Anatomical exercitations concerning the generation of living creatures to which are added particular discourses of births and of conceptions, &c. / by William Harvey ...

To the Incomparable Dr. HARVEY, On his Books Of the MOTION of the HEART and BLOOD, And of the GENERATION of ANIMALS.

TO Sol, the grateful Persian homage payes; He Sees by them, and so Adores the rayes: Deeming the Suns just title to arise To th' Tribute, as to th' Vision of his Eyes. And such is thy due claime, Great Light of Art, Who to the long-dim World dost sight impart. To thy Loud Fame for ever be apply'd, As th' Conduct, so the Glory of our Guide. While gray Antiquity Oracular heares, Not for the Truths she brings, but for the Yeares, And her sowr Dictats from the Tripod thrown, Look more to be Obey'd, then to be Known.

Thy daring Art first stands her, and doth breed This Reseue thence, that Science is not Creed. Who for their Age alone doe Writers trust, Prize Armour, not for th' Proof, but for the Rust. From Books to Nature thy Appeale is made, Thy Copies by their Archetype are swayd. Though High and Reverend thy Authors sit, Yet the Creation is thy Classick Writ. The various Colonies, whose brood supplyes Inhabitants to Earth, to Seas, and Skies, These are thy Vatican, and onely these Are thy Infallible Hippocrates; Thy Sibyll-Volumes, and Thou knowst them all, Like their first Godfathen before the Fall. Their Natures, Kinds, Distinctions and Concent, The Parts conteinec't, and Parts continent, Their Order, Substance, Temper, Site, their Force, Relations, and confederate Entercourse.

Their different Cells which different Bowels bound, Rooft and partition'd from their Neighbours ground. The Numerous Intrals Thou hast searched through, Might both Appease the Gods, and Surfet too. Not in the dull Emerit Carcase, where The Shops remain where once the Workmen were; And onely yield this cold Account; there stands The Stuffe and Tools perhaps, but not the Hands. But in the Living Laboratories, when The Vitals ply'd their task like Lab'ring men; When Life and Industry one Fountaine fed, And to give over Work, was, to be Dead. And now the Beasts hold their Instructive life Innobled by the cunning of thy Knife. Their Fall heares Sacrifice to th' Publick good, Nor is it to be Slaine, but Vnderstood. There thy Observing Eye first found the Art Of all the Wheels and Clock-work of the Heart:

The mystick causes of its Dark Estate, What Pullies Close its Cells, and what Dilate. What secret Engiues tune the Pulse, whose din By Chimes without, Strikes how things fare within. There didst thou trace the Blood, and first behold What Dreames mistaken Sages coin'd of old. For till thy Pegasus the fountain brake, The crimson Blood, was but a crimson Lake. Which first from Thee did Tyde and Motion gaine, And Veins became its Channel, not its Chaine. With Drake and Candish hence thy Bays is curld, Fam'd Circulator of the Lesser World. Yet thou no sooner wroughtst this wonder out, Though proof both gainst the cool suspense of Doubt, And rougher Violence o'th' Despisers tongue, But Europe round with hot combustions rung: Its early first Defiance sprung up here, At last a swarm of Champion Pens appeare

From Forreign coasts, and to the conflict come, Some thy bold Challengers, thy Seconds some. But when Experience vanquisht their defence, And Prejudice was captive led by Sense: The Ingenuous laid down Arms, and fled to You, As their Instructor, and their Victor too. Thus twice endeer'd, thy Secrets we allow, By Truths at first, and by Opposers now. So Gold disputed, and Approved such, Comes Mettle, but parts Treasure from the Touch. A Calmer welcome this choice Peice befall, Which from fresh Extract hath deduced all, And for belief, bids it no longer begg That Castor once and Pollux were an Egge: That both the Hen and Houswife are so matcht, That her Son Born, is only her Son Hatcht; That when her Teeming hopes have prosp'rous bin, Yet to Conceive, is but to Lay within.

Experiment, and Truth both take thy part: If thou canst scape the Women! there's the Art. Live Modern Wonder, and be read alone, Thy Brain hath Issue, though thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉 have none. Let fraile Succession be the Vulgar care; Great Generation's selfe is now thy Heire.

M. LL. M. D.