112
DONNE’S POEMS.
So careless flowers strew’d on the water’s face
The curled whirlpools suck, smack, and embrace,
Yet drown them; so the taper’s beamy eye
Amorously twinkling beckons the giddy fly,
Yet burns his wings; and such the devil is,
20Scarce visiting them who are entirely his,
When I behold a stream, which from the spring
Doth with doubtful melodious murmuring,
Or in a speechless slumber, calmly ride
Her wedded channel’s bosom, and there chide,
And bend her brows, and swell, if any bough
Do but stoop down to kiss her utmost brow;
Yet, if her often gnawing kisses win
The traitorous banks to gape, and let her in,
She rusheth violently, and doth divorce
30Her from her native and her long-kept course,
And roars, and braves it, and in gallant scorn,
In flattering eddies promising return,
She flouts her channel, which thenceforth is dry;
Then say I; ‘‘That is she, and this am I.”
Yet let not thy deep bitterness beget
Careless despair in me, for that will whet
My mind to scorn; and O, love dull’d with pain
Was ne’er so wise, nor well arm’d, as disdain.
Then with new eyes I shall survey thee, and spy
40Death in thy cheeks, and darkness in thine eye,
The curled whirlpools suck, smack, and embrace,
Yet drown them; so the taper’s beamy eye
Amorously twinkling beckons the giddy fly,
Yet burns his wings; and such the devil is,
20Scarce visiting them who are entirely his,
When I behold a stream, which from the spring
Doth with doubtful melodious murmuring,
Or in a speechless slumber, calmly ride
Her wedded channel’s bosom, and there chide,
And bend her brows, and swell, if any bough
Do but stoop down to kiss her utmost brow;
Yet, if her often gnawing kisses win
The traitorous banks to gape, and let her in,
She rusheth violently, and doth divorce
30Her from her native and her long-kept course,
And roars, and braves it, and in gallant scorn,
In flattering eddies promising return,
She flouts her channel, which thenceforth is dry;
Then say I; ‘‘That is she, and this am I.”
Yet let not thy deep bitterness beget
Careless despair in me, for that will whet
My mind to scorn; and O, love dull’d with pain
Was ne’er so wise, nor well arm’d, as disdain.
Then with new eyes I shall survey thee, and spy
40Death in thy cheeks, and darkness in thine eye,
l. 24. So 1635; 1633, then chide
l. 37. 1669, ah
l. 39. 1669, survey and spy
