Part 4 (2/2)

Julia and I did lately sit Playing for sport at cherry-pit: She threw; I cast; and, having thrown, I got the pit, and she the stone.

_Cherry-pit_, a game in which cherry-stones were pitched into a small hole.

50. TO ROBIN REDBREAST.

Laid out for dead, let thy last kindness be With leaves and moss-work for to cover me: And while the wood-nymphs my cold corpse inter, Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister!

For epitaph, in foliage, next write this: _Here, here the tomb of Robin Herrick is_.

51. DISCONTENTS IN DEVON.

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, justly too, I must confess I ne'er invented such Enn.o.bled numbers for the press, Than where I loathed so much.

52. TO HIS PATERNAL COUNTRY.

O earth! earth! earth! hear thou my voice, and be Loving and gentle for to cover me: Banish'd from thee I live, ne'er to return, Unless thou giv'st my small remains an urn.

53. CHERRY-RIPE.

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.

54. TO HIS MISTRESSES.

Put on your silks, and piece by piece Give them the scent of ambergris; And for your breaths, too, let them smell Ambrosia-like, or nectarel; While other gums their sweets perspire, By your own jewels set on fire.

55. TO ANTHEA.

Now is the time, when all the lights wax dim; And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him Who was thy servant. Dearest, bury me Under that Holy-oak or Gospel-tree, Where, though thou see'st not, thou may'st think upon Me, when thou yearly go'st procession; Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb In which thy sacred relics shall have room.

For my embalming, sweetest, there will be No spices wanting when I'm laid by thee.

_Holy oak_, the oak under which the minister read the Gospel in the procession round the parish bounds in Rogation week.

56. THE VISION TO ELECTRA.

I dreamed we both were in a bed Of roses, almost smothered: The warmth and sweetness had me there Made lovingly familiar, But that I heard thy sweet breath say, Faults done by night will blush by day.

I kissed thee, panting, and, I call Night to the record! that was all.

But, ah! if empty dreams so please, Love give me more such nights as these.

57. DREAMS.

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