| John Donne (1572–1631). The Poems of John Donne. 1896. | | | | Letters to Several Personages | | To Mr. Christopher Brooke: The Calm |
| | | OUR storm is past, and that storm’s tyrannous rage | |
| A stupid calm, but nothing it, doth ’suage. | |
| The fable is inverted, and far more | |
| A block afflicts, now, than a stork 1 before. | |
| Storms chafe, and soon wear out themselves, or us; | 5 |
| In calms, Heaven laughs to see us languish thus. | |
| As steady as I could wish my thoughts were, | |
| Smooth as thy mistress’ glass, or what shines there, | |
| The sea is now, and, as these isles which we | |
| Seek, when we can move, our ships rooted be. | 10 |
| As water did in storms, now pitch runs out; | |
| As lead, when a fired church becomes one spout. | |
| And all our beauty and our trim decays, | |
| Like courts removing, or like ended 2 plays. | |
| The fighting-place now seamen’s rags 3 supply; | 15 |
| And all the tackling is a frippery. | |
| No 4 use of lanthorns; and in one place lay | |
| Feathers and dust, to-day and yesterday. | |
| Earth’s hollownesses, which the world’s lungs are, | |
| Have no more wind than th’ upper vault of air. | 20 |
| We can nor lost friends nor sought foes recover, | |
| But meteor-like, save that we move not, hover. | |
| Only the calenture together draws | |
| Dear friends, which meet dead in great fishes’ maws; 5 | |
| And on the hatches, as on altars, lies | 25 |
| Each one, his own priest and own sacrifice. | |
| Who live, that miracle do multiply, | |
| Where walkers in hot ovens do not die. | |
| If in despite of these we swim, that hath | |
| No more refreshing than a brimstone bath; 6 | 30 |
| But from the sea into the ship we turn, | |
| Like parboil’d wretches, on the coals to burn. | |
| Like Bajazet encaged, the shepherds’ scoff, | |
| Or like slack-sinew’d Samson, his hair off, | |
| Languish our ships. Now as a myriad | 35 |
| Of ants durst th’ emperor’s loved snake invade, | |
| The crawling gallies, sea-gulls, 7 finny chips, | |
| Might brave our pinnaces, now 8 bed-rid ships. | |
| Whether a rotten state, and hope of gain, | |
| Or to disuse me from the queasy pain | 40 |
| Of being beloved and loving, or the thirst | |
| Of honour or fair death, out-push’d me first, | |
| I lose my end; for here, as well as I, | |
| A desperate may live, and coward 9 die. | |
| Stag, dog, and all which from or towards flies, | 45 |
| Is paid with life or prey, or doing dies. | |
| Fate grudges us all, and doth subtly lay | |
| A scourge, ’gainst which we all forget 10 to pray. | |
| He that at sea prays for more wind, as well | |
| Under the poles may beg cold, heat in hell. | 50 |
| What are we then? How little more, alas, | |
| Is man now, than, before he was, he was? | |
| Nothing for us, we are for nothing fit; 11 | |
| Chance, or ourselves, still disproportion it. | |
| We have no power, no will, no sense; I lie, | 55 |
| I should not then thus feel this misery. | |
| | | Note 1. l. 4. So 1633, 1650; 1639, a stroke [back] | | Note 2. l. 14. 1669, ending [back] | | Note 3. l. 15. 1669, rage [back] | | Note 4. l. 17. 1669, Now [back] | | Note 5. l. 24. So 1635; 1633, jaws [back] | | Note 6. l. 30. So 1635; 1633, our brimstone bath [back] | | Note 7. l. 37. So 1635; 1633, 1669, sea-goals [back] | | Note 8. l. 38. So 1635; 1633, our venices, now; 1669, with Venice’s, our [back] | | Note 9. l. 44. So 1635; 1633, and a coward [back] | | Note 10. l. 48. 1669, forgot [back] | Note 11. ll. 52, 53. So 1669;| | 1633 |
| Is man now, than before he was? He was |
| Nothing; for us, we are for nothing fit. |
| 1635 |
| Is man now, than, before he was, he was? |
| Nothing; for us, we are for nothing fit. |
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