by John Donne
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
[10] Which never was, but must be oft, more nigh;
Come glad from thence, go gladder than you came,
Today put on perfection and a woman’s name.
Daughters of London, you which be
Our golden mines and furnished treasury,
You which are angels, yet still bring with you
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 assigned
[20] By you fit place for every flower and jewel;
Make her for love fit fuel,
As gay as Flora and as rich as Ind;
So may she fair, rich, glad, and in nothing lame,
Today put on perfection and a woman’s name.
And you frolic patricians,
Sons of these senators, wealth’s deep oceans,
Ye painted courtiers, barrels of others’ wits,
Ye country men who but your beasts love none,
Ye of those fellowships whereof he’s one,
[30] Of study’and play made strange hermaphrodites,
Here shine; this bridegroom to the temple bring.
Lo, in yon path which store of strewed flowers graceth,
The sober virgin paceth;
Except my sight fail, ’tis no other thing.
Weep not, nor blush, here is no grief nor shame,
Today 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 joined, but one they be;
[40] Then may thy lean and hunger-starvèd womb
Long time expect their bodies and their tomb,
Long after their own parents fatten thee.
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,
Today puts on perfection and a woman’s name.
O winter days bring much delight,
[50] Not for themselves, but for they soon bring night;
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 attained,
His steeds will be restrained,
But gallop lively down the western hill;
Thou shalt, when he hath run the world’s half frame,
[60] Tonight put on perfection and a woman’s name.
The amorous evening star is rose,
Why then should not our amorous star enclose
Herself in her wished 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 toiled beasts
Rest duly;’at night all their toils are dispensed,
But in their beds commenced
[70] Are other labours and more dainty feasts.
She goes a maid, who, lest she turn the same,
Tonight 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
T’adorn the day, not thee; for thou alone,
Like virtue’and truth, art best in nakedness;
This bed is only to virginity
[80] 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 be, but, I am,
Tonight 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 style doth prefer,
And at the bridegroom’s wished approach doth lie
Like an appointed lamb when tenderly
[90] The priest comes on his knees t’embowel her;
Now sleep or watch with more joy; and, O light
Of heaven, tomorrow 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,
Tonight puts on perfection and a woman’s name.
Eclogue at the Marriage of the Earl of Somerset
1613. 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 absence thence.
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 small birds, who by that courage dare
In numerous fleets sail through their sea, the air.
What delicacy can in fields appear
Whil’st Flora’herself doth a frieze jerkin wear?
Whil’st winds do all the trees and hedges strip
[10] Of leaves, to furnish rods enough to whip
Thy madness from thee; and all springs by frost
Have taken cold, and their sweet murmur lost;
If thou thy faults or fortunes would’st lament
With just solemnity, do it in Lent.
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,
[20] The first doth govern days, the other nights.
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,
[30] Then from their beams, their jewels’ lustres rise,
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 plots, fire 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 can’st thou be from thence?
IDIOS
[40] No, I am there.
As heaven, to men disposed, is everywhere,
So are those courts whose princes animate
Not only all their house, but all their state.
Let no man think, because he’is full, he’hath all;
Kings (a
s 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
[50] More of heaven’s glory than a worldling can.
As man is of the world, the heart of man
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 one common soul, give life to both;
I am not then from court.
ALLOPHANES
Dreamer, thou art.
Think’st thou, fantastic, that thou hast a part
In the East Indian fleet because thou hast
[60] A little spice or amber in thy taste?
Because thou art not frozen, art thou warm?
See’st thou all good because thou see’st no harm?
The earth doth in her inward 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
From higher powers; from God religion springs,
[70] Wisdom and honour from the use of kings.
Then unbeguile thyself, and know with me
That angels, though on earth employed they be,
Are still in heav’n; so is he still at home
That doth abroad to honest actions come.
Chide thyself then, O fool, which yesterday
Might’st 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 the king’s are just?
[80] And where it is no levity to trust?
Where there is no ambition but to’obey,
Where men need whisper nothing, and yet may;
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 unto 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,
[90] And is no more in his minority;
He is admitted now into that breast
Where the king’s counsels and his secrets rest.
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
Of his own thoughts; I would not therefore stay
At a great feast, having no grace to say.
[100] And yet I ’scaped not here; for being come
Full of the common joy, I uttered some.
Read then this nuptial song, which was not made
Either the court or men’s hearts to invade,
But since I’am 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.
Epithalamion
I
The Time of the Marriage
Thou art reprieved, old year, thou shalt not die,
Though thou upon thy death-bed lie,
[110] 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.
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.
II
Equality of Persons
But undiscerning Muse, which heart, which eyes,
[120] 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
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 th’inflaming eyes, and both the loving heart?
III
Raising of the Bridegroom
[130] Though it be some divorce to think of you
Singly, so much one are you two,
Yet let me here contemplate thee
First, cheerful Bridegroom, and first let me see
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,
[140] The fire of thy inflaming eyes, and of thy loving heart.
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
Thou in first rising should’st allow for it.
Powder thy radiant hair,
Which if without such ashes thou would’st wear,
Thou, which to all which come to look upon,
Art meant for Phoebus, would’st be Phaëton.
For our ease give thine eyes th’unusual part
[150] Of joy, a tear; so quenched, thou may’st 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 see.
So dost thou, when in silk and gold
Thou clad’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.
[160] 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.
VI
Going to the Chapel
Now from your easts you issue forth, and we,
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,
[170] And now the Militant 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.
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;
[180] Raise heirs, and may here to the world’s end live
Heirs from this king to take
thanks, yours to give,
Nature and grace do all, and nothing art.
May never age or error overthwart
With any west these radiant eyes, with any north this heart.
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
[190] That the earth moved, this day would make it true;
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,
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 would’st sleep?
Thou may’st not, when thou’art laid, do so.
Thyself must to him a new banquet grow,
[200] 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.
Therefore thou may’st, fair bride, to bed depart;
Thou art not gone being gone; where’er thou art
Thou leav’st in him thy watchful eyes, in him thy loving
heart.
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,
[210] Being told this star is fallen, and finds her such.
And as friends may look strange
By a new fashion, or apparel’s change,
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 Tullia’s tomb, one lamp burnt clear,
Unchanged for fifteen hundred year,
[220] 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,
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.
