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 seeThe country's sweet simplicity;And it to know and practise, with intent5To grow the sooner innocent;By studying to know virtue, and to aimMore at her nature than her name;The last is but the least; the first doth tellWays less to live, than to live well:--10And both are known to thee, who now canst liveLed by thy conscience, to giveJustice to soon-pleased nature, and to showWisdom and she together go,And keep one centre; This with that conspires15To teach man to confine desires,And know that riches have their proper stintIn the contented mind, not mint;And canst instruct that those who have the itchOf craving more, are never rich.20These things thou knows't to th' height, and dost preventThat plague, because thou art contentWith that Heaven gave thee with a wary hand,(More blessed in thy brass than land)To keep cheap Nature even and upright;25To cool, not cocker appetite.Thus thou canst tersely live to satisfyThe belly chiefly, not the eye;Keeping the barking stomach wisely quiet,Less with a neat than needful diet.30But that which most makes sweet thy country life,Is the fruition of a wife,Whom, stars consenting with thy fate, thou hastGot not so beautiful as chaste;By whose warm side thou dost securely sleep,35While Love the sentinel doth keep,With those deeds done by day, which ne'er affrightThy silken slumbers in the night:Nor has the darkness power to usher inFear to those sheets that know no sin.40The damask'd meadows and the pebbly streamsSweeten and make soft your dreams:The purling springs, groves, birds, and well weaved bowers,With fields enamelled with flowers,Present their shapes, while fantasy discloses45Millions of Lilies mix'd with Roses.Then dream, ye hear the lamb by many a bleatWoo'd to come suck the milky teat;While Faunus in the vision comes, to keepFrom rav'ning wolves the fleecy sheep:50With thousand such enchanting dreams, that meetTo make sleep not so sound as sweet;Nor call these figures so thy rest endear,As not to rise when ChanticlereWarns the last watch;--but with the dawn dost rise55To 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.'60Nor are thy daily and devout affairsAttended with those desp'rate caresTh' industrious merchant has, who for to findGold, runneth to the Western Ind,And back again, tortured with fears, doth fly,65Untaught 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 hapBut sees these things within thy map;70And viewing them with a more safe survey,Mak'st easy fear unto thee say,'A heart thrice walled with oak and brass, that manHad, first durst plough the ocean.'But thou at home, without or tide or gale,75Canst in thy map securely sail;Seeing those painted countries, and so guessBy those fine shades, their substances;And from thy compass taking small advice,Buy'st travel at the lowest price.80Nor 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 lies85More 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.90But thou liv'st fearless; and thy face ne'er showsFortune when she comes, or goes;But with thy equal thoughts, prepared dost standTo take her by the either hand;Nor car'st which comes the first, the foul or fair:--95A wise man ev'ry way lies square;And like a surly oak with storms perplex'dGrows still the stronger, strongly vex'd.Be so, bold Spirit; stand centre-like, unmoved;And be not only thought, but proved100To be what I report thee, and inureThyself, if want comes, to endure;And so thou dost; for thy desires areConfined to live with private Lar:Nor curious whether appetite be fed105Or 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;110To taste boil'd nettles, coleworts, beets, and eatThese, 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 size115So 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 quireOf singing crickets by thy fire;120And the brisk mouse may feast herself with crumbs,Till that the green-eyed kitling comes;Then to her cabin, blest she can escapeThe sudden danger of a rape.--And thus thy little well-kept stock doth prove,125Wealth 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;130Ordaining that thy small stock find no breach,Or to exceed thy tether's reach;But to live round, and close, and wisely trueTo thine own self, and known to few.Thus let thy rural sanctuary be135Elysium 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:140And as there is one love, one faith, one troth,Be so one death, one grave to both;Till when, in such assurance live, ye mayNor fear, or wish your dying day.