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, 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. 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, As she at first took me ; For ne'er did light so clear COWLEY. 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. Their conceits were sentiments slight and trifling. On an inconstant woman: He enjoys the calmy sunshine now, No smallest cloud appears. He sees thee gentle, fair and gay, And trusts the faithless April of thy May. COWLEY. Upon a paper, written with the juice of lemon, and read by the fire: Nothing yet in thee is seen, But when a genial heat warms thee within, A new-born wood of various lines there grows : Here buds an L, and there a B; Here sprouts a V, and there a T; And all the flourishing letters stand in rows. COWLEY. As they sought only for novelty, they did not much inquire, whether their allusions were to things high or low, elegant or gross; whether they compared the little to the great, or the great to the little. Physick and chirurgery for a lover: Gently, ah gently, madam, touch Cordials of pity give me now, The world and a clock: Mahol th' inferior world's fantastic face COWLEY. Thro' all the turns of matter's maze did trace; Made up the whole again of every part. 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 For wants he heat, or light? or would have store 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 Venture their stakes, with him in joy to share. Donne. Their thoughts and expressions were sometimes grossly absurd, and such as no figures or license can reconcile to the understanding. A lover neither dead nor alive : Then down I laid my head, Down on cold earth; and for awhile 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! 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? COWLEY. A lover's heart, a hand grenado: Wo to her stubborn heart, if once mine come "Twill tear and blow up all within, Like a grenado shot into a magazin. Then shall love keep the ashes and torn parts, Of both our broken hearts; Shall out of both one new one make; From hers th' allay, from mine the metal take. To poetical propagation of light; The prince's favour is diffus'd o'er all, COWLEY. From which all fortunes, names, and natures fall: 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: 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, To change thee, as thou'rt there, for very thee. That prayer and labour should cooperate, are thus taught by Donne : In none but us are such mix'd engines found, As hands of double office: for the ground We till with them; and them to heaven we raise : 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 But think that death hath now enfranchis'd thee; Think, that a rusty piece discharg'd is flown 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 murderer, which hast kill'd; and devil, which would'st 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 tracks have been |