A Country Life: to His Brother Mr Thomas Herrick

Thrice, and above, blest, my soul's half, art thou,

In thy both last and better vow;

Could'st leave the city, for exchange, to see

The country's sweet simplicity;

And it to know and practise, with intent

To grow the sooner innocent;

By studying to know virtue, and to aim

More at her nature than her name;

The last is but the least; the first doth tell

Ways less to live, than to live well:—

And both are known to thee, who now canst live

Led by thy conscience, to give

Justice to soon-pleased nature, and to show

Wisdom and she together go,

And keep one centre; This with that conspires

To teach man to confine desires,

And know that riches have their proper stint

In the contented mind, not mint;

And canst instruct that those who have the itch

Of craving more, are never rich.

These things thou knows't to th' height, and dost prevent

That plague, because thou art content

With that Heaven gave thee with a wary hand,

(More blessed in thy brass than land)

To keep cheap Nature even and upright;

To cool, not cocker appetite.

Thus thou canst tersely live to satisfy

The belly chiefly, not the eye;

Keeping the barking stomach wisely quiet,

Less with a neat than needful diet.

But that which most makes sweet thy country life,

Is the fruition of a wife,

Whom, stars consenting with thy fate, thou hast

Got not so beautiful as chaste;

By whose warm side thou dost securely sleep,

While Love the sentinel doth keep,

With those deeds done by day, which ne'er affright

Thy silken slumbers in the night:

Nor has the darkness power to usher in

Fear to those sheets that know no sin.

The damask'd meadows and the pebbly streams

Sweeten and make soft your dreams:

The purling springs, groves, birds, and well weaved bowers,

With fields enamelled with flowers,

Present their shapes, while fantasy discloses

Millions of Lilies mix'd with Roses.

Then dream, ye hear the lamb by many a bleat

Woo'd to come suck the milky teat;

While Faunus in the vision comes, to keep

From rav'ning wolves the fleecy sheep:

With thousand such enchanting dreams, that meet

To make sleep not so sound as sweet;

Nor call these figures so thy rest endear,

As not to rise when Chanticlere

Warns the last watch;—but with the dawn dost rise

To work, but first to sacrifice;

Making thy peace with Heaven for some late fault,

With holy-meal and spirting salt;

Which done, thy painful thumb this sentence tells us,

'Jove for our labour all things sells us.'

Nor are thy daily and devout affairs

Attended with those desp'rate cares

Th' industrious merchant has, who for to find

Gold, runneth to the Western Ind,

And back again, tortured with fears, doth fly,

Untaught to suffer Poverty;—

But thou at home, blest with securest ease,

Sitt'st, and believ'st that there be seas,

And watery dangers; while thy whiter hap

But sees these things within thy map;

And viewing them with a more safe survey,

Mak'st easy fear unto thee say,

'A heart thrice walled with oak and brass, that man

Had, first durst plough the ocean.'

But thou at home, without or tide or gale,

Canst in thy map securely sail;

Seeing those painted countries, and so guess

By those fine shades, their substances;

And from thy compass taking small advice,

Buy'st travel at the lowest price.

Nor are thine ears so deaf but thou canst hear,

Far more with wonder than with fear,

Fame tell of states, of countries, courts, and kings,

And believe there be such things;

When of these truths thy happier knowledge lies

More in thine ears than in thine eyes.

And when thou hear'st by that too true report,

Vice rules the most, or all, at court,

Thy pious wishes are, though thou not there,

Virtue had, and moved her sphere.

But thou liv'st fearless; and thy face ne'er shows

Fortune when she comes, or goes;

But with thy equal thoughts, prepared dost stand

To take her by the either hand;

Nor car'st which comes the first, the foul or fair:—

A wise man ev'ry way lies square;

And like a surly oak with storms perplex'd

Grows still the stronger, strongly vex'd.

Be so, bold Spirit; stand centre-like, unmoved;

And be not only thought, but proved

To be what I report thee, and inure

Thyself, if want comes, to endure;

And so thou dost; for thy desires are

Confined to live with private Lar:

Nor curious whether appetite be fed

Or with the first, or second bread.

Who keep'st no proud mouth for delicious cates;

Hunger makes coarse meats, delicates.

Canst, and unurged, forsake that larded fare,

Which art, not nature, makes so rare;

To taste boil'd nettles, coleworts, beets, and eat

These, and sour herbs, as dainty meat:—

While soft opinion makes thy Genius say,

'Content makes all ambrosia;'

Nor is it that thou keep'st this stricter size

So much for want, as exercise;

To numb the sense of dearth, which, should sin haste it,

Thou might'st but only see't, not taste it;

Yet can thy humble roof maintain a quire

Of singing crickets by thy fire;

And the brisk mouse may feast herself with crumbs,

Till that the green-eyed kitling comes;

Then to her cabin, blest she can escape

The sudden danger of a rape.

—And thus thy little well-kept stock doth prove,

Wealth cannot make a life, but love.

Nor art thou so close-handed, but canst spend,

(Counsel concurring with the end),

As well as spare; still conning o'er this theme,

To shun the first and last extreme;

Ordaining that thy small stock find no breach,

Or to exceed thy tether's reach;

But to live round, and close, and wisely true

To thine own self, and known to few.

Thus let thy rural sanctuary be

Elysium to thy wife and thee;

There to disport your selves with golden measure;

For seldom use commends the pleasure.

Live, and live blest; thrice happy pair; let breath,

But lost to one, be th' other's death:

And as there is one love, one faith, one troth,

Be so one death, one grave to both;

Till when, in such assurance live, ye may

Nor fear, or wish your dying day.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick, (baptized August 24, 1591, London, England—died October 1674, Dean Prior, Devonshire), English cleric and poet, the most original of the “sons of Ben [Jonson],” who revived the spirit of the ancient classic lyric. He is best remembered for the line “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” and he is counted among the Cavalier poets. However, having refused to subscribe to The Solemn League and Covenant, he was ejected from Devonshire in 1647. He then returned to London publishing his religious poems Noble Numbers (1647), and Hesperides (1648). He was distinguished as a lyric poet, and some of his love songs, for example, 'To Anthea' and 'Gather Ye Rose-buds' are considered exceptional . In 1660 he was reinstated at Dean Prior where he lived for the remainder of his life. He wrote no more poems after 1648, he died in 1674 and was buried in an unmarked grave in the churchyard at Dean Prior.

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A Country Life: to His Brother Mr Thomas Herrick

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