by the Makers will from pulling free IX Prince of the orchard faire as dawning morne Fenc'd with the law and ripe as soone as borne That apple grew which this Soule did Till the then climing serpent that now creeps For that offence for which all mankinde weepes Tooke it and t' her whom the first man did wive Whom and her race only forbiddings drive He gave it she t' her husband both did eate So perished the eaters and the meate And wee for treason taints the blood thence die and sweat X. Man all at once was there by woman slaine And one by one we' are here slaine o'er againe By them The mother poisoned the well-head The daughters here corrupts us No smalnesse scapes no greatnesse breake their nets She thrust us out and by them we are led Astray from turning to whence we are fled Were prisoners Judges t' would seeme rigorous Shee sinn'd we here part of our paine is thus To love them whose fault to this painfull love yoak'd us XI So fast in us doth this corruption grow That now wee dare aske why wee should be so Would God disputes the curious Rebell make A law and would not have it kept Or can His creatures will crosse his Of every man For one will God and be just vengeance take Who sinn'd t' was not forbidden to the snake Nor her who was not then made nor i' st writ That Adam cropt or knew the apple yet The worme and she and he and wee endure for it XII But snatch mee heavenly Spirit from this vaine Reckoning their vanities lesse is their gaine Then hazard still to meditate on ill Though with good minde their reasons like those toyes Of glassie bubles with the gamesome boyes Stretch to so nice a thinnes through a quill That they themselves breake doe themselves spill Arguing is heretiques game and Exercise As wrastlers perfect them Not liberties Of speech but silence hands not tongues end heresies XIII Just in that instant when the serpents gripe Broke the slight veines and tender conduit-pipe Through which this soule from the trees root did draw Life and growth to this apple fled away This loose soule old one and another day As lightning which one scarce dares say he saw 'T is so soone gone and better proofe the law Of sense then faith requires swiftly she flew To a darke and foggie Plot Her her fates threw There through th'earth-pores and in a Plant hous'd her a new XIV The plant thus abled to it selfe did force A place where no place was by natures course As aire from water water fleets away From thicker bodies by this root thronged so His spungie confines gave him place to grow Just as in our streets when the people stay To see the Prince and so fill'd the way That weesels scarce could passe when she comes nere They throng and cleave up and a passage cleare As if for that time their round bodies flatned were XV. His right arme he thrust out towards the East West-ward his left th' ends did themselves digest Into ten lesser strings these fingers were And as a slumberer stretching on his bed This way he this and that way scattered His other legge which feet with toes upbeare Grew on his middle parts the first day haire To show that in loves businesse hee should still A dealer bee and be us'd well or ill His apples kinde his leaves force of conception kill XVI A mouth but dumbe he hath blinde eyes deafe eares And to his shoulders dangle subtile haires A young Colossus there hee stands upright And as that ground by him were conquered A leafie garland weares he on his head Enchas'd with little fruits so red and bright That for them you would call your Loves lips white So of a lone unhaunted place possest Did this soules second Inne built by the guest This living buried man this quiet mandrake rest XVII No lustfull woman came this plant to grieve But t' was because there was none yet but Eve And she with other purpose kill'd it quite Her sinne had now brought in infirmities And so her cradled child the moist red eyes Had never shut nor sleept since it saw light Poppie she knew she knew the mandrakes might And tore up both and so coold her childs blood Unvirtuous weeds might long unvex'd have stood But hee 's short liv'd that with his death can doe most good XVIII To an unfetterd soules quick nimble hast Are falling stars and hearts thoughts but slow pac'd Thinner then burnt aire flies this soule and she Whom foure new comming and foure parting Suns Had found and left the Mandrakes tenant runnes Thought lesse of change when her firme destiny Confin'd and enjayld her that seem'd so free Into a small blew shell the which a poore Warme bird orespread and sat still evermore Till her uncloath'd child kickt and pick'd it selfe a dore XIX Outcrept a sparrow this soules moving Inne On whose raw armes stiffe feathers now begin As childrens teeth through gummes to breake with paine His flesh is jelly yet and his bones threds All downy a new mantle overspreads A mouth he opes which would as much containe As his late house and the first houre speaks plaine And chirps alowd for meat Meat fit for men His father steales for him and so feeds then One that within a moneth will beate him from his hen XX In this worlds youth wise nature did make hast Things ripened sooner and did longer last Already this hot cocke in bush and tree In field and tent oreflutters his next hen He asks her not who did so tast nor when Nor if his sister or his neece shee be Nor doth she pule for his inconstancie If in her sight he change nor doth refuse The next that calls both liberty doe use Where store is of both kindes both kindes may freely chuse XXI Men till they tooke laws which made freedome lesse Their daughters and their sisters did ingresse Till now unlawfull therefore ill t' was not So jolly that it can move this soule Is The body so free of his kindnesses That selfe preserving it hath now forgot And slackneth so the soules and bodies knot Which tēperance streightens freely on his she friends He blood and spirit pith and marrow spends Ill steward of himself himselfe in three yeares ends XXII Else might he long have liv'd man did not know Of gummie blood which doth in holly grow How to make bird-lime nor how to deceive With faind calls his nets or enwrapping snare The free inhabitants of the Plyant aire Man to beget and woman to conceive Askt not of rootes nor of cock-sparrowes leave Yet chuseth hee though none of these he feares Pleasantly three then streightned twenty yeares To live and to encrease himselfe outweares XXIII This cole with overblowing quench'd and dead The Soule from her too active organs fled T' a brooke a female fishes sandie Roe With the males jelly newly lev'ned was For they intertouched as they did passe
mixe againe And makes both one each this and that A single violet transplant The strength the colour and the size All which before was poore and scant Redoubles still and multiplies When love with one another so Interanimates two soules That abler soule which thence doth flow Defects of lonelinesse controules Wee then who are this new soule know Of what we are compos'd and made For th'Atomies of which we grow Are soules whom no change can invade But O alas so long so farre Our bodies why doe wee forbeare They are ours though not wee Wee are The intelligences they the spheares We owe them thankes because they thus Did us to us at first convay Yeelded their senses force to us Nor are drosse to us but allay On man heavens influence workes not so But that it first imprints the ayre For soule into the soule may flow Though it to body first repaire As our blood labours to beget Spirits as like soules as it can Because such fingers need to knit That subtile knot which makes us man So must pure lovers soules descend T'affections and to faculties Which sense may reach and apprehend Else a great Prince in prison lies To'our bodies turne wee then that so Weake men on love reveal'd may looke Loves mysteries in soules doe grow But yet the body is his booke And if some lover such as wee Have heard this dialogue of one Let him still marke us he shall see Small change when we' are to bodies gone Loves Deitie I Long to talke with some old lovers ghost Who dyed before the god of Love was borne I cannot thinke that hee who then lov'd most Sunke so low as to love one which did scorne But since this god produc'd a destinie And that vice-nature custome lets it be I must love her that loves not mee Sure they which made him god meant not so much Nor he in his young god head practis'd it But when an even flame two hearts did touch His office was indulgently to fit Actives to passives Correspondencie Only his subject was It cannot bee Love till I love her that loves mee But every moderne god will now extend His vast prerogative as far as Jove To rage to lust to 〈◊〉 to commend All is the purlewe of the God of Love Oh were wee wak'ned by this Tyrannie To ungod this child againe it could not beo I should love her who loves not mee Rebell and Atheist too why murmure I As though I felt the worst that love could doe Love may make me leave loving or might trie A deeper plague to make her love mee too Which since she loves before I 'am loth to see Falshood is worse then hate and that must bee If shee whom I love should love mee Loves diet TO what a combersome unwieldinesse And burdenous corpulence my love had growne But that I did to make it lesse And keepe it in proportion Give it a diet made it feed upon That which love worst endures discretion Above one sigh a day I'allow'd him not Of which my fortune and my faults had part And if sometimes by stealth he got A she sigh from my mistresse heart And thought to feast on that I let him see 'T was neither very sound nor meant to mee If he wroung from mee'a teare I brin'd it so With scorne or shame that him it nourish'd not If he suck'd hers I let him know 'T was not a teare which hee had got His drinke was counterfeit as was his meat For eyes which rowle towards all weepe not but sweat What ever he would dictate I writ that But burnt my letters When she writ to me And that that favour made him fat I said if any title bee Convey'd by this Ah what doth it availe To be the fortieth name in an entaile Thus I redeem'd my buzard love to flye At what and when and how and where I chuse Now negligent of sports I lye And now as other Fawkners use I spring a mistresse sweare write sigh and weepe And the game kill'd or lost goe talke and sleepe The Will BEfore I sigh my last gaspe let me breath Great love some Legacies Here I bequeath Mine eyes to Argus if mine eyes can see If they be blinde then Love I give them thee My tongue to Fame to'Embassadours mine eares To women or the sea my teares Thou Love hast taught mee heretofore By making mee serve her who 'had twenty more That I should give to none but such as had too much before My constancie I to the planets give My truth to them who at the Court doe live Mine ingenuity and opennesse To Jesuites to Buffones my pensivenesse My silence to'any who abroad hath beene My mony to a Capuchin Thou Love taught'st me by appointing mee To love there where no love receiv'd can be Onely to give to such as have an incapacitie My faith I give to Roman Catholiques All my good works unto the Schismaticks Of Amsterdam my best civility And Courtship to an Universitie My modesty I give to souldiers bare My patience let gamesters share Thou Love taughtst mee by making mee Love her that holds my love disparity Onely to give to those that count my gifts indignity I give my reputation to those Which were my friends Mine industrie to foes To Schoolemen I bequeath my doubtfulnesse My sicknesse to Physitians or excesse To Nature all that I in Ryme have writ And to my company my wit Thou love by making mee adore Her who begot this love in mee before Taughtst me to make as though I gave when I did but restore To him for whom the passing bell next tolls I give my physick bookes my writen rowles Of Morall counsels I to Bedlam give My brazen medals unto them which live In want of bread to them which passe among All forrainers mine English tongue Thou Love by making mee love one Who thinkes her friendship a fit portion For yonger lovers dost my gifts thus disproportion Therefore I 'll give no more But I 'll undoe The world by dying because love dies too Then all your beauties will bee no more worth Then gold in Mines where none doth draw it forth And all your graces no more use shall have Then a Sun dyall in a grave Thou Love taughtst mee by making mee Love her who doth neglect both mee and thee To'invent and practise this one way to'annihilate all three The Funerall WHo ever comes to shroud me do not harme Nor question much That subtile wreath of haire which crowne my arme The mystery the signe you must not touch For'tis my outward Soule Viceroy to that which unto heaven being gone Will leave this to controule And keepe these limbes her Provinces from dissolution For if the sinewie thread my braine le ts fall Through every part Can tye those parts and make mee one of all Those haires which upward grew and strength and art Have from a better braine Can better do' it except she meant that I By this should
preserv'd not naturally free As men to'our prisons new soules to us are sent Which learne it there and come in innocent First seeds of every creature are in us What ere the world hath bad or pretious Mans body can produce hence hath it beene That stones wormes frogges and snakes in man are seene But who ere saw though nature can worke soe That pearle or gold or corne in man did grow We'have added to the world Virginia ' and sent Two new starres lately to the firmament Why grudge wee us not heaven the dignity T' increase with ours those faire soules company But I must end this letter though it doe Stand on two truths neither is true to you Vertue hath some perversenesse For she will Neither beleeve her good nor others ill Even in your vertues best paradise Vertue hath some but wise degrees of vice Too many vertues or too much of one Begets in you unjust suspition And ignorance of vice makes vertue lesse Quenching compassion of our wrechednesse But these are riddles Some aspersion Of vice becomes well some complexion Statesmen purge vice with vice and may corrode The bad with bad a spider with a toad For so ill thralls not them but they tame ill And make her do much good against her will But in your Commonwealth or world in you Vice hath no office or good worke to doe Take then no vitious purge but be content With cordiall vertue your knowne nourishment To the Countesse of Bedford On New-yeares day THis twilight of two yeares not past nor next Some embleme is of mee or I of this Who Meteor-like of stuffe and forme perplext Whose what and where in disputation is If I should call mee any thing should misse I summe the yeares and mee and finde mee not Debtor to th' old nor Creditor to th' new That cannot say My thankes I have forgot Nor trust I this with hopes and yet scarce true This bravery is since these time shew'd mee you In recompence I would show future times What you were and teach them to'urge towards such Verse embalmes vertue ' and Tombs or Thrones of rimes Preserve fraile transitory fame as much As spice doth bodies from corrupt aires touch Mine are short liv'd the tincture of your name Creates in them but dissipates as fast New spirit for strong agents with the same Force that doth warme and cherish us doe wast Kept hot with strong extracts no bodies last So my verse built of your just praise might want Reason and likelihood the firmest Base And made of miracle now faith is scant Will vanish soone and so possesse no place And you and it too much grace might disgrace When all as truth commands assent confesse All truth of you yet they will doubt how I One corne of one low anthills dust and lesse Should name know or expresse a thing so high And not an inch measure infinity I cannot tell them nor my selfe nor you But leave lest truth b'endanger'd by my praise And turne to God who knowes I thinke this true And useth oft when such a heart mis-sayes To make it good for such a prayer prayes Hee will best teach you how you should lay out His stock of beauty learning favour blood He will perplex security with doubt And cleare those doubts hide from you ' and shew you good And so increase your appetite and food Hee will teach you that good and bad have not One latitude in cloysters and in Court Indifferent there the greatest space hath got Some pitty'is not good there some vaine disport On this side sinne with that place may comport Yet he as hee bounds seas will fixe your houres With pleasure and delight may not ingresse And though what none else lost be truliest yours Hee will make you what you did not possesse By using others not vice but weakenesse He will make you speake truths and credibly And make you doubt that others doe not so Hee will provide you keyes and locks to spie And scape spies to good ends and hee will show What you may not acknowledge what not know For your owne conscience he gives innocence But for your fame a discreet warinesse And though to scape then to revenge offence Be better he showes both and to represse Ioy when your state swells sadnesse when 't is lesse From need of teares he will defend your soule Or make a rebaptizing of one teare Hee cannot that 's he will not dis-inroule Your name and when with active joy we heare This private Ghospell then 't is our new yeare To the Countesse of Huntingdon MADAME MAn to Gods image Eve to mans was made Nor finde wee that God breath'd a soule in her Canons will not Church functions you invade Nor lawes to civill office you preferre Who vagrant transitory Comets sees Wonders because they' are rare But a new starre Whose motion with the firmament agrees Is miracle for there no new things are In woman so perchance milde innocence A seldome comet is but active good A miracle which reason scapes and sense For Art and Nature this in them withstood As such a starre which Magi led to view The manger-cradled infant God below By vertues beames by fame deriv'd from you May apt soules and the worst may vertue know If the worlds age and death be argued well By the Sunnes fall which now towards earth doth bend Then we might feare that vertue since she fell So low as woman should be neare her end But she 's not stoop'd but rais'd exil'd by men She fled to heaven that 's heavenly things that 's you She was in all men thinly scatter'd then But now amass'd contracted in a few She guilded us But you are gold and Shee Us she inform'd but transubstantiates you Soft dispositions which ductile bee Elixarlike she makes not cleane but new Though you a wifes and mothers name retaine 'T is not as woman for all are not soe But vertue having made you vertue ' is faine T' adhere in these names her and you to show Else being alike pure wee should neither see As water being into ayre rarify'd Neither appeare till in one cloud they bee So for our sakes you do low names abide Taught by great constellations which being fram'd Of the most starres take low names Crab and Bull When single planets by the Gods are nam'd You covet not great names of great things full So you as woman one doth comprehend And in the vaile of kindred others see To some ye are reveal'd as in a friend And as a vertuous Prince farre off to mee To whom because from you all vertues flow And 't is not none to dare contemplate you I which to you as your true subject owe Some tribute for that so these lines are due If you can thinke these flatteries they are For then your judgement is below my praise If they were so oft flatteries worke as farre As Counsels and as farre th'endeavour raise So my ill reaching you might there
on perfection and a womans name Daughters of London you which bee Our Golden Mines and furnish'd Treasurie You which are Angels yet still bring with you Thousands of Angels on your mariage daies Help with your presence and devise to praise These rites which also unto you grow due Conceitedly dresse her and be assign'd By you fit place for every flower and jewell Make her for love fit fewell As gay as Flora and as rich as Inde So may shee faire and rich in nothing lame To day put on perfection and a womans name And you frolique Patricians Some of these Senators wealths deep oceans Ye painted courtiers barrels of others wits Yee country men who but your beasts love none Yee of those fellowships whereof hee 's one Of study and play made strange Hermaphrodits Here shine This Bridegroom to the Temple bring Loe in yon path which store of straw'd flowers graceth The sober virgin paceth Except my sight faile 't is no other thing Weep not nor blush here is no griefe nor shame To day put on perfection and a womans name Thy two-leav'd gates faire Temple unfold And these two in thy sacred bosome hold Till mystically joyn'd but one they bee Then may thy leane and hunger-starved wombe Long time expect their bodies and their tombe Long after their owne parents fatten thee All elder claimes and all cold barrennesse All yeelding to new loves bee far for ever Which might these two dissever Alwaies all th' other may each one possesse For the best Bride best worthy of praise and fame To day puts on perfection and a womans name Winter dayes bring much delight Not for themselves but for they soon bring night Other sweets wait thee then these diverse meats Other disports then dancing jollities Other love tricks then glancing with the eyes But that the Sun still in our halfe Spheare sweates Hee flies in winter but he now stands still Yet shadowes turne Noone point he hath attain'd His steeds will bee restrain'd But gallop lively downe the Westerne hill Thou shalt when he hath come the worlds half frame To night but on perfection and a womans name The amorous evening starre is rose Why then should not our amorous starre inclose Her selfe in her wish'd bed Release your strings Musicians and dancers take some truce With these your pleasing labours for great use As much wearinesse as perfection brings You and not only you but all toyl'd beasts Rest duly at night all their toyles are dispensed But in their beds commenced Are other labours and more dainty feasts She goes amaid who least she turne the same To night puts on perfection and a womans name Thy virgins girdle now untie And in thy nuptiall bed loves alter lye A pleasing sacrifice now dispossesse Thee of these chaines and robes which were put on T' adorne the day not thee for thou alone Like vertue ' and truth art best in nakednesse This bed is onely to virginitie A grave but to a better state a cradle Till now thou wast but able To be what now thou art then that by thee No more be said I may bee but I am To night put on perfection and a womans name Even like a faithfull man content That this life for a better should be spent So shee a mothers rich stile doth preferre And at the Bridegroomes wish'd approach doth lye Like an appointed lambe when tenderly The priest comes on his knees t'embowell her Now sleep or watch with more joy and O light Of heaven to morrow rise thou hot and early This Sun will love so dearely Her rest that long long we shall want her sight Wonders are wrought for shee which had no maime To night puts on perfection and a womans name To the Countesse of Bedford MADAME I Have learn'd by those lawes wherein I am a little conversant that hee which bestowes any cost upon the dead obliges him which is dead but not the heire I do not therefore send this paper to your Ladyship that you should thanke mee for it or thinke that I thanke you in it your favours and benefits to mee are so much above my merits that they are even above my gratitude if that were to be judged by words which must expresse it But Madame since your noble brothers fortune being yours the evidences also concerning it are yours so his vertue being yours the evidences concerning it belong also to you of which by your acceptance this may be one peece in which quality I humbly present it and as a testimony how intirely your familie possesseth Your Ladiships most humble and thankfull servant JOHN DONNE Obsequies to the Lord Harringtons brother To the Countesse of Bedford FAire soule which wast not onely as all soules bee Then when thou wast infused harmony But did'st continue so and now dost beare A part in Gods great organ this whole Spheare If looking up to God or downe to us Thou finde that any way is pervious Twixt heav'n and earth and that mans actions doe Come to your knowledge and affections too See and with joy mee to that good degree Of goodnesse growne that I can studie thee And by these meditations refin'd Can unapparell and enlarge my minde And so can make by this soft extasie This place a map of heav'n my selfe of thee Thou seest mee here at midnight now all rest Times dead-low water when all mindes devest To morrows businesse when the labourers have Such rest in bed that their last Church-yard grave Subject to change will scarce be'a type of this Now when the clyent whose last hearing is To morrow sleeps when the condemned man Who when hee opes his eyes must shut them than Againe by death although sad watch hee keepe Doth practice dying by a little sleepe Thou at this midnight seest mee and as soone As that Sunne rises to mee midnight's noone All the world growes transparent and I see Through all both Church and State in seeing thee And I discerne by favour of this light My selfe the hardest object of the sight God is the glasse as thou when thou dost see Him who sees all seest all concerning thee So yet unglorified I comprehend All in these mirrors of thy wayes and end Though God be our true glass through which we see All since the beeing of all things is hee Yet are the trunkes which doe to us derive Things in proportion fit by perspective Deeds of good men for by their living here Vertues indeed remote seeme to be nere But where can I affirme or where arrest My thoughts on his deeds which shall I call best For fluid vertue cannot be look'd on Nor can endure a contemplation As bodies change and as I do not weare Those Spirits humors blood I did last yeare And as if on a streame I fixe mine eye That drop which I looked on is presently Pusht with more waters from my sight and gone So in this sea of vertues can no one Bee'insisted on vertues as rivers passe Yet still remaines
are blowne up Could you but reach this height you should not need To make each meale a project ere you feed Nor walke in reliques clothes so old and bare As if left off to you from Ennius were Nor should your love in verse call Mistresse those Who are mine hostesse or your whores in prose From this Muse learne to Court whose power could move A Cloystred coldnesse or a Vestall love And would convey such errands to their eare That Ladies knew no oddes to grant and heare But I do wrong thee Donne and this low praise Is written onely for thy yonger dayes I am not growne up for thy riper parts Then should I praise thee through the Tongues and Arts And have that deepe Divinity to know What mysteries did from thy preaching flow Who with thy words could charme thy audience That at thy sermons eare was all our sense Yet have I seene thee in the pulpit stand Where wee might take notes from thy looke and hand And from thy speaking action beare away More Sermon then some teachers use to say Such was thy carriage and thy gesture such As could divide the heart and conscience touch Thy motion did confute and wee might see An errour vanquish'd by delivery Not like our Sonnes of Zeale who to reforme Their hearers fiercely at the Pulpit storme And beate the cushion into worse estate Then if they did conclude it reprobate Who can out pray the glasse then lay about Till all Predestination be runne out And from the point such tedious uses draw Their repetitions would make Gospell Law No In such temper would thy Sermons flow So well did Doctrine and thy language show And had that holy feare as hearing thee The Court would mend and a good Christian bee And Ladies though unhansome out of grace Would heare thee in their unbought lookes face More I could write but let this crowne thine Urne Wee cannot hope the like till thou returne Vpon Mr J. Donne and his Poems VVHo dares say thou art dead when he doth see Unburied yet this living part of thee This part that to thy beeing gives fresh flame And though th' art Donne yet will preserve thy name Thy flesh whose channels left their crimsen hew And whey-like ranne at last in a pale blew May shew thee mortall a dead palsie may Seise on 't and quickly turne it into clay Which like the Indian earth shall rise refin'd But this great Spirit thou hast left behinde This Soule of Verse in it's first pure estate Shall live for all the World to imitate But not come neer for in thy Fancies flight Thou dost not stoope unto the vulgar sight But hovering highly in the aire of Wit Hold'st such a pitch that few can follow it Admire they may Each object that the Spring Or a more piercing influence doth bring T' adorne Earths face thou sweetly did'st contrive To beauties elements and thence derive Unspotted Lillies white which thou did'st set Hand in hand with the veine-like Violet Making them soft and warme and by thy power Could'st give both life and sense unto a flower The Cheries thou hast made to speake will bee Sweeter unto the taste then from the tree And spight of winter stormes amidst the snow Thou oft hast made the blushing Rose to grow The Sea-nimphs that the watry cavernes keepe Have sent their Pearles and Rubies from the deepe To deck thy love and plac'd by thee they drew More lustre to them then where first they grew All minerals that Earths full wombe doth hold Promiscuously thou couldst convert to gold And with thy flaming raptures so refine That it was much more pure then in the Mine The lights that guild the night if thou did'st say They looke like eyes those did out-shine the day For there would be more vertue in such spells Then in Meridians or crosse Parallels What ever was of worth in this great Frame That Art could comprehend or Wit could name It was thy theme for Beauty thou didst see Woman was this faire Worlds Epitomie Thy nimble Satyres too and every straine With nervy strength that issued from thy brain Will lose the glory of their owne cleare bayes If they admit of any others praise But thy diviner Poëms whose cleare fire Purges all drosse away shall by a Quire Of Cherubims with heavenly Notes be set Where flesh and blood could ne'r attaine to yet There purest Spirits sing such sacred Layes In Panegyrique Alleluiaes Arth. Wilson In memory of Doctor Donne By Mr R. B. DOnne dead 'T is here reported true though I Ne'r yet so much desir'd to heare a lye 'T is too too true for so wee finde it still Good newes are often false but seldome ill But must poore fame tell us his fatall day And shall we know his death the common way Mee thinkes some Comet bright should have foretold The death of such a man for though of old 'T is held that Comets Princes death foretell Why should not his have needed one as well Who was the Prince of wits ' mongst whom he reign'd High as a Prince and as great State maintain'd Yet wants he not his signe for wee have seene A dearth the like to which hath never beene Treading on harvests heeles which doth presage The death of wit and learning which this age Shall finde now he is gone for though there bee Much graine in shew none brought it forth as he Or men are misers or if true want raises The dearth then more that dearth Donnes plenty praises Of learning languages of eloquence And Poësie past rauishing of sense He had a magazine wherein such store Was laid up as might hundreds serve of poore But he is gone O how will his desire Torture all those that warm'd them by his fire Mee thinkes I see him in the pulpit standing Not eares or eyes but all mens hearts commanding Where wee that heard him to our selves did faine Golden Chrysostome was alive againe And never were we weari'd till we saw His houre and but an houre to end did draw How did he shame the doctrine-men and use With helps to boot for men to beare th' abuse Of their tir'd patience and endure th' expence Of time O spent in hearkning to non-sense With markes also enough whereby to know The speaker is a zealous dunce or so 'T is true they quitted him to their poore power They humm'd against him And with face most sowre Call'd him a strong lin'd man a Macaroon And no way fit to speake to clouted shoone As fine words truly as you would desire But verily but a bad edifier Thus did these beetles slight in him that good They could not see and much lesse understood But we may say when we compare the stuffe Both brought He was a candle they the snuffe Well Wisedome's of her children justifi'd Let therefore these poore fellowes stand aside Nor though of learning he deserv'd so highly Would I his booke should save him Rather slily I should advise
his Clergie not to pray Though of the learn'dst sort Me thinkes that they Of the same trade are Judges not so fit There 's no such emulation as of wit Of such the Envy might as much perchance Wrong him and more then th' others ignorance It was his Fate I know 't to be envy'd As much by Clerkes as lay men magnifi'd And why but ' cause he came late in the day And yet his Penny earn'd and had as they No more of this least some should say that I Am strai'd to Satyre meaning Elegie No no had DONNE need to be judg'd or try'd A Jury I would summon on his side That had no sides nor factions past the touch Of all exceptions freed from Passion such As nor to feare nor fratter e'r were bred These would I bring though called from the dead Southampton Hambleton Pēbrooke Dorsets Earles Huntingdon Bedfords Countesses the Pearles Once of each sexe If these suffice not I Ten decem tales have of Standers by All which for DONNE would such a verdict give As can belong to none that now doth live But what doe I A diminution 't is To speake of him in verse so short of his Whereof he was the master All indeed Compar'd with him pip'd on an Oaten reed O that you had but one ' mongst all your brothers Could write for him as he hath done for others Poets I speake to When I see 't I 'll say My eye-sight betters as my yeares decay Meane time a quarrell I shall ever have Against these doughty keepers from the grave Who use it seemes their old Authoritie When Verses men immortall make they cry Which had it been a Recipe true tri'd Probatum esset DONNE had never dy'd For mee if e'r I had least sparke at all Of that which they Poetique fire doe call Here I confesse it fetched from his hearth Which is gone out now he is gone to earth This only a poore flash a lightning is Before my Muses death as after his Farewell faire soule and deigne receive from mee This Type of that devotion I owe thee From whom while living as by voice and penne I learned more then from a thousand men So by thy death am of one doubt releas'd And now beleeve that miracles are ceas'd Epitaph HEere lies Deane Donne Enough Those words Shew him as fully as if all the stone His Church of Pauls contains were through inscrib'd alone Or all the walkers there to speake him brib'd None can mistake him for one such as Hee DONNE Deane or Man more none shall ever see Not man No though unto a Sunne each eye Were turn'd the whole earth so to overspie A bold brave word Yet such brave Spirits as knew His Spirit will say it is lesse bold then true Epitaph upon Dr. DONNE By Endy Porter THis decent Urne a sad inscription weares Of Donnes departure from us to the spheares And the dumbe stone with silence seemes to tell The changes of this life wherein is well Exprest A cause to make all joy to cease And never let our sorrowes more take ease For now it is impossible to finde One fraught with vertues to inrich a minde But why should death with a promiscuous hand At one rude stroke impoverish a land Thou strict Attorney unto stricter Fate Didst thou confiscate his life out of hate To his rare Parts Or didst thou throw thy dart With envious hand at some Plebeyan heart And he with pious vertue stept betweene To save that stroke and so was kill'd unseene By thee O 't was his goodnesse so to doe Which humane kindnesse never reacht unto Thus the hard lawes of death were satisfi'd And he left us like Orphan friends and di'de Now from the Pulpit to the peoples eares Whose speech shall send repentant sighes and teares Or tell mee if a purer Virgin die Who shall hereafter write her Elegie Poets be silent let your numbers sleepe For he is gone that did all phansie keepe Time hath no Soule but his exalted verse Which with amazements we may now reherse FINIS The sicknes of the World Impossibility of health Shortnesse of life Smalnesse of stature Decay of nature in other parts Disformity of parts Disorder in the world Weaknesse in the want of correspondence of heaven and earth Conclusion A iust disestimation of this world Contemplation of our state in our death-bed Her liberty by death Of our company in this life and in the next Of essentiall joy in this life and in the next Of accidentall joyes in both places Conclusion La Corona