John Donne's Elegy XX

Thank you for your patience.  Here is the poem with a modern English 'translation' and a short commentary.

John Donne 1572-1631 To His Mistress Going to Bed COME, madam, come, all rest my powers defy; Until I labour, I in labour lie. The foe ofttimes, having the foe in sight, Is tired with standing, though he never fight. Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glittering, But a far fairer world encompassing. Unpin that spangled breast-plate, which you wear, That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopp'd there. Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime Tells me from you that now it is bed-time. Off with that happy busk, which I envy, That still can be, and still can stand so nigh. Your gown going off such beauteous state reveals, As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals. Off with your wiry coronet, and show The hairy diadems which on you do grow. Off with your hose and shoes; then softly tread In this love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed. In such white robes heaven's angels used to be Revealed to men; thou, angel, bring'st with thee A heaven-like Mahomet's paradise; and though Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know By this these angels from an evil sprite; Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright. Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below. O, my America, my Newfoundland, My kingdom, safest when with one man mann'd, My mine of precious stones, my empery; How am I blest in thus discovering thee ! To enter in these bonds, is to be free; Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be. Full nakedness ! All joys are due to thee; As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be To taste whole joys. Gems which you women use Are like Atlanta's ball cast in men's views; That, when a fool's eye lighteth on a gem, His earthly soul might court that, not them. Like pictures, or like books' gay coverings made For laymen, are all women thus array'd. Themselves are only mystic books, which we —Whom their imputed grace will dignify— Must see reveal'd. Then, since that I may know, As liberally as to thy midwife show Thyself; cast all, yea, this white linen hence; There is no penance due to innocence: To teach thee, I am naked first; why then, What needst thou have more covering than a man?

To His Mistress, on Going to Bed COME, madam, come, my powers defy all rest; Until I labour, I lie as in childbirth. Often the foe, having the foe in sight, Is tired of standing still, though he may never fight. Take off that belt, glittering like the starry sky, But surrounding a far more beautiful world . [that shines like the stars but encircles a far more beautiful world] Undo that spangled breast-plate, which you wear, So that the eyes of busy fools may be stopped there. Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime [presumably of the spangles, as it comes from her] Tells me from you that now it is bed-time. Take off that firtunate corset, which I envy, That can be quiet, and still can stand so close to you. Your dress coming off shows the same beauty, As when the hill's shadow moves away from flowery meadows. Take off your wired coronet, and show The crowns of hair that grow on you. Take off your stockings and shoes; then quietly step In this holy temple of love, this soft bed. Heaven's angels used to be shown to men In white robes like these; you, angel, bring with you A heavenly Mohammed's paradise; and though Evil spirits walk in white, we easily know These angels from an evil spirit because of this; Those set our hair on end, but these make our flesh stand upright. Give permission to my roving hands, and let them go In front, behind, between, above, below. O, my America, my Newfoundland, My kingdom, safest when with one man manned, My mine of precious stones, my empire; How I am blessed in discovering you so! To enter into these bonds, is to be free; Then, where my hand is, my soul shall be. Full nakedness! All joys are due to you; Unclothed bodies must be like souls without bodies, To taste whole joys. Jewels which you women use Are like Atalanta's ball thrown in men's sight; [the mythical Atalanta lost a race because her suitor distracted her by throwing golden apples in her path] So that, when a fool's eye sees a jewel, His earthly soul might pay court to that, not them. Like pictures, or like books' bright covers made For laymen, all women are thus clothed. They are only mystical books, which we —Who their alleged grace will dignify— Must see revealed. Then, so that I may know you, Show yourself as freely as to your midwife;  Throw away all this white linen; There is no penance to be paid for innocence: In order to teach you, I am naked first; why then, What more covering need you have than a man?

 That the writer of this rather naughty poem should have been a Member of Parliament may come as no surprise, given the antics of modern politicians.  What is rather more surprising is that John Donne had started his life as a devout Catholic and then become a Protestant in order to take the post of Dean of St Paul's Cathedral in London.

Nevertheless, if we think back to Chaucer, writing in the 14th century, or ahead to Rochester, writing rather later than Donne, we will realise that sexual matters could be more openly written about than the period after the Regency until the 1960s.  It is therefore perfectly acceptable for Donne to separate his religious writings from his satirical or erotic ones.

As a poet, he is considered to be the main figure among the British Metaphysical Poets, so what does that mean?  The word ‘metaphysical’ means ‘beyond the physical’ and it is an attempt to look for a truth that lies behind the physical features of the world we live in.  If we consider that the world Donne lived in was filled with rather rank individuals who did not wash from one year's end to the next, who threw the contents of their chamber pots into the streets and quite frequently suffered from unpleasant diseases, it is easy to see why poets of a sensitive nature would wish to look for an alternative reality.

Metaphysical poetry delights in comparing and fusing images and that is what we see Donne doing in this poem: comparing his mistress (who may not be his ‘lover’ in the modern sense, but actually his wife, who would be called ‘Mistress Donne’ - today ‘Mrs Donne’) and her accoutrements to all sorts of desirable objects.  You will notice how I have had to untangle the word order in some of the lines.  They were originally written like that in order to fit the technical poetic metre (the classic iambic pentameter that is the mainstay of English verse), but also to make the reader think about their meaning in the process of deciphering them.

Although this poem is included in the group called Elegies, probably written at the end of the 16th century, it belongs to a type of literary work that was very common at the time, the Carpe Diem, or Seize the Day school of thought that encourages readers to take their pleasures while they can because tomorrow they (or their partner) may be dead from sickness, violence or a simple accident.

And so we leave John Donne and his mistress to their carnal pleasures, carrying away with us the usual message: do not try this at home.

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