Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ELEGY: 18. LOVES PROGRESS, by JOHN DONNE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Who ever loves, if he do not propose Last Line: As who by clyster gave the stomack meat. Variant Title(s): Love's Elegies: Elegy 13, Love's Progress Subject(s): Sex | ||||||||
Who ever loves, if he do not propose The right true end of love, he's one that goes To sea for nothing but to make him sick: Love is a bear-whelp born, if we o're lick Our love, and force it new strange shapes to take, We erre, and of a lump a monster make. Were not a Calf a monster that were grown Face'd like a man, though better then his own? Perfection is in unitie: preferr One woman first, and then one thing in her. I, when I value gold, may think upon The ductilness, the application, The wholsomness, the ingenuitie, From rust, from soil, from fire ever free: But if I love it, 'tis because 'tis made By our new nature (Use) the soul of trade. All these in women we might think upon (If women had them) and yet love but one. Can men more injure women then to say They love them for that, by which they're not they? Makes virtue woman? must I cool my bloud Till I both be, and find one wise and good? May barren Angels love so. But if we Make love to woman; virtue is not she: As beauty'is not nor wealth: He that strayes thus From her to hers, is more adulterous, Then if he took her maid. Search every spheare And firmament, our Cupid is not there: He's an infernal god and under ground, With Pluto dwells, where gold and fire abound: Men to such Gods, their sacrificing Coles Did not in Altars lay, but pits and holes. Although we see Celestial bodies move Above the earth, the earth we Till and love: So we her ayres contemplate, words and heart, And virtues; but we love the Centrique part. Nor is the soul more worthy, or more fit For love, then this, as infinite as it. But in attaining this desired place How much they erre; that set out at the face? The hair a Forest is of Ambushes, Of springes, snares, fetters and manacles: The brow becalms us when 'tis smooth and plain, And when 'tis wrinckled, shipwracks us again. Smooth, 'tis a Paradice, where we would have Immortal stay, and wrinkled 'tis our grave. The Nose (like to the first Meridian) runs Not 'twixt an East and West, but 'twixt two suns; It leaves a Cheek, a rosie Hemisphere On either side, and then directs us where Upon the Islands fortunate we fall, (Not faynte Canaries, but Ambrosiall) Her swelling lips; To which when wee are come, We anchor there, and think our selves at home, For they seem all: there Syrens songs, and there Wise Delphick Oracles do fill the ear; There in a Creek where chosen pearls do swell, The Remora, her cleaving tongue doth dwell. These, and the glorious Promontory, her Chin Ore past; and the streight Hellespont betweene The Sestos and Abydos of her breasts, (Not of two Lovers, but two Loves the neasts) Succeeds a boundless sea, but yet thine eye Some Island moles may scattered there descry; And Sailing towards her India, in that way Shall at her fair Atlantick Navell stay; Though thence the Current be thy Pilot made, Yet ere thou be where thou wouldst be embay'd, Thou shalt upon another Forest set, Where many Shipwrack, and no further get. When thou art there, consider what this chace Mispent by thy beginning at the face. Rather set out below; practice my Art, Some Symetry the foot hath with that part Which thou dost seek, and is thy Map for that Lovely enough to stop, but not stay at: Least subject to disguise and change it is; Men say the Devil never can change his. It is the Emblem that hath figured Firmness; 'tis the first part that comes to bed. Civilitie we see refin'd: the kiss Which at the face began, transplanted is, Since to the hand, since to the Imperial knee, Now at the Papal foot delights to be: If Kings think that the nearer way, and do Rise from the foot, Lovers may do so too; For as free Spheres move faster far then can Birds, whom the air resists, so may that man Which goes this empty and AEtherial way, Then if at beauties elements he stay. Rich Nature hath in women wisely made Two purses, and their mouths aversely laid: They then, which to the lower tribute owe, That way which that Exchequer looks, must go: He which doth not, his error is as great, As who by Clyster gave the Stomack meat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIE DOWN WITH A MAN by TONY HOAGLAND ARISTOTLE TO PHYLLIS by JOHN HOLLANDER PORTRAIT WITH BROWN HAIR by DONALD JUSTICE NATIONAL NUDIST CLUB NEWSLETTER by WAYNE KOESTENBAUM BLACKOUT SONNETS by JOAN LARKIN SEX IS NOT IMPORTANT by JAN HELLER LEVI WHAT THE MAGDALENE SAW by TIMOTHY LIU A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY by JOHN DONNE |
|