No More Learning

Hor. III. _Od. _ xxx. 14:--

Sume superbiam
Quaesitam meritis et mihi Delphica
Lauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam.

534. _To Electra. _ Printed in _Witts Recreations_, 1650, where it is
entitled _To Julia_.

536. _Ill Government. . . . When kings obey_, etc. From Seneca, _Octav. _
581:--

Male imperatur, cum regit vulgus duces.

545. _To his Worthy Kinsman, Mr. Stephen Soame_ (the son or, less
probably, the brother of Sir Thomas Soame): _One of my righteous tribe_.
Cp. Note to 496.

547. _Great spirits never with their bodies die. _ Tacit. _Agric. _
46:--"Si quis piorum manibus locus, si, ut sapientibus placet, non cum
corpore extinguuntur magnae animae".

554. _Die thou canst not all. _ Hor. IV. _Od. _ xxx. 6,7.

556. _The Fairies. _ Cp. the old ballad of _Robin Goodfellow_:--

"When house or hearth doth sluttish lie,
I pinch the maids both black and blue";

and Ben Jonson's _Entertainment at Althorpe_, etc.

557. _M. John Weare, Councellour. _ Probably the same as "the
much-lamented Mr. J. Warr" of 134.

_Law is to give to every one his own. _ Cicero, _De Fin. _ v. : Animi
affectio suum cuique tribuens Justitia dicitur.

564. _His Kinswoman, Bridget Herrick_, eldest daughter of his brother
Nicholas.

565. _The Wanton Satyr. _ See Sir E. Dyer's _The Shepherd's Conceit of
Prometheus_:--

"Prometheus, when first from heaven high
He brought down fire, ere then on earth not seen,
Fond of delight, a Satyr standing by
Gave it a kiss, as it like sweet had been.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The difference is--the Satyr's lips, my heart,
He for a time, I evermore, have smart. "

So _Euphues_: "Satirus not knowing what fire was would needs embrace it
and was burnt;" and Sir John Davies, _False and True Knowledge_.




Transcriber's Endnotes


Numeration Errors in the Hesperides:

Errors in the numbering system, despite the corrections mentioned in
the NOTE TO SECOND EDITION, still exist in the text. A clear example
is shown by _569. UPON ELECTRA'S TEARS_ ending Vol. I, whilst Vol. II
begins with _569. A HYMN TO THE GRACES_. When the poems within the
APPENDIX OF EPIGRAMS are considered, more errors in the numeration
system become apparent.

Without an obvious solution to a discrepancy the numbers remain as
originally printed, however the following alterations have been made
to ensure any details in the NOTES section apply to the relevant
poem.

Page 204. OBERON'S PALACE. "444" changed to _443_.
"443. OBERON'S PALACE. "

Page 221. FEW FORTUNATE. "472" changed to _470_.
"470. FEW FORTUNATE. "

Page 223. THE WASSAIL. "478" changed to _476_.
"476. THE WASSAIL. "

Page 317. Note to 496. "512" changed to _510_.
". . . sometimes a Book (see infra, 510) . . . "

Page 321. Note to 545. "498" changed to _496_.
". . . Cp. Note to 496. . . . "

Page 322. Note to 564. "562" changed to _564_.
"564. _His Kinswoman, Bridget Herrick_, eldest . . . "

Page 322. Note to 565. "563" changed to _565_.
"565. _The Wanton Satyr. _ See Sir E. Dyer's . . . "


Typographical Errors:

Page 83. 178. CORINNA'S GOING. . . . "pries" corrected to _priest_.
"And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:"

Page 137. 275. CROSSES. "goods" corrected to _good_.
"Though good things answer many good intents,"

Page 316. Note to 479. " owers" corrected to _flowers_.
"Smell sweet, O ye flowers, in your native sweetness:"


Unresolved Errors:

The following errors remain as printed:

In 405. TO HIS BOOK. , _Chipperfeild_, has been retained as it is
unclear whether this is a misprint, or intentional.

In 101. BARLEY-BREAK; OR, LAST IN HELL. No corresponding note can
be found for _Barley-break, a country game resembling prisoners'
base_.




ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS.




ROBERT HERRICK

THE HESPERIDES & NOBLE
NUMBERS: EDITED BY
ALFRED POLLARD
WITH A PREFACE BY
A. C. SWINBURNE

VOL. II.

_REVISED EDITION_

[Illustration]

LONDON: NEW YORK:
LAWRENCE & BULLEN, LTD. , CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS,
16 HENRIETTA STREET, W. C. 153-157 FIFTH AVENUE
1898. 1898.




HESPERIDES.


569. A HYMN TO THE GRACES.

When I love (as some have told,
Love I shall when I am old),
O ye Graces! make me fit
For the welcoming of it.
Clean my rooms, as temples be,
T' entertain that deity.
Give me words wherewith to woo,
Suppling and successful too;
Winning postures, and, withal,
Manners each way musical:
Sweetness to allay my sour
And unsmooth behaviour.
For I know you have the skill
Vines to prune, though not to kill,
And of any wood ye see,
You can make a Mercury.

_Suppling_, softening.
_Mercury_, god of eloquence and inventor of the lyre.


570. TO SILVIA.

No more, my Silvia, do I mean to pray
For those good days that ne'er will come away.
I want belief; O gentle Silvia, be
The patient saint, and send up vows for me.


573. THE POET HATH LOST HIS PIPE.

I cannot pipe as I was wont to do,
Broke is my reed, hoarse is my singing, too;
My wearied oat I'll hang upon the tree,
And give it to the sylvan deity.


574. TRUE FRIENDSHIP.

Wilt thou my true friend be?
Then love not mine, but me.


575. THE APPARITION OF HIS MISTRESS CALLING HIM TO ELYSIUM.

_Desunt nonnulla ----_

Come then, and like two doves with silv'ry wings,
Let our souls fly to th' shades where ever springs
Sit smiling in the meads; where balm and oil,
Roses and cassia crown the untill'd soil.
Where no disease reigns, or infection comes
To blast the air, but ambergris and gums
This, that, and ev'ry thicket doth transpire,
More sweet than storax from the hallowed fire,
Where ev'ry tree a wealthy issue bears
Of fragrant apples, blushing plums, or pears;
And all the shrubs, with sparkling spangles, shew
Like morning sunshine tinselling the dew.
Here in green meadows sits eternal May,
Purfling the margents, while perpetual day
So double gilds the air, as that no night
Can ever rust th' enamel of the light.
Here, naked younglings, handsome striplings, run
Their goals for virgins' kisses; which when done,
Then unto dancing forth the learned round
Commixed they meet, with endless roses crown'd.
And here we'll sit on primrose-banks, and see
Love's chorus led by Cupid; and we'll be
Two loving followers, too, unto the grove
Where poets sing the stories of our love.
There thou shalt hear divine Musaeus sing
Of Hero and Leander; then I'll bring
Thee to the stand, where honour'd Homer reads
His Odysseys and his high Iliads;
About whose throne the crowd of poets throng
To hear the incantation of his tongue:
To Linus, then to Pindar; and that done,
I'll bring thee, Herrick, to Anacreon,
Quaffing his full-crown'd bowls of burning wine,
And in his raptures speaking lines of thine,
Like to his subject; and as his frantic
Looks show him truly Bacchanalian-like
Besmear'd with grapes, welcome he shall thee thither,
Where both may rage, both drink and dance together.
Then stately Virgil, witty Ovid, by
Whom fair Corinna sits, and doth comply
With ivory wrists his laureate head, and steeps
His eye in dew of kisses while he sleeps;
Then soft Catullus, sharp-fang'd Martial,
And towering Lucan, Horace, Juvenal,
And snaky Persius, these, and those, whom rage
(Dropt for the jars of heaven) fill'd t' engage
All times unto their frenzies,--thou shalt there
Behold them in a spacious theatre.
Among which glories, crowned with sacred bays
And flatt'ring ivy, two recite their plays--
Beaumont and Fletcher, swans to whom all ears
Listen, while they, like syrens in their spheres,
Sing their Evadne; and still more for thee
There yet remains to know than thou can'st see
By glim'ring of a fancy. Do but come,
And there I'll show thee that capacious room
In which thy father Jonson now is plac'd,
As in a globe of radiant fire, and grac'd
To be in that orb crown'd, that doth include
Those prophets of the former magnitude,
And he one chief; but hark, I hear the cock
(The bellman of the night) proclaim the clock
Of late struck one, and now I see the prime
Of day break from the pregnant east: 'tis time
I vanish; more I had to say,
But night determines here, away.

_Purfling_, trimming, embroidering.
_Round_, rustic dance.
_Comply_, encircle.
_Their Evadne_, the sister of Melantius in their play "The Maid's
Tragedy".


576. LIFE IS THE BODY'S LIGHT.

Life is the body's light, which once declining,
Those crimson clouds i' th' cheek and lips leave shining.
Those counter-changed tabbies in the air
(The sun once set) all of one colour are.
So, when Death comes, fresh tinctures lose their place,
And dismal darkness then doth smutch the face.

_Tabbies_, shot silks.


579. LOVE LIGHTLY PLEASED.
Let fair or foul my mistress be,
Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me;
Or let her walk, or stand, or sit,
The posture hers, I'm pleas'd with it;
Or let her tongue be still, or stir,
Graceful is every thing from her;
Or let her grant, or else deny,
_My love will fit each history_.


580. 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 mix'd 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.


581. THE TITHE. TO THE BRIDE.

If nine times you your bridegroom kiss,
The tenth you know the parson's is.
Pay then your tithe, and doing thus,
Prove in your bride-bed numerous.
If children you have ten, Sir John
Won't for his tenth part ask you one.

_Sir John_, the parson.


582. A FROLIC.

Bring me my rosebuds, drawer, come;
So, while I thus sit crown'd,
I'll drink the aged Caecubum,
Until the roof turn round.

_Drawer_, waiter.
_Caecubum_, Caecuban, an old Roman wine.


583. CHANGE COMMON TO ALL.

All things subjected are to fate;
Whom this morn sees most fortunate,
The evening sees in poor estate.


584. TO JULIA.

The saints'-bell calls, and, Julia, I must read
The proper lessons for the saints now dead:
To grace which service, Julia, there shall be
One holy collect said or sung for thee.
Dead when thou art, dear Julia, thou shalt have
A trentall sung by virgins o'er thy grave:
Meantime we two will sing the dirge of these,
Who dead, deserve our best remembrances.

_Trentall_, a service for the dead.


585. NO LUCK IN LOVE.

I do love I know not what,
Sometimes this and sometimes that;
All conditions I aim at.

But, as luckless, I have yet
Many shrewd disasters met
To gain her whom I would get.

Therefore now I'll love no more
As I've doted heretofore:
He who must be, shall be poor.


586. IN THE DARK NONE DAINTY.

Night hides our thefts, all faults then pardon'd be;
All are alike fair when no spots we see.
Lais and Lucrece in the night-time are
Pleasing alike, alike both singular:
Joan and my lady have at that time one,
One and the self-same priz'd complexion:
Then please alike the pewter and the plate,
The chosen ruby, and the reprobate.

_Lais and Lucrece_, opposite types of incontinence and purity. Cp.
665, 885.


587. A CHARM, OR AN ALLAY FOR LOVE.

If so be a toad be laid
In a sheep's-skin newly flay'd,
And that tied to man, 'twill sever
Him and his affections ever.


590. TO HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW, MASTER JOHN WINGFIELD.

For being comely, consonant, and free
To most of men, but most of all to me;
For so decreeing that thy clothes' expense
Keeps still within a just circumference;
Then for contriving so to load thy board
As that the messes ne'er o'erlade the lord;
Next for ordaining that thy words not swell
To any one unsober syllable:
These I could praise thee for beyond another,
Wert thou a Winstfield only, not a brother.

_Consonant_, harmonious.


591. THE HEADACHE.

My head doth ache,
O Sappho! take
Thy fillet,
And bind the pain,
Or bring some bane
To kill it.

But less that part
Than my poor heart
Now is sick;
One kiss from thee
Will counsel be
And physic.


592. 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.


593. UPON A MAID.

Hence a blessed soul is fled,
Leaving here the body dead;
Which since here they can't combine,
For the saint we'll keep the shrine.


596. UPON THE TROUBLESOME TIMES.

O times most bad,
Without the scope
Of hope
Of better to be had!

Where shall I go,
Or whither run
To shun
This public overthrow?

No places are,
This I am sure,
Secure
In this our wasting war.

Some storms we've past,
Yet we must all
Down fall,
And perish at the last.


597. CRUELTY BASE IN COMMANDERS.

Nothing can be more loathsome than to see
Power conjoin'd with Nature's cruelty.


599. UPON LUCIA.

I ask'd my Lucia but a kiss,
And she with scorn denied me this;
Say then, how ill should I have sped,
Had I then ask'd her maidenhead?


600. LITTLE AND LOUD.

Little you are, for woman's sake be proud;
For my sake next, though little, be not loud.


601. SHIPWRECK.

He who has suffered shipwreck fears to sail
Upon the seas, though with a gentle gale.


602. PAINS WITHOUT PROFIT.

A long life's-day I've taken pains
For very little, or no gains;
The evening's come, here now I'll stop,
And work no more, but shut up shop.


603. TO HIS BOOK.

Be bold, my book, nor be abash'd, or fear
The cutting thumb-nail or the brow severe;
But by the Muses swear all here is good
If but well read, or, ill read, understood.


604. HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON.

When I a verse shall make,
Know I have pray'd thee,
For old religion's sake,
Saint Ben, to aid me.

Make the way smooth for me,
When I, thy Herrick,
Honouring thee, on my knee
Offer my lyric.

Candles I'll give to thee,
And a new altar,
And thou, Saint Ben, shall be
Writ in my Psalter.


605. POVERTY AND RICHES.

Give Want her welcome if she comes; we find
Riches to be but burdens to the mind.


606. AGAIN.

Who with a little cannot be content,
Endures an everlasting punishment.


607. THE COVETOUS STILL CAPTIVES.

Let's live with that small pittance that we have;
_Who covets more, is evermore a slave_.


608. LAWS.

When laws full power have to sway, we see
Little or no part there of tyranny.


609. OF LOVE.

I'll get me hence,
Because no fence
Or fort that I can make here,
But love by charms,
Or else by arms
Will storm, or starving take here.


611. TO HIS MUSE.

Go woo young Charles no more to look
Than but to read this in my book:
How Herrick begs, if that he can-
Not like the muse, to love the man,
Who by the shepherds sung, long since,
The star-led birth of Charles the Prince.

_Long since_, _i. e. _, in the "Pastoral upon the Birth of Prince
Charles" (213), where see Note.


612. THE BAD SEASON MAKES THE POET SAD.

Dull to myself, and almost dead to these
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses;
Lost to all music now, since everything
Puts on the semblance here of sorrowing.
Sick is the land to the heart, and doth endure
More dangerous faintings by her desp'rate cure.
But if that golden age would come again,
And Charles here rule, as he before did reign;
If smooth and unperplexed the seasons were,
As when the sweet Maria lived here:
I should delight to have my curls half drown'd
In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown'd;
And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead,
_Knock at a star with my exalted head_.

_Knock at a star_ (sublimi feriam sidera vertice). Horace Ode, i. 1.


613. TO VULCAN.

Thy sooty godhead I desire
Still to be ready with thy fire;
That should my book despised be,
Acceptance it might find of thee.


614. LIKE PATTERN, LIKE PEOPLE.

_This is the height of justice: that to do
Thyself which thou put'st other men unto.
As great men lead, the meaner follow on,
Or to the good, or evil action. _


615. 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.


616. TO THE MAIDS TO WALK ABROAD.

Come, sit we under yonder tree,
Where merry as the maids we'll be;
And as on primroses we sit,
We'll venture, if we can, at wit:
If not, at draw-gloves we will play;
So spend some minutes of the day:
Or else spin out the thread of sands,
Playing at Questions and Commands:
Or tell what strange tricks love can do,
By quickly making one of two.
Thus we will sit and talk, but tell
No cruel truths of Philomel,
Or Phyllis, whom hard fate forc'd on
To kill herself for Demophon.
But fables we'll relate: how Jove
Put on all shapes to get a love;
As now a satyr, then a swan;
A bull but then, and now a man.
Next we will act how young men woo,
And sigh, and kiss as lovers do;
And talk of brides, and who shall make
That wedding-smock, this bridal cake,
That dress, this sprig, that leaf, this vine,
That smooth and silken columbine.
This done, we'll draw lots who shall buy
And gild the bays and rosemary;
What posies for our wedding rings;
What gloves we'll give and ribandings:
And smiling at ourselves, decree,
Who then the joining priest shall be.
What short, sweet prayers shall be said;
And how the posset shall be made
With cream of lilies, not of kine,
And maiden's-blush, for spiced wine.
Thus, having talked, we'll next commend
A kiss to each, and so we'll end.

_Draw-gloves_, talking on the fingers.
_Philomela_, daughter of Pandion, changed into a nightingale.
_Phyllis_, the S. Phyllis of a former lyric (To Groves).
_Gild the bays_, see Note to 479.


617. HIS OWN EPITAPH.

As wearied pilgrims, once possest
Of long'd-for lodging, go to rest,
So I, now having rid my way,
Fix here my button'd staff and stay.
Youth, I confess, hath me misled;
But age hath brought me right to bed.

_Button'd_, knobbed.


618. A NUPTIAL VERSE TO MISTRESS ELIZABETH LEE, NOW LADY TRACY.

Spring with the lark, most comely bride, and meet
Your eager bridegroom with auspicious feet.
The morn's far spent, and the immortal sun
Corals his cheek to see those rites not done.
Fie, lovely maid! indeed you are too slow,
When to the temple Love should run, not go.
Dispatch your dressing then, and quickly wed;
Then feast, and coy't a little, then to bed.
This day is Love's day, and this busy night
Is yours, in which you challenged are to fight
With such an arm'd, but such an easy foe,
As will, if you yield, lie down conquer'd too.
The field is pitch'd, but such must be your wars,
As that your kisses must outvie the stars.
Fall down together vanquished both, and lie
Drown'd in the blood of rubies there, not die.

_Corals_, reddens.


619. THE NIGHT-PIECE, TO JULIA.

Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o'-th'-Wisp mislight thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there's none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber:
What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light
Like tapers clear without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet
Thy silv'ry feet
My soul I'll pour into thee.


620. TO SIR CLIPSEBY CREW.

Give me wine, and give me meat,
To create in me a heat,
That my pulses high may beat.

Cold and hunger never yet
Could a noble verse beget;
But your bowls with sack replete.

Give me these, my knight, and try
In a minute's space how I
Can run mad and prophesy.

Then, if any piece prove new
And rare, I'll say, my dearest Crew,
It was full inspired by you.


621. GOOD LUCK NOT LASTING.

If well the dice run, let's applaud the cast:
_The happy fortune will not always last_.


622. A KISS.

What is a kiss? Why this, as some approve:
The sure, sweet cement, glue, and lime of love.


623. GLORY.

I make no haste to have my numbers read:
_Seldom comes glory till a man be dead_.


624. POETS.

Wantons we are, and though our words be such,
Our lives do differ from our lines by much.


625. NO DESPITE TO THE DEAD.

Reproach we may the living, not the dead:
_'Tis cowardice to bite the buried_.


626. TO HIS VERSES.

What will ye, my poor orphans, do
When I must leave the world and you?
Who'll give ye then a sheltering shed,
Or credit ye when I am dead?
Who'll let ye by their fire sit,
Although ye have a stock of wit
Already coin'd to pay for it?
I cannot tell, unless there be
Some race of old humanity
Left, of the large heart and long hand,
Alive, as noble Westmorland,
Or gallant Newark, which brave two
May fost'ring fathers be to you.
If not, expect to be no less
Ill us'd, than babes left fatherless.

_Westmorland_, _Newark_, see Notes.


627. HIS CHARGE TO JULIA AT HIS DEATH.

Dearest of thousands, now the time draws near
That with my lines my life must full-stop here.
Cut off thy hairs, and let thy tears be shed
Over my turf when I am buried.
Then for effusions, let none wanting be,
Or other rites that do belong to me;
As love shall help thee, when thou dost go hence
Unto thy everlasting residence.

_Effusions_, the "due drink-offerings" of the lyric "To his lovely
mistresses" (634).


628.