Each room with ivy leaves is drest

And every post with holly. Though some churls at our mirth repine, Round your foreheads garlands twine, Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,

And let us all be merry.

Now every lad is wondrous trim,
And no man minds his labour;
Our lasses have provided them

A bag-pipe and a tabor.

Young men and maids and girls and boys
Give life to one another's joys,
And you anon shall by their noise

Perceive that they are merry.

Rank misers now do sparing shun,
Their hall of music soundeth;

And dogs thence with whole shoulders

run,

So all things here aboundeth. The country folk themselves advance, For Crowdy-mutton's come out of

France,

And Jack shall pipe, and Jill shall dance, And all the town be merry.

Ned Swash hath fetched his bands from pawn,

And all his best apparel;

Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn

With droppings of the barrel. And those that hardly all the year Had bread to eat or rags to wear, Will have both clothes and dainty fare And all the day be merry.

The wenches with their wassail-bowls
About the street are singing,
The boys are come to catch the owls,

The wild-mare in is bringing.
Our kitchen-boy hath broke his box,
And to the dealing of the ox
Our honest neighbours come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.

Then wherefore in these merry days Should we I pray be duller?

No, let us sing our roundelays

To make our mirth the fuller; And whilest thus inspired we sing Let all the streets with echoes ring: Woods, and hills, and every-thing Bear witness we are merry.

When we are upon the Seas ON those great waters now I am, Of which I have been told, That whosoever thither came Should wonders there behold. In this unsteady place of fear, Be present, Lord, with me; For in these depths of water here I depths of danger see.

A stirring courser now I sit,

A headstrong steed I ride, That champs and foams upon the bit Which curbs his lofty pride. The softest whistling of the winds

Doth make him gallop fast; And as their breath increased he finds The more he maketh haste.

Take Thou, oh Lord! the reins in hand, Assume our Master's room;

Vouchsafe Thou at our helm to stand,

And pilot to become.

Trim Thou the sails, and let good speed Accompany our haste;

Sound Thou the channels at our need,
And anchor for us cast.

A fit and favourable wind
To further us provide;
And let it wait on us behind,

Or lackey by our side.

From sudden gusts, from storms, from sands,

And from the raging wave; From shallows, rocks, and pirates' hands, Men, goods, and vessel save.

Preserve us from the wants, the fear,

And sickness of the seas;
But chiefly from our sins, which are
A danger worse than these.

Lord! let us also safe arrive

Where we desire to be; And for Thy mercies let us give Due thanks and praise to Thee.

The Prayer of Old Age As this my carnal robe grows old, Soil'd, rent, and worn by length of years, Let me on that by faith lay hold Which man in life immortal wears: So sanctify my days behind, So let my manners be refined, That when my soul and flesh must part, There lurk no terrors in my heart.

So shall my rest be safe and sweet
When I am lodgèd in my grave;
And when my soul and body meet,
A joyful meeting they shall have;

Their essence then shall be divine, This muddy flesh shall starlike shine, And God shall that fresh youth restore Which will abide for evermore.

ROBERT HERRICK (1591-1674)
Corinna's Going a-Maying

GET up, get up for shame! The blooming morn

Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.

See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air:
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herb and tree!
Each flower has wept and bow'd toward
the east

Above an hour since, yet you not drest;
Nay! not so much as out of bed?
When all the birds have matins said
And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin,
Nay, profanation, to keep in,
Whereas a thousand virgins on this day
Spring sooner than the lark, to fetch in

May.

Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green,

And sweet as Flora. Take no care
For jewels for your gown or hair:
Fear not; the leaves will strew
Gems in abundance upon you:

Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,

Against you come, some orient pearls unwept.

Come, and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:
And Titan on the eastern hill

Retires himself, or else stands still Till you come forth! Wash, dress, be brief in praying:

Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.

Some have despatch'd their cakes and

cream,

Before that we have left to dream: And some have wept and woo'd, and plighted troth,

And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:

Many a green-gown has been given, Many a kiss, both odd and even: Many a glance, too, has been sent From out the eye, love's firmament: Many a jest told of the keys betraying This night, and locks pick'd: yet we're not a-Maying!

Come, let us go, while we are in our prime,

And take the harmless folly of the time!
We shall grow old apace, and die
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short, and our days run
As fast away as does the sun.
And, as a vapour or a drop of rain,
Once lost, can ne'er be found again,
So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
All love, all liking, all delight

Lies drown'd with us in endless night. Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying,

Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying.

The Night Piece

HER eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,

Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.

No Will-o'-the-wisp mislight thee, Nor snake or 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 though the moon does slumber?