English Lyric Poet and Cleric
English Lyric Poet and Cleric
'Oor the warm soft side of the resigning yet resisting bride. The kiss of virgins first-fruits of the bed; soft speech, smooth touch, the lips, the maidenhead; these and a thousand sweets could never be so near or dear as thou wast once to me.
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!'
Thou art a plant sprung up to wither never, But, like a laurell, to grow green forever.
We credit most our sight; one eye doth please Our trust farre more than ten eare-witnesses.
Where we such clusters had, as made us nobly wild, not mad; and yet each verse of thine outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
And with our broth, and bread, and bits; Sir friend, You've fared well: pray make an end; Two days you've larded here; a third, ye know, Makes guests and fish smell strong; pray go, You to some other chimney.
Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.
God doth not promise here to man that He will free him quickly from his misery; but in His own time, and when He thinks fit, then He will give a happy end to it.
Here we are all, by day; by night we are hurled by dreams, each one into a several world.
It is the end that crowns us, not the fight.
Methought her long, small legs and thighs I with my tendrils did surprise; her belly, buttocks, and her waist by my soft nervelets were embraced;
Or a sigh of such as bring cowslips for her covering.
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes which starlike sparkle in their skies; nor be you proud that you can see all hearts your captives, yours yet free.
Thou art my life, my love, my heart, the very eyes of me: and hast command of every part to live and die for thee.
We die, as your hours do, and dry away, like to the summer's rain; or as the pearls of morning's dew.
Who after his transgression doth repent, Is halfe, or altogether, innocent.
And, chiding me, said, 'Hence, remove, Herrick, thou art too coarse to love.'
Dean-bourn, farewell; I never look to see MIDeane, or thy warty incivility. Thy rockie bottome, that doth teare thy streams, and makes them frantick, ev?n to all extreames; to my content, I never sho?d behold, were thy streames silver, or thy rocks all gold. Clearly, more than a river is on the poet?s mind: Rockie thou art; and rockie we discover thy men; and rockie are thy wayes all over. O men, O manners; Now, and ever knowne to be A Rockie Generation! A people currish; churlish as the seas; and rude (almost) as rudest Salvages. With whom I did, and may re-sojourne when Rockes turn to Rivers, Rivers turn to Men.
Happy Rusticks, best content with the cheapest Merriment: and possesse no other feare, then to want the Wake next Yeare.
Here, here I live with what my Board can with the smallest cost afford. Though ne?r so mean the Viands be, they well content my Prew and me.
It takes great wit and interest and energy to be happy. The pursuit of happiness is a great activity. One must be open and alive. It is the greatest feat man has to accomplish.
More discontents I never had since I was born, then here; where I have been, and still am sad, in this dull Devon-shire: yet justly too I must confesse; I ne?r invented such ennobled numbers for the Presse, then where I loath?d so much.
Our present tears here, not our present laughter Are but the handsells of our joys hereafter.
Tears are the noble language of eyes, and when true love of words is destitute. The eye by tears speak, while the tongue is mute.
Thou gav'st me life, but mortal; for that one favour I'll make full satisfaction: for my life mortal, rise from out thy hearse, and take a life immortal from my verse.