XVIII.

THE PARCE, OR THE ARMLET.

THREE lovely sisters working were,
As they were closely set,

Of soft and dainty maiden hair,
A curious armlet.

I smiling ask'd them what they did?
Fair destinies, all three !

Who told me they had drawn a thread
Of life, and 'twas for me.

They shew'd me then how fine 'twas spun ;
And I reply'd thereto :

I care not now how soon 'tis done,
Or cut, if cut by you.

XIX.

TO ROBIN-RED-BREAST.

LAID out for dead; let thy last kindness be With leaves, and moss-work for to cover me; And, while the woodnymphs my cold corps inter, Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister ! For epitaph, in foliage next write this: "Here, here the tomb of Robert Herrick is!"

XX.

DISCONTENTS IN DEVON.

MORE discontents I never had,

Since I was born, than here;

POEM XX.] As the nineteen years residence of our poet at his vicarage of Dean Prior, in Devonshire, to which he was presented by Charles the First, in 1629, seems so re

Where I have been, and still am sad,
In this dull Devonshire.

Yet, justly too, I must confess,

I ne'er invented such

Ennobled numbers for the press,
Than where I loath'd so much.

XXI.

CHERRY-RIPE.

CHERRY-ripe, ripe, ripe (I cry)
Full and fair ones; come, and buy!
If so be you ask me, where
They do grow? I answer, there,
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land, or cherry isle;
Whose plantations fully show,
All the year, where cherries grow.

XXII.

THE VISION. TO ELECTRA.

I dreamt we both were in a bed
Of roses, almost smothered;

markable and distressful an era of his life, I have adduced this one little piece for a specimen of his querulous style, It was at this residence, says Dr. Drake, that he composed the greater part of his poems; though I am inclined to think, from the last line but one of this poem, only his Noble Numbers, or Pious Pieces, as he denominates them for the seeming sake of alliteration. His Dialogue from Horace evidently bears an earlier date. What occasioned the discon tents recorded, is not known; the ejectment from his vicarage in 1648, by reason of the civil wars, most likely produced still greater, from consequent poverty, till his reinstatement 12 years afterwards. One John Syms, according to the Register of Dean Prior, occupied the benefice in the interim. Poverty, the lot of the generality of poets, seems, by the way, to have often attached to poor Herrick, from the supplicatory letters to his more wealthy relatives, which Mr. Nichols has preserved to us, See his Leicestershire, vol. 2. part 2.

The warmth, and sweetness had me there
Made lovingly familiar;

But that I heard thy sweet breath say,
Faults done by night will blush by day.
I kiss'd thee panting, and I call
Night to the record! that was all.
But, ah, if empty dreams so please;

Love, give me more such nights as these!

XXIII.

THE SUCCESSION OF THE FOUR SWEET MONTHS.

FIRST April, she with mellow show'rs,
Opens the way for early flow'rs ;

Then after her comes smiling May,
In a more rich and sweet array;
Next enters June, and brings us more
Gems than those two that went before;
Then, lastly, July comes, and she
More wealth brings in than all those three.

XXIV.

OF LOVE.

How Love came in I do not know,
Whether by th' eye, or ear, or no;
Or whether with the soul it came
At first, infused with the same;
Whether in part 'tis here, or there;
Or, like the soul, whole ev'ry-where:
This troubles me; but I, as well
As any other, this can tell;

That, when from hence she does depart,

The outlet then is from the heart.

XXV.

THE ROCK OF RUBIES, AND THE QUARRY OF PEARLS.

SOME ask'd me where the rubies grew;

And nothing I did say,

But with my finger pointed to

The lips of Julia.

Some ask'd how pearls did grow, and where;

Then spoke I to my girl

To part her lips, and shew them there

The quarrelets of pearl.

XXVI.

UPON ROSES.

UNDER a lawn, than skies more clear,

Some ruffled roses nestling were;

And, snugging there, they seem'd to lie

As in a flow'ry nunnery;

They blush'd, and look'd more fresh than flow'rs

Quicken'd of late by pearly show'rs;

And all because they were possest

But of the heat of Julia's breast,

Which, as a warm and moisten'd spring,

Gave them their ever flourishing.

XXVII.

THE CHEAT OF CUPID, OR THE UNGENTLE GUEST.

ONE silent night, of late,

When ev'ry creature rested,

POEM XXVII.] Among the numerous translations, and imitations of this favourite ode of the Teian Bard, we shall

Came one unto my gate,

And, knocking, me molested.

Who's that, said I, beats there,
And troubles thus the sleepy?
Cast off, said he, all fear,

And let not locks thus keep ye;

For I a boy am, who

By moonless nights have swerved,
And all with show'rs wet through,
And e'en with cold half starved.

I pitiful arose,

And soon a taper lighted,
And did myself disclose

Unto the lad benighted:

I saw he had a bow,

And wings too which did shiver;
And, looking down below,

I spy'd he had a quiver.

I to my chimney's shine

Brought him, as Love professes,
And chaff'd his hands with mine,
And dried his dropping tresses.

But when he felt him warm'd;
Let's try this bow of our's,
And string, if they be harm'd,

Said he, with these late show'rs.

perhaps find none excelling the present in what the French

denominate la belle simple:

Μεσονυκτίοις ποθ ̓ ὦραις, &c.

ANAC. Od. 3.