John Donne - Delphi Poets Series by John Donne Read Free Book Online Page B

cure.
  Why bar you love of private end,
  Which never should to public tend?

THE TOKEN.
    SEND me some tokens, that my hope may live
    Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest;
Send me some honey, to make sweet my hive,
    That in my passions I may hope the best.
I beg nor ribbon wrought with thine own hands,
    To knit our loves in the fantastic strain
Of new-touch’d youth; nor ring to show the stands
    Of our affection, that, as that’s round and plain,
So should our loves meet in simplicity;
    No, nor the corals, which thy wrist enfold,
Laced up together in congruity,
    To show our thoughts should rest in the same hold;
No, nor thy picture, though most gracious,
    And most desired, ‘cause ‘tis like the best
Nor witty lines, which are most copious,
    Within the writings which thou hast address’d.
Send me nor this nor that, to increase my score,
But swear thou think’st I love thee, and no more.

SELF-LOVE.
    HE that cannot choose but love,
And strives against it still,
Never shall my fancy move,
For he loves against his will;
Nor he which is all his own,
And cannot pleasure choose;
When I am caught he can be gone,
And when he list refuse;
Nor he that loves none but fair,
For such by all are sought;
Nor he that can for foul ones care,
For his judgement then is nought;
Nor he that hath wit, for he
Will make me his jest or slave;
Nor a fool when others —
He can neither —
Nor he that still his mistress prays,
For she is thrall’d therefore;
Nor he that pays, not, for he says
Within, she’s worth no more.
Is there then no kind of men
Whom I may freely prove?
I will vent that humour then
In mine own self-love.

ELEGIES

    These poems were written at various times during the poet’s younger years, but they were not published until some time after Donne’s death.  Like the songs and sonnets, the elegies reveal Donne’s imaginative and witty genius, as well as his bawdy humour.  For example, in the famous elegy To His Mistress Going to Bed , Donne poetically undresses his mistress, likening the act to the exploration of America. In Elegy XVIII, he compares the gap between his lover’s breasts to traversing the Hellespont and there are many other examples of imaginative and humorous jests. Although these poems were never published in the poet’s lifetime, Donne did allow them to circulate widely in manuscript form.

A 1595 portrait of Donne as a young man, by an unknown artist, now housed in the National Portrait Gallery, London

ELEGY I.
    JEALOUSY.
    FOND woman, which wouldst have thy husband die,
And yet complain’st of his great jealousy;
If, swollen with poison, he lay in his last bed,
His body with a sere bark covered,
Drawing his breath as thick and short as can
The nimblest crocheting musician,
Ready with loathsome vomiting to spew
His soul out of one hell into a new,
Made deaf with his poor kindred’s howling cries,
Begging with few feign’d tears great legacies, —
Thou wouldst not weep, but jolly, and frolic be,
As a slave, which to-morrow should be free.
Yet weep’st thou, when thou seest him hungerly
Swallow his own death, heart’s-bane jealousy?
O give him many thanks, he’s courteous,
That in suspecting kindly warneth us.
We must not, as we used, flout openly,
In scoffing riddles, his deformity;
Nor at his board together being sat,
With words, nor touch, scarce looks, adulterate.
Nor when he, swollen and pamper’d with great fare,
Sits down and snorts, caged in his basket chair,
Must we usurp his own bed any more,
Nor kiss and play in his house, as before.
Now I see many dangers; for it is
His realm, his castle, and his diocese.
But if — as envious men, which would revile
Their prince, or coin his gold, themselves exile
Into another country, and do it there —
We play in another house, what should we fear?
There we will scorn his household policies,
His silly plots, and pensionary spies,
As the inhabitants of Thames’ right side
Do