No More Learning

As the eyesight fluctuates, and gives the
advantage to different colours in turn, so to the varying moods of the
mind the same beauty does not always seem equally beautiful. Thus from
the 'purple light' of our later poetry there are hours in which we
may look to the daffodil and rose-tints of Herrick's old Arcadia, for
refreshment and delight. And the pleasure which he gives is as eminently
wholesome as pleasurable. Like the holy river of Virgil, to the souls
who drink of him, Herrick offers 'securos latices. ' He is conspicuously
free from many of the maladies incident to his art. Here is no
overstrain, no spasmodic cry, so wire-drawn analysis or sensational
rhetoric, no music without sense, no mere second-hand literary
inspiration, no mannered archaism:--above all, no sickly sweetness, no
subtle, unhealthy affectation. Throughout his work, whether when it is
strong, or in the less worthy portions, sanity, sincerity, simplicity,
lucidity, are everywhere the characteristics of Herrick: in these, not
in his pretty Pagan masquerade, he shows the note,--the only genuine
note,--of Hellenic descent. Hence, through whatever changes and fashions
poetry may pass, her true lovers he is likely to 'please now, and please
for long. ' His verse, in the words of a poet greater than himself, is of
that quality which 'adds sunlight to daylight'; which is able to 'make
the happy happier. ' He will, it may be hoped, carry to the many Englands
across the seas, east and west, pictures of English life exquisite
in truth and grace:--to the more fortunate inhabitants (as they must
perforce hold themselves! ) of the old country, her image, as she was two
centuries since, will live in the 'golden apples' of the West, offered
to us by this sweet singer of Devonshire. We have greater poets, not a
few; none more faithful to nature as he saw her, none more perfect in
his art;--none, more companionable:--

F. T. P.

Dec.
1876




C H R Y S O M E L A

A SELECTION FROM THE LYRICAL POEMS OF ROBERT HERRICK




PREFATORY




1. THE ARGUMENT OF HIS BOOK

I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers,
Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers;
I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes.
I write of Youth, of Love;--and have access
By these, to sing of cleanly wantonness;
I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece by piece,
Of balm, of oil, of spice, and ambergris.
I sing of times trans-shifting; and I write
How roses first came red, and lilies white.
I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing
The court of Mab, and of the Fairy King.
I write of Hell; I sing, and ever shall
Of Heaven,--and hope to have it after all.




2. TO HIS MUSE

Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roam?
Far safer 'twere to stay at home;
Where thou mayst sit, and piping, please
The poor and private cottages.
Since cotes and hamlets best agree
With this thy meaner minstrelsy.
There with the reed thou mayst express
The shepherd's fleecy happiness;
And with thy Eclogues intermix:
Some smooth and harmless Bucolics.
There, on a hillock, thou mayst sing
Unto a handsome shepherdling;
Or to a girl, that keeps the neat,
With breath more sweet than violet.
There, there, perhaps such lines as these
May take the simple villages;
But for the court, the country wit
Is despicable unto it.
Stay then at home, and do not go
Or fly abroad to seek for woe;
Contempts in courts and cities dwell
No critic haunts the poor man's cell,
Where thou mayst hear thine own lines read
By no one tongue there censured.
That man's unwise will search for ill,
And may prevent it, sitting still.




3.