Homer, this health to thee !
In sack of such a kind.
That it would make thee see
Though thou wert ne'er so blind.

Next, Virgil I'll call forth

To pledge this second health In wine, whose each cup's worth An Indian commonwealth.

A goblet next I'll drink
To Ovid, and suppose,

Made he the pledge, he'd think
The world had all one nose.

Then this immensive cup

Of aromatic wine,

Catullus, I quaff up

To that terse muse of thine.

Wild I am now with heat:

O Bacchus, cool thy rays!

Or, frantic, I shall eat

Thy thyrse and bite the bays.

Round, round the roof does run,
And, being ravish'd thus,
Come, I will drink a tun

To my Propertius.

Now, to Tibullus next:

This flood I drink to thee:

But stay, I see a text

That this presents to me.

Behold, Tibullus lies

Here burnt, whose small return
Of ashes scarce suffice

To fill a little urn.

Trust to good verses then :
They only will aspire
When pyramids, as men,

Are lost i' the funeral fire.

And when all bodies meet

In Lethe to be drown'd,

Then only numbers sweet

With endless life are crown'd.

ROBERT HERRICK.

TO MEADOWS

London was very near meadows, and every one loved the country in Herrick's time. Why, London was nearly country.

S.P.

YE have been fresh and green,

Ye have been fill'd with flowers,
And ye the walks have been

Where maids have spent their hours.

Ye have beheld how they
With wicker arks did come

To kiss and bear away

The richer cowslips home.

You've heard them sweetly sing,
And seen them in a round:
Each virgin like a Spring,
With honeysuckles crown'd.

But now we see none here
Whose silvery feet did tread,
And with dishevel'd hair

Adorn'd this smoother mead.

Like unthrifts, having spent
Your stock, and needy grown,
You're left here to lament

Your poor estates alone.

ROBERT HERRICK.

A THANKSGIVING

TO GOD FOR HIS HOUSE

The virtue of content we have noted as a little out of date in the modern world. Can the same thing be said of thankfulness?

LORD, Thou hast given me a cell
Wherein to dwell;

And little house, whose humble roof
Is weather-proof;

Under the spars of which I lie,

Both soft and dry;

Where Thou my chamber for to ward
Hast set a guard

Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep
Me, while I sleep.

Low is my porch, as is my fate,
Both void of state;

And yet the threshold of my door
Is worn by the poor,

Who thither come, and freely get
Good words or meat;

Like as my parlour, so my hall
And kitchen's small;

A little buttery, and therein
A little bin

Which keeps my little loaf of bread
Unchipt, unflead.

Some little sticks of thorn or briar
Make me a fire,

Close by whose living coal I sit,
And glow like it.

Lord, I confess, too, when I dine,
The pulse is Thine,

And all those other bits, that be
There placed by Thee;

The worts, the purslain, and the mess
Of water-cress,

Which of Thy kindness Thou hast sent;
And my content

Makes those, and my beloved beet

To be more sweet.

'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth;

And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,
Spiced to the brink.

Lord, 'tis Thy plenty-dropping hand,
That soils my land;

And giv'st me for my bushel sown

Twice ten for one.

Thou mak'st my teeming hen to lay
Her egg each day;

Besides, my healthful ewes to bear
Me twins each year,

The while the conduits of my kine
Run cream for wine.

All these, and better, Thou dost send
Me, to this end,

That I should render, for my part,
A thankful heart;

Which, fired with incense, I resign,
As wholly Thine;

But the acceptance, that must be,
My Christ, by Thee.

ROBERT HERRICK.

THE ELIXIR

his

"

"

"

We come, in Herbert, to a poet of great gravity, who yet lets his fancy play with his religious dutifulness. You will notice for its." "Its is a pronoun not used in his day. Virtue (following) gave Ruskin, that great prophetical writer, the opportunity of an angry rebuke of the owners of land in a coal-mining part of England. He held that the beauty and labour of agriculture above-ground was far more precious than any black smoke-producing coal underground. I need not say that Herbert was not thinking of coal-mines. But Ruskin took symbols and parables wherever he could find them.

TEACH me, my God and King,
In all things Thee to see,
And what I do in anything,
To do it as for Thee: