To the Countess of Salisbury, August 1614

Name: To the Countess of Salisbury, August 1614
Author: John Donne

This poem by John Donne addresses the Countess of Salisbury directly, framing her arrival as an event that reveals what heaven can do and what earth can be, since her beauty now shines at a moment when the sun itself has grown stale, its scattered light reduced to mere ornament for ladies' periwigs and figures in lovers' sonnets. He casts her as one who comes to repair God's book of creatures, teaching the world anew what fairness is, precisely because all else has withered: virtues have ebbed to a dead low tide, the world's frame has crumbled into sand, and every man now thinks to stand by himself alone. Integrity, friendship, and confidence, once the cements of greatness, have vaporized; narrow men, filled with little shares, have turned court, city, and church into shops of smallwares, blowing their noble fire into sparks and drawing sound gold into wire, all trying through a love of littleness to abridge even the nothing they first were. Against this decline, Donne argues that the Countess's greatness appears now so that we may learn that man, to approach the infinite, must first be great himself. He notes the age is so ill that no one is fit even to accuse it, much less mend it, since all alike share in its crimes, and the man who would be good is thought by everyone a monster or at best fantastical. Yet she dares to be good, and he discerns this by daring to contemplate her, concluding that there may be degrees of fair, great, and good understood through her light, largeness, and virtue. He asks that if this poem, his sacrifice, shows any small spark of these qualities, she should call it her own, and that if he has said similar things of others before, it should not be counted idolatry. He compares this to a hypothetical man who, had he been made first and seen the third day's fruits, flowers, and greenery, would have praised them as the best he knew, and then the next day, seeing sun, moon, and stars, would rightly praise them as fairer still without being blamed for his earlier praise of yesterday. So too, though not all things praised can be equally true at once, saying so does not condemn a man if the words were true when spoken. He draws a further proof from the soul: humans first possess souls of growth and sense, which are swallowed into the immortal soul when it arrives, losing their separate name, yet that immortal soul does no injury to them by taking their power and praise upon itself. In the same way, he does no wrong to others he has praised before by adoring the same qualities now in a new subject and at a new measure, just as the same reverence due to a king is proportionally owed to a low constable. He has humbly reverenced each degree of fair, great, and good before, but now, having found their walks, he has come to find their home. Just as he owes thanks to his earlier souls for shaping his body to receive his last soul, he is likewise indebted to those earlier subjects of his praise, whose worth enabled him to profit and undertake this new great lesson of studying the Countess, a lesson none could learn without first reading those others. He insists he lacks no light to read this book in her, even though he himself lies in a dark cave, indeed in a grave, for as her fellow angels illuminate those who study them, so does she. He recalls that the first man in histories known to have professed all arts was born blind, lacking the physical eyes beasts share with men, but not the inward eyes by which angels are seen and see. Likewise, though Donne is born without the eyes that fortune gives, the fit means to see bright courts and the Countess herself, he may still see her as he does now, and through that sight he will have discerned all goodness, and be learned even should he burn his library.

By John Donne · First published 1614 · Genre: Dedicatory Poetry, Metaphysical Poetry, Panegyric · 1,110 words

First lines

Fair, great, and good, since seeing you we see / What heaven can do, what any earth can be; / Since now your beauty shines; now, when the sun, / Grown stale, is to so low a value run, / That his dishevell'd beams, and scatter'd fires / Serve but for ladies' periwigs and tires / In lovers' sonnets, you come to repair / God's book of creatures, teaching what is fair; / Since now, when all is wither'd, shrunk, and dried, / All virtues ebb'd out to a dead, low tide, / All the world's frame being crumbled into sand, / Where every man thinks by himself to stand, / Integrity, friendship, and confidence, / Cements of greatness, being vapour'd hence, / And narrow man being fill'd with little shares, / Court, city, church are all shops of smallwares; / All having blown to sparks their noble fire, / And drawn their sound gold ingot into wire; / All trying by a love of littleness / To make abridgments, and to draw to less / Even that nothing which at first we were; / Since in these times your greatness doth appear, / And that we learn by it, that man, to get / Towards Him that's infinite, must first be great: / Since in an age so ill, as none is fit / So much as to accuse, much less mend it / -For who can judge, or witness of those times, / Where all alike are guilty of the crimes? / Where he that would be good, is thought by all / A monster, or at best fantastical- / Since now you durst be good, and that I do / Discern by daring to contemplate you, / That there may be degrees of fair, great, good, / Through your light, largeness, virtue, understood; / If in this sacrifice of mine be shown / Any small spark of these, call it your own / And if things like these have been said by me / Of others, call not that idolatry; / For had God made man first, and man had seen / The third day's fruits and flowers, and various green, / He might have said the best that he could say / Of those fair creatures which were made that day; / And when next day he had admired the birth / Of sun, moon, stars, fairer than late-prais'd earth, / He might have said the best that he could say, / And not be chid for praising yesterday; / So though some things are not together true, / As, that another's worthiest, and, that you; / Yet, to say so, doth not condemn a man, / If, when he spoke them, they were both true then. / How fair a proof of this in our soul grows; / We first have souls of growth and sense; and those, / When our last soul, our soul immortal, came, / Were swallow'd into it, and have no name. / Nor doth he injure those souls, which doth cast / The power and praise of both them on the last; / No more do I wrong any, if I adore / The same things now which I adored before, / The subject changed, and measure; the same thing / In a low constable, and in the king / I reverence, his power to work on me / So did I humbly reverence each degree / Of fair, great, good, but more, now I am come / From having found their walks, to find their home. / And as I owe my first souls thanks, that they / For my last soul did fit and mould my clay, / So am I debtor unto them, whose worth / Enabled me to profit, and take forth / This new great lesson, thus to study you; / Which none, not reading others first, could do. / Nor lack I light to read this book, though I / In a dark cave, yea, in a grave do lie; / For as your fellow-angels, so you do / Illustrate them who come to study you. / The first whom we in histories do find / To have profess'd all arts, was one born blind; / He lack'd those eyes beasts have as well as we, / Not those by which angels are seen and see. / So, though I'm born without those eyes to live, / Which fortune, who hath none herself, doth give, / Which are fit means to see bright courts and you, / Yet, may I see you thus, as now I do, / I shall by that all goodness have discern'd, / And though I burn my library, be learn'd.

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Genres

Dedicatory Poetry — The poem is explicitly a dedication to the Countess of Salisbury, structured as formal verse written to honor a patron and establish courtly relationships through elaborate praise.
Metaphysical Poetry — Exhibits characteristic Donne metaphysical style: complex extended conceits (comparing the Countess to divine revelation), intellectual wit, philosophical argumentation, and unexpected combinations of disparate ideas.
Panegyric — Functions as extended formal praise celebrating the Countess's virtue, greatness, and beauty across 140+ lines; the defining purpose of panegyric verse is comprehensive laudation of a person's excellence.
Courtly Poetry — Written within courtly conventions, addresses a noblewoman, employs elaborate compliment, and serves courtly social functions of flattery, patronage cultivation, and social hierarchy reinforcement.

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To the Countess of Salisbury, August 1614 is listed on Textopian as a poem by John Donne, dated 1614 CE.

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Work type: Poem
Author: John Donne
Date: 1614 CE
Language: English
Genres: Dedicatory Poetry, Metaphysical Poetry, Panegyric, Courtly Poetry, Philosophical Poetry
Length: 1,110 words
Structure: 1 section, 1 paragraphs
Reading fit: Very Confusing

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