A selection from the lyrical poems of Robert Herrick - LightNovelsOnl.com
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When the artless doctor sees No one hope, but of his fees, And his skill runs on the lees, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When his potion and his pill, Has, or none, or little skill, Meet for nothing but to kill, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the pa.s.sing-bell doth toll, And the furies in a shoal Come to fright a parting soul, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue, And the comforters are few, And that number more than true, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the priest his last hath pray'd, And I nod to what is said, 'Cause my speech is now decay'd, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When, G.o.d knows, I'm tost about Either with despair, or doubt; Yet, before the gla.s.s be out, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tempter me pursu'th With the sins of all my youth, And half d.a.m.ns me with untruth, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the flames and h.e.l.lish cries Fright mine ears, and fright mine eyes, And all terrors me surprise, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal'd, And that open'd which was seal'd; When to Thee I have appeal'd, Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
258. TO DEATH
Thou bidst me come away, And I'll no longer stay, Than for to shed some tears For faults of former years; And to repent some crimes Done in the present times; And next, to take a bit Of bread, and wine with it; To don my robes of love, Fit for the place above; To gird my loins about With charity throughout; And so to travel hence With feet of innocence; These done, I'll only cry, 'G.o.d, mercy!' and so die.
259. TO HIS SWEET SAVIOUR
Night hath no wings to him that cannot sleep; And Time seems then not for to fly, but creep; Slowly her chariot drives, as if that she Had broke her wheel, or crack'd her axletree.
Just so it is with me, who list'ning, pray The winds to blow the tedious night away, That I might see the cheerful peeping day.
Sick is my heart; O Saviour! do Thou please To make my bed soft in my sicknesses; Lighten my candle, so that I beneath Sleep not for ever in the vaults of death; Let me thy voice betimes i' th' morning hear; Call, and I'll come; say Thou the when and where: Draw me but first, and after Thee I'll run, And make no one stop till my race be done.
260. ETERNITY
O years! and age! farewell: Behold I go, Where I do know Infinity to dwell.
And these mine eyes shall see All times, how they Are lost i' th' sea Of vast eternity:--
Where never moon shall sway The stars; but she, And night, shall be Drown'd in one endless day.
261. THE WHITE ISLAND: OR PLACE OF THE BLEST
In this world, the Isle of Dreams, While we sit by sorrow's streams, Tears and terrors are our themes, Reciting:
But when once from hence we fly, More and more approaching nigh Unto young eternity, Uniting
In that whiter Island, where Things are evermore sincere: Candour here, and l.u.s.tre there, Delighting:--
There no monstrous fancies shall Out of h.e.l.l an horror call, To create, or cause at all Affrighting.
There, in calm and cooling sleep, We our eyes shall never steep, But eternal watch shall keep, Attending
Pleasures such as shall pursue Me immortalized, and you; And fresh joys, as never too Have ending.
