WHERE HERRICK LIES 71 



rises, and there, at Dean Court, it may be remem- 

 bered that Herrick found the Hghter joys of life — 

 congenial companions, good cheer, and attentive 

 audience. Here, aforetime, dwelt Sir Edward Giles ; 

 here, at the instance of that good knight, Herrick 

 watched many an old - world revel and set down 

 perishable manners and customs in imperishable 

 poetry. Here first he sang of 



" May-poles, Hock-carts, wassails, wakes," 



while the peaceful hamlet of his home — the woodland, 

 the meadow, and the river music — awoke other notes 

 and inspired all that is most beautiful and most true 

 in Hesperides. 



No man loved his work better; no man knew its 

 sweep and scope more thoroughly. He rates it with 

 justice, and those who would suck the sweetness must 

 first, if the power lies in them, obey the poet's own 

 command and enjoy his verses as he directs — in no 

 sober, morning mood, but 



" When Laurell spirts i' th' fire, and when the hearth 

 Smiles to itselfe and guilds the roofe with mirth." 



For my part, I had sooner read him here and now, 

 amid the life and scent of the things he loved, 

 yet hardly knew that he loved. The hock-cart 

 has vanished, the song of the wakers is still, and 

 the maypole rises no more upon the village green ; 

 but youth and love, red dawn and golden twilight, 

 dew and rain, and the buds of Spring are immortal — 

 sweet now as then, welcome now to us as then to him, 



