If then this body love what th' other did, "T were 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 couldst take, or what repose, 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 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, Will ominous to her appear: 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 harmonised, 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. So doth each tear, 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. Here lies a she sun, and a he moon here, 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 Deeds of good men; for by their living here, 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 doth my she advowson fly To sell thyself dost thou intend And hold the contrast thus in doubt, Think but how soon the market fails, The sober 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, COWLEY. An universal consternation: His bloody eyes he hurls round, his sharp paws Beasts creep into their dens, and tremble there; Trees, though no wind is stirring, shake with fear; Silence and horror fill the place around : 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 As she at first took me : For ne'er did light so clear |