George Herbert has been acknowledged as one of the finest poets in history. Born in 1593,
in Wales, England, he seemed destined for greatness. Although his parents were wealthy, his
father died when Herbert was young, leaving his mother, Magdalen, to raise him.
Magdalen, however, was known for her patronage of the arts, and the young boy was immersed in an
environment where learning and creativity were encouraged. When he was old enough, Herbert
entered Cambridge. By all accounts he was brilliant, taking his degrees with distinction.
After his graduation he was elected to the post of Public Orator of the University. This
office entailed high prestige and authority, with a fluent expertise in Latin and Greek
required.
At some point Herbert entertained the idea of a life of public service; in the 1620s he served
twice as a member in Parliament. However, life circumstances drew him away from politics and
in 1626 he accepted a position in the church. Three years later he married Jane Danvers, and
in 1630 he took holy orders.
Herbert's life, in the Parish of Brementon, was full of the deeds of a country parson. He
preached and prayed. He made rounds to his congregation, tending to the sick and comforting
the unhappy. Every man and woman was treated as an equal, with no distinction between social
class. He soon became loved by all who knew him, and it was during this time that he began
and finished The Temple, his greatest work. It was published in 1633, shortly after
Herbert's death by tuberculosis.
The Temple is Herbert's best known work. Many of the the poems contained within it carry
heavy themes of religion. Oddly, though, his poems are not terribly complex. Instead, they
convey a quiet simplicity, often having many unconventional images such as commerce or gambling.
Indeed, in some ways Herbert could be regarded as almost radical for his time. Still, it is
this exact quality which endures even today, and many readers will no doubt state that he is
one of the great poetical masters of all time. An example of his genius, albeit one of his
lesser known poems, is called "The Storm".
The Storm
If as the windes and waters here below
Do flie and flow,
My sighs and tears as busie were above,
Sure they would move
And much affect thee, as tempestuous times
Amaze poore mortals and object their crimes.
Starres have their storms, ev'n in a high degree,
As well as we.
A throbbing conscience spurred by remorse
Hath a strange force.
It quits the earth, and mounting more and more,
Dares to assault thee and besiege thy doore.
There it stands knocking, to thy musick's wrong,
And drowns the song.
Glorie and honour are set by till it
An answer get.
Poets have wrong'd poore storms. Such dayes are
best;
They purge the aire without, within the breast.
The George Herbert Page