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

7.  Salute the last and everlasting day,

Joy at the uprising of this Sunne, and Sonne,

Yee whose just teares, or tribulation

Have purely washt, or burnt your drossie clay;

  5Behold the Highest, parting hence away,

Lightens the darke clouds, which hee treads upon,

Nor doth hee by ascending, show alone,

But first hee, and hee first enters the way.

O strong Ramme, which hast batter'd heaven for mee,

10Mild Lambe, which with thy blood, hast mark'd the path;

Bright Torch, which shin'st, that I the way may see,

Oh, with thy owne blood quench thy owne just wrath,

And if thy holy Spirit, my Muse did raise,

Deigne at my hands this crowne of prayer and praise.

THOU hast made me, And shall thy worke decay?

Repaire me now, for now mine end doth haste,

I runne to death, and death meets me as fast,

And all my pleasures are like yesterday;

  5I dare not move my dimme eyes any way,

Despaire behind, and death before doth cast

Such terrour, and my feeble flesh doth waste

By sinne in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh;

Onely thou art above, and when towards thee

10By thy leave I can looke, I rise againe;

But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,

That not one houre my selfe I can sustaine;

Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art,

And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart.

O MIGHT those sighes and teares returne againe

Into my breast and eyes, which I have spent,

That I might in this holy discontent

Mourne with some fruit, as I have mourn'd in vaine;

  5In mine Idolatry what showres of raine

Mine eyes did waste? what griefs my heart did rent?

That sufferance was my sinne; now I repent;

'Cause I did suffer I must suffer paine.

Th'hydroptique drunkard, and night-scouting thiefe,

10The itchy Lecher, and selfe tickling proud

Have the remembrance of past joyes, for reliefe

Of comming ills. To (poore) me is allow'd

No ease; for, long, yet vehement griefe hath beene

Th'effect and cause, the punishment and sinne.

I AM a little world made cunningly

Of Elements, and an Angelike spright,

But black sinne hath betraid to endlesse night

My worlds both parts, and (oh) both parts must die.

  5You which beyond that heaven which was most high

Have found new sphears, and of new lands can write,

Powre new seas in mine eyes, that so I might

Drowne my world with my weeping earnestly,

Or wash it, if it must be drown'd no more:

10But oh it must be burnt! alas the fire

Of lust and envie have burnt it heretofore,

And made it fouler; Let their flames retire,

And burne me ô Lord, with a fiery zeale

Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heale.

A T the round earths imagin'd corners, blow

 Your trumpets, Angells, and arise, arise

From death, you numberlesse infinities

Of soules, and to your scattred bodies goe,

  5All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,

All whom warre, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,

Despaire, law, chance, hath slaine, and you whose eyes,

Shall behold God, and never tast deaths woe.

But let them sleepe, Lord, and mee mourne a space,

10For, if above all these, my sinnes abound,

'Tis late to aske abundance of thy grace,

When wee are there; here on this lowly ground,

Teach mee how to repent; for that's as good

As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon, with thy blood.

I F poysonous mineralls, and if that tree,

  Whose fruit threw death on else immortall us,

If lecherous goats, if serpents envious

Cannot be damn'd; Alas; why should I bee?

  5Why should intent or reason, borne in mee,

Make sinnes, else equall, in mee more heinous?

And mercy being easie, and glorious

To God; in his sterne wrath, why threatens hee?

But who am I, that dare dispute with thee

10O God? Oh! of thine onely worthy blood,

And my teares, make a heavenly Lethean flood,

And drowne in it my sinnes blacke memorie;

That thou remember them, some claime as debt,

I thinke it mercy, if thou wilt forget.

SPIT in my face you Jewes, and pierce my side,

Buffet, and scoffe, scourge, and crucifie mee,

For I have sinn'd, and sinn'd, and onely hee,

Who could do no iniquitie, hath dyed:

  5But by my death can not be satisfied

My sinnes, which passe the Jewes impiety:

They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I

Crucifie him daily, being now glorified.

Oh let mee then, his strange love still admire:

10Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.

And Iacob came cloth'd in vile harsh attire

But to supplant, and with gainfull intent:

God cloth'd himselfe in vile mans flesh, that so

Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe.

WHAT if this present were the worlds last night?

 Marke in my heart, O Soule, where thou dost dwell,

The picture of Christ crucified, and tell

Whether that countenance can thee affright,

  5Teares in his eyes quench the amasing light,

Blood fills his frownes, which from his pierc'd head fell.

And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,

Which pray'd forgivenesse for his foes fierce spight?

No, no; but as in my idolatrie

10I said to all my profane mistresses,

Beauty, of pitty, foulnesse onely is

A signe of rigour: so I say to thee,

To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assign'd,

This beauteous forme assures a pitious minde.

WILT thou love God, as he thee! then digest,

My Soule, this wholsome meditation,

How God the Spirit, by Angels waited on

In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy brest.

  5The Father having begot a Sonne most blest,

And still begetting, (for he ne'r begonne)

Hath deign'd to chuse thee by adoption,

Coheire to'his glory,'and Sabbaths endlesse rest.

And as a robb'd man, which by search doth finde

10His stolne stuffe sold, must lose or buy'it againe:

The Sonne of glory came downe, and was slaine,

Us whom he'had made, and Satan stolne, to unbinde.

'Twas much, that man was made like God before,

But, that God should be made like man, much more.

SINCE she whom I lov'd hath payd her last debt

To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,

And her Soule early into heaven ravished,

Wholly on heavenly things my mind is sett.

  5Here the admyring her my mind did whett

To seeke thee God; so streames do shew their head;

But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,

A holy thirsty dropsy melts mee yett.

But why should I begg more Love, when as thou

10Dost wooe my soule for hers; offring all thine:

And dost not only feare least I allow

My Love to Saints and Angels things divine,

But in thy tender jealosy dost doubt

Least the World, Fleshe, yea Devill putt thee out.

O H, to vex me, contraryes meet in one:

Inconstancy unnaturally hath begott

A constant habit; that when I would not

I change in vowes, and in devotione.

  5As humorous is my contritione

As my prophane Love, and as soone forgott:

As ridlingly distemper'd, cold and hott,

As praying, as mute; as infinite, as none.

I durst not view heaven yesterday; and to day

10In prayers, and flattering speaches I court God:

To morrow I quake with true feare of his rod.

So my devout fitts come and go away

Like a fantastique Ague: save that here

Those are my best dayes, when I shake with feare.

15Who can blot out the Crosse, which th'instrument

Of God, dew'd on mee in the Sacrament?

Who can deny mee power, and liberty

To stretch mine armes, and mine owne Crosse to be?

Swimme, and at every stroake, thou art thy Crosse;

20The Mast and yard make one, where seas do tosse;

Looke downe, thou spiest out Crosses in small things;

Looke up, thou seest birds rais'd on crossed wings;

All the Globes frame, and spheares, is nothing else

But the Meridians crossing Parallels.

25Materiall Crosses then, good physicke bee,

But yet spirituall have chiefe dignity.

These for extracted chimique medicine serve,

And cure much better, and as well preserve;

Then are you your own physicke, or need none,

30When Still'd, or purg'd by tribulation.

For when that Crosse ungrudg'd, unto you stickes,

Then are you to your selfe, a Crucifixe.

As perchance, Carvers do not faces make,

But that away, which hid them there, do take;

35Let Crosses, soe, take what hid Christ in thee,

And be his image, or not his, but hee.

But, as oft Alchimists doe coyners prove,

So may a selfe-dispising, get selfe-love,

And then as worst surfets, of best meates bee,

40Soe is pride, issued from humility,

For, 'tis no child, but monster; therefore Crosse

Your joy in crosses, else, 'tis double losse.

And crosse thy senses, else, both they, and thou

Must perish soone, and to destruction bowe.

45For if the'eye seeke good objects, and will take

No crosse from bad, wee cannot scape a snake.

So with harsh, hard, sowre, stinking, crosse the rest,

Make them indifferent all; call nothing best.

But most the eye needs crossing, that can rome,

50And move; To th'other th'objects must come home.

And crosse thy heart: for that in man alone

Points downewards, and hath palpitation.

Crosse those dejections, when it downeward tends,

And when it to forbidden heights pretends.

55And as the braine through bony walls doth vent

By sutures, which a Crosses forme present,

So when thy braine workes, ere thou utter it,

Crosse and correct concupiscence of witt.

Be covetous of Crosses, let none fall.

60Crosse no man else, but crosse thy selfe in all.

Then doth the Crosse of Christ worke fruitfully

Within our hearts, when wee love harmlesly

That Crosses pictures much, and with more care

That Crosses children, which our Crosses are.

As, at thy presence here, our fires grow pale.

Whose body having walk'd on earth, and now

10Hasting to Heaven, would, that he might allow

Himselfe unto all stations, and fill all,

For these three daies become a minerall;

Hee was all gold when he lay downe, but rose

All tincture, and doth not alone dispose

15Leaden and iron wills to good, but is

Of power to make even sinfull flesh like his.

Had one of those, whose credulous pietie

Thought, that a Soule one might discerne and see

Goe from a body,'at this sepulcher been,

20And, issuing from the sheet, this body seen,

He would have justly thought this body a soule,

If not of any man, yet of the whole.

Desunt cætera.

She sees at once the virgin mother stay

Reclus'd at home, Publique at Golgotha;

Sad and rejoyc'd shee's seen at once, and seen

At almost fiftie, and at scarce fifteene.

15At once a Sonne is promis'd her, and gone,

Gabriell gives Christ to her, He her to John;

Not fully a mother, Shee's in Orbitie,

At once receiver and the legacie.

All this, and all betweene, this day hath showne,

20Th'Abridgement of Christs story, which makes one

(As in plaine Maps, the furthest West is East)

Of the'Angels Ave,'and Consummatum est.

How well the Church, Gods Court of faculties

Deales, in some times, and seldome joyning these!

25As by the selfe-fix'd Pole wee never doe

Direct our course, but the next starre thereto,

Which showes where the'other is, and which we say

(Because it strayes not farre) doth never stray;

So God by his Church, neerest to him, wee know,

30And stand firme, if wee by her motion goe;

His Spirit, as his fiery Pillar doth

Leade, and his Church, as cloud; to one end both.

This Church, by letting these daies joyne, hath shown

Death and conception in mankinde is one;

35Or'twas in him the same humility,

That he would be a man, and leave to be:

Or as creation he hath made, as God,

With the last judgement, but one period,

His imitating Spouse would joyne in one

40Manhoods extremes: He shall come, he is gone:

Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall,

Accepted, would have serv'd, he yet shed all;

So though the least of his paines, deeds, or words,

Would busie a life, she all this day affords;

45This treasure then, in grosse, my Soule uplay,

And in my life retaile it every day.

Could I behold that endlesse height which is

Zenith to us, and our Antipodes,

25Humbled below us? or that blood which is

The seat of all our Soules, if not of his,

Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne

By God, for his apparell, rag'd, and torne?

If on these things I durst not looke, durst I

30Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye,

Who was Gods partner here, and furnish'd thus

Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom'd us?

Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,

They'are present yet unto my memory,

35For that looks towards them; and thou look'st towards mee,

O Saviour, as thou hang'st upon the tree;

I turne my backe to thee, but to receive

Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.

O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,

40Burne off my rusts, and my deformity,

Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,

That thou may'st know mee, and I'll turne my face.