English Literature for Boys and Girls Part 47

Later on when you come to read more in English literature, you will learn to know many of these poets. In this book we have not room to tell about them or even to mention their names. Their stories are bound up with the stories of the times, and many of them fought and suffered for their king. But I will give you one or two poems which may make you want to know more about the writers of them.

Here are two written by Richard Lovelace, the very model of a gay cavalier. While he was at Oxford, King Charles saw him and made him M.A. or Master of Arts, not for his learning, but because of his beautiful face. He went to court and made love and sang songs gayly. He went to battle and fought and sang as gayly, he went to prison and still sang. To the cause of his King he clung through all, and when Charles was dead and Cromwell ruled with his stern hand, and song was hushed in England, he died miserably in a poor London alley.

The first of these songs was written by Lovelace while he was in prison for having presented a pet.i.tion to the House of Commons asking that King Charles might be restored to the throne.

TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON

"When love with unconfined wings Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at the grates; When I lye tangled in her haire, And fettered to her eye, The G.o.ds, that wanton in the aire, Know no such liberty.

"When (like committed linnets) I With shriller throat shall sing The sweetness, mercy, majesty, And glories of my King.

When I shall voyce aloud, how good He is, how great should be, Enlarged winds, that curle the flood, Know no such liberty.

"Stone walls do not a prison make, Nor iron bars a cage; Mindes innocent and quiet take That for an hermitage; If I have freedome in my love, And in my soule am free, Angels alone that soar above Enjoy such liberty."

TO LUCASTA GOING TO THE WARRES

"Tell me not (sweet) I am unkinde, That from the nunnerie Of thy chaste heart and quiet minde To warre and armes I flie.

"True: a new Mistresse now I chase, The first foe in the field, And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield.

"Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Lov'd I not Honour more."

James Graham, Marquis of Montrose, was another cavalier poet whose fine, sad story you will read in history. He loved his King and fought and suffered for him, and when he heard that he was dead he drew his sword and wrote a poem with its point:

"Great, Good, and Just, could I but rate My grief, and thy too rigid fate, I'd weep the world in such a strain As it should deluge once again: But since thy loud-tongued blood demands supplies More from Briareus' hands than Argus' eyes, I'll sing thy obsequies with trumpet sounds And write thine epitaph in blood and wounds."

He wrote, too, a famous song known as Montrose's Love-song. Here it is:--

"My dear and only love, I pray This n.o.ble world of thee, Be governed by no other sway But purest monarchie.

"For if confusion have a part Which vertuous souls abh.o.r.e, And hold a synod in thy heart, I'll never love thee more.

"Like Alexander I will reign, And I will reign alone, My thoughts shall evermore disdain A rival on my throne.

"He either fears his fate too much Or his deserts are small, That puts it not unto the touch, To win or lose it all.

"But I must rule and govern still, And always give the law, And have each subject at my will, And all to stand in awe.

"But 'gainst my battery if I find Thou shun'st the prize so sore, As that thou set'st me up a blind I'll never love thee more.

"If in the Empire of thy heart, Where I should solely be, Another do pretend a part, And dares to vie with me:

"Or if committees thou erect, And goes on such a score, I'll sing and laugh at thy neglect, and never love thee more.

"But if thou wilt be constant then, And faithful to thy word, I'll make thee glorious with my pen And famous by my sword.

"I'll serve thee in such n.o.ble ways Was never heard before, I'll crown and deck thee all with bays And love thee more and more."

In these few cavalier songs we can see the spirit of the times.

There is gay carelessness of death, strong courage in misfortune, pa.s.sionate loyalty. There is, too, the proud spirit of the tyrant, which is gentle and loving when obeyed, harsh and cruel if disobeyed.

There is another song by a cavalier poet which I should like to give you. It is a love-song, too, but it does not tell of these stormy times, or ring with the noise of battle. Rather it takes us away to a peaceful summer morning before the sun is up, when everything is still, when the dew trembles on every blade of gra.s.s, and the air is fresh and cool, and sweet with summer scents. And in this cool freshness we hear the song of the lark:

"The lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And, climbing, shakes his dewy wings; He takes this window for the east; And to implore your light, he sings; 'Awake, awake! the Morn will never rise, Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.'

"The merchant bow unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the Sun his season takes; But still the lover wonders what they are, Who look for day before his mistress wakes.

'Awake, awake! break thro' your veils of lawn!

Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn.'"

That was written by William Davenant, poet-laureate. It is one our most beautiful songs, and he is remembered by it far more than by his long epic poem called Gondibert which few people now read. But I think you will agree with me that his name is worthy of being remembered for that one song alone.

Chapter LV HERBERT--THE PARSON POET

HAVING told you a little about the songs of the cavaliers I must now tell you something about the religious poets who were a feature of the age. Of all our religious poets, of this time at least, George Herbert is the greatest. He was born in 1593 near the town of Montgomery, and was the son of a n.o.ble family, but his father died when he was little more than three, leaving his mother to bring up George with his nine brothers and sisters.

George Herbert's mother was a good and beautiful woman, and she loved her children so well that the poet said afterwards she had been twice a mother to him.

At twelve he was sent to Westminster school where we are told "the beauties of his pretty behaviour shined" so that he seemed "to become the care of Heaven and of a particular good angel to guard and guide him."*

*Izaak Walton.

At fifteen he went to Trinity College, Cambridge. And now, although separated from his "dear and careful Mother"* he did not forget her or all that she had taught him. Already he was a poet. We find him sending verses as a New Year gift to his mother and writing to her that "my poor abilities in poetry shall be all and ever consecrated to G.o.d's glory."

*The same.

As the years went on Herbert worked hard and became a gently good, as well as a learned man, and in time he was given the post of Public Orator at the University. This post brought him into touch with the court and with the King. Of this George Herbert was glad, for although he was a good and saintly man, he longed to be a courtier. Often now he went to court hoping for some great post. But James I died in 1625 and with him died George Herbert's hope of rising to be great in the world.

For a time, then, he left court and went into the country, and there he pa.s.sed through a great struggle with himself. The question he had to settle was "whether he should return to the painted pleasure of a court life" or become a priest.

In the end he decided to become a priest, and when a friend tried to dissuade him from the calling as one too much below his birth, he answered: "It hath been judged formerly, that the domestic servants of the King of Heaven should be one of the n.o.blest families on earth. And though the iniquity of late times have made clergymen meanly valued, and the sacred name of priest contemptible, yet I will labor to make it honorable. . . . And I will labor to be like my Saviour, by making humility lovely in the eyes of all men, and by following the merciful and meek example of my dear Jesus."

But before Herbert was fully ordained a great change came into his life. The Church of England was now Protestant and priests were allowed to marry, and George Herbert married. The story of how he met his wife is pretty.

Herbert was such a cheerful and good man that he had many friends. It was said, indeed, that he had no enemy. Among his many friends was one named Danvers, who loved him so much that he said nothing would make him so happy as that George should marry one of his nine daughters. But specially he wished him to marry his daughter Jane, for he loved her best, and would think of no more happy fate for her than to be the wife of such a man as George Herbert. He talked of George so much to Jane that she loved him without having seen him. George too heard of Jane and wished to meet her. And at last after a long time they met.

Each had heard so much about the other that they seemed to know one another already, and like the prince and princess in a fairy tale, they loved at once, and three days later they were married.

Soon after this, George Herbert was offered the living of Bemerton near Salisbury. But although he had already made up his mind to become a priest he was as yet only a deacon. This sudden offer made him fearful. He began again to question himself and wonder if he was good enough for such a high calling. For a month he fasted and prayed over it. But in the end Laud, Bishop of London, a.s.sured him "that the refusal of it was a sin." So Herbert put off his sword and gay silken clothes, and putting on the long dark robe of a priest turned his back for ever to thoughts of a court life. "I now look back upon my aspiring thoughts," he said, "and think myself more happy than if I had attained what I so ambitiously thirsted for. I can now behold the court with an impartial eye, and see plainly that it is made up of fraud and t.i.tles and flattery, and many other such empty, imaginary, painted pleasures." And having turned his back on all gayety, he began the life which earned for him the name of "saintly George Herbert." He taught his people, preached to them, and prayed with them so lovingly that they loved him in return. "Some of the meaner sort of his parish did so love and reverence Mr. Herbert that they would let their plough rest when Mr. Herbert's saint's bell rang to prayers, that they might also offer their devotions to G.o.d with him; and would then return back to their plough. And his most holy life was such, that it begot such reverence to G.o.d and to him, that they thought themselves the happier when they carried Mr. Herbert's blessing back with them to their labour."*