Such a Light, as shows a feast:
Such a Feast, as mends in length:
Such a Strength, as makes His guest.
Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:
Such a Joy, as none can move:
Such a Love, as none can part:
Such a Heart, as joys in love.
After Herbert comes Henry Vaughan (1621-95), ‘the Silurist,’ or South Wales man, who says that his master was ‘the blessed man, Mr. George Herbert, whose holy life and verse gained many pious converts, of whom I am the least.’ Vaughan had his devoted admirers, but his verse never attained anything approaching to the popularity of Herbert’s. It was long the fashion to ignore or disparage him, and it was not till Henry Francis Lyte republished his Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations, with a brief memoir, that he came to his rightful place amongst the minor, but not to be forgotten, poets of the seventeenth century. He was a mystic, and had visions Blake might have envied.
I saw Eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,