our land waters teares of passion vent Our waters then above our firmament Teares which our Soule doth for her sins let fall Take all a brackish tast and Funerall And even those teares which should wash sin are sin We after Gods Noe drowne the world againe Nothing but man of all invenom'd things Doth worke upon itselfe with inborne stings Teares are false Spectacles we cannot see Through passions mist what wee are or what shee In her this sea of death hath made no breach But as the tide doth wash the slimie beach And leaves embroderd workes upon the sand So is her flesh refin'd by deaths cold hand As men of China ' after an ages stay Do take up Porcelane where they buried Clay So at this grave her limbecke which refines The Diamonds Rubies Saphires Pearles Mines Of which this flesh was her soule shall inspire Flesh of such stuffe as God when his last fire Annuls this world to recompence it shall Make and name then th'Elixar of this All. They say the sea when it gaines loseth too If carnall Death the yonger brother doe Usurpe the body 'our soule which subject is To th' elder death by sinne is freed by this They perish both when they attempt the just For graves our trophies are and both deaths dust So unobnoxious now she'hath buried both For none to death sinnes that to sinne is loth Nor doe they die which are not loth to die So hath she this and that virginity Grace was in her extremely diligent That kept her from sinne yet made her repent Of what small spots pure white complaines Alas How little poyson cracks a christall glasse She sinn'd but just enough to let us see That extreme truth lack'd little of a lye Making omissions acts laying the touch Of sinne on things that sometimes may be such As Moses Cherubines whose natures doe Surpasse all speed by him are winged too So would her soule already'in heaven seeme then To clyme by teares the common staires of men How fit she was for God I am content To speake that death his vaine hast may repent How fit for us how even and how sweet How good in all her titles and how meet To have reform'd this forward heresie That woman can no parts of friendship bee How Morall how Divine shall not be told Lest they that heare her vertues thinke her old And lest we take Deaths part and make him glad Of such a prey and to his tryumph adde Elegie on Mris Boulstred DEath I recant and say unsaid by mee What ere hath slip'd that might diminish thee Spirituall treason atheisme 't is to say That any can thy Summons disobey Th' earths face is but thy Table there are set Plants cattell men dishes for Death to eate In a rude hunger now hee millions drawes Into his bloody or plaguy or sterv'd jawes Now hee will seeme to spare and doth more wast Eating the best first well preserv'd to last Now wantonly he spoiles and eates us not But breakes off friends and lets us peecemeale rot Nor will this earth serve him he sinkes the deepe Where harmelesse fish monastique silence keepe Who were Death dead by Roes of living sand Might spunge that element and make it land He rounds the aire and breakes the hymnique notes In birds Heavens choristers organique throats Which if they did not dye might seeme to bee A tenth ranke in the heavenly hierarchie O strong and long-liv'd death how cam'st thou in And how without Creation didst begin Thou hast and shalt see dead before thou dyest All the foure Monarchies and Antichrist How could I thinke thee nothing that see now In all this All nothing else is but thou Our births and life vices and vertues bee Wastfull consumptions and degrees of thee For wee to live our bellowes weare and breath Nor are wee mortall dying dead but death And though thou beest O mighty bird of prey So much reclaim'd by God that thou must lay All that thou kill'st at his feet yet doth hee Reserve but few and leaves the most to thee And of those few now thou hast overthrowne One whom thy blow makes not ours nor thine own She was more stories high hopelesse to come To her Soule thou'hast offer'd at her lower roome Her Soule and body was a King and Court But thou hast both of Captaine mist and fort As houses fall not though the King remove Bodies of Saints rest for their soules above Death gets'twixt soules and bodies such a place As sinne insinuates 'twixt just men and grace Both worke a separation no divorce Her Soule is gone to usherup her corse Which shall be'almost another soule for there Bodies are purer then best Soules are here Because in her her virtues did outgoe Her yeares would'st thou O emulous death do so And kill her young to thy losse must the cost Of beauty ' and wit apt to doe harme be lost What though thou found'st her proofe'gainst sins of youth Oh every age a diverse sinne pursueth Thou should'st have stay'd and taken better hold Shortly ambitious covetous when old She might have prov'd and such devotion Might once have stray'd to superstition If all her vertues must have growne yet might Abundant virtue'have bred a proud delight Had she persever'd just there would have bin Some that would sinne mis-thinking she did sinne Such as would call her friendship love and faine To sociablenesse a name profane Or sinne by tempting or not daring that By wishing though they never told her what Thus might'st thou'have slain more soules had'st thou not crost Thy selfe and to triumph thine army lost Yet though these wayes be lost thou hast left one Which is immoderate griefe that she is gone But we may scape that sinne yet weepe as much Our teares are due because we are not such Some teares that knot of friends her death must cost Because the chaine is broke but no linke lost To Sr Henry Goodyere WHo makes the Past a patterne for next yeare Turnes no new leafe but still the same things reads Seene things he sees againe heard things doth heare And makes his life but like a paire of beads A Palace when 't is that which it should be Leaves growing and stands such or else decayes But hee which dwels there is not so for hee Strives to urge upward and his fortune raise So had your body'her morning hath her noone And shall not better her next change is night But her faire larger guest to'whom Sun and Moone Are sparkes and short liv'd claimes another right The noble Soule by age growes lustier Her appetite and her digestion mend Wee must not sterve nor hope to pamper her With womens milke and pappe unto the end Provide you manlyer dyet you have seene All libraries which are Schools Camps Courts But aske your Garners if you have not beene In harvests too indulgent to your sports Would you redeeme it then your selfe transplant A while from hence Perchance outlandish ground Beares no
that vertuous man there was And as if man feeds on mans flesh and so Part of his body to another owe Yet at the last two perfect bodies rise Because God knowes where every Atome lyes So if one knowledge were made of all those Who knew his minutes well hee might dispose His vertues into names and ranks but I Should injure Nature Vertue and Destinie Should I divide and discontinue so Vertue which did in one intirenesse grow For as hee that would say spirits are fram'd Of all the purest parts that can be nam'd Honours not spirits halfe so much as hee Which sayes they have no parts but simple bee So is't of vertue for a point and one Are much entirer then a million And had Fate meant to have his vertues told It would have let him live to have beene old So then that vertue in season and then this We might have seene and said that now he is Witty now wise now temperate now just In good short lives vertues are faine to thrust And to be sure betimes to get a place When they would exercise lacke time and space So was it in this person forc'd to bee For lack of time his owne epitome So to exhibit in few yeares as much As all the long breath'd Chronicles can touch As when an Angell down from heav'n doth flye Our quick thought cannot keepe him company Wee cannot thinke now hee is at the Sunne Now through the Moon now he through th' aire doth run Yet when he 's come we know he did repaire To all twixt Heav'n and Earth Sunne Moon and Aire And as this Angell in an instant knowes And yet wee know this sodaine knowledge growes By quick amassing severall formes of things Which he successively to order brings When they whose slow-pac'd lame thoughts cannot goe So fast as hee thinke that he doth not so Just as a perfect reader doth not dwell On every syllable nor stay to spell Yet without doubt hee doth distinctly see And lay together every A and B So in short liv'd good men is'not understood Each severall vertue but the compound good For they all vertues paths in that pace tread As Angells goe and know and as men read O why should then these men these lumps of Balme Sent hither the worlds tempest to becalme Before by deeds they are diffus'd and spred And so make us alive themselves be dead O Soule O circle why so quickly bee Thy ends thy birth and death clos'd up in thee Since one foot of thy compasse still was plac'd In heav'n the other might securely'have pac'd In the most large extent through every path Which the whole world or man the abridgment hath Thou knowst that though the tropique circles have Yea and those small ones which the Poles engrave All the same roundnesse evennesse and all The endlesnesse of the equinoctiall Yet when we come to measure distances How here how there the Sunne affected is When he doth faintly worke and when prevaile Onely great circles then can be our scale So though thy circle to thy selfe expresse All tending to thy endlesse happinesse And wee by our good use of it may trye Both how to live well young and how to die Yet since we must be old and age endures His Torrid Zone at Court and calentures Of hot ambitions irrelegions ice Zeales agues and hydroptique avarice Infirmities which need the scale of truth As well as lust and ignorance of youth Why did'st thou not for these give medicines too And by thy doing tell us what to doe Though as small pocket-clocks whose every wheele Doth each mismotion and distemper feele Whose hands get shaking palsies and whose string His sinewes slackens and whose Soule the spring Expires or languishes whose pulse the flye Either beates not or beates unevenly Whose voice the Bell doth rattle or grow dumbe Or idle ' as men which to their last houres come If these clockes be not wound or be wound still Or be not set or set at every will So youth is easiest to destruction If then wee follow all or follow none Yet as in great clocks which in steeples chime Plac'd to informe whole towns to'imploy their time An error doth more harme being generall When small clocks faults only'on the wearer fall So worke the faults of age on which the eye Of children servants or the State relie Why wouldst not thou then which hadst such a soule A clock so true as might the Sunne controule And daily hadst from him who gave it thee Instructions such as it could never be Disordered stay here as a generall And great Sun-dyall to have set us All O why wouldst thou be any instrument To this unnaturall course or why consent To this not miracle but Prodigie That when the ebbs longer then flowings be Vertue whose flood did with thy youth begin Should so much faster ebb out then flow'in Though her flood was blowne in by thy first breath All is at once sunke in the whirle-poole death Which word I would not name but that I see Death else a desert growne a Court by thee Now I grow sure that if a man would have Good companie his entry is a grave Mee thinkes all Cities now but Anthills bee Where when the severall labourers I see For children house Provision taking paine They' are all but Ants carrying eggs straw and grain And Church-yards are our cities unto which The most repaire that are in goodnesse rich There is the best concourse and confluence There are the holy suburbs and from thence Begins Gods City New Jerusalem Which doth extend her utmost gates to them At that gate then Triumphant soule dost thou Begin thy Triumph But since lawes allow That at the Triumph day the people may All that they will ' gainst the Triumpher say Let me here use that freedome and expresse My griefe though not to make thy Triumph lesse By law to Triumphs none admitted bee Till they as Magistrates get victorie Though then to thy force all youthes foes did yield Yet till fit time had brought thee to that field To which thy ranke in this state destin'd thee That there thy counsailes might get victorie And so in that capacitie remove All jealousies 'twixt Prince and subjects love Thou could'st no title to this triumph have Thou didst intrude on death usurp'st a grave That though victoriously thou hadst fought as yet But with thine owne affections with the heate Of youths desires and colds of ignorance But till thou should'st successefully advance Thine armes'gainst forraine enemies which are Both Envy and acclamation popular For both these engines equally defeate Though by a divers Mine those which are great Till then thy War was but a civill War For which to Triumph none admitted are No more are they who though with good successe â—n a defensive war their power expresse Before men triumph the dominion Must be enlarg'd and not preserv'd alone Why should'st thou then whose battailes were to win Thy selfe from those straits
And makes me end where I begunne The good-morrow I Wonder by my troth what thou and I Did till we lov'd were we not wean'd till then But suck'd on countrey pleasures childishly Or snorted we in the seaven sleepers den T' was so But this all pleasures fancies bee If ever any beauty I did see Which I desir'd and got t' was but a dreame of thee And now good morrow to our waking soules Which watch not one another out of feare For love all love of other sights controules And makes one little roome an every where Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone Let Maps to other worlds on worlds have showne Let us possesse one world each hath one and is one My face in thine eye thine in mine appeares And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest Where can we finde two better hemispheares Without sharpe North without declining West What ever dyes was not mixt equally If our two loves be one or thou and I Love so alike that none doe slacken none can die Song Goe and catche a falling starre Get with child a mandrake roote Tell me where all past yeares are Or who cleft the Divels foot Teach me to heare Mermaides singing Or to keep off envies stinging And finde What winde Serves to advance an honest minde If thou beest borne to strange sights Things invisible to see Ride ten thousand daies and nights Till age snow white haires on thee Thou when thou retorn'st wilt tell mee All strange wonders that befell thee And sweare No where Lives a woman true and faire If thou findst one let mee know Such a Pilgrimage were sweet Yet doe not I would not goe Though at next doore wee might meet Though shee were true when you met her And last till you write your letter Yet shee Will bee False ere I come to two or three Womans constancy NOw thou hast lov'd me one whole day To morrow when thou leav'st 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 oathes made in reverentiall feare Of Love and his wrath any may forsweare Or as true deaths true maryages untie So lovers contracts images of those Binde but till sleep deaths image them unloose Or your owne end to Justifie For having purpos'd change and falsehood you Can have no way but falsehood to be true Vaine lunatique against these scapes I could Dispute and conquer if I would Which I abstaine to doe For by to morrow I may thinke so too I Have done one braver thing Then all the worthies did And yet a braver thence doth spring Which is to keepe that hid It were but madnes now t' impart The skill of specular stone When he which can have learn'd the art To cut it can finde none So if I now should utter this Others because no more Such stuffe to worke upon there is Would love but as before But he who lovelinesse within Hath found all outward loathes For he who colour loves and skinne Loves but their oldest clothes If as I have you also doe Vertue ' attir'd in woman see And dare love that and say so too And forget the Hee and Shee And if this love though placed so From prophane men you hide Which will no faith on this bestow Or if they doe deride Then you have done a braver thing Then all the Worthies did And a braver thence will spring Which is to keepe that hid The Sunne Rising BUsie old foole unruly Sunne Why dost thou thus Through windowes and through curtaines call on us Must to thy motions lovers seasons run Sawcy pedantique wretch goe chide Late schoole boyes and sowre prentices Goe tell Court-huntsmen that the King will ride Call countrey ants to harvest offices Love all alike no season knowes nor clyme Nor houres dayes moneths which are the rags of time Thy beames so reverend and strong Why shouldst thou thinke I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke But that I would not lose her sight so long If her eyes have not blinded thine Looke and to morrow late tell mee Whether both the'India's of spice and Myne Be where thou leftst them or lie here with mee Aske for those Kings whom thou saw'st yesterday And thou shalt heare All here in one bed lay She 'is all States and all Princes I Nothing else is Princes doe but play us compar'd to this All honor's mimique All wealth alchimie Thou sunne art halfe as happy'as wee In that the world 's contracted thus Thine age askes ease and since thy duties bee To warme the world that 's done in warming us Shine here to us and thou art every where This bed thy center is these walls thy spheare The Indifferent I Can love both faire and browne Her whom abundance melts and her whom want betraies Her who loves lonenesse best and her who maskes and plaies Her whō the country form'd whō the town Her who beleeves and her who tries Her who still weepes with spungie eyes And her who is dry corke 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 Wil it not serve your turn to do as did your mothers Or have you all old vices spent and now would finde out others Or doth a feare that men are true torment you Oh we are not be not you so Let mee and doe you twenty know Rob mee but binde me not and let me goe Must I who came to travaile thorow you Grow your fixt subject because you are true Venus heard me sigh this song And by Loves sweetest Part Variety she swore She heard not this till now and that it should be so no more She went examin'd and return'd ere long And said alas Some two or three Poore Heretiques in love there bee Which thinke to stablish dangerous constancie But I have told them since you will be true You shall be true to them who'are false to you Loves Vsury FOr every houre that thou wilt spare mee now I will allow Usurious God of Love twenty to thee When with my browne my gray haires equall bee Till then Love let my body raigne and let Mee travell sojourne snatch plot have forget Resume my last yeares relict thinke that yet We'had never met Let mee thinke any rivalls letter mine And at next nine Keepe midnights promise mistake by the way The maid and tell the Lady of that delay Onely let mee love none no not the sport From country grasse to comfitures of Court Or cities quelque choses let report My minde transport This bargaine 's good if when I 'am old I bee Inflam'd by thee If thine owne honour or my shame or paine Thou cover most at that age thou shalt gaine Doe thy will then then subject and degree And fruit of love Love I submit to thee Spare mee till then I 'll beare it though she bee One that loves
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