| John Donne (1572–1631). The Poems of John Donne. 1896. | | | | Letters to Several Personages | | To M[r]. I[zaak] W[alton] |
| | | ALL hail, sweet poet, more full 1 of more strong fire, | |
| Than hath or shall enkindle my dull spirit; 2 | |
| I loved what nature gave thee, but thy merit | |
| Of wit and art I love not, but admire. | |
| Who have before or shall write after thee, | 5 |
| Their works, though toughly laboured, will be | |
| Like infancy or age to man’s firm stay, | |
| Or early and late twilights to mid-day. | |
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| Men say, and truly, that they better be | |
| Which be envied than pitied; therefore I, | 10 |
| Because I wish thee best, do thee envy; 3 | |
| O, wouldst thou, by like reason, pity me. | |
| But care not for me; I, that ever was | |
| In nature’s, and in fortune’s gifts, alas | |
| —But for thy grace, 4 got in the Muses’ school— | 15 |
| A monster and a beggar, am a fool. | |
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| Oh, how I grieve that late-born modesty | |
| Hath got such root in easy waxen hearts, | |
| That men may not themselves their own good parts | |
| Extol, without suspect of surquedry. | 20 |
| For, but thyself, no subject can be found | |
| Worthy thy quill, nor any quill resound | |
| Thy worth 5 but thine; how good it were to see | |
| A poem in thy praise, and writ by thee. | |
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| Now if this song be too harsh for rhyme, yet, as | 25 |
| The painters’ bad god made a good devil, | |
| ’Twill be good prose, although the verse be evil. | |
| If thou forget the rhyme as thou dost pass, | |
| Then write; then I 6 may follow, and so be | |
| Thy debtor, thy echo, 7 thy foil, thy zany; | 30 |
| I shall be thought—if mine like thine I shape— | |
| All the world’s lion, though I be thy ape. | |
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