite.
Thus enrag'd, my lines are hurled,
Like the Sybil's, through the world.
Look how next the holy fire
Either slakes, or doth retire;
So the fancy cools, till when
That brave spirit comes again.
Fantastic pannicles, brain cells of the imagination.
Sybil's, the oracles of the Cumæan Sybil were written on leaves, which
the wind blew about her cave.—Virg. Æn. iv.
715. POVERTY THE GREATEST PACK.
But of all packs, no pack like poverty.
716. A BUCOLIC, OR DISCOURSE OF NEATHERDS.
A wager who the best shall play,
Of thee or I, the roundelay
That fits the business of the day.
A heifer smooth, and black as jet,
In every part alike complete,
And wanton as a kid as yet.
Shall be disposeress of the prize.
Lay to thy stake a lusty steer
With gilded horns, and burnish'd clear.
The soft, the sweet, the mellow note
That gently purls from either's oat.
Each one to make his melody.
Who'll hear, and so judge righteously.
And sooner play, the sooner win.
Thou art a man of worthiness;
But hark how I can now express
My love unto my neatherdess. [He sings
As kine when they at milking meet.
I'll strike thee such a nimble air
That thou shalt say thyself 'tis rare,
And title me without compare.
Since both have here deserved best.
I'll play thee such another strain
That thou shalt swear my pipe does reign
Over thine oat as sovereign. [He sings
Whose now the prize and wager is.
1. Not so; my pipe has silenc'd thine:
And hadst thou wager'd twenty kine,
They were mine own. Lal. In love combine.
As weary, not o'ercome by either.
And lay ye down your pipes. The original edition reads And lay we down our pipes.
717. TRUE SAFETY.
A prince from foes, but 'tis his fort of friends.
718. A PROGNOSTIC.
Nought but a kingdom's ill-affectedness;
Even so, those streets and houses do but show
Store of diseases where physicians flow.
719. UPON JULIA'S SWEAT.
Take it from my Julia's sweat:
Oil of lilies and of spike?
From her moisture take the like.
Let her breathe, or let her blow,
All rich spices thence will flow.
Spike, lavender.
720. PROOF TO NO PURPOSE.
Shov'd on by quick-succeeding tides;
Try if this sober stream you can
Follow to th' wilder ocean;
And see if there it keeps unspent
In that congesting element.
Next, from that world of waters, then
By pores and caverns back again
Induct that inadult'rate same
Stream to the spring from whence it came.
This with a wonder when ye do,
As easy, and else easier too,
Then may ye recollect the grains
Of my particular remains,
After a thousand lusters hurl'd
By ruffling winds about the world.
721. FAME.
The order, but the sum of things.
722. BY USE COMES EASINESS.
What others can't with all their strength put to.
723. TO THE GENIUS OF HIS HOUSE.
Into this house pour down thy influence,
That through each room a golden pipe may run
Of living water by thy benison.
Fulfill the larders, and with strengthening bread
Be evermore these bins replenished.
Next, like a bishop consecrate my ground,
That lucky fairies here may dance their round;
And after that, lay down some silver pence
The master's charge and care to recompense.
Charm then the chambers, make the beds for ease,
More than for peevish, pining sicknesses.
Fix the foundation fast, and let the roof
Grow old with time but yet keep weather-proof.
724. HIS GRANGE, OR PRIVATE WEALTH.
To tell how night draws hence, I've none,
A cock
I have to sing how day draws on.
I have
A maid, my Prew, by good luck sent
To save
That little Fates me gave or lent.
A hen
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 that danger's near.
A lamb
I 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[A] I do keep whereby
I 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.
My Prew, Prudence Baldwin.
Creeking, clucking.
Miching, skulking.
725. GOOD PRECEPTS OR COUNSEL.
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 know
Times that are ill won't still be so.
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 stroke the ear.
726. MONEY MAKES THE MIRTH.
Money's the still sweet-singing nightingale.
727. UP TAILS ALL.
Go on too with this;
And thus, thus, thus let us smother
Our lips for awhile,
But let's not beguile
Our hope of one for the other.
Long enough has endur'd,
Since more and more is exacted;
For Love he doth call
For his uptails all;
And that's the part to be acted.
Uptails all, the refrain of a song beginning "Fly Merry News": see Note.
729. UPON LUCIA DABBLED IN THE DEW.
And prettily bedabbled so,
Her clothes held up, she showed withal
Her decent legs, clean, long, and small.
I follow'd after to descry
Part of the nak'd sincerity;
But still the envious scene between
Denied the mask I would have seen.
Decent, in the Latin sense, comely; sincerity, purity.
Scene, a curtain or "drop-scene".
Mask, a play.