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Y.
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 an-
cient laws of augury and rites of sacrifice :

And yet this death of mine, I fear,
Will ominous to her appear :

When found 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,
An artless war from thwarting motions grew;
Till they to number and fixt rules were brought.
Water and air he for the Tenor chose,
Earth made the Base; the Treble, flame arose *.

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 Afia,

And quickly make that, which was nothing, all.
* Cowley appears, by these lines, to have been but little killed ita
music. Not to speak of the sentiment, had he resembled water
alone to the tekor, and air to the contra-tenor, the analogy had
been just.

So doth each tear,

Which thee doth wear,
A globe, yea world, by that impresfion grow,
Till thy tears mixt with mine do overflow
This world, by waters sent from thee

my

Leaven dis solved fo.

, haps cry out-Confusion wor se confounded.

Here lies a she sun, and a he moon here

She gives the best light to his sphere,

Or each is both, and all, and so
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,

Virtues, indeed remote, seem to be near.
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 underfhrieve,

Why this reprieve?
Why doth my She Advowson

Incumbency?
To sell thyself dost thou intend

By candle's end,
And hold the contrast thus in doubt,

Life's taper out?
Think but how foon the market fails,
Your sex lives fafter than the males;
And if to measure age's span,

The

?

The fober Julian were th' account of man,
Whilft you live by the fleet Gregorian.

CLEIVELAND, OF enormous and disgusting hyberboles, 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 luft of old the Deluge punished.

COWLEY,
Allarm'd in brass the richest dress of war,
(A dismal glorious fight) he shone afar.
The sun himself started with sudden fright,
To see his beams return so dismal bright.

COWLEY,
An universal consternation:

His bloody eyes he hurls round, his sharp paws
Tear up the ground; then runs he wild about,
Lashing his angry tail and roaring out.
Beasts creep into their dens, and tremble there;
Trees, though no wind is stirring, thake with fear;
Silence and horrour 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 crouded, as they do
To the false light that treacherous fithes shew,
And all with as much ease might taken be,

As she at firft took me :
For ne'er did light so clear

Among

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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 glafs ;

Which, ever since that charm, hath been
As hard as that which gray'd it was.

DONNE,
Their conceits were sometimes slight and trifling.

On an inconstant woman:
He enjoys the calmy sunshine now,

And no breath stirring hears,
In the clear heaven of thy brow,

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 enquire 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

The wound, which you yourself have made ;
Vol. II,
D

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Thať pain must needs be very much,

Which makes me of your hand afraid.
Cordials of pity give me now,
For I too weak of purgings grow,

Cowley.
The World and a Clock.
Mahol, th' inferior world's fantastic face,
Thro' all the turns of matter's maze did trace ;
Great Nature's well-set clock in pieces took ;
On all the springs and smallest wheels did look
Of life and motion, and with equal art
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
Makes no man atheist, and no woman whore ;
Yet why should hallow'd veftal's facred shrine
Deserve more honour than a flaming mine?
These pregnant wombs of heat would fitter be
Than a few embers, for a deity.
Had he our pits, the Persian would admire
No sun, but warni's devotion at our fire :
He'd leave the trotting whipfter, and prefer
Our profound Vulcan ’bove that waggoner.
For wants he heat, or light? or would have stort
Or both ? 'tis here : and what can suns give more?
Nay, what's the sun but, in a different name,
A coal-pit rampant, or a mine on fiame !
Then let this truth reciprocally run,
The fun's heaven's coalery, and coals our sup,
Death, a Voyage :

No family
Ere rigg'd a foul for heaven's discovery,

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