To The King, Upon His Taking Of Leicester.

This day is yours, great Charles! and in this war
Your fate, and ours, alike victorious are.
In her white stole now Victory does rest
Ensphered with palm on your triumphant crest.
Fortune is now your captive; other Kings
Hold but her hands; you hold both hands and wings.

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

To His Muse

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

To Blossoms

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

When He Would Have His Verses Read

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

The Fairies

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

To The King, Upon His Coming With His Army Into The West.

Welcome, most welcome to our vows and us,
Most great and universal genius!
The drooping West, which hitherto has stood
As one in long-lamented widowhood,
Looks like a bride now, or a bed of flowers
Newly refresh'd both by the sun and showers.
War, which before was horrid, now appears
Lovely in you, brave prince of cavaliers!
A deal of courage in each bosom springs
By your access, O you the best of kings!
Ride on with all white omens; so that where
Your standard's up, we fix a conquest there.

Robert Herrick

To Prince Charles Upon His Coming To Exeter.

What fate decreed, time now has made us see,
A renovation of the west by thee.
That preternatural fever, which did threat
Death to our country, now hath lost his heat,
And, calms succeeding, we perceive no more
Th' unequal pulse to beat, as heretofore.
Something there yet remains for thee to do;
Then reach those ends that thou wast destin'd to.
Go on with Sylla's fortune; let thy fate
Make thee like him, this, that way fortunate:
Apollo's image side with thee to bless
Thy war (discreetly made) with white success.
Meantime thy prophets watch by watch shall pray,
While young Charles fights, and fighting wins the day:
That done, our smooth-paced poems all shall be
Sung in the high doxology of thee.
Then maids shall strew thee, and thy curls from them
Receive...

Robert Herrick

To The King, Upon His Welcome To Hampton Court. Set And Sung.

Welcome, great Cæsar, welcome now you are
As dearest peace after destructive war:
Welcome as slumbers, or as beds of ease
After our long and peevish sicknesses.
O pomp of glory! Welcome now, and come
To repossess once more your long'd-for home.
A thousand altars smoke: a thousand thighs
Of beeves here ready stand for sacrifice.
Enter and prosper; while our eyes do wait
For an ascendent throughly auspicate:
Under which sign we may the former stone
Lay of our safety's new foundation:
That done, O Cæsar! live and be to us
Our fate, our fortune, and our genius;
To whose free knees we may our temples tie
As to a still protecting deity:
That should you stir, we and our altars too
May, great Augustus, go along with you.
Chor. Long live the King! and ...

Robert Herrick

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

To Her Royal Highness The Duchess,[1]

On The Memorable Victory Gained By The Duke Over The Hollanders, June 3, 1665. And On Her Journey Afterwards Into The North.

    Madam,
    When, for our sakes, your hero you resign'd
    To swelling seas, and every faithless wind;
    When you released his courage, and set free
    A valour fatal to the enemy;
    You lodged your country's cares within your breast
    (The mansion where soft love should only rest):
    And, ere our foes abroad were overcome,
    The noblest conquest you had gain'd at home.
    Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide!
    Your honour gave us what your love denied:
    And 'twas for him much easier to subdue
    Those foes he fought with, than to part from you.
    That glorious day, which two such navies saw,
    As each...

John Dryden

Upon Kings.

Kings must be dauntless; subjects will contemn
Those who want hearts and wear a diadem.

Robert Herrick