Merits Make The Man.

Our honours and our commendations be
Due to the merits, not authority.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

Men Mind No State In Sickness

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Faith.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Tears And Laughter

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Jehovah.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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To His Honoured And Most Ingenious Friend Mr. Charles Cotton

For brave comportment, wit without offence,
Words fully flowing, yet of influence:
Thou art that man of men, the man alone,
Worthy the public admiration:
Who with thine own eyes read'st what we do write,
And giv'st our numbers euphony, and weight.
Tell'st when a verse springs high, how understood
To be, or not born of the Royal blood.
What state above, what symmetry below,
Lines have, or should have, thou the best canst show.
For which (my Charles) it is my pride to be,
Not so much known, as to be loved by thee.
Long may I live so, and my wreath of bays,
Be less another's laurel, than thy praise.

Robert Herrick

Rewards

Still to our gains our chief respect is had;
Reward it is that makes us good or bad.

Robert Herrick

Kings.

Men are not born kings, but are men renown'd;
Chose first, confirm'd next, and at last are crown'd.

Robert Herrick

Glory.

Glory no other thing is, Tully says,
Than a man's frequent fame spoke out with praise.

Robert Herrick

To The Right Honourable Mildmay, Earl Of Westmoreland.

You are a lord, an earl, nay more, a man
Who writes sweet numbers well as any can;
If so, why then are not these verses hurled,
Like Sybil's leaves, throughout the ample world?
What is a jewel if it be not set
Forth by a ring or some rich carcanet?
But being so, then the beholders cry:
See, see a gem as rare as Belus' eye.
Then public praise does run upon the stone,
For a most rich, a rare, a precious one.
Expose your jewels then unto the view,
That we may praise them, or themselves prize you.
Virtue concealed, with Horace you'll confess,
Differs not much from drowsy slothfulness.

Robert Herrick

Verses.

Who will not honour noble numbers, when
Verses out-live the bravest deeds of men?

Robert Herrick