Go thou forth, my book, though late, Yet be timely fortunate. It may chance good luck may send Thee a kinsman or a friend, That may harbour thee, when I With my fates neglected lie. If thou know'st not where to dwell, See, the fire's by.--Farewell! 13. HIS POETRY HIS PILLAR Only a little more I have to write: Then I'll give o'er, And bid the world good-night. 'Tis but a flying minute, That I must stay, Or linger in it: And then I must away. O Time, that cut'st down all, And scarce leav'st here Memorial Of any men that were; --How many lie forgot In vaults beneath, And piece-meal rot Without a fame in death? Behold this living stone I rear for me, Ne'er to be thrown Down, envious Time, by thee. Pillars let some set up If so they please; Here is my hope, And my Pyramides. 14. TO HIS BOOK If hap it must, that I must see thee lie Absyrtus-like, all torn confusedly; With solemn tears, and with much grief of heart, I'll recollect thee, weeping, part by part; And having wash'd thee, close thee in a chest With spice; that done, I'll leave thee to thy rest. 15. UPON HIMSELF Thou shalt not all die; for while Love's fire shines Upon his altar, men shall read thy lines; And learn'd musicians shall, to honour Herrick's Fame, and his name, both set and sing his lyrics. To his book's end this last line he'd have placed:-- Jocund his Muse was, but his Life was chaste. IDYLLICA 16. THE COUNTRY LIFE: TO THE HONOURED MR ENDYMION PORTER, GROOM OF THE BED-CHAMBER TO HIS MAJESTY