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.