19 John Donne Holy Sonnets

1

  • Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
  • Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste,
  • I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
  • And all my pleasures are like yesterday;
  • I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
  • Despair behind, and death before doth cast
  • Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
  • By sin in it, which it t’wards hell doth weigh;
  • Only thou art above, and when towards thee
  • By thy leave I can look, I rise again;
  • But our old subtle foe so tempteth me,
  • That not one hour my self I can sustain;
  • Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art,
  • And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart.
  • 5

  • I am a little world made cunningly
  • Of Elements, and an Angelic spright,
  • But black sin hath betrayed to endless night
  • My worlds both parts, and (oh) both parts must die.
  • You which beyond that heaven which was most high
  • Have found new spheares, and of new lands can write,
  • Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
  • Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
  • Or wash it if it must be drown’d no more;
  • But oh it must be burnt! alas the fire
  • Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore,
  • And made it fouler; Let their flames retire,
  • And burn me o Lord, with a fiery zeal
  • Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal.
  • 7

  • At the round earth’s imagined corners, blow
  • Your trumpets, Angels, and arise, arise
  • From death, you numberless infinities
  • Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go,
  • All whom the flood did, and fire shall o’erthrow,
  • All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
  • Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes,
  • Shall behold God, and never taste death’s woe.
  • But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
  • For, if above all these, my sins abound,
  • ‘Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace,
  • When we are there; here on this lowly ground,
  • Teach me how to repent; for that’s as good
  • As if thou hadst seal’d my pardon, with thy blood.
  • 9

  • If poisonous minerals, and if that tree,
  • Whose fruit threw death on else-immortal us;
  • If lecherous goats, if serpents envious
  • Cannot be damn’d; Alas; why should I bee?
  • Why should intent or reason, borne in me,
  • Make sins, else equal, in me more heinous?
  • And mercy being eafy, and glorious
  • To God; in his stern wrath, why threatens he?
  • But who am I , that dare dispute with thee
  • O God? Oh! of thine only worthy blood,
  • And my tears, make a heavenly Lethean flood,
  • And drown in it my sin’s black memory;
  • That thou remember them, some claim as debt,
  • I think it mercy if thou wilt forget.
  • 10

  • Death be not proud, though some have called thee
  • Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,
  • For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow,
  • Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
  • From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
  • Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
  • And soonest our best men with thee do go,
  • Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
  • Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
  • And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
  • And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
  • And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
  • One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
  • And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
  • 11

  • Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
  • Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
  • For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
  • Who could do no iniquity hath died:
  • But by my death can not be satisfied
  • My sins, which pass the Jews’ impiety:
  • They killed once an inglorious man, but I
  • Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
  • Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
  • Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
  • And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
  • But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
  • God clothed himself in vile man’s flesh, that so
  • He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
  • 13

  • What if this present were the world’s last night?
  • Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,
  • The picture of Christ crucified, and tell
  • Whether that countenance can thee affright,
  • Tears in his eyes quench the amazing light,
  • Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell.
  • And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,
  • Which prayed forgiveness for his foes’ fierce spite?
  • No, no; but as in my idolatry
  • I said to all my profane mistresses,
  • Beauty, of pity, foulness only is
  • A sign of rigor: so I say to thee,
  • To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assigned,
  • This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.
  • 14

  • Batter my heart, three-person’d God; for you
  • As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
  • That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow me and bend
  • Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.
  • I, like an usurpted town, to another due,
  • Labour to admit you, but Oh, to no end,
  • Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend,
  • But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
  • Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
  • But am betroth’d unto your enemy:
  • Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
  • Take me to you, imprison me, for I
  • Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
  • Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
  • 17

  • Since she whom I loved hath paid her last debt
  • To Nature, and to hers, and my good is dead,
  • And her soul early into heaven ravished,
  • Wholly on heavenly things my mind is sett.
  • Here the admiring her my mind did whet
  • To seek thee God; so streams do show the head;
  • But though I have found thee, and thou my thirst hast fed,
  • A holy thirsty dropsy melts me yet.
  • But why should I beg more Love, when as thou
  • Dost woo my soul for hers; offering all thine:
  • And dost not only fear least I allow
  • My Love to Saints and Angels things divine,
  • But in thy tender jealousy dost doubt
  • Least in the World. flesh, yea devil put thee out.
  • 18

  • Show me dear Christ, thy Spouse, so bright and clear.
  • What! is it She, which on the other shore
  • Goes richly painted? or which rob’d and tore
  • Laments and mourns in Germany and here?
  • Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps up one year?
  • Is she self truth and errs? now new, now outwore?
  • Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore
  • On one, on seven, or on no hill appear?
  • Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
  • First travel we to seek and then make Love?
  • Betray kind husband thy spouse to our sights,
  • And let mine amorous soul court thy mild Dove,
  • Who is most true, and pleasing to thee, then
  • When she is embraced and open to most men.
  • 19

  • Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in one:
  • Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot
  • A constant habit; that when I would not
  • I change in vows, and in devotion.
  • As humorous is my contrition
  • As my profane love, and as soon forgot:
  • As riddlingly distempered, cold and hot,
  • As praying, as mute; as infinite, as none.
  • I durst not view heaven yesterday; and today
  • In prayers and flattering speeches I court God:
  • Tomorrow I quake with true fear of his rod.
  • So my devout fits come and go away
  • Like a fantastic ague; save that here
  • Those are my best days, when I shake with fear.
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    Anthology of Medieval Literature Copyright © 2021 by Christian Beck is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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