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George Herbert (1593-1633) PowerPoint Presentation
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George Herbert (1593-1633)

George Herbert (1593-1633)

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George Herbert (1593-1633)

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  1. George Herbert (1593-1633) Pastoral Poet Cynthia Gaw English 331/ Marx

  2. Bemerton Church • This tiny church was built by George Herbert at his own expense about 1629. It was while he was a priest here that he wrote all the poetry in The Temple.

  3. Metaphor or simile- The poet draws on natural or automatic associations from the reader. • Conceit- The poet must create or prove associations for the reader.

  4. The Windows • This window was built in Bemerton Church long after the death of Herbert. • Question: How is a preacher like a window?

  5. The Windows by George Herbert Lord, how can man preach thy eternall word? He is a brittle crazie glasse: Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford This glorious and transcendent place, To be a window, through thy grace. But when thou dost anneal in glasse thy storie, Making thy life to shine within The holy Preachers ; then the light and glorie More rev'rend grows, & more doth win: Which else shows watrish, bleak, & thin. Doctrine and life, colours and light, in one When they combine and mingle, bring A strong regard and aw : but speech alone Doth vanish like a flaring thing, And in the eare, not conscience ring.

  6. The Church-floore • This is the Bemerton Church floor under and behind the altar. George Herbert is buried in the raised part of the floor under the altar. • Question: How is the floor of the church like the Christian life.

  7. The Church-floore MARK you the floore? that square & speckled stone, Which looks so firm and strong, Is Patience: And th' other black and grave, wherewith each one Is checker'd all along, Humilitie: The gentle rising, which on either hand Leads to the Quire above, Is Confidence: But the sweet cement, which in one sure band Ties the whole frame, is Love And Charitie. Hither sometimes Sinne steals, and stains The marbles neat and curious veins: But all is cleansed when the marble weeps. Sometimes Death, puffing at the doore, Blows all the dust about the floore: But while he thinks to spoil the room, he sweeps. Blest be the Architect, whose art Could build so strong in a weak heart.