No More Learning

God's said our hearts to harden then,
Whenas His grace not supples men.


251. THE ROSE.

Before man's fall the rose was born,
St. Ambrose says, without the thorn;
But for man's fault then was the thorn
Without the fragrant rose-bud born;
But ne'er the rose without the thorn.


252. GOD'S TIME MUST END OUR TROUBLE.

God doth not promise here to man that He
Will free him quickly from his misery;
But in His own time, and when He thinks fit,
Then He will give a happy end to it.


253. BAPTISM.

The strength of baptism that's within,
It saves the soul by drowning sin.


254. GOLD AND FRANKINCENSE.

Gold serves for tribute to the king,
The frankincense for God's off'ring.


255. TO GOD.

God, who me gives a will for to repent,
Will add a power to keep me innocent;
That I shall ne'er that trespass recommit
When I have done true penance here for it.


256. THE CHEWING THE CUD.

When well we speak and nothing do that's good,
We not divide the hoof, but chew the cud;
But when good words by good works have their proof,
We then both chew the cud and cleave the hoof.


257. CHRIST'S TWOFOLD COMING.

Thy former coming was to cure
My soul's most desp'rate calenture;
Thy second advent, that must be
To heal my earth's infirmity.

_Calenture_, delirium caused by excessive heat.


258. TO GOD, HIS GIFT.

As my little pot doth boil,
We will keep this level-coil,
That a wave and I will bring
To my God a heave-offering.

_Level-coil_, the old Christmas game of changing chairs; to "keep
level-coil" means to change about.


259. GOD'S ANGER.

God can't be wrathful: but we may conclude
Wrathful He may be by similitude:
God's wrathful said to be, when He doth do
That without wrath which wrath doth force us to.


260. GOD'S COMMANDS.

In God's commands ne'er ask the reason why;
Let thy obedience be the best reply.


261. TO GOD.

If I have played the truant, or have here
Failed in my part, oh! Thou that art my dear,
My mild, my loving tutor, Lord and God!
Correct my errors gently with Thy rod.
I know that faults will many here be found,
But where sin swells there let Thy grace abound.


262. TO GOD.

The work is done; now let my laurel be
Given by none but by Thyself to me:
That done, with honour Thou dost me create
Thy poet, and Thy prophet Laureate.


263. GOOD FRIDAY: REX TRAGICUS; OR, CHRIST GOING TO HIS CROSS.

Put off Thy robe of purple, then go on
To the sad place of execution:
Thine hour is come, and the tormentor stands
Ready to pierce Thy tender feet and hands.
Long before this, the base, the dull, the rude,
Th' inconstant and unpurged multitude
Yawn for Thy coming; some ere this time cry,
How He defers, how loath He is to die!
Amongst this scum, the soldier with his spear
And that sour fellow with his vinegar,
His sponge, and stick, do ask why Thou dost stay;
So do the scurf and bran too. Go Thy way,
Thy way, Thou guiltless man, and satisfy
By Thine approach each their beholding eye.
Not as a thief shalt Thou ascend the mount,
But like a person of some high account;
The Cross shall be Thy stage, and Thou shalt there
The spacious field have for Thy theatre.
Thou art that Roscius and that marked-out man
That must this day act the tragedian
To wonder and affrightment: Thou art He
Whom all the flux of nations comes to see,
Not those poor thieves that act their parts with Thee;
Those act without regard, when once a king
And God, as Thou art, comes to suffering.
No, no; this scene from Thee takes life, and sense,
And soul, and spirit, plot and excellence.
Why then, begin, great King! ascend Thy throne,
And thence proceed to act Thy Passion
To such an height, to such a period raised,
As hell, and earth, and heav'n may stand amazed.
God and good angels guide Thee; and so bless
Thee in Thy several parts of bitterness,
That those who see Thee nail'd unto the tree
May, though they scorn Thee, praise and pity Thee.
And we, Thy lovers, while we see Thee keep
The laws of action, will both sigh and weep,
And bring our spices to embalm Thee dead;
That done, we'll see Thee sweetly buried.

_Scurf and bran_, the rabble.


264. HIS WORDS TO CHRIST GOING TO THE CROSS.

When Thou wast taken, Lord, I oft have read,
All Thy disciples Thee forsook and fled.
Let their example not a pattern be
For me to fly, but now to follow Thee.


265. ANOTHER TO HIS SAVIOUR.

If Thou be'st taken, God forbid
I fly from Thee, as others did:
But if Thou wilt so honour me
As to accept my company,
I'll follow Thee, hap hap what shall,
Both to the judge and judgment hall:
And, if I see Thee posted there,
To be all-flayed with whipping-cheer,
I'll take my share; or else, my God,
Thy stripes I'll kiss, or burn the rod.


266. HIS SAVIOUR'S WORDS GOING TO THE CROSS.

Have, have ye no regard, all ye
Who pass this way, to pity Me,
Who am a man of misery!

A man both bruis'd, and broke, and one
Who suffers not here for Mine own,
But for My friends' transgression!

Ah! Sion's daughters, do not fear
The cross, the cords, the nails, the spear,
The myrrh, the gall, the vinegar;

For Christ, your loving Saviour, hath
Drunk up the wine of God's fierce wrath;
Only there's left a little froth,

Less for to taste than for to show
What bitter cups had been your due,
Had He not drank them up for you.


267. HIS ANTHEM TO CHRIST ON THE CROSS.

When I behold Thee, almost slain,
With one and all parts full of pain:
When I Thy gentle heart do see
Pierced through and dropping blood for me,
I'll call, and cry out, thanks to Thee.

_Vers. _ But yet it wounds my soul to think
That for my sin Thou, Thou must drink,
Even Thou alone, the bitter cup
Of fury and of vengeance up.

_Chor. _ Lord, I'll not see Thee to drink all
The vinegar, the myrrh, the gall:

_Vers. Chor. _ But I will sip a little wine;
Which done, Lord, say: The rest is Mine.


268.

This crosstree here
Doth Jesus bear,
Who sweet'ned first
The death accurs'd.
Here all things ready are, make haste, make haste away;
For long this work will be, and very short this day.
Why then, go on to act: here's wonders to be done
Before the last least sand of Thy ninth hour be run;
Or ere dark clouds do dull or dead the mid-day's sun.
Act when Thou wilt,
Blood will be spilt;
Pure balm, that shall
Bring health to all.
Why then, begin
To pour first in
Some drops of wine,
Instead of brine,
To search the wound
So long unsound:
And, when that's done,
Let oil next run
To cure the sore
Sin made before.
And O! dear Christ,
E'en as Thou di'st,
Look down, and see
Us weep for Thee.
And tho', love knows,
Thy dreadful woes
We cannot ease,
Yet do Thou please,
Who mercy art,
T' accept each heart
That gladly would
Help if it could.
Meanwhile let me,
Beneath this tree,
This honour have,
To make my grave.


269. TO HIS SAVIOUR'S SEPULCHRE: HIS DEVOTION.

Hail, holy and all-honour'd tomb,
By no ill haunted; here I come,
With shoes put off, to tread thy room.
I'll not profane by soil of sin
Thy door as I do enter in;
For I have washed both hand and heart,
This, that, and every other part,
So that I dare, with far less fear
Than full affection, enter here.
Thus, thus I come to kiss Thy stone
With a warm lip and solemn one:
And as I kiss I'll here and there
Dress Thee with flow'ry diaper.
How sweet this place is! as from hence
Flowed all Panchaia's frankincense;
Or rich Arabia did commix,
Here, all her rare aromatics.
Let me live ever here, and stir
No one step from this sepulchre.
Ravish'd I am! and down I lie
Confused in this brave ecstasy.
Here let me rest; and let me have
This for my heaven that was Thy grave:
And, coveting no higher sphere,
I'll my eternity spend here.

_Panchaia_, a fabulous spice island in the Erythrean Sea.


270. HIS OFFERING, WITH THE REST, AT THE SEPULCHRE.

To join with them who here confer
Gifts to my Saviour's sepulchre,
Devotion bids me hither bring
Somewhat for my thank-offering.
Lo! thus I bring a virgin flower,
To dress my Maiden Saviour.


271. HIS COMING TO THE SEPULCHRE.

Hence they have borne my Lord; behold! the stone
Is rolled away and my sweet Saviour's gone.
Tell me, white angel, what is now become
Of Him we lately sealed up in this tomb?
Is He, from hence, gone to the shades beneath,
To vanquish hell as here He conquered death?
If so, I'll thither follow without fear,
And live in hell if that my Christ stays there.

Of all the good things whatsoe'er we do,
God is the ΑΡΧΗ, and the ΤΕΛΟΣ too.




POEMS

NOT INCLUDED IN _HESPERIDES_.


THE DESCRIPTION OF A WOMAN.

Whose head, befringed with bescattered tresses,
Shows like Apollo's when the morn he dresses,[B]
Or like Aurora when with pearl she sets
Her long, dishevell'd, rose-crown'd trammelets:
Her forehead smooth, full, polish'd, bright and high
Bears in itself a graceful majesty,
Under the which two crawling eyebrows twine
Like to the tendrils of a flatt'ring vine,
Under whose shade two starry sparkling eyes
Are beautifi'd with fair fring'd canopies.
Her comely nose, with uniformal grace,
Like purest white, stands in the middle place,
Parting the pair, as we may well suppose.
Each cheek resembling still a damask rose,
Which like a garden manifestly show
How roses, lilies, and carnations grow,
Which sweetly mixed both with white and red,
Like rose leaves, white and red, seem[C] mingled.
Then nature for a sweet allurement sets
Two smelling, swelling, bashful cherrylets,
The which with ruby redness being tipp'd,
Do speak a virgin, merry, cherry-lipp'd.
Over the which a neat, sweet skin is drawn,
Which makes them show like roses under lawn:
These be the ruby portals, and divine,
Which ope themselves to show a holy shrine
Whose breath is rich perfume, that to the sense
Smells like the burn'd Sabean frankincense:
In which the tongue, though but a member small,
Stands guarded with a rosy-hilly wall;
And her white teeth, which in the gums are set
Like pearl and gold, make one rich cabinet.
Next doth her chin with dimpled beauty strive
For his white, plump, and smooth prerogative;
At whose fair top, to please the sight, there grows
The fairest[D] image of a blushing rose,
Mov'd by the chin, whose motion causeth this,
That both her lips do part, do meet, do kiss;
Her ears, which like two labyrinths are plac'd
On either side, with rich rare jewels grac'd,
Moving a question whether that by them
The gem is grac'd, or they grac'd by the gem.
But the foundation of the architect
Is the swan-staining, fair, rare, stately neck
Which with ambitious humbleness stands under,
Bearing aloft this rich, round world of wonder.
Her breast, a place for beauty's throne most fit,
Bears up two globes where love and pleasure sit,
Which, headed with two rich, round rubies, show
Like wanton rosebuds growing out of snow;
And in the milky valley that's between
Sits Cupid, kissing of his mother queen,
Fingering the paps that feel like sieved silk,
And press'd a little they will weep pure milk.
Then comes the belly, seated next below,
Like a fair mountain in Riphean snow,
Where Nature, in a whiteness without spot,
Hath in the middle tied a Gordian knot.
Now love invites me to survey her thighs,
Swelling in likeness like two crystal skies,
Which to the knees by Nature fastened on,
Derive their ever well 'greed motion.
Her legs with two clear calves, like silver tri'd,
Kindly swell up with little pretty pride,
Leaving a distance for the comely[E] small
To beautify the leg and foot withal.
Then lowly, yet most lovely stand the feet,
Round, short and clear, like pounded spices sweet,
And whatsoever thing they tread upon
They make it scent like bruised cinnamon.
The lovely shoulders now allure the eye
To see two tablets of pure ivory
From which two arms like branches seem to spread
With tender rind[F] and silver coloured,
With little hands and fingers long and small
To grace a lute, a viol, virginal.
In length each finger doth his next excel,
Each richly headed with a pearly shell.
Thus every part in contrariety
Meet in the whole and make a harmony,
As divers strings do singly disagree,
But form'd by number make sweet melody.

[B] MS. blesses.

[C] MS. lye.

[D] MS. blessed.

[E] MS. beauteous.

[F] W. R. vein'd.


MR. HERRICK: HIS DAUGHTER'S DOWRY.

Ere I go hence and be no more
Seen to the world, I'll give the score
I owe unto a female child,
And that is this, a verse enstyled
My daughter's dowry; having which,
I'll leave thee then completely rich.
Instead of gold, pearl, rubies, bonds
Long forfeit, pawned diamonds
Or antique pledges, house or land,
I give thee this that shall withstand
The blow of ruin and of chance.
These hurt not thine inheritance,
For 'tis fee simple and no rent
Thou fortune ow'st for tenement.
However after times will praise,
This portion, my prophetic bays,
Cannot deliver up to th' rust,
Yet I keep peaceful in my dust.
As for thy birth and better seeds
(Those which must grow to virtuous deeds),
Thou didst derive from that old stem
(Love and mercy cherish them),
Which like a vestal virgin ply
With holy fire lest that it die.
Grow up with milder laws to know
At what time to say aye or no;
Let manners teach thee where to be
More comely flowing, where less free.
These bring thy husband, like to those
Old coins and medals we expose
To th' show, but never part with. Next,
As in a more conspicuous text,
Thy forehead, let therein be sign'd
The maiden candour of thy mind;
And under it two chaste-born spies
To bar out bold adulteries,
For through these optics fly the darts
Of lust which set on fire our hearts.
On either side of these quick ears
There must be plac'd, for seasoned fears
Which sweeten love, yet ne'er come nigh
The plague of wilder jealousy.
Then let each cheek of thine entice
His soul as to a bed of spice
Where he may roll and lose his sense,
As in a bed of frankincense.
A lip enkindled with that coal
With which love chafes and warms the soul,
Bring to him next, and in it show
Love's cherries from such fires grow
And have their harvest, which must stand
The gathering of the lip, not hand;
Then unto these be it thy care
To clothe thy words in gentle air,
That smooth as oil, sweet, soft and clean
As is the childish bloom of bean,
They may fall down and stroke, as the
Beams of the sun the peaceful sea.
With hands as smooth as mercy's bring
Him for his better cherishing,
That when thou dost his neck ensnare,
Or with thy wrist, or flattering hair,
He may, a prisoner, there descry
Bondage more loved than liberty.
A nature so well formed, so wrought
To calm and tempest, let be brought
With thee, that should he but incline
To roughness, clasp him like a vine,
Or like as wool meets steel, give way
Unto the passion, not to stay;
Wrath, if resisted, over-boils,
If not, it dies or else recoils.
And lastly, see you bring to him
Somewhat peculiar to each limb;
And I charge thee to be known
By n'other face but by thine own.
Let it in love's name be kept sleek,
Yet to be found when he shall seek
It, and not instead of saint
Give up his worth unto the paint;
For, trust me, girl, she over-does
Who by a double proxy woos.
But lest I should forget his bed,
Be sure thou bring a maidenhead.
That is a margarite, which lost,
Thou bring'st unto his bed a frost
Or a cold poison, which his blood
Benumbs like the forgetful flood.
Now for some jewels to supply
The want of earrings' bravery
For public eyes; take only these
Ne'er travelled for beyond the seas;
They're nobly home-bred, yet have price
Beyond the far-fet merchandise:
Obedience, wise distrust, peace, shy
Distance and sweet urbanity;
Safe modesty, lov'd patience, fear
Of offending, temperance, dear
Constancy, bashfulness and all
The virtues less or cardinal,
Take with my blessing, and go forth
Enjewelled with thy native worth.
And now if there a man be found
That looks for such prepared ground,
Let him, but with indifferent skill,
So good a soil bestock and till;
He may ere long have such a wife
Nourish in's breast a tree of life.


MR. ROBERT HERRICK: HIS FAREWELL UNTO POETRY.

I have beheld two lovers in a night
Hatched o'er with moonshine from their stolen delight
(When this to that, and that to this, had given
A kiss to such a jewel of the heaven,
Or while that each from other's breath did drink
Health to the rose, the violet, or pink),
Call'd on the sudden by the jealous mother,
Some stricter mistress or suspicious other,
Urging divorcement (worse than death to these)
By the soon jingling of some sleepy keys,
Part with a hasty kiss; and in that show
How stay they would, yet forced they are to go.
Even such are we, and in our parting do
No otherwise than as those former two
Natures like ours, we who have spent our time
Both from the morning to the evening chime.
Nay, till the bellman of the night had tolled
Past noon of night, yet wear the hours not old
Nor dulled with iron sleep, but have outworn
The fresh and fairest nourish of the morn
With flame and rapture; drinking to the odd
Number of nine which makes us full with God,
And in that mystic frenzy we have hurled,
As with a tempest, nature through the world,
And in a whirlwind twirl'd her home, aghast
At that which in her ecstasy had past;
Thus crowned with rosebuds, sack, thou mad'st me fly
Like fire-drakes, yet didst me no harm thereby.
O thou almighty nature, who didst give
True heat wherewith humanity doth live
Beyond its stinted circle, giving food,
White fame and resurrection to the good;
Shoring them up 'bove ruin till the doom,
The general April of the world doth come
That makes all equal. Many thousands should,
Were't not for thee, have crumbled into mould,
And with their serecloths rotted, not to show
Whether the world such spirits had or no,
Whereas by thee those and a million since,
Nor fate, nor envy, can their fames convince.
Homer, Musæus, Ovid, Maro, more
Of those godful prophets long before
Held their eternal fires, and ours of late
(Thy mercy helping) shall resist strong fate,
Nor stoop to the centre, but survive as long
As fame or rumour hath or trump or tongue;
But unto me be only hoarse, since now
(Heaven and my soul bear record of my vow)
I my desires screw from thee, and direct
Them and my thoughts to that sublim'd respect
And conscience unto priesthood; 'tis not need
(The scarecrow unto mankind) that doth breed
Wiser conclusions in me, since I know
I've more to bear my charge than way to go,
Or had I not, I'd stop the spreading itch
Of craving more, so in conceit be rich;
But 'tis the God of Nature who intends
And shapes my function for more glorious ends.
Kiss, so depart, yet stay a while to see
The lines of sorrow that lie drawn in me
In speech, in picture; no otherwise than when,
Judgment and death denounced 'gainst guilty men,
Each takes a weeping farewell, racked in mind
With joys before and pleasures left behind;
Shaking the head, whilst each to each doth mourn,
With thought they go whence they must ne'er return.
So with like looks, as once the ministrel
Cast, leading his Eurydice through hell,
I strike thy love, and greedily pursue
Thee with mine eyes or in or out of view.
So looked the Grecian orator when sent
From's native country into banishment,
Throwing his eyeballs backward to survey
The smoke of his beloved Attica;
So Tully looked when from the breasts of Rome
The sad soul went, not with his love, but doom,
Shooting his eyedarts 'gainst it to surprise
It, or to draw the city to his eyes.
Such is my parting with thee, and to prove
There was not varnish only in my love,
But substance, lo! receive this pearly tear
Frozen with grief and place it in thine ear.
Then part in name of peace, and softly on
With numerous feet to hoofy Helicon;
And when thou art upon that forked hill
Amongst the thrice three sacred virgins, fill
A full-brimm'd bowl of fury and of rage,
And quaff it to the prophets of our age;
When drunk with rapture curse the blind and lame,
Base ballad-mongers who usurp thy name
And foul thy altar; charm some into frogs,
Some to be rats, and others to be hogs;
Into the loathsom'st shapes thou canst devise
To make fools hate them, only by disguise;
Thus with a kiss of warmth and love I part
Not so, but that some relic in my heart
Shall stand for ever, though I do address
Chiefly myself to what I must profess.
Know yet, rare soul, when my diviner muse
Shall want a handmaid (as she oft will use),
Be ready, thou for me, to wait upon her,
Though as a servant, yet a maid of honour.
The crown of duty is our duty: well
Doing's the fruit of doing well. Farewell.

_Shoring_, copies _soaring_.


A CAROL PRESENTED TO DR. WILLIAMS, BISHOP OF LINCOLN AS A NEW-YEAR'S
GIFT.

Fly hence, pale care, no more remember
Past sorrows with the fled December,
But let each pleasant cheek appear
Smooth as the childhood of the year,
And sing a carol here.
'Twas brave, 'twas brave, could we command the hand
Of youth's swift watch to stand
As you have done your day;
Then should we not decay.
But all we wither, and our light
Is spilt in everlasting night,
Whenas your sight
Shows like the heavens above the moon,
Like an eternal noon
That sees no setting sun.

Keep up those flames, and though you shroud
Awhile your forehead in a cloud,
Do it like the sun to write
In the air a greater text of light;
Welcome to all our vows,
And since you pay
To us this day
So long desir'd,
See we have fir'd
Our holy spikenard, and there's none
But brings his stick of cinnamon,
His eager eye or smoother smile,
And lays it gently on the pile,
Which thus enkindled, we invoke
Your name amidst the sacred smoke.

_Chorus. _ Come then, great Lord.
And see our altar burn
With love of your return,
And not a man here but consumes
His soul to glad you in perfumes.


SONG. 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 1000 back to you.


UPON PARTING.

Go hence away, and in thy parting know
'Tis not my voice but Heaven's that bids thee go;
Spring hence thy faith, nor think it ill desert
I find in thee that makes me thus to part.
But voice of fame, and voice of Heaven have thundered
We both were lost, if both of us not sundered.
Fold now thine arms, and in thy last look rear
One sigh of love, and cool it with a tear.
Since part we must, let's kiss; that done, retire
With as cold frost as erst we met with fire;
With such white vows as fate can ne'er dissever,
But truth knit fast; and so, farewell for ever.


UPON MASTER FLETCHER'S INCOMPARABLE PLAYS.
Apollo sings, his harp resounds: give room,
For now behold the golden pomp is come,
Thy pomp of plays which thousands come to see
With admiration both of them and thee.
O volume! worthy, leaf by leaf and cover,
To be with juice of cedar wash'd all over;
Here words with lines and lines with scenes consent
To raise an act to full astonishment;
Here melting numbers, words of power to move
Young men to swoon and maids to die for love.
_Love lies a-bleeding_ here, _Evadne_, there
Swells with brave rage, yet comely everywhere;
Here's _A mad lover_, there that high design
Of _King and no King_, and the rare plot thine.
So that whene'er we circumvolve our eyes,
Such rich, such fresh, such sweet varieties
Ravish our spirits, that entranc'd we see
None writes love's passion in the world like thee.


_THE NEW CHARON:_

UPON THE DEATH OF HENRY, LORD HASTINGS.

_The musical part being set by Mr. Henry Lawes. _

THE SPEAKERS,

CHARON AND EUCOSMIA.

_Euc. _ Charon, O Charon, draw thy boat to th' shore,
And to thy many take in one soul more.
_Cha. _ Who calls? who calls? _Euc. _ One overwhelm'd with ruth;
Have pity either on my tears or youth,
And take me in who am in deep distress;
But first cast off thy wonted churlishness.
_Cha. _ I will be gentle as that air which yields
A breath of balm along the Elysian fields.
Speak, what art thou? _Euc_. One once that had a lover,
Than which thyself ne'er wafted sweeter over.
He was---- _Cha. _ Say what? _Euc. _ Ah me, my woes are deep.
_Cha. _ Prithee relate, while I give ear and weep.
_Euc. _ He was a Hastings; and that one name has
In it all good that is, and ever was.
He was my life, my love, my joy, but died
Some hours before I should have been his bride.
_Chorus. _ Thus, thus the gods celestial still decree,
For human joy contingent misery.
_Euc. _ The hallowed tapers all prepared were,
And Hymen call'd to bless the rites. _Cha. _ Stop there.
_Euc. _ Great are my woes. _Cha. _ And great must that grief be
That makes grim Charon thus to pity thee.
But now come in. _Euc. _ More let me yet relate.
_Cha. _ I cannot stay; more souls for waftage wait
And I must hence. _Euc. _ Yet let me thus much know,
Departing hence, where good and bad souls go?
_Cha. _ Those souls which ne'er were drench'd in pleasure's stream,
The fields of Pluto are reserv'd for them;
Where, dress'd with garlands, there they walk the ground
Whose blessed youth with endless flowers is crown'd.
But such as have been drown'd in this wild sea,
For those is kept the Gulf of Hecate,
Where with their own contagion they are fed,
And there do punish and are punished.
This known, the rest of thy sad story tell
When on the flood that nine times circles hell.
_Chorus. _ We sail along to visit mortals never;
But there to live where love shall last for ever.


EPITAPH ON THE TOMB OF SIR EDWARD GILES AND HIS WIFE IN THE SOUTH AISLE
OF DEAN PRIOR CHURCH, DEVON.

No trust to metals nor to marbles, when
These have their fate and wear away as men;
Times, titles, trophies may be lost and spent,
But virtue rears the eternal monument.
What more than these can tombs or tombstones pay?
But here's the sunset of a tedious day:
These two asleep are: I'll but be undress'd
And so to bed: pray wish us all good rest.




NOTES.




NOTES.


569. _And of any wood ye see, You can make a Mercury. _ Pythagoras
allegorically said that Mercury's statue could not be made of every sort
of wood: cp. Rabelais, iv. 62.

575. _The Apparition of his Mistress calling him to Elysium. _ An earlier
version of this poem was printed in the 1640 edition of Shakespeare's
poems under the title, _His Mistris Shade_, having been licensed for
separate publication at Stationers' Hall the previous year. The variants
are numerous, and some of them important. l. 1, _of silver_ for _with
silv'rie_; l. 3, on the Banks for _in the Meads_; l. 8, _Spikenard
through_ for _Storax from_; l. 10 reads: "_Of mellow_ Apples, _ripened_
Plums _and_ Pears": l. 17, the order of "naked younglings, handsome
striplings" is reversed; in place of l. 20 we have:--

"So soon as each his dangling locks hath crown'd
With Rosie Chaplets, Lilies, Pansies red,
Soft Saffron Circles to perfume the head";

l. 23, _to_ for _too unto_; l. 24, _their_ for _our_; ll. 29, 30:--

"Unto the Prince of Shades, whom once his Pen
Entituled the Grecian Prince of Men";

l. 31, _thereupon_ for _and that done_; l. 36, _render him true_ for
_show him truly_; l. 37, _will_ for _shall_; l. 38, "Where both may
_laugh_, both drink, _both_ rage together"; l. 48, _Amphitheatre_ for
_spacious theatre_; l. 49, _synod_ for _glories_, followed by:--

"crown'd with sacred Bays
And flatt'ring _joy, we'll have to_ recite their plays,
_Shakespeare and Beamond_, Swans to whom _the Spheres_
Listen while they _call back the former year[s]
To teach the truth of scenes_, and more for thee,
There yet remains, _brave soul_, than thou can'st see,"
etc. ;

l. 56, _illustrious for capacious_; l. 57, _shall be_ for _now is_
[Jonson died 1637]; ll. 59-61:--

"To be of that high Hierarchy where none
But brave souls take illumination
Immediately from heaven; but hark the cock," etc. ;

l. 62, _feel_ for _see_; l. 63, _through_ for _from_.

579. _My love will fit each history. _ Cp. Ovid, _Amor. _ II. iv. 44:
Omnibus historiis se meus aptat amor.

580. _The sweets of love are mixed with tears. _ Cp. Propert. I. xii. 16:
Nonnihil adspersis gaudet Amor lacrimis.

583. _Whom this morn sees most fortunate_, etc. Seneca, _Thyest. _ 613:
Quem dies vidit veniens superbum Hunc dies vidit fugiens jacentem.

586. _Night hides our thefts_, etc. Ovid, _Ars Am. _ i. 249:--

Nocte latent mendæ vitioque ignoscitur omni,
Horaque formosam quamlibet illa facit.

590. _To his brother-in-law, Master John Wingfield. _ Of Brantham,
Suffolk, husband of the poet's sister, Mercy. See 818, and Sketch of
Herrick's Life in vol. i.

599. _Upon Lucia. _ Cp. "The Resolution" in _Speculum Amantis_, ed. A. H.
Bullen.

604. _Old Religion. _ Certainly not Roman Catholicism, though Jonson was
a Catholic. Herrick uses the noun and its adjective rather curiously of
the dead: cp. 82, "To the reverend shade of his religious Father," and
138, "When thou shalt laugh at my religious dust". There may be
something of this use here, or we may refer to his ancient cult of
Jonson. But the use of the phrase in 870 makes the exact shade of
meaning difficult to fix.

605. _Riches to be but burdens to the mind. _ Seneca _De Provid. _ 6:
Democritus divitias projecit, onus illas bonae mentis existimans.

607. _Who covets more is evermore a slave. _ Hor. I. _Ep. _ x. 41: Serviet
aeternum qui parvo nesciet uti.

615. _No Wrath of Men. _ Cp. Hor. _Od. _ III. iii. 1-8.

616. _To the Maids to walk abroad. _ Printed in _Witts Recreations_,
1650, under the title: _Abroad with the Maids_.

618. _Mistress Elizabeth Lee, now Lady Tracy. _ Elizabeth, daughter of
Thomas, first Lord Leigh of Stoneleigh, in Warwickshire, married John,
third Viscount Tracy. She survived her husband two years, and died in
1688.

624. _Poets. _ _Wantons we are_, etc. From Ovid, _Trist. _ ii. 353-4:--

Crede mihi, mores distant a carmine nostri:
Vita verecunda est, Musa jocosa, mihi.

625. _'Tis cowardice to bite the buried. _ Cp. Ben Jonson, _The
Poetaster_, I. 1: "Envy the living, not the dead, doth bite"; perhaps
from Ovid, _Am. _ I. xv. 39: Pascitur in vivis livor; post fata quiescit.

626. _Noble Westmoreland. _ See Note to 112.

_Gallant Newark. _ Robert Pierrepoint was created Viscount Newark in 1627
and Earl of Kingston in the following year. But Herrick is perhaps
addressing his son, Henry Pierrepoint, afterwards Marquis of Dorchester
(see 962 and Note), who during the first Earl of Kingston's life would
presumably have borne his second title.

633. _Sweet words must nourish soft and gentle love. _ Ovid, _Ars Am. _
ii. 152: Dulcibus est verbis mollis alendus amor.

639. _Fates revolve no flax they've spun. _ Seneca, _Herc. Fur. _ 1812:
Duræ peragunt pensa sorores, Nec sua retro fila revolvunt.

642. _Palms . . . gems. _ A Latinism. Cp. Ovid, _Fasti_, i. 152: Et nova de
gravido palmite gemma tumet.

645. _Upon Tears. _ Cp.