But you, of learning and religion, Keeps off, or cures what can be done or faid. Though the following lines of Donne, on the laft night of the year, have fomething in them too fcholaftick, they are not inelegant : This twilight of two years, not paft nor next, Some emblem is of me, or I of this, Who, mere or like, of stuff and form perplext, Debtor to th' old, nor creditor to th' new. Nor truft I this with hopes; and yet fcarce true DONNE. Yet more abftruse and profound is Donne's reflecupon Man as a Microcofm: tion If men be worlds, there is in every one Something to answer in fome proportion; All the world's riches and in good men, this OF thoughts fo far-fatched, as to be not only unexpected, but unnatural, all their books are full. To a Lady, who wrote poefies for rings. They, who above do various circles find, 'Tis thou must write the poefy there, For it wanteth one as yet, Then the fun país through't twice a year, The fun, which is esteem'd the god of wit. COWLEY. The difficulties which have been raised about iden tity 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 moft inconftant now; My members then, the father members were If then this body love what th' other did, 'Twere inceft, which by nature is forbid. The love of different women is, in geographical poetry, compared to travels through different coun tries: Haft thou not found each woman's breast (The land where thou haft travelled) Either by favages poffeft, Or wild, and uninhabited? What joy could'st take, or what repose, Luft, Luft, the fcorching dog-ftar, here Whilft Pride, the rugged Northern bear, And where thefe are temperate known, The foil's all barren fand, or rocky ftone. 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 COWLEY. The lover fuppofes his lady acquainted with the ancient laws of augury and rites of facrifice : And yet this death of mine, I fear, When found in every other part, Shall figh out that too, with my breath. That the chaos was harmonifed, has been recited ofold; but whence the different founds arofe remained for a modern to discover: Th' ungovern'd parts no correfpondence knew; COWLEY. The The tears of lovers are always of great poetical account; but Donne has extended them into worlds. If the lines are not eafily understood, they may be read again. f 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 impreffion grow, On reading the following lines, the reader may perhaps cry out-Confufion worfe confounded. Here lies a fhe fun, and a he moon here, She gives the best light to his sphere, They unto one another nothing owe. Though God be our true glass through which we fee Yet are the trunks, which do to us derive Who Who would imagine it poffible that in a very few lines fo many remote ideas could be brought together? Since 'tis my doom, Love's undershrieve, Why doth my the advowson fly To fell thyfelf doft thou intend And hold the contraft thus in doubt, Think but how foon the market fails, And if to measure age's span, The fober Julian were th' account of man, Whilft you live by the fleet Gregorian. CLEIVELAND. OF enormous and difgufting hyperboles, these may be examples: By every wind that comes this way, Send me at least a figh or two, Such and fo many I'll repay As fhall themselves make winds to get to you. In tears I'll waste these eyes, By Love fo vainly fed; So luft of old the Deluge punished. All arm'd in brafs, the richest dress of war, COWLEY. COWLEY. COWLEY. |