Physick and Chirurgery for a Lover. Gently, ah gently, Madam, touch The wound, which you yourself have made: Which makes me of your hand afraid. Cordials of pity give me now, For I too weak of purgings grow. The World and a Clock. Mahol, th' inferior world's fantastic face, Made up the whole again of every part. COWLEY. COWLEY. A coal-pit has not often found its poet; but that it may not want its due honour, Cleiveland has paralleled it with the Sun: The moderate value of our guiltless ore Had he our pits, the Persian would admire Then let this truth reciprocally run, The sun's heaven's coalery, and coals our sun. Death, a Voyage: No family E'er rigg'd a soul for heaven's discovery, With whom more venturers might boldly dare DONNE. Their thoughts and expressions were sometimes grosly abused, and such as ao figures or licence can reconcile to the understanding. A Lover A Lover neither dead nor alive: Then down I laid my head Down on cold earth; and for a while was dead, And my freed soul to a strange somewhere fled : When back to its cage again I saw it fly; And row her galley here again. Fool, to that body to return Where it condemn'd and destin'd is to burn! Once dead, how can it be, Death should a thing so pleasant seem to thee, That thou should'st come to live it o'er again in me? Woe to her stubborn heart, if once mine come Into the self-same room, 'Twill tear and blown up all within, Like a grenado shot into a magazin. Then shall Love keep the ashes, and torn parts, Shall out of both one new one make: From her's th' allay; from mine, the metal take. The poetical Propagation of Light: The Prince's favour is diffus'd all, COWLEY. From which all fortunes, names, and natures fall; Then from those wombs of stars, the Bride's bright eyes, At every glance a constellation flies And sowes the court with stars, and doth prevent In light and power, the all-ey'd firmament: First her eye kindles other ladies' eyes, Then from their beams their jewels lustres rise; And from their jewels torches do take fire, DONNE. THEY were in very little care to clothe their notions with elegance of dress, and therefore miss the notice and the praise which are often gained by those, who think less, but are more diligent to adorn their thoughts. That a Mistress beloved is fairer in idea than in reality, is by Cowley thus expressed: Thou in my fancy dost much higher stand, And I must needs, I'm sure, a loser be, To change thee, as thou'rt there, for very thee. That prayer and labour should co-operate, are thus taught by Donne : In none but us, are such mixt engines found, We till with them; and them to heaven we raise; Who prayerless labours, or, without this, prays, Doth but one half, that's one. By the same author, a common topick, the danger of procrastination, is thus Illustrated: That which I should have begun In my youth's morning, now late must be done; Which stray or sleep all day, and having lost Light and strength, dark and tir'd, must then ride post All that man has to do is to live and die; the sum of humanity is comprehended by Donne in the following lines: Think in how poor a prison thou didst lie; After enabled but to suck and cry. Think, when 'twas grown to most, 'twas a poor inn, A province pack'd up in two yards of skin, And that usurp'd, or threaten'd with a rage Of sicknesses, or their true mother, age. But think that death hath now enfranchis'd thee; Think, that a rusty piece discharg'd is flown In pieces, and the bullet is his own. And freely flies; this to thy soul allow, Think thy shell broke, think thy soul hatch'd but now. THEY were sometimes indelicate and disgusting. Cowley thus apostrophises beauty: -Thou tyrant, which leav'st no man free! Thou subtle thief, from whom nought safe can be! Thou murtherer, which hast kill'd, and devil, which wouldst damn me. Thus he addresses his Mistress: Thou who, in many a propriety, So truly art the sun to me, Add one more likeness, which I'm sure you can, And let me and my sun beget a man. Thus he represents the meditations of a Lover: Though in thy thoughts scarce any tracts have been Such THEIR expressions sometimes raise horror, when they intend perhaps to be pathetic : As men in hell are from diseases free, So from all other ills am I, COWLEY. THEY were not always strictly curious, whether the opinions from which they drew their illustrations were true; it was enough that they were popular. Bacon remarks, that some falsehoods are continued by tradition, because they supply commodious allusions. It gave a piteous groan, and so it broke ; Like poison put into a Venice-glass. COWLEY. In forming descriptions, they looked out not for images, but, for conceits. Night has been a common subject, which poets have contended to adorn. Dryden's Night is well known; Donne's is as follows: Thou seest me here at midnight, now all rest: To-morrow's To-morrow's business, when the labourers have Thou at this midnight seest me. It must be however confessed of these writers, that if they are upon common subjects often unnecessarily and unpoetically subtle; yet where scholastick speculation can be properly admitted, their copiousness and acuteness may be justly admired. What Cowley has written upon Hope, shews an unequalled fertility of invention: Hope, whose weak being ruin'd is, If things then from their end we happy call, Hope, thou bold taster of delight, Who, whilst thou should'st but taste, devour'st it quite! By clogging it with legacies before! The joys which we entire should wed, Come deflower'd virgins to our bed; Good fortunes without gain imported be, Such mighty custom's paid to thee: For joy, like wine, kept close does better taste; If it take air before, its spirits waste. To the following comparison of a man that travels, and his wife that stays at home, with a pair of compasses, it may be doubted whether absurdity or ingenuity has the better claim: Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yet A breach, but an expanson, Like gold to airy thinness beat. If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin-compasses are two, Thy soul the fixt foot, makes no show And |