vines of Bacchus, it was despair-the despair produced by a degraded age and a bad religion-which reduced him to the necessity. He was by nature an eagle; but he was an eagle in a sky where there was no sun. The cry of a noble being, placed in the most untoward circumstances, is here and there heard in his verses, and reminds you of the voice of one of the transmuted victims of Circe, or of Ariel from that cloven pine, where he

'howl'd away twelve winters.'

Herrick might be by constitution a voluptuary,—and he has unquestionably degraded his genius in not a few of his rhymes, -but in him, as well as in Anacreon, Horace, and Burns, there lay a better and a higher nature, which the critics have ignored, because it has not found a frequent or full utterance in his poetry. In proof that our author possessed profound sentiment, mingling and sometimes half-lost in the loose, luxuriant leafage of his imagery, we need only refer our readers to his 'Blossoms' and his Daffodils.' Besides gaiety and gracefulness, his verse is exceedingly musical-his lines not only move but dance.

SONG.

1 Gather the rose-buds, while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

2 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.

3 The 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.

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

CHERRY-RIPE.

Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry;
Full and fair ones; come, and buy!
If so be you ask me where
They do grow? I answer, there,
Where my Julia's lips do smile;
There's the land or cherry isle,
Whose plantations fully show,
All the year, where cherries grow.

THE KISS: A DIALOGUE.

1. Among thy fancies, tell me this: What is the thing we call a kiss?— 2. I shall resolve ye what it is:

It is a creature, born and bred Between the lips, all cherry red; By love and warm desires 'tis fed; Chor-And makes more soft the bridal bed:

2. It is an active flame, that flies

First to the babies of the eyes,

And charms them there with lullabies; Chor-And stills the bride too when she cries:

2. Then to the chin, the cheek, the ear, It frisks and flies; now here, now there'; 'Tis now far off, and then 'tis near; Chor. And here, and there, and everywhere.

1. Has it a speaking virtue ?-2. Yes. 1. How speaks it, say ?-2. Do you but this, Part your join'd lips, then speaks your kiss; Chor. And this love's sweetest language is.

1. Has it a body?-2. Aye, and wings,
With thousand rare encolourings;
And, as it flies, it gently sings,
Chor.-Love honey yields, but never stings.

TO DAFFODILS.

1 Fair daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;

As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attain'd his noon:
Stay, stay

Until the hast'ning day
Has run

But to the even-song;

And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along!

2 We have short time to stay, as you;
We have as short a spring,

As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you, or anything:

We die,

As your hours do; and dry

Away

Like to the summer's rain,

Or as the pearls of morning dew

Ne'er to be found again.

TO PRIMROSES.

1 Why do ye weep, sweet babes? Can tears Speak grief in you,

Who are but born

Just as the modest morn

Teem'd her refreshing dew?

Alas! you have not known that shower
That mars a flower;

Nor felt the unkind
Breath of a blasting wind;

Nor are ye worn with years;
Or warp'd, as we,

Who think it strange to see

Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young,
To speak by tears before ye have a tongue.

2 Speak, whimpering younglings; and make known The reason why

Ye droop and weep.

Is it for want of sleep,

Or childish lullaby?

Or that ye have not seen as yet
The violet?

Or brought a kiss

From that sweetheart to this?

No, no; this sorrow shown
By your tears shed,

Would have this lecture read,

"That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought

forth.'

2 What, were ye born to be
An hour or half's delight,
And so to bid good night?
'Tis pity Nature brought ye forth
Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.

3 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, awhile, they glide
Into the grave.

OBERON'S PALACE.

Thus to a grove

Sometimes devoted unto love,

Tinsell'd with twilight, he and they,
Led by the shine of snails, a way
Beat with their num'rous feet, which by
Many a neat perplexity,

Many a turn, and many a cross
Tract, they redeem a bank of moss,
Spongy and swelling, and far more
Soft than the finest Lemster ore,