Phyfick and Chirurgery for a Lover. Gently, ah gently, madam, touch

The wound, which you yourself have made; That pain must needs be very much,

Which makes me of your hand afraid. Cordials of pity give me now,

For I too weak for purgings grow.

The World and a Clock.

COWLEY.

Mahol, th' inferior world's fantastic face,
Thro' all the turns of matter's maze did trace;
Great Nature's well-fet clock in pieces took;
On all the springs and smallest wheels did look
Of life and motion; and with equal art
Made up again the whole of every part.
COWLEY.

A coal-pit has not often found its poet; but that it may not want its due honour, Cleveland has paralleled it with the Sun:

The mod'rate value of our guiltless ore,

Makes no man atheist, nor no woman whore. Yet why should hallow'd veftals facred shrine, Deferve 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 Perfian would admire No fun, but warm'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 ftore?

Or both? 'tis here: and what can funs give

more?

D

Nay,

Nay, what's the fun, but in a different name,
A coal-pit rampant, or a mine on flame!
Then let this truth reciprocally run,
The fun's heaven's coalery, and coals our fun.

Death, a Voyage:
No family

Ere rigg'd a foul for heaven's discovery,
With whom more venturers might boldly dare
Venture their stakes, with him in joy to fhare.

THEI

Donne.

HEIR thoughts and expreffions were fometimes grofsly abfurd, and fuch as no figures or licence can reconcile to the underftanding.

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 foul to a strange somewhere fled:

Ah fottish foul, faid I,

When back to its cage again I saw it fly :

Fool to resume her broken chain !
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 fhould a thing so pleasant seem to thee, That thou fhouldft come to live it o'er again

in me?

COWLEY.
A lover's

A lover's heart, a hand grenado.

Wo to her stubborn heart, if once mine come Into the self-fame room,

'Twill tear and blow up all within, Like a grenado fhot into a magazin.

Then shall love keep the ashes, and torn part,

Of both our broken hearts :

Shall out of both one new one make;

From her's th' allay; from mine, the metal take.

The poetical Propagation of Light.

COWLEY.

The Prince's favour is diffus'd o'er all,

From which all fortunes, names and natures

fall;

Then from those wombs of ftars, the Bride's bright eyes,

At every glance, a conftellation flies,

And fowes the court with ftars, and doth pre

vent

In light and power, the all-ey'd firmament; First her eye kindles other ladies' eyes,

Then from their beams their jewels luftres

rife;

And from their jewels torches do take fire, And all is warmth, and light, and good defire.

THEY

DONNE.

HEY were in very little care to clothe their notions with elegance of drefs, and therefore miss the notice and the praise which are often gained by thofe, who think lefs, but arc more diligent to adorn their thoughts.

That a mistress beloved is fairer in idea than in reality, is by Cowley thus expreffed :

Thou in my fancy doft much higher stand, Than women can be plac'd by Nature's hand ;

And I muft needs, I'm fure, a lofer be, To change thee, as thou'rt there, for very thee.

That

prayer

and labour fhould co-operate,

are thus taught by Donne;

In none but us, are fuch mixt engines found,

As hands of double office: for the ground We till with them; and them to heav'n we raife;

Who prayerlefs labours, or without this, prays,

Doth but one half, that's none.

By the fame author, a common topick, the danger of procraftination, is thus illuftrated :

-That which I fhould have begun In my youth's morning, now late muft be done;

And I, as giddy travellers must do,

Which stray or fleep all day, and having loft Light and ftrength, dark and tir'd must then ride poft.

;

All that Man has to do is to live and die the fum of humanity is comprehended by Donne in the following lines:

Think in how poor a prison thou didst lie, After, enabled but to fuck and cry.

Think, when 'twas grown to most, 'twas a poor inn,

A province pack'd up in two yards of skin,
And that ufurp'd, or threaten'd with a rage
Of fickneffes, or their true mother, age.
But think that death hath now enfranchis'd
thee;

Thou haft thy expanfion now, and liberty;
Think, that a rufty piece discharg'd is flown
In pieces, and the bullet is his own,
And freely flies: this to thy foul allow,
Think thy fhell broke, think thy foul hatch'd

but now.

THEY were fometimes indelicate and dif

gufting. Cowley thus apoftrophises beauty :

-Thou tyrant, which leav'ft no man free! Thou fubtle thief, from whom nought fafe can be !

Thou murth'rer, which haft killed, and devil, which would'ft damn me.

Thus he addreffes his Mistress:

Thou, who in many a propriety,

So truly art the fun to me,

Add one more likeness, which I'm fure you

can,

And let me and my fun beget a man.

Thus