her　from　coarseness　of　phrase　or　inferior　value：　　yet　these　are　rarely　defective　in　the　lyrical　art；　which；　throughout　the　writer's　work；　is　so　simple　and　easy　as　almost　to　escape　notice　through　its　very　excellence。　　In　one　word；　Herrick；　in　a　rare　and　special　sense；　is　unique。
  To　these　qualities　we　may；　perhaps；　ascribe　the　singular　neglect　which；　so　far　as　we　may　infer；　he　met　with　in　his　own　age；　and　certainly　in　the　century　following。　　For　the　men　of　the　Restoration　period　he　was　too　natural；　too　purely　poetical：　　he　had　not　the　learned　polish；　the　political　allusion；　the　tone　of　the　city；　the　didactic　turn；　which　were　then　and　onwards　demanded　from　poetry。　　In　the　next　age；　no　tradition　consecrated　his　name；　whilst　writers　of　a　hundred　years　before　were　then　too　remote　for　familiarity；　and　not　remote　enough　for　reverence。　　Moving　on　to　our　own　time；　when　some　justice　has　at　length　been　conceded　to　him；　Herrick　has　to　meet　the　great　rivalry　of　the　poets　who；　from　Burns　and　Cowper　to　Tennyson；　have　widened　and　deepened　the　lyrical　sphere；　making　it　at　once　on　the　one　hand　more　intensely　personal；　on　the　other；　more　free　and　picturesque　in　the　range　of　problems　dealt　with：　　whilst　at　the　same　time　new　and　richer　lyrical　forms；　harmonies　more　intricate　and　seven…fold；　have　been　created　by　them；　as　in　Hellas　during　her　golden　age　of　song；　to　embody　ideas　and　emotions　unknown　or　unexpressed　under　Tudors　and　Stuarts。　　To　this　latter　superiority　Herrick　would；　doubtless；　have　bowed；　as　he　bowed　before　Ben　Jonson's　genius。　　'Rural　ditties；'　and　'oaten　flute'　cannot　bear　the　competition　of　the　full　modern　orchestra。　　Yet　this　author　need　not　fear！　　That　exquisite：　　and　lofty　pleasure　which　it　is　the　first　and　the　last　aim　of　all　true　art　to　give；　must；　by　its　own　nature；　be　lasting　also。　　As　the　eyesight　fluctuates；　and　gives　the　advantage　to　different　colours　in　turn；　so　to　the　varying　moods　of　the　mind　the　same　beauty　does　not　always　seem　equally　beautiful。　　Thus　from　the　'purple　light'　of　our　later　poetry　there　are　hours　in　which　we　may　look　to　the　daffodil　and　rose…tints　of　Herrick's　old　Arcadia；　for　refreshment　and　delight。　　And　the　pleasure　which　he　gives　is　as　eminently　wholesome　as　pleasurable。　　Like　the　holy　river　of　Virgil；　to　the　souls　who　drink　of　him；　Herrick　offers　'securos　latices。'　He　is　conspicuously　free　from　many　of　the　maladies　incident　to　his　art。　　Here　is　no　overstrain；　no　spasmodic　cry；　so　wire…drawn　analysis　or　sensational　rhetoric；　no　music　without　sense；　no　mere　second…hand　literary　inspiration；　no　mannered　archaism：above　all；　no　sickly　sweetness；　no　subtle；　unhealthy　affectation。　　Throughout　his　work；　whether　when　it　is　strong；　or　in　the　less　worthy　portions；　sanity；　sincerity；　simplicity；　lucidity；　are　everywhere　the　characteristics　of　Herrick：　　in　these；　not　in　his　pretty　Pagan　masquerade；　he　shows　the　note；the　only　genuine　note；of　Hellenic　descent。　　Hence；　through　whatever　changes　and　fashions　poetry　may　pass；　her　true　lovers　he　is　likely　to　'please　now；　and　please　for　long。'　　His　verse；　in　the　words　of　a　poet　greater　than　himself；　is　of　that　quality　which　'adds　sunlight　to　daylight'；　which　is　able　to　'make　the　happy　happier。'　　He　will；　it　may　be　hoped；　carry　to　the　many　Englands　across　the　seas；　east　and　west；　pictures　of　English　life　exquisite　in　truth　and　grace：to　the　more　fortunate　inhabitants　（as　they　must　perforce　hold　themselves！）　of　the　old　country；　her　image；　as　she　was　two　centuries　since；　will　live　in　the　'golden　apples'　of　the　West；　offered　to　us　by　this　sweet　singer　of　Devonshire。　　We　have　greater　poets；　not　a　few；　none　more　faithful　to　nature　as　he　saw　her；　none　more　perfect　in　his　art；none；　more　companionable：
  F。　T。　P。　Dec。　1876
  **　C　H　R　Y　S　O　M　E　L　A　**
  A　SELECTION　FROM　THE　LYRICAL　POEMS　OF　ROBERT　HERRICK
  **　PREFATORY　**
  *1*
  THE　ARGUMENT　OF　HIS　BOOK
  I　sing　of　brooks；　of　blossoms；　birds；　and　bowers；　Of　April；　May；　of　June；　and　July…flowers；　I　sing　of　May…poles；　hock…carts；　wassails；　wakes；　Of　bride…grooms；　brides；　and　of　their　bridal…cakes。　I　write　of　Youth；　of　Love；and　have　access　By　these；　to　sing　of　cleanly　wantonness；　I　sing　of　dews；　of　rains；　and；　piece　by　piece；　Of　balm；　of　oil；　of　spice；　and　ambergris。　I　sing　of　times　trans…shifting；　and　I　write　How　roses　first　came　red；　and　lilies　white。　I　write　of　groves；　of　twilights；　and　I　sing　The　court　of　Mab；　and　of　the　Fairy　King。　I　write　of　Hell；　I　sing；　and　ever　shall　Of　Heaven；and　hope　to　have　it　after　all。
  *2*
  TO　HIS　MUSE
  Whither；　mad　maiden；　wilt　thou　roam？　Far　safer　'twere　to　stay　at　home；　Where　thou　mayst　sit；　and　piping；　please　The　poor　and　private　cottages。
  Since　cotes　and　hamlets　best　agree　With　this　thy　meaner　minstrelsy。　There　with　the　reed　thou　mayst　express　The　shepherd's　fleecy　happiness；　And　with　thy　Eclogues　intermix：　Some　smooth　and　harmless　Bucolics。　There；　on　a　hillock；　thou　mayst　sing　Unto　a　handsome　shepherdling；　Or　to　a　girl；　that　keeps　the　neat；　With　breath　more　sweet　than　violet。　There；　there；　perhaps　such　lines　as　these　May　take　the　simple　villages；　But　for　the　court；　the　country　wit　Is　despicable　unto　it。　Stay　then　at　home；　and　do　not　go　Or　fly　abroad　to　seek　for　woe；　Contempts　in　courts　and　cities　dwell　No　critic　haunts　the　poor　man's　cell；　Where　thou　mayst　hear　thine　own　lines　read　By　no　one　tongue　there　censured。　That　man's　unwise　will　search　for　ill；　And　may　prevent　it；　sitting　still。
  *3*
  WHEN　HE　WOULD　HAVE　HIS　VERSES　READ
  In　sober　mornings；　do　not　thou　rehearse　The　holy　incantation　of　a　verse；　But　when　that　men　have　both　well　drunk；　and　fed；　Let　my　enchantments　then　be　sung　or　read。　When　laurel　spirts　i'　th'　fire；　and　when　the　hearth　Smiles　to　itself；　and　gilds　the　roof　with　mirth；　When　up　the　Thyrse　is　raised；　and　when　the　sound　Of　sacred　orgies；　flies　A　round；　A　round；　When　the　rose　reigns；　and　locks　with　ointments　shine；　Let　rigid　Cato　read　these　lines　of　mine。
  *4*
  TO　HIS　BOOK
  Make　haste　away；　and　let　one　be　A　friendly　patron　unto　thee；　Lest；　rapt　from　hence；　I　see　thee　lie　Torn　for　the　use　of　pastery；　Or　see　thy　injured　leaves　serve　well　To　make　loose　gowns　for　mackarel；　Or　see　the　grocers；　in　a　trice；　Make　hoods　of　thee　to　serve　out　spice。
  *5*
  TO　HIS　BOOK
  Take　mine　advice；　and　go　not　near　Those　faces；　sour　as　vinegar；　For　these；　and　nobler　numbers；　can　Ne'er　please　the　supercilious　man。
  *6*
  TO　HIS　BOOK
  Be　bold；　my　Book；　nor　be　abash'd；　or　fear　The　cutting　thumb…nail；　or　the　brow　severe；　But　by　the　Muses　swear；　all　here　is　good；　If　but　well　read；　or　ill　read；　understood。
  *7*
  TO　MISTRESS　KATHARINE　BRADSHAW；　THE　LOVELY；　THAT　CROWNED　HIM　WITH　LAUREL
  My　Muse　in　meads　has　spent　her　many　hours　Sitting；　and　sorting　several　sorts　of　flowers；　To　make　for　others　garlands；　and　to　set　On　many　a　head　here；　many　a　coronet。　But　amongst　all　encircled　here；　not　one　Gave　her　a　day　of　coronation；　Till　you；　sweet　mistress；　came　and　interwove　A　laurel　for　her；　ever　young　as　Love。　You　first　of　all　crown'd　her；　she　must；　of　due；　Render　for　that；　a　crown　of　life　to　you。
  *8*
  TO　HIS　VERSES
  What　will　ye；　my　poor　orphans；　do；　When　I　must　leave　the　world　and　you；　Who'll　give　ye　then　a　sheltering　shed；　Or　credit　ye；　when　I　am　dead？　Who'll　let　ye　by　their　fire　sit；　Although　ye　have　a　stock　of　wit；　Already　coin'd　to　pay　for　it？　I　cannot　tell：　　unless　there　be　Some　race　of　old　humanity　Left；　of　the　large　heart　and　long　hand；　Alive；　as　noble　Westmorland；　Or　gallant　Newark；　which　brave　two　May　fost'ring　fathers　be　to　you。　If　not；　expect　to　be　no　less　Ill　used；　than　babes　left　fatherless。
  *9*
  NOT　EVERY　DAY　FIT　FOR　VERSE
  'Tis　not　ev'ry　day　that　I　Fitted　am　to　prophesy：　No；　but　when　the　spirit　fills　The　fantastic　pannicles；　Full　of　fire；　then　I　write　As　the　Godhead　doth　indite。　Thus　enraged；　my　lines　are　hurl'd；　Like　the　Sibyl's；　through　the　world：　Look　how　next　the　holy　fire　Either　slakes；　or　doth　retire；　So　the　fancy　cools：till　when　That　brave　spirit　comes　again。
  *10*
  HIS　PRAYER　TO　BEN　JONSON
  When　I　a　verse　shall　make；　Know　I　have　pray'd　thee；　For　old　religion's　sake；　Saint　Ben；　to　aid　me
  Make　the　way　smooth　for　me；　When；　I；　thy　Herrick；　Honouring　thee　on　my　knee　Offer　my　Lyric。
  Candles　I'll　give　to　thee；　And　a　new　altar；　And　thou；　Saint　Ben；　shalt　be　Writ　in　my　psalter。
  *11*
  HIS　REQUEST　TO　JULIA
  Julia；　if　I　chance　to　die　Ere　I　print　my　poetry；　I　most　humbly　thee　desire　To　commit　it　to　the　fire：　Better　'twere　my　book　were　dead；　Than　to　live　not　perfected。
  *12*
  TO　HIS　BOOK
  Go　thou　forth；　my　book；　though　late；　Yet　be　timely　fortunate。　It　may　chance　good　luck　may　send　Thee　a　kinsman　or　a　friend；　That　may　harbour　thee；　when　I　With　my　fates　neglected　lie。　If　thou　know'st　not　where　to　dwell；　See；　the　fire's　by。Farewell！
  *13*
  HIS　POETRY　HIS　PILLAR
  Only　a　little　more　I　have　to　write：　Then　I'll　give　o'er；　And　bid　the　world　good…night。
  'Tis　but　a　flying　minute；　That　I　must　stay；　Or　linger　in　it：　And　then　I　must　away。
  O　Time；　that　cut'st　down　all；　And　scarce　leav'st　here　Memorial　Of　any　men　that　were；
  How　many　lie　forgot　In　vaults　beneath；　And　piece…meal　rot　Without　a　fame　in　death？
  Behold　this　living　stone　I　rear　for　me；　Ne'er　to　be　thrown　Down；　envious　Time；　by　thee。
  Pillars