John Donne’s Satyre of Religion or Satire III

John Donne’s Satire III, also known as Satyre of Religion, is one of his most intellectually profound and spiritually provocative compositions. Written in the late 1590s, it forms part of Donne’s early satirical works and captures his intense moral and religious introspection in the wake of Reformation anxieties. Donne, raised in a Catholic household but later aligning himself with the Church of England, channels his inner conflict and disillusionment with religious factionalism into this piece, blending theological reflection, philosophical scepticism, and rhetorical brilliance.

What makes this poem stand out is that the satire is not a light-hearted lampoon but rather a philosophical meditation questioning religious dogma, blind obedience, and superficial zeal. Donne exhorts the reader to seek “true religion,” a term he uses with deliberate ambiguity, urging an ethical and spiritual quest for truth rather than submission to ecclesiastical authority or tradition.

Publication and Background

Composed: Likely between 1594 and 1597 (during Donne’s early career)
Published: Posthumously in 1663 (in The Second Part of Donne’s Satires)
Form: Formal verse satire in rhymed couplets (heroic couplets, irregular metre and enjambments) – 112 lines
Theme: Religious scepticism, moral courage, intellectual inquiry, spiritual truth

Satire III belongs to the early phase of John Donne’s literary career, written during a period of intense personal and national religious uncertainty. Though it circulated in manuscript form among Donne’s contemporaries, it was not formally published until 1663, decades after he died in 1631. The poem exemplifies the genre of verse satire but departs from mere ridicule to engage in serious theological and moral reflection.

Written in a context where England was fractured by post-Reformation conflicts among Catholics, Anglicans, and Puritans, the satire reflects Donne’s struggle as a man raised Catholic but compelled to conform to Anglicanism. Rather than advocating for any particular denomination, Donne pleads for the sincere, courageous pursuit of true religion. He critiques dogma, blind tradition, and intellectual laziness, insisting that divine truth must be actively and rigorously sought.

Satire III is deeply introspective and morally charged, serving both as social commentary and spiritual counsel. Its relevance extends beyond its immediate religious milieu, offering a universal call to individual conscience and fearless truth-seeking.

Quick Summary of Satire III

John Donne’s Satire III is a fervent philosophical reflection on the moral and spiritual confusion of his time, framed through a passionate call for religious integrity and personal responsibility. The poem opens with a dramatic expression of emotional conflict; the speaker finds himself unable to weep or laugh in the face of widespread religious hypocrisy and moral decay. His soul is choked by pity yet restrained by scorn, setting the tone for a quest that is both ethical and spiritual. Donne denounces superficial forms of piety, railing against those who engage in sectarian disputes without seeking true understanding. Instead of offering comfort, the poem demands courage, the courage to question received beliefs and to strive toward truth with sincerity and humility.

As the poem progresses, Donne sketches a series of flawed religious seekers: Mirreus, who clings to Roman antiquity; Crantz, who prefers austere Calvinism; Graius, who blindly follows tradition; Phrygius, who rejects all religion out of scepticism; and Graccus, who relativises all faiths without discernment. Each figure represents a path of either passive conformity or misguided certainty. Donne does not endorse any denomination but rather insists on a personal, vigilant, and reasoned pursuit of truth. He invokes the image of Truth standing atop a steep and cragged hill, accessible only through arduous effort and indirect ascent, emphasising that sincere doubt and inquiry are preferable to blind acceptance or lazy scepticism.

In the final portion, Donne delivers a forceful indictment of those who misuse religious and political authority for personal ends. He warns that souls perish when they follow corrupt human powers instead of trusting in God. The metaphor of flowers being swept away by the violent current of a stream symbolises the spiritual destruction caused by uncritical submission to worldly power. The poem ultimately champions an honest, active, and introspective approach to religion. Through its blend of moral seriousness and intellectual rigour, Satire III urges the reader to resist spiritual complacency and to pursue divine truth with unwavering resolve.

Line-by-Line Explanation and Critical Commentary 

Lines 1–4

“Kind pity chokes my spleen; brave scorn forbids
Those tears to issue which swell my eyelids;
I must not laugh, nor weep sins and be wise;
Can railing, then, cure these worn maladies?”

Explanation:

The poem opens with a striking depiction of internal conflict. Donne’s speaker is overwhelmed by “pity” at the sight of rampant sin and spiritual confusion, but his emotional response is restrained by “brave scorn,” which prevents his tears from falling. The “spleen,” an organ associated with emotional excess in Renaissance physiology, especially anger or melancholy, is here suffocated by compassion. Yet he cannot cry, nor can he laugh at sin without compromising wisdom. Instead, he occupies a troubled middle ground, questioning whether mere condemnation—“railing”—can remedy the persistent moral diseases (“worn maladies”) of his society.

Critical Commentary:

Donne begins with an emotional and intellectual paralysis. The speaker cannot indulge in pity, scorn, laughter, or weeping, as each reaction feels inadequate in the face of deep spiritual malaise. The line “I must not laugh, nor weep sins and be wise” captures a Renaissance dilemma: how does one respond to moral decay without becoming morally complicit or emotionally unstable? The poem’s tone is immediately serious and conflicted. This restrained outburst sets the thematic foundation for the entire satire—an urgent moral inquiry into the state of religion, the soul’s duty, and the insufficiency of passive responses. The speaker’s appeal to reason over raw emotion anticipates his call for intellectual courage in the face of spiritual uncertainty.

Poetic Devices:

• Personification: “Kind pity chokes my spleen” gives emotional qualities to internal organs, reflecting Renaissance medical thought and emotional psychology.

• Alliteration: The soft “s” sounds in “sins,” “spleen,” and “scorn” add rhythm and emphasis to the emotional weight of the opening.

• Antithesis: The tension between “weep” and “be wise,” or between emotional expression and rational composure, establishes a central theme of conflict between feeling and thought.

• Metaphor: “Railing” as a supposed cure for moral disease likens verbal condemnation to a failed medical remedy.

Comparison with Other Poets:

This emotional-political paralysis echoes the conflicted tone of Andrew Marvell’s An Horatian Ode, where admiration for Cromwell is tempered by mourning for Charles I. Donne’s philosophical dilemma also anticipates T. S. Eliot’s moral ambiguity in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, where action and emotion are similarly stifled by doubt. Within Donne’s own body of work, this restrained anguish parallels his Holy Sonnet “Oh my black soul,” in which moral disgust is internalised rather than projected outward.

Lines 5–7:
“Is not our mistress, fair Religion,
As worthy of all our souls’ devotion
As virtue was in the first blinded age?”

Explanation:

In these lines, Donne personifies Religion as a noble mistress and poses a rhetorical question that challenges the reader’s priorities and allegiances. He asks whether Religion—addressed as “fair,” connoting both moral and aesthetic excellence—is not as deserving of one’s full devotion as Virtue was during the so-called “first blinded age.” This earlier age may refer to the pagan or pre-Christian classical era, which was characterised by a philosophical pursuit of virtue without the light of Christian revelation. By invoking the idea of misplaced or partial devotion, Donne begins to probe the sincerity and authenticity of religious adherence in his own time.

Critical Commentary:

These lines initiate the poem’s central thematic tension between outward religious conformity and inner spiritual truth. Donne frames Religion as an idealised feminine figure—a “mistress”—to whom the soul ought to be wholly devoted, much like a courtly lover. The comparison to ancient Virtue suggests that while earlier ages sought moral excellence, modern Christians should aim higher, guided by divine truth. The phrase “first blinded age” introduces an ironic twist: even those who lacked revelation strove earnestly toward ethical ideals, perhaps more nobly than those in Donne’s own era who, despite access to Christian doctrine, falter in true faith. Thus, he subtly critiques the hypocrisy and superficiality of contemporary religious practices.

Poetic Devices:

• Personification: Religion is addressed as a “mistress,” imbuing her with human qualities and emotional appeal.

• Rhetorical Question: The inquiry challenges the reader directly, stirring introspection about spiritual commitments.

• Historical Allusion: The “first blinded age” alludes to classical antiquity, a time before the advent of Christianity, often regarded by Christian humanists as morally earnest despite its spiritual ignorance.

Comparison with Other Poets:

Donne’s rhetorical method here bears similarity to George Herbert’s The Pulley, where spiritual concepts are personified and made intimate. However, while Herbert often emphasises divine benevolence, Donne focuses on the intellectual struggle of religious allegiance. The use of irony and classical allusion recalls the tone of Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man, though Donne’s poetry remains more introspective and urgent. In contrast to Milton’s solemn theological meditations in On His Blindness, Donne is more satirical and provocative, using interrogation rather than confession to expose the contradictions of religious practice.

Lines 8–16:

“Are not heaven’s joys as valiant to assuage
Lusts, as earth’s honour was to them? Alas,
As we do them in means, shall they surpass
Us in the end? and shall thy father’s spirit
Meet blind philosophers in heaven, whose merit
Of strict life may be imputed faith, and hear
Thee, whom he taught so easy ways and near
To follow, damn’d? Oh, if thou dar’st, fear this;
This fear great courage and high valour is.”

Explanation:

In this passage, Donne intensifies his moral challenge by posing a series of rhetorical questions. He begins by asking whether the joys of heaven are not just as effective in quelling base desires (“lusts”) as worldly honour once was for the pagans of antiquity. He then expresses concern (“Alas”) that although modern Christians possess superior “means,” such as access to divine revelation and the teachings of Christ, they may be outdone in moral excellence by those ancient figures who pursued virtue without such aid. The hypothetical scenario becomes deeply personal: the speaker imagines a devout father in heaven encountering pagan philosophers (referred to as “blind” for lacking Christian faith) who are nonetheless saved due to the integrity of their lives. At the same time, his son, who had the benefit of religious instruction, faces damnation for failing to follow the “easy” and “near” path to salvation that had been clearly shown to him. Donne ends this meditation with an exhortation: to fear damnation is not cowardly, but a sign of true moral strength.

Critical Commentary:

These lines serve as the moral and emotional crescendo of this section of the satire. Donne’s persistent interrogation demands self-examination from the reader and challenges complacency in matters of faith. The comparison between pagan honour and Christian salvation is exceptionally provocative: Donne implies that the virtues pursued by the ancients, without knowledge of Christ, may have been pursued more ardently than the spiritual rewards sought by his contemporaries, who, though richly endowed with grace and doctrine, often remain indifferent or slothful.

The reference to “blind philosophers” subtly invokes the Stoics, Platonists, and other moral thinkers of antiquity. That their “strict life” might be accepted as “imputed faith” gestures toward a generous view of salvation, suggesting that sincere moral effort, though not explicitly Christian, could be divinely recognised. This was a controversial theological notion in Donne’s time, hinting at the breadth and daring of his intellectual engagement with salvation.

The emotional force of the father-son image deepens the satire’s ethical urgency. The father represents a previous generation of piety and doctrinal clarity; the son represents the ease of modern spiritual opportunity, which has been neglected. The scenario evokes not only disappointment but tragic betrayal of moral inheritance, of divine generosity, and filial responsibility.

Donne’s final assertion, “if thou dar’st, fear this,” inverts expectations. He proposes that fearing damnation is not weakness but a sign of profound moral seriousness. True courage lies not in denial or bravado but in the honest confrontation of one’s spiritual peril. This reversal of conventional heroic ideals elevates religious introspection above worldly notions of strength.

Poetic Devices:

Rhetorical Questions: Used extensively to engage the reader’s conscience and expose moral contradictions.

Allusion: “Blind philosophers” recalls figures like Socrates and Epictetus, suggesting an inclusive but controversial theology of virtue.

Contrast: Earthly honour vs. heavenly joys; pagan virtue vs. Christian negligence; father’s piety vs. son’s damnation.

Irony: Christians, with divine revelation, may fail more gravely than pagans who lacked it—an inversion of expected spiritual hierarchies.

Metaphor: “Means” represents religious tools and teachings; “the end” points to final salvation or damnation.

Comparison with Other Poets:

Donne’s treatment of moral reckoning recalls the introspective seriousness of George Herbert’s The Windows, where the failure of the human vessel to transmit divine truth becomes a source of anguish. However, Donne’s tone is more scathing and confrontational. Like Dante in the Divine Comedy, Donne is willing to imagine familiar figures (such as one’s father or virtuous pagans) in posthumous fates that challenge theological convention. Compared with Milton’s On His Blindness, Donne’s strategy is more rhetorical and interrogative than meditative or submissive. Where Milton wrestles with personal incapacity, Donne attacks spiritual indifference in the face of abundant grace.

Lines 17–28:

“Dar’st thou aid mutinous Dutch, and dar’st thou lay
Thee in ships’ wooden sepulchres, a prey
To leaders’ rage, to storms, to shot, to dearth?
Dar’st thou dive seas, and dungeons of the earth?
Hast thou courageous fire to thaw the ice
Of frozen North discoveries? and thrice
Colder than salamanders, like divine
Children in th’ oven, fires of Spain and the Line,
Whose countries limbecs to our bodies be,
Canst thou for gain bear? and must every he
Which cries not, “Goddess,” to thy mistress, draw
Or eat thy poisonous words? Courage of straw!”

Explanation:

In this sequence, Donne continues his scathing rhetorical interrogation by shifting from religious and philosophical concerns to worldly exploits. He begins by asking whether the subject dares to participate in the turbulent political struggles of the time, such as aiding the rebellious Dutch, or endure the deadly risks of maritime warfare. Ships become “wooden sepulchres,” a grim image likening naval vessels to coffins, where men are vulnerable to “leaders’ rage,” unpredictable storms, cannon fire, and starvation. Donne then broadens his indictment to encompass the entire spectrum of perilous exploration: diving into the seas and the “dungeons of the earth”—a phrase that suggests both mining and the unknown depths of the globe.

He next targets the celebrated age of exploration, asking whether the addressee possesses the “courageous fire” necessary to survive the frozen perils of Arctic voyages or the “thrice colder” infernos of tropical regions, such as those found in Spain’s colonial possessions (“Spain and the Line”). The “children in th’ oven” alludes to the biblical story of the three Hebrew boys in the furnace (Daniel 3), but here used ironically, equating imperial conquests and colonial ventures with spiritual desolation and bodily suffering. The lands themselves are likened to “limbecs, ”alchemical vessels used to distil liquids through heat, thus presenting these countries as crucibles that consume and exhaust the human body in the pursuit of wealth.

The final lines return to a more intimate sphere: Donne mocks the false bravado of those who will draw swords or submit to humiliation in the name of courtly love. To demand that every man refer to one’s mistress as a “Goddess” or else suffer verbal retaliation (“eat thy poisonous words”) is for Donne the epitome of misplaced and hollow courage. He concludes with a scathing judgment: such bravado is mere “courage of straw”—a fragile, superficial imitation of true moral or spiritual bravery.

Critical Commentary:

This section forcefully contrasts physical daring with spiritual cowardice. Donne’s catalogue of worldly exploits, from war and exploration to romantic aggression, targets the misplaced energy and ambition of men who perform acts of ostensible bravery for wealth, pride, or vanity, yet shrink from the more arduous labour of spiritual examination. The framing of ships as “wooden sepulchres” is particularly striking; it underscores the futility of risking death for causes that are either morally ambiguous or entirely self-serving.

Donne’s treatment of colonial and commercial enterprise is both vivid and critical. By invoking the “limbec,” he aligns imperialism not with discovery or enlightenment but with bodily exploitation. His imagery is deliberately grotesque, casting worldly pursuits as a kind of spiritual alchemy gone wrong, one that purifies nothing and destroys much.

The final image of enforced gallantry, compelling others to call one’s mistress a “Goddess” or face insult, shows how deeply Donne is troubled by the falsification of values in his society. In place of authentic courage, his contemporaries elevate pride, vanity, and aggression. Donne’s contempt is unflinching: these men may suffer bodily peril without hesitation, but they flee from religious truth, moral self-scrutiny, and the fear of damnation.

Poetic Devices:

• Metaphor: “Wooden sepulchres” likens ships to coffins; “limbecs” for tropical lands that consume the body.

• Allusion: The “children in th’ oven” alludes to Daniel 3; “salamanders” to legendary fire-dwelling creatures.

• Rhetorical Questions: A relentless series that challenges the reader’s priorities and exposes spiritual cowardice.

• Irony: Donne ironically elevates superficial acts of gallantry and ambition only to expose their hollowness.

Comparison with Other Poets:

Donne’s irony and moral severity recall the satirical mode of Juvenal, though he applies it to early modern religious and political contexts. Compared to George Herbert, whose poetry often affirms quiet devotion, Donne is confrontational and unrelenting. His disdain for worldly ambition aligns him with Milton’s vision in Paradise Lost, where Satan’s heroic pride leads to ruin. Yet unlike Milton, who dramatises cosmic fall, Donne fixes his gaze on the hypocrisy of his contemporaries. Where Herbert invites the soul inward gently, Donne lashes it forward with urgency and wit.

Lines 29–42:

“O desperate coward, wilt thou seem bold, and
To thy foes and his, who made thee to stand
Sentinel in his world’s garrison, thus yield,
And for forbidden wars leave th’ appointed field?
Know thy foes: the foul devil, whom thou
Strivest to please, for hate, not love, would allow
Thee fain his whole realm to be quit; and as
The world’s all parts wither away and pass,
So the world’s self, thy other lov’d foe, is
In her decrepit wane, and thou loving this,
Dost love a wither’d and worn strumpet; last,
Flesh (itself’s death) and joys which flesh can taste,
Thou lovest, and thy fair goodly soul, which doth
Give this flesh power to taste joy, thou dost loathe.”

Explanation:

In this passage, Donne intensifies his moral indictment by directly confronting the subject’s spiritual failures. He opens with a paradoxical insult, “desperate coward,” immediately highlighting the inner contradiction of those who project worldly boldness while abandoning their divine duty. The image of man as a “sentinel in his world’s garrison” casts the human soul as a soldier stationed by God to stand guard over moral territory. To abandon this post and instead pursue “forbidden wars” is to engage in misguided battles, sinful, futile, and in defiance of divine command.

Donne then explicitly names the true enemies of the soul: the devil, the world, and the flesh, the classical triad of Christian temptation. The devil, Donne argues, does not seduce out of affection, but out of malice: he would willingly give up his entire realm just to see a soul fall. The world, meanwhile, is personified as an aged and decaying courtesan, a “wither’d and worn strumpet,” still desperately loved by the subject despite her corruption and decline. This image serves as a brutal metaphor for spiritual blindness: clinging to the transient, despoiled pleasures of temporal existence rather than recognising their inherent emptiness.

Lastly, Donne addresses the flesh, the immediate vehicle of sensual pleasure, as “itself’s death,” underscoring its intrinsic mortality. While the subject delights in bodily pleasures, he simultaneously despises the soul, the very faculty that allows those pleasures to be experienced and enjoyed. This inversion, loving death and hating life, exalting the corrupt and scorning the divine, reveals the grotesque irrationality of sin.

Critical Commentary:

This section marks a powerful turning point in the satire, where Donne shifts from exposing superficial acts of courage to a direct theological diagnosis of the soul’s malaise. The invocation of the three traditional spiritual enemies, the devil, the world, and the flesh, grounds the satire in orthodox Christian doctrine, but Donne’s treatment is anything but conventional. His language is charged with polemical energy and deeply evocative metaphors that strip away any illusion of neutrality in the battle for the soul.

The image of man as a “sentinel” stationed in God’s garrison is especially potent. It asserts not only human responsibility but also divine purpose. To abandon this role is to desert one’s post in a sacred war, not merely a private moral lapse but a cosmic betrayal.

The devil’s motivations, described as rooted in “hate, not love,” challenge the often romanticised literary trope of temptation as alluring. Donne rejects the seductive framing; he sees the devil’s approval as pure malice, desiring destruction for its own sake. Likewise, the world is exposed not as a realm of vibrant pleasure, but as an ageing prostitute, emphasising not only corruption but also pathetic self-deception in those who remain enamoured with it.

The most jarring twist comes in the closing lines: the speaker loves the flesh (death) and hates the soul (life). Donne’s anthropological framework here is deeply Augustinian: the soul, created in God’s image and endowed with reason and spiritual capacity, is the noblest part of man. To “loathe” it in favour of mere animal pleasure is to enact a tragic, almost suicidal inversion of one’s true nature.

Poetic Devices:

• Metaphor: The world as a “wither’d and worn strumpet”; flesh as “itself’s death”; man as a “sentinel” abandoned his post.

• Personification: The devil and the world are animated with specific psychological motives—hatred and seductive decay, respectively.

• Triadic Structure: The classic triad of the devil, the world, and the flesh serves as an organising theological motif.

• Irony: The subject thinks himself brave in worldly terms but is spiritually cowardly; he loves that which destroys him and hates that which sustains him.

Comparison with Other Poets:

Donne’s moral framework here aligns with the Augustinian theology also present in George Herbert’s The Temple, though Herbert would approach these themes with greater gentleness and personal pathos. Donne’s rhetorical aggression and visceral imagery are closer to the prophetic indignation of Langland’s Piers Plowman or Dante’s stern moral clarity in Inferno. Like Dante, Donne uses the decay of the world and the soul’s disordered loves to construct a spiritual diagnosis with eternal consequences.

In contrast with the interiorised devotional mode of later poets like Henry Vaughan or Thomas Traherne, Donne is less concerned with mystical consolation than with sounding the alarm. His mode is prophetic satire, designed not to comfort, but to shock the reader into recognition of his spiritual dereliction.

Lines 43–54:

“Seek true religion. O where? Mirreus,
Thinking her unhous’d here, and fled from us,
Seeks her at Rome; there, because he doth know
That she was there a thousand years ago,
He loves her rags so, as we here obey
The statecloth where the prince sate yesterday.
Crantz to such brave loves will not be enthrall’d,
But loves her only, who at Geneva is call’d
Religion, plain, simple, sullen, young,
Contemptuous, yet unhandsome; as among
Lecherous humours, there is one that judges
No wenches wholesome, but coarse country drudges.”

Explanation:

In this segment, Donne pivots from the internal struggle of the soul to the external challenge of finding “true religion.” The question “Seek true religion. O where?” is both rhetorical and sincere, capturing the speaker’s bewilderment in an age of confessional conflict and spiritual fragmentation. He begins by portraying two stereotypical seekers: Mirreus, who looks backwards to tradition, and Crantz, who turns forward to reform. Both, Donne implies, are guilty of shallow, misplaced devotion.

Mirreus is described as one who seeks religion in Rome, not out of spiritual discernment but because of its antiquity. Since the Roman Church once housed the “true” religion centuries ago, he clings to its remnants—its “rags”—with uncritical reverence. The comparison to obeying “the statecloth where the prince sate yesterday” satirises this blind traditionalism. The metaphor mocks those who worship symbols of past power rather than the living truth, confusing former glory with present legitimacy.

Crantz, by contrast, is a Reformer who seeks religion in Geneva—a reference to Calvinist Protestantism. He is not “enthrall’d” by Rome’s grandeur but chooses a version of faith that is “plain, simple, sullen, young,” and austere. Yet this religion is also “contemptuous, yet unhandsome,” suggesting that while it prides itself on simplicity and scorns ornament, it lacks spiritual beauty or generosity. The final image is both bawdy and biting: Donne likens this preference to a man who, out of cynical puritanism, claims only coarse and unattractive women are wholesome, an ironic metaphor that questions both the taste and the judgment of such narrow piety.

In both figures, Donne exposes the tendency to reduce religion to a partisan or aesthetic allegiance. Whether one is drawn to the Roman Church’s decaying grandeur or Geneva’s stark severity, the search remains external, superficial, and ultimately misguided.

Critical Commentary:

This passage constitutes one of Donne’s most incisive critiques of religious factionalism in post-Reformation Europe. His satire targets not the institutions per se but the intellectual laziness and emotional investment that drive men to choose sides without genuine spiritual inquiry. By personifying religion as a woman pursued by competing suitors, Donne emphasises how confessional identity often becomes a matter of cultural taste, habit, or contrarianism rather than sincere conviction.

The analogy of Mirreus “loving her rags” is devastating in its clarity. It encapsulates the nostalgic conservatism of those who confuse historical continuity with theological authority. Similarly, Crantz’s austere preference critiques those whose rejection of pomp leads to an equal and opposite error: a prideful asceticism that mistakes austerity for virtue.

Importantly, Donne does not endorse either position. His irony is double-edged: both the Roman and Reformed models, as represented here, fall short of true religion because they substitute appearance, age, or reactionary disdain for spiritual substance. His speaker is not offering a resolution but expressing the disillusionment of a man caught between extremes, seeking a path that lies beyond inherited divisions.

Poetic Devices:

• Rhetorical Question: “Seek true religion. O where?” opens the section with existential urgency.

• Allegory: Religion is personified as a woman, pursued for her external traits rather than her essence.

• Irony: Both Mirreus and Crantz are mocked for their misplaced religious devotion, which is dictated by cultural nostalgia or reactive puritanism.

• Metaphor: The “statecloth where the prince sate yesterday” ridicules those who obey obsolete authorities; the comparison to “coarse country drudges” parodies doctrinal austerity.

• Allusion: “Geneva” and “Rome” are explicit references to the central axes of Reformation-era division: Roman Catholicism and Calvinist Protestantism.

Comparison with Other Poets:

This section of Donne’s satire echoes the moral detachment and critical insight of Erasmus in The Praise of Folly, where religious excesses and intellectual superficialities are similarly exposed. Like Erasmus, Donne refuses to align himself simplistically with either camp of the Reformation, instead calling for a more authentic spiritual engagement.

In contrast to George Herbert’s devotional clarity and identification with Anglican piety, Donne remains the anxious seeker, suspicious of every ecclesial claim. His stance also differs from Milton’s later embrace of Puritan ideals, where Milton finds a prophetic calling in reformed zeal, Donne finds absurdity and vanity. The stylistic wit and veiled bitterness align Donne more closely with the sceptical strain of Montaigne, blending satire with philosophical disillusionment.

Lines 55–66:

“Graius stays still at home here, and because
Some preachers, vile ambitious bawds, and laws,
Still new like fashions, bid him think that she
Which dwells with us is only perfect, he
Embraceth her whom his godfathers will
Tender to him, being tender, as wards still
Take such wives as their guardians offer, or
Pay values. Careless Phrygius doth abhor
All, because all cannot be good, as one
Knowing some women whores, dares marry none.”

Explanation:

In this passage, Donne continues his critique of various flawed responses to the quest for true religion. Having already presented the figures of Mirreus and Crantz, representatives of nostalgic Catholicism and austere Protestantism respectively, he now introduces Graius and Phrygius, each embodying another kind of spiritual error.

Graius, unlike Mirreus or Crantz, does not venture abroad to seek religion but “stays still at home.” His religious identity is shaped not by independent inquiry but by the pressures of local authority, namely, the influence of “preachers, vile ambitious bawds, and laws.” The phrase “vile ambitious bawds” is particularly scathing: Donne equates some preachers with pimps, suggesting they broker religious allegiance not out of sincerity but for personal gain. These figures exploit institutional structures and the fickleness of doctrinal “laws, / Still new like fashions,” highlighting how religion has become subject to trend and manipulation rather than truth and tradition.

Under such pressures, Graius accepts the religion “his godfathers will / Tender to him, being tender” that is, the religion imposed upon him in his youth, at baptism. Donne compares this to a legal guardian arranging a marriage for a minor ward, an apt metaphor for coerced or inherited religious identity. In both cases, the subject lacks agency and discernment, accepting a commitment without understanding. The phrase “pay values” may refer to the legal concept of paying a dowry or fine, but spiritually, it implies a transactional, unfree adherence.

Phrygius, by contrast, represents another extreme: total scepticism and disengagement. He “doth abhor / All, because all cannot be good.” Like the man who, having known some women to be unchaste, refuses to marry any, Phrygius is so disillusioned by religious corruption that he rejects all religion outright. Donne thus likens this spiritual nihilism to a cynical misogyny—an absurd generalisation that leads to sterile inaction. Phrygius’ refusal to commit is not born of discernment but of cowardice and disillusionment.

Together, these figures represent two further spiritual failings: passive conformity and lazy cynicism.

Critical Commentary:

This portion of the satire deepens Donne’s theological exploration by exposing two additional distortions in the pursuit of true faith: unquestioning institutional loyalty and blanket rejection. In Graius and Phrygius, Donne satirises both the credulous conformist and the jaded sceptic, two poles of religious irresponsibility that are just as dangerous as the fervent sectarianism of Mirreus and Crantz.

Graius is a product of ecclesiastical manipulation and cultural inertia. Donne’s indictment of “vile ambitious bawds” is not just an attack on corrupt clergy, but on the institutional machinery that commodifies religion. The critique of “laws, still new like fashions” conveys Donne’s disdain for doctrinal instability and novelty masquerading as reform. The result is a passive acceptance of inherited belief, without scrutiny or conviction.

Phrygius, however, embodies a self-satisfied indifference that hides behind a veneer of reason. His argument that because no religion is perfect, none is worth embracing is intellectually lazy and spiritually bankrupt. Donne counters this argument with a biting analogy: to reject all women because some are impure is neither prudent nor noble, but cowardly and unjust. This metaphor underscores Donne’s insistence that spiritual maturity demands discernment, not dismissal.

The unifying thread in Donne’s satire so far is misdirected zeal or sloth. Whether one seeks religion for the wrong reasons, accepts it without examination, or avoids it entirely, each path reveals a failure of moral responsibility. Donne implicitly calls for a higher standard: a serious, courageous, and independent pursuit of truth.

Poetic Devices:

• Satirical Allegory: Graius and Phrygius are personified types—embodiments of particular spiritual postures.

• Metaphor: The comparison of religion to a wife, arranged by guardians or rejected outright, exposes the transactional or dismissive treatment of sacred commitment.

• Alliteration: “Vile ambitious bawds” heightens the tone of moral condemnation.

• Irony: Graius believes himself devout, and Phrygius rational; Donne reveals both to be fundamentally unthinking.

• Simile: The image of legal guardians offering wives to wards strengthens the theme of passivity and lack of moral agency.

Comparison with Other Poets:

Donne’s critique of ecclesiastical corruption and spiritual passivity has much in common with the reformist impulses of contemporaries like John Milton, though Donne is more sceptical of ideological fervour. Milton’s Areopagitica would later critique institutional censorship with prophetic zeal; Donne, by contrast, focuses here on the deeper spiritual malaise beneath outward conformity or rejection.

In temperament and method, Donne’s satire echoes the moral sharpness of Juvenal, combined with the psychological subtlety of Montaigne. His resistance to dogmatism and preference for individual moral inquiry align him loosely with the humanist tradition of Erasmus, though Donne’s theological seriousness is more pronounced.

Read the next part with the analysis of the remaining lines and a concluding section with critical and scholarly commentary.

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