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

Now swome a prison in a prison put,

And now this Soule in double walls was shut,

Till melted with the Swans digestive fire,

She left her house the fish, and vapour'd forth;

245Fate not affording bodies of more worth

For her as yet, bids her againe retire

T'another fish, to any new desire

Made a new prey; For, he that can to none

Resistance make, nor complaint, sure is gone.

250Weaknesse invites, but silence feasts oppression.

Pace with her native streame, this fish doth keepe,

And journeyes with her, towards the glassie deepe,

But oft retarded, once with a hidden net

Though with greate windowes, for when Need first taught

255These tricks to catch food, then they were not wrought

As now, with curious greedinesse to let

None scape, but few, and fit for use, to get,

As, in this trap a ravenous pike was tane,

Who, though himselfe distrest, would faine have slain

260This wretch; So hardly are ill habits left again.

Here by her smallnesse shee two deaths orepast,

Once innocence scap'd, and left the oppressor fast.

The net through-swome, she keepes the liquid path,

And whether she leape up sometimes to breath

265And suck in aire, or finde it underneath,

Or working parts like mills or limbecks hath

To make the water thinne, and airelike faith

Cares not; but safe the Place she's come unto

Where fresh, with salt waves meet, and what to doe

270She knowes not, but betweene both makes a boord or two.

So farre from hiding her guests, water is,

That she showes them in bigger quantities

Then they are. Thus doubtfull of her way,

For game and not for hunger a sea Pie

275Spied through this traiterous spectacle, from high,

The seely fish where it disputing lay,

And t'end her doubts and her, beares her away:

Exalted she'is, but to the exalters good,

As are by great ones, men which lowly stood.

280It's rais'd, to be the Raisers instrument and food.

Is any kinde subject to rape like fish?

Ill unto man, they neither doe, nor wish:

Fishers they kill not, nor with noise awake,

They doe not hunt, nor strive to make a prey

285Of beasts, nor their yong sonnes to beare away;

Foules they pursue not, nor do undertake

To spoile the nests industrious birds do make;

Yet them all these unkinde kinds feed upon,

To kill them is an occupation,

290And lawes make Fasts, and Lents for their destruction.

A sudden stiffe land-winde in that selfe houre

To sea-ward forc'd this bird, that did devour

The fish; he cares not, for with ease he flies,

Fat gluttonies best orator: at last

295So long hee hath flowen, and hath flowen so fast

That many leagues at sea, now tir'd hee lyes,

And with his prey, that till then languisht, dies:

The soules no longer foes, two wayes did erre,

The fish I follow, and keepe no calender

300Of the other; he lives yet in some great officer.

Into an embrion fish, our Soule is throwne,

And in due time throwne out againe, and growne

To such vastnesse as, if unmanacled

From Greece, Morea were, and that by some

305Earthquake unrooted, loose Morea swome,

Or seas from Africks body had severed

And torne the hopefull Promontories head,

This fish would seeme these, and, when all hopes faile,

A great ship overset, or without faile

310Hulling, might (when this was a whelp) be like this whale.

At every stroake his brazen finnes do take,

More circles in the broken sea they make

Then cannons voices, when the aire they teare:

His ribs are pillars, and his high arch'd roofe

315Of barke that blunts best steele, is thunder-proofe:

Swimme in him swallow'd Dolphins, without feare,

And feele no sides, as if his vast wombe were

Some Inland sea, and ever as hee went

Hee spouted rivers up, as if he ment

320To joyne our seas, with seas above the firmament.

He hunts not fish, but as an officer,

Stayes in his court, at his owne net, and there

All suitors of all sorts themselves enthrall;

So on his backe lyes this whale wantoning,

325And in his gulfe-like throat, sucks every thing

That passeth neare. Fish chaseth fish, and all,

Flyer and follower, in this whirlepoole fall;

O might not states of more equality

Consist? and is it of necessity

330That thousand guiltlesse smals, to make one great, must die?

Now drinkes he up seas, and he eates up flocks,

He justles Ilands, and he shakes firme rockes.

Now in a roomefull house this Soule doth float,

And like a Prince she sends her faculties

335To all her limbes, distant as Provinces.

The Sunne hath twenty times both crab and goate

Parched, since first lanch'd forth this living boate;

'Tis greatest now, and to destruction

Nearest; There's no pause at perfection;

340Greatnesse a period hath, but hath no station.

Two little fishes whom hee never harm'd,

Nor fed on their kinde, two not throughly arm'd

With hope that they could kill him, nor could doe

Good to themselves by his death (they did not eate

345His flesh, nor suck those oyles, which thence outstreat)

Conspir'd against him, and it might undoe

The plot or all, that the plotters were two,

But that they fishes were, and could not speake.

How shall a Tyran wife strong projects breake,

350If wreches can on them the common anger wreake?

The flaile-finn'd Thresher, and steel-beak'd Sword-fish

Onely attempt to doe, what all doe wish.

The Thresher backs him, and to beate begins;

The sluggard Whale yeelds to oppression,

355And t'hide himselfe from shame and danger, downe

Begins to sinke; the Swordfish upward spins,

And gores him with his beake; his staffe-like finnes,

So well the one, his sword the other plyes,

That now a scoffe, and prey, this tyran dyes,

360And (his owne dole) feeds with himselfe all companies.

Who will revenge his death? or who will call

Those to account, that thought, and wrought his fall?

The heires of slaine kings, wee see are often so

Transported with the joy of what they get,

365That they, revenge and obsequies forget,

Nor will against such men the people goe,

Because h'is now dead, to whom they should show

Love in that act; Some kings by vice being growne

So needy of subjects love, that of their own

370They thinke they lose, if love be to the dead Prince shown.

This Soule, now free from prison, and passion,

Hath yet a little indignation

That so small hammers should so soone downe beat

So great a castle. And having for her house

375Got the streight cloyster of a wreched mouse

(As basest men that have not what to eate,

Nor enjoy ought, doe farre more hate the great

Then they, who good repos'd estates possesse)

This Soule, late taught that great things might by lesse

380Be slain, to gallant mischiefe doth herselfe addresse.

Natures great master-peece, an Elephant,

The onely harmlesse great thing; the giant

Of beasts; who thought, no more had gone, to make one wise

But to be just, and thankfull, loth to offend,

385(Yet nature hath given him no knees to bend)

Himselfe he up-props, on himselfe relies,

And foe to none, suspects no enemies,

Still sleeping stood; vex't not his fantasie

Blacke dreames; like an unbent bow, carelesly

390His sinewy Proboscis did remisly lie:

In which as in a gallery this mouse

Walk'd, and surveid the roomes of this vast house,

And to the braine, the soules bedchamber, went,

And gnaw'd the life cords there; Like a whole towne

395Cleane undermin'd, the slaine beast tumbled downe;

With him the murtherer dies, whom envy sent

To kill, not scape, (for, only hee that ment

To die, did ever kill a man of better roome,)

And thus he made his foe, his prey, and tombe:

400Who cares not to turn back, may any whither come.

Next, hous'd this Soule a Wolves yet unborne whelp,

Till the best midwife, Nature, gave it helpe,

To issue. It could kill, as soone as goe.

Abel, as white, and milde as his sheepe were,

405(Who, in that trade, of Church, and kingdomes, there

Was the first type) was still infested soe,

With this wolfe, that it bred his losse and woe;

And yet his bitch, his sentinell attends

The flocke so neere, so well warnes and defends,

410That the wolfe, (hopelesse else) to corrupt her, intends.

Hee tooke a course, which since, succesfully,

Great men have often taken, to espie

The counsels, or to breake the plots of foes.

To Abels tent he stealeth in the darke,

415On whose skirts the bitch slept; ere she could barke,

Attach'd her with streight gripes, yet hee call'd those,

Embracements of love; to loves worke he goes,

Where deeds move more then words; nor doth she show,

Nor 〈make〉 resist, nor needs hee streighten so

420His prey, for, were shee loose, she would nor barke, nor goe.

Hee hath engag'd her; his, she wholy bides;

Who not her owne, none others secrets hides.

If to the flocke he come, and Abell there,

She faines hoarse barkings, but she biteth not,

425Her faith is quite, but not her love forgot.

At last a trap, of which some every where

Abell had plac'd, ends all his losse, and feare,

By the Wolves death; and now just time it was

That a quicke soule should give life to that masse

430Of blood in Abels bitch, and thither this did passe.

Some have their wives, their sisters some begot,

But in the lives of Emperours you shall not

Reade of a lust the which may equall this;

This wolfe begot himselfe, and finished

435What he began alive, when hee was dead;

Sonne to himselfe, and father too, hee is

A ridling lust, for which Schoolemen would misse

A proper name. The whelpe of both these lay

In Abels tent, and with soft Moaba,

440His sister, being yong, it us'd to sport and play.

Hee soone for her too harsh, and churlish grew,

And Abell (the dam dead) would use this new

For the field. Being of two kindes thus made,

He, as his dam, from sheepe drove wolves away,

445And as his Sire, he made them his owne prey.

Five yeares he liv'd, and cosened with his trade,

Then hopelesse that his faults were hid, betraid

Himselfe by flight, and by all followed,

From dogges, a wolfe; from wolves, a dogge he fled;

450And, like a spie to both sides false, he perished.

It quickned next a toyfull Ape, and so

Gamesome it was, that it might freely goe

From tent to tent, and with the children play.

His organs now so like theirs hee doth finde,

455That why he cannot laugh, and speake his minde,

He wonders. Much with all, most he doth stay

With Adams fift daughter Siphatecia,

Doth gaze on her, and, where she passeth, passe,

Gathers her fruits, and tumbles on the grasse,

460And wisest of that kinde, the first true lover was.

He was the first that more desir'd to have

One then another; first that ere did crave

Love by mute signes, and had no power to speake;

First that could make love faces, or could doe

465The valters sombersalts, or us'd to wooe

With hoiting gambolls, his owne bones to breake

To make his mistresse merry; or to wreake

Her anger on himselfe. Sinnes against kinde

They easily doe, that can let feed their minde

470With outward beauty; beauty they in boyes and beasts do find.

By this misled, too low things men have prov'd,

And too high; beasts and angels have beene lov'd.

This Ape, though else through-vaine, in this was wise,

He reach'd at things too high, but open way

475There was, and he knew not she would say nay;

His toyes prevaile not, likelier meanes he tries,

He gazeth on her face with teare-shot eyes,

And up lifts subtly with his russet pawe

Her kidskinne apron without feare or awe

480Of nature; nature hath no gaole, though shee hath law.

First she was silly and knew not what he ment.

That vertue, by his touches, chaft and spent,

Succeeds an itchie warmth, that melts her quite;

She knew not first, nowe cares not what he doth,

485And willing halfe and more, more then halfe 〈loth〉,

She neither puls nor pushes, but outright

Now cries, and now repents; when Tethlemite

Her brother, entred, and a great stone threw

After the Ape, who, thus prevented, flew.

490This house thus batter'd downe, the Soule possest a new.

And whether by this change she lose or win,

She comes out next, where the Ape would have gone in.

Adam and Eve had mingled bloods, and now

Like Chimiques equall fires, her temperate wombe

495Had stew'd and form'd it: and part did become

A spungie liver, that did richly allow,

Like a free conduit, on a high hils brow,

Life-keeping moisture unto every part;

Part hardned it selfe to a thicker heart,

500Whose busie furnaces lifes spirits do impart.

Another part became the well of sense,

The tender well-arm'd feeling braine, from whence,

Those sinowie strings which do our bodies tie,

Are raveld out; and fast there by one end,

505Did this Soule limbes, these limbes a soule attend;

And now they joyn'd: keeping some quality

Of every past shape, she knew treachery,

Rapine, deceit, and lust, and ills enow

To be a woman. Themech she is now,

510Sister and wife to Caine, Caine that first did plow.

Who ere thou beest that read'st this sullen Writ,

Which just so much courts thee, as thou dost it,

Let me arrest thy thoughts; wonder with mee,

Why plowing, building, ruling and the rest,

515Or most of those arts, whence our lives are blest,

By cursed Cains race invented be,

And blest Seth vext us with Astronomie.

Ther's nothing simply good, nor ill alone,

Of every quality comparison,

520The onely measure is, and judge, opinion.

SEE Sir, how as the Suns hot Masculine flame

Begets strange creatures on Niles durty slime,

In me, your fatherly yet lusty Ryme

(For, these songs are their fruits) have wrought the same;

  5But though the ingendring force from whence they came

Bee strong enough, and nature doe admit

Seaven to be borne at once, I send as yet

But six; they say, the seaventh hath still some maime.

I choose your judgement, which the same degree

10Doth with her sister, your invention, hold,

As fire these drossie Rymes to purifie,

Or as Elixar, to change them to gold;

You are that Alchimist which alwaies had

Wit, whose one spark could make good things of bad.

  5The Resurrection; so much good there is

Deliver'd of her, that some Fathers be

Loth to believe one Woman could do this;

But, think these Magdalens were two or three.

Increase their number, Lady, and their fame:

10To their Devotion, add your Innocence;

Take so much of th'example, as of the name;

The latter half; and in some recompence

That they did harbour Christ himself, a Guest,

Harbour these Hymns, to his dear name addrest. J.D.

2.  Salvation to all that will is nigh;

That All, which alwayes is All every where,

Which cannot sinne, and yet all sinnes must beare,

Which cannot die, yet cannot chuse but die,

  5Loe, faithfull Virgin, yeelds himselfe to lye

In prison, in thy wombe; and though he there

Can take no sinne, nor thou give, yet he'will weare

Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may trie.

Ere by the spheares time was created, thou

10Wast in his minde, who is thy Sonne, and Brother;

Whom thou conceiv'st, conceiv'd; yea thou art now

Thy Makers maker, and thy Fathers mother;

Thou'hast light in darke; and shutst in little roome,

Immensity cloysterd in thy deare wombe.

4.  With his kinde mother who partakes thy woe,

Ioseph turne backe; see where your child doth sit,

Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit,

Which himselfe on the Doctors did bestow;

  5The Word but lately could not speake, and loe,

It sodenly speakes wonders, whence comes it,

That all which was, and all which should be writ,

A shallow seeming child, should deeply know?

His Godhead was not soule to his manhood,

10Nor had time mellowed him to this ripenesse,

But as for one which hath a long taske, 'tis good,

With the Sunne to beginne his businesse,

He in his ages morning thus began

By miracles exceeding power of man.

6.  Moyst with one drop of thy blood, my dry soule

Shall (though she now be in extreme degree

Too stony hard, and yet too fleshly,) bee

Freed by that drop, from being starv'd, hard, or foule,

  5And life, by this death abled, shall controule

Death, whom thy death slue; nor shall to mee

Feare of first or last death, bring miserie,

If in thy little booke my name thou enroule,

Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified,

10But made that there, of which, and for which 'twas;

Nor can by other meanes be glorified.

May then sinnes sleep, and deaths soone from me passe,

That wak't from both, I againe risen may

Salute the last, and everlasting day.