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vember come services; 18 medlars; bullaces; 19 | twice a year; about the middle of April, and roses cut 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 perpetuum,20 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, damask and red, are fast21 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 smell in the air is the violet, specially the white double violet, which comes

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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, because 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 alleys24 of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.

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2

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.

3

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*

1

When Love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my gates,

And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair

And fettered to her eye,

The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty.

2

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.

3

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.

4

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
And in my soul am free,

* Lovelace, 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, especially in view of the sequence-birds, fishes, winds, angels. In stanza 2, "allaying" means diluting.

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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 troth,

And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:

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

50

This night, and locks picked, yet we're not a-Maying.

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.

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 I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
All love, all liking, all delight

Lies drowned with us in endless night.

60

Then while time serves, and we are but de

caying,

Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying. 70

TO THE VIRGINS, TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME

1

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.

2

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.

3

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.

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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 GIRDLE

1

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.

2

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.

3

A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair; Give 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 space-
Could see a glimpse of His bright face;
When on some gilded cloud or flower
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.
O 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

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