His Tears to Thamesis
by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)
I send, I send here my supremest kiss
To thee, my silver-footed Thamesis.
No more shall I reiterate thy Strand,
Whereon so many stately structures stand:
Nor in the summer sweeter evenings go
To bathe in thee, as thousand others do;
No more shall I along thy crystall glide
In barge with boughs and rushes beautifi’d,
With soft-smooth virgins for our chaste disport,
To Richmond, Kingston, and to Hampton Court.
Never again shall I with finny oar
Put from, or draw unto the faithful shore:
And landing here, or safely landing there,
Make way to my beloved Westminster,
Or to the golden Cheapside, where the earth
Of Julia Herrick gave to me my birth.
May all clean nymphs and curious water-dames
With swan-like state float up and down thy streams:
No drought upon thy wanton waters fall
To make them lean and languishing at all.
No ruffling winds come hither to disease
Thy pure and silver-wristed Naiades.
Keep up your state, ye streams; and as ye spring,
Never make sick your banks by surfeiting.
Grow young with tides, and though I see ye never,
Receive this vow, so fare ye well for ever.
(The Works of Robert Herrick, edited by Afred Pollard, London, Lawrence and Bullen, 1898. Revised edition. Volume 2 page 143.)
We rarely feel when leaving a place that we are leaving it for the last time, but eventually it comes to us that a place we have not seen for many years we will never see again, and this feeling creates its own kind of nostalgia, born partly out of a feeling of advancing years, partly out of a recognition of declining energy, because we know that we could return just once more, if only we made the effort. This feeling Herrick captures perfectly in this poem, which is nostalgic in the literal sense of the word, since the London Herrick misses is the London that was, as he tells us, his first home. To today’s reader there is an added poignancy, that the London to which he bids his farewell is a London forever lost to us, and lost so long ago that it can barely be recaptured from the meagre survival of contemporary images. This is not just the London before the crush of modern traffic, or before the Blitz, or before the Victorian railway stations or the 18th century coffee houses and pleasure gardens. It is the London where the Thames is still the main thoroughfare, where the Strand is still the strand of the river, as well as a road flanked by impressive buildings, and where rushes and trees grow out of the water, the London before the Great Fire, the London of Shakespeare, Spenser and the young Milton. It is Eliot’s unreal city, and by symbolizing it through its river, and river deities, Herrick connects us back to Spenser’s Prothalamion,
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.as well as forward to the Fire Sermon in The Waste Land.
There is nothing trite in this poem despite the use of familiar images. The finny oar makes us think of swimming, and connects back with those thousands who go bathing in the river. The silver-footed Thames contrasts with the silver-wristed Naiads who inhabit it, where the first silver suggests smooth movement, and the second bracelets. The soft-smooth virgins in the boat seem to meld into the river godesses outside it, as real memories crystallise into idealised classical forms, just as the surface of the water becomes crystal. Even the apparent laxness of
And landing here, or safely landing thereis correct, when you notice that Cheapside and Westminster are respectively inside and outside the old City of London. And the initial repetition,
I send, I send ...marks the hesitation that comes with something said regretfully.
A cetral image is the earth of Julia Herrick, which is at once her plot of land, or the Herrick’s plot of land, where Herrick was born, as well as the mother’s body, from which the earthen body of the poet himself emerged. Earth contrasts with the gold of the golden Cheapside, as well as the silver of the river, and reminds us that wealthy London is full of poorness, beautiful London full of dirt. Dirt breeds disease, so it is important the nymphs should be clean,
May all clean nymphs and curious water-dames- and this naturally leads to the theme of the great river cleaning the great town and making it healthy. Lack of water leads to the withering, rough water to illness, and excess of water to vomiting. For the town, the lack of water is drought, and the excess flood. All ends in his wish,
With swan-like state float up and down thy streams
Grow young with tideswhich, since tide means time, and time makes you older, can be wished only of immortals things - the river gods, or London itself.
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