Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A PANEGERICK TO SIR LEWIS PEMBERTON, by ROBERT HERRICK Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Till I shall come again, let this suffice Last Line: Good men, they find them all in thee. | ||||||||
Till I shall come again, let this suffice, I send my salt, my sacrifice To Thee, thy Lady, younglings, and as farre As to thy Genius and thy Larre; To the worn Threshold, Porch, Hall, Parlour, Kitchin, The fat-fed smoking Temple, which in The wholsome savour of thy mighty Chines Invites to supper him who dines, Where laden spits, warp't with large Ribbs of Beefe, Not represent, but give reliefe To the lanke-Stranger, and the sowre Swain; Where both may feed, and come againe: For no black-bearded Vigil from thy doore Beats with a button'd-staffe the poore: But from thy warm-love-hatching gates each may Take friendly morsels, and there stay To Sun his thin-clad members, if he likes, For thou no Porter keep'st who strikes. No commer to thy Roofe his Guest-rite wants; Or staying there, is scourg'd with taunts Of some rough Groom, who (yirkt with Corns) sayes, Sir Y'ave dipt too long i'th' Vinegar; And with our Broth and bread, and bits; Sir, friend, Y'ave farced well, pray make an end; Two dayes y'ave larded here; a third, yee know, Makes guests and fish smell strong; pray go You to some other chimney, and there take Essay of other giblets; make Merry at anothers hearth; y'are here Welcome as thunder to our beere: Manners knowes distance, and a man unrude Wo'd soon recoile, and not intrude His Stomach to a second Meale. No, no, Thy house, well fed and taught, can show No such crab'd vizard: Thou hast learnt thy Train, With heart and hand to entertain: And by the Armes-full (with a Brest unhid) As the old Race of mankind did, When eithers heart, and eithers hand did strive To be the nearer Relative: Thou do'st redeeme those times; and what was lost Of antient honesty, may boast It keeps a growth in thee; and so will runne A course in thy Fames-pledge, thy Sonne. Thus, like a Roman Tribune, thou thy gate Early setts ope to feast, and late: Keeping no currish Waiter to affright, With blasting eye, the appetite, Which fain would waste upon thy Cates, but that The Trencher-creature marketh what Best and more suppling piece he cuts, and by Some private pinch tels danger's nie A hand too desp'rate, or a knife that bites Skin deepe into the Porke, or lights Upon some part of Kid, as if mistooke, When checked by the Butlers look. No, no, thy bread, thy wine, thy jocund Beere Is not reserv'd for Trebius here, But all, who at thy table seated are, Find equall freedome, equall fare; And Thou, like to that Hospitable God, Jove, joy'st when guests make their abode To eate thy Bullocks thighs, thy Veales, thy fat Weathers, and never grudged at. The Phesant, Partridge, Gotwit, Reeve, Ruffe, Raile, The Cock, the Curlew, and the quaile; These, and thy choicest viands do extend Their taste unto the lower end Of thy glad table: not a dish more known To thee, then unto any one: But as thy meate, so thy immortall wine Makes the smirk face of each to shine, And spring fresh Rose-buds, while the salt, the wit Flowes from the Wine, and graces it: While Reverence, waiting at the bashfull board, Honours my Lady and my Lord. No scurrile jest; no open Sceane is laid Here, for to make the face affraid; But temp'rate mirth dealt forth, and so discreetly that it makes the meate more sweet; And adds perfumes unto the Wine, which thou Do'st rather poure forth, then allow By cruse and measure; thus devoting Wine, As the Canary Isles were thine: But with that wisdome, and that method, as No One that's there his guilty glasse Drinks of distemper, or ha's cause to cry Repentance to his liberty. No, thou know'st order, Ethicks, and ha's read All Oeconomicks, know'st to lead A House-dance neatly, and can'st truly show, How farre a Figure ought to go, Forward, or backward, side-ward, and what pace Can give, and what retract a grace; What Gesture, Courtship; Comliness agrees, With those thy primitive decrees, To give subsistance to thy house, and proofe, What Genii support thy roofe, Goodnes and Greatnes; not the oaken Piles; For these, and marbles have their whiles To last, but not their ever: Vertues Hand It is, which builds, 'gainst Fate to stand. Such is thy house, whose firme foundations trust Is more in thee, then in her dust, Or depth, these last may yeeld, and yearly shrinke, When what is strongly built, no chinke Or yawning rupture can the same devoure, But fixt it stands, by her own power, And well-laid bottome, on the iron and rock, Which tryes, and counter-stands the shock, And Ramme of time and by vexation growes The stronger: Vertue dies when foes Are wanting to her exercise, but great And large she spreads by dust, and sweat Safe stand thy Walls, and Thee, and so both will, Since neithers height was rais'd by th'ill Of others; since no Stud, no Stone, no Piece, Was rear'd up by the Poore-mans fleece: No Widowes Tenement was rackt to guild Or fret thy Seeling, or to build A Sweating-Closset, to annoint the silke-soft-skin, or bath in Asses milke: No Orphans pittance, left him, serv'd to set The Pillars up of lasting Jet, For which their cryes might beate against thine eares, Or in the dampe Jet read their Teares. No Planke from Hallowed Altar, do's appeale To yond' Star-chamber, or do's seale A curse to Thee, or Thine; but all things even Make for thy peace, and pace to heaven. Go on directly so, as just men may A thousand times, more sweare, then say, This is that Princely Pemberton, who can Teach man to keepe a God in man: And when wise Poets shall search out to see Good men, They find them all in Thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MEDITATION FOR HIS MISTRESS by ROBERT HERRICK A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLIE by ROBERT HERRICK A THANKSGIVING TO GOD [FOR HIS HOUSE] by ROBERT HERRICK ANOTHER GRACE FOR A CHILD by ROBERT HERRICK ART ABOVE NATURE: TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMASSE EVE by ROBERT HERRICK CEREMONIES FOR CHRISTMAS (1) by ROBERT HERRICK CLOTHES DO BUT CHEAT AND COZEN US by ROBERT HERRICK COMFORT [TO A YOUTH THAT HAD LOST HIS LOVE] by ROBERT HERRICK |
|