the sheet turned aside as might shew his lean, pale, and death-like face, which was purposely turned toward the east, from whence he expected the second coming of his and our Saviour. Thus he was drawn at his just height; and when the picture was fully finished, he caused it to be set by his bed-side, where it continued, and became his hourly object till his death, and was then given to his dearest friend and executor, Dr. King, who caused him to be thus carved in one entire piece of white marble, as it now stands in the cathedral church of St. Paul's; and by Dr. Donne's own appointment these words were to be affixed to it as his epitaph:

JOHANNES DONNE,

Sac. Theol. Professor,

Post varia studia quibus ab annis tenerrimis fideliter, nec infeliciter incubuit; Instinctu et impulsu Sp. Sancti, monitu et hortatu Regis Jacobi, Ordines Sacros amplexus Anno sui Jesu 1614; et suæ ætatis 42. Decanatu hujus Ecclesiæ indutus 27 Novembris 1621. Exutus morte ultimo die Martii 163!. Hic licet in occiduo cinere aspicit Eum Cujus nomen est Oriens.

Upon Monday following he took his last leave of his beloved study, and, being sensible of his hourly Volume I.

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decay, retired himself to his bed-chamber; and that week sent at several times for many of his most considerable friends, with whom he took a solemn and deliberate farewell, commending to their considerations some sentences useful for the regulations of their lives, and then dismissed them, as good Jacob did his sons, with a spiritual benediction. The Sunday following he appointed his servants, that if there were any business undone that concerned him or themselves, it should be prepared against Saturday next; for after that day he would not mix his thoughts with any thing that concerned this world, nor ever did; but as Job, so le "waited for the appointed time of "his dissolution."

And now he had nothing to do but to die; to do which he stood in need of no longer time, for he had studied it long, and to so happy a perfection, that in a former sickness he called God to witness he was that minute ready to deliver his soul into his hands, if that minute God would determine his dissolution.* In that sickness he begged of God the constancy to be preserved in that estate for ever; and his patient expectation to have his immortal soul disrobed from her garment of mortality, makes me confident he now had a modest assurance that his prayers were then heard, and his petition granted. He lay fifteen days earnestly

*In his book of Devotions.

expecting his hourly change; and in the last hour of his last day, as his body melted away and vapoured into spirit, his soul having, I verily believe, some revelation of the beatifical vision, he said, "I were ❝ miserable if I might not die;" and after those words closed many periods of his faint breath by saying often, Thy kingdom come, thy will be done." His speech, which had long been his ready and faithful servant, left him not till the last minute of his life, and then forsook him, not to serve another master, but died before him; for that it was become useless to him that now conversed with God on earth, as angels are said to do in heaven, only by thoughts and looks. Being speechless, he did, as St. Stephen, "look sted"fastly towards heaven, till he saw the Son of God 66 standing at the right hand of his father." and being satisfied with this blessed sight, as his soul ascended, and his last breath departed from him, he closed his own eyes; and then disposed his hands and body into such a posture as required not the least alteration by those that came to shroud him.

Thus variable, thus virtuous, was the life; thus excellent, thus exemplary, was the death, of this memorable man.

He was buried in that place of St. Paul's church which he had appointed for that use some years before his death, and by which he passed daily to pay his

public devotions to Almighty God; (who was then served twice a-day by a public form of prayer and praises in that place) but he was not buried privately, though he desired it; for beside an unnumbered number of others, many persons of nobility, and of eminency for learning, who did love and honour him in his life, did shew it at his death, by a voluntary and sad attendance of his body to the grave, where nothing was so remarkable as a public sorrow.

To which place of his burial some mournful friends repaired, and, as Alexander the Great did to the grave of the famous Achilles, so they strewed his with an abundance of curious and costly flowers; which course they (who were never yet known) continued morning and evening for many days, not ceasing till the stones that were taken up in that church to give his body admission into the cold earth (now his bed of rest) were again, by the mason's art, so levelled and firmed as they had been formerly, and his place of burial undistinguishable to common view.

Nor was this all the honour done to his reverend ashes; for as there be some persons that will not receive a reward for that for which God accounts himself a debtor: persons that dare trust God with their charity, and without a witness; so there was, by some grateful unknown friend, that thought Dr. Donne's memory ought to be perpetuated, an hundred marks

sent to his two faithful friends and executors, towards the making of his monument. It was not for many years known by whom; but after the death of Dr. Fox it was known that it was he that sent it; and he lived to see as lively a representation of his dead friend as marble can express; a statue indeed so like Dr. Donne, that (as his friend, Sir Henry Wotton, hath expressed himself) it seems to breathe faintly, and posterity shall look upon it as a kind of artificial miracle.

He was of stature moderately tall, of a straight and equally proportioned body, to which all his words and actions gave an inexpressible addition of comeliness.

The melancholy and pleasant humour were in him so contempered, that each gave advantage to the other, and made his company 'one of the delights of mankind.

His fancy was inimitably high, equalled only by his great wit, both being made useful by a commanding judgment.

His aspect was cheerful, and such as gave a silent testimony of a clear knowing soul, and of a conscience at peace with itself.

His melting eye shewed that he had a soft heart, full of noble compassion; of too brave a soul to offer injuries, and too much a Christian not to pardon them

in others.

* Dr. King and Dr. Monfort,