Elegy on the Lady Markham by John Donne

Name: Elegy on the Lady Markham
Author: John Donne

"Elegy on the Lady Markham" mourns a deceased woman through an extended meditation on death, purification, and the soul's journey to grace, without narrating a specific biographical episode. The poem opens by figuring man as a world and death as an ocean, a sea granted by God the "lower parts of man." God has set marks and bounds between humanity and this sea, yet it roars, gnaws, and breaches the bank whenever it claims a friend, prompting the mourners' tears, described as land waters and passion's vent, which take on a "brackish taste, and funeral" because they are tears wept for the soul's sins. The poem notes that even tears meant to wash away sin are themselves sin, since man, after God's flood, "drowns the world again," and observes that man alone among venomous things works upon himself with inborn stings, so that tears are false spectacles obscuring true sight of ourselves and of her. The elegy then turns to Lady Markham specifically, declaring that in her the sea of death made no breach, but rather worked like tide upon a beach, leaving embroidered patterns in the sand, so her flesh is refined by death's cold hand. The speaker compares this to men of China who, after an age's burial, dig up porcelain where they had buried clay, suggesting that at her grave her body, a "limbec" or alembic that refines diamonds, rubies, sapphires, pearls, and mines, will have her soul inspire new flesh of the same fine stuff, which God will name the elixir of all creation when His last fire annuls the world and recompenses it. The poem then reflects that the sea, when it gains, also loses, and applies this to carnal death, called "the younger brother," which usurps the body while the soul, otherwise subject to the elder death caused by sin, is freed by this same event. Both deaths perish when they attempt the just, since graves are their trophies and both are death's dust; thus Lady Markham, "unobnoxious now," has buried both deaths, for none sins unto death who is loath to sin, and none truly die who are not loath to die — so she possesses both virginities. The speaker praises grace as extremely diligent in her, keeping her from sin while still moving her to repent, remarking how little poison cracks a crystal glass and how few spots mar pure white. She sinned, the poem says, just enough to confirm God's word that all are sinners; her zeal so refined her conscience that extreme truth came to resemble a lie, turning omissions into acts and casting the appearance of sin onto things that might sometimes be sinful. The poem likens her to Moses' cherubim, whose natures surpass all speed yet are given wings regardless, saying her soul, already in heaven in essence, would still seem to climb by tears the common stairs of men. The speaker professes willingness to say how fit she was for God, so that death might repent its haste in taking her, but declares that how fit she was for others — how even, sweet, good in all her titles, and suited to reform the false belief that women cannot be true friends — and how moral and divine she was, shall not be told, lest hearers of her virtues suppose her old, and lest such praise give death's triumph an added prize.

By John Donne · First published 1633 · Genre: Elegy, Metaphysical Poetry, Religious Poetry · 814 words

First lines

Man is the world, and death the ocean, / To which God gives the lower parts of man, / This sea environs all, and though as yet / God hath set marks and bounds 'twixt us and it, / Yet doth it roar, and gnaw, and still pretend, / And breaks our bank, whene'er it takes a friend. / Then our land waters, tears of passion, vent; / Our waters, then, above our firmament / -Tears which our soul doth for her sins let fall- / Take all a brackish taste, and funeral. / And e'en those tears which should wash sin, are sin. / We, after God's "No," drown the world again. / Nothing but man of all envenom'd things / Doth work upon itself with inborn stings. / Tears are false spectacles; we cannot see, / Through passion's mist, what we are or what she. / In her this sea of death hath made no breach, / But as the tide doth wash the slimy beach, / And leaves embroider'd works upon the sand, / So is her flesh refined by death's cold hand. / As men of China, after an age's stay, / Do take up porcelain, where they buried clay; / So at this grave, her limbec-which refines / The diamonds, rubies, sapphires, pearls and mines, / Of which this flesh was-her soul shall inspire / Flesh of such stuff, as God, when His last fire / Annuls this world, to recompense it, shall / Make and name then th' elixir of this all. / They say the sea, when it gains, loseth too; / If carnal death, the younger brother, do / Usurp the body, our soul, which subject is / To th' elder death by sin, is freed by this. / They perish both, when they attempt the just; / For graves our trophies are, and both death's dust. / So, unobnoxious now, she hath buried both; / For none to death sins, that to sin is loth; / Nor do they die, which are not loth to die; / So hath she this and that virginity. / Grace was in her extremely diligent, / That kept her from sin, yet made her repent. / Of what small spots pure white complains! Alas / How little poison cracks a crystal glass! / She sinn'd but just enough to let us see / That God's word must be true, "All, sinners be. " / So much did zeal her conscience rarify, / That extreme truth lacked little of a lie, / Making omissions acts, laying the touch / Of sin on things that sometime may be such. / As Moses' cherubins, whose natures do / Surpass all speed, by him are winged too; / So would her soul, already in heaven, seem then / To climb by tears the common stairs of men. / How fit she was for God, I am content / To speak, that death his vain haste may repent. / How fit for us, how even and how sweet, / How good in all her titles, and how meet / To have reform'd this forward heresy, / That women can no parts of friendship be, / How moral, how divine, shall not be told, / Lest they that hear her virtues, think her old; / And lest we take death's part, and make him glad / Of such a prey, and to his triumph add.

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Elegy on the Lady Markham is listed on Textopian as a poem by John Donne, dated 1633 CE.

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Work type: Poem
Author: John Donne
Date: 1633 CE
Language: English
Genres: Elegy, Metaphysical Poetry, Religious Poetry, Baroque Poetry, Meditative Poetry
Length: 814 words
Structure: 1 section, 1 paragraphs
Reading fit: Fairly Easy (7th Grade)

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Genres

Elegy — Explicitly structured as a funeral elegy mourning Lady Markham's death, employing conventional elegiac themes of loss, commemoration, spiritual consolation, and celebration of the deceased's virtues.
Metaphysical Poetry — Characteristic of Donne's metaphysical style, featuring elaborate conceits, intellectual wit, paradoxical arguments, and the extended metaphor of death as an ocean governing human nature and spiritual reality.
Religious Poetry — Dominated by theological themes exploring sin, grace, salvation, the soul's immortality, divine judgment, and spiritual purification, with Biblical allusions and devotional intensity throughout.
Baroque Poetry — Exhibits hallmark Baroque aesthetics including ornate language, emotional intensity, paradoxes, dramatic imagery, complex conceits, and philosophical depth reflecting 17th-century artistic sensibilities.