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more especially as those, who, after having read this article, may be curious to be informed of such circumstances of it as have been collected, may satisfy their curiosity by a reference to Nichols's History of Leicestershire, or to Dr. Drake's Literary Hours. It will be sufficient for our purpose to mention, hat he was born in the year 1591, and lived to an advanced age, although the exact time of his death has not been correctly ascertained. The second part of Herrick's works bears date a year anterior to the first, but they are both generally found in one volume, and were probably published at the same time, and shortly after he was ejected from his vicarage, and had re-assumed his lay-title.

Little more than the name of Robert Herrick was known, and nothing like a just appreciation of his merits existed, at the time when Dr. Drake published his Literary Hours. Mr. Ellis had, it is true, in his Specimens of early English Poetry, previously given four pieces from his works, but they are a very inadequate representation of the varied excellences of the poet. The author of the Literary Hours made more copious extracts from them, and entered into a more detailed criticism on their merits: but we conceive he has not done such ample justice to Herrick as he really deserves. Some very beautiful specimens he has selected, but a great many he has left to waste their sweets in the desert of the bibliographer's library. It is with the view of supplying this omission, as well as of embellishing our pages with the rare and singular things which the volume affords, that we have been induced to make an anthology from his works; for which we are sure such of our readers as are yet unacquainted with them will render us no common thanks.

While the phlegmatic grace and pedantry of Waller, and the grace without pedantry of Carew, have been the subjects of general observation, the varied modulation and exquisite harmony of Herrick's muse have been totally neglected. He, who excels both, not only in the structure of his verse, but in the more essential requisites of poetry, is less known than either. And there are blemishes in this collection of poems, which may, in some measure, account for the negligence with which it has been treated, and which, in our stricter system of manners, present an invincible obstacle to its being received into general favour. The blemishes, to which we allude, are the indelicacy and occasional coarseness of expression which we sometimes find in his works. This deformity, however, also characterizes the productions of Carew, who, in proportion to their number and extent, oversteps the bounds of decency and decorum almost as frequently as Herrick. But, forgetting the impurities of our author, and estimating the chaster effusions of his felicitous genius, we do not hesitate to pronounce him the very best of English Lyric Poets. He is the most joyous and gladsome of bards ; singing, like the grasshopper, as if he would never grow

old. He is as fresh as the spring, as blithe as summer, and as ripe as autumn. We know of no English poet who is so abandonné, as the French term it, who so wholly gives himself up to his present feelings, who is so much heart and soul in what he writes, and this not on one subject only but on all subjects alike. The spirit of song dances in his veins, and flutters around his lips-now bursting into the joyful and hearty voice of the Epicurean ; sometimes breathing forth strains soft as the sigh of " buried love ;” and sometimes uttering feelings of the most delicate pensiveness. His poems resemble a luxuriant meadow, full of king-cups and wild flowers, or a July firmament sparkling with a myriad of stars. His fancy fed upon all the fair and sweet things of nature ; it is redolent of roses and jessamine; it is as light and airy as the thistle-down, or the bubbles which laughing boys blow into the air, where they float in a waving line of beauty. Like the sun, it communicates a delightsome gladness to every thing it shines upon, and is as bright and radiant as his beams; and yet many of his pieces conclude with the softest touches of sensibility and feeling. Indeed it is that delicate pathos, which is, at the same time, natural and almost playful, which most charms us in the writings of Herrick, And as for his versification, it presents one of the most varied specimens of rhythmical harmony in the language, flowing with an almost wonderful grace and flexibility

We shall first give a few specimens of our author's amatory poetry, which is exceedingly buoyant and graceful.

To his Mistress objecting to his neither toying nor talking.
You say I love not, 'cause I do not play
Still with your curls, and kiss the time away;
You blame me too, because I can't devise
Some sport to please those babies in your eyes :
By love's religion, I must here confess it,
The most I love, when I the least express it!
Small grief finds tongues ; full casks are ever found
To give, if any, yet but little sound;
Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depth below:
So when love speechless is, it doth express
A depth in love, and that depth bottomless.
Now since my love is tongueless, know me such,
Who speak so little, 'cause I love so much.”

“ 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.”

The Kiss, a Dialogue.
1. “ Among thy fancies, tell me this:

What is the thing we call a kiss ?2. I shall resolve ye what it is :

It is a creature born, and bred
Between the lips, all cherry red;
By love, and warm desires fed ;

Chor.–And makes more soft the bridal bed :

2. It is an active flame, that flies

First to the babies of the eyes,
And charms them there with lullabies ;

Chor.-And stills the bride too when she cries :

2. Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear,

It frisks, and fies; now here, now there;
'Tis now far off, and then 'tis near;

Chor.–And here, and there, and every-where.1. Has it a speaking virtue?–2. Yes.1. How speaks it, say?-2. Do you but this, Part your join'd lips, then speaks your kiss;

Chor.–And this love's sweetest language is.1. Has it a body?-2. Aye, and wings,

With thousand rare encolourings;
And, as it flies, it gently sings,

Chor.-Love honey yields, but never stings.”

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.”

Upon Mrs. Elizabeth Wheeler, under the name of Amaryllis.

“ 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.”

The captived Bee, or the little Filcher.

As Julia once a slumb’ring lay,
It chanced a bee did fly that way,
After a dew, or dew-like show'r, ,
To tipple freely in a flow'r,
For some rich Aow'r he took the lip
Of Julia, and began to sip:
But when he felt he suck'd from thence
Honey, and in the quintessence;
He drank so much he scarce could stir;
So Julia took the pilferer:
And thus surpris'd, as filchers use,
He thus began himself t'excuse:
Sweet lady-flow'r! I never brought
Hither the least one thieving thought;
But taking those rare lips of your's
For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flow'rs;
I thought I might there take a taste, .
Where so much syrup ran at waste: .
Besides, know this, I never sting
The flow'r that gives me nourishing; ,
But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay
For honey that I bear away. .
This said, he laid his little scrip
Of honey 'fore her ladyship;
And told her, as some tears did fall,
That, that he took, and that was all.
At which she smil'd; and bade him go
And take his bag; but thus much know,
When next he came a pill’ring so,
He should from her full lips derive
Honey enough to fill his hive."

The Night-piece.- To Julia.
u Her eyes the glowworm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;

And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow
Like sparks of fire, befriend thee!
No will-oʻ-th’-wisp mislight thee,
Nor snake nor slowworm bite thec;

But on, on thy way,

Not making a stay,
Since ghost there's none to affright thee!

Let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber,

The stars of the night

Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number!

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus, to come unto me;

And, when I shall meet

Thy silv'ry feet,
My soul I'll pour into thee!"

Love dislikes nothing.
“ Whatsoever thing I see ;
Rich or poor although it be ;
'Tis a mistress unto me.

Be my girl or fair, or brown;
Does she smile, or does she frown;
Still I write a sweetheart down.

Be she rough, or smooth of skin ;
When I touch, I then begin
For to let affection in..

Be she bald, or does she wear
Locks incurld of other hair ;
I shall find enchantment there.

Be she whole, or be she rent;
So my fancy be content,

She's to me most excellent.

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