As lightning or a taper's light, Thine eyes, and not thy noise, wak'd me; (For thou lov'st truth) an angel at first sight; But when I saw thou saw'st my heart, And knew'st my thoughts beyond an angel's art, When thou knew'st what I dreamt, then thou knew'st Excess of joy would wake me, and cam'st then. [when I must confess it could not chuse but be Profane to think thee any thing but thee. Coming and staying shew'd thee thee, That Love is weak where Fear's as strong as he; If mixture it of fear, shame, honour, have. A VALEDICTION OF WEEPING. LET me pour forth My tears before thy face whilst I stay here, And by this mintage they are something worth, 20 30 For thus they be Pregnant of thee: Fruits of much grief they are emblems of more, When a tear falls, that thou fall'st, which it bore; So thou and I are nothing then when on a diverse shore. On a round ball A workman, that hath copies by, can lay An Europe, Afrique, and an Asia, And quickly make that which was nothing all: Which thou doth wear A globe, yea, world, by that impression grow, This world, by waters sent from thee, my heav'n dis O more than moon, 3 [solved so. Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere; Example find To do me more harm than it purposeth: 20 Whoe'er sighs most is cruellest, and hastes the other's death. Donne 27 LOVE'S ALCHYMY. SOME that have deeper digg'd Love's mine than I, Say where his centric happiness doth lie: But should I love, get, tell, till I were old, Oh! 'tis imposture all: And as no chymic yet th' elixir got, Some odoriferous thing, or medicinal, Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day, Can be as happy as I can? If he can Endure the short scorn of a bridegroom's play, That loving wretch that swears 'Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds, Which he in her angelic finds, Would swear as justly that he hears, In that day's rude hoarse minstrelsy the spheres. 10 20 Sweetness and wit they're but mummy possest. 24 THE CURSE. WHOEVER guesses, thinks, or dreams, he knows Who is my mistress, wither by this Curse; Him only for his purse May some dull whore to love dispose, And then yield unto all that are his foes; Madness his sorrow, gout his cramp, may he Make, by but thinking who hath made them such; And may he feel no touch Of conscience, but of fame, and be Anguish'd, not that 't was sin, but that 't was she: One that hates him only for impotence, May he dream treason, and believe that he His sons, which none of his may be, 20 Inherit nothing but his infamy: Or may he so long parasites have fed, That he would fain be theirs whom he hath bred, And at the last be circumcis'd for bread, The venom of all stepdames, gamester's gall, Prophets or poets spake; and all which shall THE MESSAGE. SEND home my long-stray'd eyes to me, And false passions, That they be Made by thee Fit for no good sight, keep them still. Send home my harmless heart again, Which no unworthy thought could stain; But if it be taught by thine To make jestings Of protestings, And break both Word and oath, Keep it still, 'tis none of mine. 30 32 10 |