IN THE LIBRARY

Northern Advocate, 10 November 1934, Page 6

IN THE LIBRARY

ROBERT HERRICK,

Herrick is one of England’s sweet singers. Almost all his pieces are bi'ief, some very much so, and many of the best are among the shortest. “To Elcctra,” for instance.

I dare not ask a kiss; I dare not beg a smile; Lest having that or this, I might grow proud the while.

No, no, the utmost share Of my desire shall be Only to kiss the air That lately kissed thee,

Or “Upon a Child That Died.”

Here she lies, a pretty bud,. Lately made of flesh and blood; Who, as soon fell fast asleep, As her little eyes did peep. Give her strewings; but not stir The earth, that lightly covers her,

Reading this one thinks of those other verses, written long after,' by another poet, in another tongue, in another land, those to be placed on the tomb of the unfortunate Oline •/ Nesterzof, at Derbend in distant Rus-

Twenty summers she knew; she was loved, she was fair; Then one evening she fell, like a rose from the tree. Oh! thou earth of the dead, do not weigh on her there, For so little alive pressed her foot upon thee.

Robert Herrick belonged to the great age, his years stretching from 1591 to 1674. He was a personal friend of Ben Jonson and of many of his fellows. He was a Londoner, the son of a goldsmith who died while Robert was still an infant. School days over, he was apprenticed to his uncle, also a goldsmith by trade, like his father, whose business, indeed, it is likely he inherited. It appears that at first the workmanship of this skilled and decorative trader—more attractive in those days of individual hand work than now—sufficed for his attraction to the beautiful; but, once the novelty had dimmed, he desired opportunity for wider culture. . With this object he went to Cambridge University, not without much opposition on the part of his uncle, and, seemingly, much difficulty as regards his conditions and much monetary stringency. It was after leaving the university that he returned to London, to mix freely with those literary friends who surrounded and paid high allegiance to Ben Jonson, and among whom Herrick was eagerly welcomed and regularly formed one of the jolly gatherings at this tavern and at that. It was in 1629, he being then thirtyeight, that Herrick finally took orders in the Church of England, and was given the living of Dean Prior in Devonshire. After the gay and merry life in London, this was a very quiet existence, arid a somewhat lonely one, for travel in those days was sufficiently difficult to keep him fairly constantly in or near his parish. Leisure here there was, and specially in the long, wet winter days and evenings, and much of his poetry was then written. Meanwhile, unrest and disorder grew greater in' England, and with the overthrow of Charles I and the Puritan successes, Herrick, like many another Royalist parson, was ejected from his vicarage. It is probable that this was less disturbing to hiin than to many. The return to the London he still loved fondly was no exile to him, but rather the reverse, and the opportunity was gladly welcomed.

With the Restoration of 1660, Herrick went back to Dean Prior, where he resumed his duties, living on there until his death at the age of eightyfour.

As for his verse, by which it is that his memory does and will continue to live, there are pieces never likely to be forgotten while the English language remains what it is. For his “Counsel to Girls.” Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying; And this same flower that smiles today, Tomorrow 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 a 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 do not coy, but use your time; And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry. His love lyrics have held their own these three centuries, and still find frequent quotation. TO ANTHEA. Bid me to live, and I will live Thy Protestand to be: Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee. A heart as soft, a heart as kind. A heart as sound and free As in the whole world thou canst find, That heart I'll give to. thee.

[BY “THE BOOK-MAN”]

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay, To honour thy decree: Or bid it languish quite away, And’t shall do so for thee. Bid me to weep, and I will weep While I have eyes to see: And having none, yet I will keep A heart to weep for thee. Bid me despair, and I’ll despair, Under that cypress tree: Or bid me die, and I will dare E’en Death, to die for thee. Thou art my life, my love, my heart, The very eyes of me, And hast command of every part, To live and die for thee. He could be skilfully and lightly amusing, too, as witness this “Ternary of Littles, upon a Pipkin of Jelly sent to a Lady.” A little saint best fits a little shrine, A little prop best fits a little vine; And my small cruse best fits my little wine. A little seed best fits a little soil, A little trade best fits a little toil; As my small jar best fits my little oil. A little bin best fits a little’ bread, A little garland fits a little head; As my small stuff best fits my little shed. A little hearth best fits a little fire, A little chapel fits a little choir; As my small bell best fits my little spire. A little stream best fits a little boat, A little lead best fits a little float; As my small pipe best fits my little note. ' A little meat best fits a little belly, As sweetly, lady, give me leave to tell ye, This little pipkin fits this little jelly. Flowers he loved, and daintily used them for his verses, as witness “To Violets.” Welcome, maids of honour, You do bring In the spring, And wait upon her. She has virgins many, Fresh’ and fair; - Yet you are More sweet than any. the maiden ppsies, And so graced To be placed < ’Fore damask roses. Yet, though thus respected, . By-and-by Ye do lie. Poor girls; neglected. Or “To Daisies, Not to Shut so Soon.” Shut not so soon; tljie dull-eyed flight Has not as yet begun To make a seizure on the light, Or to seal up the sun. " No marigolds yet closed are; No shadows great appear; Nor doth the early shepherd’s star Shine like a spangle here. Stay but till my Julia close Her life-begetting eye; And let the Whole world then dispose Itself to . live or die. “Satin Straps,” by Maysie Greig (Hodder and Stoughton). A capital story of a light and entertaining nature, and just the thing to while away a pleasant hour, is “Satin Straps,” written, by Maysie Greig, who has added another to her list of successful hovels. The .subtitle, “Make Believe,” appropriately describes the theme of the story, which deals in a highly; interesting manner with the lives of people who, thrown together by the caprice of chance, eventually find their proper places in relationship to one another. “1 Was a Pagan,” by V. C. Kitchen (Hodder and Stoughton). This is a new Oxford Group book for ordinary men and women who want to live their Christianity otit in the modern world, but who do hot know how; and for those dissatisfied, floundering with no aim in life beyond “pleasure,” “possessions,” “power,” “position” and “applause.” This book, the spiritual experience of a thotightful business man in this year of grace, 1934, is just what thousands are looking for, because it leads the Way arid shows the path which so many are trying vainly to find. And all the time it is pinned down to the realities of business and social life with which all have to contend in the world today.