The Poems of John Donne, Volume 1 (of 2) / Edited from the Old Editions and Numerous Manuscripts

by John Donne

ELEGIES UPON THE AUTHOR

[Note]

TO THE MEMORIE OF
MY EVER DESIRED FRIEND
D^r. Donne.

TO have liv'd eminent, in a degree

Beyond our lofty'st flights, that is, like Thee,

Or t'have had too much merit, is not safe;

For, such excesses finde no Epitaph.

5At common graves we have Poetique eyes

Can melt themselves in easie Elegies,

Each quill can drop his tributary verse,

And pin it, like the Hatchments, to the Hearse:

But at Thine, Poeme, or Inscription

10(Rich soule of wit, and language) we have none.

Indeed a silence does that tombe befit,

Where is no Herald left to blazon it.

Widow'd invention justly doth forbeare

To come abroad, knowing Thou art not here,

15Late her great Patron; Whose Prerogative

Maintain'd, and cloth'd her so, as none alive

Must now presume, to keepe her at thy rate,

Though he the Indies for her dowre estate.

Or else that awfull fire, which once did burne

20In thy cleare Braine, now falne into thy Urne

Lives there, to fright rude Empiricks from thence,

Which might prophane thee by their Ignorance.

Who ever writes of Thee, and in a stile

Unworthy such a Theme, does but revile

25Thy precious Dust, and wake a learned Spirit

Which may revenge his Rapes upon thy Merit.

For, all a low pitch't phansie can devise,

Will prove, at best, but Hallow'd Injuries.

Thou, like the dying Swanne, didst lately sing

30Thy Mournfull Dirge, in audience of the King;

When pale lookes, and faint accents of thy breath,

Presented so, to life, that peece of death,

That it was fear'd, and prophesi'd by all,

Thou thither cam'st to preach thy Funerall.

35O! had'st Thou in an Elegiacke Knell

Rung out unto the world thine owne farewell,

And in thy High Victorious Numbers beate

The solemne measure of thy griev'd Retreat;

Thou might'st the Poets service now have mist

40As well, as then thou did'st prevent the Priest;

And never to the world beholding bee

So much, as for an Epitaph for thee.

I doe not like the office. Nor is't fit

Thou, who did'st lend our Age such summes of wit,

45Should'st now re-borrow from her bankrupt Mine,

That Ore to Bury Thee, which once was Thine,

Rather still leave us in thy debt; And know

(Exalted Soule) more glory 'tis to owe

Unto thy Hearse, what we can never pay,

50Then, with embased Coine those Rites defray.

Commit we then Thee to Thy selfe: Nor blame

Our drooping loves, which thus to thy owne Fame

Leave Thee Executour. Since, but thine owne,

No pen could doe Thee Justice, nor Bayes Crowne

55Thy vast desert; Save that, wee nothing can

Depute, to be thy Ashes Guardian.

So Jewellers no Art, or Metall trust

To forme the Diamond, but the Diamonds dust.

H. K.

To the &c. Also in Deaths Duell. 1632, Walton's Lives 1670, King's Poems. 1657, 1664, 1700

14 here] there 1632

31 faint] weak 1632

57 or] nor 1632

---

[Note]

To the deceased Author,

Upon the Promiscuous printing of his Poems, the
Looser sort, with the Religious.

WHEN thy Loose raptures, Donne, shall meet with Those

That doe confine

Tuning, unto the Duller line,

And sing not, but in Sanctified Prose;

5How will they, with sharper eyes,

The Fore-skinne of thy phansie circumcise?

And feare, thy wantonnesse should now, begin

Example, that hath ceased to be Sin?

And that Feare fannes their Heat; whilst knowing eyes

10Will not admire

At this Strange Fire,

That here is mingled with thy Sacrifice:

But dare reade even thy Wanton Story,

As thy Confession, not thy Glory.

15And will so envie Both to future times,

That they would buy thy Goodnesse, with thy Crimes.

Tho: Browne.

---

[Note]

On the death of D^r Donne.

I CANNOT blame those men, that knew thee well,

Yet dare not helpe the world, to ring thy knell

In tunefull Elegies; there's not language knowne

Fit for thy mention, but 'twas first thy owne;

5The Epitaphs thou writst, have so bereft

Our tongue of wit, there is not phansie left

Enough to weepe thee; what henceforth we see

Of Art or Nature, must result from thee.

There may perchance some busie gathering friend

10Steale from thy owne workes, and that, varied, lend,

Which thou bestow'st on others, to thy Hearse,

And so thou shalt live still in thine owne verse;

Hee that shall venture farther, may commit

A pitied errour, shew his zeale, not wit.

15Fate hath done mankinde wrong; vertue may aime

Reward of conscience, never can, of fame,

Since her great trumpet's broke, could onely give

Faith to the world, command it to beleeve;

Hee then must write, that would define thy parts:

20Here lyes the best Divinitie, All the Arts.

Edw. Hyde.

On the &c. Also in Deaths Duell. 1632

4 thy] thine 1632

6 tongue] pens 1632

---

[Note]

On Doctor Donne,

By D^r C. B. of O.

HEE that would write an Epitaph for thee,

And do it well, must first beginne to be

Such as thou wert; for, none can truly know

Thy worth, thy life, but he that hath liv'd so;

5He must have wit to spare and to hurle downe:

Enough, to keepe the gallants of the towne.

He must have learning plenty; both the Lawes,

Civill, and Common, to judge any cause;

Divinity great store, above the rest;

10Not of the last Edition, but the best.

Hee must have language, travaile, all the Arts;

Judgement to use; or else he wants thy parts.

He must have friends the highest, able to do;

Such as Mecœnas, and Augustus too.

15He must have such a sicknesse, such a death;

Or else his vaine descriptions come beneath;

Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee,

He must be dead first, let'it alone for mee.

On &c. Also in Corbet's Poems 1647

---

[Note]

An Elegie upon the incomparable D^r DONNE.

A LL is not well when such a one as I

Dare peepe abroad, and write an Elegie;

When smaller Starres appeare, and give their light,

Phœbus is gone to bed: Were it not night,

5And the world witlesse now that Donne is dead,

You sooner should have broke, then seene my head.

Dead did I say? Forgive this Injury

I doe him, and his worthes Infinity,

To say he is but dead; I dare averre

10It better may be term'd a Massacre,

Then Sleepe or Death; See how the Muses mourne

Upon their oaten Reeds, and from his Vrne

Threaten the World with this Calamity,

They shall have Ballads, but no Poetry.

15Language lyes speechlesse; and Divinity,

Lost such a Trump as even to Extasie

Could charme the Soule, and had an Influence

To teach best judgements, and please dullest Sense.

The Court, the Church, the Vniversitie,

20Lost Chaplaine, Deane, and Doctor, All these, Three.

It was his Merit, that his Funerall

Could cause a losse so great and generall.

If there be any Spirit can answer give

Of such as hence depart, to such as live:

25Speake, Doth his body there vermiculate,

Crumble to dust, and feele the lawes of Fate?

Me thinkes, Corruption, Wormes, what else is foule

Should spare the Temple of so faire a Soule.

I could beleeve they doe; but that I know

30What inconvenience might hereafter grow:

Succeeding ages would Idolatrize,

And as his Numbers, so his Reliques prize.

If that Philosopher, which did avow

The world to be but Motes, was living now:

35He would affirme that th' Atomes of his mould

Were they in severall bodies blended, would

Produce new worlds of Travellers, Divines,

Of Linguists, Poets: sith these severall lines

In him concentred were, and flowing thence

40Might fill againe the worlds Circumference.

I could beleeve this too; and yet my faith

Not want a President: The Phœnix hath

(And such was He) a power to animate

Her ashes, and herselfe perpetuate.

45But, busie Soule, thou dost not well to pry

Into these Secrets; Griefe, and Iealousie,

The more they know, the further still advance,

And finde no way so safe as Ignorance.

Let this suffice thee, that his Soule which flew

50A pitch of all admir'd, known but of few,

(Save those of purer mould) is now translated

From Earth to Heaven, and there Constellated.

For, if each Priest of God shine as a Starre,

His Glory is as his Gifts, 'bove others farre.

Hen. Valentine.

---

[Note]

An Elegie upon D^r Donne.

I S Donne, great Donne deceas'd? then England say

Thou 'hast lost a man where language chose to stay

And shew it's gracefull power. I would not praise

That and his vast wit (which in these vaine dayes

5Make many proud) but as they serv'd to unlock

That Cabinet, his minde: where such a stock

Of knowledge was repos'd, as all lament

(Or should) this generall cause of discontent.

And I rejoyce I am not so severe,

10But (as I write a line) to weepe a teare

For his decease; Such sad extremities

May make such men as I write Elegies.

And wonder not; for, when a generall losse

Falls on a nation, and they slight the crosse,

15God hath rais'd Prophets to awaken them

From stupifaction; witnesse my milde pen,

Not us'd to upbraid the world, though now it must

Freely and boldly, for, the cause is just.

Dull age, Oh I would spare thee, but th'art worse,

20Thou art not onely dull, but hast a curse

Of black ingratitude; if not, couldst thou

Part with miraculous Donne, and make no vow

For thee and thine, successively to pay

A sad remembrance to his dying day?

25Did his youth scatter Poetrie, wherein

Was all Philosophie? Was every sinne,

Character'd in his Satyres? made so foule

That some have fear'd their shapes, and kept their soule

Freer by reading verse? Did he give dayes

30Past marble monuments, to those, whose praise

He would perpetuate? Did hee (I feare

The dull will doubt:) these at his twentieth yeare?

But, more matur'd: Did his full soule conceive,

And in harmonious-holy-numbers weave

La Corona.

35A Crowne of sacred sonets, fit to adorne

A dying Martyrs brow: or, to be worne

On that blest head of Mary Magdalen:

After she wip'd Christs feet, but not till then?

Did hee (fit for such penitents as shee

40And hee to use) leave us a Litany?

Which all devout men love, and sure, it shall,

As times grow better, grow more classicall.

Did he write Hymnes, for piety and wit

Equall to those great grave Prudentius writ?

45Spake he all Languages? knew he all Lawes?

The grounds and use of Physicke; but because

'Twas mercenary wav'd it? Went to see

That blessed place of Christs nativity?

Did he returne and preach him? preach him so

50As none but hee did, or could do? They know

(Such as were blest to heare him know) 'tis truth.

Did he confirme thy age? convert thy youth?

Did he these wonders? And is this deare losse

Mourn'd by so few? (few for so great a crosse.)

55But sure the silent are ambitious all

To be Close Mourners at his Funerall;

If not; In common pitty they forbare

By repetitions to renew our care;

Or, knowing, griefe conceiv'd, conceal'd, consumes

60Man irreparably, (as poyson'd fumes

Do waste the braine) make silence a safe way

To'inlarge the Soule from these walls, mud and clay,

(Materialls of this body) to remaine

With Donne in heaven, where no promiscuous paine

65Lessens the joy wee have, for, with him, all

Are satisfyed with joyes essentiall.

My thoughts, Dwell on this Ioy, and do not call

Griefe backe, by thinking of his Funerall;

Forget he lov'd mee; Waste not my sad yeares;

70(Which haste to Davids seventy, fill'd with feares

And sorrow for his death;) Forget his parts,

Which finde a living grave in good mens hearts;

And, (for, my first is daily paid for sinne)

Forget to pay my second sigh for him:

75Forget his powerfull preaching; and forget

I am his Convert. Oh my frailtie! let

My flesh be no more heard, it will obtrude

This lethargie: so should my gratitude,

My vowes of gratitude should so be broke;

80Which can no more be, then Donnes vertues spoke

By any but himselfe; for which cause, I

Write no Encomium, but an Elegie.

Iz. Wa.

An Elegie &c. See note

1-3

Our Donne is dead; England should mourne, may say

We had a man where language chose to stay

And shew her gracefull power 1635-69

35 Crowne] Crowme 1633

---

[Note]

An Elegie upon the death of the
Deane of Pauls, D^r. Iohn Donne:

By M^r. Tho: Carie.

C AN we not force from widdowed Poetry,

Now thou art dead (Great Donne) one Elegie

To crowne thy Hearse? Why yet dare we not trust

Though with unkneaded dowe-bak't prose thy dust,

5Such as the uncisor'd Churchman from the flower

Of fading Rhetorique, short liv'd as his houre,

Dry as the sand that measures it, should lay

Upon thy Ashes, on the funerall day?

Have we no voice, no tune? Did'st thou dispense

10Through all our language, both the words and sense?

'Tis a sad truth: The Pulpit may her plaine,

And sober Christian precepts still retaine,

Doctrines it may, and wholesome Uses frame,

Grave Homilies, and Lectures, But the flame

15Of thy brave Soule, that shot such heat and light,

As burnt our earth, and made our darknesse bright,

Committed holy Rapes upon our Will,

Did through the eye the melting heart distill;

And the deepe knowledge of darke truths so teach,

20As sense might judge, what phansie could not reach;

Must be desir'd for ever. So the fire,

That fills with spirit and heat the Delphique quire,

Which kindled first by thy Promethean breath,

Glow'd here a while, lies quench't now in thy death;

25The Muses garden with Pedantique weedes

O'rspred, was purg'd by thee; The lazie seeds

Of servile imitation throwne away;

And fresh invention planted, Thou didst pay

The debts of our penurious bankrupt age;

30Licentious thefts, that make poëtique rage

A Mimique fury, when our soules must bee

Possest, or with Anacreons Extasie,

Or Pindars, not their owne; The subtle cheat

Of slie Exchanges, and the jugling feat

35Of two-edg'd words, or whatsoever wrong

By ours was done the Greeke, or Latine tongue,

Thou hast redeem'd, and open'd Us a Mine

Of rich and pregnant phansie, drawne a line

Of masculine expression, which had good

40Old Orpheus seene, Or all the ancient Brood

Our superstitious fooles admire, and hold

Their lead more precious, then thy burnish't Gold,

Thou hadst beene their Exchequer, and no more

They each in others dust, had rak'd for Ore.

45Thou shalt yield no precedence, but of time,

And the blinde fate of language, whose tun'd chime

More charmes the outward sense; Yet thou maist claime

From so great disadvantage greater fame,

Since to the awe of thy imperious wit

50Our stubborne language bends, made only fit

With her tough-thick-rib'd hoopes to gird about

Thy Giant phansie, which had prov'd too stout

For their soft melting Phrases. As in time

They had the start, so did they cull the prime

55Buds of invention many a hundred yeare,

And left the rifled fields, besides the feare

To touch their Harvest, yet from those bare lands

Of what is purely thine, thy only hands

(And that thy smallest worke) have gleaned more

60Then all those times, and tongues could reape before;

But thou art gone, and thy strict lawes will be

Too hard for Libertines in Poetrie.

They will repeale the goodly exil'd traine

Of gods and goddesses, which in thy just raigne

65Were banish'd nobler Poems, now, with these

The silenc'd tales o'th'Metamorphoses

Shall stuffe their lines, and swell the windy Page,

Till Verse refin'd by thee, in this last Age,

Turne ballad rime, Or those old Idolls bee

70Ador'd againe, with new apostasie;

Oh, pardon mee, that breake with untun'd verse

The reverend silence that attends thy herse,

Whose awfull solemne murmures were to thee

More then these faint lines, A loud Elegie,

75That did proclaime in a dumbe eloquence

The death of all the Arts, whose influence

Growne feeble, in these panting numbers lies

Gasping short winded Accents, and so dies:

So doth the swiftly turning wheele not stand

80In th'instant we withdraw the moving hand,

But some small time maintaine a faint weake course

By vertue of the first impulsive force:

And so whil'st I cast on thy funerall pile

Thy crowne of Bayes, Oh, let it crack a while,

85And spit disdaine, till the devouring flashes

Suck all the moysture up, then turne to ashes.

I will not draw the envy to engrosse

All thy perfections, or weepe all our losse;

Those are too numerous for an Elegie,

90And this too great, to be express'd by mee.

Though every pen should share a distinct part,

Yet art thou Theme enough to tyre all Art;

Let others carve the rest, it shall suffice

I on thy Tombe this Epitaph incise.

95Here lies a King, that rul'd as hee thought fit

The universall Monarchy of wit;

Here lie two Flamens, and both those, the best,

Apollo's first, at last, the true Gods Priest.

An Elegie &c. Also in Carew's Poems 1640. See note

---

[Note]

An Elegie on D^r. Donne: By Sir Lucius Carie.

POETS attend, the Elegie I sing

Both of a doubly-named Priest, and King:

In stead of Coates, and Pennons, bring your Verse,

For you must bee chiefe mourners at his Hearse,

5A Tombe your Muse must to his Fame supply,

No other Monuments can never die;

And as he was a two-fold Priest; in youth,

Apollo's; afterwards, the voice of Truth,

Gods Conduit-pipe for grace, who chose him for

10His extraordinary Embassador,

So let his Liegiers with the Poets joyne,

Both having shares, both must in griefe combine:

Whil'st Johnson forceth with his Elegie

Teares from a griefe-unknowing Scythians eye,

15(Like Moses at whose stroke the waters gusht

From forth the Rock, and like a Torrent rusht.)

Let Lawd his funerall Sermon preach, and shew

Those vertues, dull eyes were not apt to know,

Nor leave that Piercing Theme, till it appeares

20To be goodfriday, by the Churches Teares;

Yet make not griefe too long oppresse our Powers,

Least that his funerall Sermon should prove ours.

Nor yet forget that heavenly Eloquence,

With which he did the bread of life dispense,

25Preacher and Orator discharg'd both parts

With pleasure for our sense, health for our hearts,

And the first such (Though a long studied Art

Tell us our soule is all in every part,)

None was so marble, but whil'st him he heares,

30His Soule so long dwelt only in his eares.

And from thence (with the fiercenesse of a flood

Bearing downe vice) victual'd with that blest food

Their hearts; His seed in none could faile to grow,

Fertile he found them all, or made them so:

35No Druggist of the Soule bestow'd on all

So Catholiquely a curing Cordiall.

Nor only in the Pulpit dwelt his store,

His words work'd much, but his example more,

That preach't on worky dayes, His Poetrie

40It selfe was oftentimes divinity,

Those Anthemes (almost second Psalmes) he writ

To make us know the Crosse, and value it,

(Although we owe that reverence to that name

Wee should not need warmth from an under flame.)

45Creates a fire in us, so neare extreme

That we would die, for, and upon this theme.

Next, his so pious Litany, which none can

But count Divine, except a Puritan,

And that but for the name, nor this, nor those

50Want any thing of Sermons, but the prose.

Experience makes us see, that many a one

Owes to his Countrey his Religion;

And in another, would as strongly grow,

Had but his Nurse and Mother taught him so,

55Not hee the ballast on his Judgement hung;

Nor did his preconceit doe either wrong;

He labour'd to exclude what ever sinne

By time or carelessenesse had entred in;

Winnow'd the chaffe from wheat, but yet was loath

60A too hot zeale should force him, burne them both;

Nor would allow of that so ignorant gall,

Which to save blotting often would blot all;

Nor did those barbarous opinions owne,

To thinke the Organs sinne, and faction, none;

65Nor was there expectation to gaine grace

From forth his Sermons only, but his face;

So Primitive a looke, such gravitie

With humblenesse, and both with Pietie;

So milde was Moses countenance, when he prai'd

70For them whose Satanisme his power gainsaid;

And such his gravitie, when all Gods band

Receiv'd his word (through him) at second hand,

Which joyn'd, did flames of more devotion move

Then ever Argive Hellens could of love.

75Now to conclude, I must my reason bring,

Wherefore I call'd him in his title King,

That Kingdome the Philosophers beleev'd

To excell Alexanders, nor were griev'd

By feare of losse (that being such a Prey

80No stronger then ones selfe can force away)

The Kingdome of ones selfe, this he enjoy'd,

And his authoritie so well employ'd,

That never any could before become

So Great a Monarch, in so small a roome;

85He conquer'd rebell passions, rul'd them so,

As under-spheares by the first Mover goe,

Banish't so farre their working, that we can

But know he had some, for we knew him man.

Then let his last excuse his first extremes,

90His age saw visions, though his youth dream'd dreams.

72 Receiv'd] Receiv' 1633

---

[Note]

On D^r. Donnes death:

By M^r. Mayne of Christ-Church in Oxford.

WHO shall presume to mourn thee, Donne, unlesse

He could his teares in thy expressions dresse,

And teach his griefe that reverence of thy Hearse,

To weepe lines, learned, as thy Anniverse,

5A Poëme of that worth, whose every teare

Deserves the title of a severall yeare.

Indeed so farre above its Reader, good,

That wee are thought wits, when 'tis understood,

There that blest maid to die, who now should grieve?

10After thy sorrow, 'twere her losse to live;

And her faire vertues in anothers line,

Would faintly dawn, which are made Saints in thine.

Hadst thou beene shallower, and not writ so high,

Or left some new way for our pennes, or eye,

15To shed a funerall teare, perchance thy Tombe

Had not beene speechlesse, or our Muses dumbe;

But now wee dare not write, but must conceale

Thy Epitaph, lest we be thought to steale,

For, who hath read thee, and discernes thy worth,

20That will not say, thy carelesse houres brought forth

Fancies beyond our studies, and thy play

Was happier, then our serious time of day?

So learned was thy chance; thy haste had wit,

And matter from thy pen flow'd rashly fit,

25What was thy recreation turnes our braine,

Our rack and palenesse, is thy weakest straine.

And when we most come neere thee, 'tis our blisse

To imitate thee, where thou dost amisse.

Here light your muse, you that do onely thinke,

30And write, and are just Poëts, as you drinke,

In whose weake fancies wit doth ebbe and flow,

Just as your recknings rise, that wee may know

In your whole carriage of your worke, that here

This flash you wrote in Wine, and this in Beere,

35This is to tap your Muse, which running long

Writes flat, and takes our eare not halfe so strong;

Poore Suburbe wits, who, if you want your cup,

Or if a Lord recover, are blowne up.

Could you but reach this height, you should not need

40To 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;

45From 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

50Is 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,

55Who 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

60More 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.

65Not 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

70Till 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,

75And 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, and face.

More I could write, but let this crowne thine Urne,

80Wee cannot hope the like, till thou returne.

---

[Note]

Upon M^r J. Donne, and his Poems.

WHO 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.

5Thy 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:

10But 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 fight,

15But, 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

20To 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.

25The 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,

30Have 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,

35And 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,

40Then 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.

45Thy 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

50Purges 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.

---

[Note]

In memory of Doctor Donne:
By M^r R. B.

D ONNE dead? 'Tis here reported true, though I

Ne'r yet so much desir'd to heare a lye,

'Tis too too true, for so wee finde it still,

Good newes are often false, but seldome, ill:

5But 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

'Tis held, that Comets Princes death foretell,

10Why 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,

15Treading 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

20The 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.

25But 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

30Golden 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

35Of 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.

'Tis true, they quitted him, to their poore power,

40They 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.

45Thus 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,

50Let 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

55Of 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

60As 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.

65No, 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 flatter, e'r were bred,

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

Southampton, Hambleton, Pembrooke, Dorsets Earles,

Huntingdon, Bedfords Countesses (the Pearles

Once of each sexe.) If these suffice not, I

Ten decem tales have of Standers by:

75All which, for Donne, would such a verdict give,

As can belong to none, that now doth live.

But what doe I? A diminution 'tis

To speake of him in verse, so short of his,

Whereof he was the master; All indeed

80Compar'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,

85Meane 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,

90Probatum 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.

95This 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

100I 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.

---

[Note]

Epitaph.

HEERE lies Deane Donne; Enough; Those words alone

Shew him as fully, as if all the stone

His Church of Pauls contains, were through inscrib'd

Or all the walkers there, to speake him, brib'd.

5None 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

10His Spirit, will say, it is lesse bold then true.

---

[Note]

Epitaph upon D^r. 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

5Exprest, 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

10At 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;

15And he with pious vertue stept betweene

To save that stroke, and so was kill'd unseene

By thee? O 'twas his goodnesse so to doe,

Which humane kindnesse never reacht unto.

Thus the hard lawes of death were satisfi'd,

20And 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?

25Poets 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.

---

[Note]

In obitum venerabilis viri Iohannis Donne, sacræ
Theologiæ Doctoris, Ecclesiæ Cathedralis Divi Pauli,
nuper Decani; Illi honoris, tibi (multum mihi colende
Vir) observantiæ ergo Hæc ego.

C ONQUERAR? ignavoque sequar tua funera planctu?

Sed lachrimæ clausistis iter: nec muta querelas

Lingua potest proferre pias: ignoscite manes

Defuncti, & tacito finite indulgere dolori.

5Sed scelus est tacuisse: cadant in mœsta lituræ

Verba. Tuis (docta umbra) tuis hæc accipe jussis

Cæpta, nec officii contemnens pignora nostri

Aversare tuâ non dignum laude Poëtam.

O si Pythagoræ non vanum dogma fuisset:

10Inque meum â vestro migraret pectore pectus

Musa, repentinos tua nosceret urna furores.

Sed frustra, heu frustra hæc votis puerilibus opto:

Tecum abiit, summoq́ue sedens jam monte Thalia

Ridet anhelantes, Parnassi & culmina vates

15Desperare jubet. Verum hâc nolente coactos

Scribimus audaces numeros, & flebile carmen

Scribimus (ô soli qui te dilexit) habendum.

Siccine perpetuus liventia lumina somnus

Clausit? & immerito merguntur funere virtus?

20Et pietas? & quæ poterant fecisse beatum,

Cætera, sed nec te poterant servare beatum.

Quo mihi doctrinam? quorsum impallescere chartis

Nocturnis juvat? & totidem olfecisse lucernas?

Decolor & longos studiis deperdere Soles

25Vt prius aggredior, longamque arcessere famam.

Omnia sed frustra: mihi dum cunctisque minatur

Exitium crudele & inexorabile fatum.

Nam post te sperare nihil decet: hoc mihi restat

Vt moriar, tenues fugiatque obscurus in auras

30Spiritus: ô doctis saltem si cognitus umbris.

Illic te (venerande) iterum, (venerande) videbo.

Et dulces audire sonós, & verba diserti

Oris, & æternas dabitur mihi carpere voces.

Quêis ferus infernæ tacuisset Ianitor aulæ

35Auditis: Nilusq́ue minus strepuisset: Arion

Cederet, & sylvas qui post se traxerat Orpheus.

Eloquio sic ille viros, sic ille movere

Voce feros potuit: quis enim tam barbarus? aut tam

Facundis nimis infestus non motus ut illo

40Hortante, & blando victus sermone sileret?

Sic oculos, sic ille manus, sic ora ferebat,

Singula sic decuere senem, sic omnia. Vidi,

Audivi & stupui quoties orator in Æde

Paulina stetit, & mira gravitate levantes

45Corda, oculosq́ue viros tenuit: dum Nestoris ille

Fudit verba (omni quanta mage dulcia melle?)

Nunc habet attonitos, pandit mysteria plebi

Non concessa prius nondumi intellecta: revolvunt

Mirantes, tacitique arrectis auribus astant.

50Mutatis mox ille modo, formaq́ue loquendi

Tristia pertractat: fatumq́ue & flebile mortis

Tempus, & in cineres redeunt quod corpora primos.

Tunc gemitum cunctos dare, tunc lugere videres,

Forsitan à lachrymis aliquis non temperat, atque

55Ex oculis largum stillat rorem; ætheris illo

Sic pater audito voluit succumbere turbam,

Affectusq́ue ciere suos, & ponere notæ

Vocis ad arbitrium, divinæ oracula mentis

Dum narrat, rostrisque potens dominatur in altis.

60Quo feror? audaci & forsan pietate nocenti

In nimia ignoscas vati, qui vatibus olim

Egregium decus, et tanto excellentior unus

Omnibus; inferior quanto est, et pessimus, impar

Laudibus hisce, tibi qui nunc facit ista Poëta.

65Et quo nos canimus? cur hæc tibi sacra? Poëtæ

Desinite: en fati certus, sibi voce canorâ

Inferias præmisit olor, cum Carolus Albâ

(Vltima volventem et Cycnæâ voce loquentem)

Nuper eum, turba & magnatum audiret in Aulâ.

70Tunc Rex, tunc Proceres, Clerus, tunc astitit illi

Aula frequens. Solâ nunc in tellure recumbit,

Vermibus esca, pio malint nisi parcere: quidni

Incipiant & amare famem? Metuere Leones

Sic olim, sacrosque artus violare Prophetæ

75Bellua non ausa est qùamquam jejuna, sitimq́ue

Optaret nimis humano satiare cruore.

At non hæc de te sperabimus; omnia carpit

Prædator vermis: nec talis contigit illi

Præda diu; forsan metrico pede serpet ab inde:

80Vescere, & exhausto satia te sanguine. Iam nos

Adsumus; et post te cupiet quis vivere? Post te

Quis volet, aut poterit? nam post te vivere mors est.

Et tamen ingratas ignavi ducimus auras:

Sustinet & tibi lingua vale, vale dicere: parce

85Non festinanti æternum requiescere turbæ.

Ipsa satis properat quæ nescit Parca morari,

Nunc urgere colum, trahere atq́ue occare videmus.

Quin rursus (Venerande) Vale, vale: ordine nos te

Quo Deus, & quo dura volet natura sequemur.

90Depositum interea lapides servate fideles.

Fœlices illâ quêis Ædis parte locari

Quâ jacet iste datur. Forsan lapis inde loquetur,

Parturietque viro plenus testantia luctus

Verba: & carminibus quæ Donni suggeret illi

95Spiritus, insolitos testari voce calores

Incipiet: (non sic Pyrrhâ jactante calebat.)

Mole sub hâc tegitur quicquid mortale relictum est

De tanto mortale viro. Qui præfuit Ædi huic,

Formosi pecoris pastor, formosior ipse.

100Ite igitur, dignisq́ue illum celebrate loquelis,

Et quæ demuntur vitæ date tempora famæ.

Indignus tantorum meritorum Præco, virtutum

tuarum cultor religiosissimus,

Daniel Darnelly.

In obitum &c. 1635-69, taking the place of the lines by Tho: Browne.

10 pectore] pectore, 1635

21 beatum.] beatum 1635

23 olfecisse] olfecissë 1635

25 prius aggredior, 1635-69: prius, aggredior, 1719 arcessere Ed: accessere 1635-69

26-7 mihi dum ... Exitium 1719: mihi, dum ... Exitium, 1635-39: mihi dum, ... Exitium, 1650-69

38 Voce feros] Voceferos 1635, 1669

79 inde:] inde 1635-39

86 Parca] parca 1635-69

morari,] morari 1635

88 rursus 1719: rusus 1635: nusus 1639-69

96 Incipiet: ... calebat. 1719: no stops, 1635-69

---

[Note]

Elegie on D. D.

NOW, by one yeare, time and our frailtie have

Lessened our first confusion, since the Grave

Clos'd thy deare Ashes, and the teares which flow

In these, have no springs, but of solid woe:

5Or they are drops, which cold amazement froze

At thy decease, and will not thaw in Prose:

All streames of Verse which shall lament that day,

Doe truly to the Ocean tribute pay;

But they have lost their saltnesse, which the eye

10In recompence of wit, strives to supply:

Passions excesse for thee wee need not feare,

Since first by thee our passions hallowed were;

Thou mad'st our sorrowes, which before had bin

Onely for the Successe, sorrowes for sinne,

15We owe thee all those teares, now thou art dead,

Which we shed not, which for our selves we shed.

Nor didst thou onely consecrate our teares,

Give a religious tincture to our feares;

But even our joyes had learn'd an innocence,

20Thou didst from gladnesse separate offence:

All mindes at once suckt grace from thee, as where

(The curse revok'd) the Nations had one eare.

Pious dissector: thy one houre did treate

The thousand mazes of the hearts deceipt;

25Thou didst pursue our lov'd and subtill sinne,

Through all the foldings wee had wrapt it in,

And in thine owne large minde finding the way

By which our selves we from our selves convey,

Didst in us, narrow models, know the same

30Angles, though darker, in our meaner frame.

How short of praise is this? My Muse, alas,

Climbes weakly to that truth which none can passe,

Hee that writes best, may onely hope to leave

A Character of all he could conceive

35But none of thee, and with mee must confesse,

That fansie findes some checke, from an excesse

Of merit most, of nothing, it hath spun,

And truth, as reasons task and theame, doth shunne.

She makes a fairer flight in emptinesse,

40Than when a bodied truth doth her oppresse.

Reason againe denies her scales, because

Hers are but scales, shee judges by the lawes

Of weake comparison, thy vertue sleights

Her feeble Beame, and her unequall Weights.

45What prodigie of wit and pietie

Hath she else knowne, by which to measure thee?

Great soule: we can no more the worthinesse

Of what you were, then what you are, expresse.

Sidney Godolphin.

Elegie on D. D. 1635-69: it follows Walton's elegy.

---

[Note]

On D^r John Donne, late Deane of S. Paules, London.

LONG since this taske of teares from you was due,

Long since, ô Poëts, he did die to you,

Or left you dead, when wit and he tooke flight

On divine wings, and soard out of your sight.

5Preachers, 'tis you must weep; The wit he taught

You doe enjoy; the Rebels which he brought

From ancient discord, Giants faculties,

And now no more religions enemies;

Honest to knowing, unto vertuous sweet,

10Witty to good, and learned to discreet,

He reconcil'd, and bid the Vsurper goe;

Dulnesse to vice, religion ought to flow;

He kept his loves, but not his objects; wit

Hee did not banish, but transplanted it,

15Taught it his place and use, and brought it home

To Pietie, which it doth best become;

He shew'd us how for sinnes we ought to sigh,

And how to sing Christs Epithalamy:

The Altars had his fires, and there hee spoke

20Incense of loves, and fansies holy smoake:

Religion thus enrich'd, the people train'd,

And God from dull vice had the fashion gain'd.

The first effects sprung in the giddy minde

Of flashy youth, and thirst of woman-kinde,

25By colours lead, and drawne to a pursuit,

Now once againe by beautie of the fruit,

As if their longings too must set us free,

And tempt us now to the commanded tree.

Tell me, had ever pleasure such a dresse,

30Have you knowne crimes so shap'd? or lovelinesse

Such as his lips did cloth religion in?

Had not reproofe a beauty passing sinne?

Corrupted nature sorrow'd when she stood

So neare the danger of becomming good,

35And wish'd our so inconstant eares exempt

From piety that had such power to tempt:

Did not his sacred flattery beguile

Man to amendment? The law, taught to smile,

Pension'd our vanitie, and man grew well

40Through the same frailtie by which he fell.

O the sick state of man, health does not please

Our tasts, but in the shape of the disease.

Thriftlesse is charitie, coward patience,

Iustice is cruell, mercy want of sense.

45What meanes our Nature to barre vertue place,

If shee doe come in her owne cloathes and face?

Is good a pill, we dare not chaw to know?

Sense the soules servant, doth it keep us so

As we might starve for good, unlesse it first

50Doe leave a pawne of relish in the gust?

Or have we to salvation no tie

At all, but that of our infirmitie?

Who treats with us must our affections move

To th' good we flie by those sweets which we love,

55Must seeke our palats, and with their delight

To gaine our deeds, must bribe our appetite.

These traines he knew, and laying nets to save,

Temptingly sugred all the health hee gave.

But, where is now that chime? that harmony

60Hath left the world, now the loud organ may

Appeare, the better voyce is fled to have

A thousand times the sweetnesse which it gave.

I cannot say how many thousand spirits

The single happinesse this soule inherits,

65Damnes in the other world, soules whom no crosse

O'th sense afflicts, but onely of the losse,

Whom ignorance would halfe save, all whose paine

Is not in what they feele, but others gaine,

Selfe executing wretched spirits, who

70Carrying their guilt, transport their envy too:

But those high joyes which his wits youngest flame

Would hurt to chuse, shall not we hurt to name?

Verse statues are all robbers, all we make

Of monument, thus doth not give but take

75As Sailes which Seamen to a forewinde fit,

By a resistance, goe along with it,

So pens grow while they lessen fame so left;

A weake assistance is a kinde of theft.

Who hath not love to ground his teares upon,

Must weep here if he have ambition.

I. Chudleigh.

On D^r John Donne &c. 1635-69, where it follows Godolphin's Elegie

---

FINIS.

---

[Note]

APPENDIX A.
LATIN POEMS AND TRANSLATIONS

De Libro Cvm Mvtvaretur
Impresso; Domi à pueris frustatim
lacerato; et post reddito
Manuscripto.
Doctissimo Amicissimoque v.
D. D. Andrews.

PARTURIUNT madido quae nixu praela, recepta,

Sed quae scripta manu, sunt veneranda magis.

Qui liber in pluteos, blattis cinerique relictos,

Si modo sit praeli sanguine tinctus, abit;

5Accedat calamo scriptus, reverenter habetur,

Involat et veterum scrinia summa Patrum.

Dicat Apollo modum; Pueros infundere libro

Nempe vetustatem canitiemque novo.

Nil mirum, medico pueros de semine natos,

10Haec nova fata libra posse dedisse novo.

Si veterem faciunt pueri, qui nuperus, Annon

Ipse Pater Iuvenem me dabit arte senem?

Hei miseris senibus! nos vertit dura senectus

Omnes in pueros, neminem at in Iuvenem.

15Hoc tibi servasti praestandum, Antique Dierum,

Quo viso, et vivit, et juvenescit Adam.

Interea, infirmae fallamus taedia vitae,

Libris, et Coelorum aemulâ amicitiâ.

Hos inter, qui a te mihi redditus iste libellus,

20Non mihi tam charus, tam meus, ante fuit.

〈Epigramma〉

Transiit in Sequanam Moenus; Victoris in aedes;

Et Francofurtum, te revehente, meat.

DE LIBRO &c. 1635-69 among certain prose letters in Latin and English

Title:—mutuaretur Impresso;] mutuaretur, Impresso, 1635-69

frustatim] frustratim 1635-69

lacerato;] lacerato, 1635-69

2 manu, sunt] manu sunt, 1635-69

4 abit;] abit, 1635-69

〈Epigramma〉 Ed: in old edd. these lines are 3 and 4 of above poem. See note

1 aedes;] aedes, 1635-69

---

Amicissimo, & meritissimo Ben. Jonson.
In Vulponem.

Q VOD arte ausus es hic tuâ, Poeta,

Si auderent hominum Deique juris

Consulti, veteres sequi aemularierque,

O omnes saperemus ad salutem.

5His sed sunt veteres araneosi;

Tam nemo veterum est sequutor, ut tu

Illos quod sequeris novator audis.

Fac tamen quod agis; tuique primâ

Libri canitie induantur horâ:

10Nam chartis pueritia est neganda,

Nascanturque senes, oportet, illi

Libri, queis dare vis perennitatem.

Priscis, ingenium facit, laborque

Te parem; hos superes, ut et futuros,

15Ex nostrâ vitiositate sumas,

Quâ priscos superamus, et futuros.

Amicissimo &c. in sheets added 1650: prefixed originally to Quarto edition of Jonson's Volpone. 1607, later to Folio edition of The Workes of Beniamin Jonson. 1616., when In Vulponem was added: in both signed I.D.

11 Nascanturque 1607: Nascunturque 1616, 1650-69

---

[Note]

To M^r George Herbert, with one of my
Seal〈s〉, of the Anchor and Christ.

Q VI prius assuetus Serpentum fasce Tabellas

Signare, (haec nostrae symbola parva Domus)

Adscitus domui Domini, patrioque relicto

Stemmate, nanciscor stemmata jure nova.

5Hinc mihi Crux primo quae fronti impressa lavacro,

Finibus extensis, anchora facta patet.

Anchorae in effigiem Crux tandem desinit ipsam,

Anchora fit tandem Crux tolerata diu.

Hoc tamen ut fiat, Christo vegetatur ab ipso

10Crux, et ab Affixo, est Anchora facta, Iesu.

Nec Natalitiis penitus serpentibus orbor,

Non ita dat Deus, ut auferat ante data.

Quâ sapiens, Dos est; Quâ terram lambit et ambit,

Pestis; At in nostra fit Medicina Cruce,

15Serpens; fixa Cruci si sit Natura; Crucique

A fixo, nobis, Gratia tota fluat.

Omnia cum Crux sint, Crux Anchora facta, sigillum

Non tam dicendum hoc quam Catechismus erit.

Mitto nec exigua, exiguâ sub imagine, dona,

20Pignora amicitiae, et munera; Vota, preces.

Plura tibi accumulet, sanctus cognominis, Ille

Regia qui flavo Dona sigillat Equo.

A SHEAFE of Snakes used heretofore to be

My Seal, The Crest of our poore Family.

Adopted in Gods Family, and so

Our old Coat lost, unto new armes I go.

5The Crosse (my seal at Baptism) spred below,

Does, by that form, into an Anchor grow.

Crosses grow Anchors; Bear, as thou shouldst do

Thy Crosse, and that Crosse grows an Anchor too.

But he that makes our Crosses Anchors thus,

10Is Christ, who there is crucifi'd for us.

Yet may I, with this, my first Serpents hold,

God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old;

The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be;

My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me.

15And as he rounds the Earth to murder sure,

My death he is, but on the Crosse, my cure.

Crucifie nature then, and then implore

All Grace from him, crucified there before;

When all is Crosse, and that Crosse Anchor grown,

20This Seal's a Catechism, not a Seal alone.

Under that little Seal great gifts I send,

〈Wishes,〉 and prayers, pawns, and fruits of a friend.

And may that Saint which rides in our great Seal,

To you, who bear his name, great bounties deal.

To M^r George Herbert &c. 1650-69, in sheets added 1650: two and a half lines in Walton's Life of Donne (1658): for Herbert's reply see note

Title:—sent him with one Walton (1670) Seal, 1650-69: Seales Walton

1 fasce] falce Walton

5 fronti] fronte 1650-69

17 facta,] fixa, 1650-69

19 Mitto] Mitto, 1650-69

A sheafe &c.] 1650-69 and in Walton's Life of Donne (1658), in all of which and in all subsequent editions except Grolier the first two lines are printed as a title, Walton bracketing them:—

A sheafe of Snakes used heretofore to be

my Seal, The Crest of our poore Family.

4 Our ... unto] My ... into Walton

5 at] in Walton

11 with this I may Walton

15 to murder sure,] to murder, sure Walton

16 He is my death; Walton

22 Wishes, Ed: Works, 1650-69: Both works Walton: Lat. vota

23-4

Oh may that Saint that rides on our great Seal,

To you that bear his name large bounty deal.

Walton.

---

[Note]

Translated out of Gazæus, Vota Amico
facta. fol. 160.

G OD grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine,

Thou, who dost, best friend, in best things outshine;

May thy soul, ever chearfull, nere know cares,

Nor thy life, ever lively, know gray haires.

5Nor thy hand, ever open, know base holds,

Nor thy purse, ever plump, know pleits, or folds.

Nor thy tongue, ever true, know a false thing,

Nor thy word, ever mild, know quarrelling.

Nor thy works, ever equall, know disguise,

10Nor thy fame, ever pure, know contumelies.

Nor thy prayers, know low objects, still Divine;

God grant thee thine own wish, and grant thee mine.

Translated &c.] 1650-69, in sheets added 1650: for original see note

---

[Note]

APPENDIX B.
POEMS WHICH HAVE BEEN ATTRIBUTED
TO JOHN DONNE IN THE OLD EDITIONS
AND THE PRINCIPAL MS. COLLECTIONS,
ARRANGED ACCORDING
TO THEIR PROBABLE
AUTHORS.

I.
POEMS
PROBABLY BY SIR JOHN ROE, KNT.
To S^r Nicholas Smyth.

[Note]

S LEEP, next Society and true friendship,

Mans best contentment, doth securely slip

His passions and the worlds troubles. Rock me

O sleep, wean'd from my dear friends company,

5In a cradle free from dreams or thoughts, there

Where poor men ly, for Kings asleep do fear.

Here sleeps House by famous Ariosto,

By silver-tongu'd Ovid, and many moe,

Perhaps by golden-mouth'd Spencer too pardie,

10(Which builded was some dozen Stories high)

I had repair'd, but that it was so rotten,

As sleep awak'd by Ratts from thence was gotten:

And I will build no new, for by my Will,

Thy fathers house shall be the fairest still

15In Excester. Yet, methinks, for all their Wit,

Those wits that say nothing, best describe it.

Without it there is no Sense, only in this

Sleep is unlike a long Parenthesis.

Not to save charges, but would I had slept

20The time I spent in London, when I kept

Fighting and untrust gallants Company,

In which Natta, the new Knight, seized on me,

And offered me the experience he had bought

With great Expence. I found him throughly taught

25In curing Burnes. His thing hath had more scars

Then Things himselfe; like Epps it often wars,

And still is hurt. For his Body and State

The Physick and Counsel which came too late,

'Gainst Whores and Dice, hee nowe on mee bestowes

30Most superficially: hee speaks of those

(I found by him) least soundly who most knows:

He swears well, speakes ill, but best of Clothes,

What fits Summer, what Winter, what the Spring.

He had Living, but now these waies come in

35His whole Revenues. Where each Whore now dwells,

And hath dwelt, since his fathers death, he tells.

Yea he tells most cunningly each hid cause

Why Whores forsake their Bawds. To these some Laws

He knows of the Duello, and touch his Skill

40The least lot in that or those he quarrell will,

Though sober; but so never fought. I know

What made his Valour, undubb'd, Windmill go,

Within a Pint at most: yet for all this

(Which is most strange) Natta thinks no man is

45More honest than himself. Thus men may want

Conscience, whilst being brought up ignorant,

They use themselves to vice. And besides those

Illiberal Arts forenam'd, no Vicar knows,

Nor other Captain less then he; His Schools

50Are Ordinaries, where civil men seem fools,

Or are for being there; His best bookes, Plaies,

Where, meeting godly Scenes, perhaps he praies.

His first set prayer was for his father, ill

And sick, that he might dye: That had, until

55The Lands were gone, he troubled God no more:

And then ask'd him but his Right, That the whore

Whom he had kept, might now keep him: She spent,

They left each other on even terms; she went

To Bridewel, he unto the Wars, where want

60Hath made him valiant, and a Lieutenant

He is become: Where, as they pass apace,

He steps aside, and for his Captains place

He praies again: Tells God, he will confess

His sins, swear, drink, dice and whore thenceforth less,

65On this Condition, that his Captain dye

And he succeed; But his Prayer did not; They

Both cashir'd came home, and he is braver now

Than'his captain: all men wonder, few know how.

Can he rob? No. Cheat? No. Or doth he spend

70His own? No. Fidus, he is thy dear friend,

That keeps him up. I would thou wert thine own,

Or thou'hadst as good a friend as thou art one.

No present Want nor future hope made me,

Desire (as once I did) thy friend to be:

75But he had cruelly possest thee then,

And as our Neighbours the Low-Country men,

Being (whilst they were Loyal, with Tyranny

Opprest) broke loose, have since refus'd to be

Subject to good Kings, I found even so,

80Wer't thou well rid of him, thou't have no moe.

Could'st thou but chuse as well as love, to none

Thou should'st be second: Turtle and Damon

Should give thee place in songs, and Lovers sick

Should make thee only Loves Hieroglyphick:

85Thy Impress should be the loving Elm and Vine,

Where now an ancient Oak, with Ivy twine

Destroy'd, thy Symbol is. O dire Mischance!

And, O vile verse! And yet your Abraham France

Writes thus, and jests not. Good Fidus for this

90Must pardon me, Satyres bite when they kiss.

But as for Natta, we have since faln out:

Here on his knees he pray'd, else we had fought.

And because God would not he should be winner,

Nor yet would have the Death of such a sinner,

95At his seeking, our Quarrel is deferr'd,

I'll leave him at his Prayers, and (as I heard)

His last; Fidus, and you, and I do know,

I was his friend, and durst have been his foe,

And would be either yet; But he dares be

100Neither; Sleep blots him out and takes in thee.

"The mind, you know is like a Table-book,

"Which, th'old unwipt, new writing never took.

Hear how the Huishers Checques, Cupbord and Fire

I pass'd; by which Degrees young men aspire

105In Court; And how that idle and she-state,

Whenas my judgment cleer'd, my soul did hate;

How I found there (if that my trifling Pen

Durst take so hard a Task) Kings were but men,

And by their Place more noted, if they erre;

110How they and their Lords unworthy men prefer;

And, as unthrifts had rather give away

Great Summs to flatterers, than small debts pay,

So they their weakness hide, and greatness show,

By giving them that which to worth they owe:

115What Treason is, and what did Essex kill,

Not true Treason, but Treason handled ill;

And which of them stood for their Countries good,

Or what might be the Cause of so much Blood.

He said she stunck, and men might not have said

120That she was old before that she was dead.

His Case was hard, to do or suffer; loth

To do, he made it harder, and did both.

Too much preparing lost them all their Lives,

Like some in Plagues kill'd with preservatives.

125Friends, like land-souldiers in a storm at Sea,

Not knowing what to do, for him did pray.

They told it all the world; where was their wit?

Cuffs putting on a sword, might have told it.

And Princes must fear Favorites more then Foes,

130For still beyond Revenge Ambition goes.

How since Her death, with Sumpter-horse that Scot

Hath rid, who, at his coming up, had not

A Sumpter-dog. But till that I can write

Things worth thy Tenth reading (dear Nick) goodnight.

To S^r Nicholas Smyth. Ed: Satyra Sexta. To S^r &c. S: Satires to S^r Nic: Smith. 1602 B: A Satire: to S^r Nicholas Smith. 1602, L74: A Satyricall Letter to S^r Nich: Smith. Quere, if Donnes or S^r Th: Rowes. O'F: no title N, TCD (JR in margin): Satyre VI. 1669 (on which the present text is based)

1 Sleep, next] Sleep next, 1669

2 slip 1669, S: skipp B, L74, N, O'F, TCD. In 1669 full stops after slip and rock me and no stop after troubles

3 Rock] rock 1669

4 my MSS.: thy 1669

6 asleep] all sleap B

9 golden-mouth'd] gold-mouth'd B, S

14 still] still. 1669

25 hath had L74, N, O'F, S, TCD: had had 1669: had B

26 Things B, L74, N, O'F, S, TCD: T 1669

28-31 text from B, L74, N, O'F, S, TCD, which bracket which ... late: see note:

The Physick and Councel (which came too late

'Gainst Whores and Dice) he now on me bestows:

Most superficially he speaks of those.

I found, by him, least sound him who most knows. 1669

33 what Winter] what What Winter 1669

35 each B, L74, N, O'F, S, TCD: his 1669

37 cunningly 1669, L74, N, TCD: perfectly B, O'F, S

39 Duello, B, N, O'F, S, TCD: Duel, 1669

touch B, L74, O'F, S: on 1669: only N, TCD

40 those B, L74, O'F: these 1669

41 but so never fought. B, L74, O'F, S (soe as), TCD (nere): but nere fought. 1669

42 Valour, undubb'd, Windmill go, Ed: Valour undubd Windmill go. 1669: valours undubb'd Wine-mill go. L74, N, TCD: his undouted valour windmill goe. B: his undaunted valour windmill goe. O'F, S

45 want] vaunt S

47 besides] except B, O'F, S

49 he; Ed: he, 1669

53 father, ill] fathers ill, 1669

65 his] if his 1669

66 succeed; Ed: succeed, 1669

They Ed: they 1669

68 Than'his Ed: Than his 1669: Then's N, TCD

how. Ed: how, 1669

69 Or Ed: or 1669

72 thou'hadst L74, N, TCD: thou hadst 1669

81 love, Ed: love 1669

82 Damon] damon 1669

83 thee] the 1669

86-7 Oak, with Ivy twine Destroy'd, thy Symbol is. L74, N, TCD: Oak with Ivy twine, Destroy'd thy Symbole is. 1669: Oak with ivy twine. Destroy'd thy symbol is! Chambers

87 Mischance!] Mischance? 1669

88 your B, L74, N, S, TCD: our 1669

92 knees] knees, 1669

97 Fidus, and you, and I N, TCD: and Fidus, you and I 1669: Fidus, and you, and he B, L74, O'F, S

100 Neither; L74, N, O'F, S, TCD: Neither yet. 1669

Sleep] sleep 1669

102 Which, th'old unwipt, B, O'F, S, TCD: "The old unwipt 1669

104-6 1669 has colon after pass'd, brackets by which ... Court and Whenas ... cleer'd, and places comma after hate

107 there (if that 1669: then that (if B, O'F, S

111 And, as unthrifts Ed: And, as unthrifts, 1669, Chambers

112 pay, Ed: pay; 1669: pay. Chambers

113 weakness B, L74, O'F, S: greatness 1669, N, TCD

116 ill; Ed: ill: 1669

118 Blood. Ed: Blood; 1669

121 hard, Ed: hard 1669

122 both. Ed: both 1669

127 world; Ed: world, 1669

132 Hath rid,] Doth ryde, B

133 till that 1669: till N, TCD: untill B, O'F, S

---

[Note]

Satyre.

MEN write that love and reason disagree,

But I ne'r saw't exprest as 'tis in thee.

Well, I may lead thee, God must make thee see,

But, thine eyes blinde too, there's no hope for thee.

5Thou say'st shee's wise and witty, faire and free,

All these are reasons why she should scorne thee.

Thou dost protest thy love, and wouldst it shew

By matching her as she would match her foe:

And wouldst perswade her to a worse offence,

10Then that whereof thou didst accuse her wench.

Reason there's none for thee, but thou may'st vexe

Her with example. Say, for feare her sexe

Shunne her, she needs must change; I doe not see

How reason e'r can bring that must to thee.

15Thou art a match a Iustice to rejoyce,

Fit to be his, and not his daughters choyce.

Urg'd with his threats shee'd scarcely stay with thee,

And wouldst th'have this to chuse thee, being free?

Goe then and punish some soone-gotten stuffe,

20For her dead husband this hath mourn'd enough,

In hating thee. Thou maist one like this meet;

For spight take her, prove kinde, make thy breath sweet,

Let her see she hath cause, and to bring to thee

Honest children, let her dishonest bee.

25If shee be a widow, I'll warrant her

Shee'll thee before her first husband preferre,

And will wish thou hadst had her maidenhead;

Shee'll love thee so, for then thou hadst bin dead.

But thou such strong love, and weake reasons hast,

30Thou must thrive there, or ever live disgrac'd.

Yet pause a while; and thou maist live to see

A time to come, wherein she may beg thee;

If thou'lt not pause nor change, she'll beg thee now.

Doe what she can, love for nothing shee'll allow.

35Besides, her〈s〉 were too much gaine and merchandise,

And when thou art rewarded, desert dies.

Now thou hast odds of him she loves, he may doubt

Her constancy, but none can put thee out.

Againe, be thy love true, shee'll prove divine,

40And in the end the good on't will be thine:

For thou must never think on other love,

And so wilt advance her as high above

Vertue as cause above effect can bee:

'Tis vertue to be chast, which shee'll make thee.

Satyre. B, O'F: A Satire: upon one who was his Rivall in a widdowes Love. A10: Satyre VI. 1635-54: Satyre. VII. 1669 (where Satyre VI. is Sleep, next Society &c.)

4 thine eyes 1635-69: thy eye's A10

11 thee,] the, 1669

13 she needs must change; I 1635-69: she must change, yet I A10

16 and 1635-69: but B

17 Urg'd A10, B, O'F: Dry'd 1635-69

19 some] 1635 duplicates

22 sweet, 1639-69: sweet. 1635

27 maidenhead; Ed: maidenhead, 1635-69

28 (Shee'll love thee so) for, 1635-69

29 strong] firm A10

32 thee; Grosart: thee. 1635-69

33 now. Grosart: now, 1635-69

34 love for nothing shee'll 1635-69: she'le love for nought A10

35 Besides, hers Ed: Besides, here 1635-69: But hers A10: Besides her O'F

38-9 out. Againe, 1635-69: out Againe; A10

40 And in 1635-69: And yet in A10

thine: Ed: thine. 1635-69

41 For thou must never think on H-K (Grosart): And thou must never think on, A10: For though thou must ne'r thinke of 1635-69

42 And so wilt advance her 1635-69: For that will her advance A10

43 bee: Ed: bee, 1635-69

---

[Note]

AN ELEGIE.

Reflecting on his passion for his mistrisse.

C OME, Fates; I feare you not. All whom I owe

Are paid, but you. Then rest me ere I goe.

But, Chance from you all soveraignty hath got,

Love woundeth none but those whom death dares not;

5Else, if you were, and just, in equitie

I should have vanquish'd her, as you did me.

Else Lovers should not brave death's pains, and live,

But 'tis a rule, Death comes not to relieve.

Or, pale and wan deaths terrours, are they lay'd

10So deepe in Lovers, they make death afraid?

Or (the least comfort) have I company?

Orecame she Fates, Love, Death, as well as mee?

Yes, Fates doe silke unto her distaffe pay,

For their ransome, which taxe on us they laye.

15Love gives her youth, which is the reason why

Youths, for her sake, some wither and some die.

Poore Death can nothing give; yet, for her sake,

Still in her turne, he doth a Lover take:

And if Death should prove false, she feares him not;

20Our Muses, to redeeme her she hath got.

That fatall night wee last kiss'd, I thus pray'd,

Or rather, thus despair'd; I should have said:

Kisses, and yet despaire? The forbid tree

Did promise (and deceive) no more then shee.

25Like Lambs that see their teats, and must eat Hay,

A food, whose tast hath made me pine away.

Dives, when thou saw'st blisse, and crav'dst to touch

A drop of water, thy great paines were such.

Here griefe wants a fresh wit, for mine being spent,

30And my sighes weary, groanes are all my rent;

Vnable longer to indure the paine,

They breake like thunder, and doe bring down rain.

Thus, till dry teares soulder mine eyes, I weepe;

And then, I dreame, how you securely sleepe,

35And in your dreames doe laugh at me. I hate,

And pray Love, All may: He pitties my state,

But sayes, I therein no revenge should finde;

The Sunne would shine, though all the world were blind.

Yet, to trie my hate, Love shew'd me your teare;

40And I had dy'd, had not your smile beene there.

Your frowne undoes me; your smile is my wealth;

And as you please to looke, I have my health.

Me thought, Love pittying me, when he saw this,

Gave me your hands, the backs and palmes to kisse.

45That cur'd me not, but to beare paine gave strength,

And what it lost in force, it tooke in length.

I call'd on Love againe, who fear'd you so,

That his compassion still prov'd greater woe;

For, then I dream'd I was in bed with you,

50But durst not feele, for feare't should not prove true.

This merits not your anger, had it beene,

The Queene of Chastitie was naked seene;

And in bed, not to feele, the paine I tooke,

Was more then for Actæon not to looke.

55And that brest which lay ope, I did not know,

But for the clearnesse, from a lump of snowe,

Nor that sweet teat which on the top it bore

From the rose-bud, which for my sake you wore.

These griefs to issue forth, by verse, I prove,

60Or turne their course, by travaile, or new love:

All would not doe. The best at last I tryde:

Unable longer to hould out I dyed.

And then I found I lost life, death by flying:

Who hundreds live are but soe long a dying.

65Charon did let me passe: I'le him requite.

To marke the groves or shades wrongs my delight.

I'le speake but of those ghosts I found alone,

Those thousand ghosts, whereof myself made one,

All images of thee. I ask'd them, why?

70The Judge told me, all they for thee did dye,

And therefore had for their Elisian blisse,

In one another their owne Loves to kisse.

O here I miss'd not blisse, but being dead;

For loe, I dream'd, I dream'd; and waking said,

75Heaven, if who are in thee there must dwell,

How is't, I now was there, and now I fell.

An Elegie. Reflecting on &c. A10: An Elegie. H39, H40, L74, RP31: Eleg. XIII. 1635-69: no title, Cy: Elegie. P

5 Else, if you were, and just, in equitie H39: Else, if you were, and just in equitie, 1635-54, Grosart: True, if you were, and just in equitie, 1669, Chambers (True)

12 Orecame she Fates, Love, Death, MSS.: Or can the Fates love death, 1635-69

13 distaffe 1635-69, H39, L74: distaves A10, H40, RP31

14 For their ... on us they laye. Cy, H39, H40, L74, P: For ransome, which taxe they on us doe lay. 1635-69: For Ransome, but a taxe on us they lay: A10

17-19 Death] death 1635-69

18 take: H40, L74: take. 1635-69

21 That fatall night we last kiss'd 1635-69: That last fatall night wee kiss'd A10, H39, H40, L74, P, RP31

22 in brackets 1635-69

said: Ed: said, 1635-69

23 despaire? Ed: despaire. 1635-69

24 shee.] yee. A10, H40

28 A drop of water, thy greate 1635-69: A small little drop, thy Cy, H39 (then thy), H40, L74, P: The poorest little drop, thy A10

63 life] lif's Grosart: spelt lief H40

64 Who] Where Grosart

66 marke] walke Grosart

or] and A10

67 but] out Grosart, from H39

68 Those thousand] Thousand A10

72 In one] omit. Grosart

74 (For loe I dreampt) H39 and Grosart

75 Heaven] O Heaven A10

---

An Elegie to M^ris Boulstred: 1602.

SHALL I goe force an Elegie? abuse

My witt? and breake the Hymen of my muse

For one poore houres love? Deserves it such

Which serves not me, to doe on her as much?

5Or if it could, I would that fortune shunn:

Who would be rich, to be foe foone undone?

The beggars best is, wealth he doth not know;

And but to shew it him, encreases woe.

But we two may enjoye an hour? when never

10It returnes, who would have a losse for ever?

Nor can so short a love, if true, but bring

A halfe howres feare, with the thought of losing:

Before it, all howres were hope; and all are

(That shall come after it,) yeares of dispaire.

15This joye brings this doubt, whether it were more

To have enjoy'd it, or have died before?

T'is a lost paradise, a fall from grace,

Which I thinke, Adam felt more then his race.

Nor need those angells any other Hell;

20It is enough for them, from Heaven they fell.

Besides, Conquest in love is all in all;

That when I liste, shee under me may fall:

And for this turne, both for delight and view,

I'le have a Succuba, as good as you.

25But when these toyes are past, and hott blood ends,

The best enjoying is, we still are frends.

Love can but be frendshipps outside; their two

Beauties differ, as myndes and bodies do.

Thus, I this great Good still would be to take,

30Vnless one houre, another happy make:

Or, that I might forgett it instantlie;

Or in that blest estate, that I might die.

But why doe I thus travaile in the skill

Of despis'd poetrie, and perchance spill

35My fortune? or undoe myself in sport

By having but that dangerous name in Court?

I'le leave, and since I doe your poet prove,

Keep you my lines as secret as my Love.

An Elegie &c. A10, L74 (J. R. in margin), RP31: Elegie N, TCD (J. R.): Elegie to his M. promissing to love him an hour. HN (signed J. R.): An Elegy 1602. To M^rs Boulstrede. Le Prince d'Amour. &c. 1660

7 text from HN: The beggers best is, that wealth he doth 〈not〉 know, A10: The beggar's best, his &c. L74, RP31, N, TCD, Sim: The beggar's best that Grosart

9 two Sim: om. HN, L74, N, RP31, TCD: But we an hour may now enjoy when never A10

hour?] hour; L74

10 It returnes] Again't returnes A10

16 or have] or else A10

21 Besides, A10: Beside, L74

23 delight] despite A10

27 but be] be but Sim

their Ed: there A10, L74

30 one] on L74

32 Poem closes, A10

34 despis'd poetrie,] deeper mysteries, Sim

---

[Note]

An Elegie.

TRUE Love findes witt, but he whose witt doth move

Him to love, confesses he doth not love:

And from his witt, passions and true desire

Are forc'd as hard, as from the flint is fire.

5My love's all fire whose flames my soule do nurse,

Whose smokes are sighes; whose every sparke's a verse.

Doth measure women win? Then I know why

Most of our Ladies with the Scotts doe lie.

A Scott is measur'd in each syllable, terse

10And smooth as a verse: and like that smooth verse

Is shallow, and wants matter, but in his handes,

And they are rugged; Her state better standes

Whom dauncing measures tempted, not the Scott:

In brief she's out of measure, lost, soe gott.

15Greene-sickness wenches, (not needes must but) may

Looke pale, breathe short; at Court none so long stay.

Good witt ne're despair'd there, or Ay me said:

For never Wench at Court was ravished.

And shee but cheates on Heaven, whom you so winne

20Thinking to share the sport, but not the sinne.

An Elegie. A10: similarly, B, H40, L74, O'F, RP31: Elegia Undecima. S: no title, Cy, P (J. D in margin): first printed by Grosart

1 findes] kindles RP31

5 do A10, L74: doth Grosart and Chambers

7 women win? A10: win women? L74

11 but in his handes, A10, B, L74, O'F, P: but's in's bands S: cut in bands Grosart and Chambers: writt in his hands H-K (teste Grosart)

14 she's A10, L74, P, H-K (Grosart): theyre S, Chambers

soe] if A10

17 ne're A10: neare L74

---

Song.

D EARE Love, continue nice and chaste,

For, if you yeeld you doe me wrong,

Let duller wits to loves end haste,

I have enough to wooe thee long.

5All paine and joy is in their way;

The things we feare bring lesse annoy

Then feare; and hope brings greater joy;

But in themselves they cannot stay.

Small favours will my prayers increase;

10Granting my suit you give me all,

And then my prayers must needs surcease,

For, I have made your Godhead fall.

Beasts cannot witt nor beauty see,

They mans affections onely move;

15Beasts other sports of love doe prove,

With better feeling farre than we.

Then Love prolong my suite, for thus

By losing sport, I sport doe win;

And that may vertue prove in us,

20Which ever yet hath beene a sinne.

My comming neare may spie some ill,

And now the world is given to scoffe;

To keepe my Love, (then) keepe me off,

And so I shall admire thee still.

25Say I have made a perfect choyce,

Satietie our Love may kill;

Then give me but thy face and voyce,

Mine eye and eare thou canst not fill.

To make me rich (oh) be not poore,

30Give me not all, yet something lend,

So I shall still my suite commend,

And you at will doe lesse or more.

But, if to all you condescend,

My love, our sport, your Godhead end.

Song. 1635-69: no title, A10, B, HN (signed J. R.), L74 (Finis. JR), O'F, P, S96]

1 Love,] Love 1635-69

13 witt] will, 1635-54

14 They, 1635-69: Those L74

18 I sport] I sports 1635-54

19 that may A10, HN, L74: that doth 1635-69: let that B

26 Satietie] Sacietie 1635-39, L74

Love A10, B, HN, L74, S96: selves 1635-69

28 Mine MSS.: My 1635-39

32 you at will] at your will S96

---

To Ben. Iohnson, 6 Ian. 1603.

THE State and mens affaires are the best playes

Next yours; 'Tis nor more nor lesse than due praise.

Write, but touch not the much descending race

Of Lords houses, so settled in worths place,

5As but themselves none thinke them usurpers.

It is no fault in thee to suffer theirs.

If the Queene Masque, or King a hunting goe,

Though all the Court follow, Let them. We know

Like them in goodnesse that Court ne'r will be,

10For that were vertue, and not flatterie.

Forget we were thrust out; It is but thus,

God threatens Kings, Kings Lords, as Lords doe us.

Iudge of strangers, Trust and believe your friend,

And so me; And when I true friendship end,

15With guilty conscience let me be worse stonge,

Then with Pophams sentence theeves, or Cookes tongue

Traitors are. Friends are our selves. This I thee tell

As to my friend, and to my selfe as Counsell;

Let for a while the times unthrifty rout

20Contemne learning, and all your studies flout.

Let them scorne Hell, they will a Sergeant feare,

More then wee that; ere long God may forbeare,

But Creditors will not. Let them increase

In riot and excesse as their meanes cease;

25Let them scorne him that made them, and still shun

His Grace, but love the whore who hath undone

Them and their soules. But; that they that allow

But one God, should have religions enow

For the Queens Masque, and their husbands, far more

30Then all the Gentiles knew, or Atlas bore!

Well, let all passe, and trust him who nor cracks

The bruised Reed, nor quencheth smoaking flaxe.

To Ben. Iohnson, 6 Ian. 1603. 1635-69, O'F: To Ben Johnson 6 Jan: 1603 T.R. B: An Epistle to Ben Johnson. S^r J: R: H40: An Epistle to Beniamin Johnson. RP31: An Epistle: To M^r Ben. Johnson. Ja: 6: 1603 L74: To M^r Ben Johnson. S

2 yours; Ed: yours, 1635-69

nor more] noe more L74

5 none thinke] none can thinke 1669

11 out; Ed: out. 1635-69

15 stonge, L74: spelt stũg, 1635

18 as Counsell;] is Counsell: 1635-54

22 More then wee that; Ed: More then wee that H40, L74: More then wee them; that, 1635-69 (them in ital. 1635-54)

24 cease; Ed: cease, 1635-69

28 enow H40, L74: enough 1635-69

29 far L74: for 1635-69, H40

30 bore! Ed: bore? H40: bore. 1635-69, L74

---

To Ben. Iohnson, 9. Novembris, 1603.

IF great men wrong me, I will spare my selfe;

If meane, I will spare them. I know that pelf

Which is ill got the Owner doth upbraid.

It may corrupt a Iudge, make me afraid

5And a Iury; But 'twill revenge in this,

That, though himselfe be judge, hee guilty is.

What care I though of weaknesse men taxe me,

I had rather sufferer than doer be.

That I did trust, it was my Natures praise,

10For breach of word I knew but as a phrase.

That judgement is, that surely can comprise

The world in precepts, most happy and most wise.

What though? Though lesse, yet some of both have we,

Who have learn'd it by use and misery.

15Poore I, whom every pety crosse doth trouble,

Who apprehend each hurt thats done me, double,

Am of this (though it should sinke me) carelesse,

It would but force me to a stricter goodnesse.

They have great odds of me, who gaine doe winne,

20(If such gaine be not losse) from every sinne.

The standing of great mens lives would afford

A pretty summe, if God would sell his Word.

He cannot; they can theirs, and breake them too.

How unlike they are that they are likened to?

25Yet I conclude, they are amidst my evils,

If good, like Gods, the naught are so like devils.

To Ben Johnson, 9 Novembris, 1603: 1635-69, B (subscribed doubtfull author), O'F, S: Another Epistle to M^r Ben: Johnson. No: 9. 1603. L74: Another to Ben Johnson. H40

2 them.] them, 1635-69 that B, H40, L74, S: the 1635-69

3 upbraide. Ed: upbraide; 1635-69

5 Iury; Ed: Iury. 1635-69

18 goodnesse.] goodnesse 1635-39

19 odds B, H40, L74, S: gaine 1635-69, O'F

---

To S^r Tho. Roe 1603.

Deare Thom:

TELL her if she to hired servants shew

Dislike, before they take their leave they goe;

When nobler spirits start at no disgrace,

For who hath but one minde, hath but one face:

5If then why I tooke not my leave she aske,

Aske her againe why she did not unmaske?

Was she or proud or cruell, or knew shee

'Twould make my losse more felt, and pittyed me?

Or did she feare one kisse might stay for moe?

10Or else was she unwilling I should goe?

I thinke the best, and love so faithfully

I cannot chuse but thinke that she loves mee.

If this prove not my faith, then let her trie

How in her service I would fructifie.

15Ladies have boldly lov'd; bid her renew

That decay'd worth, and prove the times past true.

Then he whose wit and verse goes now so lame,

With songs to her will the wild Irish tame.

Howe'r, I'll weare the black and white ribband,

20White for her fortunes, blacke for mine shall stand.

I doe esteeme her favours, not their stuffe;

If what I have was given, I have enough:

And all's well; for had she lov'd, I had had

All my friends hate; for now, departing sad

25I feele not that; Yet as the Rack the Gout

Cures, so hath this worse griefe that quite put out:

My first disease nought but that worse cureth,

Which (which I dare foresee) nought cures but death.

Tell her all this before I am forgot,

30That not too late shee grieve shee lov'd me not.

Burden'd with this, I was to depart lesse

Willing, then those which die, and not confesse.

Footnote: To Sir Tho. Rowe, 1603. 1635-69, O'F: An Elegie. To S^r Tho. Roe. B (subscribed J. R.), L74: An Elegie, complayning a want of complement in his mistrisse, at his leave-taking. A10: Elegia Vicesima Septima. To S^r Thomas Roe. 1603. S

Thom: B, L74, O'F,S: Tom: 1635-69

5 tooke A10, B, L74, O'F, S: take 1635-69

14 I would 1635-69: it will A10, L74, S

17 goes now so Ed: goe now so B: growes now so 1635-69, O'F: now goes thus A10, L74, S

21 favours, not their B, L74, S: favour, not the 1635-69

22 enough: Ed: enough, 1635-69

23 had had] had not had 1635-69, O'F

24 hate;] hate 1635: hate, 1639-69

now, Ed: now 1635-69: not A10, B, L74, S

26 out:] out. 1635

28 Which (which I dare foresee) nought A10, B, L74, S: Which (I dare foresay) nothing 1635-69

Willing, Ed: Willing 1635-69: Willing; A10

---

[Note]

II.
To the Countesse of Huntington.

THAT unripe side of earth, that heavy clime

That gives us man up now, like Adams time

Before he ate; mans shape, that would yet bee

(Knew they not it, and fear'd beasts companie)

5So naked at this day, as though man there

From Paradise so great a distance were,

As yet the newes could not arrived bee

Of Adams tasting the forbidden tree;

Depriv'd of that free state which they were in,

10And wanting the reward, yet beare the sinne.

But, as from extreme hights who downward looks,

Sees men at childrens shapes, Rivers at brookes,

And loseth younger formes; so, to your eye,

These (Madame) that without your distance lie,

15Must either mist, or nothing seeme to be,

Who are at home but wits mere Atomi.

But, I who can behold them move, and stay,

Have found my selfe to you, just their midway;

And now must pitty them; for, as they doe

20Seeme sick to me, just so must I to you.

Yet neither will I vexe your eyes to see

A sighing Ode, nor crosse-arm'd Elegie.

I come not to call pitty from your heart,

Like some white-liver'd dotard that would part

25Else from his slipperie soule with a faint groane,

And faithfully, (without you smil'd) were gone.

I cannot feele the tempest of a frowne,

I may be rais'd by love, but not throwne down.

Though I can pittie those sigh twice a day,

30I hate that thing whispers it selfe away.

Yet since all love is fever, who to trees

Doth talke, doth yet in loves cold ague freeze.

'Tis love, but, with such fatall weaknesse made,

That it deftroyes it selfe with its owne shade.

35Who first look'd sad, griev'd, pin'd, and shew'd his paine,

Was he that first taught women, to disdaine.

As all things were one nothing, dull and weake,

Vntill this raw disordered heape did breake,

And severall desires led parts away,

40Water declin'd with earth, the ayre did stay,

Fire rose, and each from other but unty'd,

Themselves unprison'd were and purify'd:

So was love, first in vast confusion hid,

An unripe willingnesse which nothing did,

45A thirst, an Appetite which had no ease,

That found a want, but knew not what would please.

What pretty innocence in those dayes mov'd?

Man ignorantly walk'd by her he lov'd;

Both sigh'd and enterchang'd a speaking eye,

50Both trembled and were sick, both knew not why.

That naturall fearefulnesse that struck man dumbe,

Might well (those times consider'd) man become.

As all discoverers whose first assay

Findes but the place, after, the nearest way:

55So passion is to womans love, about,

Nay, farther off, than when we first set out.

It is not love that sueth, or doth contend;

Love either conquers, or but meets a friend.

Man's better part consists of purer fire,

60And findes it selfe allow'd, ere it desire.

Love is wise here, keepes home, gives reason sway,

And journeys not till it finde summer-way.

A weather-beaten Lover but once knowne,

Is sport for every girle to practise on.

65Who strives through womans scornes, women to know,

Is lost, and seekes his shadow to outgoe;

It must bee sicknesse, after one disdaine,

Though he be call'd aloud, to looke againe.

Let others sigh, and grieve; one cunning sleight

70Shall freeze my Love to Christall in a night.

I can love first, and (if I winne) love still;

And cannot be remov'd, unlesse she will.

It is her fault if I unsure remaine,

Shee onely can untie, and binde againe.

75The honesties of love with ease I doe,

But am no porter for a tedious woo.

But (madame) I now thinke on you; and here

Where we are at our hights, you but appeare,

We are but clouds you rise from, our noone-ray

80But a foule shadow, not your breake of day.

You are at first hand all that's faire and right,

And others good reflects but backe your light.

You are a perfectnesse, so curious hit,

That youngest flatteries doe scandall it.

85For, what is more doth what you are restraine,

And though beyond, is downe the hill againe.

We'have no next way to you, we crosse to it:

You are the straight line, thing prais'd, attribute;

Each good in you's a light; so many a shade

90You make, and in them are your motions made.

These are your pictures to the life. From farre

We see you move, and here your Zani's are:

So that no fountaine good there is, doth grow

In you, but our dimme actions faintly shew.

95Then finde I, if mans noblest part be love,

Your purest luster must that shadow move.

The soule with body, is a heaven combin'd

With earth, and for mans ease, but nearer joyn'd.

Where thoughts the starres of soule we understand,

100We guesse not their large natures, but command.

And love in you, that bountie is of light,

That gives to all, and yet hath infinite.

Whose heat doth force us thither to intend,

But soule we finde too earthly to ascend,

105'Till slow accesse hath made it wholy pure,

Able immortall clearnesse to endure.

Who dare aspire this journey with a staine,

Hath waight will force him headlong backe againe.

No more can impure man retaine and move

110In that pure region of a worthy love:

Then earthly substance can unforc'd aspire,

And leave his nature to converse with fire:

Such may have eye, and hand; may sigh, may speak;

But like swoln bubles, when they are high'st they break.

115Though far removed Northerne fleets scarce finde

The Sunnes comfort; others thinke him too kinde.

There is an equall distance from her eye,

Men perish too farre off, and burne too nigh.

But as ayre takes the Sunne-beames equall bright

120From the first Rayes, to his last opposite:

So able men, blest with a vertuous Love,

Remote or neare, or howsoe'r they move;

Their vertue breakes all clouds that might annoy,

There is no Emptinesse, but all is Ioy.

125He much profanes whom violent heats do move

To stile his wandring rage of passion, Love:

Love that imparts in every thing delight,

Is fain'd, which only tempts mans appetite.

Why love among the vertues is not knowne

130Is, that love is them all contract in one.

To the Countesse of Huntington. 1635-69: S^r Wal: Ashton to y^e Countesse of Huntingtowne P, TCD (II)

2 man] men P

3 ate; 1635-39: eat; 1650-69

11 downward] inward TCD

14 without] om. TCD

17 who] that P, TCD

20 you.] you, 1635-69

26 faithfully, 1635-69: finally P, TCD

you smil'd 1635-54 your smile 1669, P, TCD

28 down. 1635-54: down, 1669

30 whispers] whispered P: vapours TCD

31 fever] feverish 1669

32 doth yet] yet doth 1669

ague] feaver P

35 paine,] paine. 1635-39

36 women] woman TCD

37 were one] were but one 1669

47 those dayes] that day 1669

50 both knew 1635-54: but knew P, TCD: yet, knew 1669

52 consider'd Ed: considered 1635-69

57 sueth, or] sues and P

65 womans] womens P

women] woman TCD

know, 1650-69: know. 1635-39

67 It must be] It is meer 1669

sicknesse,] sicknesse 1635-69

69 sigh P, TCD: sinne, 1635-69

74 and P: I 1635-69, TCD

76 woo. TCD: wooe. P: woe. 1635-69, Chambers and Grolier

77 I now] now I TCD

78 hights] height TCD

79 clouds you rise from, our noone-ray Grolier: clouds, you rise from our noone-ray, 1635-69, TCD, and Chambers

81 right] bright P

83 a perfectnesse] all perfections P

84 youngest] quaintest TCD

flatteries] flatterers P, TCD

86 though] what's P

87 We'have Ed: We have 1635-69

88 straight line,] streight-lace P

attribute; Ed: attribute. 1635: attribute, 1639-69

91 These] Those TCD

98 With earth] om. TCD

but] om. 1650-69

99 thoughts] through P

105 wholy] holy TCD

106 endure.] endure 1635

108 waight] weights P, TCD

109 impure] vapore P

114 when they're highest break. P, TCD

break.] break 1635-39: brak 1650-54: brake. 1669

115 In edd. new par. begins wrongly at 113, and so Chambers and Grolier

fleets] Isles 1669

116 comfort; 1635-54: sweet comfort, 1669

others] yet some 1669

119 But as the aire takes all sunbeams equall bright P

120 the first Rayes, 1635-54: the Raies first, 1669, TCD: the rise first P

121 able men P: able man, 1635-54: happy man, 1669: happy['s] man Grosart and Chambers

123 Their 1669, P, TCD: There 1635-54, Chambers and Grolier

125 violent P, TCD: valiant 1635-69

126 Love: Ed: Love. 1635-54: Love, 1669

127 imparts] imports 1669, TCD

128 Is fain'd, which ... appetite. P: Is thought the mansion of sweet appetite. TCD: Is fancied 1635-39 (rest of line left blank): Is fancied in the Soul, not in the sight. 1650-54: Is fancied by the Soul, not appetite. 1669

130 Is, that] Is, 'cause TCD

contract in 1650-69, P: contracted 1635-39, TCD

---

[Note]

III.
Elegie.

D EATH be not proud, thy hand gave not this blow,

Sinne was her captive, whence thy power doth flow;

The executioner of wrath thou art,

But to destroy the just is not thy part.

5Thy comming, terrour, anguish, griefe denounce;

Her happy state, courage, ease, joy pronounce.

From out the Christall palace of her breast,

The clearer soule was call'd to endlesse rest,

(Not by the thundering voyce, wherewith God threats,

10But, as with crowned Saints in heaven he treats,)

And, waited on by Angels, home was brought,

To joy that it through many dangers sought;

The key of mercy gently did unlocke

The doores 'twixt heaven and it, when life did knock.

15Nor boast, the fairest frame was made thy prey,

Because to mortall eyes it did decay;

A better witnesse than thou art, assures,

That though dissolv'd, it yet a space endures;

No dramme thereof shall want or losse sustaine,

20When her best soule inhabits it again.

Goe then to people curst before they were,

Their spoyles in Triumph of thy conquest weare.

Glory not thou thy selfe in these hot teares

Which our face, not for hers, but our harme weares,

25The mourning livery given by Grace, not thee,

Which wils our soules in these streams washt should be,

And on our hearts, her memories best tombe,

In this her Epitaph doth write thy doome.

Blinde were those eyes, saw not how bright did shine

30Through fleshes misty vaile the beames divine.

Deafe were the eares, not charm'd with that sweet sound

Which did i'th spirit-instructed voice abound.

Of flint the conscience, did not yeeld and melt,

At what in her last Act: it saw, heard, felt.

35Weep not, nor grudge then, to have lost her sight,

Taught thus, our after stay's but a short night:

But by all soules not by corruption choaked

Let in high rais'd notes that power be invoked.

Calme the rough seas, by which she sayles to rest,

40From sorrowes here, to a kingdome ever blest;

And teach this hymne of her with joy, and sing,

The grave no conquest gets, Death hath no sting.

Elegie. Ed: Elegye on the Lady Markham. By L. C. of B. RP31: do. By C. L. of B. H40: Elegie on Mistris Boulstred. 1635-69: given as continuation of Death I recant &c. O'F, P: no title, B (at foot of page F. B.). See Text and Canon &c.

2 flow; Ed: flow, 1635-69: growe, B, Cy, H40, O'F, P

5-6 comming, 1650-69: comming 1635-39

state, 1650-69: state 1635-39

denounce; ... pronounce. B, Cy, H40, P: denounces; ... pronounces. 1635-69

12 To joy that 1635-69: To joy what H40: To joye, that B

sought; Ed: sought, 1635-69

22 spoyles .. of .. weare. B, Cy, H40 (beare), P: soules .. to .. beare, 1635-69. See note

24 hers, H40, P: her, 1635-69

weares, Ed: weares. 1635-54: weares: 1669

30 the B, Cy, H40, P: those 1635-69

31 not 1635-69: that B, Cy, P

32 Which did 1635-69: Did H40: Did not B, Cy, P

spirit-instructed MSS.: spirits instructed 1635-69

saw, heard, felt. B, Cy, H40, P: saw and felt. 1635-69

38 rais'd 1635-69: raisèd Chambers

39 she sayles 1635-69: shee's sayl'd B, H40: shee's fled Cy, P

rest, 1650-69: rest 1635-39

40 here, 1650-69: here 1635-39

blest; Ed: blest 1635: blest, 1639-54: blest. 1669

41 And preach this Hymn which hers (she Cy, P) with joy did sing, B, Cy, H40, P

sing, 1650-69: sing 1635-69

---

[Note]

IV.
Psalme 137.

Probably by Francis Davison.