_Explicit
Joannes Donne.
John Donne
_I. D. _
[Footnote 1: I meane _&c. _ _side-note in 1611_]
[Vpon Mr. _&c. _ _1649_, _where it was placed with_ The Token
(_p. _ 72_), _at the end of the_ Funerall Elegies: _appeared
originally in_ Coryats Crudities (_1611: see note_) _with
heading_ Incipit Joannes Donne. ]
[2 leavened _1611:_ learned _1649-69 and mod. edd. _]
[7 longdst _1611:_ long'st _1649-69_]
[19 sometimes. ] sometime _1611_]
[24 Gazettier. _1611:_ Garretteir _1649-69_]
[28 booke,] booke. _1611_]
[37 barrels; _1649-69:_ barrels, _1611_]
[56 board, _1611:_ board _1649-69_]
_In eundem Macaronicon. _
_Quot, dos haec_, +Linguists+ perfetti, _Disticha_ fairont,
_Tot_ cuerdos +States-men+, _hic_ livre fara _tuus_.
Es _sat_ a my l'honneur estre hic inteso; Car +I leave+
L'honra, de personne nestre creduto, _tibi_.
_Explicit Joannes Donne. _
[In eundem _&c. 1611, concluding the above_]
* * * * *
[Illustration: JOHN DONNE, 1613
_Viri seraphici Joannis Donne Qua-
dragenarij Effigies vera, Qui post
eam aetatem Sacris initiatus Ec-
clesiae S^{ti} Pauli Decanus obijt. _
_Ano { Do[~m] 1631?
{ AEtatis suae 59? _
("A true portrait of that seraphic man John Donne at the age of 40;
he was later ordained into holy orders and died Dean of St Paul's
in the year of our Lord 1631 at the age of 59")
From the engraving prefixed to his son's edition of the _Letters to
Several Persons of Honour_ 1651, 1654]
* * * * *
LETTERS
TO SEVERALL PERSONAGES.
THE STORME.
To Mr. _Christopher Brooke_.
Thou which art I, ('tis nothing to be soe)
Thou which art still thy selfe, by these shalt know
Part of our passage; And, a hand, or eye
By _Hilliard_ drawne, is worth an history,
By a worse painter made; and (without pride) 5
When by thy judgment they are dignifi'd,
My lines are such: 'Tis the preheminence
Of friendship onely to'impute excellence.
England to whom we'owe, what we be, and have,
Sad that her sonnes did seeke a forraine grave 10
(For, Fates, or Fortunes drifts none can soothsay,
Honour and misery have one face and way. )
From out her pregnant intrailes sigh'd a winde
Which at th'ayres middle marble roome did finde
Such strong resistance, that it selfe it threw 15
Downeward againe; and so when it did view
How in the port, our fleet deare time did leese,
Withering like prisoners, which lye but for fees,
Mildly it kist our sailes, and, fresh and sweet,
As to a stomack sterv'd, whose insides meete, 20
Meate comes, it came; and swole our sailes, when wee
So joyd, as _Sara_'her swelling joy'd to see.
But 'twas but so kinde, as our countrimen,
Which bring friends one dayes way, and leave them then.
Then like two mighty Kings, which dwelling farre 25
Asunder, meet against a third to warre,
The South and West winds joyn'd, and, as they blew,
Waves like a rowling trench before them threw.
Sooner then you read this line, did the gale,
Like shot, not fear'd till felt, our sailes assaile; 30
And what at first was call'd a gust, the same
Hath now a stormes, anon a tempests name.
_Ionas_, I pitty thee, and curse those men,
Who when the storm rag'd most, did wake thee then;
Sleepe is paines easiest salue, and doth fullfill 35
All offices of death, except to kill.
