In its first and second lines, “Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee / Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so” (1-2), the speaker declares Death as having no right to the feelings of superiority—for it holds no true power and those who perceive it as a fearsome being are quite mistaken. In lines 5 and 6, the poem proclaims that if sleeping or taking a rest is peaceful and unintimidating, than Death—a greater version of these things—must be even more delightful: “From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, / Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow” (5-6). While Donne’s sonnet establishes this claim of Death’s powerlessness from its initial commencement and upholds it throughout its entirety, the 24 lines of George Herbert’s seventeenth-century “Death” present this assertion in a far more gradual and conflicting manner. Although the speaker’s intention in the first half of the poem is to address a bygone proficiency of Death—one existing prior to Christ’s promise of eternal life—the images drawn are significantly grim and disturbing, making it difficult to associate Death with anything less than that which warrants fear and distress: “Death, thou wast once an uncouth, hideous thing, / Nothing but bones, / The sad effect of sadder groans” (1-3). These alarming descriptions are once again observed in lines 7 and 8 of Herbert’s poem: “After the loss of life and sense, / Flesh being turned to dust and bones to sticks” (7-8), further adding to this frightening picture of Death—one far diverse than that illustrated in Donne’s
In its first and second lines, “Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee / Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so” (1-2), the speaker declares Death as having no right to the feelings of superiority—for it holds no true power and those who perceive it as a fearsome being are quite mistaken. In lines 5 and 6, the poem proclaims that if sleeping or taking a rest is peaceful and unintimidating, than Death—a greater version of these things—must be even more delightful: “From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, / Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow” (5-6). While Donne’s sonnet establishes this claim of Death’s powerlessness from its initial commencement and upholds it throughout its entirety, the 24 lines of George Herbert’s seventeenth-century “Death” present this assertion in a far more gradual and conflicting manner. Although the speaker’s intention in the first half of the poem is to address a bygone proficiency of Death—one existing prior to Christ’s promise of eternal life—the images drawn are significantly grim and disturbing, making it difficult to associate Death with anything less than that which warrants fear and distress: “Death, thou wast once an uncouth, hideous thing, / Nothing but bones, / The sad effect of sadder groans” (1-3). These alarming descriptions are once again observed in lines 7 and 8 of Herbert’s poem: “After the loss of life and sense, / Flesh being turned to dust and bones to sticks” (7-8), further adding to this frightening picture of Death—one far diverse than that illustrated in Donne’s