Skip to main content

Full text of "Poems"

See other formats 


Presented  to  the 
LIBRARY  of  the 

UNIVERSITY   OF   TORONTO 

hy 

The  Estate  of  the  late 

PROFESSOR  A.  S.  P.  WOODHOUSE 

Head  of  the 

Department  of  English 

University  College 

1 944.1  %4 


n 


ryj 


POEMS 


OP 


JOHN    DONNE. 


^\)c  iHuscs'  ^Cibrnni 


POEMS 


OF 


JOHN     DONNE 


BDITBT)    BY 

E.    K.    CHAMBERS 

WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 

GEORGE    SAINTS  BURY 

VOL.   1. 


LONDON : 
GEORGE  ROUTLEDGE  &  SONS,  LIMITED 

NEW  YORK:  E.  P.  DUTTON  &  CO. 


PR 

'i     >'"P10  1965 


\  ^, 


100626? 


PREFACE. 

John  Donne's  Poejns  were  originally  under- 
taken for  The  Muses  Library  by  Dr.  Brinsley 
Nicholson.  They  were  handed  over  to  me 
shortly  after  his  death  in  189 1.  I  have  had  the 
advantage  of  the  material  which  Dr.  Nicholson 
had  brought  together ;  but  for  the  book  as  it 
stands,  with  the  exception  of  the  Introducttoji^ 
which  Mr.  Saintsbury  has  kindly  contributed, 
I  am  alone  responsible. 

The  bulk   of   the  text   is  based    upon    the 

principal  seventeenth-century  editions,  those  of 

1633,  1635,  1650  and  1669.     No  one  of  these  is 

of  supreme  authority,  and  therefore  I  have  had 

no  choice  but  to  be  eclectic.     But  at  the  same 

time  I  have  endeavoured  to  give  all  variants, 

other  than  obvious  misprints,  in  the  footnotes. 

Here  and  there  one  or  other  of  the  innumerable 

MS.    copies    has    been    of    service.      I    have 

modernized    the    spelling    and    corrected    the 

exceptionally   chaotic    punctuation   of  the    old 
VOL.  I.  b 


vi  PREFACE. 

editions.  And  so,  though  much  remains  obscure, 
I  trust  that  I  have  provided  a  more  inteUigible 
version  of  the  Poeins  than  any  that  has  yet 
appeared. 

It  should  be  understood  that  a  reading  attri- 
buted to  any  one  of  the  printed  editions  in  the 
footnotes  is  retained  in  the  later  editions,  unless 
it  is  otherwise  stated. 

My  thanks  are  due  for  various  help  to  Dr. 
Grosart,  to  Mr.  J.  T.  Brown  of  Edinburgh, 
and  to  Mr.  A.  H.  Bullen.  Dr.  Nicholson's 
notes  contain  abundant  evidence  of  the  similar 
debt  which  he  owed  to  Mr.  J.  M.  Thomson  of 
Edinburgh. 

E.  K.  C. 


CONTENTS   OF  VOL.    I. 


PAGE 


r^REFACE          •••            •••            •••            •••            •••  * 

Table  of  Contents        vii 

Introduction        xi 

Bibliographical  Note xxxv 

The  Printer  to  the  Understandeus  xlv 
To  the  Right  Honourable  William 

Lord  Craven xlix 

Hexastichon  Bibliopolae       li 

Hexastichon  ad  Bibliopolam            ...  li 

To  John  Donne ...  Hi 

■Songs  and  Sonnets — 

•-   The  P'lea       ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  I 

The  Good-Morrow  ...         ...         ...         ...  3 

Song  :  Go  and  catch  a  falling  star             ...  4 

Woman's  Constancy            ...         ...         ...  5 

The  Undertaking     ...         ...         ...         ...  6 

The  Sun  Rising        ...         ...          ...         ...  7*"^ 

The  Indifferent         ...         ...         ...          ...  9 

Love's  Usury            ...         ...           ..         ...  10 

The  Canonization     ...          ...           ..          ...  12  v-^ 

The  Triple  Fool       14 

Lovers' Infiniteness ...         ...         ...         ...  15 

YSong:  Sweetest  love,  I  do  not  go             ...  16 

The  Legacy  ...         ...         ...         ...           ..  18 

'       A  Fever         ...         ...         ...         .. .         ...  20 

Air  and  Angels         ...         ...          ,.         ...  21 


viii  CONTENTS. 


I'AGK 

22 

23 


Break  of  Day  

[Another  of  the  same]         

The  Anniversary      ...  24 

A  Valediction  of  my  Name,  in  the  Win- 
dow       ...         ...         ...  ••■         •••  25 

Twickenham  Garden  ..  29 

Valediction  to  his  Book      7P 

Community   ...         ...         ...  ...         ■••  33 

Love's  Growth         ...         ...         ...         •••  34 

Love's  Exchange      ...         ...  ...         .■•  35 

Confined  Love         ...         ...         ...         •■•  ':! 

The  Dream 3^  ^ 

A  Valediction  of  Weeping  ..•  39"^ 

^"^ Love's  Alchemy       4' 

The  Curse 42 

The  Message  ...  43 

A  Nocturnal  upon  St.  Lucy's  Day,  bein;;  u' 

the  Shortest  Day  ...  ...  ...  45 

Witchcraft  by  a  Picture      ...  ...  47 

The  Bait        47 

The  Apparition        .-  ...  49 

The  Broken  Heart  ...         ...         ...         ...  50 

v/ A  Valediction  Forbidding  INIourning        ...  51*/ 

The  Ecstacy 53*^ 

Love's  Deity ...  56 

Love's  Diet  ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  57 

The  Will       59 

^^,,^he  Funeral  ...         ...         ...         ...  61 

-XThe  Blossom  ...         ...         ...         ...  63 

.    The  Primrose  ...         ...         ...         ...  64 

The  Relic      66  \/ 

The  Damp     ...         ...         ...         67 

i/The  Dissolution        ..  ...         ...         ...  69 

A  Jet  Ring  Sent       ...         ...         ...         ...  70 

jX^egative  Love  ...  ...         ...  71 

The  Prohibition        ..  ...         ...         ...  72 

ly^he  Expiration         ..  ...  ...         ...  73 

The  Computation     ...         ...         ...         ...  7^ 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


PAGE 

The  Taiaclox             74 

Song  :  Soul's  joy,  now  I  am  gone             ...  75 

Farewell  to  Love      ...         ...         ...         ...  76 

A  Lecture  upon  the  Shadow          ...          ...  78 

A  Dialogue  between    Sir   Ilcnry  \Vottoa 

and  Mr.  Donne             ...         ...         ...  79 

The  Token    ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  So 

Self-love        Si 


Epithalamions,  or  Marriage  Songs — 

On  tlie  Lady  Eliza1)elh  and  Count  Palatine 
Eclogue  :  at   the  Marriage  of  the   Earl  of 


^l 


Somcr.sct 

• 

.       S8 

Epithalamion  Made  at  Lincoln's  Inn 

..      9S 

Elegies — 

i  :  Jealou.sy         

102 

ii  :  The  Anagram 

.     103 

iii  :  Change           

.     ic6 

iv  :  The  Perfume 

.     107 

v  :  His  Picture 

.     no 

vi  : 

III 

vii  : 

..    113 

viii  :  The  Comparison 

.    114 

ix  :  The  Autumnal 

117 

X  :  The  Dream    ... 

•      ii9 

xi  :  The  Bracelet 

.     120 

xii  : 

.    125 

xiii  :  His  Parting  from  Her 

.    I2S 

xiv  :  Julia   ... 

.   132 

XV  :  A  Tale  of  a  Citizen  and  his 

Wife  '. 

.    ^11 

xvi  :  The  Expostulation    ... 

.  136 

xvii  :  Elegy  on  his  Mistress 

•   139 

xviii  :                                      ...•"•. 

.    141 

xix  :                                      

•    144 

XX  :  To  his  Mistress  Going  to  13 

cd 

.     I4S 

CONTENTS. 


Divine  Poems — 

To   the  E[arl]  of  D[oncaster],  with   Six 
Holy  Sonnets    ... 

1.  La  Corona 

2.  Annunciation 

3.  Nativity 

4.  Temple 

5.  Crucifying 

6.  Resurrection 

7.  Ascension 
To  tl)e  Lady  Wagdalen  Herbert 
Holy  Sonnets  :  i. — xvi. 
The  Cross 
Resurrection... 

The  Annunciation  and  Passion 
Good  P>iday,  1613,  Riding  Westward 
A  Litany 
Upon  the  Translation  of  the  Psalms  by  Sir 

Philip   Sidney  and    the   Countess   of 

Pembroke 
Ode  :  Vengeance  will  Sit  above  our  Faults 
To  Mr.  Tilman  after  he  had  Taken  Orders 
A  Hymn  to  Christ   ... 
The  Lamentations  of  Jeremy 
Hymn  to  God,  my  God,  in  my  Sickness 
A  Hymn  to  God  the  Father 
To  George  Herbert  ... 
A  Sheaf  of  Snakes  Used  heretofore  to  be 

my  Seal ... 
Translated  out  of  Gazaeus  ... 

Notes  to  Vol.  I 


PAGE 


167 
169 
170 
172 

174 


1S8 
190 
191 

193 
194 

211 

213 

214 

216 

217 


INTRODUCTION. 

JOHN  DONNE. 

There  is  hardly  any,  perhaps  indeed  there  is 
not  any,  English  author  on  whom  it  is  so  hard 
to  keep  the  just  mixture  of  personal  appreciation 
and  critical  measure  as  it  is  on  John  Donne. 
It  is  almost  necessary  that  those  who  do  not 
like  him  should  not  like  him  at  all ;  should 
be  scarcely  able  to  see  how  any  decent  and 
intelligent  human  creature  can  like  him.  It  is 
almost  as  necessary  that  those  who  do  like  him 
should  either  like  him  so  much  hs  to  speak 
unadvisedly  with  their  lips,  or  else  curb  and 
restrain  the  expression  of  their  love  for  fear  that 
it  should  seem  on  that  side  idolatry.  But  these 
are  not  the  only  dangers.  Donne  is  eminently 
of  that  kind  which  lends  itself  to  sham  liking, 
to  coterie  worship,  to  a  false  enthusiasm ;  and 
here  is  another  weapon  in  the  hands  of  the 
infidels,  and  another  stumbling-block  for  the 
feet  of  the  true  believers.    Yet  there  is  always 


xii  INTRODUCTION. 

something  stimulating  in  a  subject  of  this  kind, 
and  a  sort  of  temptation  to  attempt  it. 

To  write  anything  about  Donne's  life,  after 
Walton,  is  an  attempt  which  should  make  even 
hardened  ^crivaillciirs  and  ccrivassiers  nervous. 
That  the  good  Izaak  knew  his  subject  and  its 
atmosphere  thoroughly  ;  that  he  wrote  but  a 
very  few  years  after  Donne's  own  death  ;  and 
that  he  was  a  writer  of  distinct  charm,  are  dis- 
couraging things,  but  not  the  most  discourag- 
ing. It  is  perhaps  only  those  who  after  being 
familiar  for  years  with  Donne's  poems,  of  which 
Walton  says  very  little,  make  subsequent  ac- 
quaintance with  Walton's  presentment  of  the 
man,  who  can  appreciate  the  full  awkwardness 
of  the  situation.  It  is  the  worst  possible  case 
of  pcreant  qui  ante  iios.  The  human  Donne 
whom  Walton  depicts  is  so  exactly  the  poetical 
Donne  whom  we  knew,  that  the  effect  is  uncanny. 
Generally,  or  at  least  very  frequently,  we  find 
the  poet  other  than  his  form  of  verse  :  here  we 
find  him  quite  astoundingly  akin  to  it. 

The  attempt  however  has  to  be  made,   and 

it  shall  be  made  with  as  little  expenditure  of  art 

on  matter  1  as  possible.     John  Donne,  the  son 

of  a  London  merchant  and  a  lady,  who  was  the 

^  It  should  be  observed  that  the  matter  is  still  to  a  great 
extent  inaccessible.  The  dates  and  tacts  in  the  next  three 
pages  have  been  kindly  corrected  by  the  Editor,  in  ac- 
cordance with  researches  later  than  Walton's.     G.  S. 


INTRODUCTION.  xiii 

daughter  of  John   Hey  wood,  and  of  the  house 
of  Sir  Thomas  More,  was  born  in  or  about  the 
year   1573.     It   is    thought,   but  not    certainly 
known,  that  all  his  secular  poetry,  satiric  and 
erotic,  was  written  before  the  end  of  the  century, 
and  probably  most  of  it  before  he  was  five-and- 
twenty.     His  education,  both  in   secular    and 
religious  matters,  appears  to  have  been  peculiar. 
His  family  were  of  the  old  faith,  and  it  is  said 
to  have  been  for  this  reason  that  he  took  no 
degree  at  either  Oxford  or  Cambridge,  though 
he  was  a  member  of  both  Universities,  entering 
Hart  Hall  at  Oxford  in  his  eleventh  year,  and,  so 
Walton  tells  us,  removing  to  Cambridge  in  his 
fourteenth.     His  father  soon  died,  and  he,  in- 
heriting no   inconsiderable  portion,  was  trans- 
ferred to  Lincoln's  Inn,  perhaps  after  an  experi- 
ence of  foreign   travel.     Walton   will   have   it 
that  before   he   was  twenty,  he,  having  never 
actually   professed    the    Romish   faith,   argued 
himself  out  of  his  tendency  to  it  by  study.     But 
this  is  perhaps  rather  questionable.     What  is 
certain,  though  vaguely  certain,  is,  that  he  was 
for  some  years  a  traveller  and  a  man  of  pleasure, 
if  not  actually  a  soldier.     He  went  with  Essex 
to    Cadiz    in    1596,   and    visited    the    Azores, 
journeying   also  in  Italy,  and   in   Spain.      He 
is  thought  to  have  spent  his  fortune  in  these 
wanderings. 


xiv  INTRODUCTION. 

The   institution   of  great  men's   households, 
which  then  prevailed,  provided  a  kind  of  addi- 
tional liberal  profession  for  men  of  parts  and 
gentle  but  not  distinguished  birth  ;  and  Donne, 
on  his  return  to  England,  joined  the  household 
of  Chancellor  Sir  Thomas  Egerton,  afterwards 
Lord  Ellesmere.   Here  he  met  Anne  More,  Lady 
Egerton's  niece  and  daughter  of  Sir  George 
More,  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower.    A  clandestine 
marriage    (1601)   followed,   with   the  result  of 
great  wrath  on  Sir  George's  part,  the  dismissal 
of  Donne  from   Egerton's  service,  and  his  in- 
carceration with  his  two  friends,  Samuel  and 
Christopher  Brooke  (both  poets,  and  the  first 
aftenvards  Master  of  Trinity),  who  had  helped 
his  love-affairs.     These  troubles  he  won  throusrh, 
and  at  last  was  rc-united  to  his  wife  with  Sir 
George's  blessing,  but  none  of  his  money.     So 
the  pair   had   to  take  up  their  abode  with  a 
certain   Francis   Wollcy   of  Pirford,  at  whose 
death,  after  a  short  residence  at  Peckham  and 
Mitcham,  Donne  transferred  his  family  to  the 
house  of  Sir    Robert  Drury  in   London.      He 
also  accompanied  Sir  Robert  on  an  embassy  to 
France.    It  is  this  journey  in  reference  to  which 
a  famous   apparition   story  is   told.     There  is 
no    positive    evidence    to    show   why   Donne 
whose  strong   theological   leanings   must  have 
been  obvious  to  everybody,  and  who  had,  ac- 


INTR  OD  UCTION.  xv 

cording  to  Walton,  received  in  the  middle  of 
his  troubles  the  offer  of  a  considerable  prefer- 
ment from  Dean,  afterwards  Bishop,  Morton, 
did  not  take  orders  earlier.  But  he  told  Morton 
that  the  irregularities  of  his  early  life  prevented 
him,  and  the  tenor  both  of  his  sacred  and  pro- 
fane works  makes  it  probable  that  this  was  a 
vera  causa.  Still  there  are  other  facts  which 
show  that  he  had  not  abandoned  the  hope  of 
secular  office,  legal  or  other,  until  he  reached 
middle  life.  At  any  rate  it  was  not  till  1615  that 
the  express  desire  of  the  king  (coupled  with  his 
sacred  Majesty's  equally  express  refusal,  even  at 
Somerset's  desire,  to  make  him  anything  else) 
induced  him  to  take  orders.  James  at  once 
made  him  his  chaplain,  but  for  a  time  did  not 
confer  any  benefice  on  him ;  and  the  heaviest 
calamity  of  his  life,  the  death  of  his  wife,  to  whom 
he  was  passionately  attached,  fell  on  him  in 
1 61 7.  But  Lincoln's  Inn  made  him  its  preacher 
(Cambridge  had  conferred  the  degree  of  D.D. 
on  him  two  years  earlier),  and  he  again  went 
on  a  diplomatic  expedition,  this  time  with  Lord 
Hay  to  Germany.  At  last,  in  Nov.  162  r,  he  was 
made  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  and  other  preferments 
falling  in,  he  became  a  comparatively  rich  man. 
But  he  held  these  offices  not  quite  ten  years, 
and  died,  after  a  long  illness  (in  the  course  of 
which  he   had    the  strange   but   characteristic 


xvi  INTRODUCTION. 

fancy  of  being  painted  in  his  shroud),  on  March 
31,  163 1.  Broken  health,  the  loss  of  his  wife, 
the  bitterness  to  a  man  who  must  have  known 
himself  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  intellects  of 
the  age,  of  hopes  delayed  till  long  past  middle 
life,  and  no  doubt  also  sincere  repentance  for 
and  reaction  from  youthful  follies,  will  account 
for  much  of  the  almost  unparalleled  melancholy 
which  appears  in  his  later  works,  and  seems  to 
have  characterized  his  later  life.  But  a  con- 
r  siderable  residue  remains  for  natural  idiosyn- 
\  crasy,  and  for  the  influence  of  the  Renaissance, 
the  peculiar  pessimism  of  which  was  perfectly 
different  from  that  of  classical  times,  and  from 
that  of  our  own  day,  and  can  only  be  paralleled 
by  the  spirit  of  Ecclesiastcs. 

The   circumstances  of  his  life    however  do 

not  greatly  concern  us  here  ;  nor  does  that  part 

— an  eminent  and  admirable  part — of  his  work 

which  is  not  in  verse.     But  it  does  concern  us 

that  there  is  a  strange,  though  by  no   means 

unexampled,  division  between  the  two  periods 

of  his  life   and   the   two  classes  of  his  work. 

5  Roughly  speaking,  almost  the  whole  of  at  least 

\  the  secular  verse  belongs  to  the  first  division  of 

'  the  life,  almost  the  whole  of  the  prose  to  the 

second.     Again,  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the 

verse   is   animated   by  what  may  be  called   a 

spiritualized    worldliness    and    sensuality,   the 


INTR  OD  UC  TION.  x  vii 

whole  of  the  prose  by  a  spiritualism  which  has 
left  worldliness  far  behind.  The  conjunction  is, 
I  say,  not  unknown  :  it  was  specially  prevalent 
in  the  age  of  Donne's  birth  and  early  life.  It 
has  even  passed  into  something  of  a  common- 
place in  reference  to  that  Renaissance  of  which, 
as  it  slowly  passed  from  south  to  north,  Donne 
was  one  of  the  latest  and  yet  one  of  the  most 
perfect  exponents.  The  strange  story  which 
Brantome  tells  of  Margaret  of  Navarre  summon- 
ing a  lover  to  the  church  under  whose  flags  his 
mistress  lay  buried,  and  talking  with  him  of  her, 
shows,  a  generation  before  Donne's  birth,  the 
influence  which  in  his  day  had  made  its  way 
across  the  narrow  seas  as  it  had  earlier  across 
the  Alps,  and  had  at  each  crossing  gathered 
gloom  and  force  if  it  had  lost  lightness  and 
colour.  Always  in  him  are  the  two  conflicting 
forces  of  intense  enjoyment  of  the  present,  and 
intense  feeling  of  the  contrast  of  that  present 
with  the  future.  He  has  at  once  the  tran- 
scendentalism which  saves  sensuality  and  the 
passion  which  saves  mysticism.  Indeed  the 
two  currents  run  so  full  and  strong  in  him,  they 
clash  and  churn  their  waves  so  boisterously,  that 
this  is  of  itself  sufficient  to  account  for  the 
obscurity,  the  extravagance,  the  undue  quaint- 
ness  which  have  been  charged  against  him. 
He  was  "  of  the  first  order  of  poets  "  ;  but  he  was 


xviii  INTRODUCTION. 

not  of  the  first  amongst  the  first.     Only  Dante 
perhaps  among  these  greatest  of  all  had  such  a 
conflict   and    ebullition  of  feeling  to   express. 
For,  as  far  as  we  can  judge,  in  Shakespeare,  even 
in  the  Sonnets,  the  poetical  power  mastered  to 
some  extent  at  the  very  first  the  rough  material 
of  the  poetic  instinct,  and  prepared  before  ex- 
pression the  things  to  be  expressed.     In  Dante 
we  can  trace  something  of  the  presence  of  slag 
and  dross  in  the  ore  ;  and  even  in  Dante  we  can 
perhaps  trace  faintly  also  the  difficulty  of  smelt- 
j  ing  it.     Donne,  being  a  lesser  poet  than  Dante, 
\  shows  it  ever}'where.    It  is  seldom  that  even  for 
f  a  few  lines,  seldomer  that  for  a  few  stanzas,  the 
\  power  of  the  furnace  is  equal  to  the  volumes  of 
I  ore  and  fuel  that  are  thrust  into  it.     But  the  fire 
I  is  always  there — over-tasked,  over-mastered  for 
(  a  time,  but  never  choked  or  extinguished  ;  and 
^  ever  and  anon  from  gaps  in  the  smouldering  mass 
there  breaks  forth  such  a  sudden  flow  of  pure 
■  molten  metal,  such  a  flower  of  incandescence,  as 
not  even  in  the  very  greatest  poets  of  all  can  be 
ever  surpassed  or  often  rivalled. 
\      For  critical,  and  indeed  for  general  purposes, 
the  poetical  works  of  Donne  may  be  divided 
into  three  parts,  separated  from  each  other  by 
a  considerable  difference  of  character  and,  in 
one  case  at  least,  of  time.    These  are  the  Satires, 
which   are  beyond  all   doubt   very  early ;   the 


INTRODUCTION.  xix 

Elegies  and  other  amatory  poems,  most  of 
which  are  certainly,  and  all  probably,  early  like- 
wise ;  and  the  Divine  and  Miscellaneous  Poems, 
some  of  which  may  not  be  late,  but  most  of 
which  certainly  are.  All  three  divisions  have 
certain  characteristics  in  common  ;  but  the  best 
of  these  characteristics,  and  some  which  are  not 
common  to  the  three,  belong  to  the  second  and 
third  only. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  the  late  seventeenth 
and  of  the  whole  of  the  eighteenth  century  that 
Donne,  though  a  clever  man,  had  no  ear. 
Chalmers,  a  very  industrious  student,  and  not 
such  a  bad  critic,  says  so  in  so  many  words  ; 
Johnson  undoubtedly  thought  so  ;  Pope  demon- 
strated his  belief  by  his  fresh  "tagging"  of  the 
Satires.  They  all  to  some  extent  no  doubt 
really  believed  what  they  said  ;  their  ears  had 
fallen  deaf  to  that  particular  concord.  But 
they  all  also  no  doubt  founded  their  belief  to  a 
certain  extent  on  certain  words  of  Dryden's 
which  did  not  exactly  import  or  comport  what 
Mr.  Pope  and  the  rest  took  them  to  mean. 
Dryden  had  the  knacl:,  a  knack  of  great  value 
to  a  critic,  but  sometimes  productive  of  sore 
misguiding  to  a  critic's  readers — of  adjusting 
his  comments  solely  to  one  point  of  view,  to  a 
single  scheme  in  metric  and  other  things. 
Now,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the   scheme 


XX  INTRODUCTION. 

which  both  his  authority  and  his  example  made 
popular,  Donne  was  rather  formless.  But 
nearly  all  the  eighteenth-century  critics  and 
criticasters  concentrated  their  attention  on  the 
Satires ;  and  in  the  Satires  Donne  certainly 
takes  singular  liberties,  no  matter  what  scheme 
be  preferred.  It  is  now,  I  believe,  pretty 
well  admitted  by  all  competent  judges  that  the 
astonishing  roughness  of  the  Satirists  of  the 

\  late  sixteenth  century  was  not  due  to  any 
general  ignoring  of  the  principles  of  melodious 
English  verse,  but   to   a   deliberate    intention 

\  arising  from  the  same  sort  of  imperfect  erudition 
which  had  in  other  ways  so  much  effect  on  the 
men  of  the  Renaissance  generally.  Satiric  verse 
among  the  ancients  allowed  itself,  and  even  went 
out  of  its  way  to  take,  licences  which  no  poet  in 

,■  other  styles  would  have  dreamt  of  taking.     The 

I    Horace  of  the  impeccable  odes  writes  such  a 

f    hideous  hexameter  as — 

I    "  Non  ego,  namque  parabilem  amo  Venereni  facilemque, 

and  one  of  the  Roman  satirists  who  was  then 
„  very  popular,  Persius,  though  he  could  rise  to 
j  splendid  style  on  occasion,  is  habitually  as  harsh, 
I  as  obscure,  and  as  wooden  as  a  Latin  poet  well 
\  can  be.  It  is  not  probable,  it  is  certain,  that 
I  Donne  and  the  rest  imitated  these  licences  of 
\  malice  prepense. 


INTRODUCTION.  xxi 

But  it  must  be  remembered  that  at  the 
time  when  they  assumed  this  greater  licence, 
the  normal  structure  of  English  verse  was 
anything  but  fixed.  Horace  had  in  his  con- 
temporaries, Persius  and  Juvenal  had  still  more 
in  their  forerunners,  examples  of  versifica- 
tion than  which  Mr.  Pope  himself  could  do 
nothing  more  "correct";  and  their  licences 
could  therefore  be  kept  within  measure,  and  still 
be  licentious  enough  to  suit  any  preconceived 
idea  of  the  ungirt  character  of  the  Satiric  muse. 
In  Donne's  time  the  very  precisians  took  a  good 
deal  of  licence  :  the  very  Virgils  and  even  Ovids 
were  not  apt  to  concern  themselves  very  greatly 
about  a  short  vowel  before  s  with  a  consonant, 
or  a  trisyllable  at  the  end  of  a  pentameter.  If 
therefore  you  meant  to  show  that  you  were  sans 
gene^  you  had  to  make  demonstrations  of  the 
most  unequivocal  character.  Even  with  all  this 
explanation  and  allowance  it  may  still  seem 
probable  that  Donne's  Satires  never  received 
any  formal  preparation  for  the  press,  and  are  in 
the  state  of  rough  copy.  Without  this  allowance, 
which  the  eighteenth  century  either  did  not 
care  or  did  not  know  how  to  give,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  they  should  have  seemed  mere 
monstrosities. 

The  satiric  pieces  in  which  these  peculiarities 
are  chiefly  shown,  which  attracted  the  attention 

VOL.  I.  <^ 


xxii  INTRODUCTION. 

of  Pope,   and    which,    through    his   recension, 
became  known   to   a  much   larger  number  of 
persons  than  the  work  of  any  other  Elizabethan 
Satirist,  have  the  least  share  of  Donne's  poet- 
ical interest.     But  they  display  to  the  full  his 
manly  strength  and   shrewd   sense,   and  they 
are  especially  noticeable  in   one  point.     They 
\  exhibit  much  less  of  that  extravagant  exagger- 
ation of  contemporary  vice  and  folly  which  makes 
jone  of  their   chief  contemporaries,   Marston's 
\  Scourge  of  Villainy^  almost  an  absurd  thing, 
'while  it  is  by  no  means  absent   from   Hall's 
Virgideiniartwi.     We  cannot    indeed   suppose 
that   Donne's   satire   was   wholly  and   entirely 
sincere,  but  a  good  deal  in  it  clearly  was.    Thus 
his  handling  of  the  perennial  subjects  of  satire 
is  far  more  fresh,  serious,  and  direct  than  is 
usual  with  Satirists,  and  it  was  no  doubt  this 
judicious  and  direct  quality  which  commended 
it  to  Pope.     Moreover,   these   poems   abound 
in    fine  touches.      The   Captain    in    the    first 
Satire — 

"  Bright  parcel-gilt  with  forty  dead  men's  pay — " 

the  ingenious  evildoers  in  the  second — 

•'  for  whose  sinful  sake, 
Schoolmen  new  tenements  in  hell  must  make — " 

the  charming  touch  at  once  so  literary  and  so 
natural  in  the  fifth — 


IN  TROD  UC  TION.  xxiii 

"  so  controverted  lands 
'Scape,  like  Angelica,  the  striver's  hands," 

are  only  a  few  of  the  jewels  five  words  long  that 
might  be  produced  as  specimens.  But  it  is  not 
here  that  we  find  the  true  Donne  :  it  was  not  this 
province  of  the  universal  monarchy  of  wit  that 
he  ruled  with  the  most  unshackled  sway.  The 
provinces  that  he  did  so  rule  were  quite  other  :  ( 
strange  frontier  regions,  uttermost  isles  where 
sensuality,  philosophy,  and  devotion  meet,  or 
where  separately  dwelling  they  rejoice  or  mourn  | 
over  the  conquests  of  each  other.  I  am  not  so 
sure  of  the  Progress  of  the  Soul  as  some  writers 
have  been — interesting  as  it  is,  and  curious  as  is 
the  comparison  with  Prior's  Ahna,  which  it  of 
necessity  suggests,  and  probably  suggested.  As 
a  whole  it  seems  to  me  uncertain  in  aim,  unac- 
complished in  execution.  But  what  things  there 
are  in  it !     What  a  line  is — 

"Great  Destiny,  the  Commissary  of  God  1 " 
What  a  lift  and  sweep  in  the  fifth  stanza — 
"  To  my  six  lustres  almost  now  outwore  1 " 

Wliat  a  thought  that— 

"This soul,  to  whom  Luther  and  Mahomet  were 
Prisons  of  flesh  !  " 

And  the  same  miraculous  pregnancy  of  thought 


xxiv  INTRODUCTION. 

and  expression  runs  through  the  whole,  even 
though  it  seems  never  to  have  found  full  and 
complete  delivery  in  artistic  form.  How  far 
this  curious  piece  is  connected  with  the  still 
more  famous  'Anniversaries,'  in  which  so  dif- 
ferent a  stage  of  "  progress "  is  reached,  and 
which  ostensibly  connect  themselves  with  the 
life  and  death  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Drury,  is  a 
question  which  it  would  be  tedious  to  argue  out 
in  any  case,  and  impossible  to  argue  out  here. 
But  the  successive  stages  of  the '  Anatomy  of  the 
World'  present  us  with  the  most  marvellous 
poetical  exposition  of  a  certain  kind  of  devotional 
thought  yet  given.  It  is  indeed  possible  that 
the  union  of  the  sensual,  intellectual,  poetical, 
and  religious  temperaments  is  not  so  very  rare ; 
but  it  is  very  rarely  voiceful.  That  it  existed  in 
Donne's  pre-eminently,  and  that  it  found  voice 
in  him  as  it  never  has  done  before  or  since,  no 
one  who  knows  his  life  and  works  can  doubt. 
That  the  greatest  of  this  singular  group  of  poems 
is  the '  Second  Anniversary,'  will  hardly,  I  think, 
be  contested.     Here  is  the  famous  passage — 

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

which  has  been  constantly  quoted,  praised, 
and  imitated.  Here,  earlier,  is  what  I  should 
choose    if    I    undertook   the   perilous   task    of 


INTRODUCTION.  xxv 

singling  out  the  finest  line  in  English  sacred 

poetry — 

"  so  long 
As  till  God's  great  Venite  change  the  song — " 

a  Dies  Ira:  and  a  Venite  itself  combined  in  ten 
English  syllables. 

Here  is  that  most  vivid  and  original  of  Donne's 
many  prose  and  verse  meditations  on  death,  as — 

"  A  groom 
That  brings  a  taper  to  the  outward  room." 

Here  too  is  the  singular  undernote  of  "  she  " 
repeated  constantly  in  different  places  of  the 
verse,  with  the  effect  of  a  sort  of  musical  accom- 
paniment or  refrain,  which  Dr>'den  (a  great 
student  of  Donne)  afterwards  imitated  on  the 
note  "  you "  in  Ash-aa  Redux,  and  the  Coro' 
nation.  But  these,  and  many  other  separate 
verbal  or  musical  beauties,  perhaps  yield  to 
the  wonder  of  the  strange,  dreamy  atmo- 
sphere of  moonlight  thought  and  feeling  which 
is  shed  over  the  whole  piece.  Nowhere  is 
Donne,  one  of  the  most  full-blooded  and  yet 
one  of  the  least  earthly  of  English  poets,  quite 
so  unearthly. 

The  Elegies,  perhaps  better  known  than  any 
of  his  poems,  contain  the  least  of  this  un- 
earthliness.  The  famous  '  Refusal  to  allow  his 
young  wife  to  accompany  him  as  his  page,' 
though  a  very  charming  poem,  is,  I  think,  one 


I 


xxvi  INTRODUCTION. 

of  the  few  pieces  of  his  which  have  been  praised 
enough,  if  not  even  a  little  overpraised.  As  a 
matter  of  taste  it  seems  to  me  indeed  more  open 
to  exception  than  the  equally  famous  and  much 
"  fie-fied "  '  To  his  mistress  going  to  bed,'  a 
piece  of  frank  naturalism  redeemed  from  coarse- 
ness by  passion  and  poetic  completeness.  The 
Elegies  again  are  the  most  varied  of  the  divisions 
of  Donne's  works,  and  contain  next  to  the  Satires 
his  liveliest  touches,  such  as — 

"  The  grim,  eight-foot-high,  iron-bound,  serving-man. 
That    oft    names  God    in    oaths,   and   only    than 
(z.  e.  then) — 

or  as  the  stroke — 

"  Lank  as  an  unthrift's  purse." 

In  Epithalamia  Donne  was  good,  but  not  con  • 
summate,  falling  far  short  of  his  master,  Spenser, 
in  this  branch.  No  part  of  his  work  was  more 
famous  in  his  own  day  than  his  *  Epistles ' 
which  are  headed  by  the  '  Storm '  and  '  Calm,' 
that  so  did  please  Ben  Jonson.  But  in  these 
and  other  pieces  of  the  same  division,  the  mis- 
placed ingenuity  which  is  the  staple  of  the 
general  indictment  against  Donne,  appears,  to 
my  taste,  less  excusably  than  anywhere  else. 
Great  passion  of  love,  of  grief,  of  philosophic 
meditation,  of  religious  awe,  had  the  power  to 


INTRODUCTION.  xxvii 

master  the  fantastic  hippogriff  of  Donne's  ; 
imagination,  and  make  it  wholly  serviceable ;  ' 
but  in  his  less  intense  works  it  was  rather  un-  ' 
manageable.  Yet  there  are  very  fine  things  here 
also ;  especially  in  the  Epistle  to  Sir  Henry 
Goodyere,  and  those  to  Lucy  Countess  of  Bed- 
ford, and  Elizabeth  Countess  of  Huntingdon. 
The  best  of  the  '  Funeral  Elegies '  are  those 
of  Mrs.  Boulstred.  In  the  Divine  Poems  there  is 
nothing  so  really  divine  as  the  astonishing  verse 
from  the  '  Second  Anniversary '  quoted  above. 
It  must  always  however  seem  odd  that  such  a 
poet  as  Donne  should  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
tag  the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah  into  verse, 
which  is  sometimes  much  more  lamentable  in 
form  than  even  in  matter.  The  epigram  as  to 
Le  Franc  de  Pompignan's  French  version,  and 
its  connection,  by  dint  of  Jeremiah's  prophetic 
power,  with  the  fact  of  his  having  lamented, 
might  almost,  if  any  Englishman  had  had  the 
wit  to  think  of  it,  have  been  applied  a  century 
earlier  to  parts  of  this  of  Donne.  The  '  Litany' 
is  far  better,  though  it  naturally  suggests  Her- 
rick's  masterpiece  in  divine  song-writing ;  and 
even  the  'Jeremiah'  ought  not  perhaps  to  be 
indiscriminately  disapproved.  The  opening 
stanzas  especially  have  a  fine  melancholy  clang 
not  unknown,  I  think,  as  a  model  to  Mr. 
Swinburne. 


xxviii  INTRODUCTION. 

But  to  my  fancy  no  division  of  Donne's  poems 
— the  '  Second  Anniversary  '  always  excepted — 
shows  him  in  his  quiddity  and  essence  as  do 
the  Lyrics.  Some  of  these  are  to  a  certain 
extent  doubtful.  One  of  the  veiy  finest  of  the 
whole,  'Absence,  hear  thou  my  protestation,' 
with  its  unapproached  fourth  stanza,  appeared 
first  in  Davison's  Poetical  Rhapsody  unsigned. 
But  all  the  best  authorities  agree  (and  for  my 
part  I  would  almost  go  to  the  stake  on  it)  that 
the  piece  is  Donne's.  In  those  which  are 
undoubtedly  genuine  the  peculiar  quality  of 
Donne  flames  through  and  perfumes  the  dusky 
air  which  is  his  native  atmosphere  in  a  way 
which,  though  I  do  not  suppose  that  the  French 
poet  had  ever  heard  of  Donne,  has  always 
seemed  to  me  the  true  antitype  and  fulfilment 
by  anticipation  of  Baudelaire's 

"  Encensoir  oubli^  qui  fume 
En  silence  k  travers  la  nuit." 

Everybody  knows  the 

"  Bracelet  of  bright  hair  about  the  bone  " 

of  the  late  discovered  skeleton,  identifying  the 
lover  :  everybody  the  perfect  fancy  and  phrase 
of  the  exordium — 

"  I  long  to  talk  with  some  old  lover's  ghost, 
Who  died  before  the  god  of  Love  was  born." 


INTRODUCTION.  xxix 

But  similar  touches  are  almost  everywhere. 
The  enshrining  once  for  all  in  the  simplest 
words  of  a  universal  thought — 

"  I  wonder  by  my  troth  what  thou  and  I 
Did  till  we  loved  ?  " 

The  selection  of  single  adjectives  to  do  the 
duty  of  a  whole  train  of  surplusage — 

"  WHiere  can  we  find  two  better  hemispheres 
Without  sharp  north,  without  declining  west?" — 

meet  us,  and  tell  us  what  we  have  to  expect  in 
all  but  the  earliest.  In  comparison  with  these 
things,  such  a  poem  as  '  Go  and  catch  a  falling 
star,'  delightful  as  it  is,  is  perhaps  only  a 
delightful  quaintness,  and  '  The  Indifferent ' 
only  a  pleasant  quip  consummately  turned.  In 
these  perversities  Donne  is  but  playing  tours  de 
force.  His  natural  and  genuine  work  re-appears 
in  such  poems  as  '  Canonization,'  or  as  '  The 
Legacy.'  It  is  the  fashion  sometimes,  and  that 
not  always  with  the  worst  critics,  to  dismiss 
this  kind  of  heroic  rapture  as  an  agreeable  but 
conscious  exaggeration,  partly  betrayed  and 
partly  condoned  by  flouting-picces  like  those 
just  mentioned.  The  gloss  does  not  do  the 
critic's  knowledge  of  human  nature  or  his  honesty 
in  acknowledging  his  knowledge  much  credit. 
Both  moods  and  both  expressions  are  true  ;  but 
the  rapture  is  the  truer.     No  one  who  sees  in 


XXX  INTRODUCTION. 

these  mere  literary  or  fashionable  exercises, 
can  ever  appreciate  such  an  aiibade  as  '  Stay,  O 
Sweet,  and  do  not  rise,'  or  such  a  midnight  piece 
as  '  The  Dream,'  with  its  never-to-be-forgotten 
couplet — 

"  I  must  confess,  it  could  not  choose  but  be 
Profane  to  think  thee  anything  but  thee." 

If  there  is  less  quintessence  in  'The  Message,' 
for  all  its  beauty,  it  is  only  because  no  one  can 
stay  long  at  the  point  of  rapture  which  character- 
izes Donne  at  his  most  characteristic,  and  the 
relaxation  is  natural — as  natural  as  is  the  pretty 
fancy  about  St.  Lucy — 

"  Who  but  seven  hours  herself  unmasks" — 

the  day  under  her  invocation  being  in  the  depths 
of  December.  But  the  passionate  mood,  or 
that  of  mystical  reflection,  soon  returns,  and  in 
the  one  Donne  shall  sing  with  another  of  the 
wondrous  phrases  where  simplicity  and  perfection 

meet — 

"  So  to  engraft  our  hands  as  yet 

Was  all  our  means  to  make  us  one, 
And  pictures  in  our  eyes  to  get 
Was  all  our  propagation." 

Or  in  the  other  dwell  on  the  hope  of  buried 
lovers — 

"To  make  their  souls  at  the  last  busy  day, 
Meet  at  this  grave,  and  make  a  little  stay." 

I  am  not  without  some  apprehension  that  I 


INTRODUCTION.  xxxi 

shall  be  judged  to  have  fallen  a  victim  to  my 
own  distinction,  drawn  at  the  beginning  of  this 
paper,  and  shown  myself  an  unreasonable  lover 
of  this  astonishing  poet.  Yet  I  think  I  could 
make  good  my  appeal  in  any  competent  critical 
court.  For  in  Donne's  case  the  yea-nay  fashion 
of  censorship  which  is  necessary  and  desirable 
in  the  case  of  others  is  quite  superfluous.  His 
faults  are  so  gross,  so  open,  so  palpable,  that 
they  hardly  require  the  usual  amount  of  critical 
comment  and  condemnation.  But  this  very 
peculiarity  of  theirs  constantly  obscures  his 
beauties  even  to  not  unfit  readers.  They  open 
him  ;  they  are  shocked,  or  bored,  or  irritated,  or 
puzzled  by  his  occasional  nastiness  (for  he  is 
now  and  then  simply  and  inexcusably  nasty), 
his  frequent  involution  and  eccentricity,  his  not 
quite  rare  indulgence  in  extravagances  which  go 
near  to  silliness  ;  and  so  they  lose  the  extra- 
ordinary beauties  which  lie  beyond  or  among 
these  faults.  It  is  true  that,  as  was  said  above, 
there  are  those,  and  many  of  them,  who  can 
never  and  will  never  like  Donne.  No  one  who 
thinks  Don  Quixote  a  merely  funny  book,  no 
one  who  sees  in  Aristophanes  a  dirty-minded 
fellow  with  a  knack  of  Greek  versification,  no 
one  who  thinks  it  impossible  not  to  wish  that 
Shakespeare  had  not  written  the  Sonnets,  no 
one  who  wonders  what  on  earth  Giordano  Bruno 


xxxii  INTRODUCTION. 

meant  by  Gli  eroici  Fut'ori^  need  trouble  him- 
self even  to  attempt  to  like  Donne.  "He  will 
TiQwerhave  done  ^'lih.  that  attempt,"  as  our  Dean 
himself  would  have  unblushingly  obscr\'cd,  for 
he  was  never  weary  of  punning  on  his  name. 

But  for  those  who  have  experienced,  or  who 
at  least  understand,  the  ups-and-downs,  the  ins- 
and-outs  of  human  temperament,  the  alterna- 
tions not  merely  of  passion  and  satiety,  but  of 
passion  and  laughter,  of  passion  and  melancholy 
reflection,  of  passion  earthly  enough  and  spiritual 
rapture  almost  heavenly,  there  is  no  poet  and 
hardly  any  writer  like  Donne.  They  may  even 
be  tempted  to  see  in  the  strangely  mixed  and 
flawed  character  of  his  style,  an  index  and 
reflection  of  the  variety  and  the  rapid  changes 
of  his  thought  and  feeling.  To  the  praise  of  the 
highest  poetical  art  he  cannot  indeed  lay  claim- 
He  is  of  course  entitled  to  the  benefit  of  the  pleas 
that  it  is  uncertain  whether  he  ever  prepared 
definitely  for  the  press  a  single  poetical  work 
of  his ;  that  it  is  certain  that  his  age  regarded 
his  youth  with  too  much  disapproval  to  bestow 
any  critical  care  on  his  youthful  poems.  But  it 
may  be  retorted  that  no  one  with  the  finest  sense 
of  poetry  as  an  art,  could  have  left  things  so 
formless  as  he  has  left,  that  it  would  have  been 
intolerable  pain  and  grief  to  any  such  till  he  had 
got  them,  even  in  MS.,  into  shape.     The  retort 


INTRODUCTION,  x«iii 

is  valid.  But  if  Donne  cannot  receive  the  praise 
due  to  the  accomplished  poetical  artist,  he  has 
that  not  perhaps  higher  but  certainly  rarer,  of 
the  inspired  poetical  creator.  No  study  could 
have  bettered — I  hardly  know  whether  any 
study  could  have  produced — such  touches  as 
the  best  of  those  which  have  been  quoted,  and 
as  many  which  perforce  have  been  left  out  And 
no  study  could  have  given  him  the  idiosyncrasy 
which  he  has.  Nos  passions^  says  Bossuet,  ont 
que! que  chose  (Cin/ini.  To  express  infinity  no 
doubt  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  But  no  poet 
has  gone  nearer  to  the  hinting  and  adumljra- 
tion  of  this  infinite  quality  of  passion,  and  of 
the  relapses  and  reactions  from  passion,  than 
the  author  of  'The  Second  Anniversary'  and 
'  The  Dream,'  of  *  The  Rcliquc '  and  *  The 
Ecstasy.' 

GKOKGE    S.MNTSBURy. 


XXXV 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE. 


There  is  no  doubt  that,  during  his  lifetime,  John 
Donne  enjoyed  an  extraordinary  reputation  as  a  poet. 
Nevertheless  it  does  not  appear  that,  with  the  exception 
of  the  Anatomy  of  the  World,  the  Elegy  on  Prince 
Henry,  and  two  or  three  sets  of  commendatory  and 
other  verses,  any  of  his  poetry  was  printed  before  the 
posthumous  quarto  of  1633.  I  am  aware  that  Dr. 
Grosart  has  a  mare's-nest  theory  of  one  or  perhaps  two, 
earlier  "now-missing  privately-printed "  collections,  but 
this  theory  is  built  on  the  flimsiest  of  evidence.  Dr. 
Grosart  quotes  in  support  of  it — 

{a)  The  entry  of  "Jhone  Done's  Lyriques"  among  the 
books  read  by  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  in  1613 
{Archaeologia  Scotica,  vol.  iv.). 

[b)  An  epigram  of  Freeman's  published  in  1614,  of 
which  he  says,  "  Freeman  in  1614,  in  his  Rubbe  and  a 
Great  Cast,  has  an  epigram  to  Donne,  in  which  he 
celebrates  his  Storme  and  Calme,  and  two  'short' 
satires."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  epigram  is  in  Runne 
and  a  Great  Cast,  which  is  the  second  part,  as  Rubbe 
and  a  Great  Cast  is  the  first,  of  Freeman's  book,  and  it 
does  not  speak  of  two  short  Satires,  but  of  Satires  which 
are  too  short,  a  very  different  thing. 

Ep.  84. 

To  John  Dunne. 

"  The  Storm  described  hath  set  thy  name  afloat ; 
Thy  Calm  a  gale  of  famous  wind  hath  got ; 
Thy  Satires  short,  too  soon  we  them  o'erlook  ; 
1  prithee,  Persius,  write  a  bigger  book. " 


xxxvi        BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   NOTE. 

[c)  The  well-known  lines  from  Ben  Jonson's  Epignimi 
{1616),  entitled  To  Lucy ^  Countess  of  Bedford,  with  Mr. 
Donne's  Satires,  and  beginning — 

"  Lucy,  you  brightness  of  our  Sphere,  who  are 
Life  of  the  Muses'  day,  their  morning  Star." 

(d)  A  letter  by  Donne  to  his  friend  George  Garrard, 
dated  April  14,  1612,  in  which,  speaking  of  the  Anni- 
versaries, he  says:  "Of  my  Anniversaries,  the  fault 
that  I  acknowledge  in  myself  is  to  have  descended  to 
print  anything  in  verse,  which,  though  it  have  excuse 
even  in  our  times,  by  men  who  profess  and  practise  much 
gravity;  yet  I  conless  I  wonder  how  I  declined  to  it, 
and  do  not  pardon  myself"  (Alford,  voi.  vi.  p.  353). 
Almost  precisely  similar  expressions  occur  in  two  other 
letters  written  about  the  same  date.  One  of  these  has 
no  heading  (Alford,  vol.  vi.  p.  338)  ;  the  other  is  headed 
"To  Sir  G.  F."  (Alford,  vol.  vi.  p.  333). 

To  my  mind  the  clear  implication  of  these  letters  is, 
not  that  there  were  "other  things  printed"  of  Donne's 
besides  the  Anniversaries,  but  that  the  Anniversaries 
were  in  1612  the  only  things  he  had  printed.  With  regard 
to  Dr.  Grosart's  three  other  pieces  of  evidence,  there  is 
nothing  to  show  that  they  refer  to  anything  but  verses 
circulated  in  manuscript.  It  is  quite  clear  that  manuscript 
"books"  or  collections  of  Donne's  pieces,  as  distinguished 
from  scattered  poems,  were  in  existence.  And  amongst 
Donne's  letters  is  one  to  Sir  Robert  Karr,  written  in  1619 
(Alford,  vol.  vi.  p.  373),  in  which  he  sends  him  a  copy  of 
his  poems,  togetherwitli  " another  book,"the  Biat/ianatos, 
which  he  definitely  states  had  not  been  and  was  not  to  be 
published.  A  short  MS.,  probably  resembling  that  which 
Freeman  saw,  is  to  be  found  in  Queen's  College,  Oxford 
(MS.  216,  f.  198).  It  contains  only  the  first  five  Satires, 
the  Storm  and  Calm,  and  one  lyrical  poem,  The  Curse, 
there  called  Dirae. 

I  come  now  to  a  point  which  Dr.  Grosart  has  alto- 
gether overlooked.  In  a  letter  to  Sir  Henry  Goodyere, 
written  just  before  Donne  took  orders,  and  dated  Vigilia 
St.  Thomas,  December  20,  1614  (Alford,  vol.  vi.  p. 
367),  occurs  the  following  passage — 

"  One  thing  more  I  must  tell  you  ;  but  so  softly,  that 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE,       xxxyR 

I  am  loth  to  hear  myself :  and  so  softly,  that  if  that  good 
lady  were  in  the  room,  with  you  and  this  letter,  she 
might  not  hear.  It  is,  that  I  am  brought  to  a  necessity 
of  printing  my  poems,  and  addressing  tliem  to  my  Lord 
Chamberlain.  This  I  mean  to  do  forthwith  ;  not  for 
much  public  view,  but  at  mine  own  cost,  a  few  copies. 
I  apprehend  some  incongruities  in  tlie  resolution  ;  and 
1  know  what  I  shall  suffer  from  many  interpretations  ; 
but  I  am  at  an  end,  of  much  considering  that ;  and,  if  I 
were  as  startling  in  that  kind,  as  I  ever  was,  yet  in  this 
particular,  I  am  under  an  unescapable  necessity,  as  I 
shall  let  you  perceive  when  I  see  you.  By  this  occasion 
1  am  made  a  rhapsodist  of  mine  own  rags,  and  that  cost 
me  more  diligence,  to  seek  them,  than  it  did  to  make 
them.  This  made  me  ask  to  borrow  that  old  book  of 
you,  whicli  it  will  be  too  late  to  see,  for  that  use,  when 
I  see  you  :  for  I  must  do  this  as  a  valediction  to  the 
world,  before  I  take  orders.  But  this  is  it,  I  am  to  ask 
you  :  whether  you  ever  made  any  such  use  of  the  letter 
in  verse,  d  nostre  conitesse  chez  vous,  as  that  I  may  not 
put  it  in,  amongst  the  rest  to  persons  of  that  rank  ;  for 
I  desire  it  very  much,  that  something  should  bear  her 
name  in  the  book,  and  I  would  be  just  to  my  written 
words  to  my  Lord  Harrington  to  write  nothing  after 
that.  I  pray  tell  me  jis  soon  as  you  can,  if  1  be  at 
liberty  to  insert  that :  for  if  you  have  by  any  occasion 
applied  any  pieces  to  it,  1  see  not,  tliat  it  will  be  discerned, 
when  it  ajipears  in  tht;  whole  piece.  Though  this  be 
a  little  matter,  I  would  be  sorry  not  to  have  an  ac- 
count of  it,  within  as  little  after  New  Year's-tide,  as  you 
could." 

This  letter  is,  I  think,  sufficient  proof  that  Donne  had 
not  printed  his  poems  before  the  end  of  1614  ;  in  the 
absence  of  any  extant  copy  it  is  probable  that  his  intention 
to  print  them  then  was  never  realized.  Just  such  another 
intention,  indeed,  he  must  already  have  had  in  1601, 
when  he  wrote  the  Epistle  to  his  Progress  of  the  Soul. 
That  is  evidently  intended  to  follow  the  portrait-frontis- 
piece of  a  printed  book.  It  begins,  "Others  at  the 
porches  and  entries  of  their  buildings  set  their  arms  ;  I, 
my  picture."  But  it  is  still  more  unlikely  that  he  printed 
them  after  he  had  taken  orders.  As  to  this  we  have 
the  evidence  both  of  Ben  Jonson  and  of  Walton.  Ben 
Jonson  said  to  Drummond   in   1618-19   {Conversations, 

VOL.   I.  ^ 


xxxviii    BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   NOTE. 

ed.  Laing,  Shakespeare  Society,  p.  9),  that  Donne, 
"since  he  was  made  Doctor,  repenteth  highly  and  seeketh 
to  destroy  all  his  poems."  Walton  perhaps  in  his  Lije 
(ed.  1640)  represents  Donne's  state  of  mind  more  accur- 
ately.    He  writes — 

"The  recreations  of  his  youth  were  poetry,  in  which  he 
was  so  happy  as  if  Nature  and  all  her  varieties  had  been 
made  only  to  exercise  his  sharp  wit  and  high  fancy  ;  and 
in  those  pieces  which  were  facetiously  composed  and 
carelessly  scattered — most  of  them  being  written  before 
the  twentieth  year  of  his  age — it  may  appear  by  his  choice 
metaphors  that  both  Nature  and  all  the  arts  joined  to 
assist  him  with  their  utmost  skill.  It  is  a  truth  that  in 
his  penitential  years,  viewing  some  of  those  pieces  that 
had  been  loosely — God  knows,  too  loosely — scattered 
in  his  youth,  he  wislied  they  had  been  abortive,  or  so 
short-lived  that  his  own  eyes  had  witnessed  their 
funerals ;  but,  though  lie  was  no  friend  to  them,  he 
was  not  so  fallen  out  with  heavenly  poetry  as  to  forsake 
that ;  no,  not  in  his  declining  age,  witnessed  then  by 
many  divine  sonnets,  and  other  high,  holy  and  harmonious 
composures." 

But  if  Donne's  poems  were  not  printed,  they  had  at 
any  rate  a  wide  circulation  in  MSS.  among  the  wits  and 
hterary  men  of  the  age.  This  is  evident,  firstly,  from 
his  letters,  many  of  which  accompanied  a  copy  of  verses 
to  some  friend  or  patron  ;  secondly,  from  the  frequent 
and  admiring  mention  of  his  contemporaries;  and,  thirdly, 
from  the  commonplace-books  of  the  period,  in  which  he 
figures  very  prominently.  One  result  of  this  popularity 
appears  to  have  been  the  ascription  to  him  of  a  number 
of  poems  really  by  other  men.  If  tlie  author  of  a 
particular  poem  was  unknown,  it  came  very  naturally  to 
the  compiler  of  a  commonplace-book  to  append  to  it  the 
initials  J.  D.  (See  the  Appendices  to  this  edition, 
passim.)  There  is  an  apparent  allusion  to  this  esoteric 
reputation,  which  Donne  enjoyed,  in  Drayton's  Epistle  to 
Henry  Reynolds,  Of  Poets  and  Poesy  (published  in  1627, 
but  perhaps  written  earlier).  After  givin_j  a  catalogue, 
which  includes  nearly  all  the  writers  of  the  day  except 
Donne,  Drayton  continues — 

"  For  such  whose  poems,  be  they  ne'er  so  rare, 
In  private  chambers  that  encloister'd  are, 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE.       xxxix 

And  by  transcription  daintily  must  go, 
As  though  the  world  unworthy  were  to  know 
Their  rich  composures,  let  those  men  that  keep 
These  wondrous  relics  in  their  judgment  deep. 
And  cry  them  up  so,  let  such  pieces  be 
Spoke  of  by  those  that  shall  come  aftei  me, 
I  pass  not  for  them." 

I  am  afraid  that  Drayton  was  not  allowed  to  have  a 
copy. 

The  passage  from  Walton's  Life  which  I  have  quoted 
above  is  of  service  also  in  helping  to  determine  the  date 
of  Donne's  work  in  the  field  of  poetry.  As  here  too  Dr. 
Grosart  has  gone  wrong,  it  is  worth  while  to  put  together 
some  additional  testimony  of  Walton  and  others  on  the 
matter.  It  all  points  to  the  fact  that  on  the  whole,  al- 
though they  overlap  considerably,  the  secular  are  earher 
in  date  than  the  sacred  poems. 

{a)  There  are  the  lines  by  Walton,  printed  beneath  the 
portrait  frontispiece  by  Marshall  to  the  Poems  of  1635. 
The  portrait  is  dated  "Anno  D""*  1591,  aetatis  suae  18." 

"This   was,  for  youth,  strength,  mirth,  and   wit,  that 
time 
Most  count  their  golden  age  ;  but  'twas  not  thine. 
Thine  was  thy  later  years,  so  much  refined 
From  youth's  dross,  mirth,  and  wit,  as  thy  pure  mind 
Thought  (hke  the  angels)  nothing  but  the  praise 
Of  thy  Creator  in  those  last  best  days. 
Witness  this  book,  thy  Emblem,  which  begins 
With  Love ;  but  ends  with  sighs  and  tears  for  sins. ' 

(b)  There  is  the  following  passage  in  Walton's  Elegy, 
written  April  7,  1631,  first  printed  together  with  the  Life 
in  the  LXXX  Sermofts  of  1640. 

"  Did  his  youth  scatter  poetry,  wherein 
Lay  Love's  philosophy  ?  was  every  sin 
Pictured  in  his  sharp  satires,  made  so  foul. 
That  some  have  fear'd  sin's  shapes,  and  kept  their  soul 
Safer  by  reading  verse  ;  did  he  give  days. 
Past  marble  monuments,  to  those  whose  praise 
He  would  perpetuate  ?     Did  he — I  fear 
Envy  will  doubt— these  at  his  twentieth  year? 


xl  BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE. 

But,  more  matured,  did  his  rich  soul  conceive 
And  in  harmonious  holy  numbers  weave 
A  crown  of  sacred  sonnets,  fit  to  adorn 
A  dying  martyr's  brow,  or  to  be  worn 
On  that  blest  head  of  Mary  Magdalen, 
After  she  wiped  Christ's  feet,  but  not  till  then  ; 
Did  he — fit  for  such  penitents  as  she 
And  he  to  use — leave  us  a  Litany, 
Which  all  devout  men  love,  and  doubtless  shall, 
As  times  grow  better,  grow  more  classical  ? 
Did  he  write  hymns,  for  piety  and  wit. 
Equal  to  those  great  grave  Prudentius  writ?" 

\c)  Drummond  of  Hawthornden  made  the  following 
note  of  a  remark  of  Ben  Jonson's  to  him,  in  1618-19 
{Conversatio7is,  ed.  Laing,  p.  8) — 

"  He  esteemeth  John  Done  the  first  poet  in  the  world  in 

some  things :  his  verses  of  the  Lost  Chain  he  hath  by 

heart ;  and  that  passage  of  the  Calm,   That  dust  and 

feathers  doe  not  stirr,  all  was  so  quiet.     Affirmeth  Done 

to  have  written  all  his  best  pieces  ere  he  was  25  years  old. " 

{d)  The  evidence  of  Walton  and  Jonson  is  supported 
by  John  Chudleigh  in  his  Elegy,  printed  with  the  Poems 
of  1650. 

"  Long  since  this  task  of  tears  from  you  was  due, 
Long  since,  O  Poets,  he  did  die  to  you. 
Or  left  you  dead,  when  wit  and  he  took  flight 
On  divine  wings,  and  soar'd  out  of  your  sight. 
Preachers,  'tis  you  must  weep  ;  the  wit  he  taught 
You  do  enjoy  ;  the  Rebels  which  he  brought 
From  ancient  discord.  Giant  faculties, 
And  now  no  more  religious  enemies  ; 
Honest  to  knowing,  unto  virtuous  sweet, 
Witty  to  good,  and  learned  to  discreet, 
He  reconciled,  and  bid  the  usurper  go  ; 
Dullness  to  vice,  religion  ought  to  flow  ; 
He  kept  his  loves,  but  not  his  objects  ;  wit 
He  did  not  banish,  but  transplanted  it. 
Taught  it  his  place  and  use,  and  brought  it  home 
To  Piety,  which  it  doth  best  become  ; 
He  shew'd  us  how  for  sins  we  ought  to  sigh, 
And  how  to  sing  Christ's  Epithalamy  :" 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE.  xli 

Donne  was  born  in  1573,  so  that  if  we  take  Walton's 
"  twentieth  year "  and  Jonson's  "twenty-five  years"  liter- 
ally, we  get  1593  or  1598  as  the  date  before  which  most 
of  his  secular  poetry  was  written.  It  will  be  seen,  how- 
ever, from  the  few  poems  which  I  have  been  able  to  give 
a  date  to  in  the  notes,  that  no  inconsiderable  portion  even 
of  this  division  of  his  work  belongs  to  periods  later  than 
1600.  I  have  not,  however,  been  able  to  find  that  any  of 
it,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  Funeral  Elegies 
which  can  barely  be  called  secular,  is  subsequent  to  his 
ordination  in  1615.  On  the  other  hand,  the  ascertained 
dates  of  the  sacred  poetry  entirely  confirm  the  statement 
that  this  was  written  during  the  latter  part  of  his  fife,  for 
these  range  from  1607  to  1631.  Considering  the  whole 
matter,  I  have  come  to  the  following  probable  conclusion. 
The  Satires  and  the  Love-Poems  {Songs  and  Sonnets  and 
Elegies)  belong  to  the  beginning  of  his  life.  But  even 
here,  I  think,  it  is  possible  to  detect  an  earher  stratum  of 
cynicism  and  ethical  laxity,  and  a  later  stratum  marked 
by  intenser  and  more  constant  emotions,  and  by  a  grow- 
ing spirituality  of  thought.  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should 
not  date  the  cliange  from  the  years  which  separated  his 
first  acquaintance  with  Anne  More  (1596?)  from  his 
marriage  with  her  in  1601.  The  Divine  Poems,  as  ha3 
been  said,  come  last.  The  Verse  Letters,  Funeral  Elegies 
and  Epithalamia,  both  in  date  and  in  subject-matter, 
bridge  the  gulf  between  the  two.  Some  of  the  Verse 
Letters,  such  as  the  Stortn  and  the  Calm,  belong  to  the 
earlier  period,  but  a  good  many  of  them,  belong  to  1610 
or  thereabouts,  and  in  many  ways  they  show  Donne's 
poetic  powers  at  their  ripest. 

The  first  edition  of  the  Poems  was  entered  thus  upon 
the  Stationers'  Registers  ( Arber,  vol.  iv. ) — 

13''  Septembris,  1632. 
John  Marriott.  Entered  for  his  copy  under  the  hands 
of  Sir  Henry  Herbert  and  both  the 
Wardens,  a  book  of  verse  and  Poems 
(the  five  Satires,  the  first,  second,  tenth, 
eleventh  and  thirteenth  Elegies  being 
excepted),  and  these  before  excepted  to 
be  his,  when  he  brings  lawful  authority. 

vjd. 

written  by  Doctor  John  Dunn, 


xlii  BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE. 

Upon  a  subsequent  date,  October  31  of  the  same  year, 
the  allowance  of  the  Satires  was  noted,  but  no  further 
mention  is  made  of  the  excepted  Elegies.  The  book 
was  issued  in  1633.  It  is  a  small  quarto,  and  has  the 
following  title-page — 

Poems  I  By  J.  D,  ]  with  |  Elegies  I  on  the 
author's  death.  I  London  :  |  Printed  by  M.  F. 
for  John  Marriot,  ]  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop 
in  St.  Dunstan's  |  Churchyard  in  Fleet-Street,  1633. 

This  is  followed  by  the  Printer  to  the  Understanders 
and  the  Hexastichon  Bibliopolne.  The  poems  are  printed 
without  much  attempt  at  arrangement.  Eight  Elegies, 
numbered,  come  together  on  pages  44,  sqq.  Four  other 
Elegies  appear  in  other  parts  of  the  volume,  but  I 
suspect  that  the  five  mentioned  in  the  Stationers' 
Registers  entry  were  five  of  those  added  in  1635,  and 
that  Marriott  did  not  get  authority  for  them  in  time  for 
publication  in  1633.  The  Elegies  on  the  author's  death 
at  the  close  of  the  volume  are  by  Hfenry]  K[ing],  Thos. 
Browne,  Edw.  Hyde,  Doctor  Cforbet]  B[ishop]  of 
0[xford],  Hen.  Valentine,  Iz,  W[alton],  M.  Tho.  Carie 
[Carew],  Sir  Lucius  Carie,  M.  Mayne,  Arth.  Wilson, 
M.  R.  B.  [Anon  ;  Epitaph],  Endy.  Porter. 

The  second  edition,  which,  like  the  subsequent  ones, 
is  an  octavo,  appeared  in  1635.  There  is  a  portrait 
engraved  by  ISlarshall ;  the  Hexastichon  ad  Biblio- 
polam  is  added  to  the  prefatory  matter,  and  the  poems 
are  arranged  in  sections  beginning  with  the  Songs  and 
Sonnets  and  ending  with  the  Divine  Poems.  These 
changes  are  retained  in  the  later  editions.  The  title-page 
is  the  same  as  that  of  1633,  The  third  edition  of  1639 
and  fourth  of  1649  are  almost  identical  with  that  of  1635. 

In  the  meantime,  it  appears  by  a  document  in  the 
Record  Office,  dated  Dec.  16,  1637,  and  printed  by  Dr. 
Grosart,  that  legal  steps  had  been  taken  by  the  younger 
Donne  to  recover  certain  rights  over  the  Poems  which  he 
alleged  John  Marriott  had  disregarded.  The  dispute 
does  not  seem  to  have  interfered  with  the  publication  of 
the  editions  of  1639  and  1649  ;  indeed  it  would  appear  that 
the  conflicting  parties  came  to  terms,  for  the  fifth  edition, 
that  of  1650,  was  clearly  published  under  the  superintend- 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE.         xliii 

ence  of  the  younger  Donne  himself.     It  has  the  follow- 
ing title-page — 

Poems  |  By  J.  D.  |  with  |  Elegies  I  on  the 
author's  death.  I  To  WHICH  I  Is  added  divers 
copies  under  his  own  hand  \  never  before  i?i  print.  \ 
London.  |  Printed  for  John  Marriot,  and  are  |  to 
be  sold  by  Richard  Marriot  at  his  shop  |  by  Chan- 
eery  Lane"  end  over  against  the  Inner  |  Temple  gate, 
1650. 

The  Printer  to  the  Understanders  is  replaced  by  the 
dedication  to  Lord  Craven  ;  and  this  is  followed  by  the 
Hexastichon  Bibliopolae,  the  Hcxastichon  ad  BibliO' 
polam,  and  Ben  Jonson's  lines  beginning  "Donne,  the 
delight  of  Phoebus  and  each  Muse."  At  the  end  of  the 
Divine  Poems  is  inserted  a  kind  of  appendix,  containing, 
besides  some  additional  poems,  two  other  sets  of  verses 
on  Donne  from  Ben  Jonson's  Epigrams  of  1616,  a  prose 
sketch  entitled  News  from  the  very  Country,  already 
printed  in  the  sixth  edition  of  Sir  Thomas  Overbury's 
Characters  (1615),  a  burlesque  Latin  Catalogus  Lib- 
rorum  (see  Appendix  D),  and  what  appears  to  be  a 
Latin  address  to  Convocation. 

In  the  1635  and  all  following  editions  the  Elegy  by 
Tho.  Browne  was  omitted,  and  three  were  added,  signed 
respectively  by  Daniel  Darnelly,  Sidney  Godolphin,  and 
J.  Chudleigh.  The  sixth  edition  of  1654  resembles  that 
of  1650,  except  that  it  is  "Printed  by  J.  Plesher,  and 
are  to  be  sold  by  John  Sweeting  at  the  Angel  in  Popes- 
head  Alley,  1654." 

The  seventh  and  last  of  the  seventeenth-century 
editions  is  that  of  1669.  This  again  has  a  new  title-page, 
on  which  the  author's  name  appears  for  the  first  time  in 
fuU— 


POEMS,  etc.  I  By  |  John  Donne,  |  late  Dean  of 
St.  Pauls  I  with  elegies  |  on  the  |  author's 
DEATH.  I  To  which  is  added  |  Divers  Copies  under 
his  own  hand,  |  Never  before  printed.  |  In  the 
SA  VOY,  I  Printed  by  T.  N.  for  Henry  Herringman, 
at  the  Sign  of  |  the  Anchor,  in  the  lower- walk  of 
the  I  New  Exchange,  1669. 


xliv  BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE. 

Mr.  Hazlitt  {Handbook)  states  that  pages  95  to  98  of 
this  edition,  containing  Elegies  XIX.  and  XX.,  were  sup- 
pressed. All  the  editions  contain,  as  well  as  the  poems, 
thirteen  prose  letters,  of  which  eight  are  to  Sir  Henry 
Goodyere,  one  to  La[dy]  G[oodyere  ?],  one  to  the  Countess 
of  Bedford,  and  three  to  Mr.  G[eorge]  G[arrard]. 

The  book  evidently  underwent  considerable  revision  in 
1635,  1650,  and  again  in  1669.  Not  only  were  additional 
poems  printed  from  time  to  time,  but  also  there  exists 
great  divergence  of  reading  between  the  various  copies. 
Even  the  editions  of  1639  and  1654,  though  they  differ 
very  slightly  from  those  of  1635  and  1650  respectively, 
cannot  be  said  to  be  altogether  identical  with  them. 
These  variations,  which  are  especially  noticeable  in  the 
Songs  and  So7inets  and  in  the  Satires,  are  not  merely 
due  to  the  printers.  In  all  probability  most  of  Donne's 
poems  existed  in  several  more  or  less  revised  forms,  and 
it  was  something  a  matter  of  chance  which  form  was 
used  for  printing  a  particular  edition.  Nor  can  it  be  said 
that  any  one  edition  always  gives  the  best  text ;  even 
for  a  single  poem,  sometimes  one,  sometimes  another  is 
to  be  preferred,  though,  as  a  rule,  the  edition  of  1633 
is  the  most  reliable,  and  the  readings  of  1669  are  in 
many  cases  a  return  to  it. 

Certain  unpublished  poems  of  Donne's,  together  with 
others  which  are  not  really  his,  were  collected  by  Waldron 
in  his  Collection  of  Miscellaneous  Poetry  (1802),  and  by 
Sir  John  Simeon  in  one  of  the  Philobiblon  Society's  tracts 
(1856).  A  few  others  may  be  gathered  from  various 
printed  and  manuscript  sources.  These  will  be  found  in 
the  appendices  to  this  edition.  The  eighteenth-century 
and  modern  editions  are  mostly  of  httle  value.  That  by 
Dr.  Grosart,  privately  printed  in  the  Fuller  Worthies 
Library,  1873,  is  a  work  of  much  zeal,  industry  and  learn- 
ing. I  have  derived  benefit  from  it  in  many  ways. 
But  in  contains  many  inaccuracies,  and  the  text  is 
spoilt  throughout  by  being  taken  from  bad  MSS.  instead 
of  from  the  printed  copies. 

E.  K.  C. 


xlv 


THE   PRINTER 

TO 

THE    UNDERSTANDERS.' 

For  this  time  I  must  speak  only  to  you  :  at 
another,  Readers  may  perchance  serve  my  turn  ; 
and  I  think  this  a  way  very  free  from  exception, 
in  hope  that  very  few  will  have  a  mind  to  confess 
themselves  ignorant. 

If  you  look  for  an  Epistle,  as  you  have  before 
ordinary  publications,  I  am  sorry  that  I  must 
deceive  you ;  but  you  will  not  lay  it  to  my 
charge,  when  you  shall  consider  that  this  is  not 
ordinary,  for  if  I  should  say  it  were  the  best  in 
this  kind,  that  ever  this  kingdom  hath  yet  seen  ; 
he  that  would  doubt  of  it  must  go  out  of  the 
kingdom  to  inform  himself,  for  the  best  judg- 
ments within  it  take  it  for  granted. 

You  may  imagine  (if  it  please  you)  that  I 
could  endear  it  unto  you,  by  saying,  that  impor- 

*  From  tke  edition  of  1633. 


xlvi  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

tunity  drew  it  on ;  that  had  it  not  been  presented 
here,  it  would  have  come  to  us  from  beyond  the 
seas  (which  perhaps  is  true  enough)  ;  that  my 
charge  and  pains  in  procuring  of  it  hath  been 
such,  and  such.  I  could  add  hereto,  a  promise 
of  more  correctness  or  enlargement  in  the  next 
edition,  if  you  shall  in  the  meantime  content 
you  with  this  But  these  things  are  so  com- 
mon, as  that  I  should  profane  this  piece  by 
applying  them  to  it  ;  a  piece  which  whoso 
takes  not  as  he  finds  it,  in  what  manner  soever, 
he  is  unworthy  of  it,  sith  a  scattered  limb  of 
this  author  hath  more  amiableness  in  it,  in  the 
eye  of  a  discerner,  than  a  whole  body  of  some 
other  ;  or  (to  express  him  best  by  himself) — 


"  A  hand,  or  eye, 
By  Hilyard  drawn,  is  worth  a  history 
By  a  worse  painter  made " 


If  any  man  (thinking  I  speak  this  to  inflame 
him  for  the  vent  of  the  impression)  be  of  another 
opinion,  I  shall  as  willingly  spare  his  money  as 
his  judgment.  I  cannot  lose  so  much  by  him  as 
he  will  by  himself.  For  I  shall  satisfy  myself 
with  the  conscience  of  well-doing,  in  making  so 
much  good,  common. 

Howsoever   it   may  appear  to  you,   it   shall 
suffice  me  to  inform  you,  that  it  hath  the  best 


PRINTER  TO  THE  UNDERSTANDERS.  xlvii 

warrant  that  can  be,  public  authority,  and  private 
friends. 

There  is  one  thing  more  wherein  I  will  make 
you  of  my  counsel,  and  that  is,  that  whereas  it 
hath  pleased  some,  who  had  studied  and  did 
admire  him,  to  offer  to  the  memory  of  the 
author,  not  long  after  his  decease,  I  have  thought 
I  should  do  you  service  in  presenting  them  unto 
you  now ;  only  whereas,  had  I  placed  them  in 
the  beginning,  they  might  have  served  for  so 
many  encomiums  of  the  author  (as  is  usual  in 
other  works,  where  perhaps  there  is  need  of  it, 
to  prepare  men  to  digest  such  stuff  as  follows 
after),  you  shall  find^  them  in  the  end,  for  who- 
soever reads  the  rest  so  far,  shall  perceive 
that  there  is  no  occasion  to  use  them  to  that 
purpose ;  yet  there  they  are,  as  an  attestation 
for  their  sakes  that  knew  not  so  much  before,  to 
let  them  see  how  much  honour  was  attributed 
to  this  worthy  man,  by  those  that  are  capable  to 
give  it.     Farewell. 

1  163S  here  find 


xlix 


TO  THE   RIGHT   HONOURABLE 

WILLIAM   LORD   CRAVEN, 

baron  of  hampsted-marsham.^ 

My  Lord, 

Many  of  these  poems  have,  for  several  impres- 
sions, wandered  up  and  down,  trusting  (as  well  they 
might)  upon  the  author's  reputation  ;  neither  do  they 
now  complain  of  any  injury  but  what  may  proceed 
either  from  the  kindness  of  the  printer,  or  the  courtesy 
of  the  reader  ;  the  one  by  adding  something  too  much, 
lest  any  spark  of  this  sacred  fire  might  perish  undis- 
cerned,  the  other  by  putting  such  an  estimation  upon 
the  wit  and  fancy  they  find  here,  that  they  are  content 
to  use  it  as  their  own  :  as  if  a  man  should  dig  out  the 
stones  of  a  royal  amphitheatre  to  build  a  stage  for  a 
country  show.    Amongst  all  the  monsters  this  unlucky 
age  has  teemed  with,  I  find  none  so  prodigious  as 
the  poets  of  these  later  times,  wherein  men,  as  if  they 
would  level  understandings  too  as  well  as  estates, 
acknowledging  no  inequality  of  parts  and  judgments, 

1  From  the  edition  of  1650. 


1  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

pretend  as  indifferently  to  the  chair  of  wit  as  to  the 
pulpit,  and  conceive  themselves  no  less  inspired  with 
the  spirit  of  poetry  than  with  that  of  religion :  so  it 
is  not  only  the  noise  of  drums  and  trumpets  which 
have  drowned  the  Muses'  harmony,  or  the  fear  that 
the  Church's  ruin  will  destroy  their  priests  likewise, 
that  now  frights  them  from  this  country,  where  they 
have  been  so  ingenuously  received ;  but  these  rude 
pretenders  to  excellencies  they  unjustly  own,  who 
profanely  rushing  into  Minerva's  temple,  with  noisome 
airs  blast  the  laurel  which  thunder  cannot  hurt.  In 
this  sad  condition  these  learned  sisters  are  fled  over 
to  beg  your  lordship's  protection,  who  have  been  so 
certain  a  patron  both  to  arts  and  arms,  and  who  in 
this  general  confusion  have  so  entirely  preserved 
your  honour,  that  in  your  lordship  we  may  still  read 
a  most  perfect  character  of  what  England  was  in  all 
her  pomp  and  greatness,  so  that  although  these  poems 
were  formerly  written  upon  several  occasions,  and  to 
several  persons,  they  now  unite  themselves,  and  are 
become  one  pyramid  to  set  your  lordship's  statue 
upon,  where  you  may  stand  like  armed  Apollo  the 
defender  of  the  Muses,  encouraging  the  poets  now 
alive  to  celebrate  your  great  acts  by  affording  your 
countenance  to  his  poems  that  wanted  only  so  noble 
a  suljject. 

My  Lord, 

Your  most  humble  servant, 

John  Donne. 


Hexasticiion  Bibliopolae.* 

I  see  in  his  last  preacJi  d  and  printed  book^ 
His  picture  in  a  sheet  ;  in  PaiiTs  I  look. 
And  see  his  statue  in  a  sheet  of  stone. 
And  sure  his  body  in  the  grave  hath  one  ; 
Those  sheets  presait  him  dead  ;  these  if  you  buy. 
You  have  him  living  to  eternity. 

Jo.  ]\Iar[riot]. 


Hexastichon  ad  Bibliopolam. 
Incerti.2 

In  thy  impression  of  Donne' s  poems  rare, 
For  his  eternity  thou  hast  to! en  care: 
'  Twas  well,  and  pious  ;  and  for  ever  may 
He  live  ;  yet  show  I  thee  a  better  way  ; 
Print  but  his  sermons,  and  if  those  lue  btiy^ 
He,  we,  and  thou  shall  live  f  eternity. 

'   From  the  edition  of  1633. 
2  From  the  edition  of  1635. 


Hi  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


TO   JOHN    DONNE.i 

Donne,  the  delight  of  Phccbus,  and  each  Muse, 
Who,  to  thy  one,  all  other  brains  refuse ; 
Whose  every  work,  of  thy  7nost  early  tuit. 
Came  forth  example^  and  remains  so,  yet; 
Longer  a  knowing,  than  most  ivits  do  live  ; 
And  which  no^n  affection  praise  enough  can  give  I 
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. 

B.   JONSON. 

1  From  the  edition  of  iG^a 


SONGS   AND   SONNETS. 


THE   FLEA. 

Mark  but  this  flea,  and  mark  in  this, 
How  little  that  which  thou  deniest  me  is  ; 
It  suck'd  me  first,  and  now  sucks  thee, 
And  in  this  flea  our  two  bloods  mingled  be. 
Thou  know'st  that  this  cannot  be  said 
A  sin,  nor  shame,  nor  loss  of  maidenhead  ; 

Yet  this  enjoys  before  it  woo, 

And  pamper'd  swells  with  one  blood  made  of  two  ; 

And  this,  alas  !  is  more  than  we  would  do. 

O  stay,  three  lives  in  one  flea  spare,  lo 

Where  we  almost,  yea,  more  than  married  are. 
This  flea  is  you  and  I,  and  this 
Our  marriage  bed,  and  marriage  temple  is. 

I.  3.  i66g,  Me  it  suck'd  first  and  now  it  sucks  thee, 
1.  5.  1669,  Confess  it.    This 
1.  6. 1669,  or  shame ,  ,  ,  or        I.  9.  1669,  could 
1.  II.  1669,  nay 

VOL.  I.  T 


2  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Though  parents  grudge,  and  you,  we're  met, 
And  cloister'd  in  these  living  walls  of  jet. 
Though  use  make  you  apt  to  kill  me, 
Let  not  to  that  self-murder  added  be, 
And  sacrilege,  three  sins  in  killing  three. 

Cruel  and  sudden,  hast  thou  since 

Purpled  thy  nail  in  blood  of  innocence  ?  20 

"Wherein  could  this  flea  guilty  be, 

Except  in  that  drop  which  it  suck'd  from  thee  ? 

Yet  thou  triumph'st,  and  say'st  that  thou 

Find'st  not  thyself  nor  me  the  weaker  now. 
'Tis  true  ;  then  learn  how  false  fears  be  ; 
Just  so  much  honour,  when  thou  yield'st  to  me, 
Will  waste,  as  this  flea's  death  took  life  from  thee. 

L  22.  1669,  thai  blood 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS. 


THE  GOOD-MORROW. 

I  WONDER,  by  my  troth,  what  thou  and  I 

Did,  till  we  loved  ?  were  we  not  wean'd  till  then  ? 

But  suck'd  on  country  pleasures,  childishly  ? 

Or  snorted  we  in  the  Seven  Sleepers'  den  ? 

'Twas  so ;  but  this,  all  pleasures  fancies  be  ; 

If  ever  any  beauty  I  did  see, 

Which  I  desired,  and  got,  'twas  but  a  dream  of  thee. 

And  now  good-morrow  to  our  waking  souls, 

Which  watch  not  one  another  out  of  fear  ; 

For  love  all  love  of  other  sights  controls,  lo 

And  makes  one  little  room  an  everywhere.       | 

Tlet  sea-discoverers  to  new  worlds  have  gone  ; 

Let  maps  to  other,  worlds  on  worlds  have  shown  ; 

Let  us  possess  one  world ;  each  hath  one,  and  is  one. 

My  face  in  thine  eye,  thine  in  mine  appears, 

And  true  plain  hearts  do  in  the  faces  rest ; 

Where  can  we  find  two  better  hemispheres 

"Without  sharp  north,  without  declining  west  ? 

Whatever  dies,  was  not  mix'd  equally  ; 

If  our  two  loves  be  one,  or  thou  and  I  20 

Love  so  alike  that  none  can  slacken,  none  can  die. 

1.  3.  1669,  childish  pleasures,  sillily 

1.  4.  1669,  slumbered  L  5.  1669,  but  as 

1.  13.  1669,  to  other  worlds  our  world 

1.  17.  1635,  Jitter  1.  19.  1669,  is  not 

1.  20.  1635  both  thou  and  I 

Lave  just  alike  in  all,  none  of  these  loves  can  die. 


DONNE'S  POEMS. 


/ 


SONG. 

Go  and  catch  a  falling  star, 

Get  with  child  a  mandrake  root, 
Tell  me  where  all  past  years  are, 

Or  who  cleft  the  devil's  foot, 
Teach  me  to  hear  mermaids  singing, 
Or  to  keep  off  envy's  stinging, 
And  find 
What  wind 
Serves  to  advance  an  honest  mind. 

If  thou  be'st  born  to  strange  sights,  lo 

Things  invisible  to  see, 
Ride  ten  thousand  days  and  nights, 
Till  age  snow  white  hairs  on  thee, 
Thou,  when  thou  return'st,  wilt  tell  me. 
All  strange  wonders  that  befell  thee. 
And  swear. 
No  where 
Lives  a  woman  true  and  fair. 

If  thou  find'st  one,  let  me  know  ; 

Such  a  pilgrimage  were  sweet.  20 

Yet  do  not,  I  would  not  go, 

Though  at  next  door  we  might  meet. 


1.  3.  1669,  times  past  1.  ii.  1669,  go  see 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS. 

Though  she  were  true  when  you  met  her, 
And  last  till  you  write  your  letter, 

Yet  she 

Will  be 
False,  ere  I  come,  to  two  or  three,     v* 


woman's  constancy. 

Now  thou  hast  loved  me  one  whole  day, 
To-morrow  when  thou  leavest,  what  wilt  thou  say  ? 
Wilt  thou  then  antedate  some  new-made  vow  ? 

Or  say  that  now 
We  are  not  just  those  persons  which  we  were  ? 
Or  that  oaths  made  in  reverential  fear 
Of  Love,  and  his  wrath,  any  may  forswear  ? 
Or,  as  true  deaths  true  marriages  untie. 
So  lovers'  contracts,  images  of  those, 
Bind  but  till  sleep,  death's  image,  them  unloose  ?    10 

Or,  your  own  end  to  justify, 
For  having  purposed  change  and  falsehood,  you 
Can  have  no  way  but  falsehood  to  be  true  ? 
Vain  lunatic,  against  these  'scapes  I  could 

Dispute,  and  conquer,  if  I  would  ; 

Which  I  abstain  to  do. 
For  by  to-morrow  I  may  think  so  too. 

1.  27.  i66g,  ere  she  come 

1.  8.  So  1633,  1669;  1635,  For  as,  lines  8-10  being  in 
brackets. 


DONNE'S  POEMS. 


THE    UNDERTAKING. 

I  HAVE  done  one  braver  thing 

Than  all  the  Worthies  did  ; 
And  yet  a  braver  thence  doth  spring, 

Which  is,  to  keep  that  hid. 

It  were  but  madness  now  to  impart 

The  skill  of  specular  stone, 
When  he,  which  can  have  learn'd  the  art 

To  cut  it,  can  find  none. 

So,  if  I  now  should  utter  this, 

Others  — because  no  more  lo 

Such  stuff  to  work  upon,  there  is — 

Would  love  but  as  before. 

But  he  who  loveliness  within 
Hath  found,  all  outward  loathes, 

For  he  who  colour  loves,  and  skin, 
Loves  but  their  oldest  clothes. 

If,  as  I  have,  you  also  do 

Virtue  in  woman  see. 
And  dare  love  that,  and  say  so  too. 

And  forget  the  He  and  She  ;  20 

1.  18.  So  163s  ;  1633,  Virtue  attired  in  woman  see 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS. 

And  if  this  love,  though  placed  so, 
From  profane  men  you  hide, 

"Which  will  no  faith  on  this  bestow, 
Or,  if  they  do,  deride  ; 

Then  you  have  done  a  braver  thing 
Than  all  the  Worthies  did  ; 

And  a  braver  thence  will  spring, 
Which  is,  to  keep  that  hid. 


THE   SUN   RISING. 

Busy  old  fool,  unruly  Sun, 
Why  dost  thou  thus, 
Through  windows,  and  through  curtains,  call  on  us  ? 
Must  to  thy  motions  lovers'  seasons  run  ? 
Saucy  pedantic  wretch,  go  chide 
Late  school-boys  and  sour  prentices, 
Go  tell  court-huntsmen  that  the  king  will  ride, 
Call  country  ants  to  harvest  offices  ; 
Love,  all  alike,  no  season  knows  nor  clime, 
Nor  hours,  days,  months,  which  are  the  rags  of       lo 
time. 

L  3.  1669.  look  OK  us  1.  6.  1669,  or  sour 


8  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Thy  beams  so  reverend,  and  strong 

Why  shouldst  thou  think  ? 
I  could  eclipse  and  cloud  them  with  a  wink, 
But  that  I  would  not  lose  her  sight  so  long. 

If  her  eyes  have  not  blinded  thine, 

Look,  and  to-morrow  late  tell  me, 
Whether  both  th'  Indias  of  spice  and  mine 
Be  where  thou  left'st  them,  or  lie  here  with  mc. 
Ask  for  those  kings  whom  thou  saw'st  yesterday, 
And  thou  shalt  hear,  "All  here  in  one  bed  lay."     20 

She's  all  states,  and  all  princes  I ; 

Nothing  else  is ; 
Princes  do  but  play  us  ;  compared  to  this, 
All  honour's  mimic,  all  wealth  alchemy. 

Thou,  Sun,  art  half  as  happy  as  we, 

In  that  the  world's  contracted  thus  ; 
Thine  age  asks  ease,  and  since  thy  duties  be 
To  warm  the  world,  that's  done  in  warming  us. 
Shine  here  to  us,  and  thou  art  everywhere  ; 
This  bed  thy  centre  is,  these  walls  thy  sphere.  30 

1.  II.  1635, 

Thy  beams  so  reverend,  atid  strong 

Dost  thou  not  think 
I  could  eclipse  and  cloud  them  with  a  7vink, 
But  that  I  would  not  lose  her  sis^ht  so  long  ? 
1.  18.  1635,  left  them 


SOATGS  AND  SONNETS. 


THE   INDIFFERENT. 

I  CAN  love  both  fail  and  brown  ; 

Her  whom  abundance  melts,   and  her  whom  want 

betrays ; 
Her  who  loves  loneness  best,  and  her  who  masks  and 

plays ; 
Her  whom  the  country  form'd,  and  whom  the  town  ; 
Her  who  believes,  and  her  who  tries  ; 
Her  who  still  weeps  with  spongy  eyes, 
And  her  who  is  dry  cork,  and  never  cries. 
I  can  love  her,  and  her,  and  you,  and  you  ; 
I  can  love  any,  so  she  be  not  true. 

Will  no  other  vice  content  you  ?  lo 

Will  it  not  serve  your  turn  to  do  as  did  your  mothers  ? 
Or  have  you  all  old  vices  spent  and  now  would  find 

out  others  ? 
Or  doth  a  fear  that  men  are  true  torment  you  ? 
O  we  are  not,  be  not  you  so  ; 
Let  me — and  do  you — twenty  know ; 
Rob  me,  but  bind  me  not,  and  let  me  go. 
Must  I,  who  came  to  travel  thorough  you. 
Grow  your  fix'd  subject,  because  you  are  true  ? 

1.  3.  1669,  Her  who  loves  lovers  best,  and  her  who 
sports  and  plays 

1.  12.  i66g,  vices  worn 

L  17.  So  1635  ;  1633  travailt 


lo  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

Venus  heard  me  sigh  this  song  ; 

And  by  love's  sweetest  part,  variety,  she  swore,        20 

She  heard  not  this  till  now  ;  it  should  be  so  no  more. 

She  went,  examined,  and  retnrn'd  ere  long. 

And  said,  '*  Alas  !  some  two  or  three 

Poor  heretics  in  love  there  be, 

Which  think  to  stablish  dangerous  constancy. 

But  I  have  told  them,  '  Since  you  will  be  true, 

You  shall  be  true  to  them  who' re  false  to  you.' 


» >} 


love's  usury. 

For  every  hour  that  thou  wilt  spare  me  now, 

I  will  allow, 
Usurious  god  of  love,  twenty  to  thee. 
When  with  my  brown  my  grey  hairs  equal  be. 
Till  then,  Love,  let  my  body  range,  and  let 
Me  travel,  sojourn,  snatch,  plot,  have,  forget, 
Resume  my  last  year's  relict  ;  think  that  yet 

We'd  never  met. 


I.  19.  1669,  sing  this  song 

I.  20.  1669,  stveetest  sweet 

1.  21.  So  1635  ;  1633,  and  that  it 

1.  5.  So  1635 ;  1633,  raigne 

1.  6.  So  1633,  1669  ;  1635,  match,  plot,  have,  forget 

1.  7.  1669,  rclique 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  il 

Let  me  think  any  rival's  letter  mine, 

And  at  next  nine  lO 

Keep  midnight's  promise  ;  mistake  by  the  way 
The  maid,  and  tell  the  lady  of  that  delay  ; 
Only  let  me  love  none  ;  no,  not  the  sport 
From  country  grass  to  confitures  of  court, 
Or  city's  quelqtie-choses  ;  let  not  report 

My  mind  transport. 


This  bargain's  good  ;  if  when  I'm  old,  I  be 

Inflamed  by  thee, 
If  thine  own  honour,  or  my  shame  and  pain, 
Thou  covet  most,  at  that  age  thou  shalt  gain.  2C 

Do  thy  will  then  ;  then  subject  and  degree 
And  fruit  of  love,  Love,  I  submit  to  thee. 
Spare  me  till  then  ;  I'll  bear  it,  though  she  be 
One  that  love  me. 

1.  12.  1669,  her  delay 

1.  15.  So  1635  ;  1633,  1669  omit  not 

1.  19.  1669,  or  pain 

1.  24.  So  1635 ;  1633,  1669,  loves  me 


BONNES   POEMS. 


THE  CANONIZATION. 


For  God's  sake  hold  your  tongue,  and  let  me  love  ; 
Or  chide  my  palsy,  or  my  gout  ; 
My  five  grey  hairs,  or  ruin'd  fortune  flout ; 
With  wealth  your  state,  your  mind  with  arts  improve  , 
Take  you  a  course,  get  you  a  place, 
Observe  his  Honour,  or  his  Grace  ; 
Or  the  king's  real,  or  his  stamp'd  face 
Contemplate  ;  what  you  will,  approve, 
So  you  will  let  me  love. 

Alas  !  alas  !  who's  injured  by  my  love  ?  lo 

What  merchant's  ships  have  my  sighs  drown'd  ? 
Who  says  my  tears  have  overflow'd  his  ground  ? 
When  did  my  colds  a  forward  spring  remove  ? 
When  did  the  heats  which  my  veins  fill 
Add  one  more  to  the  plaguy  bill  ? 
Soldiers  find  wars,  and  lawyers  find  out  still 
Litigious  men,  which  quarrels  move. 
Though  she  and  I  do  love. 

Call's  what  you  will,  we  are  made  such  by  love  ; 
Call  her  one,  me  another  fly,  20 

We're  tapers  too,  and  at  our  own  cost  die, 

And  we  in  us  find  th'  eagle  and  the  dove. 

1.  3.  So  1633,  1635,  trut  grey  hairs ;  1669,  five  .  ,  . 
fortunes 

1.  14.  1669,  reins  L  15.  1669,  one  man 

1  17.  1669,  wliom  1,  18.  1669,  While 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  13 

The  phoenix  riddle  hath  more  wit 
By  us  ;  we  two  being  one,  are  it ; 
So,  to  one  neutral  thing  both  sexes  fit. 
We  die  and  rise  the  same,  and  prove 
Mysterious  by  this  love. 

We  can  die  by  it,  if  not  live  by  love, 
And  if  unfit  for  tomb  or  hearse 
Our  legend  be,  it  will  be  fit  for  verse  ;  30 

And  if  no  piece  of  chronicle  we  prove, 
We'll  build  in  sonnets  pretty  rooms  ; 
As  well  a  well-wrought  urn  becomes 
The  greatest  ashes,  as  half-acre  tombs. 
And  by  these  hymns  all  shall  approve 
Us  canonized  for  love  ; 

And  thus  invoke  us,  "You,  whom  reverend  love 
Made  one  another's  hermitage  ; 
You,  to  whom  love  was  peace,  that  now  is  rage  ; 
Who    did    the   whole   world's   soul    contract,    ana 
drove  40 

Into  the  glasses  of  your  eyes  ; 
So  made  such  mirrors,  and  such  spies, 
That  they  did  all  to  you  epitomize — 
Countries,  towns,  courts  beg  from  above 
A  pattern  of  your  love." 

1.  29.  So  1669 ;  1633,  iomds  and 

1-  35-  1635,  those 

1.  45.  So  1669  ;  1633,  our  love 


14  DONNE'S  POEMS, 


THE  TRIPLE  FOOL. 

I  AM  two  fools,  I  know, 

For  loving,  and  for  saying  so 
In  whining  poetry ; 
But  Where's  that  wise  man,  that  would  not  be  I, 

If  she  would  not  deny  ? 
Then  as  th'  earth's  inward  narrow  crooked  lanes 

Do  purge  sea  water's  fretful  salt  away, 
I  thought,  if  I  could  draw  my  pains 

Through  rhyme's  vexation,  I  should  them  allay. 
Grief  brought  to  numbers  cannot  be  so  fierce,       lo 
For  he  tames  it,  that  fetters  it  in  verse. 

But  when  I  have  done  so. 

Some  man,  his  art  and  voice  to  show, 
Doth  set  and  sing  my  pain  ; 
And,  by  delighting  many,  frees  again 

Grief,  which  verse  did  restrain. 
To  love  and  grief  tribute  of  verse  belongs, 

But  not  of  such  as  pleases  when  'tis  read. 
Both  are  increased  by  such  songs. 

For  both  their  triumphs  so  are  published,         20 
And  I,  which  was  two  fools,  do  so  grow  three. 
Who  are  a  little  wise,  the  best  fools  be. 

1.  4.  1669,  the  wiser  man 
1.  10.  1669,  number  1.  13.  1669,  or  voice 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  15 


lovers'  infiniteness. 

If  yet  I  have  not  all  thy  love, 
Dear,  I  shall  never  have  it  all ; 
I  cannot  breathe  one  other  sigh,  to  move, 
Nor  can  intreat  one  other  tear  to  fall  j 
And  all  my  treasure,  which  should  purchase  thee, 
Sighs,  tears,  and  oaths,  and  letters  I  have  spent ; 
Yet  no  more  can  be  due  to  me, 
Than  at  the  bargain  made  was  meant. 
If  then  thy  gift  of  love  were  partial, 
That  some  to  me,  some  should  to  others  fall,       10 
Dear,  I  shall  never  have  thee  all. 

Or  if  then  thou  gavest  me  all, 
All  was  but  all,  which  thou  hadst  then  ; 
But  if  in  thy  heart  since  there  be  or  shall 
New  love  created  be  by  other  men, 
Which  have  their  stocks  entire,  and  can  in  tears, 
In  sighs,  in  oaths,  and  letters,  outbid  me, 
This  new  love  may  beget  new  fears, 
For  this  love  was  not  vow'd  by  thee. 
And  yet  it  was,  thy  gift  being  general ;  20 

The  ground,  thy  heart,  is  mine  ;  what  ever  shall 
Grow  there,  dear,  I  should  have  it  all. 

1.9.  1669,  was  1.  II.  1635,  it  all 

1.  12.  1669,  givesi  L  17.  1635,  in  letters 

1.  21.  So  1633,  1669  ;  1635,  was  mine 


l6  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Yet  I  would  not  have  all  yet. 

He  that  hath  all  can  have  no  more  ; 

And  since  my  love  doth  every  day  admit 

New  growth,  thou   shouldst  have   new  rewards  in 

store  ; 
Thou  canst  not  every  day  give  me  thy  heart, 
If  thou  canst  give  it,  then  thou  never  gavest  it ; 
Love's  riddles  are,  that  though  thy  heart  depart, 
It  stays  at  home,  and  thou  with  losing  savest  it ;  30 
But  we  will  have  a  way  more  liberal, 
Than  changing  hearts,  to  join  them  ;  so  we  shall* 
Be  one,  and  one  another's  all. 

"^  SONG. 

Sweetest  love,  I  do  not  go, 

For  weariness  of  thee, 
Nor  in  hope  the  world  can  show 

A  fitter  love  for  me  ; 
But  since  that  I 
At  the  last  must  part,  'tis  best, 
Thus  to  use  myself  in  jest 

By  feigned  deaths  to  die. 

L  31. 1669,  will  love  1.  32.  1669,  jo  171  us 

U.  6-8.  So  1635  ; 

1633 — Afusl  die  at  last,  'tis  best, 
To  use  myself  in  Jest 
Thus  by  feigfi'd  deaths  to  die. 

l66g~-Afust  die  at  last,  'tis  best, 
Thus  to  use  myself  in  jest 
By  feigned  death  to  die. 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  17 

Yesternight  the  sun  went  hence, 

And  yet  is  here  to-day  ;  10 

He  hath  no  desire  nor  sense, 

Nor  half  so  short  a  way; 
Then  fear  not  me, 
But  believe  that  I  shall  make 
Speedier  journeys,  since  I  take 

More  wings  and  spurs  than  he. 

O  how  feeble  is  man's  power, 

That  if  good  fortune  fall, 
Cannot  add  another  hour, 

Nor  a  lost  hour  recall ;  20 

But  come  bad  chance, 
And  we  join  to  it  our  strength. 
And  we  teach  it  art  and  length, 

Itself  o'er  us  to  advance. 

When  thou  sigh'st,  thou  sigh'st  not  wind, 

But  sigh'st  my  soul  away  ; 
"When  thou  weep'st,  unkindly  kind, 

My  life's  blood  doth  decay. 
It  cannot  be 
That  thou  lovest  me  as  thou  say'st,  30 

If  in  thine  my  life  thou  waste, 

That  art  the  best  of  me. 


1.  15.  1669,  Hastier 
1.  25.  1635,  no  wind 

1.  32.  So  1635  ;  1633,  Thou  art;  1669,  Which  art  the  life 
VOL.  I.  2 


i8  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Let  not  thy  divining  heart 

Forethink  me  any  ill ; 
Destiny  may  take  thy  part, 

And  may  thy  fears  fulfil. 
But  think  that  we 
Are  but  turn'd  aside  to  sleep. 
They  who  one  another  keep 

Alive,  ne'er  parted  be.  40 


THE  LEGACY. 

When  last  I  died,  and,  dear,  I  die 

As  often  as  from  thee  I  go, 

Though  it  be  but  an  hour  ago 

— And  lovers'  hours  be  full  eternity — 

I  can  remember  yet,  that  I 

Something  did  say,  and  something  did  bestow  ; 

Though  I  be  dead,  which  sent  me,  I  might  be 

Mine  own  executor,  and  legacy. 


1.  36.  So  1633,  1669  ;  1635,  make 
1.  38.  1669,  laid  aside 
1.  I.  So  1669  ;  1633,  /  died  last 

1.  7.  So  1669;  1633,  /  should  be;  1635,  -which  meant 
me,  I  should  be 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  19 

I  heard  me  say,  "Tell  her  anon, 

That  myself,"  that  is  you,  not  I,  10 

"  Did  kill  me,"  and  when  I  felt  me  die, 

I  bid  me  send  my  heart,  when  I  was  gone ; 

But  I  alas  !  could  there  find  none ; 

When  I  had  ripp'd,  and  search'd  where  hearts  should 

lie, 
IL  kill'd  me  again,  that  I  who  still  was  true 
In  life,  in  my  last  will  should  cozen  you. 


Yet  I  found  something  like  a  heart, 

But  colours  it,  and  corners  had  ; 

It  was  not  good,  it  was  not  bad, 

It  was  entire  to  none,  and  few  had  part ;  20 

As  good  as  could  be  made  by  art 

It  seemed,  and  therefore  for  our  loss  be  sad. 

I  meant  to  send  that  heart  instead  of  mine, 

But  O  !  no  man  could  hold  it,  for  'twas  thine. 

1.  14.  So  1635  ;  1633,  ripp'd  mc  .  ,  ,  did  lie 
L  22.  So  1669 ;  1633,  losses  sad 


20  DONNE'S   POEMS, 


A   FEVER. 

O  !  DO  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  know ; 

To  leave  this  world  behind,  is  death  ; 
But  when  thou  from  this  world  wilt  go. 

The  whole  world  vapours  with  thy  breath. 

Or  if,  when  thou,  the  world's  soul,  go'st. 

It  stay,  'tis  but  thy  carcase  then  ;  lo 

The  fairest  woman,  but  thy  ghost, 

But  corrupt  worms,  the  worthiest  men. 

O  wrangling  schools,  that  search  what  fire 
Shall  burn  this  world,  had  none  the  wit 

Unto  this  knowledge  to  aspire, 
That  this  her  fever  might  be  it  ? 

And  yet  she  cannot  waste  by  this. 
Nor  long  bear  this  torturing  wrong, 

For  more  corruption  needful  is, 

To  fuel  such  a  fever  long.  20 

1.  8.  1669,  /;;  thy  breath  1.  18.  1669,  endure 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS,  21 

These  burning  fits  but  meteors  be, 
Whose  matter  in  thee  is  soon  spent ; 

Thy  beauty,  and  all  parts,  which  are  thee. 
Are  unchangeable  firmament. 

Yet  'twas  of  my  mind,  seizing  thee, 
Though  it  in  thee  cannot  persever ; 

For  I  had  rather  owner  be 
Of  thee  one  hour,  than  all  else  ever.  28 


AIR    AND  ANGELS. 

Twice  or  thrice  had  I  loved  thee, 

Before  I  knew  thy  face  or  name  ; 

So  in  a  voice,  so  in  a  shapeless  flame, 
Angels  affect  us  oft,  and  worshipp'd  be. 

Still  when,  to  where  thou  wert,  I  came, 
iSome  lovely  glorious  nothing  did  I  see. 

But  since  my  soul,  whose  child  love  is, 
Takes  limbs  of  flesh,  and  else  could  nothing  do, 

More  subtle  than  the  parent  is 
Love  must  not  be,  but  take  a  body  too  ;  10 

And  therefore  what  thou  wert,  and  who, 
I  bid  love  ask,  and  now 
That  it  assume  thy  body,  I  allow, 
And  fix  itself  in  thy  lips,  eyes,  and  brow. 

1.  22.  1669,  soon  is  1.  24.  1669,  An 

1.  25.  1669,  And  here  as       1.  27.  1669,   Yet, 

1.  6.  So  1669  ;  1633,  /  did   L  14.  So  1669 ;  1633,  lip,  eye 


22  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

Whilst  thus  to  ballast  love  I  thought, 

And  so  more  steadily  to  have  gone, 

With  wares  which  would  sink  admiration, 
I  saw  I  had  love's  pinnace  overfraught ; 

Thy  every  hair  for  love  to  work  upon 
Is  much  too  much  ;  some  fitter  must  be  sought ;  20 

For,  nor  in  nothing,  nor  in  things 
Extreme,  and  scattering  bright,  can  love  inhere  ; 

Then  as  an  angel  face  and  wings 
Of  air,  not  pure  as  it,  yet  pure  doth  wear. 

So  thy  love  may  be  my  love's  sphere ; 
Just  such  disparity 
As  is  'twixt  air's  and  angels'  purity, 
'Twixt  women's  love,  and  men's,  will  ever  be. 


BREAK   OF    DAY. 

Stay,  O  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. 

1.  19.  So  1669 ;  1633,  Every  thy 
1.  27.  So  1669  ;  1633,  air 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  23 


[another  of  the  same.] 

Tis  true,  'tis  day  ;  what  though  it  be  ? 

O,  wilt  thou  therefore  rise  from  me  ? 

Why  should  we  rise  because  'tis  light  ? 

Did  we  lie  down  because  'twas  night  ? 

Love,  which  in  spite  of  darkness  brought  us  hither, 

Should  in  despite  of  light  keep  us  together. 


Light  hath  no  tongue,  but  is  all  eye  ; 

If  it  could  speak  as  well  as  spy. 

This  -vere  the  worst  that  it  could  say, 

That  Deing  well  I  fain  would  stay,  10 

And  t'lat  I  loved  my  heart  and  honour  so, 

That  1  would  not  from  him,  that  had  them,  go. 

Must  business  thee  from  hence  remove  ? 

O  !  thtt's  the  worst  disease  of  love. 

The  pcx)r,  the  foul,  the  false,  love  can 

Admit,  but  not  the  busied  man. 

He  whch  hath  business,  and  makes  love,  doth  do 

Such  wrong,  as  when  a  married  man  doth  woo. 


1.  6.  So  1633,  1669 ;  1635,  spite 

L  12.  i66g,  from /ler 

1. 18.  So  1633,  1669  ;  1635,  should  woo 


24  DONNE'S  POEMS, 


THE  ANNIVERSARY. 

All  kings,  and  all  their  favourites, 

All  glory  of  honours,  beauties,  wits, 
The  sun  itself,  which  makes  time,  as  they  pass, 
Is  elder  by  a  year  now  than  it  was 
When  thou  and  I  first  one  another  saw. 
All  other  things  to  their  destruction  draw. 

Only  our  love  hath  no  decay  ; 
This  no  to-morrow  hath,  nor  yesterday  ; 
Running  it  never  runs  from  us  away, 
But  truly  keeps  his  first,  last,  everlasting  day.  lo 

Two  graves  must  hide  thine  and  my  corse  ; 

If  one  might,  death  were  no  divorce. 
Alas  !  as  well  as  other  princes,  we 
— Who  prince  enough  in  one  another  be — 
Must  leave  at  last  in  death  these  eyes  and  ears. 
Oft  fed  with  true  oaths,  and  with  sweet  salt  :ears  ; 

But  souls  where  nothing  dwells  but  love 
— All  other  thoughts  being  inmates — then  shall  prove 
This  or  a  love  increased  there  above, 
When  bodies  to  their  graves,  souls  from  thsir  graves 
remove.  20 


And  then  we  shall  be  throughly  blest ; 
But  now  no  more  than  all  the  rest. 


1.  3.  So  1633,  1669  ;  163s,  as  these  pass  ;  i6p,  times 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  25 

Here  upon  earth  we're  kings,  and  none  but  we 
Can  be  such  kings,  nor  of  such  subjects  be. 
Who  is  so  safe  as  we  ?  where  none  can  do 
Treason  to  us,  except  one  of  us  two. 
True  and  false  fears  let  us  refrain, 
Let  us  love  nobly,  and  live,  and  add  again 
Years  and  years  unto  years,  till  we  attain 
To  write  threescore  ;  this  is  the  second  of  our  reign.    30 


A    VALEDICTION   OF    MY   NAME,    IN   THE   WINDOW. 

I. 

My  name  engraved  herein 
Doth  contribute  my  firmness  to  this  glass, 
Which  ever  since  that  charm  hath  been 
As  hard,  as  that  which  graved  it  was  ; 
Thine  eye  will  give  it  price  enough,  to  mock 
The  diamonds  of  either  rock. 

II. 

'Tis  much  that  glass  should  be 
As  all-confessing,  and  through-shine  as  I ; 
'Tis  more  that  it  shows  thee  to  thee, 
And  clear  reflects  thee  to  thine  eye.  10 

But  all  such  rules  love's  magic  can  undo ; 
Here  you  see  me,  and  I  am  you. 

\.  23.  1669  omits  none        1.  24.  1669,  None  are 
1.  12,  1669,  and  I  see  you 


26  DONNE S  POEMS. 


III. 

As  no  one  point,  nor  clash, 
"Which  are  but  accessories  to  this  name, 
The  showers  and  tempests  can  outwash 
So  shall  all  times  find  me  the  same  ; 
You  this  entireness  better  may  fulfill, 
Who  have  the  pattern  with  you  still. 


IV. 

Or  if  too  hard  and  deep 
This    learning    be,    for    a    scratch'd   name    to 
teach,  20 

It  as  a  given  death's  head  keep, 
Lovers'  mortality  to  preach  ; 
Or  think  this  ragged  bony  name  to  be 
My  ruinous  anatomy. 

V. 

Then,  as  all  my  souls  be 
Emparadised  in  you— in  whom  alone 
I  understand,  and  grow,  and  see— 
The  rafters  of  my  body,  bone. 
Being   still   with   you,   the   muscle,   sinew,    and 
vein 
Which  tile  this  house,  will  come  again.      30 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  27 


VI. 

Till  my  return  repair 
And  recompact  my  scatter'd  body  so, 
As  all  the  virtuous  powers  which  are 
Fix'd  in  the  stars  are  said  to  flow 
Into  such  characters  as  graved  be 

"When  these  stars  have  supremacy. 

VII. 

So  since  this  name  was  cut, 
When  love  and  grief  their  exaltation  had. 
No  door  'gainst  this  name's  influence  shut. 
As  much  more  loving,  as  more  sad,  40 

'Twill  make  thee  ;  and  thou  shouldst,  till  I  re- 
turn, 
Since  I  die  daily,  daily  mourn. 

VIII. 

When  thy  inconsiderate  hand 
Flings  ope  this   casement,    with  my  trembling 
name, 
To  look  on  one,  whose  wit  or  land 
New  battery  to  thy  heart  may  frame. 
Then  think  this  name  alive,  and  that  thou  thus 
In  it  offend'st  my  Genius. 

i.  36.  1669,  i/iose  stars  had  I,  48.  1669,  offends 


28  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


IX. 

And  when  thy  melted  maid, 
Corrupted  by  thy  lover's  gold  and  page,  50 

His  letter  at  thy  pillow  hath  laid, 
Disputed  it,  and  tamed  thy  rage. 
And  thou  begin'st  to  thaw  towards  him,  for  this, 
May  my  name  step  in,  and  hide  his. 

X. 

And  if  this  treason  go 
To  an  overt  act  and  that  thou  write  again, 
In  superscribing,  this  name  flow 
Into  thy  fancy  from  the  pane  ; 
So,  in  forgetting  thou  rememb'rest  right. 

And  unaware  to  me  shalt  write.  60 

XI. 

But  glass  and  lines  must  be 
No  means  our  firm  substantial  love  to  keep  ; 
Near  death  inflicts  this  lethargy. 
And  this  I  murmur  in  my  sleep  ; 
Impute  this  idle  talk,  to  that  I  go, 
For  dying  men  talk  often  so. 

1.  50.  1669,  or  page 
1.  52.  1669.     Disputed  thou  it.,  and  tame  thy  rage 
1.  53,  1669,  If  thou  to  him  begin  st  to  thaw 
1.  57. 1669,  my       1.  58.  1635,  fen        1.  64-  1635,  thus 


SO/VGS  AND  SONNETS.  29 


TWICKENHAM   GARDEN. 

Blasted  with  sighs,  and  surrounded  with  tears, 

Hither  I  come  to  seek  the  spring, 
And  at  mine  eyes,  and  at  mine  ears. 

Receive  such  balms  as  else  cure  every  thing. 

But  O  !  self-traitor,  I  do  bring 
The  spider  Love,  which  transubstantiates  all, 
And  can  convert  manna  to  gall ; 
And  that  this  place  may  thoroughly  be  thought 
True  paradise,  I  have  the  serpent  brought. 

'Twere  wholesomer  for  me  that  winter  did  10 

Benight  the  glory  of  this  place, 
And  that  a  grave  frost  did  forbid 

These  trees  to  laugh  and  mock  me  to  my  face  ; 

But  that  I  may  not  this  disgrace 
Endure,  nor  yet  leave  loving,  Love,  let  me 
Some  senseless  piece  of  this  place  be  ; 
Make  me  a  mandrake,  so  I  may  grow  here, 
Or  a  stone  fountain  weeping  out  my  year. 

1.  4.  1635,  lalm  as  else  cures 

L  6.  1669,  spider  s  Love 

1.  14.  1669,  since  I  cannot 

1.  15. 1635,  nor  leave  this  garden 

1.  18,  So  1633,  1669  ;  1635,  the  year 


30  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

Hither  with  crystal  phials,  lovers,  come, 

And  take  my  tears,  which  are  love's  wine,        20 

And  try  your  mistress'  teai^s  at  home, 

For  all  are  false,  that  taste  not  just  like  mine. 
Alas  !  hearts  do  not  in  eyes  shine, 

Nor  can  you  more  judge  women's  thoughts  by  tears, 

Than  by  her  shadow  what  she  wears. 

O  perverse  sex,  where  none  is  true  but  she, 

Who's  therefore  true,  because  her  truth  kills  me. 


VALEDICTION   TO  HIS   BOOK. 

I'll  tell  thee  now  (dear  love)  what  thou  shalt  do 
To  anger  destiny,  as  she  doth  us  ; 
How  I  shall  stay,  though  she  eloign  me  thus, 
And  how  posterity  shall  know  it  too  ; 
How  thine  may  out-endure 
Sibyl's  glory,  and  obscure 
Her  who  from  Pindar  could  allure, 
And  her,  through  whose  help  Lucan  is  not  lame. 
And  her,  whose  book  (they  say)  Homer  did  find,  and 
name. 

Study  our  manuscripts,  those  myriads  10 

Of  letters,  which  have  past  'twixt  thee  and  me  ; 
Thence  write  our  annals,  and  in  them  will  be 
To  all  whom  love's  subliming  fire  invades 
Rule  and  example  found ; 
There  the  faith  of  any  ground 
No  schismatic  will  dare  to  wound, 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  31 

That  sees,  how  Love  this  grace  to  us  affords, 
To  make,  to  keep,  to  use,  to  be  these  his  records. 

This  book,  as  long-lived  as  the  elements, 

Or  as  the  world's  form,  this  all-graved  tome         20 
In  cypher  writ,  or  new  made  idiom  ; 
We  for  Love's  clergy  only  are  instruments  ; 
When  this  book  is  made  thus, 
Should  again  the  ravenous 
Vandals  and  the  Goths  invade  us, 
Learning  were  safe  ;  in  this  our  universe, 
Schools  might  learn  sciences,  spheres  music,  angels 
verse. 

Here  Love's  divines — since  all  divinity 
Is  love  or  wonder — may  find  all  they  seek, 
Whether  abstract  spiritual  love  they  like,  30 

Their  souls  exhaled  with  what  they  do  not  see  ; 
Or,  loth  so  to  amuse 
Faith's  infirmity,  they  choose 
Something  which  they  may  see  and  use ; 
For,  though  mind  be  the  heaven,  where  love  doth  sit, 
Beauty  a  convenient  type  may  be  to  figure  it. 

Here  more  than  in  their  books  may  lawyers  find, 
Both  by  what  titles  mistresses  are  ours. 
And  how  prerogative  these  states  devours, 

Transferr'd  from  Love  himself,  to  womankind  ;      40 

1.  20.  1635,  all-graved  to  me  ;  1669,  all-graved  tomb 
L  30.  1650,  abstracted  1.  33.  1669,  infirmities 


32  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

WTio,  though  from  heart  and  eyes, 
They  exact  great  subsidies, 
Forsake  him  who  on  them  relies ; 
And  for  the  cause,  honour,  or  conscience  give  j 
Chimeras  vain  as  they  or  their  prerogative. 

Here  statesmen — or  of  them,  they  which  can  read — 
May  of  their  occupation  find  the  grounds  ; 
Love,  and  their  art,  alike  it  deadly  wounds, 
If  to  consider  what  'tis,  one  proceed. 

In  both  they  do  excel,  50 

"Who  the  present  govern  well, 
Whose  weakness  none  doth,  or  dares  tell  ; 
In  this  thy  book,  such  will  there  something  see, 
As  in  the  Bible  some  can  find  out  alchemy. 

Thus  vent  thy  thoughts  ;  abroad  I'll  study  thee, 
As  he  removes  far  off,  that  great  heights  takes  ; 
How  great  love  is,  presence  best  trial  makes. 
But  absence  tries  how  long  this  love  will  be,; 
To  take  a  latitude 

Sun,  or  stars,  are  fitliest  view'd  60 

At  their  brightest,  but  to  conclude 
Of  longitudes,  what  other  way  have  we. 
But  to  mark  when  and  where  the  dark  eclipses  be  ? 

1.  53.  So  1633,  1669  :  1635,  iheir  nothing 
1.  55.  So  1633,  X669 :  1635,  went 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  33 


COMMUNITY. 

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  love, 
But  one,  and  then  another  prove, 

As  we  shall  find  our  fancy  bent. 

If  then  at  first  wise  Nature  had 
Made  women  either  good  or  bad, 

Then  some  we  might  hate,  and  some  choose  ; 
But  since  she  did  them  so  create,  10 

That  we  may  neither  love,  nor  hate, 

Only  this  rests,  all  all  may  use. 

If  they  were  good,  it  would  be  seen  ; 
Good  is  as  visible  as  green, 

And  to  all  eyes  itself  betrays. 
If  they  were  bad,  they  could  not  last ; 
Bad  doth  itself  and  others  waste  ; 

So  they  deserve  nor  blame,  nor  praise. 

But  they  are  ours  as  fruits  are  ours  ; 

He  that  but  tastes,  he  that  devours,  20 

And  he  that  leaves  all,  doth  as  well  ; 
Changed  loves  are  but  changed  sorts  of  meat  ; 
And  when  he  hath  the  kernel  eat. 

Who  doth  not  fling  away  the  shell  ? 

1.  4.  So  1635  ;  1633,  these  are 
1.  12.  1669,  all  men 
VOL.    I.  3 


34  DONNE'S  POEMS 


love's  growth. 

I  SCARCE  believe  my  love  to  be  so  pure 

As  I  had  thought  it  was, 

Because  it  doth  endure 
Vicissitude,  and  season,  as  the  grass  ; 
Methinks  I  lied  all  winter,  when  I  swore 
My  love  was  infinite,  if  spring  make  it  more. 

But  if  this  medicine,  love,  which  cures  all  sorrow 
With  more,  not  only  be  no  quintessence, 
But  mix'd  of  all  stuffs,  vexing  soul,  or  sense, 
And  of  the  sun  his  active  vigour  borrow,  lO 

Love's  not  so  pure,  and  abstract  as  they  use 
To  say,  which  have  no  mistress  but  their  Muse  ; 
But  as  all  else,  being  elemented  too, 
Love  sometimes  would  contemplate,  sometimes  do. 

And  yet  no  greater,  but  more  eminent, 

Love  by  the  spring  is  grown ; 

As  in  the  firmament 
Stars  by  the  sun  are  not  enlarged,  but  shown, 
Gentle  love  deeds,  as  blossoms  on  a  bough. 
From  love's  awaken'd  root  do  bud  out  now.  20 

1.  9.  So  1635  ;  162,2,,  paining 

L  10.  So  1635  ;  1633,  working  vigour 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  35 

If,  as  in  water  stirr'd  more  circles  be 

Produced  by  one,  love  such  additions  take, 
Those  like  so  many  spheres  but  one  heaven  make, 
For  they  are  all  concentric  unto  thee  ; 
And  though  each  spring  do  add  to  love  new  heat, 
As  princes  do  in  times  of  action  get 
New  taxes,  and  remit  them  not  in  peace, 
No  winter  shall  abate  this  spring's  increase. 


love's  exchange. 

Love,  any  devil  else  but  you 

Would  for  a  given  soul  give  something  too. 

At  court  your  fellows  every  day 

Give  th'  art  of  rhyming,  huntsmanship,  or  play, 

For  them  which  were  their  own  before ; 

Only  I  have  nothing,  which  gave  more, 

But  am,  alas  t  by  being  lowly,  lower. 

I  ask  no  dispensation  now. 

To  falsify  a  tear,  or  sigh,  or  vow  j 

I  do  not  sue  from  thee  to  draw  lO 

A  non  obstante  on  nature's  law  ; 

These  are  prerogatives,  they  inhere 

In  thee  and  thine  ;  none  should  forswear 

Except  that  he  Love's  minion  were. 

1.  28.  So  1635  :  1633,  the  springs 
L  Q.  i66q,  a  sigh,  a  vo-u> 


36  BONNES  POEMS. 

Give  me  thy  weakness,  make  me  blind, 

Both  ways,  as  thou  and  thine,  in  eyes  and  mind  ; 

Love,  let  me  never  know  that  this 

Is  love,  or,  that  love  childish  is  ; 

Let  me  not  know  that  others  know 

That  she  knows  my  pains,  lest  that  so  20 

A  tender  shame  make  me  mine  own  new  woe. 

If  thou  give  nothing,  yet  thou  'rt  just. 

Because  I  would  not  thy  first  motions  trust ; 

Small  towns  which  stand  stiff,  till  great  shot 

Enforce  them,  by  war's  law  condition  not ; 

Such  in  Love's  warfare  is  my  case  ; 

I  may  not  article  for  grace. 

Having  put  Love  at  last  to  show  this  face. 

This  face,  by  which  he  could  command 

And  change  th'  idolatry  of  any  land,  30 

This  face,  which,  wheresoe'er  it  comes. 

Can  call  vow'd  men  from  cloisters,  dead  from  tornbs. 

And  melt  both  poles  at  once,  and  store 

Deserts  with  cities,  and  make  more 

Mines  in  the  earth,  than  quarries  were  before. 

For  this  Love  is  enraged  with  me, 

Yet  kills  not ;  if  I  must  example  be 

To  future  rebels,  if  th*  unborn 

Must  learn  by  my  being  cut  up  and  torn, 

Kill,  and  dissect  me,  Love  ;  for  this  40 

Torture  against  thine  own  end  is  ; 

Rack'd  carcasses  make  ill  anatomies. 

L  22    1669,  his  face 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  37 


CONFINED   LOVE. 

Some  man  unworthy  to  be  possessor 
Of  old  or  new  love,  himself  being  false  or  weak, 

Thought  his  pain  and  shame  would  be  lesser, 
If  on  womankind  he  might  his  anger  wreak  ; 
And  thence  a  law  did  grow, 
One  might  but  one  man  know  j 
But  are  other  creatures  so  ? 

Are  sun,  moon,  or  stars  by  law  forbidden 
To  smile  where  they  list,  or  lend  away  their  light  ? 
Are  birds  divorced  or  are  they  chidden  10 

If  they  leave  their  mate,  or  lie  abroad  a  night  ? 
Beasts  do  no  jointures  lose 
Though  they  new  lovers  choose  ; 
But  we  are  made  worse  than  those. 

"Whoe'er  rigg'd  fair  ships  to  lie  in  harbours, 
And  not  to  seek  lands,  or  not  to  deal  with  all  ? 

Or  built  fair  houses,  set  trees,  and  arbours, 
Only  to  lock  up,  or  else  to  let  them  fall  ? 
Good  is  not  good,  unless 

A  thousand  it  possess,  20 

But  doth  waste  with  greediness. 

L  3.  1669,  this  pain  1.  9.  1669,  bend  away 

1.  II.  1650,  meate,  1669,  meat  1.  11.  1669,  all  night 
1.  15.  So  1669 :  1633,  ship 

1. 16.  1669,  to  seek  new  lands  1.  17.  1650,  build 


38  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


THE  DREAM. 

Dear  love,  for  nothing  less  than  thee 
Would  I  have  broke  this  happy  dream  ; 

It  was  a  theme 
For  reason,  much  too  strong  for  fantasy. 
Therefore  thou  waked'st  me  wisely ;  yet 
My  dream  thou  brokest  not,  but  continued'st  it. 
Thou  art  so  true  that  thoughts  of  thee  suffice 
To  make  dreams  truths,  and  fables  histories  ; 
Enter  these  arms,  for  since  thou  thought'st  it  best, 
Not  to  dream  all  my  dream,  let's  act  the  rest.  lo 

As  lightning,  or  a  taper's  light. 

Thine  eyes,  and  not  thy  noise  waked  me  ; 

Yet  I  thought  thee 
— For  thou  lovest  truth — an  angel,  at  first  sight ; 
But  when  I  saw  thou  saw'st  my  heart. 
And  knew'st  my  thoughts  beyond  an  angel's  art. 
When  thou  knew'st  what  I  dreamt,  when  thou  knew'st 

when 
Excess  of  joy  would  wake  me,  and  camest  then, 
I  must  confess,  it  could  not  choose  but  be 
Profane,  to  think  thee  any  thing  but  thee.  20 

1.  6. 1669,  break' st  .  .  .  conthtuest 
1.  7.  So  1635  ;  1633,  so  truth 
L  17.  1669,  then  thou  knew'st 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS,  ^ 

Coming  and  staying  show'd  thee,  thee, 
But  rising  makes  me  doubt,  that  now 

Thou  art  not  thou. 
That  love  is  weak  where  fear's  as  strong  as  he ; 
'Tis  not  all  spirit,  pure  and  brave. 
If  mixture  it  of  fear,  shame,  honour  have  ; 
Perchance  as  torches,  which  must  ready  be, 
Men  light  and  put  out,  so  thou  deal'st  with  me  ; 
Thou  camest  to  kindle,  go'st  to  come  ;  then  I 
Will  dream  that  hope  again,  but  else  would  die.      30 


A  VALEDICTION   OF  WEEPING. 

Let  me  pour  forth 
My  tears  before  thy  face,  whilst  I  stay  here, 
For  thy  face  coins  them,  and  thy  stamp  they  bear, 
And  by  this  mintage  they  are  something  worth. 

For  thus  they  be 

Pregnant  of  thee  ; 
Fruits  of  much  grief  they  are,  emblems  of  more  ; 
When  a  tear  falls,  that  thou  fall'st  which  it  bore  ; 
So  thou  and  I  are  nothing  then,  when  on  a  divers 
shore. 

1.  24.  i66g,  fears  are  1.  29.  1669,  com'st 


40  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

On  a  round  ball  lo 

A.  workman,  that  hath  copies  by,  can  lay 
An  Europe,  Afric,  and  an  Asia, 
And  quickly  make  that,  which  was  nothing,  all. 

So  doth  each  tear. 

Which  thee  doth  wear, 
A  globe,  yea  world,  by  that  imprecision  grow. 
Till  thy  tears  mix'd  with  mine  do  overflow 
This  world,   by  waters  sent  from  thee,  my   heaven 
dissolved  so. 

O !  more  than  moon, 
Draw  not  up  seas  to  drown  me  in  thy  sphere  ;  20 

Weep  me  not  dead,  in  thine  arms,  but  forbear 
To  teach  the  sea,  what  it  may  do  too  soon  ; 

Let  not  the  wind 

Example  find 
To  do  me  more  harm  than  it  purposeth  : 
Since  thou  and  I  sigh  one  another's  breath. 
Whoe'er  sighs  most  is  cruellest,  and  hastes  the  other's 
death. 

1.  20.  1669,  ihy  seas 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  41 


love's  alchemy. 


Some  that  have  deeper  digg'd  love's  mine  than  I, 
Say,  where  his  centric  happiness  doth  lie. 

I  have  loved,  and  got,  and  told, 
But  should  I  love,  get,  tell,  till  I  were  old, 
I  should  not  find  that  hidden  mystery. 

O  !  'tis  imposture  all ; 
And  as  no  chemic  yet  th'  elixir  got, 

But  glorifies  his  pregnant  pot, 

If  by  the  way  to  him  befall 
Some  odoriferous  thing,  or  medicinal,  lo 

So,  lovers  dream  a  rich  and  long  delight, 
But  get  a  winter-seeming  summer's  night. 

Our  ease,  our  thrift,  our  honour,  and  our  day, 
Shall  we  for  this  vain  bubble's  shadow  pay? 

Ends  love  in  this,  that  my  man 
Can  be  as  happy  as  I  can,  if  he  can 
Endure  the  short  scorn  of  a  bridegroom's  play  ? 

That  loving  wretch  that  swears, 
'Tis  not  the  bodies  marry,  but  the  minds. 

Which  he  in  her  angelic  finds,  20 

Would  swear  as  justly,  that  he  hears, 
In  that  day's  rude  hoarse  minstrelsy,  the  spheres. 
Hope  not  for  mind  in  women  ;  at  their  best. 
Sweetness  and  wit  they  are,  but  mummy,  possess'd. 


4a  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


THE   CURSE, 

Whoever  gnesses,  thinks,  or  dreams,  he  knows 
Who  is  my  mistress,  wither  by  this  curse  ; 
Him,  only  for  his  purse, 
May  some  dull  whore  to  love  dispose, 
And  then  yield  unto  all  that  are  his  foes  ; 

May  he  be  scorn'd  by  one,  whom  all  else  scorn, 
Forswear  to  others,  what  to  her  he  hath  sworn, 
With  fear  of  missing,  shame  of  getting,  torn. 

Madness  his  sorrow,  gout  his  cramps,  may  he 
Make,  by  but  thinking  who  hath  made  them  such  ;  lO 
And  may  he  feel  no  touch 
Of  conscience,  but  of  fame,  and  be 
Anguish'd,  not  that  'twas  sin,  but  that  'twas  she  ; 
Or  may  he  for  her  virtue  reverence 
One  that  hates  him  only  for  impotence. 
And  equal  traitors  be  she  and  his  sense. 

1.  3.  So  1669  ;  1633,  His  only,  and  only  his  purse 

1.  4.  So  1669  ;  1633,  dull  heart 

1.  5.  So  1669  ;  1633,  she  yield  then  to 

1.  9.  So  1669 ;  1633,  a-amp 

1.  10.  So  1669  ;  1633,  him  such 

IL  14-17-  So  1635;  1633, 

//;  early  and  long  scarceness  may  he  rot, 
For  land  which  had  been  his,  if  he  had  not 
Himself  incest uously  an  heir  begot. 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS,  43 

May  he  dream  treason,  and  believe  that  he 
Meant  to  perform  it,  and  confess,  and  die, 
And  no  record  tell  why  j 
His  sons,  which  none  of  his  may  be,  20 

Inherit  nothing  but  his  infamy  ; 

Or  may  he  so  long  parasites  have  fed, 

That  he  would  fain  be  theirs  whom  he  hath  bred, 

And  at  the  last  be  circumcised  for  bread. 

The  venom  of  all  stepdames,  gamesters'  gall, 
What  tyrants  and  their  subjects  interwish, 

What  plants,  mine,  beasts,  fowl,  fish, 
Can  contribute,  all  ill,  which  all 
Prophets  or  poets  spake,  and  all  which  shall 

Be  annex'd  in  schedules  unto  this  by  me,  30 

Fall  on  that  man  ;  for  if  it  be  a  she 
Nature  beforehand  hath  out-cursed  me. 


THE  MESSAGE. 

Send  home  my  long  stray'd  eyes  to  me, 
Which,  O  !  too  long  have  dwelt  on  thee  ; 
Yet  since  there  they  have  leam'd  such  ill, 
Such  forced  fashions. 
And  false  passions. 
That  they  be 
Made  by  thee 
Fit  for  no  good  sight,  keep  them  still. 

L  3.  1669,  But  if 


44  DONNKS  POEMS. 

Send  home  my  harmless  heart  again, 
Which  no  unworthy  thought  could  stain ;      lO 
But  if  it  be  taught  by  thine 
To  make  jestings 
Of  pretestings, 

And  break  both 

Word  and  oath, 

Keep  it,  for  then  'tis  none  of  mine. 

Yet  send  me  back  my  heart  and  eyes, 
That  I  may  know,  and  see  thy  lies, 
And  may  laugh  and  joy,  when  thou 

Art  in  anguish  20 

And  dost  languish 
For  some  one 
That  will  none, 
Or  prove  as  false  as  thou  art  now. 

1.  i6.  1669,  Keep  it  still,  'lis 
h  24,  1669,  dost  now 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS,  45 


A  NOCTTJRNAL  UPON   ST.    LUCY's  DAY, 
BEING  THE   SHORTEST   DAY. 


'Tis  the  year's  midnight,  and  it  is  the  day's, 
Lucy's,  who  scarce  seven  hours  herself  unmasks  ; 
The  sun  is  spent,  and  now  his  flasks 
Send  forth  light  squibs,  no  constant  rays  ; 
The  world's  whole  sap  is  sunk ; 
The  general  balm  th'  hydroptic  earth  hath  drunk, 
Whither,  as  to  the  bed's-feet,  life  is  shrunk, 
Dead  and  interr'd  ;  yet  all  these  seem  to  laugh, 
Compared  with  me,  who  am  their  epitaph. 


Study  m.e  then,  you  who  shall  lovers  be  10 

At  the  next  world,  that  is,  at  the  next  spring  j 
For  I  am  a  very  dead  thing, 
In  whom  Love  wrought  new  alchemy. 
For  his  art  did  express 
A  quintessence  even  from  nothingness. 
From  dull  privations,  and  lean  emptiness ; 
He  ruin'd  me,  and  I  am  re-begot 
Of    absence,    darkness,    death  —  things    which    are 
not. 


1.  12.  So  163s  ;  1633,  every  dead  thing 


46  DONNKS  POEMS. 

All  others,  from  all  things,  draw  all  that's  good, 
Life,  soul,  form,  spirit,  whence  they  being  have  ;     20 

I,  by  Love's  limbec,  am  the  grave 

Of  all,  that's  nothing.     Oft  a  flood 
Have  we  two  wept,  and  so 
Drown'd  the  whole  world,  us  two  ;  oft  did  we  grow, 
To  be  two  chaoses,  when  we  did  show 
Care  to  aught  else  ;  and  often  absences 
Withdrew  our  souls,  and  made  us  carcasses. 

But  I  am  by  her  death — which  word  wrongs  her — 
Of  the  first  nothing  the  elixir  grown  ; 

Were  I  a  man,  that  I  were  one  30 

I  needs  must  know  j  I  should  prefer, 
If  I  were  any  beast. 
Some  ends,  some  means  ;  yea  plants,  yea  stones  detest, 
And  love  ;  all,  all  some  properties  invest. 
If  I  an  ordinary  nothing  were, 
As  shadow,  a  light,  and  body  must  be  here. 

But  I  am  none  ;  nor  will  my  sun  renew. 
You  lovers,  for  whose  sake  the  lesser  sun 

At  this  time  to  the  Goat  is  run 

To  fetch  new  lust,  and  give  it  you,  40 

Enjoy  your  summer  all. 
Since  she  enjoys  her  long  night's  festival. 
Let  me  prepare  towards  her,  and  let  me  call 
This  hour  her  vigil,  and  her  eve,  since  this 
Both  the  year's  and  the  day's  deep  midnight  is. 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  47 


WITCHCRAFT   BY   A   PICTURE. 

I  FIX  mine  eye  on  thine,  and  there 

Pity  my  picture  burning  in  thine  eye  ; 
My  picture  drown'd  in  a  transparent  tear, 

When  I  look  lower  I  espy  ; 
Hadst  thou  the  wicked  skill 
By  pictures  made  and  marr'd,  to  kill, 
How  many  ways  mightst  thou  perform  thy  will? 

But  now  I've  drunk  thy  sweet  salt  tears, 
And  though  thou  pour  more,  I'll  depart ; 

My  picture  vanished,  vanish  all  fears  lo 

That  I  can  be  endamaged  by  that  art ; 
Though  thou  retain  of  me 

One  picture  more,  yet  that  will  be, 

Being  in  thine  own  heart,  from  all  malice  free. 


THE   BAIT. 

Come  live  with  me,  and  be  my  love, 
And  we  will  some  new  pleasures  prove 
Of  golden  sands,  and  crystal  brooks, 
With  silken  lines  and  silver  hooks. 

L  9,  1669,  Although 

1.   10.  So  1635  ;  1633,   My  picture   vanish' d,   vanish 
fears  1669,  My  picture  vanish,  vanish  fears 


48  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

There  will  the  river  whisp'ring  run 
Warm'd  by  thy  eyes,  more  than  the  sun  ; 
And  there  th'  enamour'd  fish  will  stay, 
Begging  themselves  they  may  betray. 

When  thou  wilt  swim  in  that  live  bath, 
Each  fish,  which  eveiy  channel  hath,  lo 

Will  amorously  to  thee  swim, 
Gladder  to  catch  thee,  than  thou  him. 

If  thou,  to  be  so  seen,  be'st  loth, 
By  sun  or  moon,  thou  dark'nest  both, 
And  if  myself  have  leave  to  see, 
I  need  not  their  light,  having  thee. 

Let  others  freeze  with  angling  reeds. 

And  cut  their  legs  with  shells  and  weeds. 

Or  treacherously  poor  fish  beset, 

With  strangling  snare,  or  windowy  net.         20 

Let  coarse  bold  hands  from  slimy  nest 
The  bedded  fish  in  banks  out-wrest ; 
Or  curious  traitors,  sleeve-silk  flies. 
Bewitch  poor  fishes'  wand'ring  eyes. 

1.  6.  1669,  thine  1.  7.  Walton,  enayjielled 

1.  7.  1669,  flay 

1.  II.  Walton.     Most  amorously  to  thee  will  swim 

1.  15.  Walton,  mine  eyes 

1.  18.  So  1635,  Walton  ;  1633,  which  shells 

1.  20.  1669,  winding  1.  20.  Walton,  snares 

1.  23.  Walton,  Let 

L  23.  So  1635  ;  1633,  sleroe  sick 

1.  24.  Walton,  To  witch  poor  wand  ring  fishes  eyes 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  49 

For  thee,  thou  need'st  no  such  deceit, 
For  thou  thyself  art  thine  own  bait : 
That  fish,  that  is  not  catch'd  thereby, 
Alas  !  is  wiser  far  than  I. 


THE  APPARITION. 

When  by  thy  scorn,  O  murd'ress,  I  am  dead, 

And  that  thou  think 'st  thee  free 

From  all  solicitation  from  me, 

Then  shall  my  ghost  come  to  thy  bed. 

And  thee,  feign'd  vestal,  in  worse  arms  shall  see  : 

Then  thy  sick  taper  will  begin  to  wink, 

And  he,  whose  thou  art  then,  being  tired  before, 

Will,  if  thou  stir,  or  pinch  to  wake  him,  think 

Thou  call'st  for  more, 
And,  in  false  sleep,  will  from  thee  shrink  :  10 

And  then,  poor  aspen  wretch,  neglected  thou 
Bathed  in  a  cold  quicksilver  sweat  wilt  lie 

A  verier  ghost  than  I. 
What  I  will  say,  I  will  not  tell  thee  now, 
Lest  that  preserve  thee  ;  and  since  my  love  is  spent, 
I'd  rather  thou  shouldst  painfully  repent. 
Than  by  my  threatenings  rest  still  innocent. 

1.  28.  Walton,  Is  wiser  far,  alas 
1.  2.  i66g,  thoushalt  think  1.  7.  1669  omits  then 

1.  10.  1635,  in  false  sleep,  from  tJiee.     1669,  in  a  false 
<ilecp,  even  from  thee 

VOL,    I.  4 


50  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


THE  BROKEN    HEART. 

He  is  stark  mad,  wlioevcx-  says, 

That  he  hath  been  in  love  an  hour, 
Yet  not  that  love  so  soon  decays, 

But  that  it  can  ten  in  less  space  devour  ; 
Wlio  will  believe  me,  if  I  swear 
That  I  have  had  the  plague  a  year  ? 

Who  would  not  laugh  at  me,  if  I  should  say 

I  saw  a  flash  of  powder  burn  a  day  ? 

Ah,  what  a  trifle  is  a  heart, 

If  once  into  love's  hands  it  come  !  10 

All  other  griefs  allow  a  part 

To  other  griefs,  and  ask  themselves  but  some  ; 
They  come  to  us,  but  us  love  draws  ; 
He  swallows  us  and  never  chaws  ; 

By  him,  as  by  chain'd  shot,  whole  ranks  do  die ; 

He  is  the  tyrant  pilce,  our  hearts  the  fry. 

If  'twere  not  so,  what  did  become 

Of  my  heart  when  I  first  saw  thee  ? 
I  brought  a  heart  into  the  room, 

But  from  the  room  I  carried  none  with  me.       20 
If  it  had  gone  to  thee,  I  know 
Mine  would  have  taught  thine  heart  to  show 

More  pity  unto  me  ;  but  Love,  alas  ! 

At  one  first  blow  did  shiver  it  as  glass. 

1.  8.  So  1635  ;  xS-^"^,  flask 
1.  16.  1669,  and  we  the  fry 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  51 

Yet  nothing  can  to  nothing  fall, 

Nor  any  place  be  empty  quite  ; 
Therefore  I  think  my  breast  hath  all 

Those  pieces  still,  though  they  be  not  unite  ; 
And  now,  as  broken  glasses  show 
A  hundred  lesser  faces,  so  30 

My  rags  of  heart  can  like,  wish,  and  adore, 

But  after  one  such  love,  can  love  no  more. 


'^       A  VALEDICTION   FORBIDDING    MOURNING. 

As  virtuous  men  pass  mildly  away. 

And  whisper  to  their  souls  to  go, 
Whilst  some  of  their  sad  friends  do  say, 

"  Now  his  breath  goes,"  and  some  say,  "  No." 

So  let  us  melt,  and  make  no  noise, 
No  tear-floods,  nor  sigh-tempests  move  ; 

'Twere  profanation  of  our  joys 
To  tell  the  laity  our  love. 

Moving  of  th'  earth  brings  harms  and  fears  ; 

Men  reckon  what  it  did,  and  meant ;  lo 

But  trepidation  of  the  spheres. 

Though  greater  far,  is  innocent. 

.    1.  4.  So  1669  ;   1633.  7'he  breath  goes  no7o 


52  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

Dull  sublunary  lovers'  love 
— Whose  soul  is  sense— cannot  admit 

Of  absence,  'cause  it  doth  remove 
The  thing  which  elemented  it. 

But  we  by  a  love  so  far  refined, 

That  ourselves  know  not  what  it  is, 

Inter-assured  of  the  mind, 

Care  less  eyes,  lips  and  hands  to  miss.  20 

Our  two  souls  therefore,  which  are  one, 
Though  I  must  go,  endure  not  yet 

A  breach,  but  an  expansion, 
Like  gold  to  airy  thinness  beat. 

If  they  be  two,  they  are  two  so 

As  stiff  twin  compasses  are  two  ; 
Thy  soul,  the  fix'd  foot,  makes  no  show 

To  move,  but  doth,  if  th'  other  do. 

And  though  it  in  the  centre  sit, 

Yet,  when  the  other  far  doth  roam,  30 

It  leans,  and  hearkens  after  it, 

And  grows  erect,  as  that  comes  home. 

Such  wilt  thou  be  to  me,  who  must, 
Like  th'  other  foot,  obliquely  ran  ; 

Thy  firmness  makes  my  circle  just, 
And  makes  me  end  where  I  begun. 

1,  15.  So  1669 ;  1633,  Absence,  because 

1.  16.  So  1669  ;  1633,  Those  things 

1.  17,  So  1669  ;  1633,  so  much 

I.  20.  So  1C69  ;  1633,  eyes,  lips,  hands 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  53 


THE   ECSTACY. 

Where,  like  a  pillow  on  a  bed, 

A  pregnant  bank  swell'd  up,  to  rest 
The  violet's  reclining  head, 

Sat  we  two,  one  another's  best. 

Our  hands  were  firmly  cemented 

By  a  fast  balm,  which  thence  did  spring ; 

Our  eye-beams  twisted,  and  did  thread 
Our  eyes  upon  one  double  string. 

So  to  engraft  our  hands,  as  yet 

Was  all  the  means  to  make  us  one  j  jo 

And  pictures  in  our  eyes  to  get 

Was  all  our  propagation. 

As,  'twixt  two  equal  armies,  Fate 

Suspends  uncertain  victory,  ^     J/) 

Our  souls — which  to  advance  their  state,  y^^.  t 

Were  gone  out — hung  'twixt  her  and  me.    ' 

And  whilst  our  souls  negotiate  there, 

We  like  sepulchral  statues  lay  ; 
All  day,  the  same  our  postures  were, 

And  we  said  nothing,  all  the  day.  20 

L  3.  1669,  declining 
1.  4.  1669,  on  one  another's  breasts 
L  9.  So  1635  ;  1633,  to  intergra/t 
L  15.  1635,  our  state 


54  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

If  any,  so  by  love  refined, 

That  he  soul's  language  understood 
And  by  good  love  were  grown  all  mind 

Within  convenient  distance  stood 

He — though  he  knew  not  which  soul  spake,  -  -    j\ 

Because  both  meant,  both  spake  the  same — ■■ ,  A/-  ^T^ 

Might  thence  a  new  concoction  take,  U  h/J^/^i^^\ 

And  part  far  purer  than  he  came.  4/?/  (t^ 


'i^rt 


This  ecstacy  doth  unperplex 

(We  said)  and  tell  us  what  we  love  ;  ' ''■^"'Z9,U^   L^y 
We  see  by  this,  it  was  not  sex ;  *'  ^'  '      , 

We  see,  we  saw  not,  what  did  move  :  n    i/^ 

■h 

But  as  all  several  souls  contain 

Mixture  of  things  they  know  not  what. 
Love  these  mix'd  souls  doth  mix  again, 

And  makes  both  one,  each  this,  and  that. 

A  single  violet  transplant, 

The  strength,  the  colour,  and  the  size — 
All  which  before  was  poor  and  scant — 

Redoubles  still,  and  multiplies.  40 

When  love  with  one  another  so 

Interanimates  two  souls, 
That  abler  soul,  which  thence  doth  flow, 

Defects  of  loneliness  controls.  "   '^-^ 

1.  25.  So  1635  ;  1633  knows  not    -^^  L  29.  1669,  do 
1.  44.  1669,  loveliness 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  55 

We  then,  who  are  this  new  soul,  know, 

Of  what  we  are  composed,  and  made,  .,vJ  ^          /•'" 

For  th'  atomies  of  which  we  grow  ^\JLl''^f 

Are  souls,  whom  no  change  can  invade.  ^  ^^  XcJi 

But,  O  alas  !  so  long,  so  far,  — ^S/hMlA 

Our  bodies  why  do  we  forbear ?  q  / /^^^^7)t^ 

They  are  ours,  though  not  we  ;  we  are  jMy^t  0<^'~^ 

Th'  intelligences,  they  the  spheres. 

We  owe  them  thanks,  because  they  thus 

Did  us,  to  us,  at  first  convey, 
Yielded  their  senses'  force  to  us, 

Nor  are  dross  to  us,  but  allay. 

On  man  heaven's  influence  works  not  so. 

But  that  it  first  imprints  the  air ; 
For  soul  into  the  soul  may  flow, 

Though  it  to  body  first  repair.  60 

As  our  blood  labours  to  beget* 

Spirits,  as  like  souls  as  it  can  j 
Because  such  fingers  need  to  knit 

That  subtle  knot,  which  makes  us  man  ; 

So  must  pure  lovers'  souls  descend 

To  affections,  and  to  faculties. 
Which  sense  may  reach  and  apprehend, 

Else  a  great  prince  in  prison  lies. 

1.  48.  1650,  soul 


56  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

To  our  bodies  turn  we  then,  that  so 

Weak  men  on  love  reveal'd  may  look  ;  70 

Love's  mysteries  in  souls  do  grow, 

But  yet  the  body  is  his  book. 

And  if  some  lover,  such  as  we, 

Have  heard  this  dialogue  of  one, 
Let  him  still  mark  us,  he  shall  see 

Small  change  when  we're  to  bodies  gone. 


love's  deity. 

I  LONG  to  talk  with  some  old  lovers  ghost. 
Who  died  before  the  god  of  love  was  born. 

I  cannot  think  that  he,  who  then  loved  most, 
Sunk  so  low  as  to  love  one  which  did  scorn. 

But  since  this  god  produced  a  destiny. 

And  that  vice-nature,  custom,  lets  it  be, 
I  must  love  her  that  loves  not  me. 

Sure,  they  which  made  him  god,  meant  not  so  much, 
Nor  he  in  his  young  godhead  practised  it. 

But  when  an  even  flame  two  hearts  did  touch,  10 

His  office  was  indulgently  to  fit 

Actives  to  passives.     Correspondency 

Only  his  subject  was  ;  it  cannot  be 
Love,  till  I  love  her,  who  loves  me. 

1.  72.  1669,  the  book  1.  76.  1635,  grown 

1.  14.   1635,  if  I  love,  who  loves  not  jue ;  1669,  ////  / 
love  ker,  that  loves  jne 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  57 

But  every  modern  god  will  now  extend 

His  vast  prerogative  as  far  as  Jove. 
To  rage,  to  lust,  to  write  to,  to  commend, 

All  is  the  purlieu  of  the  god  of  love. 
O  !  were  we  waken'd  by  this  tyranny 
To  ungod  this  child  again,  it  could  not  be  20 

I  should  love  her,  who  loves  not  me. 


Rebel  and  atheist  too,  why  murmur  I, 

As  though  I  felt  the  worst  that  love  could  do  ? 

Love  may  make  me  leave  loving,  or  might  try 
A  deeper  plague,  to  make  her  love  me  too  ; 

Which,  since  she  loves  before,  I'm  loth  to  see. 

Falsehood  is  worse  than  hate  ;  and  that  must  be, 
If  she  whom  I  love,  should  love  me. 


love's  diet. 

To  what  a  cumbersome  unwieldiness 

And  burdenous  corpulence  my  love  had  grown, 

But  that  I  did,  to  make  it  less, 

And  keep  it  in  proportion. 
Give  it  a  diet,  made  it  feed  upon 
That  which  love  worst  endures,  discretion. 

L  19.  1669,   Were  we  not  weakened 


58  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Above  one  sigh  a  day  I  ailovv'd  him  not, 

Of  which  my  fortune,  and  my  faults  had  part ; 

And  if  sometimes  by  stealth  he  got 

A  she  sigh  from  my  mistress'  heart,  lo 

And  thought  to  feast  on  that,  I  let  him  see 
'Twas  neither  very  sound,  nor  meant  to  me. 


If  he  wrung  from  me  a  tear,  I  brined  it  so 
With  scorn  or  shame,  that  him  it  nourish'd  not ; 

If  he  suck'd  hers,  I  let  him  know 

'Twas  not  a  tear  which  he  had  got  ; 
His  drink  was  counterfeit,  as  was  his  meat ; 
For  eyes,  which  roll    towards  all,   weep  not,    but 
sweat. 


Whatever  he  would  dictate  I  writ  that, 

But  burnt  her  letters  when  she  writ  to  me  ;  20 

And  if  that  favour  made  him  fat, 

I  said,  *'  If  any  title  be 
Convey 'd  by  this,  ah  !  what  doth  it  avail, 
To  be  the  fortieth  name  in  an  entail  ?  " 


1.  18.  i66g,  Her  eyes 

1.  19.  So  1633,1669;  1650,  Whaie  er  might  him  dis- 
taste, I  still  writ  that 

1.  20.  So  1635;  1633,  my  letters ;  1669,  vty  letters 
which  she  writ 

1.  21.  So  1635  ;  1633,  that  that 

1.  24.  1669,  fortieth  man 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  59 

Thus  I  reclaim'd  my  buzzard  love,  to  flie 

At  what,  and  when,  and  how,  and  where  I  choose. 

Now  negligent  of  sports  I  lie, 

And  now,  as  other  falconers  use, 
I  spring  a  mistress,  swear,  write,  sigh,  and  weep  ; 
And  the  game  kili'd,  or  lost,  go  talk  or  sleep.  30 


THE  WILL. 

Before  I  sigh  my  last  gasp,  let  me  breathe. 
Great  Love,  some  legacies ;  I  here  bequeath 
Mine  eyes  to  Argus,  if  mine  eyes  can  see ; 
If  they  be  blind,  then.  Love,  I  give  them  thee  ; 
My  tongue  to  Fame  ;  to  ambassadors  mine  ears  ; 
To  women  or  the  sea,  my  tears  : 
Thou,  Love,  hast  taught  me  heretofore 
By  making  me  serve  her  who  had  twenty  more, 
That  I  should  give  to  none,  but  such  as  had  too 
much  before. 

My  constancy  I  to  the  planets  give  ;  10 

My  truth  to  them  who  at  the  court  do  live  ; 
Mine  ingenuity  and  openness, 
To  Jesuits  ;  to  buffoons  my  pensiveness  ; 
My  silence  to  any,  who  abroad  hath  been ; 
My  money  to  a  Capuchin  : 
Thou,  Love,  taught'st  me,  by  appointing  me 
To  love  there,  where  no  love  received  can  be. 
Only  to  give  to  such  as  have  an  incapacity. 

1.  27.  1635,  sport  1.  30.  So  1635  ;  1633,  and  sleep 

I.  14,  1669,  have  1.  18.  1669,  no  good  capacity 


6o  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

My  faith  I  give  to  Roman  Catholics  ; 
All  my  good  works  unto  the  Schismatics  20 

Of  Amsterdam  ;  my  best  civility 
And  courtship  to  an  University  ; 
My  modesty  I  give  to  soldiers  bare  ; 
My  patience  let  gamesters  share  : 
Thou,  Love,  taught'st  me,  by  making  me 
Love  her  that  holds  my  love  disparity, 
Only  to  give  to  those  that  count  my  gifts  indignity. 

I  give  my  reputation  to  those 
Which  were  my  friends  ;  mine  industry  to  foes  ; 
To  schoolmen  I  bequeath  my  doubtfulness  ;         30 
My  sickness  to  physicians,  or  excess  ; 
To  nature  all  that  I  in  rhyme  have  writ ; 
And  to  my  company  my  wit : 
Thou,  Love,  by  making  me  adore 
Her,  who  begot  this  love  in  me  before, 
Taught'st  me  to  make,  as  though  I  gave,  when  I  dc 
but  restore. 

To  him  for  whom  the  passing-bell  next  tolls, 
I  give  my  physic  books  ;  my  written  rolls 
Of  moral  counsels  I  to  Bedlam  give  ; 
My  brazen  medals  unto  them  which  live  40 

In  want  of  bread  ;  to  them  which  pass  among 
All  foreigners,  mine  English  tongue  : 
Thou,  Love,  by  making  me  love  one 
"Who  thinks  her  friendship  a  fit  portion 
For  younger  lovers,  dost  my  gifts  thus  disproportion. 

L  36.  So  1635  ;  1633,  did  but 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  6l 

Therefore  I'll  give  no  more,  but  I'll  undo 
The  world  by  dying,  because  love  dies  too. 
Then  all  your  beauties  will  be  no  more  worth 
Than  gold  in  mines,  where  none  doth  draw  it  forth  ; 
And  all  your  graces  no  more  use  shall  have,         5^ 
Than  a  sun-dial  in  a  grave  : 

Thou,  Love,  taught'st  me  by  making  me 
Love  her  who  doth  neglect  both  me  and  thee. 
To  invent,  and  practise  this  one  way,  to  annihilate 

all  three. 


THE  FUNERAL. 

Whoever  comes  to  shroud  me,  do  not  harm, 

Nor  question  much, 
That  subtle  wreath  of  hair,  which  crowns  my  arm  ; 
The  mystery,  the  sign  you  must  not  touch ; 

For  'tis  my  outward  soul, 
Viceroy  to  that,  which  unto  heaven  being  gone, 

Will  leave  this  to  control 
And  keep  these  limbs,  her  provinces,  from  dissolu- 
tion. 

For  if  the  sinewy  thread  my  brain  lets  fall 

Through  every  part  lO 

Can  tie  those  parts,  and  make  me  one  of  all. 
Those  hairs  which  upward  grew,  and  strength  and  art 

1.  54,  1669,  to  annihilate  thee 
1,  3.  1669,  about  mine  arm 
1.  12.  1650,  grow 


62  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Have  from  a  better  brain, 
Can  better  do  't ;  except  she  meant  that  I 

By  this  should  know  my  pain, 
As  prisoners  then  are  manacled,  when  they're  con- 
demn'd  to  die. 


Whate'er  she  meant  by  it,  bury  it  with  me, 

For  since  I  am 
Love's  martyr,  it  might  breed  idolatry, 
If  into  other  hands  these  relics  came.  20 

As  'twas  humility 
To  afford  to  it  all  that  a  soul  can  do, 

So  'tis  some  bravery, 
That  since  you  would  have  none  of  me,  1  bury  some 
of  you. 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  63 


/^        THE    BLOSSOM. 

Little  think'st  thou,  poor  flower, 

Whom  I've  watch'd  six  or  seven  days, 
And  seen  thy  birth,  and  seen  what  every  hour 
Gave  to  thy  growth,  thee  to  this  height  to  raise, 
And  now  dost  laugh  and  triumph  on  this  bough, 

Little  think'st  thou, 
That  it  will  freeze  anon,  and  that  I  shall 
To-morrow  find  thee  fallen,  or  not  at  all. 

Little  think'st  thou,  poor  heart, 

That  labourest  yet  to  nestle  thee,  10 

And  think'st  by  hovering  here  to  get  a  part 
In  a  forbidden  or  forbidding  tree, 
And  hopest  her  stiffness  by  long  siege  to  bow, 

Little  think'st  thou. 
That  thou  to-morrow,  ere  that  sun  doth  wake, 
Must  with  this  sun  and  me  a  journey  take. 

But  thou  which  lovest  to  be 

Subtle  to  plague  thyself,  wilt  sayj 
Alas  !  if  you  must  go,  what's  that  to  me  ? 
Here  lies  my  business,  and  here  I  will  stay  ;  20 

You  go  to  friends,  whose  love  and  means  present 

Various  content 
To  your  eyes,  ears,  and  taste,  and  every  part ; 
If  then  your  body  go,  what  need  your  heart  ? 

1.  10.  So  1635  ;  1633,  labours 
1.  15.  1635,  the  sun 


64  DONNE  S  POEMS. 

Well  then,  stay  here  ;  but  know, 

When  thou  hast  stay'd  and  done  thy  most, 

A  naked  thinking  heart,  that  makes  no  show, 

Is  to  a  woman  but  a  kind  of  ghost. 

How  shall  she  know  my  heart ;  or  having  none, 

Know  thee  for  one  ?  30 

Practice  may  make  her  know  some  other  part  j 

But  take  my  word,  she  doth  not  know  a  heart. 

Meet  me  at  London,  then, 
Twenty  days  hence,  and  thou  shalt  see 
Me  fresher,  and  more  5at,  by  being  with  men, 
Than  if  I  had  stay'd  still  with  her  and  thee. 
For  God's  sake,  if  you  can,  be  you  so  too  ; 

I  will  give  you 
There  to  another  friend,  whom  we  shall  find 
As  glad  to  have  my  body  as  my  mind.  40 


THE    PRIMROSE,    BEING    AT    MONTGOMERY  CASTLE 
UPON  THE   HILL,    ON   WHICH   IT   IS   SITUATE. 

Upon  this  Primrose  hill. 
Where,  if  heaven  would  distil 
A  shower  of  rain,  each  several  drop  might  go 
To  his  own  primrose,  and  grow  manna  so  ; 
And  where  their  form,  and  their  infinity 
Make  a  terrestrial  galaxy, 
As  the  small  stars  do  in  the  sky ; 
I  walk  to  find  a  true  love  ;  and  I  see 
That  'tis  not  a  mere  woman,  that  is  she, 
But  must  or  more  or  less  than  woman  be  lo 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  6$ 

Yet  know  I  not,  which  flower 

I  wish  ;  a  six,  or  four  ; 
For  should  my  true-love  less  than  woman  be, 
She  were  scarce  anything  ;  and  then,  should  she 
Be  more  than  woman,  she  would  get  above 

All  thought  of  sex,  and  think  to  move 

My  heart  to  study  her,  and  not  to  love. 
Both  these  were  monsters  ;  since  there  must  reside 
Falsehood  in  woman,  I  could  more  abide, 
She  were  by  art,  than  nature  falsified.  20 

Live,  primrose,  then,  and  thrive 

With  thy  true  number  five  ; 
And,  woman,  whom  this  flower  doth  represent, 
With  this  mysterious  number  be  content ; 
Ten  is  the  farthest  number  ;  if  half  ten 

Belongs  unto  each  woman,  then 

Each  woman  may  take  half  us  men  ; 
Or — if  this  will  not  serve  their  turn — since  all 
Numbers  are  odd,  or  even,  and  they  fall 
First  into  five,  women  may  take  us  all.  30 

1.  28.  1650,  i/ie  turn  I.  29.  1635,  since  they  fall 

1.  30.  So  1635  ;  1633,  this  five 


VOL.  f. 


66  DONNE'S  POEMS, 


THE  RELIC. 

When  my  grave  is  broke  up  again 
Some  second  guest  to  entertain, 
— For  graves  have  learn'd  that  woman-head, 
To  be  to  more  than  one  a  bed — 
And  he  that  digs  it,  spies 
I    A  bracelet  of  bright  hair  about  the  bone, 
Will  not  he  let  us  alone, 
And  think  that  there  a  loving  couple  lies, 
Who  thought  that  this  device  might  be  some  way 
To  make  their  souls  at  the  last  busy  day  lo 

Meet  at  this  grave,  and  make  a  little  stay  ? 

If  this  fall  in  a  time,  or  land, 
Where  mass-devotion  doth  command, 
Then  he  that  digs  us  up  will  bring 
Us  to  the  bishop  or  the  king, 
To  make  us  relics  ;  then 
Thou  shalt  be  a  Mary  Magdalen,  and  I 

A  something  else  thereby  ; 
All  women  shall  adore  us,  and  some  men. 
And,  since  at  such  time  miracles  are  sought,  20 

I  would  have  that  age  by  this  paper  taught 
What  miracles  we  harmless  lovers  wrought. 


a 


1.  13.  So  1669  ;  1633,  mis-devotion 
1.  15.  So  1669  ;  1633,   and  the  king 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  67 

First  we  loved  well  and  faithfully, 
Yet  knew  not  what  we  loved,  nor  why  ; 
Difference  of  sex  we  never  knew, 
No  more  than  guardian  angels  do  ; 
Coming  and  going  we 
Perchance    might    kiss,    but    not    between    those 
meals  ; 
Our  hands  ne'er  touch'd  the  seals. 
Which  nature,  injured  by  late  law,  sets  free.         30 
These  miracles  we  did  ;  but  now  alas  ! 
All  measure,  and  all  language,  I  should  pass, 
Should  I  tell  what  a  miracle  she  was. 


THE    DAMP. 

When  I  am  dead,  and  doctors  know  not  why, 

And  my  friends'  curiosity 
Will  have  me  cut  up  to  survey  each  part, 
When  they  shall  find  your  picture  in  my  heart, 
You  think  a  sudden  damp  of  love 
Will  thorough  all  their  senses  move. 
And  work  on  them  as  me,  and  so  prefer 
Your  murder  to  the  name  of  massacre, 

1.  25.  So  1635  ;  1633,  720  more  we  knew 

1.  26.  So  1635  ;  1633,   Than  our 

1.  28.  1669,  yet  betwee?t  1.  30.  1669,  set  free 

1.  4.  1669,  And 


68  DONNE  S  POEMS. 

Poor  victories  ;  but  if  you  dare  be  brave, 

And  pleasure  in  your  conquest  have,  lO 
First  kill  th'  enormous  giant,  your  Disdain  ; 
And  let  th'  enchantress  Honour,  next  be  slain  ; 

And  like  a  Goth  or  Vandal  rise. 

Deface  records  and  histories 
Of  your  own  arts  and  triumphs  over  men, 
And  without  such  advantage  kill  me  then, 

For  I  could  muster  up,  as  well  as  you. 

My  giants,  and  my  witches  too, 

^Vhich  are  vast  Constancy  and  Secretness  ; 

But  these  I  neither  look  for  nor  profess  ;  20 

Kill  me  as  woman,  let  me  die 
As  a  mere  man  ;  do  you  but  try 

Your  passive  valour,  and  you  shall  find  then, 

Naked  you  have  odds  enough  of  any  man. 

1.  10.  1669,  the  conquest 

1.  24.  So  1635  ;  1633,  In  thai 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  69 


THE  DISSOLUTION. 

She's  dead  ;  and  all  which  die 
To  their  first  elements  resolve  ; 
And  we  were  mutual  elements  to  us, 
And  made  of  one  another. 
My  body  then  doth  hers  involve, 
And  those  things  whereof  I  consist  hereby 
In  me  abundant  grow,  and  burdenous, 
And  nourish  not,  but  smother. 
My  fire  of  passion,  sighs  of  air. 
Water  of  tears,  and  earthy  sad  despair,  10 

Which  my  materials  be, 
But  near  worn  out  by  love's  security, 
She,  to  my  loss,  doth  by  her  death  repair. 
And  I  might  live  long  wretched  so, 
But  that  my  fire  doth  with  my  fuel  grow. 
Now,  as  those  active  kings 
Whose  foreign  conquest  treasure  brings. 
Receive  more,  and  spend  more,  and  soonest  break, 
This — which  I  am  amazed  that  I  can  speak — 

This  death,  hath  with  my  store  20 

My  use  increased. 
And  so  my  soul,  more  earnestly  released, 
Will  outstrip  hers  ;  as  bullets  flown  before 
A  later  bullet  may  o'ertake,  the  powder  being  more. 

I  12.  So  1635  ;  1633,  ne'r 


70  DONNE'S  POEMS, 


A   JET    RING   SENT. 

Thou  art  not  so  black  as  my  heart, 
Nor  half  so  brittle  as  her  heart,  thou  art ; 
What  wouldst  thou  say  ?  shall  both  our  properties  by 

thee  be  spoke, 
— Nothing  more  endless,  nothing  sooner  broke  ? 

Marriage  rings  are  not  of  this  stuff; 
Oh,  why  should  ought  less  precious,  or  less  tough, 
Figure  our  loves  ?  except  in  thy  name  thou  have  bid 

it  say 
** — I'm  cheap,  and  nought   but   fashion;    fling   me 
away. " 

Yet  stay  with  me  since  thou  art  come, 
Circle  this  finger's  top,  which  didst  her  thumb  ;  lo 
Be  justly  proud,  and  gladly  safe,  that  thou  dost  dwell 

with  me  ; 
She  that,  O  !  broke  her  faith,  would  soon  break  thee. 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  71 


NEGATIVE   LOVE. 

I  NEVER  stoop'd  SO  low,  as  they 

Which  on  an  eye,  cheek,  lip,  can  prey  ; 
Seldom  to  them  which  soar  no  higher 
Than  virtue,  or  the  mind;  to  admire. 

For  sense  and  understanding  may 
Know  what  gives  fuel  to  their  fire  ; 

My  love,  though  silly,  is  more  brave  ; 

For  may  I  miss,  whene'er  I  crave, 

If  I  know  yet  what  I  would  have. 

If  that  be  simply  perfectest,  10 

Which  can  by  no  way  be  express'd 

But  negatives,  my  love  is  so. 

To  all,  which  all  love,  I  say  no. 
If  any  who  deciphers  best, 

What  we  know  not — ourselves — can  know. 
Let  him  teach  me  that  nothing.     This 
As  yet  my  ease  and  comfort  is. 
Though  I  speed  not,  I  cannot  miss, 

L  n.  1669,  no  means 


72  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


THE   PROHIBITION. 

Take  heed  of  loving  me  ; 
At  least  remember,  I  forbade  it  thee  ; 
Not  that  I  shall  repair  my  unthrifty  waste 
Of  breath  and  blood,  upon  thy  sighs  and  tears, 
By  being  to  thee  then  what  to  me  thou  wast ; 
But  so  great  joy  our  life  at  once  outwears. 
Then,  lest  thy  love  by  my  death  frustrate  be, 
If  thou  love  me,  take  heed  of  loving  me. 

Take  heed  of  hating  me. 
Or  too  much  triumph  in  the  victory  ;  lo 

Not  that  I  shall  be  mine  own  officer. 
And  hate  with  hate  again  retaliate  ; 
But  thou  wilt  lose  the  style  of  conqueror, 
If  I,  thy  conquest,  perish  by  thy  hate. 
Then,  lest  my  being  nothing  lessen  thee, 
If  thou  hate  me,  take  heed  of  hating  me. 

Yet  love  and  hate  me  too  ; 
So  these  extremes  shall  ne'er  their  office  do  j 
Love  me,  that  I  may  die  the  gentler  way  ; 
Hate  me,  because  thy  love's  too  great  for  me  ;     20 

1.  3.  1669,  repay  in  unthrifty  a  waste 

1.  5.  So  1635  ;  1633,  to  me  then  that  which  thou  wast 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  73 

Or  let  these  two,  themselves,  not  me,  decay  ; 
So  shall  I  live  thy  stage,  not  triumph  be. 
Lest  thou  thy  love  and  hate,  and  me  undo, 
C  let  me  live,  yet  love  and  hate  me  too. 


THE   EXPIRATION. 

So,  so,  break  off  this  last  lamenting  kiss, 

Which  sucks  two  souls,  and  vapours  both  away ; 

Turn,  thou  ghost,  that  way,  and  let  me  turn  this. 
And  let  ourselves  benight  our  happiest  day. 

We  ask  none  leave  to  love  ;  nor  will  we  owe 
Any  so  cheap  a  death  as  saying,  **  Go." 

Go  ;  and  if  that  word  have  not  quite  killed  thee, 
Ease  me  with  death,  by  bidding  me  go  too. 

Or,  if  it  have,  let  my  word  work  on  me, 
And  a  just  office  on  a  murderer  do.  lo 

Except  it  be  too  late,  to  kill  me  so, 

Being  double  dead,  going,  and  bidding,  "Go." 

1.  22.  So  1635  ;  1633,  tky  stay 

1.  23.  1635,  Then  lest  thou  thy  love  hate  and  me  thou 
undo ;  1669,  Lest  thou  thy  love,  and  hate,  and  me  thou  undi 
1.  24.  So  1635  ;  1633,  O  /  love  and  hate 
?.  r.  1669,  So  go 


74  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


THE  COMPUTATION. 

For  my  first  twenty  years,  since  yesterday, 

I  scarce  believed  thou  couldst  be  gone  away ; 
For  forty  more  I  fed  on  favours  past, 

And  forty  on  hopes,  that  thou  wouldst  they  might 
last  ; 
Tears  drown'd  one  hundred,  and  sighs  blew  out  two  ; 

A  thousand,  I  did  neither  think,  nor  do. 
Or  not  divide,  all  being  one  thought  of  you  ; 

Or  in  a  thousand  more,  forgot  that  too. 
Yet  call  not  this  long  life ;  but  think  that  I 
Am,  by  being  dead,  immortal ;  can  ghosts  die  ?      lO 


THE   PARADOX. 

No  lover  saith,  I  love,  nor  any  other 

Can  judge  a  perfect  lover  ; 
He  thinks  that  else  none  can  or  will  agree, 

That  any  loves  but  he  ; 
I  cannot  say  I  loved,  for  who  can  say 

He  was  kill'd  yesterday. 
Love  with  excess  of  heat,  more  young  than  old, 

Death  kills  with  too  much  cold ; 

1.  I.  1669,  Front 

1.  3.  1669,  And 

L  7.  So  1633,  1669 ;  1635,  Or  not  deenid 

1.  8.  i66g,  forget 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  75 

We  die  but  once,  and  who  loved  last  did  die, 

He  that  saith,  twice,  doth  lie  ;  lO 

For  though  he  seem  to  move,  and  stir  a  while, 

It  doth  the  sense  beguile. 
Such  life  is  like  the  light  which  bideth  yet 

When  the  life's  light  is  set, 
Or  like  the  heat  which  fire  in  solid  matter 

Leaves  behind,  two  hours  after. 
Once  I  loved  and  died  ;  and  am  now  become 

Mine  epitaph  and  tomb  ; 
Here  dead  men  speak  their  last,  and  so  do  I  j 

Love-slain,  lo  !  here  I  die.  20 

SONG. 

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  denies 
Each  other's  sight. 
And  makes  to  us  a  constant  night, 

When  others  change  to  light ;  lO 

O  give  no  zvay  to  griefs 
But  let  belief 

Of  mutual  love 
This  wonder  to  the  vulgar  prove ^ 
Our  bodies ^  not  we  move. 

L  I.  Lansd.  MS.  777,  when 


76  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Let  not  thy  wit  beweep 

Words  but  sense  deep  ; 
For  when  we  miss 
By  distance  our  hope's  joining  bliss, 

Even  then  our  souls  shall  kiss  ;  20 

Fools  have  no  means  to  meet, 
But  by  their  feet ; 
"Why  should  our  clay 
Over  our  spirits  so  much  sway, 
To  tie  us  to  that  way  ? 

0  give  no  ivay  to  griefs   dr'c. 


FAREWELL  TO  LOVE. 

Whilst  yet  to  prove 
I  thought  there  was  some  deity  in  love, 

So  did  I  reverence,  and  gave 
Worship  ;  as  atheists  at  their  dying  hour 
Call,  what  they  cannot  name,  an  unknown  power, 

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,  10 

1.  17.  Lansd.  MS.,  777,  Woujids 

1.  18.  Lansd.  MS.,  777,  while 

I.  19.   Lansd.  MS.,  777,  our  lives 

1.  26.  Lansd.  MS.,  777  omits  the  second  refrain 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  77 

But,  from  late  fair, 
His  highness  sitting  in  a  golden  chair 

Is  not  less  cared  for  after  three  days 
By  children,  than  the  thing  which  lovers  so 
Blindly  admire,  and  with  such  worship  woo  ; 

Being  had,  enjoying  it  decays  ; 
And  thence, 
What  before  pleased  them  all,  takes  but  one  sense, 

And  that  so  lamely,  as  it  leaves  behind 
A  kind  of  sorrowing  dullness  to  the  mind.  20 

Ah,  cannot  we, 
As  well  a»s  cocks  and  lions,  jocund  be 

After  such  pleasures,  unless  wise 
Nature  decreed — since  each  such  act,  they  say, 
Diminisheth  the  length  of  life  a  day — 

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.  jO 

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  endamaged  me  ; 
And  when  I  come  where  moving  beauties  be, 

As  men  do  when  the  summer's  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 


78  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

A  LECTURE   UPON   THE  SHADOW. 

Stand  still,  and  I  will  read  to  thee 
A  lecture,  Love,  in  Love's  philosophy. 

These  three  hours  that  we  have  spent, 

Walking  here,  two  shadows  went 
Along  with  us,  which  we  ourselves  produced. 
But,  now  the  sun  is  just  above  our  head, 

We  do  those  shadows  tread, 

And  to  brave  clearness  all  things  are  reduced. 
So  whilst  our  infant  loves  did  grow, 
Disguises  did,  and  shadows,  flow,  lo 

From  us  and  our  cares  ;  but  now  'tis  not  so. 

That  love  has  not  attain'd  the  highest  degree, 
Which  is  still  diligent  lest  others  see. 

Except  our  loves  at  this  noon  stay, 

We  shall  new  shadows  make  the  other  way. 

As  the  first  were  made  to  blind 

Others,  these  which  come  behind 
Will  work  upon  ourselves,  and  blind  our  eyes. 
If  our  loves  faint,  and  westwardly  decline, 

To  me  thou,  falsely,  thine  20 

And  I  to  thee  mine  actions  shall  disguise. 
The  morning  shadows  wear  away. 
But  these  grow  longer  all  the  day  ; 
But  O  !  love's  day  is  short,  if  love  decay. 

Love  is  a  growing,  or  full  constant  light. 
And  his  short  minute,  after  noon,  is  night. 

1,  9.  1669,  love 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  79 


A   DIALOGUE  BETWEEN    SIR   HENRY    WOTTON    AND 

MR.    DONNE. 

[w.] 

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  ; 
And  so  is  mine  ;  so  should  yours  be. 

[D.] 

Her  heart,  that  weeps  to  hear  of  others'  moan, 

To  mine  is  stone. 
Her  eyes,  that  weep  a  stranger's  eyes  to  see, 

Joy  to  wound  me.  lO 

Yet  I  so  well  affect  each  part, 
As — caused  by  them — I  love  my  smart. 

[w.] 

Say  her  disdainings  justly  must  be  graced 

With  name  of  chaste  ; 
And  that  she  frowns  lest  longing  should  exceed, 
And  raging  breed  ; 
So  her  disdains  can  ne'er  offend, 
Unless  self-love  take  private  end. 

1.  3.  So  1669 ;  1635,  ihe  hope 


8o  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

[D.] 

'Tislove  breeds  love  in  me,  and  cold  disdain 

Kills  that  again,  20 

As  water  causetli  fire  to  fret  and  fume. 
Till  all  consume. 
Who  can  of  love  more  rich  gift  make, 
Than  to  Love's  self  for  love's  own  sake  ? 

I'll  never  dig  in  quarry  of  an  heart 

To  have  no  part, 
Nor  roast  in  fiery  eyes,  which  always  are 
Canicular. 
Who  this  way  would  a  lover  prove, 
May  show  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. 
Why  bar  you  love  of  private  end, 
Which  never  should  to  public  tend  ? 


THE  TOKEN. 

Send  me  some  tokens,  that  my  hope  may  live 
Or  that  my  easeless  thoughts  may  sleep  and  rest ; 

Send  me  some  honey,  to  make  sweet  my  hive, 
That  in  my  passions  I  may  hope  the  best. 

1.   24.  So  1669 ;  1635,  Than  to  iove  self  for  love's  sake 
1650,  Than  to  love  self-love  for  love's  sake 
I.  27.  So  1669  ;  1635,  rest 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  8l 

I  beg  nor  ribbon  wrought  with  thine  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  ; 

No,  nor  the  corals,  which  thy  wrist  enfold,  10 

Laced  up  together  in  congruity. 

To  show  our  thoughts  should  rest  in  the  same  hold  ; 
No,  nor  thy  picture,  though  most  gracious, 

And  most  desired,  'cause  'tis  like  the  best 
Nor  witty  lines,  which  are  most  copious. 

Within  the  writings  which  thou  hast  address'd. 
Send  me  nor  this  nor  that,  to  increase  my  score. 
But  swear  thou  think'st  T  love  thee,  and  no  more. 


SELF-LOVE. 

He  that  cannot  choose  but  love, 

And  strives  against  it  still. 

Never  shall  my  fancy  move, 

For  he  loves  against  his  will ; 

Nor  he  which  is  all  his  own. 

And  cannot  pleasure  choose  ; 

"When  I  am  caught  he  can  be  gone, 

And  when  he  list  refuse  ; 

Nor  he  that  loves  none  but  fair, 

For  such  by  all  are  sought ;  lO 

1.  14.  So  1669  ;  1650,  like  thee  best 
VOL,  I.  6 


82  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Nor  he  that  can  for  foul  ones  care, 
For  his  judgment  then  is  nought ; 
Nor  he  that  hath  wit,  for  he 
Will  make  me  his  jest  or  slave  ; 

Nor  a  fool  when  others 

He  can  neither 

Nor  he  that  still  his  mistress  prays, 
For  she  is  thrall'd  therefore  ; 
Nor  he  that  pays,  not,  for  he  says 
Within,  she's  worth  no  more. 
Is  there  then  no  kind  of  men 
Whom  I  may  freely  prove  ? 
I  will  vent  that  humour  thea 
In  mine  own  self-love. 


20 


EPITHALAMIONS, 

OR, 

MARRIAGE   SONGS. 

AN  EPITHALAMION,  OR  MARRIAGE  SONG 
ON  THE  LADY  ELIZABETH  AND  COUNT 
PALATINE  BEING  MARRIED  ON  ST.  VAL- 
ENTINE'S DAY. 

I. 

Hail  Bishop  Valentine,  whose  day  this  is  ; 

All  the  air  is  thy  diocese, 

And  all  the  chirping  choristers 
And  other  birds  are  thy  parishioners  ; 

Thou  marriest  every  year 
The  lyric  lark,  and  the  grave  whispering  dove, 
The  sparrow  that  neglects  his  life  for  love, 
The  household  bird  with  the  red  stomacher  ; 

Thou  makest  the  blackbird  speed  as  soon, 
As  doth  the  goldfinch,  or  the  halcyon  ;  lO 

The  husband  cock  looks  out,  and  straight  is  sped, 
And  meets  his  wife,  which  brings  her  feather-bed. 
This  day  more  cheerfully  than  ever  shine  ; 
This  day,  which  might  inflame  thyself,  old  Valentine. 


84  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

II. 
Till  now,  thou  warm'd'st  with  multiplying  loves 

Two  larks,  two  sparrows,  or  two  doves ; 

All  that  is  nothing  unto  this  ; 
For  thou  this  day  couplest  two  phcenixes  j 

Thou  makst  a  taper  see 
What  the  sun  never  saw,  and  what  the  ark  20 

■ — Which  was  of  fowls  and  beasts  the  cage  and  park — 
Did  not  contain,  one  bed  contains,  through  thee  ; 

Two  phoenixes,  whose  joined  breasts 
Are  unto  one  another  mutual  nests, 
Where  motion  kindles  such  fires  as  shall  give 
Young  phoenixes,  and  yet  the  old  shall  live  ; 
Whose  love  and  courage  never  shall  decline, 
But   make   the   whole    year    through,    thy    day,    O 
Valentine. 

III. 

Up  then,  fair  phoenix  bride,  frustrate  the  sun  ; 

Thyself  from  thine  affection  30 

Takest  warmth  enough,  and  from  thine  eye 
All  lesser  birds  will  take  their  jollity. 

Up,  up,  fair  bride,  and  call 
Thy  stars  from  out  their  several  boxes,  take 
Thy  rubies,  pearls,  and  diamonds  forth,  and  make 
Thyself  a  constellation  of  them  all ; 

And  by  their  blazing  signify 
That  a  great  princess  falls,  but  doth  not  die. 
Be  thou  a  new  star,  that  to  us  portends 
Ends  of  much  wonder  ;  and  be  thou  those  ends.      40 

1.  21.  i6t^o,fowl 


EPITHALAMIONS.  85 

Since  thou  dost  this  day  in  new  glory  shine, 

May  all  men  date  records  from  this  day,  Valentine. 

IV. 

Come  forth,  come  forth,  and  as  one  glorious  flame 

Meeting  another  grows  the  same, 

So  meet  thy  Frederick,  and  so 
To  an  inseparable  union  go, 

Since  separation 
Falls  not  on  such  things  as  are  infinite, 
Nor  things,  which  are  but  one,  can  disunite. 
You're  twice  inseparable,  great,  and  one  ;  50 

Go  then  to  where  the  bishop  stays, 
To  make  you  one,  his  way,  which  divers  ways 
Must  be  effected  ;  and  when  all  is  past. 
And  that  you're  one,  by  hearts  and  hands  made  fast. 
You  two  have  one  way  left,  yourselves  to  entwine, 
Besides  this  bishop's  knot,  of  Bishop  Valentine. 

V. 

But  O,  what  ails  the  sun,  that  here  he  stays. 

Longer  to-day  than  other  days  ? 

Stays  he  new  light  from  these  to  get  ? 
And  finding  here  such  stars,  is  loth  to  set  ?  60 

And  why  do  you  two  walk. 
So  slowly  paced  in  this  procession  ? 
Is  all  your  care  but  to  be  look'd  upon. 
And  be  to  others  spectacle  and  talk  ? 

1.  42.  So  1669  ;  1633, /;-£>/»  this  thy 

1.  56.  So  1669  ;  1633,  O  Bishop  Valentine 

L  60.  So  1635  ;  1633,  s?<ch  store 


86  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

The  feast  with  gluttonous  delays 
Is  eaten,  and  too  long  their  meat  they  praise  ; 
The  masquers  come  late,  and  I  think,  will  stay, 
Like  fairies,  till  the  cock  crow  them  away. 
Alas !  did  not  antiquity  assign 
A  night  as  well  as  day,  to  thee,  old  Valentine  ?      70 

VI. 

They  did,  and  night  is  come ;  and  yet  we  see 

Formalities  retarding  thee. 

"What  mean  these  ladies,  which — as  though 
They  were  to  take  a  clock  in  pieces — go 

So  nicely  about  the  bride  ? 
A  bride,  before  a  **  Good-night "  could  be  said, 
Should  vanish  from  her  clothes  into  her  bed, 
As  souls  from  bodies  steal,  and  are  not  spied. 

But  now  she's  laid  ;  what  though  she  be  ? 
Yet  there  are  more  delays,  for  where  is  he  ?  So 

He  comes  and  passeth  through  sphere  after  sphere  j 
First  her  sheets,  then  her  arms,  then  anywhere. 
Let  not  this  day,  then,  but  this  night  be  thine  ; 
Thy  day  was  but  the  eve  to  this,  O  Valentine. 

VII. 

Here  lies  a  she  sun,  and  a  he  moon  there  ; 

She  gives  the  best  light  to  his  sphere  ; 

Or  each  is  both,  and  all,  and  so 
They  unto  one  another  nothing  owe ; 

1.  70.  So  1669  ;  1633,  O  Valentine 
1.  81.  So  1650  ;  1633,  passes 
L  85.  So  1650  ;  1633,  lure 


EPITHALAMIONS.  87 

And  yet  they  do,  but  are 
So  just  and  rich  in  that  coin  which  they  pay,  90 

That  neither  would,  nor  needs  forbear,  nor  stay ; 
Neither  desires  to  be  spared  nor  to  spare. 

They  quickly  pay  their  debt,  and  then 
Take  no  acquittances,  but  pay  again  ; 
They  pay,  they  give,  they  lend,  and  so  let  fall 
No  such  occasion  to  be  liberal. 
More  truth,  more  courage  in  these  two  do  shine, 
Than  all  thy  turtles  have  and  sparrows,  Valentine. 

VIII. 

And  by  this  act  of  these  two  phoenixes 

Nature  again  restored  is  ;  lOO 

For  since  these  two  are  two  no  more, 
There's  but  one  phoenix  still,  as  was  before. 

Rest  now  at  last,  and  we — 
As  satyrs  watch  the  sun's  uprise — will  stay 
Waiting  when  your  eyes  opened  let  out  day, 
Only  desired  because  your  face  we  see. 

Others  near  you  shall  whispering  speak. 
And  wagers  lay,  at  which  side  day  will  break, 
And  win  by  observing,  then,  whose  hand  it  is 
That  opens  first  a  curtain,  hers  or  his  :  no 

This  will  be  tried  to-morrow  after  nine, 
Till  which  hour,  we  thy  day  enlarge,  O  Valentine. 

L  94.  So  1635  ;  1633  acquittance 
L  96.  1669  omits  such 


ECLOGUE. 

I613,    DECEMBER   26. 

ALLOPHANES  FINDING  IDIOS  IN  THE  COUNTRY  IN 
CHRISTMAS  TIME,  REPREHENDS  HIS  ABSENCE 
FROM  COURT,  AT  THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  EARL 
OF  SOMERSET;  IDIOS  GIVES  AN  ACCOUNT  OF 
HIS  PURPOSE  THEREIN,  AND  OF  HIS  ACTIONS 
THERE.  ^ 

ALLOPHANES. 

Unseasonable  man,  statue  of  ice. 

What  could  to  country's  solitude  entice 

Thee,  in  this  year's  cold  and  decrepit  time  ? 

Nature's  instinct  draws  to  the  warmer  clime 

Even  smaller  birds,  who  by  that  courage  dare 

In  numerous  fleets  sail  through  their  sea,  the  air. 

What  delicacy  can  in  fields  appear. 

Whilst  Flora  herself  doth  a  frieze  jerkin  wear  ? 

Whilst  winds  do  all  the  trees  and  hedges  strip 

Of  leaves,  to  furnish  rods  enough  to  whip  10 

Thy  madness  from  thee,  and  all  springs  by  frost 

Have  taken  cold,  and  their  sweet  murmurs  lost? 

If  thou  thy  faults  or  fortunes  wouldst  lament 

With  just  solemnity,  do  it  in  Lent. 

^  So  1635  ;  1633,  absence  thence 
L  5.  So  1635  ;  1633,  Even  small 
1.  12.  1635,  Having 


EPITHALAMIONS.  89 

At  court  the  spring  already  advanced  is, 

The  sun  stays  longer  up  ;  and  yet  not  his 

The  glory  is  ;  far  other,  other  fires. 

First,  zeal  to  prince  and  state,  then  love's  desires 

Burn  in  one  breast,  and   like  heaven's    two  great 

lights, 
The  first  doth  govern  days,  the  other,  nights.  20 

And  then  that  early  light  which  did  appear 
Before  the  sun  and  moon  created  were, 
The  prince's  favour,  is  diffused  o'er  all, 
From  which  all  fortunes,  names,  and  natures  fall. 
Then  from  those  wombs  of  stars,  the  bride's  bright 

eyes, 
At  every  glance,  a  constellation  flies, 
And  sows  the  court  with  stars,  and  doth  prevent 
In  light  and  power,  the  all-eyed  firmament. 
First  her  eyes  kindle  other  ladies'  eyes, 
Then  from  their  beams  their  jewels'  lustres  rise,       30 
And  from  their  jewels  torches  do  take  fire, 
And  all  is  warmth,  and  light,  and  good  desire. 
Most  other  courts,  alas  !  are  like  to  hell. 
Where    in    dark    places,     tire    without    light    doth 

dwell ; 
Or  but  like  stoves  ;  for  lust  and  envy  get 
Continual,  but  artificial  heat. 
Here  zeal  and  love  grown  one  all  clouds  digest, 
And  make  our  court  an  everlasting  east. 
And  canst  thou  be  from  thence  ? 

1.  29.  So  1635 ;  1633,  kindles 
\,  34.  1635,  dark  plots 


90  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

iDios.  No,  I  am  there  ; 

As  heaven — to  men  disposed — is  everywhere,  40 

So  are  those  courts,  whose  princes  animate 
Not  only  all  their  house  but  all  their  state. 
Let  no  man  think,  because  he's  full,  he  hath  all. 
Kings — as  their  pattern,  God — are  liberal 
Not  only  in  fullness,  but  capacity. 
Enlarging  narrow  men  to  feel  and  see, 
And  comprehend  the  blessings  they  bestow. 
So,  reclused  hermits  oftentimes  do  know 
More  of  heaven's  glory  than  a  worldling  can. 
As  man  is  of  the  world,  the  heart  of  man  $0 

Is  an  epitome  of  God's  great  book 
Of  creatures,  and  man  need  no  farther  look  ; 
So  is  the  country  of  courts,  where  sweet  peace  doth, 
As  their  own  common  soul,  give  life  to  both  ; 
And  am  I  then  from  court  ? 

ALLOPHANES.  Dreamer,  thou  art : 

Think'st  thou,  fantastic,  that  thou  hast  a  part 
In  the  Indian  fleet,  because  thou  hast 
A  little  spice  or  amber  in  thy  taste  ? 
Because  thou  art  not  frozen,  art  thou  warm  ? 
Seest  thou  all  good,  because  thou  seest  no  harm  ?    60 
The  earth  doth  in  her  inner  bowels  hold 
Stuff  well-disposed,  and  which  would  fain  be  gold ; 
But  never  shall,  except  it  chance  to  lie 
So  upward,  that  heaven  gild  it  with  his  eye. 
As,  for  divine  things,  faith  comes  from  above, 
So,  for  best  civil  use,  all  tinctures  move 

1.  55.  So  1635  ;  1633,  /  am  not  then  from  covrt 


EPITHALAMIONS.  91 

From  higher  powers  ;  from  God  religion  springs, 

Wisdom  and  honour  from  the  use  of  kings  : 

Then  unbeguile  thyself,  and  know  with  me, 

That  angels,  though  on  earth  employ'd  they  be,      70 

Are  still  in  heaven,  so  he  is  still  at  home 

That  doth  abroad  to  honest  actions  come. 

Chide  thyself  then,  O  fool,  which  yesterday 

Mightst    have    read    more     than    all     thy    books 

bewray  ; 
Hast  thou  a  history,  which  doth  present 
A  court,  where  all  affections  do  assent 
Unto  the  king's,  and  that  that  king's  are  just ; 
And  where  it  is  no  levity  to  trust  ; 
Where  there  is  no  ambition,  but  to  obey  ; 
Where  men  need  whisper  nothing,  and  yet  may  ;     80 
Where  the  king's  favours  are  so  placed,  that  all 
Find  that  the  king  therein  is  liberal 
To  them,  in  him,  because  his  favours  bend 
To  virtue,  to  the  which  they  all  pretend  ? 
Thou  hast  no  such  ;  yet  here  was  this,  and  more. 
An  earnest  lover,  wise  then,  and  before, 
Our  little  Cupid  hath  sued  livery, 
And  is  no  more  in  his  minority  ; 
He  is  admitted  now  into  that  breast 
Where  the  king's  counsels  and  his  secrets  rest.         90 
What  hast  thou  lost,  O  ignorant  man  ? 

iDios.  I  knew 

All  this,  and  only  therefore  I  withdrew. 
To  know  and  feel  all  this,  and  not  to  have 
Words  to  express  it,  makes  a  man  a  grave 


92  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Of  his  own  thoughts  ;  I  would  not  therefore  stay 

At  a  great  feast,  having  no  grace  to  say. 

And  yet  I  'scaped  not  here  ;  for  being  come, 

Full  of  the  common  joy,  I  utter'd  some. 

Read  then  this  nuptial  song,  which  was  not  made 

Either  the  court  or  men's  hearts  to  invade ;  la) 

But  since  I'm  dead  and  buried,  I  could  frame 

No  epitaph,  which  might  advance  my  fame 

So  much  as  this  poor  song,  which  testifies 

I  did  unto  that  day  some  sacrifice. 


I. 

THE  TIME   OF   THE  MARRIAGE. 

Thou  art  reprieved,  old  year,  thou  shalt  not  die  ; 

Though  thou  upon  thy  death-bed  lie, 

And  should'st  within  five  days  expire, 
Yet  thou  art  rescued  by  a  mightier  fire, 

Than  thy  old  soul,  the  sun, 
When  he  doth  in  his  largest  circle  run.  no 

The  passage  of  the  west  or  east  would  thaw, 
And  open  wide  their  easy  liquid  jaw 
To  all  our  ships,  could  a  Promethean  art 
Either  unto  the  northern  pole  impart 
The  fire  of  these  inflaming  eyes,  or  of  this  loving 

heart. 

L  io8,  1635, /;-(?»? 


EPITHALAMIONS.  93 

II. 

EQUALITY   OF   PERSONS. 

But  undiscerning  Muse,  which  heart,  which  eyes, 

In  this  new  couple,  dost  thou  prize. 

When  his  eye  as  inflaming  is 
As  hers,  and  her  heart  loves  as  well  as  his  ? 

Be  tried  by  beauty,  and  then  120 

The  bridegroom  is  a  maid,  and  not  a  man  ; 
If  by  that  manly  courage  they  be  tried. 
Which  scorns  unjust  opinion  ;  then  the  bride 
Becomes  a  man.     Should  chance  or  envy's  art 
Divide  these  two,  whom  nature  scarce  did  part, 
Since  both  have  the  inflaming  eye,  and  both   the 

loving  heart  ? 

III. 

RAISING   OF  THE   BRIDEGROOM. 

Though  it  be  some  divorce  to  think  of  you 

Single,  so  much  one  are  you  two, 

Let  me  here  contemplate  thee. 
First,  cheerful  bridegroom,  and  first  let  me  see,     130 

How  thou  prevent'st  the  sun, 
And  his  red  foaming  horses  dost  outrun  ; 
How,  having  laid  down  in  thy  Sovereign's  breast 
All  businesses,  from  thence  to  reinvest 
Them  when  these  triumphs  cease,  thou  forward  art 
To  show  to  her,  who  doth  the  like  impart. 
The  fire  of  thy  inflaming  eyes,  and  of  thy  loving  heart. 


94  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

IV. 

RAISING  OF  THE   BRIDE. 

But  now  to  thee,  fair  bride,  it  is  some  wrong, 
To  think  thou  wert  in  bed  so  long. 
Since  soon  thou  liest  down  first,  'tis  fit         140 
Thou  in  first  rising  shouldst  allow  for  it. 

Powder  thy  radiant  hair, 
Which  if  without  such  ashes  thou  wouldst  wear, 
Thou  which,  to  all  which  come  to  look  upon, 
Wert  meant  for  Phoebus,  wouldst  be  Phaeton. 
For  our  ease,  give  thine  eyes  th'  unusual  part 
Of  joy,  a  tear  J  so  quench'd,  thou  mayst  impart, 
To  us  that  come,   thy  inflaming  eyes ;  to  him,  thy 
loving  heart. 

V. 

HER   APPARELLING. 

Thus  thou  descend'st  to  our  infirmity, 

Who  can  the  sun  in  water  sec.  150 

So  dost  thou,  when  in  silk  and  gold 

Thou  cloud'st  thyself ;  since  we  which  do  behold 
Are  dust  and  worms,  'tis  just, 

Our  objects  be  the  fruits  of  worms  and  dust. 

Let  every  jewel  be  a  glorious  star. 

Yet  stars  are  not  so  pure  as  their  spheres  are  ; 

And  though  thou  stoop,  to  appear  to  us,  in  part. 

Still  in  that  picture  thou  entirely  art. 

Which   thy  inflaming   eyes  have   made   within    his 
loving  heart. 

1.  150.  Addl.  MS.  18,647,  in  winter 


EPITHALAMIONS.  95 

VI. 
GOING   TO   THE   CHAPEL, 

Now  from  your  easts  you  issue  forth,  and  we,         160 
As  men,  which  through  a  cypress  see 
The  rising  sun,  do  think  it  two  ; 
So,  as  you  go  to  church,  do  think  of  you  ; 

But  that  veil  being  gone. 
By  the  church  rites  you  are  from  thenceforth  one. 
The  church  triumphant  made  this  match  before, 
And  now  the  miHtant  doth  strive  no  more. 
Then,  reverend  priest,  who  God's  Recorder  art, 
Do,  from  his  dictates,  to  these  two  impart 
All  blessings  which  are  seen,  or  thought,  by  angel's 
eye  or  heart.  170 

VII. 

THE   BENEDICTION. 

Blest  pair  of  swans,  O  may  you  interbring 

Daily  new  joys,  and  never  sing  ; 

Live,  till  all  grounds  of  wishes  fail, 
Till  honour,  yea,  till  wisdom  grow  so  stale, 

That  new  great  heights  to  try, 
It  must  serve  your  ambition,  to  die  ; 
Raise  heirs,  and  may  here,  to  the  world's  end,  live 
Heirs  from  this  king,  to  take  thanks,  you,  to  give. 
Nature  and  grace  do  all,  and  nothing  art ; 
May  never  age  or  error  overthwart  180 

With  any  west  these  radiant  eyes,  with  any  north 
this  heart. 


95  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

VIII. 

FEASTS  AND   REVELS. 

But  you  are  over-blest.     Plenty  this  day 

Injures  ;  it  causeth  time  to  stay ; 

The  tables  groan,  as  though  this  feast 
Would,  as  the  flood,  destroy  all  fowl  and  beast. 

And  were  the  doctrine  new 
That  the  earth  moved,  this  day  would  make  it  time  ; 
For  every  part  to  dance  and  revel  goes, 
They  tread  the  air,  and  fall  not  where  they  rose. 
Though  six  hours  since  the  sun  to  bed  did  part,      190 
The  masks  and  banquets  will  not  yet  impart 
A  sunset  to  these  weary  eyes,  a  centre  to  this  heart. 

IX. 

THE  bride's   going  TO  BED. 

What  mean'st  thou,  bride,  this  company  to  keep  ? 

To  sit  up,  till  thou  fain  wouldst  sleep  ? 

Thou  mayst  not,  when  thou'rt  laid,  do  so  j 
Thyself  must  to  him  a  new  banquet  grow  ; 

And  you  must  entertain 
And  do  all  this  day's  dances  o'er  again. 
Know  that  if  sun  and  moon  together  do 
Rise  in  one  point,  they  do  not  set  so  too.  200 

Therefore  thou  mayst,  fair  bride,  to  bed  depart ; 
Thou  art  not  gone,  being  gone  ;  where'er  thou  art, 
Thou  leavest  in  him  thy  watchful  eyes,  in  him  thy 
loving  heart. 


EPITHALAMIONS,  97 

X. 

THE  bridegroom's   COMING. 

As  he  that  sees  a  star  fall,  runs  apace, 
And  finds  a  jelly  in  the  place, 
So  doth  the  bridegroom  haste  as  much, 
Being  told  this  star  is  fallen,  and  finds  her  such. 

And  as  friends  may  look  strange, 
By  a  new  fashion,  or  apparel's  change,  209 

Their  souls,  though  long  acquainted  they  had  been, 
These  clothes,  their  bodies,  never  yet  had  seen. 
Therefore  at  first  she  modestly  might  start, 
But  must  forthwith  surrender  every  part. 
As  freely  as  each  to  each  before  gave  either  eye  or 
heart. 

XI. 

THE  GOOD-NIGHT. 

Now,  as  in  TuUia's  tomb,  one  lamp  burnt  clear, 
Unchanged  for  fifteen  hundred  year, 
May  these  love-lamps  we  here  enshrine, 

In  warmth,  light,  lasting,  equal  the  divine. 
Fire  ever  doth  aspire. 

And  makes  all  like  itself,  turns  all  to  fire,  220 

But  ends  in  ashes  ;  which  these  cannot  do, 

For  none  of  these  is  fuel,  but  fire  too. 

This  is  joy's  bonfire,  then,  where  love's  strong  arts 

Make  of  so  noble  individual  parts 

One  fire  of  four  inflaming  eyes,  and  of  two  loving  hearts. 

iDios.    As  I  have  brought  this  song,  that  I  may  do 

A  perfect  sacrifice,  I'll  burn  it  too. 
VOL.    I.  7 


98  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

ALLOPHANES.     No,  sir.     This  paper  I  have  justly 
got, 
For,  in  burnt  incense,  the  perfume  is  not 
His  only  that  presents  it,  but  of  all ;  230 

Whatever  celebrates  this  festival 
Is  common,  since  the  joy  thereof  is  so. 
Nor  may  yourself  be  priest ;  but  let  me  go 
Back  to  the  court,  and  I  will  lay  it  upon 
Such  altars,  as  prize  your  devotion. 


EPITHALAMION   MADE  AT  LINCOLN'S 

INN. 

The  sunbeams  in  the  east  are  spread  ; 
Leave,  leave,  fair  bride,  your  solitary  bed  ; 

No  more  shall  you  return  to  it  alone  ; 
It  nurseth  sadness,  and  your  body's  print. 
Like  to  a  grave,  the  yielding  down  doth  dint ; 

You,  and  your  other  you,  meet  there  anon. 

Put  forth,   put   forth,  that   warm  balm-breathing 
thigh, 
Which  when  next  time  you  in  these  sheets  will  smother, 

There  it  must  meet  another,  9 

Which  never  was,  but  must  be,  oft,  more  nigh. 
Come  glad  from  thence,  go  gladder  than  you  came ; 
To-day  put  on  perfection,  and  a  woman's  name. 

Daughters  of  London,  you  which  be 
Our  golden  mines,  and  furnish'd  treasury  ; 
You  which  are  angels,  yet  still  bring  with  you 


EPITHALAMIONS.  99 

Thousands  of  angels  on  your  marriage  days  ; 
Help  with  your  presence,  and  devise  to  praise 

These  rites,  which  also  unto  you  grow  due ; 

Conceitedly  dress  her,  and  be  assign'd 
By  you  fit  place  for  every  flower  and  jewel ;  20 

Make  her  for  love  fit  fuel, 

As  gay  as  Flora  and  as  rich  as  Ind  ; 
So  may  she,  fair  and  rich,  in  nothing  lame, 
To-day  put  on  perfection,  and  a  woman's  name. 

And  you  frolic  patricians, 

Sons  of  those  senators,  wealth's  deep  oceans  ; 

Ye  painted  courtiers,  barrels  of  other's  wits  ; 
Ye  countrymen,  who  but  your  beasts  love  none  ; 
Ye  of  those  fellowships,  whereof  he's  one, 

Of  study  and  play  made  strange  hermaphrodites,  30 

Here  shine ;  this  bridegroom  to  the  temple  bring. 
Lo,  in  yon  path  which  store  of  strew'd  flowers  graceth, 

The  sober  virgin  paceth  ; 

Except  my  sight  fail,  'tis  no  other  thing. 
Weep  not,  nor  blush,  here  is  no  grief  nor  shame, 
To-day  put  on  perfection,  and  a  woman's  name. 

Thy  two-leaved  gates,  fair  temple,  unfold, 
And  these  two  in  thy  sacred  bosom  hold, 

Till  mystically  join'd  but  one  they  be  ; 
Then  may  thy  lean  and  hunger-starved  womb  40 

Long  time  expect  their  bodies,  and  their  tomb, 

Long  after  their  own  parents  fatten  thee. 

1.  26.  So  1635 ;  1633,  tliese 


100  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

All  elder  claims,  and  all  cold  barrenness, 
All  yielding  to  new  loves,  be  far  for  ever, 

Which  might  these  two  dissever  ; 

Always,  all  th'other  may  each  one  possess  ; 
For  the  best  bride,  best  worthy  of  praise  and  fame, 
To-day  puts  on  perfection,  and  a  woman's  name. 

Winter  days  bring  much  delight, 

Not  for  themselves,  but  for  they  soon  bring  night ;  50 

Other  sweets  wait  thee  than  these  diverse  meats, 
Other  disports  than  dancing  jollities. 
Other  love-tricks  than  glancing  with  the  eyes. 

But  that  the  sun  still  in  our  half  sphere  sweats  ; 
He  flies  in  winter,  but  he  now  stands  still. 
Yet  shadows  turn  ;  noon  point  he  hath  attain'd  ; 

His  steeds  will  be  restrain' d. 
But  gallop  lively  down  the  western  hill. 
Thou  shalt,  when  he  hath  run  the  heaven's  half  frame, 
To-night  put  on  perfection,  and  a  woman's  name.    60 

The  amorous  evening  star  is  rose, 

Why  then  should  not  our  amorous  star  inclose 

Herself  in  her  wish'd  bed  ?     Release  your  strings, 
Musicians  ;  and  dancers  take  some  truce 
With  these  your  pleasing  labours,  for  great  use 

As  much  weariness  as  perfection  brings. 

You,  and  not  only  you,  but  all  toil'd  beasts 
Rest  duly  ;  at  night  all  their  toils  are  dispensed ; 

But  in  their  beds  commenced 
Are  other  labours,  and  more  dainty  feasts.        70 

L  59.  So  1635  ;  1633,  come  the  world's  half  frame 


EPITHALAMIONS,  loi 

She  goes  a  maid,  who,  lest  she  turn  the  same. 
To-night  puts  on  perfection,  and  a  woman's  name. 

Thy  virgin's  girdle  now  untie, 

And  in  thy  nuptial  bed,  love's  altar,  lie 

A  pleasing  sacrifice  ;  now  dispossess 
Thee  of  these  chains  and  robes,  which  were  put  on 
To  adorn  the  day,  not  thee  ;  for  thou,  alone, 

Like  virtue  and  truth,  art  best  in  nakedness. 

This  bed  is  only  to  virginity 
A  grave,  but  to  a  better  state,  a  cradle.  80 

Till  now  thou  wast  but  able 

To  be,  what  now  thou  art ;  then,  that  by  thee 
No  more  be  said,  **  I  may  be,"  but  "  I  am," 
To-night  put  on  perfection,  and  a  woman's  name. 

Even  like  a  faithful  man  content, 

That  this  life  for  a  better  should  be  spent, 

So  she  a  mother's  rich  stile  doth  prefer, 
And  at  the  bridegroom's  wish'd  approach  doth  lie, 
Like  an  appointed  lamb,  when  tenderly 

The  priest  comes  on  his  knees,  to  embowel  her,  90 

Now  sleep  or  watch  with  more  joy  ;  and,  O  light 
Of  heaven,  to-morrow  rise  thou  hot,  and  early ; 

This  sun  will  love  so  dearly 

Her  rest,  that  long,  long  we  shall  want  her  sight. 
Wonders  are  wrought,  for  she,  which  had  no  maim, 
To-night  puts  on  perfection,  and  a  woman's  name. 

1.  95.  1635,  no  name 


ELEGIES. 

ELEGY   I. 

JEALOUSY. 

Fond  woman,  which  wouldst  have  thy  husband  die, 

And  yet  complain'st  of  his  great  jealousy  ; 

If,  swollen  with  poison,  he  lay  in  his  last  bed, 

His  body  with  a  sere  bark  covered, 

Drawing  his  breath  as  thick  and  short  as  can 

The  nimblest  crocheting  musician, 

Ready  with  loathsome  vomiting  to  spew 

His  soul  out  of  one  hell  into  a  new, 

Made  deaf  with  his  poor  kindred's  howling  cries. 

Begging  with  few  f«ign*d  tears  great  legacies, —       lo 

Thou  wouldst  not  weep,  but  jolly,  and  frolic  be. 

As  a  slave,  which  to-morrow  should  be  free. 

Yet  weep'st  thou,  when  thou  seest  him  hungerly 

Swallow  his  own  death,  heart's-bane  jealousy  ? 

O  give  him  many  thanks,  he's  courteous, 

That  in  suspecting  kindly  warneth  us. 

We  must  not,  as  we  used,  flout  openly, 

In  scoffing  riddles,  his  deformity ; 

L  4.  i66g,  sere-cloth,  Addl.  MS.  25,707,  sore  bark 


ELEGIES.  103 

Nor  at  his  board  together  being  sat, 

With  words,  nor  touch,  scarce  looks,  adtdieraie.      20 

Nor   when    he,   swollen    and  pamper'd  with   great 

fare, 
Sits  down  and  snorts,  caged  in  his  basket  chair, 
Must  we  usurp  his  own  bed  any  more. 
Nor  kiss  and  play  in  his  house,  as  before. 
Now  I  see  many  dangers  ;  for  it  is 
His  realm,  his  castle,  and  his  diocese. 
But  if — as  envious  men,  which  would  revile 
Their  prince,  or  coin  his  gold,  themselves  exile 
Into  another  country,  and  do  it  there — 
We  play  in  another  house,  what  should  we  fear  ?     50 
There  we  will  scorn  his  hoasehold  policies. 
His  silly  plots,  and  pensitxiary  spies. 
As  the  inhabitants  of  Thames'  right  side 
Do  London's  mayor,  or  Germans  the  Pope's  pride. 


ELEGY  IL 

THE   ANAGRAM. 

Marry,  .ind  love  thy  Flavia,  for  she 
Hath  all  things;,  whereby  others  beanteoas  be  ; 
For,  though  her  eyes  be  small,  her  mouth  is  great ; 
Though  they  be  ivory,  yet  her  teeth  be  jet ; 

L  21.  1669.  kk^fart 

L  25.  1669.  Nmm  A I  seewty  dttngtr 

L  3a  1669,  amaiker's,  AddL  MS.  23,707.  titer 

L  4.  1669,  iAeirs  Ar  nwfj 


I04  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Though  they  be  dim,  yet  she  is  light  enough  ; 

And  though  her  harsh  hair  fall,  her  skin  is  tough  ; 

What  though  her  cheeks  be  yellow,  her  hair's  red. 

Give  her  thine,  and  she  hath  a  maidenhead. 

These  things  are  beauty's  elements  ;  where  these 

Meet  in  one,  that  one  must,  as  perfect,  please.         10 

If  red  and  white,  and  each  good  quality 

Be  in  thy  wench,  ne'er  ask  where  it  doth  lie. 

In  buying  things  perfumed,  we  ask,  if  there 

Be  musk  and  amber  in  it,  but  not  where. 

Though  all  her  parts  be  not  in  th'  usual  place, 

She  hath  yet  an  anagram  of  a  good  face. 

If  we  miglit  put  the  letters  but  one  way. 

In  that  lean  dearth  of  words,  what  could  we  say  ? 

When  by  the  gamut  some  musicians  make 

A  perfect  song,  others  will  undertake,  20 

By  the  same  gamut  changed,  to  equal  it. 

Things  simply  good  can  never  be  unfit ; 

She's  fair  as  any,  if  all  be  like  her  ; 

And  if  none  be,  then  she  is  singular. 

All  love  is  wonder  ;  if  we  justly  do 

Account  her  wonderful,  why  not  lovely  too  ? 

Love  built  on  beauty,  soon  as  beauty,  dies  ; 

Choose  this  face,  changed  by  no  deformities. 

Women  are  all  like  angels  ;  the  fair  be 

Like  those  which  fell  to  worse  ;  but  such  as  she,      30 

Like  to  good  angels,  nothing  can'impair : 

'Tis  less  grief  to  be  foul,  than  to  have  been  fair, 

1.  6.  1669,  hair's  foul    1.  6.  So  1635  ;  1633,  i66g,  rough 
1.  16.  1669,  the  anagrams 


ELEGIES,  105 

For  one  night's  revels,  silk  and  gold  we  choose, 
But,  in  long  journeys,  cloth,  and  leather  use. 
Beauty  is  barren  oft ;  best  husbands  say 
There  is  best  land,  where  there  is  foulest  way. 
Oh,  what  a  sovereign  plaster  will  she  be. 
If  thy  past  sins  have  taught  thee  jealousy  ! 
Here  needs  no  spies,  nor  eunuchs  ;  her  commit 
Safe  to  thy  foes,  yea,  to  a  marmoset.  40 

Like  Belgia's  cities  the  round  country  drowns, 
That  dirty  foulness  guards  and  arms  the  towns, 
So  doth  her  face  guard  her  ;  and  so,  for  thee, 
Which  forced  by  business,  absent  oft  must  be. 
She,  whose  face,  like  clouds,  turns  the  day  to  night ; 
Who,  mightier  than  the  sea,  makes  Moors  seem  white  ; 
Who,  though  seven  years  she  in  the  stews  had  laid, 
A  nunnery  durst  receive,  and  think  a  maid  ; 
And  though  in  childbed's  labour  she  did  lie, 
Midwives  would  swear,  'twere  but  a  tympany ;  50 

Whom,  if  she  accuse  herself,  I  credit  less 
Than  witches,  which  impossibles  confess  j 
One  like  none,  and  liked  of  none,  fittest  were  ; 
For  things  in  fashion  every  man  will  wear. 

1.  41-2.  1633— 

When  Belgia's  cities  the  round  countries  drown 
That  dirty  foulness  guards  and  arms  the  town 

1669 — 

Like  Belgia's  cities  when  the  country  is  drowned. 
That  dirty  foulness  guards  and  arms  the  towns. 

1.  45.  St.  MS.,  like  the  clouds,  turns  day  to  night. 

1.  46.  Farmer-Chetham  MS.  the  sun, 

L  49.  1669,  child-birth's 


lo6  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

ELEGY  III. 

CHANGE. 

Although  thy  hand  and  faith,  and  good  works  too, 

Have  seal'd  thy  love  which  nothing  should  undo, 

Yea,  though  thou  fall  back,  that  apostasy 

Confirm  thy  love,  yet  much,  much  I  fear  thee. 

Women  are  like  the  arts,  forced  unto  none. 

Open  to  all  seaixhers,  unprized,  if  unknown. 

If  I  have  caught  a  bird,  and  let  him  fly. 

Another  fowler  using  these  means,  as  I, 

May  catch  the  same  bird  ;  and,  as  these  things  be. 

Women  are  made  for  men,  not  him  nor  me.  lo 

Foxes,    and    goats — all    beasts — change  when    they 

please. 
Shall  women,  more  hot,  wily,  wild  than  these, 
Be  bound  to  one  man,  and  did  nature  then 
Idly  make  them  apter  to  endure  than  men  ? 
They're  our  clogs,  not  their  own  ;  if  a  man  be 
Chain'd  to  a  galley,  yet  the  galley's  free. 
Who  hath  a  plough-land,  casts  all  his  seed  corn  there, 
And  yet  allows  his  ground  more  corn  should  bear  ; 
Though  Danuby  into  the  sea  must  flow, 
The  sea  receives  the  Rhine,  Volga,  and  Po.  20 

By  nature,  which  gave  it,  this  liberty 
Thou  lovest,  but  O  !  canst  thou  love  it  and  me  ? 

1.  I.  1669,  good  word  1.  4.  1669,  confirms 

L  8.  1669,  those  1.  II.  166^,  and  beasts 

1.  13.  bid  nature 


ELEGIES.  107 

Likeness  glues  love  ;  and  if  that  thou  so  do, 

To  make  us  like  and  love,  must  I  change  too  ? 

More  than  thy  hate,  I  hate  it  ;  rather  let  me 

Allow  her  change,  then  change  as  oft  as  she, 

And  so  not  teach,  but  force  my  opinion, 

To  love  not  any  one,  nor  every  one. 

To  live  in  one  land  is  captivity, 

To  run  all  countries  a  wild  roguery.  30 

Waters  stink  soon,  if  in  one  place  they  bide, 

And  in  the  vast  sea  are  more  putrified  ; 

But  when  they  kiss  one  bank,  and  leaving  this 

Never  look  back,  but  the  next  bank  do  kiss, 

Then  are  they  purest ;  change  is  the  nursery 

Of  music,  joy,  life,  and  eternity. 


ELEGY   IV. 

THE   PERFUME. 

Once,  and  but  once,  found  in  thy  company, 

All  thy  supposed  escapes  are  laid  on  me  ; 

And  as  a  thief  at  bar  is  question'd  there 

By  all  the  men  that  have  been  robb'd  that  year, 

So  am  I — ^by  this  traitorous  means  surprized — 

By  thy  hydroptic  father  catechized. 

Though  he  had  wont  to  search  with  glazed  eyes, 

As  though  he  came  to  kill  a  cockatrice  ; 

1.  31.  1669,  they  abide        1,  32.  1669,  worse  purified 
1.  2.  1669,  scapes 


io8  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Though  he  hath  oft  sworn  that  he  would  remove 
Thy  beauty's  beauty,  and  food  of  our  love,  10 

Hope  of  his  goods,  if  I  with  thee  were  seen, 
Yet  close  and  secret,  as  our  souls,  we've  been. 
Though  thy  immortal  mother,  which  doth  lie 
Still  buried  in  her  bed,  yet  will  not  die. 
Takes  this  advantage  to  sleep  out  daylight. 
And  watch  thy  entries  and  returns  all  night  ; 
And,  when  she  takes  thy  hand,  and  would  seem  kind, 
Doth  search  what  rings  and  armlets  she  can  find  ; 
And  kissing  notes  the  colour  of  thy  face  ; 
And    fearing  lest   thou'rt    swollen,    doth    thee   em- 
brace ;  20 
And  to  try  if  thou  long,  doth  name  strange  meats  ; 
And  notes  thy  paleness,  blushing,  sighs,  and  sweats  ; 
And  politicly  will  to  thee  confess 
The  sins  of  her  own  youth's  rank  lustiness  ; 
Yet  love  these  sorceries  did  remove,  and  move 
Thee  to  gull  thine  own  mother  for  my  love. 
Thy  little  brethren,  which  like  fairy  sprites 
Oft  skipp'd  into  our  chamber,  those  sweet  nights, 
And  kiss'd,  and  ingled  on  thy  father's  knee. 
Were  bribed  next  day  to  tell  what  they  did  see  ;      30 
The  grim-eight-foot-high-iron-bound  serving-man, 
That  oft  names  God  in  oaths,  and  only  then, 
He  that,  to  bar  the  first  gate,  doth  as  wide 
As  the  great  Rhodian  Colossus  stride 

1.  21.  So  1635  ;  1633  omits  And 

1.  22.  1669,  blushes  1.  24.  St.  MS.,  wantonness 

1,  29.  1669,  dandled 


ELEGIES.  109 

—Which,  if  in  hell  no  other  pains  there  were, 

Makes  me  fear  hell,  because  he  must  be  there — 

Though  by  thy  father  he  were  hired  to  this. 

Could  never  witness  any  touch  or  kiss. 

But  O  !  too  common  ill,  I  brought  with  me 

That,  which  betray'd  me  to  mine  enemy,  40 

A  loud  perfume,  which  at  my  entrance  cried 

E'en  at  thy  father's  nose  ;  so  were  we  spied. 

When,  like  a  tyrant  king,  that  in  his  bed 

Smelt  gunpowder,  the  pale  wretch  shivered, 

Had  it  been  some  bad  smell,  he  would  have  thought 

That  his  own  feet,  or  breath,  that  smell  had  wrought ; 

But  as  we  in  our  isle  imprisoned, 

Where  cattle  only  and  divers  dogs  are  bred. 

The  precious  unicorns  strange  monsters  call. 

So  thought  he  good  strange,  that  had  none  at  all,      50 

I  taught  my  silks  their  whistling  to  forbear ; 

Even  my  oppress'd  shoes  dumb  and  speechless  were  ; 

Only  thou  bitter-sweet,  whom  I  had  laid 

Next  me,  me  traitorously  hast  betray'd. 

And  unsuspected  hast  invisibly 

At  once  fled  unto  him,  and  stay'd  with  me. 

Base  excrement  of  earth,  which  dost  confound 

Sense  from  distinguishing  the  sick  from  sound  ! 

By  thee  the  silly  amorous  sucks  his  death 

By  drawing  in  a  leprous  harlot's  breath  ;  60 

By  thee,  the  greatest  stain  to  man's  estate 

Falls  on  us,  to  be  call'd  effeminate  ; 

1.  40.  So  1635  ;  1633,  my         1,  44.  1669,  smells 

1.  46.  1669,  the  smell 

L  50.  1669,  thought  he  siveei  strange 


no  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Though  you  be  much  loved  in  the  prince's  hall, 

There  things  that  seem  exceed  substantial ; 

Gods,  when  ye  fumed  on  altars,  were  pleased  well, 

Because  you  were  burnt,  not  that  they  liked  your  smell ; 

You're  loathsome  all,  being  taken  simply  alone  ; 

Shall  we  love  ill  things  join'd,  and  hate  each  one  ? 

If  you  were  good,  your  good  doth  soon  decay  ; 

And  you  are  rare  ;  that  takes  the  good  away  :         70 

And  my  perfumes  I  give  most  willingly 

To  embalm  thy  father's  corpse  ;  what  ?  will  he  die  ? 


ELEGY   V. 

HIS    PICTURE. 

Here  take  my  picture  ;  though  I  bid  fai^ewell, 
Thine,  in  my  heart,   where   my  soul   dwells,  shall 

dwell. 
'Tis  like  me  now,  but  I  dead,  'twill  be  more, 
When  we  are  shadows  both,  than  'twas  before. 
When  weatherbeaten  I  come  back  ;  my  hand 
Perhaps  with  rude  oars  torn,  or  sun-beams  tann'd. 
My  face  and  breast  of  haircloth,  and  my  head 
With  care's  harsh  sudden  hoariness  o'erspread, 
My  body  a  sack  of  bones,  broken  within. 
And  powder's  blue  stains  scatter'd  on  my  skin  ;       10 
If  rival  fools  tax  thee  to  have  loved  a  man. 
So  foul  and  coarse,  as,  O  !  I  may  seem  then, 

1.  8.  So  1635 ;  1633,    With  care's  rash  sudden  storms 
being  overspread. 


ELEGIES.  Ill 

This  shall  say  what  I  was  ;  and  thou  shalt  say, 
**  Do  his  hurts  reach  me  ?  doth  my  worth  decay  ? 
Or  do  they  reach  his  judging  mind,  that  he 
Should  now  love  less,  what  he  did  love  to  see? 
That  which  in  him  was  fair  and  delicate. 
Was  but  the  milk,  which  in  love's  childish  state 
Did  nurse  it ;  who  now  is  grown  strong  enough 
To    feed    on    that,    which    to    weak    tastes    seems 
tough."  20 


ELEGY  VI. 

O,  LET  me  not  serve  so,  as  those  men  serve, 

Whom  honour's  smokes  at  once  fatten  and  starve, 

Poorly  enrich'd  with  great  men's  words  or  looks  ; 

Nor  so  write  my  name  in  thy  loving  books 

As  those  idolatrous  flatterers,  which  still 

Their  princes'  style  with  many  realms  fulfil, 

W^hence  they  no  tribute  have,  and  where  no  sway. 

Such  services  I  offer  as  shall  pay 

Themselves  ;  I  hate  dead  names.     O,  then  let  me 

Favourite  in  ordinary,  or  no  favourite  be.  10 

When  my  soul  was  in  her  own  body  sheathed. 

Not  yet  by  oaths  betroth'd,  nor  kisses  breathed 

Into  my  purgatory,  faithless  thee. 

Thy  heart  seem.ed  wax,  and  steel  thy  constancy. 

1.  20.  So  1650  ;  1633,  disused  tastes 
1.  6.  So  St.  MS.,  and  Addl.  MS.  25,707;  1633,  styles 
•which  many  realms  ;  1669,  styles  zohich  mayiy  names 
L  7.  1669,  bear  no  sway 


112  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

So  careless  flowers  strew'd  on  the  water's  face 

The  curled  whirlpools  suck,  smack,  and  embrace, 

Yet  drown  them  ;  so  the  taper's  beamy  eye 

Amorously  twinkling  beckons  the  giddy  fly, 

Yet  burns  his  wings  ;  and  such  the  devil  is, 

Scarce  visiting  them  who  are  entirely  his.  20 

When  I  behold  a  stream,  which  from  the  spring 

Doth  with  doubtful  melodious  murmuring. 

Or  in  a  speechless  slumber,  calmly  ride 

Her  wedded  channel's  bosom,  and  there  chide, 

And  bend  her  brows,  and  swell,  if  any  bough 

Do  but  stoop  down  to  kiss  her  utmost  brow ; 

Yet,  if  her  often  gnawing  kisses  win 

The  traitorous  banks  to  gape,  and  let  her  in, 

She  rusheth  violently,  and  doth  divorce 

Her  from  her  native  and  her  long-kept  course,         30 

And  roars,  and  braves  it,  and  in  gallant  scorn, 

In  flattering  eddies  promising  return. 

She  flouts  her  channel,  which  thenceforth  is  dry ; 

Then  say  I ;  '*  That  is  she,  and  this  am  I." 

Yet  let  not  thy  deep  bitterness  beget 

Careless  despair  in  me,  for  that  will  whet 

My  mind  to  scorn  ;  and  O,  love  dull'd  with  pain 

Was  ne'er  so  wise,  nor  well  arm'd,  as  disdain. 

Then    with    new    eyes    I    shall    survey    thee,    and 

spy 
Death  in  thy  cheeks,  and  darkness  in  thine  eye,      40 

1.  24,  So  1635  ;  1633,  then  chide 

L  37.  1669,  ah 

I,  39.  1669,  survey  and  spy 


ELEGIES.  113 

Though  hope  bred  faith  and  love  ;  thus  taught,  I  shall, 
As  nations  do  from  Rome,  from  thy  love  fall  ; 
My  hate  shall  outgrow  thine,  and  utterly 
I  will  renounce  thy  dalliance  ;  and  when  I 
Am  the  recusant,  in  that  resolute  state 
What  hurts  it  me  to  be  excommunicate? 


ELEGY  VII. 

Nature's  lay  idiot,  I  taught  thee  to  love, 

And  in  that  sophistry,  O  !  thou  dost  prove 

Too  subtle ;  fool,  thou  didst  not  understand 

The  mystic  language  of  the  eye  nor  hand  ; 

Nor  couldst  thou  judge  the  difference  of  the  air 

Of  sighs,  and  say,  "  This  lies,  this  sounds  despair"; 

Nor  by  th'  eye's  water  cast  a  malady 

Desperately  hot,  or  changing  feverously. 

I  had  not  taught  thee  then  the  alphabet 

Of  flowers,  how  they,  devisefully  being  set  10 

And  bound  up,  might  with  speechless  secrecy 

Deliver  errands  mutely,  and  mutually. 

Remember  since  all  thy  words  used  to  be 

To  every  suitor,  '*  Ay,  if  my  friends  agree ;  " 

Since  household  charms,  thy  husband's  name  to  teach. 

Were  all  the  love- tricks  that  thy  wit  could  reach ; 

1.  41.  1669,  Through ;   1635,  breed 
1.  2.  1669,  Oh,  how  thou  dost  prove 
1.  7,   St.   MS.  ;   1633,  call  a  malady ;   1635,  know  a 
malady 

VOL.  I.  8 


114  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

And  since  an  hour's  discourse  could  scarce  have  made 

One  answer  in  thee,  and  that  ill  array'd 

In  broken  proverbs,  and  torn  sentences. 

Thou  art  not  by  so  many  duties  his —  20 

That  from  th'  world's  common  having  sever'd  thee, 

Inlaid  thee,  neither  to  be  seen,  nor  see — 

As  mine  ;  who  have  with  amorous  delicacies 

Refined  thee  into  a  blissful  paradise. 

Thy  graces  and  good  works  my  creatures  be  ; 

I  planted  knowledge  and  life's  ti-ee  in  thee  ; 

Which  O  !  shall  strangers  taste  ?     Must  I,  alas  ! 

Frame  and  enamel  plate,  and  drink  in  glass  ? 

Chafe  wax  for  other's  seals  ?  break  a  colt's  force. 

And  leave  him  then,  being  made  a  ready  horse  ?      30 


ELEGY  VIII. 

THE   COMPARISON. 

As  the  sweet  sweat  of  roses  in  a  still, 

As  that  which  from  chafed  musk  cat's  pores  doth  trill, 

As  the  almighty  balm  of  th'  early  east, 

Such  are  the  sweat  drops  of  my  mistress'  breast ; 

And  on  her  neck  her  skin  such  lustre  sets, 

They  seem  no  sweat  drops,  but  pearl  carcanets. 

Rank  sweaty  froth  thy  mistress'  brow  defiles. 

Like  spermatic  issue  of  ripe  menstruous  boils, 

1.  25.  So  1669  ;  1633,  good  words 

L  6,  St.  MS.  and  Addl.  MS.,  25,707  text ;  1633.  coronets 

1.  8.  Addl.  MS.  25,707,  monstrous 


ELEGIES.  115 

Or  like  the  scum,  which,  by  need's  lawless  ftiTv 
Enforced,  Sanserra's  starved  men  did  draw  10 

From  parboil'd  shoes  and  boots,  and  all  the  rest 
Which  were  with  any  sovei^eign  fatness  blest ; 
And  like  vile  lying  stones  in  safifron'd  tin, 
Or  warts,  or  wheals,  it  hangs  upon  her  skin. 
Round  as  the  world's  her  head,  on  every  side, 
Like  to  the  fatal  ball  which  fell  on  Ide  ; 
Or  that  whereof  God  had  such  jealousy, 
As  for  the  ravishing  thereof  we  die. 
Thy  head  is  like  a  rough-hewn  statue  of  jet, 
Where  marks  for  eyes,  nose,  mouth,  are  yet  scarce 
set ;  20 

Like  the  first  chaos,  or  flat  seeming  face 
Of  Cynthia,  when  th'  earth's  shadows  her  embrace. 
Like  Proserpine's  white  beauty-keeping  chest, 
Or  Jove's  best  fortune's  urn,  is  her  fair  breast. 
Thine's  like  worm-eaten  trunks,  clothed  in  seal's  skin, 
Or  grave,  that's  dust  without,  and  stink  within. 
And  like  that  slender  stalk,  at  whose  end  stands 
The  woodbine  quivering,  are  her  arms  and  hands. 
Like  rough-bark'd  elm-boughs,  or  the  russet  skin 
Of  men  late  scourged  for  madness,  or  for  sin,  30 

Like  sun-parch'd  quarters  on  the  city  gate, 
Such  is  thy  tann'd  skin's  lamentable  state  ; 
And  like  a  bunch  of  ragged  carrots  stand 
The  short  swollen  fingers  of  thy  gouty  hand. 

1.  13.  So  1635  ;  1633,  1669,  vile  stones,  lying 
L    34.    So   1635 ;    i^33>  ^^*'  gouty  hand;    1669,    thy 
mistress's  hand 


ii6  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Then  like  the  chemic's  masculine  equal  fire, 

Which  in  the  limbec's  warm  womb  doth  inspire 

Into  th'  earth's  worthless  dirt  a  soul  of  gold, 

Such  cherishing  heat  her  best  loved  part  doth  hold. 

Thine's  like  the  dread  mouth  of  a  fired  gun, 

Or  like  hot  liquid  metals  newly  run  40 

Into  clay  moulds,  or  like  to  that  .^tna, 

"Where  round  about  the  grass  is  burnt  away. 

Are  not  your  kisses  then  as  filthy,  and  more, 

As  a  worm  sucking  an  envenom'd  sore  ? 

Doth  not  thy  fearful  hand  in  feeling  quake, 

As  one  which  gathering  flowers  still  fears  a  snake? 

Is  not  your  last  act  harsh  and  violent, 

As  when  a  plough  a  stony  ground  doth  rent  ? 

So  kiss  good  turtles,  so  devoutly  nice 

Are  priests  in  handling  reverent  sacrifice,  5^ 

And  nice  in  searching  wounds  the  surgeon  is. 

As  we,  when  we  embrace,  or  touch,  or  kiss.   * 

Leave  her,  and  I  will  leave  comparing  thus, 

She  and  comparisons  are  odious. 

1.  50.  1669,  A  priest  is  in  his  handling 


ELEGIES,  111 


ELEGY  IX. 

THE  AUTUMNAL. 

No  spring,  nor  summer  beauty  hath  such  grace 

As  I  have  seen  in  one  autumnal  face  ; 

Young  beauties  force  our  love,  and  that's  a  rape  ; 

This  doth  but  counsel,  yet  you  cannot  scape. 

If  'twere  a  shame  to  love,  here  'twere  no  shame  ; 

Affections  here  take  reverence's  name. 

Were  her  first  years  the  Golden  Age  ?  that's  true, 

But  now  they're  gold  oft  tried,  and  ever  new. 

That  was  her  torrid  and  inflaming  time  ; 

This  is  her  tolerable  tropic  clime.  10 

Fair  eyes ;  who  asks  more  heat  than  comes  from  hence, 

He  in  a  fever  wishes  pestilence. 

Call  not  these  wrinkles,  graves  ;  if  graves  they  were, 

They  were  Love's  graves,  for  else  he  is  nowhere. 

Yet  lies  not  Love  dead  here,  but  here  doth  sit, 

Vow'd  to  this  trench,  like  an  anachorite, 

And  here,  till  hers,  which  must  be  his  death,  come, 

He  doth  not  dig  a  grave,  but  build  a  tomb. 

Here  dwells  he  ;  though  he  sojourn  everywhere 

In  progress,  yet  his  standing  house  is  here  j  20 

1.  I.  1635,  summer  s 

1.  3,  1635,  your  love  :  1669,  our  loves 

1.  8.  1635,  she  s  gold  1.  10.  1635,  habitable 

L  14.  1635,  or  else 


ii8  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Here,  where  still  evening  is,  not  noon,  nor  night ; 

Where  no  voluptuousness,  yet  all  delight. 

In  all  her  words,  unto  all  hearers  fit, 

You  may  at  revels,  you  at  council,  sit. 

This  is  love's  timber  ;  youth  his  underwood  ; 

There  he,  as  wine  in  June,  enrages  blood  ; 

Which  then  comes  seasonablest,  when  our  taste 

And  appetite  to  other  things  is  past. 

Xerxes'  strange  Lydian  love,  the  platane  tree, 

Was  loved  for  age,  none  being  so  large  as  she  ;       30 

Or  else  because,  being  young,  nature  did  bless 

Her  youth  with  age's  glory,  barrenness. 

If  we  love  thhigs  long  sought,  age  is  a  thing 

Which  we  are  fifty  years  in  compassing  ; 

If  transitory  things,  which  soon  decay, 

Age  must  be  loveliest  at  the  latest  day. 
But  name  not  winter  faces,  whose  .skin's  slack, 
Lank  as  an  unthrift's  purse,  but  a  soul's  sack  ; 
Whose  eyes  seek  light  within,  for  all  here's  shade ; 
Whose   mouths  are    holes,    rather    worn    out,   than 
made ;  40 

Whose  every  tooth  to  a  several  place  is  gone, 
To  vex  their  souls  at  resurrection  ; 
Name  not  these  living  death-heads  unto  me, 
For  these,  not  ancient,  but  antique  be. 

1.  24.  1669,  councils 

1.  30.  1635,  so  old 

L  38.  So  1633,  1669  ;  1635,  but  a  foots  sack. 

L  42.  1669,  the  soul 

L  44.  1635,  not  ancients,  hut  antiques 


ELEGIES.  119 

I  hate  extremes  ;  yet  I  had  rather  stay 

"With  tombs  than  cradles,  to  wear  out  a  day. 

Since  such  love's  motion  natural  is,  may  still 

My  love  descend,  and  journey  down  the  hill. 

Not  panting  after  growing  beauties  ;  so 

I  shall  ebb  out  with  them  who  homeward  go.  50 


ELEGY  X. 

THE   DREAM. 

Image  of  her  whom  I  love,  more  than  she, 

Whose  fair  impression  in  my  faithful  heart 
Makes  me  her  medal,  and  makes  her  love  me, 

As  kings  do  coins,  to  which  their  stamps  impart 
The  value  ;  go,  and  take  my  heart  from  hence, 

Which  now  is  grown  too  great  and  good  for  me. 
Honours  oppress  weak  spirits,  and  our  sense 

Strong  objects  dull ;  the  more,  the  less  we  see. 
When  you  are  gone,  and  reason  gone  with  you, 

Then  fantasy  is  queen  and  soul,  and  all ;  10 

She  can  present  joys  meaner  than  you  do, 

Convenient,  and  more  proportional. 
So,  if  I  dream  I  have  you,  I  have  you, 

For  all  our  joys  are  but  fantastical  ; 
And  so  I  'scape  the  pain,  for  pain  is  true  ; 

And  sleep,  which  locks  up  sense,  doth  lock  out  all. 

1.  46.  1669,  the  day 

L  47.  1635,  natural  station 

1.  50.  1635,  ehb  on 


120  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

After  a  such  fruition  I  shall  wake, 

And,  but  the  waking,  nothing  shall  repent ; 
And  shall  to  love  more  thankful  sonnets  make, 

Than    if   more    honour,    tears,    and   pains    were 
spent.  20 

But,  dearest  heart  and  dearer  image,  stay ; 

Alas  !  true  joys  at  best  are  dream  enough ; 
Though  you  stay  here,  you  pass  too  fast  away, 

For  even  at  first  life's  taper  is  a  snuff. 
Fill'd  with  her  love,  may  I  be  rather  grown 

Mad  with  much  heart,  than  idiot  with  none. 


ELEGY   XI. 

THE   BRACELET. 

UPON    THE    LOSS    OF    HIS    MISTRESS's    CHAIN,    FOR 
WHICH  HE  MADE  SATISFACTION. 

Not  that  in  colour  it  was  like  thy  hair, 

For  armlets  of  that  thou  mayst  let  me  wear  ; 

Nor  that  thy  hand  it  oft  embraced  and  kiss'd. 

For  so  it  had  that  good,  which  oft  I  miss'd  ; 

Nor  for  that  silly  old  morality, 

That,  as  these  links  were  knit,  our  love  should  be, 

1.  17,  1669,  such  a  fruition 

L  22.  1669,  dreams 

L  2.  1669,  Armlets  of  th.at  thou  mayst  still 

\,  6,  1669,  loves 


ELEGIES,  in 

Mourn  I  that  I  thy  sevenfold  chain  have  lost  j 

Nor  for  the  luck  sake  ;  but  the  bitter  cost. 

O,  shall  twelve  righteous  angels,  which  as  yet 

No  leaven  of  vile  solder  did  admit ;  10 

Nor  yet  by  any  way  have  stray'd  or  gone 

From  the  first  state  of  their  creation  ; 

Angels,  which  heaven  commanded  to  provide 

All  things  to  me,  and  be  my  faithful  guide  ; 

To  gain  new  friends,  to  appease  great  enemies  ; 

To  comfort  my  soul,  when  I  lie  or  rise  ; 

Shall  these  twelve  innocents,  by  thy  severe 

Sentence,  dread  judge,  my  sin's  great  burden  bear? 

Shall  they  be  damn'd,  and  in  the  furnace  thrown, 

And  punish'd  for  ofiences  not  their  own  ?  20 

They  save  not  me,  they  do  not  ease  my  pains, 

When  in  that  hell  they're  burnt  and  tied  in  chains. 

Were  they  but  crowns  of  France,  I  cared  not, 

For  most  of  these  their  country's  natural  rot, 

I  think,  possesseth  ;  they  come  here  to  us 

So  pale,  so  lame,  so  lean,  so  ruinous. 

And  howsoe'er  French  kings  most  Christian  be, 

Their  crowns  are  circumcised  most  Jewishly. 

Or  were  they  Spanish  stamps,  still  travelling. 

That  are  become  as  Catholic  as  their  king ;  30 

Those  unlick'd  bear-whelps,  unfiled  pistolets, 

That — more  than  cannon  shot — avails  or  lets  ; 

Which,  negligently  left  unrounded,  look 

Like  many-angled  figures  in  the  book 

1.  15.  1669,  old  enemies 
1.  24.  1669,  for  most  of  them  their  jiatural  country  rot 


122  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Of  some  great  conjurer  that  would  enforce 
Nature,  as  these  do  justice,  from  her  course  ; 
Which,  as  the  soul  quickens  head,  feet  and  heart, 
As  streams,  like  veins,  run  through  th'  earth's  every 

part, 
Visit  all  countries,  and  have  slily  made 
Gorgeous  France,  ruin'd,  ragged  and  decay'd,  40 

Scotland,  which  knew  no  state,  proud  in  one  day. 
And  mangled  seventeen-headed  Belgia. 
Or  were  it  such  gold  as  that  wherewithal 
Almighty  chemics,  from  each  mineral 
Having  by  subtle  fire  a  soul  out-pull'd, 
Are  dirtily  and  desperately  guU'd  ; 
I  would  not  spit  to  quench  the  fire  they're  in, 
For  they  are  guilty  of  much  heinous  sin. 
But  shall  my  harmless  angels  perish  ?    Shall 
I  lose  my  guard,  my  ease,  my  food,  my  all  ?  50 

Much  hope  which  they  should  nourish  will  be  dead  ; 
Much  of  my  able  youth,  and  lustihead 
Will  vanish  ;  if  thou  love,  let  them  alone. 
For  thou  wilt  love  me  less  when  they  are  gone  ; 
And  be  content  that  some  loud  squeaking  crier, 
Well-pleas'd   with    one   lean    thread-bare   groat    for 

hire, 
May  like  a  devil  roar  through  every  street. 
And  gall  the  finder's  conscience,  if  he  meet. 
Or  let  me  creep  to  some  dread  conjurer. 
That  with  fantastic  scenes  fills  full  much  paper ;       60 

I.  35.  i66g,  dread  conjurer 
X.  58.  1669,  if  they  meet 


ELEGIES.  123 

Which  hath  divided  heaven  in  tenements, 

And  with  whores,  thieves,  and  murderers  stuff'd  his 

rents 
So  full,  that  though  he  pass  them  all  in  sin, 
He  leaves  himself  no  room  to  enter  in. 
But  if,  when  all  his  art  and  time  is  spent, 
He  say  'twill  ne'er  be  found  ;  yet  be  content  ; 
Receive  from  him  that  doom  ungrudgingly. 
Because  he  is  the  mouth  of  destiny. 
Thou  say'st,  alas  !  the  gold  doth  still  remain, 
Though  it  be  changed,  and  put  into  a  chain.  70 

So  in  the  first  fallen  angels  resteth  still 
Wisdom  and  knowledge,  but  'tis  turn'd  to  ill ; 
As  these  should  do  good  works,  and  should  provide 
Necessities  ;  but  now  must  nurse  thy  pride. 
And  they  are  still  bad  angels  ;  mine  are  none  ; 
For  form  gives  being,  and  their  form  is  gone. 
Pity  these  angels  yet ;  their  dignities 
Pass  Virtues,  Powers,  and  Principalities. 
But  thou  art  resolute  ;  thy  will  be  done  ; 
Yet  with  such  anguish,  as  her  only  son  80 

The  mother  in  the  hungry  grave  doth  lay, 
Unto  the  fire  these  martyrs  I  betray. 
Good  souls — for  you  give  life  to  everything — 
Good  angels — for  good  messages  you  bring — • 
Destined  you  might  have  been  to  such  an  one, 
As  would  have  loved  and  worshipp'd  you  alone  ; 
One  that  would  suffer  hunger,  nakedness, 
Yea  death,  ere  he  would  make  your  number  less  ; 

L  6-^  1669,  place  them  all        1 .  67.  1669,  the  doom 


124  DONNE S  POEMS. 

But,  I  am  guilty  of  your  sad  decay ; 

May  your  few  fellows  longer  with  me  stay.  90 

But  O  !  thou  wretched  finder  whom  I  hate 

So,  that  I  almost  pity  thy  estate. 

Gold  being  the  heaviest  metal  amongst  all, 

May  my  most  heavy  curse  upon  thee  fall. 

Here  fetter'd,  manacled,  and  hang'd  in  chains, 

First  mayst  thou  be  ;  then  chain'd  to  hellish  pains ; 

Or  be  with  foreign  gold  bribed  to  betray 

Thy  country,  and  fail  both  of  it  and  thy  pay. 

May  the  next  thing  thou  stoop'st  to  reach,  contain 

Poison,  whose  nimble  fume  rot  thy  moist  brain  ;     100 

Or  libels,  or  some  interdicted  thing, 

Which  negligently  kept  thy  ruin  bring. 

Lust-bred  diseases  rot  thee ;  and  dwell  with  thee 

Itching  desire,  and  no  ability. 

May  all  the  evils  that  gold  ever  wrought ; 

All  mischief  that  all  devils  ever  thought ; 

Want  after  plenty,  poor  and  gouty  age. 

The  plagues  of  travellers,  love,  marriage 

Afflict  thee,  and  at  thy  life's  last  moment, 

May  thy  swollen  sins  themselves  to  thee  present,    no 

But,  I  forgive  ;  repent  thee,  honest  man  ! 
Gold  is  restorative  ;  restore  it  then  : 
But  if  from  it  thou  be'st  loth  to  depart, 
Because  'tis  cordial,  would  'twere  at  thy  heart. 

1.  98.  1669  omits  thy 

L  108.  1669,  love  and  marriage 

1.  113.  1669,  But  if  that  from  it  thou  be  st  loth  to  part 


ELEGIES,  125 


ELEGY   XII. 

Come,  Fates  ;  I  fear  you  not  !     All  whom  I  owe 
Are  paid,  but  you ;  then  'rest  me  ere  I  go. 
But  Chance  from  you  all  sovereignty  hath  got ; 
Love  woundeth  none  but  those  whom  Death    dares 

not ; 
True  if  you  were,  and  just  in  equity, 
I  should  have  vanquish'd  her,  as  you  did  me  ; 
Else  lovers  should  not  brave  Death's  pains,  and  live  ; 
But  'tis  a  rule,  "  Death  comes  not  to  relieve." 
Or,  pale  and  wan  Death's  terrors,  are  they  laid 
So  deep  in  lovers,  they  make  Death  afraid  ?  10 

Or — the  least  comfort — have  I  company  ? 
O'ercame  she  Fates,  Love,  Death,  as  well  as  me  ? 

Yes,  Fates  do  silk  unto  her  distaff  pay, 
For  ransom,  which  tax  they  on  us  do  lay. 
Love  gives  her  youth — which  is  the  reason  why 
Youths,  for  her  sake,  some  wither  and  some  die. 
Poor  Death  can  nothing  give  ;  yet,  for  her  sake, 
Still  in  her  turn,  he  doth  a  lover  take. 
And  if  Death  should  prove  false,  she  fears  him  not ;  - 
Our  Muses,  to  redeem  her,  she  hath  got.  20 

1.  5.  So  1669  ;  1635,  Else,  if  you  were 

1.  12.      So   Haslewood-Kingsborough   MS.    (giving 

Fates,  Love,  Death,  in  a  different  order)  ;  1635,  Or  can 

the  Fates  Ijve  death 


126  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

That  fatal  night  we  last  kiss'd,  I  thus  pray'd, 

—Or  rather,  thus  despair'd,  I  should  have  said — 

Kisses,  and  yet  despair  !  The  forbid  tree 

Did  promise  (and  deceive)  no  more  than  she. 

Like  lambs,  that  see  their  teats,  and  must  eat  hay, 

A  food,  whose  taste  hath  made  me  pine  away. 

Dives,  when  thou  saw'st  bliss,  and  craved'st  to  touch 

A  drop  of  water,  thy  great  pains  were  such. 

Here  grief  wants  a  fresh  wit,  for  mine  being  spent, 

And  my  sighs  weary,  groans  are  all  my  rent.  30 

Unable  longer  to  endure  the  pain, 

They  break  like  thunder,  and  do  bring  down  rain. 

Thus  till  dry  tears  solder  my  eyes,  I  weep  ; 

And  then,  I  dream,  how  you  securely  sleep. 

And  in  your  dreams  do  laugh  at  me.     I  hate, 

And  pray  Love  all  may  ;  he  pities  my  state, 

But  says,  I  therein  no  revenge  shall  find  ; 

The   sun   would   shine,    though   all   the  world   were 

blind. 
Yet,  to  try  my  hate.  Love  show'd  me  your  tear ; 
And  I  had  died,  had  not  your  smile  been  there.       40 
Your  frown  undoes  me  ;  your  smile  is  my  wealth  j 
And  as  you  please  to  look,  I  have  my  health. 
Methought,  Love  pitying  me,  when  he  saw  this, 
Gave  me  your  hands,  the  backs  and  palms  to  kiss. 
That  cured  me  not,  but  to  bear  pain  gave  strength  ; 
And  what  is  lost  in  force,  is  took  in  length. 
Icall'd  on  Love  again,  who  fear'd  you  so, 
That  his  compassion  still  proved  greater  woe  ; 
For,  then  I  dream'd  I  was  in  bed  with  you, 
But  durst  not  feel,  for  fear  it  should  not  be  true.       50 


ELEGIES.  127 

This  merits  not  your  anger,  had  it  been  ; 

The  queen  of  chastity  was  naked  seen  ; 

And  in  bed  not  to  feel,  the  pain  I  took, 

Was  more  than  for  Actseon  not  to  look  ; 

And  that  breast  which  lay  ope,  I  did  not  know, 

But  for  the  clearness,  from  a  lump  of  snow  ; 

Nor  that  sweet  teat  which  on  the  top  it  bore 

From  the  rose-bud  which  for  my  sake  you  wore. 

These  griefs  to  issue>  forth,  by  verse  I  prove  ; 

Or  turn  their  course  by  travel  and  new  love.  60 

All  would  not  do  ;  the  best  at  last  I  tried  ; 

Unable  longer  to  hold  out,  I  died. 

And  then  I  found  I  lost  life,  death  by  flying  ; 

Who  hundreds  live,  are  but  so  long  in  dying. 

Charon  did  let  me  pass  ;  I'll  him  requite. 

To  mark  the  groves  or  shades  wrongs  my  delight , 

I'll  speak  but  of  those  ghosts  I  found  alone, 

Those  thousand  ghosts,  whereof  myself  made  one, 

All  images  of  thee  ;  I  asked  them  why  ? 

The  judge  told  me,  all  they  for  thee  did  die,  70 

And  therefore  had  for  their  Elysian  bliss, 

In  one  another  their  own  loves  to  kiss. 

O  here  I  miss'd,  not  bliss,  but  being  dead  ; 

For  lo  !  I  dreamt,  I  dreamt,  and  waking  said, 

"  Heaven,  if  who  are  in  thee  there  must  dwell. 

How  is't  I  now  was  there,  and  now  I  fell?" 

1.  51.  So  Haslewood-Kingsborough  MS.  ;  1635,  02ir 
1.  68.  So  Harl.  MSS.   3910  and  4064  ;  Addl.  MS. 
10,309  emits  Those 


I2S  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


ELEGY  XIII. 

HIS   PARTING  FROM    HER. 

Since  she  must  go,  and  I  must  moum,  come  night, 

Environ  me  with  darkness,  whilst  I  write  ; 

Shadow  that  hell  unto  me,  which  alone 

I  am  to  suffer  when  my  love  is  gone. 

Alas  1  the  darkest  magic  cannot  do  it, 

And  that  great  hell,  to  boot,  are  shadows  to  it. 

Should  Cynthia  quit  thee,  Venus,  and  each  star. 

It  would  not  form  one  thought  dark  as  mine  are. 

I  could  lend  them  obscureness  now,  and  say 

Out  of  myself,  there  should  be  no  more  day.  lo 

Such  is  already  my  self-want  of  sight. 

Did  not  the  fire  within  me  force  a  light. 

O  Love,  that  fire  and  darkness  should  be  mix'd. 

Or  to  thy  triumphs  such  strange  torments  fix'd  ! 

Is  it  because  thou  thyself  art  blind,  that  we, 

Thy  martyrs,  must  no  more  each  other  see  ? 

Or  takest  thou  pride  to  break  us  on  thy  wheel, 

And  view  old  Chaos  in  the  pains  we  feel  ? 

Or  have  we  left  undone  some  mutual  rite, 

That  thus  with  parting  thou  seek'st  us  to  spite  ?      20 

No,  no.     The  fault  is  mine,  impute  it  to  me. 

Or  rather  to  conspiring  destiny, 

1.  4.  So  1669 ;  1635,  my  soul 

1.  5.  Editions  before  1669  omit  11.  5 — 44 


ELEGIES.  129 

Which,  since  I  loved  in  jest  before,  decreed 

That  I  should  suffer,  when  I  loved  indeed  ; 

And  therefore,  sooner  now  than  I  can  say, 

I  saw  the  golden  fruit,  'tis  rapt  away  ; 

Or  as  I'd  watch'd  one  drop  in  the  vast  stream, 

And  I  left  wealthy  only  in  a  dream. 

Yet,  Love,  thou'rt  blinder  than  myself  in  this, 

To  vex  my  dove-like  friend  for  my  amiss  ;  30 

And  where  one  sad  truth  may  expiate 

Thy  wrath,  to  make  her  fortune  run  my  fate. 

So  blinded  justice  doth,  when  favourites  fall. 

Strike  them,  their  house,  their  friends,  their  favourites 

all. 
Was't  not  enough  that  thou  didst  dart  thy  fires 
Into  our  bloods,  inflaming  our  desires. 
And  madest  us  sigh,  and  blow,  and  pant,  and  burn, 
And  then  thyself  into  our  flames  didst  turn  ? 
Was't  not  enough  that  thou  didst  hazard  us 
To  paths  in  love  so  dark  and  dangerous,  40 

And  those  so  ambush'd  round  with  household  spies, 
And  over  all  thy  husband's  towering  eyes, 
Inflamed  with  th'  ugly  sweat  of  jealousy ; 
Yet  went  we  not  still  on  in  constancy  ? 
Have  we  for  this  kept  guards,  like  spy  on  spy  ? 
Had  correspondence  whilst  the  foe  stood  by  ? 
Stolen,  more  to  sweeten  them,  our  many  blisses 
Of  meetings,  conference,  embracements,  kisses? 

1.    23.    So  Haslewood-Kingsborough  MS. ;    1669, 
loved  for  me  before 

1.  45,  So  1669  ;  1635,  o'er  spy 
VOL.  I.  9 


130  DONNE S  POEMS. 

Shadow'd  with  negligence  our  best  respects  ? 
Varied  our  language  through  all  dialects  5*^ 

Of  becks,  winks,  looks,  and  often  under  boards 
Spoke  dialogues  with  our  feet  far  from  our  words  ? 
Have  we  proved  all  the  secrets  of  our  art, 
Yea,  thy  pale  inwards,  and  thy  panting  heart  ? 
And,  after  all  this  passed  purgatoiy, 
Must  sad  divorce  make  us  the  vulgar  story? 
First  let  our  eyes  be  riveted  quite  through 
Our  turning  brain,  and  both  our  lips  grow  to  j 
Let  our  arms  clasp  like  ivy,  and  our  fear 
Freeze  us  together,  that  we  may  stick  here,  60 

Till  Fortune,  that  would  ruin  us  with  the  deed, 
Strain  his  eyes  open,  and  yet  make  them  bleed. 
For  Love  it  cannot  be,  whom  hitherto 
I  have  accused,  should  such  a  mischief  do. 
O  Fortune,  thou'rt  not  worth  my  least  exclaim. 
And  plague  enough  thou  hast  in  thy  own  name. 
Do  thy  great  worst ;  my  friend  and  I  have  charms, 
Though  not  against  thy  strokes,  against  thy  harms. 
Rend  us  in  sunder ;  thou  canst  not  divide 
Our  bodies  so,  but  that  our  souls  are  tied,  70 

And  we  can  love  by  letters  still  and  gifts, 
And    thoughts    and   dreams ;    love    never    wanteth 
shifts, 

1.  49.  So  1669  ;  1635,  most  respects 
1.  52.  So  1669  ;  1635  omits  our 
1.  57.  Editions  before  1669  omit  11.  <;j — (iS 
1.   67.    So    Haslewood-Kingsborough    MS.  ;    1635, 
Fortune,  do   thy  worst,  my  friend  and  I  have  arms 
L  69.  So  1669  ;  1635,  Bend  us  in  sunder 


ELEGIES.  131 

I  will  not  look  upon  the  quickening  sun, 

But  straight  her  beauty  to  my  sense  shall  run ; 

The  air  shall  note  her  soft,  the  fire,  most  pure  j 

Waters  suggest  her  clear,  and  the  earth  sure. 

Time  shall  not  loso  our  passages  ;  the  spring, 

How  fresh  our  love  was  in  the  beginning  ; 

The  summer,  how  it  ripen'd  in  the  year ; 

And  autumn,  what  our  golden  harvests  were  ;         80 

The  winter  I'll  not  think  on  to  spite  thee, 

But  count  it  a  lost  season  ;  so  shall  she. 

And    dearest    friend,    since   we    must    part,    drown 

night 
With  hope  of  day — burdens  well  borne  are  light —  ; 
The  cold  and  darkness  longer  hang  somewhere, 
Yet  Phoebus  equally  lights  all  the  sphere  ; 
And  what  we  cannot  in  like  portion  pay 
The  world  enjoys  in  mass,  and  so  we  may. 
Be  then  ever  yourself,  and  let  no  woe 
Win  on  your  health,  your  youth,  your  beauty ;  so    90 
Declare  yourself  base  Fortune's  enemy. 
No  less  be  your  contempt  than  her  inconstancy  j 
That  I  may  grow  enamour'd  on  your  mind, 
When  mine  own  thoughts  I  here  neglected  find. 
And  this  to  the  comfort  of  my  dear  I  vow, 
My  deeds  shall  still  be  what  my  deeds  are  now ; 

L  79.  1639,  it  inripened 
1.  83.  Editions  before  1669  omit  11.  83—94 
L  87.  Haslewood-Kingsborough  MS.,  And  what  he 
can't  in  like  proportion  pay 

1.  92.  Haslewood-Kingsborough  MS.,  than  constancy 


132  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

The  poles  shall  move  to  teach  me  ere  I  start ; 
And  when  I  change  my  love,  I'll  change  my  heart. 
Nay,  if  I  wax  but  cold  in  my  desire, 
Think,    heaven  hath   motion   lost,    and    the   world, 
fire.  100 

Much  more  I  could,  but  many  words  have  made 
That  oft  suspected  which  men  most  persuade. 
Take  therefore  all  in  this  ;  I  love  so  true, 
As  I  will  never  look  for  less  in  you. 


ELEGY  XIV. 

JULIA. 

Hark,  news,  O  envy  ;  thou  shalt  hear  descried 

My  Julia  ;  who  as  yet  was  ne'er  envied. 

To  vomit  gall  in  slander,  swell  her  veins 

With  calumny,  that  hell  itself  disdains, 

Is  her  continual  practice  ;  does  her  best, 

To  tear  opinion  e'en  out  of  the  breast 

Of  dearest  friends,  and — which  is  worse  than  vile — 

Sticks  jealousy  in  wedlock  ;  her  own  child 

Scapes  not  the  showers  of  envy.     To  repeat 

The  monstrous  fashions  how,  were  alive  to  eat         lo 

Dear  reputation  ;  would  to  God  she  were 

But  half  so  loth  to  act  vice,  as  to  hear 

My  mild  reproof.     Lived  Mantuan  now  again 

That  female  Mastix  to  limn  with  his  pen, 

1.  I02.  So  1669  ;  1635,  would  persuade 


ELEGIES.  133 

This  she  Chimera  that  hath  eyes  of  fire, 
Burning  with  anger — anger  feeds  desire — 
Tongued  like  the  night  crow,  whose  ill  boding  cries 
Give  out  for  nothing  but  new  injuries  ; 
Her  breath  like  to  the  juice  in  Taenarus, 
That  blasts   the  springs,    though   ne'er  so  prosper- 
ous ;  20 
Her  hands,  I  know  not  how,  used  more  to  spill 
The  food  of  others  than  herself  to  fill  ; 
But  O  !  her  mind,  that  Orcus,  which  includes 
Legions  of  mischief,  countless  multitudes 
Of  formless  curses,  projects  unmade  up, 
Abuses  yet  unfashion'd,  thoughts  corrupt, 
Misshapen  cavils,  palpable  untroths, 
Inevitable  errors,  self-accusing  loaths. 
These,  like  those  atoms  swarming  in  the  sun, 
Throng  in  her  bosom  for  creation.  3*^ 
I  blush  to  give  her  half  her  due  ;  yet  say. 
No  poison's  half  so  bad  as  Julia. 


ELEGY  XV. 

A  TALE   OF  A  CITIZEN   AND   HIS   WIFE, 

I  SING  no  harm,  good  sooth,  to  any  wight, 
To  lord  or  fool,  cuckold,  beggar,  or  knight, 
To  peace-teaching  lawyer,  proctor,  or  brave 
Reformed  or  reduced  captain,  knave, 

1.  28.  Haslewood-Kingsborough  MS.,  oathi 
L  2.  1669,  to  fool 


134  DONNE S  POEMS. 

Officer,  juggler,  or  justice  of  peace, 

Juror  or  judge  ;  I  touch  no  fat  sow's  grease  ; 

I  am  no  libeller,  nor  will  be  any, 

But — like  a  true  man — say  there  are  too  many. 

I  fear  not  ore  tenus  ;  for  my  tale 

Nor  count  nor  counsellor  will  look  red  or  pale.        lo 


A  citizen  and  his  wife  the  other  day 
Both  riding  on  one  horse,  upon  the  way 
I  overtook  ;  the  wench,  a  pretty  peat, 
And — by  her  eye — well  fitting  for  the  feat. 
I  saw  the  lecherous  citizen  turn  back 
His  head,  and  on  his  wife's  lip  steal  a  smack  ; 
Whence  apprehending  that  the  man  was  kind. 
Riding  before  to  kiss  his  wife  behind, 
To  get  acquaintance  with  him  I  began 
To  sort  discourse  fit  for  so  fine  a  man  ;  20 

I  ask'd  the  number  of  the  plaguing  bill ; 
Ask'd  if  the  custom  farmers  held  out  still ; 
Of  the  Virginian  plot,  and  whether  Ward 
The  traffic  of  the  island  seas  had  marr'd  ; 
Whether  the  Britain  Burse  did  fill  apace, 
And  likely  were  to  give  th'  Exchange  disgrace. 
Of  new-built  Aldgate,  and  the  Moor-field  crosses, 
Of  store  of  bankrupts,  and  poor  merchants'  losses 
I  urged  him  to  speak  ;  but  he — as  mute 
As  an  old  courtier  worn  to  his  last  suit —  30 

1.  5.  1650,  0_^cer,  judge  1.  10.  1669  omits  look 

1.  21.  1669,  plaguy  1.  24.  1669,  Midland  seas 


ELEGIES.  135 

Replies  with  only  yeas  and  nays  ;  at  last 

— To  fit  his  element — my  theme  I  cast 

On  tradesmen's  gains  ;  that  set  his  tongue  a-going. 

"Alas  !  good  sir,"  quoth  he,  *'  there  is  no  doing 

In  court  or  city  now  " ;  she  smiled,  and  I, 

And,  in  my  conscience,  both  gave  him  the  lie 

In  one  met  thought ;  but  he  went  on  apace. 

And  at  the  present  time  with  such  a  face 

He  rail'd,  as  fray'd  me  ;  for  he  gave  no  praise 

To  any  but  my  Lord  of  Essex'  days  ;  40 

Call'd  that  the  age  of  action — *'  True  I  "  quoth  I — 

*'  There's  now  as  great  an  itch  of  bravery. 

And  heat  of  taking  up,  but  cold  lay  down, 

For,  put  to  push  of  pay,  away  they  run ; 

Our  only  city  trades  of  hope  now  are 

Bawds,  tavern-keepers,  whores,  and  scriveners. 

The  much  of  privileged  kinsmen  and  store 

Of  fresh  protections  make  the  rest  all  poor. 

In  the  first  state  of  their  creation 

Though  many  stoutly  stand,  yet  proves  not  one        50 

A  righteous  pay-master."     Thus  ran  he  on 

In  a  continued  rage  ;  so  void  of  reason 

Seem'd  his  harsh  talk,  I  sweat  for  fear  of  treason. 

And — troth — how  could  I  less  ?  when  in  the  prayer 

For  the  protection  of  the  wise  Lord  Mayor, 

1.  38.  1669,  times 

1.  41.  1669,  those 

1.  41.  1669,  quoth  he 

1.  46.  1669,  whore  and  scrivener 

L  47.  i66g,  kingstnen  and  the  store 


136  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

And  his  wise  brethren's  worships,  when  one  prayeth, 

He  swore  that  none  could  say  amen  with  faith. 

To  get  off  him  from  what  I  glow'd  to  hear, 

In  happy  time  an  angel  did  appear, 

The  bright  sign  of  a  loved  and  well-tried  inn,  6o 

"Where  many  citizens  with  their  wives  had  been 

Well  used  and  often  ;  here  I  pray'd  him  stay, 

To  take  some  due  refreshment  by  the  way. 

Look,  how  he  look'd  that  hid  the  gold,  his  hope, 

And  at  return  found  nothing  but  a  rope, 

So  he  at  me  ;  refused  and  made  away. 

Though  willing  she  pleaded  a  weary  stay. 

I  found  my  miss,  strack  hands,  and  pray'd  him  tell — 

To  hold  acquaintance  still — where  he  did  dwell. 

He  barely  named  the  street,  promised  the  wine,       70 

But  his  kind  wife  gave  me  the  very  sign. 


ELEGY  XVI. 

THE   EXPOSTULATION. 

To  make  the  doubt  clear,  that  no  woman's  true, 
Was  it  my  fate  to  prove  it  strong  in  you  ? 
Thought  I,  but  one  had  breathed  purest  air  ; 
And  must  she  needs  be  false,  because  she's  fair? 
Is  it  your  beauty's  mark,  or  of  your  youth, 
Or  your  perfection,  not  to  study  truth  ? 

1.  58.  So  1669  ;  1635  omits  off 

1.  64.  1669,  his  gold  1.  65,  1669,  afs 

1.  66.  1669,  on  me  1.  67.  1669,  a  weary  day 


ELEGIES.  137 

Or  think  you  heaven  is  deaf,  or  hath  no  eyes, 

Or  those  it  hath  smile  at  your  perjuries  ? 

Are  vows  so  cheap  with  women,  or  the  matter 

Whereof  they're  made,  that  they  are  writ  in  water,    10 

And  blown  away  with  wind  ?     Or  doth  their  breatli, 

Both  hot  and  cold,  at  once  make  life  and  death  ? 

Who  could  have  thought  so  many  accents  sweet 

Form'd  into  words,  so  many  sighs  should  meet 

As  from  our  hearts,  so  many  oaths,  and  tears 

Sprinkled  among,  all  sweeten'd  by  our  fears, 

And  the  divine  impression  of  stolen  kisses, 

That  seal'd  the  rest,  should  now  prove  empty  blisses  ? 

Did  you  di-aw  bonds  to  forfeit  ?  sign  to  break  ? 

Or  must  we  read  you  quite  from  what  you  speak,     20 

And  find  the  truth  out  the  vi^rong  way  ?  or  must 

He  first  desire  you  false,  would  wish  you  just? 

O  !  I  profane  !  though  most  of  vi^omen  be 

This  kind  of  beast,  my  thoughts  shall  except  thee. 

My  dearest  love  ;  though  fro  ward  jealousy 

With  circumstance  might  urge  thy  inconstancy, 

Sooner  I'll  think  the  sun  will  cease  to  cheer 

The  teeming  earth,  and  that  forget  to  bear  ; 

Sooner  that  rivers  will  run  back,  or  Thames 

With  ribs  of  ice  in  June  will  bind  his  streams  ;         30 

Or  nature,  by  whose  strength  the  world  endures. 

Would  change  her  course,  before  you  alter  yours. 

But   O !    that    treacherous    breast,    to   whom   weak 

you 
Did  drift  our  counsels,  and  we  both  may  rue, 

1.  34.  1669,  Did  trust 


138  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

Having  his  falsehood  found  too  late  ;  'twas  he 

That  made  me  cast  you  guilty,  and  you  me  ; 

Whilst    he,    black    wretch,    betray'd    each    simple 

word 
We  spake,  unto  the  cunning  of  a  third. 
Cursed  may  he  be,  that  so  our  love  hath  slain, 
And  wander  on  the  earth,  wretched  as  Cain,  40 

Wretched  as  he,  and  not  deserve  least  pity. 
In  plaguing  him,  let  misery  be  witty  ; 
Let  all  eyes  shun  him,  and  he  shun  each  eye. 
Till  he  be  noisome  as  his  infamy  ; 
May  he  without  remorse  deny  God  thrice. 
And  not  be  trusted  more  on  his  soul's  price  ; 
And,  after  all  self-torment,  when  he  dies. 
May  wolves  tear  out  his  heart,  vultures  his  eyes, 
Swine  eat  his  bowels,  and  his  falser  tongue 
That  utter'd  all,  be  to  some  raven  flung ;  50 

And  let  his  carrion  corse  be  a  longer  feast 
To  the  king's  dogs,  than  any  other  beast. 
Now  have  I  cursed,  let  us  our  love  revive  ; 
In  me  the  flame  was  never  more  alive. 
I  could  begin  again  to  court  and  praise, 
And  in  that  pleasure  lengthen  the  short  days 
Of  my  life's  lease  ;  like  painters  that  do  take 
Delight,  not  in  made  work,  but  whiles  they  make. 
I  could  renew  those  times,  when  first  I  saw 
Love  in  your  eyes,  that  gave  my  tongue  the  law       60 
To  like  what  you  liked  ;  and  at  masks  and  plays 
Commend  the  self-same  actors,  the  same  ways  ; 

1.  53.  1669,  /  have 


ELEGIES.  139 

Ask  how  you  did,  and  often  with  intent 

Of  being  officious,  be  impertinent  ; 

All  which  were  such  soft  pastimes,  as  in  these 

Love  was  as  subtly  catch'd  as  a  disease. 

But  being  got,  it  is  a  treasure  sweet, 

Which  to  defend  is  harder  than  to  get ; 

And  ought  not  be  profaned,  on  either  part, 

For  though  'tis  got  by  chance,  'tis  kept  by  art         7® 


ELEGY   XVII. 

ELEGY  ON   HIS   MISTRESS. 

By  our  first  strange  and  fatal  interview, 

By  all  desires  which  thereof  did  ensue, 

By  our  long  starving  hopes,  by  that  remorse 

Which  my  words'  masculine  persuasive  force 

Begot  in  thee,  and  by  the  memory 

Of  hurts,  which  spies  and  rivals  threaten'd  me, 

I  calmly  beg.     But  by  thy  father's  wrath. 

By  all  pains,  which  want  and  divorcement  hath, 

I  conjure  thee,  and  all  the  oaths  which  I 

And  thou  have  sworn  to  seal  joint  constancy,  lO 

Here  I  unswear,  and  overswear  them  thus  ; 

Thou  shall  not  love  by  ways  so  dangerous. 

L  3.  1669,  stHving 

1.  II.  1669,  I  here  unswear 

1.  12.  1669,  by  means 


140  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Temper,  O  fair  love,  love's  impetuous  rage  ; 

Be  my  true  mistress  still,  not  my  feign'd  page. 

I'll  go,  and,  by  thy  kind  leave,  leave  behind 

Thee,  only  worthy  to  nurse  in  my  mind 

Thirst  to  come  back  ;  O  !  if  thou  die  before, 

My  soul  from-  other  lands  to  thee  shall  soar. 

Thy  else  almighty  beauty  cannot  move 

Rage  from  the  seas,  nor  thy  love  teach  them  love,    20 

Nor  tame  wild  Boreas'  harshness  ;  thou  hast  read 

How  roughly  he  in  pieces  shivered 

Fair  Orithea,  whom  he  swore  he  loved. 

Fall  ill  or  good,  'tis  madness  to  have  proved 

Dangers  unurged  ;  feed  on  this  flattery, 

That  absent  lovers  one  in  th'  other  be. 

Dissemble  nothing,  not  a  boy,  nor  change 

Thy  body's  habit,  nor  mind  ;  be  not  strange 

To  thyself  only.     All  will  spy  in  thy  face 

A  blushing  womanly  discovering  grace.  30 

Richly  clothed  apes  are  call'd  apes,  and  as  soon 

Eclipsed  as  bright,  we  call  the  moon  the  moon. 

Men  of  France,  changeable  chameleons, 

Spitals  of  diseases,  shops  of  fashions, 

Love's  fuellers,  and  the  rightest  company 

Of  players,  which  upon  the  world's  stage  be, 

Will  quickly  know  thee,  and  no  less,  alas  ! 

Th'  indifferent  Italian,  as  we  pass 

1.  14.  1669,  my  true  mistress,  not  myfeignld 

1.  23.  1669,  The  fair 

1.  35.  1669,  Lives 

1.  37.  1669,  Will  too  too  quickly  know  thee,  and  alas  I 


ELEGIES.  141 

His  warm  land,  well  content  to  think  thee  page, 
Will  hunt  thee  with  such  lust,  and  hideous  rage,      40 
As  Lot's  fair  guests  were  vex'd.     But  none  of  these. 
Nor  spongy  hydroptic  Dutch  shall  thee  displease, 
If  thou  stay  here.     O  stay  here,  for  for  thee 
England  is  only  a  worthy  gallery. 
To  walk  in  expectation,  till  from  thence 
Our  greatest  king  call  thee  to  his  presence. 
When  I  am  gone,  dream  me  some  happiness  ; 
Nor  let  thy  looks  our  long-hid  love  confess  ; 
Nor  praise,  nor  dispraise  me,  nor  bless  nor  ciu'se 
Openly  love's  force,  nor  in  bed  fright  thy  nurse        <p 
With  midnight's  startings,  crying  out,  O  !  O  ! 
Nurse,  O  !  my  love  is  slain  ;  I  saw  him  go 
O'er  the  white  Alps  alone  ;  I  saw  him,  I, 
Assail'd,  fight,  taken,  stabb'd,  bleed,  fall,  and  die. 
Augur  me  better  chance,  except  dread  Jove 
Think  it  enough  for  me  to  have  had  thy  love. 


ELEGY   XVIIL 

The  heavens  rejoice  in  motion  ;  why  should  I 

Abjure  my  so  much  loved  variety, 

And  not  with  many  youth  and  love  divide  ? 

Pleasure  is  none,  if  not  diversified. 

The  sun  that,  sitting  in  the  chair  of  light, 

Sheds  flame  into  what  else  so  ever  doth  seem  bright, 

Is  not  contented  at  one  sign  to  inn, 

Eut  ends  his  year,  and  with  a  new  begin. 


142  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

All  things  do  willingly  in  change  delight, 

The  fruitful  mother  of  our  appetite  ;  10 

Rivers  the  clearer  and  more  pleasing  are, 

Where   their  fair-spreading  streams    run    wide    and 

clear ; 
And  a  dead  lake,  that  no  strange  bark  doth  greet, 
Corrupts  itself,  and  what  doth  live  in  it. 
Let  no  man  tell  me  such  a  one  is  fair. 
And  worthy  all  alone  my  love  to  share. 
Nature  in  her  hath  done  the  liberal  part 
Of  a  kind  mistress,  and  employed  her  art, 
To  make  her  lovable,  and  I  aver 
Him  not  humane,  that  would  turn  back  from  her.   20 
I  love  her  well,  and  would,  if  need  were,  die, 
To  do  her  service.     But  follows  it  that  I 
Must  serve  her  only,  when  I  may  have  choice? 
The  law  is  hard,  and  shall  not  have  my  voice. 
The  last  I  saw  in  all  extremes  is  fair. 
And  holds  me  in  the  sunbeams  of  her  hair  ; 
Her  nymph-like  features  such  agreements  have, 
That  I  could  venture  with  her  to  the  grave. 
Another's  brown  ;  I  like  her  not  the  worse ; 
Her  tongue  is  soft  and  takes  me  with  discourse.       30 
Others,  for  that  they  well  descended  were, 
Do  in  my  love  obtain  as  large  a  share  ; 
And  though  they  be  not  fair,  'tis  much  with  me 
To  win  their  love  only  for  their  degree. 
And  though  I  fail  of  my  required  ends. 
The  attempt  is  glorious  and  itself  commends. 
How  happy  were  our  sires  in  ancient  time, 
Who  held  plurality  of  loves  no  crime. 


ELEGIES.  143 

With  them  it  was  accounted  charity 
To  stir  up  race  of  all  indifferently  ;  40 

Kindred  were  not  exempted  from  the  bands, 
Which  with  the  Persian  still  in  usage  stands. 
Women  were  then  no  sooner  ask'd  than  won, 
And  what  they  did  was  honest  and  well  done. 
But  since  this  little  Honour  hath  been  used, 
Our  weak  credulity  hath  been  abused  ; 
The  golden  laws  of  nature  are  repeal'd, 
Which  our  first  fathers  in  such  reverence  held  ; 
Our  liberty  reversed  and  charters  gone  ; 
And  we  made  servants  to  Opinion  ;  50 

A  monster  in  no  certain  shape  attired, 
And  whose  original  is  much  desired, 
Formless  at  first,  but  growing  on  its  fashions, 
And  doth  prescribe  manners  and  laws  to  nations. 
Here  love  received  immedicable  harms, 
And  was  despoiled  of  his  daring  arms  ; 
A  greater  want  than  is  his  daring  eyes. 
He  lost  those  awful  wings  with  which  he  flies, 
His  sinewy  bow  and  those  immortal  darts, 
With    which     he     is     wont     to     bruise     resisting 
hearts.  60 

Only  some  few,  strong  in  themselves  and  free, 
Retain  the  seeds  of  ancient  liberty. 
Following  that  part  of  love  although  depress'd. 
Yet  make  a  throne  for  him  within  their  breast, 
In  spite  of  modem  censures  him  avowing 
Their  sovereign,  all  service  him  allowing 
Amongst  which  troop  although  I  am  the  least, 
Yet  equal  in  perfection  with  the  best, 


144  BONNES  POEMS. 

I  glory  in  subjection  of  his  hand, 

Nor  ever  did  decline  his  least  command ;  70 

For  in  whatever  form  the  message  came 

My  heart  did  open  and  receive  the  same, 

But  time  will  in  his  course  a  point  descry 

When  I  this  loved  service  must  deny  ; 

For  our  allegiance  temporary  is  ; 

With  firmer  age  returns  our  liberties. 

What  time  in  years  and  judgment  we  reposed, 

Shall  not  so  easily  be  to  change  disposed, 

Nor  to  the  art  of  several  eyes  obeying, 

But  beauty  with  true  worth  securely  weighing  ;        80 

Which  being  found  assembled  in  some  one 

We'll  leave  her  ever,  and  love  her  alone. 


ELEGY   XIX. 

Whoever  loves,  if  he  do  not  propose 

The  right  true  end  of  love,  he's  one  that  goes 

To  sea  for  nothing  but  to  make  him  sick. 

Love  is  a  bear-whelp  born  ;  if  we  o'er-lick 

Our  love,  and  force  it  new  strange  shapes  to  take, 

We  err,  and  of  a  lump  a  monster  inake. 

Were  not  a  calf  a  monster,  that  were  grown 

Faced  like  a  man,  though  better  than  his  own  ? 

Perfection  is  in  unity  ;  prefer 

One  woman  first,  and  then  one  thing  in  her.  lo 

1,  82.  Query  ?  love  her  ever 

1.  5.  So  1661  ;  1669,  strong  shapes 


ELEGIES.  145 

I,  when  I  value  gold,  may  think  upon 
The  ductileness,  the  application, 
The  wholesomeness,  the  ingenuity. 
From  rust,  from  soil,  from  fire  ever  free  j 
But  if  I  love  it,  'tis  because  'tis  made 
By  our  new  nature,  use,  the  soul  of  trade. 

All  this  in  women  we  might  think  upon, 
— If  women  had  them — and  yet  love  but  one. 
Can  men  more  injure  women  than  to  say 
They    love    them    for   that,   by   which    they're   not 
they  ?  20 

Makes  virtue  woman  ?  must  I  cool  my  blood 
Till  I  both  be,  and  find  one  wise  and  good  ? 
May  barren  angels  love  so.     But  if  we 
Make  love  to  woman,  virtue  is  not  she, 
As  beauty  is  not,  nor  wealth.     He  that  strays  thus 
From  her  to  hers  is  more  adulterous 
Than  if  he  took  her  maid.     Search  every  sphere 
And  firmament,  our  Cupid  is  not  there. 
He's  an  infernal  God,  and  underground 
With  Pluto  dwells,  where  gold  and  fire  abound.       30 
Men  to  such  gods  their  sacrificing  coals 
Did  not  on  altars  lay,  but  pits  and  holes, 
Although  we  see  celestial  bodies  move 
Above  the  earth,  the  earth  we  till  and  love. 
So  we  her  airs  contemplate,  words  and  heart, 
And  virtues,  but  we  love  the  centric  part. 

Nor  is  the  soul  more  worthy,  or  more  fit 
For  love,  than  this,  as  infinite  as  it. 

1.  25.  So  1661 ;  1669,  beauties  no  nor  wealth 
VOL.  I.  10 


T46  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

But  in  attaining  this  desired  place 

How  much  they  err,  that  set  out  at  the  face  ?  40 

The  hair  a  forest  is  of  ambushes, 

Of  springes,  snares,  fetters,  and  manacles  ; 

The  brow  becalms  us  when  'tis  smooth  and  plain. 

And  when  'tis  wrinkled,  shipwrecks  us  again  ; 

Smooth,  'tis  a  paradise,  where  we  would  have 

Immortal  stay,  but  wrinkled  'tis  a  grave. 

The  nose,  like  to  the  first  meridian,  runs 

Not  'twixt  an  east  and  west,  but  'twixt  two  suns  ; 

It  leaves  a  cheek,  a  rosy  hemisphere, 

On  either  side,  and  then  directs  us  where  50 

Upon  the  islands  fortunate  we  fall. 

Not  faint  Canaries,  but  ambrosial, 

Her  swelling  lips,  to  which  when  we  are  come, 

"We  anchor  there,  and  think  ourselves  at  home, 

For  they  seem  all ;  there  Siren's  songs  and  there 

Wise  Delphic  oracles  do  fill  the  ear. 

There,  in  a  creek  where  chosen  pearls  do  swell, 

The  remora,  her  cleaving  tongue,  doth  dwell. 

These  and  the  glorious  promontory,  her  chin, 

O'erpast,  and  the  straight  Hellespont  between         60 

The  Sestos  and  Abydos  of  her  breasts, 

Not  of  two  lovers,  but  two  loves,  the  nests, 

1.  41.  So  1661 ;  1669,  a  fount 

1.  47.  So  1661  ;  1669,  a  sweet  meridian 

1.  53.  So  1661 ;  1669,   Unto  her  swelling  lips  when 

we  are  come 

1,  57.  So  1661  ;  1669,  Then 

1.    60.  So   1661  ;    1669,    Being  fast,    the   Straits  of 

Hellespont 


ELEGIES.  147 

Succeeds  a  boundless  sea,  but  yet  thine  eye 

Some  island  moles  may  scattered  there  descry  ; 

And  sailing  towards  her  India,  in  that  way 

Shall  at  her  fair  Atlantic  navel  stay. 

Though  there  the  current  be  the  pilot  made, 

Yet,  ere  thou  be  where  thou  shouldst  be  embay'd, 

Thou  shalt  upon  another  forest  set, 

Where  many  shipwreck,  and  no  further  get.  70 

"When  thou  art  there,  consider  what  this  chase 

Misspent  by  thy  beginning  at  the  face. 

Rather  set  out  below  j  practise  thy  art; 
Some  symmetry  the  foot  hath  with  that  part 
Which    thou     dost    seek,    and     is     thy    map     for 

that. 
Lovely  enough  to  stop,  but  not  stay  at. 
Least  subject  to  disguise  and  change  it  is  ; 
Men  say  the  devil  never  can  change  his  ; 
It  is  the  emblem  that  hath  figured 
Firmness  ;  'tis  the  first  part  that  comes  to  bed.         80 
Civility  we  see  refined  ;  the  kiss, 
Which  at  the  face  began,  transplanted  is, 
Since  to  the  hand,  since  to  the  imperial  knee, 
Now  at  the  papal  foot  delights  to  be. 
If  kings  think  that  the  nearer  way,  and  do 
Rise  from  the  foot,  lovers  may  do  so  too  ; 
For,  as  free  spheres  move  faster  far  than  can 
Birds,  whom  the  air  resists,  so  may  that  man 
Which  goes  this  empty  and  ethereal  way. 
Than  if  at  beauty's  elements  he  stay.  90 

1.  90.  So  1661  ;  1669,  beauty  s  enemies 


148  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Rich  Nature  in  women  wisely  made 
Two  purses,  and  their  mouths  aversely  laid- 
They  then,  which  to  the  lower  tribute  owe, 
That  way  which  that  exchequer  looks  must  go ; 
He  which  doth  not,  his  error  is  as  great, 
As  who  by  clyster  gives  the  stomach  meat. 


ELEGY    XX. 

TO  HIS   MISTRESS  GOING  TO   BED. 

Come,  madam,  come,  all  rest  my  powers  defy  ; 

Until  I  labour,  I  in  labour  lie. 

The  foe  ofttimes,  having  the  foe  in  sight, 

Is  tired  with  standing,  though  he  never  fight. 

Off  with  that  girdle,  like  heaven's  zone  glittering, 

But  a  far  fairer  world  encompassing. 

Unpin  that  spangled  breast -plate,  which  you  wear, 

That  th'  eyes  of  busy  fools  may  be  stopp'd  there. 

Unlace  yourself,  for  that  harmonious  chime 

Tells  me  from  you  that  now  it  is  bed-time.  10 

Off  with  that  happy  busk,  which  I  envy, 

That  still  can  be,  and. still  can  stand  so  nigh. 

Your  gown  going  off  such  beauteous  state  reveals. 

As  when  from  flowery  meads  th'  hill's  shadow  steals. 

Oft  with  your  wiry  coronet,  and  show 

The  hairy  diadems  which  on  you  do  grow 

1.   16.    So  Stephens   MS.  ;    i66g,    The  hairy  diadem 
which  on  your  head  doih  grow 


ELEGIES.  149 

Off  with  your  hose  and  shoes  ;  then  softly  tread 
In  this  love's  hallow'd  temple,  this  soft  bed. 
In  such  white  robes  heaven's  angels  used  to  be 
Revealed  to  men  ;  thou,  angel,  bring'st  with  thee    20 
A  heaven-like  Mahomet's  paradise  ;  and  though 
111  spirits  walk  in  white,  we  easily  know 
By  this  these  angels  from  an  evil  sprite  ; 
Those  set  our  hairs,  but  these  our  flesh  upright. 

Licence  my  roving  hands,  and  let  them  go 
Before,  behind,  between,  above,  below. 
Oh,  my  America,  my  Newfoundland, 
My  kingdom,  safest  when  with  one  man  mann'd, 
My  mine  of  precious  stones,  my  empery  ; 
How  am  I  blest  in  thus  discovering  thee  !  30 

To  enter  in  these  bonds,  is  to  be  free  ; 
Then,  where  my  hand  is  set,  my  soul  shall  be. 

Full  nakedness  !  All  joys  are  due  to  thee  ; 
As  souls  unbodied,  bodies  unclothed  must  be 
To   taste    whole  joys.      Gems    which   you    women 

use 
Are  like  Atlanta's  ball  cast  in  men's  views  ; 
That,  when  a  fool's  eye  lighteth  on  a  gem, 
His  earthly  soul  might  court  that,  not  them. 
Like  pictures,  or  like  books'  gay  coverings  made 
For  laymen,  are  all  women  thus  array'd.  40 

Themselves  are  only  mystic  books,  which  we 
— Whom  their  imputed  grace  will  dignify — 

1.  17.  So   Stephens   MS.  ;    1659,  Now  off  with  i/iosc 
sJioes 
1.  22.  Query?  All  spirits 


150  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Must  see  reveal'd.     Then,  since  that  I  may  know» 

As  liberally  as  to  thy  midwife  show 

Thyself ;  cast  all,  yea,  this  white  linen  hence  ; 

There  is  no  penance  due  to  innocence  : 

To  teach  thee,  I  am  naked  first ;  why  then, 

What  needst  thou  have  more  covering  than  a  man  ? 


DIVINE   POEMS. 

TO  THE   E[ARL]   of  D[0NCASTER]  :   WITH   SIX   HOLY 

SONNETS. 

See,  sir,  how,  as  the  sun's  hot  masculine  flame 
Begets  strange  creatures  on  Nile's  dirty  slime, 
In  me  your  fatherly  yet  lusty  rhyme 
— For  these  songs  are  their  fruits — have  wrought  the 

same. 
But  though  th'  engend'ring  force  from  which  they 
came 
Be  strong  enough,  and  Nature  doth  admit 
Seven  to  be  bom  at  once  ;  I  send  as  yet 
But  six ;    they   say  the  seventh  hath  still  some 
maim. 
I  choose  your  judgment,  which  the  same  degree 
Doth  with  her  sister,  your  invention,  hold,  lo 

As  fire  these  drossy  rhymes  to  purify. 
Or  as  elixir,  to  change  them  to  gold. 

You  are  that  alchemist,  which  always  had 
Wit,  whose  one  spark  could  make  good  things 
of  bad. 


152  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

LA   CORONA. 

1.  Deign  at  my  hafids  this  crown  of  prayer  andpraisc^ 
Weaved  in  my  lone  devout  melancholy, 

Thou  which  of  good  hast,  yea,  art  treasury, 

All  changing  unchanged  Ancient  of  days. 

But  do  not  with  a  vile  crown  of  frail  bays 

Reward  my  Muse's  white  sincerity  ; 

But  what  Thy  thorny  crown  gain'd,  that  give  me, 

A  crown  of  glory,  which  doth  flower  always. 

The  ends  crown  our  works,  but  Thou  crown 'st  our 

ends, 
For  at  our  ends  begins  our  endless  rest.  lo 

The  first  last  end,  now  zealously  possess'd, 
With  a  strong  sober  thirst  my  soul  attends. 
'Tis  time  that  heart  and  voice  be  lifted  high  ; 
Salvation  to  all  that  will  is  nigh. 

ANNUNCIATION. 

2.  Salvation  to  all  that  will  is  nigh  ; 

That  All,  which  always  is  all  everywhere, 
"Which  cannot  sin,  and  yet  all  sins  must  bear, 
Which  cannot  die,  yet  cannot  choose  but  die, 
Lo !  faithful  Virgin,  yields  Himself  to  lie 
In  prison,  in  thy  womb  ;  and  though  He  there 
Can  take  no  sin,  nor  thou  give,  yet  He'll  wear. 
Taken  from  thence,  flesh,  which  death's  force  may 

I.  1.  2.  So  1635  ;  1633,  low 
1.  10.  So  1635  ;  1633,  our  end 


DIVINE  POEMS.  153 

Ere  by  the  spheres  time  was  created  thou 
Wast  in  His  mind,  who  is  thy  Son,  and  Brother  ;  lo 
Whom  thou  conceivest,  conceived;  yea,  thou  art  now 
Thy  Maker's  maker,  and  thy  Father's  mother. 
Thou  hast  light  in  dark,  and  shutt'st  in  Uttle  room 
Imfncnsity,  cloister' d  in  thy  dear  womb. 

NATIVITY. 

3.  Imnunsity^  cloistered  in  thy  dear  womb. 
Now  leaves  His  well-beloved  imprisonment. 
There  he  hath  made  himself  to  his  intent 
Weak  enough,  now  into  our  world  to  come. 

But  O  !  for  thee,  for  Him,  hath  th'  inn  no  room  ? 
Yet  lay  Him  in  this  stall,  and  from  th'  orient, 
Stars,  and  wise  men  will  travel  to  prevent 
The  effects  of  Herod's  jealous  general  doom. 
See'st  thou,  my  soul,  with  thy  faith's  eye,  how  He 
Which  fills  all  place,  yet  none  holds  Him,  doth  lie  ? 
Was  not  His  pity  towards  thee  wondrous  high,    1 1 
That  would  have  need  to  be  pitied  by  thee  ? 
Kiss  Him,  and  with  Him  into  Egypt  go, 
With  His  kind  mother,  who  partakes  thy  woe, 

TEMPLE. 

4.  With  His  kind  mother,  who  partakes  thy  woe, 
Joseph,  turn  back  ;  see  where  your  child  doth  sit, 
Blowing,  yea  blowing  out  those  sparks  of  wit, 
Which  Himself  on  the  doctors  did  bestow. 

3.  1.  6.  1669,  his  stall  1.  8.  1669,  effect 

1.  9.  So  1635  ;  1633,  eyes 


154  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

The  Word  but  lately  could  not  speak,  and  lo  ! 
It  suddenly  speaks  wonders  ;  whence  comes  it, 
That  all   which   was,    and  all   which  should  be 

writ, 
A  shallow  seeming  child  should  deeply  know  ? 
His  Godhead  was  not  soul  to  His  manhood, 
Nor  had  time  mellow'd  Him  to  this  ripeness  ;      lo 
But  as  for  one  which  hath  a  long  task,  'tis  good. 
With  the  sun  to  begin  His  business, 
He  in  His  age's  morning  thus  began, 
By  miracles  exceeding  power  of  man. 


CRUCIFYING. 

,  By  miracles  exceeding  power  of  man. 
He  faith  in  some,  envy  in  some  begat, 
For,  what  weak  spirits  admire,  ambitious  hate  ; 
In  both  affections  many  to  Him  ran. 
But  O  !  the  worst  are  most,  they  will  and  can, 
Alas  !  and  do,  unto  th'  Immaculate, 
Whose  creature  Fate  is,  now  prescribe  a  fate. 
Measuring  self-life's  infinity  to  span. 
Nay  to  an  inch.     Lo  !  where  condemned  He 
Bears  His  own  cross,  with  pain,  yet  by  and  by     lo 
When  it  bears    him.    He   must    bear  more   and 

die. 
Now  Thou  art  lifted  up,  draw  me  to  Thee, 
And  at  Thy  death  giving  such  liberal  dole, 
Moist  with  one  drop  of  Thy  blood  my  dry  soul. 

S.  1.  8.  1669,  infinite  1.  8.  St,  MS.,  a  span 


DIVINE  POEMS.  155 


RESURRECTION. 

Moist  zvith  one  drop  of  Thy  blood,  my  dry  soul 

Shall — though  she  now  be  in  extreme  degree 

Too  stony  hard,  and  yet  too  fleshly — be 

Freed  by  that  drop,  from  being  starved,  hard  or  foul, 

And  life  by  this  death  abled  shall  control 

Death,  whom  Thy  death  slew  ;  nor  shall  to  me 

Fear  of  first  or  last  death  bring  misery, 

If  in  Thy  life-book  my  name  thou  enroll. 

Flesh  in  that  long  sleep  is  not  putrified. 

But  made  that  there,  of  which,  and  for  which  it  was  ; 

Nor  can  by  other  means  be  glorified.  1 1 

May  then  sin's  sleep  and  death  soon  from  me  pass, 

That  waked  from  both,  I  again  risen  may 

Salute  the  last  and  everlasting  day. 


ASCENSION. 

,  Salute  the  last  and  everlasting  day, 
Joy  at  th'  uprising  of  this  Sun,  and  Son, 
Ye  whose  true  tears,  or  tribulation 
Have  purely  wash'd,  or  burnt  your  drossy  clay. 
Behold,  the  Highest,  parting  hence  away. 
Lightens  the  dark  clouds,  which  He  treads  upon  ; 
Nor  doth  He  by  ascending  show  alone, 
But  first  He,  and  He  first  enters  the  way. 

6.  1.  8.  So  1635  ;  1633,  little  book 
1.  II.  St.  MS.,  purified 

7.  1.  3.  So  1635 ;  1633,  just  tears 


156  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

O  strong  Ram,  which  hast  batter'd  heaven  for  me  ! 
Mild  Lamb  which  with  Thy  Blood  hast  mark'd  the 

path !  lo 

Bright  Torch,  which  shinest,  that  I  the  way  may  see  ! 
O,    with   Thy   own    Blood    quench   Thy  own  just 

wrath ; 
And  if  Thy  Holy  Spirit  my  Muse  did  raise, 
Deign  at  my  hands  this  crown  of  prayer  and  praise. 


TO  THE  LADY   MAGDALEN   HERBERT,    OF   ST.    MARY 

MAGDALEN. 

Her  of  your  name,  whose  fair  inheritance 

Bethina  was,  and  jointure  Magdalo, 
An  active  faith  so  highly  did  advance, 

That  she  once  knew,  more  than  the  Church  did 
know. 
The  Resurrection  ;  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  ;  lO 

Take  so  much  of  th'  example  as  of  the  name, 

The  latter  half ;  and  in  some  recompense, 
That  they  did  harbour  Christ  Himself,  a  guest, 

Harbour  these  hymns,  to  His  dear  Name  address'd. 


DIVINE  POEMS.  157 

HOLY   SONNETS. 

I. 

Thou  hast  made  me,  and  shall  Thy  work  decay  ? 

Repair  me  now,  for  now  mine  end  doth  haste  j 

I  run  to  death,  and  Death  meets  me  as  fast, 

And  all  my  pleasures  are  like  yesterday. 

I  dare  not  move  my  dim  eyes  any  way  ; 

Despair  behind,  and  Death  before  doth  cast 

Such  terror,  and  my  feeble  flesh  doth  waste 

By  sin  in  it,  which  it  towards  hell  doth  weigh. 

Only  Thou  art  above,  and  when  towards  Thee 

By  Thy  leave  I  can  look,  I  rise  again  ;  lo 

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  adamant  draw  mine  iron  heart. 


II. 

As  due  by  many  titles  I  resign 

Myself  to  thee,  O  God.     First  I  was  made 

By  Thee  ;  and  for  Thee,  and  when  I  was  decay'd 

Thy  blood  bought  that,  the  which  before  was  Thine. 

I  am  Thy  son,  made  with  Thyself  to  shine. 

Thy  servant,  whose  pains  Thou  hast  still  repaid, 

Thy  sheep.  Thine  image,  and — till  I  betray'd 

Myself — a  temple  of  Thy  Spirit  divine. 


iSS  BONNE'S  POEMS. 

Why  doth  the  devil  then  usurp  on  me  ? 

Why  doth  he  steal,  nay  ravish,  that's  Thy  right  ?     10 

Except  Thou  rise  and  for  Thine  own  work  fight, 

O  !  I  shall  soon  despair,  when  I  shall  see 

That  Thou  lovest  mankind  well,  yet  wilt  not  choose 

me. 
And  Satan  hates  me,  yet  is  loth  to  lose  me. 

III. 

O  !  might  those  sighs  and  tears  return  again 

Into  my  breast  and  eyes,  which  I  have  spent, 

That  I  might  in  this  holy  discontent 

Mourn  with  some  fniit,  as  I  have  mourn'd  in  vain. 

In  mine  idolatry  what  showers  of  rain 

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'  hydroptic  drunkard,  and  night-scouting  thief, 

The  itchy  lecher,  and  self-tickling  proud  lo 

Have  the  remembrance  of  past  joys,  for  relief 

Of  coming  ills.     To  poor  me  is  allow'd 

No  ease  ;  for  long,  yet  vehement  grief  hath  been 

Th'  effect  and  cause,  the  punishment  and  sin. 


IV. 

O,  my  black  soul,  now  thou  art  summoned 
By  sickness.  Death's  herald  and  champion  ; 
Thou'rt  like  a  pilgrim,  which  abroad  hath  done 

ii.  1.  12.  So  1635  ;  1633,  do  see 


DIVINE  POEMS.  159 

Treason,  and  durst  not  turn  to  whence  he's  fled  ; 

Or  like  a  thief,  which  till  death's  doom  be  read, 

Wisheth  himself  deliver'd  from  prison. 

But  damn'd  and  haled  to  execution, 

Wisheth  that  still  he  might  be  imprisoned. 

Yet  grace,  if  thou  repent,  thou  canst  not  lack ; 

But  who  shall  give  thee  that  grace  to  begin  ?  lo 

O,  make  thyself  with  holy  mourning  black. 

And  red  with  blushing,  as  thou  art  with  sin ; 

Or  wash   thee  in   Christ's   blood,    which   hath   this 

might. 
That  being  red,  it  dyes  red  souls  to  white. 


V. 

I  am  a  little  world  made  cunningly 

Of  elements,  and  an  angelic  sprite  ; 

But  black  sin  hath  betray'd  to  endless  night 

My  world's  both  parts,  and,  O,  both  parts  must  die. 

You  which  beyond  that  heaven  which  was  most  high 

Have  found  new  spheres,  and  of  new  land  can  write, 

Pour  new  seas  in  my  eyes,  that  so  I  might 

Drown  my  world  with  my  weeping  earnestly, 

Or  wash  it  if  it  must  be  drown'd  no  more. 

But,  O,  it  must  be  burnt ;  alas  !  the  fire  lO 

Of  lust  and  envy  burnt  it  heretofore, 

And  made  it  fouler  ;  let  their  flames  retire, 

And  burn  me,  O  Lord,  with  a  fiery  zeal 

Of  Thee  and  Thy  house,  which  doth  in  eating  heal. 

V.  1.  7.  1669,  he  might 


i6o  DONNE'S  POEMS, 


VI. 


This  is  my  play's  last  scene  ;  here  heavens  appoint 

My  pilgrimage's  last  mile  ;  and  my  race 

Idly,  yet  quickly  run,  hath  this  last  pace  ; 

My  span's  last  inch,  my  minutes'  latest  point ; 

And  gluttonous  Death  will  instantly  unjoint 

My  body  and  soul,  and  I  shall  sleep  a  space  j 

But  my  ever-waking  part  shall  see  that  face, 

Whose  fear  already  shakes  my  every  joint. 

Then,  as  my  soul  to  heaven  her  first  seat  takes  flight. 

And  earth-born  body  in  the  earth  shall  dwell,  lo 

So  fall  my  sins,  that  all  may  have  their  right. 

To  where  they're  bred  and  would  press  me  to  hell. 

Impute  me  righteous,  thus  purged  of  evil. 

For  thus  I  leave  the  world,  the  flesh,  the  devil. 


VII. 

At  the  round  earth's  imagined  comers  blow 

Your  trumpets,  angels,  and  arise,  arise 

From  death,  you  numberless  infinities 

Of  souls,  and  to  your  scattered  bodies  go  ; 

All  whom  the  flood  did,  and  fire  shall  o'erihrow. 

All  whom  war,  death,  age,  agues,  tyrannies. 

Despair,    law,    chance   hath   slain,  and  you,    whose 

eyes 
Shall  behold  God,  and  never  tasLe  death's  woe. 

vi.  1,  6.  So  1635  ;  1633,  and  my  soul 


DIVINE  POEMS.  i6i 

But  let  them  sleep,  Lord,  and  me  mourn  a  space  ; 

For,  if  above  all  these  my  sins  abound,  lo 

'Tis  late  to  ask  abundance  of  Thy  grace. 

When  we  are  there.     Here  on  this  lowly  ground. 

Teach  me  how  to  repent,  for  that's  as  good 

As  if  Thou  hadst  seal'd  my  pardon  with  Thy  blood. 


VIII. 

If  faithful  souls  be  alike  glorified 

As  angels,  then  my  father's  soul  doth  see, 

And  adds  this  even  to  full  felicity, 

That  valiantly  I  hell's  wide  mouth  o'erstride. 

But  if  our  minds  to  these  souls  be  descried 

By  circumstances,  and  by  signs  that  be 

Apparent  in  us  not  immediately. 

How    shall    my   mind's   white    truth    by    them    be 

tried? 
They  see  idolatrous  lovers  weep  and  mourn, 
And  stile  blasphemous  conjurers  to  call  lO 

On  Jesu's  name,  and  pharisaical 
Dissemblers  feign  devotion.     Then  turn, 
O  pensive  soul,  to  God,  for  He  knows  best 
Thy  grief,  for  He  put  it  into  my  breast. 

vii.  1.  14,  1669,  my  blood 


VOL.  I.  II 


i62  DONNE'S  POEMS, 


IX. 

If  poisonous  minerals,  and  if  that  tree, 
Whose  fruit  threw  death  on  (else  immortal)  us, 
If  lecherous  goats,  if  serpents  envious 
Cannot  be  damn'd,  alas  !  why  should  I  be  ? 
Why  should  intent  or  reason,  born  in  me. 
Make  sins,  else  equal,  in  me  more  heinous  ? 
And,  mercy  being  easy,  and  glorious 
To  God,  in  His  stern  wrath  why  threatens  He? 
But  who  am  I,  that  dare  dispute  with  Thee  ? 

0  God,  O  !  of  Thine  only  worthy  blood,  lo 
And  my  tears,  make  a  heavenly  Lethean  flood. 

And  drown  in  it  my  sin's  black  memory. 

That  Thou  remember  them,  some  claim  as  debt ; 

1  think  it  mercy  if  Thou  wilt  forget. 


X. 

Death,  be  not  proud,  though  some  have  called  thee 
Mighty  and  dreadful,  for  thou  art  not  so  ; 
For  those,  whom  thou  think'st  thou  dost  overthrow. 
Die  not,  poor  Death,  nor  yet  canst  thou  kill  me. 
From  rest  and  sleep,  which  but  thy  picture  be, 
Much  pleasure,  then  from  thee  much  more  must  flow, 
And  soonest  our  best  men  with  thee  do  go, 
Rest  of  their  bones,  and  soul's  delivery. 

ix.  L  I.  So  1633,  1669 ;  1639,  poisons 


DIVINE  POEMS.  163 

Thou'rt  slave  to  Fate,  chance,  kings,  and  desperate 

men, 
And  dost  with  poison,  war,  and  sickness  dwell,       10 
And  poppy,  or  charms  can  make  us  sleep  as  well, 
And   better    than    thy  stroke;    why   swell'st    thou 

then? 
One  short  sleep  past,  we  wake  eternally. 
And  Death  shall  be  no  more;  Death,  thou  shalt 

die. 


XI. 

Spit  in  my  face,  you  Jews,  and  pierce  my  side, 

Buffet,  and  scoff,  scourge,  and  crucify  me. 

For  I  have  sinn'd,  and  sinn'd,  and  only  He, 

Who  could  do  no  iniquity,  hath  died. 

But  by  my  death  can  not  be  satisfied 

My  sins,  which  pass  the  Jews'  impiety. 

They  kill'd  once  an  inglorious  man,  but  I 

Crucify  him  daily,  being  now  glorified. 

O  let  me  then  His  strange  love  still  admire  ; 

Kings  pardon,  but  He  bore  our  punishment;  10 

And  Jacob  came  clothed  in  vile  harsh  attire, 

But  to  supplant,  and  with  gainful  intent ; 

God  clothed  Himself  in  vile  man's  flesh,  that  so 

He  might  be  weak  enough  to  suffer  woe. 

X  1.  10.  So  1635 ;  1633,  doth 


i64  BONNES  POEMS. 


XII. 

Why  are  we  by  all  creatures  waited  on  ? 

Why  do  the  prodigal  elements  supply 

Life  and  food  to  me,  being  more  pure  than  I, 

Simpler  and  further  from  corruption  ? 

Why  brook'st  thou,  ignorant  horse,  subjection  ? 

Why  dost  thou,  bull  and  boar,  so  sillily 

Dissemble  weakness,  and  by  one  man's  stroke  die. 

Whose  whole  kind  you  might  swallow  and  feed  upon  ? 

Weaker  I  am,  woe's  me,  and  worse  than  you  ; 

You  have  not  sinn'd,  nor  need  be  timorous.  lo 

But  wonder  at  a  greater,  for  to  us 

Created  nature  doth  these  things  subdue  ; 

But  their  Creator,  whom  sin,  nor  nature  tied, 

For  us,  His  creatures,  and  His  foes,  hath  died. 


XIII. 

What  if  this  present  were  the  world's  last  night? 
Mark  in  my  heart,  O  soul,  where  thou  dost  dwell, 
The  picture  of  Christ  crucified,  and  tell 
Whether  His  countenance  can  thee  affright. 
Tears  in  His  eyes  quench  the  amazing  light ; 
Blood  fills  his  frowns,  which  from  His  pierced  head 

fell; 
And  can  that  tongue  adjudge  thee  unto  hell, 
Which  pray'd  forgiveness  for  His  foes'  fierce  spite  ? 

xii.  1.  II.  So  1635;  1633,  wonder  at  a  greater  wonder 


DIVINE  POEMS.  165 

No,  no  ;  but  as  in  my  idolatry 

I  said  to  all  my  profane  mistresses,  lo 

Beauty  of  pity,  foulness  only  is 

A  sign  of  rigour ;  so  I  say  to  thee, 

To  wicked  spirits  are  horrid  shapes  assign'd ; 

This  beauteous  form  assumes  a  piteous  mind. 

XIV. 

Batter  my  heart,  three-person'd  God  ;  for  you 

As  yet  but  knock  ;  breathe,  shine,  and  seek  to  mend  ; 

That  I  may  rise,  and  stand,  o'erthrow  me,  and  bend 

Your  force,  to  break,  blow,  burn,  and  make  me  new. 

I,  like  an  usurp'd  town,  to  another  due, 

Labour  to  admit  you,  but  O,  to  no  end. 

Reason,  your  viceroy  in  me,  me  should  defend, 

But  is  captived,  and  proves  weak  or  untrue. 

Yet  dearly  I  love  you,  and  would  be  loved  fain. 

But  am  betroth'd  unto  your  enemy  ;  10 

Divorce  me,  untie,  or  break  that  knot  again. 

Take  me  to  you,  imprison  me,  for  I, 

Except  you  enthrall  me,  never  shall  be  free, 

Nor  ever  chaste,  except  you  ravish  me. 


XV. 

Wilt  thou  love  God  as  He  thee  ?  then  digest, 
My  soul,  this  wholesome  meditation, 
How  God  the  Spirit,  by  angels  waited  on 
In  heaven,  doth  make  His  temple  in  thy  breast. 

xiv.  L  7.  1669,  we  should 


1 66  DO.VNE'S  POEMS. 

The  Father  having  begot  a  Son  most  blest, 
And  still  begetting — for  he  ne'er  begun — 
Hath  deign'd  to  choose  thee  by  adoption, 
Co-heir  to  His  glory,  and  Sabbath's  endless  rest. 
And  as  a  robb'd  man,  which  by  search  doth  find 
His  stolen  stuff  sold,  must  lose  or  buy  it  again,        lo 
The  Sun  of  glory  came  down,  and  was  slain. 
Us  whom  He  had  made,  and  Satan  stole,  to  unbind. 
*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  kingdom  Thy  Son  gives  to  me  j 

His  jointure  in  the  knotty  Trinity 

He  keeps,  and  gives  to  me  his  death's  conquest. 

This  Lamb,  whose   death   with  life  the  world   hath 

blest, 
Was  from  the  world's  beginning  slain,  and  He 
Hath  made  two  wills,  which  with  the  legacy 
Of  His  and  Thy  kingdom  do  thy  sons  invest. 
Yet  such  are  these  laws,  that  men  argue  yet 
Whether  a  man  those  statutes  can  fulfil.  lo 

None  doth  ;  but  thy  all-healing  grace  and  Spirit 
Revive  again  what  law  and  letter  kill. 
Thy  law's  abridgement,  and  Thy  last  command 
Is  all  but  love  ;  O  let  this  last  Will  stand  ! 

XV.  1.  12.  So  1635 ;  1633,  Satan  stotn 
xvi.  1.  8.  1635  omits  do 


DIVINE  POEMS.  167 


THE  CROSS. 

Since  Christ  embraced  the  cross  itself,  dare  I 

His  image,  th'  image  of  His  cross,  deny  ? 

Would  I  have  profit  by  the  sacrifice. 

And  dare  the  chosen  altar  to  despise  ? 

It  bore  all  other  sins,  but  is  it  fit 

That  it  should  bear  the  sin  of  scorning  it  ? 

Who  from  the  picture  would  avert  his  eye, 

How  would  he  fly  his  pains  who  there  did  die  ? 

From  me  no  pulpit,  nor  misgrounded  law. 

Nor  scandal  taken,  shall  this  cross  withdraw,  10 

It  shall  not,  for  it  cannot ;  for  the  loss 

Of  this  cross  were  to  me  another  cross. 

Better  were  worse,  for  no  affliction, 

No  cross  is  so  extreme,  as  to  have  none. 

Who  can  blot  out  the  cross,  which  th'  instrument 

Of  God  dew'd  on  me  in  the  Sacrament  ? 

Who  can  deny  me  power,  and  liberty 

To  stretch  mine  arms,  and  mine  own  cross  to  be  ? 

Swim,  and  at  every  stroke  thou  art  thy  cross  ; 

The  mast  and  yard  make  one,  where  seas  do  toss ;    20 

Look  down,  thou  spiest  out  crosses  in  small  things  ; 

Look  up,  thou  seest  birds  raised  on  crossed  wings  ; 

All  the  globe's  frame,  and  spheres,  is  nothing  else 

But  the  meridians  crossing  parallels. 

Material  crosses  then  good  physic  be, 

But  yet  spiritual  have  chief  dignity. 

These  for  extracted  chemic  medicine  serve, 

And  cure  much  better,  and  as  well  preser\'e. 


1 68  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Then  are  you  your  own  physic,  or  need  none. 
When  still'd  or  purged  by  tribulation  ;  30 

For  when  that  cross  ungrudged  unto  you  sticks, 
Then  are  you  to  yourself  a  crucifix. 
As  perchance  carvers  do  not  faces  make, 
But  that  away,  which  hid  them  there,  do  take  j 
Let  crosses,  so,  take  what  hid  Christ  in  thee, 
And  be  His  image,  or  not  His,  but  He. 
But,  as  oft  alchemists  do  coiners  prove. 
So  may  a  self-despising  get  self-love  ; 
And  then,  as  worst  surfeits  of  best  meats  be. 
So  is  pride,  issued  from  humility,  40 

For  'tis  no  child,  but  monster  ;  therefore  cross 
Your  joy  in  crosses,  else  'tis  double  loss. 
And  cross  thy  senses,  else  both  they  and  thou 
Must  perish  soon,  and  to  destruction  bow. 
For  if  the  eye  seek  good  objects,  and  will  take 
No  cross  from  bad,  we  cannot  'scape  a  snake. 
So  with  harsh,  hard,  sour,  stinking  ;  cross  the  rest ; 
Make  them  indifferent ;  call,  nothing  best. 
But  most  the  eye  needs  crossing,  that  can  roam, 
And  move  ;  to  th'  others  th'   objects    must   come 
home.  50 

And  cross  thy  heart  ;  for  that  in  man  alone 
Pants  downwards,  and  hath  palpitation. 
Cross  those  dejections,  when  it  downward  tends, 
And  when  it  to  forbidden  heights  pretends. 

1.  45.  1650,  see  1.  48.  1635,  all,  nothing  best 

1.  50.  1635,  To  tK  others  objects 
1.  53.  1635,  detorsions 


DIVINE  POEMS.  169 

And  as  the  brain  through  bony  walls  doth  vent 

By  sutures,  which  a  cross's  form  present, 

So  when  thy  brain  works,  ere  thou  utter  it, 

Cross  and  correct  concupiscence  of  wit. 

Be  covetous  of  crosses  ;  let  none  fall  ; 

Cross  no  man  else,  but  cross  thyself  in  all.  60 

Then  doth  the  cross  of  Christ  work  faithfully 

Within  our  hearts,  when  we  love  harmlessly 

The  cross's  pictures  much,  and  with  more  care 

That  cross's  children,  which  our  crosses  are. 


RESURKECTION,    IMPERFECT. 

Sleep,  sleep,  old  sun,  thou  canst  not  have  repass'd, 

As  yet,  the  wound  thou  took'st  on  Friday  last ; 

Sleep  then,  and  rest  ;  the  world  may  bear  thy  stay  ; 

A  better  sun  rose  before  thee  to-day  ; 

Who — not  content  to  enlighten  all  that  dwell 

On  the  earth's  face,  as  thou — enlighten'd  hell, 

And  made  the  dark  fires  languish  in  that  vale, 

As  at  thy  presence  here  our  fires  grow  pale  ; 

Whose  body,  having  walk'd  on  earth,  and  now 

Hasting  to  heaven,  would — that  He  might  allow      lo 

Himself  unto  all  stations,  and  fill  all — 

For  these  three  days  become  a  mineral. 

He  was  all  gold  when  He  lay  down,  but  rose 

All  tincture,  and  doth  not  alone  dispose 

Leaden  and  iron  wills  to  good,  but  is 

Of  power  to  make  e'en  sinful  flesh  like  his, 

1.  15.  Query,  to  gold 


170  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Had  one  of  those,  whose  credulous  piety 

Thought  that  a  soul  one  might  discern  and  see 

Go  from  a  body,  at  this  sepulchre  been, 

And,  issuing  from  the  sheet,  this  body  seen,  20 

He  would  have  justly  thought  this  body  a  soul, 

If  not  of  any  man,  yet  of  the  whole. 

Desunt  Cactera, 

THE  ANNUNCIATION   AND   PASSION. 

TAJIELY,  frail  body,  abstain  to-day  ;  to-day 

My  soul  eats  twice,  Christ  hither  and  away. 

She  sees  Him  man,  so  like  God  made  in  this, 

That  of  them  both  a  circle  emblem  is, 

Whose  first  and  last  concur  ;  this  doubtful  day 

Of  feast  or  fast,  Clirist  came,  and  went  away  ; 

She  sees  Him  nothing,  twice  at  once,  who's  all  j 

She  sees  a  cedar  plant  itself,  and  fall ; 

Her  Maker  put  to  making,  and  the  head 

Of  life  at  once  not  yet  alive,  yet  dead  ;  10 

She  sees  at  once  the  Virgin  Mother  stay 

Reclused  at  home,  public  at  Golgotha  ; 

Sad  and  rejoiced  she's  seen  at  once,  and  seen 

At  almost  fifty,  and  at  scarce  fifteen  ; 

At  once  a  son  is  promised  her,  and  gone  ; 

Gabriel  gives  Christ  to  her,  He  her  to  John ; 

Not  fully  a  mother,  she's  in  orbity  j 

At  once  receiver  and  the  legacy. 

1.  I.  1635,  frail  flesh 

1.  I.  1650  omits  the  second  to-day 

L  10.  1635,  and  dead 


DIVINE  POEMS.  171 

All  this,  and  all  between,  this  day  hath  shown, 

Th'  abridgement  of  Christ's  story,  which  makes  one — 

As  in  plain  maps,  the  furthest  west  is  east —  21 

Of  th'  angels  Ave^  and  Conswnmattim  est. 

How  well  the  Church,  God's  Court  of  Faculties, 

Deals,  in  sometimes,  and  seldom  joining  these. 

As  by  the  self-fix'd  Pole  we  never  do 

Direct  our  course,  but  the  next  star  thereto, 

"Which  shows  where  th'other  is,  and  which  we  say 

— Because  it  strays  not  far — doth  never  stray. 

So  God  by  His  Church,  nearest  to  him,  we  know, 

And  stand  firm,  if  we  by  her  motion  go.  30 

His  Spirit,  as  His  fiery  pillar,  doth 

Lead,  and  His  Church,  as  cloud  ;  to  one  end  both. 

This  Church  by  letting  those  days  join,  hath  shown 

Death  and  conception  in  mankind  is  one  ; 

Or  'twas  in  Him  the  same  humility, 

That  He  would  be  a  man,  and  leave  to  be  j 

Or  as  creation  He  hath  made,  as  God, 

With  the  last  judgment  but  one  period, 

His  imitating  spouse  would  join  in  one 

INIanhood's  extremes  ;  He  shall  come,  He  is  gone  ;  40 

Or  as  though  one  blood  drop,  which  thence  did  fall, 

Accepted,  would  have  served,  He  yet  shed  all, 

So  though  the  least  of  His  pains,  deeds,  or  words, 

Would  busy  a  life,  she  all  this  day  affords. 

This  treasure  then,  in  gross,  my  soul,  uplay, 

And  in  my  life  retail  it  every  day. 

1.  31.  1635,  and  His  fiery  pillar 
L  33. 1635,  those  feasts  I.  34. 1635,  are  one 


172  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


GOOD-FRIDAY,    1613,    RIDING  WESTWARD. 

Let  man's  soul  be  a  sphere,  and  then,  in  this, 
Th'  intelligence  that  moves,  devotion  is  ; 
And  as  the  other  spheres,  by  being  grown 
Subject  to  foreign  motion,  lose  their  own, 
And  being  by  others  hurried  every  day, 
Scarce  in  a  year  their  natural  form  obey  ; 
Pleasure  or  business,  so,  our  souls  admit 
For  their  first  mover,  and  are  whirl'd  by  it. 
Hence  is't,  that  I  am  carried  towards  the  west, 
This  day,  when  my  soul's  form  bends  to  the  East.    10 
There  I  should  see  a  Sun  by  rising  set, 
And  by  that  setting  endless  day  beget. 
But  that  Christ  on  His  cross  did  rise  and  fall. 
Sin  had  eternally  benighted  all. 
Yet  dare  I  almost  be  glad,  I  do  not  see 
That  spectacle  of  too  much  weight  for  me. 
Who  sees  God's  face,  that  is  self-life,  must  die  ; 
What  a  death  were  it  then  to  see  God  die  ? 
It  made  His  own  lieutenant.  Nature,  shrink, 
It  made  His  footstool  crack,  and  the  sun  wink.        20 
Could  I  behold  those  hands,  which  span  the  poles 
And  tune  all  spheres  at    once,   pierced  with   those 
holes  ? 

1.  10.  So  1635  ;  1633,  towards  the  East 
1.  13.  So  1635 ;  1633,  this  cross 


DIVINE  POEMS.  173 

Could  I  behold  that  endless  height,  which  is 
Zenith  to  us  and  our  antipodes, 
Humbled  below  us  ?  or  that  blood,  which  is 
The  seat  of  all  our  souls,  if  not  of  His, 
Made  dirt  of  dust,  or  that  flesh  which  was  worn 
By  God  for  His  apparel,  ragg'd  and  torn  ? 
If  on  these  things  I  durst  not  look,  durst  I 
On  His  distressed  Mother  cast  mine  eye,  30 

Who  was  God's  partner  here,  and  furnish'd  thus 
Half  of  that  sacrifice  which  ransom'd  us  ? 
Though  these  things  as  I  ride  be  from  mine  eye, 
They're  present  yet  unto  my  memory, 
For  that  looks  towards   them ;    and    Thou   look'st 
towards  me, 

0  Saviour,  as  Thou  hang'st  upon  the  tree. 

1  turn  my  back  to  Thee  but  to  receive 
Corrections  till  Thy  mercies  bid  Thee  leave. 
O  think  me  worth  Thine  anger,  punish  me, 

Burn  oflf  my  rust,  and  my  deformity  ;  40 

Restore  Thine  image,  so  much,  by  Thy  grace, 
That  Thou  mayst  know  me,  and  I'll  turn  my  face. 

L  30.  So  1635  ;  1633,  Upon  his  viiserable  mother 
L  40.  So  1635 ;  1633,  rusts 


174  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


A  LITANY. 
I. 

THE   FATHER. 

Father  of  Heaven,  and  Him,  by  whom 
It,  and  us  for  it,  and  all  else  for  us. 

Thou  madest  and  govem'st  ever,  come 
And  re-create  me,  now  grown  ruinous. 
My  heart  is  by  dejection,  clay, 
And  by  self-murder,  red. 
From  this  red  earth,  O  Father,  purge  away 
All  vicious  tinctures,  that  new-fashioned 
I  may  rise  up  from  death,  before  I'm  dead. 


II. 

the  son. 

O  Son  of  God,  who,  seeing  two  things,  ic 

Sin  and  Death,  crept  in,  which  were  never  made, 

By  bearing  one,  tried'st  with  what  stings 
The  other  could  Thine  heritage  invade ; 
O  be  Thou  nail'd  unto  my  heart, 
And  crucified  again ; 
Part  not  from  it,  though  it  from  Thee  would  part, 
But  let  it  be  by  applying  so  Thy  pain, 
Drown'd  in  Thy  blood,  and  in  Thy  passion  slain. 


DIVINE  POEMS,  175 


III. 

THE   HOLY  GHOST. 

O  Holy  Ghost,  whose  temple  I 
Am,  but  of  mud  walls,  and  condensed  dust,  20 

And  being  sacrilegiously 
Half  wasted  with  youth's  fires  of  pride  and  lust. 
Must  with  new  storms  be  weather-beat, 
Double  in  my  heart  Thy  flame, 
Which  let  devout  sad  tears  intend,  and  let — 
Though  this  glass  lanthom,  fiesh,  do  suffer  maim — 
Fire,  sacrifice,  priest,  altar  be  the  same. 


IV. 

THE  TRINITY. 

O  blessed  glorious  Trinity, 
Bones  to  philosophy,  but  milk  to  faith, 

Which,  as  wise  serpents,  diversely  30 

Most  slipperiness,  yet  most  entanglings  hath, 
As  you  distinguish'd,  undistinct, 
By  power,  love,  knowledge  be, 
Give  me  a  such  self  different  instinct. 
Of  these  let  all  me  elemented  be. 
Of  power,  to  love,  to  know  you  unnumbered  three. 

1.  34.  163s,  omits  a 


176  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


V. 

THE  VIRGIN   MARY. 

For  that  fair  blessed  mother-maid, 
"Whose  flesh  redeem'd  us,  that  she-cherubin, 

Which  unlock'd  paradise,  and  made 
One  claim  for  innocence,  and  disseized  sin,  40 

Whose  womb  was  a  strange  heaven,  for  there 
God  clothed  Himself,  and  grew. 
Our  zealous  thanks  we  pour.     As  her  deeds  were 
Our  helps,  so  are  her  prayers  ;  nor  can  she  sue 
In  vain,  who  hath  such  titles  unto  you. 


VI. 

THE  ANGELS. 

And  since  this  life  our  nonage  is, 
And  we  in  wardship  to  Thine  angels  be, 

Native  in  heaven's  fair  palaces 
Where  we  shall  be  but  denizen'd  by  Thee ; 

As  th'  earth  conceiving  by  the  sun,  50 

Yields  fair  diversity, 
Yet  never  knows  what  course  that  light  doth  run  j 
So  let  me  study  that  mine  actions  be 
Worthy  their  sight,  though  blind  in  how  they  see. 


DIVINE  POEMS.  177 


VII. 

THE    PATRIARCHS. 

And  let  Thy  patriarchs'  desire, 
— Those  great  grandfatliers  of  Thy  Church,  which  saw 

More  in  the  cloud  than  we  in  fire, 
Whom  nature  clear'd  more,  than  us  grace  and  law, 
And  now  in  heaven  still  pray,  that  we 
May  use  our  new  helps  right —  6o 

Be  satisfied,  and  fructify  in  me  ; 
Let  not  my  mind  be  blinder  by  more  light, 
Nor  faith  by  reason  added  lose  her  sight. 


VIII. 

THE  PROPHETS. 

Thy  eagle-sighted  prophets  too, 
— Which  were  Thy  Church's  organs,  and  did  sound 

That  harmony  which  made  of  two 
One  law,  and  did  unite,  but  not  confound  ; 
Those  heavenly  poets  which  did  see 
Thy  will,  and  it  express 
In  rhythmic  feet — in  common  pray  for  me,  70 

That  I  by  them  excuse  not  my  excess 
In  seeking  secrets,  or  poeticness. 

1.  61.  So  1635  ;  1633,  Be  sanctified 
VOL.1.  12 


178  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


IX. 

THE   APOSTLES. 


And  thy  illustrious  zodiac 
Of  twelve  apostles,  which  engirt  this  All, 
— From  whom  whosoever  do  not  take 
Their  light,  to  dark  deep  pits  throw  down  and  fall ; — 
As  through  their  prayers  Thou'st  let  me  know 
That  their  books  are  divine, 
May  they  pray  still,  and  be  heard,  that  I  go 
Th'  old  broad  way  in  applying  ;  O  decline  80 

Me,  when  my  comment  would  make  Thy  word  mine. 


THE    MARTYRS. 

And  since  Thou  so  desirously 
Didst  long  to  die,  that  long  before  Thou  couldst, 

And  long  since  Thou  no  more  couldst  die, 
Thou  in  thy  scatter'd  mystic  body  wouldst 
In  Abel  die,  and  ever  since 
In  Thine  ;  let  their  blood  come 
To  beg  for  us  a  discreet  patience 
Of  death,  or  of  worse  life  ;  for  O,  to  some 
Not  to  be  martyrs,  is  a  martyrdom.  90 

L  76.  1635,  thrown  down  do/ail 


DIVINE  POEMS,  179 


XI. 

THE   CONFESSORS. 

Therefore  with  Thee  triumpheth  there 
A  virgin  squadron  of  white  confessors, 

Whose  bloods  betroth'd  not  married  were, 
Tender'd,  not  taken  by  those  ravishers. 

They  know,  and  pray  that  we  may  know, 
In  every  Christian 
Hourly  tempestuous  persecutions  grow  ; 
Temptations  martyr  us  alive  ;  a  man 
Is  to  himself  a  Diocletian. 


XII. 

THE   VIRGINS, 

The  cold  white  snowy  nunnery,  lOO 

Which,  as  Thy  Mother,  their  high  abbess,  sent 

Their  bodies  back  again  to  Thee, 
As  Thou  hadst  lent  them,  clean  and  innocent ; 

Though  they  have  not  obtain'd  of  Thee, 
That  or  Thy  Church  or  I 
Should  keep,  as  they,  our  first  integrity. 
Divorce  Thou  sin  in  us,  or  bid  it  die, 
And  call  chaste  widowhead  virginity. 


l8o  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


XTII. 
THE   DOCTORS. 

The  sacred  academy  above 
Of     doctors,     whose  pains     have     unclasp'd,     and 
taught  no 

Both  books  of  life  to  us — for  love 
To  know  Thy  scriptures  tells  us,  we  are  wrote 
In  Thy  other  book — pray  for  us  there, 
That  what  they  have  misdone 
Or  missaid,  we  to  that  may  not  adhere. 
Their  zeal  may  be  our  sin.     Lord,  let  us  run 
Mean  ways,  and  call  them  stars,  but  not  the  sun. 


XIV. 

And  whilst  this  universal  quire, 
That  Church  in  triumph,  this  in  warfare  here, 

Warm'd  with  one  all-partaking  fire  1 20 

Of  love,  that  none  be  lost,  which  cost  Thee  dear, 
Prays  ceaselessly,  and  Thou  hearken  too 
— Since  to  be  gracious 
Our  task  is  treble,  to  pray,  bear,  and  do — 
Hear  this  prayer,  Lord  ;  O  Lord,  deliver  us 
From  trusting  in  those  prayers,  though  pour'd  out 
thus. 

1.  109.  1635,  acadcm 


DIVINE  POEMS.  i8l 


XV. 

From  being  anxious,  or  secure, 
Dead  clods  of  sadness,  or  light  squibs  of  mirth, 

From  thinking  that  great  courts  immure 
All,  or  no  happiness,  or  that  this  earth  1 30 

Is  only  for  our  prison  framed, 
Or  that  Thou'rt  covetous 
To  them  whom  Thou  lovest,  or  that  they  are  maini'd 
From  reaching   this   world's  sweet  who  seek  Thee 

thus, 
With  all  their  might,  good  Lord,  deliver  us. 


XVI. 

From  needing  danger,  to  be  good, 
From  owing  Thee  yesterday's  tears  to-day, 

From  trusting  so  much  to  Thy  blood 
That  in  that  hope  we  wound  our  soul  away. 

From  bribing  Thee  with  alms,  to  excuse  140 
Some  sin  more  burdenous, 
From  light  affecting,  in  religion,  news. 
From  thinking  us  all  soul,  neglecting  thus 
Our  mutual  duties,  Lord,  deliver  us. 

I.  128,  1635,  clo2ids  1.  134,  1635,  sweets 

L  137.  1669,  owning  1,  139.  1669,  souls 


i82  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


XVII. 

From  tempting  Satan  to  tempt  us, 
By  our  connivance,  or  slack  company, 

From  measuring  ill  by  vicious 
Neglecting  to  choke  sin's  spawn,  vanity, 
From  indiscreet  humility, 
Which  might  be  scandalous  150 

And  cast  reproach  on  Christianity, 
From  being  spies,  or  to  spies  pervious, 
From  thirst  or  scorn  of  fame,  deliver  us. 


XVIII. 

Deliver  us  through  Thy  descent 
Into  the  Virgin,  whose  womb  was  a  place 

Of  middle  kind  ;  and  Thou  being  sent 
To  ungracious  us,  stay'dst  at  her  full  of  grace  ; 

And  through  Thy  poor  birth,  where  first  Thou 
Glorified'st  poverty ; 
And  yet  soon  after  riches  didst  allow,  161 

By  accepting  kings'  gifts  in  th'  Epiphany ; 
Deliver  us,  and  make  us  to  both  ways  free. 

L  153.  So  1635;  162,3,  Jlaine 


DIVINE   POEMS.  183 


XIX. 

And  through  that  bitter  agony, 
Which  is  still  th'  agony  of  pious  wits, 

Disputing  what  distorted  Thee, 
And  interrupted  evenness  with  fits  ; 

And  through  Thy  free  confession, 
Though  thereby  they  were  then 
Made  blind,  so  that  Thou  mightst  from  them  have  gone ; 
Good  Lord,  deliver  us,  and  teach  us  when  170 

We  may  not,  and  we  may,  blind  unjust  men. 


XX. 

Through  Thy  submitting  all,  to  blows 
Thy  face,  Thy  robes  to  spoil,  Thy  fame  to  scorn, 

All  ways,  which  rage,  or  justice  knows, 
And  by  which  Thou  couldst  show  that  Thou  wast 
born  ; 

And  through  Thy  gallant  humbleness 
Which  Thou  in  death  didst  show. 
Dying  before  Thy  soul  they  could  express  ; 
Deliver  us  from  death,  by  dying  so 
To  this  world,  ere  this  world  do  bid  us  go.  180 

1.  164.  1635,  still  is 


i84  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


XXI. 

Wljen  senses,  which  Thy  soldiers  are, 
We  arm  against  Thee,  and  they  fight  for  sin  j 

When  want,  sent  but  to  tame,  doth  war, 
And  work  despair  a  breach  to  enter  in  ; 

When  plenty,  God's  image,  and  seal, 
Makes  us  idolatrous, 
And  love  it,  not  him,  whom  it  should  reveal ; 
When  we  are  moved  to  seem  religious 
Only  to  vent  wit ;  Lord,  deliver  us. 


XXII. 

In  churches,  when  th'  infirmity  190 

Of  him  which  speaks,  diminishes  the  word  ; 

When  magistrates  do  misapply 
To  us,  as  we  judge,  lay  or  ghostly  sword  ; 

When     plague,     which     is     Thine     angel, 

reigns, 
Or  wars.  Thy  champions,  sway  ; 
When  heresy.  Thy  second  deluge,  gains  ; 
In  th'  hour  of  death,  th'  eve  of  last  Judgment  day  ; 
Deliver  us  from  the  sinister  way. 


DIVINE  POEMS,  185 


XXIII. 

Hear  us,  O  hear  us,  Lord  ;  to  Thee 
A  sinner  is  more  music,  when  he  prays,  200 

Than  spheres'  or  angels'  praises  be, 
In  panegyric  alleluias ; 

Hear  us,  for  till  Thou  hear  us,  Lord, 
We  know  not  what  to  say  ; 
Thine  ear  to  our  sighs,  tears,  thoughts,  gives  voice 

and  word  ; 
O  Thou,  who  Satan  heard'st  in  Job's  sick  day, 
Hear  Thyself  now,  for  Thou  in  us  dost  pray. 


XXIV. 

That  we  may  change  to  evenness 
This  intermitting  aguish  piety  ; 

That  snatching  cramps  of  wickedness  210 

And  apoplexies  of  fast  sin  may  die  ; 

That  music  of  Thy  promises. 
Not  threats  in  thunder  may 
Awaken  us  to  our  just  offices  ; 
What  in  Thy  book  Thou  dost,  or  creatures  say, 
That  we  may  hear.  Lord,  hear  us  when  we  pray. 


iS6  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


XXV. 

That  our  ears'  sickness  we  may  cure, 
And  rectify  those  labyrinths  aright, 

That  we  by  heark'ning  not  procure 
Our  praise,  nor  others'  dispraise  so  invite  ;  220 

That  we  get  not  a  slipp'riness 
And  senselessly  decline. 
From  hearing  bold  wits  jest  at  kings'  excess, 
To  admit  the  like  of  majesty  divine  ; 
That  we  may  lock  our  ears,  Lord,  open  Thine. 


XXVI. 

That  living  law,  the  magistrate, 
Which  to  give  us,  and  make  us  physic,  doth 

Our  vices  often  aggravate  ; 
That  preachers  taxing  sin,  before  her  growth  ; 
That  Satan,  and  envenom'd  men — 
Which  will,  if  we  starve,  dine — 
W^hen  they  do  most  accuse  us,  may  see  then 
Us  to  amendment  hear  them.  Thee  decline  ; 
That  we  may  open  our  ears,  Lord,  lock  Thine. 

1.  217.  1635,  mc  may  cure 


DIVINE  POEMS,  187 


XXVII. 

That  learning,  Thine  ambassador, 
From  Thine  allegiance  we  never  tempt ; 

That  beauty,  paradise's  flower 
For  physic  made,  from  poison  be  exempt  ; 
That  wit — bom  apt  high  good  to  d( 
By  dwelling  lazily  24c 

On  nature's  nothing  be  not  nothing  too  ; 
That  our  affections  kill  us  not,  nor  die  ; 
Hear  us,  weak  echoes,  O,  Thou  Ear  and  Eye. 


XXVIIl. 

Son  of  God,  hear  us,  and  since  Thou 
By  taking  our  hlood,  owest  it  us  again, 

Gain  to  Thyself,  and  us  allow ; 
And  let  not  both  us  and  Thyself  be  slain  ; 

O  Lamb  of  God,  which  took'st  our  sin, 
Which  could  not  stick  to  Thee, 
O  let  it  not  return  to  us  again  ;  250 

But  patient  and  physician  being  free, 
As  sin  is  nothing,  let  it  nowhere  be. 

1.  243.  So  St.  MS. :  1633,  and  cry 


1 88  DONNE'S  FOE  MS. 


UPON  THE  TRANSLATION    OF    THE   PSALMS    BV   SIR 

PHILIP    SIDNEY,    AND    THE    COUNTESS    OF 

PEMBROKE,    HIS   SISTER. 

Eternal  God — for  whom  who  ever  dare 

Seek  new  expressions,  do  the  circle  square, 

And  thrust  into  sLraight  corners  of  poor  wit 

Thee,  who  art  cornerless  and  infinite — 

I  would  but  bless  Thy  name,  not  name  Thee  now 

— 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         lo 

The  highest  matter  in  the  noblest  form — 

So  Thou  hast  cleft  that  Spirit,  to  perform 

That  work  agam,  and  shed  it  here,  upon 

Two,  by  their  bloods,  and  by  Thy  Spirit  one  ; 

A  brother  and  a  sister,  made  by  Thee 

The  organ,  where  Thou  art  the  harmony. 

Two  that  make  one  John  Baptist's  holy  voice, 

And  who  that  Psalm,  '*  Now  let  the  Isles  rejoice," 

Have  both  translated,  and  applied  it  too, 

Both  told  us  what,  and  taught  us  how  to  do.  20 

They  show  us  islanders  our  Joy,  our  King  j 

They  tell  us  why,  and  teach  us  how  to  sing. 

Make  all   this   all  three  choirs,  heaven,  earlh,   and 

spheres  ; 
The  first,  Heaven,  hath  a  song,  but  no  man  hears  ; 


DIVINE  POEMS.  1 89 

The  spheres  have  music,  but  they  have  no  tongue, 

Their  harmony  is  rather  danced  than  sung  ; 

But  our  third  choir,  to  which  the  first  gives  ear 

— For  angels  learn  by  what  the  Church  does  here — 

This  choir  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, 
That  I  must  not  rejoice  as  I  would  do, 
When  I  behold  that  these  Psalms  are  become 
So  well  attired  abroad,  so  ill  at  home, 
So  well  in  chambers,  in  Thy  Church  so  ill. 
As  I  can  scarce  call  that  reform'd  until  40 

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. 
Which,  by  this  Moses  and  this  Miriam,  is 
Already  done;  and  as  those  Psalms  we  call, 
— Though  some  have  other  authors — David's  all. 
So   though    some    have,    some   m.ay    some    Psalms 

translate, 
We  Thy  Sidneian  psalms  shall  celebrate,  50 

L  28,  So  1669  :  1635,  does  hear 

L  46.  So  Dr.  Grosart  •  1635,  thy  Moses 


I90  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

And,  till  we  come  th'  extemporal  song  to  sing 
— Leam'd  the  first  hour  that  we  see  the  King, 
Who  hath  translated  those  translators— may 
These  their  sweet  learned  labours  all  the  way 
Be  as  our  tuning,  that  when  hence  we  part. 
We  may  fall  in  with  them,  and  sing  our  part ! 


ODE. 

1.  Vengeance  will  sit  above  our  faults  ;  but  till 

She  there  do  sit, 
We  see  her  not,  nor  them.     Thus,  blind,  yet  still 
We  lead  her  way  ;  and  thus,  whilst  we  do  ill, 

We  suffer  it. 

2.  Unhappy  he  whom  youth  makes  not  beware 

Of  doing  ill. 
Enough  we  labour  under  age,  and  care  ; 
In  number,  th'  errors  of  the  last  place  are 

The  greatest  still.  10 

3.  Yet  we,  that  should  the  ill  we  now  begin 

As  soon  repent, 
Strange  thing !    perceive  not ;  our  faults  are  not 

seen. 
But  past  us  ;  neither  felt,  but  only  in 
The  punishment. 

1.  2.  So  1650 :  1635,  (^oth 


DIVINE  POEMS.  191 

But    we  know    ourselves    least ;    mere    outward 
shows 

Our  minds  so  store, 
That  our  souls  no  more  than  our  eyes  disclose 
But  form  and  colour.     Only  he  who  knows 

Himself,  knows  more.  20 


TO  MR.    TILMAN   AFTER   HE   HAD  TAKEN   ORDERS. 

Thou,  whose  diviner  soul  hath  caused  thee  now 

To  put  thy  hand  unto  the  holy  plough, 

Making  lay-scornings  of  the  ministry 

Not  an  impediment,  but  victory  ; 

What  bring'st  thou  home  with  thee  ?  how  is  thy  mind 

Affected  since  the  vintage  ?    Dost  thou  find 

New  thoughts  and  stirrings  in  thee  ?  and,  as  steel 

Touch'd  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,    lo 

Hast  thou  thus  traffick'd,  but  with  far  more  gain 

Of  noble  goods,  and  with  less  time  and  pain  ? 

Thou  art  the  same  materials,  as  before. 

Only  the  stamp  is  changed,  but  no  more. 

And  as  new  crowned  kings  alter  the  face. 

But  not  the  money's  substance,  so  hath  grace 

Changed  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 


192  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

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  shov/ 

What  thy  advantage  is  above,  below. 

But  if  thy  gainings  do  surmount  expression, 

Why  doth  the  foolish  world  scorn  that  profession, 

Whose  joys  pass  speech  ?     Why  do  they  think  unfit 

That  gentry  should  join  families  with  it  ? 

As  if  their  day  were  only  to  be  spent 

In  dressing,  mistressing  and  compliment.  30 

Alas  !  poor  joys,  but  poorer  men,  whose  trust 

Seems  richly  placed  in  sublimed  dust, 

— For  such   are  clothes   and  beauty,   which  though 

gay, 

Are,  at  the  best,  but  of  sublimed  clay — 

Let  then  the  world  thy  calling  disrespect, 

But  go  thou  on,  and  pity  their  neglect. 

What  function  is  so  noble,  as  to  be 

Ambassador  to  God,  and  destiny  ? 

To  open  life  ?  to  give  kingdoms  to  more 

Than  kings  give  dignities  ?  to  keep  heaven's  door  ?  40 

Mary's  prerogative  was  to  bear  Christ,  so 

'Tis  preachers'  to  convey  Him,  for  they  do. 

As  angels  out  of  clouds,  from  pulpits  speak  ; 

And  bless  the  poor  beneath,  the  lame,  the  weak. 

If  then  th'  astronomers,  whereas  they  spy 

A  new-found  star,  their  optics  magnify. 

How  brave  are  those,  who  with  their  engine  can 

Bring  man  to  heaven,  and  heaven  again  to  man  ? 

These  are  thy  titles  and  pre-eminences. 

In  whom  must  meet  God's  graces,  men's  offences  ;  50 


DIVINE  POEMS.  1.93 

And  so  tbe  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. 


A    HYMN   TO   CHRIST,    AT   THE   AUTHOR's    LAST 
GOING   INTO   GERMANY. 

In  what  torn  ship  so  ever  I  embark, 
That  ship  shall  be  my  emblem  of  Thy  ark  ; 
What  sea  soever  swallow  me,  that  flood 
Shall  be  to  me  an  emblem  of  Thy  blood  ; 
Though  Thou  with  clouds  of  anger  do  disguise 
Thy  face,  yet  through  that  mask  I  know  those  eyes. 
Which,  though  they  turn  away  sometimes, 
They  never  will  despise. 

T  sacrifice  this  island  unto  Thee, 

And  all  whom  I  love  there,  and  who  love  me  ;         10 

When  I  have  put  our  seas  'twixt  them  and  me. 

Put  thou  Thy  seas  betwixt  my  sins  and  Thee. 

As  the  tree's  sap  doth  seek  the  root  below 

In  winter,  in  my  winter  now  I  go, 

Where  none  but  Thee,  the  eternal  root 
Of  true  love,  I  may  know. 

1.  10.  1635,  here  1.  11.  1635,  thlsjlood 

1.  12.  1635,  Thy  blood 
VOL.  I.  13 


194  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Nor  Thou  nor  Thy  religion  dost  control 
The  amorousness  of  an  harmonious  soul  ; 
But  Thou  wouldst  have  that  love  Thyself ;  as  Thou 
Art  jealous,  Lord,  so  I  am  jealous  now  ;  20 

Thou  lovest  not,  till  from  loving  more  Thou  free 
My  soul ;  Who  ever  gives,  takes  liberty  ; 
Oh,  if  Thou  carest  not  whom  I  love, 
Alas  !  Thou  lovest  not  me. 

Seal  then  this  bill  of  my  divorce  to  all, 
On  whom  those  fainter  beams  of  love  did  fall ; 
Marry  those  loves,  which  in  youth  scatter'd  be 
On  fame,  wit,  hopes — false  mistresses — to  Thee. 
Churches  are  best  for  prayer,  that  have  least  light  ; 
To  see  God  only,  I  go  out  of  sight  ;  30 

And  to  escape  stormy  days,  I  choose 
An  everlasting  night. 


THE    LAMENTATIONS    OF    JEREMY,    FOR    THE    MOST 
PART  ACCORDING   TO  TREMELLIUS. 

CHAP.  I. 

I.  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? 

L  28.  1635,/?^^ 


DIVINE  POEMS.  195 

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, 

Judah  is  captive  led  ;  those  nations  10 

With  whom  she  dwells,  no  place  of  rest  afford  ; 
In  straits  she  meets  her  persecutors'  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  enemv 
Doth  drive  her  children  to  captivity.  20 

6.  From  Sion's  daughter  is  all  beauty  gone  ; 
Like   harts  which  seek    for   pasture,   and   find 

none, 
Her  princes  are  j  and  now  before  the  foe 
Which  still  pursues  them,  v/ithout  strength  they 

go- 

7.  Now  in  their  days  of  tears,  Jerusalem 

— Her  men  slain  by  the  foe,  none  succouring  them — 
Remembers  what  of  old  she  esteemed  most, 
Whiles  her  foes  laugh  at  her,  for  what  she  hath 
lost. 


196  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

8.  Jerusalem  hath  sinn'd,  therefore  is  she 
Removed,  as  women  in  uncleanness  be  ;  30 
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  j  miraculously 
Therefore  she  fell,  none  comforting  ;  behold, 
O  Lord,  my  affliction,  for  the  foe  grows  bold. 

10.  Upon  all  things  where  her  delight  hath  been. 
The  foe  hath  stretch'd  his  hand,  for  she  hath  seen 
Heathen,  whom  thou  command'st  should  not  do 

so, 
Into  her  holy  sanctuary'  go.  40 

11.  And  all  her  people  groan,  and  seek  for  bread  j 
And  they  have  given,  only  to  be  fed, 

All  precious  things,  wherein  their  pleD"ure  lay  ; 
How  cheap  I'm   grown,  O   Lord,    behold,    and 
weifjh. 

12.  All  this  concerns  not  you,  who  pass  by  me ; 
O  see,  and  mark  if  any  sorrow  be 

Like  to  my  soitow,  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  cq 

A  net  before  my  feet,  and  me  o'erthrown. 
And  made  me  languish  all  the  day  alone. 


DIVINE  POEMS.  197 

14.  His  hand  hath  of  my  sins  framed  a  yoke 
Which  wreathed,  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 

To  break  my  young  men  ;  He  the  winepress  hath 
Trod  upon  Judah's  daughter  in  His  wrath.         60 

16.  For  these  things  do  I  weep  j  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. 


■'is'- 


18.  But  yet  the  Lord  is  just,  and  righteous  still ; 

I  have  rebell'd  against  His  holy  w-ill ;  70 

O  hear  all  people,  and  my  sorrow  see, 
My  maids,  my  young  men  in  captivity. 

19.  I  called  for  my  lovers  then,  but  they 
Deceived  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 


198  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

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  79 

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  promised  day 
Will  come,  when,  as  I  suffer,  so  shall  they. 

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  90 

To  earth  the  beauty  of  Israel,  and  hath 
Forgot  His  foot-stool  in  the  day  of  wrath  ? 

2.  The  Lord  unsparingly  hath  swallowed 
All  Jacob's  dwellings,  and  demolished 

To  ground  the  strength  of  Judah,  and  profaned 
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.  100 


DIVINE  POEMS,  199 

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 

fire. 

5.  For  like  an  enemy  Jehovah  is, 
Devouring  Israel,  and  his  palaces, 
Destroying  holds,  giving  additions 
To  Judah's  daughters'  lamentations. 

6.  Like  to  a  garden  hedge  He  hath  cast  down 

The  place  where  was  His  congregation,  1 10 

And  Sion's  feasts  and  sabbaths  are  forgot ; 
Her  King,  her  Priest,  His  wrath  regardeth  not. 

7.  The  Lord  forsakes  His  altar,  and  detests 
His  sanctuary,  and  in  the  foes'  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.   120 

9.  Their  gates  are  sunk  into  the  ground,  and  He 
Hath  broke  the  bar  ;  their  king  and  princes  be 
Amongst  the  heathen,  without  law,  nor  there 
Unto  their  prophets  doth  the  Lord  appear. 

1.  121.  1635,  The 


200  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

10.  There  Sion's  elders  on  the  ground  are  placed, 
And  silence  keep  ;  dust  on  their  heads  they  cast  j 
In  sackcloth  have  they  girt  themselves,  and  low 
The  virgins  tovi^ards  ground  their  heads  do  throw. 

11.  My  bowels  are  grown  muddy,  and  mine  eyes 
Are  faint  with  weeping  ;  and  my  liver  lies         130 
Pour'd  out  upon  the  ground,  for  misery 

That  sucking  children  in  the  streets  do  die. 

12.  When  they  had  cried  unto  their  mothers,  "\Vhere 
Shall  we  have  bread,  and  drink  ? "  they  fainted 

there, 
And  in  tlie  street  like  wounded  persons  lay, 
Till  'twixt  their  mothers'  breasts  they  went  away. 

13.  Daughter  Jerusalem,  O  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  ?  140 

14.  For  thee  vain  foolish  things  thy  prophets  sought  ; 
Thee,  thine  iniquities  they  have  not  taught, 
Which  might  disturb  thy  bondage  ;  but  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  ?  " 


DIVINE  POEMS.  20I 

1 6.  Thy  foes  do  gape  upon  thee,  and  they  hiss, 

And   gnash   their   teeth,    and   say,    "Devour  we 
this,  15" 

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 ; 
FulfiU'd  His  word  of  old  determined  ; 

He  hath  thrown  down,  and  not  spared,  and  thy 

foe 
Made  glad  above  thee,  and  advanced  him  so. 

18.  But  now  their  hearts  unto  the  Lord  do  call  ; 
Therefore,  O  walls  of  Sion,  let  tears  fall 
Down  like  a  river,  day  and  night ;  take  thee 

No  rest,  but  let  thine  eye  incessant  be.  160 

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,  O  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  sanctuai^  ? 

21.  On  ground  in  streets  the  young  and  old  ^o  lie  ; 
My  virgins  and  young  men  by  sword  do  die  ;    1 70 
Them  in  the  day  of  Thy  wrath  Thou  hast  slain  ; 
Nothing  did  Thee  from  killing  them  contain. 


202  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

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  j 

2.  He  hath  led  me  to  darkness,  not  to  light, 

3.  And  against  me  all  day,  His  hand  doth  fight.   180 

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  for  ever  be. 

7.  He  hath  hedged  me  lest  I  'scape,  and  added  more 
To  my  steel  fetters  heavier  than  before. 

8.  When  I  cry  out  He  outshuts  my  prayer  j     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.        190 

11.  He  stops  my  way,  tears  me,  made  desolate  ; 

12.  And  He  makes  me  the  mark  He  shooteth  at. 


DIVINE  POEMS.  203 

13.  He  made  the  children  of  His  quiver  pass 
Into  my  reins.     14.  I,  with  my  people,  was 
All  the  day  long,  a  song  and  mockery. 

15.  He  hath  fiU'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.  2on 

18.  My  strength,  my  hope — unto  myself  I  said — 
Which  from  the  Lord  should  come,  is  perished  • 

19.  But  when  my  mournings  I  do  think  upon, 
My  wormwood,  hemlock,  and  affliction, 

20.  My  soul  is  humbled  in  rememb'ring  this  ; 

21.  My  heart  considers,  therefore,  hope  there  is. 

22.  'Tis  God's  great  mercy  we're  not  utterly 
Consumed,  for  His  compassions  do  not  die  ; 

23.  For  every  morning  they  renewed  be, 

For  great,  O  Lord,  is  Thy  fidelity.  210 

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. 


204  DONNE'S  POEMS, 

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.     220 

30.  He  gives  his  cheeks  to  whosoever  will 
Strike  him,  and  so  he  is  reproached  still. 

31.  For  not  for  ever  doth  the  Lord  forsake  ; 

32.  But  when  He  hath  struck  with  sadness,  He  doth 

take 

Compassion,  as  His  mercy  's  infinite  ; 

33.  Nor  is  it  with  His  heart,  that  He  doth  smite, 

34.  That  underfoot  the  prisoners  stamped  be, 

35.  That  a  man's  right  the  judge  himself  doth  see 

To  be  wrung  from  him  ;  36.  That  he  subverted  is 
In  his  just  cause,  the  Lord  allows  not  this.         230 

37.  Who  then  will  say,  that  aught  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  heav'n  our  hands  with  hearts  upraise. 

42.  We  have  rebell'd,  and  fallen  away  from  Thee  ; 
Thou  pardon'st  not  j  43.  Usest  no  clemency ; 
Pursuest  us,  kill'st  us,  cover'st  us  with  wrath  ; 

44.  Cover'st   Thyself  with   clouds,    that   our   prayer 
hath  240 


DIVINE  POEMS.  205 

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      1 
For  ruin  of  my  people's  daughters  so  ; 

49.  Mine  eye  doth  drop  down  tears  incessantly, 

50.  Until  the  Lord  look  down  from  heav'n  to  see. 

51.  And  for  m.y  city  daughters'  sake,  mine  eye 
Doth    break     mine    heart.     52.    Causeless    mine 

enemy  250 

Like  a  bird  chased  me.     53.  In  a  dungeon 
They've  shut  my  life,  and  cast  me  on  a  stone. 

54.  Waters  flow'd  o'er  my  head  ;  then  thought  I,  I  am 
Destroy'd ;  55-  -^  called,  Lord,  upon  Thy  name 
Out  of  the  pit ;  56.  And  Thou  my  voice  didst  hear; 
O  from  ray  sigh  and  cry,  stop  not  Thine  ear. 

57.  Then   when  I  call'd   upon  Thee,  Thou   drew'st 

near 
Unto  me,  and  said'st  unto  me,  **  Do  not  fear." 

58.  Thou,  Lord,  my  soul's  cause  handled  hast,  and 

Thou 
Rescuest  my  life.      59.   O  Lord,   do  Thou  judge 
now.  260 

L  256.  1650,  my  sight 


2o6  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Thou  heardst  my  wrong,  60.  Their  vengeance,  all 
they've  wrought ; 

61.  How  they  reproach'd,  Thou'st  heard,  and  what 

they  thought ; 

62.  What  their  lips  utter'd,  which  against  me  rose, 
And  what  was  ever  whisper'd  by  my  foes. 

63. 1  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  changed  to  this  ?     270 
The  stones  which  were  stones  of  the  sanctuary, 
Scatter'd  in  comers  of  each  street  do  lie. 

2.  The  precious  sons  of  Sion,  which  should  be 
Valued  at  purest  gold,  how  do  we  see 
Low  rated  now,  as  earthen  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  foes'  great  cruelness, 

As  do  the  owls  in  the  vast  wilderness.  2S0 

L  274.  1650,  as  purest  gold 


DIVINE  POEMS.  207 

4.  And  when  the  sucking  child  doth  strive  to  draw, 
His  tongue  for  thirst  cleaves  to  his  upper  jaw  j 
And  when  for  bread  the  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  clothed, 

Sit  and  embrace  the  dunghills  which  they  loathed. 

6.  The  daughters  of  my  people  have  sinn'd  more, 
Than  did  the  town  of  Sodom  sin  before  ;  290 
Which  being  at  once  destroy'd,  there  did  remain 
No  hands  amongst  them  to  vex  them  again. 

7.  But  heretofore,  purer  her  Nazarite 

Was  than  the  snow,  and  milk  was  not  so  white  ; 
As  carbuncles  did  their  pure  bodies  shine, 
And  all  their  polish'dness  was  sapphirine. 

8.  They're  darker  now  than  blackness  j  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.         300 

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 — dress'd  with  their  own  hand — for 
meat. 


2o8  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

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,  310 

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  murdered  ; 

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  not  us  !  "  and  then  320 

They  fled,  and  stray'd,  and  with  the  Gentiles  were  ; 
Yet  told  their  friends,  they  should  not  long  dwell 
there. 

16.  For  this  they're  scatter'd  by  Jehovah's  face, 
Who  never  will  regard  them  more ;  no  grace 


DIVINE  POEMS.  209 

Unto  their  old  men  shall  the  foe  afford  ; 
Nor,  that  they're  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  ;  330 

18.  They  hunt  our  steps,  that  in  the  streets  we  fear 
To  go ;  our  end  is  now  approached  near. 

Our  days  accomplish'd  are  ;  this  the  last  day  ; 
Eagles  of  heav'n  are  not  so  swift  as  they 

19.  WTiich  follow  us  ;  o'er  mountain  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.         340 

21.  Rejoice,  O  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. 

22.  Then  thy  sins,  O  Sion,  shall  be  spent. 

The  Lord  will  not  leave  thee  in  banishment. 
Thy  sins,  O  Edom's  daughter,  He  will  see, 
And  for  them,  pay  thee  with  captivity. 
VOL.  I.  14 


210  DONNE S  POEMS, 


CHAP.    V, 

1.  Remember,  O  Lord,  what  is  fall'n  on  us  ; 

See,  and  mark  how  we  are  reproached  thus  ;    350 

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.  360 

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  lived  in. 
Black  as  an  oven  colour'd  had  our  skin. 

1 1.  In  Judah's  cities  they  the  maids  abused 

By  force,  and  so  women  in  Sion  used.  370 

12.  The  princes  with  their  hands  they  hung ;  no  grace 
Nor  honour  gave  they  to  the  elder's  face. 


DIVINE  POEMS.  21 1 

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  fall'n  from  our  head  ;  and  woe 
Be  unto  us,  because  we've  sinned  so. 

16.  For  this  our  hearts  do  languish,  and  for  this 
Over  our  eyes  a  cloudy  dimness  is.  380 

17.  Because  Mount  Sion  desolate  doth  lie, 
And  foxes  there  do  go  at  liberty  ; 

18.  But  Thou,  O  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.  Restore  us.  Lord,  to  Thee,  that  so  we  may 
Return,  and  as  of  old,  renew  our  day. 

21.  For  ouglitest  Thou,  O  Lord,  despise  us  thus, 
And  to  be  utterly  enraged  at  us  ?  390 


HYMN  TO  GOD,    MY  GOD,    IN   MY  SICKNESS. 

Since  I  am  coming  to  that  Holy  room, 

Where,  with  Thy  choir  of  saints  for  evermore, 

I  shall  be  made  Thy  music  ;  as  I  come 
I  tune  the  instrument  here  at  the  door, 
And  what  I  must  do  then,  think  here  before  ; 

1.  2.  So  Walton  (1670) ;  1650,  the 
\.  4.  Walt.,  my  instrument 


212  DONNE'S  POEMS. 

Whilst  my  physicians  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  south-west  discovery. 
Per  f return  febr is f  by  these  straits  to  die  ;  10 

I  joy,  that  in  these  straits  I  see  my  west ; 

For,  though  those  currents  yield  return  to  none, 
What  shall  my  west  hurt  me  ?     As  west  and  east 

In  all  flat  maps — and  I  am  one — are  one, 

So  death  doth  touch  the  resurrection. 

Is  the  Pacific  sea  my  home  ?     Or  are 
The  eastern  riches  ?     Is  Jerusalem  ? 

Anyan,  and  Magellan,  and  Gibraltar  ? 

All  straits,  and  none  but  straits,  are  ways  to  them 

Whether    where    Japhet     dwelt,     or     Cham,    or 

Shem.  20 

We  think  that  Paradise  and  Calvary, 

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. 

So,  in  His  purple  wrapp'd,  receive  me,  Lord  ; 
By  these  His  thorns,  give  me  His  other  crown  ; 

And  as  to  others'  souls  T  preach'd  Thy  word, 
Be  this  my  text,  my  sermon  to  mine  own, 
"  Therefore  that  He  may  raise,  the  Lord  throws 
down."  30 

1.  6.  Walt.,  Since loves         1.  28.  Walt.,  oihe? 

1.  30.  Walt.,    That  he  may  raise,  therefore 


DIVINE  POEMS.  213 


A  HYMN  TO  GOD   THE   FATHER. 
I. 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  where  I  begun, 

Which  was  my  sin,  though  it  were  done  before  ? 
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, 
For  I  have  more. 


II. 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  have  won 
Others  to  sin,  and  made  my  sin  their  door  ? 
Wilt  Thou  forgive  that  sin  which  I  did  shun 

A  year  or  two,  but  wallowed  in  a  score  ?  10 

When  Thou  hast  done.  Thou  hast  not  done, 
For  I  have  more. 


III. 

I  have  a  sin  of  fear,  that  when  I  have  spun 

My  last  thread,  I  shall  perish  on  the  shore ; 
But  swear  by  Thyself,  that  at  my  death  Thy  Son 
Shall  shine  as  he  shines  now,  and  heretofore  ; 
And,  having  done  that.  Thou  hast  done  ; 
I  fecr  no  more. 

1.  8.  1650,  my  sins 


214  DONNE'S  POEMS. 


TO  GEORGE  HERBERT, 

SENT   HIM   WITH   ONE  OF  MY   SEALS   OF  THE 
ANCHOR  AND    CHRIST. 

Qui  prius  assuetus  serpentum  fasce  tabellas 

Signare,  hasc  nostrae  symbola  parva  domus, 
Adscitus  doinui  Domini,  patrioque  relicto 

Stemmate,  nanciscor  stemmata  jure  nova. 
Hinc  mihi  Cmx  prime  quae  fronti  impressa  lavacro, 

Finibus  extensis,  ancliora  facta  patet. 
Anchora^  in  effigiem  Crux  tandem  desinit  ipsam, 

Anchora  fit  tandem  Crux  tolerata  diu. 
Hoc  tamen  ut  fiat,  Christo  vegetatur  ab  ipso 

Cmx,  et  ab  affixo  est  Anchora  facta  Jesu.  lo 

Nee  natalitiis  penitus  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 

A  fixo  nobis  gratia  tota  fluat. 
Om.nia  cum  Crux  sint,  Crux  Anchora  fixa,  sigilhim 

Non  tam  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 

Regia  qui  flavo  dona  sigillat  equo. 

1.  I.  Walton  [i6sZ),fulce 


DIVINE  POEMS.  215 

A  SHEAF   OF  SNAKES   USED   HERETOFORE  TO   BE 
MY   SEAL,    THE   CREST   OF  OUR   POOR   FAMILY. 

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  shouldest  do 

Thy  Cross,  and  that  Cross  grows  an  Anchor  too. 

But  He  that  makes  our  Crosses  Anchors  thus, 

Is  Christ,  who  there  is  crucified  for  us. 

Yet  may  I,  with  this,  my  first  serpents  hold  ; 

God  gives  new  blessings,  and  yet  leaves  the  old  j     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. 

Crucify  nature  then,  and  then  implore 

All  grace  from  Him,  crucified  there  before  ; 

Then  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 ! 


deal 


2.  Walton  (1658),  My  old  coat  lost,  into  new  arms  I  go 

3.  Walt.,  /«  baptism 

9.  Walt. ,  Yet  with  this,  I  may 
14.  Walt.,  He  is  my  death  1.  17.  Walt.,  When 

20.  Walt. ,  Both  works        1.  21.  Wait ,  that  rides  on 
•22,  Walt.,  To  you  that  bear  his  name  large  boi4nty 


2i6  DONNE S  POEMS. 


TRANSLATED  OUT  OF   GAZ^US,    "VOTA  AMICO 
FACTA,"    POL.    1 60, 

God  grant  thee  thine  own  wish,  and  grant  thee  mine, 
Thou  who  dost,  best  friend,  in  best  things  outshine  ; 
May  thy  soul,  ever  cheerful,  ne'er  know  cares, 
Nor  thy  life,  ever  lively,  know  grey  hairs, 
Nor  thy  hand,  ever  open,  know  base  holds. 
Nor  thy  purse,  ever  plump,  know  pleats,  or  folds, 
Nor  thy  tongue,  ever  true,  know  a  false  thing, 
Nor  thy  word,  ever  mild,  know  quarrelling, 
Nor  thy  works,  ever  equal,  know  disguise, 
Nor  thy  fame,  ever  pure,  know  contumelies,  10 

Nor  thy  prayers  know  low  objects,  still  divine  ; 
God  grant  thee  thine  own  wish,  and  grant  thee  mine. 


NOTES. 


THE   PRINTER   TO  THE  UNDERSTANDERS. 

p.  xlv.  This  preface  occurs  in  the  editions  of  1633, 
1635,  and  1639. 

TO  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  WILLIAM  LORD  CRAVEN. 

p.  xlix.  This  preface  replaces  The  Printer  to  the 
Understanders  in  the  editions  of  1650  and  1669.  William 
Craven,  created  Baron  Craven  of  Hampsted-Marsham 
in  1627,  and  Earl  Craven  in  1664,  is  best  known  as  a 
devoted  adherent  of  Elizabeth,  Queen  of  Bohemia.  He 
was  believed  to  have  been  privately  married  to  her.  His 
only  connection  with  literature  appears  to  be  in  several 
dedications.  On  a  poem  written  to  him  by  Donne,  or, 
more  likely,  by  his  son,  see  Appendix  C. 

John  Donne,  D.C.L.,  the  writer  of  the  preface  to  the 
edition  of  1650,  was  a  son  of  the  poet.  He  was  born  1604, 
and  died  1662.  He  cannot,  therefore,  have  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  edition  of  1669,  as  Dr.  Grosart  thinks.  He 
was  a  freethinker,  and  a  man  of  loose  literary  and  per- 
sonal character.  After  his  father's  death  he  got  hold  of 
the  papers  left  to  Dr.  King,  and  appeared  as  the  editor  of 
the  LXXX  Sermons  (1640),  the  Biatha7iatos  (1648),  the 
Essays  in  Divinity  (1651),  the  Letters  to  Several  Persons 
of  Honour  (1651),  and  other  posthumous  works.  He 
also  edited  Sir  T.  Matthews'  Collection  of  Letters  (1660), 
and  Pembroke  and  Ruddier's  Poems  (1660).  His  own 
productions  are  trifling,  and  mostly  indecent.  Most  of 
them  exist  only  in  MS. ;  a  few  are  to  be  found  in  a  volume 
called  Donne's  Satyr  {1662).  A  copy  of  his  Will,  printed 
as  a  broadsheet,  is  in  the  British  Museum. 


2iS  NOTES. 


Hexastichon  Bibliopolae. 

p.  li.  The  book  alluded  to  is  the  Death's  Duel  of 
1632.  It  is  described  on  the  title-page  as  "  Delivered  in 
a  sermon  at  Whitehall  before  the  King's  Majesty  in  the 
beginning  of  Lent,  i63o[i].  Being  his  last  sermon,  and 
called  by  his  Majesty's  household,  'The  Dean's  own 
Funeral  sermon.'  "  It  has  for  frontispiece  an  engraving 
by  Martin  Dr[oeshout],  a  half-length  figure  of  Donne  in  a 
shroud,  with  the  motto  Corporis  haec  animae  sit  Syndon 
SyncJon  Ies7t.  Two  anonymous  elegies,  beginning  re- 
spectively "To  have  lived  eminent  in  a  degree,"  and 
"1  cannot  blame  those  men,  that  knew  thee  well,"  are 
appended  at  the  end  of  the  volume.  These  v/ere  reprinted 
in  the  1633  Poems  with  the  signatures  H[enry]  K[ing] 
and  Edw.  Hyde.  Walton  (1640)  gives  an  account  of  the 
preaching  of  the  sermon,  and  also,  in  his  1658  edition, 
describes  the  painting  of  the  portrait,  as  follows — 

"A  monument  being  resolved  upon,  Dr.  Donne  sent 
for  a  carver  to  make  for  him  in  wood  the  figure  of  an 
urn,  giving  him  directions  for  the  compass  and  height  of 
it,  and  to  bring  with  it  a  board,  of  the  just  height  of  his 
body.  These  being  got,  then  without  delay  a  choice 
painter  was  got  to  be  in  readiness  to  draw  his  picture, 
which  was  taken  as  foUoweth  : — Several  charcoal  fires 
being  first  made  in  his  large  study,  he  brought  with  him 
into  that  place  his  winding-sheet  in  his  hand,  and  having 
put  off  all  his  clothes,  had  this  sheet  put  on  him,  and  so 
tied  with  knots  at  his  head  and  feet,  and  his  hands  so 
placed  as  dead  bodies  are  usually  fitted,  to  be  shrouded 
and  put  into  their  coffin  or  grave.  Upon  this  urn  he 
thus  stood,  with  his  eyes  shut,  and  with  so  much  of  the 
sheet  turned  aside  as  might  show  his  lean,  pale,  and 
death-like  face,  which  was  purposely  turned  towards  the 
East,  from  whence  he  expected  the  second  coming  of  his 
and  our  Saviour  Jesus.  In  this  posture  he  was  drawn  at 
his  just  height ;  and  when  the  picture  was  fully  finished, 
he  caused  it  to  be  set  by  his  bedside,  where  it  continued, 
and  became  his  hourly  object  till  his  death,  and  was  then 
given  to  his  dearest  friend  and  executor  Dr.  Henry  King, 
then  chief  residentiary  of  Paul's,  who  caused  him  to  be 
thus  carved  in  one  entire  piece  of  white  marble,  as  it  now 


S'OT£S.  2TO 


stone"  is  sdll  to  be  see-    -  5 ..  P«als:  i: 
fiew  T^cs  ptcautul  frc~   — e  Great  Rre 
Ater  «Mf  ^■eriBT  (iSJ  Series,  li  393)  - 
examples  of  "enadaftei  Ttaev 

beeo  ft  fiivuurile  wliuir-  ..i- .      ^  — -  Midn 


Hexasttchon  ad  Btboopculm. 


ifaisE 


nent  of  ~ 

Ids  Ltj^  :  ~i  ot 

Iwcuty-f:    "  _    ■  ^  .  __. ....  ^  .- o.  -  ...  ..;sss!y 

praited  :   :'aL 


TO  JOBQf  DOaiX^ 

S.     Aiwlhgi    [Hjun   \if   BeB 
is  pnaied  nt  the  1630  wfiliw" 
vidk  a  s^  of  fiiiaes  T0  Lmcy^  CmoKlt: 
Mr.  Damme  s  S^iyres  (pk  386^    AK 
ptCTaomsiy  apgjeaied  anoogst  tfee  Ef 
fo&o  of  J ODSoaTs  vocks.    Doone'^  L.- 
irexsesto  nis  fitiend's  Fdi^wme  vfll  be  lie 
Time  axe  seven!  aUDsnas  to 
iMirfwiir  r  m  iiri  r>  w  m — f  fed. 
SooetT.  1S43).    Jonson  told  ' 
Domae  bj  CiJtirBS  m  the  lost  <fia]ag»:; 
0f  Aksw  (Laiag.  pp^.  6„  apV      Mr. 
Dome  Boaiy  also  be  Orad  ia  TlrAc^: 
VkExtrySfmrnmU^^UsHmmtamr.    Sr 
~ '  </^£lr  EM^Ssm  Omame^  s.t. 


220 


SONGS   AND   SONNETS. 


The  majority  of  the  lyrics  included  in  this  section 
appeared  in  various  parts  of  the  1633  Poems.  In  1635 
were  added  Farewell  to  Love  (p.  76),  A  Lecture  upon  the 
Shadow  (p.  78),  and  A  Dialogue  between  Sir  Henry 
Wotton  and  Mr.  Donne  {p.  79) ;  in  1650  The  Token  (p. 
80),  and  Self -Love  (p.  81)  ;  and  in  1669  the  first  of  the 
two  Break  of  Day  poems  (p.  22).  A  reference  to  the 
notes  that  follow  will  show  that  hardly  any  of  the  Songs 
and  Sonnets  can  be  definitely  dated.  The  only  excep- 
tions are  A  Valediction  forbidding  Mourning  (p.  51), 
and  the  song  '"'Sweetest  Love,  I  do  not  go'*  (p.  16), 
which  were  probably  written  in  the  autumn  of  161 1. 
Several  other  songs  appear  to  have  been  written  to  music, 
which  has  not  in  most  cases  been  identified.  All  Donne's 
Love-poems, — and  the  majority  of  the  Songs  and  Sonnets 
are  concerned  with  love, — seem  to  me  to  fall  into  two 
divisions.  There  is  one,  marked  by  cynicism,  ethical 
laxity,  and  a  somewhat  deliberate  profession  of  incon- 
stancy. This  I  believe  to  be  his  earliest  style,  and  ascribe 
the  poems  marked  by  it  to  the  period  before  1596.  About 
that  date  he  became  acquainted  with  Anne  More,  whom 
he  evidently  loved  devotedly  and  sincerely  ever  after. 
And  therefore  from  1596  onwards  I  place  the  second 
division,  with  its  emphasis  of  the  spiritual,  and  deep  in- 
sight into  the  real  things  of  love.  About  1615,  when  he 
took  orders,  Donne  practically  ceased  from  writing  secular 
poetry  altogether.  This  gives  a  range  for  his  lyrics  of, 
say  twenty-five  years,  from  1590  to  1615.  The  earlier 
portion  of  this  time,  up  to  his  marriage  in  1601,  was, 
however,  probably  the  most  prolific. 


p.  I.    The  Flea. 

The  bad  taste  of  the  editor  or  publisher  of  the  1635 
edition  must  be  responsible  for  the  appearance  of  this 
poem  at  the  beginning  of  the  volume.     In  1633  it  occu- 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  221 

pied  a  much  less  conspicuous  position.  Another  similar 
one  has  been  ascribed  to  Donne  by  Sir  John  Simeon  [see 
Appendix  A).  Two  others  may  be  found  in  the  works  of 
Wm.  Drumraond  of  Hawthornden  (ed.  W.  C.  Ward, 
vol.  i.  p.  173),  and  a  fifth  in  John  Davies  of  Hereford's 
Scourge  of  Folly  (1611).  Robert  Gomersall  in  his  Poems, 
1633,  has  an  epistle  to  Richard  Corbett  beginning — 

' '  Still  to  be  silent,  or  to  write  in  prose. 
Were  alike  sloth,  such  as  I  leave  to  those 
Who  either  want  the  grace  of  wit,  or  have 
Untoward  arguments  :  like  him  that  gave 
Life  to  the  fiea." 

p.  3.    The  Good-Morrow. 

1.  4.  The  Seveft  Sleepers  den.  The  Seven  Sleepers  of 
Ephesus,  said  by  Gregory  of  Tours  to  have  been  seven 
noble  Christian  youths,  who  fled  to  escape  martyrdom 
during  the  Decian  persecution  (a.d.  250)  to  a  cave  in 
Mt.  Celion,  and  remained  there  asleep  for  230  years. 
Other  versions  of  the  legend  are  given  in  the  Koran  and 
elsewhere. 

p.  4.    Song. 

The  first  two  stanzas  of  this  song,  with  the  heading  A 
Raritie,  are  printed  in  the  1653  edition  of  Francis  Beau- 
mont's Poems.  They  are  not  in  the  1640  edition,  where, 
however,  may  be  found  another  poem  of  similar  character, 
beginning — 

"  Catch  me  a  star  that's  falling  from  the  sky." 

This  is  also  in  Mennis  and  Smith's  Wit  Restored  (1658). 

The  second  stanza  of  Donne's  poem  was  printed  in  one 
of  the  editions  of  Wits  Recreations  (cf.  the  reprint  in 
Musarum  Deliciae,  1817).  The  poem,  or  part  of  it,  also 
occurs,  set  to  music  by  an  unknown  composer  in  Eg, 
MS.  2013,  f.  58. 

Habington  has  a  poem,  evidently  referring  to  this  of 
Donne's  Agairist  thein  who  lay  Unchastity  to  the  Sex  >/ 
Women.     It  begins — 


222  NO  TES. 

••  They  meet  but  with  unwholesome  springs, 
And  summers  which  infectious  are ; 
They  liear  but  when  the  mermaid  sings, 
And  only  see  the  falling  star  : 

Who  ever  dare 
Affirm  no  woman  chaste  and  fair. 

1.  I.  Compare  the  Epithalamium  on  Lord  Somerset, 
line  204,  and  the  different  use  of  the  same  metaphor  in 
these  lines  from  Lord  Strafford's  Meditations  (Hannah, 
Courtly  Poets,  p.  194). 

*•  How  each  admires 
Heaven's  twinkling  fires, 
Whilst  from  their  glorious  seat 
Their  influence  gives  light  and  heat ; 
But  O  how  few  there  are, 
Though  danger  from  the  act  be  far, 
Will  run  to  catch  a  falling  star  !  " 

1.  2.  A  mandrake  root.  The  viandragora,  or  man- 
drake, partly  from  its  name,  partly  from  the  shape  of  its 
forked  root,  was  looked  upon  as  a  link  between  the  animal 
or  human  and  vegetable  worlds.  It  was  supposed  to 
shriek  when  it  was  torn  up  out  of  the  earth. 


p.  6.    The  Undertaking. 

The  heading  is  not  in  the  1633  edition.  It  was  added 
in  1635. 

1.  2.  the  Worthies.  The  Nine  Worthies  were  three 
Gentiles,  Hector,  Alexander,  Julius  Caesar  ;  three  Jews, 
Joshua,  David,  Judas  Maccabaeus ;  three  Christians, 
Arthur,  Charlemagne,  Godfrey  of  Bouillon.  Cf.  the 
pageant  of  the  Nine  Worthies  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost. 

I,  6.  specular  stone.  This  appears  to  be  an  allusion 
to  the  famous  magic  mirrors  or  "show-stones"  of  Dr. 
Dee.  Dee  was  a  man  of  great  learning,  a  mathematiciaa 
and  astrologer,  and  an  original  Fellow  of  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge.  He  took  to  alchemy,  and  was  said  to  have 
found  the  philosopher's  stone  in  the  ruins  of  Glastonbury 
Abbey.  In  158 1  appeared  the  first  of  these  mysterious 
"show-stones,"  which  when  gazed  upon  by  a  properl) 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  223 

gifted  person,  presented  apparitions.  A  second,  said  by- 
Dee  to  have  been  given  to  him  by  an  angel,  was  pro- 
duced in  1582,  Both  of  these  are  in  existence ;  one,  a 
piece  of  poUshed  cannel  coal,  is  in  the  possession  of  Lord 
Londesborough  ;  the  other,  a  smoky  quartz  crystal,  is  in 
the  British  Museum.  Dee  earned  an  unenviable  reputa- 
tion for  the  black  art,  but  he  appears  to  have  been  in 
large  measure  the  dupe  of  others.  Many  of  his  writings 
on  occult  subjects  remain,  most  of  them  in  MS. 

p.  7.    The  Sun  Rising. 

In  Addl.  MS.  25,707,  f.  20,  this  poem  is  headed  Ad 
Solem:  A  Song, 

p.  9.    The  Indifferent. 

Compare  with  the  subject  of  this  poem  that  of  Elegy 
xviii. 

p.  10.    Love's  Usury. 

J.  15.  quelques  choses,  kickshaws,  dainties,  trifles.  In 
a  letter  to  Sir  Henry  Goodyere,  written  1606 — 1610 
[Alford,  vi.  301),  Donne  says,  "These,  sir,  are  the  salads 
and  onions  of  Micham,  sent  to  you  with  as  wholesome 
affection  as  your  other  friends  send  melons  and  qtielque- 
choses  from  Court  and  London." 


p.  12.    The  Canonization. 

1.  15.  the  plaguy  bill,  the  weekly  bill  or  list  of  deaths 
from  the  plague. 

p.  15.     Lovers'  Infiniteness. 

This   poem    is    headed    Mon    Tout    in    Addl.    MS. 
25.707.  f-  16. 

p.  16.    Song. 

I  have  little  doubt  that  this  poem,  like  the  Valediction 
on  p.  51,  and  perhaps  Elegy  xvii.,  was  written  at  the  time 


224  NOTES. 

of  Donne's  departure  for  France  with  the  Drurys  in  1611. 
The  phrase  used  in  the  last  stanza — 

"  Let  not  thy  divining  heart 
Forethink  me  any  ill  "— 

should  be  compared  with  what  Walton  (1670)  says  of 
this  journey,  "She  professed  an  unwillingness  to  allow 
him  any  absence  from  her ;  saying,  '  Her  divining  soul 
boded  her  some  ill  in  his  absence"  ;  and  therefore  desired 
him  not  to  leave  her." 

p.  20.     A  Fever. 

This  occurs  twice  in  T.  C.  Dublin  MS.  G,  2.  21.  On 
f.  143  it  is  found  unsigned  amongst  a  number  of  Donne's 
poems,  also  unsigned  :  on  f.  430  it  is  ascribed  to  John 
Chudleigh. 

p.  22.    Break  of  Day. 

This  first  appeared  in  1669,  not  as  a  separate  poem, 
but  as  a  first  stanza  to  the  following,  which  had  begun 
in  previous  editions  with,  '"Tis  true,  'tis  day;  what 
though  it  be."  The  two  are,  however,  obviously  of 
different  metrical  structure.  In  Addl  MS.  25,707,  f.  18, 
the  additional  stanza  has  been  inserted  by  a  different 
hand.  It  occurs  also  by  itself,  set  to  music  and  with 
no  author's  name  given,  in  Orlando  Gibbons'  XVI 
Madrigals  and  Mottets  (1612).  Here  it  begins,  "Ah, 
dear  heart,  why  do  you  rise?"  It  also  occurs  in  John 
Dowland's  A  Pilgrims  Solace  (1612).  Here  it  begins 
"Sweet,  stay  awhile,  why  will  you  rise,"  and  is  followed 
by  a  second  verse.  Probably  the  initials  J.  D.  led  to  its 
being  ascribed  to  Donne. 

For  the  sentiment,  compare  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  III. 
Sc.  v.,  the  passage  in  which  Gervinus  finds  the  influence 
of  the  Aubade  or  dav,n-song. 


'o* 


p.  23,    [Another  of  the  Same.] 

This  is  in  William   Corkine's  Second  Book  of  Airs 
{1612). 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  225 

p.  25.    A  Valediction  of  my  Name,  in  the 
Window. 

1.  6.  the  diamonds  0/ either  rock;  L  e.  from  the  East  or 
West  Indies,  Golconda  or  Brazil. 

1.  8.  through-shifie,  translucent. 

1.  21.  The  fashion  of  wearing  death's-heads  in  rings,  by 
way  of  Memento  Mori,  is  said  to  have  been  set  by  Diana 
of  Poitiers:  cf.  2  Hen.  IV.,  II.  iv.  254,  "Peace,  good 
Doll !  do  not  speak  like  a  death's-head  ;  do  not  bid  me 
remember  mine  end"  ;  and  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  The 
Chances,  Act  I.  Sc.  v. — 

"As  they  keep  death's-heads  in  rings, 
To  cry  '  memento '  to  me. " 

1.  33.  It  is  unnecessary  to  multiply  quotations  illus- 
trating the  belief  in  the  influence  of  stars  upon  the 
character  of  those  born  when  they  are,  as  astrologers 
say,  in  the  ascendant :  cf.  e.  g.  Beatrice's  explanation  of 
her  mercurial  temperament  in  Much  Ado  About  Nothing, 
II.  i.  346 — 

'*  Don  Pedro  ,  .  .  Out  of  question,  you  were  bom  in 
a  merry  hour. 

Beatrice.  No,  sure,  my  lord,  my  mother  cried;  but 
then  there  was  a  star  danced,  and  under  that  was  I 
born." 

And  Pericles,  I,  i.  8 — 

"At  whose  conception,  till  Lucina  reigned. 
Nature  this  dowry  gave,  to  glad  her  presence  ; 
The  senate-house  of  planets  all  did  sit, 
To  knit  in  her  their  best  perfections," 

1. 48.  my  Genius.  A  Genius  is  properly  a  tutelar 
spirit,  but  it  comes  to  have  very  much  the  sense  of 
"temperament,  personality":  cf.  Macbeth,  III.  i.  55 — 

"under  him, 
My  Genius  is  rebuked ;  as,  it  is  said, 
Mark  Antony's  was  by  Caesar." 

p.  29.    Twickenham  Garden. 

This  was  the  residence  of  the  Countess  of  Bedford. 
vol.  I.  15 


226  NOTES, 

In  a  prose  letter  to  her  (Alford,  vi.  303),  Donne  speaks 
of  some  verses  ' '  your  Ladyship  did  me  the  honour  to 
see  in  Twickenham  garden."  Lysons  {Environs  of 
London,  iii.  565)  states  that  a  reversion  of  the  lease  of 
Twickenham  Park,  formerly  the  home  of  Francis  Bacon, 
came  into  the  hands  of  Sir  Henry  Goodyere  and  Edward 
Woodward  in  1607,  and  that  both  the  existing  lease  and 
the  reversion  were  transferred  in  1608  to  George,  Lord 
Carew  and  George  Croke  in  trust  for  Lady  Bedford, 
who  lived  there  until  1618.  Cf.  also  the  Verse  Letter  to 
her  (ii.  20) — 

"The  mine,  the  magazine,  the  common-weal. 
The  story  of  beauty,  in  Twickenham  is,  and  you  " — 

and  the  note  upon  Mrs.  Boulstred  (vol.  ii.  p.  89). 

1.  6.  the  spider  Love.  The  spider  was  believed  to  be 
full  of  poison.     Cf.  Rich.  IL,  III.  ii.  14 — 

"  But  let  thy  spiders,  that  suck  up  thy  venom, 
And  heavy-gaited  toads  lie  in  their  way." 

p,  30.     Valediction  to  his  Book. 

I  suspect  that  the  title  of  this  poem  is  a  mistake  of 
Donne's  editor.  It  does  not  appear  to  have  been  written 
as  an  Envoi ;  the  "  manuscripts"  spoken  of  were  not  for 
the  press,  but  only  the  love-letters  which  had  passed 
between  Donne  and  his  mistress.  A  similar  heading 
appears,  however,  in  several  independent  MSS. 

1.  3.  eloign,  banish,  the  French  eloigner. 

1.  6.  Sibyl' s  glory.  This  was  the  Cumaean  Sibyl,  who 
offered  King  Tarquin  successively  nine,  six  and  three 
books  of  prophecies  for  the  same  sura. 

1.  7.  her  who  from  Pindar  could  allure.  "  Corinna 
the  Theban,  Pindar's  instructress  in  poetry,  and  successful 
rival"  (Grosart). 

1.  8.  her,  through  whose  help  Lucan  is  not  lame. 
"  Probably  Argentaria  PoUa,  Lucan's  wife  and  widow" 
(Grosart). 

p.   33.      COMMUNITV. 

The  heading  was  added  in  1635. 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  227 


p,  34.    Love's  Growth. 

1.  23.  spheres.  The  modern  conception  of  the  solar 
system  was  only  slowly  becoming  known  in  Donne's 
time.     See  the  letter  to  Lady  Bedford  (vol.  ii.  p.  23) — 

"  New  philosophy  arrests  the  sun, 
And  bids  the  passive  earth  about  it  run." 

The  theory  was  first  suggested  by  Copernicus  in 
1543,  and  afterwards  preached  by  Galileo  {1610 — 1616). 
According  to  the  "Ptolemaic"  system  which  preceded 
it,  the  Earth  was  the  centre  of  ten  concentric  spheres,  or 
revolving  rings  of  space.  Seven  of  these  were  the  orbits 
of  the  Sun,  Moon,  and  the  five  great  planets  ;  an  eighth 
held  the  Fixed  Stars ;  the  ninth  was  known  as  the 
CrystaUine  sphere,  the  tenth  as  the  Primum  Mobile. 
Cf.  Paradise  Lost,  iii.  481 — 

"They  pass  the  planets  seven,  and  pass  the  fixed, 
And  that  crystalline  sphere  whose  balance  weighs 
The  trepidation  talked,  and  that  first  moved." 

p.  37.    Confined  Love. 
The  heading  was  added  in  1635. 

p.  41.    Love's  Alchemy. 

1.  7.  tK  elixir.  The  goals  of  the  alchemist's  research 
were  the  philosopher's  stone,  and  the  red  tincture  or  great 
elixir.  Sometimes  the  first  of  these  was  credited  with 
the  property  of  transmuting  baser  metals  to  gold,  the 
second  with  that  of  renewing  life  ;  at  other  times  the  two 
are  treated  as  practically  identical. 

p.  43.    The  Message. 

The  heading  was  added  in  1635. 

A  writer  under  the  signature  Cpl.  in  Notes  and  Queries 
(4th  Series,  ii.  614)  speaks  of  a  MS.  in  which  this  and 
some  other  of  Donne's  lyrics  are  included  as  "Songs 
which  were  made  to  certain  airs  which  were  made  before." 
This  same  heading  occurs  in  Harl.  4955.     The  songs 


228  NOTES. 

included  under  it  are,  besides  the  present  one,  ' '  Sweetest 
love,  I  do  not  go"  (p.  i6),and  "  Come  live  with  me,  and 
be  my  love  "  (p.  47).  It  is  also  found  in  T.  C.  Dublin 
MS.  G.  2.  21,  f.  160. 

p.  45.    A  Nocturnal  upon  St.  Lucy's  Day. 

St.  Lucy's  Day,  December  the  13th,  was,  according  to 
the  old  style  of  reckoning,  the  ' '  shortest  day  "  in  tlie  year. 

1.  21.  litnbec.  This  word  is  a  corruption  of  alembic,  a 
term  of  Arabian  alchemy  for  the  "  still "  or  vessel  in  which 
chemicals  were  vaporized. 

p.  47.    The  Bait. 

The  heading  was  added  in  1635. 

This  poem  is  one  of  the  several  imitations  of  Marlowe's 
famous  "Come  live  with  me,  and  be  ray  love,"  printed 
successively  in  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  (1599).  England's 
Helicon  {1600),  a.nd  The Compleat  Atigler {i6$2)-  Donne's 
poem  also  appears  in  The  Co7nplcat  Angler  {i6^2)>  where 
it  is  introduced  as  follows — 

"  Viator.  Yes,  Mister,  I  will  speak  you  a  copy  of 
verses  that  were  made  by  Dr.  Donne,  and  made  to  show 
the  world  that  he  could  make  soft  and  smooth  verses, 
when  he  thought  them  fit  and  worth  his  labour ;  and  I 
love  them  the  better  because  they  allude  to  rivers,  and 
fish,  and  fishing.     They  be  these." 

Another  poem  was  added  by  Cotton  in  the  second  part 
of  the  Compleat  Angler,  called  An  Invitation  to  Phillis, 
and  also  beginning,  ' '  Come  hve  with  me,  and  be  my  love. " 
Other  verses  on  the  same  theme  maybe  found  in  E?igland's 
Helicon  (1600),  "If  all  the  world  and  love  was  young" 
(Ignoto,  but  ascribed  by  Walton,  who  quotes  this  also 
in  the  Compleat  Angler,  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh ;  of. 
Hannah,  Courtly  Poets,  p.  11),  and  "  Come  live  with 
me,  and  be  my  dear"  (Ignoto)  ;  in  Herrick's  Hesperides, 
under  the  title  To  Phillis  "  Live,  live  with  me,  and  thou 
shalt  see  "  ;  in  Pembroke  and  Rudyard's  Poems  (1660), 
"Dear,  leave  thy  home,  and  come  with  me."  There 
are  doubtless  others.  The  Bait  is  ascribed  to  Sir  Henry 
Wotton  in  Addl.  MS.  19,268,  f.  19,  but  this  is  a  MS. 
of  no  great  credit.    See  also  note  to  p.  43. 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  229 

p.  51.    A  Valediction  forbidding  Mourning. 

This  poem  was  printed  with  several  variants  in  the 
fourth  edition  of  Walton's  Life  of  Donne  (1674).  It  is 
not  in  the  1640,  nor  the  165S,  nor  the  1670  edition. 
Walton  states  that  it  was  given  by  Donne  to  his  wife 
when  he  left  her  to  go  to  France  and  Belgium,  with  Sir 
Robert  Drury  in  1611.  He  continues,  "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."  It  was  during  this 
absence  that  Donne  had  a  sudden  vision  of  his  wite  at  a 
moment  when  she  was  in  great  danger.  See  Walton's 
Life  of  Donne,  and  cf.  notes  to  pp.  16,  139. 

A  copy  of  the  Valediction,  unsigned  and  with  many 
trifling  variants,  is  to  be  found  in  Dr.  Grosart's  edition 
of  the  Farmer-Chetham  MS. 

1.  II.  trepidation  of  the  spheres.  Cf.  Paradise  Lost, 
iii.  483,  quoted  in  the  note  to  page  34. 

The  "  trepidation  "  was  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes, 
supposed,  according  to  the  Ptolemaic  astronomy,  to  be 
caused  by  the  movements  of  the  Ninth  or  Crystalline 
Sphere. 

p.  64.    The  Primrose,  being  at  Montgomery 

Castle. 

In  1633,  the  heading  is  simply  The  Primrose.  The 
rest  was  added  in  1635. 

Montgomery  Castle  was  the  home  of  Lady  Herbert, 
mother  of  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury  and  of  George 
Herbert.  All  three  appear  to  have  been  among  Donne's 
intimate  friends.  See  pp.  117,  156 ;  vol.  ii.  pp.  20, 
43,  with  notes.  In  1607  Montgomery  Castle  was  taken 
from  its  possessors  by  James  I.,  and  transferred  to  their 
kinsman  Philip,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  who  was  created  Earl 
of  Montgomery.  It  was  bought  back  by  Sir  Edward 
Herbert  for  ^500  in  1613.  Donne  visited  him  there  in 
that  year  (cf.  note  to  the  Good  Friday  poem,  p.  172),  but 
probably  this  poem  was  written  before  1607. 

L  12.  a  six,  or  four.  The  normal  number  of  seg- 
ments in  the  corolla  of  a  primrose  is  five  ;  occasionally 
specimens  are  found  in  which  it  is  divided  into  four  or 


230  NOTES, 

six.  The  latter  variety  was  held  as  a  symbol  of  true  love. 
Cf.  W.  Browne,  Britannia! s  Pastorals,  bk.  ii.  song  3 — 

"  The  primrose  when  with  six  leaves  gotten  grace, 
Holds  as  a  true-love  in  their  bosoms  place." 

1.  29.  they  fall  first  into  five ;  that  is,  the  first  even 
number,  two,  added  to  the  first  odd  number,  three — one, 
the  unit,  of  course  not  counting — makes  five.. 

p.  70.    A  Jet  Ring  sent. 

1.  10.  Iter  thumb.  Thumb-rings  were  a  common 
ornament  for  well-to-do  citizens.  Falstaff,  in  i  Hen.  IV., 
II.  iv.  364,  boasts  that  he  was  once  so  slender  that  he 
could  have  crept  into  any  alderman's  thumb-ring.  This 
passage  seems  to  show  that  they  were  worn  by  women 
also. 

71.    Negative  Love, 

In  Addl.  MS.  25,707,  f.  18,  this  poem  is  headed  The 
Nothing. 

p.  75.    Song.    Soul's  Joy. 

This  poem  occurs  in  all  the  editions  of  Donne  except 
1633,  and  I  have  therefore  included  it  here.  I  have  very 
little  doubt  that  it  is  his  ;  the  central  idea — that  the  lovers' 
souls  are  together,  though  their  bodies  may  be  apart — is 
characteristic  of  him  (cf.  A  Valediction  forbidding 
Mourni?ig,  p.  51).    So  is  the  contemptuous — 

"  Fools  have  no  means  to  meet. 
But  by  their  feet." 

It  is  however  printed,  in  an  inferior  version,  with  the 
initial  "P,"  in  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  and  Sir  Benjamin 
Ruddier's  Poems  (1660),  and  it  is  also  ascribed  to  the 
Earl  of  Pembroke  in  Lansd.  MS.  yjj,  a  very  good 
authority.  The  testimony  of  the  Pembroke  and  Ruddier 
volume  is  not  of  much  value.  It  was  edited  by  the 
younger  Donne,  who  admits  in  the  preface  that  some 
surreptitious  verses  may  have  crept  in.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  it  contains  poems  by  Carew,  Dyer  and  others.     It 


SONGS  AND  SONNETS.  23 1 

must  be  remembered  that  the  younger  Donne  was  also 
editor  of  the  1650  edition  of  his  father's  poems,  and 
allowed  Soul's  Joy  to  stand  there.  For  other  poems  in 
the  Pembroke  and  Ruddier  volume,  which  have  been 
claimed  for  Donne,  see  note  to  p.  79,  and  the  Appendices. 

I  have  printed  in  the  footnotes  the  variant  readings  of 
Lansd.  MS. 777.  Wounds  for  words  in  line  17  seems  to 
me  to  improve  the  sense. 

In  George  Herbert's  The  Temple  (1633)  is  included 
A  Parodie,  of  which  the  following  is  the  first  verse— 

"Soul's  joy,  when  thou  art  gone, 

And  I  alone, 

Which  cannot  be. 
Because  Thou  dost  abide  with  me, 
And  I  depend  on  Thee ;  " 

There  is  also  an  apparent  reference  to  SouVs  Joy  in  a 
poem  by  Sir  K.  Digby,  written  probably  after  the  death 
of  Lady  Digby  in  1633  (see  Mr.  Bright's  Roxburghe  Club 
edition  of  Digby's  Poems,  page  8).  The  following  are 
the  lines  in  point — 

"And  I  see  those  books  are  false  which  teach 
That  absence  works  between  two  souls  no  breach. 

When  they  with  love 

To  each  other  move. 
And  that  they  (though  distant)  may  meet,  kiss  and 

play  ; 
For  our  body  doth  so  clog  our  mind, 
That  here  no  means  of  working  it  can  find 

On  things  absent, 

Or  judging  present, 
Till  the  corporal  senses  first  do  lead  the  way. 

There  is  another  protest  against  the  theories  of  presence 
in  absence  as  expounded  by  Donne  here  and  in  the 
Valediction  forbidding  Mourning,  to  be  found  in  Cart- 
wright's  No  Platonic  Love.     It  begins — 

"  Tell  me  no  more  of  minds  embracing  minds. 
And  hearts  exchanged  for  hearts  ; 
That  spirits  spirits  meet,  as  winds  do  winds, 
And  mix  their  subtlest  parts  ; 


^32  NOTES. 

That  two  unbodied  essences  may  kiss, 

And  then,  like  angels,  twist  and  feel  one  bliss." 

p.  76.    Farewell  to  Love. 

First  printed  in  the  edition  of  1635. 
1. 12.     Presumably  his  highness  was  made  of  gilt  ginger- 
bread. 

p.  78.    A  Lecture  upon  the  Shadow. 

First  printed  in  the  edition  of  1635,  under  the  heading 
Song.    The  present  heading  was  added  in  1650. 

p.  79.    A  Dialogue  between  Sir  Henry 

WOTTON  AND   Mr.    DONNE. 

This  poem  was  first  printed  in  the  edition  of  1635,  on 
p.  195,  among  the  Verse  Letters,  from  which  1  have 
transferred  it.  It  is  printed,  with  the  initial  "  P,"  in  Pem- 
broke and  Ruddier's  Poems  (1660)  ;  but  on  the  small 
authority  of  this  collection,  see  note  to  Soul's  Joy,  p.  75. 
In  Harl.  MS.  3910,  f.  22,  and  in  Harl.  MS.  4064,  f,  252, 
the  first  three  verses  are  ascribed  to  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke, and  the  second  three  to  Sir  Benjamin  Ruddier. 
In  Addl.  MS.  23,229,  the  first  three  verses  are  also  given 
to  Pembroke,  and  the  second  three  headed  Tlie  Answer. 
In  T.  C.  Dublin  MS.  G.  2.  21,  ff.  424,  426,  the  first  three 
verses  are  given  to  Dr.  Corbet,  and  the  second  three  to 
Donne  and  Rudyard  jointly.  No  division  of  the  verses 
between  the  two  authors  is  given  in  any  of  the  editions 
of  Donne.    I  have  attempted  to  supply  one,  conjecturally. 

On  Sir  Henry  Wotton  and  his  friendship  with  Donne, 
see  the  note  to  vol.  ii.  p.  7. 

p.  80.    The  Token. 

First  printed  in  1650,  on  p.  264,  after  the  Funeral 
Elegies, 

p.  8i.    Self-Love. 

First  printed  in  1650,  p.  391,  without  any  title.  It 
occurs  together  with  Elegy  xviii. ,  between  Benjonson's 
verses  and  the  Elegies  upon  Donne. 


233 


EPITHALAMIONS. 


The  three  poems  included  in  this  section  were  all  first 
printed  in  1633,  and  appear,  with  little  textual  variation, 
in  the  later  editions.  As  to  the  dates,  the  Princess 
Ehzabeth  was  married  on  Feb.  14,  1613,  and  the  Earl  of 
Somerset  on  Dec.  26,  1613.  The  Epithalamion  made 
at  Lincoln's  Inn  probably  dates  from  Donne's  residence 
there  in  1592 — 1596. 

p.  83.    An  Epithalamion,  or  Marriage  Song  on 
THE  Lady  Elizabeth  and  Count  Palatine  being 

MARRIED  on  ST.  VALENTINE'S   DAY. 

In  1669,  the  heading  is  An  Epitha[la]mion  on  Fred- 
erick Count  Palaii?ie  of  the  Khene,  and  the  Lady  Eliza- 
beth, being  married  on  St.   Valentine's  day. 

Elizabeth,  daughter  of  James  I.  and  Anne  of  Denmark, 
was  born  in  1596,  and  brought  up  in  ardent  Protestant 
principles  by  Lord  Harrington  at  Combe  A.bbey.  In 
1612  she  was  betrothed  to  the  Elector  Palatine  Frederick 
V.  as  an  incident  of  the  alliance  between  England  and 
the  Protestant  Union  of  Germany.  The  marriage  was 
delayed  by  the  death  of  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales,  in 
Nov.  1612,  but  it  took  place  on  the  following  Feb.  14 
with  great  ceremony.  A  description  of  the  festivities 
may  be  found  in  Nichols'  Progresses  of  James  /.  After 
a  few  years  of  gaiety  Elizabeth  fell  on  troublous  days. 
In  1619  Frederick  was  chosen  King  of  Bohemia.  In  the 
inevitable  religious  conflict  which  followed  the  election 
of  the  Emperor  Ferdinand,  he  lost  his  dominions,  and 


234  NOTES. 

the  rest  of  his  life  and  the  queen's  were  spent  in  unsuo 
cessful  efforts  to  recover  them.  Frederick  died  in  1632, 
and  in  1661  Elizabeth  moved  to  England,  where  she  died 
in  the  following  year.  Her  beauty,  her  wit,  and  her 
misfortunes  earned  her  the  title  of  the  "  Queen  of  Hearts," 
and  the  generous  devotion  of  the  cavaliers  and  poets  of 
the  time.  Lord  Craven  and  Sir  Henry  Wotton  were 
among  her  special  admirers  :  the  former  was  believed  to 
have  been  secretly  married  to  her  (see  note  on  page 
xlix)  ;  the  latter  wrote  in  her  honour  his  best  verses, 
those  beginning,  "Ye  meaner  beauties  of  the  night." 

1.  7.  On  the  sparrow  of.  T/ie  Progress  of  the  Soul, 
Stanza  xx  (vol.  ii.  p.  158). 

1.  103.  It  was  a  commonElizabethan  custom  to  seren- 
ade a  bride  and  bridegroom  on  the  morning  after  a 
wedding.  Cotgrave  states  that  the  song  sung  on  such 
an  occasion  was  called  the  Hunt's  up. 

p.  88.    Eclogue. 

Robert  Carr,  or  Ker,  was  a  Scotchman  who  came 
over  with  James  I.  ;  he  was  knighted  in  1607,  created 
Viscount  Rochester  in  161 1,  and  Earl  of  Somerset  in 
1613.  He  fell  in  love  with  the  Countess  of  Essex,  who 
obtained  a  decree  of  nullity  in  order  to  marry  him.  This 
marriage  was  vehemently  opposed  by  Carr's  friend.  Sir 
Thomas  Overbury,  chiefly  on  political  grounds,  since 
the  Countess,  by  birth  Frances  Howard,  was  of  the 
Spanish  or  pro-Catholic  party.  In  revenge  she  got 
Overbury  thrown  into  the  Tower,  and  subsequently  had 
him  poisoned,  probably  with  Carr's  connivance.  The 
crime  remained  a  secret,  and  the  marriage  took  place  on 
December  26,  1613.  Besides  Donne's  Epithalamion, 
Campion  celebrated  the  occasion  with  a  masque,  and 
Jonson  with  a  set  of  verses.  He  had  already  written  his 
masque  of  Hyjnenaei  for  the  bnde's  former  wedding. 
Afterwards  Carr  fell  into  disfavour  with  James :  the 
murder  was  discovered  in  1615  ;  the  murderers  were 
prosecuted  by  Bacon,  condemned,  reprieved,  committed 
to  the  Tower  until  1622,  and  then  allowed  to  hve  in 
retirement.  The  following  is  a  postscript  to  a  letter 
to  Sir  Robert  Drury  (Alford,  vi.  349) :  "  I  cannot  tell 
you  so  much,   as  you  tell  me,  of  anything  from  ray 


EPITHALAMIONS.  235 

Lord  of  Somerset,  since  the  Epithalamium,  for  I  heard 
nothing."  There  is  another  Sir  Robert  Carr,  afterwards 
Earl  of  Ancrum,  who  was  a  friend  and  frequent  corre- 
spondent of  Donne's,  and  must  not  be  confused  with  the 
Earl  of  Somerset.  See  a  letter  to  him  in  vol.  ii.  p.  97, 
and  the  note  there. 

1.  87.  sued  livery.  Land  held  by  feudal  tenure  lapsed 
to  the  lord  at  the  death  of  a  tenant,  until  it  was  ascer- 
tained if  the  heir  was  of  age  ;  if  so  he  took  possession  at 
once,  on  payment  of  a  year's  profits,  known  as  primer 
seisin;  if  not,  the  estate  remained  in  the  lord's  hands, 
as  his  guardian,  until  he  became  so,  when  he  could  claim 
livery,  or  delivery,  of  wardship,  by  suing  for  a  writ  of 
ouster  le  main  and  paying  half  a  year's  profits. 

1.  161.  a  cypress,  a  crape  veil. 

1.  204.  Cf.  with  the  opening  of  this  stanza  the  Song, 
"  Go  and  catch  a  falling  star,"  on  p.  4. 

1.  215.  Cf.  Sir  T.  Browne,  Pseudodoxia  Epidemica, 
iii.  21,  "Why  some  lamps  included  in  close  bodies  have 
burned  many  hundred  years,  as  that  discovered  in  the 
sepulchre  of  TuUia,  the  sister  of  Cicero,  and  that  of 
Olibius  many  years  after,  near  Padua?"  Browne's 
editor  refers  to  Hutton,  Ozanam's  Philosophical  Eecre- 
ations,  vol.  i.  p.  496. 


p.  98.    Epithalamion  made  at  Lincoln's  Inn. 

Donne  became  a  student  at  Lincoln's  Inn  on  May  6, 
1592,  and  the  Epithalamion  was  probably  written  within 
the  next  two  or  three  years.  It  is  less  likely  that  it 
belongs  to  the  period  1616-1622,  when  Dr.  Donne  was 
reader  to  the  same  learned  society. 


236 


ELEGIES. 

The  Elegies  numbered  in  this  edition  i.  to  x.  and  xv. 
first  appeared  in  1633  (cf.  Bibliographical  Note,  p.  xxxv) ; 
Elegies  xi.  to  xiv.  xvi.  and  xvii.  were  added  in  1635  ; 
Elegy  xviii.  in  1650  ;  Elegies  xix.  and  xx.  in  1669.  Like 
the  Songs  and  Sonnets,  the  Elegies  deal  mainly  with 
love,  and  represent  Donne's  earlier  and  later  attitude  of 
mind  on  the  subject.  Most  of  them  are  probably  earlier 
than  1600,  all  earher  than  1614.  I  have  shown  reason  in 
the  notes  that  follow  for  giving  approximate  dates  to 
Elegy  V.  (1596?),  Elegy  ix.  (1598-1600),  Elegy  xi.  (before 
1598),  Elegy  XVI.  (1609-1610),  Elegy  xvii.  (1611). 

Except  where  otherwise  stated,  the  headings  to  the 
Elegies  appear  only  in  1635-1654,  not  in  1633,  or  1669, 

p,  102.     Elegy  i. 

I.  4.  a  sere  hark.     Cf.  Hamlet,  I.  v. — 

"And  a  mosrt  instant  tetter  bark'd  about, 
Most  lazar-like,  with  foul  and  loathsome  crust, 
All  my  smooth  body." 

p.  103.    Elegy  n. 

II.  41,  42.  I  have  attempted  to  make  sense  out  of  the 
various  readings  of  the  editions  and  MSS. 

1.  50.  a  tympany^  an  abdominal  swelling. 
1.  52.     The  following  two  lines  are  inserted  after  this 
in  1669 — 

"  Whom  dildoes,  bed-staves,  and  her  velvet  glass 
Would  be  as  loth  to  touch  as  Joseph  was." 

They  occur  also  in  the  Farmer-Chetham  and  other 
MSS. 


ELEGIES.  237 

p.  107.    Elegy  iv, 

1.8.  a  cockatrice;  i.e.  a  basilisk;  whereof  it  was 
believed  that  all  who  caught  its  eye  should  die  presently  ; 
cf.  among  many  possible  illustrations,  Rich.  III.,  IV.  i. — 

"A  cockatrice  hast  thou  hatched  to  the  world, 
Whose  unavoided  eye  is  murderous." 

p.  no.    Elegy  v. 

Apparently  written  before  some  voyage  ;  possibly  that 
of  1596  or  1597,  but  possibly  also  an  unrecorded  earlier  one. 
Several  portraits  of  Donne  are  mentioned  in  Bromley's 
Catalogue  of  Engraved  Portraits.  The  "picture  "  of  this 
Elegy  may  have  been  the  original  of  one  of  these,  perhaps 
No.  4- 

1.  By  M.  Dro[eshout]  ;  4to  ;  This  is  the  ' '  winding- 
sheet"  portrait,  prefixed  to  the  Death's  Duel  of  1632,  and 
described  in  the  note  to  page  li. 

2.  By  Loggan. 

3.  By  Lombart ;  4to.  This  belongs  to  the  Letters  of 
1651  and  1654,  but  is  occasionally  found  inserted  in  the 
Poetns  of  1633. 

4.  By  Marshall ;  8vo  ;  dated  "  Oct.  18,  1591.'  This  is 
found  with  the  1635  and  subsequent  editions  of  the 
Poems,  and  some  copies,  in  quarto,  appear  to  have 
originally  belonged  to  the  1633  edition. 

5.  By  M.  Merian,  jun.,  fol.  This  is  part  of  the  title- 
page  to  the  Ser77ions  of  1640.  It  is  used  again,  with  the 
date  "  Aet.  42  "  (/.  e.  1615),  in  the  1658  edition  of  Walton's 
Life. 

In  addition  to  these.  Dr.  Grosart  has  engraved,  in 
the  large  paper  copies  of  his  edition,  a  miniature  by 
Oliver,  and  an  alleged  Vandyke. 

p.  114.    Elegy  vih. 

1.  2.  chafed  musk  cat's  pores.  The  civet  cat,  or  Hyena 
odorifera  ;  cf.  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  Pseudodoxia  Epi- 
demica,  iii.  4. 

1.  10.  Sansei'ra.    Sancerre,  near  Bourges,  a  stronghold 


238  NOTES. 

of  the  Huguenots,  was  besieged  by  the  Catholics  in  1573. 
The  siege  lasted  nine  months. 

1.  23.  Proserpine  s  white  beauty-keeping  chest.  In  the 
story  of  Cupid  a?id  Psyche  told  in  Apuleius'  Golden  Ass 
(transl.  William  Adlington,  1566),  Venus  sends  Psyche  on 
a  message  to  Proserpina,  saying,  "  Take  this  box  and  go 
to  Hell  to  Proserpina,  and  desire  her  to  send  me  a  little 
of  her  beauty,  as  much  as  will  serve  me  the  space  of 
one  day."  Actually,  however,  the  "mystical  secret"  of 
"  divine  beauty  "  put  by  Proserpina  in  the  box  proves  to 
be  "an  infernal  and  deadly  sleep." 

p.  117.    Elegy  ix. 

The  heading  first  appeared  in  1633. 

In  the  Stephens  MS.  this  Elegy  is  headed,  A  Paradox 
of  an  old  Woman.  In  Lansd.  MS.  740,  f.  86,  the  words 
"  Widow  Herbert  "  are  prefixed  to  it.  This  is  explained 
by  Walton,  in  his  Life  of  Geo7-ge  Herbert  (1670),  where 
he  speaks  of  a  friendship  that  grew  up  between  Donne 
and  Lady  Herbert,  mother  of  the  poet,  when  she  was 
residing  with  her  eldest  son,  Edward  Herbert,  at  Oxford, 
in  about  1596-1600.  He  adds,  "  It  was  that  John  Donne, 
who  was  after  Dr.  Donne,  and  Dean  of  St.  Pauls,  Lon- 
don, 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  Spring  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  councils  sit. 

The  rest  of  her  character  may  be  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.  There  is  some  confusion 
in  Walton's  chronology.  It  appears  from  Edward,  Lord 
Herbert  of  Cherbury's  Autobiography,  that  he  originally 
went  up  to  Oxford  in  1593-4.  He  did  not  matriculate, 
however,  according  to  the  University  Registers,  until  May 


ELEGIES.  239 

1595,  and  Wood  gives  this  date  for  his  entry  as  a 
gentleman-commoner  at  University  College.  Soon  after 
he  was  recalled  home  by  his  father's  death  in  1597  ;  he 
married  on  Feb.  28,  1598,  and  then,  he  says,  "  not  long 
after  my  marriage  I  went  again  to  Oxford,  together  with 
my  wife  and  mother,  who  took  a  house,  and  lived  for 
some  time  there."  This  brings  the  date  of  the  Elegy  to 
1598 ,  or  two  or  three  years  after,  and  as  Donne  was 
born  in  1573,  and  Magdalen  Newport  in  1568,  they  were 
hardly  "  past  the  meridian  of  man's  life."  Walton  also 
states  that  Donne  was  "  near  the  foiirtieth  year  of  his 
age  (which  was  some  years  before  he  entered  into 
sacred  orders)."  This  also  cannot  be  correct.  Donne 
was  not  40  until  1613.     He  was  ordained  in  1615. 

Other  poems  from  Donne  to  this  lady  will  be  found  on 
p.  156,  and  vol.  ii.  p.  43.  'The  poem  on  The  Primrose 
(p.  64)  was  written  at  her  castle  near  Montgomery.  On 
her  life,  see  the  note  to  p.  156. 

1.  29.  Xerxes'  strange  Lydian  love,  the  platane  tree. 
Dr.  Grosart  refers  to  Pliny,  Nat.  Hist.,  xii.  1-3  ;  xvi.  44. 

In  the  1635- 1669  editions,  there  comes  between  the 
present  Elegies  x.  and  xi.  the  poem  "Language,  thou 
art  too  narrow  and  too  weak,"  which  will  be  now  found 
among  the  Epicedes  and  Obsequies  (vol.  ii.  p.  93). 

p.  120.    Elegy  xi. 

First  printed  in  1635,  with  the  heading  The  Bracelet. 
The  heading  in  the  text  appeared  in  1650, 

The  following  note  is  taken  from  Ben  yonson's  Con- 
versations with  William  Druminond  (ed.  D.  Laing, 
Shakespeare  Society,  1842) — 

"  He  esteemeth  John  Done  the  first  poet  in  the  world 
for  some  things  :  his  verses  of  the  Lost  Chain  he  hath  by 
heart ;  and  that  passage  of  the  Calme,  TJiat  dust  and 
feathers  do  not  stir,  all  was  so  quiet.  Afifirmeth  Done 
to  have  written  all  his  best  pieces  ere  he  was  25  years 
old. " 

1.  59.  so?ne  dread  conjurer.  The  loss  of  a  chain  and 
its  recovery  by  the  aid  of  a  conjurer  is  an  incident  in 
The  Puritafi. 

1.  77.  An  allusion  to  the  mediaeval  ninefold  classifica- 
tion of  angels  invented  by  Pseudo-Dionysius,  De  Coelesti 


240  NOTES. 

Hierarchia.  The  three  orders  are  Seraphim,  Cherubim, 
and  Thrones  ;  Dominations,  Virtues,  Powers  ;  Principali- 
ties, Archangels,  Angels. 

p.  125.    Elegy  xii. 

First  printed  in  1635. 

11,  57-76.  These  lines  are  not  found  in  the  printed 
copies.  They  were  added  by  Dr.  Grosart  in  his  edition 
from  the  British  Museum  MSS.  {Addl.  10,309,  f.  46, 
Harl.  3910,  f.  18,  Harl.  4064,  f.  249).  Lansd.  MS.  740,  f. 
105,  in  which  the  poem  also  occurs,  is  without  them,  but 
on  the  whole  there  appears  to  be  no  reason  to  doubt 
their  authenticity. 

p.  128.    Elegy  xiil 

This  Elegy  appeared  in  an  imperfect  form  in  1635- 
1650.  Some  sixty  lines,  indicated  in  the  footnotes  to  this 
edition,  were  added  in  1669.  In  T.  C.  Dublin  MS.  G.  2. 
21,  f,  460,  this  Elegy  is  ascribed  to  Sir  Francis  Wriothesley. 

p.  132.    Elegy  xiv. 

First  printed  in  1635. 

1.  13.  Majituan.  I  suppose  the  allusion  to  be  to  the 
"flammisquearmataChimaera"  of  Virgil,  Aeneid,  vi.  289, 
and  not  to  the  Carmelite  Baptista  Spagnoli,  the  "good 
old  Mantuan  "  of  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  IV.  ii.  97.  Both 
poets  were  born  at  Mantua. 

1.  14.  Mastix,  Scourge :  cf.  the  title  of  Dekker's  play, 
the  Satiromastix,  and  of  Prynne's  pamphlet,  the  Histrio- 
nomastix. 

p,  133.    Elegy  xv. 

First  printed  in  1635.  The  date  appears,  from  the 
allusions  in  hnes  21-27,  to  be  about  1609-10. 

1.  21.  the  plaguing  bill:  cf.  p.  12.  The  weekly  bill 
of  deaths  by  the  plague  reached  40,  during  parts  of  every 
year  from  1606  to  16 10. 

1.  23.  the  Virgi7iia.n  plot.  Expeditions  were  sent  out 
to  re-colonize  Virginia  on  Jan.  i,  1607,  and  again  in  1609. 

Ward.  This  pirate  is  mentioned  in  Capt.  John  Smith's 
Travels  and  Observations  {1629,  ed.  Arber,  p.  914)  as 
"a  poor  English  sailor,"  who  "lived  like  a  Bashaw  in 


ELEGIES.  241 

Barbary,"  some  time  after  1603.  Daborne  has  a  play, 
A  Christian  turned  Turk,  or  the  Tragical  Lives  and 
Deaths  of  the  two  famous  Pirates,  Ward  and  Dansiker 
(1612),  which  is  taken  from  an  account  of  these  two 
pirates  by  Andrew  Barker  (1609).  It  appears  from 
Barker  that  Ward  was  notorious  during  1607-9.  ^'s 
head-quarters  were  at  Tunis.  He  is  alluded  to  as  "  that 
ocean  terror"  in  Randolph's  Efiihalamium  to  Mr.  F.  H. 
(Works,  ed.  Hazlitt,  p.  571.) 

1.25.  the  Britain  Burse,  or  the  "New  Exchange," 
opened  as  a  rival  to  the  Royal  Exchange,  on  April  11, 
i6o9.     For  some  time  it  had  very  little  success. 

1.  27.  Aldgate.  The  rebuilding  was  completed  in  1609. 

Moor-field,  fields  to  the  north  of  the  City  ;  laid  out  in 
walks  in  1606. 

p.  136.    Elegy  xvi. 

This  poem  was  included  in  the  collection  of  verses 
called  Underwoods,  which  first  appeared  in  the  second 
folio  edition  (1641)  of  Ben  Jonson's  works.  It  is  No.  58 
in  Cunningham's  edition.  I  see  no  reason,  however,  to 
take  it  from  Donne.  It  appeared  in  two  editions,  1633 
and  1635,  during  Jonson's  life ;  the  Underwoods  is 
posthumous,  and  of  no  great  authority  ;  and  both  style 
and  sentiment  are  characteristic  of  Donne.  Many  points 
in  the  Elegy,  for  instance,  may  be  paralleled  from 
Elegy  xi. ,  1.  91,  sqq.,  from  Woman's  Constancy  (p.  5), 
and  from  The  Curse  (p.  42).  It  is  signed  J.  D.  in 
William  Drummond's  Hawthomden  MS.  15. 

p.  139.    Elegy  xvii. 

This  appeared  in  1635-1669  among  the  Epicedes  and 
Obsequies.  In  1669  it  is  simply  headed  Elegy.  It  belongs 
more  properly  to  the  present  section.  It  may  perhaps 
be  referred  to  161 1,  with  the  lyrical  poem  to  his  wife 
headed,  A  Valediction  forbidding  Mourni?ig  {■^.  51),  and 
the  Song  "Sweetest  Love"  (p.  16).  See  the  notes  to 
those  poems,  and  compare  the  close  of  the  present  Elegy 
with  what  Walton  says  about  Mrs.  Donne's  "divining 
souL" 

p.  141.    Elegy  xvin. 

First  printed  in  the  Appendix  to  the  edition  of  1650. 
VOL.  I.  16 


242 


NOTES. 


p.  144.    Elegy  xix. 

First  printed  with  the  heading  among  Donne's  Poems 
in  1669.  But  it  had  previously  appeared  in  "  Wit  and 
Drollery.  Bv  Sir  J.  M..  J.  S.,  Sir  W.  D.,  J.  D.  and  the 
most  refined  Wits  of  the  Age,  1661."  I  have  only  given 
in  the  text  and  foot-notes  the  more  important  of  the 
many  variant  readings  of  the  1661  version. 

Mr.  W.  C.  Hazlitt  states  in  his  Handbook  that  pages 
95-98  of  the  1669  Poems,  containing  Elegy  xix.,  all  but 
the  first  two  lines,  and  Elegy  xx.,  all  but  the  last  ten  lines, 
were  suppressed. 


p.  148.    Elegy  xx. 
First  printed  with  the  heading  in  1663. 


DIVINE   POEMS. 


The  larger  number  of  these  poems  appeared  in  1633. 
The  Holy  Sonnets,  i. ,  iii.,  v.,  and  viii.,  the  lines  Upon  the 
Translation  of  tlie  Psalms  (p.  188).  the  Ode  (p.  190),  the 
lines  To  Mr.  Tilnian,  and  the  Hymn  to  God,  my  God 
(p.  2Ti),  were  added  in  1635  ;  the  poems  to  George 
Herbert  (p,  214)  and  the  translation  from  Gazaeus  {p. 
216)  in  1650.  The  Sonnet  to  Lady  Herbert  (p.  156)  is 
printed  from  Walton's  Life  of  George  Herbert  (1670). 
This  is  the  latest  group  of  Donne's  poems.  Some  at 
least  of  the  Sonnets  were  probably  written  before  1607, 
and  from  them  he  appears  to  have  occasionally  written 
religious  poems  up  to  the  last  year  of  his  life.  It  is 
possible  to  more  or  less  definitely  date  a  good  many 
of  them  ;  viz.  the  Annunciation  and  Passion  (p.  170) 
in  1609,  the  Litariy  (p.  174)  in  1610,  the  Good  Friday 
(p.  172)  in  1613,  the  translation  of  the  Lamentations 
(p.  194)  in  1617  (?),  the  Hymn  to  Christ  (p.  193)  in 
1619,  the  lines  Upon  the  Translation  of  the  Psalms 
(p.  188)  after  1621,  the  Hymn  to  God  the  Leather  (p.  213) 
in  1627,  and  the  Hymn  to  God,  my  God  (p.  211)  in  1631. 

p.    151.      To  THE   E[ARL]  of  D[oNCASTER]. 

This  poem  is  found  in  all  the  seventeenth-century  editions 
amongst  the  Verse  Letters,  headed  "  To  E.  of  D."  The 
full  title  is  taken  from  the  Stephens  MS.  I  liave  trans- 
ferred it  to  the  present  section.  It  evidently  refers  to  the 
"La  Corona"  Sonnet^  which  follow,  although  only  six 
of  them  appear  to  b  ive  been  finished  when  it  was 
written. 


244  NOTES. 

The  heading  is  not  quite  correct,  for  there  was  no  Earl 
of  Doncaster.  James  Hay  was  a  Scotch  gentleman  who 
came  to  England  with  James,  and  was  high  in  favour  at 
court.  He  was  knighted,  and  created  successively  Lord 
Hay  in  the  Scotch  peerage  (1606),  Lord  Hay  of  Sawley 
1615),  Viscount  Doncaster  (1618),  and  Earl  of  Carlisle 
1622).  He  was  a  courtier,  at  once  shrewd  and  extrava- 
gant, rather  than  a  statesman,  but  he  was  employed  on 
several  important  missions,  amongst  them  one  to  France 
in  1616,  and  another  to  Germany  to  support  the  Elector 
Palatine  in  1619.  On  the  latter  of  these  occasions  Donne 
accompanied  him.  (See  notes  to  the  Hymn  to  Christ, 
p.  193.)  Hay  married,  firstly,  Honora,  daughter  of  Lord 
Denny  (1607)  ;  secondly,  Lucy  Percy,  Strafford's  Lady 
Carlisle  (1617), 

1.  2.  Cf.  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  IL  vii.  29:  "Your 
serpent  of  Egypt  is  bred  now  of  your  mud  by  the  opera- 
tion of  your  sun  :  so  is  your  crocodile." 

p.  156.    To  THE  Lady  Magdalen  Herbert. 

Lady  Herbert  was  by  birth  Magdalen  Newport,  and 
married  Sir  Richard  Herbert  of  Montgomery  Castle. 
Her  husband  died  early,  in  1597,  and  she  devoted  herself 
to  the  care  of  her  children,  amongst  whom  Edward  Lord 
Herbert  of  Cherbury,  George  Herbert,  and  Sir  Henry 
Herbert,  Master  of  the  Revels,  attained  distinction.  On 
her  friendship  with  Donne,  see  note  to  Elegy  ix.  A  letter 
of  Donne's  preserved  at  Loseley  ends  as  follows,  "  From 
Sir  John  Danvers'  house  at  Chelsey  (of  which  house  and 
my  lord  Carlils  at  Hanworth  I  make  up  my  Tusculum), 
12.  Julii.  1625."  In  1608  she  took,  as  her  second  husband. 
Sir  John  Danvers.  In  1627,  Donne  preached  her  funeral 
sermon,  which  was  afterwards  published  with  some  Greek 
and  Latin  verses  by  her  son  George. 

This  sonnet  is  not  in  any  of  the  seventeenth-century 
editions  of  Donne,  but  it  is  given  in  Walton's  Life  of 
George  Herbert  (1670),  with  this  accompanying  letter: 

"  Madam, 

"Your  favours  to  me  are  every  where;  I  use 
them,  and  have  them.  I  enjoy  them  at  London,  and 
leave  them  there,  and  yet  find  them  at  Mitcham.    Such 


I 


DIVINE   POEMS.  245 

riddles  as  these  become  things  unexpressible  ;  and  such 
is  your  goodness.  I  was  almost  sorry  to  find  your 
servant  here  this  day,  because  I  was  loth  to  have  any 
witness  of  my  not  coming  home  last  night,  and  indeed 
of  my  coming  this  morning  :  but  my  not  coming  was  ex- 
cusable, because  earnest  business  detained  me,  and  my 
coming  this  day  is  by  the  example  of  your  S.  Mary 
Magdalen,  who  rose  early  upon  Sunday  to  seek  that 
which  she  loved  most,  and  so  did  I.  And,  from  her  and 
myself,  I  return  such  thanks  as  are  due  to  one  to  whom 
we  owe  all  the  good  opinion  that  they  whom  we  need 
most  have  of  us.  By  this  messenger,  and  on  this  good 
day,  I  commit  the  enclosed  holy  hymns  and  sonnets 
(which  for  the  matter,  not  the  workmanship,  have  yet 
escaped  the  fire)  to  your  judgment,  and  to  your  protec- 
tion too,  if  you  think  them  worthy  of  it,  and  I  have  ap- 
pointed this  enclosed  sonnet  to  usher  them  to  your  happy 
hand. 

"  Your  unworthiest  servant, 

"  Unless  your  accepting  him 
"  Have  mended  him, 

"  Jo.  Donne. 

**  Mitcham,  Inly  11,  1607." 

Walton  adds:  "These  hymns  are  now  lost  to  us,  but 
doubtless  they  w  ere  such  as  they  two  now  sing  in  heaven." 
This  would  seem  to  imply  that  the  "Holy  Sonnets" 
which  follow  were  not  those  sent  to  Lady  Herbert,  but 
some  later  ones.  But  Walton  may  be  referring  to  some 
lost  hymns,  as  distinguished  from  the  sonnets  ;  and  in 
any  case,  this  poem  will  serve  as  a  preface  to  the  rest  of 
Donne's  religious  verse.  In  Harl.  4955,  the  divine 
sonnets  {Holy  Sonnets  and  La  Corona)  are  said  to  have 
been  "  made  20  years  since."  The  MS.  includes  a  poem 
dated  1629. 

1.  2.  Bethina,  Bethany :  Magdalo,  the  castle  of 
Migdol,  from  which  the  name  Magdalene  may  have  been 
derived. 

1.  8.  It  is  not  a  question  whether  there  was  more  than 
one  Magdalen,  but  rather  whether  Mary  Magdalene, 
"  out  of  whom  Jesus  cast  seven  devils,"  is  identical  with 
Mary  of  Bethany,  the  sinner  who  anointed  his  feet  and 


246  NOTES. 

wiped  them  with  the  hair  of  her  head  in  the  house  of 
Simon  the  leper.  They  are  treated  as  one  in  Vaughan's 
poem,  St.  Mary  Magdalene. 

p.  157.     Holy  Sonnets. 

Of  these  Holy  Sonnets,  i. ,  iii.,  v.,  viii.,  and  xi.  were  first 
printed  in  1635,  the  rest  in  1633. 

p.  162.     Sonnet  x. 

1.  I.  This  sonnet  is  probably  earlier  than  the  palinode 
in  the  Elegy  on  Mrs.  Bouhtred  (vol.  ii.  p.  89) — 

"  Death,  I  recant,  and  say,  '  Unsaid  by  me, 
Whate'er  hath  slipp'd,  that  might  diminish  thee.'  " 

Some  have  called  thee  so.  Cf.  the  address  to  ' '  eloquent, 
just,  and  mighty  Death,"  at  the  close  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh's  History  of  tJie  World.  This  however  is  prob- 
ably later  than  Donne's  sonnet. 

p.  i6g.     Resurrection. 

1.  14.  tincture.  Cf.  the  note  to  elixir  (page  41)  ;  and 
the  following  stanza  from  George  Herbert's  poem  The 
Elixir — 

' '  All  may  of  thee  partake  : 
Nothing  can  be  so  mean 
Which  with  this  tincture,  for  Thy  sake, 
Will  not  grow  bright  and  clean." 

A  variant  reading  is  "  His  tincture." 

p.  170.    The  Annunciation  and  Passion. 

The  Stephens  MS.  has  for  title,  "Upon  the  Annunci- 
ation and  Passion  falling  upon  one  day  1608."  The  date 
of  the  poem  will  therefore  be  March  25,  i6c>f-.  Sir  John 
Beaumont  has  a  poem  "  Upon  the  two  great  feasts  of 
the  Annunciation  and  Resurrection  falling  on  the  saiiie 
day,  March  25,  1627,"  and  George  Herbert  one  in  Latin, 
In  Natales  et  Pascha  concurrentes.  I  observe  that  Dr. 
Grosart    translates    Natales    by    "Annunciation,"  and 


DIVINE  POEMS.  247 

Pascha  by  "  Passion,"  and  states  that  Donne's  poem  and 
George  Herbert's  "probably  were  both  written  on  the 
same  occasion."  See  his  editions  both  of  Donne  and 
Herbert. 

p.  172.    Good-Friday,  1613,  Riding  Westward, 

In  Addl,  MS.  25,707,  f.  36,  this  poem  is  headed — "  Mr. 
J.  Dun,  going  from  Sir  H[enryJ  G[oodyere]  :  on  Good- 
Friday  sent  him  back  this  Meditation  on  the  way."  In 
Harl.  MS.  4955,  f.  no,  it  is  "  Riding  to  Sir  Edward 
Herbert  in  Wales."  Sir  Flenry  Goodyere's  house  was  at 
Polesworth  in  Warwickshire. 

p.  174.    A  Litany. 

Dr.  Grosart  tries  to  make  out  that  this  Litany  was  one 
of  Donne's  earliest  poems.  As  a  matter  of  fact  its  date 
can  be  more  or  less  precisely  fixed  by  Donne's  corre- 
spondence. In  a  letter  to  Sir  Henry  Goodyere  (AJford,  vi. 
311)  he  speaks  of  it  as  follows — 

"  Since  my  imprisonment  in  my  bed,  I  have  made  a 
meditation  in  verse,  which  I  call  a  Litany  ;  the  word  you 
know  imports  no  other  than  supplication,  but  all  churches 
have  one  form  of  supplication,  by  that  name.  Amongst 
ancient  annals,  I  mean  some  eight  hundred  years,  I  have 
met  two  Litanies  in  Latin  verse,  which  gave  me  not  the 
reason  of  my  meditations,  for  in  good  faith  I  thought  not 
upon  them  then,  but  they  give  me  a  defence,  if  any  man, 
to  a  layman,  and  a  private,  impute  it  as  a  fault,  to  take 
such  divine  and  public  names,  to  his  own  little  thoughts. 
The  first  of  them  was  made  by  Ratpertus,  a  monk  of 
Suevia  ;  and  the  other  by  S,  Notker,  of  whom  I  will 
give  you  this  note  by  the  way,  that  he  is  a  private  saint, 
for  a  few  parishes  ;  they  were  both  but  monk"^,  and  the 
Litanies  poor  and  barbarous  enough  ;  yet  Pope  Nicholas 
V,  valued  their  devotion  so  much,  that  he  canonized 
both  their  poems,  and  commanded  them  for  public 
service  in  their  churches  :  mine  is  for  lesser  chapels, 
which  are  my  friends,  and  though  a  copy  of  it  were  due 
to  you,  now,  yet  I  am  so  unable  to  serve  myself  with 
writing  it  for  you  at  this  time  (being  some  thirty  staves 
of  nine  hnes),  that  I  must  entreat  you  to  take  a  promise 


24S  NOTES. 

that  you  shall  have  the  first,  for  a  testimony  of  that  duty 
which  I  owe  to  your  love,  and  to  myself,  who  am  bound 
to  cherish  it  by  my  best  offices.  That  by  which  it  will 
deserve  best  acceptation,  is  that  neither  the  Roman 
church  need  call  it  defective,  because  it  abhors  not  the 
particular  mention  of  the  blessed  triumphers  in  heaven  ; 
nor  the  Reformed  can  discreetly  accuse  it,  of  attributing 
more  than  a  rectified  devotion  ought  to  do." 

The  letter  can  be  dated  by  the  mention  of  a  book  of 
Lis,  apparently  the  Pseudo-Martyr,  as  still  in  MS.  It 
was  printed  in  1610. 

p.  188.     Upon  the  Translation  of  the  Psalms 

BY  Sir  Philip  Sidney  and  the  Countess  of 

Pembroke,  his  Sister. 

First  printed  in  1635.  Tliese  Psalms,  of  which  i, — 
xliii.  are  by  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  the  rest  by  Lady  Pem- 
broke, remained  in  IMS.  until  1823,  when  they  were  pub- 
lished from  a  copy  in  the  autograph  of  John  Davies  of 
Hereford.  They  are  also  to  be  found  in  Bodl.  Rawl, 
Poet.  MS.  25,  Brit.  Mus.,  Addl.  MSS.  12,047  and 
12,048,  and  a  MS.  in  Trin.  Coll.  Camb.  It  appears  from 
1.  53  that  Donne's  verses  were  written  after  Lady  Pem- 
broke's death  in  1621. 

p.  190.     Ode. 

First  printed  in  1635.     In  Rawl.  Poet.  MS.  31,  f.  13, 
it  is  said  to  have  been  written  to  George  Herbert. 


p.  191.    To  Mr.  Tilman,  after  he  had  taken 

Orders. 

First  printed  in  1635. 

p.  193.     A  Hymn  to  Christ,  at  the  Author's 
last  going  into  Germany. 

This  going  into  Germany  was  on  a  mission  with  the 
Earl  of  Doncaster,  after  the  election  of  the  Palsgrave  as 
King  of  Bohemia,  in  1619. 


DIVINE  POEMS.  249 


p.  194,    The  Lamentations  of  Jeremy,  for  the 

MOST  PART  according  TO  TREMELLIUS. 

This  poem  probably  dates  from  the  death  of  Donne's 
wife  in  1617.  Walton  (1658)  speaks  of  the  great  grief  into 
which  he  fell.  "  Thus,  as  the  Israelites  sat  mourning  by 
the  waters  of  Babylon,  when  they  remembered  Sion,  so 
he  gave  some  ease  to  liis  oppressed  heart  by  thus  vent- 
ing his  sorrows :  thus  he  began  the  day  and  ended  the 
night,  ended  the  restless  night  and  began  the  weary  day 
in  lamentations."  Ke  adds  :  "  His  first  motion  from  his 
house  to  preach  where  his  beloved  wife  lay  buried,  in  St. 
Clement's  Church,  near  Temple  Bar,  London  ;  and  his 
text  was  a  part  of  the  prophet  Jeremy's  Lamentation, 
'  Lo,  I  am  the  man  that  have  seen  affliction.'  " 

p.  211.    Hymn  to  God,  my  God,  in  my  Sickness. 

First  printed  in  1635. 

Walton  [Life,  ed.  1670)  states  that  this  hymn  was 
written  on  Donne's  death-bed.  He  quotes  stanzas  i  and 
6,  and  the  first  two  and  a  half  hues  of  stanza  2,  with  the 
date  March  23,  1637.  A  copy  amongst  Sir  Julius 
Caesar's  papers  (Addl.  MS.  34,324,  f.  316)  is  endorsed 
"  D.  Dun,  Dean  of  Paul's,  his  verses  in  his  great  sickness 
in  December  1623." 

Trcmelluis :  Emanuel  Tremellins  (1510-1580)  pub- 
lished a  Latin  translation  of  the  Bible  at  Frankfort,  in 

1575-1579- 

p.  213.    A  Hymn  to  God  the  Father. 

This  hymn  is  quoted  by  Walton,  not  in  the  1640,  but 
in  the  1670  edition  of  the  Life.  Walton  says  :  "  Even  on 
his  former  sickbed  [in  1623]  he  wrote  this  heavenly  hymn, 
expressing  the  great  joy  that  then  possessed  his  soul,  in 
the  assurance  of  God's  favour  to  him  when  he  composed 
it." 

He  adds  :  "  I  have  the  rather  mentioned  this  hymn,  for 
that  he  caused  it  to  be  set  to  a  most  grave  and  solemn 
tune,  and  to  be  often  sung  to  the  organ  by  the  choristers 
of  St.  Paul's  Church  in  his  own  hearing  ;  especially  at 


250 


NOTES. 


ihe  evening  service,  and  at  his  return  from  his  customary 
devotions  in  that  place  did  occasionally  say  to  a  friend  : 
'  The  words  of  this  hymn  have  restored  to  me  the  same 
thoughts  of  joy  that  possessed  my  soul  in  my  sickness 
when  I  composed  it.  And,  O  the  power  of  church 
music  !  that  harmony  added  to  this  hymn  has  raised  the 
affections  of  my  heart  and  quickened  my  graces  of  zeal 
and  gratitude  ;  and  I  observe  that  I  always  return  from 
paying  this  public  duty  of  prayer  and  praise  to  God,  with 
an  unexpressible  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  a  willingness 
to  leave  the  world.'" 

This  poem  appears  in  BriL  Mus.  Eg.  MS.  2013,  f.  13, 
set  to  music  by  John  Hillton,  and  beginning,  "  Wilt  thou 
forgive  the  sins  where  I  begun."  I  do  not  know  whether 
this  was  the  setting  used  at  St.  Paul's.  The  date  of  the 
MS.  is  probably  before  1644. 

The  "former  sickbed  "  mentioned  by  Walton  is  doubt- 
less that  of  the  fifty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  1623,  upon 
which  he  also  composed  his  Book  of  Devotions, 


p.  214.    To  George  Herbert. 

First  printed  in  1650. 

Walton  [Life,  1670)  has  a  passage  on  the  friendship 
between  Donne  and  George  Herbert.     He  says — 

"Betwixt  this  George  Herbert  and  Dr.  Donne,  there 
was  a  long  and  dear  friendship,  made  up  by  such  a 
sympathy  of  inclinations  that  they  coveted  and  joyed  to 
be  in  each  other's  company  ;  and  this  happy  friendship 
was  still  maintained  by  many  sacred  endearments,  of 
which  that  which  foUoweth  may  be  some  testimony." 
He  then  goes  on  to  quote  the  first  two  and  a  half  lines  of 
Donne's  Latin  poem,  and  the  whole  of  the  English  one  ; 
together  with  portions  of  answering  poems  by  George 
Herbert,  which  are  printed  in  full  in  the  1650  edition  of 
Donne.     I  add  them  here — 


(■^ 


In  Sacram  Anchoram  Piscatoris  G.  Herbert. 

Quod  crux  nequibat  fixa,  clavique  addita — 
Tenere  Christum  scilicet,  ne  ascenderet — 


DIVINE  POEMS.  251 

Tuive  Christum  devocans  facundia 
Ultra  loquendi  tempus  ;  addit  Anchora  : 
Nee  hoc  abunde  est  tibi,  nisi  certae  anchorae 
Addas  Sigillum  ;  nempe  symbolum  suae 
Tibi  debet  unda  et  terra  certitudinis. 
Quondam  fessus  Amor,  loquens  amato, 
Tot  et  tanta  loquens  amica,  scripsit : 
Tandem  et  fessa  manus  dedit  Sigillum. 

Suavis  erat,  qui  scripta,  dolens,  lacerando  recludi, 
Sanctius  in  regno  magni  credebat  Amoris, 
In  quo  fas  nihil  est  rumpi,  donare  Sigillum  1 

Munde,  fluas  fugiasque  licet,  nos  nostraque  fixi : 
Deridet  motus  sancta  catena  tuos. 

This  is  followed  by  an  English  version. 

Although  the  Cross  could  not  Christ  here  detain, 
Though  nail'd  unto  it,  but  He  ascends  again, 
Nor  yet  thy  eloquence  here  keep  Him  still. 
But  only  while  thou  speakest,  this  Anchor  will. 
Nor  canst  thou  be  content,  unless  thou  to 
This  certain  Anchor  add  a  Seal ;  and  so 
The  water  and  the  earth  both  unto  thee 
Do  owe  the  symbol  of  their  certainty. 

When  Love,  being  weary,  made  an  end 
Of  kind  expressions  to  his  friend, 
He  writ ;  when  's  hand  could  write  no  more, 
He  gave  the  Seal,  and  so  left  o'er. 

How  sweet  a  friend  was  he,  who,  being  grieved 
His  letters  were  broke  rudely  up,  believed 
'Twas  more  secure  in  great  Love's  commonweal 
Where  nothing  should  be  broke,  to  add  a  Seal  I 

Let  the  world  reel,  we  and  all  ours  stand  sure  ; 
This  holy  cable 's  of  all  storms  secure. 

The  following  is  from  Walton's  Life  of  George  Herbert 
J1670) — "I  shall  therefore  add  only  one  testimony  to 
what  is  also  mentioned  in  the  Life  of  Dr.  Donne,  namely, 


\ 


252  NOTES. 

that  a  little  before  his  death  he  caused  many  seals  to  be 
made,  and  in  them  to  be  engraven  the  figure  of  Christ 
crucified  on  an  anchor — which  is  the  emblem  of  hope 
— and  of  which  Dr.  Donne  would  often  say  Crtix  mihi 
anchora.  These  seals  he  sent  to  most  of  those  friends  on 
which  he  put  a  value  ;  and  at  Mr.  Herbert's  death  these 
verses  were  found  wrapped  up  with  that  seal  which  was 
by  the  Doctor  given  to  him : 

When  my  dear  friend  could  write  no  more, 
He  gave  this  Seal,  and  so  gave  o'er. 
When  winds  and  waves  rose  highest,  I  am  sure, 
This  Anchor  keeps  my  faith,  that,  me  secure. 

Some  of  these  seals,  including  that  given  to  Walton 
himself,  have  been  handed  down  to  our  day.  ^0.0.  Notes 
and  Queries  (2nd  Series,  viii.  170,  216  ;  6th  Series,  x. 
426,  473).  . 

The  Latin  version  of  George  Herbert's  verses  is  also 
found  with  the  Jacula  Prudentum  (1651),  a  volume  con- 
sisdng  mostly  of  "Outlandish  Proverbs"  collected  by 
Herbert,  and  reprinted  from  the  1640  edition  of  Wit's 
Recreations.  It  is  also  in  Herbert's  Poems.  Doubtless 
the  English  version  is  his  also. 

p.  216.    Translated  out  of  Gazaeus,  "Vota 
Amico  Facta,"  fol.  160. 

First  printed  in  1650. 

En6e  de  Gaza,  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  wrote  a 
dialogue  on  ImmortaHty  and  the  Resurrection,  called 
Theophrastus.  An  edition  was  published  at  Zurich  in 
1559-60. 


END   OF   VOLUME  I. 


W.  Brendan  ^  Son,  Printers,  Plymouth. 


I> 


2245 
A5G5 
1896 

V.1 


Poems 


PLEASE  DO  NOT  REMOVE 
CARDS  OR  SLIPS  FROM  THIS  POCKET 


UNIVERSITY  OF  TORONTO  LIBRARY