Forthwith his bow he bent, And wedded string and arrow, And struck me, that it went Quite through my heart and marrow. Then, laughing loud, he flew Away, and thus said, flying, Adieu, mine host, adieu! XXVIII. DELIGHT IN DISORDER. A sweet disorder in the dress An erring lace, which here and there A winning wave, deserving note, Do more bewitch me, than when art XXIX. KISSING USURY. BIANCHA, let Me pay the debt POEM XXIX.] These lines breathe of Catullus, and Secundus. See of the former Carmen 5; and of the latter Basium 6. C I owe thee for a kiss And I to thee Will render ten for this: If thou wilt say, Ten will not pay I'll clear the sum, If it will come Unto a million. By this I guess, Of happiness Who has a little measure, He must of right To th' utmost mite Make payment for his pleasure. XXX. THE BAG OF THE BEE. ABOUT the sweet bag of a bee And, whose the pretty prize should be, Which Venus hearing, thither came, POEM XXX.] This little elegant composition is likewise found in a collection of poetry entitled, Wit a sporting in a pleasant Grove of new Fancies, by H. B. 1657. Which done, to still their wanton* cries, XXXI. TO HIS MISTRESS. CHOOSE me your valentine; Next, let us marry ; If we long tarry. * "the wantons," in Wit a sporting, Sc. POEM XXXI.] No chronicle affords us any satisfactory information respecting the rites of saint Valentine, a Ro man bishop beheaded under the emperor Claudius, whose festival is observed on the fourteenth of February. There is a rural tradition, that about this period birds chuse their mates; and it is a very ancient custom, on the day of the festival, for young people, particularly among the lower orders, to select valentines, or sweethearts, by drawing of lots. To this ceremony no occurrence in the saint's life could have given rise, thinks Mr. Brand, who has searched the legend. See his Observatious on Popular Antiquities. Chaucer makes nature speak thus to the feathered tribe on this anniversary: Ye know well, how on St. Valentine's day And thus says John Lidgate's poem, written in praise of queen Catherine, consort to Henry the fifth: Seynte Valentyne, of custom yeere by yeere, Promise, and keep your vows, Or vow ye never; Troth-breakers ever. You have broke promise twice, Dear, to undo me; If you prove faithless thrice, XXXII. TO THE GENEROUS READER. SEE, and not see; and, if thou chance t' espy Some aberrations in my poetry, Wink at small faults, the greater neʼertheless Hide, and with them their father's nakedness. Let's do our best, our watch and ward to keep : *Homer himself in a long work may sleep. XXXIII. TO ELECTRA. MORE white than whitest lilies far, True, I confess, such whites as these Till, like Ixion's cloud, you be *Quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus: HORAT. Art. Poet. ver. 359, XXXIV. A COUNTRY LIFE. TO HIS BROTHER, THOMAS HERRICK. THRICE, and above blest, my soul's half, art thou And it to know, and practice; with intent By studying to know virtue; and to aim And keep one centre; this with that conspires And know that riches have their proper stint And can'st instruct, that those who have the itch These things thou know'st to th' height, and dost prevent That plague, because thou art content POEM XXXIV.] The brother, to whom these lines are addressed, was the third child of Nicholas Herrick, as our poet was the sixth; and, it is believed, was the father of the Thomas Herrick, who in 1668 resided at Market-Harborough, and issued a trader's token there; and grandfather to the Thomas, who was curate of Harborough, and published some sermons and poems; the latter were published in 4to, at Cambridge, 1791; among the most remarkable is the Submarine Voyage, of some length. See Nichols' Leices tershire, vol. 2. part 2, page 632. |