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Images and image symbolism in metaphysical poetry with special reference to other-worldliness

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Title:
Images and image symbolism in metaphysical poetry with special reference to other-worldliness
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Locke, Julius Duane, 1921-
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Copyright Date:
1958
Language:
English
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viii, 175, 2 leaves. ; 28 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Birds ( jstor )
Death ( jstor )
Dew ( jstor )
Love ( jstor )
Love poetry ( jstor )
Material properties ( jstor )
Poetry ( jstor )
Soul ( jstor )
Symbolism ( jstor )
Tears ( jstor )
Dissertations, Academic -- English -- UF
English poetry -- Early modern, 1500-1700 ( lcsh )
English thesis Ph. D
Figures of speech ( lcsh )
Symbolism in literature ( lcsh )
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bibliography ( marcgt )
non-fiction ( marcgt )

Notes

Thesis:
Thesis -- University of Florida.
Bibliography:
Bibliography: leaves 173-175.
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Also available on World Wide Web
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Manuscript copy.
General Note:
Vita.

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University of Florida
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Copyright [name of dissertation author]. Permission granted to the University of Florida to digitize, archive and distribute this item for non-profit research and educational purposes. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions requires permission of the copyright holder.
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ACX5907 ( NOTIS )

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Images and Image Symbolism in Metaphysical Poetry

With Special Reference to Otherworldliness











By
JULIUS DUANE LOCKE


A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE COUNCIL OF
THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA
IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE
DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY












UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA
August, 1958






















AC~O" GV-ItTOTS


I should like to express my gratitude to those who have

helped in the preparation of this dissertatio--Doctors R. N.

Bowers, F. W. Conner, J. T. Fain, C. A. Robertson, J. H. Groth,

T W. rbert, and Ants Oras.

To the present chairman of my acmittee, Dr. T. W. Herbert,

I al particularly indebted for his many hours of devoted attention

to this study.

To my former chairman, Dr. Ants Oras, I owe a great deal;

for this dissertation vas conceived with his guidance.


















TABLE OF CONITEITS


ACKNOJLED(MENTS o * e

PREFACE . .

Chapter

I. INTRODUCTION .

II. JOBN DO . .

III. GEORGE HERBERT .

IV. RICBARD CRASHAW

V. ANDREW MARVELL .

VI. CONCLUSION .

WORKS CITED . . .


Page

ii

iv



1

9

54

77

137

171

173













PREFACE


In developing the method employed in this study of imagery,
I am indebted to many critical and scholarly works; but especially

a few, which I shall mention, have been prominently influential in

providing ideas and examples.

Two can be singled out for special consideration--William

Empson's Seven ype of Ambiguity (1947) and Cleanth Brooks' The

Well-Wrought Urn (1947). Empson's Seven Types was especially valuable

in emphasizing that the attention of the critic should be focused on

the details of the works themselves, that the meaning of a poem is

the suggestions derived from the arrangement of words in a structure.

The main concern of Eapson was to demonstrate a universal aspect of

poetic language--ambiguity; and of course, this specific intention

is not the aim of my study. But his assertion that poetic meaning

could be derived from an analysis of the arrangement of words in a

structure was adopted as a basic working principle.

Empson used many passages from Metaphysical poetry to

demonstrate his "seven types." Also with the intention of discovering

and formulating an essential quality of poetic language, Cleanth

Brooks in his Well-Wrought Urn uses Metaphysical poetry to demonstrate

his theory of "The Language of Paradox." Brooks proposes to prove

that paradox is an essential aspect of poetic language; but again,











though I repeat that my intention is not with discovering the essential
quality of poetic language, I owe much to Brooks. Brooks' insistence

that form and content are inseparable, that the interaction between

the content and its structure conveys poetic meaning, became an

essential general principle employed in my study.

Within my study, the basic principles of Mapson and Brooks

were adopted and brought to bear upon the meaning of an image. I

believe that in a poem primary consideration should be given to the

way in which the image is arranged within a structure--this arrangement

being called an organization.

Both Ikpson and Brooks have been criticized for their neglect

of historical information when exaining the arrangement of words

within a structure. Rosenund Tuve, in Elizabethan and Metaphysical

Imagery (1947) and A Reading of George HErbert (1952), has been

specifically critical of ABpeon, and of the whole critical movement

which stresses the examination of the details of a poem and neglects

historical considerations. Miss Tuve emphasizes that to understand

an image properly it must be considered from a historical point of

view, and she treats the imagery of the Metaphysicals in relationship

to the logical and rhetorical tradition of the time and especially the

imagery of George Herbert in relationship to the liturgical and

iconographic traditions. Ruth Wallerstein (Studies in Seventeenth

Century Poetic, 1950) also takes a historical position, and she

emphasizes that to understand the poems of the past, a knowledge of

the philosophies of the past, especially as to how they effect











language, is needed. Wallerstein examines Metaphysical poetry in

relationship to the Jermae- Tertullian- Augustine tradition of

language.

The principle of the necessity of historical information for

the understanding of imagery was adopted for the purposes of my study.

Tuve and Wallerstein begin with a historical tradition, and then

interpret the imagery from the viewpoint of the tradition; but my

study differs in that I start with the analysis of the organization

in which an image appears; and then compare the analysis with an

organization which has been objectively described by previous writers

who have been concerned with the nature of meaning, or with sequences

of thought which have also been given objective description. When I

have found a described process of association which can reasonably

be supposed to have been accessible to the mind of the poet, and which

is parallel to that observed in the poem, I have described the image

in accordance with that process. I have assumed that such a guide

will lead to authentic meanings which might escape a modern reader

unfamiliar with earlier modes of thought, and I have assumed that

such a guide might forestall errors of meaning which the preconceptions

of a modern reader are liable to foist upon a poet to whcm they would

be surprising.

Not every such process of association is nowadays unfamiliar.

For example, Marvell's images of natural objects are similar to those

which invite our attention to such objects in nineteenth-century

poetry. But soae of the processes of association, though not now

unknown, are far less commonly known, as when Crashaw, speaking of the







vii


taste of blood, does not mean what we taste when we lick a cut finger

but means the acceptance of the sacrificial redemptive love of God for

sinful man. By what virtue such a denial of plain camonsense talk

can be shown to be true of Crashaw it is the business of historically

verifiable modes of meaning to tell us. Thus my original agreement

with Itpson and Brooks for the examination of imagery has to be

modified.

Now, my contention can be stated thus: to determine the

meaning of an image in a poem primary consideration should be given

to the way in which the Image is arranged within a structure; but

the interpretation of the structure of an Imae should be in term of

historical considerations.

Another work, Arthur 0. Lovejoy's The Gret Chin of Being

(1936), exercised its influence by providing a suggestion as to hew

the historical considerations might be limited. Lovejoy wrote a

history of the develeogmt of a single idea, "the chain of being";

and froa this hint, I decided to emphasize Imaes connected with a

single philosophical consideration, the relationship of the immterial

to the material, especially since this was one of the main topics of

interest in the seventeenth century, when the philosophy of empiricisa

was ganiing the new favor of many minds.

Of course, my study differs markedly from LCvejey's. He was

writing the history of an idea, and using poem as illustrations of

these ides. My emphasis is on the reading of poems; my ewphais is

on the idea too, but only as part of the experience of reading a







viii


pom--the idea a discovered in the organization of imagry, and as

necessary to a meaningful response to poetic language.

Mrpurpose in this study can now be stated in its final form.

To determine the maning of an ime in the poms I shall examine, I

shall give primary consideration to the vay in which the imae is

orgami2ed in its structure; and then I shall interpret Image organisa-

tion according to the appropriate historically determined philosophical

relationship between the material and the material. Having treated

one or two poes frmO each poet in detail according to this method;

I shall briefly review a number of poems, so that this observable fact

my merge: that each poet has a characteristic mode of image

or~gisatiai, characteristic because it is recurrent throughout such

of his work. Through such an interpretation it is hoped that a

deeper insight into the poms of my four poets will be provided.











CPRTER I


INTRODUCTION


In pert, this study is concerned with a series of subtle

differences amongst four seventeenth-century poets, John Iomne,

George Nerbert, Richard Crashw, and Andrew Marvell, a the works of

these poets, the very way in which the images are selected and

organisd within the context of the pems, manifest certain modes of

thought. One of the prominent intellectual problem of the seven-

teenth century was to arrive at a rational understanding of thw rela-

tionship between concepts and concretions, between the spiritual and

the material.
As the patterns of image organization will disclose, the re-

spective work of each poet reveals a different attitude tevard the

relationship of the conceptual, or spiritual, and the material. John

Donne is more concerned with the conceptual; although he subordinates,

he neither debases nor dismiss the material. He considers the ma-

terial to be important in that it is necessary for the existence of

the conceptual. George Kerbert grants the material more importance

than Donne, but in Herbert the importance of the material is due to

its being a creation of God, and thereby a figuration or symbol of God.

Richard Crashaw represents an extreme in that he values the spiritual,

the otherworldly above all, and the material object to his has little
or no Importance. Andrew Marvell gives his attention to the material
object and although the thses of his pooms are often spiritual, the
thematic element, even in these poms, is subordianted to his passionate

1










concern with the material objects that make beautiful the natural
world.
My major concern is not only to record these poets' attitudes
toward the relationship between the material and material, but to
show how their poems may be best read. Attention therefore is
directed to determining what responses in the aiagination of a syap-
thetic reader ought to be produced by each of the words vith which
they name the things they are interested in.
The study of what is stimulated in the mind of a reader by
substantives in the sentences of a poem is properly called a study of

the poet's laagery. Twentieth-century studies of imagery so far as
I know the have hitherto been primarily studies of the power of words
to stimulate the equivalent of sense experience in the imagination of
the reader, but my study is concerned fully as much with the stimula-
tion of peasionately felt spiritual conceptions. Consequently, the
word I needs to be defined afresh, and that definition must be
borne in mind whenever the word _as. is used.

The differences that I describe amoegst the poets arise not be-
cause the poets have each a characteristic favorite particular trope,
but because things which their imaginations conjure up bear different
relationships to plain ordinary material actuality. Each poet con-

ceives, or perceives, differently froc the others; and this distinct

attitude toward the material and the material works its way into the

very texture and' structure of the poet's language. This attitude is the

influencing factor that shape. the poet's organization of imagery; and











to discover the poet's attitude, we study the patterns of org2iae-

tion throughout his verk, as well as the qualification of these

patterns in the particular contest in which they apper. Onoe the

poet's attitude is tiacovered we, as readers, my adjust eur ametal-

ities, may subdue any interfering preconeptioas regarding the rela-

tionship of the material and material, to experience the poem as

the poet intended.

In this study an image is considered to be a poetic represetai-

tion of a thing either material or material, or such a thing in a

condition or in activity.

This study is based upon the proposition that an mage depends

for its meaning upon the organization of the poem itself and upon the

convention of concepts which the poet accepted for purposes of the

poem, and that the organization of images within a given pose (as well

as the prevailing practice within the whole body of a poetic work) is

a proper guide to the convention to which an imge refers and with

which its meaning must be consistent.

A major necessity dictated by the purposes of my study is to

determine whether or not as a general tendency an individual poet is

concerned with material or with material things, or with both ma-

terial and material things as they are related to one another. This

determination of the poet's prevailing concern is based primarily on

a study and analysis of the selection and organization of his imvary

in individual poems. Let us take three passages to illustrate how the

Imagery makes clear the focus of the poet's concern.











But most the wlL'se wonders are,
Who breI has the Holt- trs care.
He walks still upright frm the Root,
Mas 'ring the Timber with his Foot;
And all the way, to keep it clean,
Doth from the Bark the Wood-moths glean.
He, with his Beak, examines well
Which fit to stand and which to fell.l

In the passage from Marvell, the imagery is selected and

organized in a manner that presents the bird, the "Hewel," as a

particular and hence material thing. Marvell is concerned with this

creature for its own natural, terrestrial, and material sake. Be

selects the specific nrme "ewel" rather than the more general

tem "woodpecker," or still more general "bird." The "Hewel" is de-

picted in motion, the specific and particularized motion of talking

upright, and as moving upward frao a definite and tangible spatial

locality, the root of a tree. A number of specific details portray

the bird as being engaged in natural activities. When in a trope he

asserts that the bird, like a "bolt-fester," that is woodcutter, is

measuring the timber with his foot, he is not diverting our attention

to sBme other matter but laying stress on the precise and apparently

methodical placement of the hewel's feet as he advances up the trunk.

Also, he specifically notices the definite features of the bird: the

feet and the beak. Throughout the passage a sense of an event on a

tangible world is conveyed. The woodpecker is on the solid foundation


oh PO and Letters of Andrew Ibrvell, ed. H. M.
Margoliouth (Oxford, 1927), p. 75, 11. 537-44.






5



of a tree, and he gleens rothe from a solid and tangible surface,

the bark. The selection and organization displayed in this peasa&e

indicates that the poet's concern is with sa iuage of the bird as

a material thing. As we shall see later, this kind of selection and

orniLzation, and hence this kind of IS#a ry, is characteristic of

Marvell.

I Sing the Nie which None can say
But touch't with An interior Ray:
The MNme of our New Peace; our Good:
Our lisse: & Supernaturall Blood:
The Ame of All Liues & Loues.
Hearken, And Help, ye holy Doues!
The high-born Brood of Day: yon bright
Candidates of blissefull Light,
The Heirs Elect of Loue; whose toes belong
Unto the euerlasting life of Song;
All ye wise Soules, who in the wealthy Brest
Of This unbounded Nme build your vara Nest.2

In charp contrast with the "Newel" of Marvel, the "Doves"

of Crashb are not feathered creatures in flight in the supporting

atmosphere. They are not any material thing whatever. They are

souls of the saints. They are called "doves" because Crasbai wants to

impute to these souls, which he is invoking to his assistance, certain

attributes of the spirit which have an ewotion-producing or affec-

tive correspondence to the attributes of actual doves. Crashaw de-

scribes his "doves" in terms of intangibles, day, light, love, and
cong--not bark, root, timber, and moths, not feet or beak or any practi-


2The Popa of Richard CralhawM ed. L. C. Martin (Oxford, 1927),
p. 239, 11. 1-12.











cal activity. The "doves" arc the breed of day, candidates of light,
the elect of love, and their nwaee "belong/ Vnto the euerlasting life
of Song." The selection and organization in this passage indicates
that Crashaw is interested in his birds not for their own sekes but
for the purpose of representing imaa erial things, things not tangi-
ble and of this world. The passage illustrates Crashaw's charac-
teristic concern as a poet with things purely spiritual.
Looke down, thou spiest our Crosses in small thins;
Looke up, thou seest birds raised on crossed vings.-
Donne presents his birds as material things, indeed, but
with a relationship to immaterial concepts which are his main con-
cern. The words "Looke up" and "rais'd on crossed vings" convey the
suggestion of birds in the air just above the earth; but Donne, unlike
Mrvell, uses the tangible images as the symbol of the imanence of
the spirit of the Christian God. Donne selects the general image

"birds" and suggests rather then depicts spatial locality. The roly

physical detail of the bird that concerns Donne is the "crossed wings."
His interest in the "crossed wings" is for their symbolization of
something material, their divine signification, and not for the wings

theaelves. The iMportance of the image of the bird in the passage

from Donne is that it furnishes a structural analogy between the wings

and the cross, which in turn is the symbol of the divine. The bird is

a material thing which symbolizes an imatcrial thing. This concern


oh Cclete Poetry and Selected Prose, d. Charles M.
Coffin (New York, 1952), P. 233, 11. 21-22.











with images that evoke a material thing realized as a material thing

but which bears close relationship with a more important spiritual

concept is a characteristic of Donne as a poet in a large part of his

work.

The first approach in the present study of certain seventeenth-

century poems, then, is through examining patterns of selection and

organization of imagery for the purpose of determining the extent to

which Images within those patterns represent material or material

things; and this intrinsic aproach, starting with the poem itself, is

the primary procedure. However, this study does not dismiss the im-

portance of historical information; for poems written in the seventeenth

century should be read in the light of knowledge of the existing

literary traditions and philosophical ideas relevant to the poet and

the poem. Although the primary evidence for the proper interpretation

of images cces frca the patterns of selection and organization

throughout the poems, reference to historical information is used for

the purpose of clarification of the modes of thought by virtue of which

images may be understood to have the meaning which they possess. Many

of these traditions and ideas are very such alive today, but sometimes

they are so far out of use among ordinary educated people that they

need explication.

Let us take two simple illustrations of the uses of referring

images to specific modes of thought. In the passage frca Crashaw,

the term "doves" would be bewildering and misleading to anyone unfamiliar

with the tradition whose center is the Gospel narrative of the spirit of

God descending upon Jesus in the form of a dove. In the excerpt froa











Donne the crossed wings of the birds would be of no significance to
anyone unfamiliar with the cross as the central symbol of the
Christian religion. It is, of course, inconceivable that any con-

siderable number of readers of Domne and Crashaw would be unfamiliar
with the modes of thought that give meening to their im~es of doves
and crossed wings, but it is by no mmns inconceivable that a reader
of Crashew should be unfa iliar with the rose as a symbol of the
Christ, or at least that he should fail immediately to make the con-
nection when reading one of Crashav's poems such as "CO the wounds
of our Crucified Lord."
Now it should be clearly understood that the Gospel story of
the crucifixion is not to be regarded in any usual literary sense as
a "source" for the image in Dozre's poem. Furthermore, we cannot in
advance of seeing the poem have any assurance that in Crashaw the word
"dove" will serve as an image for saintly spirits: in another context
it might serve as an image of simple hope, or even, conceivably, as an
iNale for a bird as actual and material as Marvell's heel. We cannot,
that is, foist upon a poet a significance simply because it existed be-
fore him, or simply because we can be positive he knew it. Nor can we

deny a significance to a word--if that significance existed in a tradi-

tion alive in or before the poet's dar, and if the imae pattern of the

poes demands that significance--siply because we lack external evidence

that the poet had read a given book. In short, we are not in a search

for a history of the poet's reading, but we are in a search for the

context which gives the poet's images the significance that he himself
as a poet intended them to have.













CHPTER II


This examination of the selection and organization of the

imagery in the poetry of John Donne will concentrate mainly on the

Song and Sonets, "The Anniversaries," and the Divine Poems

as representative of the best of his efforts. What is said about

them vill be found equally true of the other poes.

As a general tendency, Donne organizes his i agery into a

pattern in which an material thing is closely associated vith,

depends upon, and indeed takes its origin frame a material thing,

or a group of material things, or an experience occurring to

human beins, hose existence in this vorld implies having the

element of materiality; and an important property of this

orgaaisation of imagery is that not only does the imnateial thing

depend for its existence on the material, but the material thing

depends for its value on the material. This characteristic

pattern of laae organization does not appear everywhere. It is

not, for instance, apparent except jocularly in "The Flea."

3ut in the poetry of Donne it frequently acts as a foundation for

the structure of entire poems such as "The Good-Morrow" and

"The Eftasie," as well as individual passages such as line 11 of










"The Good-Morrow": "And makes one little rocae, an every where."

Using line 11 from "The Good-Morrow" as an illustration of

this characteristic pattern of image organization throughout the

poetry of John Donne, we observe that the "little rocae" is the ele-

ment of the pattern of organization which is called the material

thing: the little rocm being in a specific and fixed spatial local-

ity, having actual concrete existence; and we observe that the

"little romae" has been made "an every where." This "every where"

is the material thing which has originated from the material

thing, "the little roae." The "every where" is, in this poema not

the quantitative sum total of the physical universe-not physical

space, but something conceptual, intellectible, and abstract.

Thus we have observed that in the organization of the imagry

in line 11 from "The Good-Morrow" an material thing, "an every

where," has originated from a material thing, the "little roome;"

and now we not only accordingly observe that in this characteristic

pattern of image organization in Donne the material "every where"

depens for its existence upon the "little rocae," but we observe that

the "little rcoce" (the word "little" suggesting not only a circtm-

scribed and limited segment of actual physical space, but also the in-

significance of the spatial area) depends for its value upon being



The COalete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Docine ed.
Charles M Coffin ( ew York, 192), p. U, 1. 11. Subsequent cita-
tions to Donne in my text refer to this edition.











made "an every where."

Before examining how the structure of an entire poem, "The

Good-Morrow," is organized according to the pattern of an immaterial

thing originating from a material thing, let us familiarize ourselves

with some philosophical conceptions, those of Aristotle and Thamas

Aquinas, a knowledge of which will aid greatly in our understanding of

the mode of thought behind such an organization of imagery as found in

this characteristic pattern of John Donne. The mode of thought, the

conception of an immaterial thing originating from a material thing,

behind the characteristic image pattern of Donne corresponds closely to

Aristotle's conception of form and matter, and Aquinas' doctrine of the

use of material things to express material things in Holy Scripture.

In Aristotle's conception of form, "the object of sense ex-

perience can come to the knowledge of the thinking subject only in so far

as it becomes a conceptual form."2

Implied in this explanation is that the human conception of

form depends for its existence on the prior existence of material ob-

jects, but the matter in the object of sense perception "attains to

reality only in so far as it becomes the vehicle of some conceptual

determination."3

In applying this conception of Aristotle to Donne, the implica-

tion that the thought of Donne and Aristotle are identical, that Donne


2Werner Wilhelm Jaeger, Aristotle: Fundapentals of his
development, trans. Richard Robinson (Oxford, 1934), p. 382.

3Jaeger, p. 382.











comeciwsy derived his thought from Aristetle, is sot intended. The

Sol iabe-tiae is to show a similarity between the thought of

Aristotle atn that which form the intellectual dispositien behind

the orgmanimatio of Imaaery of Deane. Through the establisla mt of

this s ilarity, the thought behind the inge org aiiation in Doae

will be relate to an established tradition of thought; ead through

this relationship, it is hope that the intellectual attitude of

Deause revoale through his imagery vill be better uaterstood.

In Deane's asertion that love "awke eme little roomp, an

every where," the object of sense perception in this oese, the "little

rome," only attains to reality, its aiglifioence to the poet, by be-

caaing vwht is intended by the coeeptual determinateei conveyed in

the phrase "an every where"; but the conceptual "every where" does

not apper in the poe a s mething produced by its ow~ power without

a ownal relationship to a material object. The I oeceptual "every

where" is dependent f its existence oc as object of snse perception,

the "little room."

In a way Done here as elsewhere is doing vhat many poet fre-

quetly do, describing a metal concept which has been suggested by a

material object. But Domae, though of course he frequently ueee simile,

metaphor, and other rhetorical figures, in this particular Irge, which

is characteristic of his poetic thought, does not make a simile or

metaphor between the object and the concept, either explicitly or by

iMplication, which is the ooMmoeet mode of coection. aI Dome's

poetic image the concept is not said to be like the object, as in










siile, nor asserted in varying degrees to be the object, as in meta-

phor ("0 wild West Wina...the trumpet of a prophecy"), the concept

caem into being as a consequenee of the existence of the material ob-

Ject or material situation in a feahion parallel to the emergeee of

the apprehension of a ooneptual form in the sequence of Aristotle.

In Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn" the concept that "Beauty is truth,

truth beauty" cease into being as a message aprprorate to the nature

of the urn, but "Beauty is truth" cannot be said to be a ceaeeptual

determination arrived at becae. the urn as its "vehicle." Dowee's

pattern, to use a different terminology, resembles the emergnee of a

perception of a universal after a contemplation of a partictnlar.

Others have perhpe paralleled his pattern of poetic thought occaseia-

ally, but with his it is frequent to the point of being charaeteristic.

Now, let us examine Thear Aquinas' doctrine of the uee of a

material thing to express an itaterial thing in Holy Scripture; sad

thea -note the points of correspaO ence between this doctrine and the

mode of thought behind the organization of the characteristic image

pattern of John Daose; but before beginning this exminatioa, it needs

to be stated that in this doctrine of Aquibas there re two aspects

that do not correspond to the maaner in which image are organized in

this characteristic pattern of Doae. Therefore, in order that we way

avoid the confusion of seeming to iaply that Doane's pattern of orga i-

zation correeponds exactly to Aquinas' doctrine of the use of aM iam-

terial thing to express a material thing, we will subseiquetly eawine

how the use of Imagery in the poetry of Doear differs frem certain










parts of AquiMas' doctrine.

First of all, exmining the part of Aquinas' doctrine that

doe correspond to the mede of thought behind the image organisatieo

of Joh Deane, we will observe that Aquinas states that it is proper

for Boly Scripture to use material things to express spiritual truths

because ma naturally attained intellectual truths through sensible

things.

..It is befitting Holy Scripture to put forward
divine and spiritual truths by means of comparisons with
material things. For God provides for everything'
according to the capacity of its nature. Now it is
natural to man to attain to intellectual truths
through sensible tin, because all our knowledge orlg-
inates from semae.

We readily obeerve in this statement a corrosea6ence to

Aristotle's. ocception that the apprehension of a form is attained

frm an experience of material objects; but of course, there is a

difference. In Aristotle, as we know from Jaeger's explanation, the

form apprehended was a conceptual form of the object experienced; but

in this doctrine of Aquines, the form apprehended is an Intellectual

truth vhich indeed is a spiritual truth. For exiple, the bird iawe

of Done, the bird with crossed wings which was discussed in the

"Introduction" to this study, is used in a manner that corresponds to

the above-quoted part of Aquinas' doctrine. The conceptual form of

the bird that is apprehended by the reader is an intellectual truth,


4ryitrzoductJon S int Tkams Aouiaas ed. Anton C. Pegis
(New Yorkl 194b), p. A( 1, Qa, Arp. 2). Subsequent
citations to Aquinas in my text refer to this edition. (Sa Theologi-
a, I, Ql, Art. 9, Ans.).










he t$rmth of thA ow"P San Chr sti rligiam ; m i Mks conebp

tal f~o of *~ biri, th~ Cw ritim trtV~ Wf, Is Lt we ce auepbel

fa, in the senm ae ArUrtetle, of %he uibrMt bIrd.

Nenvwv, "w also Owee 1a Oi ws'e M @ u"~ enrspt ftrea th

doctrine of Auiines a Csrwvesre.ee Ur 'Me aramreristiie p*leWa of

ig ergmiuastie-, iw Nat usbes "me little re% an eMI y iwjiMv"

in thot own eprimQin of a c4iesph.a. t a swaerStal *AI, "m evay

vwMM," is atainl set rwh a ~ Iertle elmersee Oewnra Iw I a

little rowe.

AmOther prt or Av~Yat 4oelria that srrei M, 1 H"r

Made of thtit4 boeiat the image wrmitioo o Se* I's t hat nl *T

ikBIeal "e"t s .asi l niaery, -aIns of Sterial Hi~fs, the

pwrpwm l to l~ad ithe inA I o n a es I .fIs f a tafligibleq fi-

at not to isoitc the mA tU be onmtmtt with tIw atwial Vta o006

jwel p in tne Mi ti by tw ISW ry.

The r[Y o"f iautv L rnlatlre is "t e*aptI"k.it* by
esRdible im WsOry wlbwwrth it iM OVwed, a Diesirausw
gswp; MA its trti So for iiae ut Vat it do"swt 3alLM
thae ie Os h e e*a to 1Mea * eveIY e.l bn t m ad*e,
to rest In t*e liM ..as but almtms ftr 4o Mw a sewle
of ItaRghibr* ta'ttwh.

To Dam's A wlacteriewte pet'be m et S pu rwgpin.aS, *A

s.ibleln t-mp, W"e*w itie remw," sA peeeseMkd in sredr twat Ahe

itelUJgible fe.m, "as vwiy where," wor e areMM msi s te s.ei-j

b3 im p is "et prusatmm i SA e %ar tt hfw *it a r % ue "SOr "am


lAquinap. 1 '7 ( 1X, 41, Art. 9, SpM. 2)












rest in the likeness of the little room; this purpose is revealed by

Donne's lack of interest in the specific sensuous details of his ma-

terial things. He is not concerned with presenting the color of

walls, the shape and material of chairs, and the number of windows

of a little room.

Now let us glance at the parts of Thomas Aquinas' doctrine of

the use of a material thing to express an immaterial thing that do

not correspond, or at least correspond only in a partial way, to the

manner in which Donne uses imagery. Aquinas, in discussing how a ma-

terial thing signified by a word has a signification in itself, eluci-

dates a fourfold theory of meaning.

..The author of Holy Scripture is God, in Whose power
it is to signify His meaning, not by words only (as man also
can do), but also by things themselves. So, whereas in
every other science things are signified by the words,
this science has the property that the things signified by
words have themselves also a signification. Therefore that
first signification whereby words signify things belongs to
the first sense, the historical or literal. That significa-
tion whereby things signified by words have themselves also
a signification is called the spiritual sense, which is
based on the literal, and presupposes it. Now this spiritual
sense has a threefold division. For as the Apostle says
(Heb. x. I) the Old Law is the figure of the New Law, and
Dionysius says the New Law itself is a figure of future
glory. Again, in the New Law, whatever our Head has done is
a type of what we ought to do. Therefore, so far as the
things of the Old Law signify the things of the New Law,
there is the allegorical sense; so far as the things which
signify Christ, are signs of what we ought to do, there is
the moral sense. But so far as they signify what relates to
eternal glory, there is the anagogical sense. Since the
literal sense is that which the author intends, and since
the author of Holy Scripture is God, Who by one act compre-
hends all things by His intellect, it is not unfitting, as
Augustine says, if, even according to the literal sense, one










vord in Holy Scripture should have several senses.6

Dante, according to the statements in his letter to Can

Grande, adapts this theory of fourfold meaning of the words in Holy

Scripture to literary usage in the Divine Comedy.

For the clarity of what is to be said, one must realize
that the meaning of this work [nhe Divine Comdy is not
simple, but is rather to be called polysemous, that is,
many meanings. The first meaning is the one obtained
through the letter; the second is the one obtained through
the things signified by the letter. The first is called
literal, the second allegorical or moral or anagogical. In
order that this manner of treatment may appear more clearly
it may be applied to the following verses: 'When Israel
vent out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of
strange language, Judah was his sanctuary and Israel his
dominion." For if we look to the letter alone, the de-
parture of the children of Israel from Egypt in the time
of Moses is indicated to us; if to the allegory, our re-
demption accomplished by Christ is indicated to us; if to
the moral sense, t# conversion of the soul frao the woe
and misery of sin to a state of grace is indicated to us;
if to the anagogical sense, the departure of the consecrated
soul from the slavery of this corruption to the -liberty
of eternal glory is indicated. And though these mystic
senses may be called by various names, they can all gen-
erally be spoken of as allegorical, since they are diverse
from the literal or historical. For allegory is derived
from alleon in Greek, which in Latin appears as alienum,
or diverse. /

The way Donne used imagery corresponds partially to the

scheme outlined in the quoted excerpt from Aquinas in that the material

thing signified by an image has in turn an intellectual or spiritual signi-

fication; but we have no evidence that Donne organized his imagery in such



6Aquinas, pp. 18-19 (ST, I, Ql, Art. 10, Ans.).

7Dante, "The Letter to Can Grande della Scale" in Literary
Criticism: Plato to Dryden, ed. Allan H. Gilbert ( New York,
1940), pp. 202-03.











a manner that his words have a fourfold meaning. But the use of

imagery in such manner that the thing signified has in turn a further

significatton, which is synonymous with saying that the material

thing signified has the signification of an immaterial thing, is a

definite characteristic of Donne's imagery. For example, referring

back to the discussion of the bird image in the "Introduction," the

thing signified by the image of a bird is a bird, and this signified

bird has a signification, the Christian truth connected with the

cross. And in line 11 from "The Good-Morrow," the thing signified by

the image of the little room is a little room, and this little room has

the signification of "an every where."

The other part of the doctrine of Aquinas which does not

correspond to the manner in which Donne uses imagery is the assertion

that often in Scripture a word which in ordinary contexts represents

a material thing does not represent the material thing at all but

literally represents a spiritual concept.8

The parabolical sense is contained in the literal,
for by words things are signified properly and figuratively.
Nor is the figure itself, but that which is figured, the
literal sense. When Scripture speaks of God's arm, the
literal sense is not that God has such a member, but only
what is signified by this member, namely, operative power.
Hence it is plain that nothing false can ever underlie the
literal sense of Holy Scripture.


This part of Aquinas' doctrine does correspond to Crashaw's
characteristic use of imagery as already has been indicated in
the "Introduction" by the discussion of the imagery of "doves."

Aquinas, p. 19 (ST, I, Ql, Art. 10, Rep. 3).











Thus says Aqiaas. But it is clear throughout Daome's

poetry that, though the poet's imagery is parallel with the phileas-

pher's up to the point where we can say that the usual signification

of a verd is not its only meaning, we cannot fasten upon the poet

this letter practice of thought in which he did not follow the philoso-

pher.

Since we have now failiarised ourselves with ase of the

philosophical conceptions corresponding to the mode of thought behind

the characteristic pattern of the orgsaisation of imagry in the

poetry of Deane, we can now turn to an exaination of hew the struc-

ture of an entire poea, "The Good-Morrow," is based on this pattern

of organization in which an material thing originates froa a material

thing, and in which the pattern of organisatioa correspomas to

Aristotle's doctrine of the apprehension of a conceptual foray through

a sensible experience beginning with latter, and to Aquinas' doctrine

that material, or sensible, imagery may be the means of raising the

mind to intelligible, or spiritual, truths.

I wonder my my troth, what thou, and I
Did, till we lov'd? Were we not vean'd till then?
But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the seven sleepers den?
T'vas so; But this, all pleasures fancies bee.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desir'd, and got, t'vas but a dreaa of thee.

And now good morrow to our waking souls,
Which watch not one another out of fare;
For love, all love of other sights controules, 10











And makes one little roaee, an every where.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown,
Let us possesse one world, each hath one, and is one.

My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plane hearts doe in the faces rest,
Where can we finde two better hemispheares
Without sharpe North, without declining West?
What ever dyes, was not mixt equally;
If our loves be one, or, thou and I 20
Love so alike, that none doe slacken, none can die.

(p. 8)

First, let us observe and note the characteristics of the

material things of "The Good-Morrow," from which through a sensible

experience a conceptual form is to originate. The material things

in "The Good-Morrow" are the bodies of the lovers who are in this

little roan, and from the implications of the poemn as in lines 6 and

7: "If ever any beauty I did sees Which I desired, and got, t'was

but a dreie of thee," we conclude that the lovers btve been engaged

in a corporeal activity. As a result of the sensible experience of

these two bodies in the little room, a conception of love, the

conceptual form of love, has originated. This conceptual form of love

is presented throughout the poem; but at present, we are limiting our

concern to the material things described.

In our examination of the material things in "The Good-Morrow,"

the bodies of the two lovers in the little rocm, we might ask ourselves

what we know about the physical being and characteristics of these two

lovers, their personal appearance--the color of their eyes or the shade











of their complexion; and we might ask ourselves what the organization of

imagery indicates about the importance that Donne attaches to the material

aspects of the love affair? We answer that we know almost nothing about

the physical characteristics of the two lovers. The lovers are presented

by only two images of physical appearance, "eye" and "face," and these

images are extremely general, giving no definite indication of the speci-

fic or particular sensuous characteristics of the "eye" or of the "face."

Thus we conclude from our examination of the imagery presenting

the material things in "The Good-Morrow" that Donne attaches very little

importance to the material elements of the situation, except in so far

that it is the origin for the experience of the conceptual form of love;

and we conclude that Donne is not interested in organizing his imagery

in a manner that will cause the reader's mind to be attracted to and

to rest in the physical, or material, details of the love affair in this

little room. There is definitely not the lingering on the sensuousness

of physical features that we have in Spenser's Amoretti XV, an organiza-

tion of imagery which causes the mind of the reader to be attracted to

the physical beauty of the beloved. Donne's focus of attention may be

emphasized by contrasting Spenser's practice:

Ye tradefull merchants, that with weary toyle
Do seeke most previous things to make your gain,
And both the Indias of their treasures spoiled,
What needeth you to seeke so farre in vaine?
For loe! my love doth in her selfe contain
All this worlds riches that may farre be found:
If saphyres, loel her eies be saphyres plane;
If rubies, loel her lips be rubies sound;
If pearles, hir teeth be pearles both pure and round;
If yvorie, her forehead yvory weene;











If gold, her locks are finest gold on ground;
If silver, her faire hands are silver sheene;
But that which fairest is but few beholdA
Her mind, adornd with vertues manifold.1

Now let us examine the immaterial thing in "The Good-Morrow,"

or what would be called in the terms of Aristotle, the conceptual

form of love. We find evidence of Donne's interest in depicting love

in a manner that corresponds to the nature of a conceptual form in the

organization of his imagery in the first stanza. The many loves of the

past are contrasted with the present love; and this contrast is based

on whether the many loves of the past, or the one love of the present,

may have attained the status of a reality. Of course, as we know from

our discussion of Aristotle, the status of reality is attained only

when the material thing "becomes the vehicle of some conceptual determi-

nation"; and thus if the material thing does not become the vehicle

of some conceptual determination, if the form of the material thing is

not apprehended then the material does not attain reality. In other

words, if love as expressed through an experience of bodies, the matter

of love, does not become the vehicle of some conceptual determination,

the form of love, then the experience of love lacks reality.

The present love, the love depicted in "The Good-Morrow," has

attained the status of a reality, and this is indicated by its being


10The Complete Poetical Works of Spenser, ed. R. E. Neil
Dodge (Boston, 1936), p. 720. Subsequent citations to Spenser in
my text refer to this edition.











opposite in nature to the many loves of the past. The absence of

reality in the past loves is indicated first in the opening line by

the lack of certainty as to just what happened before this present

love ("I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I/ Did, till we lov'd?").

The unreality of the past loves is further emphasized by metaphorical

equation with the vague receptivity of a baby ("were we not wean'd

till then?/ But suck'd on country pleasures, childishly?"), with an

outrageous superstition ("Or snorted in the seven sleepers den?"),

and with the insubstantial quality of fancies and dreams ("all

pleasures fancies bee" and "t'was but a dream of thee").

Now that we have observed how the organization of imagery in

the first stanza of "The Good-Morrow" reveals an intellectual concern

with whether or not the loves of the past or the present have attained

the status of reality, rather than a concern with comparing the loves

and the present love on the basis of quantitative measurements (whether

or not the present beloved has more beautiful hair, or a more virtuous

mind than the past loves) now that we have observed all this we can

proceed with an examination of the second stanza.

In stanza two, Donne is primarily concerned with the presenta-

tion of the love as something intellectible, abstract, or immaterial;

and his emphasis on the intellectual qualities of love is in accord with

a mode of thought that corresponds to the conceptions of Aristotle and

Aquinas in which they hold that the form, the intellectible, is much more

important than the material from which the form originates.

The intellectual aspects of the love are first emphasized in











the opening line. The main image responsible for this emphasis is

the word "soules." If Donne had used the image "bodies," or some other

image of a material thing, the effect on us, as readers, would have

been entirely different; but the image "soules" centers our attention on

immaterial things.

As to just how we should experience this image "soules," we

can be certain that Donne intended for us to experience it not as a

vague word denoting a process of our nervous system, but as referring

to something existing as a metaphysical reality; for in the time of

Donne, and in the poetry of Donne, "soul" had a definite meaning, and

referred to an actuality, a metaphysical entity.

In order that we might adjust our perception to experience the

image "soules" from the viewpoint of Donne, and from the viewpoint of

a reader of his time, we might review briefly a history of the concep-

tion of man having three souls, or three powers of one soul.

The development of this conception has a long history in

western thought. As Zeller points out, the germ of the conception is

found in Plato's Timaeus.

In the Timaeus (696f) only the reasonable part of the soul,
which is localized in the head, is held to be immortal, while
courage and the sensual desires, which reside respectively
in the chest and the belly, are reckoned to the unreasonable
and transient parts of the soul.... Plato never discusses
how the three parts of the fgul are to be reconciled with the
unity of the consciousness.

Aristotle, as explained by W. Windelband, also asserts that

11
Eduard Zeller, Outlines of the History of Greek Philosophy,
rev. Wilhelm Nestle, trans. L. R. Palmer (New York, 1931), p. 135.










man has three souls.

The series of grades of living creatures is determined
by differences of soul, which as the entelechy of the body in
all things is the Form that moves, changes, and fashions
matter. Souls also have a relative ranking. The lower can
exist without the higher, but higher only in connection with
the lower. The lowest kind is the vegetative...which is
limited in its functions to assimilation and propagation,
and belongs to plants. The animal possesses in addition to
this a sensitive soul...which at the same time is appetitive...
and has also to some degree the power of locomotion....Man
possesses, besides both these other souls, reason....12

Throughout medieval philosophy there are many different devel-

opments of theory concerning the nature of these three souls. Albert

the Great holds that the human soul is one single and incorporeal sub-

stance with three powers,13 but Roger Bacon considers that, as explained

by Gilson, "The intellective soul alone is immediately created by

God; the vegetative and the sensitive souls are just like the other forms

which efficient causes draw out of the potency of matter."14

Following the conceptions of Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas also

formulates a theory of three souls.

We must therefore conclude that the sensitive soul, the
intellectual soul and the nutritive soul are in man numeri-
cally one and the same soul. This can easily be explained,
if we consider the differences of species and forms. For we
observe that the species and forms of things differ from one
another as the perfect and the less perfect; just as in the
order of things, the animate are more perfect than the inani-
mate, animals more perfect than plants, and man more perfect


12W. Windelband, History of Ancient Philosophy, trans. Herbert
Ernest Cushman (New York, 1956), p. 274.

13tienne Gilson, History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle
Ages (New York, 1955), p. 284.
14 son 13
Gilson, p. 13.











than brute animals. Furthermore, in each of these genera
there are various degrees. For this reason Aristotle com-
pares the species of things to numbers, which differ in
species by the addition or subtraction of unity. He also
compares the various souls to the species of figures, one of
which contains another, as a pentagon contains and exceeds a
tetragon. Thus the intellectual soul contains virtually
whatever belongs to the sensitive soul of brute animals, and
to the nutritive soul of plants. Therefore, just as a surface
which is of a pentagonal shape is not tetragonal by one shape,,
and pentagonal by another--since a tetragonal shape would be
superfluous, as being contained in the pentagonal--so neither
is Socrates a man by one soul, and animal by another, but
by one and the same soul he is both animal and man.l5

And in England during the Renaissance, Edward Grimeston, in

his translation (1621) of Nicolas Coeffecteau's A Table of Humane

Passions, states

But we must remember that the soul, being the form of
living things, and natural forms having this in particular,
that the more noble contains the perfection of that which is
less noble; as a quadrangle comprehends with a certain emi-
nency all that enters into the composition of a triangle; and
as the forms of beasts contain the forms of the Elements; it
follows that there being three degrees of souls; that is to
say; that which gives life, which is the less perfect; that
which gives sense, which is the second rank; and the Reasonable,
which is the noblest of all; this Reasonable soul, which is
peculiar only to man, contains all the powers and perfections
of the other, and can effect as much as all the rest together.
By reason whereof man hath a Vegetative soul, which is common
with plants; he hath the Sensitive, which he hath in common with
brute beasts; but he alone is in possession of the Reasonable
soul, where he hath nothing common with the rest of the
creatures.lo1

Throughout the poetry of Donne, we have evidence of his famil-

iarity with the conception of the three souls. The concept of three



15Aquinas, pp. 305-06 (ST, I, Q. 76, Art. 3, Ans.).

16Edward Grimeston, "Of Human Passions" in Tudor Poetry and
Prose ed. J. William Hebel, et al. (New York, 1953), -P. 1117.












souls is expressed in "The Second Anniversary."

Thinks further on thy selfe, my Soule, and think
How thou at first wast made but in a sinke;
Think that it argued some infirmitie,
That those two souls, which then thou foundst in me,
Thou fedst upon, and drewst into thee, both
My second soule of sense, and first of growth.

(p. 203, 11. 157-162)

The same conception is found in "To The Countesse of Bedford," "Honour

is so sublime perfection."

But as our Soules of growth and Soules of sense
Have birthright of our reasons Soule, yet hence
They fly not from that, nor seeke presidency.

(p. 156, 11. 34-36)

And again in "To The Countesse of Salisbury."

How faire a proof of this, in our soule groves?
Wee first have soules of growth, and sense, and those,
When our last soule, our soule immortall came,
Were swallowed into it, and have no name.

(p. 167, 11. 50-53)

Now that we have reviewed the conception of three souls, we

can continue our examination of the second stanza of "The Good-Morrow,"

and note additional evidence that Donne in "The Good-Morrow" conceives

of love as a conceptual form, an immaterial thing that originates from

an experience of a material thing.

The opening line of the second stanza: "And now good morrow

to our waking soules," suggests beyond the literal significance of the

line (the fact that the two lovers are awakening) that the souls of the

lovers are awakening to a discovery, or a knowledge, of a love that has

attained the status of a reality (as we know from the first stanza).











Since we know from our examination of the philosophy of Aristotle

that the reality of anything is grasped only through the apprehension

of a conceptual form, and since this present love of the lovers in

the little room has attained the status of a reality, we can conclude

that the "waking soules" are the intellective souls, since the concep-

tual form can only be apprehended by the intellective function of the

soul, as the sensitive and vegetative parts of the soul have functions

in common with the animals and plants.

In the second stanza of "The Good-Morrow," lines 9 and 10,

the intellectual quality of the love is again stressed, as the love

relationship is described as being free from fear (fear being a func-

tion of the sensitive soul) free from the torments of jealousy. This

freedom from tormenting emotions may be achieved through the operation

of the intellective soul. This liberating function of the intellective

soul, though by no means exclusively understandable in Platonic terms

is one of the values of Platonic love as everyone knew who had seen it

described by Peter Bembo (in Sir Thomas Hoby's translation of

Castiglione's Courtier, 1561).

To avoid, therefore, the torment of this absence,
and to enjoy beauty without passion, the Courtier, by
the help of reason, must full and wholly call back again
the coveting of the body to beauty alone, and (in what he
can) behold it in itself simple and pure, and frame it
within his imagination sundered from all matter, and so make
it friendly and loving to his soul, and there enjoy it, and
have it with him day and night, in every time and place, with-
out mistrust ever to lose it, keeping always fast in mind
that the body is a most diverse thing from beauty, and not
only not increaseth, but diminisheth the perfection of it.
In this wise shall our not young Courtier be out of all











bitterness and wretchedness that young men feel (in a manner)
continually, as jealousies, suspicions, disdains, angers,
desperation, and certain rages full of madness; whereby many
times they be led into so great error that some do not only
beat the women whom they love but rid themselves out of their
life.17

In Platonic love, when the imagination is sundered from the

material ("the coveting of the body") by the help of the reason (which

is a function of the intellective soul), and when the lover centers his

thoughts on an intellectible (or as Castiglione describes it--"the beauty

that is seen with the eyes of the mind"),8 the torments, such as

jealousy, which are due to the lover coveting the materiality of his

beloved, are eliminated. The love relationship in "The Good-Morrow"

has reached an intellectual level, similar to that reached in Platonic

love, in which the torments of the human passions, passions being func-

tions of the sensitive soul, are eliminated. Of course, John Donne's

conception of love in "The Good-Morrow" is not wholly Platonic, for the

love is not actually sundered from all matter; love is sundered from

matter only in so far as the imagination is centered on the form rather

than the matter of love. In Platonic love, as with Plato's Ideas,

the intellectible (the beauty of the mind) is a self-subsisting reality;

but in the love imaged by Donne, as with Aristotle's form and matter,

the intellectible (the form of love) is dependent for its existence on

the subordinate material element. However, we must not lose sight of the

17
1Hebel, op. cit., p. 705.
18Quoted from Hebel, p. 706.











fact that the material element is very much subordinate to the intel-

lectual quality.

In lines 12 through 14, the intellectual quality of the love is

again stressed as the lovers declare the superiority of their intel-

lectually abstract, intelligible world ("an every where" and "Let us

possess one world, each hath one, and is one.") over the material

world ("Let sea-discoverers to new world have gone"), and copies of the

material world ("Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne).

In lines 15 through 18, the emphasis again falls on the Intel-

lectual quality of the love. In these lines, the lovers are watching

one another; and the reflection of the face of each lover appears in

the eye of the other. We, as readers, experience this looking at one

another as suggesting the closeness and unity of the lovers. In line

16, the reflections of faces are experienced as symbols of the love

("true plaine hearts"), and then in line 17, we experience the words

of the poet, "Where can we find two better hemispheres," as suggesting

that they, the lovers, are through their love now in possession of the

best of all worlds, an intelligible world much superior to the material

"new worlds" of the "sea-discoverers" of line 12. Line 18 completes

the description of the hemispheres. These half spheres are without the

determinations or the differentiations of spatial boundaries ("Without

sharpe North, without declining West"). Since hemispheres without

spatial boundaries do not correspond to terrestrial hemispheres, or the

representation of actual hemispheres on maps such as those in line 13,

they cannot be perceived empirically; and therefore since hemispheres











without spatial boundaries can only be apprehended by a mental opera-

tion, they are conceptual in nature. Thus from material things, the

reflections in the eyes, immaterial things, conceptual hemispheres,

have originated. Since hemispheres are halves of spheres, we, as read-

ers, experience the unity of the lovers, their oneness, as forming a

complete and perfect sphere, perfect in the sense that it is free from

the determinations and limitations of the material.

In the concluding lines of "The Good-Morrow," lines 19 through

21, the intellectual quality of the love is again emphasized. In these

lines, the love is depicted as immortal, inmortal because the two

"loves be one." The doctrine which is the basis of this logic may be

called the doctrine of the simple substance. According to this doctrine,

that which is composed of diverse and disparate elements is mortal, that

which is all of one substance immortal. The proposition is at its

clearest in Aquinas' description of the oneness of substance, the sim-

plicity of God.

The absolute simplicity of God may be shown in many ways....
For there is neither composition of quantitative parts in God,
since He is not a body; nor composition of form and matter;
nor does His nature differ from His suppositum; nor His essence
from His being; neither is there in Him composition of genus
and difference, nor of subject and accident. Therefore, it is
clear that God is no way composite, but is altogether simple.19

Now therefore when Donne finds a logical causal relationship between

the oneness that characterizes the love he speaks of and the deathlessness

of it, he is referring to the conspicuous property of a particular kind of


19
Aquinas, p. 32 (ST, I, Q.3, Art. 7, Ans.).












oneness. This is not any longer a oneness of two material halves

joined, but a oneness of two intelligibles which because they are in-

telligibles are not quantitatively measurable. The two intelligibles,

equal in quality and mixed ("mixt equally") have become essentially of

one intelligible substance when they are mixed. And they are one sub-

stance without disparate elements. Hence in this respect they are

exempt from that which befalls the material, the disparate, the un-

equally mixed, namely death.

Though these loves are like the divine in this respect, the

love relationship in "The Good-Morrow" retains its connection with

form and matter, namely the two lovers, and is not absolutely perfect

as God is absolutely perfect; but the love in "The Good-Morrow"

approaches a likeness to the divine.

In summary, we can state that in the organization of imagery in

"The Good-Morrow" what started out as a bodily experience in the specific

spatial locality of the little room becomes similar in nature to the

divine; and therefore from a material thing has originated an immaterial

thing. This immaterial thing metaphysically corresponds to Aristotle's

and Aquinas' conception of a form; and this inaterial thing is appre-

hended from the material by the abstractive function of the intellectual

soul of a human being in a similar manner to that described by Aquinas.

Now there are three grades of the cognitive powers. For
one cognitive power, namely, the sense, is the act of a cor-
poreal organ. And therefore, the object of every sensitive
power is a form as existing in corporeal matter; and since such
matter is the principle of individuation, therefore every power
of the sensitive part can have knowledge only of particulars.
There is another grade of cognitive power which is neither the











act of a corporeal organ, nor in any way connected with
corporeal matter. Such is the anelic intellect the object
of whose cognitive power is therefore orm existing
apart from matter; for though angels know material things,
yet they do not know them save in something immaterial,
namely, either in themselves or in God. But the human in-
tellect holds a middle place; for it is not the act of an
organ, and yet it is a power of the soul, which is the form
of the body. .. And therefore it is proper to it to know
a form existing individually in corporeal matter, but not
as existing in this individual matter. But to know what is
in individual matter, yet not as existing in such matter,
is to abstract the form from individual matter which is
represented by the phantasms. Therefore we must needs say
that our intellect understands material things by abstract-
ing from phantasms; and that through material things thus
considered we acquire some knowledge of immaterial things,
just as, on the contrary, angels know material things through
the immaterial.

But Plato, considering only the iJimteriality of the
human intellect, and not that it is saoehow united to the
body, held that the objects of the intellect are separate
Ideas, and that we understand, not by abstraction, but
rather by participating in abstractions, as we stated above.20

Just as in "The Good-Morrow," in "The Extasie" an immaterial

thing originates from a material thing.

Where, like a pillow on a bed,
A Pregnant bank swel'd up, to rest
The violets reclining head,
Sat we two, one another best.
Our hands were firmly cimented
With a fast balme, which thence did spring,
Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred
Our eyes, upon one double string;
So to 'entergraft our hands, as yet
Was all the means to make us one, 10
And pictures in our eyes to get
Was all our propagation.
As twixtt two equally Armies, Fate
Suspends uncertain victories
Our soules, (which to advance their state,
Were gone out,) hung twixtt her, and mee.
And whil'st our soules negotiate there,


20Aquinas, pp. 401-02 (ST, Q. 85, Art. 1, Ans.).











Wee like sepulchrall statues lay;
All day, the same our postures were,
And wee said nothing, all the day. 20
If any, so by love refin'd,
That he soules language understood,
And by good love were grown all mind,
Within convenient distance stood,
He (though he knew not which soul spake,
Because both meant, both spake the same)
Might thence a new concoction take,
And part farre purer than he came.
This Extasie doth unperplex
(We said) and tell us what we love, 30
Wee see by this, it was not sexe,
Wee see, we saw not what did move:
But as all several soules contain
Mixture of things, they know not what,
Love, these mixt souls, doth mixe again,
And makes both one, each this and that.
A single violet transplant,
The strength, the colour, and the size,
(All which before was poor, and scant,)
Redoubles still, and multiplies. 40
When love, with one another so
Interinanimates two soules,
That abler soule, which thence doth flow,
Defects of loneliness controules.
Wee then, who are this new soule, know,
Of what we are composed, and made,
For, th'Atomies of which we grow,
Are soules, whom no change can invade.
But 0 alas, so long, so farre
Our bodies why doe wee forbeare? 50
They are ours, though they are not wee, Wee are
The intelligence, they the spheares.
We owe them thanks, because they thus,
Did us, to us, at first convay,
Yeelded their forces, sense, to us,
Nor are drosse to us, but allay.
On man heavens influence workers not so,
But that it first imprints the ayre,
Soe soule into the soule may flow,
Though it to body first repair. 60
As our blood labours to beget
Spirits, as like soules as it can,
Because such fingers need to knit
That subtile knot, which makes us man:
So must pure lovers soules descend











T'affections, and to faculties,
Which sense may reach and apprehend,
Else a great Prince in prison lies.
To'our bodies turned wee then, that so
Weake men on love revealed may look; 70
Loves mysteries in soules doe grow,
But yet the body is his booke.
And if some lover, such as wee,
Have heard this dialogue of one,
Let him still market us, he shall see
Small change, When we'are to bodies gone.

(pp. 39-41)

In "The Extasie" as in "The Good-Morrow," the material things

are the bodies of the lovers ("Wee like sepulchrall statues lay"),

and while the two bodies remain in this mobile position, from their

materiality and the sensible experience of holding hands ("Our hands

were firmly ciaented") originates an activity of imaterial things,

the negotiation of the souls ("And whil'st our soules negotiate there").

Through this negotiation of souls, the form of love is apprehended.

This apprehension of love takes place during the ecstasy

("Tlis Extasie doth unperplex/ (We said) and tell us what we love");

and this ecstasy in the poem "The Extasie" is somewhat similar to the

ecstasy in the philosophy of Plotinus, as has been indicated by

H. J. C. Grierson in his "Comentary" on Donne's poems.

In a letter to Sir Thomas Lucy, Donne writes: "Sir I make
account that this writing of letters, when it is with any
seriousness, is kind of extasie, and a departing, and seces-
sion and suspension which doth then communicate itself to two
bodies." Ecstasy in Neo-Platonic philosophy was the state
of mind in which the soul, escaping from the body, attained
to the vision of God, the One, the Absolute. Plotinus thus
describes it: "Even the word vision does not seen appro-
priate here. It is rather an ecstasy, a siaplicatilm, an
abandonment of self, a perfect quietude, a desire of contact, in
short, a wish to merge oneself in that which one contemplates
in the Sanctuary," Sixth Ennead, IX, II (from the French










traBlation of SoiUnet, 1857-8).' heMers will observe
he closely DOne's* Po avree with this--the eWods ao the
eoul (fl* 15-16), tVe prfect quiet (11. 18-90), sid tas
ma inasight (11. 9-33), the cetact *na uciem of the souls
(1. 35)0 Dome had probably reed Ficio's trwmlation of
Platimis (149e), but the dectrine of eestsy psmse into
Charisti thou kt, consectlg itself es* cially with the
eperiosac of St. Pau (2 Cow. XII. 2) .l

Nuwer, the ecstasy in "The Ixtasle" is differat from the
*estscy in Plotinus; tfr In th pees of Deane, the soul dos not

e*rpe iro- a ceamsned booy (see 11. 50-76). Throue~ out the phi-

loespay of Plotimusu, te body is codremned.

The soul falleU into this state of impuity, seized
with am irresistible inclitatie towards the thisbl of
*ms, absorbed by her Iatoreeurse withk the body, suk
l1ae matter, ad having evem received it within herself,
ha chIaged fom by her adixtire with an inferior alture.
Not otherlie would be a a fallen into slkWy aud, who
so logi r woul present to view his primitive besuy, and
would exhibit only the fearnce ef the mdi that had de-
filed him; his ugliess would be derived from sometlh
foreigu; and to recover his pristine beeuty be would lave
to esh off his defilemeut, mao by purifioati be rstored
to what aone Vo s22

P~osibly, as riTuon May, Deome did derive his comeeption of
an *cstasy fras Ficino's trealation of Plotiaus. *fwever, if he

Adi, Deomme hs trasfoeaed aeM altered Plotianue comeeption of a

*castsy; therefore, the oly a nmeing that we am assipn to tMe word

"lcxtM*," as it appears in the title of the pom mad withi the

comext of the pom, is the amesing that Dome asigps the vord through

arra amect in a structure.


21rbert J. C. Oriersee, "latroductim eand Comenotry" in
S PM of Jobs Do Vol. n (Oxford, 1912), p. 42.

S. plotinus, Wo, d. Kinethd Sylviaa uthrie (Loonen, 1918),
P *TO










An ecstasy in the poae "The Extasie" is a state of being

which has originated froc the sensible experience of two lovers

whose physical behavior is that they hold hands, remain completely

motionless in a definite position in space (11. 1-4); and while in

this state of being, called an "Extasie" within the poem, the lovers

gain a knowledge of love through the negotiation of their souls. Thus

an ecstasy in the poes "The Extasie" is a state of being in which the

point of origin, the material beginning (the bodies of the lovers) is

depicted as being inactive; and that which is derived frso the bodies,

the material parts of the lovers, their souls, depicted as being

active. Thus the structure of "The Extasie" follows the characteristic

pattern of the image organization in the poetry of John Donne. Ima-

terial things, the souls, have originated frcm material things, the

bodies of the lovers, and although the material things are necessary,

they are subordinated to the immaterial, as the imaaterial is active

and the material inactive.

"A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" is also organized according

to this characteristic pattern in the poetry of John Donne.

As virtuous men passe mildly away,
And whisper to their soules, to goe,
Whilst same of their sad friends doe say,
The breath goes now, and same say, no:

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No teare-floods, nor sign-tempests move,
T'were prophanation of our joyes
To tell the layetie our love.










eMving .o th'lerti briao hames sad feeee,
Men reckem vtat it 4i4 a sd met, 10
aut trpiAatioa of the spheres,
Thigh greatr Tfrre, is inoent.

Doll subluoery levers lcve
(WWhoe soue is se ) oeamot Atit
Abosee, beemme it deot rmewe
!thee th~lg which elemunted it.

But we by a lowe, se meh refia'd,
That our n*lv kneaw not what it it is,
Iaer-seureAd of the isad,
CaMe 3,m8e, e"e, lips, t4 hanid to mis e. 20

Our two' seules thm erf which are me,
Though I et soe, feature not yet
A brmeah, but an exp Nioa,
Like gold to awey thi mees beate.

If tbey be twe, hoy are -*o s
As stiffer .i e~ci ame are two,
Ptr soule the fixt foot, aske aes so e
9 move, but doth, if tbe'eter ae.,

Aan though it in the center sit,
Yet wh4m the other far deth rme, 30
It eiaes, aMi hearkem after it,
Aaa grew e"ret, th bt eomes te e.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must
Like fa'ether feet, obliqely rume;
Thy fires drmes my circle just,
d makes m em, were i bIegune.

(PP. 38-39)
The first steams of "A Valediction: Forblidisg Motrning" is

orwimedw according to the characteristic imago pattler of DBOmM

Iw0a rial things, immertal souls, re deprtUng frem miteral tiaie,

ded bodes.

The souls nemur existed without the bo4lie, saA the bodies

have detendcd for their value on the souls TIese thiap we co3











ssem.y w.Msua, w as l Mitally do, frm Me Lu ewrmr St mr fLwms.
A3la, as 3ripias.ioi of irmrry ia 1I 17 r oiWgo 36 fUsWs
tWSa abicber -wic ~eWsp. L i 2e *MbeIma the fawt IMt no-
tarwl *~ihgs, beLiy pgwt, wn a vit.1 e6mnt ia tlis i r, esp

call aI it Lir biN-tge altiuhi SU hay e s0etAw.a. b. t-M Lmuri

(11. 17-?9). 7i rt lw, a" rk1 e re V'kh, t., ap Imta"'
av o M-e wbm mb, am s-umairl obn" Ia6vfs qpbrml
fores ~sypwm by ti *mes o watim eww t1 elrej, S pre-.
nme %at mti t1w lWe m* aeieu e r usirei^be tlas we is

eraet sattal loslatsl,
te leva, a ti tI oft ntm ouli eri t lSve, tcs maie

beSMS ayqs*- by maw phewlemay 4IemseifbI6 bLe *s*a of the Niojes
as bemis pwis a a eaposes pvaimse a pirittMl .iW perseew g ts




DBaen, as to o 8tne o themM, a sol orf is a eir ae.

aI oes e -t emaenta ft4iaseks ot set, ts a
Slar, m a S jA wai* lM"a ; w. bM le w, h1 w w
to iMw eA: at wst ealy t thoir a a, te heair 4,
bwt to Ues I, ma Na a mA iU, O*t he oswa 3r am
fun.l23

*Sm, jwt as ws l" fI "1 *Go* Wo'rmW oeIMseed a U IHsi 6
tib dlaiew, uwtbl riy >,prwme aey sw t, Ve M 0rtwoI A h IA

sB "A TaiticO a: -.rUI-M. Mt.urat.. is p.rl.a.. .y b' rth r

23
(










e haviag a like~ss to tbe divine in that it is expmresel by the

fipire of a circle, which is a symbol of God.

"T e Anmiverwrie" follows laehat the pattern of "The Gooa-

Mwrrw." The materiality of the love is s~Seated by oeh lines as

"Im thPu sed I first one motmer smn" ae "Nmut leaw at lst in

death, taeM e ey, and *earM;" s n te If~ atriality of the love is

summeted primrily by line 7 through 10 which endow te low vith the

uEality of wrtaUlity, *gain, a caracteristie of a shlple fbltence.

All Kigs, and all iteir favorites,
All glory of honors, bmeutis, vits,
the Sun it selfe, which asee time., as they pee.,
Is eldr by a yesre, new, than it wis
WhVe thou aEM I first one snot&her sw:
All other thina, to their testructime draw,
aOly our lov hath no 4eey;
This, so to arrow hath, aer yeeterdjy,
BRuiing it never runs from us away,
But truly keepes his first, last, everlating day. 10

Two ravem =at hide thine de me eoare,
If one right, death were no divorce.
AlM, a well as their Prinee, we,
(Who Prince enough in one weather bee,)
"u', leave at last in fetth, these ees, and eare,
Oft fed with true oathes, ad with sweet salt twees;
But soules where nothing dwells but love
(All other thoughts being inmates) then shall prove
This, or a love increased there above,
Wheh bR4ies to their graves, souls fr their grave
remnre 20

And thb wee shall be thoroughly blest,
But vo no m*e, then all the reEt;
Bre upon erthL we're Kings, and non but wee
Ca be such King, aw of such subjects bee.
Who is so fee am wee? where aone cm do
Treas to us, except ene of us two.
True and false fears let us refrain,
Let us love nobly, end live, and ade againe
Year*e md year unto years, till we attains
To write threeecoe: this is the *cond of our raigae. 30
(pp. 20-21)











In "The Canonization" the materiality of the love affair is

suggested by images of a bodily condition ("my palsie, or my gout,/

My five gray haires") which create in the mind of the reader a

suggestion of the tangible presence of a human being. The imateri-

ality of the love, which has originated fro- the sensible experience

of the bodies, is suggested by lines 25 through 27, ani by lines

44 and 45.

For Godsake hold your tongue, and let me love,
Or chide my palsie, or my gout,
My five gray haires, or ruin'd fortune flout,
With wealth your state, your ninde and Arts improve,
Take you a course, get you a place,
Observe his honour, or his grace,
Or the Kings really, or his stamped face
Contemplate, what you will, approve,
So you will let me love.

Alas, alas, who's injured by my love? 10
What merchants ships have my sighs drown'd?
Who sales my tears have overflowed his ground?
When did my colds a forward spring remove?
When did the heats which my veines fill
Adde one more to the plague Bill?
Soldiers find warres, and Lawyers find out still
Litigious men, which quarrels move,
Though she and I do love.

Call us what you will, wee are made such by love;
Call her one, mee another flye, 20
We'are Tapers too, and at our owne cost die,
And wee in us find the'Eagle and the Dove.
The Phoenix ridle hath more wit
By us, we two being one, are it.
,So to one neutral thing both sexes fit,
Wee dye and rise the same, and prove
Mtystricuc by this love.

Wee can dye by it, if not live by love,
And if unfit for tombes and hearse
Our legend bee, it will be fit for verse; 30
And if no peece of Chronicle wee prove,










We'll build in sonets pretty romes;
As well a well wrought urne becomes
The greatest ashes, as half-acre tcbes,
And by these hyoncs, all shall approve
Us Canowiz'd for Love:

(pp. 13-14)
And thus invoke us; You whom reverend love
Made one another hermitage;
You, to vwha love vws peace, that now is rage;
Who did the whole worlds sooule contract, and drove 40
Into the glasses of your eyes
(So made such mirrors, and such spies,
That they did all to you epitcmize,)
Countries, Townes, Courts: Beg from above
A pattern of your love?

(pp. 13-14)
In "The Sunne Rising," the "All here in one bed" is a

variation on the "one little room an every where" of "The Good-

Morrow." Also as in "The Good-Morrow," a sense of experience

which has its place or origin in a room is described in terse of

an intellectible, a mathematical figure ("This bed thy center is,

these wvlls, thy apbeere").

Busie old foole, unruly Sunne,
Why dost thou thus,
Through window, and through curtainee call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers seasons run?
Samcy pedantique wretch, goe chide
Latc school boyes and sore prentices
Goe tell Court-huntmen, that the King will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clyme,
Nor hours, dayes, momeths, which are the rags of time. 10

Thy bees, so reverend, and strong
Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a winke,
But that I would not lose her sight so long:










If her eyes have not blinded thin,
Looke, and to morrow late, tell mee,
Whether both the'India's of spice and Wyne
Be where thou leftist them, or lie here with mee.
Aske for those Kings whcm thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt here, All here in one bed lay. 20

She'is all States, and 11 Princes, I,
Nothing else is.
Princes doe but play us; ccmpar'd to this,
All honor's aimique; all wealth alchimie.
Thou sunne art half as happy'as wee,
In that the world's contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties bee
To wars the world, that's done in warming uC.
Shine here to us, and thou are every where;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere. 30

(p. 11)

In the first stanza of "Loves Growth," the pattern appears,

although somewhat varied, as a discovery made by the poet that love

does not have a pure and abstract existence apart from a sensible

experience of the material, just as in the philosophy of Aristotle

a pure form does not subsist apart from matter.

I scarce believe my love to be so pure
As I had thought it was,
Because it doth endure
Vicissitude, and season, as the grass;
Me thinks I lyed all winter, when I swore,
My love was infinite, if spring -lake'it more.
But if this medicine, love, which cures all sorrow
With more, not only bee no quintessence,
But mixt of all stuffes, paining soule, or sense,
And of the Sunne his working vigour borrow,
Love's not so pure, and abstract, as they use
To say, which have no Mistresse but their Muase,
But as all else, being elmented too,
Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do.

(p. 27, 11. 1-14)

Although in "Negative Love" the pattern does not appear in

its purity, the love presented in the poem is similar to the love











in "The Good-Morrow." In both poem the love is endowed through

figuration with a likeness to the divine. In "The Good-Morrow,"

it was a simple substance, and in "Negative Love" the love has a

likeness to the divine in that it can only be expressed by

negatives.24

I never stoop'd so low, as they
Which on an eye, cheeke, lip, can prey,
Seldome to th.e, which soare no higher
Than vertue or the minde to'admire
For sense, and understanding may
Know, what gives fuell to their fire;
Iy love, though silly, is more brave,
For may I misse, when ere I crave,
If I know yet, what I vould have.

If that be simply perfectest 10
Which can by no way be express
But N eatives, my love is so.
To All, which all love, I say no.
If any who deciphers best,
What we know not, our selves, can know,
Let him teach mee that nothing; This
As yet my ease, and comfort is,
Though I speed not, I cannot missed.

(p. 50)
Another variation on the basic and characteristic pattern

of image organization in the poetry of Donne is found in "A Feaver."

In this poen a woman, though she has a body subject to decay, essenti-

ally is that with which the body is joined, an immaterial thing ("the

worlds soule") which gives meaning and value not only to her own body

but to this material world; and when this material world loses this

immaterial thing, all is valueless ("The whole world vapors with thy

breath").











Oh doe not die, for I shall hate
All women so, when thou art gone,
That thee I shall not celebrate,
When I remember, thou wast one.

But yet thou canst not die, I know,
To leave this world behind, is death,
But when thou from this world wilt goe,
The whole world vapors with thy breath,

Or if, when thou, the worlds soule, goest,
It stay, tis but thy carkasse then, 10
The fairest wvamn, but thy ghost,
But corrupt wormes, the worthyest men.

0 wrangling schools, that search what fire
Shall burne this world, had none the wit
Unto this knowledge to aspire,
That this her feaver might be it?

And yet she cannot wast by this,
Nor long beare this torturing wrong,
For such corruption needfull is
To full such a feavor long. 20

These burning fits but meteors bee,
Whose matter in thee is soone spent.
Thy beauty, 'and all parts, which are thee,
Are unchangeable firmament.

Yet t'vas of my minde, seising thee,
Through it in thee cannot persever.
For I had rather owner bee
Of thee one hour, than all else ever.

(p. 18)

Although in a number of poems the pattern of an material

thing originating from a material thing, with the Ismaterial dependent

for its existence on the material, and the material for its value on

the material, does not appear in its exact form, in such poems as

"A Valediction: Of The Booke" and "Loves Alchymie" there is a sugges-

tion that the mode of thought behind this characteristic pattern of

image organization forms the conceptual outlook from which the poems











vere written. For example, in these poems Donne ridicules a purely

spiritual love, a love which in the Platonic manner has a self-

subsistence apart from matter.

In the first of these poems beauty (and here the meaning

is clearly physical beauty) is in a joking understatement advanced

as a convenient prefiguration of spiritual love.

Ebre Loves Divines (since all Divinity
Is love or wonder may finde all they seeke,
Whether abstract spiritual love they like,
Their Soules exhaled with what they do not see,
Or, loth so to amuze
Faiths infirmite, they chuse
Something which they may see and use;
For, though minde be the heaven, where love doth sit,
Beauty a convenient type may be to figure it.

("A Valediction: Of The Booke" p. 25, 11. 28-36)

In the second poem Donne boldly derides '"retches" who hold

that marriage is only of the mind.

That loving wretch that swearee
'Tis not the bodies marry, but the mindes,
Which he in her Angelique finds,
Would sveare as justly, that he heares,
In that days rude hoarce minstralsey, the spheares.
Hope not for mind in women; at their best
Sweetnesse and wit, they're but gn, possest.

("Loves Alchymie" p. 31, 11. 1824)

In "An Anatcaie Of The World: The First Anniversary and The

Second Anniversary," the characteristic pattern of image organization

is developed in a somewhat different manner; but the basic mode of

thought behind the image organization is the same as in the character-

istic pattern. The "she" or "shee" of "An Aratanie of the World" is

described in terms that would make of her an iamaterial but effective












force which gives meaning and value to the material, and without this

preservative force the material loses all value.

Imagery depicting the "she" as such an material thing,

a unifying and preserving force, that which gives value to the

material, is widespread throughout the "The First Anniversary"

for example, the poet addressing the world asserts that

Her name defined thee, gave thee forme and frame

(p. 187, 1. 37).

In comenting upon -he moral influence of his "shee" he

observes

The Cyment which did faithfully ea wpct,
And glue all vertues, now resolved and slack'd
(p. 187, 1. 49).

As he addresses her, describing her power to preserve the

world, he spealm of

Thy' instrinsique balme, and thy preservative

(p. 187, 1. 57).

She is a sort of world soul:

Though shee which did inanimate and fill
The vorld . .

(p. 188, 11. 68-69).

And here she is the macrocosm:

She that had all Magaetique force alone,
To draw, and fsten sundred s in one;
She vhca vise na tnu-harenvend then
When she observed that every sort of men










Did in their voyage in this worlds Sea stray,
And needed a new compasse for their way;
She that was best, and first original
Of all fair copies, and the general
Steward to Fate; she whose rich eyes, and breast
Guilt the West Indies, and perfum'd the East;
Who having breath'd in this world, did bestow
Spice on those Iles, and bad them still smell so,
And that rich Indie which doth gold interre,
Is but as single money, coyn'd from her:
She to whom this world must it selfe refer,
As Suburbs, or the Microcosme of her.

(p. 191, 11. 221-235).

When the influence and control of the immaterial "shoe" has

been severed from this world, all meaning, significance and value

are lost. Natural order is disturbed and the world proceeds toward

dissolution: "This World in that great earthquake languished" (p. 186,

1. 11). Man has lost all significance and identity: "That thou

has lost thy sense and memory." (p. 187, 1. 28) and "Thou hast

forgot thy name, thou hadst; thou wast/ Nothing but shee, and her

thou hast o'rpast" (p. 187, 11. 31-32). Confusion prevails, there

is no coamunication, there is a return to the Tower of Babel: . .

poore mothers cry,/ That children come not right or orderly" (p. 188,

11. 95-6). Man separated from the control and influence of the giver

of meaning and dignity, is seen as contemptible in his purely material

state: his life is a mere insignificant speck in time, "Alas, we

scarce live long enough to try/ Whether a true made clock run right,

or lie" (p. 189, 11. 129-30); he is neaGre -in apparent control: "A

wager, that an Elephant, or Whale,/ That met him, would not hastily

assailed/ A thing so equally to him" (p. 189, 11. 139-41). Without a










relationship to an inmaterial thing, man is absolutely nothing: "Oh

what a trifle, and poor thing he is!/ If man were any thing, he's

nothing now" (p. 190, 11. 170-71) and "Quite out of joynt, almost

created lame" (p. 191, 1. 192).

Since the control and influence of the iraterial has been

separated from this world, the values of harmony, order, propriety,

syaetry, have been marred and lost. The circular shape in its self-

contained purity has been disturbed and rendered out of proportion by

eccentric parts and angular shapes.

We think the heavens enjoy their Sphericall,
Their round proportion embracing all.
But yet their various and perplexed course,
Observed in divers ages, doth enforce
Men to find out so many Eccentrique parts,
Such divers downe-right lines, such overthwarts,
As disproportion that pure forme. ..

(p. 192, 11. 251-57)

Are these but warts, and pock-holes in the face
Of th'earth? Thinke so: but yet confesse, in this
The worlds proportion disfigured is;

(p. 193, 11. 300-02)

That beauties best, proportion, is dead.

(p. 193, 1. 306)

And had the world his just proportion,
Were it a ring still. .

(p. 194, 1. 342)

The some type of organization prevails in "The Second

Anniversary." The "shee" is again an immaterial thing which gives

value to the material ("Because shee was the forme; that made it live"--










p. 201, 1. 72). Without this preserving force of the material, all

is meaningless, frantic, and grotesque like the gestures of a

beheaded man (a very interesting image in that the immaterial control

has been severed frac the material, and the zmterial has been rendered

meaningless).

Or as sometimes in a beheaded men,
Though at those Red seas, which freely ranne,
One frac the Trunke, another from the Head,
His soule be sail'd, to her eternall bed,
His eyes will twinkle, and his tongue will roll,
He grapes his hands, and he pulls up his feet,
And seems to reach, and to step forth to meet
His soule; when all these motions which we saw,
Are but as Ice, which crackles at a thaw:
Or as a Lute, which in moist weather, rings
Her knell along, by cracking of her strings:
So struggles this dead world, now shee is gone.

(p. 199-200, 11. 9-21)

In the Divine Poems the same type of image organization which

presented a love relationship between human beings in the Songs and

Somets is now used to express a relationship to God. The subject

has changed, but the form of expression often remains the same. For

example, in the poem "Upon the Annuntiation And Passion" the depiction

of man's relationship to God is expressed through similar patterns as

man's relationship to wvman was expressed in "A Valdiction: Forbidding

Mourning" and other poems through the Soags and Sonets.

Tamely, fragile body, abstain to day; to day
My soule eates twice, Christ hither and away.
She sees him man, so like God made in this,
That of than both a circle embleme is,
Whose first and last concurre; this doubtful day
Of feast or feat, Christ ceae, and went away,
Shee sees him nothing twice at once, who'ic all;









Shee sees a Cedar plant it self, and fall,
Her Maker put to making, and the head
Of life, at once, not yet alive, yet dead.
She sees at once the virgin mother stay
Reclus'd at home, Publique at Golgotha;
Sad and rejoyc'd sheet's seen at once, and seen
At alsoet fiftie, and at scarce fifteen.
At once a Sonne is promis'd her, and gone,
Gabriell gives Christ to her, He her to John;
Not fully a mother, Shee's in Orbitie,
At once receiver and the legacie.
All this, and all betwcene, this day hath shown,
Th'Abridgement of Christs story, which makes one
(As in plane Maps, the furthest West is East)
Of the'Angels Ave', and Consummatum est.
How well the Church, Gods Court of faculties
Deales, in same times, and seldoae joyning these!
As by the selfe-fix'd Pole wee never doe
Direct our course, but the next starred thereto,
Which shoes where the'other is, and which we say
(Because it strayes not farre) doth never stray;
So God by his Church, nearest to him, wee know
And stand fire, if wee by her motion goe;
His Spirit, as his fiery Pillar doth
Leade, and his Church, as cloud; to one end both.
This Church, by letting these dales joyne, bath shown
Death and conception in mankinde is one;
Or'twas in him the same humility,
That he would be a man, and leave to be:
Or, as creation he hath made, as God,
With the last judgment, but nne period,
His imitating Spouse would joyne in one
Manhoods extremes: He shall come, he is gone:
Or as though one blood drop, which thence did fall,
Accepted, would have served, he yet shed all;
So though the lease of his paines, deeds or words,
Would busie a life, she all this day affords;
This treasure then, in grosse, my Soule uplay,
And in my life retail it every day.

(pp. 236-37)

The imae pattern of lines 29 and 30, "So God by his Church, neerest

to him, wee know/ And stand fire, if wee by her motion goe," is very

similar to that expressing the quality of the loved one in "The Sunne

Rising"--"All here in one bed lay" (1. 20) and "She'is all States, and










all Princes" (1. 21). Donne's attraction to the selection of images

of enclosed places, the "one little roome" of "The Good-Morrow," is

demonstrated again in the phrase "Reclus'd at home" (1. 12) of "Upon

the Annuntiation and Passion."

Very similar to the pattern of "For love, all love of other

sights controules" (1. 10) of "The Good-Morrow" is the control of

the roving eye through dedication to God in the poem, "The Crosse."

Here spiritual dedication is signified by the subjection of the eye

to the influence of the cross--"crcssing."

But most the eye needs crossing, that can rome,
And move; To the'other th'objects must come home.

(p. 235, 11. 49-50)

In the sonnet "The Annunciation" there are image patterns

very similar to the "one little rooe, an every where" of "The

Good-Morrow." Notice lines 13 through 14.

Salvation to all that will is nigh;
That All, which always is All every where,
Which cannot sinne, and yet all sinnes must beare,
Which cannot die, yet cannot chuse but die,
Loe, faithful Virgin, yeelds himself to lye
In prison, in thy wcabe; and though he there
Can take no sinne, nor thou give, yet he will weave
Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may trie*
Ere by the spheares time was created, thou
Wast in his minde, who is thy Sonne, and Brother;
Whom thou conceiv'st, conceived; yea thou art now
Thy !fakers maker, and thy Fathers mother;
Thou'hast light in darke; and shutst in little room,
Imlensity cloystered in thy deare wombe.

(p. 231)

This general tendency to use the same forms of organization

to express the divine that were used in the So and Sonets occurs











throughout the Divine Poems, and as we have seen from our examination

of Donne's poems, the basic and characteristic pattern of image

organization is that in which an immaterial thing originates from

a material thing, with the immaterial thing being dependent for its

existence on the material and with the material thing being dependent

for its value on the material. This pattern of organization

indicates a mode of thought similar to some of the conceptions of

Aristotle and Aquinas.













CHkTER III


In the English poetry of George Herbert, the dasinent mode

of image orangization is built upon a described bodily state or ordinary

physical action which is imAediately endnwed with a spiritual meaning.

For example, in the opening line of "The Collar" ("I struck the board,

and cry'd, No More.") a physical action is presented as an event in

this world. On one level of meaning, a revolt froa the restrictions

of a life dedicated to religion is suggested; but, at the same time,

this physical action is part of a context that expresses the spiritual

truth of the eternal presence of the forgiving love of God.

Let us examine "The Ccllar, and note how Berbert suggests

the eternal presence of the love of God, although the surface meaning

of the lines expresses a revolt against God.

I struck the board, and cry'd, No more.
I will abroad.
What? shall I ever sigh and pine?
My lies and life are free; free as the rode,
Loose as the wine, as large as store.
Shall I be still in suit?
Have I no harvest but a thorn
To let me bloud, and not restore
What I have lost with cordiall fruit?
Sure there was wine
Before my sighs did drie it: there was corn
Before my tears did drown it.
Is the year only lost to me?
Nave I no beyos to crown it?
No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted?










All wasted?
Not so, my heart; but there is fruit,
And thou hast hands.
Recover all thy sigh-blown age
On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute 20
Of what is fit, and not. Forsake thy cage,
Thy rope of sands,
Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to thee
Good cable, to enforce and draw,
And be thy law,
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.
Away; take heed:
I will abroad.
Call in thy deaths head there: tie up thy fears.
He that forbears 30
To suit and serve his need,
Deserves his load.
But as I rav'd and grew more fierce and wilde
At every word,
Me thought I heard one calling, Child
And I reply'd, y Lord.1

The main indication of the eternal presence of the love of

God is in the last two lines of the poem. The poet thinks that he

hears someone calling, "Child "; and he recognizes this voice to be

that of God. The intimacy of the relationship is suggested by employ-

ment of the traditional symbols of the Christian conception of a

relationship between man and God, that of a child and a father* Inti-

macy is also suggested by presenting this relationship in the form

of a comunication, that in which a father because of his love is

always willing to forgive his rebellious child, and that in which

a rebellious child finds composure through a reconciliation with

his father.


1The Works of George ierbert, ed. F. E. Hutchinson (Oxford, 1941l
PP. 153-I. Subsequent citations to Herbert in my text refer to this
edition.











The last two lines also suggest the inward presence of God,

the inSwelling spirit of God in every men. The indwelling spirit

of God is suggested by presenting God as a thought, an inward

experience of a sound whose source is not at first recognized, rather

than as something seen or tangibly present. The spirit of God has

been in the poet all along, but has been subdued by rebellious

thoughts. In spite of the raving, the growing fierce and wild--a

state of emotional turmoil in which the poet actually loses control

of his thought processes which have been directed toward a revolt

against God--the spirit of God gains control and brings composure.

The answer "My Lord" suggests a rededication and closeness

to God. The restlessness, the rebellion, has actually had the

result of bringing the poet closer to God, and thus the restlessness

has a spiritual meaning.2


2The theme of restlessness as a spiritual force that brings
man closer to God is also found in "The Pulley." The deed imaged in
this poem is of course supposed to have been done by God, but the
characteristic pattern of physical action and spiritual meaning is
clear. At the moment, however, our main interest in "The Pulley"
is its camentary on the spiritual significance of "The Collar,"

When God at first made man,
Having a glasse of blessings standing by;
Let us (said be) poure on him all we can:
Let the worlds riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.

So strength first made a way;
Then beautie flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure:
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone of all his treasure
Rest in the bottcae lay. 10











The eternal presence of the love of God is suggested not only

in the last two lines, but by various devices throughout the poem.

If herbert had not planted the suggestion of the eternal presence

of the love of God earlier in the poem, the concluding lines would

come as a complete surprise, a sudden reversal without preparation;

and there would have the unpleasant feeling of being tricked. But

this unpleasant feeling does not occur since the conclusion is organic,

prepared for in the body in the work.

One of the devices of preparation is in line 4. While on

the surface, the phrase "free as the rode" means that the poet is

free to discard the restrictions of the religious life, it also

suggests a second meaning. In "free as the rode" there is a pun.

Its first meaning is of course what we now spell "road." Its second

meaning, probably best taken to depend on delayed recognition, is

what we spell "rood," signifying cross The sound of rode may be

homonymic with rood in certain eastern and Midiand dialects.3


For if I should (said he)
Bestow this Jewell also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts in stead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature:
So both should losers be.

Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlesnessee
Let him be rich and wearie, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet wearinesse
Mcy tosse him to my breast. 20

(pp. 159-60)
3See Helge KMkerita, Shakesar~ .'s Pronunciation (New Haven,
1953), p. 231. That Herbert vew familiar with such forms is indicated,
for example, by the fact that he spent same time, in his early life, in
Huntingdon.











That the conclusion of the poem describes the speaker '"ree as the rood"

io clear enough, but this pun comes at a time in the poem when neither

that kind of freedom, nor indeed the fact of the pun itself is yet

clear.

An examination of some of the imagery in the poem, that of

lines 7 through 12, will reveal why the conclusion seems appropriate,

as a necessary completion of the experience of the poem rather than

an adventitious addition. In lines 7 through 12, five images are

juxtaposed, "harvest," "thorn," "bloud," "fruit," and "wine." On the

surface level, these images express a rebellion from the prohibitions

of the religious life; but through juxtaposition, since all these

Images are associated with the life of Christ and his concern for

man's salvation, another meaning, in ironic contrast to the surface

statement, is suggested.

Lines 7 through 11 have imagery similar to a passage in the

Mew Testament. (John 12:24-25.)

Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat
fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it
die, it bringeth forth much fruit.

He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that
hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal.

The passage from John is concerned with the same theme, whether

to seek or renounce the worldly. Considering that a knowledge of the

Bible and liturgy was a coamonplace of George Herbert's existence,4 it


4see Rosemund Tuve, A Reading of George Herbert (Chicago, 1952).











would be very difficult to believe that he did not associate similar

Biblical metaphors with this particular group of images in his poem.

In the Biblical passage, salvation is expressed through

the metaphor fruit, which is a harvest. Also in the Christian

tradition, the word wine is often associated with the blood that

Christ shed on the cross for the salvation of mankind. The words

"thorn" and "blood" are also often associated with the redemptive

suffering of Christ through which man was saved. Since all five words,

"fruit," "harvest," "wine," "thorn," and "bloud," are associated in

the Christian tradition with salvation through Christ; the juxtaposi-

tion of these words evokes the traditional Christian association and

adds another dimension of meaning.

While the surface level presents explicitly a rebellion

against God, the juxtaposition of the imagery suggests that the

only true salvation is through Christ. In the midst of this rebellion

against a dedication to God, the juxtaposition of the imagery suggests

the inward presence of God instructing that the only true salvation

is through Christ. Thus, this stylistic device of the juxtaposition

of imagery prepares for the appearance of God at the conclusion of

the poem.

Now that we have observed how the juxtaposition of imagery

suggests a meaning different frcn that of the surface, and prepares

for the conclusion, let us examine how the imagery, which presents

ultimately a spiritual meaning, is organized as a bodily action.











The opening line of "The Collar" is typical of the image

organization throughout the poems of Herbert. To depict on the

surface a state of restlessness in the matter of religious dedication,

Herbert begins with the image "I," and this "I" is en4maed in the physical

act of striking a "board" and uttering a cry, and thus a disturbed state

of the soul is suggested by a physical action.

In lines 2 through 6, the "I will abroad" and "y lines are

free, free as the rode" convey a sense of freedom from constriction.

The repetition of the "free" and the addition of the "loose" rein-

force this feeling of the lack of constriction.

Lines 7 through 12 continue the presentation of the event

as a bodily experience. We have already discussed the spiritual meaning

of these lines, and now we will examine how the surface meaning is

presented as a bodily experience. The "thorn," since it is connected

with the "To let me bloud," is presented as a painful sensation,

and on this surface level of meaning, "wine" and "fruit" are presented

as taste sensations.

IZagery of bodily action continues throughout the poem. In

lines 17 and 18 the possibility of reaching for and gathering fruit

is presented as an anticipated action of the body. The "Forsake thy

cage,/ Thy rope of sands,/ Which pettle thoughts have made" is

presented as an anticipated release from bodily constriction. The

same experience of an anticipated release from bodily constriction

is contained in the "tie up thy fears," and the "load" of line 32 is










presented as bodily pressure.


In the examination of "The Collar," we have observed how

a spiritual meaning is conveyed through events of bodily actions.

An event in this world figures a divine meanings This mode of

organizing imagery corresponds to "figural realism" as described

by Erich Auerbach in his essay on Dante in Misesis:

In my essay "Figura" . ., I have shown--convincingly,
I hope--that the Coaedy is based on a figural view of
things. In the case of three of its most important charac-
ters--Cato of Utica, Virgil, and Beatrice--I have attempted
to dmaonetrate that their appearance in the other world
is a fulfillment of their appearance on earth, their earthly
appearance a figure of their appearance in the other world.
I stressed the fact that a figural schema permits both its
poles-the figure and its fulfillment--to retain the
characteristics of concrete historical reality, in contra-
distinction to what obtains with symbolic or allegorical
personifications, so that figures and their fulfillent--
although the one "signifies" the other--have a significance
which is not inccepatible with their being real. An event
taken as a figure preserves its literal and historical
meaning. It remains an event, does not become a mere sign.
The Church Fathers, especially Tertullian, Jerone, and
Augustine, have successfully defended figural realism, that
is, the basic historical reality of figures, against all
attempts at spiritually allegorical interpretation. Such
attempts, which as it were undermine the reality of history
and see in it only extrahistorical signs and signification,
survived freo late antiquity and passed into the Middle Ages.
Medieval symbolism and allegories are often, as we know,
excessively abstract, and many traces of this are to found
in the Comedy itself. But far more prevalent in the Christian
life of the High Middle Ages is the figural realism which can
be observed in full bloca in sermons, the plastic arts, and
mystery plays . and it is figural realisf which dominates
Dante's view.5


5 Erich Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western
Literature, trans. Willard R. Trask (Princeton, 19537 PP. 195-9.










Of course, the poetry of George Herbert is distinctly

different frai the Divine Comedy, but the relationship between

the historical event and its symbolical meaning.vhich is indicated

by the term "figural realism" is almost exactly parallel to the

relationship in Herbert between material things or events on the

one hand and their conceptual or spiritual meaning on the other.

His imagery depicts things and events which retain, if we may

borrow the words, "The characteristics of concrete . reality

and an event taken as figure preserves its literal material

meaning. It remains an event, does not become a mere sign, "The

significant difference between the devices of Dante and Herbert,

of course, is that whereas Dante's events were historical, Herbert's

were consciously fictional or personal. But in both modes of poetic

expression the event as event is accorded Importance at the same

time that importance is attributed to that of which it is the

sign.

A specific manifestation of "figural realism" in the poetry

of Herbert is the use of a physical event, especially a bodily state

or action, as a figuration of a divine meaning. This mode of image

organization was illustrated in the discussion of "The Collar" in which

the physical act of striking the board has the ultimate meaning that

restlessness brings man closer to God. "Figural realism," in which

an event in this world figures something divine, has its counterpart

in the doctrine that a correspondence exists between the physical











and spiritual, that created beings and the actions of created beings

reveal their creator, God. The doctrine of correspondence finds its

most common exemplification in the sayings of Jesus about the grain

of wheat and the mustard seed. Also, the doctrine Is expressed by

Thomas Browne:

Thus there are two books frco whence I collect
my Divinity; besides that written one of God, another
of his servant Nature, that universal and public
Manuscript, that lies expans'd unto the eyes of all;
those that never saw him in the one, have discovered
him in the other: This was the Scripture and Theology
of the Heathens; the natural motion of the Sun made
them more admire him, than its supernatural station
did the Children of Israel; the ordinary effect of nature
wrought more admiration in them, than in the other all
his miracles; surely the Heathens knew better how to
joyne and read these mysticall letters, than wee
Christians, who cast a more carelesse eye on these
cocaon Hieroglyphicks, and disdain to suck Divinity
from the flowers of nature.6

In George Herbert's poem "The Flower," the doctrine of

correspondence is presented by suggesting that the life cycle of a

flower corresponds to the life cycle of a man. Both the flower and

the man are born, die, and are born again into a new life. The poem

illustrates an extension of Herbert's characteristic image pattern

in that the growth of a flower (a physical event) states figuratively

a divine truth concerning the life of a man.

How fresh, 0 Lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! ev'n as the flowers in spring;
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.


6Sir Thoaas Browne, Religio Medei in Seventeenth-Century Verse
and Prose Vol. 1: 1600-1660, ed. Helen C. white et al. (ew York, 1951),
p. 322.











Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.

Who would have thought my shriveled heart
Could have recovered greennesse? It was gone
Quite under ground; as flowers depart 10
To see their mother-root, when they have blown;
Where they together
All the hard weather,
Dead to the world, keep the house unknown.

These are thy wonders, Lord of power,
Killing and quickning, bringing down to hell
And up to heaven in an houre;
Making a chiming of a passing-bell.
We say aisse,
This or that is: 20
Thy word is all, if we could spell.

0 that I once past changing were,
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither!
Many a spring I shoot up fair,
Offering at heaven, growing and growing thither:
Nor doth my flower
Want a spring-showre,
My sinnes and I joining together:

But while I grow in a straight line,
Still upwards bent, as if heaven where mine own, 30
Thy anger comes, and I decline:
What frost to that what pole is not the zone,
Where all things burn,
When thou dost turn,
And the least frown of thine is shown?

And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain,
And relish versing: 0 my only light,
It cannot be
That I am he 40
On whaa thy tempests fell all night.

These are thy wonders, Lord of love,
To make us see we are but flowers that glide:
Which when we once can finde and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide.










Who would be more,
Swelling through store,
Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.

(pp. 165-167)

Now that we have observed in same detail the operation of a

characteristic imge pattern in a few poems, let us see how, by

recurring frequently, it can be called dominant in Herbert. At the

ame tim we shall notice that the pattern even in the limits of

Herbert's prevailing devotional mood, finds a rich variety of poetic

uses.

In "The Size" the Christian state of being is depicted through

imagery of the weight and formation of the body.

A Christians state and case
Is not a corpulent, but a thinne and spare,
Yet active strength; whose long and bonie face
Content and care
Do seem to equally divide,
Like a pretender, not a bride.

(p. 138, 11. 31-36)

In the same poem, God's state when in this world is depicted by the

image of a condition of the body, hunger.

To be in both worlds full
Is more than God was, who was hungrie here.

(p. 138, 11. 13-14)

Imagery of thinness of the body is used again in "Easter-Jings" to

depict a Christian state of being.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne:
And still with sicknesses and shame
Thou didst so punish sinne,
That I became
Most thinne.

(p. 43, 11. 11-15)











In "H. Baptime(II)," Herbert uses the growth of the flesh,

the increase of the body in size and weight, as an image of that

which keeps a person from entering the "narrow way and little gate."

Since, Lord, to thee
A narrow way and little gate
Is all the passage, on Yy inf -rcie
Thou didst lay hold, and antedate
My faith in me.

0 let me still
Write thee great God, and me a child:
Let me be soft and supple to thy will,
mall to my self, to others ailde
Behither ill, 10

Although by stealth
My flesh get on, yet let her sister
My soul bid nothing, but preserve her wealth:
The growth of flesh is but a blister;
Childhood is health.

(p. 44)

Thinness and leanness are used to suggest spiritual unrest

in "Affliction (I)"

Thus thinne and lean without a fence or friend,
I was blown through with ev'ry storm and winde.

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took
The way that takes the town;
Thou didst betray me to a lingering book,
And wrap me in a gown.
I was entangled in the world of strife,
Before I had the power to change my life.

(p. 47, 11. 35-42)

In "Church-aonuments" growing fat is connected with wantonness

"in thy cravings,," and considered a state not to be valued too highly.

To sever the good fellowship of dust,
And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them,










WeM thmy shall bow, ase asel, ean fall #am flat
To kisee toe heaps, vbhok ise they haLv Sm ttrsT?
Dear flosk, wkl. I do pray, lam here ty stame
Aat tir deseerat; tt vIwn tieu haelt prw fat,

Aant wate a n thy owrvimp, thou anst imev,
bart flehk is but the gcil ht*eh hemI s the cust
That eas-r.e all owr tta; ukick also srall
BO crm~lMl into ust. Mark he belew
Wt tam heam arhes ?re, how frw f trm lMt,
ThIt theMe 0yst fit thy reIf 0alut tVy fall.

(p. 65, 11. 13-*)

An IYmAe of a part ef the bey, the ey, is uwed as ae

expressive device in a aiber of N rtrt's poams. rib *ns"

steris with the pry e of oce not able U es the eoye, "I

camnwt cle itae eyes' (p. 6, e,s 1). In "aitho the ISY--ry

,hea the foe of dia sight.

LorA, bow couldst thou so uokh appease
thy wabh for sina cas, whea ram* sight vas dia-e,
AaA oul4 owe little, to regw his *a**,
Aan briag by Faith all thiaga to his?

(p. 49, 1. 1-4)

"Sido aed fmise eys "aee used as part of a paUera of a

diktbUrbe ceeditica aialy expremsea by lafinnities i varwous peats

of the body in "Longqin" to express 's yasa ing for Ge.*

With sick sao fmilekteyu,
With deublitg knae sad ~war bones,
To thee my ore,
To thee my Iroes,
To the y sighe, my eers aseead:
No eat?

(p. 148, 11. 1-6)

In "Chuir amd Knot" thUr is a prescription for the prewavtie

of "ill eyes"--tbe "Mick aan fial.~t e'y of agingng" the r.4ing of










the Bible.

Who reade a chapter when they rise,
Shall ne're be troubled with ill eyes.

(p. 96, 1. 1-2)

Images of various disturbed bodily conditions in the forms

of fevers, headaches, and fractures are used to express the spiritual

plight of man.

Lord, how I am all ague, when I seek
What I have treasured in my memories
Since, if my soul make even with the week,
Each seventh note by right is due to thee.
I finde there quarries of pil'd vanities.

("The Sinner," p. 38, 11. 1-5)

One ague dwelleth in my bones,
Another in my soul (the memories,
What I would do for thee, if once my grones
Could be allov'd for harmonie):
I am in all a week disabled thing,
Save in the sight thereof, where strength doth sting.

("The Crosse," p. 165, 11. 13-18)

My flesh began unto my soul in pain,
Sicknesses cleave my bones;
Consuming agues dwell in ev'ry vein,
And tune my breath to grones.

("Affliction (I)," p. I4, 11. 25-28)

I have abused thy stock, destroyed thy woods,
Bucktall thy magazens: my head did ake,
Till it found out how to consume thy goods:
0 do not scourge mel

("Sighs and Grones," p. 83, 11. 9-12)

But thou wilt sinne and grief destroy;
That so the broken bones may joy,
And tune together in a well-set song,
Full of his praises,
Who dead men raises.
Fractures well cur'd make us more strong.
("Repentance," p. 48, 1L 31-36)










Imagery of painful touch or pressure seesations, the infliction

of pain upon the body, occur throughout the poem of Herbert. The

spearing of Christ in the poem "The Bag" is arranged in such a

manner than an acute sense of bodily pain, a pressure or thrust

upon the body, is conveyed. The pain experienced from "That ran

upon His vith a spear" is extremely acute, the whole force of a

running body is behind the piercing thrust.

But as be was returning, there came one
That ran upon him with a spear.
He, who cae hither all alone,
Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear,
Beceiv'd the blow upon his side,
And straight he turned, and to his brethren cry'd.

(p. 151, 11. 25-30)

Two stanzas in "Sighs and Grones" contain a plea mot to be

made a victim of a painful touch or pressure, a "bruise" or "grind."

0 do not use me
After my sinnes! look not on
my desert,
But on thy glorie then thou wilt reform
And not refuse me: for thou onely art
The mightie God, but I a sillie worm;
0 do not bruise met

(p. 83, 11. 1-6)

0 do not blinde me
I have deserved that an Egyptian night
Should thicken all my powers; because my lust
Bath still sov'd fig-leaves to exclude thy light:
But I am frailtie, and already dust;
0 do not grinde mel

(p. 83, 11. 13-18)
In "The Crosse" appears another image of very violent pain and pressure

exerted by a rope winding about and cutting the heart.











Ah my deare Father, ease my saart!
These cantrarieties crush me: these crosse actions
Doe wind a rope about, and cut my heart:
And yet since these thy contradictions
Are properly a crosse felt by the Somae,
With but four words, my words, Thy vill be done.

(p. 165, 11. 31-36)

The experience of the extreme pain of being chained by the teeth

occurs in "Home."

What is this weary world; this meat sad drink,
That chains us by the teeth so fast?

(p. 108, 1.1 36-37)

Throughout the above patterns of painful pressure, Herbert has a

tendency to select images of soft objects, the vorn, or extremely

sensitive bodily parts to receive the pressure: a heart and the

teeth.

Sin homers the heart until it becomes hard and insensitive

in "Grace."

Sinae is still himering my heart
Unto a hardnesse, void of love.

(p. 60, 11. 17-18)

The brain is stoned in "Sepluchre."

Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee,
And missing this, most falsly did arraigne thee
Onely these stones in quiet entertain thee,
And order.

(p. 41, 11. 13-16)

The eye is pricked in "Faith."

That which before wva dcrkned clean
With bushie groves, pricking the lookers eie.










Vanisht away, when Faith did change the scene:
And then appeared a glorious skie.

(p. 51, 11. 36-40)

The eyes are pricked again in "Frailtie."

But when I view abroad both Regiments;
The worlds, and thine:
Thine clad vith simplenesse, and sad events;
The other fine,
Full of glorie and gay eeds,
Brave language, braver deeds:
That which vas dust before, doth quickly rise,
And prick mine eyes.

(p. 71, 11. 9-16)

In "Affliction (IV)" thoughts becae knives that wound the

heart. Of course, "heart" does suggest a state of being, but is so

arranged in Herbert as also to represent a coecretioe--something

that can experience the action of a knife.

My thoughts are all a case of knives,
Wounding my heart
With scattered smart,
As vatring pots give flowers their lives.
Nothing their furie can control,
While they do vound and pink my soul.

(p. 90, 11. 7-12)

Again, a tender part is tortured in "Confession." The pain

is intensified by ccaparing it to the twisting of a screw into wood.

No scrue, no piercer can
Into a piece of timber work and winde,
As Gods afflictions into aan,
When he a torture hath desi5n'd
They are too subtill for the subt'lest hearts;
And fall, like rheumes, upon the tendrest parts.

(p. 126, n. 7-12)











In "Love Unknown" a tender organ, the heart, is acted upon by

excessive heat: "And threw my heart into the scalding pan" (1. 35).

The heart is scored by a graving tool in "Nature."

0 smooth my rugged heart, and there
Engrave thy rev'rend Law and fear;
Or make a new one, since the old
Is saplesse grown,
And a much fitter stone
To hide my dust, then thee to hold.

(p. 129, 11. 13-18)

The image of carving on a heart is used to depict a life deeply

devoted to Christ, and through this devotion a power is found to

control disorder. The imagery of the name of "Jesu" carved in the

shattered heart occurs in "Jesu."

Jesu is in my heart, his sacred name
Is deeply carved there: but the'other week
A great affliction broke the little frame,
Ev'n all to pieces: which I went to seek:
And first I found the corner, where was b
After, where S, and next where U was graved.
When I had got these parcels, instantly
I sat me down to spell them, and perceived
That to my broken heart he was I ease you
And to my whole is ESUt.

(p. 112)

Often in depicting a harmonious relationship between man and

God, Herbert uses imagery of soft and gentle pressure or touch. The

soft pressure of the loving enclosure of the arm is used in "Paradise,"

thus the spiritual harmony with God is expressed through the employment

of a concretion of a protecting and loving touch. As has been seen

in a number of the previously discussed examples, Herbert has a strong










attraction toward the selection of tactile imagery--often violent

and painful, but sometimes gentle and soft.

What open force, or hidden CHFAM
Can blast my fruit, or bring me HAlj,
While the inclosure is thine ARM?

(p. 133, 11. 4-6)

In "Baster" the relationship with God is depicted by the touch

sensation of being led by the hand, the guidance of God*

Rise heart, thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise
Without delays,
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With him mayst rise.

(p. 41, 11. 1-4)

The pattern in the poem "The Temper" refers to a nestling bird.

0 let me, when thy roof of my soul hath hid,
0 let me roost and nestle there:
Then of a sinner thou art rid,
And I of hope and fear.

(p. 55, 11. 17-21)

In "Vanitie (II)" the imagery likewise refers to resting in a nest.

Let them unto their kindred flie:
For they can never be at rest,
Till they regain their ancient nest.
Then silly soul take heed; for earthly joy
Is but a bubble, and makes thee a boy.

(p. Ml, 11. 15-18)

Often the tactile imagery takes the form of an entgaglement,

something which restricts bodily motion. In "Affliction (l)" the

"I" of the poem is entangled in fine household furniture.

I looked on thy furniture so fine,
And made it fine to me:
Thy glorious household stuff did me entwine.
(p. 46, 11. 7-9)











Being entangled or restricted is used in "Sinne (I)" to express

God's care for man, who is begirtt" with "care" and caught in

"fine nets."

Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round
Parents first season us: then schoolmasters
Deliver us to laws; they send us bound
To rules of reason, holy messengers,
Pulpits and Sundayes, sorrow dogging sinne,
Afflictions sorted, anguish of all sizes,
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in,
Bibles laid open, millions of surprises.

(p. 45, 11. 1-8)

In "The Reprisall" a plea is made for a "disentangled state."

0 make me innocent, that I
May give a disentangled state and free:
And yet thy wounds still rry attempts defie,
For by thy death I die for thee.

(p. 36, 11. 5-9)

Many otler images of bodily action occur throughout the

poetry of George. In addition to the examples above there are

also such images of bodily action as frowning, stumbling, pulling,

and stretching--and, to conclude, a few of these will be examined.

Imagery of frowning occurs in "The Dawning."

Awake sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns;
Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth;
Unfold thy forehead gathered into frowns;
Thy Saviourcoaes, and with him mirth:
Awake, awake.

(p. 112, 11. 1-5)

In "Miserie" there is the physical action of stumbling.

The best of men, turn but thy hand
For one poore minute, stumble at a pinne:











They would not have their actions scann'd,
Nor any sorrow tell them that they sinne,
Though it be small,
And measure not their fall.

(p. 100, 11. 19-24)

There is the stretched hand in "Providence": "The trees say,

Pull me: but the hand you stretch, / Is mine to write, as it

is yours to raise"(l. 23). And the "stretched sinews," an image

of the crucifixion, appear in '"aster."

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part
With all thy art.
The crosse taught all wood to resound his name,
Who bore the same.
His stretched sinews taught all strings what key
Is best to celebrate this most high day.

(p. 117, 11. 7-12)

As has been seen in the preceding discussion, imagery of

the bodily in the poems of George Herbert is a dominant device used

to express Christian truths. The body, th&t which was created in

the image of God, is the book whose processes are the pages whereon

man reads and learns of the Creator. It is also the instrument

by which man responds to God. The body,the flesh, is not condemned

in the poetry of Berbert, except when man through his own efforts,

his sins, has abused this gift of the Creator by turning from the

Divine and dedicating himself to worldly matters without devotion

to God. The informing philosophy behind Herbert's imagery corresponds

closely to statements contained in a "meditation" of St. Francis

De Sales (1567-1622).











God did not create you because He had any need
of you, for you are wholly useless to Him, but only
that ge might exercise towards you His goodness, bestowing
on you His grace and glory. In order to which He has
given you an understanding to Imow Hia, a memory to
remeber Him, a will to love Him, an imagination to
recall His mercies, eyes to see the wonders of His works,
a tongue to praise Him, and so with all your other
faculties. Therefore, being created and placed in the
world for this purpose, you should avoid and reject all
actions which are contrary to it, and despise as idle
and superfluous all which do not promote it. Consider
the wretchedness of the world, which forgets this, and
goes on as though the end of creation were to plant and
to build, to asass wealth, and to live in frivolity.
Thank God who has made you for so good an end. Thou
hast made me, 0 Lord, for Thyself, and that I may for
ever share the iumensity of Thy glory. When shall I
be worthy of Thy goodness, and thank Thee worthily?7


7St. Francis De Sales, A Diary of Meditations, ed. Doa Cuthbert
(Chicago, 1957), p.2.













CHAPTER IV


RICHARD CRASHAW


Sensuousness is a predominant characteristic often cited of

Crashaw's imagery, but this sensuousness has been little understood

outside of the astute observations of Ruth Wallerstein1 and a few

brief comments by Austin Warren.2 More often, this sensuousness has

been read and interpreted from what will be called in this study an

empirical point of view. The comments on Crashaw in a recent survey

of the period "From Donne to Marvell" portray this mode of interpre-

tation. D. J. Enright states,

Notorious in Crashaw's work is his sensuousness, and in
particular his use, in picturing sacred love, of the
metaphors--indeed, the atmosphere of human love, both of


1"In the expanding intensity of his particular sense impres-
sions, Crashaw sought to sink through them to something ampler, to
an abstract capacity for intangible sensation and a sort of ideal presence
of sensation" (p. 37). "The concrete images, as we have said, are
spread so unrestrainedly, mixedly, and without regard to their congruity
in thought or feeling with what they figure, that they lose all sensuous
reality' (pp. 82-83). "But, it cannot be too often stressed, this
sense image which he uses in his metaphor is to represent an idea,
and not primarily a sense impression; it is the symbol of an idea.
And the basic emotion which Crashaw seeks to create in us is to spring
not from the image, but directly from the idea" (p. 85). Ruth C.
Wallerstein, Richard Crashaw, A Study in Style and Poetic Development
(Madison, 1935).
2"All things flow. Crashaw's imagery runs in streams; the
streams run together; image turns into image. His metaphors are
sometimes so rapidly juxtaposed as to mix--they occur, that is,
in a succession so swift as to prevent the reader from focusing











mother for child and of man for woman. This sensuousness is
rather ambiguously present in his handling of spiritual and
physical torture:" blood"' and "silk" are his characteristic
references:

To see both blended in one flood,
The Mothers'Milk, the Children's blood,
Makes me doubt if Heaven will gather,
Roses hence, or Lilies rather.



The reader may feel faintly repelled, but not shocked, for the
verse has no immediacy; the experience reaches us at second
hand, as if the poet is describing the picture of something
and not the thing itself.3

Although Enright's remarks are typical of many twentieth-

century readers of Crashaw, they are somewhat misleading. It is

very easy to diagnose why Enright feels that Crashaw'o imagery is

faintly repellent, why there is no immediacy, why "the thing itself"

is not being described. Enright is reading the poetry of the seventeenth-


separately upon each. The effect is often that of phantasmagoria. For
Crashaw, the world of the senses was evidently enticing; yet it was a
world of appearances only--shifting, restless appearances. By
temperament and conviction, he was a believer in the miraculous; and
his aesthetic method may be interpreted as a genuine equivalent of
his belief, as its translates into a rhetoric of metamorphosis. If,
in the Gospels, water changes to wine and wine to blood, Crashaw was
but imaginatively extending this principle when he turned tears into
pearls, pearls into lilies, lilies into pure Innocents.
'Style must incarnate spirit. Oxymoron, paradox, and hyperbole
are figures necessary to the articulation of the Catholic faith.
Crashaw's concetti, by their infidelity to nature, claim allegiance to
the supernatural; his baroque imagery, engaging the senses, intimates
a world which transcends them." Austin Warren, Richrd Crashaw, A
Study in Baroque Sensibility (University, Louisiana, 1939) pp. 192-93.

3 D. J. Enright, "George Herbert and the Devotional Poets," From
Donne to Marvell, vol. 3 of A Guide to English Literature, ed. Boris
fior (Hamondsworth, Middlesex, 1956Y7 p. 157.











century Crashaw frcm a viewpoint of twentieth-century empirically

imbued man. He has made no attempt to adjust with a historical

orientation his responses to the imagery of Crashaw. He is reading

Crashaw as if Crashaw were a contemporary.

When a twentieth-century reader finds Crashaw lacking in

immediacy, he is no doubt referring to the iamediacy of an empirical

organization of sense imagery, specified concrete particulars

depicted with the solidity of figured extension in a definite spatial

setting. When he finds that 'the thing itself" is not being described,

he is referring to a lack of concrete materiality and a lack of a

tangible temporal sense in a depicted situation. What this reader

wants is a this-worldly experience replete with images representing

the realness of concrete materiality with its individuation and

specific definiteness. Of course, Crashav's poetry and his imagery

will not meet these requirements; for Crashaw is not writing frao the

viewpoint of empiricism. Crashaw is writing within the Christian

tradition of symbolism. The symbolic image of Crashaw is not an image

in the sense of the idea of John Locke, a sense impression drawn frac

an experience of a concrete particular having primary and secondary

qualities and existing in a spatio-temporal setting: neither are the

main so-called sense images representations of sensory experience of

material things. The sensible qualities of Crashew' symbolic imagery

are not to be experienced in an empirical and noiinalistic sense,4


4The word "ncminalistic" here implies the concept which holds
that the particular material thing is the reality, and an abstract concept
derived from a group of particular things, is only a name for that group,
not a reality in itself.











but more in a sense, which had been described by Aquinas5 and which

is exemplified by the conventional interpretation of the Song of Songs,

of being images of an intelligible, a divine meaning. The sensuousness

of Crashaw is only apparent, not genuine, for his images ultimately

represent the substantial and superior reality of the realm of divine

ideas.

Accordingly there is a peril that this imagery, this apparent

sensuousness, might by a twentieth-century reader be regarded as

"second hand" and lacking in immediacy. Of course, the imagery of

Crashaw lacks the physical immediacy of a nineteenth-century poet like

John Keats, who organizes his imagery as illustrated in this excerpt




5The part of Aquinas' doctrine that applies to Crashaw is the
part that did not apply to Donne. For the convenience of the reader,
I repeat this excerpt frcm Aquinas:

The parabolical sense is contained in the literal,
for by words things are signified properly and figuratively.
Nor is the figure itself, but that which is figured the
literal sense. When Scripture speaks of God's arm, the
literal sense is not that God has such a member, but only
what is signified by this member, nmaely, operative power.
Hence it is plain that nothing false can ever iinderlie the
literal sense of Holy Scripture.

In the poetry of Crashaw, the imagery, the most important iaagery, has
a tendency to function in the manner described in the above excerpt
frcm Aquinas. The literal sense of the image is actually that which
is figured, as we shall see in our discussion of "Tast this" (Teste
blood from a circumcision) in which the literal sense is actually the
offer of salvation through Christ, just as the literal meaning of "arm"
in the phrase "God's arm" is "operative power."










from "I Stood Tip-Toe."

Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop
From low hung branches; little space they stop;
But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek;
Then off at once, as in a wantom freak:
Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings,
Pausing upon their yellow fluttering.
(11. 87-92)6
But Crashaw' poetry has a spiritual imediacy, presenting a super-

natural and otherworldy experience. Crashaw is not a nineteenth-century

poet endeavoring "to excite a feeling analogous to the supernatural, "7

for he is a seventeenth-century Christian who creates a direct experience

of the supernatural, the divine. When a reader fails to find an

immediacy in the poetry of Crashaw, and when he feels that Crasbav is

not describing "the thing itself," it is not an esthetic flaw in the

poetry of Crashaw; but it is the fault of the reader in that he lacks the

capacity to experience as something true and immediate the spiritual

force of Crashav's symbolic Imgery.

Let us take an example to indicate how Crasha may be faintly

repellent if one reads his images as if they represented the sensible

qualities of material objects. For instance, Crashaw says "Tast this"

referring to Christ's blood shed at his circumcision in the poem "Our

Lord in his Circuacision to his father." If the reader takes this



6Joho Keats, The Poems ed. E. De Selincourt, (Loadon, 1935),
p. 5.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Biographia Li teraria, vol. II,
(Lcedon, 1847), p. 2.











image to represent physical blood, more than likely he will be faintly

repelled, but if this same reader adjusts his historical perspective and

experiences the "Tast this" frcm the viewpoint of the allegorical

symbolism of the Christian tradition in which the blood shed by Jesus as

a baby is a symbol of the blood shed on the cross which is in turn the

symbol of the eternal redemptive love of God, there is no reason why he

should be shocked or repelled. In fact the reader should experience a

sense of gratitude, a strong sense of obligation, even contrition, for

the "Tast this" is an offer of redemption frce perishableness, an ever-

lasting and perfect life in heaven--a gift that cost God much suffering.

To thee these first fruits of my growing death
(For what else is my life?) lo I bequeath.
Tast this, and as thou lik'st this lesser flood
Expect a Sea, my heart shall make it good.
Thy wrath that wades heere now, o're long shall swim
The flood-gate shall be set wide ope for him.
Then let him drinke, and drink, and doe his worst,
To done the vantonnesse of wild thirst
Now's but the Nonage of my paines, my feares
Are yet but in their hopes, not come to years.
The day of my darke woes is yet but more,
My teares but tender and my death new-borne.
Y et may these unfledg'd griefs give fate some guesse,
These Cradle-torments have their towardnesse,
These purple buds of blooming death my bee,
Erst the full statue of a fatall tree.
An till my riper woes to age are come,
This knife may be the speares Praeludium.

If we are to read Crashaw's poetry and not our own invention,

we must experience as closely as humanly possible the meaning that

Crashaw intended his images to have. The last line of "Our Lord


8Citations from Crashaw in my text are from Crashaw's Poetical
Works, ed. L. C. martin (Oxford, 1927), p. 98. Subsequent quotations
from Crashaw cited in my text refer to this edition.










in his Circumcision to his father" states explicitly this intended

allegorical meaning--"This knife may be the speares Praeludium."

The blood of the circumcision as a symbol of the blood shed on

the cross was a traditional Christian idea, and finds a more overt

expression in a fifteenth-century Eaglish meditation on the passion.

Ihu, that alle this world hast wroghte,
And of a clene virgyn so take oure kynde,
And with thi blode oure soules hast bought,
My love to the I pray the to bynde,
In verk, in worde, in thought of mynde.
My soule, my body, I yeue all to the;
So kynde a frende sehal I noon fynde,
ffor-why thi blode'thow sched for me.

fferst, ihu lord, sone after thi byrthe,
The .viii. day, named thi Circumacisyoun,
Thow wepte in stede of yoles myrthe,
And in a maner began thi passion;
So was the kytte for oure transgressyoun
With a stone knyf, aboue thi kne.
I loue the, lord with tree affeeioun,
ffor thus thi blode throw schedde for me.9

The image "blood" as a symbol of the salvation of man through

the sacrifice of Christ on the cross was a comonplace of the Christian

tradition. Such usage was widespread through patriotic writings.

Clement of Alexandria states, "Doubtless, then, we belong entirely to

Christ as His property from every point of view: by reason of relationship,

because his blood has redeemed us . the blood and the milk of the

Lord are a symbol of His suffering and of His teaching":10 and "to



9Religious Lyrio of XVth Century, ed. Carleton Brown,
(Oxford, 1939), p. 133.

10Clement of Alexandria, Christ the Educator, trane. Simeo P.
Wood, (New York, 1954), p. 46.










drink the blood of Jesus is to participate in His incorruption."11 Saint

Ignatius of Antioch writes, "And for drink I desire His Blood which is

love that cannot be destroyed."12 In his "Letter to the Philadelphians,"

Saint Ignatius associates the joyousness of heaven with the blood of

Christ, ". . I greet you in the blood of Jesus Christ, which is eternal

and abiding joy. ."13 Niceta of Remesiana comments, "He suffered

'in the flesh,' as the Apostle teaches, so that from his wounds might

flow salvation to mankind. ,14 The word "this" in "Our Lord in his

Circumcision to his father" has the same meaning as the word "blood"

in the writings of the early Church Fathers. If it had been chronologically

possible for Clement of Alexandria, Saint Ignatius of Antioch, and Niceta

of Remesiana to read Crashaw "Our Lord in his Circumcision to his

father," they would have been neither repelled or shocked by "Tast this."

The imagery in "Tast this" though not strictly in the prefigurative

tradition is similar to it. Therefore, although it is not within the

scope of this study to trace the origin and the development of the

prefigurative aspects of the allegorical tradition of symbolism, fairness

to Crashaw demands that the extensive understanding of this mode be made



llClement of Alexandria, p. 111

12Saint Ignatius of Antioch, 'Letter to the Romans." trans.
Gerald G. Walsh, The Apostolic Fathers (New York, 1947), p. 104.

13Saint Ignatius of Antioch, "Letter To The Philadelphians,"
p. 113.

14Niceta of Remesiana, Explanation of.the Creed trans. Gerald
G. Walsh (New York, 1947), p. 46.










clear. Etienne Gilson attributes the initiation of the Christian

prefigurative tradition to Justin Martyr, who said, "Whatever things were

rightly said among men, are the property of us Christians."15 Pre-

figuration was part of the Christian tendency to encompass and claims all

previous discoveries of truth as their ova, that of the Greeks as well

as those who wrote the Old Testament. Above all, this prefigurative

tradition tends to see a revelation of God as interpreted by the

Christians in everything. All previous thoughts and all objects of the

sensible world lead to the Christian God. For example, the blood of

the passover in the Old Testament according to Justin Martyr is a pre-

figuration of the blood shed on the cross: "And the blood of the

Passover, which was smeared on the side posts and transaces of the door,

saved those fortunate ones in Egypt who escaped the death inflicted upon

the first-born of the Egyptians. The Passover, indeed, was Christ, who

later sacrificed . .

The imge "fruits" in Crashav's first line "To thee these first

fruits of my growing death" functions in a way similar to this pre-

figurative manner. When read as a prefiguration and allegorical symbol,

the image "fruits" becomes alive with the tension of a strong dramatic

contrast on a cosaic level. The image "fruits" transfers the quality of

a desirable product needed for the nourishment of life in man to the



15Etienne Gilson, History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle
Ages (New York, 1955), p. 13.

6Saint Justin Martyr, Writings trans. Thnmas B. Fall (New York,
1948), p. 319.











referent of its metaphorical representation, the blood shed by Christ at

his circumcision; but also the "first fruits" suggests man's disobedience

to God through the eating of the fruit in the Garden of Eden. The fruit

of Adam's tree prefigures the fruits of the tree of the Cross.17 Han's

disobedience to and turning away from God required that God take on the

human capacity to suffer and sacrifice himself on the cross in order that

man may be redeemed and brought back to God. This theme has been well

expressed by Venantius Fortunatus:

When he fell on death by testing First of the forbidden tree:
Then another tree was chosen Which from death should free.
Thus the scheme of our salvation Was of old in order laid.
. .18

As we have observed in the examples of the symbolic function

of the "Tast this" (blood) and "first fruits" Crashaw's symbolism is not

primarily related to or an outgrowth from the sensible qualities of the

image. Let us draw a contrast between Crashaw's mode of thought end

that of a nineteenth-century poet. The image "Pausing upon their yellow

flutterings" in John Keats' "I Stood Tip-Toe" can be read as a symbol of

the philosophical conception of the reconciliation of the opposites, the

unification and coalescence of stillness and motion; but Keats'

symbolism is a direct outgrowth of the sensible qualities of the imagery.

The imagery of the goldfinches as "Pausing upon their yellow fluttering"

presents a sensory and empirical experience of the unification and



17Roseund Tuve, A Reading of George Herbert, (Chicago, 1952),
p. 112-137.

18Quoted by Tuve, A Reading f George Herbert, p. 112.











coalescence of stillness and motion; but the taste, warmth, and texture

of blood, which would be conveyed by the words "Tast this" if the poem

invited our attention to the physical aspects of a minor surgical

operation, these sensible qualities could not and would not suggest an

invitation to accept the salvation of man through the sacrifice of

Christ on the cross. But in Crashaw's poem they do indeed suggest

exactly that.

In Crashaw's symbolism a spiritual meaning replaces the sensible

effects of the imagery; but the thing which displaces the sensible

effect is not chosen arbitrarily, is not just a metaphorical construction

to give an added dimension of meaning to his words. The spiritual

meaning is an objective truth outside Crashaw, a fact ordained by the

divine order of God.

Crashaw's symbolism differs from such a system as that which

may be termed tropological symbolism. In Crashaw the thing symbolized

is fixed, in that it pertains to the eternal and universal truth of the

Christian revelation, but in tropological symbolism the meaning is

arbitrarily chosen and assigned. Using James Joyce's Ulysees as an

example of tropological symbolism and assuming that W. Y. Tyndall is

right in interpreting Stephen Dedalus' drinking chocolate with Loopold

Blocm as symbolizing the ccmunion of the poet with humanity, we

observe that the symbol and the thing symbolized in Joyce were arbi-

trarily chosen sad assigned.19 Joyce's symbolism is private and not



19"As Bloom and Stephen leave the brothel, Blocm feels fatherly.
Others 'in quest of paternity' have ccae to him, and, Father-Son, he
recognizes Stephen as the questing son. But in his social capacity











cosmic as is that of Crashaw. James Joyce's symbolism is tropological in

that it adds a figurative dimension to his language; and Crashaw's

symbolism is anagogic in the sense that his images through a traditionally

accepted allegorical extension partake of a mystical and spiritual

meaning.

When reading what appears to be a sense image in Crashaw, the

reader must be very cautious and decide if the image actually is a

representation of sensory experience of the thing ordinarily referred to

by the word, and if so to what extent the sensible qualities of the image

function in the meaning. In spite of the seeming sesuela~sness in Crashaw's

imaery, Crashaw throughout his poetry condems the senses very often.

In a passage in "The Name Above Every Name," the poet asks for the

abolition of this-worldly senses, the senses being "so Profane a

Fallacy," and in that poem Crashaw organizes his words in a manner that

negates their customary suggestion of a sense experience. For example,

images describing the name of God in the following passage do not


Bloom sees Stephen as a scholar who will bring credit to the house of
Bloom. Fatherly, hopeful Bloom takes Stephen to the cbran's shelter,
where he offers him a bun and a cup of coffee. Refusing the bun,
Stephen sips the coffee before shoving it aside. Although he un-
enthusiastically recognizes Bloan as 'Christus,' he is still reluctant
to take the proffered camunion. But by the time they sit down
amicably together in the kitchen at 7 Eccles Street, Stephen is ready.
Bloom prepares two cups of Epps's cocoa. Host and guest drink 'Epp's
massproduct' in 'jocoserious' silence. 'Massproduct,' the key word,
means three things: the cocoa is mass-produced for the trade; as the
product of a symbolic Mass, it is the sacrament; and it suggests the
masses for whom,it is produced. The drinking of this cocoa, Stephen's
comunion with man, is the climax of the hunt of the father. Cocoa
must have been a personal symbol for coming to terms with man and
external reality. It was perhaps while living on cocoa in Pa*is that
Joyce began to understand the world around him."--W.Y. Tindall, James
Joae: His Way of Interpreting The Modern World (New York, 1950), p. 29.










represent concrete objects of this world experienced through the

senses, but they represent divine ideas of the objects. These divine

ideas of objects, such as "A Thousand Bleet Arabias" are contained in

God's name, and they are experienced spiritually, by the soul.


0 fill our senses, And take from us
All force of so Prophane a Fallacy
To think ought sweet but that which smells of Thee.
Fair, flowry Name; In none but Thee
And Thy Nectareall Fragrancy
Hourly there meets
An Vninersall Synod of All sweets;
By whom it is defined Thus
That no Perfume
For euer shall presume
To passe for Oderiferous,
But such alone whose sacred Pedigree
Can prove it Self some kin (sweet name) to Thee.
Sweet Name, in Thy each Syllable
A Thousand Blest Arabias dwell;
A Thousand Hills of Frankinsense;
Mountains of myrrh, and Bed of spices,
And ten Thousand Paradices
The soul that tasts thee takes from thence.


(p. 244, 11. 170-88)

The senses are condeaed in "The Hymn of Sainte Thcaas in

Adoration of the Blessed Sacrasent," as being superfluous: the "soul's

inquiring ey" is inferior to faith.

Down down, proud sense! Discources dy.
Keep close, my soul's inquiring ey!
Nor touch nor tast must look for more
But each sitt still in his own Dore.

Your ports are all superfluous here,
Saue That which lets in faith, the eare.
Faith is my skill. Faith can beleiue
As fast as love new lawes can giue.
Faith is my force. Faith strength affords
To keep pace with those powrfull words.
And words more sure, more sweet, then they
Loue could not think, truth could not say.


(p. 292, 11. 4-15)










Now that some indication has been given of the peculiar nature

of the symbolic function of an image in the poetry of Crashaw, let us

observe more in detail how this symbolism functions by examining an

individual poem, "On the wounds of our crucified Lord."

0 these vakefull wounds of thine!
Are they Houthes? or are they eyes?
Be they Mouthes, or be they eyae,
Each bleeding part same one supplies.

Lol a mouth, whose full-bloom'd lips
At too deare a rate are roses.
Lo! a blood-shot eye! that weepes
And many a cruell teare discloses.

0 thou that on this foot hast laid
Many a kisse, and many a Teare, 10
Now thou shal't have all repaid,
Whatsoe're thy charges were.

This foot hath got a Mouth and lippes,
To pay the sweet sume of thy kisses
To pay thy Teares, an Eye that weeps
In stead of Teares such Gems as this is.

The difference onely this appears,
(Nor can the change offend)
The debt is paid in Ruby-Teares,
Which thou in Pearles did'st lend.

(p. 99)

Let us first of all examine some of the ideological tendencies

of the time, and note their relationship to the mode of thought behind

Crashaw's symbolism in this poem. The tradition of the emblem and

impresa is often cited as an influence on the poetry of Crashavw.

The emblems were graphic designs saoewhat esoteric, the meaning being


Wallerstein, pp. 114-35.










explained by an accomanying verse.21 The emblem was in great vogue

during the Renaissance in England and on the continent--one of the best

known emblem books today is Francis Quarles'. The emblems and the

symbolic imagery of Crasbaw are related by having a similarity in

function. Just as Crashaw's images have a meaning beyond that suggested

by their sensible qualities, the emblem have a meaning beyond that

contained in a direct experience of the graphic design; but of course, in

the case of the emblems the meaning is appended in the accompanying verse.

Consequently, the symbols of Crashaw and the emblem function to

convey their meaning in a similar manner, in the sense that the meaning

is not a result of the sensory experience of the means of the symbolism,

the image or the graphic desiga. In the one case the meaning is added

to the graphic design by a verse, in the other the meaning is added to

the verbal design by tradition.

Even the organization of the Imagery in "On the vo'udi of our

crucified Lord" has a correspondence to a traditional arrangement of

the emblem. For example, as emblem cited by Ruth Wallerstein is a

drawing of the five wounds of Christ with the fourth wound depicted as

a founded hand, and under this drawing there is a scroll inscribed

"i h c the well of grace."22 Below this emblem there is a verse by

William Billying explaining the meaning of the graphic design, a

meaning that is not to be apprehended by merely looking at it.



2allerstein, pp. 114-35 and Rosemary Freeman, English
Fiblea Books (London, 1948).

2Wallerstein, p. 119.










Bayle welle of grace most precyouse in honoure
Ia the Kynges left hande set of ierusalem
Swetter thanne bawve is thy sweet lycore.23

The first three lines of the poem "On the wounds of our crucified

Lord" correspond to the graphic design of the emblem in that they name

certain things; and the fourth line corresponds to the verse explaining

the emblem in that it makes a statement about the things named, "Each

bleeding pert some one supplies." Crashaw, just like William Billying,

has conceived the wounds of Christ as being a well of grace and a

fountain supplying salvation to mankind--a traditional Christian concept-

tion of the meaning of the wounds of Christ.

It is also a caconplace of literary criticism and scholarship

to connect Crashaw with the Counter-Reformation, the proclamations of

the Council of Trent, the Ignatian "application of the sensei."4 The

Council of Trent during Session XXV in order to combat ea aspect of the

Lutheran revolt approved the use of the senses and icons as external

helps in raising men to the contemplation of things divine. The action

of the Council is consonant with the general ideological atamophere of

the time in which many were influenced to endow things with a meeting

not contained in an experience of their sensible qualities, the meaning

not coming frac an empirical experience but superadded by the process of

contemplation.




23uoted by Wallerstein, p. 119.

24arren, pp. 63-76.




Full Text

PAGE 1

Images and Image Symbolism in Metaphysical Poetry With Special Reference to Otherworldliness By JULIUS DUANE LOCKE A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE COUNCIL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA August, 1958

PAGE 2

ACKSQ«L£DGMEn!S Z should like to express my gratitude to those vbo have hel}>ed in the x^'eparatioQ of this dissertation— •Doctors R* E. Boners, F, W. Coaaer, J. T. Fain, C. A. Ro^>ertsoQ, J. H. Groth, T. W. Herbert, and Ants Qras. To the present chairman of my cooDiittee, Dr* T. V. Herbert, I sm particularly indebted for his many homrs of devoted attention to this study* To my fcnner chairman. Dr. Ants Qras, I ove a great deal; for this dissertation vas conceived with his guidance* ii

PAGE 3

TABLE OF CORTEinS Page ACKMOWLEDGMENTS ii PREFACE iv CJhapter I. IMTRODUCnOH 1 H. JOHN HOME 9 III. GEORGE HERBERT 3^ IV. RICHARD CRASHAW 77 V. AHDREH MARVELL 137 VI. CONCLUSION 171 WORKS CUED 173 ill

PAGE 4

In developing the method eniployed in this study of Imagery, I am Indebted to many critical and scholarly vorksj but ©specially a few, vhich I shall mention, l»ve been prominently Influential in providing ideas and exBsaples* Two can be singled out for special consideration— William BBq?8on»s Seven Tlypes of Ambiguity (194?) and Cleanto Brooks' The Well>Wrought Urn (19*^7) • Etepsoa's Seven Types was especially valuable is emphasizing that the attention of the critic should be focxised on the details of the works themselves, that t^ meaning of a poem is the suggestions derived from the arran^ment of words in a structure. The main concern of "Ba^eca was to demonstrate a universal aspect of poetic laneuage —ambiguity; and of course, this specific intention is not the aim of my study. But his assertic») that poetic meaning could be derived from an analysis of the arrangement of words in a structure was adopted as a basic working principle* Baipson used many passages from Metc^hysical poetry to demonstrate his "seven types." Also vlth the Intention of discovering and formulating an essential quali-ty of poetic language^ Cleanth Brooks in his Well"Wrought Urn uses Metaphysical poetry to demonstrate his theory of "The Language of Paradox." Brooks proposes to prove that paradox is an essential aspect of poetic language; but again. iv

PAGE 5

though I repeat that my Intention is not vith discovering the essential quality of poetic language, I owe much to Brooks, Brooks* insistence that form and content are inseparable, that the interaction between the content and its structure ccanreys poetic meaning, became aa essential general principle e^loyed in my study. Within my study, the basic principles of Etapscso and Brooks vere adopted and brought to bear upon the meaning of an image* I believe "ttiat in a poem primary consideration should be given to the vay in which the image is arranged within a structure— this arrangement being called an or^anizatiop * Both ai5>son and Brooks have been criticized for their neglect of historical infonoatiM vhen examining the airangeoent of words within a structure. Roseound Tuve, in Elizabethan and Metaphysical feaggry (19U7) and A Reading a£^ George Herbert (1952), has been specifically critical of aapson, and of the whole critical movement vhich stresses the examination of the details of a poeaa and neglecta historical considerations. Miss Tuve ea^phasizes that to understand an Image properly it must be ccasidered from a historical point of view, and she treats the Imagery of the Metaphysicals in relationship to the logical and rhetorical tradition of the time and especially the imagery of Geoocge Herbert in relaticaiship to the liturgical and iconographic traditions. Ruth WaUerstein ( Studies to Seventeenth Century Poetic, I950) also takes a historical position, and she emphasizes that to understand the poems of the past, a knowledge of the philoscjphies of the past, especially as to how -toey effect

PAGE 6

vl language, is needed. Vallersteln examines Metaphysical poetry in relaticMship to the JeroneTertullianAugustine tradition of language* The principle of the necessily of historical information for "ttie imdere tending of ixoagery was adopted for the piirposes of my study. Tuve and Wallerstein begin with a historical tradition, and then interpret the imagery from the viewpoint of the tradition; but my study differs in that I start with Idie analysis of the organization in which an Im ag e appears; and then cootpare the analysis with an organization which has been objectively described by previous writers who have been concerned with the natuz« of meaning, or with sequences of thought which have also been given objective description. When I have found a described process of as8ociatlc« which can z^asonably be supposed to have been accessible to the mind of the poet, and which Is parallel to that observed in the poem, I have described the image in accordance vith that process. I have assumed that such a guide win lead to authentic meanings which might escape a modem reader un f am i liar with earlier modes of thought, and I have assumed that such a guide might forestall errors of meaning which the preccMiceptions of a modem reader aire liable to foist irp<» a poet to whoa they would be surprising. Hot every such process of association is nowadays unfamiliar. For example, Marvell's images of nature^ objects axe similar to those which invite our attentioi to such objects in nineteenth-century poetry. But some of the processes of association, though not now unknown, are far less cataaonly known, as when Crashaw, speaking of the

PAGE 7

vii taste of blood, does not mean vhat ve taste vhen ve lick a cut finger but means the acceptance of the sacrificial redeanptive love of Orod for sinful man. By vbat virtue such a denial of plain cocmonsense talk can be shown to be true of Crashav it is the business of historically verifiable nodes of meaning to tell us. Thus my ojriginal agreeoent vith Q&psoQ and Brooks for the examination of imagery has to be modified. How, my contention can be stated •ttms: to determine the meaning of an Image in a poeoa primary ccmsideration should be given to tte -raiy in vhlch the Image is arranged within a structure; but the Interpretaticm of the structure of an image should be in tezus of historical ccaisiderations. Another work, Arthur 0. Lovejoy's The Qre^t Chain a[ Being (1936), exercised its influence by providing a suggestion as to how the historical coDSidextitians might be limited. Love^ wrote a history of the develoiiiMnt of a single idea, "the chain of being"; and trca this hint, I decided to emphasize images connected with a single philosophical consideration, the relatlcxiship of the immaterial to the material, especially since this was one of the main topics of interest in the seventeenth century, when the philosopby of empiriciai was gaining the new favor of many minds. Of course, rsy study diffex^ markedly frcm Love joy's. He was writing the history of an idea, and using poems as illustraticxis of these ideas. Hy €sg;»hasis is oq the reading of poems; my emphasis is on the idea too, but only as part of the esqperience of reading a %.

PAGE 8

ill I>oan*-the Idea as discovered in the arganlsatloD of dmagery^ and euB necessary to a meaningful response to poetic language* ify purpose in this study can now be stated in its final fom* To detezmine the meaning of an image in the poems Z shall exaDiine, I shall give primary consideration to the vay in vhich the image is organized in its structure; and then I shall interpret image organisatioa according to the sgppropriate historically deteznined philosophical relatiOQship between the immaterial and the material* Having treated one or two poena frcn each poet in detail accts-ding to this method; I shall briefly review a nuflA>er of poems^ so that this observable fact may emerge: that each poet has a chazracteristic mode of image oarganixationi characteristic because it is recurrent throi^tiout much of his work* Through such an interpretation it is hoped that a deeper insist into the poems of my four poets will be provided*

PAGE 9

CHMTER I IBTRODUCnOH In part, this study is concerned vith a series of subtle differences amongst four seventeenth-century poets, J«din Donne, George Herbert, Richard Crashaw, and Andrew Marrell, as the works of these poets, the very way In which the Images are selected and organized within the context of the poems, manifest certain modes of thou^t. One of the prominent Intellectual problesns of the seventeenth century was to arrive at a ratlcmal understanding of ^im rela^ tlonshlp between concepts and concretlcms, between the sqpiritual and the material* As the patterns of image rarganlsatlcm will disclose, tte respective work of each poet reveals a different attitude toward the relatlcmshlp of the conw^tual, or spiritual, and the material. John Donne is more concerned with the conceptual; although he subordinates, he neither debases nor disnisses the material. He considers the material to be la^KJTtant In that It is necessary for the existence of the conceptual. George Hertert grants the material more laqwrtance than Dome, but in Herbert the laqportance of the material is due to its being a creatitm of God, and thereby a figuration or symbol of God. Richard Crashaw represents an extreme in that hp» values the spiritual, the otherworldly above all, and the material object to him has little or no lii5>ortance. Andrew Marvell gives his attenUon to the material c>bject and although the themes of his poems are often spiritual, the thematic elanent, even in these poems, is subordianted to his passionate 1

PAGE 10

eoQcem vith tte mterlal objects that make teautlful the natural vorld* Hy oojor ccmcers is not only to record these poets* attitudes toward tbe relationship between the inmaterial and material, but to shov hov their poesns cioy be best read. Attention therefore is directed to deteztoining vhat respooses in tbe imagination of a syapathetic reader ought to be produced by each of the words with which they name the things they are int a ra st ad in. Tbe study of what is stimulated in tbe mind of a readier by substantives in the sentences of a poem is prcqperly called a study of tbe poet's Imaeezv* Twentieth-centuiy studies of Inieeery so far as I know than have hildserto been primarily studies of the power of words to stimulate the equivalent of sense escperience in the imagination of the reader, but my study is concerned fully as much with tbe stimulation of passiooately felt spiritual conceptions* Consequently, tbe word image needs to be defined afresh, and that definition must be bonie in mind vheziever the vard jnajy is used* She differences that I describe aaoi^st the poets arise not because the poets have each a characteristic favorite particular trope, but because things which their imaginatioos conjure up bear different relationships to pledn ordinary material actuality* Etoch poet ccoceives, or perceives, differently from the others; and this distinct attitude toward tte immaterial and tbe material works its way into the vei^r texlaire and structure of tbe poet's laapMifle* Thie attitude is the iaflumclng factor that sbapes tbe poet's organizaUoo of iaageryj aid

PAGE 11

to discover the poet's attituds^ ve study the patterns of orgaalzatioa throughout his vork, as veil aa the qualification of these patterns In tiie particular context in vhich they appear. Once the poet's attitude Is discovered ve, as readers, may adjust our mentalities, may subdue any interfering preccaaceptioos regarding the relationship of tte imaaterlal and material, to e^qperience the poem as ti)e poet intended. In this study an Image is considered to be a poetic representation of a thing either material or iBsaaterial, or such a thing in a condition or in activity. nns study is based upcm the prqpositlon that an image depends for its meaning vpaa the organization of the poem Itself and upoo the coDventicai of concepts vhich the poet accepted for purposes of the poem, and that the (»:ganizaticm of Images vildiin a given poem (as veil as the prevailing practice vithin the vhole body of a poetic vork) is a prqper guide to the conventicm to vhich an loage refers and vith vhich ite meaning must be consistent. A major necessity dictated by tbe jjurposes of my study is to determine vhether or not as a g»ieral tendency an IMlvidual poet is concerned vith material or vith limnaterial things, or vith bo-Ui material and Ijnnaterlal things as they are related to one another* Shis deteii&inatlc»i of the i>oet'6 prevailing ctxacem is based primarily (sa a study and analysis of the selection and organization of hie imagery in individual poems. Let us take three passages to illustrate how the laagery makes clear the focus of the poet's concern*

PAGE 12

But xoc^t the Hswel'e venters are. Who h«ce has tbe riolttf eisterB care. He vAlks BtUl xxpel^txt from the Root, Neas'ring the Timber vlth his Ibot; And all the way, to keep It cleaD* Doth from thfS Bnrk ttas Vood-mofths glean. Hb« vlth his Beak, eaoHnineB veil Which fit to stand and vhich to fell.l Id the passage from Maxwell, the Imagery is selected and organized In a aamier that presents the bird, -Use "Bevel, " as a particular and h^ce material thing. Narvell is coocemed vith this creature for its ovn natural, terrestrial, and material sake. Be selects the specific nma "Bavel" x«tber than the more gnooral teno Vxxd^cker, *• or still swre aeneral '*bird." The ''aewel" is depicted in motion, tbe specific and paartlcularized motion of valking uprigjxt, and as aovlng upward froa a definite and tangible spatial Xooality, the root of a tree. A number of specific details portray tb» bird as being eoaiasd in natural activities. When in a trope he asaerts that the bird, like a "Bolt-fester,'* that is voodcutter, is aeasuring the ttofber vith his foot, he is not diverting our attention to some other matter but laying stress on the precise and iqpparaitly methodical placecoent of the bevel's feet as ha advances up the trunk* Also, be specifically notices the definite features of the bird: the flMt and the beak, throughout the passage a sense of an eveat on a tangible vorld la ccoveyed. Tite voodpecker is on the solid foundation ^he fcma and letters of Ag(drew Marvell, ed. H. M. IfcrgoUouth (Oxford, 1927), p. 75, U. 537-W*.

PAGE 13

of » tree, and be gleans raotba froa a solid and tangible surface, the bark* The selection and orgBnizatlon displayed in this peasafle Indicates that the poet's concern is vith an Inaee of the bird as a aatarial thing* As ve shall see later, this kind of selectloa and orgBnizatl(», and hence this kind of Inaeery, is characteristic of Narvell* Z Sing the Vme vhich Bone can say But touch 't vith An Interiour Ray; The Waae of our Mew Peace; our Good: Our Blisset & Suponnturall Blood: Cie BBoe of All Liueo & Loues* fiaarken. And HaJjp, ye holy Doues! tbm hleh*boni Brood o£ Qayi yoo bright Oandidates of blissefull Light, She Beirs Blect of Loue; vhose BBoes beloog Uato the euerlasting life of Soag; All ye vise Soules, vbo in the vealtt^ Brest Of This unbounded Moae build your warn Best.^ In sharp contrast with the "Hewel" of Ifaarvel, the "Doves" of Crashav are not feathered creatures iu fli^t in the supporting aHioaphere. They are not any naterial thing vhataver. They are souls of iAie saints. They ax^ called "doves" because Crashav wants to iBgpute to these souls, vhich he is Involdng to his assistance, certain attributes of the spirit which have an emotion-producing or affective coiwespondence to the at-ta-ibutes of actual doves. Crashaw describes his "doves" in terns of intangibles, day, light, love, and song— not bark, root, timber, and taoths, not feet or beak or any practi%toe Poems of Richard Crashav, ed. L* C* Martin (Oxford, 192?)* p. 239» !!• 1-12.

PAGE 14

cal activity. The "doves" are the breed of day, candidates of liffht, the elect of love, and •Wselr names '*belong/ Viito the euerlastlng life of SoDg*" Ttm eelecti(») and orgonlzation in this passage Indicates that Crasbecw is interested in his birds not for their own sakes but for the purpose of representing iianaterial things, things not tangible and of this vorM. Tbe passage lUustxates Crashaw's cbaracteristlc coDcem as a poet vlth things purely spiritual* X
PAGE 15

«ith images that evoke a material thing realised as a material thing but Which bearB doae relationship vith a mare li,5>ortant spiril^al concept is a characteristic of Donne as a poet in a large part of his vork* Bk first ^roach in the present study of certain seventeenthcentury poms, then, is ^trough examining patterns of selection and organisation of Imagery for the puxpose of determining the extent to vhich images vithin those patterns represent material or Immaterial things; and this liitrinsic approach, starting vith the pom itself, is the primary procedure. Hoiiever, this study does not dismiss the Importance of historical informationj for poems vritten in iixe seventeenth century should be read In the light of knowledge of the existing Uterary traditions and philosophical ideas relevant to the poet and the poem. Although the primary evidence for the proper interpretation of images canes froa the patterns of selection and organization throughout the poems, reference to historical information is used for the purpose of clarification of the modes of thought by virtue of vhich laages may be understood to have the meaning vhich they possess. Manjof these traditions and ideas are very much alive today, but sc0«tlmes they are so far out of use among ordinary educated peqple that they need explication. Let us take two sla5>le illustrations of the uses of referring laages to specific modes of thought. In the passage frcn Crashaw, the term "doves" vould be bevilderlng and misleading to anyone unfamiliar vith the tradition vhose center is the Gospel narrative of the spirit of God descending upon Jesus in the form of a dove. In the excerpt frcm

PAGE 16

the crossed vings of the birds vould be of no significance to 8X]yone imftmillar vith the cross as the centx^ symbol of the Christian religion* It is, of course. Inconceivable that any coo« slderable nuzober of readers of Donne and Crasl»w would be unfenlllar vith the odes of thought tbat give meaning to their Images of doves end crossed vings, but it is by no neens inconceivable that a x-eader of Crasfaav should be Trnfranlllnr vltli the rose as a symbol of the Christ, or at least that he should fail imaediately to make the con* nectioo when reading osne of Crasbav's poens such as "Cb the wounds of our Crucified Lord," ow it should be clearly understood that the Ooqpel story of the crucifixion is not to be rsgMrded in any usual literary sense as a "soinrce" for the iaa^ in Donne's poem. Purthennore, ve cannot in advance of seeing the poaa have any assurance that in Crashsu the vord "dove" will serve as an Image for saintly spirits: In another context it old^t serve as an image c^ simple hope, car even, conceivably, as aa laags for a bird as actual and material as Narvell's heuel. We cannot, that is, foist upon a poet a significance sln5)ly because it existed before him, or slaqply because ve can be positive he knew it. the can we d«sy a significance to a word— if that significance existed in a ti'adi* tion alive in or before the poet's day, and if the tarngt pattern of the poem d awunds that slgnlflcance««>siJ^ply because ve lack external evidence that the poet had read a given book. In short, we are not in a search for a history of the poet's reading, but ve ttc« in a search for the context vhich gives the poet*s Images the significance that he himself as a poet intended them to have*

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CHAFTEK n JOHH OOSSE ThlB examin»tlon of the selection and organization of the imagery In the poetry of John Donne vlll concentrate oainly on the Songs and Sonets. "The Anniversaries," and the Divine iSSSB as representative of the best of his efforts. What is said about them vill be found equally true of the other poems. As a general tendency, Donne organires his Inafiery into a pattern in which an lamaterlal thing is closely associated vith, depends upon, and indeed takes its origin from a material thing, or a group of material things, or an eaqperience occurring to human beings, whose existence in this world Implies having the element of materiality; and an important property of this organization of Imagery is that not only does the tonaterial thing depend for its existence on the material, but the material thing depends for its value on the Inmaterial. This characteristic pattern of image organization docs not appear everywhere. It la not, for Instance, apparent except Jocularly in "The Plea." iit in the poetry of Donne it frequently acts as a foundation for the structure of entire poems such as "The Good-Morrow" and The Extasle," as well as individual passa^s such as line 11 of

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10 "Ihe Good-Jfcarow" : "And makes one little rocme, an every where. tfelng lloe 11 f^roQ "Tbe Good-Norrov" as an lUustratloo of thle chaxvcterlstlc pattern of inaee organlsatloo throughout the poetry of Joim Donne, we observe that the ''little roome" is the ale* aent of the pattern of orgeaizatloD which is called the material thing: the little room lieiDg in a specific and fixed spatial locality, having actual concrete exist^ice; and we observe that the "little rocoie" has baen made •'an every where." Tbis "every where" is the innaterlal thing which has originated from the material thing, "the little roooe." The '*every where** is, in -tiiis poem, not the qiuantitatlve sum total of the physical universe— not physical space, but something conceptual, intellectible, and abstract. Sbus we have observed that in tbe organiaatioo of the imagery in line 11 frcm ''The Oood-Morrow" an laoMterial thing, "an every vhnre, " has originated from a material thing, the "little roome; " 83x1 sow we not only accordingly observe that in this characteristic pattern of Inase arganizaticai in Donne the inoaterial "every where" 4apeDdi for its existence iqpoo the "little roome, " but we dbeerw that Hm "little roome" (the word *^ittle" suggesting not only a circu»» scribed and United aasBent of actual physical space, but also the inalgnificance of the spatial area) depends for its value upon being The toaa^te Poetry and Selectad Paroee of John Donne. ed« ChBrlaa NTTbff in IHbw York, 1^2), p. H, 1. 11. Subsequent citatlooa to Donoe in oy text refer to this edition.

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11 "an every where." Before examining how the structure of an entire poem, "The Good-Morrow," Is organized according to the i>attem of an Imnaterial thing originating from a material thing, let us familiarize ourselves with some philosophical conceptions, those of Aristotle and inmnas Aquinas, a knowledge of which will aid greatly in our understanding of the mode of thought behind such an organization of imagery as found in this characteristic pattern of John Donne. The mode of thought, the conception of an Immaterial thing originating from a material thing, behind the characteristic image pattern of Donne corresponds closely to Aristotle's conception of form and matter, and Aquinas* doctrine of the use of material things to escpress immaterial things in Holy Scriptiire. In Aristotle's conception of form, "the object of sense ex* perience can come to the knowledge of the thinking subject only in so far as it becomes a c<»iceptual form."^ Implied in this explanation is that the human conc^tlon of form depends for its existence on the prior existence of material objects, but the matter in the object of sense perception "attains to reality only in so far as it becomes the vehicle of seme conceptual determination . "3 In applying this conception of Aristotle to Donne, the implication that the thought of Donne and Aristotle are identical, Va&t Donne wemer Wllhelm Jaeger, Aristotle ; Fundarnentals of his development, trans. Richard Robinson (Oxford, 193^^), p. 331. 3 Jaeger, p. 382.

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la consciously derived hie thought traa Aristotle, is not intended. Tbs sole iatentioo is to sbow a slnilarity between the thought of Aristotle ood that vhich foams the intellectual disposition behind the organisation of isH^sry of Doone. Through the establishment of ^lis similarity, the thou^^ behind tiie loags organisaticn in Doone vill be related to an established tiradition of thought; and through this relationship, it is hoped that the intellectual attitude of JkxoM a« revealed through his ixoagery vill be better understood* In Donne's assertion that love 'Wikes one little rooDc, an every where, " the object of sense percepticm in this case, the 'kittle roorae, " only attains to reality, its significance to the poet, by becoming vhat is intended by the conceptual determination conveyed in the phrase "an every vhere"; but the conceptual "every vhere" doea not vppeer in the poea as scoiething produced by its own power without a caiUMtl relationship to a material object. Ihe conceptual "every irttare" is dependent for its existence oo an object of sense perc^tioo, the "little roooe," Id a vay Donne here as elsewhere is doing what laany poets fre« qpMOtly do, describing a aental coacept vhich has been suggested by a aaterlal object. ]tet Doone, though of course he frequently usee similes, metaphors, and other rhetorical figures, in this particular Isnge, which is characteristic of his poetic thought, does not make a simile or metaphor between the object and the concept, either explicitly cz* by laplicatioo, vhich is the cGsnonest mode of connectioo. In Doone '• poetic laa^e the concept is not said to be like the object, as in

PAGE 21

13 siiolle, nor asserted In varying degrees to be the object, as in aM»ta» phor ("0 vild West Wlnd..«-Uie trvntpet of a prophecy**), the concept eOBM into being as a consequence of the existooce of the naterial ob* Jeet or naterial situation in a fashion parallel to the energence of the apprehension of a craceptual form in the seqiience of Aristotle. Jo Iteats* "Ode on a (Grecian Urn** the concept tiiat '*Beauty is truth, truth beau-ty" coaws into being as a stessage approfprlate to the nature of the urn, but "BeauV is truth" cannot be said to be a conceptual detexainatim arrived at because the urn vas its "vehicle.** Domie's pattern, to use a different tennlnology, resembles the emersKice of a perception of a universal after a ccateaqplatioo ot a pez't::i.ciaar« Others have perhape paralleled his pattern of poetic thought occasionally, but vith his it is fre<|U(»3t to the point of being characteristic. Mow, let us exoslne Thonas Aquinas' doctrine of the use of a aaterial thing to express an lasBaterial thing in Holy Scripture; and thfOQ note the points of correspondence between this doctrine and the mode of thought behind the organization of the characteristic image pattern of John Donne; but before beginning this exaiainatlon, it needs to be stated that in this doctrine of Aquinas there are two as2)ects that do not correspraid to the laanner in vhich Inagee are organized in 'Uiis characteristic pattern of Donne. Therefore, in order that ve nay avoid the confusion of seeming to ii:q>ly that Donne's pattern of orgBnizatlon corresponds exactly to Aqtiinas' doctrine of the use of an lamaterial thing to express a aaterial Idling, ve vill subsequently exanlne hov the use of imagery in the poetzy of Donne differs from certain

PAGE 22

Ill parts of Aquinas* doctrine. First of all, eacasinlng the part of Aquinaa* doctrine that does correspond to the mode of thougbt behind the Ina^ge organization of John Donne, ve will observe that Aquinas states that it is proper for Boly Scripture to use material things to express spiritual truths because xoan naturally attains Intellectual truths through sensible thines* It is befitting Holy Scripture to put forward divine and spiritual truths by aeans of coDBparisons vith aaterial things* For God provides for everything according to the (Opacity of its nature. Row it is natural to maxi to attain to intellectual truths throu^ sensible '^ings, because all oar knowledge origIziates from sense* We readily observe In this statement a correscod^ce to Aristotle* 8. cooceptioo that the apprehension of a form is attained from an experience of material objects; but of cownf, tbure is a difi^erence. In Aristotle, as ve know from Jaeger's eiqalanation, the fonn apprehended vas a eooceptual fora of the object experienced; but in this doctrine of Aquinas, the form apprehended is an intellectual truth vhlch indeed is a spiritual truth. For exaaqple, the bird inase of Donne, the bird with orossed wings vhich vas discussed in the "Introduction" to this sti»ay, is used in a manner that correspoods to the above-Kiuoted part of Aquinas' doctrine. lbs conc^tual fom of the bird tisat is appreheikled by the reader is an Intellectual truth, k IatrL:)ductio» to^iat Thomas Aquinas, ed« Anton C. Pegis (Ifew York, 19^*8), p. 10 (OT, I, Ql, Art. 9, Rep. 2)* Subsequent citations to Aquinas in my text refer to this edition. ( Suataa lheologl« ca, I, 01, Art. 9, Ans.).

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15 fto truth of tte 9nm Sa %tm CtelttlMi mliciMi tod this eeaoif* Wam9m $ «• Alio !jliMi'»» in tut ^kmm f i wteft wi'pl frca tta* 4octriDt ^ AqittlMMi n ^mnmttmtmam to tto cfiwrnolMrlotic jt i oti o »« of IwilP orvMiiHitiai, tlit *^Aai mtkam m» Iltti* rooMo an ovoty Mlmem,* la fbBt oi mtftrimtm tf • oMMoytittl and iwiwt*i tiil fMiam$ "*» ov^ry iAoffo«" U attalBod tlveogh a aoaatble aaqpartieGa oecavrias Sa a li^tla fooa* AaoltMr part of Aqp^ttts* doctrlat ttet •yaafli «a «b» iMrilft of thom^ b«hia& tiia image orgtatiatloa of fiaaaa la «Miet ta tat liMLioal ttoa or onafMa isoioBry, taifn of aatarial tlUa0i» tba UMifmiii ia to laaa tte KlaA ta m umiPMhmmim of oa iataaiigtUto fooa aaft act to invito tte mat ta ta ocattat vith tlia aatorial IdOag larai «p la the alaA Dy tiw fh« roy of dtvlaa naralaUoa l« oot aatiapilalMdi Iqr -U» sec iuXa Saaflorjr vlaraiiith it la viaaaA^ m deofalaa •ayaj «ad Ita truth oo i«t roan! wo ttet i% teas ao% aUaw ttaa ataAa
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16 rest in the likeness of the little room; this purpose is revealed byDonne's lack of interest in the specific sensuous details of his material things. He is not concerned with presenting the color of walls, the shape and material of chairs, and the number of windows of a little room. Now let us glance at the parts of Thomas Aquinas' doctrine of the use of a material thing to express an immaterial thing that do not correspond, or at least correspond only in a pairtisJL way, to the m anner in which Donne uses imagery. Aquinas, in discussing how a material thing signified by a word has a signification in itself, elucidates a fourfold theory of meaning. The author of Bbly Scripture is God, in Whose power it is to signify His meaning, not by words only (as man also can do), but also by things themselves. So, whereas in every other science things are signified by the words, •tiiis science has the property that the things signified by words have themselves also a signification. Therefore that first signification whereby words signify things belongs to the first sense, the historical or literal. That signification whereby things signified by words have themselves also a signification is called the spiritual sense, which is based on the literal, and presupposes it. Now this spiritual sense has a threefold division. For as the Apostle says ( Heb . X. I) the Old Law is the figure of the New Law, and Dionysius says the New Law itself is a figure of future glory . Again, in the New Law, whatever our Head has done is a type of what we ought to do. Therefore, so far as the things of the Old Law signify the things of the New Law, there is the allegorical sense; so far as the things which signify Christ, are signs of what we ought to do, there is the moral sense. But so far as they signify what relates to eternal glory, there is the anagogical sense. Since the literal sense is that which the author intends, and since the author of Holy Scripture is God, Who by one act comprehends all things by His intellect, it is not unfitting, as Augustine says, if, even according to the literal sense, one

PAGE 25

IT vord in Hr.ly Scripture shoxJ-d have several senses." Dante, according to the stateanents in his letter to Can Grande, adapts this theory of fourfold meaning of the words in Holy Scripture to literary usage in the Divine Comedy . For the clarity of vhat is to be said, one must realize that the meaning of this vork [jhs Cisdiffi Confidy] is not slnqple, but is rather to be called polysanous, that is, many taeanings. The first meaning is the oae obtedued through the letter; the second is the one obtained through tbe things signified by the letter. The first is called literal, the second allegorical or moral or anagogical. In order that this nanner of treatment may appear more clearly it may be applied to the following verses: "When Israel went out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a ^people of strange lang-oage, Judah was his sanctuary and Israel his dcminiwi." For if we look to the letter aione, the departare of the childrenof Israel from Egypt in the time of Moses is indicated to us; if to the allegory, our redemptioc accomplished b^ Christ is indicated to usj if to the moral sense, t^ comrersion of the soul from the woe and misery of sin to a state of grace is iiidlcated to usj if to tiie anagogical sense, the departure of the consecrated soul from the slavery of this corruption to the liberty of eternal glory is iiwiicated. And though these mystic senses may be called by various names, they can all generally be spoken of as allegorical, since they are diverse from the literal or historical. For allegory is derived from alleon in Greek, which in Latin appears as alienum, or diverse.^ / The way Donne used Imagery corresponds partially to the scheme outlined in the quoted excerpt from Aquinas in that the material thing signified by an Image has in turn as intellectual or spiritual signification; but we have no evidence that Donne organized his Imagery in such ^Aquinas, pp. I8-I9 (ST, I, Ql, Art. 10, Ans.). 7Dante, "The Letter to Can Grande della Scale" in Literary Criticism : Plato to Dryden, ed. Allan H. Gilbert ( Rew York, I9UO), pp. 202-03.

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IB a manner that his vords have a fourfold meaning. But the use of Imagery in such manner that the thing signified has in turn a further signification, which is synonymous vith saying that the material thing signified has the signification of an lumaterial thing, is a definite characteristic of Donne *s imagery. For example, referring back to the discussion of the bird Image in the "Introduction," liie thing signified by the image of a bird is a bird, and tliis signified bird has a signification, the Christian truth connected with the cross. And in line 11 fron "Tbe Good-Morrow, " the thing signified by -Uie image of the little room is a little room, and this little room has the signification of "an every where." The other part of the doctrine of Aquinas which does not corresp(»3d to the manner in which Donne uses imagery is the assertion that often in Scripture a word which in ordinary contexts represents a material thing does not represent tlie material thing at all but Q literally represents a spiritual concept. The parabolical sense is contained in the literal, for by words things are signified properly and figuratively. Hor is the figure itself, but that which is figured, the literal sense. When Scripture speaks of God*s arm, the literal sense is not that God has such a member, but only what is signified by this member, namely, operative power. Hence it is plain that nothing false can ever underlie the literal sense of Holy Scripture .° 8 This part of quinas' doctrine does correspond to Crashaw's characteristic use of imagery as already has been indicated in the "Introduction" by the discussion of the imagery of "doves." ^Aquinas, p. 19 (ST, I, Ql, Art. 10, Rep. 3).

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19 IbuB says Aquioas. But it is clear tbroughout Donne*8 poetry that, thoui^ the poet*8 imagery la parallel vith the philoso* pher*s up to the point vhere ve can say that the usual significatlcai of a vord is not its only meaning, ve camurt fasten up<»j the poet this latter practice of thought in which be did not follow the philosopher* Since ve have nov familiarised ourselves vith seme of the philosophical concepticms corresponding to the mode of thou^ behind the characteristic pattern of the organisatioo of imagery in the poetry of Donne, ve can now turn to an examination of how the structure of an entire poem, "Mhe Good-Morrow," is based cm this pattern of oreanizatico in which an Immaterial thing originates frcm a material thing, and in which the pattern of oreaDizatloD correspcnids to Aristotle's doctrine of the eppreb»ision of a c<»ccptual form through a sensible experience begiiming with matter, and to Aquinas* doctrine that material, or sensible, imagery may be the means of raising the mind to intelligible, or spiritual, truths* I wcmder my my troth, what thou, and Z Did, till we lov'df Were we not wean*d till then? But Buck'd on countrcy pleasures, childlshlyt Or snorted we in the seaven sleepers den? T*wa8 so; But this, all pleasures fancies bee. If ever any bcau*^ I did see. Which I desir*d, and got, t*was but a dreamc of thee. And now good morrow to our waking soules. Which watch not one another out of feare; Vcae lo\re, all love of other si^pxts controules, 10

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AxKl makes one little rocrae^ an every where* Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gooe^ Let Msgps to other, worlds oo worlds have showne. Let us poseesse one world, each bath aae, and is one* Ify face In thine eye, thine in mine agpipeares. And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest, Vhere can we f inde two better hemlsptxiares Without sharpe IfOrth, without declining West? Vhat ever dyes, was not mixt equally; If our loves be (»e, or, thou and I 20 Love BO alike, that none doe slacken, none can die* (p. 8) First, let us observe and note the characteristics of the material things of "The Good<4forrow, ** from which throu^ a sensible estperience a conc^tual fona is to originate* The material things in "^Die Good-Morrow** are ihe bodies of the lovers who are in this little roca, and froa the iiaplications of the poem, as in lines 6 and Ji "If ever any beauty Z did see. Which I desir'd, and got, t'was but a dreame of thee," we conclude that the lovers have been engaged in a CQirporeal activity* As a resvilt of the sensible experience of these two bodies in the little room, a concepticas of love, the conceptual form of love, has originated* This conceptual fona of love is presented throughout the poem; but at present, we are limiting our ccQcem to the material things described* In our exGBZiinatic»3 of the material things in "The Good-Morrow," the bodies of the two lovers in the little roca, we might ask ourselves what we know about the i^iysical being and characteristics of tl:»se two lovers, their personal e^ipearance— the color of their eyes or the shade

PAGE 29

21 of their complexion} and we might ask ourselves what the organization of imagery Indicates about the importance that Donne attaches to the material aspects of the love affair? We answer that we know almost nothing about the physical characteristics of the two lovers. The lovers are presented by only two images of physical appearance, "eye" and "face," and these Images are extremely general, giving no definite indication of the specific or particular sensuous characteristics of the "eye" or of the "face." Thus we conclude from our examination of the imagery presenting the material things In "The Gkx>d-}torrow" that Donne attaches very little importance to the material elements of the situation, except in so far that it is the origin for the experience of the conceptual form of love; and we conclude that Donne Is not Interested in organizing his imagery in a manner that will cause the reader's mind to be attracted to and to rest In the physical, or material, details of the love affair in this little room. There is definitely not the lingering on the sensuousness of physical features that we have in Spenser's Amoretti XV, an or^nlzatlon of imagery which causes the mind of the reader to be attracted to the physical beauty of the beloved. Donne's focus of attention may be emphasized by contrasting Spenser's practice: Ye tradefull merchants, that with weary toyle Do seeke most pretlous things to make your gain. And both the Indias of their treasures spolle. What needeth you to seeke so farre in value? For loeJ my love doth in her selfe containe All this worlds riches that may farre be found; If saphyres, loeJ her eles be saphyres plalne; If rubles, loeJ her lips be rubies sound; If pearles, hir teeth be pearles both pure and round; If yvorle, her forhead yvory weene;

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22 If gold, her locks are finest gold on ground; If silver, her faire hands are silver sheene; But that which fairest is but few behold. Her mind, adomd with vertues manifold.^" Ifow let us examine the Imnaterial thing in "The Good^forrow, " or what would be called in the terms of Aristotle, the conceptual form of love» We find evidence of Donne •s interest in depicting love in a manner that corresponds to the nature of a conceptual form in the organization of his imagery in the first stanza. The many loves of the past are contrasted with the present love; and this contrast is based on whether the many loves of the past, or the one love of the present, may have attained the status of a reality. Of course, as we know from our discussion of Aristotle, the status of reality is attained only when the material thing "becomes the vehicle of sane conceptual determination"; and thus if the material thing does not become the vehicle of some conceptual determination, if the fonn of the material thing is not apprehended then the material does not attain reality. In other words, if love as expressed through an experience of bodies, the matter of love, does not become the vehicle of some conceptual determination, the form of love, then the experience of love lacks reality. The present love, the love depicted in "Tlhe Good-Morrow," has attained the status of a reality, and this is Indicated by its being ^ ^The Conplete Poetical Works of Spenser , ed. R. E. Neil Dodge (Boston, 1935), p. 720. Subsequent citations to Spenser in my text refer to this edition.

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23 opposite in nature to the many loves of the past. The absence of reality in the past loves is indicated first in the opening line by the lack of certainty as to Just what happened before this present love ("I wonder by my troth, what thou, and l/ Did, till we lov'd?"). The unreality of the past loves is further emphasized by metaphorical equation with the vague receptivity of a baby ("were we not wean'd till then?/ But suck'd on countrey pleasures, childishly?"), with an outrageous superstition ("Or snorted in the seaven sleepers den?"), and with the insubstantial quality of fancies and dreams ("all pleasures fancies bee" and "t'was but a dreame of thee"). Now that we have observed how the organization of imagery in the first stanza of "The Good-Morrow" reveals an intellectual concern with whether or not the loves of the past or the present have attained the status of reality, rather than a concern with comparing the loves and the present love on the basis of quantitative measurements (whether or not the present beloved has more beautiful hair, or a more virtuous mind than the past loves) now that we have observed all this we can proceed with an examination of the second stanza. In stanza two, Donne is primarily concerned with the presentation of the love as something intellect ible, abstract, or immaterial; and his emphasis on the intellectual qualities of love is in accord with a mode of thought that corresixjnds to the conceptions of Aristotle and Aquinas in which they hold that the form, the intellect ible, is much more important than the material from which the form originates. The intellectual aspects of the love are first emphasized in

PAGE 32

ai^ the opening line. The main Image responsible for this en5>hasl6 Is the word "soules," If Donne had used the Image "bodies," or sane other image of a material thing, the effect on us, as readers, vould have been entirely different; but the image "soules" centers our attention on imnaterlal things. As to just how we should experience this image "soules," we can be certain that Donne intended for us to experience It not as a vague word denoting a process of our nervous system, but as referring to something existing as a metaphysical reality; for In the time of Donne, and In the poetry of Dorme, "soul" had a definite n«aning, and referred to an actuality, a metaphysical entity. In order that we might adjust our perception to experience the iBBge "soules" from the viewpoint of Donne, and from the viewpoint of a reader of his time, we might review briefly a history of the conception of man having three souls, or three powers of one soul. The develoxRoent of this conception has a long history In western thought. As Zeller points out, the germ of the conception Is found In Plato's Tlmaeus . In the Tlmaeus (696f) only the reasonable part of the soul, which Is localized in the head. Is held to be inmiortal, tdaile courage and the sensual desires, which reside respectively In the chest and the belly, are reckoned to the unreasonable and transient parts of the soul.... Plato never discusses how the three parts of the soul are to be reconciled with the unity of the consciousness. Aristotle, as explained by W. Wlndelband, also asserts that 11 Eduard Zeller, Outlines of the History of Greek Phllosopliy , rev. Wilhelm Nestle, trans. L. R. Palmer (New York, 1931)* ?• 135.

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25 oan has three bouIs* The series of grades of living creatures is determined by differences of soul, which as the entelechy of the body in all things is the Form that moves, changes, and fashions matter. Souls eJ-so have a relative ranking. The lower can exist without the higher, but higher only in connection with the lower. The lowest kind is the vegetative... which is limited in its functions to assimilation and propagation, and belongs to plants. The animal possesses in addition to this a sensitive soul... which at the same time is appetitive. •• and has also to seme degree the power of loconotion. . . .Man possesses, besides both these other sotils, reason.... -'-^ Throughout medieval philosophy there are many different developments of theory concerning the nature of these three souls. Albert the Great holds that the human soul is one single and incorporeal substance with three powers,^ but Roger Bacon considers that, as explained by Gllson, "The intellective soul alone is iimnediately created by God; the vegetative and the sensitive souls are just like the other forms which efficient causes draw out of the potency of matter. "^^ Following the conceptions of Aristotle, Tlicwnas Aquinas also formvilates a theory of three souls. We must therefore conclude that the sensitive soul, the Intellectual soul and the nutritive soul are in man numerically one and the same soul. This can easily be explained, if we consider the differences of species and forms. For we observe that the species and forms of things differ from one another as the perfect and the less perfect; just as in the order of things, the animate are more perfect than the inaniwate, animals more perfect than plants, and man more perfect "w. Wlndelband, History of Ancient Philosophy , trans. Herbert Ernest Cushman (New York, I956), p. STfh, "TBtienne Gllson, History of Christian Philosophy In the Middle Ages (Kew York, 1955), p. 251^1 Ik Gllson, p. 13.

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26 than brute aniiaals. Furthermore, in each oH these genera there are various degrees. For this reason Aristotle compares the species of thiiags to numbers, which differ in species by the addition or subtraction of unity. He also coaapares the various souls to the species of figures, one of vhich contains another, as a pentagon contains and exceeds a tetragon. Thus the intellectual soul contains virtually vhatever belongs to the sensitive soul of brute animals, and to the nutritive soul of plants. Theiefore, jvist as a surface which is of a pentagonal shape is not tetragonal by one shape,, and pentagonal by anotlier—since a tetragonal shape would be superfluous, as being contained in the pentagonal — so neither is Socrates a man by one soul, and animal by another: but by one and the same soul he is both animal and man .^5 And in England during the Renaissance, Edward Grimeston, in his translation (1621) of Nicolas Coeffecteau's A Table of Humane Passions, states But we must remember that the soul, being the form of living things, and natural fonns having this in particular, that the more noble contains the perfection of that which is less noble; as a quadrangle comprehends with a certain eminency all that enters into the composition of a triangle; and as the forms of beasts contain the forms of the Elauents; it follows that there being three degrees of souls; that is to say; that which gives life, which is the less perfect; timt which gives sense, which is the second rank; and the Reasonable, which is the noblest of all; this Reasonable soul, which is peculiar only to man, contains all the powers and perfections of the other, and can effect as much as all the rest together. By reascai whereof man hath a Vegetative soul, which is caramon with plants; he hath the Sensitive, which he hath in ccxnmon with brute beasts; but he alone is in possession of the Reasonable soul, whereby he hath nothing caramon with the rest of the creatures .1" Throughout the poetry of Dorme, we have evidence of his familiarity with the conception of the three souls. The concept of three ^^Aqulnas, pp. 305-06 (ST, I, Q. 76, Art. 5» Ans.). ^"Edward Grimeston, "Of Human Piassions" in Tudor Poetry and Prose, ed. J. William Ifebel, et al. (New York, 1953 )> p. HI?.

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87 souls is ejcpressed In "The Second Anniversary. " Thinks further on thy selfe, my Soule, and thinke How thou at first wast raade but in a sinke; Thinlie that it argued some infirmltie, That those two soules, which then thou foundst in ne. Thou fedst upon, and drevrst into thee, both Vfy second soule of sense, and first of growth. (p. 203, 11. 157-162) The same conception is found in "To The Countesse of Beai-ord," "Honour is so sublime perfection." But as our Soules of growth and Soules of sense Have birthright of our reasons Soule, yet hence They fly not from that, nor seeke presidence. (p. 156, u. 31^-36) And again in "To The Countesse of Salisbury," How faire a proof e of this, in our soule growes? Wee first have soules of growth, and sense, and those. When our last soule, our soule iramortall came. Were swallowed into it, and have no name, (p. i6T, 11. 50-53) Now that we have reviewed the conception of three soule, we can continue our examination of the second stanza of "The Good44orrow," and note additional evidence that Donne in "The Good^orrow" conceives of love as a conceptual form, an immaterial thing that originates from an experience of a material thing. The opening line of the second stanza: "And now good morrow to our waking soules," suggests beyond the literal significance of the line (the fact that the two lovers are awakening) that the souls of the lovers are awakening to a discovery, or a knowledge, of a love that has attained the statue of a reality (as we know from the first stanza).

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28 Since we know fx'om our eacamiaation of the philosophy of Aristotle that the reality of anything is grasped only through the appte&ension of a conceptual form, and since this present love of tlie lovers in the little room has attained tlie status of a reality, we can conclude that the "waking soules" are the intelleetive souls, since the conceptual fona can only be appreliended by the intellective function of the soul, as the sensitive and vegetative parts of the soul have functions in cotmaon with the anijnals and plants* In the second stanza of "The Good-Morrow," lines 9 and 10, the intellectual quality of the love is again stressed, as the love relationship is described as being free from fear (fear being a function of the sensitive soul) free fran the torments of Jealousy. This freedom from tormenting emotions may be achieved through the operation of the intellective soul. This liberating function of the intellective soul, though by no means exclusively understandable in Platonic terms is one of the values of Platonic love as everyone knew who had seen it described by Peter Bembo (in Sir ThcMaas Hoby's translation of Castiglione»8 Courtier, 15^1). To avoid, therefore, the torment of this absence, and to enjoy beauty without passion, the Courtier, by the help of reason, must full and wholly call back again the coveting of the body to beauty alone, and (in vt^t he can) behold it in itself simple and pure, and frame it within his imagination sundered from all matter, and so make it friendly and loving to his soul, and there enjoy it, and have it with him day and night, in every time and place, without mistrust ever to lose it, keeping always fast in mind that the body is a most diverse thing from beauty, and not only not increase th, but diminisheth the perfection of it. In this wise shall our not young Courtier be out of all

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29 bitterness and wretchedness that young men feel (in a manner) continually, as jealousies, suspicions, disdains, angers, desperations, and certain rages full of Ji&dness; whereby many tiiaes they be led into so great error that some do not only beat the women whom they love but rid themselves out of their life.l7 In Platonic love, when the imagination is sundered from the naterial ("the coveting of the body") by the help of the reason (which is a function of the intellective soul), and when the lover centers his thoughts on an intellectible (or as Castiglione describes it— "the beauty that is seen with the eyes of the mind"), the torments, such as Jealousy, \^ich are due to the lover coveting the materiality of his beloved, are eliminated. The love relationship in "The Good-Morrow" has reached an intellectual level, similar to that reached in Platonic love, in which the torments of the human passions, passions being functions of the sensitive soul, are eliminated. Of course, John Donne's conception of love in "The Good-Morrow" is not wholly Platonic, for the love is not actually simdered from all matter; love is sundered from matter only in so far as the imagination is centered on the form rather than the matter of love. In Platonic love, as with Plato's Ideas, the intellectible (the beauty of the mind) is a self -subs is ting reality; but in the love imaged by Donne, as with Aristotle's form and natter, the intellectible (the form of love) is dependent for its existence on the subordinate material element. However, we must not lose sight of the 17 'Hebel, 0£. clt., p. 705. Quoted from Hebel, p. 706.

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30 fact that the material element is very much subordinate to the Intellectual quality. In lines 12 through Ik, the Intellectual quality of the love Is again stressed as the lovers declare the superiority of their intellectually abstract, intelligible world ("an every where" and "Let us possesse one world, each hath one, and is one.") over the material world ("Let sea -discoverers to new world have gone"), and copies of the material world ("Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne). In lines 1^ throu^ l8, the emphasis again falls on the Intellectvial quality of the love. In these lines, the lovers are watching one another; and the reflection of the face of each lover appears In the eye of the other. We, as readers, experience this looking at one another as suggesting the closeness and unity of the lovers. In line l6, the reflections of faces are experienced as symbols of the love ("true plalne hearts"), and then in line 17, we experience the words of the poet, "Where can we finde two better hemispheres," as suggesting that they, the lovers, are through their love now In possession of the best of all worlds, an Intelligible world much superior to the material "new worlds" of the "sea-discoverers" of line 12. Line l8 completes the description of the hemispheres. These half spheres are without the determinations or the differentiations of spatial boundaries ("Without sharpe Hbrth, without declining West"). Since hemispheres without spatial boundaries do not correspond to terrestrial hemispheres, or the representation of actual hemispheres on maps such as those In line 13, they cannot be perceived empirically; and therefore since hemispheres

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31 without spatial boundaries can only be apprehended by a mental operation, they are conceptual In i»ture. Thus frcsa material things, the reflections In the eyes, imoaterial things, conceptual hemispheres, have originated. Since hemispheres are halves of spheres, we, as readers, experience the unity of the lovers, their oneness, as forming a coinplete and perfect sphere, perfect in the sense that it is free ftrom the determinations and limitations of the material. In the concluding lines of "The Good^Morrow," lines 19 through 21, the intellectual quality of the love is again emphasized. In these lines, the love is depicted as Immortal, immortal because the two "loves be one." The doctrine which Is the basis of this logic may be called the doctrine of the simple substance. According to this doctrine, that which is composed of diverse emd disparate elements is mortal, that which is all of one substance immortal. The proposition is at its clearest in Aquinas* description of the oneness of substance, the simplicity of CrOd. The absolute simplicity of God may be shown in many ways.... For there is neither coogwsltion of qvantltative p£«*ts in God, since He is not a body; nor composition of form and matter; nor does His nature differ from His supposltum; nor His essence from His being; neither is there in Him composition of genus and difference, nor of subject and accident. Therefore, it is clear that God is no way composite, but is siltogether siaple*^^ Now therefore when Donne finds a logical causal relationship between the oneness that characterizes the love he speaks of and the deathlessness of it, he is referring to the conspicuous property of a particular kind of 19 / » 'Aquinas, p. 32 ( ST. I, Q.3, Art. 7, Ans.),

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32 oneness. This is not any longer a oneness of two material halves Joined, but a oneness of two intelliglbles which because they are intelllgibleB are not quantitatively measurable. The two Intelligibles, equal in quality and mixed ("mixt equally") have become essentially of one Intelligible substance when they are mixed. And they are one substance without disparate elements. Hence in this respect they are exempt from that which befalls the material, the disparate, the unequally mixed, namely death. Though these loves are like the divine in this respect, the love relationship in "The Good^torrow" retains its connection with form and matter, namely the two lovers, and is not absolutely perfect as God is absolutely perfect; but the love in "The Good-Morrow" approaches a likeness to the divine. In summary, we can state that in the organization of imagery in "The Good -Morrow" what started out as a bodily experience in the specific spatial locality of the little room becomes similar in nature to the divine; and therefore from a material thing has originated an immaterial thing. This immaterial thing metaphysically corresponds to Aristotle's and Aquinas' conception of a form; and this immaterial thir^ is apprehended from the material by the abstractive function of the intellectual soxil of a human being in a similar manner to that described by Aquinas. Now there are three grades of the cognitive powers. For one cognitive power, namely, th e sense , is the act of a corpoi-eal organ. And therefore, the object of eveiy sensitive power is a form as existing in corporeal matter; and since such matter is the principle of individuation, therefore every power of the sensitive part can have knowledge only of particulars. There is another grade of cognitive power which is neither the

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33 act of a corporeal organ, nor in any way connected vith corporeal matter. Such is the angelic intellect, the object of vhose cognitive power is therefore aToS, existing apart from matter; for though angels know material things, yet they do not know them save in something immaterial, namely, either in themselves or in God. ^t the human intellect holds a middle place; for it Is not the act of an organ, and yet it is a power of the soul, which is the form of the body. ... And therefore it is proper to it to know a form existing individually in corporeal matter, but not as existing in this individual matter. But to know what is in individual matter, yet not as existing in such matter, is to abstract the form from individual matter which is represented by the phantaaas. Therefore we must needs say that our intellect understands material things by abstracting from phantasms; and that through material things thus considered we acquire srane knowledge of immaterial things. Just as, on the contrary, angels know material things through the immaterial. But Plato, considering only the limnateriality of the human intellect, and not that it is somehow united to the body, held that the objects of the intellect are separate Ideas, and that we understand, not by abstraction, but rather by participating in abstractions, as we stated above. Just as in "The Good-Morrow," in "The Extasie" an inmaterial thing originates from a material thing. Where, like a pillow on a bed, A Pregnant banke swel'd vip, to rest The violets reclining head. Sat we two, one anothers best. Our hands were firmly cimented With a fast balme, which thence did springy Our eye-beames twisted, and did thred Our eyes, upon one double string; So to 'entergraft our hands, as yet Was all the meanes to make us aae, 10 And pictures in our eyes to get Was ^11 our propagation. As 'twixt two eqviall Armies, Fate Suspends uncertaine victorie Our soiaes, (which to advance their state. Were gone out,) hxing 'twixt her, and mee. And whil'st our soules negotiate there. 20 'Aquinas, pp. 1^01-02 (ST, Q. 85, Art. 1, Ans.).

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3h Wee like sepulchrall statues lay; All day, the same our postures were. And vee said nothing, all the day. 20 If any, so by love refin'd. That he soules language understood, And by good love were gecmea all mlnde, Within convoalent distance stood. He (though he knew not which soul spake. Because both aiMfit, both spake the same) Might thence a new c(»icoction take. And part farre purer than he came. Ihls Extasle doth xxnperjflex (Ve said) and tell us what we love, 30 Wee see by this. It was not sexe. Wee see, we saw not what did move; But as all severall soules c(»talne Mixture of -ttilngs, they know not what. Love, these mlxt soules, do'Ui mlxe agalne. And makes both one, each this and that. A single violet transplant. The strength, the colour, and the size, (ah which before was poore, and scant, ) Redoubles still, and multiplies. kO When love, with one another so Interlnanlmates two soules. That abler soule, which thence doth flow. Defects of lonellnesse controules. Wee then, who are this new soule, know. Of what we are compos *d, and made. Pot, th 'Atomies of which we grow. Are soules, whom no change can izivade. But alas, so long, so farre Our bodies why doe wee forbeare? ^ !niey are ours, though they are not wee. Wee are The intelligences, they the spheares. We owe them thankes, because they thus. Old us, to us, at first convay, Yeelded their forces, sense, to us, Hor are drosse to us, but allay. Oa man heavens Influence workes not so, Rjt that it first inprlnts the ayre, Soe soule into the soule may flow. Though it to body first repaire. ^ As our blood labours to beget Spirits, as like soules as it can. Because such fingers need to knit That subtile knot, which makes us man: So must pure lovez>s soules descend

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35 T' affections, axKl to faculties, Which sense may reach and e^rehend. Else a great Prince in prison lies. To 'our bodies tume vee then, that so Weake men on love reveal 'd may looke; 70 Loves mysteries in soules doe grow. But yet the body is his booke. And if some lover, such as vee. Have heard this dialogue of one. Let bin still marke vta, he shall see SkMLlI change, When ve'are to bodies gone. (pp. 39-^1) In "The Extasle" as in "The Good-Morrow," the material things are the bodies of the lovers ("Wee like sepulchrall statues lay"), and vhile the two bodies remain in this Immobile position, fron their ateriality and the sensible experience of holding hands ("Our hands vere firmly cJmented") originates an activity of immaterial thin^, the negotiation of the souls ("And vhll'st our soules negotiate there"). Through this negotiation of souls, the form of love is apprehended. ^ Tble ai^rehensloa of love takes place during the ecstasy ("Ihls Sxtasie doth unperplex/ (We said) and tell us what we love"); and this ecstasy in the poem "The Extasie" is somewhat similar to the ecstasy in the philosophy of Flotinus, as has been indicated by H. J, C. Grierson in his "Ccomentary" on Donne's poems. In a letter to Sir Thomas Lucy, Donne writes: "Sir I make account that -ttiis writing of letters, when it is with any seriousness, is kind of extasie, and a departing, and secession and suspension which doth then coamimicate itself to two bodies." Ecstasy in Heo-Platwjic philosophy was the state of mind in which lije soul, escaping from the body, attained to the vision of God, the One, the Absolute. Flotinus i^us describes it: "Even the woird vlslMi does not seem appropriate here. It is rather an ecstasy, a slmplicatic»i, an abandonment of self, a perfect quietude, a desire of contact, in short, a wish to zoer^ (Kieself in that which one contemplates in the Sanctuary, " Sixth Ennead, IX, II (from the French

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36 translatloo of BoulUet, 13^7'^)« Readers vill c^>serve how closely DooDe*e po«n egrees with this— the e^codus of the soul (11. 1^-16), the wrfect quiet (u. 13-20), mi. the new iaslj^t (ll. 29-33), the cootact aod union of the souls (l. 32)* Dooae had parobehljr reed Flcloo'e traaslikUoD of Plotlous (1^92), but the doctrine of ecstasy passed into Christian thoui^t, connecting Itself eeoecially with tfaa e:^perlence of St. Baul (2 Cor. XII, 2),^ ftwnrcr, the •eataey la "She Bxtasle" is different from the •wtasy in Plotlnusj for In the poea of Doone, the soul does not •eca^e ftm a coodened body (see U. 50-76). Ihrouehout the phllosopliy of Plotlutts, the bod^ is ooodeaned* She soul fsUon into this etate of laqpurity, selated with an irreslatlble laelination towards the things of sense, abeortwd by her intercourse with the body, swk lato matter, and having even reoeivod it within herself, has efaaaged fioni by her adnixture with an iafttrlor nature* lot otherwlae would be a nan fallen lato sliay oud, who BO longer would pr e sa at to view his primitive beauty, and would exhibit only Urn sg p earanc e of the aud tkmt had da» tiled hia; his ugliaess would be derived from soBsthli« foreigo; and to recover his pristine be«ity he would have to wash off hia def ilenent, and by purif ication be restored to what onee waa**^ ]^»sibly, as OriersoD says, i>onDe did derive hl^ coooeptloo of an ecstasy f^ron Fieioo*s translation of Plotlnis. Bowever, if he did, Dofme has traasfoxned ceod altered Plotinus* conception of an ecstasy; therefore, the only oeeaing that we can assign to the word "fcctasie, " as it eppears in the title of the poea aod within the context of the poen, is the aeealng tiiat Donna assl^M the word thzx)ugh in a structure* nnrbert J. C* Qriarson, **Xntroduction amd Conaratary" in Jhe Poeos of Jcto Doooe. Vol. II (Oxford, 1912), p. U2. Plotinus, Works, ed. Senneth Sylvan Outhrie (London, 19lB)^ P* *»o*

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37 An ecstasy In the poaa "Tbc Extasle* Is a state of being vhlch has originated froa the sensible eiqperience of tuo lovers whose physical behavior is that they hold hands, remain conqpletely motionless in a definite positicm in space (ll. lA)j and while in this state of being, called an "Extasie" within the po«n, the lovers ^in a knowledge of love throu^ the negotiatira of their souls. Thus an ecstasy in the poem "The Extasie" is a state of being in which the point of origin, the material beginning (the bodies of the lovers) is depicted as being inactive; and that which is derived from the bodies, the Imnaterial parts of the lovers, their souls, depicted as being active. Thus the structure of "The Extasie" follows the characteristic pattern of the Image organizaticm in the poetry of John Donne. Limaterial things, the souls, have originated from material things, the bodies of tte lovers, and althou^ the material things are necessary, they are subordinated to the inoaterial, as «ie imaaterial is active aM the material inactive. "A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning" is also organized according to this characteristic pattern in the poetry of John Donne. As virtuous men passe mildly away. And whisper to their soxiles, to goe. Whilst some of their sad friends doe say. The breath goes now, and seme say, no: So let us melt, and make no noise, No teare-floods, nor sign-tempests move, T'were prophanation of our Joyes To tell the layetie our love.

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3t Moving of th*earth brlagt kames aad fe«re8, Neo reckon vbat it did «Bd OMttot, K) But trepidatiOD of the ajtmareB, Sbougb greater faytTe^ is incocmit. Doll 8ua>luiiary Xovera love (Vhoae eoule le eesse) cemot edttit Absence, beceuae it doth reaove Iboae things vhich eUaorated it. But «e by a love, so ouc^ refin'd, Ibat our selves know not vhat it is, Xnter-asaured of the mixKl, Cars Isase, eymy lips, and hands to mlsse* SO Our two aoulta ti»9»fore« vhich are one, though I anst ff», endure not yet A breach, but an eiqpensioo, Lite gold to ayery thinnesse beate* If they be two, th^ sjre two so As stiffs twin ccmpnsses are two, Itay souXe the flxt foot, nakea no shoe 3b move, Imt doth, if the'othor doe* And thoui^ it in the center sit, Tet vhen the oilier far dotti roasy 30 It Xeanes, aad hearkoss after it. And groves er
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39 I, «s «e notumlly to, trm tbt bsbmrlor of tii» frUnBm* Alooy tl» ocijWftlTattlon at imm^ ^ 3iaM 17 tteoetfi i6 toUan tki* dMKWsterteUo sBfetiM. Uiw 20 MtAUobM tte fact ttet m* ttrtol ^lagp* bcrtUy PHRIs* mn a vital •aaneot ia this Ian, aqpa* dally la Its liajlanlng^ tUtaae^ Hm are atAjoK^Oinata to tba lanatarial (U. 17-19)* rtm Vd» low, lit aiOdi tte Vgm* Upa, aaft lante* teve a subovtfiaata functioa, an twaterlal tbiag, bsriag ayiritnal ftHN% aiijtmit tiy tiia laaasa tit tba nainiMiH aoft tbe clrcla, ia pro* Aaead that uaitas the lovars although their oaterlal teiaga are in a t ftrat t ^atial locaUtita. She Icrva, a valty of Ite aoula of th» lovera, thU uaitar balat mqfgm—A ty witi»lwrlni1ly daaetibiaf tte aoula of the lovara aa h&Um vrtB of a aovaaa* jppafluoei a (q^iritual a m i rl iii v i i i aliich U %y tte fiflaw of a circle* Aa «a kaov froi Ida Bi mum At fanSa« l^poe nirtiHie Oiy, lo fha Evaslagy l6ift" to I, aa to oouataaaa €^amn$ a i^iAoil of God la a circle* Ona of tbt aoat ooeveoieirt Slaroglypliidtei of QoA, ia a Ciroltt mA a Cirda ia aodlaaM; nhoM Oed lowaa, taaa Igfvaa to tho aods ana not oaaly to tteir ohb aod» to thair dMll^ tat to hla aad^ aad hia anft ia, that ha ai|^ Xova thaa atiU«S3 fina, imt aa the love ia '^te Good'4larroif'' achieved a lilcen ii ai to tiMi di-riaaf itapliirlinlV Jt^a aaia a ^ the ai^^ aiihatMMMi, tho love ia "A Valadictioax Ta t MMSa m Moumine* ia expariaiieed hy the reader 83 < (lev York, 1938} JohpJPoBae. aha SWBKSt S£, J«*"> Ocaaa* ad* niaaa g e QUX

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uo •8 faanrlng « Hkwn— to the divlzw la that It Is •sg^resMd l^ the flgurs of a circle, vhich Is a ejfaSbol of God. "Hhe Azmlversarle" folloirs somewhat the pattern of "The Good* NozTow*" She aaterlallty of the love le suggested by suc^ lines as "IQiaD tiiou and X first ooe asotbnr sow" and "Must leave at last In death, taiMa •:/•», and eares;" and the isaaterlality of the lov« is sugSMted xarlaarily by lines 7 throu^ 10 irtxlch endow the love with the quali'^ of Imaortallty, a^aln, a characteristic of a sinple substance* All Kings, and all tbeir favorites. All glory of hoiKirs, beauties, wits, 9fae Sun it selfe, which aayces tlM», as they passe, iB alOar hy a yeare, now, than it was Vbta thou and Z first one sootier eawt All other thingB, to their destructlQB draw. Only our l07»» bath no decay; Ihis, no to BoacTcw bath, nor yesterday, BuQSine it never runs frca us away. But truly keepes his first, last, everlasting day* 10 Two grstvea oust hide thine and ay coarse. If one cl^t, death were no divorce* Alas, as veil as other Princes, wee, (Who Prince eaxnj^ in one asotter bee,) Mufcv leave at last in death, these eyes, and eares. Oft fed with true oathes, and with sweet salt teares; But soulM where nothing dwells but love (All other thoughts being innatea) then shall prove This, or a love iaoreased there above. When Bodies to their graves, soules from their gtwves ao And thna wee shall be throuc^hly blest. But wee no acre, than all the rest; nre upoa earth, «e*ere Kings, and none but wee Can be such Kings, nor of such subjects bee* IQio ia ao fase as wee? idiere none can doe ^ B ra ascp to us, except one of us two* True and false feares let us refraine. Let us love nobly, and live, and adde agalne Teares and yeares unto yeares, till we attains To write threescore: this is the second of our rai0ie* ^ (pp. 20-21}

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1^ lu **rhe CBuaonizatlon" the materiality of the love affair is suggeeted by jsages of a bodily condition ("my palsie, or nry gout,/ >|y five gray haires") which create in the mind of the reader a •uggMtlon of iix tangible presence of a hunac being. The innateriallty of the love, which has originated from the sensible experience of the bodies, is suggested by lines 25 through 27, ani by lines kk and h3* For Godsake hold your tongue, and let ne love. Or chide my palsle, or my gout, Ify five gray haires, or ruin*d fortune flout. With wealth your state, your rainde and Arts improve, lake you a course, get you a place, OlMerve his honour, or his grace. Or the Kings reall, or his 6tanQ>ed face CoQtenplate, what you will, approve. So you will let me lov«. Alas, alas, who's injured by my love? 10 Vhat merchants ships have my elghs drown *d? Who sales my teares have overflowed his ground? When did my colds a forward spring remove? When did the beats which my veines fill Adde OQe more to the pleguie Bill? Soldiers fiade warres, and Lawyers finde out still Litigious men, which quarrels move. Though she and I do love. Call us wlat you will, wee are made such by love; Call her one, mce another flye, 20 We 'are TG3>er8 too, and at our owne cost die. And wee in us finde the'Eagle and -the Dove. The Fiioenix ridle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutrall thing both sexes fit. Wee dye and rise the same, and prove Hystericus by this love. Wee can dye by it, if not live by love. And if unfit for tcmbes and hearse Our legend bee, it will be fit for verse; 30 And if no peece of Chronicle wee prove.

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k2 1fe*ll balld In scamets xn>etty roomes; As well a welx wrought urne bectxoeti Tbe greatest asbea, as half-^icre tcnbes^ Axid "by tbese hi/axaos, all shall approve tfe CancM3iz*d for Lavei (pp. 13-lU) And thus ixivcke us; Tou whom reverezid love Mode 023C acotbers hfezmltage; Tou, to vbaa. love vas peace, that now Is rei^; VJho dM. the vhole vorlds scole contract, saad drove ^ Into the glasses o£ your eyes (So Tnade such mirrors, and such spies. That 1^y did all to you epitcnize, ) Countrlss, Tounes, Courts: Beg froa above A patteme of your lovef (pp. 13-lU) In "The Sunne Rising," the "All here in one bed* is a variation oa the "one little rooae an every vhere" of "The OoodMorrov." Also as In *^rhe Good-MorroH, " a sense of e:qperience vhich has its place or origin in a rooa is described in temts of an intellectible, a mathoaatical figure CThis bed thy center is, these vails, thy spbeare"). Busie old foole, uziruly Sunne, Wh^' dost thou thus, Throu^ vlndowes, and thrcugh curtaines call on ust Must to thy motions lovers seasons run? Savcy pedantique vretch, goe chide Late schoole boyes ajoA sowre vrentioes 6oe tell Ckxtrt-huntanen, that the King will ride. Call countrey ants to harvest offices; have, all alike, no season knowes, nor clyxae, Sor boures, dayes, moKteths, vhich are the rags of time. 10 Thy beaaes, so reverend, and strong Why shcnildst thcu thinkeT I could eclipse and cloud them vitLi a vinke. But that I vould not lose hfer sight so l(»gs

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h$ If her eyes have not blinded thine. Looks, and to morrow late, tell uee, Whether both the 'India's of spice and Mfeme Ee vnere thou leftst liiem, or lie here with meet Aske for those Kings whan thou saw'st yesterday. And thou shalt heare, All here in one bed lay* 20 She* is all States, and ftU Princes, I, Nothing else is. Princes doe but play usj cosrper'd to this. All honor's miiaique; all vealth alchljaie* Thaa sunne art halfe as h&fpy'as vee, In that the vorld's contracted thus; Thine age aaks ease, and since thy duties bee To vanae the world, that's done in warming us* Shine here to us, and thou are every wherej OMs bed thy center is, these walls, thy spbeare* 30 (p. 11) In the first stanza of "Loves Growtti," the pattern ajjpears, although sGCievhat varied, as a discovezy made by the poet that love does not have a pure and abstract existence apart from a sensible experience of the material, Just as in the philoscfphy of Aristotle a pure form does not subsist K^rt from matter* I scarce beleeve my love to bo so pure As I had thought it was. Because it dotb endure Vicissitude, and seasoa, as the grasse; Me Idiinkes I lyed all winter, when I swore, Hy love was infinite, if spring -^iake'lt more. But if this medicine, love, which cures all sorrow Vith mo3re, not onely bee no quintessence. But mixt of all stuff es, paining aoxile, or sense. And of the Sunne his working vigio ur borrow. Love's not so pure, and abstract, as they use To say, which have no Mistresse but their Muse, But as all else, being elemented too. Love scmetimes would contes^plnte, sometimes do* (p* 27, 11. 1-11+) Although in "negative Love" the pattern does not appear in its purity, tins love presented in the poem is similar to the love

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Uk In "The Good-Morrow," In "both poens the lo\re ie endowed through figuration with a likeness to the divine. In "The Cfood-Morrow, * It was a straple substance, end in "Negative Love" the love has a likeness to the divine in that it can only be expressed by negatives. ^^ I never stoop 'd so low, as they Which on on eye, cbeeke, lip, can px«y, Seldorae to theff, which soare no higher Than vertue or the aiode t'. *adinire For sense, and laiderstanding may Kaow, what gives fuell to their fire; Ify love, thou^ silly, is more brave. For aay I nlsse, when ere I crave. If I know yet, what I would have. If that be sljjtply perfectest 10 Uhlch can by no way be ei^rest But Itegatives, my love Is so. To All, which all love, I say no. If any who deciphers best. What ve know not, our selves, can know. Let hla teach aee that nothing; This As yet my ease, and comfort is. Though I speed not, I cannot misse. (p. 50) Ano-ttter variati(»i on the basic and characteristic pattern of isamiri orgpEinizaticaj in the poetry of Donne is found in "A Feaver." In this poem a womEm, though she lias a body subject to decay, essentially l8 that vith which the body is joined, an Inoaterial Idling ("the vorldfi soule") which gives meaning and value not only to her own body but to this material world; and when this material world loses this Imnaterial tiling, all Is valueless ("The whole world vapors with thy breath").

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«»5 Oh doe not die, for I shall hate All wcBten so, vhen thou art guie. That thee I shall not celebrate. When I ranoBber, thou vast one. But yet thou canst not die, I knov. To leave thie world behlnde, is death. But vhen thou from this world wilt goe. The whole world vapors with thy breath. Or If, when thou, the worlds soule, goest. It stay, tis but thy cax-iasse then, 10 The fairest wcmao, hut thy ghost. But corrupt wormes, the worthyeet laen. wrangling schooles, that search what fii'e Shall bume this world, bad none the wit Ifcito this knowledge to aspire. That this her feaver might be ItT And yet she cannot wast by this. Nor long beare this torturing wrong. For such convptiaa needfull is To fuell such a feaver long. 20 !n»se burning fits but meteors bee, Vhose matter in thee is soone spent. Thy beauty, 'aaad all parts, which are thee. Are iu3 changeable flrtaazuent. Yet t*vas of my minde, seising thee, Througli it in thee cannot persever. For I had rather owner bee Of thee cme houre, than all else ever. (p. 18) Althou^ in a number of poems the pattern of an Iraaaterial thing originating frcm a material thing, with the Isnaterial dependent for Its exist«jce on the material, and the material for its value on the laoaterial, does not appear in its e:cact form, in such poems as "A Valediction: Of The Booke" and tioves Alchymie* there Is a suggestion that the mode of thought behind tliiis characteristic pattern of ima^ organisation f oxibs the ccmceptual outlook from which the poegos

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U6 were written. For exaaple, in these poems Donne ridicules a purely spiritual love, a love which in the Platonic manner has a selfsubsistence apart from matter. In the first of these i>oems beauty (and here the meaning is clearly physical beaul^) is in a joking understatement advanced as a COTvenlent larefiguration of spiritual love. Here Loves Divines, (since all Divini-ty Is love or wonder) may finde all they seeke, Whetbar abstract spirituall love they like. Their Soules e>i:al*d with what they do not see. Or, loth 80 to amuze I^ths infinaite, they chuse Something which they may see and use; For, though minde be the heaven, where love doth sit. Beauty a convenient type may be to figure it. ("A Valediction » Of ITae Booke" p. 25, 11. 28-36) In the second poem Donne boldly derides 'Snretches" w1k> lK)ld that marriage is oily of the mind* That loving wretch that sweares •Tis not the bodies marry, but the mindes. Which he in her Angelique f indes. Would sweare as Justly, that he heares. In that dayes rude hoarce minstralsey, the spheares. Eope not for minde in wcoien; at their best Sweetnesse axA wit, they'are but Mummy, possest* ("Loves Alchymit" p. 31| 11. I8-2U) In "An Anatomie Of The World: 'She First Anniversary and The Second Anniversary," the characteristic pattern of image organisation is developed in a scmewhat different manner; but the basic mode of thou^t behind the image organizaticm is the tame as in the character" Istic pattern. The "she" or "shee" of "An Aratcoie of the World" is described in terms that would make of her an lumaterial but effective

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^T force which gives meaning and value to the laaterlal, and vithout this preservative force the laaterlftl loses all value. Jaagery depicting the "she" as such an liaaiaterial thing, a unifying and preserving force, that vhlch gives value to the material. Is widespread throughout the "The First Anniversary* for exaanple, ttie poet addressing the world aserts that Her naaie defined thee, gave tiiee forme and frane (p. 187, 1. 37). In coinaenting upon "toe moral influence of his "shee" he observee fhe Cyaent which did faithfully coBpect, And glue all vertues, uow resolved and slacked (p. 1B7, 1. ^^9). As he addresses her, describing her power to preserve the world, he speske of Thy* instrinsique balme, and thy preservative (p. 187, 1. 57). She is a sort of world soul: Thou^ shee which did inanimate and fill The world • . • (p. 188, 11. 68-69). And here she is the macrocosm: She that had all Magnetlque force alone. To draw, aad fgsten oundred^parts iii one; She whan wise natL$*e^iiad Invented then When she observed that every sort of men

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US Did In their voyage la this vorlde Scja stray. And needed a new coapasse for their way; She tliat was beet, and first orlglnall Of all faire copies, and the generall Steward to Fate; ahe vhoae rich ey«% and breast Guilt the West Indies, and perfum*d the Ea^^t; Who having breath 'd In this world, did. bestofv Spice on those Ues, and bad them still sciell so. And tliat rich Indie which doth gold interre, Is but as single money, coyn*d from her: She to whoa this world must it sclfe refer. As Suburbs, or the Mlcrocosme of her. (p. 191, 11. 221-235). When the influence and control of the limaterial "shee" has been severed fron this world, all meaning, significance and value are lost. ISatural order is disturbed and the world proceeds toward dissolution: "This World in that great earthquake laz^guished" (p. I86, 1. 11) • Man has lost all significance and identity: "That thou has lost thy sense and memory." (p. l87» 1. 28) and "Thou hast forgot thy naiae, thou hadst; thou wast/ Nothing but shee, and her IJiou hast o'rpast" (p. I87, 11. 3I-32). Confusion prevails, there is no coBBminication, there is a return to the Tower of Babel: "... pooire mothers cry,/ That children cone not ri^t or orderly" (p. I68, U. 9^^). 1'^ separated from the control and influence of the giver Of Binning eaai, dimity, is seen as contemptible in his purely material state: his life is a mere insignificant speck in time, "Alas, ve acarce live long enough to try/ Whether a true made clocke run right, or lie" (p. 1^, 11. 129-30); he is meagre In apparent control: "A wager, that an Elephant, or Whale,/ That met him, would not hastily assaile/ A thing so equall to hla" (p. I89, 11. 139-^1). Without a

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li9 relationship to an immaterial thing, man Is absolutely no-taiing: "Wi what a trifle, and poore thing he is!/ If man were any "tMng, be*s nothing now" (p. 190, 11. 170-Tl) and "Quite out of joynt, almost created lame* (p. 191, 1. 192). Since the control and influence of the Immaterial has been separated frcta this world, the values of haimcaay, order, propriety, symmetry, have been marred and lost. The circiilar shape in its selfcontained purity has been disturbed and rendered out of prpportiwj by eccentric parts and angular shapes* We thinke the heavens enjoy their l^hericall. Their round proportion embracing all. But yet their various and perplexed course. Observed in divers ages, doth enforce Men to fizide out so many Eccentriq,ue parts. Such divers downe-right lines, such over thwarts. As disproportion that pure fozue. • • • (p. 192, 11. 251-57) Are these but warte, and pock-holes in the face Of th'eorth? IHiinke so: but yet confesse, in this The worlds proportion disfigured is. (p. 193, 11. 300-02) That beauties best, proportion, is dead. (p. 193, 1. 306) And had the world his .iust proportion, Vere it a ring still. « . • (p. 19U, 1. 3^2) The same type of organization prevails in "The Second Anniversary." The "shee" is again an immaterial thing which gives value to the material ("Because shee was the forme; that made it live*-

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50 p. 201, 1, 72), Without this preserrlng force of the Itnoaterlal, all is oeanlngless, frantic, aiid grotesque like the gestures of a beheaded laan (a very Interesting iaage In that the Immaterial c<»itrol has been severed froa the material, axjd the asiterial has been rendered meanlngleso } . Or as sonetlines In a beheaded nan, !ntough at those Red seas, vhlch freely ranne. One frcsa the Trunke, another frora the Head, Hla soule be sall'd, to her etemall bed, His eyes will twlnckle, and his tongue will roll. He graspes his hands, and he pulls up his feet. And seemes to reach, and to step forth to laeet His soule; vhen all these motions vhlch ve saw. Are but as Ice, vhlch crackles at a thav: Or as a Lute, vhlch in moist veather, rings Her knell al(»g, by cracking of her strings: So struggles this dead vorM, now sbee Is gone. (p. 199-200, 11. 9-21) &a the DlTlne Poems the same type of Image organization vhlch Ijresented a love relatlraishlp betveen human beings In the Songs and Scpete Is now used to express a relationship to God. The subject has changed, but the form of expression often remains the same. For example. In the poem **Upon the Annuntlaticai And Passion" the depiction of man*s relationship to God Is e^gpressed thr(»i^ similar patterns as man's relationship to vcoan vas expressed in "A Valdiction: Forbidding Mourning" and other poems through the Son^ and Sonets . Tamely, fraile body, abstaine to day; to day Hy soule eates tvice, Christ hither and avay. , She sees him man, so like God made in l^s, That of then both a circle en&leme is. Whose first and last concurre; this doubtfull day Of feast or faat, Christ came, and vent avay, Sbee sees him nothing twice at once, vho*is all;

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51 Shee sees a Cedar plant It selfe, and fall. Her Maker put to making, and the head Of life, at once, not yet alive, yet dead. She seen at once the virgin mother stay RecluB*d at heme, Publlque at Golgotha; Sad and rejoyc'd shee's seen at once, and seen At alnost f if tie, and at scarce fifteene. At once a Soone is promised her, and gone, Gabriell gives Christ to her, He her to John; Hot fully a mother, Shee's in Orbltie, At once receiver and the legacie. All this, and all betweene, this day hath shofwne, Th 'Abridgement of Chrlsts story, vhich makes c«e (As in plaine Ifeps, Hve furthest West is East) Of the 'Angels Ave *, and Consunaatten est * How veil the Church, Gods Court of faculties Beales, in some times, and seldome Joyning these I As by the selfe-fix'd Pole vee z>ever doe Direct our course, but the next starre thereto. Which showes where the 'other is, and which we say (Because it strayes not farre) doth never stray; So God by his Church, neerest to him, wee know And stand firme, if vee by her aoticw goe; His Spirit, as his fiery Pillar doth Leede, and his Church, as cloud; to one end both. This Church, by letting these dales Joyne, hath shown Death and conception in mankinde is one; Or 'twas in him the same humility. That be would be a man, and leave to be: Or, as creation he hath made, as God, With the last Jud«^Knt, but me period. His imitating Spouse w(Mild Joyne in «ae Ifenhoods extrooes: He shall come, be is gone: Or as though o«3e blood drop, which thence did fall. Accepted, would have serv'd, he yet shed all; So though the lease of his paines, deeds or words. Would busie a life, she all this day affords; This treasure then, in grosse, my Soule uplay. And in my life retaile it every day, (pp. 236-37) The image pattern of lines 29 and 30, "So God by his Church, neerest to him, wee know/ And stand firme, if wee by her motion goe," is very similar to that expressing the quality of the loved one in "The Sunne Rising"— "All here in one bed lay" (l. 20) and "She 'is all States, and

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52 all Princes* (l, 2l), Donne's attraction to the selection of iioaees of enclosed places, the "one little roame" of "The Good-Morrow,'' is deoonstrated again in the phrase "Reclus'd at heme" (l. 12) of ^Upaa the Annuntiatlon and Passion." Very similar to the pattern of "For love, all love of other slfijxts controules" (l. lO) of "The Good-Morrow" is ihe control of the roving eye through dedication to God in the poem, "The Crosse." Here spiritual dedication is signified by the subjection of the eye to the Influence of the cross— "crossing." But most the eye needs crossing, that can rone. And move J To the 'other th' objects must come hocie. (p. 235, U. U9-50) In the sonnet "The Annunciation" there are Image ixattems very slailar to the "cxie little roome, an every where" of "The Good-Morrow." Notice lines 13 through 1^* Salvation to all that wlH is niph; That All, which always is All every vhere. Which ceomot sinne, and yet all sinnes must beare, Which cannot die, yet cannot chuse but die, Loe, faithfull Virgin, yeelds himselfe to lye In prison, in thy worabe; and tliougli he there Can take no sinne, nor thou give, yet he viU veave Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may trie* Sre by the spheares time was created, thou Wast in his mlnde, who is thy Sonne, and Brother; Whoa thou conceiv'st, conceiv'd; yea thou art now Thy Makers maker, and thy Fathers mother; Thou 'hast light In darke; and shutst in little roome, toaensity cloys tered in thy deare vombe . (p. 231) This general tendency to use the same forms of organization to expresB the divine that were used In the Songs and Sonets occurs

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53 throughout the Plvine Poems, and as ve have seen from our examiiiation of Donne's poema, the basic and characteristic pattern of Image organization is that In vhich an imiaaterial thing originates from a material thing, vith the iiamaterial thing being dependent for its existence oc the oaterial and vith the saaterlal thing being dependent for its value on the liaraaterial. This pattern of organization indicates a mode of thou^t similar to some of the conceptions of Aristotle and Aquinas.

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CHftPTER HI OSORGE HERHEECT la the English poetry of George Herbert, the dcninaBt mode of ImagB orangizatlon Is built ttpon a described bodily state or ordluary physical action vhich is Ijoaedlately endowed vlth a Bpirltual jmeanlng* For exanrple, in the opening line of "The Collar *• ("I struck the boaard, and cry'd. No More.") a physical cwtion is presented as an event in this vorldt On one level of meaning, a revolt from the restrictions of a life dedicated to irellgloo ie suggested; but, at the sane time, this physical action is part of a context that expjresses the spiritual truth of the eternal presence of the forgivlog love of God» Let us examine "The CcTlar," and note how Hsrbert suggests the eternal presence of the love of God, although the surface meaning of the lines expresses a revolt against God. I struck the board, and cry*d. Ho more. I will abroad. What? shall I ever si^^ end pine? M^ lines and life are free; ftree as the rode, Looee as the winde, as large as store. Shall I be still in suit? Have Z no harvest but a thorn To let me bloud, and not restore What Z have lost with cordlall fruit? Sure there was wine Before my si^is did drie it: there was com Before my tears did drown it» Is the yeare ooely lost to me? Save I no bayes to crown it? lb flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted? 3^

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55 All vastedt Hot 80, my heart; but there Is fruit, Az^ thou haet hands. Recover all thy slgh-blovn age On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute 80 Of vhat is fit, and not. Forsake thy cage. Thy rope of sands. Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw. And be thy lav. While -Uiou didst vink and vouldst not see* Away; take heed: I vill abz'oad. Call in thy deaths head there: tie up thy fears. He that forbears 30 To suit and serve his need. Deserves his load. But as I rav*cl and grew more fierce and vilde At every vord. Me -tiiQught I heard one calling. Child ! And I reply'd, J^ Lord.^ The main indication of the eternal presence of the love of God is in the last two lines of the poem. The i>oet thinks that he hears scneone calling, "Child "j ai^ he recognizes this voice to be isiukt of God. The intlnacy of the relationship is suggested by enq>loyment of the traditional synbols of the Christian conception of a relationship between man and God, that of a child and a father* Inti<* macy is also suggested by presenting this relationship in the fozm of a ccnmunication, that in vhich a father because of his love is always willing to forgive his rebellious child, and that in vhich a rebellious child finds cooposure through a reconciliation vith his father. ^'^ghe Works of George Herbert, ed. F. E. Hutchinson (Oxford, 19'nX pp. 153-PT Subsequent citations to Herbeirt in my text refer to this edition.

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56 The last two lines also suggest the inward presence of Godf tl» Indwelling spirit of God In every man. The indvelling spirit of God is suggested by presenting God as a thought, an inward experience of a sound whose source is not at first recognized, rather than as something seen or tangibly present* The spirit of God has been in the poet all along, but has been subdued by rebellious thoughts. In spite of the raving, the growing fierce and wild— a state of emoticmal turmoil in which the poet actually loses coatrol of his thought processes which have been directed toward a revolt against God— the spirit of God gains coo-brol and brings ccoqposure* The answer "tfy Lord" sug^sts a rededication and closeness to God. The restlessness, the rebellion, has actually bad the result of bringing the poet closer to God, and thus the restlessness has a spiritual meaning.'* ^The theme of restlessness as a spiritual force that brings man closer to God is also found in "The Pxilley." The deed imaged in this poem is of course siipposed to have been done by God, but the characteristic pattern of physical action and spiritual meaning is clear. At the moment, however, our main interest in "The Pulley** is its coonimtary on the spiritual significance of "The Collar. VJhen God at first made man. Having a glasse of blessings standing by; Let us (said he) poure aa him all we can: Let the worlds riches, which dispersed lie, Contract into a span. So strength first made a way; Then beautie flow'd, then wisdome, honour, pleasing i When almost all was out, God made a stay. Perceiving that alone of all his treasure Rest in the bottcme lay. ^0

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57 The eternal presence of the love of God is suggested not only in the last two lines, but by various devices throughout the ponrn. If H erbert had not planted the suggestion of the o tsmal presence of the love of God earlier in the poem, the concluding lines would cone as a coniplete surprise, a sudden reversal without preparation; and there would have the unpleasant feeling of being tricked. But this unpleasant feeling does not occur since tto ccocluslon is organic, prepared for in the body in "tiie work* One of the devices of preparation is in line k. While on the surface, the phrase ''free as the rode" means that the poet is free to discard the restrictions of the religious life, it also suggests a second jfoeaning* In "free as the rode" tbere is a pun* Its first meaning is of course vhat we now spell "read." Its second meaning, probably best taken to depend caj delayed recognition, is what we spell "rooi, " signifying cross * The sound of rode may be bcBon^mlc with rood in certain eastern and Midland dialects *3 For if I should (said he) Bestow this Jewell also on my creature. He would adore my gifts in stead of me. And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature: So both should losers be* Yet let him keep the rest. But keep them with repining restlesnesse; Let hlffl be rich and wearle, that at least. If goodnesse lead him not, yet wearinesse Mpy tosse him to my breast. **' (pp* 159-60) 3see Helge Kokeritz, Shftk*>BTM»a3r<»»g Pronunciation (Mew Haven, 1953 )y P* 231* That Herbert was familiar with such forms is Indicated, for example, by the fact that he spent some time. In his early life, in i^intingdon*

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58 That the conclusion of the poem describes the speaker 'tree as the rood" 1& clear enough, but this pun cones at a time in the poem when nel'Uier that kind of freedoo, nor indeed the fact of the pim itself is yet clear* An examination of scoe of the iioagery in the poem, that of linos 7 thi^ouj^ 12, will reveal why the conclusion seeas appropriate, as a necessary ccaapletion of the e:
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59 vould be very difficult to believe that he did not associate similar Biblical metaphors vlth this particular group of Imaees in his poem* In the Biblical passage, salvation is expressed throu^ the oetaphc^ fruit, vhlch is a harvest. Also In the Christian tradition, the vord vine is often associated vlth the blood that Christ shed on the cross for the salvation of mankind. The vords "thozii'' and "blood** are also often associated vlth the redenptlve suffering of Christ through vhlch nan vas saved. Since all five vords, **fruit,*' '•harvest," •Siine," "thorn,** and '*bloud,'' are associated in the Christian tradition vlth salvati(» throu£^ Christ; the Juxtaposition of these vords evokes the traditlraaal Christian association and adds another dimensloQ of meaning. While the surface level presents explicitly a rebellic» against God, the Juxtapositioo of the imagery suggests that the only true salvation is tbroiigh Christ. In the midst of this rebellioo against a dedication to God, the Juxte^position of the Imagery suggests the invard presence of God Instructing that the only true salvation is through Christ. Thus, this stylistic device of the Juxtaposition of laagery prepares for the appearance of God at the conclusion of the poem. Nov that ve have observed hov the Juxtaposition of imagery suggests a meaning different from that of the surface, and prepares for the conclusion, let us examine hov the imagery, vhlch presents ultimately a spiritual meaning, is organized as a bodily action.

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60 The openlag line of **Tlae Collar" Is typical of the linage organizatioo throughout the poems of Oerbert. To depict on the surface a state of restlessness in the matter of religious dedication, Herbert begins vith the Image "I," and this "Z" is engaged in the physlccd act of striking a ''boaird'* and uttering a cry, and thus a disturbed state of the soul is su£^sted by a physical action. Id lines 2 throu|^ 6, the "I will abroad" and '*ify lines are free, free as Hie rode" convey a sense of freedcm from coostrictlon* The repetition of the "free" and the addition of the "loose" reinforce this feeling of the lack of ctxistrictioo* Lines 7 through 12 continue the presentation of the event as a bodily e:xperlence» We have already discussed the spiritual meaning of these lines, and now ve will exaaiine how the surface meaning is presented as a bodily experience* The "thorn," since it is connected with the "To let me bloud, " is presetted as a painful sensation, and on this surface level of meaning, "wine" and "fruit" are presented as taste sensations* Snagery of bodily action cootinxies throu^xiut the poem* In lines 17 and l8 the possibility of reaching for and gathering fruit is presented as an anticipated action of the body. The "Forsake thy cage,/ Thy rope of sands,/ Which pettle thou^^rts have made" is presented as an anticipated release from bodily coastrlctloo. The sane e^gperieace of an anticipated release from bodily constrlctloo Is contained in the "tie iqp thy fears," and the "load" of line 32 is

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61 presented as bodily pressure* In the examlsatlon of '*Tbe Collar," ve have observed how a spiritual measlng Is conveyed through events of bodily actions* An event In this world figures a divine sieanlng* This mode of organising imagery corresponds to "flgural realism" as described by Erich Auerbach in his essay on Dante i n Mimesis i In my essay "Figura" • • ., I have shown— >convinclngly, I hope—that the Comedy is based on a figural view of things. In the case of three of its most iJiq[>ortant characters— Cato of Utica, Virgil, and Beatrice— I have attenqpted to demonstrate that their appearance in the other world is a fulfillment of their appearance on earth, their earthly iqppearance a figure of their appearance in the other world. I stressed the fact that a figural schema pexmits both its pol«s— the figure and its fulfillment— to retain the chftiacteristicB of concrete historical reality, in c
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62 Of course, the poetry of George Iferbert Is distinctly different from the Divine Comedy, but the relationship between the historical event and its symbolical meaning vhich is Indicated by the term "figural realism* is almost exactly parallel to the relationship in ^rbert between material things or events on the one hand and their conceptual or spiritual meaning on the other. His imagery depicts things and events which retain, if we may borrow the words, "The characteristics of concrete • • • reality and an event taken as fig-ire preseirves its literal material meaning. It remains an event, does not became a mere sign, "The significant difference between the devices of Dante and Herbert, of course, is that whereas Dante's events were historical, Herbert's were consciously fictional or personal* fiut in both modes of poetic expres8i(»i the event as event is accorded Importance at the same time that linportance is attributed to t^iat of which it is the sign. A specific manifestation of "figural realiatt" in the poetry of Herbert is the use of a physical event, especially a bodily state or action, as a figuration of a divine meaning* This mode of image organizatlc»] was illustrated in the discussion of "The Ck^Uar" in which the physical act of striking the board has the ultimate meaning that restlessness brings man closer to God. "Figural realism," in which an event in this world figures something divine, has its counterpart in the doctrine that a correspondence e:iists between the physical

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6i and spiritual, tbat created beings and the actions of created beings reveal their creator, God. The doctrine of correspondence finds its Bjost conBBon exemplification in the sayings of Jesus about the grain of vheat and the mustard seed. Also, the doctrine Is expressed by Thonas Brownet Thus there are two bocdces from whence I collect my Divinity; besides that written one of God, another of his servant ftiture, that universall and publil'. Manuscript, that lies expensed unto the eyes of all; those that never saw him in the one, have discovered him in the other: This was the Scripture and Theology of the Heathens; the naturall motion of the Sun made th pfi* more admire him, than its supematurall station aid the Children of Israel; the ordinary effect of nature wrought more admiration in them, than in the other all his miracles; surely the Heathens knew better how to joyne and reade these nysticall letters, than wee Christians, who cast a more carelesse eye on these common HieroglyphidtB, and disdain to suck Divinity from the flowers of nature .6 In George Herbert's poem "^The Flower," the doctrine of correspondence is presented by suggesting that the life cycle of a flower corresponds to the life cycle of a man. Both the flower and the man are bom, die, and are bom again into a new life. The poati illustrates an extension of Herbert's characteristic image pattern in that the growth of a flower (a physical event) states figuratively a divine truth concerning the life of a man. How fresh, Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns! ev*n as the flowers in spring; To which, besides their own demean. The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. %ir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici in Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose, Vol. 1 : 16OO-166Q, ed. Helen C. Wnite, et al.(New York, 1951)* p. 322.

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6k Grief melts away Like snow In May, As if there vere no such cold thing. Who vould have thought ny shrivel *d heart Could have recover *d greencesse? It was gone Quite under ground; as flowers depart 10 To see -ttieir mother-root, vhen they have blown; Where they together All the hard weather. Dead to the world, keep Hob house unknown. These are tiiy wonders. Lord of power. Killing and quickning, bringing down to hell And up to heaven in an hnure; Making a chiming of a passing-bell. We say amisse. This or that is: 80 Thy word is all, if we could spell. that I once past changing were. Fast in thy Paradise, where no flower can wither! Many a spring I shoot up fair. Off ring at heav»n, growing and groning thither: Hor doth my flower Want a spring-showre, Ify sizmes and I joining together: But while I grow in a straight line. Still upwards bent, as if heav*n where mine own, 30 Thy anger ccotes, and I decline: What frost to that? what pole is not the zone. Where all things bum. When thou dost turn. And the least frown of thine is shown? And now in age I btad again. After so many deaths I live and write; X once more smell the dew and rain. And relish versing: my onely light. It cannot be That I am he kO On wbco thy tempests fell all ni^t. These are thy wonders. Lord of love. To make us see we are but flowers that glide: Which when we once can f inde and prove. Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide.

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65 Vho vould be more. Swelling throu^ store. Forfeit their Paradise by their pride. (pp. 16:j-167) Mow that ve have observed In sooe detail tbs operatloa of a characteristic Image petttm In a few poems, let us see how, by recurring frequently. It can be called donlnant In Herbert. At the same time we shall notice that the pattern even In the limits of Herbert's prevailing devotional mood, finds a rich variety of poetic uses. In *^rbe Size" the Christian state of being Is depicted through Imagery of the weight and formation of ihe body. A Christians state and case Is not a corpulent, but a thlnne and spare. Yet active strength; whose long and bonle face Content and care Do seem to equally divide. Like a pretender, not a bride. (p. 138, 11. 31-36) In the same poem, God's state when In this world Is depicted by the image of a coztdltltxi of the body, hunger. To be in both worlds full Is more than God was, who was bungrle here. (p. 138, 11. 13-lU) Lnagery of thinness of the body Is used a^ln In "Easter -wrings" to depict a Christian state of being. Hy tender age in sorrow did beglnne: AikL still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish slnne. That I became Most thlnne. (p. U3, 11. 11-15)

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66 In "H. Baptlsme(Zl)» " Herbert UM« the growth of the fleah, the increase of the body In size and velght^ as an Ina^ of that vhlch keeps a person fran entering the "narrow vay and little gate*" Since, Lord, to thee A narrov vay and little gate Is all the p&ssage, on lu-y Inf vu?.cie Thou didst lay hold, and antedate Ify faith in me. let ae still Write thee great Grod, and me a chllde: Let me be soft and supple to thy vlll. Small to ay self, to others mllde Behlther ill, 10 Althouf^ by stealth Hy flesh get on, yet let her sister )fy^ soul bid nothing, but preserve her vealth: The growth of flesh is but a blister; Childhood is health* (p. H) Thinness and leanness are used to suggest spiritual tmrest in "Affliction (I)" Thus thlnne and lean without a fence or friend, I was blown through with ev'ry storm and wizide* Whereas my birth and spirit rather took The vay that takes the town; Thou didst betray me to a llngrlng book. And wrap me in a gown. I was entangled in the world of strife, Before I had the power to change my life. (p. U7, U. 35-^2) In "Church-monuments" growing fat is connected with vantcmness "in thy cravings," and considered a state not to be valued too highly. To sever the good fellowship of dust. And spoil the meeting. What shall point out them.

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i? Vtaen they staall bcw, and kneels and fall doHD flat fb klsM tiioM taaapSf vhicdi mw th^ have la txiiatf Dear fXash^^ dMSjb 1 do pray, Imura hare tiiy o U—a A'ld true daaoant; that vhen thou ohalt grew ta.%, Aad wanton In thy cravln^B, thou aayst knoti. That flesh Is hut the glaaae, vhlch holds the dust tEliat aaaauaraa all our tine; which alao ahall Ba enafttled toto dust* Marts hare balow Sow tana ttaaae aahae are« hou tvttm troa lust, '• fhat thou anyst fit thy self a^Maat thy fall* (p. 65, U, 13*Si») Ao laafle of a part of tha body, the ^pe, la used as ao ajur aa a ive device in e ouaber c^ Herbert's poena* "Mettena" etarte with the tetany of om not able to open tba eyM, "Z oaaD0t opa m$m ayM* (p* 62, 1. !)• &i "nath* the iawoeiy tidbaa tbm fom of dim sl^t* lotrd, bow couldst thou so nucb agppaaaa Thy wrath for aiane oa, whKi aans si^t was dlHBa« And could see little, to regard hia aaae. And bring by Faith all things to hia? (p* U9, 11. l-U) *Gtdk and fteisht eyes" arc used as psrt of a pattern of a disturbed ccoditioa laalnly expresaed ty inf ixnitlM in various parte of the body ±a "Longing** to e ^tpr aa s nan's yearning for Ood* With sick and fsmlsfateyes. With doubling knees and weary bones. To thaa ay oriea. To thaa ay crooea, Tb tbM oy sigt», ay team ascmid: Md aoAt (p. lUd, u* 1-6) In "Chacaa sod Knat^ thnra is a prescription tac the prevention of "ill eyas**— ttis "sick and famisUbeyes" of "Longing," the readiai; of

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68 the Bible. Who reede a chapter vhen they rise, Shall ne*re be troubled with ill eyes. (p. 96, 11. 1-2) Imasee of various disturbed bodily conditions in the forms of fevers, h e adaches, and fractures are used to express the spiritual plight of man. Lord, hov I am all ague, vhen I seek What I have treasur'd in my memoriet Since, if my soul make even vith the veek. Each seventh note by rig^t is due to thee. I fiade there quarries of pil»d vanities. ("The Sinner," p. 38, 11. 1-5) One ague dvelleth in my bcnns, Another in my eoul (the memorie. What I vould do for thee, if once my grones Coiild be allov*d for harmonie): I am in all a veek disabled thing. Save in the sight thereof, where strengtai doth sting, ("The Crosse," p. I65, 11. 13-18) Hy flesh began unto my soul in pain. Sicknesses cleave my bones; Consuming agues dwell In cv'ry vein. And tune my breath to grones. ("Affliction (I)," p. U7, 11. 25-26) I have abused thy stock, destroy 'd thy voods^ Sudsball thy magazens: my head did ake. Till it found out how to consiaws thy goods: do not scourge met ("Sighs and Grones," p. 83, 11. 9-12) But thou wilt sinne and grief destroy; That so the broken bones may Joy, And tune together in a well-set song, ^ Pull of his praises. Who dead men raises. Fractuz*es well cur*d make us more strcHig. ("Repentance," p. 1»8, 11, 3I-36)

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JoBeery of painful touch (» pressure sensations, the infliction of pain upoo the body, occur tloroughout the poems of lierbert* The spearing of Christ in the poem "The Bag" is arranged in such a manner idbaa an acute sense of bodily pain, a pressure or "ttirust upoi the body, is cooveyed. The pain experi^aced fraai "That ran upon HiD vith a spear" is extremely acute, the vhole force of a running body is behind the piercing thrust* But as he was returning, there cane ooe That ran upon him vith a spear* Be, vho cane hither all alone. Bringing nor man, nor arms, nor fear, Recelv*d the blow upon his side. And straight he tum*d, and to his bretht*an cry*d. (p. 151, 11. 25-30) Two stanzas in "Sighs and Gkrones** contain a plea not to be made a victim of a painful touch or pressure, a "bruise" or "grind." do not use me After my sinnest look not on my desert. But OB thy gloriet then thou vilt reform And not refuse me: for thou coely art The mlghtie God, but Z a sillle worm; do not bruise met (p. 83, U. 1-6) do not blinde met I have deserv'd that an Egyptian night Should thicken all my powers; because my lust Bath still sow'd fig-leaves to exclude thy llfi^t: But I am frailtie, and already dust; do not grinde met (p. 83, u. 13-18) In "The Crosse" an>ears another image of very violent pain and pressure exerted by a rope winding about and cutting the heart.

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70 Ah my deare Father, ease my smart 1 Thsee cootrarletles crush me: these crosse actione Doe winde a rope about, and cut my heart: Aod yet since these thy ccmtradlctloos Are properly a crosse felt by the Sonne, With but f oune words, ay vords. Thy vill be done * (p. 165, 11. 31-36) Thfe experience of the extresie pain of being chained by the teeth occxirs in "Home** Vhat is this veary vorld; this meat sad drlnki That chains us by the teeth so fast? (p4 108, 11 • 36-37) Throughout the above patterns of pednful pressure, Herbert has a tendency to select images of soft objects, the vozm, or extremely sensitive bodily parts to receive the pressure: a heart aod the teeth* Sin haomers the heart until it becooes hard and insensitive in "toace*" Sinne is still haoDering my heart Ibto a hardnesse, void of love* (p. 60, 11. 17-18) The brain is stoned in "Sepluchre*" Utaere our hard hearts have toc^ up stones to brain thee, Aad mlssixig this, most falsly did arraigne thee Ooely these stones in quiet entertain thee. And order* (p* kl, 11. 13-16) The eye is pricked in "Faith." That vhich before vas d^rkned clean With bushie groves, pricking the lookers eie*

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n anlsht away, vhen Faith did change the scene: A39d then appear *d a glorious skle* (p. 51, U. 36-itO) The eyes are pricked again in "Pralltle." But vhes I viev abroad both Begiaients; The vorlASf and thlnet Thine clad with slnplecesse, and sad events; The other fine^ Full of glorle and gay veeds. Brave language, braver deeds: That which was dust before, doth qulckJy rise, And prick mine eyes, (p. 71, 11. 9-16) In "Afflictioo (I\r)" thou^ts becooe knives that wound the heart. Of course, "heart" does suggest a state of belsg, but Is eo arranged In Herbert as also to represent a concx^tion— scnethlng that can e^qserieac^ the actloo of a knife. Vfy thouj^its are all a ease of knives. Wounding ay heart With scatter *d smart. As watrlng pots give flowers their lives. nothing their furle can cootroll, While they do wound and pink loy soul. (p. 90, 11. 7-12) Again, a tender part is torteired in "Confess ion •** The paic is intensified by coiaparing it to the tvlstlng of a screw into woodt Ho scrue, no piercer can IMo a piece of timber work and wlnde. As Gods afflictions into atan. When be a torturo hath design *d They are too subtill for -toe subt'llest hearte; And fall, like rheisoes, upoo the tendrest i>arts. (p. 126, 11. 7-12)

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72 Xn "Love Ifakncxwn" a tender organ, the heart. Is acted upon by excessive heat: "And threw my heart Into the scalding pan" (l. 35), The heart is scored by a graving tool In "Hature." smooth my rugged heart, and there Engrave thy reverend Lav and fearj Or malce a new one, since the old In saplesse grown. And a much fitter stone To hide my dust, then thee to held* (p. 129, 11. 13-18) The image of carviog on a heart Is used to depict a life deeply devoted to Cairist, and through this devotion a power Is found to control disorder. The imagery of the name of "Jesu" carved in the shattered heart occurs in "Jeeu." Jesu Is in my l:ieart, his sacred name Is deeply carved there: but the* other veek A great affllctlcai broke the little frame, Ev*n all to pieces: which X went to seek: And first I found the comer, where was J, After, where ^ and next where U was graved. Uhen I had got these parcels. Instantly Z sat me down to spell them, and perceived That to my broken heart he was 1 ease you. And to ay whole is J^U . (p. U2) Often in depicting a harmonious relationship between man and God, Herbert uses ima^ry of soft and gentle pressure or touch. The soft pressure of the loving enclosure of the arm Is used in "Paradise," thus the spiritual liarmony with God is expressed through the employment of a concreticw of a protecting and loving touch. As has been seen in a number of the previously discussed examples, Herbeart haa a strcmg

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73 attraction toward the selection of tactile lBagery"OfteiJ violent and painful, but aometlroes {jentle and soft. What open force, or hidden CHABM Can blast ny fruit, or bring me HABM^ While the incloaure is thine ARM? (p. 133, U. 4-6) In •'Baster" the relationship vlth God is depicted by the touch sensation of being led by the hand, the guidance of Ood» Rise heart, thy Lord is risen* Sing his praise Without delayes. Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likevise Wl-Ux him mayst rise. (p. kl, 11. 1-1*) The pattern in the poem "The Teng^r" refers to a nestling bird* let n», when thy roof of my soul hath hid, let me roost and nestle there: Then of a sinner thou art rid. And I of hope and fear. (p. 55, n* 17-21) In "Vanitie (ll)" the imaeery likewise refers to resting in a nest* Let then unto their kindred file J For they can never be at rest, Till they z^gain their ancient nest* Then silly soul take heed; for earthly joy Is but a bubble, and makes thee a boy* (p. m, 11* 15-18) Often the tactile toagery takes the form of an entlPgl®oent, sottething vhlch restricts bodily motion. In "Affliction (l)" the "I" of the poem Is entangled in fine household furniture. 1 looked on thy furniture so fine, And made it fine to me: Thy glorious houshold stuff e did me entwine. (p* U6, 11. 7-9)

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7^ Being entangled or restricted Is used In "Slnne (l)" to e^qpress God's core for man, who Is begirt* vlth "care" and cau^t In "fine nets." Lordj vlth vhat care hast thou begirt us round I Parents first season us: then schooliaasters Deliver us to laws; they send us bound To rules of reaswi, holy messengers, Pulpits and Sundayes, sorrow dogging sinne, Afflictions sort^, anguish of all sizes. Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in. Bibles laid open, millions of surprises. (p. 45, 11. 1-8) In "The Reprlsall" a plea is made for a "disentangled state." make xae innocent, that I May give a disentangled state and freet And yet thy wounds still my attempts defie. For by thy death I die for thee. (p. 36, 11. 5-9) Many other images of bodily action occur "ttiroui^out the poetry of George. In addition to the examples above there are also such Images of bodily action as frowning, stimibllng, pulling, and stretching— and, to conclude, a few of these will be examined* Imagery of frowning occurs in "The Dawning." Awake sad heart, whom sorrow ever drowns; Take up thine eyes, which feed on earth; Ifefold thy forehead gathered into frowns; Thy Savloiv comes, and with him mirth: Awake, awake. (p. 112, 11. 1-5) In "Miserle" there is the physical action of stumbling. The best of men, turn but thy hand For oae poore minute, stumble at a plnne:

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75 They vould not have their actions scann'd, or any sorrow tell them that they slsne, Thou^ it be small. And lueasuro not taelr fall* (p. 100, 11. 19-2U) There is the stretched hand in "Providence": "^The trees say. Pull me: but the hand you stretch, / Is mine to write, as it is yours to raise" (l. 23). And the "stretched sinews," an image of the crucifixioc, appear in "Easter." Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part With all thy art. The crosse taught all wood to resound his Dame, Who bore the same. His stretched sinews taught all strings what key Is best to celebrate this most high day. (p. 117, u. 7-12) As has been seen in the preceding discussion, lioagery of the bodily in the poeanis of George Herbert is a dcoiinant device used to e}
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76 God did not create you because Be had any need of you, for you are wholly useless to Him, "but only that Hr ml£^t exercise towards you His goodness, bestovlng on you His ,2Tace and glory. In order to which He has given you an understanding to ioiow Hla, a oemory to renwaber Him, a will to love Him, an imagination to recall His aercies, eyes to see the wonders of His works, a tongue to praise Him, and so wl-Ui ail your otioer faculties. Therefore, being created and placed in the world for this purpose, you sloould avoid and inject all actions which are contrary to It, and despise as idle and superfluous all which do not prosnote it. Cc»slder the wretchedness of the world, which forgets this, and goes CM as though the end of creation were to plant and to bulM, to aoass wealth, and to live in frivolity. Thank CSod who has made you for so good an end. Thou bast aade me, Lord, for Thyself, awi that I nay for ever share the imoensity of Thy glory. When shall I be worthy of Shy goodness, and thank Thee worthily?? "^St. Francis De Sales, A Diary of Meditations, ed. Dcm Cuthbert (Chicago, 1957), p.2.

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CBtiSTER Vf BICmSD CRfiSmAI Sensuousness is a predociinant characteristic often cited of Crashaw's imagery, but tMs sensuousness has been little understood outside of the astute observations of Ruth Wallers te in and a few brief conments by Austin Warren .^ More often, tlois sensuousness has been read and interpreted from vhat will be called in this study an eaaapirical point of view. The ccxaments on Cjrashaw in a recent siirvey of the i>eriod '^ora Donne to Marvell" portray this mode of interpretation. D. J. Enright states. Notorious in Crashaw's work is his sensuousness, and in particular his use, in picturing sacred love, of the metaphors— indeed, the atmosphere of hinnan love, both of l^In the expanding intensity of his particular sense tmpressicHis, Crashaw sought to sink through them to something ampler, to an abstract capacity for intangible sensation and a sort of ideal presence of sensation" (p. 37). "The concrete images, as we have said, are spread so unrestrainedly, mixedly, and without regard to their congruity in thought or feeling with what they figure, that they lose all sensuous reality" (pp. 82-83). "But, it cannot be too often stressed, this sense Image which he uses in his metaphor is to represent an idea, and not primarily a sense impression; it is the symbol of an idea. And the basic emotion which Crashaw seeks to create in us is to spring not from the image, but directly from the idea" (p. 85). Ruth C. Wallerstein, Richard Crashaw, A Study in Style and Poetic Development (Madison, 19357^ All things flow. Crashaw's Imagery runs in streams; the streams run together; image turns into Image. His metaphors are sometimes so rapidly Juxtaposed as to mix-they occur, that is, in a succession so swift as to prevent the reader from focusing 77

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78 mother for child and of man for voman. This sensuousness Is rather ambiguously present In his harail.lng of spiritual and physical torture: blood" and "milk" are hie characteristic references: To see both blended In one flood. The Mothers' Mlllc, the Cliildren's blood. Makes me doubt If Heaven vlll gather, Roses hence, or L ilies rather. The reader may feel faintly repelled, but not shocked, for the verse has no immediacy; the experience reaches us at second hand, as if the poet is describing the picture of something and not the thing Itself .3 Although Enright's remarks are typical of many twentiethcentury readers of Crashav, they are scraevhat misleading. It is very easy to diagnose vhy Enrlght feels that Crashav *8 imagery is faintly repellent, vhy ttere is no immediacy, vhy "the thing Itself" is not being described. Enrig^t is reading the poetry of the seventeenthseparately upon each. The effect is often that of phantasmagoria » For Crashav, the vorld of the senses vas evidently enticing; yet it vas a vorld of appearances only— shifting, restless appearances. By teggtperament and conviction, he was a believer in the miraculous; and his aesthetic method may be interpreted as a genuine equivalent of his belief, as its translates into a rhetoric of metamorphosis. If, in the Gospels, vater changes to vine and wine to blood, Crashav vas but imaginatively extending this principle vhen he turned tears into pearls, pearls into lilies, lilies Into pure Innocents. 'Style must incarnate spirit. Oxymoron, paradox, and hyperbole are figures necessary to the articulaticm of the Catholic faith. Crashav *s concetti, by their Infidelity to nature, claim allegiance to the supernatural; his baroque imagery, engaging the senses, Intimates a vorld vhich transcends them." Austin Warren, Richard Crashav « A Study in Baroq.ue Sepsibility (ifaiversity, Louisiana, 1939)* PP» 192-93. 3 D. J. Enrlght, "Cksorge Herbert and the Devotional Poets," Fran Donne to Marvell. vol. 3 of A Guide to English Literature, ed. Boris Ford (Harmondsvorth, Middlesex, 195^77 P« 157.

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79 century Crashaw from a viewpoint of twentleth-centuiy en^Jirlcally imbued man. He has made no attempt to adjust vlth a historical orientation his responses to the imagery of Crashav. He is reading Crashav as If Crashav vere a contemporary* When a twentieth-century reader finds Crashaw lacking In immediacy, he Is no douht referring to the Immediacy of an eaq^lrlcal organization of sense imagery, specified concrete particxilars depicted with the solidl'ty of figured extension In a definite spatial setting. When he finds that "the thing Itself" is not being described, he is referring to a lack of concrete materiality and a lack of a tangible t«nporal sense in a depicted situation. What this reader wants is a thls-worldly experience replete with images representing the realness of concrete materiality with its individuation and specific def initeness . Of course, Crashaw *8 poetry and his imagery will not meet these requirements; for Crashaw is not writing from the viewpoint of estplriclBm* Crashav is writing within the Christian tradition of syosbolism. The symbolic image of Crashaw is not an image in "Uie sense of the idea of John Locke, a sense impression drawn frca an eucperience of a concrete particular having primary and seccoidary qualities and existing in a spatio-temporal setting: neither are the main so-called sense images representations of sensory experience of material things. The sensible qu«dltles of Crashaw* symbolic imagery are not to be experienced in an entpirical and ncminalistic sense, ^ TFhe word "ncminalistic'* here Implies the concept which holds that the particular material thing is the reality, and an abstract concept derived from a group of particular things, is only a name for that group, not a reality in Itself.

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80 but more in a sense, which had been described by Aqulnas5 and which la exemplified by the cwjventlonal interpretation of the Song of SangBt of being images of an intelligible, a. divine meaning. The sensuousness of Crashaw is ooly apparent, not genuine, fear his Images ultloiately represent the substantial and sui>erior reality of the realm of divine ideas. Accordingly there is a peril that this Imagery, this apparent sensuousness, might by a twentieth-century reader be regarded as "second hand" and lacking in Immediacy. Of course, the imagery of Crashaw lacks the physical Immediacy of a nineteenth-century i)OGt like John Keats, who organises his imagery as illustrated in this excerpt ^The part of Aquinas* doctrine that applies to Creishaw is the part that did not apply to Dcaine. For the convenience of the reader, I repeat this excerpt fjron Aquinas: The parabolical sense is cc»tained in the literal, for by words things are signified properly and figuratively. Nor is the figure itself, but that which Is 'igured, the literal sense. When Scripture speaks of God's arm/ the literal sense is not that God has such a member, but only what is signified by this member, namely, qperatlve power. Hence it Is plain that nothing false can ever «!nderlle the literal sense of Holy Scripture. In the poetry of Crashaw, the imagery, the most important imagery, has a tendency to function in the maimer described in the alcove excerpt tvcm Aquinas. The literal sense of the image is actually that which is figured, as we shall see in our discussion of "Tast this" (Taste blood from a circumcision) In which the literal sense is actually the offer of salvation through Christ, Just as the literal meaning of "arm" in the phrase "God's arm" is "operative power."

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81. from "I Stood Tip-Toe." SonetlmeG goldfinches ooe by (»e vlll drop ProB low hung branches; little space they stop; But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek; Thea off at once, as in a vanton freak: Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings. Pausing ux>on their yellow flutterings. (11. 87-92)^ ^t Crashsw* poetry has a spiritual innedlacy, presenting a supernatural and otherworldy experience. Crashaw is not a nineteenth-century poet endearoring "to excite a feeling analogous to the stqpematural, ""^ for he is a seventeenth-century Christian vho creates a direct experience of ihe stipematural, the divine. When a reader fails to find an IflB^diacy in the poetry of Crashaw, and when be feels that Crashaw is not describing "the thing Itself," It is not an esthetic flaw in the poetry of Crashaw; but it is the fault of the reader in that he lacks the capacity to experience as saoething true and Ijnmediate the spiritual force of Crashaw *s symbolic imagery. Let us take an exasqple to indicate how Crashaw vm-y be faintly repellent if one reads his Images as if they represented toe sensible qualities of material objects. For Instance, Crashaw sayb "Tast this" referring to Christ's blood shed at his circumcision In the poem "Our Lord in his Circumclsiao to his father." If the reader takes this ^John Keats, T^ Poems, ed. E. De Selincourt, (Loodoi, 193^), p. 5. •Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Blographla Li teraria, vol. II, (Losjdon, iBhj), p. 2.

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taaee to represent physical blood, more than likely he vlU be faintly repelled, but If this saae reader adjusts his historical persijectlve and e2q>erlences the "Tast this" froo the viewpoint of the allegorical symbolism of the Christian tradition In vhlch the blood shed by Jesus as a baby Is a symbol of the blood shed on the cross vhlch Is In turn the symbol of the eternal redemptive love of God, there Is no reason vhy he should be shocked or repelled. In fact the reader shoild experience a sense of gratitude, a strong sense of obligation, even contrition, for the "Tast this" Is an offer of redeBg)tlon frcn perlshableness, an everlasting and perfect life In heaven— a gift that cost God much suffering. To thee these first fruits of vy growing death (For what else Is my life?) lo I bequeath. last this, and as thou llk*st this lesser flood £bqpect a Sea, my heart shall make It good. niy wrath that wades heere now, o*re IcKig shall swim l!he flood-gate shall be set vide ope for him. tnien let him drlnke, and drlnke, and doe his worst. To dovne the wantonnesse of wild thirst Now's but the Nonage of my palnes, my feares Are yet but In their hopes, not come to yeares. The day of my darke woes Is yet but mome, Ify teares but tender and my death new -borne. Y et may these unfledg'd griefs give fate some guesse. These Cradle-torments have their tovardnesee. These purple buds of bloaslng death may bee. Erst the full statue of a fa tall tree. An till my riper woes to age are come, . This knife may be the speares Praeludlum .° If we are to read Crashaw's poetry and not our own Inventlos, we must ei^perlence as closely as humanly possible the meaning that Crashaw Intended his Imaees to have. The last line of "Our Lord o Cltatlwis from Crashaw in my text are from Crashaw's Poetical Works, ed. L. C. Martin (Oxford, 192?) # p. 96« Subsequent quotations frco Crashaw cited In my text refer to this edition.

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83 1b his Circumcision to his father* states explicitly this Intended allegorical neanlng— "This knife laey be the sptxjres Pracludlvan .** The blood of the circumcision as a STaibol of the blood shed aa the cross vas a traditional Christian idea, and finds a more overt expression in a fifteenth-century English meditatiOQ on the passion. Zhu, that aUe this vorlde hast vroghte. And of a clene vlrgyn so take oure kynde. And vlth thl blode oure soules hast bou^te, Vfy love to the I pxray the to bynde. In verkj in vorde, in thou^t of nynde. Hy soule, my body, I yeue all to the; So kynde a frende schal I noon fynde, ffor-vfay thl blode thov sched for me. fferst, ihu lord, sone after thl byrthe, The .vlll. day, nai^d thl Clrcvmicisyoun, TbxN vepte in stede of yoles myrthe. And in a maner began thl passicai; So was the kytte for oure transgressyoun With a stone knyf, aboue thl kne. I loue the, lord, with trewe affecloun, ffor t^us thl blode thow schedde for me.^ The Image ''blood" as a symbol of the salvation of man through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross vas a comonplace of the Christian tradition. Such usage vas videspread through patristic vritlngs. Clonent of Alexandria states, "Doubtless, then, ve belcng entirely to Christ as His properly from every point of view: by reason of relatioashlp, because his blood has redeemed us . . . the blood and the milk of the Lord are a symbol of His suffering and of His teaching" :^^ and "to ^Religious Lyrlof of XVth Century, ed. Carletco Brown, (Oxford, 19397, p. 133. ^"Cleaaient of Alexandria, Christ the Educator, trans. Slmoo P. Wood, (Mew York, 195^), p. U6.

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8h drink the blood of Jesus is to participate in His incorruption . "^^Saint Ignatius of Antioch writes, "And for drink I desire His Blood which ia love that cannot be destroyed."^ In his "Letter to the Philadelphians, " Saint Ignatius associates the Joyousness of heaven with the blood of Christ, "... I greet you in the blood of Jesus Christ, which is eternal and abiding Joy, • • ."IS Nlceta of Remesiana comments, "He suffered •in the flesh,' as the Apostle teaches, so that from his wounds might flow salvation to mankind, "^^ The word "this" in "Our Lord in his Circumcision to his father" has the same meaning as the word "blood" in the writings of the early Church Fathers. If it had been chronologically possible for Clement of Alexandria, Saint Ignatius of Antioch, and Niceta of Remesiana to read Crashaw "Our Lord in his Circumcisiwi to his father," they would have been neither repelled or shocked by "Tast ttiis," The Imagery in "Tast this" though not strictly in the prefigurative tradition is similar to it. Therefore, although it is not within the scope of this study to trace the origin and the development of the prefigurative aspects of the sllegorical tradition of symbolism, fairness to Crashaw demands that the extensive understanding of this mode be made HClement of Alexandria, p. Ill, •^Saint Ignatius of" Antioch, "Letter to the Remans , " trans . Gerald G. Walsh, The Apostolic Fathers (New York, 19'+7), p, 10^^* •'•^Saint Ignatius of Antioch, "Letter To The Philadelphians, " p. 113, Tficeta of Remesiana, Explanation of the Creed, trans. Gerald 0, Walsh (New York, l^h^), p. kW^

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8$ clear. Etlenne Gllscm attributes the Initiation of the Chrletian pref igurative tradition to Justin Martyr, who said, "Whatever things were rightly said among nen, are the property of us Christians. "^5 pj.©figuration vas part of the Christian tendency to encompass and claim all previous discoveries of truth as their ovn, that of the Greeks as well as those who wrote the Old Testament. Above all, this pref igurative traditi(»i tends to see a revelation of God as interpreted by the Christians in everything. All previous thoughts and all objects of the s^tsible world lead to the Christian God. For example, the blood of the passover in the Old Testaa^nt according to Justin Martyr is a preflguraticn of the blood shed on ihe cross: '*And the blood of the Passover, which was smeared on the side posts and transcetes of the door, saved thoGe fortunate oiws in Egypt who escaped the death inflicted xipon the first-born of the Egyptians. The Passover, indeed, was Christ, who later sacrificed, . . ."^ The image "fruits* in Crashaw»s first line "Tb thee these first fruits of ay growing death" functions in a way similar to this pref igurative manner. When read as a preflguraticn and allegorical symbol, the image "fruits" becomes alive with the tension of a stroag dramatic contrast on a cosmic level. The image "fruits" transfers the quality of a desirable product needed for the nourishment of life in man to the ^^Btieiaje GIIsm, History of Christian Phllosoidiy in tte Middle Ages (Hew York, 1955), p. 13. ^•^Saint Justin Martyr, Writings, trans. Thcmas B. Fall (Sew York, 19^*6), p. 319.

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referent of its metaphorical representation, the blood shed by Christ at his clraanclslon; but also the "first fruits* suggests man's disobedience to God through the eating of the fruit in tte Garden of Bden. The fruit of Adam's tree prefigures the fruits of the tree of the Cross .^''^ Man's disobedience to and turning away from God required that God take on the human cai»clty to suffer and sacrifice himself on the cross in order that man may be redeemed and brought back to God* !Ehis theme has been veil e^qfaressed by Venantlus Fortunatus: When he fell on dcjath by tasting First of the forbidden tree: Ihen another tree vas chosen Which from death should free. Thus the scheme of our salvation Was of old in order laid. As ve have cbseirved in the exaatples of the symbolic function of the "Tast this" (blood) and "first fruits" Crashaw's symbolism is not primarily related to or an outgrowth from the sensible qualities of iA^ image* Let us draw a contrast between Crashaw's mode of thought and that of a nineteenth-century poet. The image "Pausing upon their yellow flutterings" in John Keats' "I Stood Tip-Toe" can be read as a symbol of the philosophical c<^ceptlon of the reconcllation of the ppposltes, the unificatioQ and coalescence of stillness and motion; but Keats' symbolism is a direct outgrowth of the sensible qualities of the imagery. The imagery of the goldfinches as "Pausing xxpoa their yellow fluttering" presents a sensory and eBQ>irical eigperience of the unificatirai and 17 'Roseraund Tuve, A Reading of George Herbert, (Chicago, 1952), p. 112-137. iQciuoted by Tuve, A Reading of George Herbert, p. 112.

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87 coalBBcence of stillness and motion; but the taste, warmth, and texture of blood, which wouOd be conveyed by the words "Tast this" if the poem invited our attention to the physical aspects of a minor surgical operation, these sensible qualities could not and would not suggest an invitation to accept the salvation of aan through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross. But in Ci*asha«*8 poeo they do Indeed suggest e:£actly that. In Crashaw's syabolism a spiritual aeaning replaces the sensibl* effects of the Imagery; but the thing which displaces the sensible effect is not chosen arbitrarily, is not just a metaphorical construction to give an added dimensicwi of meaning to his words. !Ihe spiritual w^nine is an objective truth outside Crashaw, a fact ordained by the divine order of God. Crashaw 's symbolism differs from such a systcoj as -Waat which nay be termed tropological symbolism . In Crashaw the thing symbolized is fixed, in that it pertains to the eternal and universal truth of the Christian revelaticai, but in •tropological symbolism the meaning is arbitrarily chosen and assigned. Using James Joyce *s Ulysees as an example of tropological syabolism and assuming that W. Y. l^yndall is right in interpreting Stephen Dedalus' drinking chocolate with Leopold Bloom as symbolizing Idie ccomunlon of the poet with humanity, we observe that the symbol and the thing symbolized in Joyce were arbitrarily chosen and assigned .^9 Joyce's symbolism is private and not 1-9"As Blocm and Stephen leave the brothel. Bloom feels fatherly. Others 'in quest of paternity • have come to him, and, Father-Son, he recognizes Stephen as tts questing sm. But in his social capacity

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68 coemlc as is that of Crasbav. James Joyce's symbolism is trppological in that it adds a figurative dimension to his language; and Crashav's symbolism is anagogic in the sense that his images through a traditionally accepted allegorical extension partake of a mystical and spiritual meaning. When reading vhat appears to be a sense image in Crashav, the reader must be very cautious exA decide if the ioiage actually is a rejaresentation of sensory experience of t^ thing ordinarily referred to by tbs vordif aoA if so to vhat extent the sensible qtuallties of the image functlc»i In the meaning. In spite of the seeming sensuousness in Crashav's imagery, Crashaw throughout his poetry condemns the senses very often. In a passa^ in "^Ihc Nsime Above Every Kame," the poet asks for the abolition of this-vorldly senses, the senses being "so Profane a Fallacy, " and la that po0B Crashaw organizes his words in a manner that negates their custoaary suggestion of a sense experience. For exasiple. Images describing the name of God in the following passage do not BlocD sees Stephen as a scholar who will bring credit to the house of Bloom. Fatherly, hopeful Bloom takes Stephen to the c.ibvflm*s shelter, where be offers him a bun and a cup of coffee. Refuslnt:; the bun, Stephen sips the coffee tefare shoving it aside* Although he unenthusiastically recognizes Blocn as *Christus, * he is still reluctant to take the inroffered ccoBmnion. But by the time they sit down amicably together in the kitchen at 7 Eccles Street, Stephen is ready. Bloom prepares two cvpe of Epps's cocoa. Host and guest drink 'Epp*s massproduct' in 'Jocoserious* silence. 'Massproduct, ' the keyword, aeans three things: Voe cocoa is mass-produced for the trade; as the product of a synd>olic Hass, it is the sacrament; and it suggests the asses for whan it is produced. The drinking of this cocoa, Stephen's comBunlon with man. Is the climax of the hunt of the father. Cocoa must have been a perscmal symbol for coming to terms with man and external reality. It was perhaps while living on cocoa in Patts that Joyce began to understand the world around hin." — W.Y. Tindall, James Joyoe : His Way ^ Interpreting The Modem World (New York, 1950), p. 29.

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89 represent concrete objects of this vorM experienced throu£^ the senses, but they represent divine ideas of the objects. !niese divine ideas of objects, such as "A Thousand Blest Arabias" are contained in God's name, and they are experienced spiritually, by the soul. fill our senses. And take froa us All force of so Prc^hane a Fallacy To think ought sweet but that which raaells of Thee. Fair, flowry Ifeae; In none but Tbee And Ihy Kectareall Fragrancy Hourly there neetes An Vniiersall Synod of All sweets; Sy vhcu it is defined Thus That no Perfume For ei«r shall presune To passe for Oderiferous, But such alcnc whose sacred Pedigree Can prove it Self seas kin (sweet name) to Thee. Sweet liaxBe, in Thy each Syllable A 1!housetnd Blest Arebias dwell; A Ihousaxid Hills of Frankinsease; Kouatalns of ayrrh, and Bed of spices. And ten Thousand Paradices !Qie soul that tasts thee takes from thence. (p. sMf, 11. 170-88) The senses are eoodemned in "The ffytm of Salnte Thonos in Adoratioi of the Blessed Sacrament," as being superfluous: the "soul's inquiring ey" is Inferior to faith. Down down, proud sense! Dlseources dy. Keep close, ray soul's inquiring ey! Sor touch nor tast must look for aore But each sitt still in his own Dove* Your ports are all superfluous here, Saue That which lets in faith, the eare. Faith is my skill. Faith can beleiue As fast as love new lawes can glue. Faith is ny force. Faith strength affords To keep pace with those powrfull words. And words more sure, more sweet, then they Loue could not tiiink, truth could not say. (p. 292, 11. 1^-15)

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90 Hew that sane Indication bets been gives of the peculiar nature of tb» syoibollc function of an liaa^ in the poetry of Crashav, let us observe Bore in detail how this symbolism functions by examining an indlyldual poem, "On the wounds of our crucified Lord." these vakefull vounds of thine! Are they Houthes? or are they eyes? Be they I^fouthes, or be they eyne. Each bleeding part scne one supplies. Lo! a nouth, whose full-blocs 'd lips At too deare a rate are roses. Lo! a blood-shot eye! that weepes And nisny a cruell teare discloses. thou that
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n explained by on acccraponylng verse .21 The eanblem was in great vogue during the Renaissance in England and on the continent-one of the "best known emblem books today is Francis Quarles*. The eaiblans and the symbolic Imagery of Crashaw are related by having a similarity in function* Just as Crashaw 's images have a meaning beycaad that sviggested by their sensible qualities, the embleogiNS have a meaning beyond that contained in a direct experience of the graphic design; but of course, in the case of the esiblems the meaning is appended in tiie accoqpanying verse. Consequently, the symbols of Crashaw and the emblem function to convey their meaning in a similar manner, in the sense that the meaning is not a result of the sensory experience of the means of the symbolism, the image or the graphic design. In the one case the n^anlng Is added to the graphic design by a verse, in the other the meaning is added to I the verbal design by tradition* Even the organization of the Imagery In "On the wcusdo of oar crucified Lord" has a correspoodence to a traditional arrangement of the emblem. For example, an emblem cited by Ruth Wallerstein is a drawing of the five wounds of Christ with the fouTrth wound depicted as a wounded hand, and under this drawing there Is a scroll inscribed "1 h c the well of grace. "22 Below this emblem there is a verse by WlUlam Blllylng explaining the meaning of the graphic design, a meaning that is not to be apprehended by merely looking at it. ^^Wallerstein, pp. 11^-35 and Roeoaary Freeman, English BablacB Books (London, 19lld) . 22Wallersteln, p. 119*

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n Hayle velle of grace most precyouee In hoooure la the Kynges left haode set of lerusalem Swetter thaone bauise Is thy sveet lycore.23 The first three lines of the poem "On tdie vounds of our crucified Lord" correspoDd to the grc^hic design of the emblem in that they name certain things; and the fourth line correspmids to the verse explaining the emblem in that it makes a Btateanit about the things naned, ''Each bleeding part some one supplies.** Crashav, Just like William BiUying^ has cooceived the vounds of Christ as being a veil of grace and a fountain supplying salvatico to mankind— a traditional Christian ccMncepttion of the meaning of the vounds of Christ. It is also a ccBBK»iplace of literary criticism and scholarship to coanect Crashav vith tte Counter-Reformation, the procleo^tions of the Council of Trent, the Zgnatian "applicatioo of the senses. "^^ 31he Cmmcil of Irent during Session XXV in order to combat on aspect of the lAitheran revolt approved the use of the senses and icons as exteimal helps in raising men to the cootai^tlatlon of things divine. The action of the Council is consonant vith the general ideological atotiosphere of the time in vhich many vere influenced to endow things vith a meeaing not c<»tained lij an e^wrience of their sensible qualities, the meaning not coming from an esipirlcal experience but superadded by the process of contesiplation . ^Quoted by Wallerstein, p. II9. ^^arren, jq?. 63-76.

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93 And vhereae such is the nature of oan, that, without «cte"»l helps he cannot be easily upraised to the meditation ot dlr^ things: on this account has the holy Mother Church instituted certain rites, to wit that certain things he pronounced In the aass In a softened, and others in raised tone. She has likewise laade use of cereaooies; such as ays tic benedictions, lights, fumigations of incense, vestments, and nany other things of this kind . . . whereby both the majesty of so great a sacrifice might be recoBoended, and the minds of the faithful be excited, by these visible signs of religion and piety, to the contemplation of those most sublime things which lie hidden in tills sacrifice. 25 As Wylie Sypher has observed, a qualification was placed on the meaning of the sense experience of the icon by the Council of Trent, "We knew the Council had a good many scruples about the veneiwtlon of Images, warning tiuc Ucvcut at every tum that tl*e Image Iteelf is not to be taken as » substantial* of the spiritual reality behind the Image; confidence was not to be placed in the icon as such."2o The Council warns that the icons have a meaning beyond the experience of their sensible qualities. Due honor and veneratic» are to be awarded them; not that any divinity or virtue is believed to be in them,
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^ not to be awarded the sensible qualities of the objects cr events that Crashav's symbolic Images represent, but to the divine or spiritual neaoing. Though Crashaw's imagery as it were illustrates certain doctrines of the Council, hds imagery by no »eans agrees with every relevant concept of the leaders of the Counter Reforaatlon, In his "application of the senses" St. IgnatiiB of Loyola stresses particularity; and this particularity is sonethlng which is -issing fran the organization of the iaagery in Crashaw. Louis Martz Cites this exaagjle from the writings of St. Ignatius in which particularity is stressed. U-. ?^ ^^^^ ^°^* is to see the persons with the eves of ^Ir^S^'S' "^^*^*^ ^ co^latl^in^a^cuSr their circumstances, and deriving sone ftniit ftcm tte si^. ««^ ?* ®!f°°?.^® *° ^^ ^^* *^y are saying, or aight sav and by reflecting on oneself, to take s««^it^SthiJ7' and S^i^^^iJ^n!"^^ ^ ^^ ^ infinite sweetness and delight ofthe Divinity, of the soul, of its virtues and an el3e, according to the character of the perso^ cSSipSed reflecting on oneself and deriving ftnjit froTthis. ' V4««^^°*^ ^® ^ ^^^ ^^^ *^ *o«ch; ae, for example, to kles and embrace the spots where such persons t^^ sit always endeavoring to draw fruit frco this^ ' As an example of the -application of the senses" iu English verse, Louis Martz has aptOy selected the poem, "The Burning Babe" of Robert Southwell. ^Ip^^-L^irS'^r^^^^^* S.^

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95 As I Is hoarle Winters night stood shivering In the snove. Surprised I vas vlth scdalne heate, vhlch made ay hart to glowe; And lifting up a fearfull eye, to view what fire was neere, » A prettle Babe all burning bright did In the ayre aiqpeare; Who, scorched with excessive heate, such flood of tears did shed. As thou^ his floods should quench his flames, which with his teares were (fedd); Alas, (quoth he) but newly borne, in flerie heates I frle. Yet none approach to wanae their harts, or feel ny fire but I; Vfy faultlesse breast the furnace is, the faell wounding thomes: Love is the fire, and sighes the smoke, the ashes shMKS and scomes. The fewell lustice layeth on, and Mercie blows the coales. ISas aetall in this furnace wrou^t, are mens defiled soules: For which, as now on fire I am to worke them to their good. So will I melt into a bath, to wash them in ay blood. With this he vanisht out of sight, and swiftly sunk away And stral^t I called into mlnde, tiiat it was Cfaristaasse day.29 Both "The Burning Babe" and "On the bleeding woiinds of our Crucified Lord" have a similar subject matter (exterior subject matter before it is transformed by treatment in the poan), an experience of the meaning of isbe crucifixion of Christ; but otherwise especially in imagery, the poems are quite different. Southwell arranges his imagery in a manner to suggest particularity of event, the particularity recoaaended by St. Ignatius; but in Crashaw's "On the wounds of our ^Quoted by Martz, pp. 81-82.

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crucified LGrd," particularity is either entirely aiseiog, or it is miniaized to such a great extent that its effect is negligible. A scsaevhat detailed c:{BiDination of the imagery of "The Busming Babe" and a CGn|>ari8aa vith "On the bleeding vousds of our Cmicified Lord" will Illustrate the difference between an image arganization which eophaslzes particularity and one which does not. Southwell begins "The Burning Babe" by depicting a particular perscsQ In a particular spatial and temporal setting, and the laagezy deasoQStrates ho» the poet is concerned with presenting a spiritual escperience as an event in tlae and space. The "I" is located in a definite season and tixae of day ("in hoarie Winters ni^t"); and in a definite place ("in the snowe"). The physical bodily presence of iSae "I," suggesting a particular person, is eaphasized by the "shivering," a sensory response to the environment which establishes a natmrELL cause and effect relatl(»ship between the "I" and his surx'oundings . As the poem progresses, the particular i-ty of the situation receives further develcfpnent. In the second line the passa^ of tine is suggested -tixrough the sensory e:;qperlence of a change from cold to warmth. This depiction of temparal change is further eophaslzed by being rendered as effecting an emotional response in the receiver of the actiwi-"which made my hart to glowe." ParticulBrity of spatial dlmenslai is again anphasized in "lifting up a fearfull eye, to view what fire was neere." In this sense of a physical distance between the eye and the object is suggested.

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97 In the fourth line, the appearance of the visicaa Is described with particularity. The vision has shape and vividneas, "A prettte Babe aU burning bright/ and exists in space, "in the ayre." On the other Ijand, Crashav in his "On the wounds of our crucified Lord" is nore concerned with the direct present^bioo of a spiritual e^cperience, and vith its universality, than vith presenting the experience indirectly through the i»edium of an individual in a particular setting. Ite does not include an J^^ of «>e receiver of the action, nor establish a definite te«poral and spatial setting. The first line "0 these vakeful vou»l8 of thine" projects the reader l«ediately into the experience of the poem without the intervention of a "fran«" device; and this i=Bediate projection creates an effect of indefiniteness, indistinctness, indeterBdnation-even confusion, in regard to tte matter of the point of view of the poem and its spatic temporal setting. Indefiniteness, Indistinctness, indeterminationeven confusion, are all characteristics of an experience incorporeal (spiritual) and universal. Since the terms incorporeal, spiritual, abstraction, and universal are often used today in a different sense ftrcn my intended aeanlng a brief discussion of the terms vith sane Illustration of their meaning and develpjmient in the philosophy of the middle ages will aid in clarifying the statements of the preceding paragraph and in showing how Crashaw's imagery suggests universality. The philosophical conceptions in the following discussion, the material being derived from Etienne Gilaon's History of Christian. Philosophy ^ ^

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98 Middle Ages, are described merely for the purpose of illustrating thought patterns that are related to tte argQaizatl(» of Crashav's imagery. Gregory of Sysaa in considering the nature of an incorporeal substance, the soul, proclaimed that an incorporeal cannot be cootained in a definite place .30 St. Augustine held that an incorporeal, the soul, had neither extensica nor diaieusions in space; and that the characteristic of a corpcreal substance vas spatial extension and distensions .31 Jn C(»sidering the problem of knowledge of universals, Gilsc^ interprets Boethius, "Either the mind finds them in incorporeal beings, vhere they are separated from matter and already distinct; or It finds them in corporeal beings, in vhich case it extracts frcm the body whatever the body contaixis that is incorporeal in order to ccnsider it separately as a naked and pure farm. "32 JcAm of Salisbury held that our intellect achieved its knowledge of universals by stripping individual substances of the determiners of tlieir distinct azid individuating characteristics, the forms and accidents .33 Peter Abelard held that our representation c^ a corpareal singular vas vivid, precise, and definite in details; but our representation of a general or universal vas confused and Bcmevhat indeterminate.^^ Albert the Great describes an Intelligible, ^^GUson, p. 57. 3^1lBon, p. 79. 32Giison, p. 99. 33oilson, p. 152. 3^Gilson, p. 158.

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99 that which is appreheiHted by the nind and thus includCB incorporeals, spiritual substances, and abstractions, as having the characteristic of being separated from mtter and its concomitants .35 curand of SalntPourcain considers an abstraction to be the substitution of an indeterminate presentation for the determinate presentation of sense perception, ft universal being a consideration of the Intellect leaving out the individuating ccaiditions of the thing.36 fe^ry of Ifarclay proclalios that an universal or general is a confused concept, one in which individuation Is not distinguished .37 Althou^ the philosophers mentioned above had distinct and different philosophies and some of the statements pertain to metaphysics and others to epistemology, they all, in spite of doctrinal differences, have the caawn element of ccosidering an incorporeal or spiritual, which is knora as an intelligible ^ough an abstractive process of the soul, as lading preciseness and definition, distinctness and determination, details and indivMuation, spatial placement and clarity of perception. In the above sense of an incorporeal, the image organization of the -Cto the bleeding w«inds of our crucified Lord" suggests spiritual and universal notKas rather than concrete persons, objects, or events; and this sense of incorporeality is established by the image organization at the beginning of the poem. CrashaWs mentality, as revealed by his 35Gll6cn, p. 286. 3^11sco, p. U76. 37Giison, p. kQ2,

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100 organ izatioo of imagery. Is attracted predominantly toward the Incorporeal and spiritual; though he uses vords that often in poetic usage become Images of the coocrete and sensible, Crashav organizes his images in such a manner that their customary meaning Is transformed and cover ted into an expressive device that represents an Incorporeal experience, universal rather than particular. Bow that ve have examined the relatlcmshlp of Crashav *s imagery to certain attitudes and modes of thought that may be associated vith doctrines made explicit by the leaders of the Counter-Befonaation, let us ccsisider Crashav 's relationship to the philosophy of a much earlier thinker, Dlonysius the Areopagite* Because the mode of thought behind the organ Izatlcn of Crashav *8 imagery is In one Important respect very similar to part of the philosophy of DiraiysluE, a knowledge of Dlmyslus' ccxiceptiOD of how vords signifying material things are used to signify immaterial things, especially God, will aid greatly our understanding of how an image which customarily refers to material things may actually in "On the vounds of our crucified Lord" refer to an iimwaterial thing: how an image so used may in effect renounce a material thing as one of its elements at precisely the same time it evokes and asserts the quality of that thing, and then goes beyraid that quality to assert a truth vhlch is suggested by the quality, but is too spiritual really to be said to possess the qualily. Diooysius as a philosopher and Crashav as a poet were confnnited vith a similar problem. In the case of Dionyslus, how can words derived frcm created things apply to something vhlch conqpletely transcends and

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101 Is distinctly different frcn these thinessj and in the case of Ci-ashaw how can a poet describe an experience purely spiritual by using vords vhleh custonacrily represent material objects? Dionyslus solves the problem by having words functlai in an affiraatlve, negative, and 6^rperlative way; and by 'feB5>loying appropriate symbols," Dionyslus states^ Ifatil we are equal to angels and have angelic insight of a direct perception into the essence of God . . . at present we employ (so far as in us lies), appropriate syaiiolB for things Divine; and then frcm these wc press on uxMords according to our powers to hehold in single unit the Truth perceived by spiritual oontengplatious, and leaving behind us human notions of godlike tilings, we still the activities of our minds, and reach {so far as tixis may be) into the Super-Essential Ray, wherein all kinds of knowledge so have their pre-existent limits (in a trausceudently inexpressible manner, ) that we cannot conceive or utter It, nor in any wise contemplate the same, seeing that It 8inT)asseth all things, and wholly exceeds our knowledge .3° An "appropriate symbol" is a word that in custooaary discoxirse signifies a material or created tiling, but when ajqplled to tte spiritual, it no longer signifies material things— -althou^ a characteristic of the material thing remains a part of the meaning of the word. Tbe meaning of a word used as an "appropriate symbol" may be understood by interpreting it according to a threefold process of redeflnltloQ— >tbe affirmative, the negative, and the superlative. Gilsoc sunmarlzes this threefold process. He is referring to those whose purpose is obtaining a definition of God. -^ nDlcoysius Ibe Areopagite, ^ The Divine Names and The Hystieal Tteology, trass. C. E. Rolt (Bew York, 1920), pp. 53-5^3T"

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102 In a lost treatise on the Thfiological Foundations^ Denis [[Denis is Gilson's translation of Dionysius] liad proven that God is absolutely incomprehensible to the senses and to reason; consequently, since we cannot knov him directly, ve cannot name him directly. The only way correctly to name him frcm the names of creatures involves a threefold operation. First, we affirm that God is wliat Scripture says he is: One, Lord, Powerful, Just, etc. This first moment, which is canmon to both the simple believers and the theologians, constitutes what is called the "affirmative theology." But the theologians know that such notions as oneness, lordship, and power, cannot possibly apply to God in the same sense as to creatures; hence, for them, the necessi-fcy of denying that God is any one of those things in the only sense which we give to their names. If to be "one" means to enjoy the sort of unity which belongs to sensible beings, then God is not one. We have no positive notions of his oneness, lordship, power, etc. This second moment constitutes what the theologians call the "negative theology." These first two moments are then reconciled in a third one, which consists in saying that God deserves these names in a sense which, because it is incomparably higher than that in which it applies to creatures, is inconceivable to himian reason. This Denis calls "superlative theology." God is "BSyper-Being, " "^npeJ^-Goodness, " "?yper-Lif e, " and sc on .39 Richard Crashaw was strongly attracted to the philosophical conceptions of Dionysius, and this attraction is seen in Crashaw 's selection of material from Dionysius for use in poetry. The title of Crashaw •s "To The Name Above Every Name" is derived from Dionysius* De divinis ncminibus (On the Divine Names); and Crashaw 's first two lines: "I Sing the Name which None can say/ But toucht with An interior Ray , closely resembles Dionysius' Not that the Good is wholly incommunicable to anything; nay, rahter, while dwelling alone by itself, and having there firmly fixed Its super-essential Ray, It lo-vingly reveals Itself by illuminations correspondent to each separate creature's powers, and thus draws upwards holy minds into 39Gilson, pp. 81-82.

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103 such eootenQplatloa, particlpatlcme sad reacmblaoce of Itself «8 tbey eaa attain. . • ,^ A loag p Ma« a P t^^OB *^ The Glorious E^lphanie of Our Lard God, A Byrnx* SuBg As By Three Kings" psys tribute to Dlooysius and his mode of qilfltenology* 2 By the 6bll(iue smbush of this close ni^t Couch *t in that coas clous shade The right 'cyM Areqpagite Shall vlth a vigorous goesse invade And catche Uiy quick reflex; and sharply see Cta this dark Gscfxmd To descant Thee. 3 prize the rich Splriti vlth what fierce Of hie strong soul, shall ha Leap at thy lofty T&oe, And seise the svift Flash, in rebound 200 F^OB this obsequlotu cloud; Once call*d a Bvaa Tin dearly thus undone, Oio. Till thus triuanpbastly taa*d (o ye tvo Tuinne Sunnes & taught now to negotiate you. 1 Thus shall that reverend child of lifi^t, 8 % being seholler first of that new nlglit, Ccae forth Create Master of the mystlok day; 3 And teach otoctire NMBQUU) A aore close way By the flrugall negative li^t SIO Of a Most vise and vel-^Onised Nl^t. Tb read xaore legible thlz» origlnall Bay, Cho. And afekc our Darkness serve Thy day; Maintaining t*vixt thy vorld & ours A cmsorce of contrary pcwres, A autuall trade *TWixt sun & Shade By confiedarat Bl«^ and White Borrcwing day and lending nii^t. '^ioi^ius Tt» Areapaglte, p. ^.

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lOU 1 Tbais we, vho vhen vlth all the noble powres That (at thy cost) are call'd, not vainly, ours We vow to make braue way Vpwards & and presae cm for the pure Intelligentlall Px^y; 2 At lest to play The amorous Spyes And peep & proffer at thy sparkling Throne; 3 Instead of bringing In the bllsfull Prise. And fastening on Thtae eyes. Forfeit our own And nothing gain 830 But Biore Ambitious losse, at lest of brain; Cho. Now by abashed llddes shall learn to be Eagle; and sfautt our eyes that we nay see. (pp. 259-60, 11. 190-233) Al'ttiough DloEiyslus* interest is in bow words derived froa created life can be applied to the Creator who is inccearprebensible both to the senses and reason, whereas Crashaw's concern is the writing of a poan depicting an experience of the meaning of the wounds of the crucified Lord, there is a resoablance of Dionysius* semantics and eplste9gK>]ogy of the divine to the function of a symbolic image in the poem "On the wounds of our crucified Lord." The conceptions of Dionysius serve to illustrate the mentality that is behii»l the organizatioQ of Imagery in "On the wounds of our crucified Lord." Crashaw^s poem is a spiritual contemplation of things divine, that which is Incoqjrehensible to sense and reason, and the words which ordinarily represent palpable objects function as "appropriate symbols." The Images "Mouthes," "eyes," "lips," "roses," "kisses," "Ruby," and "Pearls" operate to express representations which can best be described by the threefold method. While Southwell in his "Burning

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105 Babe" was Interested in the depiction of a spiritual ejqperience occurring to an indlvidvial in a definite spatio-teB5>oral setting, and George Herbert throughout his poetry was interested in the depiction of the divine through imagery of concretions organized in a causeeffect relationship, Crashaw is sore conceraed with the depiction of an experience purely spiritxial, with his Imagery organized in such a manner as to bear only a ?»•'"''">"" reference to the concrete x>az>ticulars of this world. Selecting the image "roses* la line six of Crashaw »s poem as an exBople, the true poetic value of the image may be understood only after contemplation, and if contasplation follows the sequence proposed by Dionysius it will proceed somewhat In this way: We may first take the image "roses" in the affirmative way, that is, the wounds of Christ are roses in a way similar to the way In which Bums says "Hy love is like a red, red rose." The wounds of Christ have tte qualities of a rose In that they are, let us e&y, lovely, sweet, and precious. But contemplatioo will lead us to a seccnd step. The wounds have the sweetness, loveliness, and preclousness which they possess not because they are like roses but because they are indicators of the suffering of God by iBsans of which God exercised his redemptive love for man. This second way correspcaids to the negative way of Dionysius in that the finite roses are renounced and denied. But the image "roses" has led us to the point where we can properly respond to the conteiaplatlon of the wounds of Christ. By metaphor lcal%asserting that the wounds are "roses" we have been led not cmly to the rational acceptance of the propositlcm that the wounds signify the redemptive

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106 love of Crod, but we have been led to a lively imaginative and emotional experience of that love. In short, the Image "roses" has signified in a way more profound than rational meaning the precious, sweet, lovely redemptive love of God. We have arrived at the superlative way of understanding rc^es. In "On the wounds of our crucified Lord," the words "wounds" and "thou* aay be read as "appropriate symbols" In the sane manner as "roees." If we so read them, we are reading In a way which differs arkedly from that followed, for instance, by Austin Warren. As to the wounds, Austin Warren has observed that "the wounds, like Magdalen's tears are abslaract^ from their psychological context and, viewed as sense objects of sense perceptlcai, find metaph(»'ical counterparts in other equally palpable things. "^^ On the other hand, we have already observed that a metaphorical counterpart of the wounds, the "roses," when experienced according to the threefold way Is not felt to be a palpable thing. Now, the word "wounds" In Crashaw*s poem does not necessarily refer to palpable things, objects of sense perception. We will. Indeed, explore tte proposition that they are better read in quite another way. In Crashaw*s poes, we are never invited to feel the actual bodily presence of the historical Christ. The very generality and indef inlteness with which the wounds are presented, far from suggesting a solid being In a definite spatial location, suggests the concept rather than the thing. Ccomentlng on a general tendency In the depiction »*% farren^ p. 130*

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107 of visions and ecstasy In Catholic pictorial art after the Council of Trent, Baile Male aptly remarks, "This is an Incorporeal art.*^2 Crashav's poem, a vision of the love of God for nan, corresponds to this general tendency and in a different stedlua produces an art vhlch, again in the vcnrds of Baile Male, sou^t "to escape human nature and to beccaie absorbed in God.'*^^ A way to see vividly the poetic emphasis in the Images of Crashav is to set the Images in extras t with those of George Herbert. Differing ftxra the direct presentation of a spiritual experience as in Crashaw, George Herbert in ""lbs Agooie" stresses physical pain, the outwardly visible bodily evidences of pain, material causes of bodily respcMsses and objects of sense perceptlcHi to present the spiritual experience of the agoiy undergrae by Christ both before and during the cruclfixlwi. Philosophers have aeasur'd moimtalns, Pathom»d the depths of seas, of states, and kings, Walk'd with a staffe to heav»n, and traced fountains: But there are two vast, spacious things. The which to measure it doth more behove; Yet few there are that sound them,— Slnne and Love. Who would know Slnne let him repair Unto Mount Ollvetj there shall he see A man so wrung with palas, that all his hair. His sklnne, his garments bloudie be. Slnne is that press and vice, which forceth pain To hunt his cruell food through ev*ry vein. "^Bcolle Male, Religious Art: From The Twelfth to the Eighteenth Century (New York, 1955), p. I7IJT '^SMale, p. I7U.

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X08 Who knows not Love, let him assay And taste that Juice vhlch on the crosse a pike Did set again abroach; then let hlB say If ever he did taste the like. Love Is that llqucsr, sveet and most divine, Vhlch my God feels as bloud, but I as vine. (p. 60) In Herbert's descrlptl(» of the spiritual agony of Jesus In Gethsemane prior to "Uie crucifixion, he eiQ>ha8lzes the outward physical gtanlfestatlcQS of this inward state of being. First of all, be presents the pain as actually vl-taessed by a persmi who observes a nan. Thus the inage "A nan so wrung with pains'* sugges-te an act^Kil perscm rather than a concept or a subjective reeustira to 1^ thoxight of a person. This suggestion of the laagery representing an objective situation outside of the Imagination of a person is further reinforced by placing this "man so wrung with pains" in a definitely named geographical locatlui, '%3unt Olivet." Furthermore, the suggestion of Jesus as an historical pers(», an ordinary human being whose humanity figures his being the Divinity, is conveyed by refeirring to Jesus as "A man," and by presenting Jesus as a person undergoing pain Just as any huiaan being might experience it under similar circumstances. ^Ibe pain is first presented by the word "wrung," and this depicts pain as finding expression in a bodily reacti(»i, as sontething causing a physical and sensory response — the same cause and effect relationship found in ordinary human beings. Herbert further eiq>ha8lze8 the physicalness of the pain by the visual details of the blood on the hair, the skin, and gannents. These details resemble the photograph of a person who has undergme

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109 InteDse physical pain, vho has had his hody actually wounded; and these details further Indicate the emphasis on the physical in Herbert* The same can be said of Herbert 's description of the crucif ixi(»i in stanza three; for here the wounds occvir to a body in definite spatial location ("on the crosse"). The wounds are a result of a bodily action, the piercing with a "pike"; and this piercing has the result of producing the flow of "Juice •** Since the suggestion of the physical is so stroigly presented in Herbert, the "threefold way" of interpreting his imagery would not apply; for it cannot be denied that his laages refer to auiterlal thinfipB. In Crashaw*s poem the images are quite different: there the "wounds" aire first presented as sonething being addressed and as being "wakefull," Qfcis mode of organization endows the image "S^otinds" with a huEuin quality, as if they were capable of understanding human speech and of participating in the human organic behavior of waking and sleeping. Since the "wounds" are endowed with such capacities, they partake of the attributes of a personified abstractioo, they resonble allegorical figures. This organization suggests that the Imace "wounds" has a meaning beyond that of referring to physical wounds, and that the loage functions in the manner of an allegory. Ftarthermore, in toe second line, the "wounds" are presented in a context of indefiniteness, indecisiveness as to whether to describe the wounds as being "Monthes" or "eyes." This indefiniteness suggests the universal concept rather than the particular thing. At this point in the po^B, the meaning of the metaphor "Mouthes" is not clear. A

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no tendency of Crashav is to present his metaphors before he establishes to vhat they refer, for he Is ccmcemed vlth ecstasies, visions, and mystical insights rather than clarity of expression and logical sequence. The discovery is not made vmtil lines 13 and lU that "Mouthes" refer to love, the love of Crod fw man as expressed through the cruciflxioi C^ls foot bath fi^t a Mouth and llppes,/ To pay the sveet sunne of thy kisses"). Once the discovery of the meaning of the metaphor "Mouthes" Is made, the meaning of the image "wounds" becomes clearer. Since the "vounds" are mouths that kiss, the vovmds are Instmments for the expression of love; and since the vounds are presented vlthcmt the definiteness of bodily or spatial placement aiKl vithout any cause such as a pike, the Image "vounds" refers, as Aquinas has expressed it, for its literal sense to "that vhlch is figured." Consequently, the image "vounds" functions as "an appropriate symbol" and may be interpreted according to the threefold vay; this mode of interpretation, illustrated in the discussi(» of the image "roses," ultimately means, vlth the recon dilation of the affirmative (the vounds are vounds) and the negative (the vounds are not vounds), that the image "vounds" represents the love of God for man as revealed by the suffering undergone by Christ (S3 the cross in order that man may be redeemed. Now, as to the image "thou" in the third stanza of "On the vounds of our crucified Lord." Since Jtory Magdalene vas the historicea figure who on the foot of Jesus "laid/ Many a kisse, and many a Teare," a teB9>tatlon to interpret the image "thou" as representing the

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Ill historical Mairy Magdalene presents Itself; but both an element In the Christian tradition and the organization of the image prevent this. The use of an expression referring to wetting of the feet of Christ vlth tears to state a personal sense of humility ax^ c(»itriti(M vas used by St. Jeroae, who spiritually, although not historically like Hary Magdalene, perfonoed l^e saae act as Nary. Yet tb&t sane I, who for fear of hell coodesaDed myself to such a prison, Z, the ccnrade of scorpions and wild beasts, vas there, watching the maidens in their dances: my face haggard with fasting, my mind burnt wildi desire in my frigid body, and the fires of lust alons leaped before a man prematurely dead. So, destitute of all aid, I lused to lie at toe feet of Christ, watering them with my tears, wlpingTSem vlth m^ hair, 8trusp.ing to subdue my rebellious flesh with seven days fasts .W* The "them" in Crashaw»s poem might as well refer to St. Jerome as to Mary Magdalene. Bie use of "thou" creates a sense of indef Initeness . This indefiniteness suggests universalily rather than particularity, and invites the interpretatlta that the "thcw" represents the universal Christian virtue of hwailily and contrition rather than the historical Mary Magdalene. In order to examine the image "thou" in Crashaw, toe way it is organized, it will be set in contrast to the image "Mary" of Herbert in his poem "Marie Magdalene." When blessed Mary wiped her Saviour's feet. (Whose precepts she had trampled <» before} And wore then for a Jewel on her head. (p. 173, 11. 1-3) •^^oted by Bfelen Waddell, The Desert Fatoers : T^rapslatlons from the Latin (Ann Arbor, 1957), p. 27.

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112 Iferbert uses the proper nese ''Mary'* vhlch suggests a definite Individual much more scrcngly than Crashav's "thou." The verb "wiped" suggests a familiar physical action, as if the event of viping the feet I" of Jesus were an ordinary occurrence* The much more remote language of Crashaw creates a sense of distance frcm the occasion, rendering it much luxre indistinct than the same event in Herbert, While the language in Herbert's poem suggests a physical event, Cra8hav*s suggests the concept raliier than the thiztg. Affirmatively, Crashav's word "thou" represents such a persc» as Ifary Magdalene vas; but negatively, it doejs not represent Mary Magdalene as a historicel x>ersonage existing at a definite time in a particular place* ^e ''thou" suggests Uary Magdalene in so far as she is thr archetypical representative of the Christian virtue of contrition and huod-lity* Finally, according to the superlative vay, the vord "thou" Means the universal Christian virtiK of contrition and humility; therefore our ultimate esqierience of the image nay be and properly is splrltued, vi-Ui any suggestion of the materiality of Mary Magdalene as a concrete particular person being completely forgot* Nov that ve have observed how a saoQ>le of the imagery of "On the vounds of our crucified Lord" may be much better understood vben read according to the threefold way, let us now examine the relatlf»shlp of some of the other Images to an actual poetic practice of the time, by Louis Martz termed "Tbe Art of Sacred Parody. "^5 ^htortz, pp. I8I1-I93.

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113 Is 'The Art of Sacred Parody," inagery and situations from popular love poeas «er& eoployed to express sacred theates. When we xinderstaod the traditloc of "Sacred Ferody," we need not be misled by Cra8baw*8 use of inetaphors of buman love to eiqiress divine love in his "On the vouzids of our cirucifled Lord," and in Qiimerous other poeaos throughout his works. This mode of image will not be felt to imply mild blasphemy if the context in which Crashow lived is properly taken into account* In "Sacred Parody," when e traditional ioofipe of a popular love poem is transferred to a devotional poem, the image in this new ccsitext is endowed with a different nesming than it had in the context from which it was derived* For exaiaple, let us select the image "kisse" from among the Images in "On the wounds of our crucified Lord" such as "Mouthes," "eyes," "lips," "roses," and "teares," which were commonplace in the love poetry of the sixteenth and seventeenth lentury, and which were often used in the poems of Carew, Suckling, and Herrick with a suggestion of sensuality. When the image "kisse" appears in "(ta the wounds of OUT crucified Lord," it has an entirely different meaning frcB the same word in a secular love poem; and we, as readers, have no right to assert that Crashaw is employing a language of "amorous sexuality" in this poem, or In any other poem, as Patrick Cruttwell has dcme; ... the shrill monotony of Crashaw*s ecstasies over St. Teresa— where the language of amorous sexuality strikes cme as really distasteful because Crashaw Is claiming that its object is a real saint ai^ his emoti(» purely devotl<»al.'*o ^^Patrick Cruttwell, fflbe Shakespearean Moment : And Its Place Is. ^ Poe^J^ ^ ^ 17th Century (Londoa» 193^). p. 81.

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Uh Also, once It is known that Crashaw Is deliberately employing Imagery that has become a cooventlOQ In secular love poetry to express a love relationship between God ajid nan, another dln^nslon of meaning Is added to his Imagery. This imagery of "Sacred Parody** suggests a renunciation of human love, and an assertion that all the values of human love have their superior counterparts In divine love* In order that we might prepare mirselves to experience Crashav's laa^ery fron the viewpoint of *Tbe Art of Sacred Parody,** let us become more familiar with the tradition. First, we will observe a nuober of docunents stating the position of **Sacred Parody' and then ve will briefly review a few poans Illustrating the actual practice. One of the first expressloos of the renunclatlcm of secular poetry and the declaratloo of a dedlcatlcm to divine Is found in Robert Southwell. For as pass 1cm, and especially this of love. Is these dales the chief e cosaaaunder of moste mens actions, and the Idol to which both tongues and pennes doe sacrifice their 111 bestowed labours; so is there nothing nowe more needfull to bee Intreated, then how to direct these hiraors unto their due courses, and to draw this floud of affections Into the rlghte chanel. Passlms I allow, and loves I approve, onely would wlshe that men would alter their object and better their intent. For passions being sequels of our nature, and allotted vmto us as the handmaiden of reason: there can be no doiibt, but t^iat as their author is good, and their end godly: so ther use tempered in the meane, lioplleth no offence. Love is the Infancy of true charity, yet sucking natures teate, and swathed in her bandes, which then groweth to perfection, when faith besides naturall motives proposeth higher and nobler groundes of amltye. ... Finally, ther is no passion but hath a serviceable use eyther In the pursuite of good, or avoydance of eviU, and they

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115 are all benefits If God and helpes of nataare, so long as they are kept under correction •**^7 If we Interpret Southwell's statement as a prescription for the usage of imagery in poetry, we find Southwell ingplying that images which represent passions have been ill bestowed upon the secular, and in order to be serviceable in the pursuit of the good, the images of passicm should be used for the benefit of God. Pollowlng Robert Southwell with -Oae rejection of the secular in favor of the divine were a nunber of poets of the Metaphysical tradition. John Donne turned froQ secular to divine verse, aai denounced as vile the "crowne of fraile bayes" and asked for a "thorny crarfne." Delgne at ji^y hands this crown of prayer and i>rai8e, Weav'd in my low devout aelancholle. Thou which of good, bast, yea art treasury. All changing unchang*d Antient of dayesj Reward nsy asuses white sincerity, ftit what thy thorny crowne galn»d, that give mee, A crowne of Glory, which doth flower alwayes; The ends crowne our workes, but thcw crown 'st our ends. For, at our end begins our endlesse rest; The first last end, now zealously possest, 10 With a strong sober thirst, ay soule attends. •Tls time that heart and voice be lifted high. Salvation to all that will is nigh. (La Corona, p. 230, l) In his poem "Jordan* George Herbert also calls for a renunciatloo of the secular ("Who sayes that fictions onely and false hair/ Becowe a verse?) and a dedication to the divine, but a part of his plea, the request for a plain and simple style of divine verse, was not heeded by Crashaw who preferred a more elaborate and aore coB^jlex aanner of writing poetry. ^"^Quoted by Martz, p. I85.

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ll£ Who sayes that fictions onely and false hair Bcccue a verse? Is there in truth no beau tie? Is all good structure in a vlodlug stair? May QO lines passe, except they do their dutle Hot to a true, but painted chair? Is it no verse, except enchanted groves And sudden arbours shadow course-spuiuie lines? Most purling streaas refresh a lovers lover? Must all be vail'd, vhlle he that reades, divines. Catching the sense at two removes? 10 Shepherds are honest people; let then sing: Riddle who list, for me, and pull for Prljoo; I envie no mans nightingale or spring; Nor let them pualsh mc with lossc of rime. Who plainly say, Ify God, ify King. (p. 56) Henry Vau£^ian, in his preface to Sllex Sclatillana, renounces his earlier secular verse and e^qiresses his dedication to the divine* And here, because I would prevent a Just censure by free c(»fessioa« I oxust reatember, that I my self have for laany years together, languished of this very sickness ; and It is no long tlae since I have recovered. But (blessed be God for iti) I hsve by his saving assistance supprest ny greatest follies, and those which escaped froa me, are (I think) as Innoxious, as most of that vein use to be; besides, they are interlined with xnany virtuous, and sane pious mixtures. What I speak of them, is truth; but let no laan mistake it for an extenuation of faults, as if I intended a n Apology for them , or my self, who am conscious of so much gulJT in both, as can never be expiated withou t special sorrow, and that cleansing and pretlous of fusion of ny AJalgbty Redeemer: and if the world will be so charltaMe, as to grant my request, I do here most humbly and earnestly beg ttAt none would read them.'^ Following In this tradltlm of renouncing the secular and expressing a dedication to the divine as subject of poetry is the Iratg Introductory Latin peco, A Lectori at the beginning of Crashaw»s ^^The citations in ny text to Henry Vau^^iian are to The Works o£ Henry Vau^ian, ed. Leonard Cyi^ll Martin (Oxford, 191^), p. 390.

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117 Eplgraaaata Sacra, la the Alexander B. Grosart translation the A Lectori begins. •Greeting,* Reader; and now •farewell* t Wherefore shouldst thou on my page dwell. Where neither Jest nor sport inviteth. That the Jocund youth delighteth? !n»refare. Reader, pass thee by To thine own idle Jollity: The notes that trill from my i)oca: lute Such as thee shall never suit; Bior breath sets Cupid *s torch a-blaze That lovers on my lines may ga2e.'*^9 As to the actual practice of "^e Art of Sacred Parody," the discussion will be limited to the use of the iaagery associated with the color cotobination red and white. The colors red and vhite were conventional ingredients in lasses of secular love poetry used to e:g;>ress the charms of a mistress. Ecbnund Spenser vrites, "Her ruddy cheekes like unto roses red;/ Her snowy browes lyke budded bellaiaoure6j''50 Robert Greene, "Her cheeks like rose and lily, yield forth gleaBsj"51 Christopher Marlowe, "And too too well the fair veiraiilllon knew,/ And silver tincture of her cheeks, that drew;"^^ and ThcoEis Caapiai: Thou art not fair for all thy red and white For all those rosy ornaments in thee; Thou are not sweet, though made of mere delight, Hor fair nor sweet, unless you pity me. I will not aoothe thy fancies, thou shalt pro^'/e That beauty is no beauty without love.?3 ^^ The CcBmlcte Works of Richard Crashaw, ed. Alexander B. Gro»rt, Vol. I llHTS), p. 257 ^^Dodge edition. ^^J. William Ifebel and Hpyt H. Hudson, Poetry of T^ English Renaissance (Hew York, 1936), p. 1^0, 1. l6, 52Hfibel and Hudson, p. 178, U. 395-96. 53 Qebel and Budson, p. kkQ, U. 1-6.

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U8 A8 part of the traditicm of sacred peucody, Giles Fletcher iises the colors red and vhlte la a divine context vhen he describes the beauty of Christ. His eheekes as snowle apples, sop*t in vine, H»d their red roses quencht vlth llUles vhlte. And like to garden stravberrles did shine, WashH in a bowle of alike, or rose-buds bright Ifaboscmlng their brests against the light: Esre love-slcke soules did eat, thear dranke, and made Sveete-saielllng posies, that could never fade. But vorldly eyes hlxA thought more like seme living shade. ^^ The colors red and white are used by George Herbert In depleting a love relatlMishlp between man and Christ. Why do I languish thus, drooping and dull. As if Z vere all earth? give lae quicknesse, that I xoay vlth Birth Praise thee br la-full S The vantoB lover In a curious strain Can praise his fairest fair: And vlth quaint aetaphors her curled hair Curl o're again. Thou art my lovislinesse, ay life, ay li^t. Beautie alone to me Thy bloudy death and unde3erv*d, makes Pure red and vhite. (••Dulnesse" p. 115) In his poem "The Garden" Andrev Marvell wilivens "Hie Art of Sacred Parody" by converting it into a form of nature mystlclsa, plants are new sacred ("sacred plants" 11. Ik), 5Trhfi citations in my text to Giles Fletcher are to Helen C. White et al,, Seventeenth-Century Verse and Prose , vol. 1 (Hew York, l5i)l7T

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119 Ro vhlte nor red was ever seen So am*rous as this lovely green. Fond Lcfvers, cruel as their Flaj^, Cut in these Trees their Mistress name. Little, Alas, they know, or heed. How far these Beauties Hers exceed! Pair Trees! where s*eer your barkes I wound. No Vame shall but your own be found. ^3 (11. 17-2U) In "On the wounds of ovac crucified Lord," Crashaw uses the color combination of red and white to express the love relatitmshlp between Christ and a human being ("The debt is paid in RubyTeares/ Which thou in Pearles didst lend"). When read from the viewpoint of the tradition of "The Art of Sacred Parody, " the intended representaticm of certain images in "On the wounds of our crucified Lord," those trfl/^.itionally used in secular love poetry""Mouthes," "eyes," "roses," "kisse" and so forth— becomes clear. These images fvmctirai as metaphora expressing the love between Christ and a huoan being. The\ounds as mouths that kiss is a form of sacred parody in which the value of a secular love activity is transferred to divine love, as the wounds of Christ are symbolic of his love for man. Actually, "to the wounds of our crucified Lord" is a love poan, a divine love po«n, the love between God and man. Dp to this point in our study, we have undertaken to determine how the imagery in two particular poems of Crashaw should be experienced. As a general tendency, the iisportant Imagery throughout his 55The citatiOTs in my text to Andrew Marvell are to ^k Poems SSl Letters of Andrew Marvell, ed. H. M. Margoliouth (Oxford, 192?;.

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120 poems should be experienced In the same manner as ve have discussed, as an "appropriate symbol," or as having, as Aquinas puts It, a spiritual meaning for its literal sense. Of course, as in all poetic discourse, exceptions vlll be found; and naturally, some of his Imagery viU refer to material things . Now that ve have studied hov an Ismge Is organized in a manner that suggests a spiritual meaning, or a rejiresentatlon of as Immaterial thing, ve 6h(»ild be able to decide froBD its context and by the manner in vhich it Is organized vhether an image represents an imi^terlal or a material thing in the poetry of Crashav. As ve have said, most of the Important Images in Crashav do literally refer to Immaterial things, even vhen embodied in vords vhich custcmarHy refer to material things. Vow, let us glance through a number of poems and note seme recurrent patterns of Image selecticn and organlzaticm . lliese patterns vhen vieved as a vhole indicate a temperament attuned to othervorldliness, a mentality that seeks annihilation in God. The patterns suggest a mind concerned passionately vlth the spitltual, and caring little for the material, not even as much as Donne or Herbert. Lotxae preserved the material as being necessary for the existence of the spiritual. Herbert endowed the material vlth a dignity in that it vas created by God and figured the divine. However, Crashav is absorbed in the purely spiritual, and his patterns of Imagery, vlth their disregard of the experiences of this vorld, their denial of vhat ordinary perception reveals, their exaggerations that diminish everyday reality, reveal a mind caring little for this earth.

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121 Also, P procHvity tcward selecticm of Imagery of the mild, the soft, the diluted, and the rarefied dcadnates Crashav*s poetry, as If be vere trying to blot out this vorld and reduce it to a mist, an ether. But, now, let us glance at the patterns. For the puri>o8e of siurveying in hrief space the characteristic selection and organizaticm of imagery in Crashow, the poem "The Weeper" vill be used, since it contains most of the dominant image patterns in his poetry. And after obsezvlng the patterns in "The Weeper," other poems will be examined. I Ball, sister springs! Patents of syluer-footed rills! Suer bubling things! Thawing crystal! snowy hills. Still spending, neuer spent! I mean Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene! XX Heauens thy fair eyes be; Qeauens of euer-f ailing starres. *Tis seed'time still wi-Ui thee And starres thou 8ow*st, whose haruest dares Promise the ear-th to counter shine Whateuer makes heaun*s fcrhead fine. XXX But we 'are deceiued all. Starres indeed they are too true; For they but seem to fall. As Heaun*8 other spangles doe. It is not for our earth and vs To shine in Things so pretious. Vf Vpwards thou dost weep. Qeaun'B bosome drinks the gentle stream. Where th'milkly riuers oz^ep. Thine floats aboue;& is the cream. Waters aboue th* Heauns, what they be We*are taught best by thy Teares & thee. V Euery morn from hence A brisk Cherub scathing sippes Whose sacred influence Addes sweetoes to his sweetest Lippes. Then to his musick. And his song Tasts of this Breaksfast all day long.

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122 VI Hot in the euenlng's eyes When they red with weeping are For the Sua that dyes, Sltta sorrow with a face so fair Ho where but here did euer meet Sweetnesse so sad, sadnesse so sweet* VII When sorrow would be seen In her brightest majesty (For she is a Queen) Ihen is she dx>est by none but -Uiese. Then, & cmly then, she wetires Her proudest pearles; I aiean, thy Tearee, Vm The deow no more will weep The primrose's pale cheek to deck The deaw no more will sleep Hu2zl»d in the lilly's neck; Much reather would It be thy leer, And leaue them both to tremble here. n Kiei^»6 no need at all That the balsaa-sweating bou^ So coyly should let fall His med'cinable teares; for now Hacure hath learn H to extract a deow More soueraign & sweet frcm you. X Yet let the x>OQre drops weep (Weeping is the ease of woe) Softly let them creep. Sad ii)&t they are vanquish't so. ^Hiey, though to others no relelfe, Balsam maybe, for their own grief e. XI Such the maiden genw By the purpling vine put on. Peeps frcra her parent stenne And blushes at the brldegroooie sun. This watry Blossom of thy eyn. Ripe, will make the richer wine. XII When seme new bright Guest Tiakes vp among the starres a room. And Ifeaun will make a feast. Angels with crystall violls come And draw from these full eyes of thine Their master's Wine: their own Wine.

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123 XIU Golden -Wioufi^ he be, GoMea Togus laurmurs tho; Were his vny by thee. Content & quiet he vould goe. So auch rich vould he esteos Thy syluer, then his goMcn stream. XIV Well does the May that lyes Sniling in thy cheeks, coofesse The April in thine eyes. Hutuall eveetnesse they esqsresse No April ere lent kinder shoures, Kor May return 'd more faithful floures, 30r cheeks! Bedds of chact loues By your cwa shoures seasonably dash*t Eyes! nests of milky doues In your own veils decently washt, vlt of love! that thus could place Fountain & Garden in (me face. XVI sweet Contest; of voes With loues of teares with smiles disputing! fair, & Frelndly Foes, Each other kissing and confuting! While rain & sunshine. Cheeks & Eyes Close in kind contrarlelqres • XVH But can these fair Flouds be Freinds with the bosom fires that fill thee Can so great flames agree AEtemall Teares should thus distill thee! flouds, o fires, o suns o shoures Mixt & made freinds by loue*s sweet powres. XVm Twas his well-pointed dart Oliat digg'd these wells, & drest this Vine; And taue^t the wounded Heart The way into these weeping Eyn. Vain loues auant! bold bands forbear! The lamb hat dlpp't his white foot here. XIX And now where 're he strayes, Aausng the Galilean mountaines. Or more vnwellcone wayes, He»8 followed by two faithful fountaines; Two walking baths; two weeping motions; Portable, & cooipendious oceans.

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12U XX Thou, thy loard'o fair store! In thy eo rich fie rare expenses, Euen vhen he show*d moet poor. He might prouoke the wealthy Princes, What Prince's wanton *st jarlde e*re could Wash with Syluer, wype with Crold. XXI Who is that King, but he Who calls H his Crown to he call»d thine, That thus can boast to be Waited 00 by a wandering mine, A voluntary mint, that strews Varm silver show'rs where'er he goes! XXn pretious Prodigal I Fair spend thrift of thyself! thy measure (ifercilesse loue!) is all EttSD to the last Pearle in thy treasure* All places. Times, and objiccts be Thy teare's sweet oppor-bmity. XXm Does the day-starre rise? Still thy stars doe fall & fan Does day close his eyes? Still the Fountain weeps for all. Let niglit or dsy doe what they will, 'Rxao hast t^ task; thou weepest still. XXI\r Does thy song lull the air? Thy falling teares keep faith full time. Does thy sweet-breath*d prayer \]p in clouds of incense climb? Still at each sigh, that is, each stop, A bead, that is, A Tear, does drpp. XXV At these thy weeping gates. (Watching their watery motion) £ach winged moments waits. Takes his Tear, and gets him gone. By thine Ey*s tinct enobled tlius Time layes him vpj he pretious. XXVI Not, so long she liued. Shall thy tonb report of thee J But, 80 loaog she grieued. Thus must we date thy memory Others by mooients, months, and yeares Measure their ages; thou, by Tears .

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125 XXVn So do perfumes expire. So sigh tonaaited sweets, opprest With proud vnplttyiQg fire. Such Tears the sxiffriog Rose that's vext With vngentle flames does shed. Sweating in a too varm bed. XX7III Say, ye bright brothers. The fugitiue soetry, appears in many forms such as the transcendence at natural law, denial of ten^oral limits, asserticm of the boundless, the iimeasurable, and the indeterminable. In "The Weeper" the upward motion of the tears— "Vpwards thou dost weep" (IV, l)— .is a transcendence of the natural behavior of phenomena; the "Euer bubling

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126 things" (l, 3) and the "St HI spending, neuer spent" (l, 5) denies t^Biporal llaitaticn; a sense of the boundless, the ijnaeasurable, and the indeterminable is suggested by such patterns as "Heauens of euerfedllng starres" (ll, 2) and "two falthfull fcnintalnes;/ Tvo valklng baths; two vecplng niotloDs;/ Portable, & eoG^)endlous oceans" (XIX, U-6). The "shutt our eyes that we nay see" of "In Ttie Glorlove Epiphany of Our Lord God" denies tbe natural mode of visual percepti«}« Patterns that deny temporal llaltations are very abundant thoughout the vorks of Crauhaw— "uncoosTJoa'd conxsunption" and "never-fading fields of light" ("Sospetto d'Herode" p. 111, 8,3 and p. II6, 27,3)j "Flowers of i^uer fading graces" ("Prayer. An Ode Which Was Prefixed to a little Prayer-bocdt gluen to a young Gentle-Wcnan* p. 329, 1. ^2); "euerlastlng smiles" ("A Qyan to The Neane and Honor of The Admirable Sainte Teresa" p. 319, 1. 87) j "euerlastlng lojres bath tl^ white breast" ("In The Glorlovs Assvmptlon of Ovr Blessed Lad/ p. 306, 1. 63), and "Lippes, vhere all Day/ A lovers klsse nay play,/ Yet carry nothing thence awa^" ("Wishes. To his (supposed) Mislaresse" p. I96, 11. 37-39)» Patterns of the boundless and the iBaneasurable are very ccbdu»i throughout the poetry of Crashacw. The very ouumer In which Crashov tends to organize his imagezy— the iaage disasbodled frcn a thlsvcrldly spatio-tenqporal context, the extended object in fixed spacesuggests a transcendence of toaterlal llnitaticas and determinations and a strcag attraction toward the boundlessness of the lionaterlal. There are the "vnbounded Hame " of "To Bie Raae Above Every Bane The Name of Igsus" p. 238, 1. 12)j and the "boundles Hospitality" of

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"0 Gloriosa Dcolna" p, 302, 1. 9); but aore often this tendency tcpwards the IsBBeaeurable takes the form of Imagery of very large niuibers: "Ooo Eyct a thousand rather, and a (Ehousand more'' ("It is better to go Into Heaven vith one eye" p. 93, 1. l), "A thousand sweet Babes from their Mothers Brest" ("Soepetto d* Her ode* p. 109, !• ^), "hundred thousand goods, glories, & graces" ("Prayer. An Ode, Which Was Praeflxed to a little Prayer-book giuen to a young Gentle-Woman" p. 330, 1. 8l); "a thousand cold deaths in one cup" ("A ^yam to The Naaie and Hcwor of Tb» Admirable Sainte Teresa" p. 3l8, 1, 38), and "Into a thousand sveet di3tln^ish»d Tones" ("Miaslcks Duell" p. IU9, 1. 23)» One of the manlTestatlc^is of the disregard for the natural facts of everyday reality is Crashaw's fondness for depicting actual states of people transcending the limitations of the Biaterial vorld* In fact "fti the wounds of oiar crucified Lord," "On the bleeding wounds of our crucified Lord," and "The Weeper" are all constructed to depict a contOBplation of the divine, a rapturous state in which there is a transcendence of the llBlted materiality of this world. Two patterns of images actually depicting transcendence are found In respectively the "^ymn to the HBane and Honor of The Admirable Sainte Hferesa" and "In the Glorlovs Assvapticm of Ovr Blessed lady." In the first, the transcendence has already taken place, but in the seccaid, the actual state of traz^cendence is described. There So soon as thou shalt first appear. The Moo n of maiden Starrs, thy white MISaSESSE, attended by such brl^t Scales as thy shining self, shall cooe

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128 Aod In her first raiakes make thee room; Where 'moogst her snowy family iBBOortall vellcooes vait for thee. (p. 320, n. 121-28) Then the chast starres, whose cholse lamps coae to ll^t her Vhlle tfarou^ the crystall orbes, clearer tbaa they She dlnibes; and malses a farre more milky way. 8he*s calld. Hark, hov the dear lanortall doue Slghcs to his syltier mate rise vp, my loue! Rise vp, my fair, ^y spottlesse ooe! The winter's past, the rain is gone. (p. 30U, 11. U-10) Closely related to this disregarding of natural fact and the attraction toward Has izanaterial and that which is not limited by the dixaenslnas of this world are the recurrent patterns of cpntenptus mundi . Acttffllly, "The Weeper" is a ccastructioi of repeated denounclation of tola world as inferior to the "tears"— symbols of devotiwi to Christ. In stanza III there is a statement of the inferiori-ty of this world— "It is not for our earth and vs/ To shine in Things so laretious" (5-6). In stanza YIH the "deaw" scorns the "primrose's pale cheek" and the "lilly»s neck" to long for a uaificatioo with the "Tear." The "deow" of the "Tear" in stanza IX is more sweet than "the balsam^sweating bouj^." The "Golden Tagus" (stanza Xm) would prefer to trade its gold for the silver of the "Tear." The "Tear" is svrperior to the delightful seasons of this world, April and May (stanza XI7). The "Tear" is also superior to the wealth of Princes (stanza XX), "0^ roee»s modest Cheek" (stanza XXX), and the •Violet's humble head" (stanza XXX); and the ccnrplete superica-ity of "The Tear" to all that is in this world is sunmied up in stanza XXIX.

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129 Vhltber avay so fast? For sure the sordid earth Your Sweetness cannot tast Jkar does the dust deserue your birth. The eotire poen '*To The Noblest And Best of Ladles, The Countess of Denbi^** is a plea to renounce this vorld In the favor of a dedication to the divine, ^o of the most attractive coDteag)tus mundi passages are from •'Prayer, An Ode, which was Prefixed to a little Prayer-book given to a young Gentle-wcnan** and "To The Sane Party^ Covnsel CcsQceming BSer Choise." In the first passage, there is a denunclatlcm of the inferior pleasures of the "gadde abroad" io this world, and then follows a wonderful description of an other-worldly experience, ' lights which are not seen with eyes." But if the noble Bridegrogni when he ccoe. Shall find the loyterlng Heart frota liorae; Leauing her chast abode To gadde abroad Among the gay aates of the god ot flyes; To take her pleasvire & to play And keep the deuiU's holyday; To dance Inth* sunshine of seme fflstlUng ^t beguiling Spheares of sweet & sugared Lyes, Saae slippery Pair Of false, perhaps as fair, Paltterlng but forswearing eyes; Doubtlesse some other heart Will gett the start Mean while, & stepping In before Will take possession of that sacred store Of hidden sweets and holy loys. Words which are not heard with Bares (Those tumultuous shops of noise) Effectuall wispers, whc^e still voice The soul it selfe more feels than heares; Amorous laaguistaatents; luminous trances; Si^ts which are not seen with eyes; Spirltuall and soul-piercing glances

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130 Whose inire and subtil ll^tnlng flyes Bene to the heart, and setts the house on fire And mslts it down in sweet desire Yet does not stay To ask the windows leaue to pass that way; Delicious DeathBi soft exhalations Of soul; dear & dlTlne annihilationsj A thousaod VBknown rites Of ioys & rarefyd delights; A hundred thoueaod goods, glories, and graces. And BEiBy a oystick thing Which the diulne esabraces Of the deare spouse of spirits vith them will bring For which it Is no shane That dull mortality oust not know a naiae* (p. 329, 11. h7~86) In the secood x>assage, this world is beaxitifully denounced as a collection of "Cfuilded dim^hllls," You*atie seen allready, in this lower spheore Of froth & bubbles, what to look for here. Say, gentle soul, what can you find But painted shapes. Peacocks & Apes, Illustrious flyes, Guilded dun^llls, glorious I^es, Goodly surmises And deqp disguises, Oattaes of water, words of wind? (p. 332, 11. 8-17) The pattern of attenuation manifests itself in many ways throughout the poetry of Crashaw, color patterns of whiteness, patterns of mildness az^ softness in the form of the innumerable images of •feasts," "nest," •'blushing," and many others. Patterns of whiteness, considering ll£^t axA crystal as whltex^ss, dominate "The Weeper" There are "syluer-footed rills* (l, 2), "Thawing crystal! snowy hills" (I, k), "euer-faning starres" (II, 2), "counter shine" (H, 5), "milky riuers" (IV, 3), "the cream" (IV, k), "Her proudest pearles"

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131 (Vn, 6), "The desEw" (vni, l), "crystall vlolls* (XII, U), "milky doues" (XV, 3), "The lamb" (XVm, 6), "silver show'rs" (XXI, 6), and "ye bright brothers" (XXVUI, l). The pattern of whiteness has Biany forms throughout Crashav*s poetry. Imagery of light is very ccaaonf and can be picked out at random. Also vhiteness has the fcma of silver: "As ever Sllver-tipt, the side of shady mountaine" ("To Pontius washing his blood-stained hands" (p. 88, 1. 8), "Each his payre of sylver Doues" ("A ^ymne of the Nativi-ty, sung by the Shepheards" p» 251, 1. 106), "Deare silver breasted dove" ("On a jjrayer botdie sent to Mrs. M, R." p. 129# 1» 92), and "For a silvercrowned Head" ("Vpon the Deathe of a Gentlemen" p. l66, 1. 11); of pearles: "The purest Pearles" ("Vpoo tke Death of Mr. Herrys" p* l68, 1. 19), "Like were "toe Pearles they wept" ("Vjwm the Duke of Yorke his Biarth. A Panegyricke" p. I78, 1. 6k), and "my pearle-tipt fingers top" ("Luke 16." p. 96, 1. 2); of diamcasds: "A wa-bry Diamond" ("The Teare" p. 6k, 1. k), "Mother-Diamonds" ("A Bytme of the Mativlty, sung by the Shepheards" p. 108, 12,5) and "Though every Diemcoid in loves crowne" ("Loves Horoscope" p. 186, 1. 3?) J of crystal: "Wheare Jordan melts his Canrystall" ("Sospetto d« Herode" p. 112, 11,5), "While throu^ the crystall orbes, clearer then they" ("In the Glorious Assvn5>tiQO of Ovr Blessed Lady" p. 304, 1. 5), "A soul sheath'd in a christall shrine" ("Tenrpejrance of the Cheap Physitian" p. 3^3, 1. 23), and "Till that Divine/ Mae, take a shrine/ Of ChrystallVlesh, tlnrough which to shine" ("Wishes. To his (supposed) Mistresse" p. 195, 1» 13)j of stars; "The Moon of maiden Starrs" ("A Qymn to The Ifeme and Kjoour

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232 of The Admirable Salute Teresa" p. 320, 1. 123) J of lilies: "As the modest maiden lilly" ("Hew Year»8 Day" p. 251, 1. ll)j and the foam of snow: "Offring their vbiteet sheets of sncw" ("In The Holy Hatlvity of Ovr Lord God. A Hymn Svung as by the Shephearda" p. 2l«-9, 1. 53); of swans: "o fair*, o dying Gwan! ("Joh. 15" p. 95, 1. 2). ^Hie pattern of attenuation is also very laraninent in "The Weeper." There eare "ttie slow nKjtion of '*th*mllky riuers creep" (IV, 3), the attenuated sip rather than the robust drink of "A brisk Cherub saae-tiiing sippes" (V, 2), the mildness of the evening rather than the vividness of noon in "the euening's eyes" (VI, l), the softness of "!luKl»d" (Vm, U), the "creep" agalii in "Softly let them creep" (X, 3), the tender activity of peeping in "Peeps" (XI, 3), and the softness and mildness of a blush in "And blushes at the bridegroorae sun" (XI, k)f ihe soflatess of a nurmer in "Golden Tagus mumurs" (xni), the calmness and softness of "Content & quiet he would goe" (xm, k), the mildness of "kinder shoures" (XIV, 5), the Bof-toess of "nests of milky doues" (XV, 3), and the milAness of warmth in "Warm silver show'rs" (XXI, 6). These patterns of attenuation are very coenota throughout the poetry of Crashaw. Some are "And with sad murmurs" ("To Pontius washing his blood-stained luauids" p. 88, 1. Ik), "And in their murmurea keepe their miglitly name" ("Sospetto d» Berode" p. 110, U,8), "He Burmurs" C'Sospetto d« Herode" p. 125, 6l,5), "That in thy Eares thus keeps a murmuring" (*Vpon the Duke of Yorke his Birth. A Panegyricke" p. 180, 1. 107), "aiid vrge the miinauring graues" ("The 3sma of the

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133 Church, In Meditation of tl» Day of Judffnent" p. 299, 111,3), "soft Blumbers" ("The Teare" p. 85, 1. U), "At the whisper of thy Word" ("Psaljae 23" p. lOU, 1. k^), the "ifeslcks dainty touch" ("Psalae 137" P. 105, 1. 1?), "Infant lips" ("Sospetto d» Herode" p. 109, 1. 6), "a soft childe" ("In nsiaory of the Vertuous and Learned Lady Madre de Teresa that sought an early Martyrdcne" p. 317» 1. lU), "soft divisions" ("lAisicks Duell" p. IU9, 1. 2it), "soft Insinuations," "weake conceptions," and "mild instinct" ("Out of Virgil in the Praise of the Spring" p. 155, U. ?, 9, and ll), "a tender ray" ("The beginning of the Heliodorous" p. 158, 1, 2), "The vorking Bees soft nelting Grold" ("Out of the Greeke Cupid's Cryer" p. 159, 1. 25), "the dinsne face of this dull Heialsphaere" ("Vpoj Bishcqp Andrews his Picture before his Sermons" p, I63, 1. 3), "the tlBorous tSaiden-Blossonies on each Bough" ('Vpon the He&th of Ifr. Herrys" p. 168, 1. 23), "a softer style" ("Another" p. I7I, 1 37), "At each comer peeping forth" ("His Epitaphh" p. 173, 1. 38), "drowsinesse" ("To n» Morning. Satisfaction for sleepe" p. I83, 1. 2), "soft, silken hours" (Wishes. To his (supposed) Mistresse" p. 197, 1. 91), "Cane ye soft ministers of sweet sad mirth" ("To The NBoaw Above Every Hame, The name of lears. A l^ysin" p. 2Ul, 1. 62), "I saw the curl*d drops, soft & slow" ("In The Holy nativity of Ovr Lord God, A Bfemn Svng as by the Shepheards" p. 2k$, 1. 51), "Thy softer yet more certaine Darts" ("In The Gloriovs Epiphanie of Ovr Lord God, A ^ymn. Svng as by the three lOngs" p. 256, 1. 78), aad. "soft sourse of loue" ("Dies Irae Dies nia. The ^ynn of The Chvrch In Ifeditation of the Day

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13U of IvdsrKnt" p. 300, VH, k). One of the most attractive expressions of attanxuitlcm Is the pattern of rarefaction and dissolution* The pattern occurs In the first stanza of "The Weeper"— "TlMwing crystall snowy hills,/ Still i spending, neuer spent!" (l, ^-5). In this pattern snow vith the Metaphorical quality of czystal suggesting hardness emd in the form of hills suggesting ccHnpaetness is melted and diffused everlastingly into activated streaie. In stanza XVII floods and fire, suns and shoMers are distilled and blended into a new ararefied substance. The vords of a prayer cllaib upward in stanza XXIV In the diffused and rarefied form of clouds of incense. There is the expiraticm of perfuiae in stanza XXVU.-om evanescence of the elusive. Crashaw's aelectlcoi of such image patterns for his expressive needs indicates a meBtal set attracted toward the more subtle, more refined, and more iamaterlal aspects of experience, the "Anorous languisfaments; luminous trances*— a strtaig attraction toward the spiritiaal, the supernatural, and the other world. Patterns of attenuation and rarefaction are found throughout the poetry of Crashaw. In "On a foule Morning, being then to talca a Journey," the jjattem takes the form of water being distilled into rals, and then dlstlll|fid back again. With vcmton gales: his balmy breath shall licks The tender drops which tremble cm her cheeke; Which rarifyed, and in a gentle ralne On those delicious bankes distill *d againe Shall rise in a sweet Harvest; which discloses Two euer blushing beds of new-bca*ne Roses. (pp. 181-82, U. 13-18)

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135 Sugar is dissolved In "On Hope-~"A8 luaqpes of Sugar loose themselues, and twine/ Their supple essence with the soul of Wine" (29-30). In •*Po the Kane Ahoue Euery Ifeme The Mbbdc of lesvs," there is a pattern of the dissolution and rarefaction of human heings, the corporeal. Into the Immateriality of a song. And when ycaa»are coiae, with All That you can bring or we can call; may you fix For euer here, & mix Yourselues into the long And euerlastiug series of a deathlesae Song; Mix All your a»ny Worlds, Aboue And loose thea into One of Loue. (p. 2Ul, U. 80-8?) The pattern takes the form of a plea ftar the dissolution of death In "Sancta MbtIa DoloruB* Shall If sett there So deep a share (Deaf wounds) and onely now In sorrows draw no Dluidend with you? "be more wise If not more soft, nine eyes! Flow, tardy founts! & into decent showres Dissolue my Dayes and Howres. And if thou yet (faint soul!) defer To bleed witli him, fail not to weep with her. (pp. 286-87, K, 1-10) Again in "A Itym To Kje Vam and Honor of The Admirable Saint Teresa,' an Image of a "soft lump" of incense being dissolved into a cloud cxpareases a longing for death. When These thy Deaths, so nujaercua Shall all at laat ey into one, And melt thy Soul's sweet aemsionj Like a soft lump of incense, hasted

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136 ^y too hot a fire, & vested Into perfiimlng clouds, so f»»t Shalt thou exhale to Ifeaun at last In a resolulBg Sigh . . , (p. 320, 11. 110-17) Ihus so far in this study, the conclusion has been reached that Donne organizes his imagery so that an Inmaterial thing originates trm a inaterial thing, with the iamaterial thing being dependent for Ita existence on the laaterlal thing, and with the material thing being dependent for its value on the Inaaterial thing. Ih the study of Gearge Herbert, the conclusion was that the ntaterlal thing and the iwi^erial thing e> 'sta In a more Intlnate relatiraship. instead of the naterial thing b^ing subordinated as it is Dt»ne, the aaterial thing in ferbert has a significance, a value, in that it figures the divine. Ih Crashaw, the eB5>hasi8 in his laage organleatlc« is on the laaaterial as existing without ttie aaterial thing.

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CHAPTER V ANDREW MARVELL Tlie selection and organization of the imagery in the English poeasis of Andrew Marvell reveals a mentality very much attracted to plants, aninals, and phenomena of inanimate nature* Within the context of seme of his poens, such as "On a Drop of Dew," a natural object or event serves as a symbol (the drop of dew as a gynibol of the sotil); but when the organization of the image into its context is examined, the care with which llarvell selects sensuous and specific details to depict his natural objects is observed* He endows these images with the coiqjleteness of concrete things (spatial placement and taiporal existence), and he enriches then with an aesthetic appeal* This type of image organization indicates that Marvell is more interested in the thing itself, the natural object or event, than in that iriaich it symbolizes; accordingly Maarvell is the only one of the four poets in this study that is more concerned with material things than with immaterial* The imagery in "Upon Appleton House" reveals I:3rvell*s strong attraction to the details of nature and things of the earth* VJhen he uses the image of a shrub, he adds the detail of a physical dimension ("Low Shrubs,")* When he uses the image of a dove, he specifies " The Pogns and Letters of Andrew llarvell . ed. H« M. Margoliouth (Oxford, 1921), p. 75, 1. 515, Subsequent quotations froc. Marvell cited in wy text refer to this edition. 137

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138 a definite type, "Stocl -d^ves," and adds the particularizing detail of neck rings (p, 75, Ix. 523-24), Also, the Wood-moths are spatially placed on the bark of a tree (p. 75t 1« 5^2), and the birds on "Lime-twigs" (p, 76, 1. 57^) > The grass has moisture (p. 78, 1. 635), and the meadows mud (p. 79 t !• 635) • A further indication of 14arvell»s attraction to natural things is given Ify his use of light imagery, to describe an orange in "Bermudas, " and to depict a state of transcendence in "The Garden." After the examination of the two examples from Marvell, some of Crashaw*s light imagery will be presented as a contrast to that of Marvell, Like Crashaw, Marvell is attracted to light; but Marvell is inclined toward earthly light, light as it embellishes the color of a natural object, an orange "He hangs in shades the Orange bright,/ Like golden LaK^js in a green Night," (Bermudas," n, 17-18) . Unlike Crashaw, Marvell doaonstrates little concern with the depiction of the upper world of heavenly and supernatural lights. In his description of a state of transcendence, Marvell selects the image of "various" lights, the light of this world. }fy Soul into the bo\ighs does glide: There like a Bird it sits, and sings. Then whets, and combs its silver Vfijigs; And, till prepar'd for longer fli^t. Waves in its Plumes the various Light, ("The Garden," p, 45, 11, 52-56) On the other hand, in d^icting a state of transcendence, Crashaw selects images of the pure and unvariegated light of heaven.

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X39 Vftien These thy Deaths, so numeroiis Shall all at last dy into one. And melt tl^ Soiil's sweet mansion Like a soft lump of incense, hasted I^ too hott a fire, & wasted Into perf toning clouds, so fast Shalt thou exhale to Heaun at last In a resoluing Sigh , and then what? Ask not the Tongues of men. Angells cannot tell, suffice. Thy selfe shall feel thine own full joys And hold them fast for eaer» There So soon as thou shalt fii^t appear. The Moon of maiden stars, thy white Mistress , attended by such bright Soules as thy shining self, shall cane And in her first rarfces make thee rooaiij Where *mongst her snowy family Imortall wellcomes wait for thee. (Hymn to the Name and Honor of the Admirable Sainte Teresa,'' p. 109, H. 109-28) Let us also observe at this point other details of difference between I-iaarvell and Crashaw in the pi-esentation of a state of transcendence, as such an observation will greatly aid our underatanding of Marvell's organization of nature imagery and his organization of imagery in general. Crashaw*s Sainte Teresa in her transcendence is no longer alive. She has achieved death as a triumph. She enters the joyful celestial world, and dwells among supernatural lights, shining souls. In Marvell*s description of a transcendence, the participant in this supreme mystical experience remains alive and does not actually leave this world, spiritually or otherwise. His soul ascends upward into the boughs of a tree, anc' becomes metaphorically imbued with the qualities of a bird. The soul transcends the bo(V to becane like an object of nattire, a bird wavinj_, its wings in a tree, llowhere in the poetry of

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lltO Marvell is his fondness for nature more evident than in this passage from "The Garden," ami his bird is very carefully and naturalistically portrayed—'unless the ornamental detail of silver idjigs may seem an exaggeration of natxire. Not only does Marvell 's imagery differ from the extremely spiritual practice of Crashaw, who hardly ever heeds the natviral physical object, let alone in a description of mystical rapture. But Marvell also differs fran Donne. It T/ill be convenient for purposes of comparison to refer again to the bird imageiy we noticed in Chapter I, included in Donne 's poem "The Cjrosse": "Looke downe, thou spiest our Crosses in small things;/ Looke up, thou seest birds rais'd on crossed wings" (p. 233» 11» 21-22) » Here the image serves primarily to suggest an analogy, a correspondence between created things and the Creator. Donne is concerned with birds as symbols of the immaterial. Donne does not organize his imagery to depict carefully and with specific and naturalistic details an aesthetically appealing natural object in a particularized earthly setting. Marvell 's description of the bird in "The Garden" suggests a material thing in a material world, although the image serves as a metaphor for the soul. The bird is presented as spatially placed on the solid f oimdation of a tree branch, engaged in the physical activities of singing and the whetting, combing, and waving of his wings. The bird is a mobile creature in a solid setting. In 14arvell»s lovely poem, therefore, an arbitrarily x^etorical relationship exists between the bird as a material object, and the

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lia material object as a symbol of an immateral thing. He emphasizes the sensuousness and the material features of the bird, and the symboUzation of an immaterial thing is e^qserienoed as a metaphorical addition; but in Donne's ijnage of the birds, the symbolization of an immaterial thing is experienced by us as being a structural part of the bird, and we do not feel that the symbol is merety arbitrarily assigned by a process of rhetoric. A study of the nature images throughout the poems of Marvell will further reveal how his imagexy functions, how he is attracted to the direct aesthetic appeal of natural objects. This attraction governs Marvell 's characteristic pattern of image organization. Nature inagejiy in "On a Drop of Dew« is used to express a neo« Platonic allegoiy, the alienation of the soul in this world, but let us observe how the iiaageiy is organized according to the characteristic pattexm. See how the Orient Dew, Shed from the Bosom of the Mom Into the blowing Roses, Yet careless of its Mansion new; For the clear Region where »twas bom Round in its self incloses: And in its Little Globes Extent, Frames as it can its native Element, Plow it the purple flow»r does slight. Scarce touching where it lyes, But gazing back upon the Skies, Shines with a mournful Light; Like its own Tear, Because so long divided from the Sphear. Restless it roules and unsecure. Trembling lest it grow impvire; Till the warn Sim pitty it»s Pain,

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1U2 And to the skies exhale It back again. So the Soul, that Drop, that Ray Of the clear Fotmtaln of Eternal Day, 20 Could It within the humane flov*r be seen, Semeobring still Its former hei^t. Shuns the sweat leaves and blossoms green; And, recollecting its own Light, Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, e:q;>res8 The greater Heaven in an Heaven less* In how coy a Figure wound. Every way it turns away: So the WcMrld excluding round. Yet receiving in the Day 30 Dark beneath, but bright above: Mre disdaining, there in Love, How loose and easie hence to got How girt and ready to ascend. Moving but on a point below. It all about does upwards bend. Such did the Manna's sacred Dew distil; White, and intlre, though congealed and chill. Congeal *d on Earth: but does, dissolving, run Into the Glories of th* Almighty Sun. kO (pp. 12-13) Althom^ the theme of "On a Drop of Dew" expresses a radical otherworldllness, the imagery is organized in such a manner that it suggests the aesthetic appeal of natural objects as they appear on this earth. Again, as in "The Garden," a natural object is selected to serve as a syoobol for the soul, but this natural object is protrayed viih such en exqulslteness of details that we are attracted to the drop of dew as a thing-in-itself . The drop of dew exists for its sensuous beauty » sod not merely for its function as a symbol. Throughout his poems as in "On a Drop of Dew," Marvell displays a fondness for Images of wet or moist natural objects. In "Upon Appleton House" through the detail of moisture, Narvell endows the grass with the textural quality of silk.

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11*3 For now the Waves are fal'n and dry*d, And now the Meadows fresher dy*d; Whose Grass, with inolster colour dasht, Seans as green Silks but newly washt. (p. 78, 11. 625-28) The life of ''Damon the Mower" is enriched by moisture. I am the Mower Damon, known Through all the Meadows I have mown. On me 1^ie Mom her dew distills Before her darling Daffadils. And, if at Noon my toil me heat. The sun himself licks off my Sweat. While, going heme, the Ev*ning sweet In cowslipowater bathes my feet. (p. 43, 11. UI-U8) In "Daphnis and Chloe" roses are gathered in the rain, although the wetness does not bring a happy ending to this activity of the lovers. Gentler times for Love are ment Who for parting pleasure strain Gather Roses in the rain. Wet -Uiemselves and spoil their Sent. (p. 36, n. 85-88) How, since we are discussing the Image of dew and how it is organized in "Hte a Drop of Dew," let us observe how George Herbert uses and organizes the Image of dew in his poem "Grace,** and then let us observe how this orc^ization differs from that of Marvell. When in his i>oem "Grace," George Herbert uses the image "dew," he is asking God as creator of the order of the universe not to do aore for a natural object, the grass, than he will do for men, asking God to let his graces drop without cease from above. Althou^ Herbert presents the dew as something palpable engaged in a process of physical motion, the falling every day, he esiphasizes through his organization of the image

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Ikk the order and regularity of natiire— not the aesthetic attractiveness of the object Itself and the event as does Marvell in his "On a Drqp of Dew." My stock lies dead; and no increase Doth my dixLl husbandrie improve: let thy graces without cease Drqp from above! If still the sunne should hide his fcu:e. Thy house would but a dunget^ prove, ISby works nights captives: let grace Drop from above! The dew doth ev*ry morning fall; Az^ shall the dew out-strip thy dove? The dew, for which grasse cannot call. Drop from above. Death is still working like a mole, And digs my grave at each remove; Let grace work too, and on my soul Drop from above* Sinne is still haiBDering my heart Vbto a hardnesse, void of love: Let suppling grace, to crosse his art. Drop from above. (p. 60) Differing from George Herbert in the matter of emphasis, Marvell depicts his drop of dew with detailed naturalistic precision, and the details provide an aesthetic enrictanent. !R)e dew originates from a locality made spatially more definite than nature by a poetic figure ("the Bosom of the Mom"), traverses space ("Shed"), and passes from the point of origin to a definite sj)atial location on particular moving objects ("blowing roses"). The drop of dew has a specific shape ("Its little Globes Extent"), and a definite spatial relationship to the

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li^5 rose ("Scarce touchliig where It l;ye8"). Of course, the details of the drop of dev and its relationship to the rose have their symbolic counterparts. The "little Globes Extent" suggests the self-contained nature of the sovd., and the "Scarce touching vhere it lyes, " the alien relationship of the soul to this vorld. However, we feel that Btervell is much more attracted to the drop of dew as a material thing than was Herbert in his poem "Grace." For another use and organization of an image of a natural object, a usage which differs from both that of George Herbert and Andrew Marvell, let us recall Cra8haw*8 image "roses" and ccnqpare it to Marvell»s Image of a rose in "On a Drop of Dew." In "On the wounds of our crucified Lord," Crashaw says, "Lo! a mouth, whose fuU-blocn'd lips/ At too deare a rate are roses." Her* the whole Imagery of the poem is so organised, and the material attributes of the roses so neglected, that the word "roses" Immediately conveys the spiritual, immaterial significance -Uiat belongs to It through a long tradition in symbol. The correspondence of the image to actual particxilar roses is negligible. Marvell 's roses contrariwise are described In details that evoke the physical blossoms. The "roses" of "On a Drop of Dew" are moving ("blowing"), have a definite color ("purple"), appear within a spatial context ("sweat leaves and blossoms green"), and are acted upon through spatial Juxtaposition by the drop of dew.

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1U6 Turning now to "A Dialogue Between The Resolved Soul, nnd Created Pleasvure," we note that the pleasiires of nature are <»e of the means by vhich "Pleasure" tempts the "Sovil." Marvell's practice, his enqphasls on the material throughout the poem, may be Illustrated by this brief passage. Pleasure . Welccne the Creatloos Guest, Lord of Earth, and Beavens Heir. Lay aside that Warlike Crest, And of nature's banquet share: Where the Souls of fruits and flowers Stand prepar*d to heighten yours, Soul » I sup aboye, and cannot stay To bait so long upon the vay. Pleasure » On these downy Pillows lye. Whose soft Plumes viU thither fly: 20 Oa these Roses strow*d so plain Lest one Leaf thy Side should strain* Soul . Ky gentler Rest is on a Thought^ Conscious of doing what I ought. Pleasure. If thou bee*st with Perfumes pleas *d. Such as oft the Gods appeas'd. Thou in fragrant Clouds shalt show Like another God below. Soul . A Soul that knowes not to presimte Is Heaven's and its own perfume. (pp. 9-10, 11. 11-30)

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lu? As In "On a Drop of Dew," the soul In "A Dialogue Between Bie Resolved Soul and Created Pleasure," although in this vorld, loogs for its heavenly hone; but in Marvell's use of the medieval genre of a debate between the body and soul, such a daintiness and exquislteness of toaoe, rhyttaan, and sound, along with the spectacular decor provided by tbe laagexy of the opening with its "Helmet bright" (l. 3) and "silken Bazuieirs" (l. 6), exists that the debate seems more of a verbal ballet than an actual teotptatlon scene; we feel that the temptation is only a device to provide a setting for a display. Statistics ccoceming the Imagezy give an indication of Marvell*8 interest. The imagery connected with the "Soul" is usually abstract and that of "Pleasure," concrete; and as indicative of the i)oet*6 interest, "Pleasiore" has almost t» ice as many lines, 38, as the "Soul," 20. Almost coe-flfth (?) of "Pleasure's" lines are devoted to nature (ll. I6-I8 end 19-22). "Pleasure's" dialogue usually consists of units of four lines, but the "Soul" usually has cmly two. The oae extended speech of the "Soul" ccuicems a pun pertaining to music. Had I but any time to lose. On this I would it all dispose. Cease Tempter. Hone can chain a mind Whom this sweet Chordage cannot bind. (p. 10, 11. kl'kk) If, we may speculate, a poet with an otherworldly mentality like that of Crashaw had written "A Dialogue Between The Resolved Soul, and Created Pleasure," more than likely the ratio between t^e lines granted "Pleasure" and the "Soxil" would have been reversed. Instead of

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lUS linee resembling such sketchy statcanents sus "If things of Slg^t such Eeavens be,/ What Heavens are those we cannot see?" (ll. 55-56), Crashaw probably would have twenty lines devoted to celebrating and describing the things that we must shut our eyes to see; and then he would have allowed pleasure two lines* As a further indicatiraj of the difference in mentality behind the imagery of CZ'ashaw and Morvell, let us examine Marvell*s "E^yes and Tears," In this poem Marvell ridicules rather than celebrates the vl8ic» of tear-filled eyes (see especially 11« U-8)* As has been seen in the preciseness of the description of the "rcaes" emd the "dew" in "On a Drop of Dew" and of the "roses" in "A Dialogue Between The Resolved Soul, and Created Pleasure" (ll. 21-22), Marvell is attracted toward visual clarity and deflniteness in his iaagery; and In "Eyes and Tears" he ridicules poems that proclaim the stiperiorlty of "Tears" over natured object8"(ll. 17-20), and he ridicules the type of mystic vislcaj obtained by those "That weep the more, and see the less:/ And, to preserve their Sight more true,/ Bath still their E|yes in their own Dew." I. Bow wisely Natiu^ did decree. With the same Eyes to weep and seel That, having viewed the object vala. They might be ready to complain. n. And, since the Self -deluding Sight, In a fal6e Angle takes each hif^t; These Tears which better measxire all. Like wat*ry Lines and Pluosoets fall.

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Iks in. Two Tears, vhlch Sorrow loog did weigh Within the Scales of either Eye, 10 And then paid out In equal Poise, Are tte true price of all i«y Joyes. IV. What in the World siost fair ax^ars. Yea even Laughter, turns to Tears: And all the Jewels which ve prize. Melt in these Pendants of the E|yes. T. I have through every Garden been. Amongst the Red, the White, the Green; And yet, from all the flow'rs I saw. No Hbny, but these Tears could draw. 20 VI. So the all-seeing Sun each day Distills the World with Chymick Rayj But finds the Essence cmly Showers, Which straight in pity back he powers. VII. Yet happy they whoo Grief doth bless. That veep the more, and see the less: Axid, to preserve their Sight more true, Bd'tii still their Elyes in their own Dev. vm. So Magdalen, in Tears more vise Dissolved those captivating Eyes, Whose liquid Chalnes could flowing meet 30 To fetter her Redeemers feet. n. ITot full sailes hasting loeden hoote, Nor the chast Ladies pregnant Wcnb, Ror Cynthia Teeming show's so fair. As two Eyes svola vith weeping are.

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150 X. Ihe sparkling Glance that shoots Desire, Drenched in these Waves, does lose it fire. Yea oft the Thund*rer pltty takes And here the hissing Lightning slakes. kQ XX. The Incense vas to Heaven dear. Not as a Perfune, but a Tear. And Stars shev lovely in the Fight, Kit aa they seem the Tears of Light. XII. I Ope then nine Eyes your double Sluice, And practice so your noblest Use. For others too can see, or sleep; But only humane Eyes can ve^. xin. Hbv like two Clouds dissolving, drop. And at each Tear In distance stop: 50 How like two Fountains trickle down: How like two floods o'lretum and drown. XIV. Thus let your Streams o'reflow your Springs, Till Eyes and Tears by the same things: And each the other's difference bears; These weeping Eyes, tl»se seeing Tears. (pp. 15-17) Whether or not "Eyes and Tears'* is a direct satire c» the Magdalen and tear-filled poems of Crashaw cannot be asceirtained; but tbe imagery throughout indicates the possibility. In stanza I the satire concerns the literary tradition of the weeping lover and the conplaint— a type of satire to be repeated in "To his Coy Mistress" ("I by the Tide/ Of Bunber would conqplain."— p. &5, 11. 6-7). This

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151 satiric tendency in the poems of MarveU also Indicates a difference from Crashav. MarveU as satirist creates a point of view on the outside of the experience described in the poem* The i>oint of vlev In ''Eyes and Tears'* is that of an evaluating and discerning observer. The same point of viev, that of the aloof observer, is es^loyed in "On a Drop of Dev." The opening line "See how the Orient Dev" creates the point of vlev of a spectator, not that of a direct participant in ibe experience being described vithin the poem* One of the major chairacteristics of Crashav is the projection of the reader into the experience being described, as if the self vere unlinportanl and the experience vere all* In Marvell's employment of the point of vlev, there is a feeXlng of separation and a distinctness of self on the part of the reader fron the experience being presented vithin the poem* Kov examining "The Coronet" ve observe "tiiat nature Imagery is used to express the misdirection of a man and his separation frcoi God* The definiteness and the specific sensory details of the natural Imagery suggest an e:q>erlence particular and pers<»3alj and therefore the nature imagery qualifies and modifies the meaning of the image "I." In this c<»)text vith its particularized texture, the image "I" suggests a specific individual. On tix other hand in a poem such as George Herbert's "The Collar," the texture although ccnposed of concrete imagery is more general than specific; therefore the image "I," as modified and qualified by the texture, suggests that the "I," an individual, is everyman*

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152 When for the Thorns vltJi vhlch I long, too long. With Biany a piercing vound. My Saviours head have crovn*d, I seek vith Garlands to redress that Wrong: Through every Garden, every Jfead, I gather flow'rs (my fruits are only flowers) Dismantling all the fragrant Towers That once adorn *d ny Shepherdesses head. And now vhen I have sunra'd up all my store. Thinking (so I my self deceive) 30 So rich a Chaplet thence to weave As never yet the king of Glory were: Alas I find the Serpent old That, twining in his speckled breast. About the flow»rs disguised does fold. With wreaths of Fame and Interest. Ah, foolish itojUf that would *st debase with them. And mortal Glory, Heavens Diadem! But thou who only could *8t the Serpent tame. Either his slipp'ry knots at once untie, 20 And dlsintangle all his winding Snare: Or shatter too with him my curious frame: And let these wither, so -Uiat he may die, Ibough set with SklU and chosen out vith Care. That IJiey, while llhou on boidx their Spoils dost tread. May crown thy Feet, that could not crown thy Head. (pp. ll^-15) The imagery of the serpent In lines 13 through l6 of "The Coronet" is representative of Image organization throughout the poems of Marvell. The "Serpent" Is used metaphorically to represent the deceptive nature of worldly "Fame and Interest," and of course, the "Serpent" has its traditional associations vith the tonptation in the Garden of Eden; but beyond the metaphorical and traditional synbolic characteristics, the organization of the imagery reveals an interest in the natural creature for itself. The snake is precisely and graphically represented with a definite texture of coloration ("speckled") and a specific spatial position and figui^d extensicxi ("About the flow*rs disguls*d does fold").

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153 For further evidence of Marvell*s attraction towazxL images graphically representing coomon living creatures, let us glance through Bcme of his poems. There are the grasshoppers C^e Grasshopper its pipe gives ore"— p. k2, 1. 11; and "But Grasshoppers are Gyants ttiere:/ They, In there squeking Laugh, contemn/ Us as we walk more low then them"— p. 70, 11 • 372-7^ )» the frogs ("And hamstring 'd Frogs can dance no more./ But in the brook the green Frog wades."— p. k2, 11. 12-13)* the snake ("To Thee the harmless Snake I bring"— p. U5, 1. 35), and chameleons ("To Thee Chameleons changing hue"— p. U^, 1. 37)^ Glow-wonas are ccBoion ("And underneath the winged Quizes/ Echo about their tuned Fires"— p. "jk, 11. 511-12). Also, there are tortoises ("The low roof'd Tortoises do dwell/ In cases fit of Tortoise-shell"— p. 59* 11« 13-l^)j the bee ("The Bee through these known Allies hum"— p. 68, 1. 29l), birds ("Whose yet unfeather'd Quils"— p. 71, 1. 396) and ("But most the Hewel's wonders are"— p. 75, 11. 538)* fleas ("Such Fleas, ere they ecpproach the Eye,/ In Multiplying Glasses lye"— p. 73* H)* wood-moths ("Doth from the Bark the Wood^aoths glean"— p. 75* 1. 5^*2), and fishes ("The stupid Fishes hang, as plain/ As Flies in Chrystal overt'ane"— p. 80, 11. 677-78). "Bermudas" has an abundajice of nature Imagery, sane with extraordinary color end textural suggestions. The poen concerns an exotic voyage which is given as evidence of God's bounty. Where "Uie remote Bermudas ride In th* Oceans boscme unaspy'd, FroB a small Boat, -tibat row*d along. The listnlng Winds receiv'd this Song.

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15k What should ve do but sing his Praise That led us through the watry Maze, Unto an Isle so long uiikQOVu, And yet far kinder than our own? Vhez« be the huge Sea*Mon8ters vracks. That lift the Deep upon liietr Backs. 10 He lands us on a grassy Stage; Safe from the Storms, and Prelates rage He gave us this eternal Spriug, Which here enamells every thing; And sends the Fowl's to us in care. On daily Visits through the Air. He hangs in shades the Orange bright. Like golden Laiq>s in a green Ifight. And does in the Pcmgranates close. Jewels more rich than Omus show's fiO He makes the Figs o\ir mouths to aeet; And throws the Melons at our feet. But Apples plautfi of such a price. Bo Tree could ever bear thea twice. With Cedars, chosen by his hand, FjTod Lebanon, he stores the Land. And makes the hollow Seas, that roar, Proclaime the Ambergris co shoar. He cast (of which we rather boast) The Gospels Pearl upon our Coast. 30 And in these Rocks for us did frame A Temple, where to sound his Name. let our Voice his Praise exalt. Till it arrive at Heavens Vault: Which thence (perhaps) rebounding, may Eccho beyond the Mexigue Bay . Thus sung they, in the English boat. An holy and a cheerful Hote, And all the way, to guide their Chime, With falling Oars they kept the time. (pp. 17-18) In "On a Drop of Dew" and "A Dialogue between The Resolved Soul, and Created Pleasure"— even in "Eyes and Tears" where in a jo-nilar manner the superiority of the mystic "Tears" is proclaimed over the flowers of the garden (ll. 17-20)~nature imagery tous been employed to esqpress a factor of life in opposition to the divine; but In "Benmidas"

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155 nature is considered a gift of God (ll. 11, 13, 17* 21, 25 and 26). The repetition of the Inage "he," signifying God, establishes an intimate relationship between the created things and the Creator. Of course, much of the nature imagery in "Bermudas" can only be derived ftrom literary sources rather than perscmal observation, for example, -Uie Lebanon Cedars (ll. 25-26); but in the study of this particular aspect of Marvell's Imagery, the concern is not with determining whether an image was derived from reading a book or from actual observation of nature. The point to be noticed here Is that, to a degree unique among the poets we are studying, the imagery is organized within the structure of the pc«n to emphasize the details of the physical object itself. Throughout the "Bermxidas" the nature images, just as in "On a Drop of Dew," are organized to insist ui>on the objects as concrete particulars existing within space and time. The objects thouselves, accordingly, are of central poetic Importance. The organization of the Image of Lebanon cedars suggests direct observation. The phrase "stores the Land" (l. 26) suggests distribution throughout space, creating an experience of physical extension. Also, this feeling of the Lebanon cedars as being actually observed is reinforced by the visual nature of adjacent Imagery such as -ttiat of lines 17 and 18. Lines 17 and l8 demonstrate Marvell's concern with the vivid depiction of the colors of natural objects. The color of the oranges is made more brilliant by being placed on a background of "shade," and by being metaphorically transformed into gold lights on a

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156 background of dark green. Color Ina^ry never vos developed to any extent in the poestts of John Donne and George Herbert. The poems of Crashaw have rmny color IsotgeB, but their combinations lack tbie naturalness^ the subtly perceived value of color shading, the visual clarity and distinctness of Marvell's glowing gold on dark green. Lines 19 through 23 of "BermudajB" contain a number of fruit iJttages, some of vhlch are to repeated in '^Ehe Garden" ; and in this celebration of the gifts of the "he" (God), the emphasis again falls on the sensuous appeal of the objects, and not directly on their symbolic sigDlflcancc, and again a difference from the image organization of John Donne and George Herbert is observed. The inagery in "Bermudas" is organized to present directly as a visual sensation the Jewel-like quality of the inside of a pomegranate and ttas taste of figs. God is not experienced directly in the taste of the figs; but the experience of God as creator of the figs cooes as a fore— 'or afterthought. There is a separatioa between the material thing and the inoaterial thereby symbolized. There is not this separation In the linage of the bird in John D<»me*8 "The Cross," tcac the divine significati<»i is part of the direct experience of the material object. Also in George Hsrbert's "The Flower," as we have already noticed, man's relationship to God is experteaceA directly in the life cycle of the flower. Herbert emphasizes the orderly processes of plant life, the seasonal regularity, the recurrent cycle of greenness and of being shrivelled up into a root underground, the periodicity of life and death; but Marvell stresses the sensuous beauty of the concrete things.

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157 In the i>o&& "Clorlnda and Damon" Marvell as in "A Dialogue Between The Resolved Soul, and Created Pleasure" describes the pleasures of nature as an instnanent of temptation, a tengptatlon away from thoughts of the divine. C. Z bive a grassy Scutcheon spy'd Where Flora blazons all her pride. The Grass I aim to feast thy Sheep: The Flov'rs I for thy Ttootples keep. D. Grass withers; and the Flow'rs too fade. C« Seize the shojrt Joyes then, ere they fade. Seest thou that unfrequented Cave? D. That dent C. Loves Shrine. D. But Virtxie's Grave. C. In whose cool boscme we may lye Safe from the Sun. D. not Heaven's Eye, (p. 18, 11. 2-12) Deaum has the characteristics of the "Resolved Soul," and Clorlnda, "Created Pleasure"; but the separation and opposition between Damon and Clorlnda is resolved through their unification in praising Pan, here understood as a Christian synbol representing Christ himself. Rature also joins in Vie praises, and all the created things become t»«n»« Quire." ^ Chorus. Of Pan the flcwry Pastures sing. Caves eccho, and the Fountains ring. Sing then while he doth us inspire; For all the World is our Pan's Quire. (p. 20, 11. 27-30) ^us nature Imagery has two functions in the po«n, as an enticement to tesB^ptation aiad finally as a herald of the wonders of the divinity.

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158 Altiiough Marvell uses a favorite image "grass" in "Clorlnda and Daaon" to express the ephemeral nature of tlie Joys of this vorld in contrast to the etemality of heaven, "grass" is a characteristic instance of Marvell 's practice with nature imaeery in that though it symbolizes something reprehended the ima^e is presented in an aesthetically atl3xu:tlve context* His affection for the iiaage is manifest throughout his poetic vorks. Tbe "grassy Stage" (p. 17, 1. H) In "Bermudas" is a place of refuge from the rages of nature and man, and a place where everything has the appearance of enamel (p. 1?, 1. lU). The "Elizium " of "Itoyrsis and Dorinda" has the "sweetest grass" (p. 20, 1. 32) along with singing birds (p. 20, 1. 33) and whispering winds (p. 20, 1. 3^). LitUe T. C, in "The Picture of little T. C, in a Pro6i)ect of Flowers" begins her "golden daies" in the "green Grass" (p. 33, 1» 3) vhere she plays with "Roses." In "The Garden," the poet "Insnar'd with Plow'rs" falls on "Grass" (p» U9, 1. Uo), "The Hill and Grove at Billborow" has its "grassy side" (p. 57, 1. 18). The grass of "Upon Appleton House" is endowed with a polished texture ("within the pollsht (Srass"— p. 73, 1» ^57). The aspect of the "grass" image which never varies is the sense of delight with which it is associated. It is the grass itself in which Marvell is interested. The sense of that delighted interest is present whether "grass" is an Image of a spiritual value, as in "Bermudas," or an image of a threat to the spiritual, as in "Clorlnda and Damon," or an image without any reference to matters spiritual^ as is often the case.

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159 nature Imagery In "The l^ph conplalnlng of the death of her Faun** Is presented with elaborate developoent. The wanton Troopers riding byHave shot my Faun and it will dye. Uhgentle men! They cannot thrive To kill thee. Thou neer didst alive Them any harm: alas nor cou*d Thy death yet do them any good. I'm sure I never wisht than ill; Hor do I for all this; nor will: But, if my single Pray'rs may yet Prevail with Heaven to forget 10 Thy murder, I will Joyn my Tears Rather then fail. But my fears i It cannot dye so. Heavens King Keeps register of every thing: And nothing may we use in vain. Ev*n Beasts must be witti Jxistlce slain; Else Ken are made their Deodands. Tbou^ they should wash their guilty hands In this wain life-blood, which doth part Fran thine, and wound me to the Heart 20 Yet could they not be clean: their Stain Is dy'd in such a Purple Grain. There is not such another in The World, to offer for their Sin. Unconstant Sylvio, when yet I had not found him counterfeit. One morning (l remember well) Ty»d in this silver Chain and Bell, tove it to me: nay and I know What he said then: I'm sure I do. 30 Said He, look how your Huntsman here Hath tau^t a Faun to hunt his Dear. But Sylvio seen had me beguil'd This waxed taaae, while he grew wild. And quite regardless of my ^nart. Left me his Faun, but took hie Heart. Thenceforth I set my self to play Hy solitary tine away. With this: and very well content. Could 80 mine Idle Life have spent. 1*0 For it was full of sport; and light Of foot, and heart; and did invite, Me to its game: it seem'd to bless Its self in me. How could I less Than love it? I cannot be Ifekind, t* a Beast that love-Ui me.

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i6o Had it llv»d long, I do not know Whether it too might have done so As Sylvlo did: his Gifts might he Perhaps as false or more than he* $0 But I am sure, for ought that I Could in so short a tljBte eSpie, Thy Love was far more better then The love of false and cruel men. With sweetest milk, and sugar, first X it at mine own fingers nurst. And as it grew, so every day It vax'd more white and sweet -Uian they. Xt had so sweet a Breath! And oft X blusht to see its foot laore soft, (SO And white, (shall I say then my hand?) Bay any Ladies of the Lend. It is a wond'rous thing, how fleet •Twas on tlxose little silver feet. With what a pretty skipping grace It oft would challenge me the Race; And when 'thad left me far away, *Twould stay, and run again, and stay. For it was nimbler much than Hlndes; 70 And trod, as on the four Winds. I have a Garden of ay own, But so with Roses over grown. And Lillies, that you would it guess To be a little Wilderness. And all the Spring time of the year It mely loved to be there. Aaong the beds of Lillyes, I Hwe sought it oft, where it should lye; Yet coiUd not, till it self would rise. Find it, although before aloe ^yes. 80 For, in the flax^i LlUles shade. It like a bank of Lillies laid B^)on -tiie Roses it would feed, Itotlll its Lips ev'n seem'd to bleed; And then to ae 'twould boldly trip. And print "tiiose Roses on my Lip. But all its chief delight was still On Roses thus its self to fill: And its pure virgin Limbs to fold In whitest sheets of Lillies cold. Had it llv*d long, it would have been 90 Lillies wit^ut, Roses within. help! lielp! I see it faint: And dye as calmly as a Saint. See how it weeps. The Tears do cooe

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I6l Sad, slowly dropping like a Guznme. So veeps the wounded Balscmet so The holy Frankincense doth flow. The brotherless Hellades Melt in such Amber Tears as these. I in a golden Vial will Keep these two crystal Tears; and fill It till it do o'reflow with Bine; Then place it in Diana's Shrine. Now my Sweet Faun is vanish *d to Whether the Swans and Turtles go: In fair Eligiiai to endure. With milk-white Lambs, and Ermins pure. do not run too fast: for I Will but bespeak thy Grave, and dye. HO First my unhappy Statue shall Be cut in Marble; and withal, let it be weeping too; but there Th* Engraver sure his Art may spare; For I so truly thee bemeane. That I shall weep though I be Stone: Ifatil my Tears, still dropping, wear Vfy breast, themselves engraving there. There at my feet shalt thou be laid. Of purest Alabaster made: 189 For I would have thine Inmate be White as I can, though not as Thee . (pp. 22-2U) In cOTnecticKi vith man's relationship to nature there are similarities to "The Garden" in 'The Hynqph complaining for the death of her Faun." One is the description of a human being turning to nature after a deception, extd the other, an image pattern expressing the svqperiority of nature over the beauty of a wcoan. As to turning to natxire after a deception, after the nymph has been deceived by Sylvio, she spends her time with a fawn Idiat likes to lie in a lush and luxuriant garden (l. 71) thick with lilies and roses. When the poet in "The Garden" learns that he has deceived himself, been "Mistaken

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162 long** (l. U), by seeking to find his desired values "In busle Conq^aales of Men" (l. 12), he retires to a garden vhere "all Plow*rs and all Trees do close/ To veave the Garlands of repose* (ll. 7-8), I. How vainly men themselves amaze To vln the Palm, the Oke, or Bayes; And their uncessant Labours see Crowned from scne single Herb or Tree. Whose short and narrow verged Shade Does prudently their Toyles upbraid; While all Flow'rs and all Trees do close To veave the Garlands of repose. n. Fftlr quiet, have I found thee here. And Innocence thy Sister dear! 10 Mistaken long, I sought you liien In busle Companies of Men. Your sacred Plants, if here below, (fely among the Plants vill grow. Society is all but rude. To this delicious Solitude. (p. U8, 11. 1-16) In this turning away fran a deception, the deception of a lover in "The ^jraph complaining for the death of her Faun" and the self-deception in "The Garden," both poesns stress the rich beauty of the objects of nature away from the strife and inadequacy of hrmian relationships. A similar situation is found in the "Bermudas," where the beauty of nature is praised as a refuge from hvmian contention. Buman relationships are rarely praised in the poeios of Marvell, and in his two best love poems, "The Definition of Love" and "To his Coy Mistress," the love relationship is anything but sweet and pleasant. The love of "^rhe Definition of Love" "was begotten by despair/

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163 Opon iBposslblllty" (l. 3-^^), and then ft number of Usages stress the separation of the lovers: "Iron vedges(l. U), "Fate" (l. 13), and the "Decrees of Steel" (l. 17). There Is never this struggle vhen In a garden, never the iron wedges end decrees of steel of "The Definition of Love." I. Hf love is of a birth as rare As 'tis for object strange and high: It vas begotten by despair Upon Lnpossibility* Ifegnanliaous Despair alone Covild show me so divine a thiag. Where feeble Hope could ne*r have flown But vainly flapt its Tinsel Wing. III. And yet I quickly might arrive Where my extended Soul is f ixt, But Fate does Iron wedges drive. And alwaies crouds it self betwixt. rr. For Fate with Jealous Eye does see Two perfect Loves; nor lets them close: Their union would her ruine be. And her Tyrannick pow'r depose. V, And therefore her Decrees of Steel Us as tbB distant Poles have plac*d, (Though Loves whole World on us doth wheel) Hot by themselves to be enbrac»d. 20

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164 VI. Unless the giddy Heaven fall. And Earth seme nev Convulsion tear; And, us to Joyn, the World should all Be cranrp'd into a Planisphere * vn. As Lines so Loves oblique nay well Sbeaselves in every Angle greet: But ours so truly Paralel, Through infinite can never meet, VIII. Tberefore Hie Love vhich us dotb. "bixA* But Fate so enviously debarrs. Is the Conjunction of the Mind, And the Opposition of the Stars. (pp. 36.37) This strife and inadequacy in husian relationships is also observed in "To His Coy Mistress." After the playfulness of the first twenty lines, there is the terrifying vision of "Times winged Ciarriot" (l, 22) and the "Desarts of vast Eternity" (l. 2U); and than comes a series of Images suggesting grlnness and death: *Wrble Vault" (l. 26), *'Vca:aa^ (1. 27), "dust" (1. 29), "ashes" (l. 30), and "Grave" (l. 31). The terror and horror of the suggestion of these images cannot be disassociated from the experience of the poem, and "To Bis Coy Mistress" becomes much more, much deeper, than a sluqple and strai^t-forward poem of the carpe diem traditlcm. Had we but World enough, and Time, This coyness Lady were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long Loves Day. Thou by the Indian Ganges side

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165 ShouM'st Rubles find: I by the Tide Of Ranber voxild cco^palln* I would Love you ten years before the Flood: And you should If you please refuse Tin the Conversion of the Jews. 20 VSy vegetable Love should grow Vaster then Batplresj and more slow. An hui^b:ed years should go to ia>al8e (Rxlne Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze. Two hundred to adore each Brest: But thirty thousand to the rest. An Age at least to every part. And the last Age should show your Heart. For Lady you deserve this State; Hor would I love at lower rate. 80 But at my back I alwaies hear Times winged Charrlot hurrying near: And yonder all before us lye Desarts of vast Eternity. Thy Beauty shall no more be found; Nor, in thy aarble Vault, shall sound Hy eccholng Song: then Worms shall try That long preserved Virginity: And your quaint Boaawc turn to dust; And into ashes all my Lust. 30 The Grave *s a fine and private place. But none I think do there embrace. How therefore, while the youthful hew Sits on thy skin like morning lew. And while thy willing Soul transpires At every pore with instant Fires, Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like am*rou8 birds of prey. Bather at once our Time devour. Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r kO Let us roll all our Strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one Ball: And tear our Pleasures with rough strife, Thorou^ the Iron gates of Life. Thus, though we cannot make our Sun Stand still, yet we will make him run. (pp. 26-27) The pattern of asserting the superiority of nature over the beauty of a wcatan in lines 59 throu^ 62 in "The ^ymph cooplalning for the death of her Faun" is found again in stanzas III and IV of

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166 "The Gerden, " and again to ciqpress a auperior value, Harvell selects Imagery of nature* No vhite nor red vas ever oeen So Qin*rous as this lovely green. PcMd Lovers, cruel as their Flame, Cut In these Trees their Mistress naaie* 20 Li"ttle, Alas, ttiey know, or heed. How far these Equities Hfers exceed S Fair Trees I whex'e s'eer your barkes I woundi Ho Raace shall but your own be found. When ve have run otir Passions heat. Love hither makes his best retreat. The Gods, that mortal Beauty chsse. Still in a Tree did end their race. Apollo hunted Daphne so, (toly that She ml^t Laurel grow. 30 And Pan did after Syrin:: speed. Rot as a I^mph, but for a Reed. (p. k8, 11. 17-32) Another characteristic of Marvell images is the selection of patterns "Uiat display a concern with the destruction of nature by man, indicating Marvell *s sympathy with natural objects. This concern is evident in the first twenty-four lines of "The l|yng)h conplaining for the death of her Faun," and also in other imagery throughout the poeras of Mairvell. In "A Dialogue between the Soul and Body," thtt "Body" accuses the "Soul" of building up the body for sin, and connects this with the deplored cutting down of trees. But Physick yet could never reach Tbe MELladies Thou me dost teach; When first the Cramp of Hope does Tear: And then the Palsie Shakes of Fear« Ttio Pestilence of Love does heat: Or Hatred's hidden Ulcer eat. Joy's cheerful Madness does perplex J Or Sorrow's other Madness vex.

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057 Which Knowledge forces me to know; And Memory ylll not foregoe. What but a Soul could have the wit To hund me itp for Sin so fit? So Architects do square and hew, Qreen Trees that in the Forest grew. (p. 21, 11. 31-W*) "DaacHi the Mower" cuts his aokle only after he cuts the grass, which clearly has more of Marvell*s sympathy than Damon has. While thus he threw his Elbow round, Depopulating all the Gbr-ound, And, with his whistling Sythe, does cut Eiach stroke between the Earth and Root, Kifi edged Stele by careless chance Did into his Ankle glance; And there amcxig the Grass fell down, ^y his own Sythe, the Mower mown. (p. kU, 11. 73-80) "Ifpon AppletoD Bouse" has the slaughter of pitiful newly hatched birds. With whistling Sithe, and Elbow strong. These Massacre the Grass along: While one, unknowing, carves the Rail, Whose yet, unfeather'd Quils her fall. The Edge all bloody from its Breast Hs draws, and does his stroke detest; Fearing tiie Flesh untimely mow*d To him a Fate as black forebode. (p. 71, 11. 393-J*00) How examining ^Ths Mower against Gardens" we again observe Marvell's strong Interest in plants. This time the mower Is denouncing man for distorting and destroying through cultivation the purity and Innocence of nature. &it even as the mower describes this distorted nature, we feel frco Marvell's concern with the attractive details of cultivated plants that even they interest him. He praises them for

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168 their beauty In the very worde with which the mower Is ccajdemnlng man for producing than* The speaker in this poem is Imagined aa one who lives in the coaatcy, away from the cultivated gardens which he deplores* We feel that Marvell Intends piously to agree with the mower's denunciatlcn and that his delight in the double pinks, sweet roses, and botanical rarities oonsti-bites not an Intentional irony but an unintended triumph of his catholic flower-loving poetic eye. Luxurious Mm, to bring his Vice in use. Did after him the World seduce: And frcra the fields the Flowers and Plants allure Where Natuire vas most plain and pure* He first enclosed within the Gardens square A dead and standing pool of Air: And £ more luscious Earth for them did knead. Which stupifi'd them while it fed* The Pink grew then as double as his Mind; The nutrixtent did change the kind. 10 With strange perfumes he did the Roses taint. And Flowers themselves were taught to paint. The Tulip, white, did for con^jlexion seek; And learned to interline its cheek: Its Onion root they then so high did hold. That one was for a Meadow sold. Another World was searched, through Oceans new. To find the Marvel of Peru * And yet these Rarities might be allow *d. To Man, that sov'ralgn thing and proud; 20 Had he not dealt between the Bark and Tree, Forbidden mixtures there to see. Ho Plant now knew -toe Stock froo which it came; He grafts upon the Wild the Tame: That the uncertain and adult *z>ate fruit Might put the Palate in dispute. His green Seraglio has its Eunuch too; Lest any !^yrant him out-doe. And in the Cherry he does Hature vex. To procreate without a Sex. 30 •Tis all enforc'd; the Fountain and the Grot* While the sweet Fields do lye forgot: Where willing Nature does to all dispence A wild and fragrant Innocence:

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169 And PgHinA and Faryes do the Meadovs tlll^ Mcare by tlieir presence than their skill. Ttaelr Statues jpolish'd by scow ancient haxid. May to adorn the Gardens standi But hovse**ere the Figures do excel, ^nie Gods themselves vith vis do dvell. (pp. UO-Ul) Throughout his poems, Harvell's selection and organization of nature imagery indicates an interest in the material thing, if it is a pbencmenon of natuxre, as an attractive object of aesthetic delight, an aesthetic delight so intense that often it becomes mystical as in the case of the ascent in "The Garden" after tine experience of the venders of plants, fruits, and flowers in stanza V. What wond*rous Life in this I lead! Ripe Apples drop about my head; The Luscious Clusters of the Vine U^Kjn my Mouth do crush their Wine; The Bectaren, and curious Peach, Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on Melons, as I pass, Insnar'd vith Flowers, I fall on Grass. (p. U9) and again: Bind me y e Woodbines in your 'twines. Curie me about ye gadding Vines, And Oh so close your Circles lace. That I may never leave this Place: But, lest your Fetters prove too weak. Ere Z your Silken Bondage break. Do you, Brambles, chain me too. And courteous Briars nail tos through. ("Upon Appleton House" p, 78, 11. 609-616) While Crashaw's organization of imagery evinces a tendency to soften and annihilate this world; Donne's, to esqperience the material things

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170 of this world as being the base of a more Important abstract meaning; and Herbert's, to find a correspondence between the objects and events of this world and a divine signification; Marvell's organization of Imagery displays a delight In the sensuous nature of Hie natural objects and events of this world*

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CHRPTER VI COHaUSIOK In this study of the Imagery of fotir seventeen-Ui-century poets, it has been observed that each poet selects and organizes his inagery In a manner that suggests a different attitude toward the material and the Insnatertal. John Dtaine's attention was turned inward c» Idie tBBaaterial, the conceptual world of abstract relationships; and he would glance at material things quickly and only long enough for than to provide a beginning for his depiction of a conceptual ejqjerience. However, although Donne was mainly and very strongly concerned with the Inanaterial, the material always served as the base and foundation of the conceptual experience. George Herbert's attention was centered cm this world and the other world at the same time; for when he saw a material object, be saw a figuration of the divine. Herbert differs from Donne in that his attention vould remain on the material object and did not have to glance away in order to concern itself with conceptions. Richard Crashaw»s attention was focused on the other world and the purely spiritual. He would shut his eyes in order that he might see, see the immaterial. He would go directly to the imnaterial, for he did not require the indirect route through the material object. The attention of Andrew Maarvell was centered aa this 171

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172 earth. He saw the seneuous details of the plants and Insects* He saw natural things as natural things, not aerely as the necessary beginning of conceptual experience, nor as figurations (in the sense of "flgural realism" rather than of rhetoric) of the divine. Even at the frequent tloaes vhen the poems of Mairvell speak of Imnaterlal things, these natural things remain at the vivid focus of his attention.

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VQSKS CITED Auerbach, Erich. Mimesis : The Representation of Reality In Western Literature » Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953. Brooks, Cleanth. The Well Wrought Urn * Hew York: Har court Brace and Cooipany, 19^7. Clement of Alexandria. Christ The Educator, translated by Simon P. Wood. Kew York: Fathers of the Church, Inc., 195^ • Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. Biographia Literaria, vol. II. London: William Pickering, 1847. Crashaw, Richard. Poems, edited by L. C. Martin. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1927. The Coanplete Works, edited by Alexander B. Grosart. Ltmdon: Robson and Sons, l872. Cruttwell, Patrick. The Shakespearean Mcment : And Its Place In The Poetry of the 17th Century . London; Chatto and Windus, 195^ • Dionysius The Areopagite . to ^^^ Divine Names and The Mystical Theology, translated by C. E. Rolt. New York: The Macmlllan CoDrpany, 1920. Donne, John. Sermons, edited by Theodore Gill. Bev York: Meridian Books, 1958. . The Complete Poetry and Selected Prose, edited by Charles M, Coffin. New York: The Modern Libre ry, 1952. Bnpson, William. Seven Types of Ambiguity . Mew York: Hew Directions, 19'+7. Francis De Sales, Saint. A Dairy of Meditations . Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1957. Freeman, Rosemary. English Bnblem Books . London: Chatto and Windus, 19^. From Donne to Marvell, edited by Boris Ford. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penquin, 195^. 173

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Uk Gllson, Etienne. History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages . Bew York; Random House, 1955 • Bebel, J. William and Hudson, Hoyt H. Tudor Poetry and Prose * Hew York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc., 1953* Herbert, George. Works, edited by F. E. aitchlnson. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 19i<^l. Ignatius of Antloch, Saint. "Letters to the RcBaans," The Apostolic Fathers, translated by Gerald G. Walsh. Ifew York: Fathers of the Church, Inc., 19k'J, Jaeger, Werner. Aristotle ; Fundamentals of the History of His Developaaent, translated by Richard Robinson. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 191+8. Keats, John. The Poems, edited by Ernest De Sellncourt. Londcm: Me'Uiuen and Co., 1935. Kflkerltz, Helge. Shakespeare's Pronunciation . Hew Haven: Yale Uoiversi-ty Press, 1953. Literary Criticism ; Plato t o Drjyden, edited by Allan H. Gilbert. New York: American Book Company, 19^. Male, Bnlle. Religious Art : From The Twelfldi to the Eighteenth Century . Kew York: The Noonday Press, 195^. Martz, Louis L. The Poetry of Meditation : A Study in English Religious Literature of the Seventeenth Century . Hew Haven: Yale Ifaiversity Press, 195^. Marvell, Andrew. The Poems and Letters, edited by H. M. Margollouth Oxford: Clarendon Press, 192?. Hiceta of Rones iana. Explanation of the Creed, translated by Gerald G. Walsh. New York; Fathers of the Church, Inc., 19^7* Plotlnus. Complete Works, edited by Kenneth Sylvan Guthrie. London: George Bell and Sons, I918. Religious Lyrics of XVth Century, edited by Carleton Brown. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1939 • Seventeenth Centinry Verse and Prose, vol. I, edited by Helen C. White, et al. New York: The Macmlllan Company, 1951 •

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175 Sypher, Wylie. Four Stages of Renalssaace Style ? Transformations In Art and Literature. 3100-1700. Garden City, Nev York: Doubleday and Company, Inc., 1955, Tindall, W. Y. James Joyce ; His Way of Intei-pretlng the Modem World . Ifev York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1950. Tuve, Rosemund. A Reading o f George Herbert . Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1952. .. Elizabethan and Metaphysical Saagery : Renaissance Poetic md Twentieth-Century Critics . Chicago: Th^ University of Chicago Press, 19^7. Vaughan, Henry. Works , edited by Leonard Cyril Martin. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1915^; Waddell, Helen. T^ Desert Fathers . An Arbor: The Ifaiversity of Michigan Press, 19577 Wallerstein, Rutli C. Richard Crashav : A Study In Style and Poetic DeveloTment. Madison: Universl"^ of Wisconsin Press, 1935. . Studies iji Seventeenth-Century Poetic . Madison: WDiverslty of Wisconsin Press, I95O. Warren, Austin. Richard Crashav : A Study in Baroque Sensibility . Ifaiversi-ty, Louisiana: University Press, 1939. Windelband, W. History of Ancient Philosophy, translated by Herbert Ernest Cushaan. New York: Dover Publications, I956.

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BIOCmAPHXCAL HOIE Julius Duane Locke vae bom io Vienna^ Georgia oo December 2$, 1921* He graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from the Ifaiversily of Teoipa in 19'*9« He entered «ie Ifaiversily of Florida in 19^3, acq,uired a Masters of Arte, Jvaae, 1933, and a DoctcRT of Philosopl^, August, 1958 • In September, I958, he begins teaching at the Itaiversily of Tes^EW*

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This dlseertatlcMii vas prepared under the direction of the chalxnan of the caz)dldate*8 siqpexvlsory ccomittee and has been approved by all nenibers of that committee* It vas suboltted to the Dean of the CoUege of Arts and Sciences and to the Gxraduate Council, and vas e^roved as partial fulf lllnaent of the regulrenents for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy* August 9, 1958 Dean, College of Arts and Sciences Dean, Graduate School BW^^PflSaSI CCMCmCEE: Chairman

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