The lover supposes his lady acquainted with the ancient laws of
augury and rites of sacrifice:


And yet this death of mine, I fear,
Will ominous to her appear:
When, sound in every other part,
Her sacrifice is found without an heart.
For the last tempest of my death
Shall sigh out that too, with my breath.


That the chaos was harmonised, has been recited of old; but whence
the different sounds arose remained for a modern to discover:


Th' ungovern'd parts no correspondence knew;
An artless war from thwarting motions grew;
Till they to number and fixed rules were brought.
Water and air he for the tenor chose,
Earth made the base; the treble flame arose.--COWLEY.


The tears of lovers are always of great poetical account; but Donne
has extended them into worlds. If the lines are not easily
understood, they may be read again:


On a round ball
A workman, that bath copies by, can lay