English Chronicles of Time ( Death not be Proud) 2.1

           CHRONICLES OF TIME

     Death Be Not Proud (John Donne)

Described By– Dr. Pooja

Rishikul Sanskrit College Gurugam/Rohtak

www.rishikulcolleges.org

Death   not   be   proud, though   some   have   called   thee

Mighty   and   dreadful, for   thou   art   not   so,

For   those   whom   thou   think’st   thou   dost   overthow

Die   not, poor   death,   not   yet   canst   thou   kill   me.

From   rest   and   sleep,   which   but   thy   pictures   be,

Much   pleasure   then   from   thee   much   more   must   flow,

And   soonest   our   best   men   with   thee   do   go

Rest   of   their   bones,   and   souls’ delivery.

Thou   art   slave   to   fate,   chance,   kings,   and   desperate   men,

And   dost   with   poison,   war ,   and   sickness-dwell,

And   poppy ,   or   charms   can   make   us   sleep   as   well,

And   better   than   thy   stroke;   why   swell’st   thou   then?

One   short   sleep   past,   we   wake   eternally ,

And   death   shall   be   no   more;   death,   thou   shalt   die.

Summary of the Poem                                    

Death be not Proud

‘Death Be Not Proud” is one of the nineteen Holy Sonnets written by the great metaphysical poet John Donne.  As a typical product of Renaissance, Donne wrote a kind of love and religious poetry that shocked its readers into attention with its wit, conceits, far-fetched imagery, erudition complexity, colloquial and dramatic styles.  Donne’s poetry exemplifies the rare synthesis of reason and passion –  a unique quality which is termed as the “Unified Sensibility.”

This  poem  forcefully  demolishes  the  popular  conception of  death  as  a  powerful  tyrant.  The  poet  presents  an unconventional  view  of  death.  By addressing the poem  to death,  Donne  says  that  Death  should  not  feel  proud  of  itself.

Death  is  neither  frightening  nor  powerful  although  some people have called it so. It has no power over the soul which is  immortal.  The  poet  explains  his  idea  through  the  examples  of rest  and  sleep.  He  says  that  rest  and  sleep  are  only  the pictures  of  death.  We  derive  pleasure  from  rest  and  sleep.  So death  itself  should  provide  much  more  pleasure,  which  is  the real  thing.  Secondly  our  best  men  get  death  very  soon.  Their bones  get  rest  and  their  soul  gets  freedom.  Hence  death  is  not frightening thing.

Now  the  poet  blasts  the  popular  belief  that  death  is  all powerful.  Death,  in  fact  is  a  captive,  a  slave  to  the  power  of fate,  chance,  cruel  kings  and  bed  men.  It  lives  in  the  bad company  of  poison,  war  and  sickness.  Opium  and  other narcotics  are  as  effective  as  death  in  inducing  us  to  sleep. They,  actually,  make  us  sleep  better.  Death  cannot  operate  at its own level. So death should not feel proud of its powers.

In the ends, the poet once again says that death is a kind of  sleep,  after  which  the  soul  will  wake  up  to,  live  forever  and becomes  immortal.  Then  death  has  no  power  over  us.  In other words the  soul  conquers  death;  it  is  the  death  which  itself dies.  Thus Donne degrades death  and  declares  happily  the impotence  of  death.  It is, in no way, powerful and dreadful. So we should not fear death as it has no power over our souls.