And where thefe are temperate known,
The foil's all barren fand, or rocky ftone.

COWLEY.

A lover, burnt up by his affection, is com

pared to Egypt:

The fate of Egypt I fuftain,

And never feel the dew of rain,
From clouds which in the head appear;
But all my too much moisture owe
To overflowings of the heart below.

COWLEY.

The lover fuppofes his lady acquainted with the ancient laws of augury and rites of faorifice ;

And yet this death of mine, I fear,
Will ominous to her appear:

When found in every other part,

Her facrifice is found without an heart.
For the laft tempeft of my death
Shall figh out that too, with my breath.

That the chaos was harmonised, 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 artlefs war from thwarting motions grew;
D4

Till

Till they to number and fixt rules were brought. Water and air he for the Tenor chofe,

Earth made the Base, the Treble flame arose. 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
An Europe, Afric, and an Afia,

And quickly make that, which was nothing, all.
So doth each tear,

Which thee doth wear,

A globe, yea world, by that impreffion grow,
Till thy tears mixt with mine do overflow

This world, by waters fent from thee my heaven
diffolved fo.

On reading the following lines, the reader may perhaps cry out-Confufion worse confounded.

Here lies a fhe fun, and a he moon here,

She gives the best light to his sphere,

Or each is both, and all, and fo
They unto one another nothing owe.

Donne.

Who

Who but Donne would have thought that a good man is a telescope?

Though God be our true glass, through which we fee

All, fince the being of all things is he,
Yet are the trunks, which do to us derive
Things, in proportion fit, by perspective
Deeds of good men; for by their living here,
Virtues, indeed remote, feem to be near.

Who would imagine it poffible that in a very few lines fo many remote ideas could be brought together:

Since 'tis my doom, Love's undershrieve,
Why this reprieve?

Why doth my She Advowson fly

Incumbency?

To fell thyfelf doft thou intend
By candle's end,

And hold the contraft thus in doubt,
Life's taper out?

Think but how foon the market fails,
Your fex lives fafter than the males;
As if to measure age's fpan,

The fober Julian were th' account of man,
Whilft you live by the fleet Gregorian.

CLEIVELAND.

OF

OF enormous and difgufting hyberboles,

thefe may be examples:

By every wind, that comes this way,

Send me at least a figh or two,

As fhall themselves make winds to get to you.

In tears I'll wafte thefe eyes,

By Love fo vainly fed;

COWLEY,

So luft of old the Deluge punished,

COWLEY,

All arm'd in brafs, the richest drefs of war,

(A difmal glorious fight) he fhone afar, The fun himself started with fudden fright, To fee his beams return fo difmal bright.

An univerfal confternation:

COWLEY,

His bloody eyes he hurls round, his sharp paws
Tear up the ground; then runs he wild about,
Lashing his
angry tail and roaring out,

Beafts creep into their dens, and tremble there;
Trees, though no wind is stirring, shake with

fear;

Silence and horrour fill the place around:

Echo itself dares fcarce repeat the found.

COWLEY.

'HEIR fictions were often violent and

THEI

unnatural.

Of his Mistress bathing:

The fish around her crouded, as they do
To the falfe light that treacherous fishers fhew,
And all with as much ease might taken be,
As fhe at first took me :

For ne'er did light fo clear
Among the waves appear,

Though every night the fun himself fet there.

COWLEY.

The poetical effect of a Lover's name upon

glafs :

My name engrav'd herein

Doth contribute my firmness to this glass;
Which, ever fince that charm, hath been
As hard as that which grav'd it was.

DONNE.

THEIR conceits were fometimes flight and trifling.

On an inconftant woman:

He enjoys thy calmy funfhine now,
And no breath stirring hears,
In the clear heaven of thy brow,
No smallest cloud appears.