George Herbert[1593-1633]Love
¶LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,Guilty of dust and sin.But quick-eyed Love , observing me grow slackFrom my first entrance in,Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioningIf I lacked anything.
¶' A guest,' I answered, 'worthy to be here:'Love said, ' You shall be he.'[342]'I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah , my dear,I cannot look on Thee.'Love took my hand and smiling did reply,' Who made the eyes but I ? '
¶'Truth, Lord; but I have marred them: let my shameGo where it doth deserve.'' And know you not,' says Love, ' Who bore the blame?'' M y dear, then I will serve.'' You must sit down,' says Love, 'and taste my meat.'So I did sit and eat.
2/9 Virtue
¶SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright!The bridal of the earth and sky—The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;For thou must die.
¶Sweet rose, whose hue angry and braveBids the rash gazer wipe his eye,Thy root is ever in its grave,And thou must die.
¶Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,A box where sweets compacted lie,My music shows ye have your closes,And all must die.
¶Only a sweet and virtuous soul,Like season'd timber, never gives;But though the whole world turn to coal,Then chiefly lives.
220 the Elixir
¶TEACH me, my God and King ,In all things Thee to see,And what I do in anythingTo do it as for Thee .[343]Not rudely, as a beastTo run into an action;But still to make Thee prepossestAnd give it his perfection.
¶A man that looks on glassOn it may stay his eye,Or if he pleaseth, through it pass,And then the heaven espy.
¶All may of Thee partakeNothing can be so meanWhich wfith his tincture, 'for Thy sake,'Will not grow bright and clean.
¶A servant with this clauseMakes drudgery divine;Who sweeps a room, as for Thy laws.Makes that and the action fine.
¶This is the famous stoneThat turneth all to gold.For that which God doth touch and ownCannot for less be told.
¶221 The CollarI STRUCK the board and cried, "No more;I will abroad.What, shall I ever sigh and pine?My lines and life are free, free as the road,Loose as the wind, as large as store.Shall I be still in suit?Have I no harvest but a thornTo let me blood, and not restoreWhat I have lost with cordial fruit?Sure there was wineBefore my sighs did dry it; there was cornBefore my tears did drown it.Is the year only lost to me?Have I no bays to crown it?[344]No flowers, no garlands gay? All blasted?All wasted?Not so, my heart; but there is fruit,And thou hast hands.Recover all thy sigh-blown ageOn double pleasure: leave thy cold disputeOf what is fit and not; forsake thy cage,Thy rope of sandsWhich f>etty thoughts have made, and made to theeGood cable, to enforce and drawAnd be thy law,While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.Away: take heed,I will abroad.Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears.He that forbearsTo suit and serve his needDeserves his load."But as I raved and grew more fierce and wildAt every word,Methought I heard one calling 'Childl'And I replied, 'My Lordl'
¶222 The Flower
¶How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and cleanAre thy returns! Ev'n as the flowers in SpringTo which, besides their own demean.The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring;Grief melts awayLike snow in May,As if there were no such cold thing.
¶Who would have thought my shrivell'd heartCould have recover'd greenness? It was goneQuite under ground; as flowers departTo see their mother-root, when they have blown,Where they togetherAll the hard weather.Dead to the world, keep house unknown.[345]These are Thy wonders, Lord of power,Killing and quick'ning, bringing down to HellAnd up to Heaven in an hour;Making a chiming of a passing bell.We say amissThis or that is;Thy word is all, if we could spell.
¶O that I once past changing were,Fast in thy Paradise where no flower can wither!Many a Spring I shoot up fair,Off'ring at Heaven, growing and groaning thither;Nor doth my flowerWant a Spring shower,My sins and I joining together.
¶225 Easter SongI GOT me flowers to strew Thy way,I got me boughs off many a tree;But Thou wast up by break of day.And brought'st Thy sweets along with Thee.
¶The sun arising in the East,Though he give light and th' East perfume.If they should offer to contestWith Thy arising, they presume.
¶Can there be any day but this.Though many suns to shine endeavour?We count three hundred, but we miss:There is but one, and that one ever.
¶22^ The PulleyWhen God at first made Man,Having a glass of blessings standing by—Let us (said He) pour on him all we can;Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,Contract into a span.
Henry Vaughan
¶So strength first made away ,Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure;When almost all was out, God made a stay,Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure,Rest in the bottom lay.
¶For if I should (said He )Bestow this jewel also on My creature,He would adore My gifts instead of Me ,And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:So both should losers be.
¶Yet let him keep the rest,But keep them with repining restlessness;Let him be rich and weary, that at least,If goodness lead him not, yet wearinessMay toss him to My breast.