Royalty and Humility
Despite Donne's enormous reputation, Carew continues to emphasize the man's humility throughout the poem. He credits Donne with fairly understanding his own merit as a poet, as well as possessing the objectivity to recognize that more foolish men than he may not appreciate his poems for all they're worth. Humility notwithstanding, Carew praises Donne and elevates his contributions to society and culture as akin to those of a king. He paints Donne as a king, known only to his closest peers. Subject to the great poets of old and his service to God alone, Donne conducted himself as royalty, devoting the utmost of wisdom and sincerity to his artistic work.
The Fallibility of Language
Repeatedly Carew laments the incomplete nature of language because it severely hampered Donne's abilities to communicate his genius. Though knowing both Latin and Greek and employing both skillfully, Donne could never manage to convince lesser minds of the complete understanding of his words. In fact Carew compares language to a blind master of fate, randomly assigning meaning to communication. Although Donne's reputation led his readers to approach his poetry with a certain respect and reverence, he was attempting to discuss matter which defy communication through language itself. He was attempting the impossible.
Iconoclasm
Carew expresses lament for the loss of Donne both for all the words he could yet have written and for the inevitable decline of the genre of poetry. As Carew sees matters, poets who succeeded Donne will not appreciate his high standers. Rather they will fall into the trap of iconoclastic irony and criticism which the great Ovid proposed in his Metamorphoses. Donne was considered the last safeguard of an ancient tradition of sacred poetry. Few contemporaries of his mediated their ideas with such severity as Donne. In his absence, Carew fears the decline of poetry as a result of iconoclasm. Recognizing their own inability to match Donne's genius, other poets may prefer to hide behind irony and wit.
