Which being seen
Blest with perpetual green,
May grow to be
Not so much call'd a tree,
As the eternal monument of me.
WEEP for the dead, for they have lost this light;
And weep for me, lost in an endless night :
Or mourn, or make a marble verse for me,
LOST to the world; lost to myself; alone
Here now I rest under this marble stone,
In depth of silence, heard and seen of none.
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!
SADLY I walk'd within the field,
To see what comfort it would yield;
And as I went my private way,
An olive-branch before me lay;
And seeing it, I made a stay,
And took it up, and view'd it; then
Kissing the omen, said Amen ;
Be, be it so, and let this be
A divination unto me;
That in short time my woes shall cease,
And love shall crown my end with peace.
IF after rude and boisterous seas
My wearied pinnace here finds ease;
If so it be I've gain'd the shore,
With safety of a faithful oar;
If having run iny barque on ground,
Ye see the agéd vessel crown'd;
What's to be done? but on the sands
Ye dance and sing, and now clap hands.
-The first act's doubtful, but (we say)
It is the last commends the Play.
YE silent shades, whose each tree here
Some relique of a saint doth wear;
Who for some sweet-heart's sake, did prove
The fire and martyrdom of Love :-
Here is the legend of those saints
That died for love, and their complaints;
Their wounded hearts, and names we find
Encarved upon the leaves and rind.
Give way, give way to me, who come
Scorch'd with the self-same martyrdom !
And have deserved as much, Love knows,
As to be canonized 'mongst those
Whose deeds and deaths here written are
Within your Greeny-kalendar.
-By all those virgins' fillets hung
Upon your boughs, and requiems sung
For saints and souls departed hence,
Here honour'd still with frankincense;
By all those tears that have been shed,
As a drink-offering to the dead;
By all those true-love knots, that be
With mottoes carved on every tree ;
By sweet Saint Phillis! pity me;
By dear Saint Iphis! and the rest
Of all those other saints now blest,
Me, me forsaken,—here admit
Among your myrtles to be writ;
That my poor name may have the glory
To live remember'd in your story.
MRS ELIZ: WHEELER, under THE NAME OF THE LOST SHEPHERDESS
AMONG the myrtles as I walk'd
Love and my sighs thus intertalk'd:
Tell me, said I, in deep distress,
Where I may find my Shepherdess?
-Thou fool, said Love, know'st thou not this?
In every thing that's sweet she is.
In yond' carnation go and seek,
There thou shalt find her lip and cheek;
In that enamell'd pansy by,
There thou shalt have her curious eye;
In bloom of peach and rose's bud,
There waves the streamer of her blood.
'Tis true, said I ; and thereupon
I went to pluck them one by one,
To make of parts an unión;
But on a sudden all were gone.
At which I stopp'd; Said Love, these be
The true resemblances of thee;
For as these flowers, thy joys must die;
And in the turning of an eye;
And all thy hopes of her must wither,
Like those short sweets here knit together.
HAPPILY I had a sight
Of my dearest dear last night;
Make her this day smile on me,
And I'll roses give to thee!
A CRYSTAL Vial Cupid brought,
Which had a juice in it :
Of which who drank, he said, no thought
Of Love he should admit.
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