John Donne. La Corona.

LA CORONA.

I.	Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise, Weaved in my lone devout melancholy, Thou which of good hast, yea, art treasury, All changing unchanged Ancient of days. But do not with a vile crown of frail bays Reward my Muse's white sincerity ; But what Thy thorny crown gain'd, that give me, A crown of glory, which doth flower always. The ends crown our works, but Thou crown'st our ends, For at our ends begins our endless rest. The first last end, now zealously possess'd, With a strong sober thirst my soul attends. 'Tis time that heart and voice be lifted high ; Salvation to all that will is nigh.
2.	ANNUNCIATION. Salvation to all that will is nigh ; That All, which always is all everywhere, Which cannot sin, and yet all sins must bear, Which cannot die, yet cannot choose but die, Lo ! faithful Virgin, yields Himself to lie In prison, in thy womb ; and though He there Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet He'll wear, Taken from thence, flesh, which death's force may try. Ere by the spheres time was created thou Wast in His mind, who is thy Son, and Brother ; Whom thou conceivest, conceived ; yea, thou art now Thy Maker's maker, and thy Father's mother, Thou hast light in dark, and shutt'st in little room Immensity, cloister'd in thy dear womb.
3.	NATIVITY. Immensity, cloister'd in thy dear womb, Now leaves His well-beloved imprisonment. There he hath made himself to his intent Weak enough, now into our world to come. But O ! for thee, for Him, hath th' inn no room ? Yet lay Him in this stall, and from th' orient, Stars, and wise men will travel to prevent The effects of Herod's jealous general doom. See'st thou, my soul, with thy faith's eye, how He Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie ? Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high, That would have need to be pitied by thee ? Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go, With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.
4.	TEMPLE. With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe, Joseph, turn back ; see where your child doth sit, Blowing, yea blowing out those sparks of wit, Which Himself on the doctors did bestow. The Word but lately could not speak, and lo ! It suddenly speaks wonders ; whence comes it, That all which was, and all which should be writ, A shallow seeming child should deeply know ? His Godhead was not soul to His manhood, Nor had time mellow'd Him to this ripeness ; But as for one which hath a long task, 'tis good, With the sun to begin His business, He in His age's morning thus began, By miracles exceeding power of man.
5.	CRUCIFYING. By miracles exceeding power of man, He faith in some, envy in some begat, For, what weak spirits admire, ambitious hate : In both affections many to Him ran. But O ! the worst are most, they will and can, Alas ! and do, unto th' Immaculate, Whose creature Fate is, now prescribe a fate, Measuring self-life's infinity to span, Nay to an inch. Lo ! where condemned He Bears His own cross, with pain, yet by and by When it bears him, He must bear more and die. Now Thou art lifted up, draw me to Thee, And at Thy death giving such liberal dole, Moist with one drop of Thy blood my dry soul.
6.	RESURRECTION. Moist with one drop of Thy blood, my dry soul Shall—though she now be in extreme degree Too stony hard, and yet too fleshly—be Freed by that drop, from being starved, hard or foul, And life by this death abled shall control Death, whom Thy death slew ; nor shall to me Fear of first or last death bring misery, If in thy life-book my name thou enroll. Flesh in that long sleep is not putrified, But made that there, of which, and for which it was ; Nor can by other means be glorified. May then sin's sleep and death soon from me pass, That waked from both, I again risen may Salute the last and everlasting day.
7.	ASCENSION. Salute the last and everlasting day, Joy at th' uprising of this Sun, and Son, Ye whose true tears, or tribulation Have purely wash'd, or burnt your drossy clay. Behold, the Highest, parting hence away, Lightens the dark clouds, which He treads upon ; Nor doth He by ascending show alone, But first He, and He first enters the way. O strong Ram, which hast batter'd heaven for me ! Mild Lamb, which with Thy Blood hast mark'd the path ! Bright Torch, which shinest, that I the way may see ! O, with Thy own Blood quench Thy own just wrath ; And if Thy Holy Spirit my Muse did raise, Deign at my hands this crown of prayer and praise.

Source:
Donne, John. Poems of John Donne. vol I.
E. K. Chambers, ed.
London: Lawrence & Bullen, 1896. 152-156.

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