You shall not languish, trust me; virgins here
Weeping shall make ye flourish all the year.
Weeping shall make ye flourish all the year.
Robert Herrick
Troth, lady, no.
I scorn to be
A slave to state:
And, since I'm free,
I will not wait
Henceforth at such a rate
For needy fate.
If you desire
My spark should glow,
The peeping fire
You must blow,
Or I shall quickly grow
To frost or snow.
341. TO THE LADY MARY VILLARS, GOVERNESS TO THE PRINCESS HENRIETTA.
When I of Villars do but hear the name,
It calls to mind that mighty Buckingham,
Who was your brave exalted uncle here,
Binding the wheel of fortune to his sphere,
Who spurned at envy, and could bring with ease
An end to all his stately purposes.
For his love then, whose sacred relics show
Their resurrection and their growth in you;
And for my sake, who ever did prefer
You above all those sweets of Westminster;
Permit my book to have a free access
To kiss your hand, most dainty governess.
342. UPON HIS JULIA.
Will ye hear what I can say
Briefly of my Julia?
Black and rolling is her eye,
Double-chinn'd and forehead high;
Lips she has all ruby red,
Cheeks like cream enclareted;
And a nose that is the grace
And proscenium of her face.
So that we may guess by these
The other parts will richly please.
343. TO FLOWERS.
In time of life I graced ye with my verse;
Do now your flowery honours to my hearse.
You shall not languish, trust me; virgins here
Weeping shall make ye flourish all the year.
344. TO MY ILL READER.
Thou say'st my lines are hard,
And I the truth will tell--
They are both hard and marr'd
If thou not read'st them well.
345. THE POWER IN THE PEOPLE.
Let kings command and do the best they may,
The saucy subjects still will bear the sway.
346. A HYMN TO VENUS AND CUPID.
Sea-born goddess, let me be
By thy son thus grac'd and thee;
That whene'er I woo, I find
Virgins coy but not unkind.
Let me when I kiss a maid
Taste her lips so overlaid
With love's syrup, that I may,
In your temple when I pray,
Kiss the altar and confess
There's in love no bitterness.
347. ON JULIA'S PICTURE.
How am I ravish'd! when I do but see
The painter's art in thy sciography?
If so, how much more shall I dote thereon
When once he gives it incarnation?