when that I a verse
Or some numbers more rehearse,
Tune my words that they may fall
Each way smoothly musical:
For which favour there shall be
Swans devoted unto thee.
Or some numbers more rehearse,
Tune my words that they may fall
Each way smoothly musical:
For which favour there shall be
Swans devoted unto thee.
Robert Herrick
EPIG.
For one so rarely tun'd to fit all parts,
For one to whom espous'd are all the arts,
Long have I sought for, but could never see
Them all concentr'd in one man, but thee.
Thus, thou that man art whom the fates conspir'd
To make but one, and that's thyself, admir'd.
302. UPON PRUDENCE BALDWIN: HER SICKNESS.
Prue, my dearest maid, is sick,
Almost to be lunatic:
AEsculapius! come and bring
Means for her recovering;
And a gallant cock shall be
Offer'd up by her to thee.
_Cock_, the traditional offering to AEsculapius; cp. the last words of
Socrates; cp. Ben Jonson, Epig. xiii.
303. TO APOLLO. A SHORT HYMN.
Phoebus!
when that I a verse
Or some numbers more rehearse,
Tune my words that they may fall
Each way smoothly musical:
For which favour there shall be
Swans devoted unto thee.
304. A HYMN TO BACCHUS.
Bacchus, let me drink no more;
Wild are seas that want a shore.
When our drinking has no stint,
There is no one pleasure in't.
I have drank up, for to please
Thee, that great cup Hercules:
Urge no more, and there shall be
Daffodils given up to thee.
306. ON HIMSELF.
Here down my wearied limbs I'll lay;
My pilgrim's staff, my weed of gray,
My palmer's hat, my scallop's shell,
My cross, my cord, and all, farewell.
For having now my journey done,
Just at the setting of the sun,
Here I have found a chamber fit,
God and good friends be thanked for it,
Where if I can a lodger be,
A little while from tramplers free,
At my up-rising next I shall,
If not requite, yet thank ye all.
Meanwhile, the holy-rood hence fright
The fouler fiend and evil sprite
From scaring you or yours this night.
307. CASUALTIES.
Good things that come of course, far less do please
Than those which come by sweet contingencies.
308. BRIBES AND GIFTS GET ALL.
For one so rarely tun'd to fit all parts,
For one to whom espous'd are all the arts,
Long have I sought for, but could never see
Them all concentr'd in one man, but thee.
Thus, thou that man art whom the fates conspir'd
To make but one, and that's thyself, admir'd.
302. UPON PRUDENCE BALDWIN: HER SICKNESS.
Prue, my dearest maid, is sick,
Almost to be lunatic:
AEsculapius! come and bring
Means for her recovering;
And a gallant cock shall be
Offer'd up by her to thee.
_Cock_, the traditional offering to AEsculapius; cp. the last words of
Socrates; cp. Ben Jonson, Epig. xiii.
303. TO APOLLO. A SHORT HYMN.
Phoebus!
when that I a verse
Or some numbers more rehearse,
Tune my words that they may fall
Each way smoothly musical:
For which favour there shall be
Swans devoted unto thee.
304. A HYMN TO BACCHUS.
Bacchus, let me drink no more;
Wild are seas that want a shore.
When our drinking has no stint,
There is no one pleasure in't.
I have drank up, for to please
Thee, that great cup Hercules:
Urge no more, and there shall be
Daffodils given up to thee.
306. ON HIMSELF.
Here down my wearied limbs I'll lay;
My pilgrim's staff, my weed of gray,
My palmer's hat, my scallop's shell,
My cross, my cord, and all, farewell.
For having now my journey done,
Just at the setting of the sun,
Here I have found a chamber fit,
God and good friends be thanked for it,
Where if I can a lodger be,
A little while from tramplers free,
At my up-rising next I shall,
If not requite, yet thank ye all.
Meanwhile, the holy-rood hence fright
The fouler fiend and evil sprite
From scaring you or yours this night.
307. CASUALTIES.
Good things that come of course, far less do please
Than those which come by sweet contingencies.
308. BRIBES AND GIFTS GET ALL.
