TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON

(From the same)

When Love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my gates,
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair,
And fettered to her eye,
The birds that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.

When flowing cups run swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,

Our careless heads with roses bound,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep
When healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the deep
Know no such liberty.

When, like committed linnets, I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty,
And glories of my King;

When I shall voice aloud, how good
He is, how great should be,
Enlarged winds that curl the flood
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take

That for an hermitage;

If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

Robert herrick

1591-1674

ARGUMENT TO HESPERIDES

(From Hesperides, 1648)

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.

CORINNA'S GOING A-MAYING
(From the same)

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air:
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herb and tree.

Each flower has wept and bow'd toward the east
Above an hour since: yet you not dress'd;

Nay! not so much as out of bed?
When all the birds have matins said

And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin,
Nay, profanation to keep in,

Whenas a thousand virgins on this day
Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.

Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen
To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and
green,

And sweet as Flora. Take no care
For jewels for your gown or hair;
Fear not; the leaves will strew
Gems in abundance upon you:

Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls unwept;

Come and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:
And Titan on the eastern hill

Retires himself, or else stands still

Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying:

Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.

Come, my Corinna, come; and, coming, mark
How each field turns a street, each street a park
Made green and trimm'd with trees; see how
Devotion gives each house a bough

Or branch: each porch, each door ere this
An ark, a tabernacle is,

Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove;
As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street

And open fields and we not see 't?

Come, we'll abroad; and let's obey
The proclamation made for May;

And sin no more, as we have done, by staying; But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.

There's not a budding boy or girl this day
But is got up, and gone to bring in May.
A deal of youth, ere this, is come

Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have dispatched their cakes and cream,
Before that we have left to dream:

And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth,

And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth: Many a green-gown has been given;

Many a kiss, both odd and even: Many a glance, too, has been sent From out the eye, love's firmament; Many a jest told of the keys betraying

This night, and locks pick'd, yet we're not a-Maying.

Come, let us go while we are in our prime;
And take the harmless folly of the time.
We shall grow old apace, and die
Before we know our liberty.

Our life is short, and our days run
As far away as does the sun :
And, as a vapour or a drop of rain
Once lost, can ne'er be found again,
So when you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
All love, all liking, all delight

Lies drowned with us in endless night.

Then while time serves, and we are but decaying, Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.

TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW

(From the same)

Why do ye weep, sweet babes? can tears

Speak grief in you,

Who were but born

Just as the modest morn

Teem'd her refreshing dew?

Alas! you have not known that shower
That mars a flower,

Nor felt th' unkind

Breath of a blasting wind,
Nor are ye worn with years,
Or warp'd as we,

Who think it strange to see

Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young,
To speak by tears, before ye have a tongue.

Speak, whimp'ring younglings, and make known
The reason why

Ye droop and weep;

Is it for want of sleep?

Or childish lullaby?

Or that ye have not seen as yet

The violet?

Or brought a kiss

From that sweetheart to this?

No, no, this sorrow shown

By your tears shed

Would have this lecture read:

That things of greatest, so of meanest worth,

Conceiv'd with grief are, and with tears brought forth