The Glimpse
The Fleeting Delight
The soul laments that delight comes and goes too quickly, leaving it in prolonged pain, and compares the brevity to natural phenomena.
Where are you going, delight? You only just came; will you leave so soon, and abandon me to the night? For many weeks of lingering pain and sting, only half an hour of comfort for my heart?1 I think delight should be more skilled in music and keep better time. If you were a wind or a wave, they come and go quickly—and with less offense. Flowers look around and don't die in their prime.
Hunger and Hope
The soul reflects that the brief visitation only increases hunger, like lime that burns hotter when water touches it, yet hope holds on by a slender thread.
Your short stay doesn't feed me—it only adds to my hunger for food.2 They say that long ago lime begged a neighboring spring to cool its inward heat, which only grew much greater once the spring reached it.3 In hope of you, my heart picked up a crumb here and there and wouldn't die; but true to its role, when my fears predicted this, it replied: A slender thread will hold a gentle guest.4
The Return and the Plea
The soul asks delight to return when it knocks, acknowledges that grace is stored for future times, and pleads not to be made sport by grief and sin but to be transformed into a court by God's presence.
Yet if the heart that wept has to let you go, come back when it knocks. Although your store is saved for later, the drippings from the stock can often burst out without ever breaking the lock.5 If I still have more to spin, the wheel will keep turning, so that your stay is short. You know how grief and sin disturb the work. O do not make me their sport, me who by your coming may be made a court!6
Read the original English
Whither away delight? Thou cam'st but now; wilt thou so soon depart, And give me up to night? For many weeks of lingring pain and smart But one half houre of comfort for my heart?
Me thinks delight should have More skill in musick, and keep better time. Wert thou a winde or wave, They quickly go and come with lesser crime: Flowers look about, and die not in their prime.
Thy short abode and stay Feeds not, but addes to the desire of meat. Lime begg'd of old (they say) A neighbour spring to cool his inward heat; Which by the springs accesse grew much more great.
In hope of thee my heart Pickt here and there a crumme, and would not die; But constant to his part, When as my fears foretold this, did replie, A slender thread a gentle guest will tie.
Yet if the heart that wept Must let thee go, return when it doth knock. Although thy heap be kept For future times, the droppings of the stock May oft break forth, and never break the lock.
If I have more to spinne, The wheel shall go, so that thy stay be short. Thou knowst how grief and sinne Disturb the work. O make me not their sport, Who by thy coming may be made a court!
Notes
- 1 ↩smart = sharp stinging pain, not cleverness; rendered as 'sting'.
- 2 ↩Early Modern 'meat' means food or nourishment in general, not flesh only; the image is of appetite increased by a brief taste.
- 3 ↩'Lime' is quicklime: water intensifies rather than cools its heat. Herbert's conceit: partial access to the desired presence sharpens, not quenches, the inward fire.
- 4 ↩“His part” is the heart’s assigned role (Early Modern “his” for the heart); rendered as “its part.” “This” points back to the threatened dying just named. The closing line is proverbial: even a thin bond will keep a gentle guest—so a crumb of hope is enough to keep the heart from giving up.
- 5 ↩heap/stock/lock: storehouse image of grace reserved for later; droppings = small overflow that can come now without unlocking the full reserve.
- 6 ↩'Their' refers to grief and sin (s2). 'Court' keeps Herbert's image of the soul turned into a royal court by the divine presence's arrival.
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