Methought last night Love in an anger came And brought a rod, so whipt me with the same; Myrtle the twigs were, merely to imply Love strikes, but 'tis with gentle cruelty.

Patient I was: Love pitiful grew then And strok'd the stripes, and I was whole again.

Thus, like a bee, Love gentle still doth bring Honey to salve where he before did sting.

42. TO LOVE.

I'm free from thee; and thou no more shalt hear My puling pipe to beat against thine ear.

Farewell my shackles, though of pearl they be; Such precious thraldom ne'er shall fetter me.

He loves his bonds who, when the first are broke, Submits his neck unto a second yoke.

43. ON HIMSELF.

Young I was, but now am old, But I am not yet grown cold; I can play, and I can twine 'Bout a virgin like a vine: In her lap too I can lie Melting, and in fancy die; And return to life if she Claps my cheek, or kisseth me: Thus, and thus it now appears That our love outlasts our years.

44. LOVE'S PLAY AT PUSH-PIN.

Love and myself, believe me, on a day At childish push-pin, for our sport, did play; I put, he pushed, and, heedless of my skin, Love p.r.i.c.ked my finger with a golden pin; Since which it festers so that I can prove 'Twas but a trick to poison me with love: Little the wound was, greater was the smart, The finger bled, but burnt was all my heart.

_Push-pin_, a game in which pins are pushed with an endeavor to cross them.

45. THE ROSARY.

One ask'd me where the roses grew: I bade him not go seek, But forthwith bade my Julia show A bud in either cheek.

46. UPON CUPID.

Old wives have often told how they Saw Cupid bitten by a flea; And thereupon, in tears half drown'd, He cried aloud: Help, help the wound!

He wept, he sobb'd, he call'd to some To bring him lint and balsamum, To make a tent, and put it in Where the stiletto pierced the skin; Which, being done, the fretful pain a.s.suaged, and he was well again.

_Tent_, a roll of lint for probing wounds.

47. THE PARCae; OR, THREE DAINTY DESTINIES: THE ARMILLET.

Three lovely sisters working were, As they were closely set, Of soft and dainty maidenhair A curious armillet.

I, smiling, asked them what they did, Fair Destinies all three, Who told me they had drawn a thread Of life, and 'twas for me.

They show'd me then how fine 'twas spun, And I reply'd thereto,-- "I care not now how soon 'tis done, Or cut, if cut by you".

48. SORROWS SUCCEED.

When one is past, another care we have: _Thus woe succeeds a woe, as wave a wave_.

49. CHERRY-PIT.

Julia and I did lately sit Playing for sport at cherry-pit: She threw; I cast; and, having thrown, I got the pit, and she the stone.

_Cherry-pit_, a game in which cherry-stones were pitched into a small hole.

50. TO ROBIN REDBREAST.

Laid out for dead, let thy last kindness be With leaves and moss-work for to cover me: And while the wood-nymphs my cold corpse inter, Sing thou my dirge, sweet-warbling chorister!

For epitaph, in foliage, next write this: _Here, here the tomb of Robin Herrick is_.

51. DISCONTENTS IN DEVON.

More discontents I never had Since I was born than here, Where I have been, and still am sad, In this dull Devonshire; Yet, justly too, I must confess I ne'er invented such Enn.o.bled numbers for the press, Than where I loathed so much.

52. TO HIS PATERNAL COUNTRY.

O earth! earth! earth! hear thou my voice, and be Loving and gentle for to cover me: Banish'd from thee I live, ne'er to return, Unless thou giv'st my small remains an urn.

53. CHERRY-RIPE.

Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come and buy.

If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer: There, Where my Julia's lips do smile; There's the land, or cherry-isle, Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow.

54. TO HIS MISTRESSES.

Put on your silks, and piece by piece Give them the scent of ambergris; And for your breaths, too, let them smell Ambrosia-like, or nectarel; While other gums their sweets perspire, By your own jewels set on fire.

55. TO ANTHEA.

Now is the time, when all the lights wax dim; And thou, Anthea, must withdraw from him Who was thy servant. Dearest, bury me Under that Holy-oak or Gospel-tree, Where, though thou see'st not, thou may'st think upon Me, when thou yearly go'st procession; Or, for mine honour, lay me in that tomb In which thy sacred relics shall have room.

For my embalming, sweetest, there will be No spices wanting when I'm laid by thee.

_Holy oak_, the oak under which the minister read the Gospel in the procession round the parish bounds in Rogation week.

56. THE VISION TO ELECTRA.

I dreamed we both were in a bed Of roses, almost smothered: The warmth and sweetness had me there Made lovingly familiar, But that I heard thy sweet breath say, Faults done by night will blush by day.

I kissed thee, panting, and, I call Night to the record! that was all.

But, ah! if empty dreams so please, Love give me more such nights as these.

57. DREAMS.