So you, my lord, though you have now your stay,

Your night, your prison, and your ebb, you

may

Spring up afresh; when all these mists are spent,

And starlike, once more gild our firma

ment.

Let but that mighty Cæsar speak, and then All bolts, all bars, all gates shall cleave; as when

That earthquake shook the house, and gave the stout

Apostles way, unshackled, to go out.

This, as I wish for, so I hope to see; Though you, my lord, have been unkind to

me:

To wound my heart, and never to apply,
When you had power, the meanest

remedy.

Well, though my grief by you was gall'd

the more,

Yet I bring balm and oil to heal your sore.

58

TEARS ARE TONGUES

WHEN Julia chid I stood as mute the while As is the fish or tongueless crocodile.

Air coin'd to words my Julia could not hear, But she could see each eye to stamp a tear; By which mine angry mistress might

descry

Tears are the noble language of the eye. And when true love of words is destitute The eyes by tears speak, while the tongue is mute.

59

THE CRUEL MAID

AND, cruel maid, because I see
You scornful of my love, and me,
I'll trouble you no more, but go
My way, where you shall never know
What is become of me; there I
Will find me out a path to die,
Or learn some way how to forget
You and your name forever-yet
Ere I go hence, know this from me,
What will in time your fortune be;
This to your coyness I will tell;
And having spoke it once, farewell.
The lily will not long endure,
Nor the snow continue pure;
The rose, the violet, one day

See both these lady-flowers decay;
And you must fade as well as they.

And it may chance that love may turn,
And, like to mine, make your heart burn
And weep to see 't; yet this thing do,
That my last vow commends to you:
When you shall see that I am dead,
For pity let a tear be shed;

And, with your mantle o'er me cast,
Give my cold lips a kiss at last;
If twice you kiss, you need not fear
That I shall stir or live more here.
Next hollow out a tomb to cover
Me, me, the most despised lover;
And write thereon, This, reader, know:
Love kill'd this man. No more, but so.

60

TO DIANEME

SWEET, be not proud of those two eyes
Which, starlike, sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud that you can see
All hearts your captives, yours yet free;
Be you not proud of that rich hair
Which wantons with the love-sick air;
Whenas that ruby which you wear,
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,
Will last to be a precious stone
When all your world of beauty 's gone.

61

TO HIS DYING BROTHER,

MASTER WILLIAM HERRICK

LIFE of my life, take not so soon thy flight, But stay the time till we have bade good

night.

Thou hast both wind and tide with thee;

thy way

As soon despatch'd is by the night as day. Let us not then so rudely henceforth go Till we have wept, kissed, sigh'd, shook

hands, or so.

There's pain in parting, and a kind of hell, When once true lovers take their last

farewell.

What! shall we two our endless leaves

take here

Without a sad look or a solemn tear? He knows not love that hath not this truth prov'd,

Love is most loath to leave the thing belov'd.

Pay we our vows and go; yet when we

part,

Then, even then, I will bequeath my heart Into thy loving hands; for I 'll keep none To warm my breast when thou, my pulse,

art gone.

No, here I'll last, and walk (a harmless shade)

About this urn wherein thy dust is laid, To guard it so as nothing here shall be Heavy to hurt those sacred seeds of thee.

62

TO A GENTLEWOMAN OBJECTING TO HIM
HIS GRAY HAIRS

AM I despis'd because you say,
And I dare swear, that I am gray?
Know, lady, you have but your day,
And time will come when you shall

wear

Such frost and snow upon your hair; And when (though long, it comes to pass)

You question with your looking-glass; And in that sincere crystal seek, But find no rosebud in your cheek, Nor any bed to give the show Where such a rare carnation grew. Ah! then too late, close in your chamber keeping,

It will be told

That you are old,

By those true tears you 're weeping.