Ripley reviv'd, or, An exposition upon Sir George Ripley's hermetico-poetical works containing the plainest and most excellent discoveries of the most hidden secrets of the ancient philosophers, that were ever yet published / written by Eirenæus Philalethes ...

UPon a day as I abroad was walking, The pleasant Fields to view, A voice I heard in silence softly talking Of Wonders passing new.

Whereat I starting stood like one amazed, Not knowing what to guess; But when I round about a while had gazed, This terrour it grew less.

The voice I heard came from a Grove, which there At my right hand did grow, Which I considering, silently drew near The cause of it to know.

Where I did see a Lady finely dressed, Sit sighing by a Spring, She uttered words as if with grief oppressed, And oft her hands would wring.

Ah me, quoth she, how is my joy departed! Oh dismal cruel death! Could any think the Fiend so flinty hearted, So to bereave him breath?

I then drew near, and thought to have asswa∣ged With pleasant words her grief: The more I spake, the more she was enraged, Nay she disdain'd relief.

Her face was Lilly white, with Purple spots Ʋpon her cheeks and chin; Her Rosie lips, her feature free from blots, T' amaze me did begin.

Beauty most rare, quoth I, what dost thou weeping? What Wight most vile shall dare To wrong thee, whom the Gods have in their keeping, Whose face is mortals snare?

Good Sir, quoth she, forbear your words of sorrow, I live, yet living dye: I wish my life might end before the morrow, Ah death I fear's not nigh.

I had a Husband dear, of comely feature, A King of great renown; So lovely and so loving, that in Nature There's none may put him down.

His Constitution was so strong, he scorned To fly from any Foe: His Person was with grace so well adorned, That none but him did know.

Great Phoebus he was nam'd, whose princely merit 'Tis death for to recite; So Rich he was, the wealth he did inherit Great honour did invite.

We walking here the pleasant Woods among, Found this unhappy Spring, Of which to drink for thirst my Lord did long, Which draught his end did bring.

For stooping down, the Water with its stream His head did make so light, He could not rise, but dropt into the stream To everlasting Night.

He strove to swim, but to the bottom sank, O dismal sight to see! Then swelling with the Water which he drank, Himself he could not free.

But burst, and then the Spring began to boil, And bubbling, colour chang'd; 'Tis wonder for to see (alas the spoil!) King dead, and Spring estrang'd

So from its former state, that what then shone Like unto glittering Skie, Now like a stinking Puddle reaks, that none Can it endure: yea I

Who in it lost a Husband dear, do loath The vapours that ascend; I hope one Spring will be the end of both, 'Twould be a happy end.

So long she spake, until the Water seem'd Like Ink, so black it grew; And eke the savour erst so bad esteem'd, Did far surpass the hew.

The Air with Clouds most dark was fill'd, that never Such Fogs and Mists were seen, The which a Soul from the dead Corps did sever, Whose colour first was green,

Then yellow, mixt with blue; the fumes ascended, Which bore the Soul on high, Which when the Lady saw, her tears were ended, She fainted by and by.

Into the same Stream she did swouning drop, And never more appear'd; She lov'd her Husband so, she would not stop, Like one of death afear'd,

And straightway she of vital breath de∣priv'd, Was of a Lady fair A Carcass made, thus both in love who liv'd, Alike in death did share.

Their Souls disjoyned from their Bodies ho∣v'ring Ʋpon the Fountain plaid, Expecting if their Carcasses recovering, Might have their lives repaid.

The Sun in Solstice stood, whose heat did dry The Waters more and more; And eke beneath a Central heat did fry, And sent up vapours store.

Which still return'd, so long till they were chang'd The greater part to dust; The wandring Souls which long had been estrang'd, Were now allur'd with lust

Of their own Bodies, in whose Atoms lay A strange Magnetick force; They also though long banish'd, day by day Awaited the dead Coarse.

For Souls united were Bodies combin'd, And both to each ally'd So nearly, that no sooner they can find A way, but they are ty'd

With knot inviolable, that no power, How strong it may appear, Can part them any more, even from the hour They thus united were.

Thus two one Body have, of double Sex, Which doth no sooner live, But is impregnated; this doth perplex Their foes, who fain would drive

This tender off-spring to despair: but God Him safely ever keeps From all Invasion, nor permits the rod Of them to make him weep.

And though his Garments and his Skin be foul With blackness and with stink, He shall be purged, for both Spirit and Soul Are clean, whate're men think.

A River springs amidst a Garden fair, With Flowers many deck••, Whose drops are Crystal like, these into Air By Central heat are checkt.

This Air condenses like Pearl Orient, Which on this Body falls, Whose lustre on its blackness being spent, To brightness it recalls.

And both together make a Crystal Spring, Whose Streams most strangely shine; These after are condens'd, and with them bring Treasures of Silver fine.

These Treasures if to rest untoucht a while Ʋpon the Fire are left, The stealing Azure will the white beguile, And both will be bereft

Of Being by the Vert, which long will dure; The Citrine will succeed, Which will abide full long, but then be sure To see the sparkling red.

Then is the King who formerly was drown'd, Become the whole Earths wonder; His Wife and he are one, and both abound With wealth; nor they asunder

Will ever more depart: now all their Foes Must their dominion know; Who will not stoop, shall surely feel their blows, For all are him below.

His Brethren all who formerly were held As Slaves in prison fast, Are now set free; their Enemies which swell'd With pride, full low were cast.

Thus by his death, the King hath now ob∣tain'd That Glory which before He never had; his former state's disdain'd, His Wife now weeps no more.

She's one with him, his former Kingdom he Ʋnto his Brethren gives; The worst of them doth now those Fortunes see, That each in plenty lives.

And what their Brother was before his death, That they are now become, For he their sickness cures with his breath, And makes them live at home.

No more in bondage, bonds no place can find, All liberty enjoy; There's nothing here can hurt, for all one mind Have: all that would destroy

Is banish'd from the Kingly Palace, where The Streets with Gold are pav'd; The Walls are Silver fine, the Gates most clear Intire Gems, engrav'd

With wondrous Art; the Windows glass most pure, Which falls nor knocks can break; The Drink from fear of venom still is sure, Whoso virtue none can speak.

Whose comes there, is at a place arriv'd Where neither want, nor death, Nor any grief is known; a place contriv'd For Saints therein to breath.

Whom God shall choose, and to his Palace bring, What need he more desire Then God himself, that he may praises sing, Kindled with holy fire?

But he whose hands unclean, and heart de∣fil'd, These Mysteries forbear, For you th' are not; cease timely, for y' are wild T' have neither wit nor fear.