The Hesperides Noble Numbers: Vol. 1 and 2 | Page 9

pearls of jet?I sent my love a carcanet;?About her spotless neck she knit?The lace, to honour me or it:?Then think how rapt was I to see?My jet t'enthral such ivory.
_Carcanet_, necklace.?_Lace_, any kind of girdle; used here for the necklace.
35. HIS SAILING FROM JULIA.
When that day comes, whose evening says I'm gone?Unto that watery desolation,?Devoutly to thy closet-gods then pray?That my wing'd ship may meet no remora.?Those deities which circum-walk the seas,?And look upon our dreadful passages,?Will from all dangers re-deliver me?For one drink-offering poured out by thee.?Mercy and truth live with thee! and forbear?(In my short absence) to unsluice a tear;?But yet for love's sake let thy lips do this,?Give my dead picture one engendering kiss:?Work that to life, and let me ever dwell?In thy remembrance, Julia. So farewell.
_Closet-gods_, the Roman Lares.?_Remora_, the sea Lamprey or suckstone, believed to check the course of ships by clinging to their keels.
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_.
_Tempting_, trying.
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.?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.
_Babies in your eyes_, see Note.
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 crystalline:?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.
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.
_Push-pin_, a game in which pins are pushed with an endeavor to cross them.
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.
_Tent_, a roll of lint for probing wounds.
47. THE PARC?; 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