Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ELEGY: 4. THE PERFUME, by JOHN DONNE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Once, and but once found in thy company Last Line: To'embalme thy fathers corse; what? Will hee die? Variant Title(s): Love Elegies: Elegy 6. The Perfume | ||||||||
Once, and but once found in thy company, All thy suppos'd escapes are laid on mee; And as a thiefe at barre, is question'd there By all the men, that have beene rob'd that yeare, So am I, (by this traiterous meanes surpriz'd) By thy Hydroptique father catechiz'd. Though he had wont to search with glazed eyes, As though he came to kill a Cockatrice, Though hee hath oft sworne, that hee would remove Thy beauties beautie, and food of our love, Hope of his goods, if I with thee were seene, Yet close and secret, as our soules, we'have beene. Though thy immortall mother which doth lye Still buried in her bed, yet will not dye, Takes this advantage to sleepe out day-light, And watch thy entries, and returnes all night, And, when she takes thy hand, and would seeme kind, Doth search what rings, and armelets she can finde, And kissing notes the colour of thy face, And fearing least thou'art swolne, doth thee embrace; To trie if thou long, doth name strange meates, And notes thy palenesse, blushing, sighs, and sweats; And politiquely will to thee confesse The sinnes of her owne youths ranke lustinesse; Yet love these Sorceries did remove, and move Thee to gull thine owne mother for my love. Thy little brethren, which like Faiery Sprights Oft skipt into our chamber, those sweet nights, And kist, and ingled on thy fathers knee, Were brib'd next day, to tell what they did see: The grim eight-foot-high iron-bound serving-man, That oft names God in oathes, and onely than, He that to barre the first gate, doth as wide As the great Rhodian Colossus stride, Which, if in hell no other paines there were, Makes mee feare hell, because he must be there: Though by thy father he were hir'd to this, Could never witnesse any touch or kisse. But Oh, too common ill, I brought with mee That, which betray'd mee to my enemie: A loud perfume, which at my entrance cryed Even at thy fathers nose, so were wee spied. When, like a tyran King, that in his bed Smelt gunpowder, the pale wretch shivered. Had it beene some bad smell, he would have thought That his owne feet, or breath, that smell had wrought. But as wee in our Ile emprisoned, Where cattell onely, 'and diverse dogs are bred, The pretious Vnicornes, strange monsters call, So thought he good, strange, that had none at all. I taught my silkes, their whistling to forbeare, Even my opprest shoes, dumbe and speechlesse were, Onely, thou bitter sweet, whom I had laid Next mee, mee traiterously hast betraid, And unsuspected hast invisibly At once fled unto him, and staid with mee. Base excrement of earth, which dost confound Sense, from distinguishing the sicke from sound; By thee the seely Amorous sucks his death By drawing in a leprous harlots breath; By thee, the greatest staine to mans estate Falls on us, to be call'd effeminate; Though you be much lov'd in the Princes hall, There, things that seeme, exceed substantiall; Gods, when yee fum'd on altars, were pleas'd well, Because you'were burnt, not that they lik'd your smell; You'are loathsome all, being taken simply alone, Shall wee love ill things joyn'd, and hate each one? If you were good, your good doth soone decay; And you are rare, that takes the good away. All my perfumes, I give most willingly To'embalme thy fathers corse; What? will hee die? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY by JOHN DONNE A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER by JOHN DONNE A LECTURE UPON THE SHADOW by JOHN DONNE A NOCTURNAL UPON ST. LUCY'S DAY, BEING THE SHORTEST DAY by JOHN DONNE A VALEDICTION: FORBIDDING MOURNING by JOHN DONNE A VALEDICTION: OF MY NAME IN THE WINDOW by JOHN DONNE A VALEDICTION: OF THE BOOKE by JOHN DONNE A VALEDICTION: OF WEEPING by JOHN DONNE AN ANATOMY OF THE WORLD: THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY by JOHN DONNE ELEGY: 11. THE BRACELET; UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESS'S CHAIN by JOHN DONNE |
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