Part 49 (1/2)
A Lamb I keep, tame, with my morsels fed, Whose Dam An orphan left him, lately dead.
A Cat I keep, that plays about my house, Grown fat With eating many a miching** mouse.
To these A Tracy*** I do keep, whereby I please The more my rural privacy, Which are But toys to give my heart some ease; Where care None is, slight things do lightly please.”
*Clucking.
**Thieving.
***His spaniel.
But Herrick did not love his country home and parish or his people. We are told that the gentry round about loved him ”for his florid and witty discourses.” But his people do not seem to have loved these same discourses, for we are also told that one day in anger he threw his sermon from the pulpit at them because they did not listen attentively. He says:--
”More discontents I never had, Since I was born, than here, Where I have been, and still am sad, In this dull Devons.h.i.+re.”
Yet though Herrick hated Devons.h.i.+re, or at least said so, it was this same wild country that called forth some of his finest poems. He himself knew that, for in the next lines he goes on to say:--
”Yet justly, too, I must confess I ne'er invented such Enn.o.bled numbers for the press, Than where I loathed so much.”
Yet it is not the ruggedness of the Devon land we feel in Herrick's poems. We feel rather the beauty of flowers, the warmth of sun, the softness of spring winds, and see the greening trees, the morning dews, the soft rains. It is as if he had not let his eyes wander over the wild Devons.h.i.+re moorlands, but had confined them to his own lovely garden and orchard meadow, for he speaks of the ”dew-bespangled herb and tree,” the ”damasked meadows,” the ”silver shedding brooks.” Hardly any English poet has written so tenderly of flowers as Herrick. One of the best known of these flower poems is To Daffodils.
”Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun Has not attain'd his noon.
Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the Even-song; And, having pray'd together, we Will go with you along.
We have short time to stay, as you, We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay, As you, or anything.
We die As your hours do, and dry Away, Like to the summer's rain; Or as the pearls of morning's dew, Ne'er to be found again.”
And here is part of a song for May morning:--
”Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn Upon her wings presents the G.o.d unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air: Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see The dew bespangling herb and tree, Each flower has wept and bow'd toward the east Above an hour since; yet you not dress'd; Nay! not so much as out of bed?
When all the birds have matins said And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin, Nay, profanation to keep in, Whenas a thousand virgins on this day Spring, sooner than the lark to fetch in May.
Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen To come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and green And sweet as Flora. Take no care For jewels for your gown or hair; Fear not; the leaves will strew Gems in abundance upon you: Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, Against you come, some orient pearls unwept; Come and receive them while the light Hangs on the dew-locks of the night: And t.i.tan on the eastern hill Retires himself, or else stands still Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying; Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.”
Another well-known poem of Herrick's is:--
”Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of Heaven, the Sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting.
That age is best, which is the first, When Youth and Blood are warmer: But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry; For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry.”
Herrick only published one book. He called it The Hesperides, or the works both Human and Divine. The ”divine” part although published in the same book, has a separate name, being called his n.o.ble Numbers. The Hesperides, from whom he took the name of his book, were lovely maidens who dwelt in a beautiful garden far away on the verge of the ocean. The maidens sang beautifully, so Herrick took their name for his book, for it might well be that the songs they sang were such as his. This garden of the Hesperides was sometimes thought to be the same as the fabled island of Atlantis of which we have already heard. And it was here that, guarded by a dreadful dragon, grew the golden apples which Earth gave to Hera on her marriage with Zeus.
The Hesperides is a collection of more than a thousand short poems, a few of which you have already read in this chapter.
They are not connected with each other, but tell of all manner of things.
Herrick was a religious poet too, and here is something that he wrote for children in his n.o.ble Numbers. It is called To his Saviour, a Child: A Present by a Child.
”Go, pretty child, and bear this flower Unto thy little Saviour; And tell him, by that bud now blown, He is the Rose of Sharon known.