R. Herrick

Qui fingit sacros auro vel marmore vultusNon facit ille deos: qui rogat, ille facit.

"A little mushroom table spreadAfter the dance, they set on bread,A yellow corn of hecky wheatWith some small sandy grit to eatHis choice bits; with which in a triceThey make a feast less great than nice.But all the while his eye was servedWe dare not think his ear was sterved:But that there was in place to stirHis fire the pittering Grasshopper;The merry Cricket, puling Fly,The piping Gnat for minstralcy.The Humming Dor, the dying Swan,And each a choice Musician.And now we must imagine first,The Elves present to quench his thirstA pure seed-pearl of infant dew,Brought and beswetted in a blueAnd pregnant violet; which done,His kitling eyes begin to runQuite through the table, where he spiesThe horns of papery Butterflies:Of which he eats, but with a littleNeat cool allay of Cuckoo's spittle;A little Fuz-ball pudding standsBy, yet not blessed by his hands--That was too coarse, but he not sparesTo feed upon the candid hairsOf a dried canker, with a saggAnd well bestuffed Bee's sweet bag:Stroking his pallet with some storeOf Emmet eggs. What would he more,But Beards of Mice, an Ewt's stew'd thigh,A pickled maggot and a dryHipp, with a Red cap worm, that's shutWithin the concave of a NutBrown as his tooth, and with the fatAnd well-boiled inchpin of a Bat.A bloated Earwig with the PithOf sugared rush aglads him with;But most of all the Glow-worm's fire.As most betickling his desireTo know his Queen, mixt with the far-Fetcht binding-jelly of a star.The silk-worm's seed, a little mothLately fattened in a piece of cloth;Withered cherries; Mandrake's ears;Mole's eyes; to these the slain stag's tears;The unctuous dewlaps of a Snail;The broke heart of a NightingaleO'er-come in music; with a wineNe'er ravished from the flattering Vine,But gently pressed from the soft sideOf the most sweet and dainty Bride,Brought in a daisy chalice, whichHe fully quaffs off to bewitchHis blood too high. This done, commendedGrace by his Priest, the feast is ended."

Ampliat aetatis spatium sibi vir bonus: hoc estVivere bis vita posse priore frui.

"They call themselves the Tytere-tues,And wore a blue rib-bin;And when a-drie would not refuseTo drink. O fearful sin!

"The council, which is thought most wise,Did sit so long upon it,That they grew weary and did rise,And could make nothing on it."

Begin with Jove is doubtless from the "Ab Jove principium, Musæ," ofVirg. Ecl. iii. 60.

To his honoured kinsman, Sir William Soame. The second son of SirStephen Soame, Lord Mayor of London in 1598. Herrick's father and SirStephen married sisters.

As benjamin and storax when they meet. Instances of the use of"Benjamin" for gum benzoin will be found in the Dictionaries. Dr.Grosart's gloss, "Benjamin, the favourite youngest son of thePatriarch," is unfortunate.

"We have no vineyards which do bearTheir lustful clusters all the year,Nor odoriferousOrchards, like to Alcinous;Nor gall the seasOur witty appetites to pleaseWith mullet, turbot, gilt-head boughtAt a high rate and further brought.

"Nor can we glory of a greatAnd stuffed magazine of wheat;We have no bathOf oil, but only rich in faithO'er which the handOf fortune can have no command,But what she gives not, she not takes,But of her own a spoil she makes."

"Live in thy peace; as for myself,When I am bruisèd on the shelfOf Time, and readEternal daylight o'er my head:When with the rheum,With cough and ptisick, I consumeInto an heap of cinders: thenThe Ages fled I'll call again,

"And with a tear compare these lastAnd cold times unto those are past,While Baucis byWith her lean lips shall kiss them dryThen will we sitBy the fire, foretelling snow and sleetAnd weather by our aches, grown†Old enough to be our own

"True CalendarIs for to know what change is near,Then to assuageThe gripings in the chine by age,I'll call my youngIülus to sing such a songI made upon my mistress' breast;Or such a blush at such a feast.

"Then shall he read my Lily fineEntomb'd within a crystal shrine:My Primrose next:A piece then of a higher text;For to begetIn me a more transcendent heatThan that insinuating fireWhich crept into each reverend Sire,

"When the high Helen her fair cheeksShowed to the army of the Greeks;At which I'll rise(Blind though as midnight in my eyes),And hearing it,Flutter and crow, and, in a fitOf young concupiscence, and feelNew flames within the aged steal.

"Thus frantic, crazy man (God wot),I'll call to mind the times forgotAnd oft betweenSigh out the Times that we have seen!And shed a tear,And twisting my Iülus hair,Doting, I'll weep and say (in truth)Baucis, these were the sins of youth.

"Then will I cause my hopeful Lad(If a wild Apple can be had)To crown the Hearth(Lar thus conspiring with our mirth);Next to infuseOur better beer into the cruse:Which, neatly spiced, we'll first carouseUnto the Vesta of the house.

"Then the next health to friends of mineIn oysters, and Burgundian wine,Hind, Goderiske, Smith,And Nansagge, sons of clune and pith,Such who know wellTo board the magic bowl, and spillAll mighty blood, and can do moreThan Jove and Chaos them before."

To whose glad threshold and free doorI may, a poet, come, though poor.

"That old sackYoung Herrick took to entertainThe Muses in a sprightly vein".

"But we must on and thither tendWhere Tullus and rich Ancus blend," etc.,

A Short Hymn to Venus. Printed in Witts Recreations, 1650, aswill.

"What all the minutes, hours, weeks, months, and yearsThat hang in file upon these silver hairsCould not produce," etc.

Postquam est mortem aptus Plautus, comoedia luget;Scena deserta, dein risus, ludu' jocusque,Et numeri innumeri simul omnes collacrumarunt.

To his nephew, to be prosperous in painting. This artistic nephewmay have been a Wingfield, son of Mercy Herrick, who married JohnWingfield, of Brantham, Suffolk; or one of three sons of NicholasHerrick and Susanna Salter, or Thomas, or some unknown son of ThomasHerrick. There is no record of any painter Herrick's achievements.

"Jack, as he piped, laughed among,The Friar with briars was vilely stung,He hopped wondrous high.At last the Friar held up his handAnd said: I can no longer stand,Oh! I shall dancing die."

Vitæ est avidus quisquis non vultMundo secum pereunte mori.

Upon Himself. 408. Another. Both printed in WittsRecreations, 1650, the second under the title of Love and Liberty.This last is taken from Corn. Gall. Eleg. i. 6, quoted by Montaigne,iii. 5:--

Τοῖσι μὲν εὖ πράττουσιν ἅπας ὁ βίος βραχύς ἐστιν·Τοῖς δὲ κακῶς, μία νὺξ ἄπλετός ἐστι χρόνος.

"Some sort of pear,Apple or plum, is neatly laid(As if it was a tribute paid)By the round urchin; some mixt wheatThe which the ant did taste, not eat;Deaf nuts, soft Jews'-ears, and some thinChippings, the mice filched from the binOf the gray farmer, and to theseThe scraps of lentils, chitted peas,Dried honeycombs, brown acorn cups,Out of the which he sometimes supsHis herby broth, and there close byAre pucker'd bullace, cankers (?), dryKernels, and withered haws; the restAre trinkets fal'n from the kite's nest,As butter'd bread, the which the wildBird snatched away from the crying child,Blue pins, tags, fesenes, beads and thingsOf higher price, as half-jet rings,Ribbons and then some silken shreaksThe virgins lost at barley-breaks.Many a purse-string, many a threadOf gold and silver therein spread,Many a counter, many a die,Half rotten and without an eye,Lies here about, and, as we guess,Some bits of thimbles seem to dressThe brave cheap work; and for to paveThe excellency of this cave,Squirrels and children's teeth late shed,Serve here, both which enchequeredWith castors' doucets, which poor theyBite off themselves to 'scape away:Brown toadstones, ferrets' eyes, the gumThat shines," etc.

Vive velut rapto: fugitivaque gaudia carpe:Perdiderit nullum vita reversa diem.

Dum Fata sinunt,Vivite laeti: properat cursuVita citato, volucrique dieRota praecipitis vertitur anni.

Paulùm sepultae distat inertiaeCelata virtus.

"For that once lost thou needst must fallTo one, then prostitute to all:

Nor so immurèd would I haveThee live, as dead, or in thy grave;But walk abroad, yet wisely wellKeep 'gainst my coming sentinel.And think each man thou seest doth doomThy thoughts to say, I back am come.

"Let them call thee wondrous fair,Crown of women, yet despair".

"[And] Let thy dreams be only fedWith this, that I am in thy bed.And [thou] then turning in that sphere,Waking findst [shall find] me sleeping there.But yet if boundless lust must scaleThy fortress and must needs prevail'Gainst thee and force a passage in," etc.

Saepius ventis agitatur ingensPinus, et celsae graviore casuDecidunt turres, feriuntque summosFulgura montes.

"A city here of heroes I have madeUpon the rock whose firm foundation laidShall never shrink; where, making thine abode,Live thou a Selden, that's a demi-god".

De ape electro inclusa.Et latet et lucet Phaethontide condita gutta,Ut videatur apis nectare clausa suo.Dignum tantorum pretium tulit illa laborum.Credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori.

"Grow up in beauty, as thou dost begin,And be of all admired, Thomasine".

Ἐπείδη βρότος ἐτέχθην,Βιότου τρίβον ὁδεύειν,Χρόνον ἔγνων ὃν παρῆλθον,Ὅν δ' ἔχω δραμεῖν οὐκ οἶδα·Μέθετέ με, φρονίιδες·Μηδέν μοι καὶ ὑμῖν ἔστω.Πρὶν ἐμὲ φθάσῃ τὸ τέρμα,Παίξω, γελάσω, χορεύσω,Μετὰ τοῦ καλοῦ Λυαίου.

"Her feet beneath her petticoat,Like little mice stole in and out,As if they feared the light".

"That old sackYoung Herrick took to entertainThe Muses in a sprightly vein".

Μή με φύγῃς, ὁρῶσαΤὰν πολιὰν ἔθειραν· ...Ὅρα κἀν στεφάνοισινὍπως πρέπει τὰ λευκὰῬόδοις κρίν' ἐμπλακέντα.

Sume superbiamQuaesitam meritis et mihi DelphicaLauro cinge volens, Melpomene, comam.

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

"Prometheus, when first from heaven highHe brought down fire, ere then on earth not seen,Fond of delight, a Satyr standing byGave 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."