HIS GRANGE, OR PRIVATE WEALTH.

THOUGH Clock,

To tell how night draws hence, I've none:
A Cock

I have, to sing how day draws on.

I have

A Maid, my PRUE, by good luck sent,
To save

That little, Fates me gave, or lent.

A Hen

I keep, which creaking, day by day,
Tells when

She goes, her long white egg to lay.

A Goose

I have, which, with a jealous ear,
Lets loose

Her tongue, to tell what danger 's near.

A Lamb

I keep, tame, with my morsels fed:
Whose dam,

An orphan left him; lately dead.

A Cat

I keep, that plays about my house;
Grown fat

With eating many a miching mouse.

To these,

A Trasy I do keep; whereby
I please

The more, my rural privacy:

Which are

But toys; to give my heart some ease. Where care

None is; slight things do lightly please!

HIS ALMS.

HERE, here, I live!
And somewhat give
Of what I have,
To those who crave.
Little, or much,
My alms is such:
But if my deal

Of oil and meal
Shall fuller grow;
More I'll bestow!
Meantime be it

E'en but a bit,

Or else a crumb;

The scrip hath some!

UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES.

I HAVE lost, and lately, these

Many dainty Mistresses.

Stately JULIA, prime of all;
SAPPHO next, a principal;
Smooth ANTHEA, for a skin
White and heaven-like crystalline;
Sweet ELECTRA; and the choice
MYRRHA, for the lute and voice;
Next, CORINNA, for her wit,
And the graceful use of it;
With PERILLA. All are gone!
Only HERRICK 's left alone,
For to number sorrow by
Their departures hence; and die!

THE BAG OF A BEE.

ABOUT the sweet bag of a bee,
Two CUPIDS fell at odds;

And whose the pretty prize should be,
They vowed to ask the Gods!

Which VENUS hearing, thither came,
And for their boldness, stripped them;
And taking thence from each his flame,
With rods of myrtle whipped them.

Which done, to still their wanton cries, When quiet grown sh' 'ad seen them, She kissed, and wiped their dove-like eyes, And gave the bag between them.

TO THE VIRGINS,

TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME.

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!

Then be not coy; but use your time!
And while ye may, go marry!
For, having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry!

TO BLOSSOMS.

FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree!
Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past,

But you may stay yet here a while,
To blush and gently smile;
And go at last!

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!

DIVINATION BY A DAFFADIL.

WHEN a Daffadil I see,

Hanging down his head t'wards me;

Guess I may, what I must be!

First, I shall decline my head!

Secondly, I shall be dead!

Lastly, safely buried!