A selection from the lyrical poems of Robert Herrick Part 16

128. TO DIANEME

Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes, Which, star-like, sparkle in their skies; Nor be you proud, that you can see All hearts your captives, yours, yet free; Be you not proud of that rich hair Which wantons with the love-sick air; Whenas that ruby which you wear, Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, Will last to be a precious stone, When all your world of beauty's gone.

129. TO DIANEME

Dear, though to part it be a h.e.l.l, Yet, Dianeme, now farewell!

Thy frown last night did bid me go, But whither, only grief does know.

I do beseech thee, ere we part, (If merciful, as fair thou art; Or else desir'st that maids should tell Thy pity by Love's chronicle) O, Dianeme, rather kill Me, than to make me languish still!

'Tis cruelty in thee to th' height, Thus, thus to wound, not kill outright; Yet there's a way found, if thou please, By sudden death, to give me ease; And thus devised,--do thou but this, --Bequeath to me one parting kiss!

So sup'rabundant joy shall be The executioner of me.

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.

131. UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES

I have lost, and lately, these Many dainty mistresses:-- Stately Julia, prime of all; Sapho next, a princ.i.p.al: 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,

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.

134. CRUTCHES

Thou see'st me, Lucia, this year droop; Three zodiacs fill'd more, I shall stoop; Let crutches then provided be To sh.o.r.e 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 gra.s.shopper; 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.

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.

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.

138. TO PERlLLA

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 G.o.ds' 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.