John Donne

by John Donne

  Then should I praise thee, through the tongues and arts,

  And have that deep divinity to know,

  What mysteries did from thy preaching flow,

  Who with thy words could charm thy audience,

  That at thy sermons, ear was all our sense.

  Yet have I seen thee in the pulpit stand,

  Where we might take notes, from thy look and hand,

  And from thy speaking action bear away

  [60] More sermon than 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 we might see

  An error vanquished by delivery.

  Not like our sons of zeal, who to reform

  Their hearers, fiercely at the pulpit storm,

  And beat the cushion into worse estate,

  Than if they did conclude it reprobate,

  Who can out-pray the glass, then lay about

  [70] Till all predestination be run out.

  And from the point such tedious uses draw,

  Their repetitions would make gospel, law.

  No, in such temper would thy sermons flow

  So well did doctrine, and thy language show,

  And had that holy fear, as hearing thee,

  The court would mend, and a good Christian be.

  And ladies, though unhandsome, out of grace,

  Would hear thee in their unbought looks and face.

  More I could write, but let this crown thine urn,

  [80] We cannot hope the like, till thou return.

  Upon Mr J. Donne and his Poems

  By Arth[ur] Wilson

  Who dares say thou art dead when he doth see

  (Unburied yet) this living part of thee?

  This part that to thy being gives fresh flame,

  And though th’art Donne, yet will preserve thy name.

  Thy flesh (whose channels left their crimson hue,

  And whey-like ran at last in a pale blue)

  May show thee mortal, a dead palsy may

  Seize on’t, and quickly turn it into clay,

  Which, like the Indian earth, shall rise refined.

  [10] But this great spirit thou hast left behind,

  This soul of verse (in its first pure estate)

  Shall live for all the world to imitate

  But not come near, for in thy fancy’s flight

  Thou dost not stoop unto the vulgar sight,

  But hovering highly in the air 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’adorn earth’s face, thou sweetly didst contrive

  [20] To beauty’s elements and thence derive

  Unspotted lilies white, which thou didst set

  Hand in hand with the vein-like violet,

  Making them soft and warm, and by thy power,

  Could’st give both life and sense unto a flower.

  The cherries thou hast made to speak will be

  Sweeter unto the taste than from the tree.

  And (spite of winter storms) amidst the snow,

  Thou oft hast made the blushing rose to grow.

  The sea-nymphs that the watery caverns keep

  [30] Have sent their pearls and rubies from the deep

  To deck thy love, and placed by thee they drew

  More lustre to’them than where first they grew.

  All minerals (that earth’s womb doth hold

  Promiscuously) thou could’st convert to gold,

  And with thy flaming raptures so refine

  That it was much more pure than in the mine.

  The lights that gild the night, if thou didst say

  They look like eyes, those did outshine the day;

  For there would be more virtue in such spells

  [40] Than in meridians or cross parallels.

  Whatever 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 fair world’s epitome.

  Thy nimble satires too, and every strain

  (With nervy strength) that issued from thy brain,

  Will lose the glory of their own clear bays

  If they admit of any other’s praise.

  But thy diviner poems (whose clear fire

  [50] Purges all dross away) shall by a choir

  Of cherubims with heavenly notes be set

  (Where flesh and blood could ne’er attain to yet);

  There purest spirits sing such sacred lays

  In panegyric Halleluiahs.

  Epitaph upon Dr Donne

  By Endy[mion] Porter

  This decent urn a sad inscription wears,

  Of Donne’s departure from us to the spheres,

  And the dumb stone with silence seems to tell

  The changes of this life, wherein is well

  Expressed a cause to make all joy to cease,

  And never let our sorrows more take ease,

  For now it is impossible to find

  One fraught with virtues to enrich a mind.

  But why should death with a promiscuous hand

  [10] 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 plebeian heart,

  And he with pious virtue stepped between

  To save that stroke, and so was killed unseen

  By thee? O, ’twas his goodness so to do,

  Which human kindness never reached unto.

  Thus the hard laws of death were satisfied,

  [20] And he left us like orphan friends, and died.

  Now from the pulpit to the people’s ears,

  Whose speech shall send repentant sighs and tears?

  Or tell me, if a purer virgin die,

  Who shall hereafter write her elegy?

  Poets be silent, let your numbers sleep,

  For he is gone that did all fancy keep.

  Time hath no soul, but his exalted verse,

  Which with amazements, we may now rehearse.

  In Memory of Doctor Donne

  By Mr R. B.

  Donne dead? ’Tis here reported true, though I

  Ne’er yet so much desired to hear a lie.

  ’Tis too, too true, for so we find it still,

  Good news are often false, but seldom ill.

  But must poor fame tell us his fatal day,

  And shall we know his death the common way?

  Me thinks some comet bright should have foretold

  The death of such a man, for though of old

  ’Tis held that comets prince’s death foretell,

  [10] Why should not his have needed one as well,

  Who was the prince of wits, ’mongst whom he reigned,

  High as a prince, and as great state maintained?

  Yet wants he not his sign, for we have seen

  A dearth, the like to which hath never been,

  Treading on harvest’s heels, which doth presage

  The death of wit and learning which this age

  Shall find, now he is gone; for though there be

  Much grain in show, none brought it forth as he,

  Or men are misers, or if true want raises

  [20] The dearth, then more that dearth Donne’s plenty praises.

  Of learning, languages, of eloquence,

  And poesy (past ravishing of sense),

  He had a magazine, wherein such store

  Was laid up, as might hundreds serve of poor,

  But he is gone. O how will his desire

  Torture all those that warmed them by his fire?

  Me thinks I see him in the pulpit
standing,

  Not ears, or eyes, but all men’s hearts commanding,

  Where we that heard him, to ourselves did fain

  [30] Golden Chrysostom was alive again;

  And never were we wearied, till we saw

  His hour (and but an hour) to end did draw.

  How did he shame the doctrine-men, and use,

  With helps to boot, for men to bear th’abuse

  Of their tired patience, and endure th’expense

  Of time, O spent in heark’ning to non-sense,

  With marks also, enough whereby to know,

  The speaker is a zealous dunce, or so.

  ’Tis true, they quitted him, to their poor power,

  [40] They hummed against him; and with face most sour,

  Called him a strong lined man, a macaroon,

  And no way fit to speak to clouted shoon,

  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 less understood.

  But we may say, when we compare the stuff

  Both brought, he was a candle, they the snuff.

  Well, wisdom’s of her children justified,

  [50] Let therefore these poor fellows stand aside;

  Nor, though of learning he deserved so highly,

  Would I his book should save him. Rather slyly

  I should advise his clergy not to pray,

  Though of the learned’st sort. Me thinks 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, than th’others’ ignorance.

  It was his fate (I know’it) to be envied

  [60] As much by clerks, as laymen magnified,

  And why? but ’cause he came late in the day,

  And yet his penny earned, and had as they.

  No more of this, lest some should say that I

  Am strayed to satire, meaning elegy.

  No, no, had Donne need to be judged or tried,

  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 fear nor flatter, e’er were bred;

  [70] These would I bring, though called from the dead:

  Southampton, Hambleton, Pembroke, Dorset’s earls,

  Huntingdon, Bedford’s Countesses (the pearls

  Once of each sex). 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 do I? A diminution ’tis

  To speak of him in verse so short of his,

  Whereof he was the master. All indeed

  [80] Compared with him, piped 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 speak to.) When I see’it, I’ll say,

  My eyesight betters, as my years decay,

  Meantime a quarrel I shall ever have

  Against these doughty keepers from the grave,

  Who use, it seems their old authority,

  When, Verses men immortal make, they cry;

  Which had it been a recipe true tried,

  [90] Probatum esset, Donne had never died.

  For me, if e’er I had least spark at all

  Of that which they poetic fire do call,

  Here I confess it fetched from his hearth,

  Which is gone out, now he is gone to earth.

  This only a poor flash, a lightning is

  Before my muse’s death, as after his.

  Farewell (fair soul) and deign receive from me

  This type of that devotion I owe thee,

  From whom (while living) as by voice and pen

  [100] I learned more, than from a thousand men.

  So by thy death, am of one doubt released,

  And now believe that miracles are ceased.

  Epitaph

  Here lies Dean Donne. Enough. Those words alone

  Show him as fully, as if all the stone

  His Church of Paul’s contains, were through inscribed

  Or all the walkers there, to speak him, bribed.

  None can mistake him, for one such as he,

  Donne, Dean, or man, more none shall ever see.

  Not man? No, though unto a sun each eye

  Were turned, the whole earth so to overspy.

  A bold, brave word. Yet such brave spirits as knew

  [10] His spirit will say, it is less bold than true.

  Notes

  Complete Poems

  The copy-text is 1633 unless noted otherwise. For information on Text notes, see A Note on the Texts, p. lxi.

  SONGS AND SONNETS

  The Good Morrow

  1. troth: Honesty, loyalty, with a possible allusion to a pledge-troth or engagement to marry.

  3. country: Rustic, common; a common sexual pun on ‘cunt’ry’.

  4. snorted: Snored, slumbered.

  seven sleepers’ den: Seven legendary Christian youths hid in a cave to escape religious persecution. When their exit was blocked, they fell into a deep sleep, awakening two hundred years later after Christianity had triumphed.

  19. Whatever dies was not mixed equally: Refers to the alchemical belief that a substance made of equal parts would remain permanently mixed and the medical belief that male and female seed must be equally mixed for conception to occur; the sexual pun on ‘dies’ refers to the popular belief that orgasm shortened one’s life.

  Text note: 13 others ms] other 1633

  Song (‘Go and catch a falling star’)

  2. mandrake: A poisonous and narcotic plant; the forked shape of its root was said to resemble the human body; the fruit was thought to increase women’s fertility.

  4. cleft the Devil’s foot: The Devil, associated with Pan, the god of nature, and goats, was traditionally represented as cloven-hoofed.

  5. mermaids singing: Like the mythic Sirens’ song, said to lure sailors to their death.

  9. honest: Honourable, worthy of holding a respectable position.

  27. False: Unfaithful; deceptive.

  Woman’s Constancy

  1–2. Now thou … say: The lovers are probably about to spend their first night together.

  9. those: True marriages.

  14. Vain: Futile.

  lunatic: Changeable, fickle; under the influence of the moon (Luna), who was traditionally female, suggesting that the speaker could be a woman who demands equal freedom of choice and action.

  ’scapes: Escapes; breaches of chastity; subterfuges.

  17. I may think so too: I may want our relationship to end as well.

  The Undertaking

  2. Worthies: Nine historical figures who embody the chivalric ideal, all the facets of the perfect warrior.

  6. specular stone: Selenite, a stone so rare that the art of cutting it was of little use.

  15. colour: Outward appearances; a show or semblance that conceals the truth.

  16. oldest clothes: Their outer appearance; his earliest and thus oldest impression of them.

  19. dare love that: Dare love virtue; dare make love to that woman.

  20. forget the he and she: Forget the differences between sexes; forget sex or intercourse.

  22. profane: Common.

  Text note: title The Undertaking 1635 and ms] untitled 1633, Platonic Love ms

  The Sun Rising

  7. the King will ride: Often used erroneously to date the poem after Queen Elizabeth’s death in 1603; the title ‘king’ was used by both male and female monarchs, including Elizabeth, who was as fond of hunting as her successor, James I.

  8. offices: Tasks.<
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  17. both the Indias of spice and mine: The East Indies, a source of spices, and the West Indies, known for precious metals and stones.

  30. sphere: Medieval astronomers envisaged a set of transparent hollow globes revolving round the earth and carrying with them the sun, moon, planets and fixed stars; the apparent outward limit of space.

  The Indifferent

  2. whom want betrays: Whose poverty has forced her to choose a wealthy husband or lover.

  3. who masks: Who hides her true character behind an outward show; who takes part in courtly entertainments known as masques.

  5. tries: Tries to believe; puts things to the test.

  11. do: Copulate.

  15. know: In the biblical sense – have sexual intercourse with.

  17. travail: Labour; travel.

  thorough: Through; but also thoroughly.

  travail thorough: Travel through as in a one-night affair; labour thoroughly during intercourse.

  Love’s Usury

  5. let my body reign: Let passion and sexual impulses govern my behaviour.

  6. snatch: Have a passing sexual encounter; slang for the female genitalia.

  have: Possess sexually.

  forget: Forget the nights of debauchery or forget his lover.

  7. relict: Former lover.

  10. at next nine: At 9:00 p.m., after intercepting a letter to his lover from his rival.

  11–12. mistake by the way … delay: Pretend that the maid whom he meets en route to the rendezvous is his lady-love, seduce the maid and lie about it to his lover.

  14. country grass: Rural woman, with a pun on ‘cunt’ry’.

  comfitures: Sweetmeats (with sexual allusion).

  15. quelque-choses: Dainties; insubstantial trifles (sexually suggestive).

  21. then: When I am old.

  22. fruit of love: Children.

  The Canonization

  title Canonization: Placing a pious person in the canon or calendar of saints; the lovers are canonized as saints of love.

  5. course: Course of action or career path.

  place: Position, often at court.

  7. the King’s real, or his stamped face: The King’s real face or his face stamped on a real, a Spanish coin; the pun dissolves the apparent distinction between courtiership and financial advancement.

  15. plaguy bill: List of plague victims.

  20. fly: A moth or a taper fly, which burns itself when attracted to a flame, often thought to be hermaphroditic and capable of resurrection.

  21. die: Both ‘expire’ and ‘reach sexual climax’, since orgasm was thought to shorten one’s life.