Selected Works. George Herbert
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as their wit is, their digestion,
Thy nourisht fame is weak or strong.
Then cease discoursing soul, till thine own ground;
Do not thyself or friends importune.
He that by seeking hath himself once found,
Hath ever found a happie fortune.
44. THE QULDDITIE.
MY God, a verse is not a crown;
No point of honour, or gay suit,
No hawk, or banquet, or renown,
Nor a good sword, nor yet a lute:
It cannot vault, or dance, or play;
It never was in France or Spain;
Nor can it entertain the day
With a great stable or demain.
It is no office, art, or news;
Nor the Exchange, or busie Hall:
But it is that which while I use,
I am with thee, and Most take all.
45. HUMILITIE.
I SAW the Vertues sitting hand in hand
In sev’rall ranks upon an azure throne,
Where all the beasts and fowls, by their command,
Presented tokens of submission.
Humilitie, who sat the lowest there
To execute their call,
When by the beasts the presents tendred were,
Gave them about to all.
The angrie Lion did present his paw,
Which by consent was giv’n to Mansuetude.
The fearfull Hare her eares, which by their law
Humilitie did reach to Fortitude.
The jealous Turkie brought his corall-chain,
That went to Temperance.
On Justice was bestow’d the Fox’s brain,
Kill’d in the way by chance.
At length the Crow, bringing the Peacock’s plume,
For he would not) as they beheld the grace
Of that brave gift, each one began to fume.
And challenge it, as proper to his place,
Till they fell out; which when the beasts espied,
They leapt upon the throne;
And if the Fox had liv’d to rule their side,
They had depos’d each one.
Humilitie, who held the plume, at this
Did weep so fast, that the tears trickling down
Spoil’d all the train: then saying, Here it is
For which ye wrangle, made them turn their frown
Against the beasts: so jointly bandying,
They drive them soon away;
And then amerc’d them, double gifts to bring
At the next Session-day.
46. FRAILTIE.
LORD, in my silence how do I despise
What upon trust
Is styled honour, riches, or fair eyes;
But is fair dust!
I surname them guilded clay,
Deare earth, fine grasse or hay;
In all, I think my foot doth ever tread
Upon their head.
But when I view abroad both regiments,
The world’s, and thine;
Thine clad with simplenesse, and sad events;
The other fine,
Full of glorie and gay weeds,
Brave language, braver deeds:
That which was dust before, doth quickly rise,
And prick mine eyes.
O brook not this, lest if what even now
My foot did tread,
Affront those joyes, wherewith thou didst endow,
And long since wed
My poore soul, ev’n sick of love;
It may a Babel prove,
Commodious to conquer heav’n and thee
Planted in me.
47. CONSTANCES.
WHO is the honest man?
He that doth still and strongly good pursue,
To God, his neighbour, and himself most true:
Whom neither force nor fawning can
Unpinne, or wrench from giving all their due.
Whose honestie is not
So loose or easie, that a ruffling winde
Can blow away, or glittering look it blinde:
Who rides his sure and even trot,
While the world now rides by, now lags behinde.
Who, when great trials come,
Nor seeks, nor shunnes them; but doth calmly stay,
Till he the thing and the example weigh:
All being brought into a summe,
What place or person calls for, he doth pay.
Whom none can work or wooe,
To use in any tiling a trick or sleight;
For above all things he abhorres deceit:
His words and works and fashion too
All of a piece, and all are cleare and straight.
Who never melts or thaws
At close tentations: when the day is done,
His goodnesse sets not, but in dark can runne:
The sunne to others writeth laws,
And is their vertue; Vertue is his Sunne.
Who, when he is to treat
With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway,
Allows for that, and keeps his constant way:
Whom others’ faults do not defeat;
But though men fail him, yet his part doth play.
Whom nothing can procure,
When the wide world runnes bias, from his will
To writhe his limbes, and share, not mend the ill.
This is the Mark-man, safe and sure,
Who still is right, and prayes to be so still.
48.