FROM THE LYRICAL POEMS OF ROBERT HERRICK
By Robert Herrick
Arranged with introduction by Francis Turner Palgrave
PREFACE
ROBERT HERRICK - Born 1591 : Died 1674
Those who most admire the Poet from whose many pieces a selection only is here offered, will, it is probable, feel most strongly (with the Editor) that excuse is needed for an attempt of an obviously presumptuous nature. The choice made by any selector invites challenge: the admission, perhaps, of some poems, the absence of more, will be censured:--Whilst others may wholly condemn the process, in virtue of an argument not unfrequently advanced of late, that a writer's judgment on his own work is to be considered final. And his book to be taken as he left it, or left altogether; a literal reproduction of the original text being occasionally included in this requirement.
If poetry were composed solely for her faithful band of true lovers and true students, such a facsimile as that last indicated would have claims irresistible; but if the first and last object of this, as of the other Fine Arts, may be defined in language borrowed from a different range of thought, as 'the greatest pleasure of the greatest number,' it is certain that less stringent forms of reproduction are required and justified. The great majority of readers cannot bring either leisure or taste, or information sufficient to take them through a large mass (at any rate) of ancient verse, not even if it be Spenser's or Milton's. Manners and modes of speech, again, have changed; and much that was admissible centuries since, or at least sought admission, has now, by a law against which protest is idle, lapsed into the indecorous. Even unaccustomed forms of spelling are an effort to the eye;--a kind of friction, which diminishes the ease and enjoyment of the reader.
These hindrances and clogs, of very diverse nature, cannot be disregarded by Poetry. In common with everything which aims at human benefit, she must work not only for the 'faithful': she has also the duty of 'conversion.' Like a messenger from heaven, it is hers to inspire, to console, to elevate: to convert the world, in a word, to herself. Every rough place that slackens her footsteps must be made smooth; nor, in this Art, need there be fear that the way will ever be vulgarized by too much ease, nor that she will be loved less by the elect, for being loved more widely.
Passing from these general considerations, it is true that a selection framed in conformity with them, especially if one of our older poets be concerned, parts with a certain portion of the pleasure which poetry may confer. A writer is most thoroughly to be judged by the whole of what he printed. A selector inevitably holds too despotic a position over his author. The frankness of speech which we have abandoned is an interesting evidence how the tone of manners changes. The poet's own spelling and punctuation bear, or may bear, a gleam of his personality. But such last drops of pleasure are the reward of fully-formed taste; and fully-formed taste cannot be reached without full knowledge. This, we have noticed, most readers cannot bring. Hence, despite all drawbacks, an anthology may have its place. A book which tempts many to read a little, will guide some to that more profound and loving study of which the result is, the full accomplishment of the poet's mission.
Table of contents (by pages)
- 1: A selection from the lyrical poems of Robert Herri
- 2: Notices of Herrick should be of the rarest occurrence
- 3: Herrick is the best commentator upon Herrick
- 4: Which too rarely redeem commonplace and conceits in Carew
- 5: Could find no counterpart in Herrick
- 6: Might have said Quoi que nous puissions faire
- 7: In this sweet insularity of Herrick
- 8: Clearly assigns to him the first place as lyrical poet
- 9: Herrick offers 'securos latices
- 10: Thou mayst sing Unto a handsome shepherdling
- 11: HIS REQUEST TO JULIA Julia
- 12: Then to thy corn fields thou dost go
- 13: And the cream Of sweetest cowslips filling them
- 14: And so Down with the bays and misletoe
- 15: And see The dew bespangling herb and tree
- 16: Some have dispatch'd their cakes and cream
- 17: And for the bride cake there'll be spice
- 18: Laniere the speakers mirtillo
- 19: You May find your Amarillis
- 20: A sweet sad passion MIRT
- 21: There's hope Elve Boniface shall next be Pope
- 22: A little fuz ball pudding stands By
- 23: THE HAG The Hag is astride
- 24: Let's try this bow of ours And string
- 25: I will drink a tun To my Propertius
- 26: Shew Like morning sun shine
- 27: Who now canst live Led by thy conscience
- 28: Canst in thy map securely sail
- 29: That Jove decrees Some mirth
- 30: AN ODE TO SIR CLIPSBY CREW Here we securely live
- 31: Thy jocund beer Is not reserved for Trebius here
- 32: Or in the damp jet read their tears
- 33: That vow Which made us one
- 34: Until our tongues shall tell our ears
- 35: In the mould Long for to lie here
- 36: Who come Scorch'd with the self same martyrdom
- 37: Where I may find my Shepherdess
- 38: THE LITTLE FILCHER As Julia once a slumb'ring lay
- 39: If thou dost distrust that vow
- 40: HIS SAILING FROM JULIA When that day comes
- 41: ANTHEA'S RETRACTATION Anthea laugh'd
- 42: The peeping fire You must blow
- 43: TO SILVIA Pardon my trespass
- 44: Bequeath to me one parting kiss
- 45: TO ANTHEA Now is the time when all the lights wax dim
- 46: You are a sparkling Rose i'th' bud
- 47: As for ourselves to leave some frankincense
- 48: MIRTH True mirth resides not in the smiling skin
- 49: UPON WRINKLES Wrinkles no more are
- 50: But since these cowslips fading be
- 51: Take this sprig of Eglantine Which
- 52: TO DAFFADILS Fair Daffadils
- 53: And strawberry do stir More love
- 54: UNDER THE NAME OF AMARILLIS Sweet Amarillis
- 55: A HYMN TO THE GRACES When I love
- 56: That look did sever Him and Eurydice for ever
- 57: TO BACCHUS A CANTICLE Whither dost thou hurry me
- 58: Melt my pains With thy soft strains
- 59: And dismal darkness then doth smutch the face
- 60: And bring fresh strewings to thy tomb
- 61: Wherewith so many souls were fed
- 62: That ne'er went out by day or night CHOR
- 63: Hadst for thy place Of birth
- 64: When the passing bell doth toll
