George Herbert
George Herbert (April 3, 1593 – March 1, 1633) was an English poet, orator and a priest in the Church of England. Despite living for only 40 years, his stock as a poet has risen and risen. The poems of his final years, written while as a clergyman at Bemerton near Salisbury, are like nothing else in literature. They combine a profound spirituality with a restless experimentation. Their language remains fresh and inspiring today.
Herbert balanced a secular career with a life of theological contemplation. Herbert’s family was wealthy, eminent, intellectual and fond of the arts. Herbert’s mother, Magdalen, was a patron and friend of John Donne and other poets. Herbert’s brother, Edward (after being knighted by James I, Lord Herbert of Cherbury) was a poet and philosopher who tried to reconcile Christianity with rationalism; he is often referred to as “the father of English deism.”
After graduating from Westminster School and Trinity College, Cambridge, Herbert took the post of “public orator” of Cambridge, a position to which he was probably appointed because of his poetic skill. In 1624 he became a Member of Parliament. Both jobs indicate an intent to have a career at court; but 1625 witnessed the death of James I, who had shown favor to Herbert, and in the late 1620s, however, two influential patrons of Herbert died.
He took up his duties in a rural parish in Wiltshire, about 75 miles southwest of London. He was an earnest and conscientious priest. Suffering from poor health, he died only three years after taking holy orders. On his deathbed, he gave the manuscript of The Temple, his collection of poetry, to Nicholas Ferrar, the founder of a semi-monastic Anglican religious community at Little Gidding (a name best known today through the poem Little Gidding by T.S. Eliot), telling him to publish the poems if he thought they might “turn to the advantage of any dejected poor soul,” and otherwise, to burn them. By 1680 The Temple had gone through thirteen printings.
Poetic Excerpts
Denial
"When my devotions could not pierce
Thy silent ears,
Then waas my heart broken, as was my verse;
My breast was full of fears
And disorder;
My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow,
Did fly asunder:
each took his way; some would to pleasures go,
Some to the wars and thunder
Of alarms
As good go anywhere, they say,
As to benumb
Both knees and heart in crying night and day,
'Come, come, my God, O come!'
But no hearing.
Therefore my soul lay out of sight,
Untuned, unstrung;
My feeble spirit, unable to look right,
Like a nipped blossom, hung
Discontented.
O cheer and tune my heartless breast;
Defer no time,
That so thy favors granting my request,
They and my mind may chime,
And mend my rhyme
Additional Quotes
- "Thy rope of sands,
- Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee
- Good cable, to enforce and draw,
- And be thy law,
- While thou didst wink and would not see."
See also
- The Book of Sand
External links
- George Herbert at Luminarium
- George Herbert Bio and Poems
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