There's not a budding boy, or girl this day
But is got up, and gone to bring in May:
A deal of youth, ere this, is come

Back, and with whitethorn laden home:
Some have dispatch'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!

*This concluding stanza is in the same spirit with Ca. tullas's fifth Carmen.

LIX.

A DIALOGUE BETWIXT HORACE AND LYDIA,
TRANSLATED, ANNO 1627,

AND SET BY MR. RO. RAMSEY.

Hor. WHILE, Lydia, I was lov'd of thee,
Nor any was preferr❜d 'fore me

To hug thy whitest neck; than I
The Persian king liv'd not more happily.

Lyd. While thou no other didst affect,
Nor Chloe was of more respect;
Then Lydia, far-fam'd Lydia,

I flourish'd more than Roman Ilia.

Hor. Now Thracian Chloe governs me,
Skilful i'th' harp, and melody;

For whose affection, Lydia, I,
So fate spares her, am well content to die.

Lyd. My heart now set on fire is

By Ornith's son, young Calais;

For whose commutual flames here I,
To save his life, twice am content to die.

Hor. Say, our first loves we should revoke;
And, sever'd, join in brazen yoke;
Admit I Chloe put away,

And love again love-cast-off Lydia!

POEM LIX. Dr. Drake supposes that the present may have been the first attempt made, in our language, to naturalize this celebrated ninth ode of Horace's third Book; but I much doubt it. The original beauty of the composition must have tempted the pen of many a translator long be fore the days of Herrick; and many a version of this ode may now lie unnoticed among the latent treasures of lite

rature.

Lyd. Though mine be brighter than the star;
Thou lighter than the cork by far,

Rough as th' Adriatic sea; yet I

Will live with thee, or else for thee will die.

LX.

THE CAPTIVED BEE, OR, THE LITTLE FILCHER.

As Julia once a slumbʼring lay,

It chanc'd a bee did fly that way,
After a dew, or dew-like show'r,
To tipple freely in a flow'r.

For some rich flow'r he took the lip
Of Julia, and began to sip :

But when he felt he suck'd from thence
Honey, and in the quintessence;

He drank so much he scarce could stir;

So Julia took the pilferer :
And thus surpris'd, as filchers use,
He thus began himself t'excuse:
Sweet lady-flow'r! I never brought
Hither the least one thieving thought;
But taking those rare lips of your's
For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flow'rs;
I thought I might there take a taste,
Where so much syrup ran at waste :
*Besides, know this, I never sting

POEM LX. In this, perhaps more than in any other production, Herrick may be pronounced truly Anacreontic.

DRAKE.

*One would almost imagine that Herrick here had in view the caution, which Secundus gives the bee, in his Basia; and that the little insect attended to it.

Heu! non et stimulis compungite molle labellum;
Ex oculis stimulos vibrat et illa pareis.

Credite non ullum patietur vulnus inultum :

Leniter innocua mella legatis upes.

E

JOAN. SEC, Basium 19.

The flow'r that gives me nourishing;
But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay
For honey that I bear away.
This said, he laid his little scrip
Of honey 'fore her ladyship;

And told her, as some tears did fall,
That, that he took, and that was all.
At which she smil'd; and bade him go
And take his bag; but thus much know,
When next he came a pilfʼring so,
He should from her full lips derive
Honey enough to fill his hive.

LXI.

AN ODE TO MASTER ENDYMION PORTER,
UPON HIS BROTHER'S DEATH.

Not all thy flushing suns are set,
Herrick, as yet;

Nor doth this far-drawn hemisphere

Frown, and look sullen ev'ry-where. Days may conclude in nights; and suns may rest,* As dead, within the west;

Yet the next morn re-gild the fragrant east.

Alas for me! that I have lost

E'en all almost;

Sunk is my sight; set is my sun;
And all the loom of life undone :

* Here we have a beautiful amplification of the three

following lines from Catullus:

Soles occidere, et redire possunt;
Nobis, cùm semel occidit brevis Inx,

Nox est perpetua una dormienda.

CATUL. Carm. 5.

The staff, the elm, the prop, the shelt'ring wall Whereon my vine did crawl,

Now, now blown down, needs must the old stock fall.

Yet, Porter, while thou keep'st alive,
In death I thrive;

And, like a phoenix, re-aspire

From out my nard, and fun'ral fire: And, as I prune my feather'd youth, so I Do marv'l how I could die,

When I had thee, my chief preserver, by.

I'm up, I'm up, and bless that hand,
Which makes me stand

Now as I do; and but for thee,

I must confess, I could not be.
The debt is paid; for he, who doth resign
Thanks to the gen❜rous vine,
Invites fresh grapes to fill his press with wine.

LXII.

TO CHERRY BLOSSOMS.

YE may simper, blush, and smile,

And perfume the air awhile;

But, sweet things, ye must be gone;
Fruit, ye know, is coming on.

Then, ah then, where is your grace,
When as cherries come in place?