This item is
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Publicly Available
and licensed under:Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)
Files for this item
Download all local files for this item (873.56 KB)
- Name
- donne-1052.txt
- Size
- 424.47 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
} `DRAFT � } <A Donne>
<H THE PROGRESSE OF THE SOULE>
<P 1>
<H FIRST SONG>
<S I>
I Sing the progresse of a deathlesse soule,
Whom Fate, which God made, but doth not controule,
Plac'd in most shapes; all times before the law
Yoak'd us, and when, and since, in this I sing.
And the great world to his aged evening;
From infant morne, through manly noone I draw.
What the gold Chaldee, or silver Persian saw,
Greeke brass, or Roman iron, is in this one;
A worke t'outweare {Seths} pillars, bricke and stone,
And (holy writs excepted) made to yeeld to none.
<P 2>
<S II>
Thee, eye of heaven, this great Soule envies not,
By thy male force, is all wee have, begot,
In the first East, thou now begins to shine,
Suck'st early balme, and Iland spices there,
And wilt anon in thy loose-rein'd careere
At Tagus, Po, Sene, Thames, and Danon dine.
And see at night thy Westerne land of Myne, . . .
- Name
- donne1633-1052.txt
- Size
- 449.1 KB
- Format
- Text file
- Description
- Version of the work in plain text format
<H THE PROGRESSE OF THE SOULE>
<P 1>
<H FIRST SONG>
<S I>
I Sing the progresse of a deathlesse
soule,
Whom Fate, with God made,
but doth not controule,
Plac'd in most shapes; all times
before the law
Yoak'd us, and when, and since,
in this I sing.
<H THE PROGRESSE OF THE SOULE>
<P 1>
<H FIRST SONG>
<S I>
I Sing the progresse of a deathlesse
soule,
Whom Fate, with God made,
but doth not controule,
Plac'd in most shapes; all times
before the law
Yoak'd us, and when, and since,
in this I sing.
And the great world to his aged evening;
From infant morne, through manly noone I draw.
What the gold Chaldee, of silver Persian saw,
Greeke brass, or Roman iron, is in this one;
A worke t'out weare {Seths} pillars, bricke and stone,
And (holy writs excepted) made to yeeld to none,
----------------------------------------------------------
<P 2>
<S II>
Thee, eye of heaven, this great Soule envies not,
By thy male sorce, is all wee have, begot,
In the first East, thou now begin . . .
