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?
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