THE BAIT. COME, live with me, and be my love, There will the river whisp'ring run, Warm'd by thine eyes more than the Sun: And there th' enamour'd fish will play, Begging themselves they may betray. When thou wilt swim in that live bath, Gladder to catch thee, than thou him. If thou to be so seen art loth By Sun or Moon, thou darken'st both; Let others freeze with angling reeds, Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest 146 Yet no No thee, thou need'st no such deceit, The thou thyself art thine own bait; Tat fish, that is not catch'd thereby, Anas! is wiser far than I. A 1 THE BROKEN HEART. HE is stark mad, whoever says That he hath been in love an hour, Yet not that love so soon decays, But that it can ten in less space devour; Who will believe me, if I swear That I have had the plague a year? Who would not laugh at me, if I should say, Ah! what a trifle is a heart, If once into Love's hands it come! All other griefs allow a part To other griefs, and ask themselves but some. They come to us, but us Love draws, He swallows us and never chaws: By him, as by chain'd shot, whole ranks do die ; He is the tyrant pike, and we the fry. If 't were not so, what did become Of my heart, when I first saw thee? I brought a heart into the room, But from the room I carried none with me: If it had gone to thee, I know Mine would have taught thine heart to show At one first blow did shiver it as glass. N 144 COMF And Of g DONNE. othing can to nothing fall, r any place be empty quite, refore I think my breast hath all hose pieces still, though they do not unite: d now as broken glasses show hundred lesser faces, so My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore, WiBut after one such love can love no more. I LONG to talk with some old lover's ghost, Sure they, which made him god, meant not so much, Actives to passives, correspondency Only his subject was; it cannot be But every modern god will now extend Oh, were we waken'd by this tyranny Rebel and atheist too, why murmur I As though I felt the worst that love could do? LOVE'S DIET. To what a cumbersome unwieldiness Give it a diet, made it feed upon, That which love worst endures, discretion. Above one sigh a-day I allow'd him not, A she-sigh from my mistress' heart, And thought to feast on that, I let him see If he wrung from me a tear, I brin'd it so 'Twas not a tear which he had got. His drink was counterfeit, as was his meat; Her eyes, which roll towards all, weep not, but sweat. Whatever she would dictate, I writ that, I said, "If any title be Convey'd by this, ah! what doth it avail Thus I reclaim'd my buzzard love to fly At what, and when, and how, and where I chose; Now negligent of sport I lie, And now, as other falc'ners use, I spring a mistress, swear, write, sigh, and weep, And the game kill'd, or lost, go talk or sleep. THE WILL. BEFORE I sign my last gasp, let me breathe, Thou, Love, hast taught me heretofore, By making me love her who 'd twenty more, That I should give to none, but such as had too much before. My constancy I to the planets give; |