The sacred tree 'midst the fair orchard grew The Phoenix Truth did on it rest, And built his perfum'd nest, That right Porphyrian tree which did true logic shew. And th' apples were demonstrative: So clear their colour and divine, The very shade they cast did other lights outshine. On Anacreon continuing a lover in his old age: A powerful brand prescrib'd the date More enflam'd thy amorous rage. In the following verses we have an allusion to a Rabbinical opinion concerning Manna: Variety I ask not: give me one To live perpetually upon. The person Love does to us fit, Like manna, has the taste of all in it. Thus Donne shews his medicinal knowledge in some en comiastic verses: In every thing there naturally grows A Balsamum to keep it fresh and new, If 'twere not injur'd by extrinsic blows; And virtue and such ingredients, have made Keeps off, or cures what can be done or said. Though the following lines of Donne, on the last night of the year, have something in them too scholastic, they are not inelegant: This twilight of two years, not past nor next, Who, meteor-like, of stuff and form perplext, Debtor to th' old, nor creditor to th' new. Nor trust I this with hopes; and yet scarce true DONNE. Yet more abstruse and profound is Donne's reflection upon Man as a Microcosm: If men be worlds, there is in every one All the world's riches: and in good men, this Of thoughts so far-fetched, as to be not only unexpected, but unnatural, all their books are full. To a Lady, who wrote poesies for rings. Say, like a ring, th' equator Heaven does bind. When Heaven shall be adorn'd by thee, (Which then more Heav'n than 'tis will be) For it wanteth one as yet, Then the sun pass through't twice a year, The sun, which is esteem'd the god of wit. COWLEY. The difficulties which have been raised about identity in philosophy, are by Cowley with still more perplexity applied to Love: Five years ago (says story) I lov'd you, For which you call me most inconstant now; No flesh is now the same 'twas then in me, Must of all things most strangely inconstant prove, If from one subject they t' another move; My members then the father members were, From whence these take their birth which now are here. If then this body love what th' other did, 'Twere incest, which by nature is forbid. The love of different women is, in geographical poetry, compared to travels through different countries: Hast thou not found each woman's breast Either by savages possest, Or wild, and uninhabited? What joy could'st take, or what repose. Lust, the scorching dog-star, here Whilst Pride, the rugged northern bear, COWLEY. A Lover, burnt up by his affection, is compared to Egypt: The fate of Egypt I sustain, And never feel the dew of rain But all my too much moisture owe To overflowings of the heart below. COWLEY. The Lover supposes his Lady acquainted with the ancient laws of augury and rites of sacrifice: And yet this death of mine, 1 fear, Will ominous to her appear: When sound in every other part, Her sacrifice is found without an heart. For the last tempest of my death Shall sigh out that too, with my breath. That the chaos was harmonized, has been recited of old; but whence the different sounds arose remained for a modern to discover: Th' ungovern'd parts no correspondence knew; Earth made the Bass; the Treble, flame arose. COWLEY. The tears of lovers are always of great poetical account; but Donne has extended them into worlds. If the lines are not easily understood, they may be read again. On a round ball A workman, that hath copies by, can lay And quickly make that which was nothing all. Which thee doth wear, A globe, yea world, by that impression grow, Till thy tears mixt with mine do overflow This world, by waters sent from thee my heaven dissolved so. Johnson's Lives. I. 2 On reading the following lines, the reader may perhaps cry out - Confusion worse confounded: Here lies a she sun, and a he moon here, She gives the best light to his sphere, DONNE. Who but Donne would have thought that a good man is a telescope? Though God be our true glass through which we see All, since the being of all things is he; Yet are the trunks, which do to us derive Things in proportion fit, by perspective Deeds of good men; for by their living here, Who would imagine it possible that in a very few lines so many remote ideas could be brought together? Since 'tis my doom, Love's undershrieve, All arm'd in brass, the richest dress of war, An universal consternation: His bloody eyes he hurls round, his sharp paws COWLEY. Beasts creep into their dens, and tremble there; Their fictions were often violent and unnatural. Of his Mistress bathing. The fish around her crowded, as they do To the false light that treacherous fishers shew. As she at first took me : For ne'er did light so clear Among the waves appear, Though every night the sun himself set there. The poetical Effect of a Lover's name upon Glass. My name engrav'd herein Doth contribute my firmness to this glass: Which, ever since that charm, hath been COWLEY. COWLEY. Their conceits were sentiments slight and trifling. On an inconstant Woman. He enjoys the calmy sunshine now, In the clear heaven of thy brow No smallest cloud appears. He sees thee gentle, fair, and gay, And trusts the faithless April of thy May. DONNE. COWLEY. Upon a Paper written with the Juice of Lemon, and read by the Fire. |