Donne (5 page)

Shee’is dead; And all which die

    To their first Elements resolve;

And wee were mutuall Elements to us,

               And made of one another.

    My body then doth hers involve,

And those things whereof I consist, hereby

In me abundant grow, and burdenous,

               And nourish not, but smother.

    My fire of Passion, sighes of ayre,

Water of teares, and earthly sad despaire,

                         Which my materialls bee,

But ne’r worne out by loves securitie,

Shee, to my losse, doth by her death repaire,

    And I might live long wretched so

But that my fire doth with my fuell grow.

               Now as those Active Kings

    Whose foraine conquest treasure brings,

Receive more, and spend more, and soonest breaker

This (which I am amaz’d that I can speake)

               This death, hath with my store

                         My use encreas’d.

And so my soule more earnestly releas’d,

Will outstrip hers; As bullets flowen before

A latter bullet may o’rtake, the pouder being more.

No Lover saith, I love, nor any other

               Can judge a perfect Lover;

Hee thinkes that else none can or will agree,

               That any loves but hee:

I cannot say I lov’d, for who can say

               Hee was kill’d yesterday.

Love with excesse of heat, more yong then old,

               Death kills with too much cold;

Wee dye but once, and who lov’d last did die,

               Hee that saith twice, doth lye:

For though hee seeme to move, and stirre a while,

               It doth the sense beguile.

Such life is like the light which bideth yet

               When the lifes light is set,

Or like the heat, which fire in solid matter

               Leaves behinde, two houres after.

Once I lov’d and dyed; and am now become

               Mine Epitaph and Tombe.

Here dead men speake their last, and so do I;

               Love-slaine, loe, here I dye.

So, so, breake off this last lamenting kisse,

    Which sucks two soules, and vapors Both away,

Turne thou ghost that way, and let mee turne this,

    And let our selves benight our happiest day,

We aske none leave to love; nor will we owe

    Any, so cheape a death, as saying, Goe;

Goe; and if that word have not quite kil’d thee,

    Ease mee with death, by bidding mee goe too.

Oh, if it have, let my word worke on mee,

    And a just office on a murderer doe.

Except it be too late, to kill me so,

    Being double dead, going, and bidding, goe.

By our first strange and fatall interview,

By all desires which thereof did ensue,

By our long starving hopes, by that remorse

Which my words masculine perswasive force

Begot in thee, and by the memory

Of hurts, which spies and rivals threatned me,

I calmly beg. But by thy fathers wrath,

By all paines, which want and divorcement hath,

I conjure thee, and all the oathes which I

And thou have sworne to seale joynt constancy,

Here I unsweare, and overswear them thus,

Thou shalt not love by wayes so dangerous.

Temper, ô faire Love, loves impetuous rage,

Be my true Mistris still, not my faign’d Page;

I’ll goe, and, by thy kinde leave, leave behinde

Thee, onely worthy to nurse in my minde,

Thirst to come backe; ô if thou die before,

My soule from other lands to thee shall soare.

Thy (else Almighty) beautie cannot move

Rage from the Seas, nor thy love teach them love,

Nor tame wilde Boreas harshnesse; Thou has reade

How roughly hee in peeces shivered

Faire Orithea, whom he swore he lov’d.

Fall ill or good, ’tis madnesse to have prov’d

Dangers unurg’d; Feed on this flattery,

That absent Lovers one in th’other be.

Dissemble nothing, not a boy, nor change

Thy bodies habite, nor mindes; bee not strange

To thy selfe onely. All will spie in thy face

A blushing womanly discovering grace;

Richly cloath’d Apes, are call’d Apes, and as soone

Ecclips’d as bright we call the Moone the Moone.

Men of France, changeable Camelions,

Spittles of diseases, shops of fashions,

Loves fuellers, and the rightest company

Of Players, which upon the worlds stage be,

Will quickly know thee, and no lesse, alas!

Th’indifferent Italian, as we passe

His warme land, well content to thinke thee Page,

Will hunt thee with such lust, and hideous rage,

As
Lots
faire guests were vext. But none of these

Nor spungy hydroptique Dutch shall thee displease,

If thou stay here. O stay here, for, for thee

England is onely a worthy Gallerie,

To walke in expectation, till from thence

Our greatest King call thee to his presence.

When I am gone, dreame me some happinesse,

Nor let thy lookes our long hid love confesse,

Nor praise, nor dispraise me, nor blesse nor curse

Openly loves force, nor in bed fright thy Nurse

With midnights startings, crying out, oh, oh

Nurse, ô my love is slaine, I saw him goe

Or the white Alpes alone; I saw him I,

Assail’d, fight, taken, stabb’d, bleed, fall, and die.

Augure me better chance, except dread
Jove

Thinke it enough for me to’have had thy love.

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defie,

Until I labour, I in labour lie.

The foe oft-times having the foe in sight,

Is tir’d with standing though he never fight.

Off with that girdle, like heavens Zone glittering,

But a far fairer world incompassing.

Unpin that spangled breastplate which you wear,

That th’eyes of busie fooles may be stopt there.

Unlace your self, for that harmonious chyme,

Tells me from you, that now it is bed time.

Off with that happy busk, which I envie,

That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.

Your gown going off, such beautious state reveals,

As when from flowry meads th’hills shadowe steales.

Off with that wyerie Coronet and shew

The haiery Diademe which on you doth grow:

Now off with those shooes, and then softly tread

In this loves hallow’d temple, this soft bed.

In such white robes, heaven’s Angels us’d to be

Receavd by men: thou Angel bringst with thee

A heaven like Mahomets Paradice, and though

Ill spirits walk in white, we easly know,

By this these Angels from an evil sprite,

Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.

    
Licence my roaving hands, and let them go,

Before, behind, between, above, below.

O my America! my new-found-land,

My kingdome, safeliest when with one man man’d,

My Myne of precious stones: My Emperie,

How blest am I in this discovering thee!

To enter in these bonds, is to be free;

Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.

    Full nakedness! All joyes are due to thee,

As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,

To taste whole joyes. Jems which you women use

Are like Atlanta’s balls, cast in mens views,

That when a fools eye lighteth on a Jem,

His earthly soul may covet theirs, not them:

Like pictures, or like books gay coverings made

For lay-men, are all women thus array’d.

Themselves are mystick books, which only wee

(Whom their imputed grace will dignifie)

Must see reveal’d. Then since that I may know;

As liberally, as to a Midwife shew

Thy self: cast all, yea, this white lynnen hence,

There is no pennance, much less innocence:

    To teach thee, I am naked first; why then

What needst thou have more covering then a man.

The heavens rejoyce in motion, why should I

Abjure my so much lov’d variety,

And not with many youth and love divide?

Pleasure is none, if not diversifi’d:

The sun that sitting in the chaire of light

Sheds flame into what else soever doth seem bright,

Is not contented at one Signe to Inne,

But ends his year and with a new beginnes.

All things doe willingly in change delight,

The fruitfull mother of our appetite:

Rivers the clearer and more pleasing are,

Where their fair spreading streames run wide and farr;

And a dead lake that no strange bark doth greet,

Corrupts it self and what doth live in it.

Let no man tell me such a one is faire,

And worthy all alone my love to share.

Nature in her hath done the liberall part

Of a kinde Mistresse, and imploy’d her art

To make her loveable, and I aver

Him not humane that would turn back from her:

I love her well, and would, if need were, dye

To doe her service. But followes it that I

Must serve her onely, when I may have choice?

The law is hard, and shall not have my voice.

The last I saw in all extreames is faire,

And holds me in the Sun-beames of her haire;

Her nymph-like features such agreements have

That I could venture with her to the grave:

Another’s brown, I like her not the worse,

Her tongue is soft and takes me with discourse:

Others, for that they well descended are,

Do in my love obtain as large a share;

And though they be not fair, ’tis much with mee

To win their love onely for their degree.

And though I faile of my required ends,

The attempt is glorious and it selfe commends.

How happy were our Syres in ancient times

Who held plurality of loves no crime!

With them it was accounted charity

To stirre up race of all indifferently;

Kindreds were not exempted from the bands:

Which with the Persian still in usage stands.

Women were then no sooner asked then won,

And what they did was honest and well done.

But since this title honour hath been us’d,

Our weake credulity hath been abus’d;

The golden laws of nature are repeald,

Which our first Fathers in such reverence held;

Our liberty revers’d and Charter’s gone,

And we made servants to opinion,

A monster in no certain shape attir’d,

And whose originall is much desir’d,

Formlesse at first, but growing on it fashions,

And doth prescribe manners and laws to nations.

Here love receiv’d immedicable harmes,

And was dispoiled of his daring armes.

A greater want then is his daring eyes,

He lost those awfull wings with which he flies;

His sinewy bow, and those immortall darts

Wherewith he’is wont to bruise resisting hearts;

Onely some few strong in themselves and free

Retain the seeds of antient liberty,

Following that part of love although deprest,

And make a throne for him within their brest,

In spight of modern censures him avowing

Their Soveraigne, all service him allowing.

Amongst which troop although I am the least,

Yet equall in perfection with the best,

I glory in subjection of his hand,

Nor ever did decline his least command:

For in whatever forme the message came

My heart did open and receive the same.

But time will in his course a point discry

When I this loved service must deny.

For our allegiance temporary is,

With firmer age returnes our liberties.

What time in years and judgement we repos’d,

Shall not so easily be to change dispos’d

Nor to the art of severall eyes obeying,

But beauty with true worth securely weighing,

Which being found assembled in some one

Wee’l leave her ever, and love her alone.

Away thou fondling motley humorist,

Leave mee, and in this standing woodden chest,

Consorted with these few bookes, let me lye

In prison, and here be coffin’d, when I dye;

Here are Gods conduits, grave Divines; and here

Natures Secretary, the Philosopher;

And jolly Statesmen, which teach how to tie

The sinewes of a cities mistique bodie;

Here gathering Chroniclers, and by them stand

Giddie fantastique Poëts of each land.

Shall I leave all this constant company,

And follow headlong, wild uncertaine thee?

First sweare by thy best love in earnest

(If thou which lov’st all, canst love any best)

Thou wilt not leave mee in the middle street,

Though some more spruce companion thou dost meet

Not though a Captaine do come in thy way

Bright parcell gilt, with forty dead mens pay,

Not though a briske perfum’d piert Courtier

Deigne with a nod, thy courtesie to answer.

Nor come a velvet Justice with a long

Great traine of blew coats, twelve, or fourteen strong,

Wilt thou grin or fawne on him, or prepare

A speech to Court his beautious sonne and heire!

For better or worse take mee, or leave mee:

To take, and leave mee is adultery.

Oh monstrous, superstitious puritan,

Of refin’d manners, yet ceremoniall man,

That when thou meet’st one, with enquiring eyes

Dost search, and like a needy broker prize

The silke, and gold he weares, and to that rate

So high or low, dost raise thy formall hat:

That wilt consort none, untill thou have knowne

What lands hee hath in hope, or of his owne,

As though all thy companions should make thee

Jointures, and marry thy deare company.

Why should’st thou that dost not onely approve,

But in ranke itchie lust, desire, and love

The nakednesse and barenesse to enjoy,

Of thy plumpe muddy whore, or prostitute boy

Hate vertue, though shee be naked, and bare?

At birth, and death, our bodies naked are;

And till our Soules be unapparrelled

Of bodies, they from blisse are banished.

Mans first blest state was naked, when by sinne

Hee lost that, yet hee was cloath’d but in beasts skin,

And in this course attire, which I now weare,

With God, and with the Muses I conferre.

But since thou like a contrite penitent,

Charitably warn’d of thy sinnes, dost repent

These vanities, and giddinesse, loe

I shut my chamber doore, and come, lets goe.

But sooner may a cheape whore, who hath beene

Worne by as many severall men in sinne,

As are black feathers, or musk-colour hose,

Name her childs right true father, ’mongst all those:

Sooner may one guesse, who shall beare away

The infant of London, Heire to an India,

And sooner may a gulling weather-Spie

By drawing forth heavens Scheme tell certainly

What fashioned hats, or ruffes, or suits next yeare

Our subtile-witted antique youths will weare;

Then thou, when thou depart’st from mee, canst show

Whither, why, when, or with whom thou wouldst go.

But how shall I be pardon’d my offence

That thus have sinn’d against my conscience?

Now we are in the street; He first of all

Improvidently proud, creepes to the wall,

And so imprisoned, and hem’d in by mee

Sells for a little state his libertie,

Yet though he cannot skip forth now to greet

Every fine silken painted foole we meet,

He them to him with amorous smiles allures,

And grins, smacks, shrugs, and such an itch endures,

As prentises, or schoole-boyes which doe know

Of some gay sport abroad, yet dare not goe.

And as fidlers stop lowest, at highest sound,

So to the most brave, stoops hee nigh’st the ground.

But to a grave man, he doth move no more

Then the wise politique horse would heretofore,

Or thou O Elephant or Ape wilt doe,

When any names the King of Spaine to you.

Now leaps he upright, Joggs me, and cryes, Do you see

Yonder well favoured youth? Which? Oh, ’tis hee

That dances so divinely; Oh, said I,

Stand still, must you dance here for company?

Hee droopt, wee went, till one (which did excell

Th’Indians, in drinking his Tobacco well)

Met us; they talk’d; I whispered, let’us goe,

’T may be you smell him not, truely I doe;

He heares not mee, but, on the other side

A many-coloured Peacock having spide,

Leaves him and mee; I for my lost sheep stay;

He followes, overtakes, goes on the way,

Saying, him whom I last left, all repute

For his device, in hansoming a sute,

To judge of lace, pinke, panes, print, cut, and plight,

Of all the Court, to have the best conceit;

Our dull Comedians want him, let him goe;

But Oh, God strengthen thee, why stoop’st thou so?

Why, he hath travayld. Long? No, but to me

Which understand none, he doth seeme to be

Perfect French, and Italian; I replyed,

So is the Poxe; He answered not, but spy’d

More men of sort, of parts, and qualities;

At last his Love he in a windowe spies,

And like light dew exhal’d, he flings from mee

Violently ravish’d to his lechery.

Many were there, he could command no more;

Hee quarreird, fought, bled; and turn’d out of dore

    Directly came to mee hanging the head,

    And constantly a while must keepe his bed.