Poem by Ben Jonson

To John Donne

Donne, the delight of Phoebus and each Muse
Who, to thy one, all other brains refuse;
Whose every work of thy most early wit
Came forth example, and remains so yet;
Longer a-knowing than most wits do live;
And which no affection praise enough can give!
To it, thy language, letters, arts, best life,
Which might with half mankind maintain a strife.
All which I meant to praise, and yet I would;
But leave, because I cannot as I should! 

1. Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke
2. A Hymn to God the Father
3. To Censorious Courtling
4. On Poet-Ape
5. Hymn to the Belly

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