Thus Donne fhews his medicinal knowledge in fome encomiaftic verfes : In every thing there naturally grows If 'twere not injur'd by extrinfique blows; Keeps off, or cures what can be done or faid. Though the following lines of Donne, on the last night of the year, have something in them too fcholaftick, they are not inelegant : This twilight of two years, not past nor next, I fum the years and me, and find me not Debtor to th' old, nor creditor to th' new, * Nor truft I this with hopes; and yet scarce true you. DONNE. Yet Yet more abftrufe and profound is Donne's reflection upon Man as a Microcosm : If men be worlds, there is in every one OF thoughts fo far-fetched, as to be not only unexpected, but unnatural, all their books are full. To a lady, who wrote poefies for rings. Though the fun pass through't twice a year, COWLEY. The difficulties which have been raised about identity in philofophy, are by Cowley with still more perplexity applied to Love : Five years ago (fays ftory) I lov'd you, No fleth is now the fame 'twas then in nie, The fame thoughts to retain ftill, and intents, If from one fubject they t'another move : If then this body love what th' other did, The love of different women is, in geographical poetry, compared to travels through different countries: Haft thou not found, each woman's breast (The land where thou haft travelled). Either by favages poffeft, Or wild, and uninhabited ? What joy could'ft take, or what repofe, In countries fo uncivilis'd as those ? Luft, the scorching dog ftar, here Whilft Pride, the rugged Northern Bear, And And where these are temperate known, COWLEY. A lover, burnt up by his affection, is com pared to Egypt: The fate of Egypt I sustain, And never feel the dew of rain, From clouds which in the head appear; COWLEY. The lover fuppofes his lady acquainted with the ancient laws of augury and rites of facrifice : And yet this death of mine, I fear, When found in every other part, Her facrifice is found without an heart. That the chaos was harmonifed, has been recited of old; but whence the different founds arofe, remained for a modern to dif cover: Th' ungovern'd parts no correfpondence knew, An artless war from thwarting motions grew; Till they to number and fixt rules were brought, Water and air he for the Tenor chofe, Earth made the Bafe, the Treble flame arofe. 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 And quickly make that, which was nothing, all, Which thee doth wear, A globe, yea world, by that impreffion grow, On reading the following lines, the reader may perhaps cry out-Confufion worse confounded. Here lies a fhe fun, and a he moon here, DONNE. Who |