by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674)
Bad are the times
Language: English
Montano, Silvio, and Mirtillo, shepherds Montano Bad are the times. Silvio And worse than they are we. Montano Troth, bad are both ; worse fruit, and ill the tree : The feast of shepherds fail. Silvio None crowns the cup Of wassail now or sets the quintell up ; And he who us'd to lead the country-round, Youthful Mirtillo, here he comes, grief-drown'd. Ambo. Let's cheer him up. Silvio Behold him weeping-ripe. Mirtillo Ah ! Amaryllis, farewell mirth and pipe ; Since thou art gone, no more I mean to play To these smooth lawns my mirthful roundelay. Dear Amaryllis ! Montano Hark! Silvio Mark! Mirtillo This earth grew sweet Where, Amaryllis, thou didst set thy feet. Ambo. Poor pitied youth ! Mirtillo And here the breath of kine And sheep grew more sweet by that breath of thine. This flock of wool and this rich lock of hair, This ball of cowslips, these she gave me here. Silvio Words sweet as love itself. Montano, hark ! Mirtillo This way she came, and this way too she went ; How each thing smells divinely redolent ! Like to a field of beans when newly blown, Or like a meadow being lately mown. Montano A sweet-sad passion — Mirtillo In dewy mornings when she came this way Sweet bents would bow to give my love the day ; And when at night she folded had her sheep, Daisies would shut, and, closing, sigh and weep. Besides (Ah me !) since she went hence to dwell, The voices' daughter ne'er spake syllable. But she is gone. Silvio Mirtillo, tell us whether. Mirtillo Where she and I shall never meet together. Montano Forfend it Pan, and, Pales, do thou please To give an end. Mirtillo To what ? Silvio Such griefs as these. Mirtillo Never, O never ! Still I may endure The wound I suffer, never find a cure. Montano Love for thy sake will bring her to these hills And dales again. Mirtillo No, I will languish still ; And all the while my part shall be to weep, And with my sighs, call home my bleating sheep : And in the rind of every comely tree I'll carve thy name, and in that name kiss thee. Montano Set with the sun thy woes. Silvio The day grows old, And time it is our full-fed flocks to fold. Chorus The shades grow great, but greater grows our sorrow ; But let's go steep Our eyes in sleep, And meet to weep To-morrow.
About the headline (FAQ)
Confirmed with Works of Robert Herrick, Vol I, ed. by Alfred Pollard, London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891, pages 198-200.
Glossary
Quintell = quintain or tilting board.
Bents = bent grasses.
Whether = whither.
Pales = the goddess of sheepfolds.
Authorship:
- by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674), "A pastoral sung to the king" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Fritz Bennicke Hart (1874 - 1949), "The shades grow great", op. 86 (Nine Sets of Four Songs Each, Set V) no. 1 (1930) [ voice and piano ] [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2022-01-19
Line count: 87
Word count: 422