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FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Division      CT>~  £^ 


/ 

&\t  inlkx  Moxtb'uz  3£ibrarg. 


THE 


COMPLETE  POEMS  OF  DR.  JOHN  DOME. 


VOL,  II. 

ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE. 

I.    VERSE-LETTERS.    II.  FUNERAL  ELEGIES,    in.  LYRICAL  :  BONGS 

AND  SONNETS,  AND  MISCELLANEOUS.     IY.  EPIGRAMS. 

V.  DIVINE  POEMS.     VI.  GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 


I 


LONDON  : 
ROBSON  AND  SONS,  PRINTERS,  PANCRAS  ROAD    N.W. 


1 


£bc  fuller  (LOtortljics'  l 


THE  COMPLETE  POEMS 

JOHN    DONNE,    D.D. 

DEAN  OF  ST.  PAUL'S. 

FOR  THE  FIRST  TIME  FULLY  COLLECTED  AND  COLLATED  WITH 

THE  ORIGINAL  AND  EARLY  EDITIONS  AND  MSB. 

AND  ENLARGED 

WITH  HITHERTO  UNPRINTED  AND  INEDITED  POEMS  FROM  MS8.  ETC. 

AND  PORTRAITS,  FACSIMILES,  AND  OTHER  ILLUSTRATIONS 

IN  THE  QUARTO  FORM. 

matt* 

WITH  PREFACE,  ESSAY  ON  LIFE  AND  WRITINGS,  AND  NOTES, 
BY  THE  / 

REV.  ALEXANDER  B.  GROSART, 

ST.  GEORGE'S,  BLACKBURN,  LANCASHIRE. 
LN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  II. 

PRINTED  FOR  PRIVATE  CIRCULATION. 

1873. 

156  copies  only. 


, 


CONTENTS. 


Those  poems  marked  with,  a  star  [*]  have  not  before  been  printed  :  those 
with  a  dagger  [t]  not  hitherto  collected  :  those  with  a  double-dagger  [J] 
have  be<n  derived  from  authoritative  MSS.  For  account  of  preceding 
editions,  with  several  additions  and  the  MSS.  utilised,  see  bibliographical 
and  critical  Postscript  to  our  Essay  in  this  Volume.    G. 

PAGE 

Essay  on  the  Life  and  Writings  of  Donne        .        .        .     ix 

I.  Verse-Letters,  1-105. 

J  The  Storme 3 

J  The  Caline 8 

J  To  Mr.  C.  B 13 

X  To  Mr.  S.  B 14 

X  To  Mr.  B.  B 15 

J  To  Sir  Henrie  Wotton .17 

X  To  the  same 19 

J  To  the  same 23 

J  To  Sir  Henry  Goodyere 25 

X  To  the  Countess  of  Bedford 29 

X  To  the  same 31 

To  the  same 37 

To  the  same 42 

X  To  the  same 45 

To  the  same   . 49 

X  To  the  same    ..........  51 

To  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon 53 

To  the  same   . 57 

X  A  Letter  to  the  Lady  Gary  and  Mrs.  Essex  Rich    .        .         .64 

To  the  Countess  of  Salisbury 68 

t  To  Mrs.  M.  H [  ?2 

X  To  Mr.  Rowland  Woodward 75 

X  To  Mr.  R.  W .  78 

To  M.  I.  W 80 


IV  CONTEXTS. 

PAGE 
t  To  Mr.  T.  W ,  .        .82 

X  To  the  same 83 

X  To  the  same 84 

X  To  Mr.  I.  L 85 

J  To  the  same 86 

t  To  Sir  Thomas  Roe .         .87 

X  To  Sir  Edward  Herbert 9° 

Upon  Mr.  Thomas  Coryat's  Crudities 93 

X  To  Ben  Johnson    .........  97 

Amicissimo  et  meritissimo  Benj.  Jonson        ....  98 

*  Translation 99 

De  Libro,  earn  mutuaretur  impresso,  domi  a  pueris  frustatim 

lacerato,  et  post  reddito  manuscripto.  Doctissimo  amicis- 

simoque  viro  D.D.  Andrews  .         .....  100 

*  Translation 101 

X  Sappho  to  Philaenis 103 

II.  Funeral  Elegies,  107-146. 

An  Elegie  on  the  untimely  Death  of  the  incomparable  Prince 

Henry 109 

X  Obsequies  of  ye  Lord  Harrington,  brother  to  ye  Countess  of 

Bedford 114 

X  An  Elegie  uppon  the  Death  of  the  Ladie  Marckham     .         .128 

Elegie  on  Mistriss  Boulstred 131 

X  On  the  same          .........  133 

X  On  the  same 137 

X  Epitaph 141 

X  Elegy  on  the  Lord  C 143 

A  Hymn  to  the  Saints,  and  to  Marquess  Hamilton       .         .  144 

III.  Lirical,  147-264. 

f  Ten  Sonnets  to  Philomel 149 

X  The  Flea 156 

t+On  a  Flea  on  his  Mistress'  Bosom 157 

The  Good-Morrow 158 

X  Song,  l  Goe  and  catch  a  f  allinge  starre'          ....  160 

X  Woman's  Constancy      ........  161 

X  The  Undertaking 162 

X  The  Sun-rising 163 

X  The  Indifferent 165 

Love's  Vsury 167 


CONTENTS.  V 

PAGE 
X  Canonisation  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .168 

(  The  Triple  Fool 170 

X  Lover's  Infiniteness       .         .         .         .         .         .         .  171 

X  Song,  '  Sweetest  Loue,  I  doe  not  goe' 173 

J  The  Legacy 175 

X  A  Fever 176 

X  Aire  and  Angells 178 

X  Break  of  Day 179 

J  The  Anniversary 181 

X  A  Valediction  of  my  Xauie  in  the  Window  .         .         .         .182 

J  Twit'nam  Gardenn 186 

X  Valediction  to  his  Book 187 

X  Community  ..........  190 

X  The  Springe.         .........  191 

£  Love's  Exchange 193 

X  Confined  Love       .........  195 

X  The  Dream 196 

X  A  Valediction  of  Tears          .         .         .         .         .         .  197 

X  Love  is  Alchemy 199 

X  Curse 200 

X  The  Message 202 

X  A  Xocturnall  upon  S.  Lucie's  Day         .         .         .         .         .  203 

J  Witchcraft  by  a  Picture        .......  205 

X  The  Bait 206 

X  The  Apparition     .........  208 

£  The  Broken  Heart 209 

X  Vpon  partinge  from  his  Mistris  [usually  headed  'Valedic- 
tion forbidding  Mourning'] 210 

X  The  Estacie 212 

X  Love's  Dietie         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         -215 

X  Love's  Diet 216 

X  Love's  Legacie      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .217 

X  The  Funerall         .         . 220 

X  The  Blossome       .........  221 

X  The  Primrose 223 

X  The  Relique 225 

J  The  Dampe 227 

X  The  Dissolution     .........  228 

X  A  jeate  Ringe  sente      ........  229 

X  Xegatiue  Loue 230 

X  The  Prohibition 231 


VI  CONTEXTS. 

PACxE 

X  Valedictio  Amoris 232 

X  The  Computation 233 

X  The  Paradox 233 

X  Song,  'Soul's  joy' 235 

X  Farewell  to  Love 236 

X  Ode 238 

X  Love-lecture  upon  the  Shadow 240 

X  The  Token 241 

t  [Self -Love] 242 

X  The  Lady  and  her  Viol 243 

X  A  Dialogue  between  Sir  Henry  Wotton  and  Mr.  Donne        .  244 

X  Sleep 246 

X  A  Paradox 247 

X  Dr.  Donne's  Farewell  to  y«  World 248 

X  If  she  deryde  me 251 

X  Sun,  begone ..........  253 

X  My  Heart 254 

X  Fortune  never  fails 255 

X  The  Portrait 257 

X  Three  Love-Sonnets 258 

X  A  Warning  ..........  260 

X  To  the  Young  Gentlewomen  at  Court 261 

X  Believe  your  Glasse 263 

IV.  Epigrams,  265-270. 
V.  Divine  Poems,  271-346. 

To  Viscount  Doncaster 273 

f  To  the  Lady  Magdalen  Herbert 274 

X  La  Corona 276 

X  Holy  Sonnets 281 

X  On  the  blessed  Virgin  Marie 291 

X  The  Cross 292 

X  The  Resurrection 295 

X  Vppon  the  Annunciacon  and  Passiown  f  allinge  vpon  one  Day  296 

X  A  Letanie 298 

X  Good-Friday;  made  as  I  was  riding  Westward     .         .         .310 

Upon  the  Translation  of  the  Psalms  by  Sir  Philip  Sydney 

and  the  Countess  of  Pembroke  his  Sister        .         .         .313 

X  Ode 316 

To  Mr.  Tilman,  after  he  had  taken  Orders    .         .         .         .317 

X  A  Hymne  to  Christ,  at  the  Author's  last  going  into  Germany  320 


CONTENTS.  Vll 

PAGE 

Translated  out  of  Gazaeus 321 

The  Lamentations  of  Jeremy 322 

Hymn  to  God,  my  God,  in  my  Sickness        ....  339 

A  Hymn  to  God  the  Father 341 

To  Mr.  George  Herbert,  sent  him  with  one  of  m}-  Seals  of 

the  Anchor  and  Christ 342 

A  Sheaf  of  Snakes  used  heretofore  to  be  my  Seal,  a  Crest  of 

our  poor  Family 343 

In  sacram  Anchoram  Piscatoris.  G.  Herbert          .         .         .  344 

The  same  in  English 345 

Lament  for  his  Wife 347 

Glossary 351 

Illustrations  in  Vol.  II.  4T0. 

Facsimile  by  Woodbury-process  of  Marshall's   Portrait  of 

Donne  aged  18 facing  title-page. 

Facsimiles  (ibid.)  of  (a)  the  carved  Figure  and  Head  (enlarged) 
of  Dr.  Donne  at  St.  Paul's ;  (b)  his  Seals ;  (c)  his  Auto- 
graph ;  from  Causton's  Life  of  Donne  (which  see  for  de- 
tails)       before  Essay. 


> 


ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE  AND  WKITINGS 
OF  DONNE. 


It  is  possible  that,  notwithstanding  our  prolonged  and 
wide  researches  in  all  likely  quarters — in  every  case  meet- 
ing with  generous  and  sympathetic  williughood  of  help 
from  fellow -workers — we  may  have  overlooked  Poetry  by 
Donne.  But  I  cannot  say  that  I  should  greatly  lament 
missing  any  such  '  waifs  and  strays,'  hidden  away  in  per- 
chance unexamined  mss.  I  have  added  considerably  to  pre- 
vious collections ;  yet  substantially  our  estimate  of  Donne 
is  little,  if  at  all,  affected  by  the  recoveries  and  discove- 
ries. Nor  do  I  think  it  probable  that  any  farther  Yerse  or 
Prose  chanced  on  will  modify  our  verdict  on  him  as  Man, 
Poet,  or  Preacher.  Our  two  volumes  therefore  may  be 
accepted  as  furnishing  a  complete  edition  of  the  Poems 
of  Dr.  Donne,  and  under  special  advantages  of  text,  from 
collations  of  all  the  early  and  later  printed  editions  and 
authoritative  mss.,  as  severally  recorded  in  their  places. 
So  that  now  the  student  may  come  intelligently  to  our 
promised  study  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  our  Worthy ; 
by  '  Writings'  here  mainly  intending  his  Poetry,  and  by 
'  Life'  those  elements  of  it  worked  into  his  Poetry  ;  leav- 
ing, as  stated  in  our  Preface,  the  full  '  Life'  for  adequate 
record  and  discussion  to  Dr.  Augustus  Jessopp  of  Nor- 
wich.1 

1  Vol.  i.  pp.  xiii.  xiv.    Our  materials  for  a  Life  of  Donne,  sup- 
plementary to  Walton's,  shall  be  transmitted  to  Dr.  Jessopp,  together 


X  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

Two  considerable  biographic  facts  must  in  the  outset 
be  made  good,  inasmuch  as  both  contribute  important 
materials  toward  a  true  understanding  of  the  Poetry  of 
Donne ;  the  one  elucidative  and  interpretative,  the  other 
corrective  ;  and  also  indicate  veins  of  inquiry  which  the 
new  Biographer,  it  may  be  hoped,  will  work  : 

(a)  That  the  principal '  Divine  Poems'  belong  not  to 
the  close  but  to  the  commencement  of  his  poetic  period, 
and  while  he  was  still  a  Roman  Catholic. 

(b)  That  the  poems  '  translated'  by  Dr.  Jasper  Mayne, 
and  published  in  1652,  hitherto  used  as  biographic,  are 
unauthentic,  and  so  too,  necessarily,  the  '  Sheaf  of  Epi- 
grams' to  which  they  belong. 

These  in  order  :  (a)  That  the  principal '  Divine  Poems' 
belong  not  to  the  close  but  to  the  commencement  of  his  poetic 
period,  and  ichile  he  was  still  a  Roman  Catholic. 

Beneath  Marshall's  engraved  portrait  of  our  Worthy, 
1  Anno  Dni  1591,  aetatis  suae  18' — reproduced  in  our  quarto 
form — Izaak  Walton  placed  these  tenderly-touched  lines  : 

'This  was,  for  youth,  strength,  mirth,  and  wit,  that  time 
Most  count  their  golden  age;  but  'twas  not  thine. 
Thine  was  thy  later  yeares,  so  much  refind 
From  youth's  drosse,  mirth,  and  wit,  as  thy  pure  mind 
Thought  (like  the  angels)  nothing  but  the  praise 
Of  thv  Creator  in  those  last  best  daves. 


with  notices,  fuller  than  hitherto,  of  his  friends  celebrated  in  his 
Poems  and  elsewhere.  Walton's  '  Life'  of  Donne  has  been  thus  cha- 
racterised by  Dean  Milman  :  ;  The  fame  of  Donne  had  the  good  for- 
tune of  being  recorded  in  one  of  those  charming  popular  biographies 
by  Izaak  Walton,  which  will  last  as  long  as  English  literature  lasts  ; 
and  his  life  deserved  to  be  recorded  by  a  writer  whose  words  will  not 
die  away  from  the  religious  mind  of  England'  ('  St.  Paul's,'  p.  323-4). 
Causton's  reprint  of  the  Life  is  incomparably  the  best,  albeit  he  has 
fallen  into  errors  that  have  misled  Dr.  Jessopp  also  in  his  Memoir 
prefixed  to  Donne's  '  Essays,'  as  before.  See  onward.  Walton,  with 
all  his  graciousness,  was  uncritical,  and  rather  heedless  of  dates  and 
the  like. 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XI 

Witnes  this  hooke  (thy  embleme),  which  begins 
With  love,  but  endes  with  sighes  and  tearesjor  sins' 

So  far  as  the  arrangement  of  the  Poems  in  the  edition 
of  1635  (where  the  portrait  and  these  lines  originally 
appeared),  the  '  booke'  is  a  '  witnes'  to  the  fine  praise 
of  golden-tongued  Izaak.  For  whereas  the  first  edition 
(1633,  4to)  was  a  confused  mixture  of  light  and  sacred, 
calling  forth  contemporary  rebuke — the  little  volume  of 
1635  evidently  had  'pains'  taken  in  its  classification;  and 
specially  the  '  Divine  Poems'  are  placed  at  the  close  (be- 
fore the  '  Elegies  upon  the  Author').  The  inferential  con- 
clusion, accordingly,  has  been  that  the  '  Divine  Poems/ 
like  his  noble  Sermons — deepest,  most  penetrative,  and 
matterf  ul  in  our  language — belong  to  '  those  last  best  dayes.' 
As  with  Herrick,  whose  '  Noble  Numbers,'  or  religious 
poems,  preceded  not  succeeded  his  '  Hesperides,' — as  Dr. 
George  Macdonald   would   pitifully  persuade   us,1  —  we 

1  Namely,  in  his  'England's  Antiphon,'  as  follows:  'Nothing 
bears  Herrick's  name  so  unrefined  as  the  things  Dr.  Donne  wrote  in 
his  youth  ;  but  the  impression  made  by  his  earlier  poems  is  of  a  man 
of  far  shallower  nature,  and  greatly  more  absorbed  in  the  delights 
of  the  passing  hour.  In  the  year  1648,  when  he  was  fifty-seven 
years  of  age,  being  prominent  as  a  Koyalist,  he  was  ejected  from  his 
living  by  the  dominant  Puritans ;  and  in  that  same  year  he  pub- 
lished his  poems,  of  which  the  latter  part  and  later  written  is  his 
Noble  Numbers,  or  religious  poems.  We  may  wonder  at  his  pub- 
lishing the  Hesperides  along  with  them ;  but  we  must  not  forget  that 
while  the  manners  of  a  time  are  never  to  be  taken  as  a  justification 
of  what  is  wrong,  the  judgment  of  men  concerning  what  is  wrong 
will  be  greatly  influenced  by  those  manners — not  necessarily  on  the 
side  of  laxity'  (pp.  163-4).  The  italics  are  ours.  Unfortunately 
the  '  Noble  Numbers'  bears  on  its  title-page  the  year  1647,  while  the 
1 Hesperides'  general  title-page,  including  the  'Noble  Numbers,'  is 
dated  1648.  One  may  give  Herrick  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  whether 
the  year-date  was  not  a  mere  printer's  blunder,  or  possibly  a  mere 
priority  of  '  copy.'  On  the  poet's  own  self -vindicatory  couplet  (ad- 
duced by  Dr.  Macdonald),  see  our  Preface  (vol.  i.  p.  ix.)  for  Cart- 
wright's  reply. 


Xll  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

have,  with  a  sigh,  to  give  up  this  chronology.  I  say  with 
a  sigh  ;  for  it  is  sorrowful  that  after  these  '  Divine  Poems' 
came  the  license  and  grossness  of  his  secular  poems ;  though 
indeed — as  we  shall  find  onward — his  previous  Roman  Ca- 
tholic experiences  help  us  to  see  one  motif  (as  the  French 
put  it),  if  not  solution,  of  the  later  characteristics. 

Turning,  then,  to  the  '  Divine  Poems,'  we  are  struck 
with  the  series  headed  '  The  Litanie'  and  '  The  Cross,'  and 
the  often-recurring  introduction  of  '  the  Virgin,'  as  through 
and  through  Roman  Catholic.  Thus  in  '  The  Litanie,'  the 
subjects  in  their  order  (i.-xiii.)  follow  as  in  the  Litanies 
used  in  the  Roman-Catholic  Church,  e.g.  in  the  Litany  of 
the  Saints.  Then,  in  agreement  with  this,  the  entire  set 
of  poems  is  permeated  with  Roman-Catholic  doctrine  ;  e.  g, 
there  is  the  '  immaculate  conception'  in  st.  v.,  and  the  ever- 
continuing  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  in  st.  x.  3, 5-6  ;  and  other 
points,  as  must  now  be  shown.  With  regard  to  the  '  im- 
maculate conception,'  we  might  hesitate  in  so  designat- 
ing it,  and  regard  Mary's  '  disseizing  of  sin'  as  a  simple 
allusion  to  her  being  the  instrument  of  Christ's  birth, 
Who  by  His  death  '  disseized  sin,'  did  this  stand  alone.1 
But  there  is  the  farther  word  '  she  -  cherubin' — cherubin 
being  without  taint  of  sin,  original  or  other — who  herself 
made  '  one  claim  for  innocence' — a  phrase  which,  while 
itself  expressive  of  the  only  human  being  conceived  with- 
out sin,  makes  the  natural  construction  of  the  rest  to  be, 
'  and  by  that  one  immaculate  conception  disseized  sin.' 
It  is  the  same  thought  also  which  makes  him  call  her 
womb  (1.  5)  '  a  strange  heaven,'  where  no  sin  dwells  ;  and 
unless  we  admit  the  same  idea,  there  is  no  sense  in  '  whose 


I 


1  Even  in  the  Satires  Roman-Catholic  references  are  found :  e.g. 
(ii.  1.  33)  *  outsweare  the  letany'  (vol.  i.  p.  15),  where  the  allusion  is 
doubtless  to  the  old  Roman  Litany  with  its  long  catalogue  of  saints, 
as  if  he  should  say,  Swear  by  all  these. 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  Xlll 

womb  was  a  place  of  middle  kind'  (st.  xviii.).  The  '  full 
of  grace/  as  familiar  to  him  and  scriptural — 'Ave  Maria, 
gratia  plena!1  (Vuigate)— is  of  no  account.  Again,  looking 
at  st.  viii.  11.  8-9,  and  st.  ix.  5-6,  the  former  of  these  show 
the  lines  to  have  been  written  at  an  early  age,  since  he 
was  seeking  not  only  the  secrets  of  knowledge  but  poet- 
iqueness  ;  and  the  others  indicate  some  special  prayers 
from  him,  and  hence  prayers  from  the  apostles  on  his 
behalf,  and  answered  in  his  behalf  in  a  season  of  doubt. 
Farther,  concerning  the  Mass,  in  st.  x.  '  and  ever  since  in 
Thine'  Thou  diest  'long,  since  Thou  no  more  couldst  die,' 
must  be  interpreted  as  a  reference  to,  and  belief  in,  the 
continual  propitiatory  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  ;  for  it  were 
out  of  harmony  with  its  context  to  relate  the  words  to 
(  Thy  scatter'd  mystic  body.' 

Once  more  :  in  st.  xvii.  1.  8,  st.  xix.  1.  9,  st.  xxii.  1.  4,  it 
is  unimaginable  why,  as  a  member  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, he  should  ask,  first,  to  be  not  discoverable  by  spies ; 
secondly,  for  grace  that  he  may  know  when  he  may  not 
blind,  and  when  without  sin  he  may  blind,  unjust  men  ; 
and  thirdly,  why  he  should  fear  the  ghostly  sword  of  the 
|  magistrate.     The  recurrence  of  these  things  points  to  a 
i  predominating  idea  of  danger  and  persecution.    And  this, 
in  st.  xxvi.,  is  increased  by  the  recurrence  again  to  the  ma- 
I  gistrate  as  often  aggravating  our  vices,  to  preachers  who 
|  tax  sin  before  her  growth,  and  to  spies  and  informers. 
Neither  can  I  understand  a  Church-of-England  man  ask- 
,  ing  God  to  '  lock  His  ears,'  while  (according  as  we  read 
the  passage)  either  they  open  theirs  to  hear  magistrates, 
■  preachers,  and   informers    decline  from  God,   in  urging 
them   to  amendment ;    or,  while   they  open   theirs,  and 
under  pretence  of  amendment  decline  from  God,  at  the 
exhortations  and  sayings  of  these  magistrates,  preachers, 
and  informers.     Yet  again,  st.  xi.  shows  some  immaturity 
both  in  substance  and  construction,  and  so,  in  construc- 
tion, does  st.  xii.     Lastly,  to  these  falls  to  be  added  the 


XIV  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

doubt,  not  strong  in  itself,  but  corroborative  of  the  rest, 
that  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England  would  recur  to 
those  portions  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Litanies  that  had 
been  struck  out  of  his  own,  or  that  Donne,  awaiting  State- 
preferment,  would  have  alluded  in  the  time  of  James  to 
the  excesses  of  kings  as  leading  to  doubts  of  the  goodness 
of  God,  and  then  have  communicated  such  a  Litany  to 
his  friends. 

Examining  next  '  The  Cross,1  if  we  had  not  Roman- 
Catholic  dogmata  interpenetrating  the  others,  it  might 
have  been  allowable  to  look  upon  it  as  a  later  poem  by 
Donne,  the Church-of -England  divine,  against  Puritan  ob- 
jectors; but  the  lines  of  thought  in  arguing  for  the  pic- 
ture or  material  representation  of  the  Cross,  are  those 
used  by  Roman  Catholics  to  this  day,  including  this,  that 
it  is  everywhere  in  Nature  and  Art.  Donne  writes  too  not 
merely  of  a  cross,  but  of  a  crucifix,  and  this  not  only  in 
11.  32-6,  which  I  would  not  otherwise  insist  on,  but  most 
distinctly  in  1.  2.  To  these  it  might  be  replied,  that  our 
Worthy  writing  against  the  Puritans  might  use  such  ar- 
guments for  the  '  harmless  use  of  the  Cross'  picture  (last 
line  but  one),  and  that  he  may  have  seen  no  harm  in  the 
harmless  use  of  a  crucifix,  since  his  last-chosen  seal  was  a 
crucifix- anchor.  I  can  only  answer,  that  to  me  the  gene- 
ral tone  seems  that  of  the  apology  and  reply  of  a  Roman 
Catholic  liable  to  be  persecuted  for  his  belief  and  practice, 
rather  than  that  of  a  High-Churchman,  and  that  this  is 
strengthened  by  11.  9-10 : 

1  For  me  no  pulpit  nor  misgrounded  law, 
Nor  scandal  taken,  shall  this  Cross  withdraw.' 

These  sound  like  the  counter- challenge  of  such  a  one  ; 
nor  can  I  understand  how  Donne,  if  then  of  the  Church 
of  England,  should  have  gone  out  of  his  way  to  speak 
of  a  '  misgrounded  law,'  or  allow  that  he  was  defending 
a  practice  contrary  to  law.     The  great  Falkland,  in  his 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XV 

striking  Elegy  on  Donne,  touches  softly  on  the  over -ex- 
altation by  his  poet-friend  of  the  Cross,  as  thus  : 

'  Those  anthems,  almost  second  psalms,  he  writ 
To  make  us  know  the  Cross  and  value  it 
{Although  we  owe  that  reverence  to  that  name, 
We  should  not  need  warmth  Jrom  an  under -flame) , 
Create  a  lire  in  us  so  near  extreme, 
That  we  would  dy  for  and  upon  this  theam.' 

Finally  here,  '  On  the  blessed  Virgin  Mary1  presents 
the  '  holy  belief,'  then  not  a  dogma,  that  the  Virgin  was 
4  sine  labe]  immaculately  conceived,  absolutely  in  st.  i., 
whether  we  look  to  the  first  three  lines  only,  or  add  to 
these  the  '  God's  sole  daughter'  of  the  fourth  line.  The 
only  escape  from  the  conclusion  that  this  poem,  like  the 
rest  criticised,  was  written  by  a  Roman  Catholic  is,  that 
Donne  continued  to  hold  this  view  as  a  member  of  the 
Church  of  England.  But  his  sermons  and  controversial 
treatises  forbid  this.1 

Thus  recognising  the  Roman- Catholic  ingredient  in 
many  of  these  '  Divine  Poems,'  and  thereby  relegating 
them  to  his  youth  and  first  '  imping'  of  his  wings  as  a 
Poet,  instead  of,  as  heretofore,  placing  them  at  the  end, 
as  the  outcome  of  his  mellowed  and  hallowed  religious 
life,  suggests  two  remarks,  with  which  we  would  finish 
our  statement  and  conclusion  thereon  ;  throughout  writing 
not  as  a  Protestant  or  a  clergyman  (Nonconformist),  but 
as  a  literary  judicial  critic.     First,  that  even  thus  early 

1  In  his  Preface  to  the  '  Pseudo-Martyr'  Donne  thus  writes  :  ;  I 
had  a  longer  work  to  do  than  many  other  men ;  for  I  was  first 
to  blot -out  certaine  impressions  of  the  Romaine  religion,  and  to 
wrestle  both  against  the  example  and  against  the  reasons  by  which 
some  hold  was  taken,  and  some  anticipations  early  layde  upon  my 
conscience,  both  by  persons  who  by  nature  had  a  power  and  superi- 
ority over  my  will,  and  others  who,  by  their  learning  and  good  life, 
seemed  to  me  justly  to  claime  an  interest  for  the  guiding  and  recti- 
fying of  mine  understanding  in  these  matters.'  For  the  process  by 
which  he  became  a  Protestant,  see  Walton,  as  before. 


XVI  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

the  thinking,  as  a  rule,  is  masculine,  and  glowing  with 
that  '  awful  fire'  which  Henry  King,  Bishop  of  Chichester, 
celebrates,  and  lifted  up  on  those  '  divine  wings'  of  Chud- 
leigh's  Elegy,  while  the  '  high  victorious  numbers'  and  the 
wording  altogether  are  singularly  marked  by  Donne's  most 
abiding  characteristics  as  a  Poet.  With  emphasis,  'the 
boy'  was  '  father  to  the  man.'  Critically,  it  will  be  well 
to  remember  this  in  studying  his  Poetry  ;  for  it  removes 
all  suspicion  of  affectation  of  quaint  forms  later.  In 
quantity  it  was  no  superlative  in  the  foremost  of  his  con- 
temporaries to  pronounce  his  '  wit'  to  have  been  *  vast,' 
his  '  soul  large,'  his  piercingness  all  but  divine.  Even  in 
the  face,  however,  of  Carew  and  others'  testimonies,  I 
doubt  if  he  '  reigned'  over  the  splendid  kingdom  of  his 
own  marvellous  brain  as  supremely  as  they  avow  he  did. 
His  genius  was  too  prodigious  to  be  so  '  ruled ;'  and  the 
question  of  one  of  the  best  of  the  posthumous  Elegies  is 

instinctively  ours  : 

'  Did  he — I  fear 
The  dull  will  doubt— these  at  his  twentieth  year?'  (1669,  p.  374.) 

Second,  that  probably  his  after  -  license  and  almost 
recklessness  of  love-phrase  was  a  rebound  from  his  Roman- 
Catholic  teaching  and  restraints.  Not  at  all  controver- 
sially or  theologically,  or  as  seeking  to  measure  others'  by 
our  own  opinions,  but  regarding  the  thing  simply  in  its 
literary  place  and  phase,  I  must  avouch  that  in  Roman- 
Catholic  prose  and  verse  alike,  even  in  pure  Singers  such 
as  Southwell  and  Crashaw,  there  is  to  me  an  indelicate 
delicacy,  a  false  shame,  a  morbid  disowning  and  condem- 
nation of  the  relations  of  the  sexes,  a  profoundly  untrue 
way  of  discussing  marriage  and  family-ties,  a  perplexing 
readiness  to  intrude  into  the  veiled  mysteries  of  the  '  mys- 
tery of  godliness,'  G-od  manifest  in  the  flesh,  and  a  sen- 
suous iteration  of  the  word  ;  womb'  and  mere  fleshly  rap- 
tures, that,  with  all  niceness  and  sometimes  loveliness  of 
phrase,  are  nasty  in  the  extreme.     From  all  that  Donne, 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  xvil 

impetuous  and  full-blooded,  broke  away  on  becoming  a 
Protestant ;  and,  as  I  conceive,  the  emancipated  youth 
was  driven  to  ultra-boldness  of  assertion  concerning  the 
relations  of  the  sexes  and  intercourse.  I  must  sorrowfully 
but  deliberately  add,  that  a  study  of  his  Poetry  and  other 
writings  satisfies  me  that  he  plunged  into  the  immoralities 
of  the  period.  There  are  penitences  deepening  into  re- 
morse, there  are  retrospective  confessions,  there  are  cries 
of  anguish,  there  were  delays  and  hesitances  in  deciding  to 
become  a  '  divine,'  there  are  omniform  verse-records  of 
things  done  only  among  the  licentious  and  the  base,  and 
ineradicable  abominations  that,  to  my  mind,  shut  us  up 
to  acknowledge  that  if  Donne  became  a  '  sweet  Singer' 
o'  times,  such  as  David  would  have  owned  for  son,  and 
a  Preacher  comparable  with  any  in  England,  his  youth 
was — not  in  theory  or  imagination  merely,  or  phrase- 
profligate  and  '  gay'  in  the  saddest  meaning  of  the  words. 
That  he  was  '  restored'  as  really  as  ever  David  was,  and 
made  white,  by  the  mercy  and  grace  of  God,  there  cannot 
be  a  moment's  doubt ;  but  that  he  knew  practically  the 
'  paths  of  the  destroyer,'  and  sinned  to  the  uttermost,  it 
is  impossible  to  deny.  No  one  can  read  (meojudicio)  even 
his  Poetry,  e.g.  his  Verse-Letters  and  Elegies,  none  his 
prose  Letters,  and  none  his  great  Sermons,  without  catch- 
ing tones  of  pain,  thrills  of  contrition,  stingings  of  accu- 
sation, wails  over  abiding  stains  and  wounds,  and  passion- 
ate weeping,  such  as  only  the  facts  of  not  a  few  of  the 
Poems— which  in  honesty  we  have  felt  bound  to  include 
in  our  collection  of  Donne's  poetry — explain.  We  have 
but  touched  herein  on  a  matter  that  has  not  been  suffi- 
ciently weighed  in  estimating  our  elder  Literature.  It 
was  the  mode  to  live  i  fast'  and  give  full  swing  to  the  pas- 
sions at  their  worst.  Even  those  who  comparatively  '  kept' 
themselves  '  apart'  show  the  influence  :  for  the  most  hasty 
reader  of  our  Sermon-books  (e.g.  Adams,  Taylor,  and  the 
like)  is  amazed  at  the  breadth,  not  to  say  coarseness,  of 
VOL.  II.  a2 


XV111  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

allusion  to  things  now  scarcely  to  be  named,  that  are  found 
therein.  But  with  Donne  there  was  unquestionably,  be- 
hind his  phrases  and  realistic  delineations,  self-abandon- 
ment to  '  pleasure'  (so-called).  We  remark  in  respect  of 
the  Roman-Catholic  '  Divine  Poems'  that  there  are  others 
whose  dates  inform  us  that  they  were  later  and  Protestant ; 
but  as  a  whole  the  '  Divine  Poems'  seem  to  us  to  belong 
to  the  Roman-Catholic  period,  and  even  those  later  to  be 
coloured  by  Roman-Catholic  training. 

Finely  has  the  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  in  his  '  House- 
hold Book  of  English  Poetry,'  summed  up  the  whole  in 
his  note  on  the  '  Holy  Sonnet,'  '  As  due  by  many  titles,' 
as  follows  :  l  A  rough  rugged  piece  of  verse,  as  indeed  al- 
most all  Donne's  poetry  is  imperfect  in  form  and  work- 
manship ;  but  it  is  the  genuine  cry  of  one  engaged  in  that 
most  terrible  of  all  struggles,  wherein,  as  we  are  winners 
or  losers,  we  have  won  all  or  lost  all.  There  is  indeed 
much  in  Donne,  in  the  unfolding  of  his  moral  and  spi- 
ritual life,  which  often  reminds  us  of  St.  Augustine.  I  do 
not  mean  that,  noteworthy  as  on  many  accounts  he  was, 
and  in  the  language  of  Carew,  one  of  his  contemporaries, 

A  king  who  ruled  as  he  thought  fit 
The  universal  monarchy  of  wit, 

he  at  all  approached  in  intellectual  or  spiritual  stature  to 
the  great  Doctor  of  the  Western  Church  ;  but  still  there 
was  in  Donne  the  same  tumultuous  youth,  the  same  en- 
tanglement in  youthful  lusts,  the  same  conflict  with  these, 
and  the  same  final  deliverance  from  them  ;  and  then  the 
same  passionate  and  personal  grasp  of  the  central  truths 
of  Christianity,  linking  itself  as  this  did  with  all  that  he 
had  suffered,  and  all  that  he  had  sinned,  and  all  through 
which,  by  God's  grace,  he  had  victoriously  struggled'  (pp. 
403-4). 

We  have  next  to  show,  (b)  that  the  poems  '  translated' 
by  Dr.  Jasper  Mayne,  and  published  in  1652,  hitherto  use 


i 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XIX 

as  biographic,  are  unauthentic,  and  so  too,  necessarily,  the 
f  Sheaf  of  Epigrams'  to  which  they  belong.  This — possibly 
to  most — startling  conclusion  is  very  much  a  matter  of 
dates  and  counter-dates  :  e.  g. 

I.  The  most  of  the  Epigrams  and  Poems  in  this  Col- 
lection refer  to  Duke's  Wood  (Bois-le-Duc):  'Now golden 
fruit,  Prince,  hang  on  Duke's  Wood  bough.' 

ii.  At  the  'siege'  and  fighting  of  Duke's  Wood,  the 
Prince  of  Orange  commanded,  as  shown  by  the  punning 
words  '  golden  fruit,'  and  this,  out  of  various  like  lines, 
f  Since  the  bright  name  of  Orange  most  doth  shine.' 

III.  As  shown  by  both  these,  quoted  from  Epigrams 
and  the  headings  of  others,  the  Prince  of  Orange  was  vic- 
torious. 

Now  from  1584,  when  William  Prince  of  Orange  was 
assassinated,  up  to  1618,  there  was  no  Prince  of  Orange 
in  Holland — Philip  William,  the  eldest  son  of  William 
Prince  of  Orange,  being  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  detained 
in  Spain.  From  1584  his  younger  and  celebrated  brother, 
Maurice  Prince  of  Nassau,  was  Statholder,  and  from  1587 
captain -general  of  the  Dutch  armies,  and  he  did  not  be- 
come Prince  of  Orange  until  his  brother's  death  in  1618. 
Dr.  Jessopp  (as  before)  records  an  '  attempt  on  Bois-le- 
Duc  [in  1587],  and  the  important  engagement  outside  its 
walls,  which  took  place  on  the  13th  of  June  in  that  year.' 
Causton's  annotations  in  his  excellent  reprint  of  Walton's 
4  Life'  give  the  date  1590.  Both  assign  these  as  the  period 
of  Donne's  (premature)  service.  Both  name  Prince  Mau- 
rice, in  obliviousness  that  at  neither  of  these  dates  was  he 
Prince  of  Orange  (as  onward).  Specifically,  it  does  not  ap- 
pear that  the '  engagement'  of  1587  could  be  called  a  '  siege' 
of  Bois-le-Duc,  while  the  Epigrams  distinctly  speak  of  a 
leaguer  and  a  siege.1     Moreover,  though  it  may  be  true 

1  The  'engagement.'  on  examination,  proves  to  have  been  the 
skirmish  of  a  detachment.     Maurice,  then  second  in  command,  had 


, 


XX  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

that  lads  intended  for  the  profession,  or  practice  at  least, 
of  arms,  were  sometimes  sent  as  early  as  fourteen  to  the 
wars,  what  could  take  Donne  to  them  and  take  him  away 
from  his  studies,  when  it  is  clear  that  he  was  fond  of 
learning,  most  precocious,  and  intended  by  his  family  to 
pursue  his  studies  thoroughly?  In  my  judgment  there  is 
insuperable  difficulty  in  such  a  supposition,  the  more  so 
as  fourteen  was  an  unusual  age  for  one  to  be  sent  to  the 
wars  unless  he  went  as  page  or  the  like:  and  let  it  always 
be  remembered  that  these  Epigrams  are  the  sole  founda- 
tion for  this  supposed  incident,  at  whatever  age  it  oc- 
curred. As  to  1590,  which  the  Annotator  (as  before) 
seems  to  fix  on,  because  Essex  was  sent  into  Flanders:  1. 
Essex  was  not  then  sent  into  Flanders,  but  into  France, 
where,  against  the  will  of  Elizabeth,  his  force  was  em- 


moved  with  his  army  to  meet  Leicester,  the  commander-in-chief, 
who  was  returning.  But  while  in  command,  he  had  sent  a  force 
under  the  Count  of  Hohenlo  to  ravage  Brabant.  This  he  did,  and 
made  a  feint  of  besieging  Bois-le-Duc:  but,  disappointed  of  various 
reinforcements  that  were  to  have  been  sent  him.  he,  with  about  3000 
men.  attacked  and  rased  Enghelen.  a  fort  near  Bois-le-Duc:  and  at 
Crevecseus,  some  four  or  rive  miles  distant,  he  was  met  by  the  Lord 
of  Hautepsenne,  whom  he  defeated.  It  is  simply  ridiculous  to  apply 
Epigrams  53,  54.  and  55.  and  that  on  Sleep,  to  a  small  tight  which 
Maurice  was  not  even  near,  and  which  the  historian  on  Maurice's 
side  calls  a  velitatio  or  escaramouche.  Be  it  remembered  that  the 
heading  of  Epigrams  53.  54,  and  55,  is  'To  the  Prince  of  Aurange 
on  his  famous  Victory  over  the  Spaniards  in  Duke's  Wood.'  So  56  is 
headed  'A  Panegyrick  on  the  Hollanders  beiDg  Lords  of  the  Sea, 
occasioned  by  the  Author  being  in  their  Army  at  Duke's  Wood:' 
and  57,  '  To  Sleep,  stealling  upon  him  as  he  stood  upon  the  guard. 
in  the  corner  of  a  running  trench,  at  the  siegs  of  Duke's  Wood.'  As 
shown  in  our  text,  there  was  no  *  siege'  of  Duke's  "Wood,  except  in 
1600, 1603,  and  1629;  and  to  the  last  alone  do  the  details  oj  the  poems 
apply.  Consequently  it  is  simply  impossible  that  our  Dr.  Donne 
could  have  been  present  at  any  'victory'  of  Bois-le-Duc.  and  equally 
that  he  could  have  written  the  poems  assigned  to  him  (as  supra). 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXI 

ployed  against  the  French,  and  not  against  the  Spaniards ; 
2.  we  have  to  get  over  the  biographic  difficulty,  that,  ac- 
cording to  Walton  and  all  accounts,  Donne  was  in  that 
year  apparently  a  student  at  the  Inns  of  Court;  3.  the 
sieges  of  Bois-le-Duc  were  two  unsuccessful  ones  by  Mau- 
rice in  1600,  and  another  in  1603,  and  the  successful  one 
by  Frederick  William  in  1629.  As  to  the  two  earlier,  the 
Prince  of  Orange,  say  the  Epigrams,  was  'victorious  ;'  and 
Donne  in  those  years  was  Secretary  to  the  Lord  Keeper, 
and  in  love  with  his  future  wife,  and  then  a  married  man 
and  a  prisoner.  Other  corroborative  proofs  from  Reliq. 
Wott.  are  erroneous  in  their  application  in  every  way, 
and  need  not  be  controverted.1  For,  independent  of  the 
considerations  already  adduced,  the  matter  is  decided  by 
the  mention  of  Heyn.  He  was  son  of  a  common  sailor, 
born  in  1570,  and  having  been  captured  by  the  Spani- 
ards, spent  four  years  in  captivity,  and  on  his  return  de- 
voted his  life  to  avenging  himself  and  his  country.  In 
1624  he  was  second  in  command  of  a  naval  expedition  to 
the  Brazils,  and  this  seems  to  have  been  the  first  wrhich 
would  justify  the  terms  in  which  he  is  celebrated  in  the 
Epigrams.  He  was  in  another  similar  expedition  in  1626. 
But  it  is  far  more  likely  that  the  reference  is  to  the  taking 
of  the  plate-fleet  in  1628  :  (a)  because  while  the  previous 
captures  were  chiefly  of  merchandise,  there  was  on  this  oc- 
casion taken  the  yearly  treasures  that  were  sent  to  Spain — 
the  'ore'  of  the  Epigram ;  and  (b)  because  the  news  of  this 

1  The  quotations  from  JReliq.  Wott.  in  Causton's  reprint  of  Wal- 
ton's '  Life'  are  more  preposterous  and  incorrect  than  I  had  imagined. 
Where  Parma  entrenched  himself,  may  be  a  matter  of  doubt ;  but  he 
was  then,  according  to  the  very  letter  quoted,  in  French  territory, 
not  in  the  Low  Countries  at  all.  The  second  letter  begins  distinctly, 
'Of  France  [we  hear]  this,  the  King, '&c.  Moreover,  the  word  'wood,' 
so  far  from  relating  to  Bois-le-Duc  or  Duke's  Wood,  is  doubtless 
fire-wood,  and  to  be  combined  with  victuals  =  the  king  hath  licensed 
certain  victuals  and  wood  unto  the  town. 


i 


XX11  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

capture  arrived  before  the  surrender  of  Bois-le-Duc.  The 
'Panegyrick  on  the  Hollanders  being  Lords  of  the  Sea, 
occasioned  by  the  Author's  being  in  their  Army  at  Duke's 
Wood,'  is  thus  necessarily  relative  to  1628 :  and  Dr.  Donne 
in  1628  was  'preaching'  his  greatest  Sermons.  These  lines 
from  the  '  Panegyrick'  on  Heyn  are  unmistakable : 

'  those  lands  of  gold 
Which  the  proud  tyrant  [Spaniard]  doth  in  bondage  hold ; 
Whose  wealth  transported  from  the  plunder'd  mine, 
His  plate-fleet  calls  his,  but  the  sea  makes  thine. 
Each  Dutchman  is  Columbus;  worlds  unknown 
To  the  discovering  Spaniard  are  his  grown : 
Nor  can  I  here  conceal,  nor  yet  say  well, 
Where  Heynskirch's  praise,  or  Oliver's  excell, 
Or  Heyns  more  bold  adventure;  whose  bright  ore 
Prest  the  seas  back  with  wealth  snatcht  from  the  shore.' 

(p.  99.) 

Thus  the  siege  of  Bois-le-Duc,  the  mention  of  the  Prince 
of  Orange  as  commanding  and  victorious,  and  the  refer- 
ence to  Heyn  and  his  exploits,  all  concur  in  pointing  to 
the  successful  siege  of  Bois-le-Duc  by  Frederick  William 
Prince  of  Orange  in  1628,  while  difficulties  and  improba- 
bilities concur  in  making  one  disbelieve  that  Donne  en- 
gaged in  any  of  the  operations  in  Holland  before  1596, 
much  less  in  any  siege  of  Bois-le-Duc.  It  is  just  possible 
that  in  the  interval  between  the  Cadiz  expedition  of  1596 
and  the  Island  Voyage  and  Expedition  of  1597,  Donne 
may  have  gone  over  to  Holland  and  served  as  a  volunteer 
in  the  operations  then  going  on ;  for  Sir  Francis  Yere  so 
filled  up  his  interval  of  time,  and  Marshall's  portrait  ex- 
hibits Donne  in  military  costume,  with  sword.  But  at 
that  time  there  was  no  siege  of  Bois-le-Duc,  and  so  no 
authority  for  Donne's  authorship  of  the  Epigrams.  Far- 
ther: the  theory  that  Donne  went  abroad  previous  to  1596 
is  wholly  contrary  to  two  passages  in  Walton's  Life.  He 
tells  us  distinctly  that  he  went  from  the  University  to 
London,  and  there  pursued  his  studies ;   and  when   he 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XX111 

mentions  his  going  abroad,  he  says  so  in  words  which 
imply  that  he  had  not  gone  abroad  before.  Had  he  pre- 
viously gone  to  the  wars,  it  was  a  part  of  his  life  that  he 
or  others  must  have  recurred  to  in  after-life,  at  a  time 
when  to  travel  belonged  to  a  liberal  education.  That  Donne 
often  spoke  of  his  travels,  and  apparently  before  Walton, 
is  shown  by  the  statement  of  the  causes  that  hindered  him 
from  going  to  the  Holy  Land.  Yet  Walton  is  silent  on 
these  so-called  first  travels  and  more.  Again:  another 
argument  is,  that  it  is  most  unlikely  that  Donne,  a  Roman 
Catholic,  would  fight  in  the  Protestant  cause  of  the  Dutch  ; 
for  fighting  for  England  directly,  as  many  Roman  Catho- 
lics did,  is  one  thing,  and  fighting  for  a  foreign  Protestant 
cause  and  only  indirectly  for  England,  another.  I  cannot 
understand  the  author  of  the  three  poems,  '  To  the  blessed 
Virgin  Mary,'  '  The  Cross,'  and  in  especial  '  The  Litany,1 
would  chose  to  embrace  the  Protestant  cause  in  Holland, 
when  he  had  the  rest  of  Europe  to  travel  in.  Besides,  the 
author  of  these  mis-assigned  Poems  and  Epigrams  is  in 
enthusiastic  sympathy  with  the  Protestants.  Finally,  in 
1628  he  was  a  'Divine,'  and  about  his  Master's  work,  as 
every  one  knows. 

There  are,  no  doubt,  difficulties  in  explaining  how  the 
'  Sheaf  of  Epigrams'  came  to  be  assigned  to  Donne ;  but, 
1.  Donne  jun.,  who  'gives'  an  Epistle-dedicatory  to  the 
volume,  makes  no  mention  therein  of  these  Epigrams  and 
Poems,  and  not  a  line  of  them  is  found  in  his  editions  of 
his  Father's  Poems,  although  from  1633  the  Epigrams  re- 
printed by  us  appeared;  2.  There  is  no  evidence  that 
Jasper  Mayne's  name  was  not  a  bookseller's  trick  to  pass 
the  publication,  and  probably  to  vex  the  '  outed'  scholar. 
No  difficulties  can  be  put  against  our  above  dates  and  ar 
guments  ;  and  hence  I  reject  the  '  Sheaf  of  Epigrams'  and 
related  poems  without  hesitation.  I  part  regretfully  from 
4  A  Panegyrick  on  the  Hollanders  being  Lords  of  the  Sea, 
occasioned  by  the  Author  being  in  their  army  at  Duke's 


. 


XXIV  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

Wood,'  and  '  To  Sleep,  stealling  upon  him  as  he  stood  upon 
the  guard,  in  the  corner  of  a  running  trench,  at  the  siege 
of  Duke's  Wood,'  and  'To  his  fellow-sentinels;'  but  the 
pieces  to  an  Actress,  and  the  run  of  the  Epigrams,  it  is  a 
relief  to  be  able  to  take  from  him.  I  would  commend  to 
Dr.  Jessopp  the  tracing- out  of  a  'military'  Donne,  whose 
name  occurs  contemporaneously  in  the  '  Calendars'  of  the 
period :  also  a  thorough  elucidation  of  the  entire  data  now 
recounted.1 

1  The  title-page  of  the  volume  containing  the  Epigrams  is  as 
follows:  Parables,  Problemes,  Essayes,  Characters,  written  by  Dr. 
Donne,  Dean  of  Paul's :  To  which  is  added  a  Book  of  Epigrams, 
written  in  Latin  by  the  same  Author;  translated  into  English  by 
J.  Maine,  D.D.;  as  also  Ignatius  his  Conclave,  a  Satyr,  translated 
out  of  the  originall  Copy,  written  in  Latin  by  the  same  Author ; 
found  lately  amongst  his  own  Papers.  London,  Printed  by  T.  N., 
for  Humphrey  Moseley,  at  the  Prince's  Amies  in  St.  Paul's  Church- 
yard, 1652'  (12mo).  It  will  be  noticed  that  there  is  a  suppressio  veri 
here,  as  the  "Ignatius  his  Conclave"  had  been  published  well-nigh  a 
quarter  of  a  century  previously.  .Dr.  Jessopp  (who,  however,  mis- 
dates the  volume  1653  instead  of  1652)  thus  strongly  speaks  of  it: 
1  So  careless  was  the  younger  Donne,  and  so  ignorant  of  his  father's 
works,  that  he  proclaims  the  Ignatius  to  have  been  one  of  his  father's 
last  writings,  even  though  an  edition  (publicly  printed)  had  actually 
been  brought  out  so  late  as  1635.  The  epigrams  and  poems  were 
written  in  Donne's  boyhood.  The  wretched  man,  who  would  not  even 
leave  them  in  their  Latin  dress,  could  not  see  that  there  was  anything 
disgraceful  in  putting  forth  this  obscene  trash  in  the  meretricious 
garb  of  a  jingling  English  rhyme,  and  attaching  to  the  unworthy  rub- 
bish his  father  s  revered  name.  On  the  son,  not  father,  the  scandal 
of  their  publicity  must  rest.'  (Essays,  as  before,  p.  lxx.).  That  the 
younger  Donne  was  'careless,'  there  are  abundant  proofs;  but  there 
is  a  lack  of  evidence  that  he  was  so  utterly  '  unworthy.'  Anthony 
a-Wood's  gossip  has  perhaps  been  too  readily  accepted  as  truth. 
Altogether,  in  recollection  of  his  really  fine-thoughted  Prefaces  and 
Epistles  to  his  father's  Sermons,  and  the  'troops  of  friends'  he  names 
in  his  Will,  I  am  dissatisfied  with  the  traditional  severity  against 
the  younger  Donne.  'As  R.  B.,  in  his  elegy  on  our  Donne,  puts  it: 
1  'Tis  reported  true,  though  I 
Ne'r  yet  so  much  desir'd  to  hear  a  ly' — 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXV 

So  much  for  the  two  facts  which  we  deemed  it  import- 
ant to  make  good  in  the  outset :  and  now,  having  on  these 
grounds  changed  the  setting  (so  to  say)  of  many  of  the 
i Divine  Poems,'  and  withdrawn  the  (so-called)  'Sheaf  of 
Epigrams'  from  Donne,  it  may  be  as  well  to  record  here 
our  reasons  for  similarly  withdrawing  other  Poems  that 
have  been  wrongly  assigned  to  him.  They  are  as  follows  : 
1.  An  Epitaph  on  Shakespeare,  commencing  'Renowned 
Chaucer,  lie  a  thought  more  nigh ;'  2.  To  Ben  Iohnson, 
6  Ian.  1603 ;  3.  '  Deare  Love,  continue ;'  4.  Psalm  cxxxvii. ; 
5.  On  the  Sacrament.  The  first  was  inserted  in  the  4to 
of  1633  (p.  149),  but  withdrawn  in  1635  and  after-editions. 
It  is  now  known  to  be  the  production  of  William  Basse, 
a  '  pastoral'  Poet  of  some  merit,  as  Mr.  Collier's  reprints 
evidence.  The  second  and  third  are  distinctly  assigned  by 
Jonson  and  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  to  Sir  John  Roe, 
as  thus  :  '  That  Sir  John  Roe  loved  him  [Jonson]  :  and 
when  they  two  were  ushered  by  my  Lord  Suffolk  from  a 
mask,  Roe  wrott  a  moral  epistle  to  him,  which  began, 
"That  next  to  playes.  the  Court  and  the  State  were  the 
best'' '  (Notes  of  Ben  Jonson's  Convers.  at  Hawthornden, 
p.  86)  ;  and  the  Editor  of  the  Extracts  from  the  Haw- 
thornden mss.  [David  Laing,  Esq.  LL.D.]  adds  in  a  note  : 
'  Other  instances  of  poems  erroneously  attributed  to  Donne 
might  be  pointed  out.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  one  begin- 
ning k'Deare  Love,  continue,"  &c.  is  transcribed  by  Drum- 


t.e.  that  it  might  prove  a  lie.  Moreover,  Dr.  Jasper  Mayne,  not 
Doime  jun.,  is  the  (alleged)  translator  of  the  Epigrams,  and  which 
are  not  'rubbish,'  although  faulty  in  various  ways. 

In  addition  to  my  acknowledgments  in  the  Preface  (vol.  i.  p.  xii.) 
I  cannot  too  strongly  express  my  obligations  to  my  good  friend  Dr. 
Brinsley  Nicholson  on  the  two  facts  set  forth  in  the  text,  and  in- 
deed throughout.  With  a  fulness  and  patience  very  admirable,  he 
has  spared  no  pains  to  respond  to  my  innumerable  calls  on  his  ex- 
tensive reading  and  rare  critical  acumen  :  and  this  in  all  the  recent 
Worthies. 


XXVI  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

mond,  and  signed  "J.  R,.,"  probably  the  initials  of  John 
Roe'  (p.  86).  The  fourth,  the  metrical  version  of  Psalm 
cxxxvii..  is  found  in  early  MSS.  as  Francis  Davison's,  who 
has  similarly  versified  other  Psalms  ;  and  the  measure  is 
much  too  smooth,  and  the  wording  too  uncharacteristic, 
for  Donne.  The  use  of  the  word  '  bairn'  [barne]  for 
'  child.'  albeit  it  is  found  once  in  Shakespeare  ('  mercy 
on's,  a  bamef1  Winter's  Tale,  iii.  3),  is  foreign  to  Donne. 
The  authorship  has  been  discussed  in  Notes  and  Queries 
(vi.  pp.  49,  137,  157-8,  247-8,  2d  series).  I  have  no  hesi- 
tation in  rejecting  it.  The  fifth,  four  lines  usually  headed 
'On  the  Sacrament,'  'He  was  the  Word  that  spake  it,'  &c. 
were  spoken,  as  is  said,  extempore,  by  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth in  1554,  when  under  surveillance  at  Woodstock,  and 
pressed  by  Cardinal  Pole  as  to  her  belief.  They  are  given 
by  Camden  with  slight  verbal  variations.  Lines  entitled 
'  A  Wife,'  beginning  '  Such  as  I  have  to  my  owne  hart 
propounded,'  are  ascribed  to  Donne  by  Sir  John  Simeon, 
in  his  well-known  tractate.  They  have  no  mark  of  his 
style  whatever ;  and  I  confess  I  was  glad  to  discover  them 
in  the  Farmer  Chetham  MS.  signed  '  Th.  Scotte'  (see  the 
Farmer  Chetham  MS.  as  edited  by  me).  For  the  Poems, 
on  the  other  hand,  now  either  first  collected  or  printed, 
that  belong  to  Donne,  our  authorities  are  given  in  the 
places.  They  have  all  our  Poet's  indefinable  manner.  The 
4  Expostulation'  (vol.  i.  pp.  210-213)  is  peculiarly  charac- 
teristic ;  and  the  Student  has  only  to  examine  critically 
the  so-called  related  pieces  by  Ben  Jonson,  to  discern  this 
more  and  more.  The  '  Expostulation'  is  in  no  way  de- 
pendent on  the  other  Elegies. 

Having  thus  cleared  the  way  of  biographical  difficul- 
ties and  corrected  mistakes,  we  are  now  free  to  turn  to 
the  Poetry  of  Donne  as  a  whole  ;  and  in  so  doing,  it  may 
be  helpful  to  arrange  our  farther  remarks  under  four 
heads,  whereby  to  handle  points  deemed  worthy  of  exami- 
nation and  touching  on  the  main  things  alike  in  his  Life 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXV11 

and  Verse :  I.  the  Satirist ;    II.  the  Thinker  and  Imagi- 
nator ;  III.  the  Friend  ;  iv.  the  Artist. 

I.  The  Satirist  Dr.  George  Macdonald,  in  his  'Anti- 
phon,'  refuses  to  present  Francis  Quarles  in  proportion 
to  the  quantity  of  his  Writings,  on  the  ground  that  the 
bulk  of  them  consists  of  '  Satire ;'  and  he  is  eloquently 
indignant  on  the  waste  of  power  that  is  put  forth  therein. 
It  so  happens  that  Quarles  has  written  no  '  Satires'  what- 
ever ;  so  that  the  critic's  condemnation  is  utterly  irrele- 
vant to  him.  Probably  Quarles  was  confused  with  George 
Wither.  But  in  such  case  it  is  going  from  one  blunder  to 
a  worse  ;  for  the  '  Satires'  of  Wither,  like  the  Satires  of 
Donne,  are  the  best  answer  to  Dr.  Macdonald's  sweeping 
and  over-hasty  generalisation.  Granted  that  it  is  a  poor 
and  paltry  thing  to  vent  private  piques,  and  spites,  and 
sorenesses  in '  Satires,'  just  as  it  is  poor  and  paltry  to  vent 
these  through  any  medium  whatever.  But  it  seems  an 
enormous  corollary  to  draw  from  such  exceptional  abuses 
of  a  given  '  power,'  to  condemn  all '  Satires.'  Looking  into 
Donne's  specially,  they  have  their  blots  in  provocative 
allusions  ;  but  substantially  they  seem  to  us  eminently 
judicial  and  justified.  He  does  not  simply  scold  and  call 
it  invective,  or  give  nicknames,  or  '  report'  scandals  that 
have  reached  him,  or  hold-up  physical  or  mental  infirmi- 
ties to  ridicule ;  but,  fixing  his  eye  keenly  on  the  wicked- 
ness he  is  roused  to  expose,  he  does  it  with  a  crashing 
destructiveness,  a  bearing-down  momentum  of  indignation, 
a  sad  passionateness  of  scorn,  an  honest,  unfearing,  un- 
sparing striking  at  the  highest-seated  wrong- doers,  and  a 
felicitous  realism  of  word-painting,  that  to  our  mind 
makes  these  first  of  English  Satires  very  notable  indeed. 
O'  times  there  are  solemnities  of  emotion,  as  in  the  Third 
Satire  on  '  Religion,'  unspeakably  pathetic  in  so  young  a 
man  as  Donne  in  1592-3  was,  and  warranting  us  to  believe 
that  in  those  early  '  Divine  Poems,'  already  noticed,  he 
uttered  out  the  innermost  convictions  of  his  soul,  and 


XXV111  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

consequently  that  in  ceasing  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic,  he 
reached  his  new  standing-ground  through  an  agony  of 
spiritual  experience.  Our  Satirist  is  pungent,  yet  never 
in  a  fury.  He  is  proportioned  too  in  his  noble  rage  :  e.g. 
he  does  not  treat  follies  and  vanities  as  if  they  were  vices, 
any  more  than  he  does  vices  as  if  they  were  merely  fol- 
lies and  vanities.  He  has  vehemence  for  vices  with  no 
lightness ;  he  has  lightness  for  follies  and  vanities  with- 
out vehemence  and  without  malice.  And  again,  i  weigh- 
ing' the  large  actions  condemned  against  the  petty  actors 
of  them,  he  has  a  fine  gentlemanliness  of  rebuke  ;  con- 
temptuous, dainty  of  touch,  yet  penetrative  as  a  Toledo- 
blade.  As  pictures  of  the  age,  in  its  manners  and  usages 
and  morals,  these  Satires  are  inestimable.  "Without  a 
superfluous  epithet,  though  1  dare  not  say  without  coarse- 
ness, you  have  the  whole  moviDg  panorama  of  '  high  and 
low'  presented.  Occasionally  you  catch  the  sound  of  musi- 
cal, joyous  laughter,  and  anon  the  awful  tears  consecrated 
to  outrages  too  deep  for  words.  To  me  these  '  Satires'  are 
not  so  much  a  given  number  of  printed  lines  and  part  of 
a  book,  as  a  man's  living  heart  pulsating  with  the  most 
tragical  reality  of  emotion.  Bishop  HalFs  '  Satires'  placed 
beside  them  look  thin  and  empty,  and  painfully  envious 
of  contemporaries.  Marston  and  Wither  are  worthier  to 
be  associated  with  Donne.  I  have  no  room  for  confir- 
matory quotations.  I  write  for  those  only  who  mean  to 
4  study'  the  Poetry  now  furnished :  and  I  promise  every 
painstakiDg  Reader  reward  for  his  pains. 

One  of  the  '  Curiosities  of  Literature'  more  fantasti- 
cally curious  than  any  in  DTsraeli,  is,  that  Pope  and  Par- 
nell  re- versified  the  Satires  of  Donne.  I  know  not  that  I 
can  do  better  than  allow  here  an  open-  eyed  Writer  (the 
late  Dr.  Samuel  Brown  of  Edinburgh,  I  believe)  to  put 
this  thing  as  follows  :  '  Pope  took  it  upon  himself  to  "  im- 
prove" some  of  Donne's  Satires ;  and  he  did  it,  but  in 
much  the  same  style  as  the  sailor,  who,  having  obtained  a 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXIX 

curiosity  in  the  form  of  the  weapon  of  a  sword-fish,  "  im- 
proved" it  by  scraping  off  and  rubbing  down  all  the  pro- 
tuberances by  which  it  was  distinguishable  from  any  other 
bone.  Fortunately,  however,  in  most  editions  of  Pope's 
writings,  the  original  crudities  [!]  are  printed  side  by  side 
with  the  polished  improvement  upon  them ;  as  sometimes 
we  see,  uphung  in  triumph  at  the  doors  of  WTiting-mas- 
ters,  pairs  of  documents  to  some  such  effect  as  this  :  I. 
M  This  is  my  handwriting  before  taking  lessons  of  Mr. 
Pope.  Signed,  John  Donne."  n.  "  This  is  my  handwriting 
after  taking  lessons  of  Mr.  Pope.  Signed,  John  Donne." 
Let  us,  however,  give  specimens  of  these  so -different 
handwritings.  The  theme  is  the  appearance  of  a  re- 
duced courtier. 

I.  This  is  Donne  before  being  improved  by  Pope  [Sa- 
tire iv.  vol.  i.  pp.  30-31,  11.  17-29]  : 

"  Towards  me  did  run 
A  thing  more  strange  than,  on  Nile's  slime,  the  Sun 
E'r  bred,  or  all  which  into  Noah's  Ark  came : 
A  thing  which  would  have  pos'd  Adam  to  name : 
Stranger  than  seven  Antiquaries'  studies, 
Than  Africk's  Monsters,  Guianae's  rarities, 
Stranger  than  strangest :  one  who  for  a  Dane 
In  the  Dane's  Massacre  had  sure  been  slain, 
If  he  had  liv'd  then ;  and  without  help  dies 
When  next  the  Prentices  'gainst  Strangers  rise: 
One  whom  the  watch  at  noon  lets  scarce  go  by: 
One,  to  whom  the  examining  Justice  sure  would  cry, 
Sir,  by  your  Priesthood,  tell  me  what  you  are." 

II.  This  is  Donne  after  being  improved  by  Pope  : 

"Behold,  there  came 
A  thing  which  Adam  had  been  pos'd  to  name ; 
Noah  had  refused  it  lodging  in  his  ark, 
Where  all  the  race  of  reptiles  might  embark : 
A  verier  monster  than  on  Af  ric's  shore 
The  sun  e'er  got,  or  slimy  Nilus  bore, 
Or  Sloan  or  Woodward's  shelves  contain, — 
Nay,  all  that  lying  travellers  can  feign. 


XXX  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

The  watch  would  scarcely  let  him  pass  at  noon, 
At  night  would  swear  him  dropp'd  out  of  the  moon; 
One  whom  the  mob,  when  next  we  find  or  make 
A  Popish  plot,  shall  for  a  Jesuit  take; 
And  the  wise  justice,  starting  from  his  chair, 
Cry,  By  your  priesthood,  tell  me  what  you  are!" 

0  wonderful  Mr.  Pope!  powerful  to  knock- off  such  ex- 
crescences as 

"  Stranger  than  seven  antiquaries'  studies," 

and,  'stranger  than  strangest ;'  powerful  to  introduce  such 
improvements  as 

"Nay,  all  that  lying  travellers  can  feign."  '* 

Few  will  differ  from  this  drastic  verdict ;  and,  indeed, 
apart  from  Elwin's  demonstration  of  the  rottenness  of 
Pope  as  a  man,  it  were  easy  to  prove,  by  the  '  improve- 
ments' on  Donne  and  the  like,  that,  while  a  matchless 
Yerser,  he  was  no  Poet  in  any  deep  sense  of  the  much- 
abused  word.  Parnell  could  not  be  expected  to  succeed 
where  Pope  failed  ;  and  he  fails  egregiously. 

The  Biographers  of  Donne  must  discuss  fully  the  place 
of  his  Satires  in  our  Literature,  as  having  been  the  first 
in  English.  It  is  one  of  the  honours  of  the  (now)  vener- 
able Mr.  J.  Payne  Collier  that  he  showed  in  his  '  Poetical 
Decameron,'  that  Donne  really  was  the  first  English  Sa- 
tirist as  against  the  claim  of  (Bishop)  Hall.  In  the  'Third 
Conversation'  (vol.  i.  pp.  153-161)  the  reader  will  find  the 
subject  presented  with  no  little  acumen  and  lore  ;  the 
result  being  that  Donne's  first  two  Satires  (if  not  three) 
belong  to  1593  (at  latest),  whereas  Hall's  were  produced 
in  1596  onward.  A  subsidiary  confirmation  of  this  is  met 
with  in  the  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  mss.,  among 
which,  in  Drummond's  transcript,  the  '  Fourth  Satire'  is 
dated  'Anno  1594'  (as  before:  Editor's  note,  p.  84). 
Notwithstanding  my   profound   veneration   for  Hall,  I 

1  Gallery  of  Poets:  No.  1,  John  Donne,  in  Lowe's  Edinburgh 
Magazine,  vol.  i.  pp.  228-236. 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXXI 

cannot  help  a  suspicion  that,  inasmuch  as  the  anonym- 
ous commendatory  poems  prefixed  to  the  '  Anatomie'  of 
Donne  (see  vol.  i.  pp.  xi.  xii.  105-6,  129-30),  and  other 
authorities,  reveal  that  Hall  and  Donne  were  personally  ac- 
quainted, the  former  had  heard,  or  read  at  least,  the  first 
four  of  Donne's  Satires  in  MS.,  and  wrote  his  own  in  the 
recollection  of  them.    In  such  case  the  now-famous  lines, 

'  I  lirst  adventure  with  fool-hardy  might 
To  tread  the  steps  of  perilous  despite. 
I  first  adventure,— follow  me  who  list, 
And  be  the  second  English  Satirist,' 

may  have  been  Hall's  challenge  to  his  friend  Donne  to 
1  adventure'  forth,  and  not  hold  in  MS.  his  Satires. 

Rumours  of  Hall's  intended '  Yergidemiarum  . . .  tooth  - 
lesse  satyrs'  may  have  reached  Donne,  and  hence  perhaps 
those  enigmatical  lines  in  the  second  Satire  : 

'hee  is  worst,  who  beggerly  doth  chawe 
Others'  wits'  fruits,  and  in  his  rauenous  mawe, 
Ranckly  digested,  doth  those  things  out  spue 
As  his  owne  things ;  and  they  are  his  owne,  its  true ; 
For  if  one  eate  my  meate,  though  it  bee  knowne 
The  meate  was  mine,  the  excrement's  his  owne.'  (Vol.  i.  p.  15.) 

If  we  are  correct,  the  '  praise'  of  the  '  Anatomie's  prefixed 
poems  may  have  been  a  kind  of  solatium  for  the  earlier 
1  stolen  march,'  and  the  knowledge  of  it  be  the  explana- 
tion of  the  continued  anonymousness  of  the  '  praise.'  It  is 
,  clear  that  Donne,  even  so  soon  as  1593,  regarded  some 
one  as  in  some  way  thieving  on  his  manor. 

Though  the  British-Museum  MS.  5110  bears  the  date 
1593,  and  the  Hawthornden  1594,  none  of  Donne's  Satires 
appeared  in  print  until  after  Hall's.  All-but-certainly  the 
first  two  were  included  in  a  now-missing  privately- printed 
collection  of  some  of  his  poems,  specially  the  '  Anatomie' 
or  k  Anniversaries,'  which  must  have  been  issued  to  a  circle 
of  friends  prior  to  1614,  seeing  that  Freeman  in  1614,  in 
his  '  Rubbe  and  a  great  Cast,'  has  an  epigram  to  Donne, 


XXX11  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

in  which  he  celebrates  his  '  Storme'  and  '  Calme,'  l  and  two 
1  short'  satires  ;  and  this  was  probably  their  first  appear- 
ance in  print.  I  qualify  with  '  probably,'  because  among 
the  books  read  by  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  in  1613 
is  noted  '  Jhone  Done's  Lyriques*  (as  before,  p.  20),  which 
seems  to  intimate  an  earlier  volume  still,  and  part  of  which 
may  have  been  the  earlier  Satires.  In  his  Letter  to  his 
'  honored  friend  G.  G\  Esquire,'  which  is  dated  '  Paris,  the 
14th  of  April  here,  1612,'  Donne  writes  of  his  'Anniver- 
saries' as  follows  :  '  Of  my  Anniversaries,  the  fault  that  I 
acknowledge  in  myself  is  to  have  descended  to  print  any- 
thing in  verse,  which,  though  it  has  excuse  even  in  our 
own  times  by  men  who  profess  and  practise  much  gravity, 
yet  I  confess  I  wonder  how  I  declin'd  to  it,  and  do  not 
pardon  myself  (1669,  p.  272). 2  In  the  place  we  show  that 
the  '  Anniversaries'  were  '  in  print'  in  1612  (vol.  i.  p.  104), 
and  called  forth  the  encomium  of  John  Davies  of  Here- 
ford ;  but  Donne's  words,  taken  along  with  Drummond's 
entry  of  '  Lyriques,'  seem  to  point  to  other  things  printed. 
Be  all  this  as  it  may — and  some  old  neglected  library  may 
yield-up  copies  of  the  missing  booklets,  as  did  Isham  of 
kindred  to  the  keen  eyes  of  Mr.  Charles  Edmonds — the 

1  In  the  l  Conversations  of  Ben  Jonson  with  Drummond  of  Haw- 
^01^6^  is  the  following  'censure'  (— judgment)  on  these  pieces 
and  others :  '  He  esteemeth  John  Done  the  first  poet  in  the  world 
in  some  things :  his  verses  of  the  Lost  Chaine  [vol.  i.  pp.  192-6] 
he  hath  by  heart ;  and  that  passage  of  the  Calme,  That  dust  and 

Jeathers  doe  not  stirr.  all  was  so  quiet:    (as  before.) 

2  In  this  Letter  Donne  vindicates  his  '  exalted'  celebration  of 
Mrs.  Drury  as  follows  :  k  For  the  other  imputation  of  having  said  too 
much,  my  defence  is,  that  my  purpose  was  to  say  as  well  as  I  could : 
for,  since  I  never  saw  the  gentlewoman,  I  cannot  be  understood  to 
have  bound  myself  to  have  spoken  just  truths  ;  but  I  would  not  be 
thought  to  have  gone  about  to  praise  her  or  any  other  in  ryme,  ex- 
cept I  took  such  a  person  as  might  be  capable  of  all  that  I  could 
say.  If  any  of  those  ladies  think  that  Mrs.  Drewry  was  not  so,  let 
that  lady  make  herself  fit  for  all  those  praises  in  the  book,  and  they 
shall  be  hers.'  (1669,  pp.  272-3).   Cf.  our  vol.  i.  p.  98. 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXX111 

priority  of  Donne  to  Hall  and  Marston  as  a  satirist  in 
English  is  established.     En  passant,  I  remark  that  the 

close  of  Satire  VI. 

1  but  till  I  can  write 
Things  worth  thy  tenth  reading,  dear  Nick,  good  night,' 

may  be  taken  as  confirmation  of  the  Haslewood-Kings- 
borough  ms.  (vol.  i.  p.  56)  in  its  numbering  of  the  Satires 
as  *  ten  ;'  though  '  tenth  reading'  may  also  be = reciting  ten 
times  over,  and  the  reference  to  Horace's  Ars  Poet. : 

4  Haec  amat  obscurum,  volet  haec  sub  luce  videri, 
Judicis  argutum  quae  non  formidat  acumen  ; 
Haec placuit  semel,  haec  decies  repetita  placebit.' 

II.  The  Thinker  and  Imaginator.  Donne,  observes  Dr. 
Macdonald  (as  before),  '  is  represented  by  Dr.  Johnson  as 
one  of  the  chief  examples  of  that  school  of  poets  called 
by  himself  the  metaphysical ;'  and  he  continues,  4  an  epi- 
thet which,  as  a  definition,  is  almost  false.  True  it  is  that 
Donne  and  his  followers  were  always  ready  to  deal  with 
metaphysical  subjects,  but  it  was  from  their  mode,  and 
not  their  subjects,  that  Dr.  Johnson  classed  them.' 

By  the  '  Thinker'  I  intend  not  the  mode  but  the  '  sub- 
jects' (=  objects)  of  much  of  Donne's  poetry  ;  and  I  pro- 
nounce it  thoughtful  in  the  highest  and  subtlest  region  of 
speculative  thought.  Thomas  Carew,  in  his  very  remark- 
able Elegy,  recognises  this  intellectual  power  and  momen- 
tum, as  thus  : 

1  Thou  shalt  yeeld  no  precedence  but  of  time 
And  the  blinde  fate  of  language,  whose  tun'd  chime 
More  charms  the  outward  sense  ;  yet  thou  maist  claim 
From  so  great  disadvantage  greater  fame, 
Since  to  the  awe  oj  thy  imperious  wit 
Our  stubborn  language  bends,  made  onely  fit 
With  her  tough  oak-rib'd  hoopes  to  gird  about 
Thy  giant  phansie,  which  had  proved  too  stout 
For  their  sojt  melting  phrases.'  (1669,  p.  381). 

Sidney  Godolphin  too,  in  his  Elegy  discerned  it : 
VOL.  II.  a3 


XXXIV  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

4  Fancy  findes  some  check,  from  an  excess 
Of  merit  most — of  nothing  it  hath  spim : 
And  Truth,  as  Reason's  task  and  theam,  doth  shun. 
She  makes  a  fairer  flight  in  emptiness 
Than  when  a  bodied  truth  doth  her  oppress : 
....  Great  soul,  we  can  no  more  the  worthiness 
Of  what  you  were,  than  what  you  are,  express.' 

(1669,  pp.  376-7.) 

In  our  own  day,  across  the  Atlantic,  Professor  Lowell 
('  Among  my  Books')  puts  it  even  finelier  :  '  Dry  den,  with 
his  wonted  perspicacity,  follows  Ben  Jonson  in  calling 
Donne  "  the  greatest  wit,  though  not  the  best  poet,  of  our 
nation"  (Dedication  of  Eleonora).    Even  as  a  poet  Donne 

"  Had  here  those  brave  translunary  things 
That  our  first  poets  had." 

To  open  vistas  for  the  imagination  through  the  blind  wall 
of  the  senses,  as  he  could  sometimes  do,  is  the  supreme 
function  of  poetry'  (Dryden,  p.  63,  ed.  1870).  Again  :  '  He 
[Dryden]  shows  little  of  that  finer  instinct  which  suggests 
so  much  more  than  it  tells,  and  works  the  more  power- 
fully as  it  taxes  more  the  imagination  of  the  reader.  In 
Donne's  "  Relic"  there  is  an  example  of  what  I  mean.  He 
fancies  one  breaking  up  his  grave,  and  spying 
"  A  bracelet  of  bright  hair  about  the  bone ;" 

a  verse  that  still  shines  there  in  the  darkness  of  the  tomb, 
after  two  centuries,  like  one  of  those  inextinguishable 
lamps  whose  secret  is  lost'  (ib.  p.  63). 

To  appropriate  a  familiar  word  from  our  English  Bible, 
Donne  '  intermeddled'  with  problems  and  started  inqui- 
ries uncommon  in  the  period  ;  Sir  John  Davies  and  Abra- 
ham Cowley  being  earlier  and  later  fellow-thinkers.  His 
verse-letters  to  the  (then)  Countess  of  Bedford — a  lady 
of  whom  the  world  ought  to  know  more,  and  I  trust  will 
ere  very  long,  from  the  Bedford  mss.,  and  so  I  put  past  my 
own  gatherings  on  her — and  to  Herbert  Lord  Cherbury,  are 
laden  with  profound  speculative  and  imaginative  thought. 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXXV 

They  will  abundantly  recompense  the  most  prolonged 
study.  One  characteristic  of  this  thinking  is  its  sudden 
out-flashing  from  the  common  level  of  the  subject  in  hand 
— a  characteristic  common  to  all  Donne's  poetry.  Shake- 
speare describes  it  memorably  in  the  '  dolphin,'  which 
1  shows  its  back  above  the  element"  in  which  it  moves  (Ant. 
and  Cleo.  v.  1),  all  lustrous  and  iridescent.  So  in  this 
Poetry,  even  in  the  Satires,  and  indeed  notably  there,  you 
are  arrested  by  some  quaint  image  or  allusion,  that,  when 
you  come  to  dwell  on  it,  is  found  to  carry  in  its  heart 
some  splendid  thought  altogether  out  of  the  beaten  track, 
and  which  comes  with  absolute  surprise  in  the  place.  In 
Donne's  (prose)  'News  from  the  very  Country'  (1669, 
pp.  395-6)  he  says,  '  Sentences  in  Authors,  like  haires  in 
horse-tailes>  concur  in  one  root  of  beauty  and  strength ; 
but  being  pluckt  out  one  by  one,  serve  only  for  springes 
and  snares  :'  and  I  quote  the  Fullerian  gnome  because  I 
cannot  tarry  (even  if  it  were  desirable)  to  quote  illustra- 
tive and  confirmatory  passages  from  Donne's  poetry  ;  but 
at  hap-hazard  take  these  half-dozen  '  haires'  out  of  the 
4  root  of  beauty  and  strength.'  First,  in  the  '  Relique,' 
what  a  strange  quaint  '  fancy'  to  enter  the  poet's  brain  of 
the  4  bracelet  of  bright  hayre  about  the  bone,'  is  this — 

'  think  that  there  a  lovinge  couple  lyes 
Who  hopte  that  this  device  might  be  a  way 
To  make  their  sowles  at  the  last  busye  daye 
Meete  at  this  grave,  and  make  a  little  stay.9 

Second  :  what  fantastic,  almost  grotesque,  grandeur  is 
there  in  this  measurement  of  a  young  human  life  by  an 
4  angels  flight' — 

'  As  when  an  angell  downe  from  heaven  doth  five,. 
Our  quick  thought  cannot  keep  him  company ; 
Wee  cannot  think,  now  he  is  at  the  sunne, 
Now  through  the  moone,  now  through  the  aire  doth  runn; 
Yet  when  hee's  come,  we  knoio  he  did  repaire 
To  all  Hiuixt  hzavne  and  earth,  sunn,  moone,  and  aire.'' 


i 


XXXVI  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

The  whole  '  Obsequies'  of  Lord  Harrington,  in  which  these 
lines  occur,  is  packed -full  of  the  like  unique  thoughts, 
worked- out  with  lustrous  imaginative  edges.  Third :  there 
is  profound  truth  in  this  '  fancy,'  if  it  be  fancy,  in  '  The 
Cross' — 

'  As  perchance  carvers  do  not  faces  make, 
But  that  away  which  hid  them  there  do  take ; 
Let  crosses  so  take  what  hid  Christ  in  thee, 
And  be  His  image,  or  not  His,  but  He.' 

Fourth  :  let  the  reader  turn  to  the  '  Fragment,'  as  it 
is  called,  of  c  The  Resurrection.'  Here  are  two  of  its 
thought-laden  lines — 

4  He  was  all  gold  when  He  lay  down,  but  rose 
All  tincture.' 

1  so  my  soul,  more  earnestly  released, 
Will  outstrip  hers ;  as  bullets  flown  bejore, 
A  later  bullet  may  overtake,  the  powder  being  more.'' 

On  this  poem  { Antiphon'  remarks  :  c  What  a  strange  mode 
of  saying  that  He  is  our  head,  the  captain  of  our  salva- 
tion, the  perfect  humanity  in  which  our  life  is  hid  !  Yet 
it  has  its  dignity.  When  one  has  got  over  the  oddity  of 
these  last  six  lines,  the  figure  contained  in  them  shows  it- 
self almost  grand.  As  an  individual  specimen  of  the  gro- 
tesque form  holding  a  fine  sense,  regard  for  a  moment  the 
words  "  He  was  all  gold,"  &c,  which  means  that,  entirely 
good  when  He  died,  He  was  something  yet  greater  when 
He  rose,  for  He  had  gained  the  power  of  making  others 
good  :  the  tincture  intended  here  was  a  substance  whose 
touch  would  turn  the  basest  metal  into  gold'  (pp.  123-4). 
Fifth  :  speaking  of  closing  the  eyes  of  the  dead,  how  ar- 
resting is  this — 

4  O,  they  confess  much  in  the  world  amiss 
Who  dare  not  trust  a  dead-man's  eyes  with  that 
Which  they  from  God  and  angels  cover  not,' 

Sixth  :  six,  and  four,  and  two,  and  single  lines  and  half- 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXXV11 

lines,  you  are  perpetually  marking  in  the  margin  as  you 

read  Donne :  e.g. 

1  her  pure  and  eloquent  blood 
Spoke  in  her  cheeks,  and  so  distinctly  wrought, 
That  one  might  almost  say  her  body  thought :' — and 

'  in  all  she  did 
Some  figure  of  the  golden  times  was  hid :' — and 

'  Tears  in  his  eyes  quench  the  amazing  light:' — 

and  this  Words worthian  touch,  of  the  '  Robin  Redbreast,' 

1  The  household  bird,  with  the  red  stomacher.' 

Whoso  reads  '  The  Blossom'  and  '  The  Primrose'  will  un- 
derstand the   delicate  praise  of  Arthur  Wilson   in  his 

Elegy: 

1  Thou  sweetly  didst  contrive 
To  Beautie's  elements,  and  thence  derive 
Unspotted  lillies  white  ;  which  thou  didst  set 
Hand  in  hand  with  the  vein-like  violet, 
Making  them  soft  and  warm,  and  by  thy  power 
Couldst  give  both  life  and  sense  unto  a  flower.'     (1669,  p.  389.) 

But  while  I  thus  make  the  supremest  claims  for  Dcnne 
as  a  Thinker  and  Imaginator,  I  must,  at  the  same  time, 
in  measure  assent  to  Dr.  Macdonald's  criticism  on  Donne's 
mode  as  distinguished  from  his '  subjects' — highest  and  deep- 
est problems  of  thought  and  experience — and  so  I  give 
it :  '  The  central  thought  of  Dr.  Donne  is  nearly  sure  to 
be  just :  the  subordinate  thoughts,  by  means  of  which  he 
unfolds  it,  are  often  grotesque,  and  so  wildly  associated  as 
to  remind  one  of  the  lawlessness  of  a  dream,  wherein  mere 
suggestion  without  choice  or  fitness  rules  the  sequence.  As 
some  of  the  writers  of  whom  I  have  last  spoken  would  play 
with  words,  Dr.  Donne  would  sport  with  ideas,  and  with 
the  visual  images  or  embodiments  of  them.  Certainly 
in  his  case  much  knowledge  reveals  itself  in  the  associ- 
ation of  his  ideas,  and  great  facility  in  the  management 
and  utterance  of  them.    True  likewise,  he  says  nothing 


j 


XXXV111  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

unrelated  to  the  main  idea  of  the  poem  ;  but  not  the  less 
certainly  does  the  whole  resemble  the  speech  of  a  child  of 
active  imagination,  to  whom  judgment  as  to  the  character 
of  his  suggestions  is  impossible,  his  taste  being  equally 
gratified  with  a  lovely  image  and  a  brilliant  absurdity  :  a 
butterfly  and  a  shining  potsherd  are  to  him  similarly  de- 
sirable. "Whatever  wild  thing  starts  from  the  thicket  of 
thought,  all  is  worthy  game  to  the  hunting  intellect  of  Dr. 
Donne,  and  is  followed  without  question  of  tone,  keeping, 
or  harmony.  In  his  play  with  words,  Sir  Philip  Sidney 
kept  good  heed  that  even  that  should  serve  the  end  in 
view  ;  in  his  play  with  ideas,  Dr.  John  Donne,  so  far  from 
serving  the  end,  sometimes  obscures  it  almost  hopelessly  : 
the  hart  escapes  while  he  follows  the  squirrels  and  wea- 
sels and  bats'  (pp.  114-5). 

Coleridge  (the  Coleridge)  has,  almost  to  superlative, 
marked  out  the  greatness  of  Donne's  thought.  'After 
all,'  he  says,  in  annotating  '  Woman's  Constancy/  c  there 
is  but  one  Donne.  And  now  tell  me  yet  wherein,  in  his 
own  kind,  he  differs  from  the  similar  power  in  Shake- 
speare ?  Shakespeare  was  all  men  potentially,  except  Mil- 
ton ;  and  they  differ  from  him  by  negation,  or  privation, 
or  both.  This  power  of  dissolving  orient  pearls,  worth  a 
kingdom,  in  a  health  to  a  whore  ! — this  absolute  right  of 
dominion  over  all  thoughts,  that  dukes  are  bid  to  clean 
his  shoes,  and  are  yet  honoured  by  it !  But,  I  say,  in  this 
lordliness  of  opulence,  in  which  the  positive  of  Donne  agrees 
with  a  positive  of  Shakespeare,  what  is  it  that  makes 
them  7*o???ozousian  indeed,  yet  not  homoousian  ?'  (Notes  on 
Donne's  Poems  in  '  Notes  Theological,  Political,  and  Mis- 
cellaneous,' 1853,  p.  251.)  Even  the  light-hearted  Carew 
saw  the  gleam  of  the  kingly  crown  on  his  associate's  brow, 
when  he  celebrated  him  dead  as 

1  A  king  that  rul'd  as  he  thought  fit 
The  universal  monarchic  of  wit.' 

Let  the  reader  give  a  month  to  the  Terse-Letters  and 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  XXXIX 

Elegies  and  Funeral  Elegies,  and  he  will  find  how  noble 
o'  times  is  Donne  as  a  Thinker.  Nor  will  he  then  gainsay 
our  characteristic  of  surprise  and  suddenness  in  the  noble- 
ness. As  already  indicated,  in  the  most  unsuspected  places 
a  grand  thought  will  be  come  on.  Thus  it  is  of  the  '  Pro- 
gress of  the  Soul' — flagrantly  faulty  though  it  be — that 
such  a  one  as  Thomas  De  Quincey  said  :  '  Few  writers 
have  shown  a  more  extraordinary  compass  of  powers  than 
Donne  ;  for  he  combined  what  no  other  man  has  ever 
done  —  the  last  sublimation  of  dialectical  subtlety  and 
address  with  the  most  impassioned  majesty.  Massy  dia- 
monds compose  the  very  substance  of  his  poem  on  the 
Metempsychosis,  thoughts  and  descriptions  which  have  the 
fervent  and  gloomy  sublimity  of  Ezekiel  or  iEschylus, 
whilst  a  diamond- dust  of  rhetorical  brilliancies  is  showered 
over  the  whole  of  his  occasional  verses  and  his  prose.  No 
criticism  was  ever  more  unhappy  than  that  of  Dr.  John- 
son, which  denounces  all  this  artificial  display  as  so  much 
perversion  of  taste.  There  cannot  be  a  falser  thought  than 
this  ;  for,  upon  that  principle,  a  whole  class  of  composi- 
tions might  be  vicious,  by  conforming  to  its  own  ideal' 
(On  Whately's  'Rhetoric,'  Blackwood's  Mag.  Dec.  1828, 
vol.  xxiv.).  In  truth,  what  Milman  affirms  of  his  Prose 
holds  largely  of  Donne's  Poetry  :  '  a  wonderful  solidity  of 
thought  ....  an  earnest  force  almost  unrivalled,  with 
passages  occasionally  of  splendid,  almost  impassioned  de- 
votion' ('  St.  Paul's,'  p.  329). 

As  an  Imaginator  it  is  impossible  to  place  Donne  too 
high.  The  light  of  his  imagination  lies  goldenly  over  his 
thinking.  Granted  to  Dr.  Macdonald  (as  above)  that  a 
4  shining  potsherd'  takes  him  now  and  again  away  from 
the  main  line  of  his  thought  ;  but  it  is  not  the  potsherd 
that  does  it,  but  the  '  shining,'  and  the  4  shining'  is  not  from 
the  '  potsherd,'  but  from  above  in  the  glory  of  the  sun. 
Two  farther  examples  must  suffice  to  confirm  our  estim- 
ate of  Donne's  imaginative  faculty.    The  first  occurs  in 


xl  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

a  '  Valediction,  forbidding  to  mourn' — on  parting  from  his 
young  wife ;  and  of  the  entire  poem  even  placid  Izaak 
Walton  is  quickened  to  say  in  the  '  Life  :'  '  A  copy  of 
verses  given  by  Mr.  Donne  to  his  wife  at  the  time  he  then 
parted  from  her,  to  spend  some  months  in  France.  And 
I  beg  leave  to  tell,  that  I  have  heard  some  critics,  learned 
both  in  languages  and  poetry,  say  that  none  of  the  Greek 
or  Latin  poets  did  ever  equal  them.'  We  ask  the  reader 
to  turn  now  to  the  poem  in  its  completeness  (see  vol.  ii. 
pp.  210-12),  and  in  so  doing  ask  him  to  pass  from  it  to  the 
Elegy,  '  Refusal  to  allow  his  young  Wife  to  accompany 
him  abroad  as  a  Page'  (vol.  i.  pp.  161-4),  whose  '  exquisite 
delicacy  as  well  as  feeling'  '  took'  even  his,  in  this  case, 
frigid  successor  at  St.  Paul's  (pp.  325-6). 

The  metaphor  of  the  i  compasses'  in  the  '  Valediction' 
only  so  daring  an  Imaginator  as  Donne  would  have  at- 
tempted ;  and  the  out-of-the-wayness  of  it  is  not  more 
noticeable  than  the  imaginativeness  which  glorifies  it.  It 
is  used  elsewhere  by  the  poet,  and  with  equal  success,  viz. 
in  the  '  Obsequies  of  the  Lord  Harrington.'  The  touches 
of  imaginativeness  are  also  the  more  noticeable  in  that 
the  image  was  fetched  from  a  family-fact :  for  in  the 
'  Extracts  from  the  Hawthornden  mss.'  (as  before)  we 
read  that  the  '  Impressa'  of  old  John  Heywood — Donne's 
maternal  grandfather — was  4  a  compass  with  one  foot  in  cen- 
ter, the  other  broken,  the  words  Deest  quod  duceret  orbem1 
(p.  101).  Here,  no  doubt,  was  the  source  of  the  quaint 
but  really  magnificent  simile.1  Of  the  '  Valediction'  Cole- 
ridge (as  before)  writes,  '  An  admirable  poem,  which  none 
but  Donne  could  have  written.    Nothing  was  ever  more 

1  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Verse  -  Epistle  to  Selden,  introduces  the 
same  metaphor : 


*  You  that  have  been 
Ever  at  home,  yet  have  all  countries  seen ; 
And  like  a  compass,  keeping  one  foot  still 
Upon  your  centre,  do  your  circle  fill 
Of  general  knowledge.'  ( Underwoods.) 


AXD  WRITINGS  OF  DONXE.  xli 

admirably  made  out  than  the  figure  of  the  compass'  (p. 
255). 

The  second  example  is  found  in  l  The  Anniversary' 
(vol.  ii.  p.  181),  another  commemoration  of  his  Wife.  I  ask 
the  student  similarly  to  turn  to  it,  and  read  and  re-read  it 
in  full,  and  mark  the  greatness  of  the  close  : 

4  Let  us  live  nobly,  and  live  and  add  again 
Years  and  years  unto  years,  till  we  attain 
To  write  threescore  :  this  is  the  second  of  our  reign.' 

1  This  tender  utterance  of  a  husband's  love,'  says  Bellew, 
1  with  its  superb  conclusion,  "  Let  us  live  nobly,''  &c.  is  one 
of  the  finest  and  grandest  expressions  of  conjugal  af- 
fection that  adorn  our  English  literature'  (c  Poets'  Cor- 
ner,' 18G8,  p.  194).  It  were  easy  to  multiply  proofs  of  the 
highest  claim  possible  to  be  made  for  Donne  as  Thinker 
and  Imaginator.  In  the  spirit  of  our  quotation  from 
kNews  from  the  Country,'  I  prefer  sending  the  reader 
to  the  complete  poems  for  himself  ;  for  Coleridge  speaks 
truly  on  '  Canonization'  when  he  thus  remarks  :  '  One  of 
my  favourite  poems.  As  late  as  ten  years  ago  I  used  to 
seek  and  find  out  grand  lines  and  fine  stanzas  ;  but  my 
delight  has  been  far  greater  since  it  has  consisted  more  in 
tracing  the  leading  thought  throughout  the  whole.  The 
former  is  too  much  like  coveting  your  neighbour's  goods  ; 
in  the  latter  you  merge  yourself  in  the  author,  you  become 
he.1  Similarly,  Dr.  Samuel  Brown  (as  before)  :  '  Unfor- 
tunately (or  shall  we  say  fortunately  ?),  the  best  thing  in 
a  true  poet  is  that  which  it  is  impossible  to  convey  any 
fit  notion  of  by  a  few  and  limited  extracts.  Every  great 
poet  has,  in  a  measure,  to  create  the  taste  by  which  he  is 
to  be  enjoyed.  The  divine  aura  that  breathes  about  his 
works  is  not  to  be  found  by  the  chance  reader  in  any  par- 
ticular passage  or  poem.  This  only  reveals  itself  to  the 
loving  student  of  the  Muses,  and  departs  from  him  who 
departs  from  them,  or  endeavours  to  a-muse  himself  by 


xlii  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

carelessly  attending  to  their  songs.  The  longest  and  most 
famous  of  these  "  Epithalamiums"  has  scarcely  a  quotable 
passage.  Its  whole  merit  lies  in  this  inexplicable,  incom- 
municable aura'  (p.  233). 

in.  The  Friend.  Our  waning  space — for  the  Poems  in 
vol.  ii.  have  stretched  out  beyond  our  estimate — forbids 
the  fulfilment  of  our  intention  to  elucidate  the  friend- 
ships of  Donne  with  his  foremost  contemporaries.  We  the 
less  regret  it,  in  that  properly  the  task  of  love  belongs  to 
the  Biographer  rather  than  Editor.  It  may  be  permitted 
me  to  offer  another  suggestion  to  our  former,  viz.  that  Dr. 
Jessopp  shall  shed  light  on  not  only  the  '  names'  that  occur 
in  the  poetry  and  letters,  but  those  anonymous  and 
semi -anonymous.  The  '  Brookes,'  '  Boulstreds,'  '  Drurys,' 
and  specially  the  group  of  '  W.'s — the  Woodwards — de- 
mand full  treatment,  Unless  I  very  much  mistake,  the 
long-sought  '  A.  W.'  of  the  many  poems  of  the  '  Poetical 
Rhapsody'  will  be  discovered  among  these  Woodwards.  I 
have  come  on  tantalising  confirmations ;  but  hitherto  have 
been  unable  to  follow  out  the  inquiry  to  certainty.  A 
poet  whose  numerous  poems  were  long  deemed  worthy  of 
the  great  name  of  Raleigh  deserves  all  earnestness  of  pur- 
suit until  he  be  revealed.  There  is — so  far  as  I  know — 
only  a  single  falsetto  note  in  the  Friendships  of  Donne. 
His  Letters  to  the  King  (James)  have  all  the  adulation 
of  the  period,  while  his  posthumous  Satire,  and  other  re- 
ferences, show  the  inevitable  low  estimate  of  the  monarch. 
It  is  not  pleasant  to  come  on  the  contradiction.  Perhaps 
in  the  outset  he  wrote  according  to  the  '  brute'  of  '  com- 
mon talk.'  I  am  in  doubt  whether  Sir  John  Davies  was 
hit  in  the  second  Satire  ;  but  our  note  in  vol.  i.  p.  20  may 
be  studied  along  with  Epigrams  in  the  Farmer- Chetham 
MS.  as  edited  by  us  for  the  Chetham  Society.  His  cele- 
bration of  the  '  Crudities'  (on  whose  droll  authorship  we 
should  gladly  have  enlarged  as  intended)  was  mere  banter. 
Of  his  '  Friends,'  R.  B.  in  his  Elegy  thus  sings  : 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  xliii 

'had  Donne  need  to  be  judg'd  or  try'd, 
A  jury  I  would  summon  on  his  side 
That  had  no  sides  nor  factions ;  past  the  touch 
Of  all  exceptions,  freed  from  passion,  such 
As  not  to  fear  or  flatter,  e'r  were  bred ; 
These  would  I  bring  though  called  from  the  dead. 
Southampton, Hambleton  [Hamilton], Pembrook  [Pembroke], 

Dorset's  earls, 
Huntington,  Bedford's  countesses  (the  pearls 
Once  of  each  sex) :  if  these  suffice  not,  I 
Ten  Decern  tales  have  of  standers-by  : 
All  which  for  Donne  would  such  a  verdict  give 
As  can  belong  to  none  that  now  doth  live.'  (1669,  p.  393.) 

One  of  'Bedford's  countesses'  ['Lucy'],  judging  from  a 
request  in  Donne's  (prose)  letters  to  her,  seems  to  have 
herself  '  poetised.'  But  we  must  not  be  tempted  now  and 
here  to  enlarge. 

iv.  The  Artist.  'Antiphon'  (as  before)  pronounces 
Donne  '  inartistic,'  as  follows  :  '  It  is  not  surprising  that, 
their  author  being  so  inartistic  with  regard  to  their  ob- 
ject, his  verses  themselves  should  be  harsh  and  unmusical 
beyond  the  worst  we  would  imagine  fit  to  be  called  verse. 
He  enjoys  the  unenviable  distinction  of  having  no  rival 
in  ruggedness  of  metric  movement  and  associated  sounds. 
This  is  clearly  the  result  of  indifference  ;  an  indifference, 
however,  which  grows  more  strange  to  us  when  we  find 
that  he  can  write  a  lovely  verse  and  even  an  exquisite 
stanza'  (p.  116).  Coleridge  (as  before)  says,  more  deeply 
and  truly :  '  To  read  Dryden,  Pope,  &c.  you  need  only 
count  syllables  ;  but  to  read  Donne  you  must  measure 
time,  and  discover  the  time  of  each  word  by  the  sense  of 
passion'  (p.  249).  And  again  :  '  In  poems  where  the  writer 
thinks,  and  expects  the  reader  to  do  so,  the  sense  must  be 
understood  to  ascertain  the  metre'  (p.  250).  Once  more  : 
'  If  you  would  teach  a  scholar  in  the  highest  form  how  to 
read,  take  Donne,  and  of  Donne  this  satire  [in.].  When 
he  has  learned  to  read  Donne,  with  all  the  force  and  mean- 


Xliv  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

ing  which  are  involved  in  the  words,  then  send  him  to 
Milton,  and  he  will  stalk-on  like  a  master,  enjoying  his 
walk'  (p.  251).  I  do  not  adduce  the  great  critic's  some- 
what paradoxical  '  improvement'  by  simple  omission  or 
addition  of  that,  which,  and,  and  such  'small  deer,'  nor 
do  I  mind  discussing  his  theory  of  versification  in  Donne 
and  others.  I  venture  to  assume  that  our  text  corrects — 
and  for  the  first  time — those  many  misprints  and  other  er- 
rors that  have  been  so  long  and  so  justly  complained  of — 
through  our  anxious  collation  of  printed  texts  and  mss. 
never  before  examined  ;  also  it  may  be  allowed  me  to 
hope  that  in  our  Notes  and  Illustrations  not  a  few  ob- 
scurities of  construction  and  allusion  have  been  removed. 
But,  after  all,  I  fear  it  must  be  conceded  that  it  is  as 
Thinker  and  Imaginator,  and  Artist  of  ideas  rather  than 
words  in  verse,  we  have  to  assert  Donne's  incomparable 
genius.  He  has  nothing  of  the  '  smoothness'  of  various 
contemporaries,  and  very  little  of  the  ever- changing  music 
of  the  Poet  of  '  all  time.'  Nevertheless,  the  various-read- 
ings and  perpetual  fluctuations  of  text  in  the  mss.  lift  up 
a  united  protest  against  any  such  charge  as  that  of  '  indif- 
ference.' He  must  have  worked  laboriously  even  in  his 
versification.  What  satisfied  Ben  Jonson  ought  to  be 
sympathetically  studied  by  us.  Instead  of  quoting,  I  ask 
the  student  to  read  all  of  Jonson  on  Donne,  specially  on 
the  '  Calme,'  as  given  in  the  '  Conversations/  One  line 
in  one  of  the  '  Holy  Sonnets'  (ix.)  tells  us  that  Milton  read 

Donne ;  as  thus, 

'  if  that  tree, 

Whose  fruit  threw  death  on  else  immortal  us.' 
Even  to  the  rhythm  this  recalls  the  opening  of  *  Paradise 
Lost.'     In  Milton's  immortal  lines  on  Shakespeare  we 
read : 

1  Thou,  in  our  wonder  and  astonishment, 

Hast  built  thyself  a  livelong  monument ; 

And  there  sepulchred  in  such  state  dost  lie, 

That  kings  J  or  such  a  tomb  might  wish  to  die,9 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  xlv 

Coleridge  has  written  these  lines  on  the  margin  of  one 
of  Donne's  letters  to  the  Lady  G.,  where  is  this  :  '  No  prince 
would  be  loath  to  die  that  were  assured  of  so  fair  a  tomb 
to  preserve  his  memory'  (as  before,  p.  258).  There  are 
other  Miltonic  parallels.  When  Wordsworth's  reading,  as 
reflected  in  his  greatest  poetry,  comes  to  be  adequately 
traced  in  its  influence  on  him,  Donne  will  yield  not  a  few 
memorabilia  ;  and  so  with  other  singers,  from  Addison  to 
Robert  Browning  —  who  has  wealth  of  admiration  for 
Donne.  Even  prosaic  Benjamin  Franklin  seems  to  have 
turned  to  him,  as  Notes  and  Queries  on  his  famous  '  Epi- 
taph' would  suggest.  '  Cato'  drew  its  almost  single  quick 
line,  that  everybody  knows,  from  Elegy  xx.,  '  Opinion' 
(1.  36)  ;  and  another  line  of  it  keeps  ringing  through  our 
memory,  though  we  cannot  fix  it  on  a  great  or  any  name. 

We  should  have  liked  to  trace  the  influence  of 
Shakespeare  on  Donne,  although,  sooth  to  say,  considering 
the  subtlety  common  to  both,  that  influence  is  less  marked 
than  might  have  been  expected.  A  poor  anecdote  of 
1  gentle  Will,'  given  in  '  Wit's  Interpreter'  and  elsewhere, 
on  the  authority  of  Donne,  and  other  data,  assure  us  that 
Donne  and  he  knew  each  other,  and  met  (probably)  at 
1  The  Mermaid.'  Apart  from  this,  on  reading  the  Verse- 
Letters,  and  Elegies,  and  Funeral  Elegies,  and  the  class 
entitled  '  Lyrical,'  there  reach  my  ear  occasionally  Shake- 
spearean melody,  and  now  and  again  as  I  study  I  am  con- 
scious of  an  indefinable  something  suggestive  of  Shake- 
speare. In  its  place  I  have  pointed-out  that  the  song, 
1  Break  of  day,'  has  a  flavour  of  '  Romeo  and  Juliet ;'  and 
similarly  you  chance  on  Shakespeare's  very  own  way  of 
starting,  pursuing,  and  illumining  a  fancy.  But  just 
now  I  must  confine  myself  to  a  single  word  elucidative 
of  an  obscurity  in  relation  to  Shakespeare's  Sonnets  ;  for 
on  reconsideration  I  fall  from  a  personal  allusion  that  I 
had  thought  secreted  itself  in  the  second  Satire,  11.  11-18. 
The  word  to  which  I  refer  is  '  adventurers,'  as  it  occurs 


xlvi  E8SAY  OX  THE  LIFE 

in  the  Elegy  on  the  Lord  C,  1.  15,  *  With  whom  adven- 
turers more  boldly  dare.'  The  Elegy  belongs  to  1G09,  or 
thereabouts  ;  and  Donne  here,  and  Thorpe  in  his  still 
largely  misunderstood  dedication  of  Shakespeare's  Son- 
nets, in  the  same  year,  were  both  led  to  speak  as  they 
have  done  by  the  newly  aroused,  or  re-aroused,  commer- 
cial activity  and  fancy  for  commercial  speculation  among 
the  public,  which  showed  itself  in  expeditions,  colonisa- 
tion, and  the  formation  of  companies.  In  1606  two  com- 
panies were  followed  by  the  re- colonisation  of  Virginia — 
in  relation  to  which  William  Crashawe,  father  of  the  poet, 
preached  one  of  his  most  remarkable  sermons.  In  1609 
the  Earl  of  Southampton  was  one  of  the  council  for  the 
same,  and  the  Somers  and  Gates  expedition  left,  as  did 
also  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  ;  and  in  1610  a  fresh  colonisation 
took  place,  and  Virginia  received  its  first  governor.  In 
1609  also  the  East-India  Company,  first  chartered  for  fif- 
teen years  in  1600,  received  a  new  charter,  six  years  before 
the  old  had  expired  ;  and  Surat  was  occupied  in  1612. 
About  the  same  time  too  a  charter  was  given  to  a  com- 
pany for  the  colonisation  of  Newfoundland  ;  and  as  evi- 
dence of  the  popular  tendency,  James,  in  1608,  offered 
Ulster  lands  to  English  settlers,  and  the  offer  wxis  taken 
up  by  a  company  and  effected  in  1611.  All  the  share- 
holders in  these  and  other  speculations  were  called,  as  they 
still  are  in  cost- book  mining  companies  in  Cornwall,  '  The 
Adventurers.'  Well,  it  has  been  demonstrated  by  Malone 
and  others  that  Shakespeare  used  in  his  '  Tempest'  ma- 
terials gathered  from  the  account  of  the  shipwreck  of 
Somers'  vessels  in  the  Bermudas  ;  and  thus  the  word 
'  adventurers'  was  one  inevitable  almost  to  Thorpe  in  the 
midst  of  the  popular  tendencies,  while  it  may  be  remarked 
— without  entering  on  an  examination  of  4  The  Tempest' 
in  relation  thereto — that  Shakespeare's  plays  were  what 
he  called  them,  '  mirrors  of  the  times,'  and  that  though  by 
his  genius  they  were  adapted  to  all  time,  they  were  spe- 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  xlvii 

cially  adapted  by  him  to  the  days  in  which  each  was  pro- 
duced. This  in-a-sort  digression  may  shed  a  ray  of  light 
on  the  Thorpe  use  of  '  adventurer.' 

Glancing  back  on  our  Essay,  I  feel  how  very  much 
remains  unsaid  ;  how  I  must  return  on  the  great  subject, 
and  especially  on  certain  things  in  the  Life  that  give  sig- 
nificance to  the  writings,  verse  and  prose.  Meanwhile, 
in  the  absence  of  anything  approaching  a  worthy  edition 
of  Donne  as  a  poet,  or  so  much  as  an  attempt  to  vindicate 
his  peculiar  claims  or  to  mark  his  characteristics,  even  our 
inadequate  words  may  be  acceptable.  With  every  abate- 
ment, Ire-assert  that  Donne  was  not  over-estimated  in  his 
lifetime ;  and  that  it  was  no  '  glamour'  of  personal  love 
which  drew  out  the  wonderful  Elegies  by  his  greatest  com- 
peers ;  neither  is  it  asking  too  much  for  such  an  absolute 
and  unique  genius,  that  the  reader  will  master  his  language 
and  methods,  and  with  all  reverence  and  humility  sit  at 
his  feet,  and  look,  if  not  with  shut,  yet  shaded  eyes  on 
poems  and  lines  one  must  wish  he  had  blotted.  Let 
*  EliaV  wise  as  brave  verdict  be  pondered  by  all  who  ac- 
cept traditional  criticism  :  4  We  are  too  apt  to  indemnify 
ourselves  for  some  characteristic  excellence  we  are  kind 
enough  to  concede  to  a  great  author  by  denying  him  every- 
thing else.  Thus  Donne  and  Cowley,  by  happening  to 
possess  more  wit  and  faculty  of  illustration  than  other 
men,  are  supposed  to  have  been  incapable  of  natural 
feeling  ;  they  are  usually  opposed  to  such  writers  as  Shen- 
stone  and  Parnell ;  whereas  in  the  very  thickest  of  their 
conceits — in  the  bewildering  mazes  of  tropes  and  figures 
— a  warmth  of  soul  and  generous  feeling  shines  through, 
the  "  sum"  of  which  "  forty  thousand"  of  those  natural 
poets,  as  they  are  called,  "  with  all  their  quantity,"  could 
not  make  up.'  (Charac.  p.  149  :  1867).1    The  Elegies  on  the 

1  Professor  Craik,  in  his  '  History  of  English  Literature  and  Lan- 
guage' (2  vols.  8vo,  1866),  devotes  pp.  579-583  (vol.  i.)  to  Donne  5 
and  I  wish  I  could  have  discussed  some  of  his  criticisms.     But  I 


Xlviii  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

death  of  Donne  belong  to  his  biography.  Dr.  Jessopp 
will  find  them  worthy  of  his  commentary.  Leaving 
them,  except  as  used  throughout  this  Essay,  I  close  with 
the  imperishable  tribute  of  Ben  Jonson,  who,  spite  of  his 
quips  over  his  wine-cup,  had  a  singularly-reverent  admir- 
ation towards  Donne,  as  man  and  poet : 

1  Donne,  the  delight  of  Phoebus  and  each  Muse. 
Who  to  thy  one  all  other  braines  refuse : 
Whose  every  work,  of  thy  most  early  wit, 
Came  forth  example,  and  remains  so  yet : 
Longer  of  knowing  than  most  wits  do  live. 
And  which  no'n  affection  praise  enough  can  give: 
To  it.  thy  language,  letters,  arts,  best  life, 
Which  might  with  half  mankind  maintain  a  strife  : 
All  which  I  mean  to  praise,  and  yet  I  would 
But  leave,  because  I  cannot  as  I  should.' 

Alexander  B.  Grosart. 


Bibliographical  and  Critical  Postscript. 

I  wish  to  record  here  the  early  and  later  editions  of 
Donne's  Poems,  and  to  notice  the  use  made  of  them  and 
of  mss.  in  our  text. 

(a)  In  the  Essay  (pp.  xxxi.  ii.)  I  refer  to  the  existence 
of  'printed  poems'  of  Donne  prior  to  ■  14th  April  1612,' 
besides  the  editions  of  the  '  Anatomie'  or  Anniversaries 
(on  which,  and  for  their  title-pages,  see  vol.  i.  pp.  102-4). 
Doubtless   it  was  with  Donne    as    with  Drummond    of 


must  content  myself  with  two  golden  sentences  :  '  Running  through 
all  this  bewilderment,  a  deeper  insight  detects  not  only  a  vein  of  the 
most  exuberant  wit.  but  often  the  sunniest  and  most  delicate  fancy, 
and  the  truest  tenderness  and  depth  of  feeling'  (p.  580).  Again  : 
'His  lines,  though  they  will  not  suit  the  see-saw  style  of  reading 
rers€ — to  which  probably  he  intended  that  they  should  be  invincibly 
impracticable — are  not  without  a  deep  and  subtle  music  of  their  own, 
in  which  the  cadences  respond  to  the  sentiment  when  enunciated 
with  a  true  feeling  of  all  that  they  convey'  (p.  581). 


ANT)  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  xllX 

Hawthornden,  who  is  found  thus  writing  :  '  I  have  been 
[bold]  to  present  you  with  this  of  mine  [owne],  which, 
though  of  little  worth,  is  [a]  new  one,  and  (singular  in 
this)  not  to  be  found  in  any  Jibrary ;  I  having  caused 
print  only  some  coppies  equalyng  the  number  of  my 
friends,  and  those  to  whom  I  am  beholden,  which  are 
not  many.'  (Extracts  from  the  Hawthornden  mss.  p.  27.) 
With  reference  to  the  Satires  as  having  been  printed 
much  earlier  than  any  extant  edition,  and  during  Donne's 
own  lifetime,  it  may  be  added,  that  among  Ben  Jonson's 
Poems  are  Lines  'To  Lucy  Countess  of  Bedford,  with  M. 
Donne's  Satyres.'  This  must  have  been  early.  In  addition 
to  our  words  on  the  Countess  (ante)  let  Ben  Jonson's  7Gth 
Epigram  to  her  be  read,  and  Samuel  Daniel. 

(/;)  The  first  surviving  edition  of  the  Poems  was  post- 
humous. It  appeared  in  1633  as  a  small  4to.  Its  title- 
page  is  as  follows : 

POEMS 
By  J.  D. 


ELEGIES 

ON  THE  AUTHOR'S  DEATH. 


London  :  Printed  by  M.  F.  for  Iohn  Marriot, 

and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  in  St.  Dunstan's 

Church-yard  in  Fleet-street.  1663. 

Collation  :  Title-page — Infinitati  Sacrum,  &c.   3  pp.  unmarked,  re- 
verse of  4th  blank,  and  pp.  406  (but  with  various  mis-paged.) 

VOL.  II.  A  4 


1  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

This  volume  has  been  somewhat  scurvily  treated.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  its  arrangement  is  faulty ;  indeed,  the 
pieces  seem  to  have  been  added  on  and  on,  as  they 
reached  the  Publisher ;  but  otherwise  it  was  a  great  gift 
to  our  poetic  Literature.  Its  text,  in  common  with  all 
the  printed  editions,  is  sometimes  inaccurate,  and  its 
punctuation  perplexing.  Nevertheless,  substantially  I  have 
not  found,  on  collation,  that  it  is  greatly  inferior  to  after- 
editions.  In  some  instances  its  text  shows  excellent 
readings  in  agreement  with  my  best  mss.,  as  noted  in  the 
places.  Our  note  under  c,  of  additions  to  1633,  will  show 
which  of  the  Poems  first  appeared  therein.  It  would  serve 
no  critical  end  to  record  the  sequence  of  the  pieces.  In 
our  Notes  and  Illustrations  the  original  appearance  of 
each  poem  is  noted,  except  in  the  class  '  Lyrical.'  Most 
of  these,  as  c  additions  inform,  appeared  first  in  1633  (so 
far  as  extant  editions  are  concerned). 

(c)  The  next  edition  was  a  small  12mo,  in  1635  :  title- 
page  same  as  in  1633.  Prefixed  is  an  address:  'The 
Printer  to  the  Ynderstanders,'  pp.  5  (unpaged)  ;  and  on 
reverse,  lines  '  Hexastichon  Bibliopolae'  and  '  Hexastichon 
ad  Bibliopolam,  Incerti:'  the  former  signed  Jo.  Mar.,  pro- 
bably Jo[hn]  Mar  [riot].  After  these  comes  '  Infinitati 
Sacrvm'  &c.  (as  before)  pp.  3  (unpaged)  ;  and  pp.  388. 
The  Elegies,  as  before,  occupy  pp.  31  (unpaged),  reverse 
blank.  The  arrangement  is  different ; '  Songs  and  Sonnets' 
commencing,  in  bad  taste,  with  '  The  Flea,'  came  first;  next 
Epigrams;  next  Elegies,  numbered  I.  to  xvn.;  next  Epi- 
thalamiums,  or  marriage-songs  ;  next  Satires  ;  next  Verse- 
Letters  ;  next  Anatomie  &c.  and  Funeral  Elegies  ;  next 
Prose  Letters,  and  after  the  first  (in  Latin)  is  the  Latin 
poem  to  Dr.  Andrews  ;  next  The  Progresse  of  the  Sovle  ; 
next  Divine  Poems  ;  finally,  the  Elegies. 

Though  no  mention  is  made  of  '  additions,'  this  edi- 
tion published  for  the  first  time  the  Elegies  i.  (vol.  i. 
pp.  161-3),  xi.  (pp.  190-1),  and  xii.  (ib.  pp.  192-6),  and  xiii. 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  li 

as  far  as  1.  56  (ib.  199-201),  and  xiv.  (ib.  pp.  203-7),  and 
xv.  (ib.  208-9),  and  xvii.  (pp.  214-16);  Satire  vi.  (ib.  pp. 
51-5);  a  Dialogue  betweene  Sir  Henry  Wotton  and  Mr. 
Donne  (vol.  ii.  pp.  244-6);  to  Ben  Johnson,  6  Jan.  1603  (see 
our  Essay,  p.  xxv.,  for  the  real  author  of  this  poem) ;  Epi- 
taph (vol.  ii.  pp.  141-2);  Latin  poem  to  Dr.  Andrews  (ib. 
pp.  100-1);  on  the  blessed  Virgin  Mary  (ib.  pp.  291-2);  the 
Crosse  (ib.  pp.  292-4) ;  Vpon  the  Translation  of  the  Psalmes 
bySirPhilipSydney&c.(ib.pp.313-15);Ode(ib.pp.316-7); 
to  Mr.  Tilman  &c.  (ib.  pp.  317-19);  on  the  Sacrament  (not 
Donne's :  see  Essay,  p.  xxvi.);  on  Himself e  (ib.  pp.  141-2); 
Hymne  to  God  my  God  in  my  sicknesse  (ib.  pp.  339-41).  It 
is  evident  that  1635  was  an  immense  advance  on  1633, 
seeing  that  among  the  additions  are  some  of  the  very 
best  of  the  Poems,  e.g.  the  supreme  first  Elegy,  'Refusal 
to  allow  his  young  wife  to  accompany  him  abroad  as  a 
page,'  and  the  '  Hymne  in  Sicknese,'  naming  the  first  and 
last  only.  The  text  reveals  new  mss.  and  considerable 
care  in  revision.  The  Printer  (= Publisher)  states  that 
1  had  it  [the  vol.]  not  beene  presented  here,  [it]  would 
have  come  to  us  from  beyond  the  seas ;'  and  he  speaks  of 
his  '  charge  and  pains  in  procuring  of  it,'  with  a  promise 
4  of  more  correctnesse  or  inlargement  in  the  next  edition ;' 
and  farther  adds  :  '  Howsoever  it  may  appeare  to  you,  it 
shall  suffice  mee  to  enforme  you  that  it  hath  the  best 
warrant  that  can  bee,  publique  authority,  and  private 
friends.'  This  edition  withdrew  Basse's  epitaph  upon 
Shakespeare  of  1633  ;  but  misinserted  the  poem  to  Jon- 
son  by  Roe,  and  the  four  lines  on  the  Sacrament  by  Eli- 
zabeth, and  Psalm  cxxxvii. 

The  following  Letter  (never  before  printed),  relating 
to  Marriot's  editions  of  the  Poems  (as  described),  was  dis- 
covered by  my  late  lamented  friend  John  Bruce,  Esq., 
and  by  him  sent  to  me.     It  is  in  the  Record-Office : 


lii  ESSAY  ON  Till,  LIFE 

To  if  most  Reuerendejather  in  God 

William  horde  Arch-Bishop  of 

Canterburie  Primate  and 

Metropolitan  of  all  Eng- 

lande  his  Grace. 

The  humble  Petition  of  John  Donne,  Clercke, 
Doth  show  vnto  your  Grace  that  since  ye  death  of  his  Father  (latly 
Deane  of  Pauls)  there  hath  bene  manie  scandalous  Pamflets  printed 
and  published  vnder  his  name,  which  were  none  of  his,  by  seuerall 
Boocksellers,  withoute  anie  leaue  or  Autoritie;  in  particuler,  one 
entitoled  Juuenilia,  printed  for  Henry  Seale:  another  by  John  Mar- 
riott and  William  Sheares,  entitoled  Ignatius  his  Conclaue,  as  allsoe 
certaine  Poems,  by  ye  sayde  John  Marriote :  of  which  abuses  thay 
haue  bene  often  warned  by  your  Petitioner,  and  tolde  that  if  thay 
desisted  not,  thay  should  bee  proceeded  against  beefore  your  Grace, 
which  thay  seeme  so  much  to  slight,  that  thay  professe  soddainly 
to  publish  new  impressions,  verie  much  to  the  greife  of  your  peti- 
tioner and  the  discredite  of  ye  memorie  of  his  Father. 

Wherefore  your  Petitioner  doth  beeseech  your  Grace  that  you 
would  bee  pleased  by  your  Commaunde,  to  stopp  their  farther  pro- 
ceedinge  herein,  and  to  cale  the  forenamed  boocksellers  beefore  you 
to  giue  an  account  for  what  thay  haue  allreadie  done;  and  your  Pe- 
titioner shall  pray,  &c. 

I  require  ye  Partyes  whom  this  Petition  concernes  not  to  meddle 
any  farther  with  ye  Printing  or  Selling  of  any  ye  pretended  workes 
of  ye  late  Deane  of  St.  Paules,  saue  onely  such  as  shall  be  licensed 
by  publike  authority,  and  approued  by  the  Petitioner,  as  they  will 
answere  ye  contrary  at  theyr  perill.  And  of  this  I  desire  Mr.  Deane 
of  ye  Arches  to  take  care. 

Dec.  lb,  lbo4 . 


(d)  Some  arrangement  must  have  been  come  to  as 
between  the  younger  Donne,  for  the  next  edition  bears 
date  of  1639,  and  is  identical  in  every  respect  with  that 
of  1635,  except  (a)  one  of  Marshall's  finest  bits  of  work 
in  the  portrait  of  Donne,  aged  18,  as.reproduced  by  us  (in 
4to);  (b)  the  Epistle  to  the  Progress  of  the  Soul,  put  in  its 


AM)  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE. 


liii 


own  place  before  the  poem,  agreeably  to  the 'Errata'  note 
of  1635  at  end.1 

(e)  Another  is  dated  1649  :  same  as  d,  only  the  en- 
graved portrait  is  worn  usually. 

(/)  Another  is  dated  1 650 :  same  as  d%  and  it  does  not 
appear  that  the  younger  Donne  had  anything  to  do  with 
it,  as  stated  by  Mr.  Hazlitt  in  his  Hand-Book.  It  corre- 
sponds precisely  with  d. 

(r/)  Another  1654:  ib.  ib. 

(h)  Another  1669,  of  which  the  following  is  the  title- 
page  : 

POEMS  &c. 


JOHN     DONNE, 

Late  Dean  of  St.  Pauls. 

WITH 

ELEGIES 

OX  THE 

AUTHOR'S  DEATH. 

To  which  is  added 

Divers  Copies  tinder  his  own  hand, 

Never  before  printed. 

In  the  Savoy, 

Printed  by  T.  N.  for  Henry  Hcrringman,  at  the  sign  of 

the  Anchor,  in  the  lower-walk  of  the 

New  Exchange.     1669.  [Sm.  8vo.J 

Collation  :  Title-page — Epistle-dedicatory  to  Lord  Craven,  pp.  3 
— on"  p.  4  the  usual  lines  and  B.  Jonson's  'Donne,  the  delight  oi: 
Phoebus,'  <fcc.  and  pp.  411. 


1  In  Addl.  3iss.  15226  (p.  46)  is  a  poem  entitled  'Dr.  Dunne 


Hv  ESSAY  ON  THE  LIFE 

The  Epistle- dedicatory  is  signed  by  John  Donne,  i.e.  his 
son.  The  '  never  before  printed'  poems  are  such  as  we 
should  willingly  have  gone  without  in  large  part,  especi- 
ally the  following  :  Love's  Progress  (vol.  i.  pp.  218-21);  to 
his  Mistress  going  to  bed  (ib.  pp.  223-4);  Opinion  (ib.  pp. 
225-28):  Satire  viii.  (ib.  pp.  61-2);  upon  Mr.  Thomas 
Coryat's  Crudities  (vol.  ii.  pp.  93-6) ;  the  Token  (ib.  p.  241  -2) ; 
News  from  the  very  Country  (prose) ;  Latin  lines  to  Jon- 
son  (vol.  ii.  pp.98-9);  Catalogus  Librorum — a  quaint  fan- 
tastique,  ending  slyly  '  Tarltonus,  de  privileges  Parlia- 
ment ;'  the  Anchor  and  Serpent  poems  (vol.  ii.  pp.  344  et 
seqq.)]  out  of  Gazaeus  (vol.  ii.  p.  321);  Ben  Jonson's  two 
poems  on  Donne :  Opinion  (vol.  i.  pp.  225-8),  and  '  He  that 
cannot  choose  but  loue'  (vol.  ii.  pp.  242-3).  It  thus  ap- 
pears that,  notwithstanding  his  Letter  to  Laud,  the  younger 
Donne  included  all  that  had  appeared  in  Marriot's  1635 
volume,  and  did  not  even  exclude  Roe's  two  pieces,  the 
Lines  to  Ben  Jonson  and  '  Nice  and  chaste,'  or  the  four 
lines  on  the  Sacrament,  while  his  additions  were  trivial, 
and  in  part  '  naughty.' 

Of  more  modern  editions  I  simply  name  these  three  : 
1.  1719,  12mo  (Tonson);  2.  1779,  3  vols.  18mo  (Edin- 
burgh)— very  neat ;  3.  1864,  Boston,  U.S.,  '  Little,  Brown, 
and  Co.' — uncritical  and  careless,  though  typographically 
worthy. 

In  our  Notes  and  Illustrations  will  be  found  various 
readings  from  all  the  early  editions — a,  &,  c,  cZ,  e,  /,  g1  and 
h.  1635  and  1669  seem  to  us  to  have  been  printed  from 
authentic  mss.,  though  repeatedly  we  have  been  called  on 


vppon  ye  Eucharist ;'  but  it  is  a  bad  copy  of  the  Lines  in  Thomas 
Tuke's  '  Holy  Eucharist  and  Popish  Breaden  God'  (in  our  l  Fuller 
Worthies,'  Miscellanies,  vol.  hi.).  In  Addl.  mss.  19268  is  another 
poem  headed  'Dr.  Don's  Elegy  on  the  death  of  Kinge  James;'  but 
it  is  simply  impossible  that  he  could  have  written  such  rubbish.  It 
is  without  one  gleam  of  his  characteristics. 


AND  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE.  lv 

to  correct  their  errors.  One  of  the  '  curiosities'  of  our  Li- 
terature is,  that  a  considerable  number  of  Donne's  Poems 
were  early  translated  into  Dutch ;  on  which,  through  us, 
there  has  of  late  been  an  interesting  correspondence  in  the 
Athenaeum.  Waldron  the  'Player' — a  man  of  brains  and 
taste — earlier,  and  Sir  John  Simeon  later,  deserve  a  meed 
of  thanks  for  their  first  publication  of  some  poems  by 
Donne,  as  in  the  places  pointed  out. 

Of  the  mss.  used  in  the  preparation  of  our  text  account 
is  given  in  the  successive  places.  We  attach  great  value 
to  the  Stephens'  MS.  now  in  possession  of  F.  W.  Cosens, 
Esq.  of  London,  notwithstanding  singular  oversights  of 
the  Copyist,  who  seems  to  have  '  nodded'  over  his  task 
(see  our  vol.  i.  p.  3).  The  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms. 
consists  of  a  large  number  of  autograph  and  other  ms. 
poetry,  temp.  Elizabeth- Charles  I.,  many  unpublished  and 
of  rare  interest,  as  elsewhere  we  hope  to  evidence.  In 
its  Donne  poems  the  readings  are  occasionally  good.  Those 
in  the  British  Museum  are  described  in  vol.  i.  pp.  2-3.  1 
add,  that  another  there,  Addl.  mss.  18647,  has  furnished 
some  very  good  readings ;  4955  is  a  fine  specimen  of  cali- 
graphy,  but  in  Donne  little  more.  Throughout  we  have 
found  that  the  Copyists,  failing  to  understand  what  they 
were  transcribing,  did  not  hesitate  to  '  improve'  (as  they 
imagined)  on  their  ms.  This  has  demanded  our  constant 
vigilance,  as  seen  in  the  Notes  and  Illustrations.  We  give 
no  single  line  without  what  we  regard  as  original  or  early 
authority.  Of  necessity,  in  the  multiplication  of  readings 
in  the  mss.  and  printed  editions,  we  have  been  now  and 
again  cautiously  eclectic,  where  one  offered  an  evident 
correction  of  another.  None  but  those  wrho  have  engaged 
in  like  work  can  understand  the  toil  involved  in  such  col- 
lations. I  cherish  the  hope  that  our  labour  has  not  been  in 
vain  ;  but  that  now  Donne,  as  a  Poet,  is  presentable  and 
readable.  Much  of  his  ruggedness  and  metric  faults  dis- 
appear when  his  own  revised  text  is  found  ;  and  the  more 


lvi 


LIFE  xVXD  WRITINGS  OF  DONNE. 


you  study  him  the  more  you  are  impressed  with  the 
uniqueness  of  his  genius — a  genius  recognised  by  very  op- 
posite minds,  e.g.  Sir  Isaac  Newton  gave  early  a  place  of 
honour  to  a  portrait  of  him,  a  '  picture'  which  the  illus- 
trious Philosopher  himself  made  (Nichols'  Illustrations  of 
Literary  History,  iv.  30,  1822). 


I. 
VERSE-LETTERS. 


VOL.  II. 


NOTE. 

I  have  brought  together  here  all  the  Letters  in  Verse  found 
in  the  different  editions  of  the  Poems.  Those  addressed  to  the 
same  person  follow  each  other.  As  before,  our  text  has  the  ad- 
vantage of  authoritative  mss.  given  in  the  places.  The  com- 
mendatory poems  to  Jonson  (including  the  Latin,  which  have 
never  hitherto  been  translated),  as  well  as  ■  Sappho  to  Philaenis,' 
seemed  most  fittingly  placed  in  this  division.  Some  of  Donne's 
truest  poetic  utterances  will  be  found  in  these  remarkable 
Letters  to  remarkable  Ladies  and  ■  Gentlemen'  in  the  deepest 
sense.  One  short  Verse-letter  to  Viscount  Doncaster  with 
'  Holy  Sonnets'  is  given  preferably  in  its  own  place.     G. 


. 


THE  STORMED 

TO  MR.  CHRISTOPHER  BROOK,  FROM  THE  ISLAND  VOYAGE 
WITH  THE  EARL  OF  ESSEX. 

Thou  which  art !  ('tis  nothinge  to  be  soe) ; 

Thou,  which  art  still  thy  selfe,  by  this  shalt  knowe 

Part  of  our  passage  ;  and  a  hand  or  eye 

By  Hilliard  drawne  is  worth  a  History 

By  a  course  painter  made ;  and,  without  pride,  coarse  5 

When  by  thy  judgment  they  are  dignifide, 

My  lines  are  such  ;  'tis  the  pre-eminence 

Of  friendship  onlie,  t'impute  excellence. 

Kngland,  to  whom  we  owe  what  we  bee  and  haue, 

Sadd  that  her  sonnes  did  seeke  a  foreigne  graue         10 

(For  Fate's  or  Fortune's  drifts  none  can  soothsay, 

Honor  and  misery  have  one  face,  one  way), 

From  out  her  pregnant  entrailes  sigh'd  a  wynd, 

Which  at  th'  air's  myddle  marble  roome  did  fynd 

Such  stronge  resistance,  that  it  self  it  threwe  1 5 

Downwards  againe,  and  so  when  it  did  viewe 

How  in  the  port  our  fleet  deare  tyme  did  leese,         lose 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before,  inscribed  ■  To  Sr  Basile 
Brooke.'  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  on  this  and  on  Christopher 
Brooke.     Appeared  originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  56-9).     G. 


4  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Witheringe  like  prisoners,  which  stay  but  for  fees, — 

Myldly  it  kist  our  sayles,  and  fresh  and  sweet, 

As  to  a  stomack  starv'd,  whose  insydes  meet,  20 

Meat  comes,  it  came ;  and  sweld  our  sayles,  when  wee 

So  joy'd,  as  Sara  'her  swelling  joy'd  to  see  : 

Eut  'twas  but  so  kynd,  as  our  countrymen, 

Which  bring  freinds  one  daye's  way,  and  leave  them 

then. 
Then  like  two  mightie  kings,  which  dwelling  farr     25 
Asunder  ioyne  against  a  third  in  warr, 
The  South  and  West  wynds  joyn'd,  and,  as  they  blew, 
Waves  like  a  rowlling  trench  before  them  threw. 
Sooner  then  you  read  this  lyne,  did  the  gale,        than 
Like  shott  not  fear'd  till  felt,  our  sayles  assay  le;       30 
And  what  at  first  was  call'd  a  gust,  the  same 
Hath  now  a  storme,  anon  a  tempest's  name. 
Jonas,  I  pitty  thee,  and  curse  those  men, 
Who  when  the  storme  ragde  most,  did  wake  thee  then : 
Sleepe  is  paine's  easiest  salve,  and  doth  fulfyll  35 

All  offices  of  death,  excepte — to  kill. 
But  when  I  wakt,  I  sawe  that  I  sawe  not : 
I  and  the  sunn,  which  shoTd  teach  me,  'had  forgott 
East,  west,  day,  night ;  and  I  cold  only  say,  could 

Had  the  world  lasted,  now  yt  had  bene  day.  40 

Thousands  our  noises  were,  yet  we  'mongst  all 
Could  none  by  his  right  name,  but  thunder  call : 
Lightninge  was  all  our  light,  and  it  rayn'd  more 
Then  if  the  Sun  had  drunk  the  sea  before.  than 


THE  STORME.  0 

Some  coffyn'd  in  their  cabbins  lye  ^equally  45 

Greived  that  they  are  not  dead,  and  yet  must  dye : 
And  as  synn-burthen'd  sowles  from  graues  will  creep 
At  the  last  daie,  some  forth  their  cabbins  peep, 
And  trembling  ask  what  newes,  and  do  heare  so, 
Like  jealyous  husbands,  what  they  wold  not  know;  50 
Some,  sittinge  on  the  hatches,  wold  seeme  there 
With  hydeous  gazinge  to  feare  away  Feare  ; 
There  note  they  the  ship's  sicknesses,  the  mast 
Shakte  with  an  ague,  and  the  hould  and  waist 
With  a  salt  dropsy  clog'd  ;  and  all  our  tacklinges     5  5 
Snappinge  like  to  too-high-stretcht  treble-strings ; 
And  from  our  tatterd  sayles  raggs  droop  down  soe, 
As  from  one  hangd  in  chaynes  a  yeare  agoe  ; 
Even  our  ordynance,  plact  for  our  defence, 
Strive  to  breake  loose,  and  scape  away  from  thence.  60 
Tumping  hath  tyrd  our  men,  and  what's  the  gaine  ? 
Seas  into  seas  throwne,  we  suck  in  againe  : 
Hearing  hath  deaft  our  saylors,  and  if  thay 
Knew  how  to  heare,  there's  none  knowes  what  to  say. 
Compard  to  these  stormes,  death  is  but  a  qualm,       65 
Hell  somwhat  lightsome,  the  Bermudas  calm  : 
Darknes  (Light's  elder  brother)  his  byrthright 
Claymes  o're  the  world,  and  to  heaven  hath  chased  light : 
All  things  are  one ;  and  that  one  none  can  bee, 
Since  all  formes  uniforme  deformitie  70 

Doth  cover ;  so  that  we  (except  God  say 
Another  lFiaf)  shall  haue  noe  more  day : 


VERSE-LETTERS. 


So  violent  yet  longe  these  furyes  bee, 

That  though  thine  absence  starue  me,  I  wish  not  thee. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

On  Christopher  Brooke,  to  whom  this  (and  other  poems)  is 
addressed,  it  may  be  permitted  me  to  refer  to  my  collective  edi- 
tion of  his  Poems  in  the  Miscellanies  of  our  Fuller  Worthip:s* 
Library  (vol.  iv.) :  and  in  the  Essay  of  our  present  volume  farther 
notices  will  be  found,  and  of  other  members  of  the  Family.  It 
may  be  supposed  that  the  Stephens'  MS.  derived  its  inscription 
to  '  Sir  Basile  Brooke'  (on  whom  as  supra)  from  a  copy  of  it  fur- 
nished to  him  either  by  the  Author  or  C.  Brooke.  '  The  Storme' 
has  been  included  in  all  subsequent  editions. 

Our  text,  from  the  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before,  shows  a  care- 
fully revised  copy.  Line  18  is  perhaps  the  best  example  of  this  ; 
for  ■  prisoners  lie1  in  ward  for  original  debt,  but  they '  stay'  after 
they  would  otherwise  be  enfranchised  because  they  cannot  pay 
the  prison  fees.  Hence  our  ■  stay'  is  preferable  to  '  lie'  of  1633, 
and  usually.  So  in  1.  5,  '  course' =coarse,  is  better  than  the 
usual  '  worse,'  seeing  '  worse'  implies  that  Hilliard  was  a  bad 
painter.  Similarly  in  1.  50, '  Like'  (as  in  1633)  is  an  improvement 
on  the  usual  'As '  in  its  relation  to  '  do  heare  so'  of  1.  49= in 
consequence  of  asking  that  which  &c.  Again,  in  1.  60,  '  Strive' 
for  the  usual  '  Strives'  is  superior,  because  it  makes  the  striving, 
the  individual  act  of  each  piece  of  ordnance.  Other  examples 
are  'soothsay'  (1.  11)= prognosticate  for  'gainsay;'  'down- 
wards' (1.  16)  for  '  downward ;'  '  sweld'  (1.  21)  for  '  swole  ;'  '  joyne' 
(1.  26)  for  '  meet ;'  '  elder'  (1.  67)  for  '  eldest.'  But  I  have  not 
accepted  '  gett'  for  ''scape'  (1.  60).  There  are  also,  as  else- 
where, slips  on  the  part  of  the  Stephens'  transcriber,  e.g.  in  1.  9, 
'  or'  for  '  and,'  seeing  that  the  being  and  having  are  coexistent, 
and  not  alternative;  1.  40,  reading  '  but'  for  'only'  makes  the 
line  deficient  of  a  syllable ;  1.  53,  '  Then,'  a  misreading  of  '  There' 
(of  1633,  &c.)=some  seated  on  the  hatches  gazed  and  '  there' 
(colloquial,  as  often,  for  thence  or  being  there)  noted,  &c. ;  1.  56, 
in  1633  reads  'like  too  high  stretched;'  '35,  'like  too-too-high- 
stretched,' and  so  1639;  1.  57,  1633,  '35,  '39,  and  '69,  spell  'tot- 
tered ;'  I  accept  '  to  too'  of  1669  ;  1.  64,  '  know'  for  '  knew'  is  un- 
grammatical :  the  latter  adopted,  as  required  by  '  hath  deaft ;'  1. 


THE  STORME.  i 

66,  •  Hell's'  for '  Hell'  I  doubt,  and  think  it  an  error  caused  by  the 
'  s'  of  '  somewhat,'  because  the  verb  of  the  three  clauses,  death 
is — Hell  [is] — Bermudas  [are] ,  is  expressed  in  the  first ;  1.  70, 
as  ■  Fiat'  has  become  a  noun  in  English,  and  as  here,  teste  '  say,' 
it  is  used  as  the  Latin  form  of  God's  spoken  command  '  Fiat 
lux,'  I  have  placed  it  within  quotation-marks  and  italicised  it. 

Heading :  for  Donne's  relations  to  Essex  and  military  career, 
see  our  Essay  in  the  present  volume. 

Line  4,  Nicholas  Hilliard  was  an  excellent  painter  ;  born  in 
Exeter  1547,  died  1619.  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  and  Elizabeth 
sat  to  him. 

Line  11,  'soothsay  ;'  as  supra= prognosticate  as  a  sooth- 
sayer. 

Line  14,  '  middle  marble  room  :'  derived  probably  from  the 
word  Jirmamentum= one  of  the  spheres  of  the  element  of  air. 

Line  22,  '  So  joy' 'd  as  Sara'her  swelling  joy'd  to  see.''  Quaint 
old  Thomas  Adams,  in  one  of  his  most  brilliant  Sermons,  says 
similarly,  ■  Her  [Sarah's]  pride  rose  as  her  belly  rose.'  It  is 
astounding  how  broad-spoken  those  old  preachers  were  ! 

Line  24,  '  bring  friends  one  daye's  icay.'  So  in  the  New 
Testament.  This  custom  gives  the  full  meaning  to  Aumerle's 
answer  in  Richard  II.  (act  i.  sc.  4) : 

Rich.  Cousin  Aumerle, 

How  far  brought  you  high  Hereford  on  his  way  ? 

Aum.  I  brought '  high  Hereford,'  if  you  call  him  so, 
But  to  the  next  highway,  and  there  I  left  him. 

Line  54,  'jvaist :'  the  amidship  portion  of  the  vessel  where 
the  deck-curve  is  lowest. 

Line  66,  'Bermudas  calm.''  This  reminds  of  Shakespeare's 
4  still-vex' d  Bermoothes'  (Tempest,  i.  2) ;  and  cf .  Marvell's 
famous  poem  on  the  Bermudas  Exiles.     G. 


. 


THE  CALME.' 

Our  storme  is  past,  and  that  storm's  tyranous  rage ; 

A  stupid  Calme  succeeds,  which  nought  doth  'swage ; 

The  fable  is  inverted,  and  fan  more 

A  block  afflicts  now,  then  a  storke  before. 

Storms  chafe,  and  soone  weare  out  themselves  or  us ;  5 

In  calmes  Heaven  laughes  to  see  us  languish  thus. 

As  steady  as  I  could  wish  my  thoughtes  were, 

Smooth  as  thy  mistris'  glasse,  or  what  shines  there, 

The  sea  is  now,  and  as  those  isles  which  wee 

Seeke,  when  we  can  move,  our  ships  rooted  bee.        10 

As  water  did  in  stormes,  now  pytch  runs  out, 

As  lead,  when  a  fyr'd  church  becomes  one  spowt, — 

And  all  our  bewty  and  our  trymme  decayes, 

Like  court  removings  or  like  ended  playes. 

The  fighting  place  the  seaman's  raggs  supply,  1 5 

And  all  the  tacklinge  is  a  fripperie. 

Xo  use  of  lanthorns ;  and  in  one  place  lay 

Feathers  and  dust,  to-day  and  yesterday. 

Earth's  hollowuesses,  which  the  world's  lungs  are, 


1  From  Stephens'  us.,  as  before.     Appeared  originally  in 
the  4to  of  1633  (pp.  59-61).     G. 


THE  CALME.  ? 

Have  no  more  wynd  then  th'  upper  vault  of  ay  re ;     20 

We  can  nor  lost  freinds  nor  sought  foes  discover, 

But  meteor-like  (save  that  we  move  not)  hover. 

Only  the  calenture  together  drawes 

Deare  freinds,  which  meet  dead  in  great  fishes'  mawes  \ 

And  on  the  hatches,  as  on  alters,  lyes  25 

Each  one,  his  own  preist  and  owne  sacrifice. 

Who  live,  that  miracle  do  multiply 

Where  walkers  in  hott  ovens  do  not  dye : 

If  in  despight  of  these  we  swym,  that  hath 

No  more  refreshinge  then  a  brimstone-bathe ;  3  o 

But  from  the  sea  into  the  ship  we  turne, 

Like  parboyld  wretches,  on  the  coals  to  burne. 

Like  Bajazet  in  cage,  the  shephards'  scoffe, 

Or  like  slack-sin'ed  Sampson,  his  haire  off,     slack-sinewed 

Languish  our  shipps.     Now  as  a  miriade  35 

Of  ants  durst  th'  emperour's  lovd  snake  invade, 

The  crawling  gallies,  sea-jailles,  fynny  chipps, 

Might  brave  our  pinnaces,  now  bed-rid  shipps  : 

Whether  a  rotten  state  and  hope  of  gaine, 

Or  to  disuse  me  from  the  queasie  paine  40 

Of  being  belovd  and  loving,  or  the  thirst 

Of  honor,  or  fayre  death,  out  pusht  me  first, 

I  loose  my  end ;  for  here  as  well  as  I 

A  desperate  man  may  live,  a  coward  dye. 

Stagg,  dogg,  and  each,  which  from  or  towards  flyes,    45 

Is  payd  with  life  or  praie,  or  doinge  dyes ; 

Fate  grudges  us  all,  and  doth  subtilie  lay 


10  VERSE-LETTERS. 

A  scourge  'gainst  which  we  all  forgot  to  praye. 

He  that  at  sea  praies  for  more  wynd,  as  well 

Under  the  pole  may  begg  cold,  heate  in  hell.  50 

What  are  we  then  ?     How  little  more,  alas  ! 

Is  man  now  than  before  he  was  he  was  ! 

ISothinge  for  us  as  wee  'are  for  nothing  fytt ; 

Chance  or  ourselues  still  disproportyon  yt. 

We  have  nor  will,  nor  power,  nor  sense ;  I  lye,         5  5 

I  should  not  then  thus  feele  this  misery. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

See  Essay  in  present  volume  for  Ben  Jonson's  remark  on 
this  poem  in  his  Conversations  with  Drummond  of  Hawthornden. 

Our  text  (Stephens'  ms.,  as  before),  as  in  '  The  Storme,' 
shows  a  more  revised  original :  e.g.  1.  21,  '  discover'  for  '  recover' 
is  better,  and  so  is  '  each'  of  1.  45  for  '  all,'  as  agreeing  with  the 
verb  '  flies'  in  the  singular,  while  1.  44  is  very  superior  to  the 
usual  '  A  desperate  may  live,  and  a  coward  dye'  (as  in  1633, 
&c).  So  too  1.  2  for  '  A  stupid  calme,  but  nothing  it,  doth  swage' 
(as  in  1633,  &c.) ;  also  '  those'  in  1.  9  for  '  the ;'  '  in  cage,'  1.  33, 
for  'encag'd;'  '  as,'  1.  53,  hitherto  dropped  out.  But  there  are 
in  the  '  Calme,'  as  in  the  '  Storme,'  various  errors  of  transcrip- 
tion, which  show  the  constant  call  for  vigilance  in  reading  these 
early  mss.  :  e.g.  1. 19,  is  '  hollownes'  for  '  hollownesses,'  the  latter 
required  by  the  metre  ;  but  it  is  possible  that '  hollownes'  of  our 
ms.  was  meant  for  it,  just  as  mistriss  =  mistriss'  =  mistresses.  I 
accept '  hollownesses'  from  1633,  &c. ;  1.  20, '  th' '  is  misinserted; 
'  of  ayre'  is  preferable,  because  the  allusion  is  not  to  the  air  or 
the  atmosphere,  but  as  one  of  the  spheres  of  air  the  element 
(as  in  'The  Storme'  before,  1.  14) ;  1.  21,  'lost'  is  substituted 
for  'sought'  of  1633,  &c,  not  to  advantage,  being  caught  pro- 
bably from  the  previous  '  lost  friends' — a  common  mistake  of 
copyists  ;  1.  24,  '  jawes'  is  written  for  '  mawes  :'  but  while  the 
dead  friends  might  meet  commingled  in  the  '  maw,'  it  was  im- 
probable they  would  in  the  'jaw,'  unless  each  fish  bit  at  the 


THE  CALME.  11 

same  time  the  bodies  of  two  friends  thrown  over  separately  (see- 
ing they  did  not  meet  till  '  dead') ;  1.  27  has  '  where'  for  '  that,' 
and  '  doth'  for  *  do :'  '  where'  was  most  likely  substituted  for 
1  that,'  through  the  eye  catching  the  '  where'  of  the  succeeding 
line,  and  this  and  the  word  '  miracle'  in  singular  caused  '  doth' 
to  be  written  for  '  do.'  But  the  nominative  of  '  do  multiply'  is 
4  [Those]  who  live,'  and  '  where'  reduces  the  sentence  to  non- 
sense— a  somewhat  uncommon  thing  in  Donne  anywhere;  1.  29, 
I  prefer  '  these'  of  1633  to  'this,'  as  the  reference  is  not  only  to 
the  immediately  preceding  clause,  but  to  the  danger  of  the 
sharks;  1.  31,  'sea,'  erroneously  caught  from  previous  occur- 
rence, is  miswritten  for  '  ship  ;'  11.  37-8  in  the  ms.  is  a  jumble 
of  old  and  new  readings.    The  first  was  probably  that  of  1633 : 

The  crawling  Gallies,  Sea  goales,  finny  chips. 
Might  brave  our  Venices,  now  bed-ridde  ships. 

That  is,  the  '  Gallies'  (which  were  a  foreign  not  English  form 
of  vessels)  and  '  sea-goales'  (=jails),  because  rowed  by  galley- 
slaves  =  slaves  and  criminals,  might  now  brave  us,  whose  ships 
and  even  light  pinnaces  are  motionless  and  full  of  sick.  Pro- 
bably the  word  '  Venices'  for  '  pinnaces'  of  1635,  '39,  &c.  alludes 
to  some  contemporary  collision  with  Venetian  gallies,  of  which 
we  are  ignorant,  and  the  sentiment  is,  '  The  Spanish  gallies, 
our  foes,  might  now,  like  Venice,  brave  us.'  But  the  line  in  the 
ms.,  as  in  1633,  has  part  of  both  readings,  and  yields  no  sense. 
I  adopt  the  text  of  1635,  as  of  1669.  This  type  of  error  leads 
to  the  belief  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  copyist  transcribed 
from  an  original  wherein  the  author  had  altered  some  words 
without  making  the  necessary  changes  in  the  context;  1.  48  mis- 
inserts  '  against' for  '  'gainst,'  and  'us'  before  '  which,'  confusing 
meaning  and  metre  alike  ;   1633,  &c.  accepted. 

Line  14,  '  court  removings'  destroy  trim  and  beauty ;  but 
these  are  rather  lost  in  '  ended,'  not  in  '  ending  plays.'  The 
last  scene  of  Hamlet  is  rather  more  full  of  pomp  than  the  rest. 
Hence  I  prefer  the  'ended'  of  1633,  1635,  &c,  and  judge  our 
ms.  '  ending'  (as  in  1669)  a  change  from  '  removing.' 

Line  15,  'fighting  place.'  That  is,  the  places  where  the 
'  close-fights'  were  put  up,  whose  place  the  seamen's  rags  '  sup- 
ply.' These  close-fights  are  said  to  have  been  wooden  screens ; 
but  from  this  and  other  passages,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that 
the  word  also  included  nettings  such  as  the  present  '  boarding- 
nettings.  ' 


12  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Line  16,  'And  all  the  tacklinge  is  a  fripperie.'  This  well 
describes  the  appearance  of  a  ship's  rigging  on  a  washing-day. 

Line  17,  ■  No  use  of  lanthorns.1  As  there  was  during  the 
darkness  of  the  storm  rather  too  much  light.  See  '  The  Storme,' 
preceding. 

Line  19,  *  lungs/  Really  the  world's  lungs  in  the  opinion  of 
those  whose  philosophy  made  the  world  to  be  a  living  animal. 

Line  23,  '  calenture '=a  sailors'  disease  from  desire  of  seeing 
land,  when  they  feel  inclined  to  cast  themselves  into  the  sea, 
taking  it  for  green  fields  =  a  fever. 

Line  33,  '  Like  Bajazet  in  cage/  Alluding  to  the  history, 
or  perhaps  to  Marlowe's  play,  where  Bajazet  encaged  is  the 
scoff  of  Tamburlain  and  of  his  fellow- shepherds,  now  his  gene- 
rals. It  may  be  doubted,  however,  whether  '  shepheards'  should 
not  be  sheapherd's,  i.e.  Tamburlain's,  not  sheapherds'  scoff. 

Line  36,  '  Of  ants  durst  the  emperour's  lov'd  snake.'  The 
story  is  told  by  Suetonius  of  Tiberius's  tame  snake,  which  was 
eaten  by  ants  (Tib.  c.  72).  '  Erat  ei  in  oblectamentis  serpens 
draco,  quern  ex  consuetudine  manu  sua  cibaturus,  cum  con- 
sumptum  a  formicis  invenisset,  monitus  est  ut  vim  multitudinis 
caveret.' 

Line  37,  '  Jinny  chips  :'  as  they  were  called  ■  sea  -  gaols' 
(spelled  '  gulls'  in  1633,  &c.)  from  the  criminal  character  of  their 
rowers,  so  from  the  resemblance  of  the  oars  to  '  fins'  they  are 
called '  finny. '  '  Chips'  refers  deprecatingly  to  their  build,  lighter 
than  those  of  vessels  carrying  merchandise,  or  built  to  bear 
heavier  masts  and  rigging. 

Line  49,  '  more  wynd.'  Sailors  are  '  strong  in  custom'  that 
one  should  not  even  wish  for  wind.  Over  and  over  in  the  At- 
lantic, Mediterranean,  and  Adriatic,  I  have  had  a  succeeding 
stiff  gale  credited  to  my  innocent  '  whistling'  on  deck  in  the 
monotony  of  very  calm  weather.  Anecdotes  abound  to  verify 
the  long-lived  superstition. 

Line  52,  ■  Is  man  now  than  before  he  was  he  was'  =How  little 
more,  alas,  is  man  now  than  he  was  before  he  was  !  i.e.  before 
he  existed — in  other  words,  how  little  more  is  he  than  nothing ! 
Nothing  [is  fit]  for  us,  as  we  are  for  nothing  fit.     G. 


TO  ME.  C.  B.1 

Thy  freind,  whom  thy  deserts  to  thee  enchaine, 

Urged  by  this  inexcusable  occasion, 

Thee  and  the  saint  of  his  affection 
Leavinge  behinde,  doth  of  both  wants  complaine  ; 
And  let  the  love  I  bear  to  both  sustaine  5 

No  blott  nor  maime  by  this  division  ; 

Stronge  is  this  loue,  which  ties  our  harts  in  one, 
And  stronge  that  love  pursu'de  with  amorous  paine  : 
But  though  besides  thy  selfe  I  leave  behinde 

Heauen's  liberal!,  and  Earth's  thrice-faire  sunn,    10 

Goinge  to  where  staru'd  Winter  ay  doth  wonn ; 
Yet  Loue's  hott  fires,  which  martyr  my  sadd  minde, 

Doe  send  out  scaldinge  sighs  which  have  the  art 

To  melt  all  ice,  but  that  which  walls  her  hart. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647.  Plut.  201  H.  Appeared  origin- 
ally in  4to  of  1633  (p.  97).     G. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

This  is  the  C[hristopher]  B[rooke]  of  the  preceding  poems, 
on  whom  see  as  before.  Written  before  the  Northern  Voyage, 
during  which  he  experienced  '  The  Storine'  and  ■  The  Calme.' 

Line  10,  ■  Heaven's  sun  and  his  thrice-fair  Mistress,  his 
earthly  sun.'     Cf.  Epithalamiums,  vol.  i.  p.  258  et  alibi. 


14  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Line  11,  ■  wotV=z dwell.     See  the  Fletchers  and  other  Wor- 
thies, s.  n. 

Line  13,  '  ont :'  in  1633,  &c.  '  forth.'     G. 


TO   ME.   S.   B.1 

0  thou,  which  to  search  out  the  secrett  parts 

Of  the  India,  or  rather  Paradise 

Of  knowledge,  hast  with  courage  and  advise 

Lately  launched  into  the  vast  sea  of  arts ; 

Disdaigne  not  in  thy  constant  traveilinge  5 

To  doe  as  other  voyagers,  and  make 
Some  turnes  into  less  creeks,  and  wisely  take 

Fresh,  water  at  the  Heliconian  springe. 

1  sing  not  Syren-like  to  tempt ;  for  I 

Am  harsh  ;  nor  as  those  schismatiques  with  you,   t  o 
Which  drawe  all  witts  of  good  hope  to  their  crue  ; 

But  seeing  in  you  brighte  sparks  of  poetrie, 
I,  though  I  brought  no  fuell,  had  desire 

With  these  articulate  blasts  to  blow  the  fire. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before,  where  it  is  addressed 
4  To  M.  F.  B.'    Appeared  originally  in  4to  of  1633  (p.  98).     G. 

NOTE. 

Heading :  This  is  Dr.  S  [amnel]  B  [rooke] ,  brother  of  Chris- 
topher, on  whom  see  our  Essay.  He  was  also  celebrated  by 
Crashaw.     G. 


TO  ME.  B.  B.1 

Is  not  thy  sacred  hunger  of  science 

Yet  satisfyed  ?  is  not  thy  braine's  rich  hiue 
Fulfill' d  with  hony,  which  thou  dost  derive 

From  the  Arts'  spiritts  and  their  quintessence  % 

Then  weane  thy  selfe  at  last,  and  thee  withdrawe        5 
From  Cambridge,  thy  old  nurse;  and,  as  the  rest, 
Here  toughly  chaw  and  sturdely  digest 

Th'  immense  vast  volumes  of  our  Common  Lawe ; 

And  beginn  soone,  lest  my  greife  greeve  thee  too, 
Which  is,  that  that  which  I  should  haue  begunne  1  o 
In  my  youthe's  morninge,  now  late  must  be  done ; 

And  I,  as  giddie  travellers  must  doe, 

Which  stray  or  sleepe  all  daye,  and  havinge  lost 
Light  and  strength,  darke  and  tir'd  must  then  ride 
post. 

If  thou  unto  thy  Muse  be  married,  1 5 

Embrace  her  ever,  ever  multiplie ; 
Be  farr  from  me  that  strange  adulterie 

To  tempt  thee,  and  procure  her  widowhood ; 


1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  See  Notes  and  Illustra- 
tions on  '  B.  B.'  Appeared  originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  99- 
100).     G. 


1 6  VERSE-LETTERS. 

My  Muse  (for  I  hadd  one)  because  I'm  colde, 

Divorced  her  selfe,  the  cause  being  in  mee ;         20 
That  I  can  take  noe  new  in  bigamee, 

Xot  my  will  only,  but  power  doth  withhold ; 

Hence  comes  it  that  these  rimes,  which  never  had 
Mother,  want  matter ;  and  they  only  have 
A  little  forme,  the  which  their  father  gave  :         2  5 

They  are  profane,  imperfect,  0,  too  bad 
To  be  counted  children  of  poetrie, 
Except  confirmed  and  bishopped  by  thee. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading :  Doubtless  Sir  B  [asil]  Brooke,  as  before,  on  whom 
see  our  Essay. 

Line  13,  our  ms.  reads  '  and'  for  '  or.'  We  can  '  stray  or 
sleep'  during  the  day ;  but  it  is  incorrect  to  say  we  '  stray  and 
sleep,'  unless  indeed  we  be  sleep-walkers.  I  adopt  '  or'  from 
1633,  &c.  Line  4  I  have  printed  Arts'  not  as  usual  Art's,  being 
=the  several  liberal  Arts  studied  at  Cambridge.     G. 


TO  SIR  HENRIE  WOTTON", 

AT  HIS  GOING  AMBASSADOR  TO  VENICE.1 

After  those  reverend  papers,  whose  soule  is 

Our  good  and  greate  king's  lou'd  hand  and  fearVl 

By  which  to  you  he  derives  much  of  his,  [name. 

And  (how  he  may)  makes  you  almost  the  same, 

A  taper  of  his  torch,  a  coppie  writt  5 

From  his  originall,  and  a  faire  heame 
Of  the  same  warme  and  dazelinge  sunn,  thoughe  it 

Must  in  another  sphere  his  virtue  streame  : 

After  those  learned  papers,  which  your  hand 

Hath  stor'd  with  notes  of  use  and  pleasure  too,    10 

From  which  rich  treasury  you  may  commaund 
Fit  matter,  whether  you  will  write  or  doe  : 

After  those  loving  papers,  which  freinds  send, 
With  glad  greif  to  your  seaward  steps,  farewell, 

Which  thicken  on  you  now,  as  prayers  ascend  15 

To  heau'n  in  troops  at  a  good  man's  passing-hell ; 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  See  our  Essay  for  no- 
tices of  Wotton.  Appeared  originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  104-5). 
G. 

VOL.  II.  C 


18  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Admit  this  honest  paper,  and  all  owe 

It  snch  an  andience  as  your  selfe  would  aske ; 
What  you  must  saye  at  Venice,  this  means  now, 

And  hath  for  nature,  what  you  have  for  taske —  20 
To  sweare  much  love,  not  to  be  changed  before 

Honour  alone  will  to  your  fortune  fitt ; 
2s  or  shall  I  then  honour  your  fortune  more 

Then  I  have  done  your  noble-wantinge  wit.        than 
But  'tis  an  easier  loade  (though  both  oppresse)  25 

To  want  then  govern  greatnes  ;  for  wee  are         than 
In  that  our  owne  and  only  business ; 

In  this,  wee  must  for  others'  vices  care. 

'Tis  therefore  well  your  spiritts  now  are  plac'd 

In  their  last  furnace,  in  activitie ;  30 

Which  fits  them  (schooles  and  courts  andwarres  o'repast) 

To  touch  and  test  in  any  best  degree. 
For  mee  (if  there  be  such  a  thinge  as  I), 

Fortune  (if  there  be  such  a  thinge  as  shee)t 
Spies  that  I  beare  so  well  her  tyranny,  35 

That  shee  thinks  nothinge  else  so  fitt  for  mee. 
Eat  though  shee  part  us,  to  heare  my  oft  prayres 

For  your  increase  God  is  as  neere  me  heare  ; 
And  to  send  you  what  I  shall  begg,  His  stayres 

In  length  and  ease  are  alike  everywhere.  40 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading :  Wotton  having  survived  until  December  1639,  no 
Joubt  saw  the  editions  of  Donne's  poems  of  1633,  '35,  and  '39. 


TO  SIR  HENRIE  WOTTON.  19 

Line  2,  l  good  and  great  king'=J&mes  I.  Cf.  Satire  vi.  in 
vol.  i. 

Line  3,  ■  derives  ;'  in  causal  sense=he  makes  to  flow  out. 
,,     4,  '  how  lie  ma\f=$o  far  as  is  permitted  him  to  give  of 
his  rank  and  station. 

Line  13.  There  is  an  error  of  construction  here,  and  as  '  which' 
is  in  all  the  editions  and  in  the  mss.,  it  may  he  presumed  to  he 
Donne's  own.  Misled  perhaps  hy  the  '  with'  of  1.  14,  and  the 
attempt  to  make  the  line  agree  with  11.  1  and  9,  he  has  written 
papers  which  friends  send  farewell  instead  of  'with,'  or  'in 
which,'  or  '  where.' 

Line  16,  'passing-bell:'  rung  to  announce  one  in  extremity 
of  dying. 

Lines  21-2,  *  To  sweare :'  i.e.  To  swear  love  unchangeable, 
until  this  your  advance  into  the  rank  of  the  nobility  my  loving 
you  must  change  to  honouring  you.  Noble-wanting  wit = wit 
which  has  not  yet  received  its  true  deservings  —  a  peerage. 
Usually,  as  in  1633,  &c.  'Then  I  have  done  your  honour  want- 
ing it,'  which  is  very  inferior. 

Line  32,  'test,'  not  'tast,'  as  in  1669,  because  the  meaning 
is,  that  being  chemically  purified,  the  '  spirits'  are  now  to  be 
used  to  touch  and  '  test'  the  purity  or  impurity  of  others'  spirits. 

Line  39,  'His  stayres  ....  are  alike  everywhere.'  So  gal- 
lant Sir  Humfrey  Gilbert  said,  '  it  was  as  near  heaven  by  sea 
as  by  land.'     G. 


TO  SIE  HEXRIE  TTOTTOX,  KXIGHT.1 

Sir,  more  then  kisses  letters  mingle  sowles, 

For  thus  trends  absent  speake.     This  ease  controwles 

The  tedyousness  of  my  life  :  hut  for  these 

I  co'ld  ideat  nothinge  which  co'ld  please  ; 

But  should  either  wyther  in  one  day,  or  passe  5 

To  a  bottle  of  hay  which  am  a  locke  of  grasse. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.    Appeared  originally  in  4to 
of  1633  (pp.  61-3).     G. 


20  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Life  is  a  voyage,  and  in  our  life's  waves 

Countries,  courts,  townes,  are  rocks  or  remoras ; 

They  breake  or  stopp  all  shipps,  yet  our  state's  such 

That  though  then  pytch  they  stain  worse,  we  must  tuch. 

If  in  the  furnace  of  the  over  lyne,  1 1   [than 

Or  in  the  adverse  icye  poles  thou  pyne, 

Thou  know'st  two  temperate  regions  guirded  in 

Dwell  there ;  but  oh  what  refuge  canst  thou  wyn 

Parchd  in  the  Court,  and  in  the  country  frozen  1        15 

Shall  cytties  buy  It  of  both  extreams  be  chosen  ? 

Can  doung  or  garlick  be  a  perfume  1    Or  can 

A  scorpyon  or  torpedo  cure  a  mann  ? 

Cyties  are  worst  of  all  these  three  ;  and  why] 

(0  knottie  rydle)  all  are  worst  aequallye  :  20 

Cytties  are  sepulchers  ;  they  which  dwell  there 

Are  carcasses,  as  if  none  such  there  were  ; 

And  courts  are  theaters,  where  some  men  play 

Princes,  some  slaves,  all  to  one  end  of  one  clay. 

The  country  is  a  desart,  where  the  good  25 

Gain'd  inhabits  not,  borne  is  not  understood ; 

There  men  become  beastes,  and  prone  to  all  evils  ; 

In  cytties,  blocks ;  and  in  a  lewd  Court,  devills. 

As  in  the  first  Chaos  confusedlye 

Each  element's  qualities  were  in  the  other  three,       30 

So  pryde,  lust,  covetise,  being  severall 

To  these  three  places,  yet  are  all  in  all ; 

And  myngled  thus,  their  issue  is  incestuous  : 

Falshood  is  denizend ;  Virtue  is  barborous. 


TO  SIR  HENRIE  WOTTON.  21 

Let  no  man  say  there,  Virtue's  flynty  wall  35 

Shall  locke  vice  in  me ;  He  doe  none,  but  know  all. 

Men  are  spunges,  which,  to  powre  out,  receive  \ 

Who  knowe  false  play,  rather  then  loose,  deceave. 

For  in  best  understandings  synn  begann ; 

Angells  synd  first,  then  devills,  and  then  mann.        40 

Only  perchance  beasts  synnd  not ;  wretched  wee 

Are  beasts  in  all  but  white  integritie. 

I  thinke  if  men,  which  in  these  places  live, 

Durst  looke  for  themselves,  and  themselves  retrive, 

They  wold  like  strangers  greet  themselves,  seing  than  45 

Utopyan  yowth,  growne  old  Italyan. 

Ee  then  thyne  owne  home,  and  in  thyself  dwell ; 
Inn  anywhere  ;  contynuance  maketh  hell. 
And  seeing  the  snayle,  which  everywhere  doth  rome, 
Carving  his  owne  howse  still,  still  is  at  home,  50 

Follow  (for  he  is  easie-pac't)  this  snayle, 
Be  thy  own  pallace,  or  all  the  world's  thy  jayle. 
And  in  the  world's  sea,  doe  not  like  corke  sleep 
Upon  the  water's  topp,  nor  in  the  deepe 
Sinke  like  a  lead  without  a  lyne, — but  as  55 

Fishes  glyde,  leavinge  no  print  where  they  passe, 
Xor  makinge  sound,  soe  closely  thy  course  goe, 
Let  men  dispute  whether  thou  breath,  or  no  : 
Onely  in  this  be  no  Galenist, — to  make 
Court's  hott  ambitions  wholsome ;  do  not  take  60 

A  dram  of  country's  dulnes ;  do  not  add 
Correctives,  but  as  ehymicks  purge  the  badd. 


22  VERSE-LETTERS. 

But,  Sir,  I  advise  not  you,  I  rather  doe 

Say  o're  these  lessons,  which  I  learn'd  of  you  : 

Where,  free  from  Germany's  schisme,  and  lightnes    65 

Of  France,  and  fair  Italy's  faithlessness, 

Having  from  those  suckt  all  they  had  of  worth, 

And  brought  home  that  faith  which  you  caryed  forth, 

I  thoroughly  loue  :  but  if  my  selfe  I  haue  won 

To  knowe  my  rules,  I  haue,  and  you  have  donne.      70 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  4,  '  ideaf  =  express  'ideas'  of. 
,,     5-6,  '0?*:'   usually,  as  in  1633,  'and.'     This  change 
alters  the  single  simile  to  the  double  one,  contained  in  both  Ps. 
xxxvii.  2  andPs.  ciii.  15.  '  Hay'  (1.  6)  is  a  remembrance  of  the  Vul- 
gate translation.  See  note  in  our  Southwell  on  '  bottle,1  as  here. 

Line  8,  lremoras.'>  The  small  sucking-fish  echinus  remora, 
fastening  on  the  rudder,  was  supposedly  able  to  stop  a  ship 
(Pliny,  N.  H.  s.v.  &c). 

Line  10.  Against  our  ms.  in  1633,  &c.  this  line  reads  ■  That 
though  then  pitch  they  staine  worse,  wee  must  touch,'  which 
we  accept  in  preference  to  placing  '  worse'  after  '  though.' 

Line  11,  'over:'  usually  (1633,  '35,  '39,  '49) '  raging,' which 
is  equally  suitable  for  the  'tropic;'  and  so  'poles'  for  '  pole' 
(1.  12)  makes  1.  13  more  correct. 

Line  14,  '  oh :'  I  prefer  this  '  oh'  of  1633,  &c.  to  '  in  this'  of 
our  ms.  '  This'  means  '  voyage'  (1.  7) ;  but  seems  to  refer  to 
'  region,'  and  '  oh'  gives  better  rhythm. 

Line  24.  Our  ms.  misinserts  '  and'  after  '  end;'  doubtless  an 
erroneous  reduplication  of  '  end.' 

Line  31,  'couetise  ;'  so  in  1633,  &c,  and  I  accept  it  in  pre- 
ference to  '  covetousness'  of  our  ms. 

Line  37,  '  spunges  :'  so  in  1633,  &c.  Our  ms.  miswrites 
'  springes,'  which  are  usually  emblems  of  purity,  while  '  sponge' 
was  frequently  used  as  a  depreciatory  name  for  bad  men.  Cf. 
the  passage  in  Hamlet  (iv.  2),  from  which  probably  it  became, 
as  it  did,  a  commonly-used  simile.     See  Marston's  Satires,  &c. 


TO  SIR  HENRIE  WOTTOX.  23 

Line  48,  '  conty  nuance'  This  thought  seems  to  have  been 
strong  in  Donne.  See  its  often  use  in  the  Elegies  (vol.  i.).  Inn 
=  dwell  as  in  an  '  inn.'     Cf.  Phineas  Fletcher,  s.  v. 

Lines  59-62,  '  Galenist.'  The  medical  world  or  medical  prac- 
tice had  been  divided  into  the  Galenistic  and  chymic.  In  his 
Mountebank,  Bembo,  addressing  Lord  Rochester,  says,.  '  This 
city  has  ever  been  infested  with  a  numerous  company,  whose 
arrogant  confidence,  backed  with  their  ignorance,  has  enabled 
them  to  impose  on  the  people  ....  in  physic,  chymical  or  Gale- 
nic ;  in  astrology,'  &c.  &c.  The  chemist  made  use  of  minerals. 
The  Galenists,  following  Galen,  only  used  medicines  drawn 
from  the  vegetable  and  animal  kingdoms. 

Line  70,  '  Donne.'  The  Poet  in  his  familiar  Letters  plays 
frequently  thus  on  his  own  name.      G. 


TO  SIB  HEKRIE  WOTTON. 

FROM  YE  COURT.1 

Here's  no  more  newes  then  virtue;  'I  may  as  well      than 
Tell  you  Calice  or  Saint  Michael's  tales,  as  tell 
That  vice  doth  here  habituallie  dwell  : 

Yet  as,  to  get  stomachs,  we  walk  up  and  downe, 
And  toyle  to  sweeten  rest ;  soe  may  God  frowne,        5 
If  but  to  loathe  both,  I  haunt  Court  and  towne. 

Tor  heere  no  one  is  from  the  extremitie 

Of  vice  by  any  other  reason  free, 

But  that  the  next  to  him  still  's  worse  then  hee. 

In  this  world's  warfare  they  whom  rugged  Fate         10 

(God's  commissarie)  doth  so  throughly  hate, 

As  in  the  Court's  squadron  to  marshal  their  state ; 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in  4to 
of  1633  (pp.  76-7).     G. 


24  VERSE-LETTERS. 

If  they  stand  arm'd  with  sillie  honestie, 

With,  wishinge  prayers,  and  neat  integrity. 

Like  Indians  'gainst  Spanish  hosts  they  bee.  1 5 

Suspitious  bouldnes  to  this  place  belounges, 
And  to  have  as  many  eares  as  all  have  toungues ; 
Tender  to  know,  tough  to  acknowledg  wrongs,, 

Eeleive  me,  Sir,  in  my  youth's  giddiest  dayes, 

When  to  be  like  the  Court  was  a  plair's  praise.  20 

Playes  were  not  so  like  Courts  as  Court's  like  plais. 

Then  let  us  at  these  mymiek  antics  jest, 
Whose  deepest  projects  and  egregious  guests 
Are  but  dull  morals  of  a  game  at  chests. 

But  now  'tis  incongruity  to  smyle ;  25 

Therefore  I  end,  and  bid  farewell  a  whyle 

At  court,  though  from  court  were  the  better  style. 

NOTES  AXD  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Our  ms.  in  this  is  not  so  satisfactory,  and  we  return  on  1633, 
See.  in  these  places  :  1.  1,  '  Here  is'  for  '  Here's ;'  1.  2  nrisinseits 
1  for  news'  before  '  as  tell;'  1.  4,  '  storaack'  for  '  stomachs  ;'  1.  7, 
1  free1  niisinserted  after  '  is'  by  a  reduplication  of  the  '  free'  of 
the  succeeding  line  ;  1.  9,  '  still  is'  for  the  more  Elizabethan 
collocation  'still's;'  1.  18,  'tends'  stupidly  for  'tender,'  and 
'  loath'  for  '  tough  ;'  1.  22,  again  very  stupidly, '  antiques'  (noun) 
is  changed  into  'antique'  (adjective),  and  'jest'  (verb)  into 
k  jests'  (noun).  The  mimic  antics  are  the  courtiers  like  players : 
the  transcriber  seems  to  have  ventured  all  this  to  improve  the 
rhyme  ;  1.  21,  '  are'  is  niisinserted  before  '  like  :'  intended  doubt- 
loss  to  give  the  (supposed)  true  meaning,  but  destructive  of 
rhythm  and  all.  Cf.  Court's,  1.  20.  The  meaning  in  context 
ill.  20-1)  is,  '  When  at  my  giddiest  plays  were  jto  me] ' — for  he 
is  speaking  of  himself  and  his  own  appreciation  of  Court — 'not 


TO  SIR  HENRY  GOODY  ERE.  25 

so  much  like  Courts  as  Courts  were  like  Plays,  [must  I  not  now 
in  my  sober  age  esteem  them  less  ?'] ;  1.  25,  '  it  is'  for  '  'tis,' 
erroneously. 

Line  2,  tales,''  i.  e.  of  the  Armada.  The  rendezvous  of  its 
parted  ships  was  off  the  Land's  End,  and  it  was  first  descried 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Channel,  while  its  final  defeat  as  an  in- 
vading Armada  was  in  Calais  roads. 

Line  11,  '  God's  commissarie'  =  agent  or  deputy.  See  note, 
vol.  i.  pp.  90-1. 

Line  23,  ■  guests' =  gests=<Loings,  from  Latin  gesta,  as  Gesta 
Eomanorum. 

Line  24,  '  morals  :'  used  in  a  sense  derived  from  the  old 
}  Moralities,'  and  meaning  representations  or  semblances.  It  is 
still  preserved  in  the  vulgar  colloquialism,  ■  he's  the  very  moral 
of  a  man,'  where  the  preservation  is  due  to  its  likeness  to  the 
word  •  model.'  '  Chests  .•'  a  common  variation  of  '  chess.'  This 
leads  to  our  rejection  of  our  ms.  reading  of  '  dumb'  for  '  dull.' 
4  Dull  morals,'  or  poor  semblances,  can  be  understood;  but  the 
deep  projects  and  egregious  gests  of  Court  were  not  '  dumb,' 
and  if  they  were,  why  call  them  '  dumb'  when  the  reality  or 
game  itself  is  the  most  silent  of  games  ? 

Line  25, '  incongruity  to  smile,'  either  because  '  Vice  habitu- 
ally here  doth  well,'  or,  and  perhaps  more  probably,  because  the 
acts  are  but  '  dull  morals'  of  a  serious  game.  Possibly  from 
the  change  of  '  'tis  an'  to  '  now  'tis/  it  may  refer  to  some  specially 
serious  or  mournful  trial  at  Court.     G. 


TO  SIE  HENKY  GOODYEKE.* 

Who  makes  the  last  a  patterne  for  next  yeare, 

Turnes  no  new  leafe,  but  still  the  same  things  reades, 

Seene  things  he  sees,  heard  things  again  doth  lieare, 
And  makes  his  life  hut  like  a  paire  of  beades. 

1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in  4to 
of  1633  (pp.  72-1).    See  Notes  and  Illustrations  on  Goodyere.  G. 


26  VERSE-LETTERS. 

A  pallace,  when  'tis  that  which  it  should  bee,  5 

Leaues  growing,  and  stands  such,  or  els  decayes ; 

But  he  which  dweis  there  is  not  soe ;  for  hee 
Striues  to  urge  upward,  and  his  fortune  raise. 

So  had  your  boddy,  her  morning  hath  her  noone, 

And  shall  not  better ;  her  next  change  is  night :    1  o 

Eut  her  farr  larger  guest,  to  whome  sunn  and  moon 
Are  sparks  and  short-liud,  claims  another  right. 

The  noble  soule  by  age  growes  lustier, 

Her  appetite  and  her  disgestion  mende ; 

We  must  not  sterue,  nor  hope  to  pamper  her  15 

With  woman's  milke  and  pap  unto  the  end. 

Prouide  you  manlier  diat ;  you  haue  seene 

All  libraryes,  which  are  schools,  campes  and  Courts  ; 

But  aske  your  garners  if  you  haue  not  been 

In  haruest  too  indulgent  to  your  sports.  20 

Would  you  redem  it  ?    Then  your  self  transplant 

Awhile  from  hence.     Perchance  outlandish  ground 

Bears  no  more  witt  than  ours  ;  but  yett  more  scant 
Are  those  diuersions  theere,  which  heere  abound. 

To  be  a  stranger  hath  that  benelitt,  25 

Wee  can  beginnings,  but  not  habitts  choake  : 

Goe,  whither  1  Hence  ;  you  gett,  if  you  forgett ; 
Xew  faults,  till  they  prescribe  to  us,  are  smoake. 


TO  SIR  HENRY  GOODYERE. 


27 


Our  soule,  whose  country's  Heaven,  and  God  her  father, 
Into  this  world,  corruption's  sinke,  is  sent ;         30 

Yet  soe  much  in  her  travell  she  doth  gather, 
That  she  returnes  home  wiser  then  she  went. 

It  payes  you  well,  if  it  teach  you  to  spare, 

And  make  you  asham'd  to  make  your  hawke's  prayse 

yours, 
.- 
\Yhich  when  her  self  she  lessens  in  the  ayre,  35 

You  then  first  say  that  high  enough  she  towres. 

Howsoere,  keepe  the  liuely  tast  you  houlde 

Of  God ;  loue  Him  as  now,  but  feare  Him  more  : 

And  in  your  afternoons  thinke  what  you  tould 

And  promisd  Him  at  morning-prayer  before.        40 

Let  falsehood  like  a  discord  anger  you ; 

Els  be  not  froward.     But  why  doe  I  touch 
Things,  of  which  none  is  in  your  practise  new, 

And  fables  and  fruit-trenchers  preach  as  much  ] 

But  thus  I  make  you  keep  your  promis,  Sir ;  45 

Biding  I  had  you,  though  you  still  stayed  theer, 

And  in  theise  thoughts,  although  you  neuer  stirr, 
You  came  with  me  to  Micham,  and  are  heere. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Heading :  The  name  variously  occurs  as  Godyer,  Goodere, 
Goodyear,  and  Goody er — variations  on  which  it  is  marvellous 
Donne  did  not  play  and  pun.  He  was  knighted  in  July  1608,  as 
of  Baginton,  co.  Warwick,  and  was  one  of  the  Gentlemen  of  the 


28  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Privy  Chamber  to  King  James  I.  He  died  in  1629  in  his  78th 
year,  and  was  buried  in  the  chancel  of  Hatfield  church,  Herts. 
His  wife  Damara,  daughter  and  heiress  of  John  Rumb all,  gent., 
to  whom  he  had  been  married  53  years,  died  in  the  previous 
year,  and  was  also  buried  at  Hatfield.  They  had  seven  sons  and 
seven  daughters,  of  whom  only  two  sons,  Francis  and  Thomas, 
and  four  daughters,  Anne,  Judith,  Ursula,  and  Lucy,  survived 
him.  His  monument  gives  the  name  '  Godyer,'  while  in  his 
Will  it  is  '  Goodere. '  This  Verse-Letter  was  probably  written 
at  New  Year's  time,  or  on  Sir  Henry's  birthday.  Our  ms.,  as 
before,  has  some  inferior  readings,  as  will  appear  in  the  places. 

Line  1,  '  last.'  I  accept  this  from  1669  edition,  albeit  '  past' 
(with  a  capital)  occurs  from  1633  to  1649,  and  our  ms.  As  above, 
it  seems  pretty  evident  that  this  poem  was  written  at  the  close 
of  one  year  and  beginning  of  another,  whether  that  other  began 
in  January  or  on  Sir  Henry's  birthday,  and  therefore  Donne 
would  speak  not  of  the  '  past'  time  in  contradistinction  to  the 
coming  or  current  year,  but  of  the  '  past'  year.  But  '  past'  as 
it  stands  rather  brings  up  the  thought  of  '  past'  time :  hence 
Donne,  I  think,  later  altered  it  to  '  last.' 

Line  4,  8jpair'=set.  A  pair  of  cards  was  a  pack,  and  in 
mining  language,  a  '"pare  of  men'  is  still  the  phrase  for  the  set 
or  gang  of  men  who  take  any  particular  portion  of  work. 

Line  8,  '  urge.''  Our  ms.  has  '  grow.'  I  prefer  the  former 
from  1633,  &c.  inasmuch  as  it  agrees  better  with  '  fortune  raise ;' 
and  the  person  who  is  attempting  to  raise  his  fortune  can  '  grow' 
no  more  in  body,  though  he  can  '  urge'  himself  '  upward.'  '  Up- 
ward' also  is  preferable  to  '  upwards'  of  our  ms. 

Line  9,  '  had.'  Our  ms.  misreads  '  shall :'  caught  probably 
from  1.  10.  There  is  a  double  simile,  and  the  body,  &c.  of  11. 
9-10  answers  to  the  palace  (the  soul's  palace,  as  the  Elizabethan 
writers  call  it)  of  11.  5-6,  and  the  '  he'  of  11.  11-12  and  of  11.  13- 
14.  The  three  answering  clauses  of  the  first  simile  end — grow- 
ing, morning — stand  such,  noon  and  shall  not  better — decays, 
night. 

Line  11,  lfarr.'  This  is  superior  to  the  usual  'fair'  of  1633, 
&c.     Cf.  '  sparks,'  1.  12. 

Line  16,  '  the.  Our  ms.  misreads  '  her,'  which  would  mean 
1  till  the  end  of  the  immortal  soul.'  But  not  saying  anything 
so  absurd,  Donne  speaks  of  '  the  end'  of  the  present  connection 
between  the  soul  and  its  body.  '  Her'  caught  probably  from 
the  context. 


TO  THE  COUNTE8  OF  BEDFORD.  29 

Line  44,  'preach:1  usually  'teach.'  The  'preach'  is  supe- 
rior, as  reference  is  made  to  scriptural  texts  and  phrases  in- 
scribed on  the  '  fruit-trenchers,'  e.  g.  '  Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread,'  '  Our  Father,  which  art  in  heaven,'  and  the  like.     G. 


TO  THE  COI7XTES  OF  BEDFORD.* 

Madam, 
Reason  is  our  soule's  left  hand,  Faith  her  right ; 
By  these  we  reach  divinitie, — that's  you  : 
Their  loves,  who  have  the  blessing  of  your  light, 
Grew  from  their  Reason ;  myne  from  fair  Faith  grew. 

But  as,  although  a  squint  left-hanclednes  5 

Be'  ungratious,  yet  we  cannot  want  that  hand, 
So  wold  I  (not  to'  increase,  but  to  express 
My  fayth)  as  I  believe,  soe  understand. 

Therefore  I  study  you  first  in  your  saintes, 

Those  friends,  whom  your  election  glorifies  ;  10 

Then  in  your  deeds,  accesses  and  restraints, 

And  what  you  read,  and  what  yourselfe  devise. 

But  soone,  the  reasons  why  you'  are  lov'd  by  all, 
Grow  infynite,  and  so  passe  Reason's  reach, 
Then  back  again  to'  implicit  Fayth  I  fall,  15 

And  rest  on  that  ye  catholique  voice  doth  teach ; — 

1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in  the 
4to  of  1633  (pp.  77-9).  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  on  the  Lady 
addressed  in  this  and  subsequent  poems:  also  our  Essay  on  the 
remarkable  friendship  between  her  and  Donne.     G. 


30  VERSE-LETTERS. 

That  you  are  good  : — and  not  one  heretique 
Denyes  it ;  if  lie  did.  yet  you  are  soe  ; 
For  rocks  which  high  do  seeme  and  deep-rooted  stick, 
Waves  wash,  not  undermyne  nor  overthrow.  20 

In  every  thinge  there  naturally  giowes 
A  balsa-mum,  to  keepe  it  fresh  and  newe, 
If  'twere  not  injur  d  by  extrinsique  blowes; 
Your  birth  and  bewty  are  this  balme  in  you. 

But  you  of  learninge  and  religion  25 

And  virtue1  and  such  ingredients  haue  made 

A  Mithridate,  whose  opperation 

Keeps  off  or  cures  what  can  be  donne  or  sayd.  saith 

Yet  this  is  not  your  phisick.  but  your  food, 
A  dyet  fitt  for  you:  for  you  are  heere  30 

The  first  good  angell,  since  the  world's  frame  stood, 
That  ever  did  in  woman's  shape  appeare. 

Since  you  are  then  God's  maisterpiece,  and  soe 
His  factour  for  our  loves,  doe  as  you  doe ; 
Make  your  retorn  home  gratious,  and  bestow  35 

This  life  on  that  :  soe  make  one  life  of  two  : 

For  so,  God  help  me,  I  wold  not  misse  you  there 
For  all  the  good  which  you  can  do  me  here. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading:  Lucy,  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  John  Harington.  first 
Lord  Harington,  of  Exton,  co.  Rutland,  married  Edward  Rus- 
sell, third.  Earl  of  Bedford,  and  died  without  issue.    Her  father 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.  31 

died  in  1613,  when  her  only  brother,  John,  succeeded  to  the 
title ;  but  he  also  died  the  next  year  (1614),  leaving  no  issue, 
when  the  title  became  extinct,  and  the  estates  went  to  his  sis- 
ters, our  Countess  of  Bedford  and  Dame  Frances  Chichester. 
The  Earl  died  3d  May  1627.  She  long  survived  him.  See  our 
Essay  for  more  about  her. 

Line  3,  '  lipht.'     Our  ms.  reads  '  sight'  inferiorly. 

,,  16,  '  voice.'  Our  ms.  reads  '  faith,'  but '  voice'  is  clearly 
preferable.  With  ■  faith'  there  is  an  unpleasant  reduplication, 
and  the  more  unpleasant  that  the  meanings  are  different.  'Voice' 
=Vox  ecclesise,  is  more  correct  and  a  greater  compliment,  as 
distinctly  expressing  a  consensus  universalis. 
Line  19,  'and.'     Not  in  1633,  &c. 

,,     27,  '  Mithridate.'     See  note  in  vol.  i.  s.v. 

„     32,  l  appear e.'     Our  ms.  spells  '  appyre.' 

,,  36, '  This  life  on  that.-  We  must  remain  ignorant  whose 
life  is  'that:'  it  may  be  her  husband's ;  but  cf.  Epistle  onward, 
*  You  that  are  she,'  &c.  We  should  also  require  to  know  the 
circumstances  under  which  they  were  written  to  understand  this 
and  other  of  these  very  remarkable  Letters.  From  the  closing 
lines  it  would  seem  that  both  the  Countess  and  Donne  had  come 
up  to  town,  though  his  'home'  was  near  the  Countess's  country- 
seat.     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.1 

Madame, 

You  haue  refind  rue,  and  to  worthiest  things, 

Vertue,  art,  beauty,  fortune ;  now  I  see 

Rarenes  or  use,  not  nature,  value  brings ; 

And  such,  as  they  are  circumstanced,  they  bee. 

Two  ills  can  ne'er  perplex  us,  sin  t'  excuse,  5 

But  of  two  good  things  we  may  leave  or  chuse. 

1  From  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.,  as  before.    Appeared 
originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  79-82).     G. 


32  TERSE-LETTERS. 

Therefore  att  Court,  -which  is  not  Yertue's  clime, 
Wheere  a  transcendent  height  (as  lowness  me) 
Makes  her  not  be,  or  not  show,  all  my  rhyme 
Your  virtues  challenge,  which  there  rarest  bee  ;  10 

For  as  dark  texts  need  notes,  some  there  must  be 
To  usher  Yertue,  and  say,  'This  is  she.' 

So  in  the  countrye's  beauty.     To  this  place 

You  are  the  season,  Maddam,  you  the  day; 

'Tis  but  a  graue  of  spices,  till  your  face  1 5 

Exhale  them,  and  a  thick,  close  bud  display. 

Widdowed  and  reclusd  els,  her  sweets  sh'  inshrines, 
As  China,  when  the  sunn  at  Brazile  dines. 

Out  from  your  charriott  morning  breaks  att  night, 
And  falsifyes  both  computations  soe  ;  20 

Since  a  new  world  doth  rise  here  from  your  light, 
Wee  your  new  creatures  by  new  reck'nings  goe  : 

This  shews  that  you  from  nature  lothly  stray, 

That  suffer  not  an  artificiall  day. 

In  this  you  'have  made  the  Court  th'  antipodes,        25 

And  wil'd  your  delligate,  the  vulgar  sunn, 

To  do  profane  autumnall  offices, 

Whilst  heere  to  you  we  sacrificers  runn ; 

And  whether  preists  or  organs,  you  we'  obey, 
We  sound  your  influence,  and  your  dictates  say.  30 

Yet  to  that  diety  which  dwells  in  you, 
Your  vertuous  soule,  I  now  not  sacrifice ; 


TO  THE  COUNTES  OF  BEDFORD.  33 

These  are  petitions,  and  not  himns ;  they  sue 

But  that  I  may  suruey  the  edifice. 

In  all  religions  as  much  care  hath  been  3  5 

Of  temples'  frames  and  beauty,  'as  rites  within. 

As  all  which  go  to  Borne  do  not  thereby 

Esteem  religions,  and  hould  fast  the  best, 

But  serue  discourse  and  curiosity 

With  that  which  doth  religion  but  inuest,  40 

And  shunn  th'  int angling  laborinths  of  scholes, 
And  make  it  witt  to  think  the  wiser  fooles ; — 

Soe  in  this  pilgrimage  I  would  behould 
You  as  y'  are,  Yertue's  temple,  not  as  she ; 
What  wals  of  tender  christal  her  enfould,  45 

What  eyes,  hands,  bosome,  her  pure  alters  bee, 
And  after  this  suruey  oppose  to  all 
Bablers  of  chappels,  you,  th'  Escuriall. 

Yet  not  as  consecrate,  but  merly  'as  faire,  merely 

On  these  I  cast  a  lay  and  countrye  eye.  50 

Of  past  and  future  storyes,  which  are  rare, 
I  find  you  all  record  and  prophesye. 

Purge  but  the  booke  of  Fate,  that  it  admitt 
No  sad  nor  guilty  legends, — you  are  itt. 

If  good  and  louely  weer  not  one,  of  both  5  5 

You  were  the  transcript  and  originall, 

VOL.  II.  D 


I 


34  VERSE-LETTERS. 

The  elements,  the  parent,  and  the  gronth, 

And  every  pece  of  yon  is  both  their  all : 

Soe'  entire  are  all  yonr  deeds  and  yon,  that  yon 
Mnst  do  the  same  things  still;  yon  cannott  two.  60 

But  theise  (as  nice,  thine  schoole-divinity  finical 

Serves  heresy  to  further  or  repress) 

Tast  of  poetique  rage,  or  flattery, 

And  need  not,  wher  all  harts  one  truth  profess ; 

Oft  from  new  proofes  and  new  phrase  new  doubts 
growe,  65 

As  Strang  attire  alters  the  men  wee  know,     strange 

Leauing  then  buissy  praise,  and  all  appeale 

To  higher  courts,  sence's  decree  is  true ; 

The  mine,  the  magazin,  the  comonweal, 

The  story  of  beauty,  'in  Twicknam  is  and  you  ;  70 

Who  hath  seen  one,  would  both ;  as  who  hath  beene 
In  paradice,  would  seeke  the  Cherubine. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  4,  '  they'= rareness  and  use. 
,,     8,  'height.'  Our  ms.  misreads  'bright.'    See  'lowness' 
in  same  line. 

Line  9,  'my.'     Our  ms.  has  'her'  erroneously,  caught  from 
1  Makes  her. ' 

Line  11,  '  some  there.''     Our  ms.  '  there  some  :'  that  '  there' 
(in  the  Court]  as  opposed  to  '  dark  texts.' 

Line  13r=So  in  the  Country  is  beauty  most  rare  :  1.  10. 
,,     14,  'you  the  day.'   Our  ms.  inserts  'are' — less  Donne- 
like. 


TO  THE  COUNTES  OF  BEDFORD.  35 

Line  17,  '  sweets ;'  as  in  spices. 
,,  19.  After  speaking  of  her  at  Court  and  in  the  Country, 
the  Poet  returns  to  her  at  Court,  and  the  key  to  the  rather  dif- 
ficult thoughts  that  follow  is,  that  she  is  spoken  of  as  gracing 
the  frequent  night-festivities  and  revels  of  the  Court  of  James 
and  his  Queen  during  the  autumnal  season  (1.  27).  Hence  her 
sun-like  appearance  makes  the  Court  the  antipodes  of  the  rest 
of  the  town  or  profanum  vulgus,  to  whom  she  wills  that  the 
vulgar  sun  should  do  his  offices. 

Line  20.  Both  computations  here  are  the  computations  ot 
ordinary  day  and  night.  And  the  meaning  of  11.  23-4,  which  are 
at  first  glance  opposed  in  meaning  to  the  previous  lines  of  the 
stanza,  seems  to  be  this — that  she  will  not  allow  the  Night  to 
become  an  artificial  Day  through  torch-  and  candle-light,  but 
by  her  sun-presence  makes  it  a  true  Day. 

Line  21,  '  light.'  Our  ms.  has  '  sight,'  which  is  ambiguous, 
and  the  animal  world  requires  '  light,'  but  hardly  arises  from 
seeing  the  sun,  or  from  the  sun  considered  as  a  sight  or  eye. 

Line  31,  'that.''  Our  ms.  reads  'the  diety' — your  virtuous 
soul.  The  collocation  asks  for  '  that'  rather  than '  the,'  and '  that' 
separates  the  phrase  from  '  the  diety.' 

Line  34,  '  the.'  Our  ms.  has  '  your,'  probably  Donne's :  but 
as  it  means  rather  the  edifice  built  for  or  to  you  than  that  part 
of  you — the  body — which  is  the  '  edifice,'  the  latter  is  doubtless 
the  revised  form.  It  is  '  the'  in  1633,  &c. 
Line  39,  *  serve' ■=. minister  to,  or  feed. 
,,  44,  '  not  as  she.'  Our  ms.  reads  '  and  not  she.'  Here 
the  ms.  form  rather  seems  to  say  that  the  Countess  is  not  Vir- 
tue. '  Not  as  she,'  as  in  1633,  &c.  expresses  the  true  meaning 
— that  he  just  now  looks  at  her  body,  not  at  her  mind. 

Line  48,  '  Escurial.'  As  I  write  these  notes,  tidings  reach 
of  the  partial  destruction  by  fire  of  this  glory  of  Spain.  Its  im- 
mense size  and  cost  seem  to  have  given  this  pile  a  preeminence 
over  other  buildings  which  its  architectural  beauty  does  not 
deserve. 

Line  50,  '  these  ....  lay.'  Our  ms.  by  '  this'  destroys  the 
whole  sense  of  the  passage.  '  This'  refers  one  to  the  Escurial, 
to  her.  The  true  sense  is — Yet  on  '  these'  beauties — chapels  as 
I  have  chosen  to  call  them — I  cast  a  'lay'  or  foolishly-admiring 
and  wondering  eye,  not  as  '  consecrate,'  but  merely  as  pretty 
to  look  at;  you  I  find,  like  a  consecrated  temple,  all  record 
and  prophecy.    'Lay  ;'  probably  both  in  primary  sense  of  laic, 


36  VERSE-LETTERS. 

and  in  secondary  sense  of  ignorant  (see  Note  in  vol.  i.  s.v.)> 
viewing  them  not  only  as  unconsecrate,  but  as  ignorantly 
admiring  what  looks  fair,  without  inquiring  into  or  caring  for 
their  use. 

Line  60.  The  talk  being  of  ■  goodness'  and  '  deeds'  as  one 
with  the  Countess  and  her  loveliness,  and  not  of  the  converse 
of  the  proposition,  I  prefer  '  do'  and  '  things'  of  1633,  &c.  to  our 
ms.  'be'  and  '  thing.  '  =  You  must  '  do'  the  same  good  'things' 
always,  and  not  vary :  you  cannot  do  '  two'  different  things,  do 
one  the  reverse  of  or  different  from  what  you  have  done,  be- 
cause one  being  good,  the  other  must  be  ill. 

Line  62,  '  Serves  . .  .further.'  The  sarcastic  meaning  clearly 
is,  that  fine-drawn  unsubstantial  or  mere  wordy  distinctions  in 
divinity  '  further'  heresies  as  much  as  '  repress'  the  same  or 
other  heresies ;  and  11.  63  and  65  show  this  to  be  the  sense,  and 
that '  founder'  of  our  ms.  is  nonsense,  as  is  '  semes'  for '  serves.' 

Line  66,  '  alters  ....  men.*  The  variations  in  1.  11,  '  some 
there'  and  'there  some,'  as  noticed  in  the  place,  and  that  in  1. 
48  '  Builders'  (1669)  and  ' Babblers'  (1633),  and  of  1.  61  'nicest' 
(1669),  and  'nice,  thin'  (1633),  show  (meo  judicio)  that,  confused 
and  blundering  as  it  is,  the  copies  in  1633  are  later.  Hence, 
'  aliens  the  men  we  know'  (1669)  is  the  earlier  reading,  and 
1  alters  the  men  we  know'  the  later;  and  hence  also  our  ms., 
which  has  'aliens  the  man  we  know,"  is  from  a  copy  similar  to 
the  '69,  or  from  a  copy  earlier  than  '33,  according  as  we  take 
'  man'  to  be  a  clerical  error  or  an  author's  variation.  There 
may  be  difference  of  opinion  here  and  elsewhere  as  to  the  best 
reading,  for  an  author's  after-change  is  not  necessarily  for  the 
better.  Whether  we  take  '  aliens' =  alienates,  or,  as  is  more  pro- 
bable, =  makes  aliens  of,  the  phrase  is  too  strong  for  the  facts 
and  too  strong  to  correspond  with  the  new  phrases,  that  merely 
create  new  doubts,  and  not  actual  heresy  and  separating  differ- 
ence. This  Donne  saw,  and  tried  to  put  right  by  changing 
1  aliens'  to  '  alters.'  As  also  the  sense  of  the  previous  line  is 
"our]  new  phrases  may  create  doubts  [in  others] ,  so  I  think 
Donne  here  means  to  say  in  correspondence  with  tins,  as  strange 
attire  [on  me  or  us]  alters  towards  [me  or  us]  the  demeanour 
of  our  acquaintance,  rather  than — the  strange  attire  of  our 
acquaintance  or  acquaintances  alters  them  in  our  apprehension, 
and  causes  us  to  doubt  their  identity.  '  Alters,'  therefore,  I 
accept,  and  '  men'  as  in  1633,  fee. 

Line  68.  The  clear  meaning  is — the  decree  of  our  senses  as 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.  37 

to  your  goodness  and  loveliness  is  a  true  one ;  hence  '  'tis'  of 
our  ms.  for  '  is'  is  a  mistake. 

Line  71,  '  hath.'  Here  our  ms.  has  '  had,'  and  it  is  perhaps 
better  than  '  hath,'  but  only  so  to  our  nineteenth-century  ears; 
for  '  hath'  probably  stood  for  who  '  may  have'  been  in  Paradise 
would  naturally  seek  the  Cherubin.      G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.* 

T'  have  written  then,  when  you  writ,  seem'd  to  me 

Worst  of  spiritual  vices,  simony  : 

And  not  t'  have  written  then,  seems  little  less 

Than  worst  of  civil  vices,  thanklessness. 

In  this,  my  debt  I  seem'd  loath  to  confess,  5 

In  that,  I  seem'd  to  shun  beholdingness  : 

Eut  'tis  not  so  :  Nothings,  as  I  am,  may 

Pay  all  they  have,  and  yet  have  all  to  pay. 

Such  borrow  in  their  payments,  and  owe  more 

Ey  having  leave  to  write  so,  than  before.  10 

Yet  since  rich  mines  in  barren  grounds  are  shown, 

May  not  I  yield,  not  gold,  but  coal  or  stone  ? 

Temples  were  not  demolish'd,  though  prophane  ; 

Here  Peter  Jove's,  there  Paul  hath  Dian's  fane. 

So  whether  my  hymns  you  admit  or  chuse,  1 5 

In  me  you  'have  'hallowed  a  pagan  muse, 

And  denizen'd  a  stranger,  who,  mis-taught 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  160-163).    Appeared  originally 
in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  84-7).     G, 


38  VERSE-LETTERS. 

By  blamers  of  the  times  they  mar'd,  hath  sought 

Virtues  in  corners,  which  now  bravely  do 

Shine  in — the  world's  best  part,  or  all  it — you.  20 

I  have  been  told  that  vertue  in  Courtiers'  hearts 

Suffers  an  ostracism  and  departs. 

Profit,  ease,  fitness,  plenty  bid  it  go, 

But  whither,  only  knowing  you,  I  know ; 

You,  or  your  vertue,  two  vast  uses  serves,  25 

It  ransoms  one  sex  and  one  Court  preserves ; 

There's  nothing  but  your  worth,  which  being  true 

Is  known  to  any  other,  not  to  you ; 

And  you  can  never  know  it ;  to  admit 

2sro  knowledg  of  your  worth,  is  some  of  it.  30 

But  since  to  you  your  praises  discords  be, 

Stoop  others'  ills  to  meditate  with  me. 

Oh,  to  confess  we  know  not  what  we  would 

Is  half  excuse,  we  know  not  what  we  should. 

Lightness  depresseth  us,  emptiness  fills  ;  35 

We  sweat  and  faint,  yet  still  go  down  the  hills ; 

As  new  phylosophy  arrests  the  sun, 

And  bids  the  passive  earth  about  it  run, 

So  we  have  dull'd  our  mind,  it  hath  no  ends  \ 

Only  the  body's  busie  and  pretends.  40 

As  dead  low  earth  eclipses  and  controuls 

The  quick  high  moon,  so  doth  the  body,  souls  : 

In  none  but  us  are  such  mixt  engines  found, 

As  hands  of  double  office  ;  for  the  ground 

We  till  with  them,  and  them  to  heaven  we  raise  \      45 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.  39 

Who  prayerless  labours,  or  without  this  prayes, 

Doth  but  one  half,  that's  none :  He  which  said  Plough, 

And  look  not  back,  to  look  up  doth  allow. 

Good  seed  degenerates,  and  oft  obeys 

The  soyle's  disease,  and  into  cockle  strayes  :  50 

Let  the  minde's  thoughts  be  but  transplanted  so 

Into  the  body,  and  bastardly  they  grow. 

What  hate  could  hurt  our  bodies  like  our  love  ? 

We,  but  no  foreign  tyrants,  could  remove 

These,  not  ingrav'd  but  inborn  dignities,  55 

Caskets  of  souls,  temples  and  palaces. 

For  bodies  shall  from  death  redeemed  be, 

Souls  but  preserv'd,  born  naturally  free ; 

As  men  to  'our  prisons  now,  souls  to  'us  are  sent, 

Which  learn  vice  there,  and  come  in  innocent.  60 

First  seeds  of  every  creature  are  in  us  \ 

What  ere  the  world  hath  bad,  or  precious, 

Man's  body  can  produce  :  hence  hath  it  been, 

That  stones,  worms, frogs,  and  snakes  in  man  are  seen: 

But  who  e'r  saw,  though  nature  can  work  so,  65 

That  pearl,  or  gold,  or  corn  in  man  did  grow  ? 

We  'have  added  to  the  world  Virginia,  and  sent 

Two  new  stars  lately  to  the  firmament ; 

Why  grudge  we  us  (not  heaven)  the  dignity 

T'  increase  with  ours  those  fair  souls'  company  1        70 

But  I  must  end  this  letter  •  though  it  do 

Stand  on  two  truths,  neither  is  true  to  you. 

Vertue  hath  some  perversness  ;  for  she  will 


: 


-iO  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Neither  believe  her  good,  nor  other's  ill. 

Even  in  you,  Vertue' s  best  paradise,  75 

Virtue  hath  some,  but  wise  degrees  of  vice. 

Too  many  vertues,  or  too  much  of  one 

Begets  in  you  unjust  suspition, 

And  ignorance  of  vice  makes  vertue  less, 

Quenching  compassion  of  our  wretchedness.  80 

But  these  are  riddles  :  som  aspersion 

Of  vice  becomes  well  some  complexion. 

Statesmen  purge  vice  with  vice,  and  may  corrode 

The  bad  with  bad,  a  spider  with  a  toad  ; 

For  so,  ill  thralls  not  them  but  they  tame  ill,  85 

And  make  her  do  much  good  against  her  will ; 

But  in  your  Common-wealth,  or  world  in  you, 

Vice  hath  no  office  or  good  work  to  do. 

Take  then  no  vicious  purge  ■  but  be  content 

With  cordial  vertue,  your  known  nourishment.  90 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  14,  '  Here  Peter  Jove's?  &c.  London  St.  Paul's  was 
on  the  site  of  a  temple  to  Diana ;  and  it  is  a  commonplace  that 
the  great  statue  of  St.  Peter  was  transmogrified  thereto  from 
one  to  Jove  (Jupiter  Capitolinus);  and  so  with  temple-sites,  &c. 

Line  16=  In  praising  others,  his  was  a  Pagan  muse,  but  is 
now  consecrate  to  her,  the  true  divinity. 

Line  20.  The  sense  is,  it  shines  in  you  the  world's  best  part, 
or  rather  all  the  world. 

Line  25,  '  two.'  I  accept  this  from  '69  for  the  usual  '  to,' 
seeing  that  '  two'  are  enumerated  in  next  line. 

Lines  27-8=  No  true  thing  is  known  to  others  and  not  to 
you, — your  own  worth  excepted. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.  41 

Lines  33-4.  Our  ms.  miswrites  ■  should'  '  would  :'  1633,  &c. 
'  would'  '  should,'  which  I  prefer  as  more  plain,  and  agreeing 
with  half  excuse. 

Line  40,  'pretends:'  in  primary  sense  of  stretching  forward. 
,,  46  =  prays  without  labour  or  without  labouring;  there- 
fore '  this'  (as  in  1633,  &c),  not  *  these'  of  our  ms. 

Line  50,  ■  into  cockle  strays :'  I  do  not  know  whether  this  is 
a  poetical  expression  of  Donne's,  or  whether  it  was  believed 
that  corn-seed  could  degenerate  into  cockle.  Query — Is  the 
superabundance  of  'cockle'  (  =  weeds)  over  the  'corn'  intended 
to  mark  the  '  soil's  disease'  ? 

Line  53,  '  our  love.'  Love,  the  mind's  thought  transplanted 
into  the  body  and  growing  bastardly,  becomes  lust ;  and  the 
reference  is  primarily  to  that  ascetic  theory  of  the  Fall  which 
made  it  consist  in  that  which  was  the  consummation  of  the  first 
as  of  every  marriage ;  secondarily  to  the  lusts  which,  supposedly 
springing  therefrom,  form  so  great  a  part  of  the  sins  of  the 
world.  If  these  were  not  the  primary  reference,  the  whole 
clause,  with  its  mention  of  redemption,  would  lose  much  of  its 
force.  We  hurt  our  bodies;  for  by  the  sin  (11.  51-5)  our  bodies 
came  under  the  penalty  of  [natural]  death,  and  have  had  to  be 
redeemed  from  it.  In  the  next  line,  however  (1.  56),  Donne,  in 
pursuit  of  his  conceit,  appears  to  have  run  into  a  divinity  fog 
or  bog. 

Line  55,  '  inborn  dignities' =  dignities  which  they  have  by 
nature  or  inherit,  not  superadded. 

Lines  63-6.  These  seem  to  contradict  1.  62,  '  or  precious ;'  but 
the  meaning  is,  that  hence,  i.  e.  from  the  soil's  disease  or  body's 
ill,  we  produce  only  bad,  and  not  (though  nature  can  work  so, 
and  though  original  nature  did  work  so)  anything  good. 

Line  64,  '  stones  .  .  .  snakes.'  In  1639  there  was  published 
in  London  'A  most  certaine  and  true  relation  of  a  strange 
monster  or  serpent,  found  in  the  left  ventricle  of  the  heart  of 
John  Pennant,  gentleman,  of  the  age  of  21  years,  by  Edward 
May,  Doctor  of  Philosophy  and  Physick  ....  Physician  Extra- 
ordinary to  the  Queen  of  Great  Brittany.'  The  writer  also 
says  that  Shenkins  speaks  of  worms  in  the  heart,  &c.  The 
'serpent'  (of  which  May  gives  two  drawings)  was  doubtless 
white  fibrinous  coagulum  from  the  blood ;  and  Shenkins'  worms 
the  same  or  inflammatory  fibrine  drawn  into  bands  by  the 
heart's  action  in  pericarditis.  May  also  speaks  of  '  yeeles  and 
frogs'  swallowed  with  water,  and  afterwards  cast  up  from  the 


42  VERSE-LETTERS. 

stomach ;  and  as  evidence  of  their  frequency  quotes  a  prover- 
bial saying,  that  he  who  drinks  the  water  of  the  Alps  has  a 
frog  to  his  brother  ;  though  I  rather  apprehend  the  allusion  is 
to  the  disease  goitre. 

Line  68,  ■  added  Virginia.'  If  Donne's  meaning  be — WeEng- 
li6h  have  added  to  our  worldly  dignity  by  adding  Virginia,  why 
should  we  grudge  to  add  our  souls  to  those  two  we  have  sent  on 
before,  and  so  increase  not  heaven's  but  our  dignity? — then  the 
reference  is  to  the  final  recolonisation  of  Virginia  in  1609.  One 
of  the  stars  might  be  Henry  Prince  of  Wales,  who  died  in  No- 
vember 1612  ;  and  the  second  star  might  be  Henry  IV.  of 
France,  assassinated  in  1610;  introduced  by  Donne  not  merely 
on  account  of  his  great  name,  but  on  account  of  the  similarity 
of  his  name,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  compliment,  to  Prince 
Henry,  in  associating  him  with  one  so  '  mighty.'  Still,  Eliza- 
beth and  Henry  may  be  the  '  two  stars.' 

Line  72,  itwo  truths:'  query = that  Virtue  is  wholly  good, 
and  the  Countess  wholly  Virtue  ? 

Line  74,  '  her,=herself.     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFOKD. 
on  new-year's  day.1 

This  twilight  of  two  years,  not  past,  nor  next, 
Some  emblem  is  of  me,  or  I  of  this, 

"Who  (meteor-like,  of  stuff  and  form  perplext, 
Whose  what  and  where  in  disputation  is,) 
If  I  should  call  me  anything,  should  miss.  5 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  163-165).    Appeared  originally 
in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  87-90).     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.  43 

I  summe  the  years,  and  me,  and  finde  me  not 
Debtor  to  th'  old,  nor  creditor  to  th'  new  : 

That  cannot  say,  My  thanks  I  have  forgot ; 

Nor  trust  I  this  with  hopes  ;  and  yet  scarce  true 
This  bravery  is,  since  these  times  shew'd  me  you.    i  o 

In  recompence  I  would  show  future  times 

What  you  were,  and  teach  them  to  urge  towards  such : 

Verse  embalms  vertue  ;  and  tombs  or  thrones  of  rimes 
Preserve  frail  transitory  fame,  as  much 
As  spice  doth  bodies  from  corrupt  airs'  touch.     - 1 5 

Mine  are  short-liv'd ;  the  tincture  of  your  name 
Creates  in  them,  but  dissipates  as  fast, 

New  spirits  ;  for  strong  agents,  with  the  same 

Force  that  doth  warm  and  cherish  us,  do  wast ; 
Kept  hot  with  strong  extracts,  no  bodies  last.      20 

So,  my  verse,  built  of  your  just  praise,  might  want 
Eeason  and  likelihood,  the  firmest  base, 

And,  made  of  miracle,  now  faith  is  scant, 

Will  vanish  soon,  and  so  possess  no  place  ; 

And  you  and  it  too  much  grace  might  disgrace.   25 

When  all  (as  truth  commands  assent)  confess 
All  truth  of  you,  yet  they  will  doubt  how  I 

(One  corn  of  one  low  ant-hill's  dust,  and  less) 

Should  name,  know,  or  express  a  thing  so  high, 
And — not  an  inch — measure  infinity.  30 


4:4  VERSE-LETTERS. 

I  cannot  tell  them,  nor  myself,  nor  you, 

But  leave,  lest  truth,  b'  endanger  d  by  my  praise, 

And  turn  to  God,  who  knows  I  think  this  true, 
And  useth  oft,  when  such  a  heart  missaies, 
To  make  it  good;  for  such  a  praiser  praies.  35 

He  will  best  teach  you  how  you  should  lay  out 
His  stock  of  beauty,  learning,  favour,  blood ; 

He  will  perplex  security  with  doubt, 

And  clear  those  doubts ;  hide  from  you,  and  shew 

you,  good, 
And  so  increase  your  appetite  and  food.  40 

He  will  teach  you  that  good  and  bad  have  not 
One  latitude  in  cloysters  and  in  Court ; 

Indifferent  there  the  greatest  space  hath  got ; 

Some  pity's  not  good  there,  some  vain  disport, 
On  this  side  sin,  with  that  place  may  comport.    45 

Yet  He,  as  He  bounds  seas,  will  fix  your  hours, 
Which  pleasure  and  delight  may  not  ingress ; 

And  though  what  none  else  lost  be  truliest  yours, 
He  will  make  you,  what  you  did  not,  possess, 
By  using  others'  (not  vice,  but)  weakness.  50 

He  will  make  you  speak  truths,  and  credibly, 

And  make  you  doubt  that  others  do  not  so ;    suspect 

He  will  provide  you  keys  and  locks  to  spy 

And  'scape  spies — to  good  ends  ;  and  He  will  show 
AVhat  you  may  not  acknowledge,  what  not  know.  5  5 


TO  THE  COUXTES  OF  BEDFORD.  45 

For  your  own  conscience  He  gives  innocence, 
But  for  your  fame  a  discreet  wariness, 

And  though  to  'scape  then  to  revenge  offence       than 
Be  better,  He  shews  both,  and  to  repress 
Joy  when  your  state  swells,  sadness  when  'tis  less.  60 

From  need  of  teares  He  will  defend  your  soul, 
Or  make  a  rebaptizing  of  one  tear ; 

He  cannot  (that's,  He  will  not)  disinroul 

Your  name  \  and  when  with  active  joy  we  hear 
This  private  gospel,  then  'tis  our  New  Year.        65 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  9,  'true  This'  =  and  yet  this  jetting  bravery  is  scarce 
true ;  for  since  knowing  you  I  have  trusted  in  hope. 
Line  16,  '  tincture'  Cf.  Henry  Vaughan,  s.  v. 

,,     19,  '  wasf  =  cause  [us]  to  waste. 

,,     47,  '  ingress1  =  enter  into,  encroach  upon. 

j,     58,  '  to  repress1  =  shows  "howl  to  repress.     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTES  OF  BEDFORD.* 

Honnour  is  so  sublime  perfection, 

And  soe  refin'd,  that  when  God  was  alone, 

And  creatureles  at  first,  Himselfe  had  none ; 

1  From  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.,  as  before.     Appeared 
originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  108-110).     G. 


46  VERSE-LETTERS. 

But  as  of  the  ellenients,  theise  which  wee  tread 
Produce  all  things  with  which  we're  ioy'd  or  fed,         5 
And  those  are  barren  both,  aboue  our  head ; 

Soe  from  lowe  persons  doth  all  honnour  flowe ; 
Kings,  whome  they  would  haue  honor' d,  to  us  showe 
And  but  direct  our  honnour,  not  bestowe. 

For  when  from  hearbs  the  pure  part  must  be  woon    10 

From  gross  by  'stilling,  this  is  better  done 

By  despis'd  dung  then  by  the  fire  or  sunn  :  than 

Care  not  then,  Madam,  how  lowe  your  praises  lye ; 

In  labourers'  ballats  oft  more  pyety 

God  finds  than  in  Te  Deuiris  mellodye  ;  1 5 

And  ordinance  raised  on  towers  soe  many  mile 
Send  not  their  voice,  nor  last  so  long  a  while, 
As  fires  from  the  earth's  lowe  vaults  in  Sicile  Isle.  £ma 

Should  I  say  I  liu'd  darker  then  were  true,  than 

Your  radiation  can  all  clouds  subdew  20 

But  one ;  'tis  best  light  to  contemplate  yow — 

YoWj  for  whose  boddy  God  made  better  clay, 
Or  tooke  soule's  stuff  such  as  shall  late  decay, 
Or  such  as  needs  small  change  att  the  last  day. 


-:> 


This,  as  an  amber  dropp  enwraps  a  bee, 

Couering  discouers  your  quick  soule  •  that  wee 

May  in  your  through-shine  face  our  hart's  thoughts  see. 


TO  THE  COUNTES  OF  BEDFORD.  47 

Yow  teach  (though  wee  learn  not)  a  thing  unknowne 

To  our  late  times,  the  use  of  specular  stone, 

Through  which  all  things  within  without  were  showne. 

Of  such  were  temples  ;  soe,  and  such  yow  are  ;  3 1 

Eeing  and  seeming  is  your  equall  care ; 

And  Yertue's  whole  some  is  but  Know  and  Dare. 

Discretion  is  a  wise  man's  soule,  and  soe 

Eeligion  is  a  Christian's,  and  yow  knowe  3  5 

How  theise  are  one ;  her  yea  is  not  her  noe. 

But,  as  our  soule  of  growth  and  soule  of  sence 
Have  birthright  of  our  reason's  soule,  yet  hence 
They  fly  not  from  that,  nor  seek  precedence, 

Nature's  first  lesson  soe,  Discretion,  40 

Must  not  grudg  Zeale  a  place,  nor  yet  keepe  none, 
Not  banish  itselfe,  nor  Eeligion. 

Nor  may  we  hope  to  soder  still  and  knitt  solder 

These  two,  and  dare  to  breake  them  ;  nor  must  witt 
Be  colleague  to  Eeligion,  but  bee  itt.  45 

In  those  poor  types  of  God,  round  circles,  soe 
Eeligion's  types,  the  peiceless  centers  flow 
And  are  in  all  the  lines  which  all  ways  goe. 


48  VERSE-LETTERS. 

If  euer  eyther  wrought  in  you  alone, 

Or  principally,  then  Eeligion  50 

Wrought  your  ends,  and  your  ways  Discretion, 

Go  thither  still,  goe  the  same  way  you  went ; 
Whoso  would  change,  doth  couett  or  repent ; 
Neyther  can  reach  you,  great  and  innocent. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  9.  The  thoughts  here,  occur  often  in  Donne. 
,,  13,  '  Madam:'  our  ms.  has  'Lady;'  but  as  it  is  not 
found  elsewhere  in  these  Countess'  Letters,  I  prefer  '  Madam' 
of  1633,  &c.  So  too  I  accept  '  praises'  rather  than  '  prayers'  of 
our  ms.,  as  best  agreeing  with  what  is  spoken  of  honour  and 
with  '  labourers'  ballats'  and  '  Te  Deum.' 

Line  21,  '  But  one  :'  possibly  the  king's  disfavour  or  want  of 
favour. 

Line  23.  Here  the  readings  of  our  ms.  and  1633,  &c.  are  in- 
different. As  the  old  philosophy  supposed  a  materies  primordia 
from  which  the  four  elements  and  thence  everything  else  were 
formed,  so  I  presume  '  soul's  stuff'  represents  what  may  be 
called  an  immateries  primordia.  But  I  do  not  imagine  that 
'  soul's  stuff'  was  supposed  to  be  immortal,  but  that  this  was 
given  to  the  soul  when  formed  from  it ;  and  hence  and  because 
1  as  shall  late  decay'  is  more  correct  when  speaking  of  '  a  body,' 
and  because  the  changes  in  11. 13  and  27,  &c  of  the  printed  copy 
appear  to  be  the  later,  I  have  preferred  that  reading  in  this 
line  23  to  '  shall  last  for  ay'  of  our  ms.,  and  so  also  'Whoso' 
before  '  Whoe'er'  in  1.  53. 

Line  27,  '  face :'  in  1633,  &c.  'front.'  Our  ms.  has  '  your' 
for  '  our,'  in  error. 

Line  30,  '  wcreS  I  prefer  'were'  of  1633,  &c.  to  '  are'  of  our 
ms.,  as  the  poet  does  not  say  she  is  specular  stone,  and  as  its 
use  was  lost.  With  reference  to  '  specular,'  Johnson,  quoting 
this  as  one  passage,  explains  '  specular'  as  like  a  looking-glass 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.  49 

or  mirror.    But  it  is  clear  from  Lis  description  that  Donne  Lore 
uses  '  specular'  as  translucent. 

Line  36,  '  her  yea  [».  e.  religion]  is  not  her  no,  =  alike  in  Dis- 
cretion as  in  Religion,  her  'yea'  is  not  her  no,  i.  c.  in  one  as  a 
matter  of  truthfulness,  in  the  other  in  consequence  of  due  con- 
sideration before  speaking  or  acting. 

Line  37,  '  soul  of  growth.''     See  note,  vol.  i.  $.  v. 
„     40.  The  construction  here  is — So,  Nature's  first  lesson, 
Discretion ;  or,  So  Discretion,  Nature's  first  lesson. 

Line  48.  The  meaning  of  this  very  forced  thought  seems  to 
be — As  there  is  a  centre  which  flows,  as  it  were,  into  each  dia- 
meter, and  yet  that  centre  '  a  point  without  parts,'  so  discretion, 
zeal,  wit  [wisdom] ,  and  religion  must  one  and  indivisible  flow 
through  every  part  and  act  of  our  being.     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD. 

BEGUN  IN  FRANCE,  BUT  NEVER  PERFECTED.1 

Though  I  be  dead  and  buried,  yet  I  have 

(Living  in  you)  court  enough  in  my  grave ; 

As  oft  as  there  I  think  my  self  to  be, 

So  many  resurrections  waken  me  : 

That  thankfulness  your  favours  have  begot  5 

In  me,  embalms  me  that  I  do  not  rot. 

This  season,  as  'tis  Easter,  as  'tis  Spring, 

Must  both  to  growth  and  to  confession  bring 

My  thoughts  dispos'd  unto  your  influence  ;  so 

These  verses  bud,  so  these  confessions  grow  ;  1  o 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  187-8).     Appeared  originally  in 
4to  of  1633  (p.  111).     G. 

VOL.  II.  E 


50  VERSE-LETTERS. 

First  I  confess  I  have  to  others  lent 

Your  stock,  and  over-prodigally  spent 

Your  treasure  :  for,  since  I  had  never  known 

Vertue  and  beauty,  but  as  they  are  grown 

In  you,  I  should  not  think  or  say  they  shine  15 

(So  as  I  have)  in  any  other  mine. 

]Sext  I  confess  this  my  confession ; 

For  'tis  some  fault  thus  much  to  touch  upon 

Your  praise  to  you,  where  half-rights  seem  too  much. 

And  make  your  mind's  sincere  complexion  blush.      20 

Next  I  confess  my  'impenitence ;  for  I 

(Jan  scarce  repent  my  first  fault,  since  thereby 

Eemote  low  spirits,  which  shall  ne'r  read  you, 

May  in  less  lessons  find  enough  to  do, 

By  studying  copies,  not  originals.  25 

Desunt  ccetera. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Probably  this  Letter  was  written  with  reference  to  his  en- 
comiuni-poems  on  Mrs.  Drury  (in  vol.  i.).  Lines  11-16  are  in 
themselves  doubtful,  but  taken  with  U.  22-25,  they  seem  to  refer 
thereto.     He  was  at  the  time  in  France. 

Line  1,  '  dead-:  italicised  in  1633,  &c.  Is  there  a  reason? 
Cf.  To  Countess  of  Salisbury,  1.  72. 

Line  3,  '  there'  i.e.  living  in  you, 
„     21,  '  'impenitence:'  in  '69  ' inpenitence. '     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.  51 


TO  YE  COUNTESS  OF  BEDFORD.1 

You  that  are  shee  and  3-011,  that's  double  shee, 

In  her  dead  face  halfe  of  yourself e  shall  see  \ 

She  was  the  other  part ;  for  soe  they  doe, 

Which  buyld  them  friendships,  become  one  of  two  ; 

Soe  two,  that  but  themselves  no  third  can  fitt,  5 

Which  were  to  be  soe,  when  they  were  not  yett ; 

Twynns,  though  their  byrth  Cuzko  and  Mosko  take, 

As  divers  starrs  one  constellacion  make  ; 

Payrde  like  two  eyes,  have  equal!  motion  soe, 

Both  but  one  means  to  see,  one  way  to  goe.  1  o 

Had  you  dyde  first,  a  carkass  shee  had  beene, 

And  we  your  rich  tombe  in  her  face  had  seene. 

She  like  the  sowle  is  gone,  and  you  here  stay,  . 

Xot  a  ly ve  freind,  but  th'  other  halfe  of  clay ; 

And  since  you  act  that  part,  as  men  say,  heere  1 5 

Lyes  such  a  prince,  when  but  one  part  is  there, 

And  doe  all  honour  and  devotyon  due 

Unto  the  whole  \  soe  we  all  reverence  you  \ 

For  such  a  friendship  who  Avoid  not  adore 

In  you,  who  are  all  what  both  were  before]  20 

Xot  all,  as  if  some  perished  by  this, 

But  soe  as  all  in  you  contracted  is ; 

As  of  this  all  though  many  parts  decay, 

The  pure,  which  elemented  them,  shall  stay. 

1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in  4to 
of  1633  (pp.  298-9).     G. 


52  VERSE-LETTERS. 

And  though  diffused  and  spread  in  infinite,  25 

Shall  recollect,  and  in  one  All  unite ; 

Soe,  Maddam,  as  her  sowl  to  heav'n  is  fiedd, 

Her  flesh  rests  in  the  earth,  as  in  the  bedd ; 

Her  virtues  doe,  as  to  their  proper  sphaere, 

Eetorne  to  dwell  with  you,  of  whom  they  were  ;        30 

As  perfect  motions  are  all  circular, 

Soe  they  to  you,  their  sea,  whence  less  streams  are. 

She  was  all  spyces,  you  all  mettals  ;  soe 

In  you  two  we  did  both  rich  Indias  knowe. 

And  as  no  fyer  nor  rust  can  spend  or  wast  35 

One  dram  of  gold,  but  what  was  first  shall  last, 

Though  it  be  forct  in  water,  earth,  salt,  ayer, 

Expanst  in  infinite,  none  will  impaire, 

So  to  your  self  you  may  addityons  take, 

But  nothing  can  you  lesse  or  changed  make.  40 

Seek  not,  in  seekinge  new,  to  seeme  to  doubt 

That  you  can  match  her,  or  not  be  without ; 

But  let  some  faythfull  book  in  her  roome  bee, 

Yet  but  of  Judith,  noe  such  book  as  shee.  except 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  6,  &c.  Each  couplet,  11.  5-6,  7-8,  9-10,  seems  to  con- 
tain a  separate  thought,  while  each  line  is  in  a  minor  degree  a 
separate  clause.  So  two  [in  one,  or  united]  that  ....  which 
were  to  be  so  [i.e.  such  a  two] ,  foreordained  when  as  yet  they 
were  not — Twins  [are  they] ,  though,  &c.  Payred  [are  they]  like 
two  eyes,  have  equal  motion,  so  i.  e.  like  to  two  eyes,  Both 
[have]  &c. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON.  53 

Line  7,  '  Cuzko*  [or  CuscoJ :  a  chief  city  of  Peru,  formerly 
the  capital  of  the  Incas. 

Line  24,  ' pure  :'  query,  'power'? 
,,  44,  'Judith.'  '  She  was  also  of  a  goodly  countenance, 
and  very  beautiful  to  behold.  .  .  And  there  was  none  that  gave 
her  an  ill  word ;  for  she  feared  God  greatly'  (Judith  viii.  7-8, 
and  the  same,  xi.  21) ;  ■  and [Holofernes  and  his  servants]  said: 
There  is  not  such  a  woman  from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the 
other,  both  for  beauty  of  face  and  wisdom  of  words.'     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON.1 

Madam, 
Man  to  God's  image,  Eve  to  man's  was  made, 

Nor  finde  we  that  God  breath' d  a  soul  in  her ; 
Canons  will  not,  Church-functions  you  invade, 

Nor  laws  to  civil  office  you  prefer. 

Who  vagrant  transitory  comets  sees,  5 

Wonders  because  they  'are  rare;  but  a  new  star 

Whose  motion  with  the  firmament  agrees, 
Is  miracle ;  for  there  no  new  things  are. 

In  women  so  perchance  mild  innocence 

A  seldom  comet  is  ;  but  active  good  1  o 

A  miracle,  which  reason  scapes  and  sense ; 

Eor  Art  and  Nature  this  in  them  withstood. 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  166-8).  Appeared  originally  in 
the  4to  of  1633  (pp.  90-3).  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  on  the 
Lady  here  addressed.     G. 


54  VERSE-LETTERS. 

As  such  a  star,  the  Magi  led  to  view 

The  manger- cradled  Infant,  God  below, 

By  Vertue's  beams,  by  fame  deriv'd  from  you,  1 5 

May  apt  souls — and  the  worst  may— vertue  know. 

If  the  world's  age  and  death  be  argued  well         [bend, 
By  the  sun's  fall,  which  now  towards  earth  doth 

Then  we  might  fear  that  vertue,  since  she  fell 

So  low  as  woman,  should  be  near  her  end.  20 

But  she's  not  stoop'd,  but  rais'd ;  exil'd  by  men, 

She  fled  to  heaven,  that's  heavenly  things,  that's 

She  was  in  all  men  thinly  scatter'd  then,  [you ; 

But  now  a  mass  contracted  in  a  few. 

She  guilded  us,  but  you  are  gold;  and  she  25 

Informed  us,  but  transubstantiates  you  : 

Soft  dispositions,  which  ductile  be, 

Elixar-like,  she  makes  not  clean,  but  new. 

Though  you  a  wife's  and  mother's  name  retain, 

'Tis  not  as  woman,  for  all  are  not  so ;  30 

But  Yertue,  having  made  you  vertue,  'is  fain 

T'  adhere  in  these  names,  her  and  you  to  show, 

Else,  being  alike  pure,  we  should  neither  see ; 

As  water  being  into  air  rarefi'd, 
Neither  appear,  till  in  one  cloud  they  be,  35 

So  for  our  sakes  you  do  low  names  abide  : 


TO   THE  COUNTESS   OF  HUNTINGDON.  DO 

Taught  by  great  constellations, — which,  being  fram'd 
Of  the  most  stars,  take  low  names,  Crab  and  Bull, 

When  single  planets  by  the  gods  are  nam'd, — 

You  covet  not  great  names,  of  great  things  full.  40 

So  you,  as  woman,  one  doth  comprehend, 

And  in  the  vale  of  kindred  others  see  ;  veil 

To  some  you  are  reveal'd,  as  in  a  friend, 
And  as  a  vertuous  prince  far  off,  to  me. 

To  whom,  because  from  you  all  vertues  flow,  45 

And  'tis  not  none  to  dare  contemplate  you, 

I,  which  do  so,  as  your  true  subject  owe 

Some  tribute  for  that ;  so  these  lines  are  due. 

If  you  can  think  these  flatteries,  they  are, 

For  then  your  judgment  is  below  my  praise  :        50 

If  they  were  so,  oft  flatteries  work  as  far 

As  counsels,  and  as  far  th'  endeavour  raise  : 

So  my  ill,  reaching  you,  might  there  grow  good, 
But  I  remain  a  poisoned  fountain  still. 

But  not  your  beauty,  vertue,  knowledge,  blood,         55 
Are  more  above  all  flattery  than  my  will ; 

And  if  I  flatter  any,  'tis  not  you, 

But  my  own  judgment,  who  did  long  ago 

Pronounce,  that  all  these  praises  should  be  true,        59 
And  vertue  should  your  beauty  'and  birth  outgrow. 


56  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Xow  that  my  prophesies  are  all  fulfill'd, 

Eather  than  God  should  not  be  honour' d  too, 

And  all  these  gifts  confess'd,  -which  he  instill'd, 
Yourself  were  bound  to  say  that  which  I  doe. 

So  I  but  your  Eec order  am  in  this,  65 

Or  Mouth  and  Speaker  of  the  universe, 

A  ministerial  Notary ;  for  'tis 

Xot  I,  but  you  and  fame,  that  make  this  verse  : 

I  was  your  prophet  in  your  younger  days, 

And  nowr  your  chaplain,  God  in  you  to  praise.  70 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading  :  Lady  Elizabeth  Stanley,  youngest  of  the  three 
daughters  and  co-heirs  of  Ferdinando  fifth  Earl  of  Derby,  by 
Alice,  daughter  of  Sir  John  Spencer  of  Althorpe,  co.  North.,  Kt. 
She  was  wife  of  Henry  Hastings  fifth  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  to 
whom  she  was  married  June  1603.  She  died  in  London,  20th 
January  1633.  See  the  remarkable  epitaph  on  her  by  Falkland 
(our  edition  of  Falkland's  Poems  :  Miscell.  iii.  pp.  418-9). 

Line  6.  One  limit  of  date  is  given  by  this  (much  the  same 
as  that  by  date  of  marriage  and  mention  of  her  as  '  mother'). 
See  note  in  vol.  i. 

Line  17.  If  worlds  were  years,  we  should  conclude  the 
season  to  be  autumn  or  winter;  but 'world's'  seems  to  refer 
to  some  at  that  time  astronomical  theory  or  belief  as  to  the 
nearer  approach  of  the  earth  towards  the  sun,  of  which  I  am 
ignorant. 

Line  26,  '  informed.'  Form  in  mediaeval  philosophy  was  that 
which  added  to  the  substantia  made  it  what  in  each  case  it  was 
to  us,  or  appeared  to  be.  Thus  '  form'  was  what  made  bread 
bread,  and  wine  wine.  But  virtue  in  you  altered  the  very  sub- 
stantia itself,  leaving  you  with  the  form  of  woman,  as  bread  and 


i 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON.  0  i 

wine  were  supposed  to  be  in  the  Mass.     This  seems  to  explain 
the  conceit  in  the  next  stanza.     See  vol.  i.  s.  v. 

Line  41,  '  one'  =  her  husband  (1.  42).  Others  see  you  dimly, 
veiled  as  you  are  to  them  in  kindred  flesh  [i.e.  kinswoman's] , 
contrasting  with  those  to  whom  she  was  revealed  as  '  in'  a  friend. 

Line  44,  'prince:'  frequently  used  as  a  word  of  common 
gender.     See  our  Southwell,  s.  v. 

Line  48.  The  conceit  is — as  she  is  a  virtuous  prince,  from 
whom  all  virtues  flow,  and  as  the  contemplating  her  is  in  itself 
an  act  of  virtue,  so  he  as  a  practiser  of  such  virtue  becomes  the 
recipient  of  her  bounty  and  her  subject. 

Lines  59-60.  Query,  in  some  lost  poem  ? 
,,     64= that  which  I  doe  [say].     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUXTIXGDOST.1 

That  unripe  side  of  earth,  that  heavy  clime 
That  gives  us  man  up  now,  like  Adam's  time 
Before  he  eat,  man's  shape ;  that  would  yet  be         ate 
(Knew  they  not  it,  and  fear'd  beasts'  companie) 
So  naked  at  this  day,  as  though  man  there  5 

From  Paradise  so  great  a  distance  were, 
As  yet  the  news  could  not  arrived  be 
Of  Adam's  tasting  the  forbidden  tree  ; 
Depriv'd  of  that  free  state  which  they  were  in, 
And  wanting  the  reward,  yet  bear  the  sin.  io 

But,  as  from  extreme  heights  who  downward  looks, 
Sees  men  at  children's  shapes,  rivers  at  brooks, 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  182-6).     Appeared  originally  in 
1635  edition  (pp.  191-195).     G. 


58  VERSE-LETTERS. 

And  loseth  younger  formes ;  so  to  your  eye 

These,  Madam,  that  without  your  distance  lie, 

Must  either  mist,  or  nothing  seem  to  be,  1 5 

Who  are  at  home  but  wit's  mere  atomi. 

But  I,  who  can  behold  them  move  and  stay, 

Have  found  myself  to  you  just  their  midway; 

And  now  must  pity  them,  for  as  they  do 

Seem  sick  to  me,  just  so  must  I  to  you.  20 

Yet  neither  will  I  vex  your  eyes  to  see 

A  sighing  ode,  nor  cross-arm'd  elegie  : 

I  come  not  to  call  pity  from  your  heart, 

Like  some  white-liver' d  dotard,  that  would  part 

Else  from  his  slippery  soul  with  a  faint  groan,  25 

And  faithfully  (without  your  smile)  were  gone. 

I  cannot  feel  the  tempest  of  a  frown ; 

I  may  be  rais'd  by  love,  but  not  thrown  down ; 

Though  I  can  pity  those  sigh  twice  a  day, 

I  hate  that  thing  whispers  itself  away.  30 

Yet  since  all  love  is  feverish,  who  to  trees 

Doth  talk,  doth  yet  in  Love's  cold  ague  freeze. 

'Tis  love  but  with  such  fatal  weakness  made, 

That  it  destroys  it  self  with  its  own  shade. 

Who  first  lookt  sad,  griev'd,  pin'd  and  shew'd  his  pain, 

Was  he  that  first  taught  women  to  disdain.  36 

As  all  things  were  one  nothing,  dull  and  weak, 
Untill  this  raw  disorder' d  heap  did  break, 
And  several  desires  led  parts  away, 
Water  declin'd  with  earth,  the  air  did  stay,  40 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON.  50 

Fire  rose,  and  each  from  other  but  unty'd, 

Themselves  imprison'd  were  and  purify'd  \ 

So  was  Love  first  in  vast  confusion  hid, 

An  unripe  willingness  which  nothing  did, 

A  thirst,  an  appetite  which  had  no  ease,  45 

That  found  a  want,  but  knew  not  what  would  please. 

What  pretty  innocence  in  those  days  mov'd  ! 

Man  ignorantly  walk'd  by  her  he  lov'd  ; 

Both  sigh'd  and  interchang'd  a  speaking  eye, 

Both  trembled  and  were  sick,  both  knew  not  why.   50 

That  natural  fearfulness,  that  struck  man  dumb, 

Might  well  (those  times  consider'd)  man  become. 

As  all  discoverers,  whose  first  assay  essay 

Finds  but  the  place,  after,  the  nearest  way ; 

So  passion  is  to  woman's  love,  about,  55 

Say,  farther  off,  than  when  we  first  set  out. 

It  is  not  Love  that  sues  or  doth  contend ; 

Love  either  conquers,  or  but  meets  a  friend. 

Man's  better  part  consists  of  purer  fire, 

And  finds  itself  allow'd,  'ere  it  desire.  60 

Love  is  wise  here,  keeps  home,  gives  reason  sway, 

And  journeys  not  till  it  find  Summer-way  ; 

A  weather-beaten  lover,  but  once  known, 

Is  sport  for  every  girl  to  practise  on. 

Who  strives  through  woman's  scorns  women  to  know, 

Is  lost,  and  seeks  his  shadow  to  outgo ;  66 

It  must  be  sickness  after  one  disdain, 

Though  he  be  call'd  aloud,  to  look  again. 


60  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Let  others  sin  and  grieve ;  one  cunning  sleight 

Shall  freez  my  love  to  crystal  in  a  night.  70 

I  can  love  first,  and  (if  I  win)  love  still, 

And  cannot  be  rernov'd,  unless  she  will. 

It  is  her  fault,  if  I  unsure  remain ; 

She  only  can  untie,  I  bind  again. 

The  honesties  of  love  with  ease  I  do,  75 

But  am  no  porter  for  a  tedious  woe. 

But,  Madam,  I  now  think  on  you  ;  and  here, 
Where  we  are  at  our  heights,  you  but  appear  ; 
We  are  but  clouds,  you  rise  from  our  noon-ray, 
But  a  foul  shadow,  not  your  break  of  day  ;  80 

You  are  at  first  hand  all  that's  fair  and  right, 
And  others'  good  reflects  but  back  your  light. 
You  are  a  perfectness,  so  curious  hit, 
That  youngest  flatteries  do  scandal  it ; 
For  what  is  more  doth  what  you  are  'restrain  ;  85 

And  though  beyond,  is  down  the  hill  again. 
AVe  have  no  next  way  to  you,  we  cross  to  it ; 
You  are  the  straight  line,  thing  prais'd,  attribute ; 
Each  good  in  you's  a  light ;  so  many  a  shade 
You  make,  and  in  them  are  your  motions  made:        90 
These  are  your  pictures  to  the  life.     From  far 
"\Ve  see  you  move,  and  here  your  Zanis  are  ; 
So  that  no  fountain  good  there  is  doth  grow 
In  you,  but  our  dimm  actions  faintly  show. 

Then  finde  I,  if  man's  noblest  part  be  love,  95 

Your  purest  luster  must  that  shadow  move. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON.  61 

The  soul  with  body  is  a  heaven  combin'd 

With  earth,  and  for  man's  ease  but  nearer  joyn'd  ; 

Where  thoughts,  the  stars  of  soul,  we  understand  : 

We  guess  not  their  large  natures,  but  command        i  oo 

And  love  ;  in  you  that  bounty  is  of  light, 

That  gives  to  all,  and  yet  hath  infinite ; 

Whose  heat  doth  force  us  thither  to  intend, 

But  soul  we  find  too  earthly  to  ascend ; 

Till  slow  access  hath  made  it  wholly  pure,  105 

Able  immortal  clearness  to  endure. 

Who  dare  aspire  this  journey  with  a  stain, 

Hath  weight  will  force  him  headlong  back  again  ; 

No  more  can  impure  man  retain  and  move 

In  that  pure  region  of  a  worthy  love,  no 

Then  earthly  substance  can  unforc'd  aspire,  Than 

And  leave  his  nature  to  converse  with  fire. 

Such  may  have  eye  and  hand;  may  sigh,  may  speak  ; 
But  like  swoln  bubbles,    when   they're   highest  they 

breake  : 
Though  far  removed,  jSTorthern  fleets  scarce  finde     115 
The  sun's  sweet  comfort,  yet  some  think  him  too  kind. 
There  is  an  equal  distance  from  her  eye ; 
Men  perish  too  far  off,  and  burn  too  nigh. 
But  as  air  takes  the  sunbeams  equal-bright 
From  the  first  raies  to  his  last  opposite,  120 

So  nappy's  man,  blest  with  a  vertuous  love, 
Kemote  or  near,  or  howsoe'r  they  move : 
There  vertue  breaks  all  clouds  that  might  annoy, 


62  VERSE-LETTERS. 

There  is  no  emptiness,  but  all  is  joy. 

He  much  profanes  (whom  valiant  heats  do  move)    125 

To  style  his  wandring  rage  of  passion,  love. 

Love,  that  imports  in  every  thing  delight, 

Is  fancied  by  the  soul,  not  appetite. 

"Why  love  among  the  vertues  is  not  known, 

Is,  that  love  is  them  all  contract  in  one.  130 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading :  As  shown  by  the  opening  lines  and  by  1.  115  and 
others,  this,  like  the  one  noted  earlier,  was  written  during  his 
northern  voyage.  There  is  a  curious  change  of  subjects,  and 
yet  a  return  to  and  binding  together  of  the  later  ones  in  the  last 
lines,  which  probably  implies  that  the  choice  of  them  was  due 
to  circumstances  of  which  we  are  now  ignorant. 

With  reference  to  our  text  hereof  (1669),  I  have  preferred 
'  doth  yet'  (1.  32)  of  '35  edition  to  '  yet  doth,'  and  in  1.  37  to 
strike  out  '  out'  before  '  one,'  as  in  the  same ;  also  1.  50,  '  both 
knew'  for  '  yet  knew,'  and  1.  57,  '  sues'  for  '  sueth,'  as  better  for 
the  metre  of  Donne,  who  keeps  to  the  two  feet  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. Again,  in  1.  67  the  changes  are  indifferent,  but  going 
by  the  preceding,  '  It  must  be  sickness'  [not  love]  in  the  later. 
This  too  is  somewhat  stronger  than  '  It  is  [the]  mere  sickness 
[of  love] ,'  which  might  be  the  thought  conveyed  to  the  reader. 
In  1.'  115,  in  1669  the  word  is  '  Isles,'  but  '  fleets'  is  more  per- 
sonal, and  I  adopt  it  from  1635.  Line  116  in  1635  reads  'The 
Sunnes  comfort,  others  thinke  him  too  kinde.'  Line  120,  I  pre- 
fer '  first  raies'  of  '35  to  *  raies  first'  of  '69.  Line  121, 1  venture 
to  read  '  nappy's' =happy  is,  for  '  happy.'  1635  reads  '  So  able 
man.'  From  1635  I  accept  '  There'  in  1.  123  for  '  Their,'  which 
spoils  the  sense. 

Lines  2-4.  That  is  so  ignorant,  that  they  may  be  considered 
ignorant  of  good  and  evil :  men's  shapes  only,  as  he  then  calls 
them,  not  men ;  or,  as  in  1.  16,  '  wit's  mere  atomi.' 

The  whole  sentence  down  to  1.  10  is  lengthened  out  and  ill- 
constructed  otherwise  than  by  the  confusion  of '  man'  and  '  they.' 
The  most  difficult  is   the   clause  beginning  (1.  9)  '  Depriv'd, 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF   HUNTINGDON  63 

where  the  participle  in  -ed  is  not  only  supposed  to  contain  within 
it  the  auxiliary  verb  '  are1  or  ■  were,'  as  [having  been]  or  [who 
was] — see  '  she  was'  in  line  above — is  held  by  Milton  to  be  con- 
tained in 

Ami  he  by  friar's  lantern  led 
Tells— 

but  has  to  be  supplied  with  a  nominative — as,  for  instance  [men 
that  were]  or  [who  were]  —  that  does  not  exist  except  potenti- 
ally or  by  inference.     But  I  read  and  punctuate 

Before  he  eat,  man's  shape  ; 
that  is,  That  gives  us  man  up  now,  as  before  Adam,  man's  shape 
and  nothing  more,  not  man  knowing  good  and  evil.  This  makes 
the  next  clause  begin,  that  &c,  and  so  gives  the  repetition  of 
the  '  that'  as  the  nominative  to  '  depriv'd,'  the  '  that  [were]  de- 
priv'd'  answering  to  the  '  that'  and  '  they'  of  1.  4. 
Line  11.  Cf.  Edgar  in  Lear,  iv.  6. 
,,     22,  '  cross-arm'd :'  an  epithet  derived  from  one  of  the 
customary  affected  and  fashionable  modes  of  expressing  melan- 
choly; as  witness  the  quaint  frontispiece  of  Burton's  old  folio. 
Line  66,  '  his  shadow' =seeks  to  do  an  impossibility.     Our 
American  cousins  talk  of  a  man  who  walked  so  fast  that  his 
shadow  couldn't  keep  up  with  him. 

Line  78,  '  at  our  heights.''  Is  the  reference  to  the  high  lati- 
tudes they  are  in,  but  drawing  his  thought  from  the  sun  hardly 
rising  above  the  horizon  and  in  clouds,  he  likens  her  to  it?  The 
construction  of  1.  80  is — you  rise  from  our  noon-day  [which  is] 
a  foul  shadow,  not  [like,  or  such  as]  your  break  of  day. 

Line  84,  '  youngest:'  and  therefore  most  high-flown  and  ador- 
ing. The  sense  is,  that  the  extreme  of  flattery  does  not  reach 
to  the  expressing  of  your  perfectness,  but  only  in  its  imperfect- 
ness  blots  it. 

Line  92,  '  Zany.'  Mr.  Dyce  has  been  curiously  as  absurdly 
accused  of  not  knowing  the  meaning  of  this  word,  and  a  long 
explanation  has  been  paraded  as  something  new.  But  it  is  ex- 
plained by  1.  94.  A  '  zany'  is  a  foolishly  -  imperfect  imitator. 
The  merry- andrew  is  a  zany  when  he  imitates  the  mountebank, 
and  so  is  the  circus-clown  when  he  shadows  his  master  or  at- 
tempts a  previously-performed  feat ;  and  it  may  be  added,  so 
too  is  an  incompetent  critic  accusing  a  scholar  like  Mr.  Dyce 
of  ignorance  of  so  small  a  matter. 

Line  96,  '  luster  .•'  man's  noblest  part,  love,  being  a  shadow 
compared  to  her  lustre. 


64  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Lines  99-102.  I  am  not  sure  that  the  gloss  is  correct ;  but 
the  meaning  here  seem?  to  be — where  we  understand  thoughts 
to  be  the  stars  of  the  soul  or  heaven.  We  guess  not  their  large 
natures,  lu:,  i.e.  except,  those  of  command  and  love;  that 
bounty  is  of  light,  A\-c.  I  have  punctuated  accordingly.  It  is 
barely  possible  that  in  1.  99  there  is  an  intended  conceit  or  pun- 
ning use  of  '  understand, '  as  =  >tand  under.  This  would  agree 
with  the  juxtaposition  of  '  guess." 

Line  103,  '  intend' =  stretch  towards. 
,,     109,  'retain,'  refleetive=retain  himself. 
„     112,  l converse'— turn  with  or  mingle,  as  convcrsatio, 
avaarpocpT],  in  Gal.  i.  13.  and  elsewhere. 

Line  117.  A  good  example  of  Donne's  elliptical  brevity.  The 
sense  is — Though,  &c.  11.  115-16  [yet  as  there  is  an  equal  dis- 
tance in  the  temperate  zones  when  they  enjoy  a  temperate  heat, 
so]  There  is  an  equal  distance  from  her  eye,  Are.     G. 


A  LETTER  TO  THE  LADY  GARY.  AND 
MRS.  ESSEX  RICH. 

from  amiens.1 

Maddame. 
Heer,  wher  by  all  all  saints  inuoaked  are, 
TCweei  too  much  schysm  to  be  singular, 
And  'gainst  a  practice  generall  to  vvarr. 

Yet  turning  to  saints,  should  my  "humility 

To  other  sainte  then  you  directed  bee,  than     5 

That  weer  to  make  my  schisme  heresye. 

1  From  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.,  as  before.  Appeared 
originally  in  the  -Ato  of  1633  (pp.  112-15).  See  Notes  and  Illus- 
trations on  the  Ladies  addressed.     G. 


TO  THE  LADY  CARY.  65 

Nor  would  I  bee  a  conuertite  so  col'd, 
As  not  to  tell  it  \  if  this  bee  too  bould, 
Pardons  are  in  this  markett  cheaply  sould. 

Wheer,  because  faith  is  in  too  low  degree,  10 

I  thought  it  some  apostleship  in  mee 

To  speake  things  which  by  faith  alone  I  see  ; 

That  is,  of  you,  who  are  a  firmament 

Of  vertues,  wheere  no  one  is  growne  or  spent ; 

They  'are  your  materials,  not  your  ornament.  1 5 

Others,  whome  wee  call  vertuous,  are  not  soe 

In  their  whole  substance;  but  their  vertues  growe 

But  in  their  humors,  and  at  seasons  showe. 

For  when,  through  tastless  flat  humillity, 

In  dough-backd  men  some  harmlesnes  wee  see,  20 

TSs  but  his  fligme  that's  vertuous,  and  not  hee  :  phlegm 

So  is  the  blood  somtimes  ;  who  euer  ran 

To  danger  unimportund,  hee  was  than 

No  better  then  a  sanguine- vertuous  man.  than 

So  cloisterall  men,  who,  in  pretense  of  feare,  25 

All  contributions  to  this  life  forbeare, 

Have  vertue  'in  mallancholly,  and  only  theer. 

Spirrituall-chollerick  critiks,  which  in  all 

Eeligions  find  faults,  and  forgiue  no  fall, 

Haue,  through  this  zeale,  vertue  but  in  then'  gall.     30 

VOL.   II.  F 


6$  VERSE-LETTERS. 

We  'are  thus  but  parcell-guilt ;  no  gould  wee  'are  grown, 

When  vertue  is  ower  soule's  complection ; 

Who  knowes  his  vertue's  place  or  name  hath  none. 

Vertue's  but  aguish  when  'tis  seuerall, 

By  oecation  waked,  and  circumstantiall ;  35 

True  vertue  is  soule,  alwayes  in  all  deeds,  all. 

This  vertue  thinking  to  giue  dignitye 
To  your  soule,  found  theere  no  infirmity ; 
For  your  soule  was  as  good  vertue  as  she. 

She  therefore  wrought  upon  that  part  of  you,  40 

Which  is  scarce  less  then  soul,  as  she  could  doe,      than 
And  so  hath  made  your  beauty  vertue  too. 

Hence  comes  itt  that  your  beauty  wounds  not  harts, 

As  others,  with  prophane  and  sensual  darts, 

But  as  an  influence  vertuous  thoughts  imparts.  45 

But  if  such  frends  by  th'  honnor  of  your  sight 

Grow  capable  of  this  so  great  a  light, 

As  to  partake  your  vertues  and  their  might, 

What  must  I  thinke  that  influence  must  doe, 

Where  it  finds  simpathy  and  matter  too,  50 

Vertue  and  beauty  of  the  same  stuff  as  you  ] 

Which  is  your  noble  worthy  sister ;  she, 
Of  whome,  if  what  in  this  my  ecstasye 
And  reuelation  of  you  both  I  see, 


TO  THE  LADY  CARY.  67 

I  should  write  heere  ;  as  in  short  galleries  5  5 

The  master  at  the  end  larg  glasses  tyes, 

So  to  present  the  roome  twice  to  ower  eyes ; 

So  should  I  giue  this  letter  length,  and  say 

That  which  I  sayde  of  you  :  theer  is  no  way 

From  eyther  but  to  the  'other,  not  to  stray.  60 

May,  therefore,  this  be  'enough  to  testify 
My  true  deuotion,  free  from  flattery : 
He  that  belieues  himself  doth  neuer  lye. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading:  these  Ladies  were  sisters,  daughters  of  Robert 
Rich,  third  Lord  Rich,  by  his  first  wife  Lady  Penelope  Devereux, 
daughter  of  Walter  Earl  of  Essex.  Lettice,  their  eldest  daughter, 
married,  first,  Sir  George  Cary,  of  Cockington,  co.  Devon,  Kt.  ; 
and  secondly,  Sir  Arthur  Lake.  Essex,  their  third  daughter, 
married  Sir  Thomas  Cheeke,  of  Pirgo,  co.  Essex,  Kt.  The  date 
of  this  Letter,  if  not  given  by  '  Amiens,'  is  limited  between  Lord 
Cary's  marriage  and  widowhood  and  marriage  of  Lady  Essex 
Rich. 

Line  10,  '  too  :'  stronger  and  better  (as  in  '69)  than  '  a'  of  ms. 

Line  18, '  their  seasons'  indicates  rather  their  blooming-time, 
whereas  his  meaning  is,  they  only  show  '  at  seasons,'  and  not  at 
others.  Cf. '  so  is  the  blood  sometimes,'  1.  22.  I  accept  there- 
fore '  at'  from  '69.  He  now  takes  the  four  humours,  and  the  four 
temperaments  supposed  to  depend  on  them. 

Line  20, '  dow-backd:'  apparently,  from  the  various  examples 
=  dough-baked,  i.e.  insufficiently  baked  and  still  soft  or  doughy. 
So  Shakespeare's  '  unbaked  and  doughy  youth'  (All's  Well,  iv.  5) 
was  probably  founded  on  the  same  word. 

Line  26,  '  contributions  :'  so  in  '69,  and  accepted  instead  of 
'  contribution,'  as  expressing  better  the  various  ways  in  which 
a  social  man  can  contribute. 

Line  28, '  which :'  accepted  from  '69  for  ■  whoe'  of  '33.  •  Who' 


68  VERSE-LETTERS. 

best  agrees  with  1.  25  and  1.  22 ;  but  '  which'  is  a  more  lowering 
relative  and  more  sarcastic  in  agreement  with  the  tone  of  the 
stanza. 

Line  31, '  parcell- guilt'  =gilded  as  the  '  goblet'  in  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor.     See  our  Poems  of  Christopher  Brooke,  s.v. 

Line  34, '  several.'  When,  like  fields  that  are  called '  several,* 
that  is,  separated  from  the  common  for  the  use  of  particular 
owners,  virtue  is  only  for  the  use  of  one  humour. 

Line  35,  '  waked :'  accepted  from  '69  for  '  woed'  of  '33,  which 
is  less  expressive. 

Line  47,  '  so  :'  accepted  from  '69  as  preferable  to  '  too'  of '33. 
,,     53,  'in:1  ibid,  for  'of  of  MS. 
,,     58,  '  this  ;'  ib.  for  '  the'  of  ms. 
,,     60,  'stray :'  ib.  for  '  stay'  of  ms.,  and  '  to'  for  '  by.'  G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  SALISBURY. 

AUGUST  1614.1 

Fair,  great,  and  good !  since  seeing  you  we  see 
What  Heaven  can  doe,  what  any  earth  can  be  ; 
Since  now  your  beauty  shines ;  now, — when  the  sun 
Grown  stale,  is  to  so  low  a  value  run, 
That  his  dishevel'd  beams  and  scattered  fires  5 

Serve  but  for  ladies'  periwigs  and  tyres 
In  lovers'  sonnets, — you  come  to  repair 
God's  book  of  creatures,  teaching  what  is  fair. 
Since  now,  when  all  is  withered,  shrunk,  and  dry'd, 
All  vertues  eb'd  out  to  a  dead  low  tyde,  10 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  191-3).  Appeared  originally  in 
4to  of  1633  (pp.  115-18).  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  on  the 
Lady  addressed.     G. 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  SALISBURY.  G9 

All  the  world's  frame  being  crumbled  into  sand, 

Where  every  man  thinks  by  himself  to  stand, 

Integrity,  friendship,  and  confidence, 

Ciments  of  greatness,  being  vapour'd  hence, 

And  narrow  man  being  fill'd  with  little  shares,  1 5 

Courts,  city,  church,  are  all  shops  of  small-wares, 

All  having  blown  to  sparkes  their  noble  fire, 

And  drawn  their  sound  gold  ingot  into  wyre, 

All  trying  by  a  love  of  litleness 

To  make  abridgments  and  to  draw  to  less  20 

Even  that  nothing  which  at  first  we  were ; 

Since  in  these  times  your  greatness  doth  appear,' 

And  that  we  learn  by  it  that  man,  to  get 

Towards  Him  that's  infinite,  must  first  be  great ; 

Since  in  an  age  so  ill,  as  none  is  fit  25 

So  much  as  to  accuse,  much  less  mend  it, — 

For  who  can  judge  or  witness  of  those  times, 

Where  all  alike  are  guilty  of  the  crimes  ] 

Where  he,  that  would  be  good,  is  thought  by  all 

A  monster,  or  at  best  phantastical  ? —  30 

Since  now  you  durst  be  good,  and  that  I  do 

Discern,  by  daring  to  contemplate  you, 

That  there  may  be  degrees  of  fair,  great,  good, 

Through  your  light's  largeness,  vertue  understood ; 

If,  in  this  sacrifice  of  mine,  be  shown  3  5 

Any  small  spark  of  these,  call  it  your  own ; 

And  if  things  like  these  have  been  said  by  me 

Of  others,  call  not  that  idolatrie. 


70  VERSE-LETTERS. 

For  had  God  made  man  first,  and  man  had  seen 

The  third  daie's  fruits  and  flowers  and  various  green,  40 

He  might  have  said  the  best  that  he  could  say 

Of  those  fair  creatures  which  were  made  that  day ; 

And  when  next  day  he  had  admir'd  the  birth 

Of  sun,  moon,  stars,  fairer  than  late-prais'd  earth, 

He  might  have  said  the  best  that  he  could  say,  45 

And  not  be  chid  for  praising  yesterday  : 

►So,  though  some  things  are  not  together  true, 

As  that  another's  worthiest,  and — that  you ; 

Yet  to  say  so,  doth  not  condemn  a  man, 

If,  when  he  spoke  them,  they  were  both  true  than,  then 

How  fair  a  proof  of  this  in  our  soul  grows  !  5 1 

We  first  have  souls  of  growth  and  sense  ;  and  those, 

When  our  last  soul,  our  soul  immortal,  came, 

Were  swallow' d  into  it,  and  have  no  name  : 

ZSTor  doth  he  injure  those  souls,  which  doth  cast        55 

The  power  and  praise  of  both  them  on  the  last : 

ISTo  more  do  I  wrong  any,  if  I  adore 

The  same  things  now  which  I  ador'd  before, 

The  subject  chang'd  and  measure.     The  same  thing 

In  a  low  constable  and  in  the  king  60 

I  reverence, — his  power  to  work  on  me  : 

So  did  I  humbly  reverence  each  degree 

Of  fair,  great,  good  •  but  more,  now  I  am  come 

From  having  found  their  walks  to  finde  their  home. 

And  as  I  owe  my  first  souls  thanks,  that  they  65 

For  my  last  soul  did  fit  and  mould  my  clay; 


TO  THE  COUNTESS  OF  SALISBURY.  71 

So  am  I  debtor  unto  them  whose  worth 

Enabled  me  to  profit,  and  take  forth 

This  new  great  lesson,  thus  to  study  you, 

Which  none,  not  reading  others  first,  could  do.  70 

Not  lack  I  light  to  read  this  book,  though  I 

In  a  dark  cave,  yea,  in  a  grave,  do  lie ; 

For  as  your  fellow-angels,  so  you  doe 

Illustrate  them  who  come  to  study  you. 

The  first  whom  we  in  histories  do  find  75 

To  have  profest  all  arts  was  one  born  blind ; 

He  lackt  those  eyes  beasts  have  as  well  as  we, 

Not  those  by  which  angels  are  seen  and  see ; 

So,  though  I  'am  born  without  those  eyes  to  live, 

Which  Fortune,  who  hath  none  her  self,  doth  give,  80 

Which  are  fit  means  to  see  bright  courts  and  you, 

Yet  may  I  see  you  thus  as  now  I  doe ; 

I  shall  by  that  all  goodness  have  discern'd, 

And  though  I  burn  my  Library,  be  learn'd. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading:  Lady  Catharine  Howard,  youngest  daughter  of 
Thomas,  first  Earl  of  Suffolk,  by  his  second  wife,  Catherine, 
eldest  daughter  and  co-heir  of  Sir  Henry  Knevit,  of  Charlton, 
Wilts,  Kt.,  and  widow  of  Richard,  eldest  son  of  Robert  Lord 
Rich.  She  married,  1st  December  1608,  William  Cecil,  second 
Earl  of  Salisbury,  by  whom  she  had  eight  sons  and  five  daugh- 
ters.    She  survived  on  to  1673. 

Line  2,  '  and'  after  '  doe'  I  drop,  as  in  1635. 
,,     10,  '  dead  low,'  not  ■  dead-low'  as  in  '69=a  tide  at  its 
lowest  or  highest;  '  dead'  not  qualifying  '  low,'  but  a  tide  that 
is  low. 


/  Z  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Line  34.  Here  is  another  of  Donne's  large  ellipses  :  [and 
I  do  discern]  that, — through  your  light's  largeness, —  [that] 
virtue  [may  be]  understood. 

Line  65,  'sou£s'=the  two  souls  of  growth  and  sense. 
,,     72.  Compare  Ep.  to  Countess  of  Bedford,  1. 1  (p.  49,  ante), 
where  ■  dead'  is  in  italics. 


TO  MKS.  M.  H.1 

Mad  paper,  stay,  and  grudg  not  heere  to  burne 

With  all  those  sons,  whom  my  braine  did  create ; 

At  least  lye  hid  with  mee,  till  thou  returne 
To  rags  againe,  which  was  thy  natiue  state. 

What  though  thou  hast  enough  unworthynes  5 

To  come  unto  great  place  as  others  doe : 

That's  much ;  it  emboldens,  pulls,  thrusts,  I  confes ; 
But  that's  not  all,  thou  shouldst  be  wicked  too. 

And  that  thou  canst  not  learne,  or  not  of  mee; 

Yet  thou  wilt  goe ;  goe,  sith  thou  goest  to  her  since 
Who  lacks  but  faults  to  be  a  prince,  for  she  1 1 

Truth,  whome  they  dare  to  pardon,  dares  prefere. 

But  when  thou  com'st  to  that  perplexing  eye, 
Which  equally  claimes  loue  and  reuerence, 

Thou  wilt  not  long  dispute  it,  thou  wilt  dye,  1 5 

And  haueing  little  now,  have  then  no  sence. 

1  From  Hazlewood-Kingsborough  ms.,  as  before.   Appeared 
originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  106-8).      G. 


TO  MRS.  M.  H.  73 

Yet  when  her  warme  redeeming  hand — which  is 
A  miracle,  and  made  such  to  woorke  more — 

Doth  touch  thee,  sapeles  leafe,  thou  grow'st  by  this 
Her  creature,  glorifide  more  then  before,      than     20 

Then,  as  a  mother  which  delights  to  heare 

Her  early  child  misspeak  halfe-uttered  woords, 

Or,  because  maiesty  doth  neuer  feare 

111  or  bould  speech,  she  audience  affords. 

And  then,  cold  speachles  wretch,  thou  dyest  againe,  25 
And  wisely ;  what  discourse  is  left  for  thee  ] 

From  speach  of  ill,  and  her,  thou  must  absteine, 
And  is  theere  any  good  which  is  not  shee  ] 

Yet  mai'st  thou  praise  her  seruants,  though  not  her ; 

And  Yertue,  Witt,  and  Honor  her  attend;  30 

And  since  they're  but  her  cloathes,  thou  shalt  not  err, 

If  thou  her  shape,  beauty,  and  grace  commend. 

Who  knows  thy  destiny  when  thou  hast  done  ] 
Perchance  her  cabinett  may  harbour  thee, 

Whether  all  noble  ambitious  witts  do  runn,  35 

A  nest  almost  as  full  of  good  as  she. 

When  thou  art  theere,  if  anny,  whom  wee  knowe, 
Weer  sau'd  before,  and  did  that  heauen  pertake, 

When  she  revolues  his  papers,  marke  what  showe 
Of  favour  she,  alone,  to  them  doth  make.  40 


74  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Marke  if,  to  gett  them,  she  o'erskip  the  rest ; 

Marke  if  she  read  them  twice,  or  kiss  the  name  ; 
Marke  if  she  do  the  same  that  they  protest ; 

Marke  if  she  marke  whether  her  woman  came. 

Marke  if  slight  things  be  'objected,  and  o'erblown;  45 
Marke  if  her  oaths  against  him  be  not  still 

Keseru'd,  and  that  she  grieve  she's  not  her  owne, 
And  chides  the  doctrine  that  denyes  free-will. 

I  bid  thee  not  doe  this  to  be  my  spy, 

Nor  to  make  myself  her  familliar ;  5  o 

But  so  much  doe  I  loue  her  choice,  that  I 

Would  faine  loue  him  that  shalbe  lou'd  of  her. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Our  MS.  rightly  corrects  misprints  in  the  printed  editions: 
as  '  my'  (1.  2)  for  '  thy :'  '  was'  (1.  4)  for  '  is  :'  while  '  hast'  (1.  5) 
in  the  indicative  for  '  have'  marks  more  distinctly  and  strongly 
that  the  lines  are  unworthy.  In  1.  8  '  that's'  for  '  'tis'  repeats 
the  '  That's  much'  of  the  previous  line,  and  is  therefore  more 
emphatic  ;  and  in  1.  7  '  it'  (a-wanting  usually)  is  required  by 
the  sense. 

Line  7,  'It  emboldens,  and  pulls,  and  thrusts,'  i.e.  crowds 
forward,  as  impudent  unworth  does. 

Line  11,  'prince  .-'  common  gender,  as  before. 
,,     12.   The  reading  of  our  ms.  '  dare  to  grant  a  pardon  to 
truth,'  after  treating  it  as  a  crime  to  be  repented  of,  and  the 
speaker  as  a  criminal,  is  another  proof  decisive  of  the  later  and 
authoritative  date  of  the  original  of  the  ms. 

Line  27='  Thou  must  not  speak  of  ill  before  her,  and  to 
her  thou  must  not  speak  of  herself;  but  she  herself  is  all  good; 
therefore,  as  thou  must  speak  neither  of  ill  nor  good,  thou  must 
perforce  be  silent.'  The  Lady  had  probably  this  affectation,  or 
otherwise  told  Donne  not  to  write  of  her  in  his  verses  to  her. 


TO  MR.  ROWLAND  WOODWARD.  75 

This  explains  the  virtual  anonymity  to  ns  of  the  mere  initials, 
although  I  hazard  a  conjecture  that  they  represent  Mrs.  or  Lady 
Magdalene  Herbert,  to  whom  Donne  addressed  a  fine  Sonnet. 
See  '  Divine  Poems'  and  relative  notes. 

Lines  30-32.  Our  ms.  omits  'and'  before  '  Vertue,'  and  this 
is  an  improvement  on  the  printed  texts,  and  the  more  so  in  1. 
30,  that  its  presence  slurs  the  second  syllable  of  Vertue,  'Ver- 
tue and;'  but  'tloe'  before  '  attend'  spoils  the  parallelism  of  11. 
30-32.  There  are  some  errors  in  the  ms.  which  the  printed 
texts  help  us  to  correct :  e.g.  1.  19,  '  teach'  is  clearly  an  error 
for  '  touch.' 

Line  33.  Whether  'Wee  know'  be  a  change  by  the  author 
or  a  misreading,  it  is  plain  that  '  Who  knows  ?'  agrees  with  the 
reply  '  perchance,'  while  'Wee  know'  does  not. 

Line  50,  '  flesh'  is  in  every  way  out  of  place,  and  is  probably 
a  misreading  of  '  self  her.'  The  expression  would  not  have  been 
(I  fear)  too  gross  for  Donne  in  his  love-song  days,  but  is  so  for 
the  context. 

Line  44.  I  can  make  nothing  of  '  whither'  of  our  ms.  and 
printed  copies.  What  could  it  matter  where  her  woman  came 
to?  But  it  matters  a  good  deal  to  a  lover  '  whether'  his  lady's 
manner  and  sayings,  when  reading  a  rival's  verses,  alter  ac- 
cording as  she  is  alone  or  when  her  woman  is  watching  her. 
And  this  from  the  '  alone'  of  1.  40,  and  the  mention  of  her  wo- 
man in  this  line,  seems  to  have  been  Donne's  thought.  Hence 
I  print  '  whether,'  '  came'  being  for  '  come'  by  stress  of  rhyme. 
G. 


TO  ME.  KOWLA]STD  WOODWAKD.1 

Like  one,  who  'in  her  third  wydowhood  doth  profes 

Her  self  a  nun,  tyde  to  retirednes, 

So  'affects  my  Muse  now  a  chast  fallownes ; 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in 
4to  of  1633  (pp.  74-5).  On  Woodward  and  the  entire  group  of 
these  '  W.'s'  see  our  Essay.     G. 


76  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Since  she  to  few,  yet  too-too  many  'hath  showne 
How  love-song  weeds  and  satirique  thorns  are  growne,  5 
Where  seeds  of  better  arts  were  early  sowne. 

Though  to  use  and  loue  poetry,  to  mee, 
Betroth'd  to  no  one  art,  be  no  adultery; 
Omissions  of  good,  ill,  as  ill  deeds  bee. 

For  though  to  us  it  seem  but  light  and  thinne,  10 

Yet  in  those  faithfull  scales,  where  God  throwes  in 
Men's  works,  vanity e  weighs  as  much  as  synn. 

If  our  sowles  have  staynd  their  firs^  whyte,  yet  wee 
May  cloth  them  with  fayth  and  deare  honesty, 
Which  God  imputes  as  native  puritie.  1 5 

There  is  no  virtue  but  relygion : 

Wise,  valiant,  sober,  just,  are  names  which  none 

Want,  which  want  not  vice-covering  discretion. 

Seeke  we  then  ourselues  in  ourselves ;  for  as 

Men  force  the  sunn  with  much  more  force  to  passe,   20 

By  gathering  his  beams  with  a  christall  glasse, 

So  we — if  wee  into  ourselues  will  turne, 
Blowinge  our  sparkes  of  virtue — may  outburne 
The  strawe  which  doth  about  our  harts  sojourne. 

You  know  phisityans,  when  they  wold  infuse  25 

Into  any  'oyle  the  sowle  of  symples,  use 
Places  where  thay  may  ly  still  warme,  to  chuse. 


TO  MR.  ROWLAND  WOODWARD.  77 

So  works  retyrednes  in  us ;  to  roame 

Giddelie  and  be  euery  where  but  at  home, 

Such  freedom  doth  a  banishment  become.  30 

We  are  but  farmors  of  ourselues  ;  yet  may,  farmers 

If  we  can  stock  ourselues  and  thryve,  uplay 
Much,  much  deare  treasure  for  the  great  rent-day. 

Manure  thyselfe  then,  to  thy  self  be  'improv'd, 

And  with  vayne  outward  thinges  be  no  more  mov'd,    35 

But  to  know  that  I  love  thee  and  wold  be  belov'd. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  10,  '  BuV  of  1669  preferable  to  '  to  be'  of  our  ms. 
,,  14,  '  integrity.'  This  was  not  an  uncommon  word  with 
Donne,  and  it  rhymes  better  than  '  honesty'  of  '69.  Hence  I 
think  it  his  first  word;  but  seeing  that '  integrity'  or  wholeness 
was  too  strong — for  he  is  speaking  not  of  an  imputed  integrity 
through  faith,  but  of  putting  on  faith  and  those  works  which 
are  the  result  of  or  part  of  a  living  or  true  faith — he  changed  it 
to  '  honesty'  in  its  fuller  and  antique  sense.  Thus  it  would  ans- 
wer rather  to  the  '  righteousness'  or  justitia  of  the  Vulgate  in 
Job  xxix.  and  Ps.  cxxxii.  (cxxxi.  Vulg.).  I  accept  'honesty'  ac- 
cordingly. So  too  in  1.  23  I  have  preferred  '69  '  our'  to  '  the ;' 
and  1.  21,  *  gathering'  is  more  correct  than  '  drawing'  of  our  ms. 
Also  in  1.  31,  'We  are  but'  rather  than  '  But  we  are  but.' 

Line  34.  1669  has  '  he  improved,'  not  '  he  approv'd. '  This  is 
not  a  mistake,  as  1.  19  &c.  shows.  Donne  in  all  these  cases  is 
speaking  of  one's  ordinary  self,  and  one's  truer  or  ideal  self. 
Not  only  too  does  it  give  sense,  but  it  gives  a  sense  agreeing 
better  perhaps  with  the  word  '  manure'  and  the  thought  ex- 
pressed by  it.  Hence  I  accept '  improved,'  albeit  it  may  be  more 
difficult  to  decide  whether  it  is  better  to  continue  the  thought, 
or  as  with  '  approv'd'  to  introduce  a  new  one.  G. 


78  VERSE-LETTERS. 


TO  ME.  E.  W.1 

If.  as  mine  is,  thy  life  a  slumber  bee, 

Seeme,  when  thou  read'st  these  lynes,  to  dreame  of  mee; 

Xever  did  Morpheus,  nor  his  brother,  weare 

Shapes  so  like  those  shappes,  whom  they  would  appeare, 

As  this  my  letter  is  like  mee;  for  it  5 

Hath  my  name,  words,  hands,  feete,  heart,  mind,  and 

witt ; 
It  is  my  deed  of  guift  of  mee  to  thee ; 
It  is  my  will,  myselfe  the  legacy. 
So  thy  retirings  I  love,  yea,  envie, 
Bred  in  thee  by  a  wise  melancholie,  1  o 

That  I  reioice  that,  unto  where  thou  art, 
Though  I  stay  heere,  I  can  thus  send  my  hart, 
As  kindly  as  any  enamour' d  patient 
His  picture  to  his  absent  Love  hath  sent. 
All  newes  I  thinke  sooner  reach  thee  then  mee ;    than   1 5 
Havens  are  heavens,  and  ships  wing'd  angells  bee, 
The  which  both  ghospel  and  sterne  threatnings  bringe; 
Guyanae's  harvest  is  nipt  in  the  Springe, 
I  feare ;  and  with  us,  meethinks,  Fate  deales  soe. 
As  with  the  Jewes'  guide  God  did ;  hee  did  showe    20 
Him  the  ritch  land,  but  barr'd  his  entry  in : 
Our  slowness  is  our  punishment  and  sinn. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.    Appeared  originally  in 
4toof  1633  (pp.  100-11).     G. 


TO  MR.  ROWLAND  WOODWARD.  79 

Perchaunce  these  Spanish  businesses  beinge  done — 
Which,  as  the  earth  betweene  the  moone  and  sunn 
Eclipse  the  light  which  Guyana  would  give —  25 

Our  discontynu'd  hopes  wee  shall  retrive : 
But  if  as  (All  th'  All  must)  hopes  smoake  awaye, 
Is  not  almighty  Vertue  an  India  ] 

If  men  be  worlds,  there  is  in  every  one 
Something  to  answere  in  some  proportion  30 

All  the  world's  ritches :  and  in  good  men  this 
Vertue  our  formes'  forme,  and  our  soules'  soule  is. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  3, '  brother' =Icelus  or  Phobetor,  the  giver  of  the  dream- 
shapes  of  other  animals,  as  Morpheus  was  of  those  of  man. 

Line  4,  '  appeared  i.  e.  appear  [to  be]  or  like  whom,  &c. 
,,     13,  '  patiefiV  =  suffering  one. 

,,  15,  ■  newes  :'  here  ■  news'  has  a  plural  verb,  a  collective 
being  then  entitled  to  a  singular  or  plural  verb  at  the  will  of  the 
writer,  according  to  the  exigences  of  the  verse,  or  more  pro- 
perly according  to  whether  the  sense  of  the  context  agrees  better 
with  one  or  the  other. 

Line  20,  '  J ewes'  guide' =  Moses.  See  Numbers  xx.  12. 
,,  23,  '  Sjxinish  businesses.1  Curiously  enough  the  one 
surviving  letter  of  Rowland  Woodward  of  this  Letter  is  one 
addressed  by  him  to  '  Mr.  Windebank,'  on  Mr.  Alured's  tractate 
against  the  Spanish  match.  It  will  be  found  in  Gutch's  Collec- 
tanea Curiosa  (2  vols.,  1781).  In  1633  it  is  '  busines,'  but  1.  25 
requires  the  plural  (Eclipse  .  .  .  )  as  in  1635,  &c. 

Line  26,  '  retrive  :'  primary  sense  of  find  again. 
,,     27,  '  All  tW  All  must :'  explained  by  Tempest,  iv.  1,  and 
the  similar  passage  in  Earl  of  Stirling's  '  Darius.'     But  Donne 
has  changed '  air'  and  '  vapour'  into  '  smoke,'  in  reference  to  the 
world's  perishing  by  fire.     G. 


TO  M.  I  W.1 

All  hail,  sweet  Poett !  and  full  of  more  strong  fire 

Then  hath  or  shall  enkindle  my  dull  spirit ;  Than 

I  lou'd  what  Xature  gave  thee,  but  thy  merit 

Of  witt  and  art  I  love  not  but  admire : 

Who  have  before  or  shall  write  after  thee,  5 

Their  works,  tho'  toughly  laboured,  will  bee 

Like  infancy  or  age  to  man's  firme  stay, 

Or  early  and  late  twilights  to  mid-daye. 

Men  saye,  and  truly,  that  they  better  bee 

Which  be  envied  than  pitied ;  therefore  I,  1  o 

Eecause  I  wish  the  best,  do  thee  envie. 

0,  wouldst  thou  by  like  reason  pittie  mee, 

But  care  not  for  me,  I,  that  ever  was 

In  Xature's  and  in  Fortune's  guifts,  alass — - 

But  for  thy  grace,  gott  in  the  Muses'  Schoole- —         15 

A  monster  and  a  begger,  am  a  foole. 

0,  how  I  greeve  that  late-borne  modestie 

Hath  gott  such  roote  in  easie  waxen  harts, 

That  men  maye  not  themselves  their  owne  good  parts 

Ext  oil,  without  suspect  of  surquedrie  :  20 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in 
4to  of  1633  (pp.  93-4).     G. 


TO  MR.  I.  W.  81 

For  but  thy  selfe  no  subject  can  be  found 
Worthy  thy  quill,  nor  any  quill  resound 
Thy  worth,  but  thine :  how  good  it  were  to  see 
A  poeme  in  thy  praise,  and  writt  by  thee ! 

Now  if  this  songe  be  too  'harsh  for  rime,  yet  as         25 

The  painter's  bad  god  made  a  good  divell, 

'Twill  be  good  prose,  although  the  verse  be  evell, 

If  thou  forge tt  the  rime  as  thou  dost  pass. 

Then  write  that  I  may  follow,  and  soe  bee 

Thy  debtor,  thy  ecco,  thy  foyl,  thy  Zanee.  30 

I  shall  be  thought,  if  mine  like  thine  I  shape, 

All  the  world's  lyon,  though  I  be  thy  ape. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Probably  these  were  intended  for  commendatory  verses  ; 
and  thus  may  be  explained  two  of  the  variations  between  our  MS. 
and  the  printed  text :  '  my  dull,'  1.  2,  for  '  any,'  and  '  thy,'  1.  3, 
for  '  this,'  being  the  epistolary  reading,  '  any'  and  '  this'  the 
commendatory-verse  reading.  As  the  poem  is  here  among  the 
Letters,  I  adopt  the  former. 

Line  6,  '  toughly  .-1  Chetham  ms.  '  roughly,'  which  is  bad. 
,,     15,  '  But  for  :'  our  ms.  '  Before,'  interiorly. 
,,     20,  '  swr#?zednV=presumption. 
,,     23,  '  worth  :'  inadvertently  '  works'  in  our  ms. 
,,     27-8,  'pass,'  i.  e.  If  thou  forget,  &c.  it  will  be  good 
prose,  though  the  verse  be  evil. 

Line  30,  ■  Zanee.'     See  former  note  (p.  63).     G. 


VOL.  II. 


TO  ME.  T.  W.1 

Haste  thee,  harsh  verse,  as  fast  as  thy  lame  measure 

Will  give  thee  leave,  tor  him,  my  paine  and  pleasure ; 

I've  given  thee — and  yet  thou  art  too  weak — 

Feet,  and  a  reasoninge  soule  and  tonge  to  speake. 

Tell. him  all  questions  which  men  have  defended,        5 

Both  of  the  place  and  paines  of  hell,  are  ended ; 

And  'tis  decreed,  our  hell  is  hut  privation 

Of  him — at  least  in  this  earth's  habitation : 

And  'tis  where  I  am,  where  in  every  street 

Infections  followe,  overtake  and  meete.  10 

Live  I  or  dye,  by  you  my  love  is  sent ; 

You  are  my  pawnes,  or  else  my  testament. 

1  From  Addl.  ms.  18647,  as  before.     Appeared  originally  in 
4to  of  1633  (p.  95).     G. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  2,  l paine  and  pleasure^ =  T .  W.  Cf.  1.  7,  'privation/ 
i.  e.  absence  from  him. 

Line  12,  '  You :'  our  ms.  prefixes  '  And'  superfluously,  and 
worse,  in  that  it  obscures  the  fact  that  the  first  half  of  the  line 
refers  to  '  Live  I,'  and  the  second  to  '  or  die. '  There  is  no  alter- 
native of  choice,  as  is  implied  by  '  and;1  but  there  is  one  or  the 
other,  according  as  Donne  is  alive  or  dead  when  the  Letter 
reaches,  he  being  in  the  midst  of  the  plague  or  other  epidemic. 
G. 


TO  MR.  T.   W.  83 


TO  ME.  T.  W.1 

Pregnant  againe  with  th'  old  twines,  Hope  and  Feare, 
Ofte  have  I  ask'd  for  thee,  both  how  and  where 
Thou  wert,  and  what  my  hopes  of  letters  were  : 

As  in  our  streets  sly  beggars  narrowly 

Watch  motions  of  the  giver's  hand  and  eye,  5 

And  evermore  conceiue  some  hope  thereby. 

And  now  thine  alme  is  given,  thy  letter's  read, 
Thy  body  risen  againe,  the  which  was  dead, 
And  thy  poore  starvelinge  bountifully  fedd. 

After  this  banquett  my  soul  doth  say  grace,  1  o 

And  praise  thee  for't,  and  zealously  embrace 
Thy  love,  though  I  think  thy  love  in  this  case 

To  be  as  gluttons',  which  saye  'midst  their  meat, 
They  love  that  best  of  which  they  most  doe  eat. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in 
4to  of  1633  (pp.  95-6).      G. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  7,  '  alme  :'  usually  '  alms.' 
,,  12,  '  thy  love.'  This  probably  refers  to  the  love  sent 
or  spoken  of  at  the  end  of  T.  W.'s  letter,  and  gives  a  hit  at  his 
unfrequent  letters,  and  a  sly  hint  that  his  love  is  like  a  glut- 
ton's, due  to  the  exceptionally  long  letter  which  Donne  had 
previously  written  to  him.  So  only  can  I  explain  the  simile 
and  'thy.'     G. 


84  VERSE-LETTERS. 


TO  T.  W.i 

Att  once  from  hence  my  lines  and  I  depart; 
I  to  my  soft  still  walkes,  they  to  my  hart; 
I  to  the  nurse,  they  to  the  child  of  Art. 

Yet  as  a  firme  house,  though  the  carpenter 

Perish,  doth  stand ;  as  an  embassador  5 

Lyes  safe,  how  ere  his  kinge  be  in  daunger ; 

Bo,  tho'  I  languish,  prest  with  melancholy, 
My  verse,  the  strict  mapp  of  my  miserie, 
Shall  live  to  see  that  for  whose  want  I  die. 

Therefore  I  envie  them,  and  doe  repent  10 

That  from  unhappy  mee  things  happy  'are  sent : 
Yet  as  a  picture  or  bare  sacrament, 

Accept  these  lines ;  and  if  in  them  there  bee 
Merit  of  love,  bestow  that  love  on  mee. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before  ;  and  forms  part  of  the 
preceding  poem,  i.e.  the  two  make  one  complete  poem.  Usually 
headed  *  Incerto.'  Appeared  originally  in  1635  edition  (p.  178). 
G. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Though  to  the  same,  the  present  little  verse-letter  was  pro- 
bably not  sent  at  the  same  time.  As  to  himself  and  as  to  his 
friend's  love,  the  thoughts  are  not  only  not  consecutive  but  dif- 
ferent. The  style  too  is  different,  and  the  sense  of  the  last 
stanza  of  the  former  is  in  every  way  a  finish.  So  too  is  its 
form,  the  additional  lines  being  only  found  at  the  close,  as  here 
and  as  in  those  to  the  Countess  of  Bedford  (p.  30),  and  to  the 
Countess  of  Huntingdon  (p.  56),  and  never  in  the  middle. 

Line  14,  'iJim£'=meriture,  any  deserving  of  thy  love  :  much 
as  Ave  have  depart=departure,in  next  poem ; '  that'  shows  this.  G. 


TO  ME.  I.  L.i 

Of  that  short  roll  of  freinds  writt  in  my  heart, 

Which  with  thy  name  beginns,  since  their  depart, 

Whether  in  the  English  prouinces  they  bee, 

Or  drink  of  Po,  Sequane  or  Danuby, 

There's  none,  that  sometymes  greetes  us  not ;  and  yet  5 

Your  Trent  is  Lethe,  that  past,  us  you  forgett ; 

You  do  not  duties  of  societies, 

If  from  th'  embrace  of  a  lou'd  wife  you  rise, 

Veiw  your  fatt  beasts,  stretch'd  barns,  and  laboured 

feilds, 
Eate,  play,  ride,  take  all  ioyes  which  all  daye  yeilds,     1  o 
And  then  againe  to  your  embracements  goe ; 
Some  howers  on  us  your  freinds,  and  some  bestow 
Upon  your  Muse ;  else  both  we  shall  repent, 
I  that  my  love  ;  shee  that  her  guifts  on  you  are  spent. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  Appeared  originally 
in  the  4to  of  1633  (pp.  101-2).  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  for 
a  little  on  I.  L.     G. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading :  It  is  somewhat  tantalising  to  find  several  poems 
(of  no  great  moment  certainly)  in  the  Farmer  ms.  in  Chetham 
Library  signed  '  I.  L.'  only.  See  our  edition  of  this  ms.  as 
edited  for  the  Chetham  Society.   Line  12  is  an  Alexandrine.    G. 


8§  VERSE-LETTERS. 


TO  ME.  I.  L.i 

Blest  are  your  North  parts,  for  all  this  long  tyme 

My  sun  is  with  you,  cold  and  darke  'is  our  clyme. 

Heaven's  sun,  which  stay'd  so  longe  from  us  this  yeare, 

Stayd  in  your  North,  I  think,  for  she  was  there, 

And  hither  by  kinde  Nature  drawen  from  thence,       5 

Here  rages,  chafes,  and  threatens  pestilence ; 

Yet  I,  as  long  as  she  from  hence  doth  staye, 

Think  this  no  South,  noe  Summer,  nor  noe  daye. 

With  thee  my  kinde  and  unkinde  hart  is  runne, 

There  sacrifice  is  to  that  beauteous  sunn.  10 

So  may  thy  pastures  with  their  flowrie  feasts, 

As  suddenly  as  lard,  fatt  thy  leane  beasts ; 

So  maye  thy  woods  oft  poll'd  yet  ever  weare 

A  greene  and,  when  thee  list,  a  golden  hayre ; 

Soe  maye  all  thy  sheepe  bring  forth  twins;  and  soe     15 

In  chase  and  race  may  thy  horse  all  out-goe ; 

So  maye  thy  love  and  courage  ne're  be  colde ; 

Thy  sonne  ne'r  ward ;  thy  lou'd  wife  ne're  seeme  old ; 

Eut  mai'st  thou  wish  great  things,  and  them  attaine, 

As  thou  tell'st  her,  and  non  but  her,  my  paine.  20 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  Usually  '  I.  P.  :'  but 
ought  to  be  I.  L.,  as  in  preceding.  So  in  our  ms.  Appeared 
originally  in  the  4to  of  1633  (p.  102).     G. 


TO  SR.  THOMAS  ROE.  87 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  2,  '  My  sun.''  According  to  date,  his  lady-love  or  wife. 
This  to  us  masculine  attribution  is  more  than  once  used  by 
Donne  in  speaking  of  or  addressing  a  lady. 

Line  9,  '  kinde  and  unkinde :'  she  is  kind,  but  now  in  her 
absence  unkind.  Cf.  to  T.  W.  (p.  82),  '  my  pain  and  pleasure.' 
Our  ms.,  by  'is'  for  '  in'  (1.  10),  restores  the  sense.  But  even 
with  '  is'  there  is  some  obscurity,  arising  from  his  first  calling 
her  his  ■  sun'  and  then  his  heart,  and  then  returning  to  the 
simile  of  the  sun.     G. 


TO  SR.  THOMAS  ROE,  1603.1 

Deare  Tom, 

Tell  her,  if  shee  to  hyred  servants  showe 

Dislike,  before  they  take  their  leave  they  goe, 

When  nobler  spirits  start  at  no  disgrace ; 

For  who  hath  but  one  mynd  hath  but  one  face. 

If  then  why  I  tooke  not  my  leave  she  aske,  5 

Aske  her  againe  why  shee  did  not  unmasque. 

Was  she  or  prowd  or  cruell,  or  knew  shee 

'Twould  make  my  losse  more  felt,  and  pittied  mee  ? 

Or  did  she  feare  one  kisse  might  stay  for  moe  ? 

Or  ellse  was  she  unwillinge  I  shold  goe?  10 

I  think  the  best,  and  loue  so  faythfullie, 

I  cannot  choose  but  think  that  she  loues  mee. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in 
the  1635  edition  (pp.  209-10).  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  on 
Roe.     G. 


88  VERSE-LETTERS. 

If  this  prove  not  my  fayth,  then  let  her  try 

How  in  her  service  it  would  f rue  title. 

Ladies  have  bowldly  lovd  ;  bid  her  renewe  1 5 

That  decai'd  worth,  and  prove  the  tymes  past  true. 

Then  he,  whose  wytt  and  verse  now  goes  thus  lame, 

With  songs  to  her  will  the  wyld  Irish  tame. 

How'ere,  I'll  weare  the  blacke  and  whyte  rybband ; 

Whyte  for  her  fortunes,  black  for  mine  shall  stand.   20 

I  do  esteeme  her  favor,  not  their  stuffe ; 

If  what  I  haue  was  given,  I  haue  enough, 

And  all's  well ;  for  had  she  lov'd,  I  had  hadd 

All  my  freind's  hate ;  for  now  departinge  sad 

I  feele  not  that :  yet  as  the  rack  the  gowte  25 

Cures,  so  hath  this  worse  grief e  that  quite  put  out  : 

My  first  disease  nought  but  that  worse  cureth, 

Which,  I  dare  foresay,  nothing  cures  but  death. 

Tell  her  all  this  before  I  am  forgott, 

That  not  too  late  she  grieve  she  lov'd  me  not.  30 

Burthened  with  it,  I  was  to  departe  lesse 
Willinge  then  those  which  dye,  and  not  confesse.     than 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading :  The  well-known  Ambassador  to  the  Court  of  the 
Great  Mogul  and  to  various  European  Courts,  son  of  Robert 
Roe,  of  Lower  Leyton,  Essex,  and  grandson  of  Sir  Thomas 
Roe,  Lord  Mayor  of  London  in  1568 ;  educated  at  Magdalen 
College,  Oxford  ;  knighted  23d  March  1604-5.  His  first  im- 
portant public  employment  was  his  mission  to  the  Great  Mo- 
gul in  1614;  and  he  continued  in  similar  services  until  1641. 


TO  SR.  THOMAS  ROE.  80 

He  became  Chancellor  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter  in  1636,  and 
was  also  a  Privy  Councillor.     He  died  6th  November  1644. 

As  in  some  others  of  the  Stephens'  MSB.,  we  have  evidence 
herein  of  great  carelessness  on  the  part  of  the  copyist  or  re- 
copyist.  Whatever  difficulty  there  may  be  in  understanding 
these  clauses,  it  is  clear  from  the  whole  poem  that  '  not'  of  our 
ms.  in  1.  24  is  a  mistake  for  '  now'  (1633,  &c),  and  in  1.  26  '  this 
this'  a  mistake  for  'hath  this'  (1633,  &c),  and  'quite'  errone- 
ously dropped.  By  the  former  the  sense  is  destroyed,  and  by 
the  latter  the  metre.  Again,  in  1.  27,  the  remembrance  of  the 
'  first'  of  ■  first  disease'  has  caused  it  to  be  written  instead  of 
'  worse'  (1633,  &c),  which  is  manifestly  the  right  word  :  and 
similarly  the  '  nought'  of  1.  27  has  caused  the  '  nothing'  of  1.  28 
to  be  written  as  '  nought,'  a  monosyllable  when  a  dissyllable  is 
required.  Again,  '  dare'  in  the  same  line  shows  '  foresay'  (1633, 
&c.)  to  be  the  right  word,  though  the  scribe  has  written  the 
more  common  '  foresee.'  Farther  :  in  1.  14,  '  it'  seems  to  refer 
to  'faith,'  and  to  be  correct;  but  the  meaning  of  'then  .... 
fructify'  is  amplified  and  explained  in  11.  15-18 ;  11.  15-16  ex- 
plain the  clause  from  'then'  to  '  service,'  and  11.  17-18  explain 
how  he,  Donne,  would  then  fructify.  Once  more,  in  1.  13,  '  prove,' 
not  the  indicative  '  proves,'  is  required  by  the  sense  (as  in  1633, 
&c).  But  the  differences  in  1.  17  are  doubtless  due  to  Donne 
himself  ;  and  while  *  take'  in  1.  5  might  be  defended  by  '  now  de- 
parting,' as  showing  that  the  Letter  was  written,  or  supposed 
to  be  written,  on  leaving,  '  tooke'  of  our  ms.  is  borne  out  by  the 
'  I  was  to  depart'  of  1.  31,  and  I  adopt  it. 

Line  13,  '  If  this,'  i.e.  if  this  thinking  the  best. 
,,     17.  A  verb  singular  after  a  double  nominative,  and  the 
variations  '  grows'  and  '  goes,'  which  make  the  others  '  thus'  and 
'  so,'  must  be  by  the  author,  and  prove  the  s  is  not  a  misprint. 

Line  19.  From  1.  21  it  appears  that  she  had  given  or  sent 
him  this  ribbon,  as  indicating  that  his  favour  or  disfavour  were 
balanced.  If,  as  is  very  probable,  the  lady  was  she  who  became 
his  wife,  she  may  have  been  modestly  enigmatical,  and  while 
seeming  to  give  the  above  indication  of  her  feelings,  have  really 
meant  that  she  was  favourable,  but  friends  unfavourable.    G. 


TO  SIK  EDWABD  HERBERT, 

SINCE  LORD  HERBERT  OF  CHERBURY,  BEING  AT  THE 
SIEGE  OF  JULIERS.1 

Man  is  a  lumpe,  where  all  beasts  kneaded  bee, 

Wisdonie  makes  him  an  arke  where  all  agree  • 

The  foole  in  whom  theis  beastes  do  lyve  at  jarr, 

Is  sport  to  others,  and  a  theater  : 

]Nor  scapes  he  soe,  but  is  himselfe  their  praye  ;  5 

All  which  was  man  in  him  is  eate  away; 

And  now  his  beasts  on  one  another  feede, 

Yet  couple  in  anger,  and  new  monsters  breed. 

How  happie  is  he,  who  hath  due  place  assignde 

To  'his  beasts  !  and  disaforested  his  mynd,  1  o 

Empal'd  himself  to  keep  them  out,  not  in ; 

Can  so  we,  and  dare  trust  corne,  where  they  have  bene ; 

Can  use  his  horse,  goate,  wolfe,  and  euery  beast, 

And  bee  not  asse  himselfe  to  all  the  rest ! 

Ellse  man  not  only  is  the  heard  of  swyne,  1 5 

But  he's  those  devills  too,  who  did  inclyne 

1  From  Stephens'  ats.,  as  before.  Herbert's  is  too  great  a 
name  to  need  annotation,  yet  see  Notes  and  Illustrations.  Ap- 
peared originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  82-4).     G. 


TO  SIR  EDWARD  HERBERT.  91 

Them  to  an  headlonge  rage  and  made  them  worse ; 

For  man  can  add  waight  to  heaven's  heaviest  curse. 

As  sowls,  they  say,  by  our  first  touch  take  in 

The  poysonous  tinckture  of  originall  sin,  20 

So  to  the  punishments  which  God  doth  flinge, 

Our  apprehension  contributes  the  stinge. 

To  us,  as  to  His  chickens,  He  doth  cast 

Hemlock ;  and  we,  as  men,  His  hemlocke  taste, 

We  doe  infuse  to  what  He  meant  for  meat  25 

Corasives  or  intensives,  cold  or  heate  : 

For  God  no  such  specifique  poison  hath 

As  kylls,  we  know  not  how;  His  fiercest  wrath 

Hath  noe  antipathie,  but  may  bee  good 

At  least  for  phisik,  if  not  for  our  food.  30 

Thus  man,  that  might  be  'His  pleasure,  is  His  rod ; 

And  is  His  devill,  that  might  be  his  God. 

Since  then  our  busynes  is  to  rectifye 

JSature  to  what  it  was,  we  are  led  awry 

By  them  who  man  to  us  in  little  showe ;  35 

Greater  then  due  noe  forme  we  can  bestowe  than 

On  him ;  for  man  into  himselfe  can  drawe 

All  that  his  faith  can  swallow,  'or  reason  chawe ; 

All  that  is  filled,  and  all  that  which  doth  fill, 

All  the  rownd  world,  to  man  is  but  a  pill ;  40 

In  all  it  works  not,  but  it  is  in  all 

Poisonous,  or  purgatiue,  or  cordyall. 

For  knowledge  kyndles  calentures  in  some, 

And  is  to  others  icie  opivm. 


92  VERSE-LETTERS. 

As  brave  as  true  is  that  profession  than,  then     45 

Which  you  do  use  to  make  of  knowing  man. 

This  makes  it  credible,  you  haue  dwelt  upon 

All  worthy  books,  and  now  are  such  a  one  : 

Actions  are  authors,  and  of  these  in  you 

Your  friends  fynd  every  day  a  mart  of  newe.  50 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading:  Sir  Edward  Herbert,  eldest  son  of  Richard  Her- 
bert, Esq.,  was  not  created  '  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury'  until 
7th  May  1629  ;  so  that  the  heading  of  the  present  poem  on  its 
original  appearance  in  the  4to  of  1633  was  in  accord  with  its 
date,  not  the  date  of  its  being  addressed  to  him.  He  had  suc- 
cessors, but  remains  the  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury,  renowned 
for  his  philosophic  speculations.  His  historical  Collections  are 
in  the  library  of  Jesus  College,  Oxford.  Died  1648.  His  younger 
brother  was  George  Herbert. 

The  changes  in  our  ms.  from  the  printed  text  of  '  which'  to 
'  who'  (1.  9),  '  dares'  to  '  dare'  (1.  12),  '  is'  to  '  be'  (1.  14),  '  she' 
to  'it'  (1.  34) — for  their  nature  is,  according  to  the  context,  more 
properly  called  ■  it' — and  the  discarding  of  one  of  the  three 
'  you's'  in  1.  46,  seem  to  show  that  it  is  a  later  copy,  as  does 
1.  26,  if  we  read  '  intensive  cold'  or  '  intensives,  cold,'  because  it 
is  more  correct  to  say  we  infuse  ■  corrosives'  or  the  like,  than 
'  corrosiveness.'  But  •  rather  is'  (1.  16)  appears  to  me  an  ill- 
judged  change  from  '  hee's  ....  too,'  inasmuch  as  it  does  not 
agree  so  well  with  ■  not  only  is'  of  1.  15  as  does  '  he's  those 
devills  too.'  '  Hartiest,'  again,  of  our  ms.  (1.  18)  is  in  all  pro- 
bability error  for  'heaviest'  of  1633,  &c,  not  only  because  we 
have  '  add  weight,'  but  because  throughout  11.  23-30  Donne  in- 
sists that  the  Deity  does  not  curse  with  a  will  to  curse.  In 
1.  10  also  the  rhythm  of  '  To  'his  .  .  .  disaforested,'  as  in  '69,  is 
preferable  to  '  To  his  ....  disforested'  of  ms.  In  1.  38  there  is 
an  unusually  great  change.  In  the  printed  texts  '  draw  All'(;) 
ends  the  clause,  and  '  All  his  faith  .  .  .  chaw'C)  begins  the  clause 
that  ends  at  '  full'(:).  In  our  ms.  the  substitution  of  '  that  his 
faith'  runs  the  first  clause  on  to  'chaw'(;).     If  too  we  accept 


UPON  MR.  THOMAS  OOBYAT'S  CRUDITIES.  93 

1  fytt'  for '  fill'd,'  we  must  delete  comma  after  '  fill ;'  but  it  seems 
an  error,  for  that  which  is  filled  is  required  to  complete  that 
which  fills,  and  to  say  that  which  is  i  fit'  seems  very  like  say- 
ing that  what  is  fit  for  food  is  food. 

Line  10,  *  disaj 'or ested1  =  to  take  away  the  privileges  of 
forest-land,  and  thereby  of  the  wild  beasts  that  were  protected 
by  them. 

Line  11,  *  <??»paM'  =  surrounded  with  a  pale. 
,,     15,  '  swine.'     See  St.  Matthew  viii.  30-34. 
,,     19,  l first  touch'=  at  the  very  first  contact  with  our 
bodies. 

Line  24.  The  sense  seems  to  be,  that  God  gives  punishment 
as  man  gives  hemlock  to  chickens,  namely,  as  food  or  physic, 
but  that  we  take  the  punishment  as  man  takes  hemlock,  i.e.  as 
a  deadly  poison.  Still,  I  am  not  aware  that  hemlock  is  or  was 
given  to  fowls  either  as  food  or  physic. 

Lines  31-2,  '  /us' =  his  own,  as  in  1.  31,  or  may  in  this  line 
be=God's.  Query,  would  it  be  forced  to  take  the  'his'  as= 
God's,  and  the  'his'  of  1.  31  as  =  devil's,  the  devil  of  him  the 
devil,  when  he  might  be  the  God  of  the  devil? 

Line  43,  'calenture.'  See  former  note  (p.  12).  Here  ap- 
parently a  general  term  for  the  ardent  fevers  of  the  torrid 
zone.     G. 


UPON  ME.  THOMAS  COKYAT'S  CRUDITIES.1 

Oh,  to  what  height  will  love  of  greatness  drive 

Thy  learned  spirit,  sesqui-superlative I 

Venice'  vast  lake  thou'  hast  seen,  and  wouldst  seek  than 

Some  vaster  thing,  and  foundst  a  courtizan  ■ 

That  inland  sea  having  disc  over'  d  well,  5 

A  cellar  gulf,  where  one  might  sail  to  hell 

1  From  1669  edition  (pp.  260-3).  Appeared  originally  in 
'  The  Odcombian  Banquet'  (1611).  See  our  Essay,  on  Coryat 
and  his  books.     G. 


94 


VERSE-LETTERS. 


From  Heydelberg,  thou  long'st  to  see  :  and  thou 

This  book,  greater  than  all,  producest  now. 

Infinite  work  !  which  doth  so  far  extend, 

That  none  can  study  it  to  any  end.  10 

'Tis  no  one  thing ;  it  is  not  fruit  nor  root, 

Xor  poorly  limited  with  head  or  foot. 

If  man  be  therefore  man,  because  he  can 

Reason  and  laugh,  thy  book  doth  half  make  man. 

One  half  being  made,  thy  modesty  was  such,  1 5 

That  thou  on  th'  other  half  wouldst  never  touch. 

When  wilt  thou  be  at  full,  great  lunatique  *? 

Xot  till  thou  'exceed  the  world  ?    Canst  thou  be  like 

A  prosperous  nose-born  wen,  which  sometimes  grows 

To  be  far  greater  than  the  mother-nose  ?  20 

Go  then,  and  as  to  thee,  when  thou  didst  go, 

Munster  did  towns,  and  Gesner  authors  show, 

Mount  now  to  Gallo-Belgicus  ;  appear 

As  deep  a  statesman  as  a  garreteer. 

Homely  and  familiarly,  when  thou  com'st  back,         2$ 

Talk  of  Will  Conqueror,  and  Prester  Jack. 

Go,  bashful  man,  lest  here  thou  blush  to  look 

Upon  the  progress  of  thy  glorious  book, 

To  which  both  Indies  sacrifices  send ; 

The  West  sent  gold,  which  thou  didst  freely  spend,   30 

Meaning  to  see  't  no  more  upon  the  press  : 

The  East  sends  hither  her  deliciousness ; 

And  thy  leaves  must  embrace  what  comes  from  hence, 

The  myrrh,  the  pepper,  and  the  frankincense. 


UPON  MR.  THOMAS  CORYAT's  CRUDITIES.  95 

This  magnifies  thy  leaves ;  but  if  they  stoop  3  5 

To  neighbor  wares,  when  merchants  do  unhoop 

Voluminous  barrels ;   if  thy  leaves  do  then 

Convey  these  wares  in  parcels  unto  men ; 

If  for  vast  tons  of  currants  and  of  figs, 

Of  med'cinal  and  aromatique  twigs,  40 

Thy  leaves  a  better  method  do  provide, 

Divide  to  pounds,  and  ounces  sub-divide ; 

If  they  stoop  lower  yet,  and  vent  our  wares, 

Home-manufactures  to  thick  popular  Fairs ; 

If  omni-pregnant  there,  upon  warm  stalls  45 

They  hatch  all  wares  for  which  the  buyer  calls ; 

Then  thus  thy  leaves  we  justly  may  commend, 

That  they  all  kind  of  matter  comprehend. 

Thus  thou,  by  means  which  th'  Ancients  never  took, 

A  Pandect  mak'st  and  universal  book.  50 

The  bravest  heroes  for  their  country's  good 

Scattered  in  divers  lands  their  limbs  and  blood ; 

Worst  malefactors,  to  whom  men  are  prize, 

Do  public  good,  cut  in  anatomies : 

So  will  thy  book  in  peeces  ;  for  a  lord,  55 

Which  casts  at  Portescue's,  and  all  the  board, 

Provide  whole  books ;   each  leaf  enough  will  be 

For  friends  to  pass  time,  and  keep  company : 

Can  all  carouse  up  thee  ?  no,  thou  must  fit 

Measures,  and  fill  out  for  the  half-pint  wit.  60 

Some  shall  wrap  pills,  and  save  a  friend's  life  so ; 

Some  shall  stop  muskets,  and  so  kill  a  foe. 


■ 


9G  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Thou  shalt  not  ease  the  criticks  of  next  age 

So  much  as  once  their  hunger  to  assuage : 

Nor  shall  wit-pirats  hope  to  find  thee  ly  65 

All  in  one  bottom,  in  one  Library. 

Some  leaves  may  paste  strings  there  in  other  books, 

And  so  one  may  which  on  another  looks, 

Pilfer,  alas,  a  little  wit  from  you ; 

But  hardly  much  :  and  yet  I  think  this  true;  70 

As  Sibil's  was,  your  book  is  mystical. 

For  every  peece  is  as  much  worth  as  all. 

Therefore  mine  impotency  I  confess, 

The  healths,  which  my  brain  bears,  must  be  far  less ; 

The  gyant  wit  'orthrows  me,  I  am  gone  ;  75 

And  rather  then  read  all,  I  would  read  none. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

These  commendatory  verses  (burlesquely),rike  those  to  Ben 
Jonson  and  others,  do  not  belong  properly  to  the  Verse-letters, 
But,  as  stated  in  the  introductory  Note,  they  find  as  appropriate 
a  place  in  this  division  as  anywhere. 

Line  23,  '  Gallo-Belgicus  :'  a  yearly,  and  then  half-yearly, 
political  register. 

Line  2-4,  '  Garreteer  =  garret  hack,  with  probably  a  sort  of 
punning  reference  to  gazetteer. 

Lines  55-6.  I  do  not  understand  the  allusion  or  allusions 
here.  Perhaps  that  in  11.  55-8  refers  to  the  custom  spoken  of 
by  Harington  onPlaye  (as  quoted  by  Nares) :  '  Whear  lords  and 
great  men  have  been  disposed  to  play  deepe  play,  and  not  hav- 
ing money  about  them,  have  cut  cardes  insteede  of  counters, 
with  asseverance  (on  theyr  honors)  to  pay  for  every  peece  of 
carde  so  lost  a  portegue.'  The  Portescue,  Portaque,  or  Portu- 
guese, was  the  great  cru6ado  of  that  country,  worth  31. 12*.  G. 


TO  BEX  JOHNSON. 

9°  NOVEMBRIS   1603.1 

If  great  men  wrong  me,  I  will  spare  my  selfe ; 

If  meane,  I  will  spare  them  ;  I  know  the  pelfe 

Which  is  yll  got,  the  owner  doth  upbraid ; 

It  may  corrupt  a  judge,  make  me  afraid 

And  a  jurie  :  but  'twill  revenge  in  this,  5 

That,  though  himselfe  be  judge,  he  guilty  is. 

What  care  I  though  of  weakness  men  tax  me  ? 

I'd  rather  sufferer  then  doer  bee ;  than 

That  I  did  trust,  it  was  my  nature's  praise, 

For  breach  of  word  I  knew  but  as  a  phrase.  10 

That  judgment  is,  that  surely  can  comprise 

The  world  in  precepts,  most  happy  and  most  wise. 

What  though  ?  though  lesse,  yet  some  of  both  haue  we, 

Who  have  learnd  it  by  use  and  miserie. 

Poor  I,  whom  everie  petty  crosse  doth  trouble,  15 

Whoe  apprehend  each  hurt,  that's  done  me,  double, 

Am  of  this,  though  it  shold  sink  me,  careless, 

It  wold  but  force  me  to  a  stricter  goodness. 

They  have  great  odds  of  mee  who  gaine  do  wynn — 

If  such  gayne  be  not  losse — from  everie  synne.  20 

1  From  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.,  as  before.    Appeared 
originally  in  1635  edition  (pp.  208-9). 

VOL.  II.  H 


98  VERSE-LETTERS. 

The  standing  of  great  men's  lives  wold  afford 

A  pryttie  some,  if  God  wold  sell  His  word. 

He  cannot ;  they  can  theirs,  and  break  them  too. 

How  unlike  they  are  that  they  are  lik'ned  to ! 

Yet  I  conclude  they  are  amidst  my  evills;  25 

If  good,  like  gods, — the  naught  are  so  like  devills. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading  :  The  reference  to  great  men  wronging  him  is  re- 
peated in  lines  8  and  21-6,  and  the  date  was  just  at  the  time  Se- 
janus  had  "been  damned,  and  Jonson  brought  before  the  Coun- 
cil for  it,  and  accused  by  the  Earl  of  Northampton  of  popery  and 
treason  (see  more  in  next  poem's  Notes  and  Illustrations).  But 
there  is  no  certain  allusion  to  these  things,  and  the  references 
to  ill-got  pelf,  judges  and  juries,  and  breaches  of  word,  are  per- 
plexing. Misfortunes  seldom  come  single,  and  when  a  man  is 
in  disgrace,  most  people  turn  on  him.  This  Letter  therefore 
may  refer  to  some  contemporary  and  consequent  misfortune. 

Line  4.  The  succeeding  lines,  where  the  judge  only  is  al- 
luded to,  make  me  read  it  not  as  in  our  31s.,  'corrupt  a  judge 
and  jury,  and  make  me  afraid;'  but '  corrupt  a  judge,  and  make 
me  and  a  jury  afraid'  (and  therefore  give  an  adverse  verdict). 
I  punctuate  as  '35. 

Line  7,  *  though?  our  ms.  misplaces  it  before  ■  men.' 
,,     17, '  this :'  our  ms.  adds  '  mynd.'    Of  what  mind  ?    The 
printed  text  is  here  better=I  am  careless  of  this,  i.e.  of  the 
wrong  done  by  great  men  (1. 1),  or  of  what  is  probably  the  same, 
the  breach  of  word  (1.  10).     G. 


AMICISSIMO  ET  MEEITISSIMO  BE^sTJ.  JOXSOK 

IN  VOLPONEM.1 

Quod  arte  ansus  es  hie  tua,  Poeta, 
Si  auderent  hominum  Deique  juris 
1  From  1669  edition  (pp.  396-7),  with  misprints  corrected.  G. 


TO  BEX  JONSON.  00 

Consulti,  veteres  sequi  aemularierque, 

0  omnes  saperemus  ad  salutem  ! 

His  sed  sunt  veteres  araneosi ;  Hi  ?     5 

Tarn  nemo  veterum  est  sequutor,  ut  tu, 

Illos  qui  sequeris,  novator  audes. 

Fac  tamen  quod  agis,  tuique  prima 

Libri  canitie  induantur  liora: 

Nam  cliartis  pueritia  est  neganda ;  1  o 

Nascantuique  senes  oportet,  illi 

Libri,  queis  dare  vis  perennitatem. 

Priscis  ingenium  facit  laborque 

Te  parem  :  hos  superes,  ut  et  futuros 

Ex  nostra  vitiositate  sumas,  15 

Qua  priscos  superamus  et  futuros. 


Translation. 

TO  MY  MOST  FRIENDLY  AND  DESERVING 
BENJ.  JONSON. 

ON  HIS  '  VOLPONE,'  OR  THE  FOX. 

What  thou  hast  dared  with  thy  poetic  pen, 

If  ancient  teachers  of  the  laws  of  men 

And  God  had  dared  to  follow  out  like  thee, 

Wise  to  salvation  all  of  us  would  be. 

Those  ancients,  with  what  cobwebs  they  abound  ! 

Not  is  such  follower  of  those  ancients  found 

As  thou,  who,  following,  darest  break  new  ground. 


100  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Go  on  and  prosper,  then;  and  let  thy  hooks 

Put  on  from  their  first  moment  reverend  looks  : 

No  literary  effort  childhood  brooks. 

Old  at  their  very  birth  books  needs  must  be 

To  which  thou  givest  immortality. 

Genius  and  toil  thee  on  a  level  place 

With  ancients  :  them  excel,  that  the  new  race 

Eise  from  our  wickedness,  in  which,  alas, 

Both  past  and  future  ages  we  surpass. 


DE  LIBEO, 


CUM    MUTUARETUR    IMPRESSO,  DOMI  A   PUERIS    FRUSTATIM 
LACERATO,  ET  POST  REDDITO  MANUSCRIPTO. 

DOCTISSIMO  AMICISSIMOQUE  VIRO  D.D. 
ANDREWS.1 

Parturiunt  madid o  quae  nixu  prela  recepta, 

Sed  quae  scripta  manu  sunt,  veneranda  magis. 

Transiit  in  Sequanam  Moenus,  victoris  in  aedes, 

Et  Francofurtum,  te  revehente,  meat. 

Qui  liber  in  pluteos  blattis  cinerique  relictos,  5 

Si  modo  sit  preli  sanguine  tinctus,  abit ; 

Accedat  calamo  scrip tus,  reverenter  habetur, 

Involat  et  veterum  scrinia  summa  patrum. 

1  From  1635  ed.,  where  it  originally  appeared  (p.  278).  G. 


TO  DR.  ANDREWS.  1(>1 

Dicat  Apollo  modum,  pueros  infundere  libro 

Kempe  vetustatem  canitiemque  novo  :  10 

Nil  mirurn,  medico  pueros  de  semine  natos 

Haec  nova  fata  libro  posse  dedisse  novo. 

Si  veterem  faciunt  pueri,  qui  nuperus,  annon 

Ipse  pater  juvenem  me  dabit  arte  senem  I 

Hei  miseris  senibus  !  nos  vertit  dura  senectus  1 5 

Omnes  in  pueros,  neminem  at  in  juvenem : 

Hoc  tibi  servasti  praestandum,  Antique  Dierum, 

Quo  viso,  et  vivit  et  juvenescit  Adam. 

Interea  infirniae  fallamus  taedia  vitae 

Libris  et  coelorum  aemula  amicitia:  20 

Hos  inter,  qui  a  te  mihi  redditus  iste  libellus, 

]S"on  mihi  tarn  charus,  tarn  meus  ante  fuit. 


Translation. 

TO  MY  VERY  LEARNED  FRIEND  DR.  ANDREWS. 

CONCERNING  A  PRINTED  BOOK,  WHICH,  WHEN  IT  WAS  BOR- 
ROWED BY  HIM,  WAS  TORN  TO  PIECES  AT  HIS  HOUSE 
BY  THE  CHILDREN,  AND  AFTERWARDS  RETURNED  IN 
MANUSCRIPT.1 

Damp  from  the  press  is  born  the  current  book, 
But  manuscripts  wear  a  more  reverent  look. 

1  This  little  piece  sheds  a  welcome  ray  of  light  on  a  '  sweet 
singer,'  whose  verse  continues  almost  wholly  unknown  in  a  fa- 
mous folio  ms.  of  the  British  Museum,  wherein  he  occupies  with 
Donne,  Ben  Jonson,  and  others,  a  large  space  with  somewhat 


102  VERSE-LETTERS. 

To  the  Seine  Mcenus  passed,  to  Louis'  home, 

From  thence  to  Frankfort,  in  thy  hands  to  roam. 

The  book  which,  dyed  with  printers'  ink,  is  thrust 

On  shelves  abandoned  to  the  moths  and  dust, 

If  writ  with  pen  it  reach  us,  is  respected, 

And  straight  in  ancient  fathers'  chests  protected. 

Apollo  must  explain  how  boys  can  pour 

On  a  new  book  long  years  and  aspect  hoar. 

Iso  wonder  that  a  doctor's  sons  we  see 

Able  to  give  new  book  new  destiny. 

If  boys  make  old  the  recent,  their  sire's  art 

To  me  an  old  man  may  new  youth  impart. 

Ah,  poor  old  men  !  harsh  age  turns  us,  forsooth, 

To  second  childhood  all,  ne'er  one  to  youth. 

'Tis  Thy  prerogative,  Ancient  of  Days, 

With  life  and  youth  to  crown  who  on  Thee  gaze. 

The  weariness  of  this  frail  life  meanwhile 

With  books  and  love  heaven-during  we  beguile; 

Mid  which  that  little  book  thou  dost  restore 

.Ne'er  was  so  dear,  so  much  my  own,  before. 


notable  poems  (Harl.  4955).  The  name  '  Moenus'  (1.  3)  appears 
to  be  the  name  of,  or  to  indicate,  the  book  which  was  torn 
while  at  Dr.  Andrews'  house,  but  which  was  also  carried  with 
him  to  Paris  and  Frankfort  while  being  copied  in  ms.  No  doubt 
Louis  XIV.  is  the  conqueror  alluded  to.     G. 


SAPPHO  TO  PHIL^XIS.1 

Where  is  that  holy  fire  which  Yerse  is  saide 
To  have  ?  is  that  enchantinge  force  decay' d  1 
Verse,  that  drawes  Nature's  works  to  Nature's  lawe, 
Thee,  her  best  worke,  to  her  worke  cannott  drawe. 
Have  my  teares  quench'd  my  old  poetique  fire,  5 

Why  quench' d  they  not  as  well  that  of  desire  ] 
Thoughts,  my  mind's  creatures,  often  are  with  thee, 
But  I,  their  maker,  want  their  libertie  : 
Only  thine  image  in  my  hart  doth  sitt ; 
But  that  is  waxe,  and  fires  environ  it.  1  o 

My  fires  have  driven,  thine  have  drawen  it  hence, 
And  I  am  robb'd  of  picture,  hart,  and  sence. 
Dwells  with  me  still  mine  irksome  memory, 
Which  both  to  keepe  and  loose  greeves  equally. 
That  tells  mee  how  faire  thou  art;  thou  art  so  faire,     1 5 
As  gods — when  gods  to  thee  I  doe  compare — 
Are  grac'd  thereby  ;  and  to  make  blinde  men  see 
What  things  gods  are,  I  say  they  'are  like  to  thee. 
For  if  wee  justly  call  each  silly  man  1 9 

A  little  world,  what  shall  wee  call  thee  than  ?  then 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.    Appeared  originally  in 
1635  edition  (pp.  205-7).     G. 


104  VERSE-LETTERS. 

Thou  art  not  soft,  and  cleare,  and  straight,  and  faire, 

As  downe,  as  starrs,  caedars  and  lilies  are ; 

But  thy  right  hand,  and  cheeke,  and  eye  only 

Are  like  thy  other  hand,  and  cheeke,  and  eye. 

Such  was  my  Phao  'awhile,  but  shalbe  never  25 

As  thou  wast,  art,  and,  oh,  maist  thou  bee  ever  ! 

Heere  lovers  sweare,  in  their  idolatry, 

That  I  am  such ;  but  greeff  discollers  mee  : 

And  yet  I  greeve  the  less,  lest  greefe  remoove 

My  beauty,  and  make  mee  'unworthy  of  thy  love.      30 

Playes  some  soft  boy  with  thee  1  oh,  there  wants  yet 

A  mutuall  feelinge,  which  should  sweeten  it. 

His  chin  a  thorny  hairy  'unevennesse 

Doth  threaten,  and  some  dayly  change  possess. 

Thy  body  is  a  natural  paradise,  35 

In  whose  selfe,  unmanur'd,  all  pleasure  lies, 

Kor  needs  perfection ;  why  should'st  thou  than        then 

Admitt  the  tillage  of  a  harsh  rough  man  1 

Men  leave  behinde  them  that  which  their  sinn  shows, 

And  are  as  theeves  trac'd,  which  robb  when  it  snowes  \ 

But  of  our  dalliance  no  more  signes  there  are  41 

Than  fishes  leave  in  streames,  or  birds  in  ayre. 

And  betweene  us  all  sweetnes  maye  be  had, 

All,  all  that  ^Nature  yealds,  or  Art  can  add. 

My  two  lipps,  eyes,  thighes  differ  from  thy  two,        45 

But  so  as  thine  from  one  another  doe : 

And,  oh.  no  more ;  the  likeness  beinge  such, 

Why  should  they  not  alike  in  all  parts  touch  \ 


SAPPHO  TO  PHILiENIS.  105 

Hand  to  strange  hand,  lipp  to  lipp  none  denies ; 

Why  should  they  breast  to  breast  or  thighes  to  thighes  1 

Likenes  begetts  such  strange  selfe-flatterie,  5 1 

That  touching  my  selfe,  all  seemes  done  to  thee. 

My  selfe  I  'embrace,  and  mine  owne  hands  I  kisse, 

And  amorously  thank  my  selfe  for  this. 

Mee  in  my  glasse  I  call  thee  ;  but,  alasse,  5  5 

When  I  would  kisse,  teares  dim  mine  eyes  and  glasse. 

0,  cure  this  lovinge  madness,  and  restore 

Mee  to  mee,  thee  my  halfe,  my  all,  my  more. 

So  may  thy  cheekes'  red  outweare  scarlet  dye, 

And  their  white,  whiteness  of  the  Galaxy ;  60 

So  may  thy  mightie,  amazinge  beautie  move 

Envie  in  all  woemen,  and  in  all  men  love ; 

And  so  be  change  and  sicknes  farr  from  thee, 

As  thou  by  cominge  near  keep'st  them  from  mee. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  3,  *  to :'  printed  text  '  from  :'  either  gives  the  same 
sense = in  accordance  with. 

Line  37,  lNor  needs  perfection:'  expressing,  as  in  last  line  of 
each  stanza  of  the  Epithalamium  made  at  Lincoln's  Inne,  that 
each  sex  found  its  complement  in  its  union  with  the  other. 

Line  44.  Our  ms.  misinserts  '  all'  before  'Nature :'  for  'Na- 
ture' is  here  nature  as  existing  in  Sappho  and  Philaenis,  or 
rather  human  nature ;  whereas  '  all  Nature'  seems  ambiguously 
to  refer  to  the  whole  of  creation.     G. 


II. 


FUNERAL    ELEGIES. 


NOTE. 


As  distinguishing  them  from  the  Elegies  proper,  the  word 
1  Funeral'  has  been  chosen  to  designate  this  portion  of  the 
Poems,  all  more  or  less  directly  celebrating  the  dead.  Again 
in  relatiye  '  Notes  and  Illustrations'  biographical  details  &c. 
are  furnished.     G. 


AX  ELEGIE 


ON  THE  UNTIMELY  DEATH  OF  THE  INCOMPARABLE 
PRINCE  HENRY.1 

Look  to  me,  Faith,  and  look  to  my  Faith,  God ; 

For  both  my  centers  feel  this  period. 

Of  waight  one  center,  one  of  greatness  is  ; 

And  Eeason  is  that  center,  Faith  is  this; 

For  into  'our  Eeason  flow,  and  there  do  end  5 

All  that  this  natural  world  doth  comprehend ; 

Quotidian  things,  and  equidistant  hence, 

Shut  in,  for  man,  in  one  circumference ; 

But  for  th'  enormous  greatnesses,  which  are 

So  disproportioned  and  so  angulare,  ic 

As  is  God's  Essence,  place,  and  providence, 

Where,  how,  when,  what  souls  do,  departed  hence, 

These  things,  eccentrique  else,  on  Faith  do  strike  \ 

Yet  neither  all,  nor  upon  all,  alike. 

For  Eeason,  put  to  'her  best  extension,  15 

Almost  meets  Faith,  and  makes  both  centers  one ; 

And  nothing  ever  came  so  near  to  this 

As  contemplation  of  that  Prince  we  miss. 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  239-42).     Appeared  originally 
in  1635  edition  (pp.  251-4).     G. 

VOL.  II.  I 


110  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

For  all,  that  Faith  might  credit  mankind  could, 

Reason  still  seconded,  that  this  Prince  would.  2  o 

If  then  least  moving  of  the  center  make    , 

More  than  if  whole  hell  belch 'd,  the  world  to  shake, 

What  must  this  do,  centers  distracted  so, 

That  we  see  not  what  to  believe  or  know  ? 

Was  it  not  well  believ'd  till  now,  that  he,  25 

Whose  reputation  was  an  ecstasie 

On  neighbour  States,  which  knew  not  why  to  wake, 

Till  he  discover'd  what  ways  he  would  take ; 

For  whom,  what  princes  angled,  when  they  try'd, 

Met  a  torpedo  and  were  stupefi'd ;  30 

And  others'  studied  how  he  would  be  bent ; 

Was  his  great  father's  greatest  instrument, 

And  activ'st  spirit,  to  convey  and  ty 

This  soul  of  peace  to  Christianity, — 

Was  it  not  well  believ'd,  that  he  would  make  35 

This  general  peace  th'  eternal  overtake, 

And  that  his  times  might  have  stretcht  out  so  far, 

As  to  touch  those,  of  which  they  emblemes  are  ? 

For  to  confirm  this  just  belief,  that  now 

The  last  daies  came,  we  saw  heaven  did  allow  40 

That,  but  from  his  aspect  and  exercise, 

In  peaceful  times  rumours  of  warrs  should  rise. 

But  now  this  faith  is  heresie  :  we  must 

Still  stay,  and  vex  our  great  grandmother,  Dust. 

Oh,  is  God  prodigal  1  hath  He  spent  His  store  45 

Of  plagues  on  us ;  and  only  now,  when  more 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  PRINCE  HENRY.  Ill 

Would  ease  us  much,  doth  He  grudg  misery, 

And  will  not  let's  enjoy  our  curse,  to  dy? 

As  for  the  earth,  thrown  lowest  down  of  all, 

'Twere  an  ambition  to  desire  to  fall ;  50 

So  God,  in  our  desire  to  dy,  doth  know 

Our  plot  for  ease,  in  being  wretched  so ; 

Therefore  we  live,  though  such  a  life  we  have 

As  but  so  many  mandrakes  on  his  grave. 

What  had  his  growth  and  generation  done,  55 

When,  what  we  are,  his  putrefaction 

Sustains  in  us, — earth,  which  griefs  animate  1 

Nor  hath  our  world  now  other  soul  than  that. 

And  could  grief  get  so  high  as  heav'n,  that  quire, 

Forgetting  this  their  new  joy,  would  desire —  60 

With  grief  to  see  him — he  had  staid  below, 

To  rectifie  our  errours  they  foreknow. 

Is  th'  other  center,  Eeason,  faster,  then  ? 

"Where  should  we  look  for  that,  now  we  'are  not  men  ? 

For  if  our  Eeason  be  our  connexion  65 

Of  causes,  now  to  us  there  can  be  none. 

For,  as  if  all  the  substances  were  spent, 

'Twere  madness  to  inquire  of  accident, 

So  is  it  to  look  for  Reason,  he  being  gone, 

The  only  subject  Reason  wrought  upon.  70 

If  Fate  have  such  a  chain,  whose  divers  links 

Industrious  man  discerneth,  as  he  thinks, 

When  miracle  doth  come,  and  so  steal  in 

A  new  link,  man  knows  not  where  to  begin ; 


112  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

At  a  much  deader  fault  must  Eeason  be,  75 

Death  having  broke  off  such  a  link  as  he. 

But  now,  for  us  with  busy  proof  to  come. 

That  we  have  no  Reason,  would  prove  we  had  some ; 

So  would  just  lamentations  :  therefore  we 

May  safelier  say  that  we  are  dead,  than  he.  80 

So,  if  our  griefs  we  do  not  well  declare, 

"We  'have  double  excuse ;  he's  not  dead,  we  are. 

Yet  would  not  I  die  yet ;  for  though  I  be 

Too  narrow  to  think  him  as  he  is  he, — 

Our  soul's  best  baiting  and  mid-period  85 

In  her  long  journey  of  considering  God, — 

Yet.  no  dishonour,  I  can  reach  him  thus, 

As  he  embraced  the  fires  of  love,  with  us. 

Oh  may  I,  since  I  live,  but  see  or  hear 

That  she-intelligence  which  mov'd  this  sphear,  90 

I  pardon  Fate  my  life  ;  who  ere  thou  be, 

Which  hast  the  noble  conscience,  thou  art  she  : 

I  conjure  thee  by  all  the  charms  he  spoke, 

By  th'  oaths  which  only  you  two  never  broke, 

By  all  the  souls  ye  sigh'd,  that  if  you  see  95 

These  lines,  you  wish  I  knew  your  history  ; 

So  much,  as  you  two  mutual  heav'ns  were  here, 

I  were  an  angel,  singing  what  you  were. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  7. '  equidistant ;'  probably  those  not  qnotidian  but  most 
distant  around  the  circumference  of  the  sphere  of  this  natural 
world. 


OX  TIIE  DEATH  OF  PRINCE  HENRY.  113 

Line  19,  '  couhr=coiM  [do] . 
,,     26,  '  ecstasie'  =  whose  reputation  caused  a  rapt  fit  or 
rapture  in  those  who  considered  it. 

Line  29,  '  what'= whatsoever,  those  who. 
,,  31.  Lines  26-34,  all,  as  shown  by  the  repetition  of  the 
words  of  line  25  in  line  35,  are  parenthetically  descriptive,  and 
consist  of  at  least  three  main  clauses,  beginning  'Whose,'  line 
26,  '  For  whom,'  line  29,  and '  Was,'  elliptical  for  [Who]  was,  in 
line  32,  the  '  who'  requiring  to  be  taken  out  of  the  previous 
'whom.'  But  I  can  make  nothing  either  of  'others  studies' 
of  our  text  ('69)  or  the  modern  '  others'  studies  ;'  and  believing 
that  '  others'  is  a  miscomposing  caused  by  the  s  of  '  others 
studies'  for  '  studied' — some  princes  angled  for  him,  others  (= 
other  princes)  studied  how  he  would  be  bent,  i.  e.  what  his  na- 
tural bents  were,  that  they  might  learn  how  with  best  success 
to  manage  him — I  have  ventured  so  to  print,  in  spite  of  the 
early  editions. 

Line  41,  '  aspect  and  exercise  :'  alluding  to  his  martial  tend- 
encies, and  dexterity  in  and  liking  for  all  martial  exercises, 
which  in  truth  hardly  betokened  him  a  peaceful  follower  of  his 
peace-loving  father. 

Line  54,  '  mandrakes  .-'  see  note,  s.  v.  in  vol.  i. 
,,     68,  '  inquire  o/:'  not  in  sense  '  inquire  of  (off  or  from) 
God,'  but  inquire  concerning  or  regarding;  if  no  substantiae, 
there  could  be  no  '  accidentals.' 

Line  82,  '  we  are :'  our  text  ('69)  properly  removes  '  and'  of 
'35  before  '  we.' 

Line  92,  'conscience  :'=consciousness,  as  elsewhere  in  Donne 
and  contemporaries. 

Line  93,  '  charms  :'  a  prettily-chosen  word,  if  it  be  remem- 
bered that  '  charm'  was  used  then  (and  by  Milton)  for  the  car- 
men or  sweet  notes  of  singing-birds,  as  well  as  for  the  words  of 
Love's  incantations. 

Lines  97-8.  Let  it  be  your  wish,  says  Donne,  to  acquaint 
me  with  the  history  of  your  loves  ;  so  to  acquaint  me  that  I  may 
sing  them  also,  and  as  you  were  two  heavens  here,  so  sing 
them  as  would  an  angel.  The  lady  was  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Drury 
of  Donne's  '  Anatomie'  (vol.  i.). 

Note  in  regard  to  this  Elegy  the  statement  made  by  Ben 
Jonson  to  Drummond,  that  Donne  said  he  wrote  it  to  match 
Sir  Edward  Herbert  in  obscurity.  I  confess  I  find  nothing  un- 
usually obscure,  and  some  of  Donne's  other  poems  are  far  more 


114  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

difficult.  Prince  Henry's  premature  death  was  lamented  by  all 
the  foremost  poets  of  the  period:  Hazlitt  (Handbook,  s.n.)  re- 
cords the  Collections.  See  also  our  edition  of  the  Poems  of 
Christopher  Brooke  in  Miscellanies  of  the  Fuller  Worthies' 
Library  (vol.  iv.)  for  his  noticeable  Elegy.    He  died  1612.    G. 


OBSEQUIES 

OF  YE  LORD  HARRINGTON,  BROTHER  TO  YB  COUNTESS  OF 
BEDFORD.1 

Faire  sowle,  which  wast  not  onlie  as  all  sowles  bee, 

Then  when  thou  wast  infused,  harmonie, 

But  did'st  contynue  soe,  and  now  dost  beare 

A  part  in  God's  great  organ,  this  whole  sphaere  ; 

If  looking  up  to  God,  or  downe  to  us,  5 

Thou  fynd  that  any  waie  is  pervyous 

'Twixt  heaven  and  earth,  and  that  men's  actions  doe 

Come  to  your  knowledge  and  affections  too, 

See,  and  with  joye,  me  to  that  good  degree 

Of  goodnes  growne,  that  I  can  studie  thee,  10 

And  by  these  meditations  refynde 

Can  unapparrell  and  enlarge  my  mynd, 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before;  but  the  heading  as  in 
Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.,  as  before.  Appeared  originally 
in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  139-148),  where  it  is  blunderingly  headed 
'  Obsequies  to  the  Lord  Harrington's  Brother ;'  and  so  it  has 
gone  on.  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  for  a  little  Letter  sent 
to  the  Countess  of  Bedford,  on  her  brother's  death,  with  this 
poem.     G. 


OBSEQUIES  OF  THE  LORD  HARRINGTON.  115 

And  soe  can  make  by  this  soft  ecstasie 

This  place  a  mapp  of  heav'n,  myselfe  of  thee. 

Thou  seest  me  here  at  midnight ;  now  all  rest,  1 5 

Time's  dead  low-water ;  when  all  mynds  devest 

To-morrow's  busynes  ;  when  the  labourers  haue 

Such  rest  in  bed,  that  their  last  churchyard  graue, 

Subject  to  change,  will  scarse  be  'a  tipe  of  this. 

Xow  when  the  clyent,  whose  last  hearinge  is  20 

To-morrow,  sleeps ;  when  the  condemned  man — 

Who  when  he  opes  his  eyes  must  shut  them  than        then 

Again  by  death. — although  sad  watch  he  keepe, 

Doth  practize  dying  by  a  lyttle  sleepe ; 

Thou  at  this  mydnight  seest  me,  and  as  soone  25 

As  that  sun  ryses  to  mee,  mydnight's  noone ; 

All  the  world  growes  transparent,  and  I  see 

Through  all,  both  State  and  Church  in  seeing  thee ; 

And  I  discerne  by  favour  of  this  light 

My  selfe,  the  hardest  object  of  the  sight.  30 

God  is  the  glasse ;  as  thou,  when  thou  dost  see 

Him  who  sees  all,  seest  all  concerning  thee, 

Soe,  yet  unglorified,  I  comprehend 

All,  in  these  myrrors  of  thy  waies  and  end.  34 

Though  God  be  our  true  glasse,  through  which  we  see 

All,  since  the  beeinge  of  all  things  is  Hee, 

Yet  are  the  truncks,  which  do  to  us  deryve 

Things  in  proportyon  fitt  by  perspective, 

Deeds  of  good  men ;  for  by  their  being  heere, 

Virtues,  indeed  remote,  seem  to  be  neere.  40 


116  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

Eut  where  can  I  affirme  or  where  arrest 

My  thoughts  on  his  deeds  ?  which  shall  I  call  best  ? 

For  fluent  virtue  cannot  be  lookt  on, 

!N~or  can  indure  a  contemplacionn. 

As  bodies  chaunge,  and  as  I  do  not  weare  45 

Those  spirits,  humors,  blood,  I  did  last  yeare ; 

And  as,  if  on  a  streame  I  fix  myne  eye, 

That  dropp  which  I  lookt  on,  is  presently 

Pusht  with  more  waters  from  my  sight,  and  gone ; 

Soe  in  this  sea  of  virtues,  can  not  one  50 

Ee  'insysted  on ;  virtues,  as  rivers,  passe, 

Yet  still  remaynes  that  virtuous  man  there  was. 

And  as,  if  man  feed  on  man's  flesh,  and  soe 

Part  of  his  body  to  another  owe, 

Yet  at  the  last  two  perfect  bodyes  rise,  55 

Eecause  God  knowes  where  every  atome  lyes ; 

Soe,  if  one  knowledge  were  made  of  all  those, 

Who  knew  his  mynutes  well,  he  might  dispose 

His  virtues  into  names  and  rancks  ;  but  I 

Shold  iniure  Mature,  Virtue,  and  Destinie,  60 

Shold  I  devide  and  discontynue  soe 

Virtue,  which  did  in  one  intireness  growe. 

For  as  hee  that  shold  say,  spirits  are  framde 

Of  all  the  purest  parts  that  can  be  namde, 

Honors  not  spyrits  halfe  so  much  as  hee  65 

Who  says  they  haue  no  parts,  but  symple  bee, 

So  is  'it  of  virtue ;  for  a  poynt  and  one 

Are  much  intyrer  then  a  myllyon.  than 


OBSEQUIES  OF  THE  LORD  HARRINGTON.  117 

And  had  Fate  meant  to  'haue  had  his  virtues  told, 

It  would  have  let  him  live  to  have  been  old.  70 

Soe  then  that  virtue  in  season,  and  then  this 

We  might  haue  seen,  and  said  that  now  he  is 

Wyttie,  now  wise,  now  temperate,  now  just. 

In  good  short  lives,  virtues  are  faine  to  thrust, 

And — to  be  sure  betymes  to  get  a  place  75 

When  they  wold  exercise — lack  roome  and  space; 

Soe  was  it  in  this  person,  forcte  to  bee, 

For  lacke  of  tyme,  his  own  epitome, 

Soe  to  exhibitt  in  few  years  as  much 

As  all  the  long-breathd  Chroniclers  can  touch.  80 

As  when  an  angell  downe  from  heaven  doth  flye, 

Our  quick  thought  cannot  keepe  him  company ; 

Wee  cannot  think,  now  he  is  at  the  sunne, 

Xow  through  the  moone,  now  through  the  aire  doth  runn, 

Yet  when  hee's  come,  we  know  he  did  repaire  85 

To  all  'twixt  heav'ne  and  earth,  sunn,  moone,  and  aire ; 

And  as  this  angell  in  an  instant  knowes, 

And  yet  we  know  this  suddeine  knowledg  growes 

By  quick  amassing  several!  formes  of  things, 

Which  he  successively  to  order  bringes,  90 

When  they,  whose  slow-pacde  lame  thoughts  cannot  goe 

So  fast  as  hee,  think  that  he  doth  not  soe  : 

Just  as  a  perfect  reader  doth  not  dwell 

On  every  sillable,  nor  stay  to  spell, 

Yet  without  doubt  he  doth  distinctly  see  95 

And  lay  together  every  A  and  B, 


L 


118  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

So  'in  short-lyved  good  men  is  not  understood 

Each  seuerall  virtue,  but  the  compound  good ; 

For  they  all  Virtue's  paths  in  that  pace  tread, 

As  angels  goe  and  know,  and  as  men  read.  ioo 

Oh,  why  shold  then  these  men,  these  lumps  of  balme, 

Sent  hither  this  world's  tempest  to  becalme, 

Before  by  deeds  they  are  diffusde  and  spread, 

And  soe  make  us  alive,  themselues  be  dead  1 

0  sowle  !  0  circle  !  why  so  quickly  bee  105 

Thy  ends,  thy  byrth  and  death,  closde  up  in  thee? 

Since  one  foot  of  thy  compasse  still  was  placed 

In  heaven,  the  other  might  securely  'haue  paced 

In  the  most  large  extent,  through  every  path  109 

Which  the  whole  world,  or  man,  the  'abridgment,  hath. 

Thou  know'st  that  though  the  tropique  circles  haue, 

Yea  and  those  small  ones,  which  the  poles  engraue, 

All  the  same  rowndnes,  evennes,  and  all 

The  endlesness  of  the  'Equynoctiall ; 

Yet  when  we  come  to  measure  destences,  115 

How  heere,  how  there,  the  sunn  affected  is, 

When  he  doth  fayntly  work,  and  when  prevayle, 

Only  great  circles  then  can  bee  our  scale ; 

Soe,  though  thy  circle  to  thy  self  expresse 

All  tending  to  thy  endles  happynes,  12c 

And  we,  by  our  good  use  of  yt,  may  trye 

Both  how  to  live  well,  younge,  and  how  to  dye, 

Yet,  since  we  must  be  old,  and  age  endures 

His  torrid  zone  at  Court,  and  calentures 


OBSEQUIES  OF  THE  LORD  HARRINGTON.  119 

Of  hott  Ambytion,  Irreligion's  ice,  125 

Zeal's  agues,  and  hydroptique  avarice — 

Infirmyties  which  need  the  scale  of  Truth, 

As  well  as  lust  and  ignorance  of  yowth. 

Why  didst  not  thou  for  these  give  medicyne  too, 

And  by  thy  doinge  tell  us  what  to  doe?  130 

Though,  as  small  pocket-clocks,  whose  every  wheel 

Doth  each  mis-motion  and  distemper  feele, 

Whose  hands  gett  shaking  palsies,  and  whose  string, 

His  synewes  slackens,  and  whose  sowle,  the  spring, 

Expires  or  languishes,  whose  pulse,  the  flee,  135 

Either  beats  not  or  beats  unevenly, 

Whose  voyce,  the  bell,  doth  rattle  or  grow  dumbe 

Or  idle,  as  men  which  to  their  last  howres  come ; 

If  these  clocks  be  not  wound  or  be  wound  still, 

Or  be  not  set,  or  sett  at  every  will ;  140 

So  yowth  is  easiest  to  destructyon, 

If  then  we  follow  all,  or  follow  none. 

Yet  as  in  great  clocks,  which  in  steeples  chyme, 

Placed  to  informe  whole  towns  to  'imploy  their  time, 

An  error  doth  more  harme,  being  generall,  145 

When  small  clocks'  faults  only  'on  the  wearer  fall, 

So  worke  the  faults  of  age,  on  which  the  eye 

Of  children,  servants,  or  the  State  rely ; 

Why  wold'st  not  thou  then,  which  hadst  such  a  sowle, 

A  clocke  so  true  as  might  the  sun  controle,  150 

And  daylie  hadst  from  Him  who  gave  it  thee 

Instructyons,  such  as  it  cold  never  bee 


120  J  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

Disordered,  stay  here,  as  a  generall 

And  great  sunn-dyall,  to  haue  set  us  all  ? 

0  why  wouldst  thou  be  any  instrument  155 

To  this  unnaturall  course  ?  or  why  consent 

To  this,  not  myracle,  but  prodigie, 

That  when  the  ebbs  longer  then  Sowings  bee,  than 

Virtue,  whose  flood  did  with  thy  yowth  begin, 

Should  so  much  faster  ebb  out  then  flowe  in  ?  than  160 

Though  her  flood  were  blowne  in  by  thy  first  breath, 

All  is  at  once  suncke  in  the  whirlepoole,  death ; 

Which  word  I  wold  not  name,  bat  that  I  see 

Death,  els  a  desart,  grown  a  court  by  thee. 

!Now  I  am  sure  that  if  a  man  wold  haue  165 

Good  companie,  his  entrie  is  a  grave. 

Meethinks  all  cytties  now  but  ant-hills  bee, 

Where  when  the  severall  labourers  I  see 

For  chyldren,  howse,  provision,  takinge  paine, 

They  'are  all  but  ants  carying  eggs,  straw,  or  graine :   170 

And  churchyards  are  our  cytties,  unto  which 

The  most  repaire,  that  are  in  goodnes  rich  ; 

There  is  the  best  concourse  and  confluence, 

There  are  the  holy  suburbes,  and  from  thence 

Begins  God's  cytty,  Kew  Jerusalem,  175 

Which  doth  extend  her  utmost  gates  to  them : 

At  that  gate  then,  tryumphant  sowle,  dost  thou 

Begyn  thy  tryumph.     But  since  lawes  allow 

That  all  the  tryumph-day  the  people  may 

All  that  they  will,  'gainst  the  tryumpher  say,  180 


OBSEQUIES  OF  THE  LORD  HARRINGTON.  121 

Let  me  here  use  that  freedom,  and  expresse 

My  griefe,  though  not  to  make  thy  tryumphs  lesse. 

By  lawe  to  tryumph  none  admytted  bee 

Till  they,  as  magistrates,  get  victory ; 

Then  though  to  thy  force  all  yowth's  foes  did  yeild,  185 

Yefc  till  fitt  time  had  brought  thee  to  that  field, 

To  which  thy  rancke  in  this  State  destynde  thee, 

That  there  thy  counseles  might  get  victorie, 

And  soe  in  that  capacity  remove 

All  jealosies  'twixt  prince  and  subjects'  loue,  190 

Thou  cold'st  no  tytle  to  this  tryumph  haue, 

Thou  didst  intrude  on  death,  usurp  a  grave. 

Then,  though  victoryously,  thou  'hadst  fought  as  yet 

But  with  thine  owne  affectyons,  with  the  heate 

Of  yowth's  desires  and  colde  of  ignorance,  195 

But  till  thou  shouldst  successfully  advance 

Thine  armes  'gainst  foraigne  enemies,  which  are 

Both  envie  and  acclamacions  popular — 

For  both  these  engines  aequally  defeate, 

Though  by  a  dyvers  myne,  those  y*  are  great ;  200 

Till  then  thy  warr  was  but  a  civill  warr, 

For  which  to  tryumph  none  admytted  are ; 

Xo  more  are  they  who,  though  with  good  successe, 

In  a  defensive  warr  their  power  expresse. 

Before  men  tryumph,  the  dominyon  205 

Must  be  enlarged,  and  not  preserued  alone ; 

Why  should'st  thou  then,  whose  battels  were  to  wyn 

Thy  selfe  from  those  straights  Mature  put  thee  in, 


122  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

And  to  deliver  upp  to  God  that  state, 

Of  which  He  gave  thee  the  vicariate,  210 

Which  is  thy  sowle  and  body,  as  entyre 

As  he  who  takes  indentures,  doth  requyre, 

But  didst  not  stay,  to  'enlarge  His  kingdome  too, 

By  makinge  others,  what  thou  didst,  to  doe  ;  214 

Why  shold'st  thou  tryumph  now,  when  heav'n  no  more 

Hath  gott,  by  getting  thee,  then  'it  had  before  ?     than 

For  heav'n  and  thou,  even  when  thou  livedst  here, 

Of  one  another  in  possession  were. 

But  this  from  tryumph  most  disables  thee, 

That  that  place  which  is  conquered  must  be  220 

Left  safe  from  present  warr,  and  likely  doubt 

Of  imminent  commotions  to  breake  out ; 

And  hath  he  left  us  soe  i  or  can  it  bee 

His  teritorie  was  noe  more  but  hee  ? 

Kb,  we  were  all  his  charge;  the  dyocese  225 

Of  every  'exemplar  man,  the  whole  world  is ; 

And  he  was  joyned  in  commission 

With  tutular  angeles,  sent  to  every  one. 

But  though  this  freedom  to  upbraide  and  chyde 

Him  who  tryumph'd,  were  lawfull,  it  was  tyde       230 

With  this,  that  it  might  never  reflectyon  have 

Unto  the  senate  who  the  triumph  gave ; 

Men  might  at  Pompey  jest,  but  they  might  not 

At  that  authority  by  which  he  gott 

Leave  to  tryumph,  before  by  age  he  might ;  235 

So  though,  tryumphant  sowle,  I  dare  to  wright,      write 


OBSEQUIES  OF  THE  LORD  HARRINGTON.  123 

Mov'de  with  a  reverentiall  anger,  thus, 

That  thou  soe  early  would'st  abandon  us, 

Yet  am  I  farr  from  daring  to  dispute 

With  that  great  soveraignty,  whose  absolute  240 

Prerogative  hath  thus  dispenced  with  thee 

'Gainst  Nature's  lawes,  which  just  impugners  bee 

Of  early  tryumphs  :  and  I,  though  with  paine, 

Lessen  our  losse,  to  magnify  thy  gaine 

Of  tryumph,  when  I  say  it  was  more  fytt  245 

That  all  men  shold  lack  thee  than  thou  lacke  it, 

Though  then  in  our  tymes  be  not  suffered 

That  testymony  of  love  unto  the  dead, 

To  dye  with  them  and  in  their  graves  be  hydd, 

As  Saxon  wives  and  French  Soldarii  did ;  250 

And  though  in  noe  degree  I  can  expresse 

Griefe  in  great  Alexander's  great  excesse, 

Who  at  his  friend's  death  made  whole  townes  divest 

Theire  walls  and  bulwarks  that  became  them  best ; 

Doe  not,  fayre  soul,  this  sacrifize  refuse,  255 

That  in  thy  grave  I  doe  inter  my  ]\Iuse, 

Which  by  my  greife,  great  as  thy  worth,  being  cast 

Behyndhand,  yet  hath  spoke,  and  spoke  her  last. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  following  letter  is  prefixed  to  the  poem  in  4to  of  1633 
(p.  139): 

1  To  the  Countess  of  Bedford. 

'  Madam, — I  have  learnt  by  those  lawes  in  wch  I  am  little 
conversant,  that  he  which  bestowes  any  cost  vpon  the  dead, 


124  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

obliges  him  which  is  dead,  but  not  the  heir ;  I  doe  not  therefore 
send  this  paper  to  your  Ladyship,  that  you  should  thanke  me 
for  yt,  or  thinke  that  I  thanke  you  in  yt ;  your  favour  and  bene- 
fices to  mee  are  soe  much  aboue  my  merrits,  that  they  are  even 
above  my  gratitude,  if  that  were  to  bee  judged  by  words,  which 
must  expresse  yt.  But,  Madam,  since  your  noble  brother's  for- 
tune beinge  yours,  the  evydences  also  concerning  it  are  yours ; 
so  his  virtues  being  yours,  the  evidences  concerning  that,  be- 
long also  to  you,  of  which  by  your  acceptance  this  may  be  one 
peece ;  in  which  quality  I  humbly  present  yt,  and  as  a  testi- 
mony how  entirely  your  family  possesseth  your  Ladyship's  most 
humble  and  thankfull  servant,  J[ohn]  D[onne].' 

In  our  ms.  there  are  certain  lines  deleted  in  this  Letter, 
which  I  have  restored  from  1633.  The  copyist's  eye  had 
slipped  down  to  the  second  phrase,  '  the  evidences  concerning 
....  belong  to  you,'  and  so  omitted  from  the  first  '  also'  down 
to  '  yours' — a  portion  absolutely  necessary  to  the  sense.  Her 
brother's  fortune  came  to  her  by  law,  and  so  therefore  did  the 
documentary  evidence  of  right  of  possession.  Donne  could  not 
give  them  any  more  than  the  fortune,  but  he  says  —  in  like 
manner  as  his  virtues  are  yours,  so  the  evidences  should  be 
yours,  which  therefore  I  give  you.  The  words  '  little  convers- 
ant' in  the  commencement  remind  us  that  Donne  once  studied 
Law. 

See  former  note  on  Countess  of  Bedford  (pages  30-1). 

John  Lord  Harrington  of  Exton,  the  subject  of  these  '  Obse- 
quies,' was  eldest  son  of  Lord  and  Lady  Harrington,  to  whose 
care  and  tuition  King  James  committed  the  education  of  his 
daughter  Elizabeth,  afterwards  the  unfortunate  '  Queen  of  Bo- 
hemia.' The  young  Lord  Harrington  was  the  intimate  friend  of 
Henry  Prince  of  Wales ;  both  of  them  '  bright  examples,  in  the 
great  world,  of  early  piety,  useful  knowledge,  and  unaffected  man- 
ners.' Being  well  grounded  in  religion  and  learning  at  home, 
his  noble  father  sent  him  to  travel  abroad,  in  France  and  Italy, 
attended  by  his  tutor,  '  Master  Tovey,  a  grave  and  learned  re- 
ligious man,  formerly  head-master  of  the  Free  School  at  Coven- 
try.' But  '  how  dangerous  a  thing  it  is  for  religious  gentlemen 
to  travel  into  these  Popish  countries  may  appear  by  the  ex- 
ample of  this  nobleman  and  his  tutor,  whose  sound  religion  and 
heavenly  zeal  for  the  truth  being  taken  notice  of  by  the  Jesuits, 
they  took  an  opportunity  to  administer  a  slow-working  poison 


OBSEQUIES  OF  THE  LORD  HARRINGTON'.  125 

to  them,  that,  seeing  they  had  no  hopes  of  corrupting  their 
minds,  they  might  destroy  their  bodies,  and  bring  them  to  their 
graves.'  Of  this  poison,  Mr.  Tovey,  being  aged,  and  so  less 
able  to  encounter  with  the  strength  of  it,  died  presently  after 
his  return  into  England ;  but  the  Lord  Harrington,  being  of 
strong  and  able  body  and  in  the  prime  of  his  age,  bore  it  bet- 
ter, and  conflicted  with  it  longer ;  yet  the  violence  of  it  appeared 
in  his  face  presently  after  his  return.  He  died  at  Kew  in  1613. 
(Nuga  Antique,  vol.  ii.  p.  114.)  See  also  our  edition  of  Tor- 
shell,  in  Nichols'  Puritan  Commentaries,  for  notices  of  that 
famous  Divine's  funeral-sermon  on  Lord  Harrington. 

There  are  several  errors  in  our  ms.  :  1.  9,  '  see  and  with  joy' 
= joyfully  see,  is  miswritten  'wish  joy;'  so  1.  41,  '  affirm?'  for 
*  affirm,'  is  connected  with  '  deeds  ;'  so  1.  57,  '  ones'  for  '  one' — 
a  clear  case  of  error  from  the  belief  of  the  transcriber  that 
he  understood  the  sentence.  The  antecedent  to  '  who'  is  not 
■  one's,'  but  [he]  Who  might  dispose,  standing  for  [he]  who 
might  dispose  ;  so  1.  89,  '  amazing'  for  '  amassing,'  which  agrees 
with  the  context,  and  is  required  by  the  sense;  so  1.  99,  '  are' 
for '  all,'  and  1. 124,  '  This'  for  '  His,'  i.  e.  age's ;  and  1. 129,  '  flesh' 
— a  curious  error  for  '  these,'  since,  as  he  had  given  medicine  for 
flesh  in  youth,  the  use  of  the  word  here  is  less  than  meaning- 
less. So  too  1.  138,  'houre's'  for  'howres'  =  men  who  come  to 
their  last  hours,  and  1.  152,  *  yet'  for  '  it'  (yfc) ;  for  it  is  not  the 
instructions  that  might  not  be  disordered,  but  he  the  clock ; 
and  1.  158,  '  where'  for  '  when,'  i.  e.  when  in  nature  or  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  nature  ;  and  1.  243,  '  though  I'  for  '  I  though" 
— the  latter  required  by  sense  and  construction,  the  other  being 
an  accidental  transposition.  I  have  accepted  the  corrections  of 
the  ms.  from  the  early  printed  texts,  as  before. 

There  are  other  variations  (though  some  of  these  may  also 
be  errors)  which,  taken  together,  show  that  the  ms.  was  from  an 
earlier  copy :  e.g.  1.11,  'those'  ms., 'these'  '33,  the  nearer  pronoun 
being  the  stronger;  1.  34, '  waie'  ms.,  'waies'  '33,  where  the  plu- 
ral is  the  better;  1.  35,  'be  trulie  our  glass'  ms.,  '  be  our  true 
glass'  '33,  where  the  ms.  reading  is  prosaic  as  well  as  less  ex- 
pressive;  1.  43,  'fluent'  ms.,  'fluid'  '33,  here  'fluent'  is  per- 
haps ambiguous,  though  the  better  word — as  the  original  word 
often  is,  when  properly  understood — I  retain  it ;  1.  80,  '  Chroni- 
cles' ms.,  '  Chroniclers'  '33,  the  personal  form  agreeing  best 
with  'long-breath'd;'  1.  97,  '  goodness'  ms.,  'good  men'  '33, 
1  men'  is  more  distinct,  and  '  goodness'  does  not  fit  in  so  well 

VOL.  II.  K 


126  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

with  '  several  virtue'  and  '  compound  good ;'  1.  99,  the  whole  of 
the  previous  context  shows  that  'pace'  is  the  proper  word,  and 
I  can  hardly  believe  that '  way'  of  the  ms.  was  ever  the  Author's 
word,  but  rather  the  error  of  a  corrector,  who  took  '  pace'  for 
'  path;'  1.  116,  '  where'  ms.,  '  when'  '33  (bis),  where  'but'  re- 
peats the  previous  line,  '  When'  refers  to  the  seasons,  as  de- 
pendent on  the  '  here'  and  '  there'  of  the  sun's  position  ;  1.  130, 
'set'  ms.,  'tell'  '33,  the  simile  has  yet  to  come,  and  finishes 
with  the  same  word  '  set,'  1.  154,  'tell'  therefore  avoids  the  re- 
petition; 1.  133,  '  hand'  ms.,  'hands'  '33  ;  1.  168,  '  do  see'  ms., 
'  see'  '33,  '  do'  is  useless  to  sense,  and  though  with  it  the  line 
can  be  scanned,  it  is  injurious  to  the  rhythm ;  1.  172,  '  who' 
ms.,  'that'  '33,  'who'  is  here  ambiguous,  and  less  rhythmical; 
1.  183,  'triumph'  ms.,  'triumphs'  '33,  the  plural  agrees  better 
with  'they,'&c.  1.  173;  1.  194,  'thy  own'  ms.,  'thine  own' 
'33,  the  latter  the  more  euphonic  form ;  1.  196,  '  successively' 
ms.,  '  successfully'  '33,  not  the  advancing  one's  arms  against 
an  enemy,  but  the  successfully  doing  so,  was  necessary  ;  1.  220, 
'  must  be  free'  ms.,  '  must  be'  '33,  'free'  is  quite  unnecessary 
to  the  sense  as  expressed  in  next  line,  and  therefore  injurious, 
indeed  as  applied  to  a  conquered  and  not  a  freed  territory  it  is 
bad,  I  read  therefore  'conquered  .  .  .  be ;'  1.  229,  'thy'  ms., 
'  this'  '33,  Donne  has  just  been  addressing  the  dead  as  '  thou,' 
and  the  reader  has  never  been  addressed,  hence  '  this'  seems 
preferable.  So  in  several  lesser  variations,  as  1.  63,  '  should;' 
1.  129, '  didst ;'  and  'flee'  in  1.  135  is  a  better  spelling  than  '  fly,' 
the  rhyme  being  '  unevenly. '  I  have  given  these  details  (while 
correcting  by  the  printed  text),  as  a  proof  that  Donne  most 
carefully  and  minutely  worked  on  his  Verse.  Our  ms.  is  to  be 
specially  preferred  in  1.  155,  'any'  for  'can;'  and  '  cold'  for 
'  colds,'  1.  195. 

Line  2,  'harmony :'  cf.  Anatomie  of  the  World,  11.  311-12, 
and  note  on  it,  vol.  i.  p.  135. 

Line  12,  tunapparrelT= divest  it  of  body,  and  be  pure  as 
before  and  as  Adam  in  his  innocence. 

Line  15= the  deeds  of  good  men  are  the  trunks  and  tubes, 
&c.  .  .  .  perspective. 

Line  67,  ' point  and  one  :'  not  a  point+one,  but  a  point  as 
having  no  parts,  or  one  as  not  divisible  into  integers. 

Line  75= they  lack  time  and  space  to  be  sure  of  gaining  a 
space  for  exercise,  and  therefore  thrust  forward. 

Line  131,  '  mismotion.'    This  readiness  to  feel  '  mismotion' 


OBSEQUIES  OF  THE  LORD  HARRINGTON.  127 

will  in  part  explain  the  time  spent  by  fashionable  gallants 
in  comparing  watches  and  times.  *  Petruchio  :  How,  ne'er  a 
watch  ?  0,  monstrous  !  How  do  you  consume  3rour  hours 
Ne'er  a  watch  !  'Tis  the  greatest  solecism  in  society  that  e'er 
I  heard  of ;  ne'er  a  watch  !  .  .  .  .  You  have  not  a  gentleman 
that's  a  true  gentleman  without  one ;  'tis  the  main  appendix 
to  a  plush  lining;  besides,  it  helps  much  to  discourse;  for  while 
others  confer  notes  together,  we  confer  our  watches,  and  spend 
good  part  of  the  day  with  talking  of  it'  (Marmion's  Antiquary, 
act  i.  sc.  i.,  1G41). 

Line  135,  '•flee  .•'  the  '  fly'  as  now  known  is  that  winged  por- 
tion of  the  striking  apparatus  of  a  clock  which  regulates  the 
slowness  or  quickness  of  the  strokes.  In  a  non-striking  clock 
or  watch  there  is  no  '  fly.'  I  know  not  whether  the  '  balance,' 
which  may  in  some  sort  be  likened  to  a  '  fly-wheel,'  was  ever 
so  called,  but  it  is  not  known  by  that  name  in  the  present  day. 
1  Beats'  in  context  is  =  causes  the  hammer  to  beat. 

Lines  215-17,  '  heaven  :'  Donne's  friend  Walton  said  finely 
of  Dr.  Richard  Sibbes  in  like  manner : 

Of  this  blest  man  let  this  just  praise  be  eriven, 
Heaven  was  in  him  before  he  was  in  heaven. 

(Memoir  of  Sibbes,  in  our  edition  of  his  Works  (7  vols.  8vo), 
vol.  i.  p.  xx.). 

Line  223 :  another  of  those  changes,  for  a  time,  from  the 
second  to  the  third  person.  See  vol.i.,  and  our  Marvell,  vol.  i. 
on  Blake's  Victory. 

Lines  237-8,  '  thus  :'  placed  so  for  the  rhyme.  Donne  does 
not  write  thus,  viz.  that  thou  &c,  but  is  moved  with  rever- 
ential anger  that  thou  so  early  would  '  thus'  abandon  us.  In 
other  instances  and  for  the  same  reason  he  changes  the  usual 
position  of  '  so.' 

Line  250,  '  Saxon  wives  ....  Soldarii :'  the  former  a  com- 
monplace in  (mythical)  Saxon  history;  the  latter,  'Soldarii,' 
is  a  misspelling  for  l  soldurii.'  It  suggests  the  '  soldiers'  who 
took  the  solida  ta,  which  was  ■  stipendium  unius  solidi  quod  datur 
militi.'  See  Ducange  s.  v.,  who  gives  for  our  word  '  Soldurii;' 
but  the  proper  form  is  Siloduri  or  Siloduni,  as  is  plain  from 
Athenaeus  (Deip.  lib.  vi.  c.  54,  ed.  Schweigh.,  Argen.  1802,  torn, 
ii.  p.  455).     Cf.  also  Caesar,  B.  G.  iii.  22. 

Line  252,  'great  Alexander :'  viz.  on  Hephaestion's  death, 
Plutarch,  Alex.  c.  72 ;  JElian,  Var.  Hist.  1.  vii.  c.  8.     Old  North 


128  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

thus  quaintly  tells  of  the  '  great  excess  :'  '  Alexander  unwisely 
took  the  chaunce  of  his  [Hephaestion's]  death,  and  comanded 
all  the  heares  of  his  horse  and  mules  to  be  presently  shorn,  in 
token  of  mourning,  and  that  al  the  battlements  of  the  wals  of 
cities  should  also  be  overthrown,  and  hong  vp  pore  Glaucus 
his  Phisitian  vpon  a  crosse,  and  comanded  that  no  minstrel 
should  be  heard  play  of  any  kind  of  instrument  within  his 
campe.'  [Hephaestion  was  then  declared  by  the  Oracle  to  be 
a  demigod.]  '  In  the  end,  to  passe  over  his  mourning  and  so- 
row,  he  went  vnto  the  warres,  as  vnto  a  hunting  of  men,  and 
there  subdued  the  people  of  the  Cossasians,  whom  he  pluck'd 
vp  by  the  rootes,  and  slue  man,  woman,  and  childe.  And  this 
was  called  the  sacrifice  of  Hephaestion's  funeralls.' 


AN  ELEGIE  UPPON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE 
LADIE  MAECKHAM.1 

Man  is  the  world,  and  death  the  ocean 

To  which  God  gives  the  lower  parts  of  man. 

This  sea  environs  all,  and  though  as  yet 

God  hath  set  marks  and  bounds  'twixt  us  and  it, 

Yet  doth  it  roare  and  gnawe,  and  still  pretend,  5 

And  breaks  our  banks,  whenere  it  takes  a  freind  : 

Then  our  land-waters  (teares  of  passion)  vent ; 

Our  waters,  then  above  our  firmament — 

Teares,  which  our  soule  doth  for  her  sinn  lett  fall — 

Take  all  a  brackish  tast,  and  funerall ;  10 

And  eu'n  those  teares,  which  should  wash  sin,  are  sin. 

Wee,  after  God's  Noah,  drowne  our  world  againe. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  Appeared  originally 
in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  66-8).  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  on  Lady 
Markham.     G. 


UPPON  THE  DEATH  OF  THE  LADIE  MARCKIIAM.        129 

Nothinge  but  man,  of  all  envenom' d  things, 

Doth  work  uppon  it  selfe  with  inborne  stings. 

Teares  are  false  spectacles  ;  wee  cannot  see  1 5 

Through  passion's  mist,  what  wee  are,  or  what  shee. 

In  her  this  sea  of  death  hath  made  no  breach ; 

But  as  the  tide  doth  wash  the  slimie  beach, 

And  leaves  embroider'd  works  uppon  the  sand, 

80  is  her  flesh  refin'd  by  Death's  cold  hand.  20 

As  men  of  China,  'after  an  age's  staye, 

Do  take  up  porcelane,  where  they  buried  claye, 

So  at  this  grave,  her  limbeck  (which  refines 

The  diamonds,  rubies,  sapphiers,  pearles,  and  mines 

Of  which  this  flesh  was)  her  soule  shall  inspire  25 

Flesh  of  such  stuff,  as  God,  when  His  last  fire 

Annulls  this  world,  to  recompence  it,  shall 

Make  and  name  then  th'  elixar  of  this  all. 

They  saye  the  sea,  when  th'  earth  it  games,  looseth  too  ; 

If  carnall  Death,  the  yonger  brother,  doe  30 

Usurpe  the  body,  'our  soule,  which  subject  is 

To  th'  elder  Death  by  sinn,  is  freed  by  this  ; 

They  perish  both,  when  they  attempt  the  iust  ; 

For  graves  our  trophees  are,  and  both  Deaths'  dust. 

Soe  unobnoxious  now,  shee  'hath  buried  both  ;  35 

For  none  to  death  sinnes,  which  to  sin  is  loath, 

Nor  doe  they  die,  which  are  not  loth  to  dye ; 

So  she  hath  this  and  that  virginitie. 

Grace  was  in  her  extreamely  diligent, 

That  kept  her  from  sin,  yet  made  her  repent.  40 


130  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

Of  what  small  spotts  pure  white  complains  !  Alasse, 

How  little  poyson  cracks  a  cristall  glasse ! 

She  sinn'd  but  iust  enough  to  let  us  see 

That  God's  word  must  be  true — all  sinners  be. 

So  much  did  zeale  her  conscience  rarefie,  45 

That  extreame  truth  lack'd  little  of  a  lie, 

flaking  omissions  acts,  layinge  the  tutch 

Of  sinn  on  things,  that  sometyme  may  be  such. 

As  Moses'  cherubins,  whose  natures  doe 

Surpasse  all  speede,  by  him  are  winged  too,  50 

So  would  her  soule,  already  'in  heaven,  seeme  then 

To  clyme  by  teares,  the  common  staires  of  men. 

How  fitt  she  was  for  God,  I  am  content 

To  speake,  that  Death  his  vayn  haste  maye  repent  : 

How  fit  for  us,  how  even  and  how  sweete,  55 

How  good  in  all  her  titles,  and  how  meete 

To  have  reform' d  this  forward  heresy 

That  woemen  can  noe  parts  of  freindship  bee ; 

How  morall,  how  divine,  shall  not  be  tould, 

Lest  they  that  heare  her  vertues  thinke  her  olde  ;     60 

And  lest  wee  take  Deathe's  part,  and  make  him  gladd 

Of  such  a  prey,  and  to  his  triumphs  add. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  line  22  our  ms.  has  '  purslane'  (which  is  the  name  of  a 
garden  plant),  but  probably  a  mere  misspelling  for  '  porcelaine,' 
or  '  porc'lane;'  in  1.  29  our  ms.  inserts  '  th'  earth  it,'  making  an 
Alexandrine,  and  so  showing  probably  an  earlier  copy.  So 
does  '  breaks'  in  1.  42  for  '  cracks,'  which  runs  better  with  '  cry- 
stal.'    Again,  in  1.  36,  the  singular  of  '33  after  '  none'  is  more 


OX  M1STRISS  BOULSTRED.  131 

correct ;  and  '  natures,'  1.  49,  expresses  each  one's  individual 
nature  better  than  the  singular.  Hence  too  the  printed  text 
variations  in  11.  5,  6,  and  12  may  be  considered  the  later  though 
the  less  rhythmical,  but  '  God's  Noah'  (1.  12}  is  quaint  and 
Donne-like.     In  '69  11.  5-6  read 

Yet  doth  it  roar,  and  gnaw,  and  still  pretend 
To  break  our  bank,  &c. 

and  1.  12  'We,  after  God,  need  drown  our  world  again.'  Our 
ms.,  1.  28,  gives  the  true  word  *  then'  for  the  erroneous  'them' 
of  the  printed  texts. 

Line  5,  'pretend'  =  stretch  forward,  as  elsewhere  in  Donne 
and  contemporaries. 

Line  14,  '  inborn  stings  ;'  Donne  is  probably  correct,  but  he 
forgot  the  story  that  a  scorpion  environed  with  lire  stings  itself 
to  death. 

Line  22,  ' porcelaine  .•'  see  note  in  our  Makvell,  s.  v. 
,,     23,  '  limbeck:'  see  former  note  in  vol.  i.  s.  v. 
,,     34,  '  both  Deaths'  dust'  =  the  dust  of  both  deaths. 
,,     38=the  virginity  of  the  flesh  and  the  virginity  of  those 
uncontaminated  by  sin. 

On  Lady  Markham  I  avail  myself  of  Dyce's  note  in  his 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  (vol.  i.  pp.  xxx.-i.),  as  follows :  '  She 
was  Bridget,  daughter  of  Sir  James  Harington,  Bart,  (a  younger 
brother  of  John  Lord  Harington,  father  of  Lucy  Countess  of 
Bedford) ;  and  she  was  the  wife  of  Sir  Anthony  Markham, 
Knight,  of  Sedgebrook,  in  Nottinghamshire. '  She  died  4th  May 
1609.  Francis  Beaumont  celebrated  her  in  an  Elegy  (Works, 
vol.  xi.  503).     See  Dyce's  farther  notes,  i.  pp.  xxx.-i.     G. 


ELEGY  OX  MISTEISS  BOULSTBED.1 

Death,  "be  not  proud  ;  thy  hand  gave  not  this  blow, 
Sin  was  her  captive,  whence  thy  power  doth  flow ; 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  258-9).  Appeared  originally  in 
1635  edition  (pp.  27.1-73).  See  our  Essay  for  critical  remarks 
on  this  group  of  Poems.    G. 


132  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

The  executioner  of  wrath  thou  art, 

But  to  destroy  the  just  is  not  thy  part. 

Thy  comming,  terrour,  anguish,  grief  denounces  ;         5 

Her  happy  state,  courage,  ease,  joy  pronounces. 

From  out  the  crystal  palace  of  her  brest 

The  clearer  soul  was  call'd  to  endless  rest — 

Not  by  the  thundering  voice  wherewith  God  threats, 

But  as  with  crowned  saints  in  heaven  He  treats —     1  o 

And,  waited  on  by  angels,  home  was  brought, 

To  joy  that — it  through  many  dangers  sought — 

The  key  of  mercy  gently  did  unlock 

The  doors  'twixt  heaven  and  it,  when  life  did  knock. 

Xor  boast,  the  fairest  frame  was  made  thy  prey,   1 5 
Because  to  mortal  eyes  it  did  decay ; 
A  better  witness  than  thou  art  assures 
That,  though  dissolv'd,  it  yet  a  space  endures ; 
Xo  dram  thereof  shall  want  or  loss  sustain, 
When  her  best  soul  inhabits  it  again.  20 

Go,  then,  to  people  curst  before  they  were, 
Their  souls  in  triumph  to  thy  conquest  bear. 
Glory  not  thou  thy  self  in  these  hot  tears, 
Which  our  face,  not  for  her,  but  our  harm  wears : 
The  mourning  livery  given  by  Grace,  not  thee,  25 

Which  wills  our  souls  in  these  streams  washt  should  be; 
And  on  our  hearts,  her  memorie's  best  tomb, 
In  this  her  epitaph  doth  write  thy  doom. 
Blind  were  those  eyes  saw  not  how  bright  did  shine 
Through  fleshe's  misty  vail  those  beams  divine;         30 


ON  MISTRISS  BOULSTRED.  133 

Deaf  were  the  eares  not  charm'd  with  that  sweet  sound 
Which  did  i'  the  spirit's  instructed  voice  abound ; 
Of  flint  the  conscience,  did  not  yeeld  and  melt 
At  what  in  her  last  act  it  saw  and  felt.  34 

Weep  not,  nor  grudg  then,  to  have  lost  her  sight, 
Taught  thus,  our  after-staye's  but  a  short  night : 
But  by  all  souls,  not  by  corruption  choaked, 
Let  in  high-raised  notes  that  power  be  'invoked ; 
Calm  the  rough  seas  by  which  she  sails  to  rest, 
From  sorrows  here  to  a  'kingdom  ever  blest.  40 

And  teach  this  hymn  of  her  with  joy,  and  sing, 
The  grave  no  conquest  gets,  Death  hath  no  sting. 

NOTE. 

Line  12,  '  sought.''  Many  instances  are  to  be  found  in  onr 
old  writers  where  some  form  of  the  substantive  verb  has  to  be 
supplied  to  the  participle  in  -ed.  Here  '  sought'  requires  '  be- 
ing.'    G. 


ELEGIE  ON  MISTRESS  BOULSTRED.1 

Death,  I  recant,  and  say,  Unsaid  by  mee 

Whate're  hath  slipt,  that  might  dyminish  thee  : 

Spirituall  treason,  atheisme  'tis  to  say, 

That  any  can  thy  summons  disobay. 

Th'  earth's  face  is  bat  thy  table  ;  there  are  sett  5 

Plants,  cattell,  men,  dishes  for  Death  to  eate. 

1  From  the  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     Appeared  originally 
in  the  4to  of  1633  (pp.  69-71).     G. 


134  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

Ill  a  rude  hunger  now  lie  nrillyons  drawes 

Into  his  blowdy,  'or  plaguy,  'or  starv'd  jawes  : 

Now  he  will  seeme  to  spare,  and  doth  more  wast 

Eating  the  best  first,  well  preserv'd  to  last :  10 

Xow  wantonly  he  spoiles,  and  eats  us  not, 

But  breaks  off  freinds,  and  lets  us  peecemeale  rott. 

Nor  will  the  earth  serue  him ;  he  sinks  the  Deepe, 

"Where  harmles  fish  monastique  sylence  keepe; 

Who,  were  Death  dead,  by  roes  of  living  sand  15 

Might  spunge  that  element,  and  make  it  land. 

He  rownds  the  aire,  and  breaks  the  hymnick  notes 

In  birds',  Heav'n's  quiristers,  organick  throats  ; 

Which,  if  they  did  not  dye,  might  seeme  to  bee 

A  tenth  ranck  in  the  heavenly  hierarchic  20 

0  strong  and  long-liv'd  Death,  how  cani'st  thou  in  ? 

And  how  without  creation  didst  begin  ? 

Thou  hast,  and  shall  see  dead,  before  thou  dy'st, 

All  the  fowr  Monarchies  and  Antechrist. 

How  could  I  think  thee  nothing,  that  see  now  25 

In  all  this  all,  nothing  els  is  but  thou  ] 

Our  byrthes  and  lives,  virtues  and  vices,  bee 

Wastefull  consumptions  and  degrees  of  thee. 

For  we  to  live,  our  bellowes  weare,  and  breath; 

JS"or  are  we  mortall,  dyinge,  dead,  but  death.  30 

And  though  thou  beest,  0  mighty  bird  of  pray, 

So  much  reclaym'd  by  God,  that  thou  must  lay 

All  that  thou  ldl'st  at  His  feete,  yet  doth  Hee 

Reserve  but  few,  and  leaves  the  most  for  thee. 


ON  MISTRISS  BOULSTRED.  135 

And  of  those  few,  now  thou  hast  overthrowne  35 

One,  whom  thy  blow  makes  not  ours,  nor  thine 

owne ; 
She  was  more  storyes  high :  hopeles  to  come 
To  her  sowle,  thou  'hast  ofered  at  her  lower  room. 
Her  sowle  and  body  was  a  kinge  and  court ; 
But  thou  hast  both  of  captaine  mist  and  fort.  40 

As  houses  fall  not  though  the  kings  remove, 
Bodyes  of  saints  rest  for  their  sowles  above. 
Death  getts  'twixt  sowles  and  bodyes  such  a  place 
As  synn  insinuats  'twixt  just  men  and  grace ; 
Both  work  a  separatyon,  no  dyvorce :  45 

Her  sowle  is  gone  to  usher  up  her  corse, 
Which  shalbe  'almost  another  sowle,  for  there 
Bodies  are  purer  then  best  soules  are  here.  than 

Because  in  her  her  virtues  did  out  goe  49 

Her  yeares,  wold'st  thou,  0  emulous  Death,  do  soe, 
And  kyll  her  yonge  to  thy  losse  ]  must  the  cost 
Of  bewty  'and  wytt,  apt  to  do  harme,  be  lost  ] 
What  though  thou  fownd'st  her  proofe  'gainst  sins  of 

youth? 
Oh,  euerie  age  a  diuers  sin  pursu'th. 
Thou  shold'st  haue  stay'd,  and  taken  better  hold ;      5  5 
Shortly,  ambytious,  covitous,  when  old, 
She  might  haue  prov'd  ;  and  such  devotion 
Might  once  have  strai'd  to  superstition. 
If  all  her  virtues  must  haue  growne,  yet  might 
Abundant  virtue  have  bred  a  proud  delight.  60 


136  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

Had  she  persever'd  iust,  there  wold  haue  been 

Some  that  wold  synn,  misthinking  she  did  synn; 

Such  as  wold  call  her  friendship  love,  and  faine 

To  socyablenes  a  name  prophane ; 

Or  synn  by  temp  tinge  ;  or,  not  daring  that,  65 

By  wishinge,  thoughe  they  neuer  told  her  what. 

Thus  might'st  thou  'haue  slaine  more  sowles,  hadst  thou 

not  crost 
Thyself,  and,  to  tryumph,  thine  army  lost. 
Yet,  though  theise  wais  be  lost,  thou  hast  left  one, 
Which  is,  immoderate  greife  that  she  is  gone.  70 

But  we  may  'scape  that  synn,  yet  weep  as  much ; 
Our  tears  are  dewe,  because  we  are  not  such.  due 

Som  tears  that  knott  of  freinds  her  death  must  cost, 
Because  the  chaine  is  broke,  though  no  linke  lost. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Some  errors  occur  in  our  MS.  '  Poison,'  1.  3,  for  '  treason,' 
the  latter  being  required  by  the  whole  context  down  to  '  dis- 
obey.' '  Monarchies'  too,  not  ■  monarks,'  1.  24,  and  '  els  is,'  not 
1  els,'  are  required  by  sense  and  metre.  So,  in  1.  32,  *  maist'  is 
a  bad  miswriting  for  '  must.'  Other  variations  seem  earlier 
readings  or  errors.  Line  5, '  and  the  meat'  is  inferior  to  '  there 
are  sett'  on  account  of  '  dishes  ;'  1.  13,  Death  does  not  '  suck' 
the  deep,  and  the  phrase  rather  interferes  with  the  result  if 
Death  were  not — i.e.  that  the  sea  would  be  sucked  up  in  living 
sand;  but  as  he  lets  us  '  piecemeal  rot'  on  land,  so  he  makes 
the  sea  a  sink,  or  pollutes  it  with  rotting  bodies  of  fish,  where- 
as &c.  So  too  in  1.  25,  'could'  is  better  than  '  can,'  and  'O' 
than  '  a ;'  and  1.  58,  '  on'st'  is  in  no  way  required  instead  of 
1  once.'  Again,  in  1.  68,  '  thy'  is  not  so  good  as  '  thine'  before 
1  army.'     All  corrected  accordingly  by  '33,  &c. 

Line  1,  '  unsai(Vz=  unsaid  is.     See  note  on  1.  10  of  previous 


i 


UPON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  BOLSTRED.       137 

Elegy.  The  reference  is  to  xvii.  of  the  Holy  Sonnets,  which 
commences  'Death,  be  not  proud,'  as  does  the  Elegy  before  the 
present  one. 

Line  13,  '  sm/cs'= makes  a  sink  of. 
,,     14,  '  silence.'     Nearly  all  fish  are  mute,  but  there  is 
strong,  and  it  may  be  said  sufficient,  evidence  that  some  few 
are  not. 

Line  16,  *  spunge^  Blunge  up  or  soak  up:  an  uncommon 
use. 

Line  20,  'tenth  rank.1   See  note,  vol.  i.  and  herein,  s.v.   G. 


UPO^  YE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  BOLSTRED.* 

Language,  thou  art  too  narrow  arid  too  weake 
To  ease  us  now  \  great  sorrowes  cannot  speak  \ 
If  we  co'ld  sigh  out  accents,  and  weep  words, 
Greife  wears  and  lessens,  that  tears  breath  affords; 
Sadd  hearts,  the  less  they  seeme,  the  more  they  are — 
So  guiltiest  men  stand  mutest  at  the  bare ;         bar       5 
Not  that  they  know  not,  feel  not  their  estate, 
But  extreame  sense  hath  made  them  desperate ; 
Sorrow,  to  whom  we  owe  all  that  wee  bee, 
Tyrant  in  th'  fifth  and  greatest  monarchy,  10 

Was't  that  she  did  possess  all  harts  before, 
Thou  hast  kil'd  her  to  make  thine  emprie  more  ? 
Knew'st  thou  some  would,  that  knew  her  not,  lament, 
As  in  a  deluge  perish  th'  innocent  1 

1  From  the  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Appeared  in  4to  of 
1633,  where  it  is  headed  simply  '  Elegie'  (pp.  296-8),  and  in 
1635  edition  (pp.  87-9)  '  Death.'     G. 


138  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

Was't  not  enough,  to  have  that  pallace  won,  15 

But  thou  must  raze  it  too,  that  was  undone  ? 

Hadst  thou  stai'd  there,  and  lookt  out  at  her  eyes, 

All  had  adorde  thee,  that  now  from  thee  flyes; 

For  they  lett  out  more  light  then  they  tooke  in,        than 

They  told  not  when,  but  did  the  day  beginn;  20 

She  was  too  sappherine  and  cleere  for  thee ; 

Claie,  flint,  and  jett  now  thy  fytt  dwellings  bee  : 

Alas,  she  was  too  pure,  but  not  too  weake; 

"Who ere  saw  cristall  ordynance  but  wold  break? 

And  if  we  be  thy  conquest,  by  her  fall  25 

Th'  hast  lost  thy  end,  for  in  her  we  perish  all : 

Or  if  we  live,  we  live  but  to  rebell, 

That  know  her  better  now,  who  knew  her  well. 

If  we  should  vapour  out,  and  pyne  and  dye ; 

Since  she  first  went,  that  were  not  misery:  30 

She  chaungd  our  world  with  hers  :  now  she  is  gone, 

Mirth  and  prosperity  is  oppressyon  : 

For  of  all  morall  virtues  she  was  all 

That  Ethiques  speake  of  virtues  cardynall. 

Her  sowle  was  paradize  ;  the  Cherubine  35 

Sett  to  keepe  it  was  Grace,  that  kept  out  synn : 

She  had  no  more  than  lett  in  death,  for  wee 

All  reape  consumption  from  one  fruitfuil  tree  : 

God  tooke  her  hence,  lest  some  of  us  should  loue 

Her — like  that  plant — Hym  and  His  laws  aboue  :     40 

And  when  we  tears,  the  mercy  shed  in  this, 

To  raise  our  mynds  to  heav'n,  where  now  she  is : 


UPON  THE  DEATH  OF  MRS.  BOLSTRED.        130 

Who  if  her  virtues  wo'ld  have  let  her  stay, 

We  'had  hadd  a  saint,  have  now  a  holyday. 

Her  hart  was  that  strange  bush,  where  sacred  fyre,    45 

Religion,  did  not  consume,  but  'inspire 

Such  pyetie,  so  chast  use  of  God's  day, 

That  what  we  turne  to  feasts,  she  turn'd  to  pray, 

And  did  prefigure  here  in  devout  tast 

The  rest  of  her  high  saboth  that  shall  last.  50 

Angells  did  hand  her  up,  who  next  God  dwell, 

For  she  was  of  that  order  whence  most  fell ; 

Her  bodie's  left  with  us,  lest  some  had  said, 

She  co'ld  not  dy,  vnles  they  saw  her  dead ; 

For  from  lesse  virtue  and  less  beautyousnes  55 

The  Gentiles  fram'd  them  gods  and  goddesses; 

The  ravaynous  earth,  that  now  woos  her  to  bee 

Earth  too,  wilbe  a  Lemnia  ;  and  the  tree, 

That  wraps  that  christall  in  a  woden  tombe, 

Shall  take  vp  spruse,  filled  with  dyamond:  60 

And  we  her  sad-glad  freinds  all  beare  a  part 

Of  greife,  for  all  wo'ld  break  a  stoique's  hart. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  following  variations  in  our  ms.  seem  errors:  'dwelling,' 
1.  22,  for  '  dwellings,'  seeing  the  things  mentioned  are  different 
materials  not  found  together,  or  making  anyone  whole  ;  'poore' 
for  'pure,'  1.  23;  1.  31,  'is  she'  for  'she  is;'  and  1.  58,  'Lemina' 
for  '  Lemnia.'  Moreover,  that  '33  &c.  were  from  a  later  revised 
copy  is  shown  by  the  improvements  in  11.  40-1,  compared  with 

our  MS. :  And  when  we  see  His  mercy  shown  in  this, 

'Twill  raise,  &c. 


140  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

and  by  1.  45,  where  our  MS.  has  ■  crest'  for  '  bush.'  This  ori- 
ginally referred  to  the  brightness  or  glory  of  Moses'  face  when 
he  came  down  from  Sinai,  and  as  thus  a  'heart'  was  made  into 
a  '  crest,'  the  latter  was  changed  to  the  [burning]  bush.  Then 
there  are  after-touches  which  changed  '  nor'  of  ms.  into  ■  not' 
(1.  7);  '  for  in  her  perish  all'  to  '  in  her  we  perish  all'  (1.  26),  cf. 
context ;  '  that,'  1.  28,  into  *  who;'  'or'  to  '  and,'  1.  29,  because 
they  are  coincident  acts  of  soul  (life)  and  body ;  and  in  especial 
the  'framed  their'  to  '  framed  them'  (1.  56),  and  '  glad-sad'  to 
'  sad-glad'  (1.  61).  At  first  sight  the  '  each'  of  ms.  (1.  61)  seems 
preferable  to  'all,'  but  this  tends  to  make  the  'all'  of  next  line 
=  'all  framed,'  while  with  'all'  the  intended  sense  is  quite 
clear,  and  a  stress  laid  on  the  universal  sympathy  felt  not  by 
each  singly,  but  by  each  and  all  in  common.  Corrections  made 
accordingly  by  '33,  &c. 

Lanes  2-3.  For  construction,  see  note  on  Elegy  xviii.  1.  66, 
vol.  i.  p.  222. 

Line  18,  'flies  ;'  sing,  after  that.  See  relative  note  in  our 
Southwell. 

Line  44.  The  construction  and  position  of  the  clauses  of 
these  two  lines  would  require  to  insert  a  second  'who'  at '  "who] 
have  now;'  but  Donne  and  others  rather  affected  the  mental 
supplying  of  such  iterations. 

Line  52.  The  three  Angelic  Hierarchies  (Epiphania,  Epi- 
phonomia,  and  Ephionia,  as  some  called  them)  were  each  sub- 
divided into  three,  as  enumerated  in  note  in  vol.  i.  s.v.  But 
sometimes  a  Hierarchy,  and  sometimes  its  subdivisions,  were 
called  '  orders.'  The  '  angels  who  next  God  dwell'  were  there- 
fore the  Seraphim,  or  more  probably  the  Seraphim,  Cherubim, 
and  Thrones.  Lucifer  was  held  to  have  been  higher  than  any 
of  those  hierarchies,  and  had  his  station  next  the  Deity,  while 
those  whom  he  excited  to  rebel  were  taken  out  of  all  the  or- 
ders. Hence  in  Hell,  under  Lucifer,  were  nine  orders  of  devils 
supposed,  though  I  cannot  quite  follow  this  in  the  descriptions, 
to  be  the  converse  in  function  of  their  former  brethren.  For 
as  those  disobedient 

"Were  not  of  all  the  Hierarchies  extruded, 
so  they 

—  though  the  benefit  of  Grace  they  leese, 
Yet  still  that  naturall  pow'r  and  force  retaine 
At  first  bequeath' d  them  :  being  reduc'd  againe 
To  Order,  and  their  Offices  still  keepe, 
As  once  in  Heav'n,  so  in  th'  infemall  Deepe. 


EPITAPH.  141 

Heywood's  Hierar.  of  the  Blessed  Angels,  p.  411,  1.  7;  and 
see  p.  436  for  their  powers  and  princes.  Of  the  refinement, 
which,  as  here  in  Donne,  takes  ■  the  most'  of  the  disobedient  to 
be  of  one  of  the  higher  orders,  I  know  nothing. 

Line  58,  'Lemma:1  Terra  Lemnia,  a  red  earth  from  Lem- 
nos,  supposed  to  be  an  antidote  to  poison,  and  useful  in  pesti- 
lential fevers,  dysenteries,  ordinary  and  putrefying  sores,  and 
bites  of  mad  dogs.  Here  the  reference  is  to  its  power  of  drying 
and  stopping  putrefaction.     G. 


EPITAPH.1 

Madame, 

That  I  might  make  your  cabinett  my  Tombe, 

And  for  my  fame,  which  I  love  next  my  soule, 
Next  to  my  sovle  provide  the  happyest  roome, 
Admitt  to  that  place  thys  last  funerall  scroule. 
Others  by  wills  give  legacyes  ;  but  I,  5 

Dying,  of  you  doe  beg  a  legacye. 

OMNIBUS. 

My  fortune  and  my  choyce  this  custome  breake, 
When  wee  are  speechlesse  growne  to  make  stones  speake  : 
Though  noe  stone  tell  thee  what  I  was,  yett  thou 
In  my  Grave's  inside  see,  what  thou  art  nowe  :  i  o 

Yet  thou  'art  not  yett  soe  good  \  till  Death  vs  lay 
To  ripe  and  mellowe  here,  wee  are  stubborne  clay. 

1  From  Harleian  ms.  4955.  See  Notes  and  Illustrations  at 
close  for  another  use  by  Donne  of  the  opening  lines.  Appeared 
originally  in  1635  edition  (p.  271).     G. 

VOL.  II.  L 


142  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

Parents  make  vs  earth,  and  soules  dignifye 

Ys  to  bee  glasse ;  here  to  growe  gold  wee  lye. 

Whilst  in  our  souls  sin  bred  and  pampered  is,  15 

Our  sovles  become  worm-eaten  carkases ; 

So  wee  ourselues  miraeulouslye  destroy : 

Here  bodyes  with  lesse  myracle  enioy 

Such  priuiledges,  enabled  here  to  scale 

Heauen,  when  the  trumpett's  ayre  shall  them  exhale.   20 

Heare  this,  and  mend  thy  self e,  and  thou  mend'st  mee, 

By  makeing  mee,  beeing  dead,  doe  good  to  thee ; 

And  thincke  mee  well  compos' d,  that  I  could  now 
A  last-sicke  hower  to  syllables  allowe. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  1669  edition  there  are  two  versions  of  this  poem  (pp. 
257-8),  the  epistle  one  being  apparently  the  earlier,  as  it  ends 
at  'carcasses'  (1.  16),  and  alters  'well'  to  'choice,'  'senseless' 
to  '  speechless'  (in  opposition  to  '  speech'),  and  'see'  to  'see'st' 
in  11.  7,  8,  and  10.  The  '  see'  (1.  10)  might  show  that  the  ms. 
was  intermediate,  but  perhaps  it  is  too  slight  a  ground  to  found 
upon. 

Line  5,  '  testamenV  for  '  wills'  is  inadmissible  by  metre. 
,,     7,  *  for tune'= want  of  fortune. 

,,     11,  Hill  vs  Death  lay:1  less  rhythmical  than  'till  Death 
vs  lay'  of  printed  text. 

Line  19,  '  such'  shows  that,  as  before  noticed,  the  substan- 
tive verb  has  to  be  supplied,  and  not  only  it,  but  '  that  they' 
[that  they  are]  enabled.     See  note,  Elegy  on  Mrs.  B. 

Line  22,  '  to.'  So  our  ms.,  and  the  more  usual  and  natural ; 
but  '  for'  does  not  perhaps  so  distinctly  make  out  that  the 
passer-by  was  bad. 

Line  24,  '  last-sick' = an  hour  in  his  last  sickness.     G. 


ELEGY  ON  THE  LOED  C.1 


Sorrow,  who  to  this  howse  scarse  knew  the  way, 

Is,  oh,  heir  of  it ;  our  all  is  his  pray.  prey 

This  strange  chance  claimes  Strang  wonder,  and  to  us 

Nothing  can  be  so  strange,  as  to  weepe  thus. 

'Tis  well,  his  live's  loud-speaking  works  deserue,  5 

And  give  praise  too;  our  could  tongues  co'ld  not  serve : 

Tis  well,  he  kept  tears  from  our  eyes  before, 

That  to  fill  this  deep  ill  he  might  have  store. 

Oh,  if  a  sweet-brier  clymbe  up  by  a  tree, 

If  to  a  paradice  that  transplanted  bee,  1  o 

Or  fel'd,  and  burnt  for  holy  sacrifi.se, 

Yet,  that  must  wither,  which  by  it  did  rise, 

Soe  we  for  him  dead.     Though  no  family 

E're  rig'd  a  sowle  for  heaven's  discovery, 

With  whom  adventurers  more  boldly  dare  15 

Venture  their  states,  with  him  in  joy  to  share. 

We  loose,  what  all  freinds  lov'd — him ;  he  gains  now 

But  life  by  death,  which  worst  foes  wo'ld  allow, 

If  he  co'id  have  foes,  in  whose  practize  grew 

All  vertues,  whose  name  subtile  Schole-men  knew.    20 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in 
1635  ed.  (p.  274).  On  the  allusion  of  1.  15,  as  elucidating  a  point 
in  Shakespeare-Literature,  see  our  Essay  in  this  volume,     G. 


144  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

What  ease,  can  hope,  that  we  should  see  him,  begett, 
When  we  must  dye  first,  and  cannot  dye  yett  ? 
His  children  are  his  pictures ;  oh,  they  bee 
Pictures  of  him  dead ;  senceless,  cold  as  hee. 
Heere  needs  no  marble  tombe,  since  he  is  gone  \  25 
Hee,  and  about  him  his,  are  turn'd  to  stone. 


A  HYMN  TO  THE  SAINTS,  AND  TO  MAE- 
■  QUESS  HAMILTON.1 

Whether  that  soule  which  now  comes  up  to  you 

Fill  any  former  ranke,  or  make  a  new, 

Whether  it  take  a  name  nam'd  there  before, 

Or  be  a  name  itselfe,  and  order  more 

Then  was  in  heaven  till  now ;  for  may  not  hee  5 

Be  so,  if  every  severall  angel  bee 

A  kinde  alone  1 — what  ever  order  grow 

Greater  by  him  in  heaven,  wree  doe  not  so. 

One  of  your  orders  growes  by  his  accesse, 

But  by  his  losse  grow  all  our  orders  lesse ;  1  o 

The  name  of  father,  master,  friend,  the  name 

Of  subject  and  of  prince,  in  one  is  lame ; 

Faire  mirth  is  dampt,  and  conversation  black, 

The  household  widdow'd,  and  the  Garter  slack ; 

1  From  edit.  1635,  where  it  originally  appeared  (pp.  350-1). 
See  Notes  and  Illustrations  for  a  Letter  that  usually  accomp- 
anies this,  and  for  notices  of  Hamilton.     G. 


A  HYMN  TO  THE  SAINTS.  145 

The  cliappell  wants  an  eare,  Councell  a  tongue,         15 

Story  a  theame,  and  musicke  lacks  a  song. 

Blest  order  that  hath  him ;  the  losse  of  him 

Gangreen'd  all  orders  here ;  all  lost  a  limbe. 

Never  made  body  such  haste  to  confesse 

What  a  soule  was;  all  former  comelinesse  20 

Fled  in  a  minute,  when  the  soule  was  gone, 

And,  having  lost  that  beautie,  would  have  none  : 

So  fell  our  monasteries,  in  an  instant  growne, 

Not  to  lesse  houses,  but  to  heapes  of  stone ; 

So  sent  his  body  that  faire  forme  it  wore,  25 

Vnto  the  spheare  of  formes,  and  doth  (before 

His  soule  shall  fill  up  his  sepulchrall  stone) 

Anticipate  a  resurrection ; 

For,  as  in  his  fame,  now,  his  soule  is  here, 

So  in  the  forme  thereof  his  bodie's  there :  30 

And  if,  faire  soule,  not  with  first  innocents 

Thy  station  be,  but  with  the  penitents  ;  — 

And  who  shall  dare  to  ask  then,  when  I  am 

Dy'd  scarlet  in  the  blood  of  that  pure  Lambe, 

Whether  that  colour,  which  is  scarlet  then,  35 

Were  black  or  white  before  in  eyes  of  men  ? — 

When  thou  rememb'rest  what  sinnes  thou  didst  finde 

Amongst  those  many  friends  now  left  behinde, 

And  seest  such  sinners  as  they  are,  with  thee 

Got  thither  by  repentance,  let  it  bee  40 

Thy  wish  to  wish  all  there,  to  wish  them  cleane ; 

Wish  him  a  David,  her  a  Magdalen. 


146  FUNERAL  ELEGIES. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

The  following  Letter  is  prefixed  to  the  poem  in  its  place 
(p.  349): 

'  To  Sir  Robert  Carr. 

'  Sir, — I  presume  you  rather  trie  what  you  can  do  in  me, 
than  what  I  can  do  in  verse  :  you  know  my  uttermost  when  it 
was  best,  and  even  then  I  did  best,  when  I  had  least  truth  for 
my  subjects.  In  this  present  case  there  is  so  much  truth,  as 
it  defeats  all  Poetry.  Call  therefore  this  paper  by  what  name 
you  will,  and  if  it  be  not  worthy  of  him,  nor  of  you,  nor  of  me, 
smother  it,  and  be  that  the  sacrifice.  If  you  had  commanded 
me  to  have  waited  on  his  body  to  Scotland  and  preached  there, 
I  would  have  embraced  the  obligation  with  more  alacrity.  But 
I  thanke  you  that  you  would  command  me  that  which  I  was 
loth  to  do,  for  even  that  hath  given  a  tincture  of  merit  to  the 
obedience  of  your  poore  friend  and  servant  in  Christ  Jesus, 

'J.  D.' 

Probably  this  was  Sir  Robert  Kerr  of  Ancrum,  Gentleman 
of  the  Bedchamber  to  James  I.  and  Charles  I.  He  was  raised 
to  the  honour  of  Earl  of  Ancrum  24th  June  1633.  He  wrote  a 
Paraphrase  in  English  verse  of  select  Psalms,  about  162-4,  a 
transcript  of  which  exists  among  the  Drummond  Papers.  Edi- 
tor's (David  Laing,  Esq.  LL.D.)  Notes  on  Extracts  from  Haw- 
thornden  mss.  pp.  30,  76.  Druinmond's  uncle  Fowler  also  made 
various  anagrams  on  his  name,  latinised  into  Robertus  Carus 
Ancramus,  and  Drummond's  remarks  on  these  show  him  to 
have  been  held  in  esteem  and  honour  (p.  29j.  His  own  spell- 
ing of  his  name  was  Karr. 

See  Sir  John  Beaumont's  and  Lord  Falkland's  Poems  (our 
eds.)  for  other  Elegies  on  Hamilton,  and  notices  of  him.  He 
died  2d  March  1624-5. 

Line  5.  See  notes  on  Angels'  Hierarchies  in  vol.  i.  andante. 

Lines  14-15.  As  these  refer  to  his  various  appointments 
(see  notice  of  them  above),  he  either  had  some  appointment 
also  in  the  Chapel-royal,  or  the  reference  is  to  his  attendance 
there  as  Lord  Steward  of  the  Household. 

Line  22,  '  beauty.'  Hence,  as  is  rendered  probable  by  his 
age,  he  died  of  some  pestilential  disorder  which  produced  rapid 
putrefaction  after  death. 

Lines  34-6.  A  curious  variation  of  Isaiah  i.  18  and  Rev. 
vii.  14.     G. 


III. 
LYRICAL. 

SONGS  AND  SONNETS,  AND  MISCELLANEOUS. 


NOTE. 

While  giving  the  successive  sources  of  our  text,  we  have  not 
deemed  it  necessary  to  note  the  original  appearance  of  each  of 
these  shorter  pieces ;  but  in  the  Contents  the  markings  will 
point  this  out  to  the  critical  student.  We  have  collected  and 
added  a  considerable  number  of  poems  herein,  as  stated  in  their 
places.     G. 


TEtf  SONNETS  TO  PHILOMEL.1 

Sonnet  I. 
Vpon  Loueys  entring  by  Ms  Eares. 

Oft  did  I  heare,  our  Eyes  the  passage  were 

By  which  Lone  entred  to  auaile  our  hearts ; 
Therefore  I  guarded  them,  and  voyd  of  feare 

Neglected  the  defence  of  other  parts. 
Loue  knowing  this,  the  vsuall  way  forsooke,  5 

And  seeking,  found  a  by-way  by  mine  Eare  : 
At  which  hee  entring,  my  Hart  pris'ner  tooke, 

And  vnto  thee  sweet  Philomel  did  beare. 
Yet  let  my  hart  thy  hart  to  pittie  moue,  9 

Whose  paine  is  great,  although  smal  fault  appeare  : 
First  it  lies  bound  in  fettering  chaines  of  Loue, 

Then  each  day  it  is  rackt  with  hope  and  feare. 
And  with  Loue's  flame  'tis  euermore  consumed, 
Only  because  to  loue  thee  it  presumed. 


Sonnet  II. 

0  why  did  Fame  my  Hart  to  Loue  betray,  1 5 

By  telling  my  Deare's  vertue  and  perfection? 

1  From  Davison's  '  Poetical  Rhapsody,'  1602  (pp.  170-176: 
Collier's  edition).     See  Notes  and  Illustrations  at  close.     G. 


150  LYRICAL. 

Why  did  my  Traytor  Eares  to  it  conuay 

That  Syren-song,  cause  of  my  Hart's  infection  ? 
Had  I  bene  deafe,  or  Fame  her  gifts  concealed, 

Then  had  my  Hart  been  free  from  hopeles  loue :    20 
Or  were  my  state  likewise  by  it  reuealed, 

Well  might  it  Philomel  to  pitty  moue. 
Then  shold  she  kno  how  loue  doth  make  me  laguish, 

Distracting  mee  twixt  hope  and  dreadful  feare  :  24 
Then  shold  she  kno  my  care,  my  pla[i]nts  and  anguish ; 

All  which  for  her  deere  sake  I  meekely  beare. 
Yea  I  could  quietly  Death's  paynes  abide, 
So  that  shee  knew  that  for  her  sake  I  dide. 

Sonnet  III. 
Of  his  owne  and  his  Mistris'  sicklies  at  one  time. 

Sickenes  entending  my  Loue  to  betray 

Eefore  I  should  sight  of  my  Deare  obtaine,  30 

Did  his  pale  collours  in  my  face  display, 

Lest  that  my  Fauour  might  her  fauour  gaine* 
Yet  not  content  herewith,  like  meanes  it  wrought 

My  Philomel's  bright  beauty  to  deface  : 
And  Nature's  glory  to  disgrace  it  sought,  35 

That  my  concerned  Loue  it  might  displace. 
But  my  flrme  Loue  could  this  assault  well  beare, 

"Which  Yertue  had,  not  beauty,  for  his  ground : 
And  yet  bright  beames  of  beauty  did  appeare,  39 

Throgh  sicknes'  vail,  which  made  my  loue  aboud. 


TEN  SONNETS  TO  PHILOMEL.  151 

If  sicke,  thought  I,  her  beauty  so  excell, 

How  matchlesse  would  it  bee  if  shee  were  well  ] 


Sonnet  IV. 
Another  of  her  Sicknes  and  Recouery. 

Pale  Death  himselfe  did  loue  my  Philomel, 

When  hee  her  Vertues  and  rare  beutie  saw  : 
Therefore  hee  Sicknesse  sent,  which  should  expell     45 

His  riuall,  Life,  and  my  Deere  to  him  draw. 
But  her  bright  beauty  dazeled  so  his  Eyes, 

That  his  dart  Life  did  misse,  though  her  it  hitt : 
Yet  not  therewith  content,  new  meanes  hee  tries 

To  bring  her  vnto  Death,  and  make  Life  flitt.      50 
But  Xature  soone  perceiuing,  that  hee  meant 

To  spoyle  her  only  Phoenix,  her  chiefe  pride, 
Assembled  all  her  force,  and  did  preuent 

The  greatest  mischiefe  that  could  her  betide. 
So  both  our  Hues  and  loues  Mature  defended,  55 

For  had  shee  dide,  my  loue  and  life  had  ended. 


Sonnet  V. 
Allusion  to  Theseus1  Voyage  to  Crete  against  the  Minotaur  e. 

My  Loue  is  sayl'd,  against  Dislike  to  fight, 

Which,  like  vild  monster,  threatens  his  decay ; 

The  ship  is  Hope,  which  by  Desire's  great  might, 

Is  swiftly  borne  towards  the  wished  Bay  :  60 


152  LYRICAL. 

The  company  which  with  my  Loue  doth  fare, 

Though  met  in  one,  is  a  dissenting  crew ; 
They  are  Ioy,  Greefe,  and  neuer-sleeping  Care, 

And  Doubt,  which  ne'r  beleeues  good  news  for  true, 
felack  feare  the  Flag  is  which  my  ship  doth  beare,    65 

Which,  Deere,  take  downe,  if  my  Loue  victor  be, 
And  let  white  Comfort  in  his  place  appeare, 

When  Loue  victoriously  returnes  to  mee, 
Lest  I  from  rocke  Despayre  come  tumbling  downe, 
And  in  a  Sea  of  Teares  bee  forc't  to  drowne.  70 

Sonnet  VI. 

Vpon  her  looking  secretly  out  of  a  window  as  hee  passed  by. 

Once  did  my  Philomel  reflect  on  mee 

Her  christall-pointed  Eyes  as  I  passt  by, 
Thinking  not  to  be  seene,  yet  would  mee  see ; 

But  soone  my  hungry  Eyes  their  foode  did  spie. 
Alas,  my  Deere,  couldst  thou  suppose  that  face,        75 

Which  needs  not  enuy  Phoebus'  cheefest  pride, 
Could  secret  bee,  although  in  secret  place, 

And  that  transparant  glas  such  beams  could  hide  ? 
But  if  I  had  beene  blinde,  yet  Loue's  hot  flame 

Kindled  in  my  poore  heart  by  thy  bright  Eye,    So 
Did  plain ely  shew  when  it  so  neere  thee  came, 

By  more  then  vsuall  heate,  the  cause  was  mee  :  than 
So,  though  thou  hidden  wert,  my  hart  and  eye 
Did  turne  to  thee  by  mutuall  Sympathy. 


TEX  SONNETS  TO  FHILOMEL.  153 


Sonnet  VII. 


When  time  nor  place  would  let  me  often  view  85 

Xature's  chief e  Mirror  and  my  sole  delight ; 
Her  liuely  Picture  in  my  hart  I  drew, 

That  I  might  it  behold  both  day  and  night. 
But  shee,  like  Phillip's  Son,  scorning  that  I 

Should  portray  her  wanting  Apelles'  art,  90 

Commaunded  Loue,  who  nought  dare  hir  deny, 

To  burne  the  Picture  which  was  in  my  Hart. 
The  more  Loue  burn'd,  the  more  her  picture  shin'd ; 

The  more  it  shin'de,  the  more  my  hart  did  burne ; 
So,  what  to  hurt  her  picture  was  assign' d,  95 

To  my  Hart's  ruine  and  decay  did  turne. 
Loue  could  not  burne  the  Saint — it  was  diuine ; 
And  therefore  fir'd  my  hart,  the  Saint's  poore  shrine. 


Sonnet  VIII. 

When  as  the  Sun  eclipsed  is,  some  say  99 

It  thunder,  lightning,  raine  and  wind  portendeth : 
And  not  vnlike  but  such  things  happen  may, 

Sith  like  effects  my  Sun  eclipsed  sendeth. 
Witnes  my  throat  made  hoars  with  thundring  cries, 

And  hart  with  Loue's  hot-flashing  lightnings  fired  : 
Witnes  the  showers  which  stil  fal  from  mine  eies,     105 

And  brest  with  sighs  like  stormy  winds  neare  riued. 


154  LYRICAL. 

Shine  out,  then,  once  againe,  sweete  Sun,  on  mee, 
And  with  thy  beanies  dissolue  clouds  of  dispaire, 

Whereof  these  raging  Meteors  framed  bee, 

In  my  poore  hart  by  absence  of  my  faire.  no 

So  shalt  thou  proue  thy  Eeames,  thy  heate,  thy  light, 

To  match  the  Sun  in  glory,  grace,  and  might. 

Sonnet  IX. 

Vpon  sending  her  a  Gold  Ring  with  this  Posie  '  Pure  and 
Endless  e.' 

If  you  would  knowe  the  loue  which  you  I  beare, 

Compare  it  with,  the  Ring,  which  your  faire  hand 
Shall  make  more  pretious  when  you  shal  it  weare \  115 

So  my  loue's  JNature  you  shal  vnderstand. 
Is  it  of  mettal  pure  ]  so  you  shall  proue 

My  loue,  which  ne're  disloyal  thought  did  stain. 
Hath  it  no  end  1  so  endles  is  my  loue, 

Ynlesse  you  it  destroy  with  your  disdaine.  120 

Doth  it  the  purer  waxe  the  more  'tis  tride  ? 

So  doth  my  loue  :  yet  herein  they  dissent, 
That  whereas  Gold  the  more  'tis  purifi'd, 

By  waxing  lesse,  doth  shew  some  part  is  spent, 
My  loue  doth  wax  more  pure  by  your  more  trying,  125 
And  yet  encreaseth  in  the  purifying. 


TEX  SONNETS  TO  PIIILOMEL.  155 

Sonnet  X. 

My  Cruell  Deere  hauing  captiu'de  my  hart, 

And  bound  it  fast  in  Chaynes  of  restles  Loue, 
Requires  it  out  of  bondage  to  depart ; 

Yet  is  shee  sure  from  her  it  cannot  moue.  130 

Draw  back,  sayd  shee,  your  hopelesse  loue  from  me, 

Your  work  requireth  a  more  worthy  place ; 
Vnto  your  sute  though  I  cannot  agree, 

Full  many  will  it  louingly  embrace. 
It  may  bee  so,  my  Deere ;  but  as  the  Sun  135 

When  it  appeares  doth  make  the  stars  to  vanish, 
So  when  your  selfe  into  my  thoughts  do  run, 

All  others  quite  out  of  my  Hart  you  bannish. 
The  beames  of  your  Perfections  shine  so  bright, 
That  straightway  they  dispell  all  others'  light.  140 

Melophilus. 

notes  and  illustrations. 

One  likes  to  think  that  these  Sonnets  were  addressed  to 
Donne's  future  Wife.  The  date  (1602)  of  publication  seems  to 
admit  of  it.  They  sound  tender  and  true  ;  more  tender  and  true 
than  when  he  is  in  what  honest  Sir  Hugh  Evans  would  call  his 
'pribble  prabble  and  affectations.'  Whoever  she  was,  she  had 
a  sweet  voice,  and  attracted  the  Poet  thereby. 

St.  i.  1.  2,  '  auaile'=^ conquer. 
,,  v.     Heading :  This  heading  makes  me  think  the  head- 
ings of  these  Sonnets  are  not  by  Donne,  or  that  if  they  are  his 
words,  they  are  not  a  heading,  but  an  explanatory  gloss. 

St.  viii.  1.  9.  I  have  filled-in  '  out,'  as  demanded  by  the 
verse  and  rhythm.     G. 


THE  FLEA.1 

Marke  but  this  flea,  and  marke  in  this, 

How  little  that  which  thou  deniest  me  is ; 

Mee  it  suckt  first,  and  now  sucks  thee, 

And  in  this  flea  our  two  bloods  myngled  bee  : 

Confesse  it.     This  cannot  be  said  5 

A  synne  or  shame,  or  losse  of  maydenhead ; 

Yet  this  enioyes  before  it  wooe, 

And  pamper'd  swels  with  one  blood  made  of  two  ; 

And  this,  alas,  is  more  then  we  wo'ld  doe  !  than 


Oh,  stay,  three  lives  in  one  flea  spare, 
"Where  we  almost,  nay,  more  then  marryed  are. 
This  flea  is  yow  and  I  \  and  this 
Our  mariage-bedd  and  mariage-temple  is  ; 
Though  parents  grudge  and  you,  we  'are  mett, 
And  cloyster'd  in  these  living  walls  of  jett. 
Though  use  make  you  apt  to  kill  mee, 
Let  not  to  this,  self-murther  added  bee, 
And  sacreledge — three  sins  in  killing  three. 

Cruell  and  soddaine,  hast  thou  since 
Purpled  thy  nayle  in  blood  of  innocence  ? 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


10 

than 


15 


20 


ON  A  FLEA  ON  HIS  MISTRESS*  BOSOM.  157 

Wherein  co'ld  this  flea  guiltie  bee, 

Except  in  that  dropp  which  it  suckt  from  thee  ? 

Yet  thou  triumph'st,  and  say'st  that  thou 

Fynd'st  not  thyselfe,  nor  mee,  the  weaker  now. 

'Tis  true.    Then  learne  how  false  fears  bee  :  2  5 

Just  so  much  honor,  when  thou  yeeld'st  to  mee, 
Will  wast,  as  this  fleas  death  tooke  life  from  thee. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Accepting  our  ms.  as  from  a  late  and  revised  copy,  there  yet 
appear  to  be  three  errors  in  it  :  1.  15,  *  those'  for  '  these,'  the 
latter  required  by  '  This  flea'  of  line  12.  Line  16,  '  thee'  for 
'you  :'  we  have  '  you,'  11.  12,  14,  and  the  usage  of  old  speech 
would  demand  '  you'  in  this  place  rather  than  'thee,'  even  if  the 
previous  pronoun  had  been  '  thou,'  and  '  thee'  rhymes  unne- 
cessarily with  'me'  and  '  be.'  Line  23,  '  saith'  for  '  sai'st.'  I 
prefer  also  '  wherein,'  1.  21,  to  '  In  what,'  as  better  agreeing 
with  'In  that  drop;'  and  'make'  to  'makes'  (1.  16).    G. 


ON  A  FLEA  ON  HIS  MISTRESS'  BOSOM.1 

Madam,  that  flea  which  crept  between  your  brest 
I  envyde  that  there  he  should  make  his  rest ; 
The  little  creature's  fortune  was  soe  good 
That  angells'  feed  not  on  so  precious  food. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Sir  John  Simeon  (as  be- 
fore, p.  28)  gives  it, but  not  accurately,  from  his  own  ms.,  which, 
as  with  the  others,  we  collated.  I  only  note  in  1.  13  misread- 
ing 'now'  for  'vowe;'  and  1.  7,  'killed'  for  'kill.'  I  place  it 
here  as  fittingly  associated  with  the  earlier  printed.     G. 

VOL.  II.  M 


. 


158 


LYRICAL. 


How  it  did  sucke,  how  eagerly  sucke  you  ! —  5 

Madam,  shall  fleas  before  me  tickle  you  ? — 

Oh,  I  not  hould  can  ;  pardon  if  I  kill  yt ! 

Sweet  blood,  to  you  I  aske  this,  that  which  filTd  it 

Eunne  from  my  ladie's  brest.     Come,  happie  flea, 

That  dyde  for  suckinge  of  that  milky-sea.  \  o 

Oh,  now  againe  I  cold  e'en  wish  thee  there, 

About  her  hart,  about  her  any  where  : 

I  would  vowe,  deare  flea,  thou  sholdst  not  dye, 

If  [that]  thou  couldst  suck  from  her  her  crueltie. 


NOTE. 

Line  9,  *  runney =that  has  run,  or  perhaps  in  causal  sense, 
made  to  run.  The  clause  *  that  ....  brest'  is  the  explanation 
of  the  epithet  '  sweet,'  and  of  his  asking  pardon  of  the  blood : 
hence  I  have  punctuated  [,]  instead  of  [: — ] 

Marston,  in  Satire  viii.  of  his  Scourge  of  Villanie  (1598), 
when  satirising  lovers' wishes  as  expressed  in  their  love-verses, 
says: 

Here's  one  would  be  a  flea  (jest  comicall  I); 
Another,  his  sweet  ladie's  verdingall. 

G, 


THE  GOOD-MOKKOW.1 

I  wonder,  by  my  troth,  what  thou  and  I 
Did  till  we  lov'd ;  were  we  not  wean'd  till  then, 
But  suck'd  on  countrey  pleasures,  childishly  ] 
Or  slumbred  we  in  the  Seaven  Sleepers'  den  ? 

1  From  1633  (p.  165).     G. 


THE  GOOD-MORROW.  159 

'Twas  so  :  but  this,  all  pleasures  fancies  bee  ;  5 

If  ever  any  beauty  I  did  see, 

Which  I  desir'd,  and  got,  'twas  but  a  dreame  of  thee. 

And  now  good-morrow  to  our  waking  soules, 

Which  watch  not  one  another  out  of  feare ; 

For  love,  all  love  of  other  sights  controules,  10 

And  makes  one  little  roome  an  every  where. 

Let  sea-discoverers  to  new  worlds  have  gone, 

Let  maps  to  other,  worlds  on  worlds  have  showne ; 

Let  us  possesse  one  wrorld — each  hath  one,  and  is  one. 

My  face  in  thine  eye,  thine  in  mine  appeares,  1 5 

And  true  plaine  hearts  doe  in  the  faces  rest; 
Where  can  we  finde  two  better  hemispheares 
Without  sharpe  ISTorth,  without  declining  West  1 
What  ever  dyes  was  not  mixt  equally ; 
If  our  two  loves  be  one,  or  thou  and  I  20 

Love  so  alike  that  none  doe  slacken,  none  can  die. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Our  Stephens'  MS.  is  in  this  earlier  and  less  satisfactory : 
e.g.  in  1.  5  it  reads  '  But  as'  for  '  But  this' = Except  this  plea- 
sure of  loving  one  another,  all  pleasures  be  fancies  —  a  far 
prettier  and  stronger  thought  than  '  But  as,'  which  makes  the 
love  he  is  praising  neither  more  nor  less  of  a  fancy  than  other 
pleasures.  But  from  '69  (1.  4)  I  gladly  take  the  reading  '  slum- 
bred'  for '  snorted'  of  '33,  '35,  &c.  '  Snorted' — a  word  fitted  for 
Donne  and  Marston's  satirical  writings,  but  used  by  both  in 
their  earlier  days — here  gives  the  idea  that  he  and  his  love  were 
Circe's  swine,  or  suchlike. 

Line  13= Let  maps  to  other  (than  sea-discoverers,  that  is, 
to  the  rest  of  mankind)  worlds,  &c. 

Line  19,  '  was  ;'  in  '69  '  is.'     G. 


SOXG.1 

Goe  and  catch,  a  falling  e  starre, 

Gett  with  chylde  a  mandrake  roote, 
Tell  me  where  all  past  howres  are, 
Or  who  cleft  the  devilTs  foote ; 
Teach  me  to  heare  Mayrmaids  singinge, 
Or  to  keepe  off  envye's  stinginge, 
Or  fynde 
What  wynde 
Serves  to  advance  an  honest  mynde. 

If  thon  be' est  borne  to  strange  sights, 

Things  invisible  goe  see, 
Ryde  ten  thousand  dayes  and  nights, 
Till  age  snow  white  hairs  on  thee. 
Thou  at  thy  retorne  wilt  tell  me 
All  strange  wonders  that  befell  thee, 
And  sweare, 
]So  wheare 
Lives  a  woman  trew  and  fayre. 

If  thou  llnd'st  one,  let  me  know ; 

Such  a  pylgrimage  were  sweete  : 
Yet  do  not ;  I  woTd  not  goe, 

Though  at  next  dore  we  should  meete. 
1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


woman's  constancy.  161 

Though  she  weare  true  when  you  mett  her, 
And  last  soe  till  you  wryte  your  letter, 

Yet  shee 

Will  be 
False,  ere  I  come,  to  two  or  three. 


WOMAN'S  CONSTANCY.  * 

Now  thou  hast  lovde  me  one  whole  day, 
To-morrow,  when  thou  leav'st,  what  wilt  thou  say  1 
Wilt  thou  then  antedate  some  new-made  vow  ? 

Or  say  that  now 
We  are  not  iust  those  persons  which  wee  were  1  5 

Or  that  oaths  made  in  reverentiall  fear 
Of  Loue  and  his  wrath,  any  may  forsweare  ] 
Or,  as  true  deaths  true  marriages  untie, 
Soe  louers'  contractes,  images  of  those, 
Bynd  but  till  Sleepe,  Death's  image,  them  unloose'?  10 

Or,  your  owne  end  to  justifie, 
For  having  purpos'd  chaunge  and  falsehood,  you 
Can  haue  no  waye  but  falshood  to  bee  true  ? 
Vayne  lunatique,  against  these  scapes  I  co'ld 

Dispute  and  conquer,  if  I  wo'ld  ;  1 5 

Which  I  abstaine  to  doe, 
For  by  to-morrowe  I  may  thinke  soe  too. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


162  LYRICAL. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Iu  1.  8  I  prefer  '  deaths'  of  '33  &c.  to  'death'  of  our  MS., 
though  we  have  '  Sleepe.'  One  is  personified,  the  other  is  not. 
Two  '  deaths'  is  ambiguous  till  we  reach  the  rest  of  the  thought  as 
to  '  Sleepe,'  and  each  marriage  is  destroyed  by  a  separate  death. 
So  too  1.  9,  '  lovers' '  for  '  love's,'  required  by  metre.  In  1.  7  the 
allusion  is  to  the  saying,  that  Jove  laughs  at  lovers'  perjuries  ; 
in  1.  11  is  a  hit  at  casuistic  doctrines  of  intention  and  mental 
reservation.     G. 


THE  UNDERTAKING.1 

I  haue  done  one  braver  tliinge 

Then  all  the  Worthyes  did  J  than 

And  yet  a  braver  thence  doth  springe, 

Which  is,  to  keep  that  hydd. 

It  were  but  madnes  now  to  'impart 

The  skill  of  specular  stone, 
When  he,  which  can  haue  learn' d  the  arte 

To  cut  yt,  can  fynd  none. 

So,  if  I  now  should  utter  this, 

Others  (because  no  more 
Such  stuffe  to  work  upon  there  is) 
Would  loue  but  as  before. 

But  he  who  louelynes  within 

Hath  fownd,  all  outward  loathes  ; 

Eor  he  who  coulors  loues  and  skin 
Loues  but  their  oldest  clothes. 
1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.     G. 


THE  SUN-RISING.  1G3 

If,  as  I  haue,  you  alsoe  doe 

Vertue  in  women  see, 
And  dare  love  that,  and  say  soe  too, 

And  forgett  the  Hee  and  Shee  \ — 

And  if  this  loue,  though  placed  so, 

From  prophane  men  you  hyde, 
Which  will  noe  fayth  on  this  bestowe, 

Or,  if  they  doe,  deryde  \ — 

Then  you  haue  done  a  brauer  thinge 

Then  all  the  Worthies  did,  than 

And  a  braver  thence  will  springe, 
Which  is,  to  keep  that  hydd. 

NOTE. 

In  st.  i.  1.  3  our  ms.  omits  '  And;'  and  in  last  st.  reads  '  it' 
for  '  that'  (1.  4) — both  wrongly.  The  latter  is  a  repetition  of 
the  '  that'  of  1.  4.  On  1.  6,  '  specular  stone,'  see  former  note. 
G. 


THE  SUN-RISING.1 

Eusie  old  foole,  unrulie  Sunne, 

Why  dost  thou  thus 
Through  windowes  and  through  curtains  call  on  us  1 
Must  to  thy  motions  lovers'  seasons  runne  ? 

1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.     G. 


_L 


164  LYRICAL. 

Saucie  pedantiqne  wretch,  goe  chide  5 

Late  schoole-boys  and  sowre  'prentices ; 
Goe  tell  court-huntsmen  that  the  King  will  ryde ; 
Call  country  ants  to  harvest  offices. 
Loue,  all  alike,  no  season  knows  nor  clime, 
Xor  howrs,  dayes,  monthes,  which  are  the  rages  of  tyme. 

[rags 

Thy  beams  soe  reverend  and  stronge,  1 1 

Dost  thou  not  thinke 
I  could  eclipse  and  clowd  them  with  a  winke, 
But  that  I  would  not  loose  her  sight  soe  longe  1 

If  her  eyes  haue  not  blynded  thyne,  1 5 

Looke,  and  to-morrow  late  tell  mee 
^Vhether  both  the  'Indiaes  of  spice  and  mine 
Eee  where  thou  left  them,  or  lie  here  with  mee ; 
Ask  for  those  kinges,  whom  thou  saw'st  yesterday  ; 
And  thou  shalt  heare — all  here  in  one  bed  lay.  20 

She  'is  ail  states,  and  all  princes  I,  ay 

Xothinge  else  is. 
Princes  doe  but  play  us ;  comparde  to  this, 
All  honor's  mimick,  all  wealth  alchemy. 

Thou,  Sunne,  art  halfe  as  happy  'as  wee,        25 

In  that  the  world's  contracted  thus  : 
Thine  age  asks  ease  ;  and  since  thy  dutyes  bee 
To  warme  the  world,  that's  done  in  warminge  us. 
Shine  here  to  us,  and  thou  art  euerywhere ; 
This  bed  thy  center  is,  these  walls  thy  sphere.  30 


THE  INDIFFERENT.  1G5 


NOTE. 


Onr  ms.  erroneously  reads  in  1.  2-4  '  or'  for  *  all ;'  and  in  1.  21, 
•  She  is  all  princes  and  states' — corrected  from  1669,  &c.  So 
too,  1.  18,  '  be'  for  ■  he'-— the  latter  preferable.  Cf.  'bed,'  11.  20 
and  30.     G. 


THE  INDIFFERENT.1 

I  can  love  "both,  faire  and  browne ; 

Her  whom  abundance  melts,  and  her  whom  want  be- 

traies ; 
Her  who  loves  lonenesse  best,  and  her  who  sports  and 

plays  j 
Her  whom  the  country  formed,  and  whome  the  towne  ; 
Her  who  believes,  and  her  who  tryes ; 
Her  who  still  weeps  with  spungie  eies, 
And  her  who  is  drye  corke,  and  never  cryes  : 
I  can  loue  her,  and  her,  and  you,  and  you, 
I  can  loue  any,  soe  she  be  not  true. 

Will  not  other  vice  content  you  ? 

Will  it  not  serve  your  turne  to  doe  as  did  your  mother  ? 

Or  have  you  all  old  vices  worne,  and  now  wo'ld  find 

out  other? 
Or  doth  a  shame  that  men  are  true  torment  you  ] 
Oh,  we  are  not,  be  not  you  soe ; 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


166  LYRICAL. 

Let  rnee,  and  doe  you  twentie  knowe. 
Eobb  me,  but  bynd  me  not,  and  lett  me  goe  : 
Must  I/that  came  to  travail  thorough  you, 
Grow  the  fixt  subject,  because  you  are  true  1 

Venus  hard  me  sing  this  songe,  heard 

And  by  Love's  sweetest  sweet  varyety,  she  swore 
She  learnt  not  this  till  now,  and  that  it  sho'ld  be  soe 

no  more. 
She  went,  examin'd,  and  return'd  ere  longe, 
And  sayd  :  Alas,  some  two  or  three 
Poor  heretiques  in  lone  there  bee, 
Which  think  to  'stablish  dangerous  constancy ; 
But  I  haue  tould  them  :  Since  you  wilbe  true, 
You  shalbe  true  to  them  who're  false  to  you. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Our  ms.  is  from  a  revised  copy,  as  shown  in  st.  ii.,  where,  as 
the  Poet  now  addresses  one,  he  has  altered  '  mothers,'  <fcc.  to 
1  mother,'  and  *  no'  to  '  not' — a  great  improvement ;  and  st.  iii. 
1  sweet'  for  '  part.'  But  there  are  one  or  two  mistakes  of  tran- 
scription: e.g.  st.  ii.  '  th'rough,'  where  '  thorough'  is  required  by 
the  metre  ;  and  probably  st.  iii.  1.  6,  '  they'  for  '  there  ;'  and  for 
scanning's  sake  we  must  read  '  to'  or  '  t'  establish*  or  ;  to  'stab- 
lish' as  '69  ;  and  '  who're'  in  last  line,  not  'who  were.'  All  cor- 
rected accordingly.     G. 


LOVE'S  VSUEY.1 

For  every  houre  that  thou  wilt  spare  me  now, 

I  will  allow, 
Usurious  God  of  Love,  twenty  to  thee, 
When  with  my  browne  my  gray  haires  equall  bee  ; 
Till  then,  Love,  let  my  body  range,  and  let 
Mee  travell,  sojourne,  plot,  snatch,  owne,  forget, 
Eesume  my  last  yeare's  relict;  thinke  that  yet 

We  'had  never  met. 

Let  mee  thinke  any  rivall's  letter  mine, 

And  at  next  nine 
Keepe  midnight's  promise ;  mistake  by  the  way 
The  maid,  and  tell  the  Lady  of  that  delay ; 
Onely  let  mee  love  none,  no,  not  the  sport 
From  country  grasse  to  comntures  of  Court, 
Or  cities  quelque-choses;  let  not  report 

My  minde  transport. 

This  bargaine's  good;  if  when  I  'am  old,  I  bee 

Inflam'd  by  thee, 
If  thine  owne  honour,  or  my  shame  or  paine, 
Thou  covet  most,  at  that  age  thou  shalt  gaine. 

1  From  1633  (pp.  201-2).     G. 


168  LYRICAL. 

Do  thy  will  then,  then  subject  and  degree, 
And  fruit  of  love,  Love,  I  submit  to  thee. 
Spare  rnee  till  then ;  I'll  beare  it,  though  she  bee 
One  that  loves  mee. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Our  ms.  (Stephens')  is  less  satisfactory,  save  in  1.  5,  where 
its  sequence,  'plot,  snatch,  own,'  is  preferable  to  '  snatch,  plot, 
have.'  In  st.  i.  1.  5,  I  accept  'range'  for  'raigne.'  He  is  not 
asking  Jove  that  love  may  now  be  supreme  in  his  body,  that 
his  body  may  'reign,'  but  that  his  body  may  not  be  confined 
by  Jove  to  one  object,  but  may  '  range,' travel,  sojourn,  snatch, 
&c.     He  wants  to  love  none. 

St.  ii.  1.  7,  '  Quelque-choses*  —  little  delicacies,  whether  of 
meat  or  comfitures  :  degenerated  into  '  kick-shaws.'    G. 


CANONISATION.* 

For  God's  sake,  hould  your  toungue,  and  let  me  loue, 
Or  chyde  my  palsey  or  my  gowte, 
My  fyne  gray  haires  or  ruyn'd  fortune  flowte ; 

With  wealth  your  state,  your  mynd  with  arts  improve, 
Take  you  a  course,  get  you  a  place,  5 

Obserue  his  Honour  or  his  Grace, 
Or  the  King's  real  or  his  stamped  face 

Contemplate  ;  what  you  will,  approve, 

So  you  will  let  me  loue. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


CANONISATION.  1G9 

Alas,  alas,  who's  iniur'd  by  my  loue  ?  i  o 

What  marchant's  shipps  haue  my  sighs  drown' d  J 
Who  sais  my  tears  haue  overflow'd  his  ground  *? 

When  did  my  colds  a  forward  Springe  remove  ? 
When  did  these  heats  which  my  reynes  fill 
Add  one  man  to  the  plaguey  bill  I  1 5 

Soldiers  find  warrs,  and  lawyers  find  out  still 

Lytigious  men  whom  quarrels  move; 

While  shee  and  I  do  loue. 

Call  'us  what  you  will,  we  are  made  such  by  loue  \ 
Call  her  one,  me  another  flye ;  20 

We  'are  tapers  too,  and  at  our  owne  cost  dye ; 

And  we  in  us  find  th'  eagle  and  the  dove ; 
The  phcenix-riddle  hath  more  wytt 
By  us  ;  we  two  being  one,  are  yt : 
So  to  one  neutral  thinge  both  sexes  fytt.  25 

We  dye,  and  rise  the  same,  and  proue 

Mysterious  by  this  loue. 

We  can  die  by  it,  if  not  live  by  loue. 

And  if  unfitt  for  tombe  or  hearse 

Our  legend  bee,  it  wilbe  fitt  for  verse ;  30 

And  if  no  peece  of  chronicle  we  proue, 

We'll  buyld  in  sonnets  prettie  roomes. 

As  well  a  well-wrought  urne  becomes 

The  greatest  ashes  as  half-acre  tombes  ; 
And  by  these  himnes  all  shall  approue  35 

Us  canonized  for  loue. 


170  LYRICAL. 

And  thus  invoke  ns  :  You  whom  reverend  loue 

Made  one  another's  hermitage  ; 

You  to  whom  loue  was  peace  that  now  is  rage, 
"Who  did  the  whole  world's  extract,  and  droue  40 

Into  the  glasses  of  your  eyes, 

Soe  made  such  mirrors  and  such  spyes, 

That  they  did  all  to  you  epitomize  ; 
Countries,  townes,  courts,  begg  from  aboue 
A  patterne  of  your  loue.  45 

NOTE. 

From  11.  2-3  this  would  seem  to  have  been  written  in  the 
person  of  another.  I  have  silently  corrected  some  misreadings 
of  our  ms.  by  '69.     G. 


THE  TEIPLE  FOOL.* 

I  am  two  fooles,  I  knowe, 

For  lovinge,  and  for  sayinge  soe 

In  whyninge  poetrie ; 
But  where's  that  wise  man  that  wo'ld  not  bee  I, 

If  she  would  not  deny  1 
Then,  as  th'  earth's  inward  narrow  crooked  lanes 
Do  purge  sea-water's  fretfull  salt  away, 

I  thought,  if  I  could  draw  my  paynes 
Through  rhime's  vexatyon,  I  sho'ld  them  allay. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


lover's  infixiteness.  1 7 1 

Grief  brought  to  numbers  cannot  be  so  fierce,  io 

For  he  tames  yt  that  fetters  it  in  vearse. 

But  when  I  haue  done  soe, 
Some  man,  his  art  and  voyce  to  showe, 

Doth  sett  and  sing  my  payne, 
And,  by  delyghtinge  many,  frees  againe  15 

Greife,  which  verse  did  restrayne. 
To  love  and  greif  tribute  of  verse  belongs, 
But  not  of  such  as  pleases  when  'tis  read; 

Both  are  increased  by  such  songes; 
For  both  their  tryumphs  soe  are  published,  20 

And  I,  which  was  two  fooles,  doe  soe  grow  three : 
Whoe  are  a  lyttle  wise,  the  best  fooles  be. 

XOTE. 
On  U.  6-7  see  our  Southwell  and  relative  note,  s.  v.  G. 


LOVEE'S  IXFIXITEXESS.1 

If  yet  I  haue  not  all  thy  loue, 
Deare,  I  shall  neuer  haue  it  all ; 
I  cannot  breath  another  sigh  to  move, 
Xor  can  intreat  one  other  teare  to  fall ; 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


172 


LYRICAL. 


And  all  my  treasure,  which  sho'ld  purchase  thee,         5 
Sighs,  tears,  and  oaths,  and  letters,  I  haue  spent; 
Yet  no  more  can  bee  due  to  mee, 

Then  at  the  bargain  made  was  meant :  Than 

If,  then,  thy  guift  of  loue  were  partiall, 
That  some  to  me,  some  sho'ld  to  others  fall,  10 

Deare,  I  shall  neuer  haue  it  all. 

Or  if,  then,  thou  gavest  me  all, 
All  was  but  all  which  thou  hadst  then  : 
Eut  if  in  thy  hart  since  there  be,  or  shall 
Xew  loue  created  bee  by  other  menn,  15 

Which  haue  their  stocks  entire,  and  can  in  tears, 
In  sighs,  in  oaths,  in  letters  outbydd  me, 
This  new  loue  may  begett  new  feares ; 
For  this  loue  was  not  vowde  by  thee, 
And  yet  it  was,  thy  guift  being  generall ;  20 

The  ground,  thy  hart,  is  niyne,  whatever  shall 
Growe  there,  deare,  I  should  haue  it  all. 

Yet  I  would  not  haue  all  yett ; 

He  that  hath  all  can  haue  no  more ; 

And  since  my  loue  doth  euery  day  admytt  25 

New  growth,  thou  should'st  haue  new  rewards  in  store. 

Thou  canst  not  euery  day  give  me  thy  harte; 

If  thou  canst  give  it,  then  thou  never  gav'st  it : 

Love's  ryddles  are  that,  though  thy  hart  depart, 

It  stays  at  home,  and  thou  with  loosing  sav'st  it.       30 


SONG.  173 

But  we  will  loue  a  way  more  lyberall 
Then  changing  hearts — to  joyne  us  ;  soe  we  shall      Than 
Bee  one,  and  one  another's  All. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

As  elsewhere,  I  have  silently  corrected  by  the  printed  texts 
some  niiswritings  of  our  MS.  In  line  1  it  substitutes  '  your'  for 
1  thy.'  Everywhere  else  in  the  poem  it  is  'thou'  and  '  thee,' 
and  the  Elizabethan,  like  the  French,  writers  made  the  second 
singular  the  mark  of  endearment,  as  may  be  seen  in  Shake- 
speare's Sonnets.  In  1.  32  I  read  '  us,'  from  '69,  for  '  them,' 
believing  that  '  to  join  us'  was  Donne's  after-expression.  What 
is  to  us  an  irregular  use  of  the  infinitive  was  then  not  unfre- 
quent.     G. 


SONG.1 

Sweetest  Loue,  I  doe  not  goe 

For  wearyness  of  thee, 
Nor  in  hope  the  world  can  showe 

A  fytter  Loue  for  mee ; 

But  since  that  I 
Must  dye  at  last,  'tis  best 
Thus  to  use  my  selfe  in  jest, 

Thus  by  fayned  death  to  dye. 

Yesternight  the  sunn  went  hence, 
And  yet  is  here  to-day; 

He  hath  no  desire  nor  sence, 
Nor  halfe  so  short  a  way. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     I 
VOL.   II. 


174  LYRICAL. 

Then  feare  not  inee ; 
But  believe  that  I  shall  make 
Hastier  journeyes,  since  I  take  1 5 

More  wings  and  spurrs  then  hee.  than 

Oh  how  feeble  is  man's  power, 

That,  if  good  fortune  fall, 
Cannot  add  another  hower, 

Nor  a  lost  hower  recall !  20 

But  come  bad  chance, 
And  we  joyne  to  yt  our  strength, 
And  we  teach  yt  art  and  length, 

Itselfe  o'er  us  t'  advance. 

When  thou  sigh'st,  thou  sigh'st  no  wynd,       23 

But  sigh'st  my  sowle  away; 
When  thou  weep'st,  unkyndly  kynde, 

My  life's-blood  doth  decay. 

It  cannot  bee 
That  thou  louest  me,  as  thou  sai'st,  30 

If  in  thyne  my  life  thou  waste, 

That  art  the  best  of  me. 

Let  not  thy  devininge  harte 

Forethinke  me  any  yll ; 
Destinie  may  take  thy  parte,  35 

And  may  thy  fears  fulfill  \ 


THE  LEGACY.  175 

Eut  think  that  wee 
Are  but  turn'd  aside  to  sleepe  J 
They,  who  one  another  keepe 

Alive,  ne're  parted  bee.  4° 

NOTE. 

Again  I  have  silently  corrected  obvious  errors  of  our  ms.  by 
printed  texts.  In  1.  35  is  a  curious  phrase,  and  one  is  almost 
inclined  to  read  with  Haslewood-Kingsborough  MB.  '  my  part'  = 
my  half  of  us  two ;  but  the  consensus  of  otherwise  differing 
copies  is  against  this.  The  text  seems  to  mean  that  his  des- 
tiny may  take  her  part,  that  is,  be  a  sorrowful  one,  and  t  fore- 
think  him  ill.'     G. 


THE  LEGACY.1 

When  I  last  dide — and,  Deare,  I  dye  died 

As  often  as  from  thee  I  goe, 

Though  it  be  but  an  hower  agoe, 
And  Louers'  howers  are  full  eternitie — 
I  can  remember  yet,  that  I  5 

Something  did  say,  and  something  did  bestowe ; 
Though  I  bee  dead,  which  sent  me,  I  should  bee 
Mine  owne  executor  and  legacie. 

I  heard  me  say  :  Tell  her  anone, 

That  my  self,  that  is  you,  not  I,  10 

Did  kill  mee ;  and  when  I  felt  me  dye, 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before,  but  errors  corrected  by  "69.  G. 


176  LYRICAL. 

I  bid  me  send  my  hart,  when  I  was  gone ; 
But  I,  alas,  co'ld  there  fynd  none.  [lye, 

When  I  'hadrypt  mee,  and  searcht  where  harts  should 
It  kyl'd  me  againe,  that  I,  who  still  was  true  1 5 

In  life,  in  my  last  will  should  cosen  you. 

Yet  I  found  something  like  a  hart, 

For  colours  it  and  corners  hadd ; 

It  was  not  good,  it  was  not  badd, 
It  was  entire  to  none,  and  few  had  parte  :  20 

As  good  as  could  be  made  by  arte, 

It  seem'd,  and  therefore  for  our  losse  be  sadd ; 
I  meant  to  send  that  hart  instead  of  myne, 
But,  oh,  no  man  co'ld  houlcl  yt,  for  'twas  thyne. 


A  FEVEK.1 


Oh  doe  not  die,  for  I  shall  hate 

All  women  so,  when  thou  art  gone, 
That  thee  I  shall  not  celebrate, 

When  I  remember  thou  wast  one. 

But  yet  thou  canst  not  die,  I  knowe ; 

To  leave  this  world  behind,  is  death  ; 
But  when  thou  from  this  world  wilt  goe, 

The  whole  world  vapors  with  thy  breath. 

1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.     In  1.  8  vapors = evapor- 
ates, goes  off  in  vapour.     G. 


A  FEVER.  177 

Or  if,  when  thou,  the  world's  sowle,  goest, 

It  stay,  'tis  but  thy  carkas  then, 
The  fairest  woman  but  thy  ghost, 

But  corrupt  wormes  the  worthiest  men. 

Oh  wrangling  schooles,  that  search  what  fire 
Shall  burne  this  world !  had  none  the  witt 

Unto  this  knowledge  to  aspire, 

That  this  her  feaver  might  be  yt  % 

And  yet  she  cannot  wast  by  this, 

Nor  longe  beare  this  tormentinge  wronge; 

For  much  corruption  needful  is, 
To  fewell  such  a  feaver  longe. 

Thy  burninge  fytts  but  meteors  bee, 

Whose  matter  in  thee  soone  is  spent ; 

Thy  bewtie,  and  all  parts,  which  are  thee, 
Are  unchangeable  firmament. 

Yet  'twas  of  my  mynd,  seizinge  thee, 

Though  it  in  thee  cannot  persever ; 
For  I  had  rather  owner  bee 

Of  thee  one  hour  then  all  else  ever.  than 


AIRE  AND  AXGELL3.1 

Twice  or  thrice  had  I  lov'd  thee, 
Before  I  knew  thy  face  or  name ; 
So  in  a  voyce,  so  in  a  shapeles  flame, 
Angells  affect  us  oft,  and  worshipt  bee  : 

Still  when,  to  where  thou  wert,  I  came,  5 

Some  lovely  glorious  nothinge  I  did  see ; 

But  since  my  sowle,  whose  child  love  is, 
Takes  lymbs  of  flesh,  and  els  co'ld  nothing  doe ; 

More  subtill  then  the  parent  is,  than 

Loue  must  not  bee,  but  take  a  body  too ;  10 

And  therfore  what  thou  wert,  and  whoe, 

I  bydd  love  aske,  and  nowe, 
That  it  assume  thy  body,  I  allowe, 
And  fix  itselfe  in  thy  lipp,  eye,  and  browe. 

Whilst  thus  to  ballast  loue  I  thought,  15 

And  soe  more  steady  to  haue  gone, 

With  wares  which  wold  sinke  admiration, 

I  saw  I  had  Love's  pinnace  overfraught ; 

Ever  thy  hayre  for  loue  to  worke  upon 
Is  much  too  much,  some  fitter  must  be  sought;         20 

1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before,  silently  corrected  by  '69.     G. 


BREAK  OF  DAY.  1  7r« 

For  nor  in  nothinge,  nor  in  thinges 
Extreame  and  scattering-bright,  came  loue  in  heere ; 

Then  as  an  angel  face  and  winges 
Of  ayre,  not  pure,  as  it,  yet  pure  doth  weare, 
Soe  thy  loue  may  be  my  lover's  sphaere  ;  2  5 

Just  such  disparitie 
As  is  'twixt  ayre  and  angels'  puritie, 
'Twixt  women's  loue  and  men's  will  ever  bee. 


BREAK  OF  DAY.1 

Stay,  0  Sweet,  and  do  not  rise, 
The  light  that  shines  comes  from  thine  eyes  ; 
The  day  breaks  not,  it  is  my  heart, 
Because  that  you  and  I  must  part. 

Stay,  or  else  my  joys  will  die, 

And  perish  in  their  infancy. 

'Tis  true  'tis  day ;  what  though  it  bee  1 

0  wilt  thou  therefore  rise  from  mee  1 

Why  should  we  rise  because  'tis  light  ? 

Did  we  lye  down  because  'twas  night  ? 

Loue,  which  in  spight  of  darknes  brought  us  hither, 
Should  in  despight  of  light  keepe  us  together. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


180  LYRICAL. 

Light  hath  no  tongue,  but  is  all  eie ; 

If  it  co'ld  speake  as  well  as  spie, 

This  were  the  worst  that  it  co'ld  say : 

That  beinge  well,  I  fayne  wo'ld  stay ; 

And  that  I  lou'd  my  hart  and  honor  soe, 

That  I  wo'ld  not  from  him,  that  had  them,  goe. 

Must  busynes  thee  from  hence  remoue  ? 

Oh,  that's  the  worst  disease  of  loue  ; 

The  poore,  the  false,  the  fowle,  Loue  can 

Admitt,  but  not  the  busyed  man. 

He  which  hath  busines,  and  makes  love,  doth  do 
Such  wronge  as  when  a  maryed  man  doth  wooe. 

XOTE. 

I  presume  from  the  want  of  variations  in  most  copies  of  st, 
i.,  that  it  is  not  in  the  mss.,  as  it  is  not  in  the  editions  prior  to 
'69.  Its  metre  in  the  last  two  lines  differs  from  the  others,  and 
it  may  be  supposed  that,  as  Donne  did  not  alter  it  to  correspond 
with  the  others,  he  struck  it  out.  It  and  next  st.  remind  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet.  Our  MS.  in  st.  ii.  1.  4  misreads  '  despight :' 
'  spight'  required  by  the  metre.  As  revealing  the  cause  of  these 
errors,  and  to  show  how  early  they  arose,  it  may  be  noted  that 
the  '35  and  '39  editions  put  '  spight'  for '  despight'  in  next  line. 
G. 


THE  AKtflVEBSABY.1 

All  Kings,  and  all  their  favorites, 

All  glorie  of  honors,  bewties,  wytts, 
The  sunn  ytselfe,  which  makes  tymes  as  they  passe, 
Is  elder  by  a  yeare  now  then  it  was  than 

When  thou  and  I  first  one  another  sawe  :  5 

All  other  things  to  their  destruction  drawe, 

Only  our  loue  hath  noe  decay ; 
This  no  to-morrowe  hath,  nor  yesterday ; 
Eunninge,  it  never  runns  from  us  away, 
But  truly  keeps  his  first-last-everlasting  day.  10 

Two  graues  must  hyde  thyne  and  my  corse  ; 

If  one  might,  death  were  noe  dyvoree  : 
Alas,  as  well  as  other  princes,  wee, 
Who  prince  enough  in  one  another  bee, 
Must  leave  at  last  in  death  these  eyes  and  eares,        1 5 
Oft  fedd  with  true  oaths  and  with  sweet  salt  tears. 

But  sowles  where  nothinge  dwells  but  love, 
All  other  thoughts  being  inmates,  then  shall  proue 
This,  or  a  loue  increased,  there  aboue, 
When  bodyes  to  their  graues,  sowles  from  their  graues 
remove.  20 

1  From  Stephens'  lis.,  as  before.     G. 


182  LYRICAL. 

And  then  we  shalbe  thoroughlie  blest : 
But  we  no  more  then  all  the  rest.  than 

Here  upon  earth  we  'are  kings,  and  none  but  wee, 
None  are  such  kings,  and  of  such,  subjects  bee ; 
"Who  is  soe  safe  as  wee?  where  none  can  doe  25 

Treason  to  us,  except  one  of  us  two  ? 

True  and  false  fears  let  us  refrain e  ; 
Let  us  loue  noblie,  and  liue,  and  add  againe 
Years  and  years  unto  years,  till  we  attayne 
To  wryte  threescore :  this  is  the  second  of  our  raigne.  30 


A  VALEDICTION  OF  MY  NAME  IN  THE 
WINDOW.* 

My  name  engrav'd  herein, 
Doth  contribute  my  firmnes  to  this  glasse, 
Which  ever  since  that  charme  hath  beene 
As  hard  as  that  which  grav'd  it  was  ; 
Thine  eyes  will  give  it  price  enough  to  mocke 
The  dyamonds  of  eyther  rocke. 

'Tis  much  that  glasse  should  bee 
As  all-confessinge  and  through-shine  as  I; 
'Tis  more  that  it  shows  thee  to  thee, 
And  cleare  reflects  thee  to  thyne  eye. 

1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.    G. 


VALEDICTION  OF  MY  NAME  IN  THE  WINDOW.         183 

But  all  such  rules  Loue's  magique  can  undoe  \ 
Heere  you  see  mee,  and  I  am  you. 

As  noe  one  poynt  nor  dash, 
Which  are  but  accessaries  to  this  name, 
The  showres  and  tempests  can  outwash, 
So  shall  all  tymes  find  me  the  same ; 
You  this  entirenes  better  may  fulfill, 

Who  haue  the  patterne  with  you  still. 

Or  if  too  hard  and  deepe 
This  learnings'  bee  for  a  scratcht  name  to  teach, 
It  as  a  given  death's-head  keepe, 
Louers'  mortalitie  to  preach ; 
Or  thinke  this  ragged  bony  name  to  bee 
My  ruinous  anatomic 

Then  as  all  my  souls  bee 
Emparadiz'd  in  you,  in  wThome  alone 
I  understand  and  grow  and  see, 
The  rafters  of  my  bodie,  bone, 
Beinge  still  writh  you,  the  muscle,  sinewe,  and  vaine, 
Which  tile  this  howse  will  come  againe ; 

Till  my  returne,  repaire 
And  recompact  my  scatter'd  body  soe, 
As  all  the  virtuous  powers,  which  are 
Fixt  in  the  starrs,  are  said  to  flowTe 
Into  such  characters  as  graved  be, 

When  those  stars  had  supremacie ; 


184  LYRICAL. 

So  since  this  name  was  cutt, 
When  loue  and  griefe  their  exaltation  had, 

No  doore  'gainst  this  name's  influence  shutt; 
As  much  more  lovinge  as  more  sadd, 
'Twill  make  thee  \  and  thou  should'st,  till  I  returne, 
Since  I  die  dailie,  daily  mourne. 

When  thy  inconsiderate  hand 
Flings  ope  this  casement,  with  my  trembling  name, 
To  looke  on  one,  whose  wytt  or  land 
New  batterie  to  thy  heart  may  frame, 
Then  think  this  name  alive,  and  that  thou  thus 
In  it  offend' st  my  Genius. 

And  when  thy  melted  mayde, 
Corrupted  by  thy  lover's  gold  or  page, 
His  letter  at  thy  pillowe  'hath  layde, 
Disputinge  it,  and  tamde  thy  rage, 
And  thou  to  him  begin'st  to  thaw  for  this, 

May  my  name  stepp  in,  and  hyde  his  ! 

And  if  this  treason  growe 
To  'an  overt  act,  and  that  thou  write  againe, 
In  superscribinge,  my  name  flowe 
Into  thy  fancy  from  thy  pen, 
Soe  in  forgettinge  thou  remembrest  right, 
And  unaware  to  me  shalt  wryte. 


VALEDICTION  OF  MY   NAME  IX  THE  WINDOW.  185 

But  glasse  and  lynes  must  bee 
No  means  our  firme  substantial!  loue  to  keepe  : 
Neare  death  inflicts  this  lethargie, 
And  thus  I  murmurr  in  my  sleepe  : 
Impute  this  idle  talke  to  that  I  goe ; 

For  dyinge  men  talke  often  soe. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  ix.  4, '  disputing'  of  our  ms.  aud  '  disputed'  of  the  printed 
texts  seem  both  corrupt,  being  in  the  wrong  tense.  The  bribed 
maid  '  disputes'  with  her  mistress,  who  is  inclined  to  be  faith- 
ful and  to  receive  no  other  letters,  and  by  dint  of  '  disputing' 
(  =  contradicting,  persuading,  wheedling)  at  length  conquers 
the  anger  she  had  at  being  presented  with  such  letters.  I  pre- 
fer in  L  5  the  reading  of  '69  to 

And  thou  begin'st  to  thaw  toward  him  for  this. 

St.  i.  6,  '  of  either  rock.''  Ben  Jonson  in  one  of  his  masques 
speaks  of  '  rubies  of  the  rock,'  but  apparently  in  opposition  to 
1  pearls  of  the  seas.'  Donne  perhaps  means  from  the  rocks  or 
mines  of  both  Indias ;  the  Golconda  and  South  American  or 
Brazilian  diamonds  forming  among  jewellers  two  classes,  the 
former  being  the  better. 

St.  iv.  3.  A  fashionable  device  in  rings  ;  and  the  fashion, 
when  it  went  off,  seems  to  have  left  them  with  those  who  sought 
an  appearance  of  fashion,  respectability,  and  morality,  because 
their  trade  and  procurings  had  none  of  these  attributes. 

St.  ix.  3=  [may]  my  name  flow.     Cf.  former  note.     G. 


TWTFKTAM  GAEDEXX.* 

Blasted  with  sighes,  and  surrounded  with  tears. 

Hither  I  come  to  seeke  the  Springe, 

And  at  myne  eves  and  at  myne  eares 
Eeceive  such  balnie  as  els  cures  every  thinge  : 

But,  0  selfe  traitor,  I  doe  bringe 
That  spider  Love,  which  transubstantiates  all, 

And  can  convert  rnanna  to  gall ; 
And  that  this  place  might  thoroughly  be  thought 

True  Paradice,  I  haue  the  serpent  brought. 

'Twere  holesomer  for  mee,  that  TTynter  did 

Benight  the  glory  of  this  place, 

And  that  a  grave  frost  did  forbydd 
These  trees  to  laugh,  and  mocke  me  to  my  face. 

But  that  I  may  not  this  disgrace 
Indure,  nor  leaue  this  garden,  Loue,  let  mee 

Some  senceless  part  of  this  place  bee; 
Make  me  a  mandrake,  soe  I  may  grow  heere, 

Or  a  stone  fowntain  weeping  out  my  yeare. 

Hither  with  christal  viols,  louers,  come,  phials 

And  take  my  tears,  which  are  Love's  wyne, 
And  trie  your  mistris'  tears  at  home, 

For  all  are  false  that  tast  not  just  like  myne ; 

Alas,  harts  do  not  in  eyes  shyne,  hearts 

1  From  Stephens'  iis.,  as  before.     G. 


VALEDICTION  TO  HIS  BOOK.  187 

Nor  can  you  more  judge  women's  thoughts  by  teares 
Then  by  her  shadow,  what  she  weares  !  Than 

0  perverse  sex,  where  none  is  true  but  shee 

Who  'is  therefore  trew,  because  her  truth  kills  mee  ! 

NOTE. 

I  know  not   that  '  Twit'nam'  for  '  Twickenham'  is   found 
elsewhere.     Our  MS.  miswrites  in  ii.  3  '  gray'  for  'grave.'     Cf. 

1  laugh'  and  '  mock.'     G. 


VALEDICTION  TO  HIS  BOOK.1 

I'll  tell  thee  now,  deare  love,  what  thou  shalt  doe 
To  anger  Desteny,  as  she  doth  us ; 
How  I  shall  stay,  though  she  eloign  me  thus, 
And  how  posteritie  shall  knowe  it  too ; 
How  thine  may  out-endure 
Sibil's  glory,  and  obscure 
Her  who  from  Pyndar  co'ld  allure, 
And  her  through  whose  help  Lucan  is  not  lame, 
And  her  whose  booke,  they  say,  Homer  did  find  and 
name. 

Study  our  manuscripts,  those  miriads 

Of  letters  which  haue  past  'twixt  thee  and  mee ; 

Thence  wryte  our  annales,  and  in  them  will  bee 
To  all  whom  Loue's  sublyming  fire  invades 
1  From  Stephens'  ms„  as  before.     G. 


188 


LYRICAL. 


Eule  and  example  fownd ; 
There  the  faith  of  any  ground 
No  schismatique  will  dare  to  wound, 
That  sees  how  Loue  this  grace  to  us  affords, 
To  make,  to  keepe,  to  bee,  to  use  these  his  Eecords  : 

This  booke,  as  long-livde  as  the  elements 

Or  as  the  world's  forme,  this  all-graved  tome 
In  cipher  write,  or  new-made  idiom ; 
We  for  Loue's  clergie  only  'are  instruments. 
When  this  booke  is  made  thus, 
Should  againe  the  ravenous 
Vandales  and  Gothes  invade  us, 
Learning  were  safe  in  this  our  vniverse,         [verse. 
Schooles  might  learne  scyences,  sphaeres  musik,  angells 

Here  Loue's  de vines  —  since  all  divinitie 

Is  loue  or  wonder — may  find  all  they  seeke, 
Whether  abstract  spiritual  loue  they  like, 
Their  sowles  exhal'd  with  what  they  do  not  see ; 
Or,  loathe  so  to  amuse 
Faith's  infirmitie,  they  chuse 
Something  which  they  may  see  and  vse ; 
For  tho'  niynd  bee  ye  heav'n  where  Loue  doth  sytt, 
Eewty  a  convenyent  type  may  be  to  figure  yt. 

Here  more  then  in  their  books  may  lawyers  fynd,     than 
Eoth  by  what  tytles  mistresses  are  ours, 
And  how  prerogative  these  States  devours, 

Transferr'd  from  Love  himself e  to  womankynd, 


VALEDICTION  TO  HIS  BOOK.  189 

Who,  though  from  harts  and  eyes 
They  'exact  great  subsidies, 
Forsake  him  who  on  them  relyes, 
And  for  the  cause  honor  or  conscience  give, 
Chymasras  vayne  as  they,  or  their  prerogative. 

Here  statesmen,  or  of  them  they  which  can  read, 
May  of  their  occupacion  fynd  the  grounds  ; 
Love  and  their  art  alike  it  deadly  wounds, 
If  to  consider  what  'tis,  one  proceed ; 
In  both  they  doe  excell, 
Who  the  present  governe  well, 
Whose  weaknes  none  doth  or  dare  tell ; 
In  this  thy  booke  such  will  their  nothing  see, 
As  in  the  Byble  some  can  fynd  out  alchemic 

Thus  vent  thy  thoughts ;  abroad  I'le  study  thee, 
As  he  removes  far  off,  that  great  heights  takes : 
How  great  loue  is,  presence  best  triall  makes, 
But  absence  tryes  how  long  this  loue  wilbe  : 
To  take  a  latitude, 
Sunn  or  stars  are  fitliest  veiwed 
At  their  brightest ;  but  to  conclude 
Of  longitudes,  what  other  way  have  wee, 
But  to  marke  when,  and  where,  ye  darke  eclipses  bee  ? 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

This  poem  was  doubtless  addressed  to  the  poet's  wife,  and 
probably  formed  the  concluding  poem  of  the  missing  edition  of 
his  poems,  as  noticed  in  our  Essay. 

VOL.  II.  0 


190  LYRICAL. 

St.  i.  3,  '  eloign' =  esloign  is  preferable  to  '  parloyne'  of  our 
MS.  Destiny  had  not  stolen  (or  '  purloined')  him  from  the  living. 
There  are  other  obvious  errors  in  the  ms.  ,  which  we  have  silently 
corrected  from  the  printed  texts. 

lb.  7.  Corinna  the  Theban,  Pindar's  instructress  in  poetry, 
and  successful  rival. 

lb.  8.  Probably  Argentaria  Polla,  Lucan's  wife  and  widow 
(Statins  and  Martial).  Our  ms.  mistakenly  reads  'Vucan'= 
Vulcan. 

St.  iii.  2,  'This  all -graved  tome'  is  'this  book,'  not  the 
world's  form.  The  book  might  be  in  '  new-made'  idiom,  but 
the  world  could  not  be  said  to  be  so  writ. 

St.  vi.  8,  'nothing:'  '69  has  'something.'  The  sense  is 
much  the  same,  but  he  is  inveighing  against  statesmen  and 
alchemy,  and  '  nothing'  therefore  is  the  stronger  and  to  be  pre- 
ferred. 

St.  vii.  7,  '  brightest.'  In  taking  a  latitude,  sun  and  stars 
are  for  astronomical  reasons  best  taken  at  or  near  their  meri- 
dian height,  where,  being  out  of  the  mists  of  the  horizon,  they 
are  brightest  and  clearest.     G. 


COMMUNITY.1 

Good  we  must  love,  and  must  hate  ill, 
For  ill  is  ill,  and  good  good  still ; 

But  there  are  things  indifferent, 
Which  we  may  neither  hate  nor  loue, 
But  one,  and  then  another  prove, 

As  we  shall  fynd  our  fancie  bent. 

If  then  at  first  wise  Nature  hadd 
Made  women  either  good  or  badd, 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


THE  SPRINGE.  191 

Then  some  we  might  hate  and  some  chuse ; 
But  since  she  did  them  so  create, 
That  we  may  neither  love  nor  hate, 

Onlie  this  rests — all,  all  may  use. 

If  they  were  good,  it  would  be  seene  ; 
Good  is  as  visible  as  greene, 

And  to  all  eyes  itself  betrayes  : 
If  they  were  badd,  they  co'ld  not  last ; 
Bad  doth  itselfe  and  others  waste  : 

Soe  they  deserve  nor  blame  nor  praise. 

But  they  are  ours,  as  fruits  are  ours  : 
He  that  but  tasts,  he  that  devours, 

And  he  which  leaves  all,  doth  as  well : 
Chang'd  loues  are  but  changed  sorts  of  meat; 
And  when  he  hath  the  kernell  eate, 

Who  doth  not  flinge  away  the  shell  ? 

NOTE. 

St.  iii.  2,  '  greene :'  may  have  been  chosen  merely  for  the 
rhyme ;  hut  as  it  was  the  colour  indicative  of  lasciviousness,  a 
sarcasm  may  have  been  intended.     G. 


THE  SPEINGE.1 

I  scarse  beleive  my  loue  to  be  so  pure 
As  I  had  thought  it  was, 
Because  it  doth  endure 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


^ 


192  LYRICAL. 

Vicissitude  and  seasonn,  as  the  grasse ; 
Meethinks  I  lyed  all  Wynter,  when  I  swore 
My  loue  was  infinite,  if  Spring  make  'it  more. 

But  if  this  medicine  love,  which  cures  all  sorrow 
With  more,  not  only  be  no  quintessence, 
But  mixt  of  all  stuffs  vexing  sowle  or  sence, 
And  from  the  sunn  his  active  vigor  borrow, 
Loue's  not  soe  pure  an  abstract,  as  they  use 
To  say,  which  have  no  mistris  but  their  ]\Iuse  ; 
But,  as  all  els,  being  elemented  too, 
Love  sometimes  wo'ld  contemplate,  somtimes  do. 

And  yet  no  greater,  but  more  emynent 

Love  by  the  Springe  is  grown ; 

As  in  the  fyrmament 
Stars  are  not  by  the  sun  enlarg'd,  but  showne. 
Gentle  love-deeds,  as  blossoms  on  a  bough, 
From  Love's  awaked  roote  do  budd  out  now. 

If,  as  in  waters  stir'd,  more  circles  bee 

Produc'd  by  one,  loue  such  additions  take, 

Those,  like  soe  many  sphseres,  but  one  heav'n  make, 

For  they  are  all  concentrique  unto  thee  ; 

And  though  each  springe  doth  add  to  loue  new  heat, 

As  princes  doe  in  time  of  action  gett 

Xew  taxes,  and  remytt  them  not  in  Peace, 

ISToe  Winter  shall  abate  this  Springe's  increase. 


love's  exchange.  193 


NOTE. 

Usually  headed  'Love's  Growth.'  In  st.  iii.  4,  '  not  en- 
larged :'  a  curious  phrase,  meaning  that  the  stars  that  show  in 
daylight  are  not  enlarged,  but  show  to  be  brighter  than  their 
invisible  neighbours,  and  to  be  comparatively  brighter  than  they 
appear  to  be  when  all  are  seen  together  in  the  darkness  of 
night.      G. 


LOVE'S  EXCHAXGE.1 

Loue,  any  diuell  else  but  you 

Would  for  a  given  soule  giue  something  too 

Att  Court  your  fellowes  eu'ry  day 

Giue  th'  art  of  riming,  huntsnianship,  or  play 

For  them  who  weere  their  owne  before ; 

Only  I  'haue  nothing,  which  gaue  more, 

But  am,  alass,  by  lying  lowly,  lower. 

I  aske  no  dispensation  now 

To  falsify  a  sigh,  a  teare,  a  vow ; 

I  doe  not  sue  from  thee  to  drawe 

A  non  obstante  'on  Xature's  lawe  ; 

These  are  prerogatiues,  they  'inheere 

In  thee  and  thine ;  none  should  forsweare, 

Except  that  hee  Loue's  minion  weere. 

Giue  me  thy  weaknes,  make  me  blind 

Both  waies,  as  thou  and  thine,  in  eyes  and  mind 

1  From  Hazlewood-Kingsborough  ms.  ,  as  before.     G. 


194  LYRICAL. 

Loue,  neuer  lett  me  know  that  this 

I  loue,  or  that  loue  childish  is. 

Lett  me  not  knowe  that  others  knowe 

That  she  knowes  my  paines,  least  that  soe 

A  tender  shame  make  me  mine  owne  new  woe. 

If  thou  giue  nothing,  yett  thou  'art  just, 

Because  I  would  not  thy  first  motion  trust  : 

Small  touns,  which  stand  stifle  till  greate  shott 

Enforce  them,  by  Warr's  la  we  condition  nott : 

Such  in  Loue's  warfare  is  my  cause;  case 

I  may  not  article  for  grace, 

Hauing  putt  Loue  at  last  to  shew  his  face. 

This  face,  by  which  he  would  command 

And  change  th'  idolatrye  of  anny  Land  ; 

This  face,  which,  wheresoere  it  comes, 

Can  call  vow'd  men  from  cloisters,  dead  from  tombes, 

And  melt  both  poles  at  once,  and  store 

Desarts  with  cittyes,  and  make  more 

Mines  in  the  earth  than  quarryes  weere  before. 

For  this  Loue  is  enrag'd  with  mee, 

Yet  kils  not :  if  I  must  example  bee 

To  future  rebels,  if  th'  unborne 

Must  learne  by  my  being  cutt  vp  and  torne ; 

Kill  and  dissect  me,  Loue  ;  for  this 

Torture  against  thine  owne  end  is : 

Rackt  carkases  make  ill  anatomies. 


CONFINED  LOVE.  105 


NOTE. 

St.  iv.  4,  'condition:'  that  is,  not  entitled  to  make  con- 
ditions, but  are  by  martial-law  given  over  to  plunder  and  the 
sword,  as  were  all  places  which,  though  evidently  untenable, 
offered  resistance.     See  vol.  i.  s.  v.     G. 


CONFINED  LOVE.1 

Some  man  unworthye  to  be  possessor 
Of  ould  or  new  love,  himselfe  being  false  or  weake, 

Thought  his  payne  and  shame  wo'ld  be  lesser 
If  on  womankynd  he  might  his  anger  wreake, 
And  thence  a  lawe  did  groove, 
One  should  but  one  man  knowe  ; 
But  are  other  creatures  soe  ? 

Are  sunn,  moone,  or  starrs  by  lawe  forbidden 
To  smyle  where  they  list,  or  lend  away  their  light  1  choose 

Are  byrds  divorced,  or  are  they  chydden 
If  they  leaue  their  mate,  or  lye  abroad  a-night] 
Beasts  do  noe  jointure  loose, 
Though  they  new  lovers  chuse  : 
But  we  are  made  worse  then  those.  than 

Whoere  rigg'd  faire  shipps  to  lye  in  harbours, 
And  not  to  seeke  new  Lands,  or  not  to  deale  with  all? 

Or  buylt  faire  howses,  sett  trees  and  arbours, 
Only  to  locke  upp,  or  ells  to  let  them  fall  ? 

1  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.     Same  thoughts  herein 
as  in  Metempsy.  and  elsewhere.     G. 


J  96  LYRICAL. 

Good  is  noe  good,  unlesse 

A  thousand  it  possesse, 

But  doth  wast  with  greedynesse. 


THE  DEEAME.1 

Dear  Love,  for  nothinge  less  then  thee  than 

Would  1  have  broke  this  happy  dreame ; 

It  was  a  theame 
For  reason,  much  too  stronge  for  fantasie ; 
Therefore  thou  waked'st  rnee  wisely  :  yett 
My  dreame  thou  brak'st  not,  but  continued'st  it  : 
Thou  art  so  true,  that  thoughts  of  thee  suffice 
To  make  dreams  true,  and  fables  historyes. 
Enter  these  arms,  for  since  thou  thought' st  it  best 
Not  to  dreame  all  my  dreame,  let's  doe  the  rest. 

As  lightning  or  a  taper's  light, 

Thine  eyes,  and  not  thy  noice,  waked  me ; 

Yet  I  thought  thee 
(For  thou  lov'st  truth)  an  angell  at  first  sight ; 
But  when  I  saw  thou  saw'st  my  hart, 
And  knew'st  my  thoughts  beyond  an  angell's  art; 
When  thou  knew'st  what  I  dreampt,  then  thou  knew'st 

when 
Excesse  of  joy  wo'ld  wake  me,  and  cam'st  then ; 

1  From  Stephens'  iis.,  as  before.     G. 


A  VALEDICTION  OF  TEARS.  197 

I  must  confesse  it  co'ld  not  choose  but  bee 
Prophane  to  thinke  thee  any  thing  but  thee. 

Coming  and  stayinge  shewd  thee,  thee; 
But  risinge  makes  me  doubt  that  nowe 

Thou  art  not  thou. 
That  love  is  weak,  where  fear's  as  strong  as  hee ; 
Tis  not  all  spirit,  pure  and  brave, 
If  mixture  it  of  feare,  shame,  honor  haue. 
Perchance,  as  torches,  which  must  ready  bee, 
Men  light  and  put  out,  so  thou  deaPst  with  mee ; 
Thou  cam'st  to  kindle,  go'st  to  come  :  then  I 
Will  dreame  that  hope  againe ;  but  els  wo'ld  dye. 


A  VALEDICTION  OF  TEAKS.1 

Let  me  powre  forth 
My  tears  before  thy  face,  whilst  I  stay  heere, 
For  thy  face  coynes  them,  and  thy  stamp  they  beare ; 
And  by  this  mintage  they  are  something  worth, 

Eor  thus  they  bee 

Pregnant  of  thee ; 
Fruits  of  much  griefe  they  are,  emblems  of  more  ; 
When  a  teare  falls,  that  thou  falls,  which  it  bore ; 
Soe  thou  and  I  are  nothing  then,  when  on  a  divers  shore. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


198  LYRICAL. 


On  a  round  ball 
A  workman,  that  hath  coppies  by,  can  laye 
An  Europe,  Afrike,  and  an  Asia, 
And  quickly  make  that  which  was  nothinge,  all : 

So  doth  each  teare, 

Which  thee  doth  weare, 
A  globe,  yea,  world  by  that  impressyon  growe, 
Till  thy  tears  mixt  with  myne  do  overflowe 
This  world,  by  waters  sent  from  thee,  by  heav'n  dis- 
solved soe. 

Oh  more  then  moon,  than 

Draw  not  thy  seas  to  drowne  me  in  thy  sphaere ; 
Weepe  me  not  dead  in  thine  arms,  but  forebeare 
To  teach  the  sea,  what  it  may  doe  too  soone; 

Let  not  the  wynd 

Example  find 
To  do  me  more  harme  then  it  purposeth  :  than 

Since  thou  and  I  sigh  one  another's  breath, 
Whoere  sighs  most,  is  crewelest,  and  hastes  the  other's 
death. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  i.  8=when  the  tear,  united  with  thy  image,  falls,  then 
the  '  thou'  that  it  hears  falls  too. 

St.  ii.  6,  '  thee :'  our  ms.  miswrites  'she.'  The  tear  wears 
=hears  the  impression  of  thee.  Cf.  st.  i.  4,  8,  and  note  on 
st.  i.  8. 

St.  hi.  2,  '  thy  .•'  our  ms.  and  '35  '  up.'  '  Up'  is  vague,  and 
may  mean  to  the  moon  or  to  her  sphere :  '  thy,'  from  '69,  ex- 
presses the  moon's  empiry.     G. 


LOVE  IS  ALCHEMY.1 

Some  that  have  deeper  dig'd  Loue's  niyne  then  I,    than 
Say,  where  his  centrique  happines  doth  lye  : 

I  'haue  lov'd,  and  gott,  and  tould ; 
But  sho'ld  I  loue,  get,  tell,  till  I  were  old, 
I  should  not  find  that  hidden  misterie ; 

Oh,  'tis  imposture  all : 
And  as  no  chyniick  yet  th'  elixir  gott, 

But  glorifies  his  pregnant  pott, 

If  by  the  way  to  him  befall 
Some  odoriferous  thinge  or  medicinall ; 

So  louers  dream  a  rich  and  long  delight, 
But  gett  a  TVmter-seeminge  Sommer's  night. 


Our  ease,  our  thrifte,  our  honor,  and  our  day, 
Shall  we  for  this  vaine  bubble's  shadow  pay  ? 

Ends  loue  in  this,  that  any  mann 
Can  be  as  happie  'as  I  can,  if  he  can 
Endure  the  short  scorne  of  a  bridegroom's  plaie  1 

That  louinge  wretch  that  sweares 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


200  LYRICAL. 

Tis  not  the  bodyes  marrie,  but  the  myndes, 
Which  he  in  her  angelique  finds, 
Would  swear  as  iustly,  that  he  heares, 

In  that  daie's  rude  hoarse  minstralsie  the  spheres. 
Hope  not  for  mynd  in  women ;  at  their  best 

Sweetness  and  wytt,  they're  but  mummie  posest. 

NOTE. 

The  heading  is  usually  *  Love's  Alchemy :'  I  have  expanded 
it.  Our  ms.  has  '  Mummie  ;'  and  as  ending  with  a  sarcasm  on 
women  this  might  stand.  But  the  subject  is  that  Love=al- 
chemy — an  imposture.     G. 


(WKSE.* 

Who  ever  guesses,  thinks,  or  dreams  he  knowes 
Who  is  my  mistris,  wither  by  this  curse  ! 
Him  onely  and  onlye  his  purse 
May  some  dull  hart  to  loue  dispose, 
And  she  yeald  then  to  all  that  are  his  foes  ! 
May  he  be  scornde  by  one,  whom  all  ells  scorne ; 
Forsweare  to  others  what  to  her  he  'hath  sworne, 
With  feare  of  missinge,  shame  of  getting,  tome  ! 

Madnes  his  sorrowe,  gowte  his  crampe  may  hee 
Make,  but  by  thinkinge  who  hath  made  them  such ! 
And  may  hee  feele  no  touch 
Of  conscience,  but  of  sinne,  and  bee 
Anguish t,  not  that  'twas  shin,  but  that  'twas  shee  ! 
1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  hefore.     G. 


CVRSE.  201 

Or  may  he  for  her  virtues  reverence 
One  that  hates  him  only  for  impotence, 
And  a3qual  traytors  be  shee  and  his  sence  ! 

May  he  dreame  treason,  and  believe  that  hee 
Meant  to  performe  it,  and  confesse,  and  dye, 
And  noe  record  tell  why  : 
His  sonns,  which  none  of  his  may  bee, 
Inherit  nothinge  but  his  infamie  ! 

Or  may  he  soe  longe  parasites  haue  fedd, 

That  he  wo'ld  fayne  be  theirs,  whom  he  hathbredd, 

And  at  the  last  be  circumcysde  for  bread  ! 

The  venom  of  all  step-dams,  gamester's  gall, 
What  tyrants  and  their  subiects  interwish, 

What  plants,  mynes,  beasts,  fowle,  fish, 
Can  contribute,  all  ill,  which  all 
Prophets  or  poets  speke  ;  and  all,  which  shall 
Be  annex'd  in  schedules  unto  this  by  mee, 
Fall  on  that  man ;  for  if  it  be  a  shee, 
^Nature  beforehand  hath  outcursed  mee  ! 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

1.  The  metre  (cf.  the  other  st.)  and  the  construction  and 
the  sense  show  that  '35  and  our  ms.  readings  are  made  up  of 
unaltered  alterations,  i.e.  the  words  intended  to  be  deleted  are 
left  in  instead  of  being  struck  out  on  correction : 

His  only  for  his  purse, 
His  and  only  for  his  purse, 

She  is  not  to  be  '  his  only,'  as  '35  says,  and  the  ms.  is  not  Eng- 
lish.    The  '  him,'  however,  of  '69  is  more  grammatical,  besides 


202  LYRICAL. 

getting  rid  of  the  thought  that  the  woman  is  in  any  way  '  his.' 
I  have  adopted  '  Him,'  as  being  confirmed  also  by  change  of 
'  heart'  to  '  whore.'  In  st.  ii.  7  '  impotence '=Not  that  her  only 
cause  of  hate  was  his  impotence,  but  one  that  only  hates  him, 
impotent,  and  loves  all  others.  In  st.  ii.  4  I  have  adopted 
1  sinne'  from  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.  It  is  usually  mis- 
printed '  fame.'  In  our  ms.  it  is  '  shame.'  '  Fame'  is  self-evi- 
dently  wrong ;  but  I  do  not  think  Donne  was  so  merciful  as  to 
wish  him  to  feel  'shame.'  The  word  '  sinn'  in  next  line  proves 
almost  without  a  doubt  that  '  but  of  sinne'  is  the  correct  reading : 
and  I  regard  '  fame'  as  a  misreading  of  '  shame,'  and  '  shame' 
as  the  conjectural  emendation  of  '  fame'  by  a  copyist  who  saw 
it  was  wrong.     Q. 


THE  MESSAGE.* 

Send  home  my  longe-stray'd  eyes  to  mee, 
Which,  oh,  too  longe  haue  dwelt  on  thee ; 
But  if  there  they  haue  learnt  such  ill, 
Such  forct  fashions 
And  false  passyons, 
That  they  bee 
Made  by  thee 
Fitt  for  no  good  sight,  keepe  them  still. 

Send  home  my  harmles  harte  againe, 
AVhich  no  unworthy  thought  co'ld  stayne ; 
But  if  it  be  taught  by  thine 

To  make  jestinges 

Of  protestinges, 
1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before. 


A  NOCTURNAL!  UPON  S.  LUCIE'S  DAY.  203 

And  break  both 
\Yord  and  oath, 
Keepe  it,  for  then  'tis  none  of  myne. 

Yet  send  me  back  my  hart  and  eyes, 
That  I  may  know  and  see  thy  lyes, 
And  may  laugh  and  joy,  when  thou 
Art  in  anguish, 
And  dost  langwish 
For  some  one, 
That  will  none, 
Or  prove  as  false  as  thou  dost  nowe. 


A  XOCTUKNALL  UPOX  S.  LUCIE'S  DAY, 

BEINGE  THE  SHORTEST  DAY.1 

'Tis  the  yeare's  midnight,  and  it  is  the  daye's, 

Lucie's,  who  scarse  seavenhowers  herselfe  unmaskes; 
The  Sun  is  spent,  and  now  his  flasks 
Send  forth  light  squibbs,  no  constant  rayes ; 
The  world's  whole  sapp  is  sunke ; 
The  generall  balm  th'  hydroptique  Earth  hath  drunk, 
Whither,  as  to  the  bedd's-feet,  life  is  shrunk, 
Dead  and  enterred:  yet  all  these  seeme  to  laugh, 
Compared  with  mee,  who  am  their  epitaph. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.     G. 


204  LYRICAL. 

Studdie  mee  then,  you  who  shall  lovers  bee 

At  the  next  world,  that  is,  at  the  next  Springe  : 
For  I  am  a  very  dead  thinge, 

In  whom  Love  wrought  new  Alcumy. 

For  his  art  did  express 

A  quintessence  even  from  nothingnesse, 

From  dull  privations,  and  leane  emptinesse  : 

He  ruin'd  mee,  and  I  am  re-begott 

Of  absence,  darkeness,  death — things  which  are  not. 

All  others  from  all  things  draw  all  that's  good, 

Life,  soule,  forme,  spiritt,  whence  they  beinge  have ; 
I,  by  Love's  limbeck,  am  the  graue 

Of  all  that's  nothinge.     Oft  a  flood 

Have  wee  two  wept,  and  soe 

Drown'd  the  whole  world,  us  two  ;  oft  did  wee  growe 

To  be  two  Chaosses,  when  wee  did  showe 

Care  to  ought  else ;  and  often  absences 

Withdrew  our  soules,  and  made  us  carcasses. 

But  I  am  by  her  death,  which  word  wrongs  her, 
Of  the  first  nothinge  the  elixer  growen ; 
Were  I  a  man,  that  I  were  one 

I  needs  must  know ;  I  should  prefere, 

If  I  were  any  beast, 

Some  ends,  some  meanes;  yea  plants,  yea  stones  detest 

And  love;  all,  all  some  properties  invest. 


WITCHCRAFT  BY  A  PICTURE.  205 

If  I  an  ordinary  nothinge  were, 

As  shadowe,  a  light  and  bodie  must  be  heere. 

But  I  am  none ;  nor  will  my  sun  renewe  : 
You  lovers,  for  whose  sake  the  lesser  sunn 
At  this  tyme  to  the  Goate  is  run 
To  fetch  new  lust,  and  give  it  you, 
Enioy  your  Summer  all; 
Since  she  enioyes  her  longe  night's  festivall, 
Let  me  prepare  towards  her,  and  let  mee  call 
This  hower  her  vigill  and  her  eve,  since  this 
Both  the  yeare's  and  the  daye's  deep  midnight  is. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Our  ms.  incorrectly  reads  '  shortest  night'  for  '  day.'  The 
day  of  St.  Lucy,  virgin  and  martyr,  304,  is  13th  December, 
which  in  old  style  and  in  Donne's  time  would  be  about  the 
shortest  '  day.'  Cf.  st.  i.  1-3  and  v.  2-9.  In  st.iii.  6  the  '  two* 
are  the  whole  world  [to  one  another]  — a  constant  conceit  in 
Donne.  Read  also,  in  vol.  i.  p.  158,  note  on  1.  120=the  short- 
est day  and  longest  night.     G. 


WITCHCRAFT  BY  A  PICTURE.1 

I  fixe  mine  eye  on  thine,  and  there 

Pity  my  picture  "burninge  in  thine  eye ; 

My  picture  drown' d  in  a  transparant  teare, 
When  I  looke  lower,  I  espie  ; 

1  From  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.  ,  as  before. 
VOL.  II.  P 


206  LYRICAL. 

Hadst  thou  the  wicked  skill, 

By  pictures  made  and  mar'd,  to  kill, 

How  many  waies  mightst  thou  performe  thy  will ! 

But  now  I  'haue  drunke  thie  sweet  salt  teares, 

And  though  thou  poor  more,  I'le  depart :  pour 

My  picture  vanished,  vanish  all  feares, 
That  I  can  be  endamag'd  by  that  art : 

Though  thou  retaine  of  me 

One  picture  more,  yet  that  wilbe, 

Being  in  thine  own  hart,  from  all  malice  free. 


THE  BAIT.1 


Come  Hue  with  me  and  be  my  loue, 
And  we  will  some  new  pleasure  proue 
Of  golden  sands  and  cristall  brooks, 
With  silken  lines  and  siluer  hooks. 

There  will  the  riuer  whisperinge  runne 

Warm'd  by  thine  eyes  more  then  the  sunne  ;        than 

And  there  th'  enamored  fish  will  stay, 

Begginge  themselves  they  may  betray. 

When  thou  wilt  swime  in  that  Hue  bath, 
Each  fish,  which  every  channell  hath, 

i  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before.     G. 


THE  BAIT.  207 

Will  amorously  to  thee  swimme, 

Gladder  to  catch  thee  then  thou  him.  than 

If  thou  to  be  so  seen  beest  loath 

By  sunne  or  moone,  thou  darknest  both ; 

And  if  my  selfe  haue  leave  to  see, 

I  need  not  their  light,  hauinge  thee. 

Let  others  freeze  with  anglinge  reeds, 
And  cutt  their  leggs  with  shells  and  weeds, 
Or  treacherously  rjoore  fish  besett 
With  stranglinge  snare  or  winding  nett : 

Let  course  bold  hands  from  slimy  nest 
The  bedded  fish  in  bancks  outwrest, 
Or  curious  traitors,  sleaue-silk  flies, 
Bewitch  poore  fishes'  wanderinge  eyes. 

For  thee,  thou  need'st  no  such  deceit, 
For  thou  thy  selfe  art  thine  owne  baite  : 
That  fish  that  is  not  catched  thereby, 
Alas,  is  wiser  farr  than  I ! 

NOTE. 

This  is  a  variant  on  Marlowe's  Song.  In  1.  20,  Donne, 
seeing  that  his  original  word  '  windowy '  (=  full  of  windows  or 
spaces)  had  no  reference  to  danger  of  the  net,  altered  it  to 
'  winding'  ('69)  ==  encircling  and  entangling.    G. 


THE  APPAKITIOR1 

When  by  thy  scome,  0  murdress,  I  am  dead, 

And  thou  shalt  think  thee  free 
Of  all  solicitation  from  me, 
Then  shall  my  ghost  come  to  thy  bedd, 
And  thee,  fayn'd  vestall,  in  worse  arms  shall  see; 
Then  thy  sick  taper  will  begin  to  winke, 
And  hee  whose  thou  art  thenn,  being  tirde  before, 
"Will,  if  thou  strive  or  pinche  or  wake  him,  thinke 

Thou  cal'st  for  more, 
And  in  a  false  sleepe  even,  from  thee  shrinke. 
And  then,  poore  aspen  wretch,  neglected,  thou 
Bathed  in  a  could  quick-siluer  sweat  wilt  lye 

A  veryer  ghost  then  I. 
What  I  will  say,  I  will  not  tell  thee  nowe, 
Least  that  preserve  thee  :  and  since  my  loue  is  spent, 
I  'had  rather  thou  shouldst  painfully  repent 
Then  by  my  threatnings  rest  still  innocent.  Than 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


THE  BROKEN  HEART.1 

Hee  is  starke  madd  who  ever  sayes 

That  he  hath  bene  in  loue  one  hower  : 

Yet  not  that  loue  soe  soone  decayes, 

But  that  it  can  ten  in  less  space  devour ; 

Who  will  believe  me,  if  I  sweare 

That  I  haue  had  the  plague  a  yeare  1 

Who  woTd  not  laugh  at  mee,  if  I  sho'ld  say 
I  sawe  a  flash  of  powder  burne  a  day  1 

Ah,  what  a  try  tie  is  a  harte, 

If  once  into  Loue's  hands  it  come  ! 
All  other  greifs  allowe  a  parte 

To  other  griefs,  and  ask  themselues  but  some  : 
They  come  to  us;  but  us  Loue  drawes, 
He  swallows  us,  and  never  chawes  : 

By  him,  as  by  chayne-shott,  whole  ranks  doe  dye ; 

He  is  the  tyrant  pyke,  our  hearts  the  frye. 

If  'twere  not  soe,  what  did  become 

Of  my  hart,  when  I  first  sawe  thee  ] 
I  brought  a  hart  into  the  roome, 

But  from  the  roome  I  carry'd  none  with  mee  : 

■  From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before ;  but  silently  corrected  in 
obvious  errors  from  ?35.     G. 


210  LYRICAL. 

If  it  had  gone  with  thyne,  I  knowe 
Mine  would  have  taught  thyne  hart  to  showe 
More  pitty  unto  mee  :  but  Loue,  alas, 
At  one  first  blow  did  shyver  yt  as  glasse. 

Yet  nothing  can  to  nothing  fall, 

Nor  any  place  be  emptye  quyte ; 
Therefore  I  think  my  brest  hath  all 

Those  peeces  still,  though  they  do  not  unyte  : 
And  now  as  broken  glasses  showe 
A  thousand  lesser  faces,  soe 

My  raggs  of  hart  can  like,  wish,  and  adore ; 

But  after  one  such  loue  can  loue  no  more. 


VPON  PAKTINGE  FBOM  HIS  MISTEIS.1 

As  virtuous  menn  pass  myldly  'away, 
And  whisper  to  their  sowles  to  goe, 

Whilst  some  of  their  sad  freinds  doe  say, 
Now  his  breath  goes,  and  some  say,  noe ; 

Soe  let  us  melt,  and  make  no  noise, 

No  tear-floods  nor  sigh-tempests  move; 

'Twere  prophanation  of  our  joyes 
To  tell  the  laietie  our  loue. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


VPON  PARTINGB  FROM  HIS  MI8TBIS.  211 

Movinge  of  th'  earth  brings  harms  and  feares, 
Men  reckon  what  it  did,  and  meant ; 

But  trepidations  of  the  spheres, 

Though  greater  farr,  are  innocent. 

Dull  sublunary  Louers'  loue, 

Whose  sowle  is  sence,  cannot  admytt 

Absence;  for  that  it  doth  remoue 
Those  things  which  elemented  it. 

But  we,  by  a  loue  so  far  refynde 

That  ourselves  know  not  what  it  is, 

Inter-assured  of  the  mynde, 

Care  less,  eyes,  lipps,  and  hands  to  miss. 

Our  two  sowles  therefore,  which  are  one, 
Though  I  must  go,  indure  not  yet 

A  breach,  but  an  expansionn, 

Like  gould  to  aerye  thinnes  beat. 

If  they  be  two,  they  are  two  soe 

As  styff  twynn  compasses  are  two  ; 

Thy  sowle,  the  fixt  foote,  makes  no  showe 
To  move,  but  doth  if  th'  other  doe  : 

And  though  it  in  the  center  sytt, 

Yet  when  the  other  farr  doth  rome, 

It  leans  and  hearkens  after  it, 

And  growes  erect,  as  that  comes  home. 


212  LYRICAL. 

Such  wilt  thou  he  to  rue,  who  must, 
Like  th'  other  foote,  obliquely  runn: 

Thy  fyrnmes  makes  my  circle  iust, 

And  makes  me  end  where  I  begunn. 


THE  ECSTACIE.1 

Where,  like  a  pillowe  on  a  bedd, 

A  pregnant  bancke  swell'd  upp  to  rest 
The  violet's  declininge  head. 

8  :.  we,  on  one  another's  bi 
Our  hands  were  firmly  cymented  5 

By  a  fast  balme  which  thence  did  springe, 
Our  eye-beams  twisted,  and  did  threed 

Our  eyes  upon  one  double  stringe  ; 
Soe  to  engrafte  our  hands  as  yett 

Was  all  our  means  to  make  us  one,  1  o 

And  pictures  in  our  eyes  to  gett 

\Vas  all  our  propagationn. 
As  'rwixt  two  equall  armies  Fate 

Suspends  uneertaine  victorie, 
Our  sowles  (which,  to  advance  our  state,  1 5 

Were  gone  out)  hung  'twixt  her  and  mee ; 
And  whilst  our  sowles  negotiate  there, 

We  like  sepulchrall  statues  lay; 
All  day  the  same  our  postures  were, 

And  we  said  nothinge  all  the  day.  20 

1  From  Stephens'  us.,  as  before.     G. 


THE  ECSTAC1E.  213 

If  any,  soe  by  loue  refincle 

Tliat  he  sowle's  language  understood, 
And  by  good  loue  were  grown  all  mind, 

Within  convenient  distance  stood, 
He  (though  he  knew  not  which  sowle  spake,  25 

Because  both  meant,  both  spake  the  same) 
Might  thence  a  newe  concoction  take, 

And  part  far  purer  then  he  came.  than 

This  ecstacie  doth  unperplex, 

We  said,  and  tell  us  what  we  loue  ;  3  o 

We  see  by  this  it  was  not  sex, 

We  see  wee  saw  not  what  did  move  : 
Eut  as  all  severall  sowles  containe 

Mixture  of  thinges  they  know  not  what, 
Love  these  mixt  sowles  doth  mix  againe,  35 

And  makes  both  one,  each  this  and  that ; 
A  single  violet  transplant, 

The  strength,  the  colour,  and  the  sise, 
All  which  before  was  poore  and  skant, 

Redoubles  still  and  multiplyes.  40 

When  loue  with  one  another  soe 

Inter-animates  two  sowles, 
That  abler  sowle,  which  thence  doth  Howe, 

Defects  of  lonelynes  controwles. 
We  then,  who  are  this  new  sowle,  knowe  45 

Of  what  we  are  composde  and  made  ; 
For  the  attomye,  of  which  we  growe, 

Are  sowles  whom  noe  change  can  invade. 


214  LYRICAL. 

But,  oh,  alas,  so  longe,  so  farre, 

Our  bodyes  whie  doe  we  forbeare?  50 

They  are  ours,  though  not  we ;  we  are 

Th'  Intelligences,  they  the  sphsere  : 
We  owe  them  thanks,  because  they  thus 

Did  us  to  us  at  first  convai, 
Yielded  their  senses'  force  to  vs,  55 

Nor  are  drosse  to  us,  but  allaye. 
On  man  heav'n's  influence  works  not  soe, 

But  that  it  first  imprints  the  ayre; 
Soe  sowle  into  the  sowle  may  flowe, 

Though  it  to  body  first  repaire.  60 

As  our  bloud  labors  to  begett 

Spirits  as  like  sowles  as  it  can, 
Because  such  fingers  need  to  knytt 

That  subtill  knott  which  makes  us  man ; 
So  must  pure  Lovers'  sowles  descend  65 

To  'affections  and  to  faculties, 
Which  sence  may  reach  and  apprehend, 

Sis  a  great  prince  in  prison  lyes  : 
T'  our  bodies  turne  we  then,  that  soe 

Weake  men  on  loue  revaild  may  looke ;       revealed 
Love's  mysteries  in  sowles  do  growe,  70 

But  yet  the  body  is  his  booke; 
And  if  some  louer,  such  as  wee, 

Have  heard  this  dialogue  of  one, 
Let  him  still  marke  us  ;  he  shall  see  7  5 

Small  change,  when  we  'are  to  bodyes  grown. 


love's  dietie.  215 


NOTE. 


To  fully  understand  the  punning  conceit,  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  at  that  time  allay  (1.  56)  was = both  alloy  and 
allay.     G. 


LOVE'S  DIETIE.1  Deity 

I  long  to  talke  with  some  ould  louer's  ghost, 

Whoe  dyde  before  the  God  of  Loue  was  borne : 

I  cannot  thinke  that  hee,  that  then  lou'd  most, 
Sunck  soe  lowe  as  to  loue  one  which  did  scorne. 

But  since  this  god  producte  a  desteine,     produc'd  a  destiny 

And  that  vice-nature,  custome,  lets  it  bee, 

I  must  loue  her  that  loves  not  mee. 

Sure  they  which  made  him  god  meant  not  so  much, 
Nor  he  in  his  younge  godhead  practiz'd  it; 

But  when  an  even  flame  two  hearts  did  touch, 
His  office  was  indulgently  to  fitt 

Actives  to  passives;  correspondencie 

Only  his  subject  was ;  it  cannot  bee 

Love,  till  I  lov'd  her  that  lou'd  me. 

But  everie  moderne  god  will  now  extend 

His  vast  prerogatiue  as  farr  as  Jove; 
To  rage,  to  lust,  to  write  too,  to  commend, 

All  is  the  purlew  of  the  God  of  Loue. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


216  LYRICAL. 

Oh  were  we  wakened  by  this  tyrannie 
To  'ungod  this  chyld  again,  it  co'ld  not  be 
I  should  lone  her,  that  loves  not  me ! 

Eebell  and  atheist  too,  why  murmure  I 

As  though  I  felt  the  worst  that  Love  could  doe  1 

Love  might  make  me  leaue  lovinge,  or  might  trie 
A  deeper  plague,  to  make  her  loue  me  too, 

Which,  since  she  loues  before,  I  'am  loth  to  see  ; 

Falsehood  is  worse  then  hate ;  and  that  must  bee,  than 

If  she  whom  I  loue  should  loue  me. 


LOVE'S  DIET.1 

To  what  a  cumbersome  unwieldyness 

And  burthenous  corpulency  my  loue  had  growne, 

But  that  I  did,  to  make'  it  lesse, 

And  keepe  it  in  proportionn, 
Give  it  a  dyett,  made  it  feed  upon 
That  which  Loue  worst  endures,  discretyon. 

Above  one  sighe  a  day  I  'allowde  him  not, 
Of  which  my  fortune  and  my  fa  wits  had  part ; 
And  if  sometimes  by  stealth  he  gott 
A  shee  sigh  from  my  mistris'  hart, 
And  thought  to  feast  on  that,  I  let  him  see 
'Twas  neither  very  sound,  nor  meant  to  mee. 
1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


love's  leCxAcie.  217 

If  he  wrung  from  me  a  teare,  I  brinde  it  soe 

With  scorne  or  shame,  that  him  it  nourisht  not ; 
If  he  suckt  her's,  I  lett  him  knowe 
'Twas  not  a  teare  which  he  had  gott; 

His  drinke  was  counterfait,  as  was  his  meat ; 

For  eyes  which  rowle  towards  all,  weepe  not,  but  sweat. 

Whatever  he  wo'ld  dictate,  I  writ  that; 

But  burnt  her  letters,  when  he  wrote  to  mee ; 

And  if  that  savor  made  him  fatt, 

I  saide,  if  any  title  be 
Convayed  by  this,  Ah,  what  doth  it  availe 
To  be  the  fowrtieth  name  in  an  entaile  ? 

Thus  I  reclaym'd  my  bussard  love,  to  flye 

At  what,  and  when,  and  how,  and  where  I  chose  : 

£Tow  negligent  of  sport  I  lye, 

And  now,  as  other  falkners  use, 
I  springe  a  mistris,  sweare,  wryte,  sigh,  and  weepe; 
And  the  game  kild  or  lost,  goe  talke  or  sleepe. 


LOVE'S  LEGACIE.1 
Before  I  sigh  my  last  gaspe,  let  me  breath, 
Great  Loue,  some  legacies.    I  heere  bequeath 
Myne  eyes  to  Argus,  if  myne  eyes  can  see ; 
If  they  be  blynd,  then,  Loue,  I  give  them  thee ; 
1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


218  LYRICAL. 

My  tongue  to  Fame ;  to  'embassadors  myne  eares ; 
To  women,  or  the  sea,  my  tears. 
Thou,  Loue,  hast  taught  me  heretofore 
By  making  me  loue  her  who  'had  twentie  more, 
That  I  should  give  to  none  but  such  as  had  too  much 
before. 

My  constancie  I  to  the  plannets  give; 
My  truth  to  them  who  at  the  Court  doe  Hue ; 
Mine  ingenuitie  and  opennesse 
To  Jesuits ;  to  buffones  my  pensivenes ; 
My  sylence  to  any  who  abroad  haue  been ; 
My  money  to  a  Capuchin. 
Thou,  Loue,  taught'st  mee,  by  appointing  mee 
To  loue  her  where  no  loue  receiv'd  can  bee, 
Only  to  give  to  such  as  haue  an  incapacitye. 

My  faith  I  give  to  Komane  Catholiques; 
All  my  good  woorkes  unto  the  schisniatiques 
Of  Amsterdam;  my  best  civilitie 
And  courtshipp  to  an  Universitie ; 
My  modestie  I  give  to  souldiers  bare; 

My  patience  lett  gamesters  share. 
Thou,  Loue,  taught'st  me,  by  making  mee 
Loue  her,  that  houlds  my  loue  disparitie, 
Only  to  give  to  those  that  count  my  guifts  indignitie. 

My  reputacion  I  give  to  those 

Which  were  my  friends;  mine  industry  to  foes; 


love's  legacie.  219 

To  Schoolmen  I  bequeath  my  doubtfulnes  \ 
My  sicknes  to  phisitians,  or  excess  ; 
To  Nature  all  that  I  in  rithme  haue  writt; 
And  to  my  company  my  witt. 
Tliou,  Loue,  by  making  me  adore 
Her  who  begot  this  lone  in  me  before, 
Taught'st  me  to  make  as  though  I  gave,  when  I  do  but 
restore. 

To  him  for  whom  the  passing-bell  next  toles 
I  give  my  phisik-books ;  my  wrytten  roles 
Of  morrall  counsells  I  to  Bedlam  give; 
My  brazen  meddalls  unto  them  which  Hue 
In  want  of  bread;  to  them  which  passe  amonge 
All  foranners,  myne  English  toungue. 
Thou,  Lone,  by  makinge  me  loue  one 
Who  thynks  her  friendshipp  a  fitt  portionn 
For  younger  lovers,  dost  my  guift  thus  disproportion. 

Therefore  ITe  give  noe  more;  but  I'le  undoe 

The  world  by  dyinge  ;  because  Loue  dyes  too. 

Then  all  your  bewties  wilbe  no  more  worth 

Then  gold  in  mynes,  when  none  doe  draw  it  forth;  Than 

And  all  your  graces  no  more  use  will  haue 

Then  a  sun-dyall  in  a  graue.  Than 

Thou,  Loue,  taught'st  me,  by  appointinge  mee 
To  loue  her  who  doth  neglect  both  mee  and  thee, 
T'  invent  and  practize  that  one  way  t'  annihilate  all 
three. 


220  LYRICAL. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading  :  It  is  rather  '  The  Lover's  Legacie,'  for  Love  is 
invoked  as  the  deity,  and  he  also  gives  Love  his  eyes  as  to  a 
legatee.  It  is  usually  headed  '  The  Will.'  Our  ms.  in  st.  iv. 
4,  for  '  excess'  reads  '  paracels'  =  Paracelse,  i.  e.  Paracelsus, 
thus  making  all  who  are  named  persons ;  hut  as  he  was  a  phy- 
sician, and  as  this  stanza  includes  '  restoration,'  the  reading 
'  excess'  seems  to  me  preferable  in  sense  as  it  is  in  metre.  Our 
ms.  has  other  obvious  errors,  which  I  have  corrected  from  1633, 
&c.     G. 


THE  FUXEKALL.* 

AVhoeuer  comes  to  skroude  me,  doe  not  harme 

!N~or  question  much 
That  subtle  wreath  of  haire  about  myne  arm ; 
The  mistery,  the  signe  you  must  not  touch, 

For  'tis  my  outward  sowle, 
Viceroy  to  that  which,  then  to  heaven  being  gone, 

Will  leave  this  to  controwle 
And  keepe  these  lymbs,  her  provinces,  from  dissolution. 

For  if  the  sinewy  threed,  my  braine  lets  fall 

Through  every  part, 
Can  tye  those  parts,  and  make  me  one  of  all ; 
The  hayres,  which  upward  grew,  and  strength  and  art 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Our  ms.  in  line  2  reads 
*  which  crowns,'  and  so  '35,  &c. ;  but  '69  '  about  myne'  is  bet- 
ter.    G. 


THE  BLOSSOME.  221 

Haue  from  a  better  brayne, 
Can  better  doe  'it  :  except  she  meant  that  I 

By  this  should  know  my  paine, 
As  prysoners  then  are  manacled,  when  they  'are  con- 
demnd  to  dye. 

Whatere  she  meant  by  %  burie  it  with  mee ; 

For  since  I  am 
Love's  martir,  it  might  breed  idolatrie, 
If  into  other  hands  these  reliques  came. 

As  'twas  humilitie 
To  'afford  to  it  all  that  a  sowle  can  doe, 

So  'tis  some  bravery, 
That,  since  you  would  have  none  of  mee,  I  bury  some 
of  you. 


THE  BLOSSOME.1 

Little  think'st  thou,  poore  flower, 
Whome  I  have  watch'd  six  or  seven  dayes. 
And  seene  thy  byrth,  and  seene  what  every  hower 
Gave  to  thy  growth,  thee  to  this  height  to  raise, 
And  now  dost  laugh  and  tryumph  on  this  bough — 
Lyttle  think'st  thou 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 
VOL.   II.  Q 


222  LYRICAL. 

That  it  will  freeze  anone,  and  that  I  shall 
To-niorrow  find  thee  falne,  or  not  att  all. 

Little  think'st  thou,  poor  hart, 

That  labourest  yet  to  nestle  thee, 
And  think'st  by  hovering  heere  to  get  a  part 
In  a  forbydden  or  forbidding  tree, 
And  hop'st  her  stiffnes  by  long  siege  to  bowe — 

Little  think'st  thou 
That  thou  to-morrow,  ere  the  sunne  doth  wake, 
Must  with  this  sunne  and  me  a  journey  take. 

But  thou,  which  lov'st  to  bee 
Subtle  to  plague  thy  self,  wilt  say, 

Alas,  if  you  must  goe,  what's  that  to  mee  ? 

Here  lyes  my  busyness,  and  here  I  will  stay : 

You  goe  to  freinds,  whose  love  and  means  present 
Various  content 

To  your  eyes,  eares,  and  taste,  and  every  part ; 

If,  then,  your  body  goe,  what  need  your  hart  ? 

Well,  then  stay  here ;  but  knowe, 
When  thou  hast  staid  and  done  thy  most, 

A  naked  thinkinge  hart,  that  makes  no  showe, 

Is  to  a  woman  but  a  kynd  of  ghoast ; 

How  shall  she  know  my  hart,  or,  having  none, 
Know  thee  for  one  ? 

Practize  may  make  her  know  some  other  part, 

But,  take  my  word,  she  doth  not  know  a  hart. 


THE  PRIMROSE.  223 

Meet  me  at  London,  then, 
Twentie  days  hence,  and  thou  shalt  see 
Mee  fresher  and  more  fatt,  by  beinge  with  men, 
Then  if  I  had  staid  still  with  her  and  thee.  Than 

For  God's  sake,  if  you  can,  be  you  soe  too ; 

I  would  give  you 
There  to  another  freind,  whom  we  shall  fynde 
As  gladd  to  have  my  body  as  my  mynde. 


THE  PRIMEOSE, 

BEING  AT  MONTGOMERY  CASTLE,  UPON  THE  HILL  ON 
WHICH  IT  IS  SITUATE.1 

Upon  this  primrose  hyll — 

Where,  if  Heaven  wo'ld  distil 
A  shower  of  rayne,  each  severall  dropp  might  goe 
To  his  owne  primrose,  and  grow  manna  soe, 
And  where  their  forme  and  their  infinity 

Make  a  terrestriall  galexy, 

As  the  small  stars  doe  in  the  sky — 
I  walke  to  fynd  a  true-loue  \  and  I  see 
That  it  'is  not  a  meere  woman  that  is  shee, 
But  must  or  more  or  less  then  woman  bee.  than 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.  ,  as  before.    G. 


224  LYRICAL. 

Yet  I  know  not  which  flower 

I  wish — a  sixe  or  fower ; 
For  should  my  true-love  lesse  then  woman  bee,         than 
She  were  scarse  any  thinge;  and  then,  sho'ld  shee 
Be  more  then  woman,  she  wo'ld  get  aboue  than 

All  thought  of  sex,  and  think  to  move 

My  hart  to  study  her,  not  to  love  : 
Both  these  were  monsters ;  since  there  must  reside 
Falsehood  in  woeman,  I  co'ld  more  abyde, 
She  were  by  art  then  nature  falsyfide.  than 

Live,  primrose,  then,  and  thrive 

With  thy  true  number  five; 
And  wcemen,  whom  this  flower  doth  represent, 
With  this  misterious  number  be  content; 
Ten  is  the  farthest  number  \  if  halfe  tenn 

Belongs  unto  each  woman,  then 

Each  woman  may  take  halfe  us  men  : 
Or,  if  this  will  not  serve  their  turne,  since  all 
Numbers  are  odd  or  even,  since  they  fall 
First  into  five,  women  may  take  us  all. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Heading  :  Query,  was  the  Dame  of  the  hill  '  Primrose  Hill'? 
From  the  last  stanza  it  would  appear  that  the  *  primrose,'  in 
the  symbolic  imagery  of  that  day,  represented  woman  ;  and 
this  is  somewhat  confirmatory  of  the  view  that  it  was  prim- 
roses that  in  April  made  '  cold  nymphs'  chaste  crowns'  (Masque 
in  the  Tempest,  act  v.).  From  his  looking  also  for  a  six-  or 
four-petalled  one  in  connection  with  a  true  love,  it  would  like- 
wise seem  that  there  was  some  rustic  fancy  in  this ;  perhaps 


THE  RELIQUE.  225 

something  similar  to  that  which  decided  by  the  petals  whether 
one  was  loved  a  little,  much,  passionately,  or  not  at  all. 

In  st.  hi.  10  the  conceit  is  obscure,  unless  the  Poet  be  still 
referring  to  the  theory,  that  the  live  of  one  hand  is  the  first  unit 
in  the  calculations  of  primeval  man,  and  the  ten  of  both  hands 
the  duplicate  unit  of  this  first  one.     G. 


THE  EELIQUE.1 

When  my  grave  is  broke  up  againe, 
Some  second  guest  to  entertaine — 
For  graves  have  learnt,  that  wooman-head, 
To  be  to  more  then  one  a  bedd —  than 

And  he  that  diggs  it  spyes 
A  bracelet  of  bright  hayre  about  the  bone, 

Will  not  he  let  us  alone, 
And  think  that  there  a  lovinge  couple  lyes, 
Who  hopte  that  this  device  might  be  a  way 
To  make  their  sowles  at  the  last  busye  day 
Meete  at  this  grave,  and  make  a  lyttle  stay  ? 

If  this  fall  in  a  time  or  land 
Where  misse-devotion  doth  command, 
Then  he  that  diggs  us  up  will  bringe 
Us  to  the  Bishop  or  the  King, 
To  make  us  reliques;  then 
Thou  shalt  be  a  Marie  Magdalen,  and  I 

A  somethinge  els  thereby; 
All  women  shall  adore  us,  and  some  men; 
1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


226 


LYRICAL. 


And  since  at  such  tymes  miracles  are  sought, 
I  would  have  that  age  by  this  paper  taught 
What  miracles  we,  harmles  lovers,  wrought. 

First,  we  lovde  well  and  faithfullie, 

Yet  knew  not  what  we  lov'd,  nor  why; 

Difference  of  sex  we  never  knewe, 

No  more  then  guardian  angells  doe;  than 

Coming  and  going  wee 
Perchance  might  kisse,  but  yet  betwixt  those  meals 

Our  hands  ne'er  toucht,  the  seals 
Which  nature,  injur'd  by  late  lawe,  sett  free. 
These  miracles  we  did  :  but  now,  alas, 
All  measure  and  all  language  I  should  passe, 
Should  I  tell  what  a  miracle  she  was. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Our  ms.,  in  st.  ii.  1.  6,  reads  '  you  shall;'  but,  as  elsewhere 
noted,  Donne  and  his  contemporaries  distinguished  between 
the  tender  '  thou'  and  the  less  intimate  '  you. '  Cf.,  for  instances 
of  the  change  according  to  the  temper  of  the  speaker,  st.  iii.  of 
The  Blossom  and  st.  v.  In  st.  iii.  8  the  same  thought  is  to  be 
found  in  the  Metempsychosis,  and  elsewhere  in  Donne's  early 
poems,  that  love  in  man  was  free,  as  among  the  brute  creation, 
until  restricted  by  law.     G. 


THE  DAMPE.1 

When  I  am  dead,  and  doctors  know  not  why, 

And  my  friends'  curyositie 
Will  haue  me  cut  upp,  to  survay  each  part, 
And  they  shall  find  your  picture  in  my  hart, 
You  thinke  a  suddaine  damp  of  loue 
Will  through  all  their  sences  move, 
And  worke  on  them  as  mee,  and  so  preferr 
Your  murther  to  the  name  of  massaker.  massacre 

Poor  victories !  but  if  you  dare  be  brave, 
Ajid  pleasure  in  your  conquest  have, 
First  kill  th'  enormous  giant,  your  Disdaine, 
And  let  the  enchantresse  Honor  next  be  slayne  ; 
And  like  a  Goth  or  Vandal  rise, 
Deface  records  and  history es 
Of  our  owne  arts  and  tryumphs  over  men  : 
And  without  such  advantage  kill  me  then. 

For  I  could  muster  upp,  as  well  as  you, 
My  giants  and  my  witches  too, 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  In  st.  i.  8  =  raise  }Tour 
murder  of  me  to  the  rank  of  a  massacre  of  me  and  thee.  I  ac- 
cept, in  st.  i.  4,  '  And'  for  '  When'  (from  '69).     G. 


j 


228  LYRICAL. 

Which  are  vast  Constancie  and  Secretnes  ; 
But  theis  I  neither  looke  for  nor  professe. 

Kill  me  as  wceman,  let  me  dye 

As  a  meere  man ;  do  you  but  try 
Your  passive  valour,  and  you  shall  find  than,        then 
Naked  you  'haue  odds  enough  of  any  mann. 


THE  DISSOLUTION.1 

Shee's  dead  ;  and  all  which  dye, 

To  their  first  elements  resolve ; 
And  wee  were  mutuall  elements  to  us, 
And  made  of  one  another. 

My  body,  then,  doth  hers  involue, 
And  those  things  whereof  I  consist,  hereby 
In  me  abundant  growe  and  burthenous, 
And  nourish  not,  but  smother. 

My  fire  of  passion,  sighes  of  air, 
Water  of  teares,  and  earthy  sad  despaire, 

Which  my  materialls  bee, 
But  neare  worne  out  by  Love's  securitie, 
Shee,  to  my  loss,  doth  by  her  death  repaire ; 
And  I  might  live  long  wretched  soe, 
But  that  my  fire  doth  with  my  fuell  grow. 
Now,  as  those  active  kings 

Whose  forraine  conquest  treasure  bringes, 

i  From  Addl,  mss.  18647,  as  before.     G. 


A  JEATE  RINGE  SENTE.  229 

Receive  more,  and  spend  more,  and  soonest  breake  ; 
This — which  I  am  amazed  that  I  can  speake — 
This  death  hath  with  my  store 
My  use  increased ; 
And  so  my  soule,  more  earnestly  released, 
Will  outstrip  her's  ;  as  bulletts  fro  wen  before, 
A  latter  bullet  maye  oretake,  the  pouder  beinge  more. 


A  JEATE  EIXGE  SENTE.*  jet 

Thou  art  not  so  black  as  my  hart, 

Nor  halfe  so  brittle  as  her  hart  thou  art ; 

What  wouldst  thou  saye  1  shall  both  our  properties  by 

thee  be  spoke  ] 
N  othinge  more  endless,  nothinge  sooner  broke. 

Marriage-rings  are  not  of  this  stuffe ; 

Oh,  why  should  aught  less  pretious  or  lesse  tough 

Figure  our  loves?  except  in  thy  name  thou  haue  bid  it 

saye, 
I  'am  cheape,  and  naught  but  fashion;  Hinge  me  'awaye. 

Yet  staye  with  me,  since  thou  art  come ; 

Circle  this  finger's  topp,  which  didst  her  thombe : 

Bee  justly  prowd  and  gladly  safe,  that  thou  dost  dwell 

with  me ; 
Shee  that,  oh,  broke  her  faith,  would  soone  breake  thee. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.     G. 


ISTEGATIUE  LOUE.* 

I  never  stoop'd  so  low  as  they 
Which  on  an  eye,  cheeke,  lipp  can  praye ; 
Seldome  to  them  which  soare  no  higher 
Than  vertue,  or  the  minde  t'  admire 
For  sense  and  understandinge  maye 

Know  what  gives  fuel  to  their  fire  : 
My  love,  though  sillie,  is  more  brave  \ 
For  maye  I  miss  whene'er  I  crave, 
If  I  knowe  yet  what  I  would  haue. 

If  that  bee  simply  perfectest 

Which  can  by  no  way  be  exprest 

But  negatives,  my  loue  is  soe. 

To  all  which  all  loue,  I  saye  noe. 
If  any  who  deciphers  best 

What  wee  know  not — ourselves — can  knowe, 
Let  him  teach  mee  that  nothinge  :  this 
As  yet  my  ease  and  comfort  is, 
Though  I  speed  not,  I  cannott  misse. 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  In  st.  ii.  3=^  But  [by] 
negatives,  the  '  by'  being  included  in  the  previous  '  by  no  way.' 
G. 


THE  PBOHIBITIOX.1 


Take  heed  of  loueing  mee ; 
At  least  remember  I  forbad  it  thee ; 
]STot  that  I  shall  repaire  my  'unthrifty  waste 
Of  breath  and  blood  upon  thy  sighs  and  teares, 
By  being  to  thee  then  what  to  me  thou  wast ; 
But  soe  great  joy  our  life  at  once  outwears. 
Then,  least  thy  loue  by  my  death  frustrate  bee, 
If  thou  loue  me,  take  heed  of  loueing  mee. 

Take  heed  of  hateing  mee, 
Or  too  much  triumph  in  the  victorye  : 
Xot  that  I  shalbe  mine  owne  officer, 
And  hate  with  hate  againe  retalliate ; 
But  thou  wilt  loose  the  stile  of  conquerer, 
If  I,  thy  conquest,  perrish  by  thy  hate. 
Then,  leest  my  being  nothing  lessen  thee, 
If  thou  hate  me,  take  heed  of  hateing  mee. 

Yet  loue  and  hate  mee  too, 
Soe  these  extreames  shall  ne're  their  office  doe  : 
Loue  me,  that  I  may  dye  the  gentler  way ; 
Hate  me,  because  thy  loue's  too  greate  for  me  : 

1  From  Haslewood-Kingsborough  us.,  as  before.     G. 


232  LYRICAL. 

Or  lett  these  tow  themselues,  not  me,  decay ; 
Soe  shall  I  liue,  thy  stage  not  triumphe  bee. 
Then,  lest  thy  love  thou  hate,  and  mee  undoe, 
0  lett  me  liue,  and  loue  and  hate  me  too. 


VALEDICTIO  AMOKIS.1 

Soe,  soe,  break  of  this  last  lamentinge  kisse, 
Which  sucks  two  sowles  and  vapors  both  away : 
Turne  thou,  ghoast,  yl  way,  and  let  me  turne  this, 
And  let  our  selves  benight  our  happy  day. 

We  aske  none  leave  to  loue,  nor  will  we  owe 
Anie  soe  cheape  a  death  as  sayinge  go. 

Goe  ;  and  if  that  word  haue  not  quyte  kild  thee, 

Ease  me  with  deathe  by  biddinge  me  goe  too ; 

Or  if  it  haue,  let  my  word  worke  on  mee, 

And  a  just  office  on  a  murtherer  doe  : 
Except  it  be  too  late  to  kill  mee  soe, 
Beinge  double  death,  goinge  and  byddinge  goe. 
1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 

NOTE. 

St.  i.  3,  '  ghoast :'  often  used  ('  The  Blossom,'  st.  iv.  4,  and 
other  writers)  for  the  corpse  :  '  souls'  do  not  ■  benight  day.'  I 
adopt  '  selves'  (1.  4)  from  printed  text.     G. 


THE  COMPUTATIONS 

For  my  first  twenty  years,  since  yesterday, 

I  scarse  believd  thou  would  be  gone  away; 

For  fortie  more  I  fedd  on  favours  past, 

And  fortie  on  hopes,  that  thou  wouldst  they  might  last. 

Tears  haue  one  hundred  drowned,  sighs  blowne  out  two ; 
One  thousand  I  did  think  nothing  nor  doe, 
Or  not  divide,  all  being  one  thought  of  yow ; 
Or  in  one  thousand  more  forget  that  too. 

Yet  think  not  this  longe  life  ;  but  think  that  I 

Am,  by  beinge  dead,  immortall ;  can  ghosts  dye  ] 


THE  PARADOX.2 

No  louer  saith,  I  loue,  nor  any  other 

Can  judge  a  perfect  lover ; 
He  thinkes  that  ellse  none  can  nor  will  agree 

That  anie  loves  but  hee  : 
I  cannot  say  I  lov'd;  for  who  can  say 

He  was  kyld  yesterday? 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Our  MS.  in  1.  4  reads 
obscurely  '  that  you  wish  may  ever  last :'  printed  text  here  pre- 
ferred ;   also  1.  7,  '  divide'  rather  than  '  denyde.'     G. 

3  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.     G. 


234  LYRICAL. 

Loue,  with  excesse  of  heate  more  young  then  ould ;   than 

Death  kills  with  too  much  could.  cold 

Wee  dye  but  once,  and  who  lovde  last  did  dye; 

He  that  saith  twice,  doth  lye  : 
For  though  he  seeme  to  move  and  stirr  awhyle, 

It  doth  the  sense  beguyle. 
Such  life  is  like  the  light,  which  bydeth  yet 

"When  the  life's  light  is  sett ; 
Or  like  the  heate  which  fire  in  sollid  matter 

Leaves  behind  two  houres  after. 
Once  I  lovde  and  dyde ;  and  am  now  become 

Myne  epitaph  and  tombe. 
Here  dead  men  speake  their  last,  and  soe  doe  I : 

Loue-slain,  loe,  here  I  dye. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  8,  ■  kills '= [kills]  with  excess  of  heat. 
,,     14,  '  life's  lighfz^the  glazed  eye  and  life-like  repose 
of  the  features. 

Line  17.  Our  ms.  omits  '  now,'  so  making  '  Once'  the  first 
foot,  and  distributing  the  accents  better :  but  as  I  do  not  re- 
member another  instance  in  Donne  of  a  one-foot  first  syllable 
— unless  it  be  the  doubtful  use  of  the  emphatic  '  I'  in  the  first 
line  of  '  The  Undertaking' — I  must  regard  the  omission  as  a 
corrector's  imagined  improvement.  Donne  has  lines  just  as 
bad  as 

Once  I  |  lov'd  and  |  died  |  and  |      G. 


m- 


SONG.1 

Soul's  joy,  now  I  am  gone, 
And  you  alone — 
Which  cannot  be, 
Since  I  must  leave  myself  with  thee, 
And  carry  thee  with  me — 
Yet  when  unto  our  eyes 
Absence  denyes 
Each  other's  sight, 
And  makes  to  us  a  constant  night, 
When  others  change  to  light ; 
0,  give  no  way  to  grief, 
But  let  relief 

Of  mutual  love 
This  wonder  to  the  vulgar  prove, 
Our  bodies,  not  we,  move. 

Let  not  thy  wit  beweep 

Words,  but  sense  deep ; 
For  when  we  miss 
By  distance  our  hopes-joyning  bliss, 
Ev'n  then  our  souls  shall  kiss  : 
Fools  have  no  means  to  meet 
But  by  their  feet ; 

■  From  1669,  as  before.     G. 


236  LYRICAL. 

Why  should  our  clay 
Over  our  spirits  so  much  sway, 
To  tie  us  to  that  way  1 

0,  give  no  way  to  grief, 
But  let  belief 

Of  mutual  love 
This  wonder  to  the  vulgar  prove, 
Our  bodies,  not  we,  move. 


FAREWELL  TO  LOVE.1 

Whilst  yet  to  prove 
I  thought  there  was  some  deitie  in  love, 

So  did  I  reverence  and  gave 
Worship,  as  atheists  at  their  dying  hour 
Call,  what  they  cannot  name,  an  unknown  power,       5 

As  ignorantly  did  I  crave  : 
Thus  when 
Things  not  yet  known  are  coveted  by  men, 

Our  desires  give  them  fashion,  and  so 
As  they  wax  lesser,  fall,  as  they  size,  grow.  d 

But  from  late  Fair 
His  Highness,  sitting  in  a  golden  chair, 

Is  not  less  cared  for  after  three  dayes 
By  children  then  the  thing  which  lovers  so         than 
Blindly  admire  and  with  such  worship  wooe  :  1 5 

1  From  1669,  as  before.     G. 


FAREWELL  TO  LOVE.  ZOI 

Being  had,  enjoying  it  decayes; 
And  thence, 
What  before  pleas'd  them  all,  takes  but  one  sense, 

And  that  so  lamely,  as  it  leaves  behind 
A  kind  of  sorrowing  dulness  to  the  mind.  2  o 

Ah,  cannot  we, 
As  well  as  cocks  and  lyons,  jocund  be 

After  such  pleasures  ?  unless  wTise 
Nature  decreed — since  each  such  act,  they  say, 
Diminisheth  the  length  of  life  a  day —  2  5 

This,  as  she  would  man  should  despise 
The  sport, 
Because  that  other  curse  of  being  short, 

And — only-for-a-minute-made-to-be — 
Eager  desires  to  raise  posterity.  30 

Since  so,  my  mind 
Shall  not  desire  what  no  man  else  can  find; 

I'll  no  more  dote  and  run 
To  pursue  things  which  had  endamag'd  me. 
And  when  I  come  where  moving  beauties  be,  35 

As  men  do  when  the  summer  sun 
Grows  great, 
Though  I  admire  their  greatness,  shun  their  heat ; 

Each  place  can  afford  shadows.     If  all  fail, 
'Tis  but  applying  worm-seed  to  the  tail.  40 

VOL.  II.  R 


238  LYRICAL. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  1,  '  prove' =  while  as  yet  love  was  unknown  to  me,  not 
'  to  prove  I  thought,"  which  is  without  meaning.  Hence  I  punc- 
tuate with  a  comma  [,] . 

Line  4.  Perhaps  '  Worship1  (;)  would  make  this  read  better; 
but  possibly  this  is  one  of  Donne's  oddly-transposed  sentences, 
and  the  construction  as  follows :  1.  2,  love  ;  So  did  ....  worship 
as  (—so)  ignorantly  ....  crave,  as  Atheists  Sec. 

Line  10,  4  size'= increase  in  size,  probably  a  sense  peculiar 
to  the  passage. 

Line  18,  '  t]iein=the  senses. 

.,  30.  The  sentence  is  strangely  worded,  and  there  must 
also  be  some  blunder  in  these  lines  as  they  stand  in  '69.  Sec. 
Because  =  Because  of;  and  I  venture  to  read  'Eager  desiiv  - 
•Eager,  desires"  :  audi.  26.  '  This."  (not ;).  The  whole  sense  then 
is :  Unless  Nature  decreed  this,  in  order  that  man  should  de- 
-  she  made  it  short,  that  man  might  for  that 
reason  also  despise  a  sport  that  was  only  for  a  minute  made  to 
l»c  eager  desires  to  raise  posterity.  I  have  also  hyphened  'only- 
lor-a-minute-made-to-be."     Cf.  Elegy  iv.  1.  31. 

Line  40.  As  worm-seed  was  not  supposed  to  have  more  than 
the  one  property  of  expelling  worms,  the  phrase  is  probably 
metaphorical  only.     G. 


ODE.1 

Absence,  lieere  this  my  protestatyon 

Against  thy  strength, 

Distance,  and  length. 
Doe  what  thou  canst  for  alteration, 

For  hearts  of  truest  mettle 

Absence  doth  joyne,  and  tyme  doth  settle. 

1  From  the  Stephens'  MS,,  as  before.    Sir  John  Simeon  gives 
it  in  his  collection  (as  before,  p.  27] .     His  MS.  supplies  these 


ode.  239 

Who  loues  a  mistris  of  such  quallity, 

His  mynd  hath  fownd 

Affection's  grownd 
Beyond  tyme,  place  and  mortallitie. 

To  harts  that  cannot  varie 

Absence  is  present,  Tyme  doth  tary. 

My  senses  want  their  outward  motyon, 

Which  now  within 

Reason  doth  wynn, 
Eedubled  by  her  secret  motion, 

Like  rich  that  take  pleasure 

In  hyding  more  than  handling  treasure. 

By  absence  this  good  means  I  gaine, 

That  I  can  catch  her 

Where  none  can  match  her 
In  some  close  corner  of  my  brayne. 

There  I  imbrace,  and  there  kisse  her, 

And  soe  enioye  her  and  none  mysse  her. 


better  readings:  st.  i.  1.  4,  'hearts'  for  'starrs;'  st.  ii.  1.  6, 
'tary'  for  'cary;'  but  the  Stephens' is  otherwise  preferable: 
e.  g.  Simeon  misreads  '  Thy'  for  '  My'  (1. 1)  ;  and  others  similar. 
Sir  John  was  mistaken  in  supposing  this  was  one  of  the  '  Un- 
published' poems  of  Donne,  as  it  had  previously  appeared  in  '  The 
Grove,'  a  collection  of  original  Poems  and  Translations  (1721), 
and  which  supplies  ■  now'  in  iv.  6  for  '  soe.'  I  am  indebted  to 
a  friendly  correspondent  (Mr.  W.  T.  Brooke,  London)  for  The 
Grove,  in  which  it  is  stated  that  the  poem  was  by  Donne  from 
an  old  ms.  formerly  belonging  to  Sir  John  Cotton  of  Stratton  in 
Huntingdonshire.     G. 


LOYE-LECTUEE  UPOX  THE  SHADOW.1 


Stand  still,  and  I  will  read  to  thee 
A  lecture,  Loue,  in  Love's  philosophie. 

These  three  howres  which  we  'have  spent 
In  walking  here,  two  shaddowes  went 
Alonge  with  us,  which  we  ourselues  product ;      produc'd 
But  now  the  sunne  is  just  aboue  our  head, 
We  doe  those  shadowes  tread ; 
And  to  braue  clearnes  all  thinges  are  reduct. 
Soe  whilst  our  infant  loue  did  growe, 
Disguises  did  and  shadowes  flowe 
Erom  us  and  our  cares  :  but  now  'tis  not  soe. 

That  love  hath  not  attain'd  the  high'st  degree, 

Which  is  still  vigilant  lest  others  see. 

Except  our  loues  at  this  noone  stay, 

We  shall  new  shadowes  make  the  other  way  : 
As  the  first  were  made  to  blynd 
Others ;  these,  which  come  behynd, 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  In  st.  ii.  1.  9,  our  ms.  mis- 
reads 'though'  for  'thou:'  I  take  printed  text  =  thou  to  me 
shalt  falsely  disguise  thy  actions,  and  I  mine  to  thee.     G. 


THE  TOKEN.  241 

Will  work  upon  ourselues,  and  blynd  our  eyes. 
If  love  once  faint,  and  westwardly  declyne, 
To  me  thou,  falsly,  thine, 
And  I  to  thee  myne  actyons  shall  disguise. 
The  morning  shadowes  weare  away, 
But  these  grow  longer  all  the  day  : 
But,  oh,  love's  day  is  short,  if  loue  decay ! 

Love  is  a  growinge  or  full  constant  light  \ 
And  his  first  mynute,  after  noone,  is  night. 


THE  TOKEX.1 

Send  me  some  tokens,  that  my  hope  may  live, 

Or  that  my  easeless  thoughts  may  sleep  and  rest; 
Send  me  some  hony,  to  make  sweet  my  hive, 

That  in  my  passions  I  may  hope  the  best. 
I  beg  nor  ribbon  wrought  with  thy  own  hands, 

To  knit  our  loves  in  the  fantastic  strain 
Of  new-touch'd  youth ;  nor  ring  to  show  the  stands 

Of  our  affection,  that,  as  that's  round  and  plain, 
So  should  our  loves  meet  in  simplicity; 

Xo,  nor  the  corals  which  thy  wrist  infold, 
Laced  up  together  in  congruity, 

To  show  our  thoughts  should  rest  in  the  same  hold 

■  From  1669,  as  before.    G. 


i 


242  LYRICAL. 

No,  nor  thy  picture,  though  most  gracious, 

And  most  desired,  'cause  'tis  like  the  best ; 
Xor  witty  lines,  which  are  most  copious, 

"Within  the  writings  which  thou  hast  addrest. 

Send  me  nor  this,  nor  that,  t'  increase  my  score  ; 

But  swear  thou  think'st  I  love  thee,  and  no  more. 


[SELF-LOVE.] 

He  that  cannot  chuse  but  love, 

And  strives  against  it  still, 
Never  shall  my  fancy  move  ; 

For  he  loves  against  his  will. 
Xor  he  which  is  all  his  own, 

And  cannot  pleasure  chuse ; 
When  I  am  caught,  he  can  be  gone, 

And,  when  he  list,  refuse. 
Xor  he  that  loves  none  but  fair, 

For  such  by  all  are  sought; 
Xor  he  that  can  for  foul  ones  care, 

For  his  judgment  then  is  naught. 
Xor  he  that  hath  wit,  for  he  will 

Make  me  his  jest  or  slave  • 
Xor  a  fool,  for  when  others  .... 

He  can  neither  .... 

1  From  1669,  as  before.     G. 


THE  LADY  AXD  HER  VIOL.  243 

Kor  he  that  still  his  mistress  prays, 

For  she  is  thrall'd  therefore  ; 
Xor  he  that  payes  not,  for  he  says 

Within  she's  worth  no  more. 
Is  there  then  no  kind  of  men, 

Whom  I  may  freely  prove  ? 
I  will  venture  that  humor  then 

In  this  mine  own  self-love. 


THE  LADY  AXD  HEE  VIOL.1 

Why  dost  thou,  deare,  affect  thy  viol  so, 
And  let  thy  loue  forlorne,  wth  anguish  go  ? 
Thou't  kindly  set  him  on  thy  lap,  imbrace 
And  almost  kis,  while  I  must  voide  ye  place. 
Thou't  string  him  truly,  tune  him  sweetly,  when 
Thou't  wrest  me  out  of  tune  and  crack  me  then  : 
Thou't  stop  his  frets,  but  set  no  date  to  mine  ; 
Thou't  giue  what  ere  he  wants,  but  let  me  pine. 
Thou  knowest  him  hollow-harted,  yet  wilt  heare 
Him  throughout  wth  an  attentiue  eare. 

1  From  the  Farmer  ms.  in  Chetham  Library,  Manchester. 
Placed  as  these  lines  are  among  other  poems  of  Donne  preced- 
ing and  succeeding,  it  seems  pretty  clear  they  bear  his  charac- 
teristics. The  whole  are  anonymous.  At  bottom  of  the  page, 
as  a  variant  of  last  line,  is  the  reading  ■  That  I  might  play  on 
the  [thee].'  See  our  publication  of  the  ms.  for  the  Chetham 
Society  (1  vol.  4to.  1873).     G. 


244  LYRICAL. 

And  sing  him  such  a  pleasing  lullaby, 

Would  charme  hel's  churlish  porter's  watchful!  eye ; 

Keping  true  time  wth  him  as  true  may  be, 

But  fincle  no  time  to  kepe  ye  true  to  me. 

Deare  as  ye  instrument  woulde  I  were  thine, 

That  thou  mightst  play  on  me,  or  thou  wert  mine. 


A  DIALOGUE  BETWEEX  SIE  HEXRY 
WOTTOX  AXD  ME.  DOXXE. 

If  her  disdain  least  change  in  you  can  move, 

You  do  not  love ; 
For  when  that  hope  gives  fuel  to  the  fire, 
You  sell  desire. 
Love  is  not  love  but  given  free,  5 

And  so  is  mine ;  so  should  yours  be. 

Her  heart,  that  melts  to  hear  of  others'  moan, 

To  mine  is  stone ; 
Her  eyes,  that  weep  a  stranger's  eyes  to  see, 

Joy  to  wound  me  :  10 

Yet  I  so  well  affect  each  part, 
As,  caus'd  by  them,  I  love  my  smart. 

Say  her  disdainings  justly  must  be  grac't 
With  name  of  chast ; 

1  From  1669,  pp.  186-7.     G. 


A  DIALOGUE.  245 

And  that  she  frowns  lest  longing  should  exceed,        15 
And  raging  breed; 
80  her  disdaines  can  ne'r  offend, 
Unless  self-love  take  private  end. 

ANSWER. 

'Tis  love  breeds  love  in  me,  and  cold  disdain 

Kills  that  again  ;  20 

As  water  causeth  fire  to  fret  and  fume, 
Till  all  consume. 
Who  can  of  love  more  rich  gift  make, 
Then  to  Love's  self  for  Love's  own  sake?  Than 

I'll  never  dig  in  quarry  of  an  heart  2  5 

To  have  no  part; 
Nor  roast  in  fiery  eyes  which  alwaies  are 

Canicular.  dog-stars 

Who  this  way  would  a  lover  prove, 
May  shew  his  patience,  not  his  love.  30 

A  frown  may  be  sometimes  for  physic  good, 

But  not  for  food ; 
And  for  that  raging  humour  there  is  sure 
A  gentler  cure. 
AVhy  bar  you  love  of  private  end,  35 

Which  never  should  to  publique  tend  ? 

NOTE. 

The  second  stanza  is  in  continuation  of  the  first  and  by  the 
same  speaker,  and  so  the  third.     These  are  answered  by  the 


246  LYRICAL. 

second  speaker  in  the  last  three  stanzas,  each  of  which  is  a 
reply  in  order,  to  each  stanza  of  the  preceding  speaker.  I  have 
accordingly  placed  the  word  '  Answer'  between  the  third  and 
fourth  stanza.  Which  are  by  Wotton  and  which  by  Donne  is  a 
more  difficult  question,  but  guessing  by  the  middle  of  st.v.  and 
the  end  of  st.  vi. ,  I  should  be  inclined  to  appropriate  them  in  the 
order  given  in  the  heading.  St.  ii.  1.  6  =  As  I  love  my  smart 
caused  by  them,  i.e.  her  heart  and  eyes  and  each  part  else.  G. 


SLEEP.* 


Care-charming  Sleep,  thou  easer  of  all  woes, 
Brother  of  Death !  sweetly  thy  selfe  dispose 
On  this  afflicted  Wight ;  fall  like  a  cloud 
In  gentle  show";  give  nothing  y*  is  lowd, 
Or  painfull,  to  his  slumbers :  easy,  sweet, 
And  like  a  purling  wind,  thou  sonn  of  Xight ! 
Passe  by  his  troubled  senses;  sing  his  paine 
Like  hollow  murmuringe  windes,  or  silver  raine : 
Into  his  senses  gently,  0  gently,  slide, 
And  kisse  him  into  slumber,  like  a  Bride. 

1  From  ms.  B.  14.22  in  the  library  of  Trin.  Coll.  Cambridge. 
It  is  signed  '  Dr.  Donn.'  For  this  charming  little  poem,  and  the 
others  in  Trinity  University  Library — never  before  printed — 
I  am  indebted  to  my  admirable  friend,  W.  Aldis  Wright,  Esq. 
M.A.,  of  Cambridge,  as  before.  In  the  ms.  most  of  the  lines 
begin  with  a  small  letter,  but  I  have  not  retained  this.  On 
'purling'  (1.  6)  see  our  Henry  Vaughax,  s.v.     G. 


A  PAEADOX.1 

Who  soe  termes  Lone  a  fire,  may  like  a  poet 

Ffaine  what  hee  will,  for  certaine  cannot  showe  it; 

Ffor  ffire  nere  bnrnes  but  when  the  fuell's  neare, 

But  Loue  doth  at  most  distance  most  appeare: 

Yet  out  of  fire  water  did  neuer  goe, 

But  teares  from  Loue  abundantly  doe  flowe; 

Ffire  still  mounts  vpward,  but  Loue  oft  descendeth; 

Ffire  leaues  the  midst,  Loue  to  the  center  tendeth; 

Ffire  dryes  &  hardens,  Loue  doth  mollifie; 

Ffire  doth  consume,  but  Loue  doth  fructifie. 

The  powerfull  Queen  of  Loue  (faire  Yenus)  came 
Descended  from  the  Sea,  not  from  the  flame; 
Whence  passions  ebbe  &  flowe,  &  from  the  braine 
Eun  to  the  hart,  like  streames,  and  back  againe; 
Yea  Loue  oft  fills  men's  breasts  w111  melting  snowe, 
Drowning  their  loue-sick  minds  in  flouds  of  woe. 
What,  is  Loue  water,  then'?  it  may  be  soe: 
But  hee  saith  truest  y1  saith  hee  doth  not  knowe. 


1  From  ms.  in  Trinity  College  (R.  3.12,  p.  45).    Never  before 
printed.     G. 


DR.  DOXXE'S  FAREWELL  TO  YB  WORLD. 


Farewell,  you  guilded  follyes,  pleasing  troubles ! 

Farewell,  you  honnered  rages,  you  cristall  bubbles !    rags 

Fame's  but  a  hollow  eccho;  gould  pure  clay; 

Honour  is  but  ye  darling  of  one  day ; 

Beauty,  the  'eyes'  idoll,  but  a  damaske  skinne;  5 

State  but  a  goulden  prison  to  keep  in 

And  torture  freeborne  mindes ;  embroidered  traines 

But  goodly  pajants,  proudly-swelling  veines;      pageants 

Fame,  riches,  honour,  state,  traines,  beautyes,  birth, 

Are  but  ye  fading  blessings  of  ye  earth.  10 

I  would  bee  great,  but  see  ye  sunne  doth  still 

LeviU.  his  beames  against  ye  rising  hill; 

I  would  bee  rich,  but  see  men  too  unkind 

Dippe  in  ye  bowels  of  ye  richest  minds;  mines 

I  would  bee  faire,  but  see  ye  chanipian  proud  15 

The  world's  faire  e}'e  off-setting  in  a  cloud; 

I  woidd  bee  wise,  but  y4  ye  fox  I  see 

Suspected  guilty  when  ye  asse  is  free ; 

I  would  bee  poore,  but  see  ye  humble  grasse 

Is  trampl'd  on  by  each  unworthy  asse.  20 

Rich  hated,  wise  suspected,  scorn'd  if  poore; 

Great  fear'd,  faire  tempted,  &  high  envyed  more : 


DR.  DONNE'S  FAREWELL  TO  T"  WORLD.  249 

Would  ye  world  now  adopt  mee  for  his  heire; 

Would  Beautye's  Queene  entitle  mee  ye  faire ; 

Fame  speake  mee  Honour's  mineon ;  could  I  vey       vie 

The  blisse  of  angells;  wth  a  speaking  eye  26 

Command  bare-heads,  bow'd-knees,  strike  Justice  domb 

As  well  as  blind  &  lame;  &  give  a  tongue 

To  stones  by  epitaphes  ;  bee  called  Master 

In  ye  loose  lines  of  every  Poetaster ;  30 

Could  I  bee  more  then  any  man  y1  lives  than 

Rich,  wise,  great,  faire,  all  in  superlatives ; 

I  count  one  minute  of  my  holy  leasure 

Beyond  to  much  of  all  this  empty  pleasure.  too 

Welcome,  pure  thoughts  !  welcome,  yee  carelesse  groanes  ! 

These  are  my  guests,  this  is  y'  courtage  tones:  36 

Ye  winged  people  of  ye  skeyes  shall  sing 

Mine  anthems  ;  bee  my  sellar,  gentle  spring ;       cellar  (?) 

Here  dwells  noe  hopelesse  loves,  noe  palsy  feares, 

^N"oe  short  joyes  purchas'd  w*  et email  teares ;  40 

Here  will  I  sit,  &  sigh  my  hot  youth's  folly, 

And  learne  to  'affect  a  holy  malancholy ; 

And  if  contentment  bee  a  stranger,  then 

He  never  looke  for't  but  in  Heaven  againe ; 

And  when  I  dye  He  turne  my  cave  45 

Even  from  a  chamber  to  a  silent  grave  : 

The  falling  spring  upon  the  rocke  shall  weare 

Mine  epitaph,  &  cause  a  breine  teare  briny 

From  him  who  askes  who  in  this  tomb  doth  lye  : 

The  dolefull  Eccho  answeres:  It  is  I.  50 


250  LYRICAL. 


NOTES  AXD  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

From  ms.  Dd.  6.43,  in  University  Library,  Cambridge.  I 
take  the  following  from  Dr.  Hannah's  '  Courtly  Poets'  (1870, 
p.  109) ,  being  his  foot-note  on  his  text  of  this  poem  :  '  "  Walton's 
Complete  Angler,"  p.  311,  edit.  Nicolas,  in  the  first  two  edi- 
tions as  "  some  say  written  by  Dr.  D.,"  but  afterwards  as  "  some 
say  written  by  Sir  Henry  Wotton."  In  ms.  Ashm.  38  it  is  en- 
titled "Doctor  Donn's  Valediction  to  the  World."  In  "  Wit's 
Interpreter,"  1G71,  p.  269,  it  is  ascribed  to  Sir  Kenelm  Digby. 
Sir  H.  Nicolas,  without  any  authority  that  I  know  of,  says 
that  "  these  verses  are  also  said  to  have  been  written  by  Sir 
W.  Raleigh  when  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  shortly  before  his  exe- 
cution." Archbishop  Sancroft  gives  them  anonymously,  with 
the  title,  "  An  hermit  in  an  arbour,  with  a  prayer-book  in  his 
hand,  his  foot  spurning  a  globe,  thus  speaketh  ;"  ms.  Tann.  465, 
fol.  59.' — It  must  be  noted,  that,  against  the  '  some  say'  which 
assigns  the  poem  to  Wotton,  and  the  late  (1671)  ascription  of  it 
to  Digby  of  the  often-blundering  'Wit's  Interpreter,'  we  have 
it  in  the  Ashmolean  ms.  and  in  our  ms.,  and  it  is  to  be  added 
in  the  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms. — all  of  which  have  collec- 
tions of  Donne's  Poems — positively  given  to  Donne.  I  have 
also  met  with  it  in  various  other  contemporary  mss.  as  Donne's. 
Consequently  I  can  have  no  hesitation  in  reclaiming  it  for 
Donne.  Our  text  differs  from  Dr.  Hannah's  and  others  by 
omission  and  alteration  :  e.g.  after  1.  8  Dr.  Hannah  has 

'  And  blood  allied  to  greatness  is  alone 
Inherited,  not.  purchased,  nor  our  own.' 

This  in  Haslewood-Kingsborough  (as  before)  runs  : 

'  And  blood  alli'd  to  greatnes  is  but  lone 
Inherited,  not  purchased,  not  our  owne.' 

Again,  after  1.  12  are  these  lines  : 

'  I  would  be  high,  but  see  the  proudest  oak 
Most  subject  to  the  rending  thunder-stroke.' 

These  are  not  in  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.,  which  extends 
only  to  1.  18.     Once  more,  after  1.  22  this  couplet : 

'  I  have  wished  all,  but  now  I  wish  for  neither, 
Great,  high,  rich,  wise,  nor  fair  ;  poor  I'll  be  rather.' 

Farther,  after  1.  32  these  lines  : 

:  Yet  I  more  freely  would  these  gifts  resign, 
Than  ever  Fortune  would  have  made  them  mine.' 


IF  SHE  DERYDE  ME.  251 


Again,  after  1.  38  these  : 

•  A  Prayer-book  now  shall  be  my  looking-glass, 
In  which  1  will  adore  sweet  Virtue's  face.' 

Lines  45-50  are  printed  for  the  first  time.  Lines  39-40  of  our 
text  agree  with  the  Sancroft  ms.  Throughout  there  are  varia- 
tions, the  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms.  agreeing  pretty  closely 
with  our  ms.  It  needeth  not  that  all  should  be  recorded  ;  but 
I  note  that  in  Haslewood-Kingsborough  and  our  ms.  in  1.  2  it 
is  '  christair  and  '  cristall,'  not  'glorious:'  in  1.  5,  in  Hasle- 
wood-Kingsborough ms.  '  Beautie's  cheife  idoll  but  a  damask 
skin:'  1.  6,  ib.  'Fate'  for  '  State:'  1.  10,  ib.  'blessings,'  not 
'blossoms :'  11.  11-J.2,  ib.  '  see  ye  sun'  and  'beames  ....  high- 
est hill.'  I  have  accepted,  in  1.  18,  '  asse'  for  '  fox'  of  our  ms., 
and  in  1.  41  'sigh'  for  '  sith,'  both  from  Haslewood-Kings- 
borough ms.  I  retain,  inl.  16,  '  The  world's  faire  eye  off-setting 
in  a  cloud,'  as  preferable  to  Dr.  Hannah's  text,  '  Like  the  bright 
sun,  oft  setting  in  a  cloud,'  which  is  commonplace.  With  re- 
ference to  his  text  of  11.  25-6, 

•  could  I  vie 
Angels  with  India' 

(cf.  our  text),  Dr.  Hannah  explains,  'An  angel  was  a  piece  of 
money  worth  ten  shillings.'  '  To  "vie  angels"  is  to  stake  or 
hazard  coins  against  an  antagonist,  who  may  "  re-vie,"  if  he  is 
able,  by  putting  down  a  larger  sum'  (p.  234).  On  1.  14  he  also 
annotates,  'Mind,  i.e.  mine,  as  it  is  spelt  in  Sancroft's  ms. 
In  some  copies  the  line  begins,  "Dig  out  the  bowels,"  which 
may  be  correct'  (p.  234).  The  Haslewood-Kingsborough  ms. 
has  also  '  mine,'  and  acordingly  '  mines'  is  placed  by  us  in  the 
margin :  in  1.  14  our  ms.  reads  '  Dippe,'  it  will  be  observed.  G. 


IF  SHE  DERYDE  ME.* 

Great  and  good,  if  slie  deryde  mee, 
Let  rne  walke,  Tie  not  despaire ; 
Ere  to  morrow  I'le  provide  mee 

From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before  :  now  first  printed.     G. 


252  LYRICAL. 

One  as  great,  lesse  prowd,  more  faire : 

Thay  that  seeke  lone  to  constraine 
Haue  their  labour  for  their  paine. 

They  that  strongly  can  importune, 

And  will  never  yeild  nor  tyre, 

Gayne  the  pay  in  spight  of  Fortune; 

But  such  gaine  Pie  not  desyre  : 

"Where  they  prize  is  shame  or  sinn : 
Wynners  loose,  and  loosers  wynn. 

Looke  vpon  the  faithfull  louer : 

Grief  stands  painted  in  his  face  ; 

Groanes  and  teares  and  sighs  discouer 

That  they  are  his  only  grace : 

Hee  must  vreepe  as  childrenn  doe, 
That  will  in  ye  fashion  wooe. 

I,  whoe  flie  these  idle  fancies 

Which  my  dearest  rest  betraye, 

Warn'd  by  others'  harmfull  chances, 

Vse  my  freedome  as  I  may. 

When  all  the  -world  says  what  it  cann, 
'Tis  but — Fie,  vnconstant  mann! 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

St.  ii.  5,  l  prize  :'  probably  a  verb  =  contest  or  play  for  a 
prize — the  latter  being  a  phrase  in  very  common  u?e,  and  drawn 
from  the  contests  for  prizes  between  masters  of  fence,  which 
were  carried  on  with  much  advertisement,  show,  and  triumphal 
processioning.  In  any  other  sense  '  what'  would  seem  to  be 
required  instead  of  'where.'  I  venture  to  fill-in  '  Fie'  in  st.  iv. 
6,  dropped  by  the  copyist.     G, 


s^s^lfe 


SUN,  BEGOXE.1 

Wherefore  peepst  thou,  envyous  Day'? 
Wee  can  kisse  without  thee; 
Louers  hate  that  golden  raye 
"Which,  thou  bearst  about  thee. 

Goe  and  give  them  light  that  sorrowe, 

Or  the  saylor  flyinge  : 
Our  iinbraces  need  noe  niorrowe, 

Nor  our  kisses  eyinge. 

We  shall  curse  thy  envyous  eye 

For  thy  soone  betrayinge ; 
Or  condemne  thee  for  a  spye, 

If  thou  flndst  vs  playinge. 

Gett  thee  gone,  and  lend  thy  flashes 
Where  there's  need  of  lendinge  : 

Our  affections  are  not  ashes, 
iNor  our  pleasures  endinge. 

Were  we  cold  or  wyther'd  heere, 

We  would  stay  thee  by  vs; 
Or  but  one  another's  sphsere, 

Then  thou  shouldst  not  flye  vs. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before  :  now  first  printed.    G. 
VOL.  II.  S 


254  LYRICAL. 

TTe  are  younge,  thou  spoilst  our  pleasure; 

Goe  to  sea  and  slumber; 
Darknes  only  lends  vs  leasure 

Our  stolne  joyes  to  number. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  st.  v.  2  I  venture  to  read  '  would'  for  '  could :'  in  st.  v.  3, 
if  this  be  correct,  it  means,  if  they  were  not  two  spheres  seek- 
ing to  conjoin,  but  one  sphere,  then  &c.  But  if  we  have  here 
the  not  uncommon  error  of  '  but'  for  '  not,'  it  would  mean,  if  we 
were  not  embracing  lovers.     G. 


MY  HEART.  * 

Thou  sent'st  to  me  a  hart  was  sound, 

I  tooke  it  to  be  thine; 
But  when  I  saw  it  had  a  wound, 

I  knew  that  hart  was  myne. 

A  bountie  of  a  stronge  conceit, 

To  send  myne  owne  to  mee, 
And  send  it  in  a  worse  estate 

Then  when  it  came  to  thee.  Than 

The  hart  I  sent  thee  had  no  stayne, 

It  was  entyre  and  sound; 
But  thou  hast  sent  it  back  againe 

Sicke  of  a  deadly  wound. 
From  Stephens'  MS.,  as  before  :  now  first  printed.     G. 


FORTUNE  NEVER  FAILS. 


Oh  heavens,  how  woldst  thou  use  a  hart 
That  should  rebellyous  bee, 

Since  thou  hast  slayne  myne  with  a  dart 
That  soe  much  honorde  thee ! 


FORTUNE  NEVER  FAILS.1 

What  if  I  come  to  my  mistris'  hedd, 
The  candles  all  ecclip'st  from  shyninge  : 
Shall  I  then  attempt  for  her  mayden-head, 
Or  showe  my  selfe  a  coward  by  declyninge  1 

Oh  noe,  5 

Fie,  do  not  soe; 
For  thus  much  I  knowe  by  devyninge, 
Blynd  is  Love, 
The  darke  it  doth  approve 
To  pray  on  pleasures  pantinge  ;  1  o 

What  needs  light 
For  Cupid  in  ye  night, 
If  jealous  eyes  be  wantinge? 

Fortune  neuer  fayles,  if  she  bidd  take  place, 
To  shroud  all  the  faire  proceedings  :  1 5 

Love  and  she,  though  blynd,  yet  each  other  embrace 
To  favor  all  their  servants'  meetings. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Sir  John  Simeon  (as  be- 
fore, pp.  30-1)  gives  it,  but  misreads  his  own  ms.  as  collated  by 
us.  I  note  only  1.  26,  '  fair'  for  '  faynt.'  Lines  1-13  from  the 
Stephens'  ms.,  now  first  printed,  not  in  the  Simeon  mss.     G. 


256  LYRICAL. 

Venture,  I  say, 
To  sport  and  to  play, 
If  in  place  all  be  fittinge;  20 

Though  she  say  fie, 
Yet  doth  she  not  denie, 
For  fie  is  but  a  word  of  tryall : 

Jealosie  doth  sleepe; 
Then  doe  not  weepe  25 

At  force  of  a  faynt  denyall. 

Glorious  is  rny  loue,  worth  tryvmphs  in  her  face ; 
Then  too-too  bould  were  I  to  ventvr : 
AVhoe  loues,  deserues  to  liue  in  princes'  grace  ; 
Why  stand  you  then  affraid  to  enter?  30 

Lights  are  all  out, 
Then  make  noe  doubt, 
A  louer  bouldly  may  take  chusinge. 
Bewtie  is  a  baite 
For  a  princely  mate.  35 

Fye,  why  stand  you  then  a  musing  ? 
Yow'le  repent  too  late, 
If  she  doe  you  hate 
For  love's  delight  refusing. 


THE  FORTRAIT.  257 

THE  PORTE  AIT.  i 

Painter,  while  there  thou  sitst  drawing  the  sight 
That  her  unkind  regard  hath  dyed  in  grief, 

Dip  black  thy  pensill,  and  forgett  the  white 

That  thou  bestow'st  on  lookes  that  win  beliefe ; 

And  when  thy  worke  is  done,  then  lett  her  see 

The  humble  image  of  her  crneltie. 

Or  if  t'  unfold  the  sence  of  her  disdaine 
Exceeds  the  narrow  limitts  of  thyne  art, 

Then  blott  thy  table,  and  forgett  thy  paine, 

Till  thou  hast  learn'd  the  coulours  of  her  hart : 

And  lett  her  then  no  sight  or  other  show 

But  that  void  place  where  thou  hast  painted  woe. 

Tell  her  that  those  whome  th'  Heauens'  inuries 
Haue  kept  at  sea  in  wandering  disperation 

Sitt  downe  at  length,  and  brag  of  misseries, 
The  highest  measure  of  their  ostentation. 

So  hath  she  tost  me  till  my  latest  glorie 

Is  her  content,  and  my  affliction's  storie. 

Tell  her  that  tears  and  sighs  shall  never  cease 

With  flowing  streames,  to  sinck  her  in  conceite, 

Till  at  the  length  shee  pitty  or  release 

The  gentle  hart  that  on  her  eyes  did  waite, 

Pure  lights  imbracing  in  each  other's  scope 

The  strength  of  faith  and  weaknesses  of  hope. 

1  From  Sir  John  Simeon,  as  before ;  but  the  orthography 
restored  from  the  original  MS.     G. 


258  LYRICAL. 

Thus  doe  I  breathe  forth  my  unhappines, 

And  play  with  rimes,  as  if  my  thoughts  were  free  ; 

"Wherein  if  I  had  power  but  to  expresse 

Her  name,  the  world  would  with  my  griefs  agree. 

But,  idle  veine !  consume  thyself  in  this, 

That  I  have  sworn  to  bury  what  shee  is. 


THEEE  LOYE-SOXNETS.1 

Oh  madam,  you  [only],  of  all  women  true, 

May,  Virtue's  selfe,  that's  more,  for  only  you 

Are  that  wch  we  imagine  to  be  shee ; 

You,  and  but  you,  make  virtue  here  to  bee. 

You,  who  by  binding  makes  us  truly  free, 

Whose  only  bondman  lives  in  libertie. 

You,  in  wch  happie  word  all  things  are  ment 

Excepting  wickedness  and  punishment. 

You,  that  are  you,  wch  I  love  more  than  I, 

In  whome  my  soule  can  rest,  yett  I  not  dye ; 

]Sray,  lives,  by  beeing  those,  for  that's  his  place, 

I,  but  a  cabinet  that  keepes  your  face 

Or  model  in  my  hart,  for  all  that's  I 

May  in  your  picture  live,  in  you  must  dye. 

1  From  Sir  John  Simeon,  as  before,  pp.  22-24  ;  but  the  ortho- 
graphy of  his  ms.  restored  throughout,  and  several  '  escapes1 
corrected:  e.g.  sonnet  i.  1.  11,  '  Yea'  for  '  Nay;'  sonnet  ii.  1.  11, 
1  quickly'  for  '  clearly.'  I  have  given  the  general  heading  of 
1  Love- Sonnets'  instead  of  '  Sonnet'  over  each  as  in  Sir  John 
Simeon.  He  has  inscribed  the  third  as  '  The  Challenge ;'  in 
the  ms.  it  is  simply  '  A  Sonnet.'  It  is  not  strictly  that ;  but  a 
little  piece  of  two  stanzas.     G. 


THREE  LOVE-SONNETS.  259 

II. 

Is  there  no  day,  madam,  for  you?  is  all 
A  sullen  night!  it  is  not  out  of  choice ; 
Ffor  watchful  virtue  never  did  reioice 
In  darknes,  when  it  subiect  was  to  fall. 
But  you  are  leddbysome  unluckie  hand 
That  guide  yo'r  feet  into  a  path  obscure, 
Yett  lookes  that  you  as  steadily  should  stand 
As  at  nooneday,  and  keep  your  feet  as  pure. 
Oh,  pardon  mee ;  should  I  bee  guided  soe 
From  light,  from  truth,  and  from  the  sight  of  men, 
My  guides  should  to[o]  late  and  [too]  clearely  know- 
That  darkness  was  the  way  to  Error's  den ; 

And  hee  should  feele,  that  bard  me  from  ye  light, 
The  best  tyme  to  revenge  my  wrongs  were  night. 

in. 

Thou  art  not  faire,  for  all  thy  redd  and  white, 

Xor  all  thy  rosy  ornaments  in  thee ; 
Thou  art  not  sweete,  though  made  of  meere  delight, 

Xor  fair  nor  sweete,  unless  thou  pitty  mee. 
I  will  not  sooth  thy  fancyes;  thou  shalt  prove 
That  beauty  is  noe  beauty  without  loue. 

Yet  love  not  mee,  nor  seeke  thou  to  allure 

My  thoughts  with  beauty,  were  it  more  divine  ; 

Thy  smiles  and  kisses  I  can  not  indure; 

ITe  not  be  wrapt  up  in  those  armes  of  thine. 


260  LYRICAL. 

Now  show  it,  if  thou  be  a  woman  right, 
Embrace  and  kiss  and  love  mee  in  despight. 

NOTE. 

St.  i.  1.  5,  '  You  .  .  .  ivho  makes.''  '  That,'  referring  to  a  plural 
noun,  was  not  unfrequently  followed  by  a  verb  in  the  singular 
(see  Southwell,  Shakespeare,  &c).  With  'who'  instead  of  'that' 
this  construction  is  much  more  rare ;  but  is  found  sufficiently 
often  to  show  that  it  is  not  an  error  of  transcription.     G. 


A  WARNING.1 

Victorious  beauty !  though  your  eyes 
Are  able  to  subdue  an  host, 
And  therefore  are  unlike  to  boast 

The  taking  of  a  little  prize, 

Doe  not  a  single  heart  despise. 

It  came  alone,  but  yet  so  armd 

With  former  loue,  I  durst  have  sworne 
That  when  a  privy  coate  was  worne 
With  characters  of  beauty  charmd, 
Thereby  it  might  have  'scapd  unharmed. 

But  neither  steele  nor  stony  breast 

Are  proofe  against  those  looks  of  thyne  ; 
Nor  can  a  beauty  lesse  divine 

Of  any  heart  be  long  possesst 

When  thou  pretend'st  an  interest. 

i  From  Sir  John  Simeon,  as  before,  pp.  24-5 ;  but  the  ortho- 
graphy  of  his  ms.  restored.  The  heading  is  not  in  the  MS.,  and 
is  hardly  correct.     G. 


X 


TO  THE  YOUNG  GENTLEWOMEN  AT  COURT.     261 

Thy  conquest  in  regard  of  me, 

Alas,  is  small ;  but  in  respect 

Of  her  that  did  my  love  protect, 
Were  it  divulged,  deserves  to  bee 
Eecorded  for  a  victory. 

And  such  a  one — as  some  that  view 
Her  lovely  face  perhapps  may  say, 
Though  you  have  stolen  my  heart  away — 

If  all  your  seruants  prove  not  true, 

May  steal  a  heart  or  two  from  you. 


TO  THE  YOlLNTG  GENTLEWOMEN 

AT  COURT.1 

Beware,  fair  maide,  of  musky  courtiers'  oaths; 

Take  heed  what  gifts  and  favours  you  receive; 
Let  not  the  fading  glosse  of  silken  cloathes 

Dazell  thy  virtues,  or  thy  fame  bereave: 
Eor  loose  but  once  the  hould  thou  hast  of  grace,       lose 
Who  will  respect  thy  favour  or  thy  face  ] 

Each  greedy  hand  doth  catch  to  spoil  the  flower, 
Where  none  regards  the  stalk  it  grew  upon; 

1  From  Sir  John  Simeon,  as  before,  pp.  25-6  ;  the  heading  is 
again  his.     We  restore  the  orthography  as  usual.     G. 


262  LYRICAL. 

Each  creature  loues  the  fruit  still  to  devoure, 

And  let  the  tree  to  fall  or  grow  alone. 
But  this  advise,  faire  creature,  take  from  mee : 
Let  none  take  fruit,  unless  he  take  the  tree. 

Believe  not  oathes  nor  much-protesting  men, 
Creditt  no  vowes,  nor  no  bewailing  songs ; 

Let  courtiers  sweare,  forsweare,  and  sweare  agayne, 
Their  heart  doth  live  two  regions  from  their  tongues ; 

And  when  with  oathes  the  heart  is  made  to  tremble, 

Believe  them  least,  for  then  they  most  dissemble. 

Take  heed,  lest  Caesar  do  corrupt  thy  mind, 

And  foul  ambition  sell  thy  modesty; 
Say  tho'  a  king  thou  euer  curteous  find, 

He  cannot  pardon  thy  impurity; 
For  doe  with  king,  to  subject  you  will  fall, 
From  lord  to  lackey,  and  at  last  to  all. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Judging  by  iv.  1,  this  poem  could  hardly  have  been  written 
in  England;  for  James  I.  was  cold  to  feminine  beauty,  and 
rather  prided  himself  on  this  chastity.  '  Caesar'  too  is  a  term 
more  becoming  a  French  autocratic  ruler.  It  may  have  been 
written  to  a  young  lady  at  the  French  Court,  or  may  have  been 
a  translation. 

Sir  John  Simeon  places  at  end  the  following  couplet,  which 
seems  a  mere  variant  of  the  last  two  lines : 

Do  but  with  one,  with  thousands  thou'st  turned  whore ; 

Break  you  in  one  place,  you  will  break  in  more. 

This  is  not  in  the  ms.,  and  must  have  been  taken  from  some 
other.     G. 


BELIEVE  YOUR  GLASSE.  2G3 

BELIEVE  YOUK  GLASSE.1 

Beleeve  your  glasse,  and  if  it  tell  you,  Deare, 

Your  eyes  inshrine 

A  brighter  shine 
Then  faire  Apollo  ;  looke  if  there  appeare  Than 

The  milkie  skye,  5 

The  crimson  dye 
Mixt  in  your  cheeks;  and  then  hid  Phoebus  sett: 
More  glory  then  hee  owes  appeares.   But  yet  than     owns 

...  Be  not  deceived  with  fond  exultacon  : 


As  Cynthia's  globe,  1  o 

A  snow-white  robe, 
Is  soonest  spotted ;  a  carnation  dye 
Fades  and  discolours,  opened  bat  to  die. 

Make  vse  of  yowth  and  bewty  whilest  they  nourish  : 

Tyme  never  sleepes;  15 

Though  it  but  creeps, 
It  still  gets  forward.     Do  not  vainly  nourish 

Them  to  selfe-vse, 

It  is  abuse ; 

The  richest  grownds  lying  wrast  turn  boggs  and  rott,  20 

And  soe  beinge  useles  were  as  good  were  not. 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.,  as  before.  Sir  John  Simeon  (as  be- 
fore, pp.  28-30)  gives  it ;  but  while  his  ms.  nearly  corresponds 
with  ours,  he  misreads  several  words :  as  in  1.  9, '  false'  for  ■  fond ;' 
1.  13,  '  eye'  for  '  die  ;'  1.  29,  '  in'  for  '  on,'  ours  being  '  to;'  1.  33, 


264  LYRICAL. 

AValke  in  a  meddowe  by  a  river  side, 

Vpon  whose  bancks 

Growe  milk- white  ranks 
Of  full-blowne  lyllies  in  their  height  of  pryde,  25 

Which  downward  bend, 

And  nothing  tend 
Save  their  owne  bewties  in  the  glassie  streame  : 
Looke  to  your  selfe ;  compare  your  selfe  to  them — 
To  them,  in  bewtie  :  marke  what  folio wes  then;        30 

Sommer  must  end, 

The  sunn  must  bend 
His  longe-abstracted  beames  to  others  :  then, 

Their  Spring  being  crost 

By  Wynter's  frost,  35 

And  snep'd  by  bytter  stormes  'gainst  which  nought 

boots,  [snipped 

They  bend  their  prowd  topps  lower  then  their  roots,  than 
Then  none  regard  them  but  with  heedles  feet : 

In  durt  each  treads 

Their  declynd  heads.  40 

Soe  when  youth's  wasted,  Age  and  you  shall  meet : 

Then  I  alone 

Shall  sadly  moane 
That  interviewe;  others  it  will  not  move; 
So  light  regard  we  what  we  little  love.  45 


'  Its'  for  '  His,'  and  '  when'  for  '  then,'  and  '  long-absented'  for 
1  longe-abstracted.'  I  venture  also  to  correct  1.  9,  '  exultacon' 
for  '  alteracon ;'  and  1.  30,  '  To  them'  for  '  In  them ;'  and  1.  38, 
1  none'  for  '  noise.'     G. 


IV. 
EPIGRAMS. 


VOL.  II. 


NOTE. 

These  Epigrams  originally  appeared  in  the  edition  of  the 
Poems  of  1633,  and  since  in  all  the  after-editions.  One  would 
very  willingly  have  gone  without  them.  It  is  a  satisfaction  to 
he  able  to  set  aside  as  not  Donne's,  the  '  Sheaf  of  Miscellany 
Epigrams,'  translated  (from  the  Latin)  by  Dr.  Jasper  Mayne, 
and  published  in  1652  ;  albeit  a  disappointment  that  the  related 
poems,  which  have  been  hitherto  utilised  biographically,  must 
also  go.  See  our  Essay  in  the  present  volume  for  multiplied 
external  and  internal  proofs  of  the  imposture  perpetrated  by 
probably  the  impecunious  younger  Donne.     G. 


I.    HERO  AND  LEANDER. 

Both  rob'd  of  aire,  we  both  lye  in  one  ground,      robbed 
Both  whom  one  fire  had  burnt,  one  water  drownd. 

IT.    PYRAMUS  AND  THISBE. 

Two,  by  themselves,  each  other['s]1  love  and  feare,2 
Slaine,  cruell  friends,  by  parting,  have  joyn'd  here. 

III.    NIOBE. 

By  children's  births  and  death,  I  am  become 
So  dry,  that  I  am  now  mine  owne  sad  tombe. 

IV.    A  BURNT  SHIP. 

Out  of  a  fired  ship,  which,  by  no  way 
But  drowning,  could  be  rescued  from  the  flame, 
Some  men  leap'd  forth,  and  ever  as  they  came 
Neere  the  foe's  ships,  did  by  their  shot  decay  \ 
So  all  were  lost  which  in  the  ship  were  found, 
They  in  the  sea  being  burnt,  they  in  the  burnt  ship 
drown'd. 

1  I  read  '  other's'  for  'other;'  so  making  love  and  fear  nouns 
instead  of  verbs.     G. 

2  =  They  loved  while  living  apart  and  separated  by  a  wall, 
and  they  feared  for  each  other  when  separated  by  themselves 
at  the  trysting- place.     G-. 


»^ 


268  „  EPIGRAMS. 

V.  FALL  OF  A  WALL. 

Under  an  undermin'd  and  shot-bruis'd  wall 
A  too-bold  captaine  perish' d  by  the  fall, 
Whose  brave  misfortune  happiest  men  envied, 
That  had  a  tower3  for  tombe  his  bones  to  hide. 

VI.  A  LAME  BEGGAR. 

I  am  unable,  yonder  begger  cries, 

To  stand  or  moue ;  if  he  say  true,  hee  lies. 

VII.    A  SELFE-ACCUSER. 

Your  mistris,  that  you  follow  whores  still  taxeth  you ; 

I accuseth 

'Tis  strange  that  she  should  thus  confesse  it,  though  't 
be  true. 

VIII.    A  LICENTIOUS  PERSON.4 

Thy  shines  and  haires  may  no  man  equal  call ; 

For.  as  thy  shines  increase,  thy  haires  doe  fall. 

IX.    ANTIQUARY. 

If  iii  his  studie  he  hath  so  much  care 

To  'hang  old  strange  things,  let  his  wife  beware. 

X.    DISINHERITED. 

Thy  father  all  from  thee  by  his  last  will 
Gave  to  the  poore;  thou  hast  good  title  still. 

3  1633  oddly  misprints  'towne.'     G. 

4  A  justification  in  this  instance  of  Psalm  xl.  12  and  lxix. 
4,  by  reference  to  the  then  commonest  of  jokes  on  baldness  and 
French  crowns.     G. 


EPIGRAMS.  2G9 


XI.    PHRYNE. 


Thy  flattering  picture,  Pliryne,  's  like  to  thee 
Onely  in  this,  that  you  both  painted  be. 

XII.    AX  OBSCURE  WRITER. 

Philo  with  twelve  yeares'  study  hath  beene  griev'd 
To  be  'understood  ;  when  will  hee  be  beleev'd  ? 

XIII.    THE  CUCKOLD. 

Klockius  so  deeply  hath  sworne  ne'r  more  to  come 
In  bawdie-house,  that  hee  dares  not  goe  home. 

XIV.    RADERUS. 

Why  this  man  gelded,  Martiall,  I  muse,5 

Except  himself e  alone  his  tricks  would  use  : 

As  Katherine,6  for  the  Court's  sake,  put  downe  stewes. 

XV.    MERCURIUS  GALLO-BELGICUS.7 

Like  Esop's  fellow-slaves,  0  Mercury, 

Which  could  do  all  things,  thy  faith  is  ;  and  I 

Like  Esop's  selfe,  which  nothing  I  confesse, 

I  should  have  had  more  faith,  if  thou  hadst  lesse. 

Thy  credit  lost  thy  credit :  'tis  sinne  to  doe,     =  crediting] 

In  this  case,  as  thou  wouldst  be  done  unto — 

To  beleeve  all.    Change  thy  name  :  thou  art  like 

Mercury  in  stealing,  but  lyest  like  a  Greeke. 

5  =make  muse  to  myself.     G. 

6  '  Katherine  :'  probably  K.  de  Medici.     G. 

7  The  well-known  '  Gazette  :'  see  Glossary,  s.  n.     G. 


270  EPIGRAMS. 

XVI.    THE  SICK  BROKER. 

Compassion  in  the  world  againe  is  bred  : 
Ralphius  is  sick,  the  broker  keeps  his  bed. 

XVII.    BORROWING.8 

One  calls  mee  friend,  yet  urges  me  to  pay 
A  debt  I  borrowed,  not  upon  a  day, 
But  upon  termes  of  love  :  am  I  his  friend  ? 
I  may  then  owe  as  freely  as  he  lend. 

XVIII.    SUPPING  HOURS. 

Thou  in  the  field  walk'st  out  thy  supping  hours, 

And  yet  thou  say'st  thou  hast  supped  like  a  kinge  : 

Like  JNebuchadnezar  perchance,  with  grass  and  flowers, 
A  sallet  worse  than  Spanish  d yetting.9 

XIX.    THE  SMITH. 

Smugg  the  smith  for  ale  and  spice 

Sold  all  his  tools,  but  kept  his  vice. 

* 

8  This  and  next  two  from  Sir  John  Simeon,  as  before  (p.  31) ; 
but  the  orthography  restored  from  his  ms.     G. 

9  As  may  be  seen  in  Shakespeare's  Armado  (Love's  Labour 
Lost),  the  Spaniards  were  held  to  be  poor,  and  to  live  on  poor 
diet.     G. 


V. 
DIVINE    POEMS. 


t. 


NOTE. 


See  our  Essay  in  the  present  vol.  for  the  (probably)  early 
date  of  most  of  these  '  Donne'  Poems,  and  for  pieces  withdrawn 
as  hitherto  erroneously  assigned  to  Donne.  As  before,  the 
source  of  each  and  of  its  text  is  given  in  the  place.     G. 


TO  VISCOUNT  DONCASTER, 

WITH  SIX  HOLY  SONNETS.1 

See,  Sir,  how  as  the  sun's  hot  masculine  flame 
Begets  strange  creatures  on  Nile's  durty  slime,         dirty 
In  me  your  fatherly  yet  lusty  ryme  rhyme 

(For  these  songs  are  their  fruits)  have  wrought  the  same. 
But  though  the  ingendring  force  from  whence  they  came 
Ee  strong  enough,  and  Nature  doth  admit 
Seven  to  be  born  at  once,  I  send  as  yet 
But  six ;  they  say  the  seventh  hath  still  some  maim. 
I  choose  your  Jud  ;ment,  which  the  same  degree 
Doth  with  her  sister,  your  Invention,  hold, 
As  fire,  these  drossie  rhymes  to  purifie; 
Or  as  elixar,  to  change  them  to  gold. 
You  are  that  alchymist,  which  always  had 
Wit,  whose  one  spark  could  make  good  things  of  bad. 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (p.  176).     See  Notes  and  Illustra- 
tions on  D.     G. 


NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

There  was,  properly  speaking,  no  Earl  of  Doncaster  at  the 
period  of  these  lines  ;  consequently  the  usual  heading  '  Earl  of 
Doncaster'  could  not  have  been  Donne's.  I  have  altered  ac- 
cordingly. The  person  addressed  was  James  Hay,  a  Scottish 
gentleman,  who  accompanied  James  I.  into  England  and  be- 


274  DIVINE  POEMS. 

came  a  great  Court  favourite.  He  was  first  created  Lord  Hay 
in  the  Scottish  peerage ;  but  on  29th  June  1615  was  advanced 
to  the  English  peerage  as  Baron  Hay  of  Sauley,  co.  York.  On 
5th  July  1618  he  was  created  Viscount  Doncaster;  and  finally, 
13th  September  16*22,  Earl  of  Carlisle.  He  was  several  times 
Ambassador  to  the  Courts  of  France  and  Germany,  was  a 
Knight  of  the  Garter,  Master  of  the  Wardrobe,  and  Gentleman 
of  the  Robes  to  King  James  I.,  and  subsequently  First  Gentle- 
man of  the  Bedchamber  to  King  Charles  I.  He  died  25th  April 
1636,  and  was  succeeded  by  his  only  surviving  son  James,  at 
whose  death  without  issue,  in  1660,  all  the  family  honours  be- 
came extinct. 

Line  2,  '  strange  creatures  on  Nile's  durty  slime.'    See  note 
on  this  and  allied  passages  in  vol.  i.     G. 


TO  THE  LADY  MAGDALEN  HEEBEET; 

OF  ST.  MARY  MAGDALEN. 

Her  of  your  name,  whose  fair  inheritance 

Bethina  was,  and  jointure  Magdaio  ;  Bethany 

An  active  faith  so  highly  did  advance, 

That  she  once  knew  more  than  the  Church  did  know, 
The  Eesurrection ;  so  much  good  there  is 

Deliver' d  of  her,  that  some  Fathers  be 
Loth  to  believe  one  woman  could  do  this, 

But  think  these  Magdalens  were  two  or  three. 
Increase  their  number,  Lady,  and  their  fame ; 

To  their  devotion  add  your  innocence ; 
Take  so  much  of  th'  example  as  of  the  name, 

The  latter  half;  and  in  some  recompence, 
That  they  did  harbour  Christ  Himself  a  guest, 
Harbour  these  Hymns,  to  His  dear  name  addrest. 

J.  D. 


TO  THE  LADY  MAGDALEN  HERBERT.        275 


NOTES. 

We  derive  this  hitherto  inedited  Sonnet  from  Walton's  Life 
of  George  Herbert ;  and  his  fine  tribute  to  the  Poet  and  to  the 
Lady  may  find  place  here,  the  more  so  as  it  gives  us  the  inter- 
esting fact  that  the  '  autumnal  face'  of  Elegy  x.  (vol.  i.  pp.  189- 
190)  was  Lady  Magdalen  Herbert.  Speaking  of  Lady  Herbert's 
careful  supervision  of  her  afterwards  renowned  boys  (Edward 
Lord  Cherbury,  and  George  Herbert)  he  goes  on  :  '  her  oblig- 
ing behaviour  gained  her  an  acquaintance  and  friendship  with 
must  of  any  eminent  worth  or  learning  that  were  at  that  time 
in  or  near  that  University  [Oxford] ;  and  particularly  with  Mr. 
John  Donne,  who  then  came  accidentally  to  that  place  in  this 
time  of  her  being  there.  It  was  that  John  Donne  who  was 
after  Dr.  Donne  and  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  London;  and  he,  at 
his  leaving  Oxford,  writ  and  left  there  in  verse  a  character  of 
the  beauties  of  her  body  and  mind.     Of  the  first  he  says, 

No  6pring  nor  Summer-beauty  has  such  grace 
As  I  have  seen  in  an  Autumnal  face. 

Of  the  latter  he  says, 

In  all  her  words,  to  every  hearer  fit, 
You  may  at  Revels  or  at  Council  sit. 

The  rest  of  her  character  maybe  read  in  his  printed  Poems,  in 
that  Elegy  which  bears  the  name  of  the  Autumnal  Beauty.  For 
both  he  and  she  were  then  past  the  meridian  of  man's  life.'  .  .  . 
Then  follows  the  Letter  wherein  the  Sonnet  was  enclosed.  It 
thus  closes  :  '  By  this  Messenger,  and  on  this  good  day  [St. 
Mary  Magdalen's] ,  I  commit  the  inclosed  Holy  Hymns  and  Son- 
nets (which  for  the  matter,  not  the  workmanship,  have  yet 
escaped  the  fire)  to  your  judgment,  and  to  your  protection  too,  if 
you  think  them  worthy  of  it ;  and  I  have  appointed  this  inclosed 
Sonnet  to  usher  them  to  your  happy  hand  (July  11th,  1607).' 
Walton  observes  mistakenly:  'these  Hymns  are  now  lost  to  us  ; 
but  doubtless  they  were  such  as  they  two  now  sing  in  heaven.' 
WTe  say  mistakenly,  for  no  doubt  the  present  '  Divine  Poems' 
preserve  all  sent  to  Lady  Herbert.     G. 


LA  COKOXA.1 

I.  PRAISE  IN  'DEVOUT  MELANCHOLY.' 

1 1)  aigne  at  my  hands  this  crowne  of  prayer  and  praise,' 
Weav'd  in  my  lone  devout  melancholia, 
Thou,  which  of  good  hast,  yea,  art  treasurie, 

All-changinge,  unchang'd,  Awncient  of  Daies  ; 

But  doe  not  with  a  vyld  crowne  of  fraile  bayes 
Eeward  my  Muse's  white  sinceritie, 
But  what  Thy  thorney  crowne  gayn'd,  that  give  me, 

A  crowne  of  glorie,  which  doth  flower  alwais. 

The  ends  crowne  our  works,  but  thou  crounst  our  ends, 
For  at  our  ends  begins  our  endles  rest ; 
This  first  last  end,  now  zealously  possest 

With  a  stronge  sober  thrist,  my  sowle  attends. 

'Tis  tyme  that  voice  and  hart  be  lifted  high,  heart 

Salvation  to  all  that  will  is  nigh. 


II.  ANNUNCIATION. 

'  Saluation  to  all  that  will  is  nigh  f 

That  All  which  always  is  all  euerywhere, 
"Which  cannot  synne,  and  yet  all  sins  must  beare, 

Which  cannot  dye,  yet  cannot  chuse  but  dye, 

1  From  Stephens'  ms.  ,  as  before ;  and  so  all  in  this  portion 
not  otherwise  noted.  Appeared  originally  in  1635  edition  (pp. 
327-342).     G. 


LA  CORONA.  'li  < 

Loe,  faithfull  Virgin,  yealds  himselfe  to  lye 

In  prison  in  thie  woinbe  \  and  though  He  there 
Can  take  no  synn,  nor  thou  giue,  yet  He'll  weare, 
Taken  from  thence,  flesh,  which  Death's  force  may  trye. 
Ere  by  the  spheres  Tyme  was  created,  thou 

Wast  in  His  mynd — which  is  thy  sonne  and  brother, 
Whome  thcu  conceiv'dst — conceived  ;  yea,  thou  art 
now 
Thy  Maker's  maker,  and  thy  Father's  mother  \ 
Thou  'hast  light  in  darke,  and  shutt  in  little  room 
Immensitie,  cloistred  in  thy  deare  wombe. 

III.  NATIVITY. 

1  Immensitie,  cloistred  in  thy  deare  womb,' 
Xow  leaves  His  well-belou'd  imprisonment, 
There  He  hath  made  Himselfe  to  His  intent 
Weak  enough,  now  into  our  world  to  come ; 
But  oh,  for  thee,  for  Him,  hath  th'  inn  no  roome? 
Yet  lay  Him  in  this  stall,  and  from  the  Orient 
Starrs  and  wise  men  shall  travaile,  to  prevent 
The  effect  of  Herod's  jealous  generall  doome. 
Seest  thou,  my  sowle,  with  thy  faith's  eyes,  how  Hee, 
That  fills  all  place  (yet  none  holds  Him),  doth  lie  ] 
Was  not  His  pittie  towards  thee  wondrous  high, 
That  would  haue  need  to  be  pyttiecl  of  thee  ? 
Kisse  Him,  and  with  Him  into  iEgypt  goe, 
With  His  kynd  mother,  who  partakes  thy  woe. 


278  DIVINE  POEMS. 

IV.   TEMPLE. 

'  With  his  kind  mother,  who  partakes  thy  woe,' 

Joseph,  turne  back ;  see  where  your  child  doth  sytt 
Blowinge,  yea,  blowinge  out  those  sparks  of  wytt, 

Which  Himselfe  on  those  Doctors  did  bestowe ; 

The  Word  but  lately  co'ld  not  speake,  and  loe 

It  soddainly-  speaks  wonders  :  whence  comes  it, 
That  all  which  was,  and  all  which  wold  be  wrytt, 

A  shallow-seeminge  Chyld  should  deeply  knowe  ? 

His  Godhead  was  not  soul  to  His  Manhood, 

Nor  had  tyme  mellow'd  Him  to  this  ripenes ; 
But  as  for  one  which  hath  long  tasks,  'tis  good 

With  the  sun  to  begin  his  busynes, 

He  in  his  age's  morning  thus  began, 

By  miracles  exceedinge  power  of  man. 

v.  MIRACLES. 

'  By  miracles  exceeding  power  of  man ' 
He  faith  in  some,  envye  in  some  begate, 
For,  what  weake  spirits  admyre,  ambitious  hate ; 
In  both  affections  many  to  Him  rann, 
But,  oh,  the  worst  are  most,  they  will  and  can, 
Alas,  and  doe  unto  th'  Immaculate, 
Whose  creature  Fate  is,  now  prescribe  a  fate, 
Measuring  selfe-live's  inhnitie  to  a  span, 
Nay,  to  an  inch.     Loe,  where  condemned  Hee 

Bears  His  own  crosse  with  payne ;  yet  by  and  by, 
When  it  bears  Him,  He  must  bear  more  and  dyee 


LA  CORONA.  279 

.Now  Thou  art  lifted  upp,  draw  me  to  Thee, 
And,  at  Thy  death  giveing  such  liberall  dole, 
Moist  with  one  dropp  of  Thy  blood  my  drie  sowle. 

VI.  RESURRECTION. 

'  Moist  with  one  dropp  of  Thy  blood  my  drie  sowle' 
Shall,  though  she  bee  now  in  extreame  degree 
Too  stony-hard,  and  yet  too  fleshly,  bee 

Freed  by  that  dropp  from  being  starv'd,  hard,  or  fowle; 

And  life,  by  this  death  abled,  shall  controwle 

Death,  whome  Thy  death  slewe  ;  nor  shall  to  mee 
Feare  of  first  or  last  death  bringe  miserie, 

If  in  Thy  life-booke  my  name  Thou  inrowle  : 

Flesh  in  that  longe  sleep  is  not  putrefide, 

But  made  that  there,  of  which,  and  for  which,  'twas, 

Nor  can  by  other  means  be  purifyed. 

May  then  sin's  sleepe  and  death  soone  from  me  passe, 

That,  wakt  from  both,  I,  againe  risen,  may 

Salute  the  last  and  everlastinge  day. 

VII.  ASCENSION. 

'  Salute  the  last  and  everlastinge  day/ 

Joy  at  the  uprising  of  this  Sunne  and  Son, 

Yee  whose  true  tears  or  tribulation 
Have  purely  washt  or  burnt  your  drossy  claye  : 
Behold  the  Highest,  partinge  hence  away, 

Lightens  the  darke  clowds,  which  He  treads  upon. 

Nor  doth  He  by  ascendinge  shewe  alone, 


280  DIVINE  POEMS. 

But  first  Hee,  and  Hee  first,  enters  the  waie. 
0  stronge  rarnme,  which  hast  batterd  heaven  for  me ; 
Mylde  Lambe,  which  with  Thy  blood  hast  markt  the 
path; 
Bright  torch,  which  shinest,  that  I  Thy  way  may  see ; 
Oh,  with  Thyne  owne  blood  quench  thy  owne  iust 
wrath  : 
And  if  Thy  Holy  Spirit  my  Muse  did  raise, 
'  Daigne  at  my  hands  this  crowne  of  prayer  and  praise !' 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

These  Seven  Sonnets  form  as  it  were  a  '  corona'  or  circlet 
of  sonnets :  for  the  last  line  of  each,  it  will  he  observed,  is  re- 
peated as  the  first  line  of  the  next,  and  the  last  of  the  seventh 
sonnet  is  the  first  line  of  the  first.  This,  and  the  reference  in 
the  prefatory  Epistle  to  the  sending  of  six  only,  as  the  seventh 
was  still '  maim'd,'  together  with  their  subjects,  have  led  me  to 
separate  them  from  the  rest,  as  in  the  edition  of  1669.  I  have 
also  put  each  first  line  between  '  '.  Farther,  I  have  placed 
beside  the  opening  lines  to  Viscount  Doncaster  the  very  gra- 
cious and  noble  Sonnet  to  the  Lady  Margaret  Herbert,  from 
Walton's  Life  of  Donne.  It  has  hitherto  been  strangely  over- 
looked. Walton,  who,  with  much  love,  was  a  most  uncritical 
Biographer  and  Editor,  imagined  the  '  Holy  Sonnets'  had  per- 
ished ;  but  it  seems  plain  that  we  have  in  the  present  section 
these  identical  Sonnets.  As  pointed  out  in  the  place,  ODe  of 
the  Verse-Epistles  not  previously  assigned  to  any  one  was  in 
all  probability  addressed  to  the  same  illustrious  Lady  Margaret 
Herbert. 

St.  i.  1.  11,  *  zealously.'  Comparing  '  soberly'  of  our  MS.with 
'  zealously'  of  1635  onward,  the  latter  seems  to  be  a  revision, 
and  intended  to  avoid  the  repetition  of  1.  12.  So  too  in  1.  9, 
'  ends  crown'  for  '  end  crownes,'  makes  the  first  half  of  the  line 
correspond  better  with  the  second  half.  There  are  other  errors 
or  transition  -  readings  in  our  ais.  throughout,  which  we  have 
silently  corrected  from  the  printed  text. 


HOLY   SONNETS.  281 

St.  i.  11.  11-12.  The  punctuation  of  all,  as  is  too  often  the 
case,  erroneous  and  confusing.  Usually  a  comma  (,)  after  '  pos- 
sest,'  and  none  after  '  ends.'  I  place  one  after  ■  ends,'  and  none 
after  'possest.'  The  construction  is:  My  soul,  now  zealously 
possest  with  a  strong  soher  thirst,  attends  the  first  last  end. 

St.  ii.  1.  9,  *  created:''  our  MS.  reads  'begotten:'  not  appro- 
priate to  anything  else  when  the  main  subject  is  the  '  Only-be- 
gotten' of  the  Father.  Moreover,  in  the  sense  that  the  creation 
of  the  spheres  created  Time  by  creating  measures  of  Time, 
1  created'  is  better  than  'begotten.' 

St.  iii.  1.  7,  '  prevent'  =  anticipate. 

,,     v.  1.  14,  *dole'=measure.     See  our  Southwell,  s.v. 

,,  vii.  1.  9,  'ram'=zbattering-ram.  Or  is  there  a  reference 
to  the  '  Ram'  vision  in  Daniel  ? 

The  other  Sonnets  of  '  Corona'  are  matterful  and  suggestive  ; 
but  criticism  or  exposition  of  them  belongs  rather  to  a  Study 
than  to  Notes.  The  '  Paradoxes'  in  stanza  ii.  remind  of  Giles 
Fletcher  and  Herbert  Palmer.     G. 


HOLY  SONNETS.1 
i. 

Thou  hast  made  me,  and  shall  Thy  work  decay  1 
Repair  me  now;  for  now  mine  end  doth  haste, 
I  run  to  Death,  and  Death  meets  me  as  fast, 

And  all  my  pleasures  are  like  yesterday. 

I  dare  not  move  my  dimme  eyes  any  way, 

Despair  behind,  and  Death  before  doth  cast 
Such  terrour,  and  my  feeble  flesh  doth  waste 

By  sin  in  it,  which  it  t'wards  Hell  doth  weigh : 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  collated  with  the  others,  as  before, 
and  the  printed  texts.     G. 

VOL.  II.  U 


282  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Only  Thou  art  above,  and  when  towards  Thee 
By  Thy  leave  I  can  look,  I  rise  again; 

But  our  old  subtle  foe  so  tempteth  me, 
That  not  one  hour  myself  I  can  sustain : 

Thy  grace  may  wing  me  to  prevent  his  art, 

And  Thou  like  ad'mant  draw  mine  iron  heart. 

ii. 

As  due  by  many  titles,  I  resigne 

Myself  to  Thee,  0  God.     First  I  was  made 
By  Thee  and  for  Thee,  and  when  I  was  decaide, 

Thy  blood  bought  that  the  which  before  was  Thine ; 

I  am  Thy  son,  made  with  Thyself e  to  shine, 

Thy  servant,  whose  paines  Thou  hast  still  repaide, 
Thy  sheepe,  Thine  image,  and,  till  I  betray'd 

Myselfe,  a  temple  of  Thy  Spiritt  divine. 

Why  doth  the  divill,  then,  usurp  on  mee  ? 

Why  doth  he  steale,  nay  ravish  that's  Thy  right? 
Except  Thou  rise,  and  for  Thine  own  worke  fight, 

Oh,  I  shall  soone  despaire,  when  I  doe  see 

That  Thou  lou'st  mankinde  well,  yet  will  not  choose  mee, 

And  Sathan  hates  mee,  yet  is  loath  to  loose  mee. 

in. 

Oh,  might  these  sighs  and  tears  return  again 
Into  my  breast  and  eyes,  which  I  have  spent, 
That  I  might  in  this  holy  discontent 

Mourn  with  some  fruit,  as  I  have  mourn'd  in  vain ; 

In  mine  idolatry  what  showrs  of  rain 


HOLY  SONNETS.  283 

Mine  eyes  did  waste  !  what  griefs  my  heart  did  rent ! 

That  sufferance  was  my  sin  I  now  repent ; 
'Cause  I  did  suffer,  I  must  suffer  pain. 
Th'  hydroptik  drunkard  and  night-scouting  thief, 

The  itchy  lecher  and  self-tickling  proud, 
Have  th'  remembrance  of  past  joyes  for  relief 

Of  coming  ills.     To  poor  me  is  allow'd 
jSTo  ease ;  for  long,  yet  vehement  grief  hath  been 
Th'  effect  and  cause,  the  punishment  and  sin. 

IV. 

Oh,  my  black  soule,  thou  now  art  summoned 

By  sicknes,  Death's  herrald  and  champion; 

Thou'rt  like  a  pilgrim,  which  abroade  hath  done 
Treason,  and  durst  not  turne  to  whence  hee  'is  fledd ; 

Or  like  a  theefe,  which,  till  Deathe's  doome  be  read, 
Wisheth  himselfe  delivered  from  prison, 
But,  damn'd  and  hal'd  to  execution, 

Wisheth  that  still  he  might  be  'imprisoned; 
Yet  grace,  if  thou  repent,  thou  canst  not  lacke ; 

But  who  shall  give  thee  that  grace  to  beginn  ? 
0,  make  thyselfe  with  holy  mourninge  black, 

And  redd  with  blushinge,  as  thou  art  with  sinn ; 
Or  wash  thee  in  Christ's  bloud,  which  hath  this  might, 
That,  beinge  redd,  it  dyes  red  soules  to  white. 

v. 

I  am  a  little  world,  made  cunningly 

Of  elements,  and  an  angelike  spright ; 


284  DIVINE  POEMS. 

But  black  sin  hath  betraid  to  endless  night 
My  world's  both  parts,  and,  oh,  both  parts  must  die. 
You  which,  beyond  that  heaven  which  was  most  high, 

Have  found  new  sphears,  and  of  new  land  can  write, 

Pour  new  seas  in  mine  eyes,  that  so  He  might 
Drown  my  world  with  my  weeping  earnestly; 
Or  wash  it,  if  it  must  be  drown'd  no  more  : 

But,  oh,  it  must  be  burnt ;  alas,  the  fire 
Of  lust  and  envy  burnt  it  heretofore, 

And  made  it  fouler  :  let  their  flames  retire, 
And  burn  me,  oh  Lord,  with  a  fierie  zeal 
Of  Thee  and  Thy  house,  which  doth  in  eating  heale. 

VI. 

This  is  my  playe's  last  scene ;  here  heauens  appoynt 
My  pilgrimage's  last  mile ;  and  my  race, 
Idly  yet  quickly  runn,  hath  this  last  pace, 

My  spann's  last  inch,  my  minute's  latest  poynt ; 

And  gluttonous  Death  will  instantly  unioynt 

My  body  and  soule,  and  I  shall  sleepe  a  space ; 
But  my  ever-wakinge  part  shall  see  that  Face, 

Whose  feare  already  shakes  my  every  ioynte : 

Then,  as  my  soule  t'  heaven,  her  first  seate,  takes  flight, 
And  earth-borne  body  in  the  earth  shall  dwell, 

So  fall  my  sinns,  that  all  maye  have  their  right, 

To  where  they  'are  bred,  and  would  press  me  to  hell. 

Impute  me  righteous,  thus  purg'd  of  evill ; 

For  thus  I  leave  the  world,  the  flesh,  the  devil. 


HOLY  SONNETS.  285 

VII. 

At  the  round  earth's  imagin'd  corners  blowe 
Your  trumpetts,  Angells,  and  arise,  arise 
From  death,  you  numberless  infinities 

Of  soules,  and  to  your  scatter'd  bodies  goe, 

All  whom  the  Floud  did,  and  Fire  shall,  o'erthrowe; 
All  whom  death,  warr,  age,  agues,  tyrannies, 
Despair,  law,  chance  hath  slain;  and  you  whose  eyes 

Shall  behold  God,  and  never  tast  deathe's  woe ; 

Eut  lett  them  sleepe,  Lord,  and  mee  mourne  a  space; 
For  if  aboue  all  those  my  sinns  abound, 

'Tis  late  to  aske  aboundance  of  Thy  grace, 

When  we  are  there.     Here  on  this  lowly  grownd 

Teach  mee  how  to  repent;  for  that's  as  good 

As  if  Thou'dst  seal'd  my  pardon  with  my  blood. 

VIII. 

If  faithful  souls  be  alike  glorifi'd 

As  angels,  then  my  father's  soul  doth  see, 

And  adds  this  even  to  full  felicitie, 
That  valiantly  I  hel's  wide  mouth  o'restride : 
But  if  our  minds  to  these  souls  be  descride, 

By  circumstances  and  by  signes  that  be 

Apparent  in  us  not  immediately, 
How  shall  my  mind's  white  truth  by  them  be  tri'd] 
They  see  idolatrous  lovers  weep  and  mourn, 

And  stile  blasphemous  conjurers  to  call 

On  Jesus'  name,  and  Pharisaicall 
Dissemblers  fein  devotion.     Then  turn, 


: 


286  DIVINE  POEMS. 

0  pensive  soul,  to  God;  for  He  knows  best 
Thy  grief,  for  He  put  it  into  my  brest. 

IX. 

If  poysonous  mineralls,  and  if  that  tree 

Whose  fruite  threw  death  on  else  imniortall  us, 
If  leacherous  goates,  if  serpents  envious 

Cannott  be  damn'd,  alas,  why  should  I  bee? 

Why  should  intent  or  reason,  borne  in  mee, 

Make  sinns,  els  equall,  in  mee  more  haynousl 
And  mercy  beinge  easie  and  glorious 

To  God,  in  His  sterne  wrath  why  threatens  Heel 

But  who  am  I  that  dares  dispute  with  Thee, 
0  God,  Oh,  of  Thine  only  worthy  bloud 
And  my  teares  make  a  heav'nly  Lethean  flood, 

And  drowne  in  it  my  sinns'  black  memory : 

That  Thou  remember  them,  some  clayme  as  debt ; 

1  thinck  it  mercy,  if  Thou  wilt  forgett. 

x. 

Death,  be  not  proud,  though  some  have  called  thee 

Mightie  and  dreadfull,  for  thou  art  not  soe ; 

For  those  whom  thou  think'st  thou  dost  overthrowe 
Dye  not,  poore  Death;  nor  yet  canst  thou  kill  mee. 
From  rest  and  sleepe,  which  but  thy  pictures  bee, 

Much  pleasure,  then  from  thee,  much  more  must 
flowe : 

And  soonest  our  best  men  doe  with  thee  goe, 


I 


HOLY  SONNETS.  287 

Rest  of  their  bones,  and  sonles'  deliverie. 
Thou  'art  slave  to  Fate,  Chance,  Kings,  and  desperate 
men, 
And  dost  with  poyson,  warr,  and  sicknes  dwell, 
And  poppie  or  charmes  can  make  us  sleep  as  well, 
And  better  then  thy  stroke;  why  swell' st  thou  then?  than 
One  short  sleepe  past,  we  wake  eternally, 
And  Death  shalbe  no  more  :  Death,  thou  shaft  dye. 

XI. 

Spitt  in  my  face,  you  Jewes,  and  peirce  my  side, 
Buffet  and  scoff,  scourge  and  crucifie  mee ; 
For  I  have  sinn'd  and  sinn'd ;  and  only  Hee 

Who  could  do  none  iniquity  hath  dyed  : 

But  by  my  death  cannot  be  satisfied 

My  sins,  which  pass  the  Jewes'  impietie  : 
They  kill'd  once  an  inglorious  man,  but  I 

Crucify  Him  dayly,  being  now  glorified. 

0,  let  me  then  His  strange  love  still  admire ; 
Kings  pardon,  but  He  bore  our  punishment : 

And  Jacob  came,  cloathd  in  vile  harsh  attire, 
But  to  supplant,  and  with  gainfull  intent ; 

God  cloath'd  Himself  in  vile  man's  flesh,  that  soe 

He  might  be  wreake  enough  to  suffer  woe. 

XII. 

Why  are  wee  by  all  creatures  waited  on  1 
Why  do  the  prodigall  elements  supplie 
Life  and  foode  to  mee,  being  more  purer  then  I,    than 


288  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Simpler,  and  further  from  corruption? 

Why  brook'st  thou,  ignorant  horse,  subiection  ? 

Why  do  you,  bull  or  bore,  so  silliKe 

Dissemble  weaknes,  and  by  one  man's  stroke  die, 
Whose  whole  kind  you  might  swallow  'and  feed  uppon? 
Weaker  I  am,  woe's  mee,  and  worse  then  you ;         than 

You  have  not  einn'd,  nor  neede  be  timerous. 

But  wonder  at  a  greater ;  for  to  us 
Created  nature  doth  these  things  subdue ; 
But  their  Creator,  whom  sinn  nor  nature  tyed, 
For  us,  His  creatures  and  His  foes,  hath  dyed. 

XIII. 

What  if  this  present  were  the  world's  last  night  1 

Marke  in  my  heart,  0  Soule,  where  thou  dost  dwell, 
The  picture  of  Christ  crucifi'd,  and  tell 
Whether  His  countenance  can  thee  affright : 
Teares  in  His  eyes  quench  the  amazinge  light, 

Bloud  nils  His  frowns,  which  from  His  pierc'd  head 

fell; 
And  can  that  tonge  adiudge  thee  unto  hell, 
Which  pray'd  forgivenes  for  His  foes'  feirce  spight  1 
Xoe,  noe ;  but  as  in  my  idolatrie 

I  saide  to  all  my  prophane  mistresses, 
Beauty,  of  pittie,  fouleness  only  is 
A  signe  of  rigor ;  soe  saye  I  to  thee  : 
To  wicked  spirits  are  horrid  shapes  assign'd, 
This  beauteous  forme  assumes  a  piteous  minde. 


HOLY  SONNETS.  289 

XIV. 

Batter  my  hart,  three-person'd  God  ;  for  you       heart 
As  yet  but  knock ;  breathe,  shine,  and  seeke  to  mend, 
That  I  maye  rise  and  stand;  orethrow  mee,  'and  bend 

Your  force,  to  breake,  blowe,  burne,  and  make  mee  new. 

I,  like  a  usurpt  towne  to  'another  due, 

Labour  to  'admitt  you,  but  oh,  to  no  end ; 
Eeason,  your  viceroy  in  mee,  me  should  defend, 

But  is  captiu'd,  and  prooves  weake  or  untrue ; 

Yet  dearely  'I  love  you,  'and  would  be  loved  fain, 
But  am  betroth'd  unto  your  enemie  : 

Divorce  mee,  'untie  or  breake  that  knott  againe, 
Take  mee  to  you,  imprison  mee,  for  I, 

Except  you  'enthrall  mee,  never  shalbe  free ; 

Nor  ever  chast,  except  you  ravish  mee. 

xv. 

Wilt  thou  love  God  as  He  thee  1  then  digest, 
My  soule,  this  wholesome  meditation, 
How  God  the  Spiritt,  by  angells  wayted  on 

In  heaven,  doth  make  His  temple  in  thy  breast ; 

The  Father  havinge  begott  a  Sonne  most  blest, 
And  still  begettinge,  for  He  ne're  begunne, 
Hath  deign'd  to  choose  thee  by  adoption, 

Coheir  to  'His  glory  and  Sabbathe's  endless  rest. 

And  as  a  robb'd  man,  which  by  search  doth  flnde 

His  stolne  stuff  sould,  must  loose  or  buy  'it  againe, 
The  sunne  of  glory  came  downe,  and  was  slaine, 


290  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Us,  whom  He  had  made  and  Sathan  stolne,  to  unbinde. 
'Twas  much  that  man  was  made  like  God  before; 
But  that  God  should  be  made  like  man,  much  more. 

XVI. 

Father,  part  of  His  double  interest 

Unto  Thy  kingdome  Thy  Sonn  gives  to  mee  \ 

His  jointure  in  the  knottie  Trim* tie 
He  keepes,  and  gives  to  mee  His  deathe's  conquest. 
This  Lambe,  whose  death  with  life  the  world  hath  blest, 

Was  from  the  world's  beginninge  slayne ;  and  Hee 

Hath  made  two  wils,  which,  with  the  legacy 
Of  His  and  Thy  kingdome,  thy  Sonns  invest : 
Yet  such  are  those  lawes,  that  men  argue  yet 

Whether  a  man  those  statutes  can  fulfill. 
None  doth ;  but  Thy  all-healing  grace  and  Spiritt 

Reuive  againe  what  lawe  and  letter  kill : 
Thy  law's  abridgment  and  Thy  last  commaund 
Is  all  but  love  \  oh,  lett  that  last  will  stand  ! 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

in.  1. 14.  '  J.  Done  gave  my  Lord  Ancrum  [Sir  Robert  Carr] 
his  picture,  in  a  melancholie  posture,  with  this  word  about  it, 
De  tristitia  ista  lib  era  me,  Domine.'  (Drummond,  Extracts  from 
Hawthornden  mss.  p.  25.) 

iv.  1.  7,  'hal'd'  [or  '  haul'd'] ,  not  'haled,'  because,  as  fre- 
quently in  Donne  and  in  Marlowe,  &e.  '  -tion'  at  the  end  of  the 
line  is  a  full  dissyllabic  foot.     Cf .  '  cham-pion,'  1.  2. 

v.  1.  6.  It  is  not  clear  whether  the  Poet  means  astronomers, 
or,  as  is  more  probable,  those  discoverers  who  have  found  new 
lands  beyond  the  equator. 

vii.  1.  6,  'All  whom  death,  war.'    Probably  '  death'  was  in- 


ON  THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MARIE.  291 

tended  to  present  the  wide  thing  and  word,  and  the  after  ■  warr, 
age,'  &c.  the  various  forms  or  modes.  Accordingly  I  have  ven- 
tured to  place  ■  death'  hefore  '  warr.' 

lb.  1.  14,  '  my;'  usually,  but  erroneously,  '  thy,'  which  is  per- 
haps a  later  form  of  theologic  speech.  But  cf .  Sonnet  iv.  11. 
13-14. 

viii.  1.  2.  That  is,  if  souls  in  heaven  take  the  office  of  an- 
gels, or  messengers  and  ministers  of  God's  will. 

lb.  1.5,  'descride'  =  'be  descride  to:'  verb  in  causative 
sense =be  made  visible  (by  God's  power)  to. 

lb.  1.  11,  '  Btile  :'  usually  misprinted  '  still.' 

ix.  1.  5,  *  i n tenV  =  thought,  or  purposing  thought. 

xi.  11.  11-12.  See  Genesis  xxv. 

xiii.  1.  ll=Beauty  [is  a  sign]  of  pity. 

xiv.  1.  7,  '  viceroy  :'  usually  and  grossly  misprinted  ■  victory.' 

xv.  1.  11,  '  Sunne  of  glory'  =  Sun  of  Righteousness. 

xvi.  1.  14,  '  but  love :'  curious  English  for  '  is  all  love  only,'' 
i.e.  is  all  love  and  love  only.     G. 


ON  THE  BLESSED  VIRGIN  MARIE.1 

In  that,  0  Queene  of  queens,  thy  birth  was  free 
From  that  which  others  doth  of  grace  bereave, 
When  in  their  mothers'  wombs  they  life  receave, 

God,  as  his  sole-borne  daughter,  loued  thee. 

To  match  thee  like  thy  birth's  nobilitie, 

He  thee  his  Spirit  for  his  spouse  did  leaue, 
Ey  whom  thou  didst  his  only  Sonne  conceave, 

And  so  wast  linkt  to  all  the  Trinity. 

1  Written,  I  assume,  while  Donne  was  yet  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic, as  he  receives  the  dogma  of  the  immaculate  conception.  We 
Protestants,  on  the  other  hand,  forget,  in  our  panic,  what  '  is 
written'  in  St.  Luke  i.  28,  42.     From  Stephens'  MS.     G. 


292  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Cease  then,  0  queens  that  earthly  crowns  do  wear, 
To  glory  in  the  pompe  of  earthly  thinges ; 

If  men  such  high  respects  unto  you  beare, 

Which  daughters,  wiues,  and  mothers  are  to  kinges, 

What  honor  can  unto  that  Queene  bee  done, 

Who  had  your  God  for  Father,  Spouse,  and  Sonne  1 


THE  CROSS.1 

Since  Christ  imbract  the  Crosse  itself,  dare  I 

His  image,  th'  image  of  His  Crosse  deny  1 

Would  I  haue  profit  by  the  sacrifize, 

And  dare  the  chosen  alter  to  despise  1 

It  bare  all  other  synns,  but  is  it  fitt  5 

That  it  should  beare  the  synn  of  scorninge  it  ? 

Who  from  the  picture  would  avert  his  eye, 

How  wo'ld  he  Hie  His  paines  that  there  did  dye  ? 

From  me  no  pulpit,  nor  misgrounded  lawe, 

ISor  scandall  taken,  shall  this  Crosse  withdrawe ;       i  o 

It  shall  not,  for  it  cannot ;  for  the  losse 

Of  this  Crosse  were  to  me  another  Crosse ; 

Eetter  were  worse,  for  no  affliction, 

]SToe  Crosse  is  so  extreame  as  to  haue  none. 

Who  can  blott  out  the  Crosse,  which  the  'instrument  1 5 

Of  God  dew'd  on  me  in  the  sacrament  ? 

1  Appeared  originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  64-6).     See  our 
Essay  for  remarks  on  this  poem.     From  Stephens'  ms.     G. 


THE  CROSS.  293 

Who  can  dcnic  me  powre  and  libertie 

To  stretch  myne  arms,  and  myne  own  Crosse  to  be  ? 

Swym,  and  at  every  stroke  thou  art  thy  Crosse  : 

The  mast  and  yard  make  one,  where  seas  do  toss.       20 

Looke  down,  thou  spy'st  our  crosses  in  small  thinges ; 

Looke  up,  thou  seest  byrds  rais'd  on  crossed  wings. 

All  the  globe's  frame  and  sphaers  is  nothing  els 

But  the  Meridians  crossing  parallells. 

Materiall  crosses,  then,  good  physicke  bee;  25 

But  yet  spirituall  have  chief  dignitie. 

These  for  extracted  chimike  medicine  serue, 

And  cure  much  better,  and  as  well  preserue ; 

Then  are  you  your  own  physick,  or  need  none, 

When  still' d  or  purg'd  by  tribulation  :  distilled     30 

For  when  that  crosse  ungrudg'd  unto  you  sticks, 

Then  are  you  to  yourselfe  a  crucifix. 

As  perchance  caruers  do  not  faces  make, 

But  that  away,  which  hid  them  there,  do  take  : 

Let  crosses  soe  take  what  hid  Christ  in  thee,  35 

And  be  His  image,  or  not  His,  but  He. 

But  as  oft  alchemists  doe  coyners  proue, 

Soe  manie  a  selfe-despiseinge  gett  self-loue. 

And  then,  as  worst  surfets  of  best  meats  bee, 

So  is  pride,  issued  from  humilitie ;  40 

For  'tis  no  child,  but  monster  :  therefore  crosse 

Your  joy  in  crosses,  ells  'tis  double  losse ; 

And  crosse  thy  sences,  ells  both  they  and  thou 

Must  perish  soone,  and  to  destruction  bowe. 


294  DIVINE  POEMS. 

For  if  the  eye  see  good  objects,  and  will  take  45 

Noe  crosse  from  badd,  we  cannot  'scape  a  snake. 

Soe  with  harsh,  hard,  sowre,  stinking  crosse  the  rest, 

Make  them  indifferent  all,  [and]  nothing  best. 

But  most  the  eye  needes  crossing,  that  can  rome 

And  move ;  to  th'  others  objects  must  come  home.    50 

And  crosse  thy  heart ;  for  that  in  man  alone 

Points  downwards  and  hath  palpitation. 

Cross  those  detorsions  when  it  downward  tends, 

And  when  it  to  forbidden  heights  pretends. 

And  as  the  braine  through  boany  walls  doth  vent     55 

By  sutures,  which  a  crosse's  forme  present ; 

So  when  thy  braine  works,  ere  thou  utter  it, 

Cross  and  correct  concupiscence  of  witt. 

Be  covetous  of  crosses,  let  none  fall ; 

Cross  no  man  else,  but  cross  thy  self  in  all.  60 

Then  doth  the  Cross  of  Christ  worke  faithfully 

Within  our  harts,  when  wee  love  harmlessly 

The  Crosse's  pictures  much,  and  with  more  care 

That  crosses  children,  which  our  crosses  are. 

NOTES. 

Line  53,  '  deforsions'=perversions  (of  vision). 
,,     56,  '  sutures'  (Latin  suo,  to  sew),  literally  things  joined 
together  by  sewing  ;  the  uniting  of  parts  of  a  wound  by  sewing ; 
hence  the  seam-like  joints   of  the  human  skull  ('  The  Poets' 
Corner,'  by  Bellew,  1868,  p.  191).     G. 


THE  RESURRECTION. 

(Imperfect.)1 

Sleepe,  sleepe,  old  Sunn,  thou  canst  not  have  repast 

As  yet  the  wound  thou  took'st  on  Fryday  last ; 

Sleepe  then,  and  rest :  the  world  maye  beare  thy  stay ; 

A  better  Sun  rose  before  thee  to  daye ; 

Who,  not  content  t'  enlighten  all  that  dwell 

On  the  earth's  face  as  thou,  enlighten'd  hell, 

And  made  the  darke  fires  languish  in  that  vale, 

As  at  thy  presence  here  our  fires  grow  pale ; 

Whose  body  havinge  walk'd  on  earth,  and  now 

Hastning  to  Heauen,  would,  that  He  might  allowe 

Him  self  e  unto  all  stations  and  fill  all, 

For  these  three  dayes  become  a  minerall : 

He  was  all  gould  when  He  lay  downe,  but  rose 

All  tincture ;  and  doth  not  alone  dispose 

Leaden  and  iron  wills  to  good,  but  is 

Of  power  to  make  even  sinfull  flesh  like  His. 

Had  one  of  those  whose  credulous  pietie 

Thought  that  a  soule  one  mi^ht  discerne  and  see 


1  From  18647  ms.,  as  before.  See  onr  Essay  on  this  grand 
fragment,  and  Dr.  Macdonald  on  'tincture'  (1.  14).  Onr  ms.  in 
1.  7  reads  '  dale ;'  but  '  vale'  of  printed  text  seems  preferable.  G. 


296  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Goe  from  a  body,  'at  this  sepulcher  beene, 
And  issuinge  from  the  sheete  this  body  seene, 
He  would  haue  justly  thought  this  body  'a  soule, 
If  not  of  any  man,  yet  of  the  whole. 
Desunt  ccetera. 


VPPON  THE  AKKUXCIACON  AND  PASSIOWX 

FALLINGE  VPON  ONE  DAY,   1608,1 

Tamely,  fraile  bodie,  'abstaine  to-day ;  to-day 

My  sowle  eats  twice,  Christ  hither  and  away; 

She  sees  Him  man,  so  like  God  made  in  this, 

That  of  them  both  a  circle  embleme  is, 

Whose  first  and  last  concurre ;  this  doubtful  day         5 

Of  feast  or  fast  Christ  came,  and  went  away. 

She  sees  Him  nothing  twice  at  once,  who  'is  all ; 

She  sees  a  csedar  plant  itself,  and  fall; 

Her  Maker  put  to  makeinge,  and  the  head 

Of  life  at  once  not  yet  alive,  and  dead ;  10 

She  sees  at  once  the  Virgin-mother  stay    * 

Reclust  at  home,  publique  at  Golgotha. 

Sad  and  rejoict,  she's  seene  at  once,  and  seene 

At  almost  fiftie  and  at  scarse  fifteen : 

At  once  a  sonne  is  promis'd  her,  and  gone ;  1 5 

Gabriell  gives  Christ  to  her,  He  her  to  John  : 

1  Appeared  originally  in  1635  edition  (pp.  351-3).      From 
Stephens'  ms.     G. 


VPPOX  THE  AXXUNCIACON  AND  PASSIOWN.  297 

Not  fullie  a  mother,  she's  in  orbitie, 

At  once  receivor  and  the  legacie. 

All  this,  and  all  betweene,  this  day  hath  showne, 

The  abridgment  of  Christ's  story,  which  makes  one,  20 

As  in  playne  maps  the  furthest  West  is  East, 

Of  the  'angel's  Ave  and  consummatum  'est.  t'est 

How  well  the  Church,  God's  Court  of  Faculties, 

Deales  in  sometimes,  and  seldom,  joyning  these  ! 

As  by  the  selfe-fixt  pole  we  never  doe  25 

Direct  our  course,  but  the  next  star  thereto, 

Which  showes  where  the  'other  is,  and  which  we  say, 

Eecause  it  straies  not  far,  doth  never  stray; 

Soe  God  by  His  Church,  nearest  to  Him,  we  knowe, 

And  stand  firme,  if  we  by  her  motyon  go  ;  30 

His  Spirit  as  His  fierie  pillar  doth 

Lead,  and  His  Church  as  clowde,  to  one  end  both. 

This  Church,  by  letting  these  days  joyne,  hath  showne 

Death  and  conception  in  vs  men  are  one ; 

Or  that  in  Him  was  one  humilitie,  35 

That  He  would  be  a  man  and  leave  to  bee. 

Or  as  creation  He  hath  made  as  God, 

With  the  Last  Judgment  but  one  peryod, 

His  imitating  spowse  would  joyne  in  one 

Manhood's  extreames  :  He  shall  come,  He  is  gone.    40 

Or  as,  though  one  blood-dropp  which  thence  did  fall, 

Accepted,  wo'ld  have  servd,  He  wo'ld  shedd  all, 

So,  though  the  least  of  His  deeds,  paines  or  words, 

Wo'ld  busie  a  life,  she  all  at  once  affords. 

vol.  11.  x 


298  DIVINE  POEMS. 

This  treasure  then,  my  sowle,  in  gross  up-lay,  45 

And  in  my  life  retaile  it  every  day. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  14.  Cf.  St.  John  viii.  57. 
,,     17,  '  orbitie :'  Latin  orbitas,  probably  (through  French) 
a  want  or  privation,  as  of  parents  or  children. 

Line  26.  The  usual  avoidance  of  repetition = but  [by]  the 
next  star. 

Line  38,  ■  but :'  to  God,  creation  and  judgment  are  but  one 
period  of  time. 

Line  46,  '  my  life* =his  life  on  earth,  conjoined  acts  of  body 
and  soul,  i.e.  the  acts  of  himself  as  a  man.  Soul  =  life  in 
mediasval  philosophy. 

It  may  be  noted  here  that  George  Herbert  has  ten  Latin 
verses  on  the  same,  headed  4  In  Xatales  et  Pascha  concur  - 
rentes.'  If  written  in  the  same  year  with  Donne's  (1608),  he 
would  then  be  about  fifteen,  and  at  Winchester  School.     G. 


A  LETAXIE.1 

I.    THE  FATHER. 

Father  of  Heaven,  and  Him  by  \Vhome 
It,  and  us  for  it,  and  all  ells  for  us, 

Thou  mad'st  and  govern'st  euer,  come, 
And  re-create  me,  now  growne  ruynous  : 

My  hart  is  by  dejection  clay,  heart 

And  by  selfe-murder  redd. 
From  this  redd  earth,  0  Father,  purge  away 

1  Appeared  originally  in  4to  of  1633  (pp.  172-185).     From 
Stephens'  and  B.  M.  uss.     G. 


A  LET  AN  IE.  299 

All  vicious  tinctures,  that,  new-fashioned, 

I  may  rise  upp  from  death,  before  I  'am  dead. 

II.    THE  SONNE. 

Oh  Sonne  of  God,  who  seeinge  two  things, 
Synn  and  Death,  crept  in,  which  were  neuer  made, 

By  bearinge  one,  tryedst  with  what  stinges 
The  other  could  Thyne  heritage  invade ; 

Oh,  be  Thou  nayld  vnto  my  hart,  heart 

And  crucified  againe  ; 
Part  not  from  it,  though  it  from  Thee  wo'lcl  part, 
But  let  it  bee  by  'applyinge  soe  Thy  paine, 
Drownd  in  Thy  blood,  and  in  Thy  passion  slaine. 

III.    THE  HOLY  GHOST. 

0  Holy  Ghost,  whose  temple  1 
Am,  but  of  mudd  walls  and  condensed  dust, 

And  beinge  sacrylegiouslye 
Halfe-wasted  with  youth's  fires,  of  pride  and  lust, 
Must  with  new  stormes  be  weather-beat, 
Double  in  my  hart  Thy  flame,  heart 

Which  lett  devout  sadd  tears  intend ;  and  lett, 
Though  this  glasse  lanthorn,  flesh,  do  suffer  maime, 
Fire,  sacrifize,  preist,  alter  be  the  same. 

IV.    THE  TRYNITIE. 

0  blessed,  gloryous  Trynitie, 
Bones  to  Philosophy,  but  milk  to  Faith, 
Which,  as  wise  serpents,  diverselie 


300  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Most  slipperines,  yet  most  intanglings  hath, 

As  you  distinguish' d  undistinct 

By  power,  loue,  knowledge  bee, 
Give  me  such  a  selfe-difFerent  instinct, 
Of  these,  let  all  mee  elemented  bee, 
Of  power  to  love,  to  know  you,  unnumber'd  Three. 

V.    THE  VIRGIN  MARY. 

For  that  faire,  bless'd  mother-maid, 
Whose  flesh  redeems  us — That  shee-cherubin 

Which  unlockt  Paradice,  and  made 
One  clayme  for  innocence  and  disseized  sinn; 

Whose  wombe  was  a  strange  heaven,  for  there 
God  cloth'd  Himself,  and  grewe  ; 
Our  zealous  thanks  we  powre.     As  her  deeds  were 
Our  helps,  soe  are  her  prayers ;  nor  can  she  sue 
In  vaine,  who  hath  such  titles  vnto  you. 

VI.    THE  ANGELLS. 

And  since  this  life  our  nonage  is, 
And  we  in  wardshipp  to  Thine  angells  bee, 

Native  in  heaven's  faire  palaces, 
Where  we  shalbe  but  denizen'd  by  Thee ; 

As  th'  earth,  conceivinge  by  the  sunne, 
Yields  faire  diversitie, 
Yet  never  knowes  which  course  that  light  doth  runn ; 
So  let  me  study  that  myne  actyons  bee 
Worthie  their  sight,  though  blynde  in  how  they  see. 


A  LETANIE.  301 

VII.  THE  PATR1ARCKS. 

And  let  thy  patriarcks'  desire — 
Those  great-grandfathers  of  Thy  Church,  which  sawe 

More  in  the  clowde  then  we  in  fire,  than 

Whome  Xature  cieard  more  then  ns  grace  and  lawe,   than 
And  now  in  heaven  still  praie  that  wee 
May  use  our  new  helpes  right — 
Be  satisfied,  and  f rue  title  in  me ; 
Let  not  my  mynd  be  blynder  by  more  light, 
Nor  Faith,  by  Keason  added,  lose  her  sight. 

VIII.    THE  PROFFETS. 

Thy  eagle-sighted  proffets  too,  prophets 

Which  were  Thy  Churche's  organs,  and  did  sound 

That  harrnonie,  which  made  of  two 
One  law,  and  did  unyte,  but  not  confound, — 
Those  heavenly  poets,  which  did  see 
Thy  will,  and  it  expresse 
In  rhythmique  feet ;  in  common  pray  for  me, 
That  I  by  them  excuse  not  myne  excesse 
In  seekinge  secrets,  or  poetiquenes. 

IX.    THE  APOSTLES. 

And  Thy  illustrious  zodiake 
Of  twelue  apostles,  which  ingirt  this  All, 

From  whom  whoeuer  do  not  take 
Their  light,  to  darke  deep  pytts  thrown  downe  do  fall, 


302 


DIVINE  POEMS. 


As  through  their  prayers  Thou  hast  let  me 
know, 

That  their  bocks  are  devyne; 
May  they  pray  still,  aud  be  hard,  that  I  goe  heard 

The  old  broad  way  in  applyinge  ;  0,  declyne 
Mee,  when  my  comment  wo'ld  make  Thy  word  myne. 

X.    THE  MARTIRS. 

And  since  Thou  soe  desyrously 
Didst  longe  to  dye  that  lcmg  before  Thou  couldst, 

And  longe  since  Thou  no  more  coTdst  dye, 
Thou  in  thy  scatterd  mistique  body  wouldst 
In  Abell  dye,  and  euer  since 
In  Thine ;  let  their  blood  come 
To  begge  for  us  a  discreet  patience 
Of  death,  or  of  worse  life ;  for,  oh,  to  some 
Not  to  be  martyrs  is  a  martyrdome. 

XI.    THE  CONFESSORS. 

Therefore  with  Thee  triumpheth  there 
A  virgin  squadron  of  white  confessors, 

Whose  bloods  betroth'd,  not  marry 'd,  were  ; 
Tendr'd,  not  taken  by  those  rauishers  : 

They  know,  and  pray  that  we  may  know, 
In  every  Christian 
Howrely  tempestuous  persecutions  growe ; 
Temptations  martyr  us  alive  •  a  man 
Is  to  himselfe  a  Diocletian. 


A  LET  AN  IE.  303 

XII.    THE  VIRGINS. 

The  cold,  white,  snowy  nunnery, 
Which,  as  Thy  mother,  their  high  abbesse,  sent 

Their  bodies  back  againe  to  Thee, 
As  Thou  hadst  lent  them,  cleane  and  innocent  : 
Though  they  have  not  obtaynd  of  Thee, 
That  or  Thy  Church  or  I 
Should  keepe,  as  they,  our  first  integrity, 
Divorce  Thou  synn  in  us,  or  bydd  it  dye, 
And  call  chast  widowhead  virginitie. 

XIII.    THE  DOCTORS. 

Thy  sacred  academie  aboue 
Of  doctors,  whose  paines  have  unclaspt  and  taught 

Both  books  of  life  to  us — for  loue 
To  know  Thy  scriptures  tells  us,  we  are  wrote 
In  Thy  other  booke — pray  for  us  there, 
That  what  they  have  misdone 
Or  missaid,  we  to  that  may  not  adhere  ; 
Their  zeale  may  be  our  synn.     Lord,  let  us  runn 
Meanwaies,  and  call  them  starrs,  but  not  the  sun. 

XIV. 

And  whilst  this  vniversal  quire — 
That  church  in  tryumph,  this  in  warfare  here, 

Warmd  with  one  all-partaking  fire 
Of  loue,  that  none  be  lost,  which  cost  Thee  dear — 


304  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Prays  ceaselesslie,  and  Thou  hearken  too — 

Since  to  be  gratious 
Our  task  is  treble,  to  pray,  beare,  and  doe — 
Heare  this  prayer,  Lord :  0  Lord,  deliuer  us 
From  trustinge  in  theis  prayers,  though  powrd  out  thus. 

xv. 

From  being  anxious  or  secure, 
Dead  clodds  of  sadnes  or  light  squibs  of  myrth; 

From  thinkinge  that  great  courts  immure 
All  or  noe  happines,  or  that  this  earth 
Is  only  for  our  prison  fram'd, 
Or  that  Thou'rt  covetous 
To  them  whom  Thou  lov'st,  or  that  they  are  maim'd ; 
From  reaching  this  world's  sweets,  who  seek  Thee  thus 
With  all  their  might ;  good  Lord,  deliver  us. 

XVI. 

From  needing  daunger  to  bee  good, 
From  owinge  Thee  yesterday's  teares  to-day, 

From  soe  much  trusting  to  Thy  blood 
That  in  that  hope  we  wound  our  soules  away, 
From  brybing  Thee  with  alms  t'  excuse 
Some  synn  more  burthenous, 
From  light  affectinge  in  religion,  newes, 
From  thinkinge  us  all  soul,  neglecting  thus 
Our  mutuall  duties ;  Lord,  deliver  us. 


A  LETANIE.  305 

XVII. 

From  temptinge  Satan  to  tempt  us 
By  our  connyvance  or  slacke  company, 

From  measuringe  ill  by  vicious 
Neglectinge  to  choake  syn's  spawne — vanitie, 
From  indiscreet  humilitye, 
Which  mi^ht  bee  scandalous 
And  cast  reproach  on  Christianity, 
From  being  spies  or  to  spyes  pervious, 
From  thrist  or  scorne  of  fame  •  deliver  us. 

XVIII. 

Deliver  us  through  Thy  descent 
Into  the  Virgin,  whose  wombe  was  a  place 
Of  middle  kynd,  and  Thou  beinge  sent 
To  'ungracious  us,  staydst  at  her  full  of  grace, 

And  through  Thy  poore  byrth,  where  first  Thou 
Glorifidst  pouerty, 
And  yet  soone  after  riches  didst  allow 
By  'accepting  kings'  guifts  in  the  'Epiphanie ; 
Deliver  vs,  and  make  us  both  wayes  free. 

XIX. 

And  through  that  bitter  agonie, 
Which  is  still  the  'agony  of  pyous  witts 

Disputing  what  distorted  Thee, 
And  interrupted  evennes  with  fytts; 

And  through  Thy  free  confession, 


l 


306  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Though  thereby  they  were  then 
Made  blynd,  soe  that  Thou  might'st  from  them  haue 

gone; 
Good  Lord,  deliver  us,  and  teach  us  when 
'We  may  not,  and  we  may,  blynd  uniust  men. 

xx. 

Through  Thy  submitting  all,  to  blowes 
Thy  face,  Thy  clothes  to  spoile,  Thy  fame  to  scorne  ; 

Alwais,  which  rage  or  justice  knowes, 
And  by  which  Thou  co'ldst  show  that  Thou  wast 
borne  ; 
And  through  Thy  gallant  humblenes, 
"Which  Thou  in  death  didst  showe, 
Dyinge  before  Thy  sowle  they  could  expresse;      press  out 
Deliver  us  from  death,  by  dyinge  soe 
To  this  world,  ere  this  world  do  byd  us  goe. 

XXI. 

When  senses,  which  Thy  souldiers  are, 
Wee  arme  against  Thee,  and  they  fight  for  synn ; 

Wrhen  want,  sent  but  to  tame,  doth  warr, 
And  worke  Despaire  a  breach  to  enter  in; 

When  plentie,  God's  image  and  seale, 
Makes  us  idolatrous, 
And  loue  it,  not  Him  whom  it  sho'ld  reveale; 
When  we  are  mov'd  to  seeme  religious, 
Only  to  vent  witt ;  Lord,  deliver  us. 


A  LETAXIE.  307 

XXII. 

In  Churches,  when  th'  innrmety 
Of  him  that  speaks  diminishes  the  Word ; 

When  magistrates  do  misapply- 
To  us,  as  we  judge,  laie  or  ghostly  sword; 

When  plague,  which  is  Thine  angel,  raignes, 
Or  warrs,  Thy  champions,  sway; 
When  Heresie,  Thy  second  deluge,  games ; 
In  th'  houre  of  death,  th'  Eve  of  Last  Judgment  Day; 
Deliver  us  from  the  synister  way. 

•  XXIII. 

Heare  us,  0  heare  us,  Lord;  to  Thee 
A  synner  is  more  musique  when  he  prais 
Than  spheares  or  angells'  prayses  bee 
In  panegirique  Alleluiaes : 

Heare  us  ;  for  till  Thou  heare  us,  Lord, 
We  know  not  what  to  say; 
Thine  eare  to  'our  sighs,  tears,  thoughts,  give  voyce 

and  word. 
Oh  Thou,  who  Sathan  hardst  in  Job's  sicke  day, 
Heare  Thyself  now,  for  Thou  in  us  dost  pray. 

XXIV. 

That  we  may  chaunge  to  evennes 
This  intermittinge  aguish  pyetie; 

That  snatching  cramps  of  wickednes, 
And  apoplexies  of  fast  synn  may  dye ; 


308  DIVINE  POEMS. 

That  musique  of  Thy  promises, 

Not  threats  in  thunder,  may 
Awaken  ns  to  our  just  offices; 
What  in  Thy  book  Thou  dost,  or  creatures  say, 
That  we  may  heare,  Lord,  heare  us,  when  we  pray. 

XXV. 

That  our  eares'  sicknes  we  may  cure, 
And  rectifie  those  laberinths  aright; 

That  we  by  hearkninge,  not  procure 
Our  praise,  nor  others'  dispraise  so  invite ; 
That  we  gett  not  a  slippriness, 
And  senselessly  declyne 
From  hearing  bould  wits  jest  at  kings'  excesse, 
To  'admytt  the  like  of  maiestie  devyne  ; 
That  we  may  lock  our  ears,  Lord,  open  Thyne. 

XXVI. 

That  liveing  law,  the  magistrate, 
Which  to  give  us  and  make  us  physik  doth 

Our  vices  often  aggravate; 
That  preachers  taxinge  synn  before  her  growth; 
That  Sathan  and  envenom'd  men, 
Which  well,  if  we  starue,  dyne, 
When  they  doe  most  accuse  us,  may  see  then 
Us  to  amendment  heare  them  ;  Thee  declyne  ; 
That  we  may  open  our  ears,  Lord,  locke  Thyne. 


A  LETAXIE.  309 

XXVII. 

That  Learninge,  Thyne  ambassador, 
From  Thyne  alleagiance  we  neuer  tempt ; 

That  bewtie,  paradice's  flower, 
For  physik  made,  from  poyson  be  exempt; 

That  witt,  borne  apt  highe,  good  to  doe, 
Ey  dwelling  lazily 
On  Nature's  nothing,  be  not  nothing  too; 
That  our  affections  kill  us  not,  nor  dye; 
Heare  us,  weak  wretches,  0  Thou  Eare  and  Eye. 

XXVIII. 

Sonne  of  God,  heare  us ;  and  since  Thou 
By  taking  our  blood  owest  it  us  againe, 

Gayne  to  Thyself  and  us  allowe  ; 
And  let  not  both  us  and  Thy  self  be  slain. 

0  Lambe  of  God,  which  took'st  our  synn, 
Which  co'ld  not  stick  to  Thee. 
Oh  let  it  not  retorne  to  vs  againe  ; 
But,  patient  and  physitian  being  free, 
As  synn  is  nothing,  let  it  no  where  bee. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

i.  6.  A  thought  suggested  by  the  theory  that  Adam,  as  sig- 
nified by  his  name,  was  formed  of  red  earth. 

v.  4,  '  disseized' ^deprived  of  seisine,  tenure  or  possession 
(Richardson,  s.  v.). 

vi.  9=though  [I  am]  blind;  the  'I  am'  being  taken  out  of 
'  mine  actions' — a  vicious  ellipse. 

vii.  7,  'pray.'    From  'pray,'  xi.  1.  5  and  xm.  1.5,  the  con- 


310  DIVINE  POEMS. 

struction  may  be  thought  doubtful ;  but  as  it  is  placed  between 
1  And  let  [theru]  pray,  vn.,  and  '  may  they  pray,'  ix.,  and  as  this 
intermediate  stanza  is  connected  with  them  by  the  use  of  '  thy' 
and  of  '  me'  instead  of  '  us,'  as  afterwards,  it  is  reasonable  to 
conclude  that  we  should  supply  either  ■  let'  or  'may.' 

xi.  o.  I  read  '  know'  not  know  (;),  as  '69=that  we  may  know 
that  in  every  Christian,  &c. 

xvii.  9,  '  tkruf=  thirst.  Only  known  heretofore  in  Spenser; 
and  it  must  be  a  matter  of  doubt  whether  Donne  did  or  did 
not  use  it.  He  is  not  given  to  Spenser's  archaisms ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  this  Litany  must  have  been  an  early  composi- 
tion. One  would  rather  have  found  his  '  Divine  Poems'  his  later. 
See  our  Essay  on  this  set  of  Poems. 

xxiv.  8  =  or  [what  thy]  creatures — repetition  being  avoided. 
Construction :  That  we  may  hear  what  thou  in  thy  book  didst 
]say] ,  or  ]what  thy]  creatures  ]in  the  book  of  Nature]  say. 

xxv.  2.  *  Labyrinths  :'  an  application  of  his  anatomical  stu- 
dies :  this  being  the  name  of  part  of  the  internal  ear.  Cf .  Glos- 
sary, s.v. 

xxvi.  8.  Usually  punctuated  '  hear  them  thee  decline'  =  may 
hear  them  to  our  apparent  amendment  (after  their  fashion) 
depart  from  thee  and  thy  doctrines.  But  '69  punctuates  '  hear 
them ;  thee  decline  ;'  that  is,  '  hear  them  to  our  apparent  amend- 
ment and  decline  from  thee. '  According  to  the  first  reading, 
the  declining  from  God  is  in  the  exhortations  of  the  magistrates 
and  speakers,  in  which  the  accused  apparently  acquiesce.  Ac- 
cording to  the  second  reading,  the  accused,  by  their  apparent 
amendment,  seem  to  acquiesce  in  the  doctrines  of  men,  and 
thereby  decline  from  God.  The  wording  of  the  line  is  greatly 
in  favour  of  this  second  reading,  and  I  punctuate  accordingly. 

xxvu.  9.  Usually  '  ear  and  cry.'  It  is  curious  that  '  Thou 
ear'  should  answer  to  '  Hear  us,'  and  '  cry'  to  '  weak  echoes'  (for 
'  wretches') ;  but  as  God  cannot  be  called  a  '  cry,'  I  accept  our 
ms.  and  print  '  Thou  Ear  and  Eye.'     G. 


GOOD  FRIDAY. 


#     MADE  AS  I  WAS  RIDING  WESTWARD  THAT  DAYE. 


Let  man's  soule  be  a  sphere,  and  then  in  this 
The  intelligence  that  moves,  devotion  is  \ 
And  as  the  other  spheres  by  beinge  growne 
Subiect  to  forraine  motions  loose  their  owne, 
And  beinge  by  others  'hurried  every  daye  5 

Scarce  in  a  yeare  their  natnrall  form  obey  : 
Pleasure  or  business,  soe  our  soules  admitt 
For  their  first  mouer,  and  are  whirld  by  it. 
Hence  is't  that  I  am  carried  towards  the  West 
This  day,  when  my  soule's  forme  bends  to  the  East ;  10 
There  I  should  see  a  Sun  by  rising  sett, 
And  by  that  setting  endles  daye  begett. 
But  that  Christ  on  His  Cross  did  rise  and  fall, 
Sinne  had  eternally  benighted  all. 
Yet  dare  I  'almost  be  gladd  I  doe  not  see  15 

That  spectacle  of  too  much  weight  for  mee. 
Who  sees  God's  face,  that  is  selfe-life,  must  dye  ; 
That  a  death  were  it,  then,  to  see  God  dye  ! 
It  made  His  owne  lieutenant,  Nature,  shrinke ; 
It  made  His  footstoole  crack,  and  the  sunn  winke.     20 

1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before. 


312  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Could  I  beholde  those  hands,  which  spann  the  poles 

And  tume  all  spheres  at  once,  pierc'd  with  those  holes  ? 

Could  I  behold  that  endless  height,  which  is 

Zenith  to  us  and  our  Antipodes, 

Humbled  below  us  1  or  that  blood,  which  is  25 

The  seate  of  all  our  soules,  if  not  of  His, 

Made  durt  of  dust  ?  or  that  flesh,  which  was  worne 

By  God  for  His  apparell,  ragg'd  and  torne  1 

If  on  those  things  I  durst  not  looke,  durst  I 

Uppon  His  Mother  cast  mine  eye,  30 

Who  was  God's  partner  here,  and  furnish'd  thus 

Halfe  of  that  sacrifice  which  ransom'd  us? 

Though  these  things,  as  I  ride,  be  from  mine  eye, 

They  are  present  yet  unto  my  memory,  [mee, 

For  that  looks  towards  them  ;  and  Thou  look's!  towards 

0  Saviour,  as  Thou  hangest  upon  the  tree.  36 

1  turne  my  back  to  Thee,  but  to  receive 
Corrections  till  Thy  mercies  bid  me  leave. 

0  thinke  me  worth  Thine  anger ;  punish  mee, 

Burne  off  my  rust  and  my  deformitie  ;  40 

Restore  Thine  image,  so  much  by  Thy  grace, 

That  Thou  maist  knowe  me,  and  I'le  turne  my  face. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  2,  '  uitelligence.*  An  angelic  ■  intelligence'  (angelus 
=  intelligentia  in  Schoolmen's  language)  was  supposed  to  pre- 
side over  each  of  the  planets  :  as  Raphael  over  the  sun ;  Ga- 
briel, the  moon  ;  Michael,  Mercury  ;  Chemuel,  Mars  ;  Adahiel, 
Jupiter;  Haniel,  Venus:   Zaphiel,  Saturn. 


UPON  THE  TRANSLATION  OP  THE  PSALMS.  31") 

Litie  24.  Not  Zenith  and  Antipodes  to  us,  but  Zenith  to  us, 
and  [Zenith  to]  our  Antipodes. 

Line  30,  '  distressed ;'  I  prefer  this  ('69)  to  '  miserable'  of 
our  ms.  In  1669,  as  before,  the  heading  is  ■  Good  Friday,  1613, 
riding  Westward.' 

Line  38,  '  me  :'  usually  '  thee.' 
,,  39,  *  Thinke  me  worth  Thine  anger.'  GoodoldThomas 
Brooks  says  deeply,  '  he  is  no  child  on  whom  God  does  not  think 
it  worth  while  to  spend  a  rod;1  and  the  Puritans  are  never 
weary  of  iterating  that  the  '  rod1  is  proof  of  fatherly  love,  and 
no  '  chastisement'  something  very  awful.  '  Thy  rod  and  Thy 
staff,  they  comfort  me.'   G. 


UPON  THE  TRANSLATION  OF  THE  PSALMS 

BY  SIR  PHILIP  SYDNEY  AND  THE  COUTNESS  OF 
PEMBROKE  HIS  SISTER.1 

Eternal  God — for  Whom  whoever  dare 

Seek  new  expressions,  do  the  circle  square, 

And  thrust  into  strait  corners  of  poor  wit 

Thee,  who  art  cornerless  and  infinite — 

I  would  but  bless  Thy  name,  not  name  Thee  now ;      5 

And  Thy  gifts  are  as  infinite  as  Thou ; 

Fix  we  our  praises  therefore  on  this  one, 

That  as  Thy  blessed  Spirit  fell  upon 

These  psalms'  first  author  in  a  cloven  tongue — 

For  'twas  a  double  power  by  which  he  sung,  10 

The  highest  matter  in  the  noblest  form — 

So  Thou  hast  cleft  that  Spirit,  to  perform 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  382-3).    Appeared  originally  in 
1635  edition  (pp.  366  8).    G. 

VOL.  II.  Y 


314  DIVINE  POEMS. 

That  work  again,  and  shed  it  here  upon 

Two  by  their  bloods,  and  by  Thy  Spirit  one ; 

A  brother  and  a  sister,  made  by  Thee  1 5 

The  organ,  where  Thou  art  the  harmony ; 

Two,  that  made  one  John  Baptist's  holy  voice, 

And  who  that  psalm,  ']STow  let  the  Isles  rejoice/ 

Have  both  translated,  and  apply' d  it  too, 

Both  told  us  what,  and  taught  us  how  to  do.  20 

They  show  us  Islanders  our  joy,  our  king, 

They  tell  us  why,  and  teach  us  how  to  sing. 

Make  all  this  all,  three  quires,  heaven,  earth,  and  sphears; 

The  first,  Heaven,  hath  a  scng,  but  no  man  hears  ; 

The  sphears  have  musick,  but  they  have  no  tongue,  25 

Their  harmony  is  rather  danc'd  than  sung ; 

But  our  third  quire,  to  which  the  first  gives  ear — 

For  angels  learn  by  what  the  Church  does  here — 

This  quire  hath  all.     The  organist  is  He 

Who  hath  tuned  God  and  Man ;  the  organ  we  :         30 

The  songs  are  these,  which  heaven's  high  holy  Muse 

Whisper'd  to  David,  David  to  the  Jews, 

And  David's  successors  in  holy  zeal, 

In  forms  of  joy  and  art  do  re-reveal 

To  us  so  sweetly  and  sincerely  too,  35 

That  I  must  not  rejoyce  as  I  would  do, 

When  I  behold  that  these  psalms  are  become 

So  well  attyr'd  abroad,  so  ill  at  home; 

So  well  in  chambers,  in  Thy  Church  so  ill, 

As  I  can  scarce  call  that  reform'd,  until  40 


UPON  THE  TRANSLATION  OF  THE  PSALMS.  315 

This  be  reform'd.     Would  a  whole  State  present 

A  lesser  gift  than  some  one  man  hath  sent? 

And  shall  our  Church  unto  our  Spouse  and  King 

More  hoarse,  more  harsh  than  any  other  sing  ? 

For  that  we  pray,  we  praise  Thy  name  for  this,  45 

Which  by  this  Moses  and  this  Miriam  is 

Already  done  j  and  as  those  Psalms  we  call, 

Though  some  have  other  authors,  David's  all, 

So  though  some  have,  some  may  some  psalms  translate, 

We  thy  Sydnean  psalms  shall  celebrate ;  50 

And,  till  we  come  the  'extemporal  song  to  sing, 

Learn' d  the  first  hower  that  wTe  see  the  King 

Who  hath  translated  those  translators,  may 

These  their  sweet  learned  labors  all  the  way 

Be  as  our  tuneing  ;  that,  wThen  hence  we  part,  5  5 

We  may  fall  in  with  them,  and  sing  our  part. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS, 

Line  41.  See  Druramond's  letter,  probably  to  Sir  Robert 
KeiT  [Can*] ,  afterwards  Earl  of  Ancrum,  and  Sir  Robert  C are's 
reason  for  translating  some  of  the  Psalms  (Extr.  from  Haw- 
thornden  mss.  pp.  36,  76).  We  shall  fully  notice  the  Sidney 
translation  of  the  Psalms  in  our  collective  edition  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney's  Poetry  in  the  Fuller  Worthies'  Library. 

Line  50,  'Sydnean:'  Crashaw,  in  his  'Wishes,'  has  the 
word,  '  Sydnaan  showers.'  See  our  edition  of  Crashaw  :  Glos- 
saiy,  s.v.     G. 


ODE.1 

Vengeance  -will  sitt  aboue  our  faults;  but  till 

She  there  do  sytt, 
We  see  her  not,  nor  them.     Thus  blynd,  yet  still 
Wee  lead  her  way ;  and  thus  whilst  we  doe  ill, 

Wee  suffer  it. 

Unhappy  hee  whom  youth  makes  not  beware 

Of  doinge  ill : 
Enough  we  labour  under  age  and  care ; 
In  number  th'  errors  of  the  last  place  are 

The  greatest  still. 


Yet  wee,  that  should  the  ill  we  new  begin 

As  soone  repent — 
Strange  thing — perceiue  not;  our  faults  are  not  seene, 
But  past  us,  neither  felt,  but  only  in 

Our  punishment. 

1  Appeared  originally  in  1635  edition  (p.  368).     G. 


TO  MR.  TILMAN.  317 

But  we  know  ourselves  least ;  meere  outward  showes 

Our  mynds  so  store, 
That  our  sowles,  noe  more  then  our  eyes,  disclose    than 
But  forme  and  colour.     Only  hee  who  knowes 

Himselfe  knowes  more. 

NOTE. 

St.  iii.  1.  4= Yet  we  perceive  notour  faults  ;  [they]  are  not 
seen  but  (i.e.  except)  [when]  past  us,  neither  [are  they]  felt 
but  [= unless]  only  in  the  punishment.     G. 


TO  MR.  TILMAN, 

AFTER  HE  HAD  TAKEN  ORDERS.1 

Thou,  whose  diviner  soul  hath  caus'd  thee  now 

To  put  thy  hand  unto  the  holy  plough, 

Making  lay-scornings  of  the  ministery 

Not  an  impediment,  but  victory — 

What  bring'st  thou  home  with  thee  ?  how  is  thy  mind 

Affected  since  the  vintage  1     Dost  thou  find  6 

New  thoughts  and  stirrings  in  thee?  and,  as  steel 

Toucht  with  a  loadstone,  dost  new  motions  feel  ] 

Or  as  a  ship,  after  much  pain  and  care, 

For  iron  and  cloth  brings  home  rich  Indian  ware,      10 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  384-6).     Appeared  originally  in 
1635  edition  (pp.  369-370).     G. 


318  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Hast  thou  thus  traffiqu'd,  but  with  far  more  gain 

Of  noble  goods,  and  with  less  time  and  pain  1 

Thou  art  the  same  materials  as  before, 

Only  the  stamp  is  changed,  but  no  more. 

And  as  new-crowned  kings  alter  the  face,  15 

But  not  the  money's  substance,  so  hath  grace 

Chang'd  only  God's  old  image  by  creation, 

To  Christ's  new  stamp,  at  this  thy  coronation  ; 

Or  as  we  paint  angels  with  wings,  because 

They  bear  God's  message,  and  proclaim  His  laws,      20 

Since  thou  must  do  the  like,  and  so  must  move, 

Art  thou  new-feather'd  with  celestial  love  ] 

Dear,  tell  me  where  thy  purchase  lies,  and  show 

What  thy  advantage  is  above,  below ; 

But  if  thy  gainings  do  surmount  expression,  25 

Why  doth  the  foolish  world  scorn  that  profession 

Whose  joyes  pass  speech?  Why  do  they  think  unfit 

That  gentry  should  joyn  families  with  it  ? 

As  if  their  day  were  only  to  be  spent 

In  dressing,  mistressing,  and  compliment.  30 

Alas,  poor  joyes,  but  poorer  men,  whose  trust 

Seems  richly  placed  in  sublimed  dust ! 

For  such  are  cloaths  and  beauty,  which,  though  gay, 

Are,  at  the  best,  but  of  sublimed  clay. 

Let,  then,  the  world  thy  calling  disrespect,  35 

But  go  thou  on,  and  pity  their  neglect. 

What  function  is  so  noble  as  to  be 

Ambassadour  to  God  and  Destiny  ] 


TO  MR.  TILMAN.  310 

To  open  life  ?  to  give  kingdomes  to  more 

Tlian  kings  give  dignities  ?  to  keep  heaven's  door  1    40 

Marie's  prerogative  was  to  bear  Christ,  so 

'Tis  preachers'  to  convey  Him  ;  for  they  do, 

As  angels  ont  of  clouds,  from  pulpits  speak, 

And  bless  the  poor  beneath,  the  lame,  the  weak. 

If,  then,  th'  astronomers,  whenas  they  spy  45 

A  new-found  star,  their  optiks  magnify, 

How  brave  are  those  who  Avith  their  engine  can 

Bring  man  to  heaven,  and  heaven  again  to  man  ! 

These  are  thy  titles  and  preeminences, 

In  whom  must  meet  God's  graces,  men's  offences  ;      50 

And  so  the  heavens,  which  beget  all  things  here, 

And  th'  earth,  our  mother,  which  these  things  doth  bear, 

Both  these  in  thee  are  in  thy  calling  knit, 

And  make  thee  now  a  blest  hermaphrodite. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  23,  'purchase'  was  used  not  merely  to  express  the 
thing  bought,  but  as  equivalent  to  '  gain'  (see  1.  25).  Hence  it 
became  a  kind  of  cant  phrase  for  thieves'  booty. 

Line  43.  Here  again  is  the  source  of  Iz.  Walton's  eulogy, 
that  Donne  preached  as  an  angel  from  a  cloud,  but  not  in  a 
cloud. 

Line  47, '  engine  :'  query = genius  ?     G. 


A  HYMNE  TO  CHKIST, 


AT  THE  AUTHOR  S  LAST  GOING  INTO  GERMANY. 


7   1 


In  what  tome  shipp  soever  I  embark, 
That  shipp  shalbe  my  embleme  of  Thy  Ark ; 
What  sea  soever  swallow  mee,  that  floud 
Shall  be  to  me  an  embleme  of  Thy  blood. 
Though  Thou  with  clouds  of  anger  doe  disguise 
Thy  face,  yet  through  that  maske  I  know  those  eyes, 
Which,  though  they  turne  away  sometymes, 
they  never  will  despise. 


I  sacrifice  this  iland  unto  Thee, 
And  all  whom  I  love  here,  and  who  love  mee ; 
When  I  have  putt  our  seas  'twixt  them  and  mee, 
Put  thou  Thy  sea  betwixt  my  sinns  and  Thee. 
As  the  tree's  sapp  doth  seek  the  roote  below 
In  winter,  in  my  winter  now  I  goe 

Where  none  but  Thee,  th'  eternall  roote 
of  true  love,  I  may  know. 


sland 
10 


*$ 


1  From  Addl.  mss.  18647,  as  before.  Appeared  originally  in 
1635  edition  (pp.  370-1).  In  line  10  the  ms.  reads  'there'  for 
'  here,'  which  seems  to  show  that  Donne  revised  this  Hymn 
after  going  abroad,  and  inadvertently  wrote  '  there,'  though  he 
had  said  '  this  island'  and  '  Where  I  have  put,'  &c.     G. 


TRANSLATION  OUT  OF  GAZ.EUS.  321 

Xor  Thou,  nor  Thy  religion,  dost  controule 
The  amorousness  of  a  harmonious  soule; 
But  Thou  wouldst  have  that  love  Thy  selfe  :  as  Thou 
Art  jealous,  Lord,  so  I  am  iealous  now.  20 

Thou  lou'st  not,  till  from  louing  more  Thou  free 
My  soule :  whoever  gives,  takes  libertie : 
Oh,  if  Thou  car'st  not  whom  I  love, 
alas,  Thou  lou'st  not  mee  ! 

Seal,  then,  this  bill  of  my  divorce  to  all  25 

On  whom  those  fainter  beames  of  love  did  fall; 
Marry  those  loves,  which  in  youth  scatter'd  bee 
On  fame,  witt,  hopes  (false  mistresses),  to  Thee. 
Churches  are  best  for  prayre  that  have  least  light; 
To  see  God  only,  I  goe  out  of  sight:  30 

And  to  'scape  stormy  dayes,  I  choose 
an  everlastinge  night. 


TRANSLATED  OUT  OF  GAZ^SUS, 

VOTA  AMICO  FACTA,  fol.  l6o.1 

God  grant  thee  thine  own  wish,  and  grant  thee  mine, 
Thou  who  dost,  best  friend,  in  best  things  outshine; 
May  thy  soul,  ever  chearful,  ne'r  know  cares; 
Nor  thy  life,  ever  lively,  know  gray  hairs; 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (p.  409). 


322  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Xor  thy  hand,  ever  open,  know  base  holds; 

Nor  thy  purse,  ever  plump,  know  pleits  or  folds; 

NFor  thy  tongue,  ever  true,  know  a  false  thing; 

Nor  thy  words,  ever  mild,  know  quarrelling; 

Nor  thy  works,  ever  equal,  know  disguise; 

Nor  thy  fame,  ever  pure,  know  contumelies; 

Nor  thy  prayers  know  low  objects,  still  divine. 

God  grant  thee  thine  own  wish,  and  grant  thee  mine ! 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMY, 

FOR  THE  MOST  PART  ACCORDING  TO  TREMELLIUS.1 
CHAP.  I. 

1  How  sits  this  city,  late  most  populous, 
Thus  solitary,  and  like  a  widow  thus  ! 
Amplest  of  nations,  queen  of  provinces 
She  was,  who  now  thus  tributary  is. 

2  Still  in  the  night  she  weeps,  and  her  tears  fall 
Down  by  her  cheeks  along,  and  none  of  all 
Her  lovers  comfort  her;  perfidiously 

Her  friends  have  dealt,  and  now  are  enemy. 

3  Unto  great  bondage  and  afflictions 
Juda  is  captive  led;  those  nations 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  347-62).    Appeared  originally  in 
4to  of  1633  (pp.  306-23).     G. 


TIIE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMY.  323 

With  whom  she  dwells,  no  place  of  rest  afford ; 
In  straits  she  meets  her  persecutor's  sword. 

4  Empty  are  the  gates  of  Sion,  and  her  ways 
Mourn,  because  none  come  to  her  solemn  days: 
Her  priests  do  groan,  her  maids  are  comfortless, 
And  she's  unto  herself  a  bitterness. 

5  Her  foes  are  grown  her  head,  and  live  at  peace; 
Because,  when  her  transgressions  did  increase, 
The  Lord  strook  her  with  sadness ;  the  enemy 
Doth  drive  her  children  to  captivity. 

6  From  Sion's  daughter  is  all  beauty  gone; 
Like  harts  which  seek  for  pasture  and  find  none, 
Her  princes  are;  and  now  before  the  foe, 

Which  still  pursues  them,  without  strength  they  go. 

7  Xow  in  their  days  of  tears,  Jerusalem — 

Her  men  slain  by  the  foe,  none  succouring  them — 

Remembers  what  of  old  she  'esteemed  most, 

Whilst  her  foes  laugh  at  her  for  which  she  hath  lost. 

8  Jerusalem  hath  sinned;  therefore  is  she 
Remov'd,  as  women  in  uncleanness  be : 

Who  honour'd,  scorn  her;  for  her  foulness  they 
Have  seen;  herself  doth  groan,  and  turn  away. 

9  Her  foulness  in  her  skirts  was  seen,  yet  she 
Remember'd  not  her  end;  miraculously 


324  DIVIXE  POEMS. 

Therefore  she  fell,  none  comforting :  behold, 
0  Lord,  my  'affliction,  for  the  foe  grows  bold. 

10  Upon  all  things  where  her  delight  hath  been, 
The  foe  hath  stretched  his  hand;  for  she  hath  seen 
Heathen,  whom  Thou  command'st  should  not  do  so, 
Into  her  holy  sanctuary  go. 

11  And  all  her  people  groan  and  seek  for  bread; 
And  they  have  given,  only  to  be  fed, 

All  precious  things,  wherein  their  pleasure  lay : 
How  cheap  I  'am  grown,  0  Lord,  behold,  and  weigh. 

12  All  this  concerns  not  you  who  pass  by  me; 
0  see,  and  mark  if  any  sorrow  be 

Like  to  my  sorrow,  which  Jehovah  hath 
Done  to  me  in  the  day  of  His  fierce  wrath. 

13  That  fire,  which  by  Himself  is  governed, 

He  'hath  cast  from  heaven  on  my  bones,  and  spread 
A  net  before  my  feet,  and  me  o'er  thrown, 
And  made  me  languish  all  the  day  alone. 

14  His  hand  hath  of  my  sins  framed  a  yoke, 
Which  wreath'd,  and  cast  upon  my  neck,  hath  broke 
My  strength :  the  Lord  unto  those  enemies 

Hath  given  me,  from  whom  I  cannot  rise. 

15  He  under  foot  hath  trodden  in  my  sight 
My  strong  men ;  He  did  company  accite 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  CF  JEREMY.  325 

To  break  my  young  men;  He  the  wine-press  hath 
Trod  upon  Juda's  daughter  in  His  wrath. 

16  For  these  things  do  I  weep;  mine  eye,  mine  eye 
Casts  water  out ;  for  He  which  should  be  nigh 

To  comfort  me,  is  now  departed  far; 
The  foe  prevails;  forlorn  my  children  are. 

17  There's  none,  though  Sion  do  stretch  out  her  hand, 
To  comfort  her;  it  is  the  Lord's  command, 

That  Jacob's  foes  girt  him :  Jerusalem 
Is  as  an  unclean  woman  amongst  them. 

1S  But  yet  the  Lord  is  just  and  righteous  still : 
I  have  rebell'd  against  His  holy  will. 
0  hear,  all  people,  and  my  sorrow  see, 
My  maids,  my  young  men  in  captivity. 

19  I  called  for  my  lovers  then,  but  they 
Deceiv'd  me;  and  my  priests  and  elders  lay 
Dead  in  the  city;  for  they  sought  for  meat 

Which  should  refresh  their  souls,  and  none  could  get. 

20  Because  I  am  in  straits,  Jehovah,  see 
My  heart  o'erturn'd,  my  bowels  muddy  be ; 
Because  I  have  rebell'd  so  much,  as  fast 

The  sword  without,  as  death  within  doth  waste. 

21  Of  all  which  here  I  mourn,  none  comforts  me  ; 
My  foes  have  heard  my  grief,  and  glad  they  be, 
That  Thou  hast  done  it;  but  Thy  promis'd  day 
Will  come,  when,  as  I  suffer,  so  shall  they. 


326  DIVINE  POEMS. 

22  Let  all  their  wickedness  appear  to  Thee  ; 
Do  unto  them  as  Thou  hast  done  to  me 
For  all  my  sins  :  the  sighs  which  I  have  had 
Are  very  many,  and  my  heart  is  sad. 

CHAP.  II. 

1  How  over  Sion's  daughter  hath  God  hung 

His  wrath's  thick  cloud !  and  from  heaven  hath  flung 
To  earth  the  beauty  of  Israel,  and  hath 
Forgot  His  footstool  in  the  day  of  wrath  ! 

2  The  Lord  unsparingly  hath  swallowed 
All  Jacob's  dwellings,  and  demolished 

To  ground  the  strength  of  Juda,  and  profan'd 
The  princes  of  the  kingdom  and  the  land. 

3  In  heat  of  wrath  the  horn  of  Israel  He 
Hath  clean  cut  off,  and,  lest  the  enemy 

Be  hinder'd,  His  right  hand  He  doth  retire, 
But  is  towards  Jacob  all-devouring  fire. 

4  Like  to  an  enemy  He  bent  His  bow, 
His  right  hand  was  in  posture  of  a  foe, 
To  kill  what  Sion's  daughter  did  desire, 

'Gainst  whom  His  wrath  He  poured  forth  like  lire. 

5  For  like  an  enemy  Jehovah  is, 
Devouring  Israel  and  his  palaces ; 
Destroying  holds,  giving  additions 
To  Juda's  daughters'  lamentations. 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMY.  327 

G  Like  to  a  garden-hedge,  He  hath  cast  clown 
The  place  where  was  His  congregation, 
And  Sion's  feasts  and  sabbaths  are  forgot ; 
Her  king,  her  priest,  His  wrath  regarded  not. 

7  The  Lord  forsakes  His  altar,  and  detests 
His  sanctuary ;  and  in  the  foe's  hands  rests 
His  palace,  and  the  walls,  in  which  their  cries 
Are  heard,  as  in  the  true  solemnities. 

8  The  Lord  hath  cast  a  line,  so  to  confound 
And  level  Sion's  walls  unto  the  ground ; 

He  draws  not  back  His  hand,  which  doth  o'erturn 
The  wall  and  rampart,  which  together  mourn. 

9  The  gates  are  sunk  into  the  ground,  and  He 
Hath  broke  the  bar ;  their  kings  and  princes  be 
Amongst  the  heathen,  without  law ;  nor  there 
Unto  the  prophets  doth  the  Lord  appear. 

10  There  Sion's  elders  on  the  ground  are  plac'd, 
And  silence  keep  ;  dust  on  their  heads  they  cast  \ 
In  sackcloth  have  they  girt  themselves,  and  low 
The  virgins  towards  ground  their  heads  do  throw. 

11  My  bowels  are  grown  muddy,  and  mine  eyes 
Are  faint  with  weeping ;  and  my  liver  lies 
Pour'd  out  upon  the  ground,  for  misery 

That  sucking  children  in  the  streets  do  die. 


328  DIVINE  POEMS. 

12  When  they  had  cried  unto  their  mothers,  where 
Shall  we  have  bread  and  drink  1  they  fainted  there, 
And  in  the  street  like  wounded  persons  lay, 

Till  'twixt  their  mother's  breasts  they  went  away. 

13  Daughter  Jerusalem,  oh,  what  may  be 
A  witness  or  comparison  for  thee  ? 

Sion,  to  ease  thee,  what  shall  I  name  like  thee  ? 
Thy  breach  is  like  the  sea  \  what  help  can  be  % 

14  For  thee  vain  foolish  things  thy  prophets  sought ; 
Thee  thine  iniquities  they  have  not  taught, 
Which  might  disturn  thy  bondage  :  bat  for  thee 
False  burthens  and  false  causes  they  would  see. 

15  The  passengers  do  clap  their  hands  and  hiss, 
And  wag  their  head  at  thee,  and  say  :  Is  this 
That  city  which  so  many  men  did  call 

Joy  of  the  earth,  and  perfectest  of  all  1 

16  Thy  foes  do  gape  upon  thee,  and  they  hiss, 
And  gnash  their  teeth,  and  say :  Devour  we  this ; 
For  this  is  certainly  the  day  which  we 
Expected,  and  which  now  we  find  and  see. 

17  The  Lord  hath  done  that  which  He  purposed, 
Fulfill'd  His  word,  of  old  determined ; 

He  hath  thrown  down  and  not  spar'd,  and  thy  foe 
Made  glad  above  thee,  and  advanc'd  him  so. 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMY.  329 

18  But  now  their  hearts  unto  the  Lord  do  call ; 
Therefore,  0  walls  of  Sion;  let  tears  fall 
Down  like  a  river,  day  and  night ;  take  thee 
No  rest,  but  let  thine  eye  incessant  be. 

19  Arise,  cry  in  the  night,  pour  out  thy  sins, 
Thy  heart,  like  water,  when  the  watch  begins ; 
Lift  up  thy  hands  to  God,  lest  children  die, 
Which,  faint  for  hunger,  in  the  streets  do  lie. 

20  Behold,  0  Lord,  consider  unto  whom 

Thou  hast  done  this  :  what !  shall  the  women  come 
To  eat  their  children  of  a  span  ?  shall  Thy 
Prophet  and  priest  be  slain  in  sanctuary  1 

21  On  ground  in  streets  the  young  and  old  do  lie, 
My  virgins  and  young  men  by  sword  do  die  J 
Them  in  the  day  of  Thy  wrath  Thou  hast  slain, 
Nothing  did  Thee  from  killing  them  contain. 

22  As  to  a  solemn  feast,  all  whom  I  fear'd 

Thou,  call'st  about  me  :  when  Thy  wrath  appear'd, 
None  did  remain  or  'scape ;  for  those  which  I 
Brought  up  did  perish  by  mine  enemy. 

CHAP.  III. 

1  I  am  the  man  which  have  affliction  seen, 
Under  the  rod  of  God's  wrath  having  been. 

2  He  hath  led  me  to  darkness,  not  to  light, 

3  And  against  me  all  day  His  hand  doth  fight. 

VOL.  II.  z 


. 


330  DIVINE  POEMS. 

4  He  hath  broke  my  bones,  worn  out  my  flesh  and  skin, 

5  Built  up  against  me,  and  hath  girt  me  in 
With  hemlock  and  with  labour ;  6  and  set  me 
In  dark,  as  they  who  dead  forever  be. 

7  He  'hath  hedg'd  me,  lest  I  'scape,  and  added  more 
To  my  steel  fetters,  heavier  than  before. 

8  When  I  cry  out,  He  outshuts  my  prayer ;  9  and  hath 
Stopp'd  with  hewn  stone  my  way,  and  turn'd  my  path. 

10  And  like  a  lion  hid  in  secrecy, 

Or  bear  which  lies  in  wait,  He  was  to  me. 

11  He  stops  my  way,  tears  me,  made  desolate  ; 

12  And  He  makes  me  the  mark  He  shooteth  at. 

13  He  made  the  children  of  His  quiver  pass 
Into  my  reins.     u  I  with  my  people  was 
All  the  day  long  a  song  and  mockery. 

15  He  hath  nll'd  me  with  bitterness,  and  He 

Hath  made  me  drunk  with  wormwood;16  He  hath  burst 
My  teeth  with  stones,  and  cover'd  me  with  dust. 

17  And  thus  my  soul  far  off  from  peace  was  set, 
And  my  prosperity  I  did  forget. 

18  My  strength,  my  hope,  unto  myself  I  said, 
Which  from  the  Lord  should  come,  is  perished. 
13  But  when  my  mournings  I  do  think  upon, 
My  wormwood,  hemlock,  and  affliction, 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMY.  331 

20  My  soul  is  humbl'd  in  remembering  this ; 

21  My  heart  considers ;  therefore  hope  there  is, 

22  Tis  God's  great  mercy  we  'are  not  utterly 
Consum'd,  for  His  compassions  do  not  die ; 

23  For  every  morning  they  renewed  be ; 
For  great,  0  Lord,  is  Thy  fidelity. 

24  The  Lord  is,  saith  my  soul,  my  portion, 
And  therefore  in  Him  will  I  hope  alone. 

25  The  Lord  is  good  to  them  who  'on  Him  rely, 
And  to  the  soul  that  seeks  Him  earnestly. 

26  It  is  both  good  to  trust,  and  to  attend 
The  Lord's  salvation  unto  the  end. 

27  'Tis  good  for  one  His  yoke  in  youth  to  bear; 

28  He  sits  alone,  and  doth  all  speech  forbear, 
Because  he  hath  borne  it :  29  and  his  mouth  he  lays 
Deep  in  the  dust,  yet  then  in  hope  he  stays. 

30  He  gives  his  cheeks  to  whosoever  will 
Strike  him,  and  so  he  is  reproached  still. 

31  For  not  forever  doth  the  Lord  forsake ; 

32  But  when  He  'hath  struck  with  sadness,  He  doth  take 

Compassion,  as  His  mercy  'is  infinite. 

33  Xor  is  it  with  His  heart  that  He  doth  smite, 
14  That  under  foot  the  prisoners  stamped  be; 

35  That  a  man's  right  the  judge  himself  doth  see 


332  DIVINE  POEMS. 

To  be  wrung  from  him;  36  that  he  subverted  is 
In  his  just  cause,  the  Lord  allows  not  this. 

37  Who  then  will  say,  that  ought  doth  come  to  pass 
But  that  which  by  the  Lord  commanded  was? 

38  Both  good  and  evil  from  His  mouth  proceeds; 

39  Why  then  grieves  any  man  for  his  misdeeds'? 

40  Turn  we  to  God,  by  trying  out  our  ways; 

41  To  Him  in  heaven  our  hands  with  hearts  upraise. 

42  We  have  rebell'd,  and  fallen  away  from  Thee; 
Thou  pardon'st  not ;  43  usest  no  clemency ; 
Pursu'st  us,  kill'st  us,  cover'st  us  with  wrath; 

44  Cover'st  Thyself  with  clouds,  that  our  prayer  hath 

No  power  to  pass  :  45  And  Thou  hast  made  us  fall, 
As  refuse  and  off-scouring  to  them  all. 
46  All  our  foes  gape  at  us.     47  Fear  and  a  snare, 
With  ruin  and  with  waste,  upon  us  are. 

48  With  watery  rivers  doth  mine  eye  o'erflow, 
For  ruin  of  my  people's  daughters  so; 

49  Mine  eye  doth  drop  down  tears  incessantly, 

50  Until  the  Lord  look  down  from  heaven  to  see. 

51  And  for  my  city-daughters'  sake,  mine  eye 
Doth  break  mine  heart.     52  Causeless  mine  enemy 
Like  a  bird  chas'd  me.     53  In  a  dungeon 

They  'have  shut  my  life,  and  cast  me  on  a  stone. 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMY.  333 

54  Waters  flow'd  o'er  my  head ;  then  thought  I :  I  am 
Destroy'd :  55  I  called,  Lord,  upon  Thy  name 

Out  of  the  pit ;  56  And  Thou  my  voice  did  hear  : 
Oh,  from  my  sight  and  cry  stop  not  Thine  ear. 

57  Then  when  I  call'd  upon  Thee,  Thou  drew'st  near 
Unto  me,  and  saidst  unto  me,  Do  not  fear. 

55  Thou,    Lord,    my  soul's    cause  handl'd    hast,   and 

Thou 
Rescu'st  my  life.     59  0  Lord,  do  Thou  judge  now. 

Thou  heard'st  my  wrong.     60  Their  vengeance  all  they 
'have  wrought ; 

61  How  they  reproach'd  Thou'st  heard,  and  what  they 

thought ; 

62  What  their  lips  uttered,  which  against  me  rose, 
And  what  was  ever  whisper'd  by  my  foes. 

63  I  am  their  song,  whether  they  rise  or  sit. 

64  Give  them  rewards,  Lord,  for  their  working  fit, 

65  Sorrow  of  heart,  Thy  curse :  66  And  with  thy  might 
Follow  'and  from  under  heaven  destroy  them  quite. 

CHAP.  IV. 

1  How  is  the  gold  become  so  dim !  how  is 
Purest  and  finest  gold  thus  chang'd  to  this ! 
The  stones,  which  were  stones  of  the  sanctuary, 
Scatter'd  in  corners  of  each  street  do  lie. 


334  DIVINE  POEMS. 

2  The  precious  sons  of  Sion,  which  should  be 
Valu'd  as  purest  gold,  how  do  we  see 
Low-rated  now,  as  earthern  pitchers,  stand, 
Which  are  the  work  of  a  poor  potter's  hand  ! 

3  Even  the  sea-calfs  draw  their  breasts,  and  give 
Suck  to  their  young  :  my  people's  daughters  live, 
By  reason  of  the  foe's  great  cruelness, 

As  do  the  owls  in  the  vast  wilderness. 

4  And  when  the  sucking  child  doth  strive  to  draw, 
His  tongue  for  thirst  cleaves  to  his  upper  jaw : 
And  when  for  bread  the  little  children  cry, 
There  is  no  man  that  doth  them  satisfy. 

5  They  which  before  were  delicately  fed, 
Now  in  the  streets  forlorn  have  perished  : 
And  they  which  ever  were  in  scarlet  cloth' d, 

Sit  and  embrace  the  dunghills  which  they  loath'd. 

6  The  daughters  of  my  people  have  sinn'd  more 
Than  did  the  town  of  Sodom  sin  before  ; 
Which  being  at  once  destroy'd,  there  did  remain 
ISTo  hands  amongst  them  to  vex  them  again. 

7  But  heretofore  purer  her  Xazarite 

Was  than  the  snow,  and  milk  was  not  so  white : 
As  carbuncles  did  their  pure  bodies  shine ; 
And  all  their  polishedness  was  sapphirine. 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMY.  335 

8  They  'are  darker  now  than  blackness  \  none  can  know 
Them  by  the  face,  as  through  the  street  they  go  : 

For  now  their  skin  doth  cleave  unto  their  bone, 
And  withered  is  like  to  dry  wood  grown. 

9  Better  by  sword  than  famine  'tis  to  die; 

And  better  through-pierced  than  through  penury. 

10  Women,  by  nature  pitiful,  have  eat 

Their  children,  drest  with  their  own  hand,  for  meat. 

11  Jehovah  here  fully  accomplish'd  hath 

His  indignation,  and  pour'd  forth  His  wrath; 
Kindled  a  fire  in  Sion,  which  hath  power 
To  eat,  and  her  foundations  to  devour. 

12  Nor  would  the  kings  of  th'  earth,  nor  all  which  live 
In  the  inhabitable  world,  believe 

That  any  adversary,  any  foe 
Into  Jerusalem  should  enter  so. 

13  For  the  priests'  sins,  and  prophets',  which  have  shed 
Blood  in  the  streets,  and  the  just  murthered: 

14  Which,  when  those  men,  whom  they  made  blind, 

did  stray 
Thorough  the  streets,  defiled  by  the  way 

With,  blood,  the  which  impossible  it  was 

Their  garment  should  'scape  touching,  as  they  pass  ; 

15  Would  cry  aloud,  Depart,  defiled  men  ! 
Depart,  depart,  and  touch  us  not !  and  then 


336  DIVINE  POEMS. 

They  fled,  and  stray'd,  and  with,  the  Gentiles  were, 
Yet  told  their  friends  they  should  not  long  dwell  there. 

16  For  this  they  'are  scatter'd  by  Jehovah's  face, 
Who  never  will  regard  them  more ;  no  grace 

Unto  the  old  men  shall  their  foe  afford ; 

]N~or,  that  they  'are  priests,  redeem  them  from  the  sword : 

17  And  we  as  yet,  for  all  these  miseries 
Desiring  our  vain  help,  consume  our  eyes  : 

And  such  a  nation,  as  cannot  save, 
We  in  desire  and  speculation  have. 

18  They  hunt  our  steps,  that  in  the  streets  we  fear 
To  go  ;  our  end  is  now  approached  near. 

Our  days  accomplished  are,  this,  the  last  day; 
Eagles  of  heaven  are  not  so  swift  as  they 

19  Which  follow  us;  o'er  mountain's  tops  they  fly 
At  us,  and  for  us  in  the  desert  lie. 

20  Th'  Anointed  Lord,  breath  of  our  nostrils,  He 
Of  whom  we  said,  under  His  shadow  we 

Shall  with  more  ease  under  the  heathen  dwell, 
Into  the  pit,  which  these  men  digged,  fell. 

21  Rejoice,  0  Edom's  daughter ;  joyful  be, 
Thou  that  inhabit'st  Uz ;  for  unto  thee 

This  cup  shall  pass,  and  thou  with  drunkenness 
Shalt  fill  thyself,  and  show  thy  nakedness. 


THE  LAMENTATIONS  OF  JEREMY.  337 

22  And  then  thy  sins,  0  Sion,  shall  be  spent ; 
The  Lord  will  not  leave  thee  in  banishment : 
Thy  sins,  0  Edom's  daughter,  He  will  see, 
And  for  them  pay  thee  with  captivity. 

chap.  v. 

1  Remember,  0  Lord,  what  is  fallen  on  us  ; 
See  and  mark  how  we  are  reproached  thus. 

2  For  unto  strangers  our  possession 

Is  turn'd,  our  houses  unto  aliens  gone. 

3  Our  mothers  are  become  as  widows  ;  we 
As  orphans  all,  and  without  fathers  be. 

4  Waters,  which  are  our  own,  we  drink,  and  pay ; 
And  upon  our  own  wood  a  price  they  lay. 

5  Our  persecutors  on  our  necks  do  sit, 
They  make  us  travail,  and  not  intermit. 

6  We  stretch  our  hands  unto  th'  Egyptians 
To  get  us  bread  •  and  to  th'  Assyrians. 

7  Our  fathers  did  these  sins,  and  are  no  more ; 
But  we  do  bear  the  sins  they  did  before. 

8  They  are  but  servants  which,  do  rule  us  thus ; 
Yet  from  their  hands  none  would  deliver  us. 

9  With,  danger  of  our  life  our  bread  we  gat ; 
For  in  the  wilderness  the  sword  did  wait. 

10  The  tempests  of  this  famine  we  liv'd  in 
Black  as  an  oven  colour' d  had  our  skin. 


m 


338  DIVINE  POEMS. 

11  In  Juda's  cities  they  the  maids  abus'd 
By  force,  and  so  women  in  Sion  us'd. 

12  The  princes  with  their  hands  they  hung;  no  grace 
Nor  honour  gave  they  to  the  elder's  face. 

13  Unto  the  mill  our  young  men  carried  are, 
And  children  fell  under  the  wood  they  bare  : 

14  Elders  the  gates,  youth  did  their  songs  forbear ; 
Gone  was  our  joy;  our  dancings  mournings  were. 

15  Now  is  the  crown  fallen  from  our  head ;  and  wo 
Be  unto  us,  because  we  'have  sinned  so. 

16  For  this  our  hearts  do  languish,  and  for  this 
Over  our  eyes  a  cloudy  dimness  is ; 

17  Because  Mount  Sion  desolate  doth  lie, 
And  foxes  there  do  go  at  liberty. 

18  But  Thou,  0  Lord,  art  ever ;  and  Thy  throne 
From  generation  to  generation. 

19  Why  shouldst  Thou  forget  us  eternally, 
Or  leave  us  thus  long  in  this  misery ! 

20  Kestore  us,  Lord,  to  Thee ;  that  so  we  may 
Return,  and,  as  of  old,  renew  our  day. 

21  For  oughtest  Thou,  0  Lord,  despise  us  thus, 

22  And  to  be  utterly  enraged  at  us  1 

NOTE. 

It  will  be  seen  that  Donne  in  this  scriptural  lament  affects 
the  accented  -ed,  as  more  solemn.  I  also  read  the  last  line  so. 
G. 


HYMN  TO  GOD,  MY  GOD, 

IN  MY  SICKNESS.1 

Since  I  am  comming  to  that  holy  room 

Where  with  the  quire  of  saints  for  evermore 

I  shall  be  made  Thy  musique ;  as  I  come, 
I  tune  the  instrument  here  at  the  door, 
And  what  I  must  do  then,  think  here  before.        5 

Whilst  my  physitians  by  their  love  are  grown 
Cosmographers,  and  I  their  map,  who  lie 

Flat  on  this  bed,  that  by  them  may  be  shown 
That  this  is  my  southwest  discovery 
Per  J return  febris,  by  these  straits  to  dye.  10 

I  joy,  that  in  these  straits  I  see  my  West ; 

For  though  those  currants  yeeld  return  to  none, 

What  shall  my  West  hurt  me  1    As  West  and  East 
In  all  flat  maps  (and  I  am  one)  are  one, 
So  Death  doth  touch  the  Eesurrection.  15 

Is  the  Pacinque  Sea  my  home  ?     Or  are 
The  eastern  riches  ?     Is  Jerusalem  ? 
Anyan,  and  Magellan,  and  Gibraltar  are  Gibraltar 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  362-3).    Appeared  originally  in 
1635  edition  (pp.  387-8).     G. 


340  DIVINE  POEMS. 

All  straights,  and  none  but  straights  are  ways  to 

them, 
Whether  where  Japhet  dwelt,  or  Cham,  or  Sem.  Ham 

We  think  that  Paradise  and  Calvarie,  21 

Christ's  cross  and  Adam's  tree,  stood  in  one  place; 

Look,  Lord,  and  find  both  Adams  met  in  me  ; 
As  the  first  Adam's  sweat  surrounds  my  face, 
May  the  last  Adam's  blood  my  soul  embrace  !      25 

So  in  His  purple  wrapp'd  receive  me,  Lord, 

By  these  His  thorns  give  me  His  other  crown ; 

And  as  to  others'  souls  I  preach'd  Thy  word, 
Be  this  my  text,  my  sermon  to  mine  own, — 
1  Therefore,  that  He  may  raise,  the  Lord  throws 

down'  30 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Line  1,  '  room,'  as  in  St.  Luke  xiv.  9  &c. 
,,     9.  Some  s.w.  voyage,  with  a  disastrous  result  in  some 
straits,  seems  to  have  been  made  just  before  this  Hymn  was 
written,  and  if  known  would  fix  the  date  of  the  sickness.    But, 
indeed,  Donne's  later  years  were  '  one  long  sickness.' 

Line  14.  Same  is  said  in  The  Annunciation  and  Passion, 
1.  21.  In  a  flat  map  of  the  world  the  extreme  west  becomes, 
when  joined  on  to  the  rest,  east ;  and  if  you  put  cd,  the  western 
bit,  round  to  ab,  you  make  it  east  in  relation  to  ab. 

Line  17.  I  read  as  in  '69  '  Jerusalem  ?'  [not  comma  (,)]  ;  i.e. 
is  Jerusalem  my  home  ?  In  1.  18,  I  read  also  'Gibraltar  are.' 
It  might  be  ■  Gibralt'  are,'  according  as  one  takes  Magellan  as  a 
dis-  or  tri-syllable.  The  error  arose  from  the  similarity  of  letters, 
as  shown  by  the  final  '  e'  of  old  copies.     This  gets  rid  of  some 


A  HYMN  TO  GOD  TIIE  FATHER.  341 

of  the  obscurity,  and  blunts  some  of  Dr.  Macdonald's  criticisms 
in  ■  Antiphon.' 

Line  '22.  One  of  the  various  mythic-legendary  beliefs  as  to 
the  cross,  fetched  from  '  Golgotha'  as  a  word. 

Line  30.  This  may  be  founded  on  Ps.  cxlv.  14  and  Ps.  cxlvi. 
8  :  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  a  reversal  of  Jonah  i.  12,  for 
George  Herbert  (1.  814  of  The  Crosse)  says 

Taking  me  up  to  throw  me  down ; 
and  throughout  the  stanzas  one  can  trace  a  reference  to  Jonah. 
G. 


A  HYMN  TO  GOD  THE  FATHEE.1 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  where  I  begun, 

Which  was  my  sin,  though  it  were  done  before  1 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin,  through  which  I  run 
And  do  run  still,  though  still  I  do  deplore  ? 

When  Thou  hast  done,  Thou  hast  not  done ;  5 

For  I  have  more. 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  have  wonne 
Others  to  sin,  and  made  my  sins  their  door  ] 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  did  shun 

A  year  or  two,  but  wallow'd  in,  a  score?  10 

When  Thou  hast  done,  Thou  hast  not  done ; 
For  I  have  more. 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (pp.  363-4).     Appeared  originally  in 
1635  edition  (p.  388).     G. 


342  DIVINE  POEMS. 

I  'have  a  sin  of  fear,  that  when  I  'have  spun 
My  last  thred,  I  shall  perish  on  the  shore ; 

But  swear  by  Thyself,  that  at  my  death  Thy  Son       1 5 
Shall  shine,  as  He  shines  now  and  heretofore  : 

And  having  done  that,  Thou  hast  done ; 
I  fear  no  more. 

NOTE. 

St.  ii.  1.  4.     See  our  Essay  in  present  volume  on  the  head- 
ing &c.  of  a  Litany.     G. 


TO  MR.  GEOEGE  HEEBEET, 

SENT  HIM  WITH  ONE  OF  MY  SEALS  OF  THE  ANCHOR 
AND  CHRIST.1 

Qui  prius  assuetus  serpentum  fasce  tabellas 

Signare — haec  nostrae  symbola  parva  domus — 
Adscitus  domui  Domini,  patrioque  relicto 

Stemmate,  nanciscor  stemmata  jure  nova. 
Hinc  mihi  Crux,  primo  quae  fronti  impressa  lavacro,  5 

Finibus  extensis,  Anchora  facta  patet ; 
Anchorae  in  effigiem  Crux  tandem  desinit  ipsam, 

Anchora  fit  tandem  Crux,  tolerata  diu : 
Hoc  tamen  ut  fiat,  Christo  vegetatur  ab  ipso 

Crux,  et  ab  affixo  est  Anchora  facta  Jesu.  10 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (p.  404).     G. 


A  SHEAF  OF  SNAKES.  343 

Nee  natalitiis  pcnitus  serpentibus  orbor  \ 

Non  ita  dat  Deus,  ut  auferat  ante  data. 
Qua  sapiens,  dos  est ;  qua  terram  lambit  et  ambit, 

Pestis ;  at  in  nostra  sit  medicina  Cruce 
Serpens,  fixa  Cruci  si  sit  natura,  Crucique  1 5 

A  fixo  nobis  gratia  tota  fluat. 
Omnia  cum  Crux  sint,  Crux  Anchora  fixa,  sigillum 

Non  tarn  dicendum  hoc,  quam  catechismus  erit. 
Mitto,  nee  exigua,  exigua  sub  imagine,  dona, 

Pignora  amicitiae,  et  munera,  vota,  preces:  20 

Plura  tibi  accumulet  sanctus  cognominis  Ille, 

Eegia  qui  flavo  dona  sigillat  equo. 


A  SHEAF  OF  SNAKES 

USED  HERETOFORE  TO  BE  MY  SEAL,  THE  CREST  OF  OUR 
POOR  FAMILY.1 

Adopted  in  God's  family,  and  so 
Our  old  coat  lost,  unto  new  arms  I  go. 
The  cross,  my  seal  at  baptism,  spread  below, 
Does,  by  that  form  into  an  anchor  grow.. 
Crosses  grow  anchors ;  bear,  as  thou  shouldst  do,        ; 
Thy  cross,  and  that  cross  grows  an  anchor  too. 
But  He  that  makes  our  crosses  anchors  thus, 
Is  Christ,  Who  there  is  crucih'd  for  us. 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (p.  405).     G. 


344  DIVINE  POEMS. 

Yet  may  I,  with  this,  my  first  serpents  hold ; 

God  gives  new  blessings,  and  yet  leaves  the  old.        10 

The  serpent  may,  as  wise,  my  pattern  be  ; 

My  poison,  as  he  feeds  on  dust,  that's  me. 

And  as  he  rounds  the  earth  to  murder  sure, 

My  death  he  is ;  but  on  the  cross,  my  cure. 

Crucifie  nature  then,  and  then  implore  15 

All  grace  from  Him,  crucified  there  before ; 

When  all  is  cross,  and  that  cross  anchor  grown, 

This  seal's  a  catechism,  not  a  seal  alone. 

Under  that  little  seal  great  gifts  I  send, 

Works  and  prayers,  pawns,  and  fruits  of  a  friend.      20 

And  may  that  saint,  which  rides  in  our  Great  Seal, 

To  you,  who  bear  His  name,  great  bounties  deal. 

NOTE. 

Line  21,  '  that  saint,  which  rides  'in  our  Great  Seal.'  The 
reverse  of  the  Great  Seal  of  James  I.  "bore  an  armed  St.  George 
on  horseback.  See  facsimiles  of  these  seals  in  the  4to  of  the 
present  volume.     G. 


IN  SACRAM  AJTCHOKAM  PISCATORIS, 
G.  HERBERT.1 

Quod  crux  nequibat  nxa,  clavique  additi — 
Tenere  Christum  scilicet,  ne  ascenderet — 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (p.  402).  The  fuller  and  more  ac- 
curate heading  in  Herbert's  Poems  is  '  Ad  Johannem  Donne, 
D.D.,  de  uno  sigillorum  ejus,  Anchora  et  Christo.'  See  Notes 
and  Illustrations  to  the  same  in  English  succeeding  this.     G. 


IN*  SACRAM  ANCHORAM  PISCATORIS.  345 

Tuivc  Christum  devocans  facundia, 
Ultra  loquendi  tempus  ;  add  it  Anchora  : 

hoc  abunde  est  tibi,  nisi  certae  Anchorae  5 

Addas  sigillum ;  nempe  symbolum  suae 
Tibi  debet  unda  et  terra  certitudinis. 

Quondam  fessus  Amor,  loquens  amato, 

Tot  et  tanta  loquens  arnica,  scripsit  : 

Tandem  et  fessa  manus  dedit  sigillum.  10 

Suavis  erat,  qui  scripta,  dolens,  lacerando  recludi, 
Sanctiua  in  regno  magni  credebat  Amoris — 
In  quo  fas  nihil  est  rumpi — donare  sigillum ! 

Munde,  fluas  fugiasque  licet,  nos  nostraque  fixi : 
Deridet  motus  sancta  catena  tuos.  15 

THE  SAME  IN  ENGLISH. 

Although  the  Cross  could  not  Christ  here  detain, 

Though  nail'd  unto  't,  but  He  ascends  again, 

Xor  yet  thy  eloquence  here  keep  Him  still, 

But  only  while  thou  speak' st,  this  Anchor  will. 

Xor  canst  thou  be  content,  unless  thou  to  5 

This  certain  Anchor  add  a  seal,  and  so 

The  water  and  the  earth  both  unto  thee 

Do  owe  the  symbole  of  their  certainty. 

When  Love,  being  weary,  made  an  end 

Of  kind  expressions  to  his  friend,  1  o 

1  From  1669,  as  before  (p.  403).     G. 

VOL.   II.  A  A 


346  DIVINE  POEMS. 

He  writ :  when's  hand  could  write  no  more, 

He  gave  the  Seal,  and  so  left  o're. 

How  sweet  a  friend  was  he,  who,  being  griev'd 

His  letters  were  broke  rudely  up,  believ'd 

Twas  more  secure  in  great  Love's  Common-weal,       15 

Where  nothing  should  be  broke,  to  adde  a  Seal ! 

Let  the  world  reel,  we  and  all  ours  stand  sure ; 
This  holy  cable's  of  all  storms  secure. 

NOTES  AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

I  place  the  present  English  and  its  related  Latin  after  the 
two  preceding,  because  they  are  self-revealingly  the  replies  of 
Herbert  to  Donne.  Donne  sent  his  seal  with  his  lines  written 
both  in  Latin  and  English,  and  Herbert — as  shown  by  the  head- 
ing— wrote  the  Latin  lines  '  In  S.  Anc. ;'  and  it  is  clear  from  the 
description  of  the  seal,  and  from  11.  8-10,  '  Quondam  .  .  .  sigil- 
lum,'  and  from  11.  11-13,  '  Suavis  ....  sigillurn,'  that  they  are 
the  reply  to  Donne  and  his  gifts.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  the 
above  English  poem  '  Although  the  Cross,  &c.'  is  blunderingly 
headed  in  modern  editions  '  To  Mr.  George  Herbert,  with  his 
seal  of  the  Anchor  and  Christ,'  while  it  is  really  the  English  of 
the  prior  Latin.  Hence,  as  Donne  had  written  in  English  and 
Latin,  and  as  he  was  not  likely  to  translate  a  reply  to  and 
panegyric  on  himself,  I  have  no  doubt  that  to  Herbert,  not 
Donne,  the  English  as  well  as  the  Latin  of  these  lines  belongs, 
just  as  in  the  two  preceding  we  have  Donne's  Latin  '  done'  in 
English  by  himself.  Thus  it  is  our  privilege  to  add  this  fine 
poem  in  its  English  form — very  much  in  advance  of  his  '  Cross' 
— to  the  scanty  Poetry  of  Herbert,  whose  works,  notwithstand- 
ing their  well-nigh  innumerable  editions,  still  stand  in  need  of 
worthy  and  critical  editing.  It  is  singular  that  while  the  Latin 
has  found  its  place  among  the  works  of  Herbert,  his  own  cha- 
racteristic rendering  of  it  should  have  thus  long  been  mis- 
assigned  to  Donne,  and  kept  out  of  Herbert's  Poems. 

In  line  13  *  secret'  is  usually  misprinted  for  'sweet'  ('69), 
pqnivalent  of  the  Latin  '  suavis.'     G. 


LAMENT  FOE  HIS  WIFE.1 

Is  Death  so  greate  a  gainster,  that  he  throwes 
Still  at  the  fairest  ?  must  I  ever  lose  1 
Are  we  all  but  as  tarriers,  first  begun, 
Made,  and  togeather  put,  to  be  undone  1 
Will  all  the  ranke  of  frendes  in  whom  I  trust, 
Like  Sodome's  trees,  yeild  me  no  fruit  but  dust  ? 
Must  all  I  love,  as  carelesse  sparkes  that  flye 
Out  of  a  flinte,  but  shew  their  worth  and  dye? 

0  where  do  my-for-ever-losses  tend? 
I  could  already  by  some  buried  frend 

Count  my  unhappy  yeares  :  and  should  the  sun 
Leave  me  in  darkenesse  as  her  losse  hath  done, 
By  those  few  frendes  I  have  yet  to  entombe 
I  might,  I  feare,  account  my  yeares  to  come. 

What  neede  our  canons  then  be  so  precise 
In  registers  for  our  nativities  ] 
They  keep  us  but  in  bondes,  and  strike  with  feares 
Rich  parents,  till  their  children  be  of  yeares. 

1  From  'A  Collection  of  Miscellaneous  Poetry,'  by  F.  G. 
Waldron  (1802),  4to,  consisting  of  hitherto  unpublished  mss.  in 
his  possession — the  two  poems  of  Donne  being  dated  in  1625. 
For  the  first  of  these  two  Donne  poems,  published  by  Waldron, 
see  our  vol.  i.  pp.  234-7.  I  have  given  it  the  heading  'Lament 
for  his  Wife,'  as  finding  throughout  that  keen  and  life -long 
^rief.    G. 


348  LAMENT  FOR  HIS  WIFE. 

For  should  all  lose  and  mourne,  they  might,  as  If 
dumber  their  yeares  by  every  elegie. 

Those  bookes  to  summe  our  dayes  might  well  have 
stood 
In  use  with  those  that  liv'd  before  the  Flood. 
When  she  indeed  that  forceth  me  to  write 
Should  have  been  borne,  had  ^Nature  done  her  right, 
And  at  five  hundred  yeares  be  lesse  decayd 
Than  now  at  twenty  is  the  fairest  mayd. 
But  Nature  had  not  her  perfection  then, 
Or,  being  loath  for  such  longe-liveinge  men 
To  spend  the  treasure  which  she  held  so  pure, 
She  gave  them  women  apter  to  endure; 
Or  providently  knowinge  there  were  more 
Countreyes  which  askd  for  people  from  her  store> 
Xature  was  thrifty,  and  did  thinke  it  well 
If  for  some  one  parte  each  one  did  excell — 
As  this  for  her  neate  hand,  that  for  her  hayre, 
A  third  for  her  fine  foote,  a  fourth  wTas  fayre. 
And  seld'  all  beauties  mett  in  one,  till  she — 
All  others'  lands  els  stor'd — came  finally 
To  people  our  sweet  Isle,  and  seeinge  now 
Her  substance  infinite,  she  'gan  to  bowe 
To  Lavishnes  in  every  nuptiall  bed, 
And  she  her  fairest  was  that  now  is  dead. 

Dead,  as  my  ioyes  for  ever,  ever  be  ! 
And  if  a  woman  fayre  and  good  as  she 


LAMENT  FOR  HIS  WIFE.  349 

Tread  on  her,  grant  0  may  she  there  become 
A  statue  like  Lott's  wife,  and  be  her  tombe ! 

Or  let  the  purple  violett  grow  there, 
And  knowe  no  revolution  of  the  yeare, 
But  full  of  dew  with  ever-droopinge  head, 
Shew  how  I  live  since  my  best  hopes  are  dead. 

Dead  as  the  world  to  virtue.     Murthers,  theeves, 
Can  have  their  pardons,  or  at  least  repreives ; 
The  sword  of  Iustice  hath  beene  often  won 
By  letters  from  an  execution. 
Yet  vowes  nor  prayers  could  not  keepe  thee  here, 
Xor  shall  I  see  thee  next  returninge  yeare ; 
Thee,  with  the  roses,  springe  and  live  againe. 
Th'  art  lost  for  ever  as  a  drop  of  raine 
Falne  in  a  river  :  for  as  soone  I  may 
Take  up  that  drop,  or  meet  the  same  at  sea 
And  knowe  it  there,  as  e'er  redeeme  thee  gone, 
Or  knowe  thee  in  the  grave  when  I  have  one. 

0  had  that  hollow  vault  where  thou  dost  lye 
An  eccho  in  it,  my  stronge  phantasy 
Would  winne  me  soone  to  thinke  her  wordes  were 

thine, 
And  I  would  howerly  come,  and  to  thy  shrine 
Talke,  as  I  often  did  to  talke  with  thee, 
And  frame  my  wordes,  that  thou  shouldst  answer  me 
As  when  thou  livedst.     I'd  sigh  and  say  I  lov'd, 
And  thou  shouldst  doe  so  too,  till  we  had  mov'd, 


350  LAMENT  FOR  HIS  WIFE. 

With  our  complaints,  to  teares  each  marble  cell 
Of  those  dead  neighbours  which  about  thee  dwell. 

And  when  the  holy  Father  came  to  say 
His  orisons,  wee'd  aske  him  if  the  day 
Of  miracles  were  past,  or  whether  he 
Knowes  any  one  whose  fayth  and  pietie 
Could  raise  the  dead;  but  he  would  answere,  iNone 
Can  bringe  thee  backe  to  life :  though  many  one 
Our  cursed  dayes  afford,  that  dare  to  thrust 
Their  hands  prophane,  to  raise  the  sacred  dust 
Of  holy  saintes  out  of  their  beds  of  rest. 
Abhorred  crimes  !  Oh  may  there  none  molest 
Thy  quiet  peace,  but  in  thy  arke  remaine 
Untoucht,  as  those  the  old  one  did  containe ; 
Till  He  that  can  reward  thy  greatest  worth 
Shall  send  the  peacefull  Dove  to  fetch  thee  forth  ! 

POSTSCRIPTAL  NOTE. 

Casually  dipping  into  Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody  (1602), 
I  find  that  the  Ode  (pp.  238-9)  '  Absence,  heere  my  protesta- 
tyon,'  is  contained  therein  (pp.  185-6:  Collier).  I  note  these 
slight  variations:  line  1,  'thou'  for  'this;'  1.  8,  'Hee  soone' 
for  '  His  mynd ;'  1.  10,  '  all'  before  '  mortallitie  ;'  1.  16,  'in'  for 
'by;'  1.  21,  'catch' for  'match'  —  superior;  1.  23,  'there'  is 
dropped ;  1.  24  reads,  '  And  so  I  both  enioy  and  misse  her. '  It 
is  without  signature,  and  the  succeeding  piece  is  signed  '  Ignoto.' 
See  our  Notes  and  Illustrations,  pp.  238-9.  A  very  few  misprints 
of  Vol.  I.  are  noted  in  the  Glossarial  Index,  s.  v.    G. 


GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 


The  Reader  will  find  more  or  less  full  explanations,  in  the 
places,  of  all  the  words  in  the  present  Index.  It  has  heen  pre- 
pared on  the  same  plan  with  preceding  ones  in  our  Series.     G. 


Aborted,  i.  155. 

Academies,  i.  40. 

Ads,  i.  153. 

Adventurers,  ii.  142. 

Aff  ectyon,  i.  189. 

All,  i.  27. 

Allay,  i.  113. 

Alters,  ii.  36. 

Amber,  i.  169. 

Anackorytt,  i.  189. 

And,  i.  10. 

Angels,  i.  49,  198,  237 ;  ii.  274, 

319. 
Another,  i.  95. 
Antiques,  ii.  24. 
Ants,  ii.  12. 
Any-whither,  i.  95. 
Apes,  i.  163. 
Appeare,  ii.  79. 
Are,  i.  29. 
Arts,  ii.  16. 
As,  i.  80,  93. 
Aspect,  ii.  113. 
Assay,  ii.  59. 
Auaile,  ii.  155. 
Ay  me,  i.  249. 

B. 

Baloun,  i.  43. 

Bar,  i.  44. 

Barenes :  qy.  = ' nakedness,'  i.  6. 

Barest,  i.  49. 

Barke,  i.  94. 

Be,  i.  222. 

Bell  [passing],  ii.  19. 


Best,  i.  11. 
Bewty,  i.  176. 
Bid,  i.  28. 
Bine,  i.  151. 
Blest,  i.  11. 
Blew,  i.  120. 
Blew- coats,  i.  10. 
Blow-point,  i.  41. 
Books  [Cheapside],  i.  43. 
Boot,  i.  29. 
Braggarts,  i.  42. 
Braver,  i.  58. 
Break-neck-verse,  i.  19. 
Breath,  i.  176. 
Bridewel,  i.  58. 
Brightest,  ii.  190. 
Brittaine-Burse,  i.  217. 
Brother,  ii.  79. 
Bumbast,  i.  39. 
Busines,  i.  357. 
By tter- sweet,  i.  176. 


Cage,  ii.  12. 

Calenture,  ii.  93  (see  below1). 

Call,  i.  49. 

Cannon,  i.  197. 

Carkanets,  i.  186. 

Cast,  i.  183. 

Caught,  i.  157. 

1  Dean    Swift  supplies  a  fuller 
illustration : 

1  So  by  a  calenture  misled, 
The  mariner  with  rapture  sees 
On  the  smooth  ocean's  azure  bed 
Enamelled  fields  and  verdant  trees.' 


352 


GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 


Cels  [first-built],  i.  159. 
Chaf'd,  i.  41,  185-6. 
Change,  i.  63. 
Changling,  i.  9. 
Chaine,  i.  158. 
Charms,  ii.  113. 
Charrick,  i.  49-50. 
Checks,  i,  27. 
Checques,  i.  59-60. 
Chest,  i.  9. 
Chickens,  ii.  93. 
Children  [deuine],  i.  27. 
Chips,  ii.  12. 
Choakes,  i.  27. 
Chroniclers,  i.  9. 
Chyld-birth's,  i.  170. 
Cloud,  ii.  319. 
Consoled,  i.  9. 
Consorted,  i.  9. 
ComeiDge,  i.  57. 
Commissarie,  i.  90-1 ;  ii.  25. 
Confines,  i.  92. 
Constellate,  i.  155. 
Constillations,  i.  116. 
Course,  i.  6,  33,  123 ;  ii.  3,  6. 
Courtiers,  i.  48. 
Cocatrice,  i.  176. 
Cockle,  ii.  41. 
Cold,  ii.  4. 
Comparisons,  i.  186. 
Condition,  ii.  195. 
Conscience,  ii.  113. 
Contributions,  ii.  67. 
Contynuance,  ii.  23. 
Converse,  ii.  64. 
Cordevant,  i.  234. 
Corps  [of  guard],  i.  159. 
Covetise,  ii.  22. 
Created,  ii.  281. 
Crest,  ii.  140. 
Cross-arm'd,  ii.  63. 
Crownes,  i.  197. 
Cuffe,  i.  60. 
Cutchanel,  i.  43. 
Cuzko,  ii.  53. 
Cypres,  i.  273. 

D. 

Danes  [Massacre],  i.  39. 
Daungers,  i.  27. 


Davies  [John],  i.  104- 

Day,  i.  154. 

Dead  [men's  pay],  i.  10 ;  ii.  50. 

Dead  low,  ii.  71. 

Death,  i.  153 ;  ii.  162,  290. 

Degrees,  i.  159. 

Depart,  i.  154. 

Derives,  ii.  19. 

Descride,  ii.  291. 

Determined,  i.  151. 

Deuine  [children],  i.  27. 

Diet,i.  43.^ 

Dignities,  i.  160. 

Disaforested,  ii.  92-3. 

Disdain,  i.  181. 

Disfenc'd,  i.  278. 

Disgest,  i.  272. 

Dispos'd,  i.  272. 

Disseized,  ii.  300. 

Distress'd,  ii.  313. 

Disus'd,  i.  178. 

Dildoes.  i.  20. 

Do,  i.  29. 

Dole,  194  ;  ii.  281. 

Dow-back'd,  ii.  67. 

Dream,  i.  191. 

Drinking,  i.  13. 

Droppinges,  i.  21. 

Drum  [misprinted  Dunn],  i.  42. 

DuDgeons,  i.  27. 

Dunkirkers,  i.  42. 

Durty,  i.  168. 


Ear  and  eye,  ii.  310. 

Eare,  i.  94. 

Earnest,  i.  9-10. 

Ecstasie,  ii.  113. 

-ed,  ii.  63. 

Elaments,  i.  167. 

Elce,  i.  238. 

Electrum,  i.  159. 

Elegy,  i.  98. 

Elements  [and  humors],  i.  158, 

Elephant,  i.  94. 

Eloign,  ii.  190. 

Empaled,  ii.  93. 

Engine,  ii.  319. 

Enlarg'd,  n.  193. 

Epps,  i.  57. 


-SARIAN  INDKX. 


Equidistant,  ii.  112. 
Equivoque,  i.  203,  217. 
Ere,  i.  160. 
Escapes,  i.  175. 
Escurials,  i.  166  ;  ii.  35. 
Euell.  i.  29. 
Evil  Mayday,  i.  39. 
Express,  ii.  300. 

F. 

Fame,  i.  155-6. 

Farmers,  ii.  77. 

Fair,  ii.  28. 

Feary,  i.  174. 

Fellow-commissaries,  i.  156. 

Fie,  ii.  252. 

Fighting-place,  ii.  11. 

Finny,  ii.  12. 

Fish-davs.  i.  94. 

Flea,  ii.  158. 

Flee,  ii.  127. 

Fleets,  i.  272. 

Flesh,  ii.  75. 

Fligme,  ii.  65. 

Foes,  i.  2-. 

Forme,  i.  157-8. 

Foule.  i.  21. 

Freez,  i.  262. 

Fucus,  i.  232. 

Fulnesse  [of  God],  i.  100. 


Galenist.  ii.  23. 
Gallies,  ii.  11. 
Gallo-Belgicus,  i.  41. 
Gamp,  Mrs.,  i.  158. 
Gamut  chaungd,  i.  169. 
Gardens  =  guardians,  i.  25. 
Garreteer,  ii.  96. 
Geare.  i.  22. 
Gelly,  i.  273. 
Gests,  ii.  25. 
Ghest,  i.  156. 
Ghoast,  ii.  232. 
Gibralt,  ii.  340. 
Giddy-headed,  i.  12. 
Gluttony,  i.  21. 
Goo,  i.  26. 

Gowns  [scarlet],  i.  43. 
Grants,  i.  28. 


Grateness,  i. 
Great,  i.  2". 
Grefe,  i.  73. 
Greene,  ii.  101. 
Gregory,  i.  :_".». 
Grogaram,  i.  41. 
Grownd,  i.  33. 
Gues,  i.  7. 
Gummie,  i.  93. 

H. 
Had,  i.  156 ;  ii.  28. 

Hall[Bp.],  i.  150-1. 

Hamlet,  i.  153. 

Hard,  ii.  302. 

Harmony,  ii.  126. 

Harry,  i.  29. 

Hart,  i.  177,  179. 

Hear,  i.  59. 

Heere,  i.  190. 

Heights,  ii.  63. 

Hemlock,  ii.  93. 

Hence,  i.  12. 

Her,  ii.  42. 

Heyres,  i.  22. 

Hierarchy,  i.  198;  ii.  137,  140- 

1,  146. 
Hieroglyphic,  i.  58-9. 
His,  i.  151,  159. 
Hole,  i.  16. 
Hoore,  i.  6,  7. 
Hoorse,  i.  86. 
Horse  [Banks],  i.  12. 
Hould  [sole],  i.  21. 
Hoyting,  i.  95. 
Huishers,  i.  54. 
Hullinge,  i.  94. 
Husbands,  i.  170. 
Hydroptique,  i.  157,  176. 


'I,  i.  182. 
Ideat,  ii.  22. 
Immedicinable,  i.  229. 
Impotence,  ii.  202. 
Improv'd,  ii.  77. 
Inborn,  ii.  41,  131. 
Incongruity,  ii.  25. 
Indie,  i.  275. 
Indifferent,  i.  158. 


354 


GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 


Infant,  infantry,  i.  11,  151. 

Infer,  i.  156. 

Inform'd,  i.  93;  ii.  56-7. 

Ingenuetye.  i.  221. 

Ingled,  i.  176. 

Ingress,  erigross,  i.  93  ;  ii.  45. 

Inlayd,  i.  183. 

Inn,  i.  228. 

Inquire,  ii.  113. 

Integrity,  ii.  77. 

Intelligence,  ii.  312 

Intend,  ii.  64. 

Interre,  i.  156. 

Intent,  ii.  291. 

lolly,  i.  9,  93,  166. 

Ironsides,  i.  44. 

Iournals,  i.  157. 

Ioynte,  i.  160. 

J. 

Janus,  i.  90,  260. 
Jawes,  i.  22. 
Jest,  i.  48. 
Jovius,  i.  40. 
Just,  i.  20. 

K. 

Kick-shaws,  ii..  168. 
Kill,  i.  152. 
Killingly,  i.  19. 
Kinde,  ii.  87. 
Kindle,  i.  92, 
KiDg,  i.  12. 
Kist,  i.  176. 


Laberinth,  i.  159  ;  ii.  310. 
Lackie,  i.  237. 
Lamp,  i.  273. 
Last,  ii.  28. 
Last- sick,  ii.  142. 
Laura,  i.  157. 
Lay,  i.  159,  183. 
Laymen,  i.  225. 
Lechery,  i.  14. 
Legacies,  i.  158. 
Legats,  i.  153. 
Lemnia,  ii.  139,  141. 
Letargee,  i.  108. 
Lie,  ii.  6. 


Life's  [light],  ii.  234. 
Light,  i.  14. 

Limbeck,  i.  93-4;  ii.  131. 
Livelie-head,  i.  197. 
Livery,  i.  273. 
Loneness.  i.  40. 
Loose,  i.  89. 
Lotteries,  i.  233. 
Love,  ii.  41. 
Lucy  [St.],  ii.  205- 
Lungs,  ii.  12. 
Luxury,  i.  21. 

M. 

Macaron,  i,  13-14,  40-1,  42. 
Machabee's,  i.  44. 
Mages,  i.  121. 
Mandrake,  i.  92  ;  ii.  113. 
Man's,  i.  29. 
Many,  i.  166. 
Marmosit,  i.  170. 
Martin,  i.  29. 
Mawes,  ii.  10. 
Meanes,  i.  22. 
Meet,  i.  278. 
Menstruous,  i.  186. 
Merit,  ii.  84. 
Merly,  ii.  33. 
Microcosm,  i.  159. 
Middle  [street],  i.  10. 
Mine,  i.  40,  90. 
Mirreus,  i.  28. 
Mismotion,  ii.  126-7. 
Misse,  i.  217. 
Mistake,  i.  49. 
Mithridate,  i.  158  ;  ii.  31. 
Money  [single],  i.  154. 
Monster,  i.  10. 
Morallity,  i.  196. 
Morals,  ii.  25. 
Moschite,  i.  43-4. 
Motion,  i.  157. 
Mount,  i.  21. 
Muddy,  i.  11. 
Mues,  i.  36. 
Muse,  ii.  269. 
Muske-collored,  i.  11. 
My  and  thy,  i.  180. 
Mynd,  i.  29. 


GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 


35" 


N. 

Names,  i.  181. 

Neare,  i.  27. 

Neat,  i.  40. 

Nephews,  i.  90,  151. 

Newes,  ii.  79. 

New,  i.  56. 

Nice,  ii.  34. 

Night  [misprinted  *  might],  i 

14. 
Nigromancy,  i.  244. 
Nile,  i.  39,  156;  ii.  274. 
Nor,  i.  172. 
Nothing,  i.  63. 
Nurse,  i.  178. 

O. 

Obnoxious,  i.  159. 
Or,  i.  10. 
Orbitie,  ii.  298. 
Ore  tenus,  i.  217. 
Ore-licke,  i.  221. 
Orient,  i.  186. 
Others,  i.  159. 
Outstreat,  i.  94. 
Outswiue,  i.  20. 

P. 

Packe,  i.  158. 
Pain,  i.  91. 
Pair,  ii.  28. 
Pale,  i.  202. 
Panes,  i.  13. 
Paracels,  ii.  220. 
Parcel-guilt,  i.  10;  ii.  68. 
Pardie,  i.  56. 
Parenthesis,  i.  56. 
Parents,  i.  163. 
Peace,  i.  117. 
Peck'd,  i.  93. 
Perfection,  ii.  105 
Perfit,  i.  117. 
Perishing,  i.  4.55. 
Perjuries,  i.  213. 
Pethon's,  i.  237. 
Philip,  i.  29. 
Philosophy,  i.  154. 
Pinck,  i.  13. 
Pistolets,  i.  19,  197. 
Pitch,  i.  41. 


Plaguing,  i.  217. 

Plant,  i.  92. 

Platan,  i.  189. 

Plow-land,  i.  172. 

Poet  [scarsely  a],  i.  20. 

Point,  ii.  126. 

Pores,  i.  912. 

Portescue,  ii.  96. 

Pow'r  [and  glory],  i.  22. 

Poulain,  i.  251. 

Prayers  [last],  i.  59. 

Preach,  ii.  29. 

Prefer,  i.  159. 

Presence,  i.  43. 

'Press,  i.  234. 

Pretends,  ii.  41,  131. 

Prevent,  i.  262,  273;  ii.  281. 

Pricks,  i.  244-5. 

Prime,  i.  22. 

Primrose,  ii.  224. 

Prince,  i.  158;  ii.  57,  74. 

Print,  i.  13,  159,  160. 

Prise,  i.  10,  156;  ii.  252. 

Proffets,  ii.  301. 

Progress,  i.  150. 

Prove,  ii.  238. 

Punctuall,  i.  155. 

Puritan,  i.  10. 

Purls,  i.  233. 

Purchase,  ii.  319. 

Purslane,  ii.  130. 

Q- 
Quelque-choses,  ii.  168. 
Quick,  i.  95. 
Quinsy,  i.  160. 
Quitt,  i.  28. 

R. 
Raigne,  i.  117- 
Raise,  i.  10. 
Ram,  ii.  281. 
Ranckly,  i.  20. 
Rash,  i.  39. 
Raven,  i.  152. 
Raveninge,  i.  48. 
Ravishing,  i.  48. 
Receive,  i.  39. 
Recusant,  i.  181. 
Reformado,  i.  216. 


356 


GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 


Rented,  i.  152. 
Rents,  i.  197. 
Remoras,  ii.  22. 
Removings,  ii.  11. 
Repress,  ii.  45. 
Resist,  i.  86. 
Restorative,  i.  198. 
Resultances,  i.  155. 
Retain,  ii.  64. 
Retrive,  ii.  79. 
Rhimes,  i.  19. 
Ridd,  i.  28. 
Ribbon,  ii.  89. 
Ridlinglv,  i.  19. 
Rod,  ii.  313. 
Roe,  row,  i.  78. 
Roguery,  i.  172. 
Roorne,  i.  12,  28,  95. 
Rope,  i.  217. 
Ruggued,  i.  28. 
Ruinous,  i.  152. 


Safe-sealing,  i.  157. 
Saffron'd,  i.  186. 
Said  =  sad,  i.  127. 
Sancerra,  i.  186. 
Scant,  i.  44. 
Scarse,  i.  16. 
Scattered,  i.  153. 
Sceanes,  i.  11. 
Scheme,  i.  11,  197. 
Scott  measure,  i.  248. 
Scurfe,  i  186. 
'Sense,  i.  20. 
Sea,  i.  170. 
Secret,  ii.  346. 
Seed,  i.  160. 
Sere-barke,  i.  166. 
Serpent,  i.  155. 
Serue,  i.  29;  ii.  35. 
Several,  ii.  68. 
Shadow,  ii.  63. 
Shalt,  i.  10. 
Sheire,  i.  226,  228. 
She-state,  i.  60. 
Shipwrack'd,  i.  152. 
Shroud,  i.  158. 
Shut  in,  i.  151. 
Sicke,  i.  155. 


Silly,  i.  19,  95. 

Silence,  ii.  137. 

Since,  i.  183. 

Sinks,  ii.  137. 

Sins,  i.  11. 

'Size,  i.  20;  ii.  238. 

Skip,  i.  12. 

Slack- sin'ed,  ii.  9. 

Slacks,  i.  189. 

Sleep,  slip,  i.  56. 

Smack'd,  i.  40. 

Smell  [of  feet],  i.  13,  17(3. 

Snakts,  ii.  41-2. 

Snorted,  ii.  159. 

Snuffe,  i.  21-2.  191. 

Soder,  i.  192,  200;  ii.  47. 

Soft,  i.  20,  21. 

Soldarii,  ii.  127. 

Sole  [hould],  i.  21. 

Sombersalts,  i.  95. 

Sonnes,  i.  154. 

Soo,  i.  26. 

Sope  and  candle,  i.  250. 

Sooth-say,  ii.  7. 

Sought,  ii.  133. 

Soul,  i.  29,  91, 158-9 ;  ii.  72. 

Sould,  i.  40. 

Sowe,  i.  217. 

Sowldyer,  i.  28. 

Span-counter,  i.  41. 

Spangled,  i.  225. 

Spanish  [stamps],  i.  197. 

Sparrow,  i.  93. 

Spartane's,  i.  40. 

Specular,  ii.  48-9, 163. 

Spent,  i.  58. 

Spice,  i.  154. 

'Spittles,  i.  163. 

Spleen,  i.  27. 

Springes,  i.  222. 

Spunges,  ii.  22,  137. 

Stage,  i.  164. 

Stag,  i.  152. 

Stand,  Strand,  i.  43. 

Stars  [new],  i.  154-5. 

Starfull,  i.  158. 

State,  i.  12,  18. 

Station,  i.  190. 

Statues,  i.  42. 

Stay,  i.  13,  155 ;  ii.  6. 


GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 


357 


Stayres,  ii.  19. 
Still,  i.  225. 
Stones,  ii.  41. 
Stories,  i.  51. 
Straightened,  i.  78. 
Strait,  i.  155. 
Strange,  i.  28,  39. 
Strangest,  i.  39. 
Strode,  i.  17'.). 
Strooke,  i.  155. 
Stunck,  i.  60. 
Subtile-witted,  i.  11 
Sullen,  i.  28,  96. 
Sun,  i.  170,  206;  ii.  291. 
Supple-witted,  i.  11 
Surquedrie,  ii.  81. 
Sweare,  ii.  19. 
Swelling,  ii.  7- 
Swoln,  i.  198. 
Sydnean,  ii.  315. 

T. 
Tacklinge,  ii.  12. 
Taints,  i.  91. 
Tales,  ii.  25. 
Tax,  i.  202. 
Tear,  ii.  198. 

Tenarif,  Tenarus,  i.  155,  209. 
Tends,  ii.  24. 
Test,  ii.  19. 

That.  i.  11,157;  ii.  260. 
Thaw,  i.  151. 

Then=than,  i.  7,  tt  frequenter. 
There,  i.  189. 
This,  i.  11,  91,  153. 
Thou,  i.  176-7. 
Though,  i.  157. 
Thrise,  i.  151. 
Thrist,  ii.  310. 
Through,  i.  90. 
Through-light,  i.  156. 
Thrust,  i.  160 ;  ii.  74. 
Thus,  i.  153 ;  ii.  127. 
Th'y,  i.  26. 
Till,  i.  91,  93. 
Tincture,  ii.  45. 
-tion,  ii.  290. 
Tolerable,  i.  189. 
Tombe,  i.  189. 
Tome,  ii.  190. 


Too,  i.  8. 
Too-too,  ii.  6 
Torn,  i.  152. 
Touch,  ii.  93. 
Tough,  i.  169;  ii.  81. 
Towards,  i.  163. 
Tricesimo,  i.  16,  20. 
Trill,  i.  186. 
Trunks,  ii.  126. 
Tu=thou,  i.  11. 
Tuff-taffaty,  i.  39. 
Turcuoyse,  i.  155. 
Twincke,  i.  131. 
Tyde,  i.  196. 
Tyran,  i.  176. 

U. 

Unapparell,  ii.  126, 
Unprouidently,  i.  12. 
Unsaid,  ii.  136. 
Untrust,  i.  od  7. 
Unwipt,  i.  59. 
Upwards,  i.  49. 
Urge,  ii.  28. 
Use,  i.  222,  242. 

V. 

Vaile,  i.  10-11. 

Values,  i.  28. 

Yauzon  [misprinted  Yaugon], 

i.  42. 
Yenus,  i.  207. 
Yerdure,  i.  155. 
Yertu,  i.  27. 
Yext,  i.  164. 
Yiceroy,  ii.  291, 
Yie,  ii.  251. 
Viol,  ii.  243. 
Yirginia,  ii.  42. 
Yirginity,  ii.  131. 
Youchsafe,  i.  91. 

W. 

Ward,  i.  217. 

Ware,  i.  169. 

Warr,  i.  236. 

Was,  ii.  12. 

Water  [writ  in],  i.  213. 

Waxen  [gardens],  i.  43. 

Way,  ii.  7. 


358 


GLOSSARIAL  INDEX. 


Weaving,  i.  153. 
Whan,  i.  132. 
What,  ii.  113. 
Whatere,  i.  148. 
Wheal,  i.  186. 
W*=with,  i-  26. 
Whether,  i.  144;  ii.  75. 
Wind-miil,  i.  57-8. 
Windowy,  ii.  207. 
Wine,  i.  225. 
Wisdom,  i.  197. 
Witty,  i.  152. 
Wives,  i.  28. 
Won,  ii.  14. 
Wont,  i.  151,  176. 
Woos,  i.  16,  88. 
Worm-seed,  ii.  238. 


Worme,  i.  91. 

Worne,  i.  11. 

Wring,  wringing,  i.  21,  22. 

Written-on-both-sides,  i.  160. 

Wynd,  ii.  12. 


Yea,  i.  12-13 ;  ii.  49. 
Yet,  i.  11. 
You,  i.  176. 
Your,  ii.  173. 
Y*,  i.  11. 

Z. 

Zany,  ii.  63,  81. 
Zealously,  ii.  280. 
Zenith,  ii.  313. 


END  OF  VOL.  II. 


jFints. 


LONDON*. 
ROBSON  AND  SONS,  PRINTERS,  PANCRAS  ROAD,  N.W,