Shall I search the under ground,
Where all damps and mists are found?
Shall I seek for speedy ease

All the floods, and frozen seas;

Or descend into the deep,

Where eternal cold does keep?

These may cool; but there's a zone

Colder yet than any one,

That's my Julia's breast, where dwells
Such destructive icicles,

As that the congelation will

Me sooner starve, than those can kill.

XXXVIII.

TO THE PATRON OF POETS,

MR. ENDYMION PORTER.

LET there be patrons, patrons like to thee,
Brave Porter! poets ne'er will wanting be.
Fabius, and Cotta, Lentulus, all live

In thee, thou man of men! who here dost give
Not only subject matter for our wit,

But likewise oil of maintenance to it;

For which, before thy threshold we'll lay down
Our thyrse for sceptre, and our bays for crown:
For, to say truth, all garlands are thy due,
The laurel, myrtle, oak, and ivy too.

POEM XXXVIII.] The gentleman to whom these lines are addressed was in the court of James, and of Charles the first; with whom he was a great favourite by reason of his wit and learning. He appears to have died abroad, and to have been the Mæcenas of his day. His family was from Glocestershire, in the neighbourhood of Campden. He died 1641.

XXXIX.

THE SADNESS OF THINGS FOR SAPPHO'S
SICKNESS.

LILIES will languish, violets look ill,
Sickly the primrose, pale the daffodil ;
That gallant tulip will hang down his head,
Like to a virgin newly ravished;

Pansies will weep, and marygolds will wither,
And keep a fast and funeral together;

If Sappho droop, daisies will open never,

But bid good-night, and close their lids for ever.

XL.

THE TEAR, SENT TO MRS. DOROTHY KENEDAY FROM STAINES.

GLIDE, gentle streams, and bear

Along with you my tear

To that coy girl,

Who smiles, yet slays

Me with delays,

And strings my tears as pearl.

See, see! she's yonder set,

Making a carcanet

Of maiden flowers:

There, there present

This orient,

And pendant pearl of ours.

Then say, I've sent one more

Gem to enrich her store,

And that is all

Which I can send,

Or vainly spend;

For tears no more will fall.

Nor will I seek supply

Of them, the spring's once dry;

But I'll devise,

Among the rest,

A

way that's best

How I may save mine eyes.

Yet say, should she condemn
Me to surrender them,

Then say, my part

Must be to weep

Out them, to keep

A poor, yet loving heart.

Say too, she would have this,
She shall; then my hope is,
That when I'm poor,
And nothing have

To send, or save,

I'm sure she'll ask no more.

XLI.

EPITAPH UPON A CHILD.

VIRGINS promis'd, when I died,
That they would, each primrose-tide,

POEM XLI.] This charming morceau is in the true spirit of the Greek epigram, which consisted not so much in point, as in elegant concise expression. In this stile of composition Herrick seems to have been singularly happy. The reader will be gratified with many pieces of a similar nature, as he proceeds.

Duly morn and ev'ning come,
And with flowers dress my tomb:
Having promis'd; pay your debts,
Maids, and here strew violets.

XLII.

UPON MRS. ELIZABETH WHEELER,
NAME OF AMARYLLIS.

UNDER THE

SWEET Amaryllis by a spring's
Soft, and soul-melting murmurings
Slept; and thus sleeping, thither flew
A robin-red-breast, who, at view
Not seeing her at all to stir,

Brought leaves and moss to cover her;
But while he perking there did pry
About the arch of either eye,

The lid began to let out day:

At which poor robin flew away;

And seeing her not dead, but all disleav'd,
He chirpt for joy to see himself deceiv'd.

XLIII.

TO MYRRHA HARD-HEARTED.

FOLD now thine arms, and hang the head,

Like to a lily withered;

Next, look thou like a sickly moon,

Or like Jocasta, in a swoon;
Then weep, and sigh, and softly go;
Like to a widow drown'd in woe,

POEM XLII.] The lady complimented in this poem was probably a relation by marriage. Herrick's first cousin, Martha, the seventh daughter of his uncle Robert, married Mr. John Wheeler.

Or, like a virgin full of ruth

For the lost sweetheart of her youth:

And all because, fair maid, thou art
Insensible of all my smart,

And of those evil days that be
Now posting on to punish thee.
The gods are easy, and condemn
All such as are not soft like them.

XLIV.

THE EYE.

MAKE me a heav'n, and make me there Many a less and greater sphere;

Make me the straight and oblique lines,
The motions, lations, and the signs;
Make me a chariot, and a sun,

And let them through a zodiac run;
Next, place me zones and tropics there,
With all the seasons of the year;

Make me a sunset, and a night;

And then present the morning's light
Cloth'd in her chamlets of delight;
To these, make clouds to pour down rain,
With weather foul, then fair again :
And when, wise artist, that thou hast
With all that can be this heav'n grac'd;
Ah! what is then this curious sky,
But only my Corinna's eye?