From the mountain, and ere day Bear a lamb or kid away; Or the crafty, thievish fox Break upon your simple flocks. To secure yourself from these Be not too secure in ease;
So shall you good shepherds prove, And deserve your master's love.
Now, good night! may sweetest slumbers
And soft silence fall in numbers1
On your eye-lids! so farewell; -Thus I end my evening's knell.
THOMAS CAREW.-Born, 1589; Died, 1639.
He was a gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and "Taster-Geucral" to Charles I.
UNFADING BEAUTY.
He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires; As old Time makes these decay, So, his flames1 must melt away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires: Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
1 numbers, harmonious sounds.
Robert Herrick was an English vicar, and was ejected by Cromwell, but reinstated by Charles II. His poems show an elegant fancy, but are often disfigured by the forced quaintness in fashion in his day.
GATHER ye rosebuds 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.
What, were ye born to be
An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good-night? 'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth, And lose you quite.
But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave :* And after they have shown their pride Like you, a while, they glide Into the grave.
THE COUNTRY LIFE.
SWEET Country life, to such unknown Whose lives are others, not their own, But, serving courts and cities, be Less happy, less enjoying thee: -Thou never plough'st the ocean's foam To seek and bring rough pepper home; Nor to the Eastern Ind1 dost rove
To bring from thence the scorched clove; Nor, with the loss of thy loved rest, Bring'st home the ingot from the west :3
1 Eastern Ind, East Indies. 2 ingot, a bar of gold or silver.
3 Gold and silver were then brought
chiefly from South America.
No! thy ambition's masterpiece* Flies no thought higher than a fleece; Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear All scores, and so to end the year: But walk'st about thine own dear bounds, Not envying others' larger grounds;
For well thou know'st 'tis not th' extent Of land makes life, but sweet content.
When now the cock, the ploughman's horn, Calls forth the lily-wristed morn, Then to thy cornfields thou dost go, Which though well soil'd, yet thou dost know That the best compost for the lands Is the wise master's feet and hands: There at the plough thou find'st thy team, With a hind whistling there to them; And cheer'st them up, by singing how The kingdom's portion is the plough: This done, then to th' enamell'd meads? Thou go'st, and as thy foot there treads, Thou seest a present God-like power Imprinted in each herb and flower; And smell'st the breath of great-eyed kine Sweet as the blossoms of the vine:
Here thou behold'st thy large sleek neats Unto the dew-laps up in meat;9
4 Thy highest wish.
5 hinds, farm servants.
• compost, manure.
' enamelled meads, meadows
covered with flowers.
8 Lit., not knowing, an
nout, black cattle.
In grass up to the loose folds round its throat, which lap the morning dew.
And as thou look'st, the wanton steer,10 The heifer, cow, and ox draw near, To make a pleasing pastime there :— These seen, thou go'st to view thy flocks Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox, And find'st their bellies there as full
Of short sweet grass, as backs with wool; And leav'st them, as they feed and fill- A shepherd piping on a hill.
For sports, for pageantry,11 and plays, Thou hast thy eves12 and holydays; On which the young men and maids meet To exercise their dancing feet,
Tripping the comely country round,
With daffodils and daisies crown'd.
Thy wakes,13 thy quintels,11 here thou hast, Thy May-poles15 too with garlands graced, Thy morris-dance,16 thy Whitsun-ale,17 Thy shearing-feasts which never fail,
on the back, as it turned swiftly round with his blow.
15 May-poles, poles set up on May 1, May-day, for dancing ronnd. 16 morris - dance, lit., a Moorish dance, in which bells, rattles, &c., are used, with masks, and fancy dresses of all kinds.
17 Whitsun-ale was another fes
tival, held at Whitsun-tide. There was a lord and lady of the ale, and a great dance, with a mimicry of a court-ball.
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