_Cedars_, oil of cedar was used for preserving
manuscripts
(carmina
linenda cedro.
linenda cedro.
Robert Herrick
Water, water I espy;
Come and cool ye, all who fry
In your loves; but none as I.
Though a thousand showers be
Still a-falling, yet I see
Not one drop to light on me.
Happy you who can have seas
For to quench ye, or some ease
From your kinder mistresses.
I have one, and she alone,
Of a thousand thousand known,
Dead to all compassion.
Such an one as will repeat
Both the cause and make the heat
More by provocation great.
Gentle friends, though I despair
Of my cure, do you beware
Of those girls which cruel are.
164. TO A GENTLEWOMAN OBJECTING TO HIM HIS GRAY HAIRS.
Am I despised because you say,
And I dare swear, that I am gray?
Know, lady, you have but your day:
And time will come when you shall wear
Such frost and snow upon your hair;
And when (though long, it comes to pass)
You question with your looking-glass;
And in that sincere crystal seek,
But find no rose-bud in your cheek:
Nor any bed to give the show
Where such a rare carnation grew.
Ah! then too late, close in your chamber keeping,
It will be told
That you are old,
By those true tears y'are weeping.
165. TO CEDARS.
If 'mongst my many poems I can see
One only worthy to be wash'd by thee,
I live for ever, let the rest all lie
In dens of darkness or condemn'd to die.
_Cedars_, oil of cedar was used for preserving manuscripts (carmina
linenda cedro. _Hor. _ Ars Poet. , 331. )
166. UPON CUPID.
Love like a gipsy lately came,
And did me much importune
To see my hand, that by the same
He might foretell my fortune.
He saw my palm, and then, said he,
I tell thee by this score here,
That thou within few months shalt be
The youthful Prince d'Amour here.
I smil'd, and bade him once more prove,
And by some cross-line show it,
That I could ne'er be prince of love,
Though here the princely poet.
167. HOW PRIMROSES CAME GREEN.
Virgins, time-past, known were these,
Troubled with green-sicknesses:
Turn'd to flowers, still the hue,
Sickly girls, they bear of you.
168. TO JOS. , LORD BISHOP OF EXETER.
Whom should I fear to write to if I can
Stand before you, my learn'd diocesan?