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rember conie services;is medlars; bullaces;" roses out or removed to come late; holly hocks; and such like. These particulars are for the climate of London; but my meaning is perceived, that you may have ver perpctuum^o as the place affords.

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damnsk and re<l, are fast2' flowers of their smells; so that you may walk by a whole row of them, and find nothing of their sweetness; yea though it be in a morning's dew. Bays likewise yield no smell as they grow. Rosemary little; nor sweet marjoram. That which above all others yields the sweetest smyll in the air is the violet, specially the white double violet, which comes

nsorb. mountalnash, 20 "perpetual spring"

rowan 2t frugal

>• a plum

twice a year; about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew-tide.22 Next to that is the muskrose. Then the strawberry-leaves dying, which [yield] a most excellent cordial smell. Then the flower of the vines; it is a little dust) like the dust of a bent,23 which grows upon the cluster in the first coming forth. Then sweet-briar. Then wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be set under a parlor or lower chamber window. Then pinks and gilliflowers, specially the matted pink and clove gilliflower. Then the flowers of the lime-tree. Then the honeysuckles, so they be somewhat afar off. Of bean-flowers I speak not, becauso they are field flowers. But those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are three; that is, burnet, wild-thyme, and watermints. Therefore you are to set whole alleys2* of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.

22 August 24 24 paths

23 grass-stalk or rush



GEOBGE HEBBERT (1593-1633)


Sweet day, so cool, so calm, Bo bright, The bridal of the earth and sky!

The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,

Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,

My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like seasoned timber, never gives;

But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.

THOMAS CABEW (1598M639f)


Ask me no more where Jove bestows,
When June is past, the fading rose,
For in your beauty's orient deep
These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Ask me no more whither do stray
The golden atoms of the day,
For, in pure love, heaven did prepare
Those powders to enrich your hair.

* In stanza 3, "dividing" means running musical divisions; for "sphere," st. 4, see note on Par. Lost, II, 1030,

Ask we no more whither doth haste
The nightingale when May is past,
For in your sweet dividing throat
She winters and keeps warm her note.


Ask me no more where those stars light
That downwards fall in dead of night,
For in your eyes they sit, and there
Fixed become as in their sphere.


Ask me no more if east or west
The phoenix builds her spicy nest,
For unto you at last she flies,
And in your fragrant bosom dies.

Sono From Aolaura

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?

Prithee, why so palet
Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail?

Prithee, why so pale?


Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prithee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing do't?

Prithee, why so mute?


Quit, quit for shame! This will not move

This cannot take her.
If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her:

The devil take her!


To Lucasta. Going To The Wars

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind,

That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind

To war and arms I fly.


True, a new mistress now I chase,

The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace

A sword, a horse, a shield.


Yet this inconstancy is such

As you, too, shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,

Loved I not honour more.

To Althea, From Prison*

When Love with unconfined wings

Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings

To whisper at the grates;
When 1 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

Ami in my soul am free,

• Lovelacp. the gallant cavalier and poet, was. for his devotion to King Charles, twice behind bars—a "committed" song-bird. In line 7, the original reading Is "gods," but the emendation "birds" Is too plausible to be dismissed, lly In view of the sequence—birds, winds, angels. In stanza 2, "allaying" means diluting.

Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

BOBEBT HEBBICK (1591-1674)

CoRlNNA'a Going A-mayingi

Qet up, get up for shame, the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
Sec 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 bowed toward the

Above an hour since: yet you not dress'd;
Nay! not so much as out of bed*
When all the birds have matins said 10
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

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: 20 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 30
Made green and trimmed 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 shad.s of love.
Can such delights be in the street
And open fields and we not see'tl
Come, we'll abroad; and let's obey
The proclamation made for May: <0

t The "god unshorn" of line 2 Is Titan with all his beams: "May" (14) Is hawthorne and other May blossoms ; "beads" (28) are prayers; "green-gown" (51) Is a tumble on the grass.

especia fishes.

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 despatched their cakes and cream
Before that we have left to dream:
And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted

And chose their priest, ere we can cast off
sloth: 00
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 picked, yet we're nut

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. 60
Our life is short, and our days run
As fast away as does the sun;

And, as a vapour or a drop of rain,

Once lost, can ne 'er be found again,
So when or you or 1 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. 70

To The Virgins, To Make Much or Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles to-day,

To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,

The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,

And nearer he's to setting.


That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse and worst Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;

For, having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

To Fi.ectra

I dare not ask a kiss,

1 dure not beg a smile, Lest having that or this,

I might grow proud the while.

Xo, no, the utmost share

Of my desire shall be Only to kiss that air

That lately kissed thee.

How Roses Came Red

Roses at first were white,
Till they could not agree.

Whether my Sapho's breast
Or they more white should be.

But being vanquished quite,

A blush their cheeks bespread;

Since which, believe the rest,
The roses first came red.

EDMUND WALLER (1606-1687)
Go, Lovely Rose

Go, lovely Rose!

Tell her that wastes her time and me,

That now she knows,

When I resemble her to thee,

How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that's young,

And shuns to have her graces spied,

That hadst thou sprung

In deserts, where no men abide,

Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retired;

Bid her come forth,

Suffer herself to be desired,

And not blush so to be admired.


Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;

How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

On A Gibdlk

That which her slender waist confined,
Shall now my joyful temples bind;
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.


It was my heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer.
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
Did all within this circle move.


A narrow compass! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair;
(live me but what this ribband bound,
Take all the rest the sun goes round.

HENRY VAUGHAN (1622-1695)

The Retreat

Happy those early days, when I
Shined in my angel infancy!
Before I understood this place
Appointed for my second race,
Or taught my soul to fancy ought
But a white, celestial thought;
When yet I had not walked above
A mile or two from my first love,
And looking back—at that short spacer—
Could see a glimpse of His bright face;
When on some gilded cloud or flower 11
My gazing soul would dwell an hour,
And in those weaker glories spy
Some shadows of eternity;
Before I taught my tongue to wound
My conscience with a sinful sound,
Or had the black art to dispense,
A several sin to every sense,
But felt through all this fleshly dress
Bright shoots of everlastingness. 20

0 how I long to travel back,
And tread again that ancient track!
That I might once more reach that plain,
Where first I left my glorious train;
From whence the enlightened spirit sees

That shady city of palm trees.

But ah! my soul with too much stay

Is drunk, and staggers in the way!

Some men a forward motion love,

But I by backward steps would move; JO

And when this dust falls to the urn,

in that state I came, return.

JOHN MILTON (1608-1674)


Composed 1629.

This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages1 once did sing,

That he our deadly forfeit2 should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.

That glorious form, that light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, Wherewith he wont3 at Heaven's high counciltable

To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, 11 He laid aside; and here with us to be,

Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.

Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
Afford a present to the Infant Godf
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,
To welcome him to this his new abode,
Now while the heaven, by the sun's team un-

Hath took no print of the approaching light, 20 And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?

See how from far upon the eastern road
The star-led wizards* haste with odours sweet!

0 run, prevent6 them with thy humble ode,
And lay it lowly at his blessed feet;

Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,

And join thy voice unto the angel quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.

1 The 01 d Testament 4 Wise Men from the

prophets. East.

2 penalty for sin » anticipate

3 was wont

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