AS the authors of this race were perhaps more defirous of being admired than underftood, they fometimes drew their conceits from receffes of learning not very much frequented by common readers of poetry. Thus Cowley on Knowledge:

2

The facred tree 'midft the fair orchard
The phoenix Truth did on it rest,
And built his perfum'd neft,

grew;

That right Porphyrian tree which did true logic fhew. Each leaf did learned notions give,

And th' apples were demonftrative :

So clear their colour and divine,

The very fhade they caft did other lights outfhine.

On Anacreon continuing a lover in his old age:
Love was with thy life entwin'd,
Clofe as heat with fire is join'd;
A powerful brand prefcrib'd the date

Of thine, like Meleager's fate.

Th' antiperiftafis of age

More enflam'd thy amorous rage.

In the following verfes we have an allufion to a Rabbinical opinion concerning Manna:

Variety I afk not: give me one

To live perpetually upon.

The perfon Love does to us fit,

Like manna, has the tafte of all in it.

Thus Donne fhews his medicinal knowledge in fome encomiaftick verfes :

In every thing there naturally grows A Balfamum to keep it fresh and new,

If 'twere not injur'd by extrinfique blows; Your youth and beauty are this balm in you.

But

But you, of learning and religion,

And virtue and fuch engredients, have made

A mithridate, whofe operation

Keeps off, or cures what can be done or faid.

Though the following lines of Donne, on the last night of the year, have fomething in them too fcholaftick, they are not inelegant :

This twilight of two years, not past nor next,
Some emblem is of me, or I of this,

Who, meteor-like, of stuff and form perplext,
Whose what and where in difputation is,
If I fhould call me any thing, fhould mifs.
I fum the years and me, and find me not

Debtor to th' old, nor creditor to th' new.
That cannot fay, my thanks I have forgot,
Nor truft I this with hopes; and yet fcarce true
This bravery is, fince thefe times fhew'd me you.

Donne.

Yet more abftrufe and profound is Donne's reflection upon Man as a Microcofm:

If men be worlds, there is in every one
Something to answer in fome proportion ;
All the world's riches: and in good men, this
Virtue, our form's form, and our foul's foul, is.

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.

They, who above do various circles find,
Say, like a ring, th' equator Heaven does bind.
When Heaven fhall be adorn'd by thee,
(Which then more Heaven than 'tis will be)

'Tis thou muft write the poefy there,

For it wanteth one as yet,

Then the fun pass through't twice a year,

The fun, which is esteem'd the god of wit.

COWLEY.

The difficulties which have been raised about identity in philofophy, are by Cowley with ftill more perplexity applied to Love:

Five years ago (fays story) I lov'd you,

For which you call me moft inconftant now;
Pardon me, madam, you mistake the man;
For I am not the fame that I was then ;
No flesh is now the fame 'twas then in me,
And that my mind is chang'd yourself may fee.
The fame thoughts to retain ftill, and intents,
Were more inconftant far: for accidents
Muft of all things moft ftrangely inconftant prove,
If from one fubject they t' another move;

My members then the father members were,
From whence these take their birth which now are
here.

If then this body love what th' other did,

"Twere inceft, which by nature is forbid.

The love of different women is, in geographical poetry, compared to travels through different countries:

Haft thou not found each woman's breaft

(The land where thou haft travelled)

Either by favages poffeft,

Or wild, and uninhabited?

What joy could'st take, or what repose,
In countries fo unciviliz'd as thofe ?

Luft,

Luft, the fcorching dog-ftar, here
Rages with immoderate heat;

Whilft Pride, the rugged Northern bear,
In others makes the cold too great.
And where these are temperate known,
The foil's all barren fand, or rocky stone.

COWLEY.

A Lover, burnt up by his affection, is compared

to Egypt:

The fate of Egypt I sustain,

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 facrifice:

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 harmonifed, has been recited of old; but whence the different founds arofe remained for a modern to discover:

Th' ungovern'd parts no correspondence knew;
An artlefs 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

The tears of lovers are always of great poetical account; but Donne has extended them into worlds. If the lines are not eafily 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 worfe 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 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