This twilight of two years, not past nor next, If I should call me any thing, should miss. 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 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: They, who above do various circles find, When Heaven shall be adorn'd by thee, 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 I am not the same that I was then ; No flesh is now the same 'twas then in me, And that my mind is chang'd yourself may see. Were more inconstant far; for accidents 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. '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, In countries so unciviliz'd as those? And where these are temperate known, The soil's all barren sand, or rocky stone. COWLEY. A lover, burnt up by his affection, is compared to Egypt: The fate of Egypt I sustain,` And never feel the due of rain From clouds which in the head appear; 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, I fear, 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 ; 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 An Europe, Afric, and an Asia, 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. On reading the following lines, the reader may perhaps cry out-Confusion worse confounded. 10 Here lies a she sun, and a he moon hère, Or each is both, and all, and so They unto one another nothing owe. 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 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, Why this reprieve? Why doth my she advowson fly Incumbency? To sell thyself dost thou intend And hold the contrast thus in doubt, Think but how soon the market fails, Your sex lives faster than the males; And if to measure age's span, The jober Julian were th' account of man, CLEIVELAND. Of enormous and disgusting hyperboles, these may be examples: By every wind that comes this way, Send me at least a sigh or two, Such and so many I'll repay As shall themselves make winds to get to you. COWLEY. In tears I'll waste these eyes, By love so vainly fed; So lust of old the deluge punished. COWLEY. All arm'd in brass, the richest dress of war, (A dismal glorious sight!) he shone afar. The sun himself started with sudden fright, COWLEY. An universal consternation: His bloody eyes he hurls round, his sharp paws Beasts creep into their dens, and tremble there; Echo itself dares scarce repeat the sound. COWLEY. 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, And all with as much ease might taken be, 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. COWLEY. 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 As hard as that which grav'd it was. DONNE. |