Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear
From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere;
Then if thy voice commingle with the string,
I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;
Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be
Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three?
From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere;
Then if thy voice commingle with the string,
I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;
Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be
Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three?
Robert Herrick
UPON A MAID.
Gone she is a long, long way,
But she has decreed a day
Back to come, and make no stay:
So we keep, till her return,
Here, her ashes, or her urn.
849. SATISFACTION FOR SUFFERINGS.
For all our works a recompense is sure:
_'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t' endure_.
850. THE DELAYING BRIDE.
Why so slowly do you move
To the centre of your love?
On your niceness though we wait,
Yet the hours say 'tis late:
_Coyness takes us, to a measure;
But o'eracted deads the pleasure. _
Go to bed, and care not when
Cheerful day shall spring again.
One brave captain did command,
By his word, the sun to stand:
One short charm, if you but say,
Will enforce the moon to stay,
Till you warn her hence, away,
T' have your blushes seen by day.
_Niceness_, delicacy.
851. TO M. HENRY LAWES, THE EXCELLENT COMPOSER OF HIS LYRICS.
Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear
From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere;
Then if thy voice commingle with the string,
I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;
Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be
Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three?
Three, unto whom the whole world give applause;
Yet their three praises praise but one; that's Lawes.
_Gotiere_, Wilson, see above, 111.
_Laniere_, Nicholas Laniere (1590? -1670? ), musician and painter,
appointed Master of the King's Music in 1626.
852. AGE UNFIT FOR LOVE.
Maidens tell me I am old;
Let me in my glass behold
Whether smooth or not I be,
Or if hair remains to me.
Well, or be't or be't not so,
This for certainty I know,
Ill it fits old men to play,
When that Death bids come away.
853. THE BEDMAN, OR GRAVEMAKER.
Thou hast made many houses for the dead;
When my lot calls me to be buried,
For love or pity, prithee let there be
I' th' churchyard made one tenement for me.
854. TO ANTHEA.
Anthea, I am going hence
With some small stock of innocence:
But yet those blessed gates I see
Withstanding entrance unto me.
Gone she is a long, long way,
But she has decreed a day
Back to come, and make no stay:
So we keep, till her return,
Here, her ashes, or her urn.
849. SATISFACTION FOR SUFFERINGS.
For all our works a recompense is sure:
_'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t' endure_.
850. THE DELAYING BRIDE.
Why so slowly do you move
To the centre of your love?
On your niceness though we wait,
Yet the hours say 'tis late:
_Coyness takes us, to a measure;
But o'eracted deads the pleasure. _
Go to bed, and care not when
Cheerful day shall spring again.
One brave captain did command,
By his word, the sun to stand:
One short charm, if you but say,
Will enforce the moon to stay,
Till you warn her hence, away,
T' have your blushes seen by day.
_Niceness_, delicacy.
851. TO M. HENRY LAWES, THE EXCELLENT COMPOSER OF HIS LYRICS.
Touch but thy lyre, my Harry, and I hear
From thee some raptures of the rare Gotiere;
Then if thy voice commingle with the string,
I hear in thee rare Laniere to sing;
Or curious Wilson: tell me, canst thou be
Less than Apollo, that usurp'st such three?
Three, unto whom the whole world give applause;
Yet their three praises praise but one; that's Lawes.
_Gotiere_, Wilson, see above, 111.
_Laniere_, Nicholas Laniere (1590? -1670? ), musician and painter,
appointed Master of the King's Music in 1626.
852. AGE UNFIT FOR LOVE.
Maidens tell me I am old;
Let me in my glass behold
Whether smooth or not I be,
Or if hair remains to me.
Well, or be't or be't not so,
This for certainty I know,
Ill it fits old men to play,
When that Death bids come away.
853. THE BEDMAN, OR GRAVEMAKER.
Thou hast made many houses for the dead;
When my lot calls me to be buried,
For love or pity, prithee let there be
I' th' churchyard made one tenement for me.
854. TO ANTHEA.
Anthea, I am going hence
With some small stock of innocence:
But yet those blessed gates I see
Withstanding entrance unto me.
