Poems of John Donne/Volume 1/Elegy 4
For other versions of this work, see Elegy 4 (Donne).
ELEGY IV.
THE PERFUME.
Once, and but once, found in thy company,All thy supposed escapes are laid on me;And as a thief at bar is question’d thereBy all the men that have been robb’d that year,So am I—by this traitorous means surprized—By thy hydroptic father catechized.Though he had wont to search with glazèd eyes,As though he came to kill a cockatrice; Though he hath oft sworn that he would remove10Thy beauty’s beauty, and food of our love,Hope of his goods, if I with thee were seen,Yet close and secret, as our souls, we’ve been.Though thy immortal mother, which doth lieStill buried in her bed, yet will not die,Takes this advantage to sleep out daylight,And watch thy entries and returns all night;And, when she takes thy hand, and would seem kind,Doth search what rings and armlets she can find;And kissing notes the colour of thy face;20And fearing lest thou’rt swollen, doth thee embrace;And to try if thou long, doth name strange meats;And notes thy paleness, blushing, sighs, and sweats;And politicly will to thee confessThe sins of her own youth’s rank lustiness;Yet love these sorceries did remove, and moveThee to gull thine own mother for my love.Thy little brethren, which like fairy spritesOft skipp’d into our chamber, those sweet nights,And kiss’d, and ingled on thy father’s knee,30Were bribed next day to tell what they did see;The grim-eight-foot-high-iron-bound serving-man,That oft names God in oaths, and only then,He that, to bar the first gate, doth as wideAs the great Rhodian Colossus stride —Which, if in hell no other pains there were,Makes me fear hell, because he must be there—Though by thy father he were hired to this,Could never witness any touch or kiss.But O! too common ill, I brought with me40That, which betray’d me to mine enemy,A loud perfume, which at my entrance criedE’en at thy father’s nose; so were we spied.When, like a tyrant king, that in his bedSmelt gunpowder, the pale wretch shivered,Had it been some bad smell, he would have thoughtThat his own feet, or breath, that smell had wrought;But as we in our isle imprisoned,Where cattle only and divers dogs are bred,The precious unicorns strange monsters call,50So thought he good strange, that had none at all.I taught my silks their whistling to forbear;Even my oppress’d shoes dumb and speechless were;Only thou bitter-sweet, whom I had laidNext me, me traitorously hast betray’d,And unsuspected hast invisiblyAt once fled unto him, and stay’d with me.Base excrement of earth, which dost confoundSense from distinguishing the sick from sound!By thee the silly amorous sucks his death60By drawing in a leprous harlot’s breath;By thee, the greatest stain to man’s estateFalls on us, to be call’d effeminate;
Though you be much loved in the prince’s hall,There things that seem exceed substantial;Gods, when ye fumed on altars, were pleased well,Because you were burnt, not that they liked your smell;You’re loathsome all, being taken simply alone;Shall we love ill things join’d, and hate each one?If you were good, your good doth soon decay;70And you are rare; that takes the good away:And my perfumes I give most willinglyTo embalm thy father’s corpse; what? will he die?
l. 2. 1669, scapes
l. 21. So 1635; 1633 omits And
l. 22. 1669, blushes
l. 24. St. MS., wantonness
l. 29. 1669, dandled
l. 40. So 1635; 1633, my
l. 44. 1669, smells
l. 46. 1669, the smell
l. 50. 1669, thought he sweet strange