36. HOW THE WALL-FLOWER CAME FIRST, AND WHY

SO CALLed.

WHY this flower is now call'd so,

List, sweet maids, and you shall know.
Understand this firstling was

Once a brisk and bonnie lass,
Kept as close as Dana was:
Who a sprightly springall lov'd,
And to have it fully prov'd,
Up she got upon a wall,
Tempting down to slide withal:
But the silken twist untied,
So she fell, and, bruis'd, she died.
Love, in pity of the deed,
And her loving-luckless speed,
Turn'd her to this plant we call
Now the flower of the wall.

37. WHY FLOWERS CHANge colour.
THESE fresh beauties (we can prove)
Once were virgins sick of love,
Turn'd to flowers. Still in some
Colours go and colours come.

38. TO HIS MISTRESS OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER

TOYING OR TALKING.

You say I love not, 'cause I do not play

Still with your curls, and kiss the time away.

Springall, a youngster.

Tempting, trying.

You blame me too, because I can't devise

Some sport to please those babies in your eyes:
By love's religion, I must here confess it,

The most I love when I the least express it.
Small griefs find tongues: full casks are ever found
To give (if any, yet) but little sound.

Deep waters noiseless are; and this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depth below.
So, when love speechless is, she doth express
A depth in love and that depth bottomless.
Now, since my love is tongueless, know me such
Who speak but little 'cause I love so much.

39. UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES.

I HAVE lost, and lately, these

Many dainty mistresses:

Stately Julia, prime of all:

Sappho next, a principal:

Smooth Anthea for a skin

White, and heaven-like Chrystalline :

Sweet Electra, and the choice

Myrrha for the lute and voice:
Next Corinna, for her wit,
And the graceful use of it:
With Perilla: all are gone;
Only Herrick's left alone
For to number sorrow by

Their departures hence, and die.

Babies in your eyes, see Note.

40. THE DREAM.

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 pricked 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.

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
Assuaged, and he was well again.

1

Push-pin, a game in which pins are pushed with an endeavour to cross them.

Tent, a roll of lint for probing wounds.

47. THE PARCE; 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 repli'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.

50. TO ROBIN REDBREAST.

LAID out for dead, let thy last kindness be
With leaves and moss-work for to cover me:

Cherry-pit, a game in which cherry-stones were pitched into a small hole.