No will-o'-th'-wisp mis-light thee,
Nor snake nor slow worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way,

Not making a stay,

Since ghost there's none to affright thee.

Let not the dark thee cumber;
What tho' the moon do slumber,
The stars of the night

Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear, without number.

Then, Julia, let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto thee;
And when I shall meet

Thy silv'ry feet,

My soul I'll pour into thee.

Robert Herrick.

XI..

TO THE VIRGINS TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME.

GATHER ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.

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.

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.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while you may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

Robert Herrick.

XLI.

THE HEAD-ACHE.

My head doth ache,
O, Sappho take
Thy fillet,

And bind the pain!

Or bring some bane

To kill it.

But less that part
Than my poor heart,

Now is sick:
One kiss from thee

Will counsel be,

And physic.

Robert Herrick.

XLII.

THE SIEGE.

Tis now, since I sat down before

That foolish fort, a heart,

(Time strangely spent!) a year, and more; And still I did my part.

Made my approaches, from her hand

Unto her lip did rise;

And did already understand

The language of her eyes.

Proceeding on with no less art,
My tongue was engineer;

I thought to undermine the heart
By whispering in the ear.

When this did nothing, I brought down

Great canon-oaths, and shot

A thousand thousand to the town,
And still it yielded not.

I then resolved to starve the place,
By cutting off all kisses,
Praising and gazing on her face,
And all such little blisses.

To draw her out, and from her strength,
I drew all batteries in:

And brought myself to lie at length,
As if no siege had been.

When I had done what man could do,
And thought the place my own,
The enemy lay quiet too,

And smiled at all was done.

I sent to know from whence, and where,
These hopes, and this relief?

A spy informed, Honour was there,
And did command in chief.

March, march (quoth I), the word straight give,

Let's lose no time, but leave her:

That giant upon air will live,

And hold it out for ever.

To such a place our camp remove
As will no siege abide;

I hate a fool that starves her love,
Only to feed her pride.

Sir John Suckling.

XLIII.

A RING PRESENTED TO JULIA.

JULIA, I bring

To thee this ring,

Made for thy finger fit ;

To shew by this,
That our love is,
Or should be, like to it.

Close tho' it be,
The joint is free;

So when love's yoke is on,
It must not gall,

Or fret at all
With hard oppression.

But it must play

Still either way,

And be, too, such a yoke

As not too wide,
To overslide;

Or be so straight to choke.

So we, who bear

This beam, must rear
Ourselves to such a height
As that the stay
Of either may
Create the burthen light.

And as this round

Is no where found

To flaw, or else to sever;

So let our love

As endless prove,

And pure as gold for ever.

Robert Herrick.

XLIV.

I PR'YTHEE send me back my heart,
Since I can not have thine;

For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shouldst thou have mine?

Yet now I think on't, let it lie;
To find it, were in vain :
For thou'st a thief in either eye
Would steal it back again.

Why should two hearts in one breast lie.
And yet not lodge together?

O love! where is thy sympathy,
If thus our breasts you sever?

But love is such a mystery
I cannot find it out;

For when I think I'm best resolved,
I then am in most doubt.

Then farewell care, and farewell woe,

I will no longer pine;

For I'll believe I have her heart,

As much as she has mine.

Sir John Suckling.

XLV.

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS.

TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind,
That from the nunnery

Of your chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.

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.

Yet this inconstancy is such
As you too shall adore;

I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more!

Richard Lovelace.

XLVI.

A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING.

I TELL thee, Dick, where I have been,
Where I the rarest things have seen;
O things without compare!
Such sights again cannot be found
In any place on English ground,
Be it at wake or fair.

At Charing Cross, hard by the way
Where we (thou knowst) do sell our hay