I pray thee stay.-Am. I must away. CCLXXYII. ON HIMSELF. A weari'd pilgrim, I have wander❜d here Twice five and twenty, bate me but one year: Long have I lasted in this world, 'tis true; But yet those years, that I have liv'd, but few. Who, by his grey hairs, doth his lustres tell, Lives not those years, but he that lives them well. One man has reach'd his sixty years; but he, Of all those threescore, has not liv'd half three. He lives, who lives to virtue; men, who cast Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last. CCLXXVIII. HIS COVENANT, OR PROTESTATION, WHY dost thou wound and break my heart, As if we should for ever part? Hast thou not heard an oath from me; After a day, or two, or three, I would come back and live with thee? Which sits as dew of roses there, That tear shall scarce be dri'd, before I'll kiss the threshold of thy door. Then weep not, sweet; but thus much know, I'm half return'd before I go. CCLXXIX. HIS LAST REQUEST TO JULIA. I have been wanton, aud too bold, I fear, To chafe o'ermuch the virgin's cheek, or ear: Beg for my pardon, Julia; he doth win Grace with the gods, who's sorry for his sin : That done, my Julia, dearest Julia! come, And go with me to chuse my burial room. My fates are ended! When thy Herrick dies, Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes. CCLXXX. THE PILLAR OF FAME. FAME'S pilllar here at last we set, Nor shall the seas, Tho' kingdoms fall; This pillar never shall But stand for ever by his own Firm, and well-fix'd foundation. POEM CCLXXIX.] There is exquisite pathos, and simplicity in the last sentence of this little poem; perfectly corresponding with poem 158. POEM CCLXXX.] Horatian to the last is the bard Robert Herrick, concluding what he terms his Works Human with an imitation of Exegi monumentum are perennius, &c. HORAT. Ode ult. Lib. 3. I have selected the four following pieces, as the most poetical specimens of our author's NOBLE NUMBERS, or PIOUS PIECES; the inferiority of which is generally allowed even by his warmest admirers, notwithstanding the encomiums that are passed upon them in Wood's ATHENÆ. I. TO GOD, ON HIS SICKNESS. WHAT though my harp, and viol be A CAROL TO THE KING, SUNG AT WHITEHALL. Flourish of Musick, then followed the Song. TELL us, thou clear and heav'nly tongue, Where is the babe but lately sprung; Lies he the lily banks among? Or say, if this new birth of our's Star. No; this ye need not do ; But only come, and see him rest A princely babe in's mother's breast. He's seen, Chorus. he's seen! Why then around Let's kiss the sweet, and holy ground; And all rejoice that we have found A king, before conception crown'd. Come then, come then; and let us bring Unto our pretty, twelfthtide king Each one his sev'ral offering! Chorus. And, when night comes, we'll give him wassailing; III. THE WIDOWS' TEARS, OR DIRGE OF DORCAS. COME pity us, all ye, who see Who see or hear poor widows cry; And eyes to pity widows' tears. Chorus. And, when you are come hither, Then we will keep A fast, and weep For Tabitha, who dead lies here, See K. David's Psalm 137. ver. 2. |