Philosophical poems by Henry More ...

The Argument of PSYCHATHANASIA, OR The Immortality of the Soul. (Book 3)

Book. 3. Cant. 1.

The souls free independency; Her drery dreadfull state In hell; Her tricentreity: What brings to heavens gate.

1

WEll said that man, what ever man that was, That said, what things we would we straight believe Upon each slight report t' have come to passe: But better he, that said, Slow faith we give To things we long for most. Hope and fear rive Distracted minds, as when nigh equall weights Cast on the trembling scales, each tug and strive To pull the other up. But the same sleights By turns do urge them both in their descents and heights:

2

Thus waves the mind in things of greatest weight; For things we value most are companied With fear as well as hope: these strifly fight: The stronger hope, the stronger fear is fed; On mother both and the like livelyhed. One object both, from whence they both do spring, The greater she, the greater these she bred, The greater these, the greater wavering And longer time to end their sturdy struggeling.

3

But is there any thing of more import Then the souls immortality? Hence fear And hope we striving feel with strong effort Against each other: That nor reason clear Nor sacred Oracles can straight down bear That sturdy rascall, with black phantasies Yclad, and clouded with drad dismall chear; But still new mists he casts before our eyes, And now derides our prov'd incorporieties,

4

And grinning saith, That labour's all in vain. For though the soul were incorporeall, Yet her existence to this flesh restrain, They be so nearly link'd, that if one fall The other fails. The eare nor hears our call In stouping age, nor eye can see ought clear; Benumming palsies shake the bodies wall, The soul hath lost her strength and cannot steer Her crasie corse, but staggering on reels here and there.

5

So plain it is (that though the soul 's a spright, Not corporall) that it must needs depend Upon this body, and must perish quite When her foundation falls. But now attend And see what false conceits vain fears do send: 'Tis true, I cannot write without a quill, Nor ride without an horse. If chance that rend Or use make blunt, o're-labouring this kill, Then can I walk not ride, not write but think my fill.

6

Our body is but the souls instrument; And when it fails, onely these actions cease That thence depend. But if new eyes were sent Unto the aged man, with as much case And accuratenesse, as when his youth did please The wanton lasse, he now could all things see. Old age is but the watry blouds disease. The soul from death and sicknesse standeth free: My hackney fails, not I; my pen, not sciencie.

7

But as I said, of things we do desire So vehemently we never can be sure Enough. Therefore, my Muse, thou must aspire To higher pitch, and fearfull hearts secure Not with slight phansie but with reason pure. Evincing the souls independency Upon this body that doth her immure, That when from this dark prison she shall flie All men may judge her rest in immortality.

8

Therefore I'll sing the Tricentreity Of humane souls, and how they wake from sleep, In which ywrapt of old they long do lie Contract with cold, and drench'd in Lethe deep, Hugging their plantall point. It makes me weep Now I so clearly view the solemn Spring Of silent Night, whose Magick dew doth steep These drowsie souls of men, whose dropping wing Keeps off the light of life, and blunts each fiery sting.

9

Three centres hath the soul; One plantall hight: Our parents this revive in nuptiall bed. This is the principle that hales on Night, Subjects the mind unto dull drowsyhed: If we this follow, thus we shall be led To that dark straitnesse that did bind before Our sluggish life: when that is shrivelled Into its sunken centre, we no more Are conscious of life: what can us then restore?

10

Unlesse with fiery whips fell Nemesis Do lash our sprights, and cruelly do gore Our groning ghosts; this is the way, I wisse, The onely way to keep's from Morpheus power. Both these so dismall are that I do showr Uncessant tears from my compassionate eyes: Alas! ye souls! Why should or sleep devour Sweet functions of life? or hellish cries To tender heart resound your just calamities?

11

Thus may you all from your dead drowsinesse Be wak'd by inward sting and pinching wo, That you could wish that that same heavinesse Might ever you o'represse, and Lethe flow Upon your drowned life. But you shall glow With urging fire, that doth resuscitate Your middle point, and makes it self to gnaw It self with madnesse, while 't doth ruminate On its deformity and sterill vexing state.

12

Continuall desire that nought effects, Perfect hot-glowing fervour out to spring In some good world: With fury she affects To reach the Land of life, then struck with sting Of wounding memory, despairs the thing, And further off she sees her self, the more She rageth to obtain: thus doth she bring More fewell to her flame that scorched sore With searching fire, she's forc'd to yell and loudly rore.

13

Thus she devours her self, not satisfies Her self, nought hath she but what's dearly spun From her own bowels, jejune exilities Her body's gone, therefore the rising sun She sees no more, nor what in day is done, The sporting aire no longer cools her bloud, Pleasures of youth and manhood quite are gone, Nor songs her eare, nor mouth delicious food Doth fill. But I'll have this more fully understood.

14

Three centres hath mans soul in Unity Together joynd; or if you will, but one. Those three are one, with a Triplicity Of power or rayes. Th' high'st intellection, Which being wak'd the soul's in Union With God. If perfectly regenerate Into that better world, corruption Hath then no force her blisse to perturbate. The low'st do make us subject to disturbing fate.

15

But low'st gins first to work, the soul doth frame This bodies shape, imploy'd in one long thought So wholy taken up, that she the same Observeth not, till she it quite hath wrought. So men asleep some work to end have brought Not knowing of it, yet have found it done: Or we may say the matter that she raught And suck'd unto her self to work upon Is of one warmth with her own spright, & feels as one.

16

And thus the body being the souls work From her own centre so entirely made, Seated i'th' heart, for there this spright doth lurk, It is no wonder 'tis so easly sway'd At her command. But when this work shall fade, The soul dismisseth it as an old thought. 'Tis but one form; but many be display'd Amid her higher rayes, dismist, and brought Back as she list, & many come that ne're were sought.

17

The soul by making this strange edifice Makes way unto herself to exercise Functions of life, and still more waked is The more she has perfected her fine devise, Hath wrought her self into sure sympathies With this great world. Her ears like hollow caves Resound to her own spright the energies Of the worlds spright. If it ought suffered have, Then presentifick circles to her straight notice gave.

18

We know this world, because our soul hath made Our bodie of this sensible worlds spright And body. Therefore in the glassie shade Of our own eyes (they having the same might That glasse or water hath) we have the sight Of what the Mundane spirit suffereth By colours, figures, or inherent light: Sun, stars, and all on earth it hurrieth To each point of it self so far as't circuleth.

19

And where he lighteth on advantages, His circulings grow sensible. So hills That hollow be do audible voices Resound. The soul doth imitate that skill In framing of the eare, that sounds may swell In that concavitie. The crystall springs Reflect the light of heaven, if they be still And clear; the soul doth imitate and bring The eye to such a temper in her shapening.

20

So eyes and ears be not mere perforations, But a due temper of the Mundane spright And ours together; else the circulations Of sounds would be well known by outward sight, And th' eare would colours know, figures & light. So that it's plain that when this bodie 's gone, This world to us is clos'd in darknesse quite, And all to us is in dead silence drown. Thus in one point of time is this worlds glory flown

21

But if't be so, how doth Psyche hear or see That hath nor eyes nor eares? She sees more clear Then we that see but secondarily. We see at distance by a circular Diffusion of that spright of this great sphear Of th' Universe: Her sight is tactuall. The Sun and all the starres that do appear She feels them in herself, can distance all, For she is at each one purely presentiall.

22

To us what doth diffusion circular, And our pure shadowed eyes, bright, crystalline, But vigorously our spright particular Affect, while things in it so clearly shine? That's done continually in the heavens sheen. The Sun, the Moon, the Earth, blew-glimmering Hel Scorch'd Aetna's bowels, each shape you'l divine To be in Nature, every dern cell With fire-eyed dragons, or what else therein doth dwel:

23

These be all parts of the wide worlds excesse, They be all seated in the Mundane spright, And shew just as they are in their bignesse To her. But circulation shews not right The magnitude of things: for distant site Makes a deficience in these circulings. But all things lie ope••right unto the sight Of heavens great eye; their thin shot shadowings And lightned sides. All this we find in Natures springs.

24

The worlds great soul knows by Protopathie All what befalls this lower sprite; but we Can onely know't by Deuteropathie, At least in sight and hearing. She doth see In our own eyes, by the close unitie Of ours and the worlds life, our passion, Plainly perceives our Idiopathie, As we do hers, by the same union; But we cannot see hers in that perfection.

25

Fresh varnish'd groves tall hills, and gilded clouds Arching an eyelid for the gloring Morn, Fair clustred buildings which our sight so crouds At distance, with high spires to heaven yborn, Vast plains with lowly cottages forlorn Rounded about with the low wavering skie, Cragg'd vapours, like to ragged rocks ytorn, She views those prospects in our distant eye: These and such like be the first centres mysterie.

26

Or if you will the first low energie Of that one centre, which the soul is hight, Which knows this world by the close unitie Concorporation with the Mundane sprite, Unloos'd from this she wants a certain light, Unlesse by true regeneration She be incorporate with God, unite With his own spright; so a new mansion Sh' has got, oft saught with deepest suspiration.

27

But robb'd of her first clothing by hard fate, If she fall short of this, wo's me! what pains She undergoes? when this lost former state So kindled hath lifes thirst, that still remains. Thus her eternitie her nothing gains But hungry flames, raging voracitie Feeding on its own self. The heavens she stains With execrations and foul blasphemie. Thus in fell discontent and smoth'ring fire they frie.

28

Vain man that striv'st to have all things at will! What wilt thou do in this sterilitie? Whom canst thou then command? or what shall fill Thy gaping soul? O depth of miserie! Prepare thy self by deep humilitie: Destroy that fretting fire while thou art here, Forsake this worlds bewitching vanitie, Nor death nor hell then shalt thou need to fear. Kill and cast down thy self, to heaven God shall thee rear.

29

This middle centrall essence of the soul Is that which still survives asleep or waking: The life she shed in this grosse earthly moul Is quite shrunk up, lost in the bodies breaking, Now with slight phantasms of her own fond making She's clad (so is her life drie and jejune) But all flit souls be not in the same taking: That state this lifes proportion doth tune, So as thou livest here, such measure must ensuen.

30

But they whose souls deiform summitie Is waken'd in this life, and so to God Are nearly joyn'd in a firm Unitie (This outward bodie is but earthie clod Digested, having life transfus'd abroad, The worlds life and our lower vitalitie Unite in one) their souls have their aboad In Christs own body, are eternally One with our God, by true and strong communitie.

31

When we are clothed with this outward world, Feel the soft air, behold the glorious Sunne, All this we have from meat that's daily hurld Into these mouthes. But first of all we wonne This priviledge by our first union With this worlds body and diffused spright. I'th' higher world there's such communion: Christ is the sunne that by his chearing might Awakes our higher rayes to joyn with his pure light.

32

And when he hath that life elicited, He gives his own dear body and his bloud To drink and eat. Thus dayly we are fed Unto eternall life. Thus do we bud, True heavenly plants, suck in our lasting food From the first spring of life, incorporate Into the higher world (as erst I show'd Our lower rayes the soul to subjugate To this low world) we fearlesse sit above all fate,

33

Safely that kingdomes glory contemplate, O'reflow with joy by a full sympathie With that worlds sprite, and blesse our own estate, Praising the fount of all felicitie, The lovely light of the blest Deitie. Vain mortals think on this, and raise your mind Above the bodies life; strike through the skie With piercing throbs and sighs, that you may find His face. Base-fleshly fumes your drowsie eyes thus blind.

34

So hath my Muse according to her skill Discovered the soul in all her rayes, The lowest may occasionate much ill, But is indifferent. Who may dispraise Dame Natures work? But yet you ought to raise Your selves to higher state. Eternitie Is the souls rest, and everlasting dayes: Aspire to this and hope for victorie I further yet, shall prove her immortalitie.

The Argument of PSYCHATHANASIA, Or The Immortality of the Soul.

BOOK III. CANT. 2.

From many arguments we show The independencie Of humane souls: That all Lives flow From a free Deitie.

1

THree apprehensions do my mind divide Concerning the souls preexistencie, Before into this outward world she glide, So hath my Muse with much uncertaintie Exprest her self, so as her phantasie Strongly inacted guides her easie pen; I nought obtrude with sow'r anxietie, But freely offer hints to wiser men. The wise from rash assent in darksome things abstein.

2

Or souls be well awake but hovering, Not fixt to ought, but by a Magick might Drawable here and there, and so their wing Struck with the steem of this low Mundane sprite May lower flag and take its stooping flight Into some plantall man, new edified By his own plastick point. Or else (deep Night Drawn on by drooping phansie) she doth slide Into this world, and by her self that skill is tried;

3

Makes to her self this fleshly habitation; For this worlds spirit hath provok'd these rayes: Then drown in sleep she works that efformation Of her own body, all its parts displayes, As doth the senselesse plant. The two next wayes Are these: A reall tricentreitie. First centre ever wakes, unmoved stayes, Hight Intellect. The next in sleep doth lie Till the last centre burst into this open skie.

4

And then the middle wakes. But the last way Makes but one centre, which doth sleep likewise Till its low life hath reach'd this worlds glad day. A fourth we'll adde that we may all comprise. Take quite away all preexistencies Of humane souls, and grant they're then first made When they begin this bodies edifice, And actually this outward world invade. None of these wayes do show that they must ever fade.

5

The first way might be well occasioned By what the soul in her self feels and tries. She works sometime as though she quite had fled All commerce with these low carnalities Yet falls she down at last and lowly lies In this base mansion, is so close contract That sleep doth seise her actualities, Retains no memory of that strange fact, Nor of her self that soar'd in that high heavenly tract.

6

The second way that makes the soul tricentrall, The highest awake, the other with sleep drownd, May spring from hence. None would vouchsafe the entrall Into this life, if they were but once bound To that vast centre where all things are found, Hight Intellect. The lowest is not awake, Therefore the midst lies close in sleep upwound. Three centres made, that souls may quite forsake This baser world when union with the lowest they break.

7

Again, because this bodie's fashioned Without our knowledge, reason doth suggest That it could no wise be thus figured From our own centre, and yet we not prest To any adversion. Therefore we are drest With this grosse clothing by some plantall spright Centred in Nature. So that glorious vest The Deiform intellect by our own might's Not made, But we have rayes which each of these will fit.

8

Ardent desire, strong breathing after God, At length may work us to that better place, Body or clothing, that high sure aboad That searching weather nor time can deface. But to go on in our proposed race, The third and fourth way have the same foundation, Not multiplying beings to surpasse Their use. What needs that numerous clos'd centration, Like wastefull sand ytost with boisterous inundation?

9

Let wiser Clerks the truth dare to define I leave it loose for men to muse upon View at their leasure: But yet this call mine; Though we should grant the souls condition Before her deep incorporation Into dull matter to be nothing more But bare potentiality, yet none Can prove from thence that she must fade therefore, When to its earth this earth the trusty fates restore.

10

For though she and her body be at once, Yet of her body she doth not depend But it of her: she doth its members branch, Pierce, bind, digest, and after makes it wend At her own will, when she hath brought to end Her curious work, and hath consolidate Its tender limbs which earst did feebly bend Through weaknesse; then this world she contemplates, And life still blazing higher seeks an heavenly state.

11

Breaths after the first fountain of all life, Her sweet Creatour, thither doth aspire, Would see his face, nor will she cease this strife Till he fulfill her thirsty fierce desire: Nothing can quench this so deep rooted fire But his own presence. So he gins despise This bodies pleasures, ceaseth to admire Ought fair or comely to these outward eyes: Or if she do, from hence she higher doth arise.

12

But can she higher rise then her own head? Therefore her spring is God: thence doth she pend, Thence did she flow, thither again she's fled. When she this life hath lost, and made an end Of this low earthly course, she doth ascend, Unto her circles ancient Apogle Lifted aloft, not again to descend, Nor stoups not sets that Sunne, but standeth free On never shaken pillars of Aeternitie.

13

But still this truth more clearly to evince, Remember how all things are from one light, It shall thy reason forceably convince That nought but God destroyes a centrall spright. If he sucks in his beams, eternall night Seiseth upon that life, that it no'te flow In actuall efflux, hath no being quite But Gods own power. He lets his breath out go, The self-same things again so eas'ly doth he show.

14

Let be Noon day, the welkin clear, the Moon I'th' nether world, reflecting the Suns rayes To cheer the irksome night. Well! That being done, Call out some wondrous might, that listlesse stayes In slower phansies. Bid't break all delayes; Surround with solid dark opacity The utmost beams that Phoebus light displayes, Softly steal on with equall distancy, Till they have close clapt up all his explendency.

15

All's now in darknesse: tell me, what's become Of that infinity of rayes that shone? Where second centres from whence out did come Other faint beams? what be they all quite flone? All perish'd quite? You stiflers now be gone. Let fall that smoring mantle. Do not straight All things return? The nether world the Moon, The Sun enlightens us. The self same light Now shines, that shone before this deep and dismall Night.

16

If not the same. Then like to flowing stream You deem the light that passeth still away, New parts ever succeeding. The Sun-beam Hath no reflexion then, if it decay So fast as it comes forth: Nor were there day; For it would vanish 'fore it could arrive At us. But in a moment Sol doth ray. One end of his long shafts then we conceive At once both touch himself and down to us do dive.

17

Beside, this air is not the sustentation Of spreaden light; for then as it did move The light would move. And sturdy conflictation Of struggling winds, when they have fiercely strove, Phoebus fair golden locks would rudely move Out of their place; and Eastern winds at morn Would make more glorious dayes, while light is drove From that bright quarter: Southern blasts do burn From midday sun, but yet Northwinds like light have born.

18

What then must be the channell of this river, If we'll have light to flow as passing stream? So plain it is that Nature doth dissever The light and th' air, that th' air the Suns bright beams Doth not uphold as the warmth of his gleams Or heat that lodgeth there. From this firm might Nought leaning on the Air, well may we't deem Some subtile body, or some grosser spright Depending of fair Phoebus, of no other wight.

19

And when these rayes were forced to retire Into their fountain, they were not so gone But that the same sprong out from the first fire. So fine spun glittering silk crumpled in one Changeth not 'ts individuation From what it was, when it was gaily spread In fluttering winds to th' admiration Of the beholder. Thus is nought so dead But God can it restore to its old livelyhed.

20

For all the creature's but the out gone-rayes Of a free sunne, and what I meaned most Of him alone depend. He deads their blaze By calling in his breath. Though things be tost And strangely chang'd, yet nought at all is lost Unlesse he list. Nor then so lost but he Can them return, In every thing compost Each part of th' essence its centreity Keeps to it self, it shrinks not to a nullity.

21

When that compounded nature is dissolv'd, Each centre's safe, as safe as second light Or drove into the Sun, or thence out-rol'd. So all depend on th' Universall spright From hight to depth, as they are ranked right In their due orders. Lises full pregnancy Breaks out when friendly sympathy doth smite. The higher rank the higher energie From natures lowly lap to Gods sublimity:

22

But well may man be call'd the epitome Of all things. Therefore no low life him made. The Highest holds all in His capacity. Therefore mans soul from Gods own life outray'd, His outgone Centre's on that centre staid. What disadvantage then can the decay Of this poore carcase do, when it doth fade? The soul no more depends on this frail clay, Then on our eye depends bright Phoebus glist'ring ray.

23

But in this argument we'll no longer stay, Consider now the souls conversion Into her self. Nought divisible may Close with it self by revolution. For then or part in this reflection, Is drove into a part, or part to th' whole, Or whole to part, or near compression The whole into the whole doth closely roll. But easily all these wayes right reason will controll.

24

If part turn into part, part into whole, Whole into part, the thing doth not convert Into it self; the thing it self is all Not part of 't self: if all to all revert, Each part then into each part is insert. But tell me then how is their quantity If every part with each part is refert? Thus swallowed up, they'l have no distancy; So you destroy suppos'd divisibility.

25

Wherefore that thing is individuous What ever can into it self reflect, Such is the soul as hath been prov'd by us Before, and further now we do detect By her foure wheels: The first hight Intellect, Wherewith she drives into her Nature deep And finds it out; next Will, this doth affect Her self found out. Her self then out doth peep Into these acts, she into both doth eas'ly creep.

26

But this conversion's from the body free; B••gins not thence, nor thither doth return: Nor is the soul worse then her energie, If in her acts she be far higher born Then they should 'pend on this base corse forlorn: Then also she ha••h no dependency Upon this body, but may safely scorn That low condition of servility, And blame all that averre that false necessity.

27

If she should issue from this nether spring, Nearer she kept to her Originall She were the stronger, and her works would bring To more perfection; but alas! they fall They fail by near approch. The best of all Wax weak and faint by too close union With this foul fount. Might intellectuall Grows misty by this strait conjunction; The will is woxen weak, its vigour quite is gone.

28

But O! how oft when she her self doth cut From nearer commerce with the low delight Of things corporeall, and her eyes doth shut To those false fading lights, she feels her spright Fill'd with excessive pleasure, such a plight She finds that it doth fully satisfie Her thirsty life. Then reason shines out bright, And holy love with mild serenity Doth hug her harmlesse self in this her purity.

29

What grave monitions and sure prophesie Have men in sicknesse left? a true testation Of the souls utter independency On this poore crasie corse. May that narration Of Aristotles move easie perswasion Of his Endemus, to whom sick at Phere While sleep his senses bound, this revelation A gentle youth did bring with goodly chear, And jolly blith deportment, chasing needlesse fear.

30

Told him that sicknesse would not mortall prove, He should grow well er'e long, but deaths drad power On that towns tyrant should be shortly drove, Swift vengeance on his cursed head should showr: Both proved true. I could in plenty poure Such like examples, as of Pherecyde, Calanus, him of Rhodes, and others more; But it is needlesse, 'tis a truth well tried, The higher works the soul the more she is untied.

31

Then quite set loose from this her heavy chain Shee is in happiest plight, so far she is From being nought or perishing. Again, We find such utter contrarieties Betwixt the bodies and her qualities That we can no wayes think she pends at all Of that with which she has such repugnancies. What thing doth fight with its Originall? The spring and stream be alwayes homogeneall.

32

But the high heaven-born soul sprung out from Jove Ever is clashing with the foolery Of this dull body, which the sense doth love, And erring phansie. It were long to try In every thing: O how 'twould magnifie The hight of pleasures that fall under sense. This well describ'd would prove its Deity. A vast round body cloth'd with th' excellence Of glorious glistring light through the wide aire extense,

33

Bravely adorn'd with diverse colours gay, Even infinite varieties that shine With wondrous brightnesse, varnish'd with the ray Of that clear light, with motion circuline Let turn about and stir up sounds divine, That sweetly may affect th' attentive ear. Adde fragrant odours waft with gentle wind, Adde pleasant taste, soft touch to Venus dear; This is the bodies God, this is its highest sphear.

34

But from far higher place and brighter light Our reason checks us for this vanity, Calls to us, warns us that that empty sight Lead not our soul unto Idolatry, Make us not rest in easie falsity. If thou be stirred up by working fire To search out god, to find the Deity; Take to thy self not what thine eyes admire Or any outward sense, or what sense can desire.

35

Behold a light far brighter then the Sun! The Sun's a shadow if you them compare, Or grosse Cimmerian mist; the fairest Noon Exceeds not the meridian night so far As that light doth the Sun. So perfect clear So perfect pure it is, that outward eye Cannot behold this inward subtile starre, But indisperst is this bright Majesty, Yet every where out shining in infinitie;

36

Unplac'd, unparted, one close Unity, Yet omnipresent; all things, yet but one; Not stre••k'd with gaudy multiplicity, Pure light without discolouration, Stable without circumvolution, Eternall rest, joy without passing sound: What sound is made without collision? Smell, taste, and touch make God a grosse compound; Yet truth of all that's good is perfectly here found.

37

This is a riddle unto outward sense: And heavie phansie, that can rise no higher Then outward senses, knows no excellence But what those Five do faithfully inspire From their great God, this world; nor do desire More then they know: wherefore to consopite Or quench this false light of bold phansies fire, Surely must be an act contrary quite Unto this bodies life, and its low groveling spright.

38

Wherefore the body's not Originall Of humane soul when she doth thus resist That principle: which still more clearly shall Be proved. Oft when either drowsie mists Provoke to sleep, or worst of senses lists To ease his swelling veins, or stomach craves His wonted food, that he too long hath mist, Or our dry lungs cool liquor fain would have, Or when in warre our heart suggests the fear of grave:

39

Yet high desire of truth, and deep insight Into Gods mystery makes us command These low attractions; and our countries right Bids march on bravely, stout and stifly stand In bloudy fight, and try't by strength of hand. Thus truth and honesty so sway our will, That we no longer doubt to break the band Of lower Nature, and this body kill Or vex, so we the Laws of reason may fulfill.

40

This proves the soul to sit at liberty, Not wedg'd into this masse of earth, but free Unloos'd from any strong necessity To do the bodies dictates, while we see Clear reason shining in serenity, Calling above unto us, pointing to What's right and decent, what doth best agree With those sweet lovely Ideas that do show Some glimps of their pure light. So Sol through clouds doth flow.

41

How oft do we neglect this bodies life, And outward comely plight, for to adorn Our soul with virtuous ornaments? and strive To fat our mind with truth, while it's forlorn, Squalid, half-nasty, pallid, wan, deform? Can this desire from the base body spring? No sure such brave atchievements be yborn Within the soul, tend to her perfecting, See th' independent mind in her self circuling!

42

Best plight of body hinders such like acts. How doth she then upon the body pend? To do those subtle, high, pure, heavenly facts? What? doth the Sun his rayes that he out-sends Smother or choke? though clouds that upward wend May raised be by him, yet of those clouds That he doth congregate he no'te depend. Nor doth the soul that in this flesh doth croud Her self rely on that thick vapour where she's shroud.

43

But still to prove it clearer: If the mind Without the bodyes help can operate Of her own self, then nothing can we find To scruple at, but that souls separate Safely exist, not subject unto fate, Nothing depending on their carcases, That they should fade when those be ruinate: But first perpend well both their properties That we may better see their independencies.

44

The living body where the soul doth 'bide These functions hath, phansie, sense, memory. How into sense these outward forms do glide I have already told, and did descry How presentifick circularity Is spread through all: there is one Mundane spright And body, vitall corporality We have from hence. Our souls be co••unite With the worlds spright and body, with these herself she has dight.

45

Our body struck by evolution Of outward forms spread in the worlds vast spright, Our listning mind by its adversion Doth notice take, but nothing is empight In it. Of old Gods hand did all forms write In humane souls, which waken at the knock Of Mundane shapes. If they were naked quite Of innate forms, though heaven and earth should rock With roring winds, they'd hear no more then senselesse stock.

46

Phansy's th' impression of those forms that flit In this low life: They oft continue long, When as our spright more potently is hit By their incursions and appulses strong, Like heated water, though a while but hung On fiercer fire, an hot impression Long time retains; so forms more stoutly flung Against our spright make deep insculption; Long time it is till their clear abolition.

47

Hence springeth that which men call memory, When outward object doth characterize Our inward common spright; or when that we From our own soul stir up clear phantasies Which be our own elicited Idees, Springing from our own centrall life, by might Of our strong Fiat as oft as we please. With these we seal that under grosser spright, Make that our note-book, there our choifest notions write.

48

But sith it is not any part of us, But longeth unto the great world, it must Be chang'd; for course of Time voraginous With rapid force is violently just, Makes each thing pay with what it was in trust. The common life sucks back the common spright, The body backward falls into the dust; It doth it by degrees. Hence phancie, sight, And memory in age do not their functions right.

49

Often disease, or some hard casualtie Doth hurt this spirit, that a man doth lose The use of sense, wit, phansie, memory; That hence rash men our souls mortall suppose Through their rude ignorance; but to disclose The very truth, our soul's in safety In that distemper, that doth ill dispose Her under spright. But her sad misery Is that so close she's tied in a prone Unitie,

50

Leans on this bodies false security, Seeks for things there, not in herself, nor higher, Extremely loves this bodies company, Trusts in its life, thither bends her desire: But when it gins to fail, she's left i'th' mire. Yet hard upon us hangs th' Eternall light The ever-live-Idees, the lamping fire Of lasting Intellect, whose nearnesse might Illumin, were our minds not lost in that frail spright.

51

That spright and we are plain another thing: Which now I'll clearly show that we may see Our independency on his existing, Which prove I must from eithers property. That spright hath no perceptibility Of his impressions: Phantasie nor sense Perceive themselves; often with open eye We look upon a man in our presence, And yet of that near object have no cognoscence.

52

And so of Phansies that be fresh enough, Even deeply seald upon that lower spright, Unlesse we seek them out and pierce them through With aiming animadversion, they in night Do lurk unknown to us, though they be bright In their own selves. Again, some object may In its great vigour, lustre, sweying might This spirit wound by its fierce riving ray; Our sight is hurt by th' eye of the broad blasing day.

53

Beside the senses each one are restrained To his own object: so is Phantasie. That in the spirits compasse is contained; As likewise the low naturall memory. But sooth to say, by a strong sympathy We both are mov'd by these, and these do move. As the light spider that makes at a fly, Her selfe now moves the web she subt'ly wove, Mov'd first by her own web, when here the fly did rove.

54

Like spider in her web, so do we sit Within this spirit, and if ought do shake This subtile loom we feel as it doth hit; Most part into adversion we awake, Unlesse we chance into our selves betake Our selves, and listen to the lucid voice Of th'Intellect, which these low tumults slake: But our own selves judge of what ere accloyes Our muddied mind, or what lifts up to heavenly joyes.

55

All the five senses, Phansie, Memorie, We feel their work, distinguish and compare, Find out their natures by the subtiltie Of sifting reason. Then they objects are Of th' understanding, bear no greater share In this same act then objects wont to do. They are two realties distinguish'd clear One from the other, as I erst did show. She knows that spright, that spright our soul can never know.

56

Sense, Phansie, Memorie, as afore was said Be hurt by stronger objects, or be spoild By longer exercise: Our soul ne're fades, But doth her spright commiserate long toild With agitation, when she feels it moild Descends to comfort it, and gives it rest; But she grows quicker, vaster, never foild With contemplations that this spright molest: The inward soul's renew'd as cannot be exprest.

57

How soul and spright be severed we see, But how't works by it self is not yet shown; I mean without this sprights assistencie, Though not quite by her self. High light doth crown Her summitie, when sleep that spright doth drown ••••apt into highest heavens in ecstasie She sees such things as would low life confound, Enrage with a tumultuous agonie, Burst this pent spright for want of fit capacitie.

58

Then is she joynd with the Eternall Idees, Which move our souls as sights do here below: Joynd with the spright of God we gaze on these, As by the Mundane spright th' Out-world we know. Our soul hangs twixt them both, and there doth go Where either spright doth snatch her. Either raise Her inward forms, which leap out nothing-slow When sympathie them calls. Thus she displayes Her inward life, Gods light views with her wakened rayes.

59

When we confute a pregnant falsitie Cloth'd with strong phantasmes in our snared mind, As this suppose, The earths stabilitie, What help can we in our low phansie find, Possest of this impression? what shall bind This stubborn falshood so inveterate? That spright so stifly set can't be inclin'd By ought but by the soul that contemplates Truth by her self, brings out her forms that be innate?

60

Flies she to sense? sense pleads for Ptolemee. Flies she to her low phansie? that's so swayd By sense, and fore-imprest Astronomie, By botch'd inculcate paradigmes made By senses dictate, that they'll both perswade That Philolaus and wise Heraclide Be frantick both, Copernicus twice mad. She cannot then this question well decide. By ought but her own forms that in her self reside.

61

Which she calls out unto her faithfull aid, Commands deep silence to fond phantasie, Whose odious prating truth hath oft betraid, And in her stead brought in rash falsitie, Seated in sowr inert stupiditie. Then farewell sense, and what from sense hath sprong, Saith she, I'll contemplate in puritie, And quit my self of that tumultuous throng: What then she fin••s shall be unfold in my next song.

The Argument of PSYCHATHANASIA Or The Immortality of the Soul.

BOOK III. CANT. III.

That th' earth doth move, proofs Physicall Unto us do descrie; Adde reasons Theosophicall, Als adde Astronomie.

1

BLest souls first Authours of Astronomie! Who clomb the heavens with your high reaching mind, Scal'd the high battlements of the lofty skie, To whom compar'd this earth a point you find; Your bodies lesse, what measure hath defin'd? What art that mighty vastnesse? Such high facts The ancient Giants swoln with raging wind Could not effect. A subtile Parallax, A dark Eclipse do quite obscure their braving acts.

2

O the great might of mans high Phantasie! Which with a shade or a divided line, That nought, this but a thin exilitie, Can do farre more then strength enrag'd with tine, Hoysted with haughty pride. That brood combine To clamber up to heaven. Hill upon hill, Ossa upon Olympus doth recline: Their brawnie arms redoubled force doth fill, While they their spirits summon t'effect their furious will.

3

But all in vain they want the inward skill. What comes from heaven onely can thereascend. Not rage nor tempest that this bulk doth fill Can profit ought, but gently to attend The souls still working, patiently to bend Our mind to sifting reason, and clear light, That strangely figur'd in our soul doth wend Shifting its forms, still playing in our sight, Till something it present that we shall take for right.

4

The busie soul it is that hither hent By strength of reason, the true distancies Of th' erring Planets, and the vast extent Of their round bodies without outward eyes Hath view'd, told their proportionalities, Confounded sense by reasons strange report (But wiser he that on reason relies Then stupid sense low-sunken into dirt) This weapon I have got none from me may extort.

5

O You stiff-standers for ag'd Ptolemce, I heartily praise your humble reverence If willingly given to Antiquitie; But when of him in whom's your confidence, Or your own reason and experience In those same arts, you find those things are true That utterly oppugne our outward sense, Then are you forc'd to sense to bid adieu, Not what your sense gainsayes to holden straight untrue.

6

Though contraire unto sense, though it be new (But sooth to sayen th' earths motion is of tri'd Antiquitie, as I above did shew: In Philolaus and in Heraclide Those subtile thoughts of old did close reside) Yet reason ought to bear away the bell. But irefull ignorance cannot abide To be outtopd, reprochfully she 'll yell, Call's mad, when her own self doth with foul furie swell.

7

But let them bark like band-dogs at the Moon, That mindlesse passeth on in silencie: I'll take my flight above this outward sunne, Regardlesse of such fond malignitie, Lift my self up in the Theologie Of heavenly Plato. There I'll contemplate The Archtype of this sunne, that bright Idee Of steddie Good, that doth his beams dilate Through all the worlds, all lives and beings propagate.

8

But yet in words to trifle I will deigne A while: They may our mind fitly prepare For higher flight; we larger breath may gain By a low hovering. These words they are All found in that old Oracle of Clare. That heavenly power which Iao hight The highest of all the Gods thou mayst declare, In spring named Zeus, in summer Helios bright, In autumn call'd Jao, Aides in brumall night.

9

These names do plainly denotate the sunne, In Spring call'd Zeus, from life or kindly heat; In winter, 'cause the day's so quickly done, He Aides hight, he is not long in sight; In Summer, cause he strongly doth us smite With his hot darts, then Helios we him name From Eloim or Eloah so hight; In Autumn Jao, Jehovah is the same: So is the word deprav'd by an uncertain fame.

10

So great similitude twixt Phoebus light And God, that God himself the Nations deem The sunne. The learned Seventy 've boldly pight A tent therein for the true Eloim, The sensible Deity you'll reckon him, If Hermes words bear with you any sway, Or if you Christian Clerks do ought esteem, In Davids odes they make Gods Christ a day; His father's then the sunne from whence this light doth ray.

11

Then by all the wide worlds acknowledgement, The sunne's a type of that eternall light Which we call God, a fair delineament Of that which Good in Plato's school is hight His T'agathon with beauteous rayes bedight. Let's now consult with their Theologie, And that Idea with our inward sight Behold, casheering sensibility Then in clear reason view this correspondency.

12

One steddy Good, centre of essencies, Unmoved Monad, that Apollo hight, The Intellectuall sunne whose energies Are all things that appear in vitall light, Whose brightnesse passeth every creatures sight, Yet round about him stird with gentle fire All things do dance; their being, action, might, They thither do direct with strong desire, To embosome him with close embracements they aspire.

13

Unseen, incomprehensible He moves About himself each seeking entity That never yet shall find that which it loves. No finite thing shall reach infinity, No thing dispers'd comprehend that Unity, Yet in their ranks they seemly foot it round, Trip it with joy at the worlds harmony Struck with the pleasure of an amorous stound, So dance they with fair flowers from unknown root ycrownd.

14

Still falling short they never fail to seek, Nor find they nothing by their diligence; They find repast, their lively longings e••k Rekindled still, by timely influence. Thus all things in distinct circumference Move about Him that satisfies them all. Nor be they thus stird up by wary sense Or foresight, or election rationall, But blindly reel about the leart of Lives centrall.

15

So doth the Earth one of the erring Seven Wheel round the fixed sunne, that is the shade Of steddy Good, shining in this Out-heaven With the rest of those starres that God hath made Of baser matter, all which be array'd With his far-shining light. They sing for joy, They frisque about in circulings unstay'd, Dance through the liquid air, and nimbly toy While Sol keeps clear their sprite, consumes what may accloy.

16

Better the indigent be mov'd, then he That wanteth nought: He fills all things with light And kindly heat: through his fecundity Peoples the world; by his exciting sprite Wakens the plants, calls them out of deep night. They thrust themselves into his fostring rayes, Stretch themselves forth stird by his quickning might. And all the while their merry roundelayes (As lightsome phansies deem) each Planet spritely playes.

17

But sooth to say that sound so subtile is Made by percussion of th'ethereall fire Against our air (if it be not transmisse By its exility,) that none ought admire That we no'te hear what well we mought desire Heavens harmony. 'Cording to others lear The sound's so big that it cannot retire Into the windings of a mortall ear; No more than Egypt can Niles Catadupa bear.

18

There ought to be certain proportion Betwixt the object and the outward sense. Rash man that dost inferre negation From thy dead ear, or non-experience. Then let them dance and sing, raise iufluence From lively motion, that preserves their sprite From foul corruption: motion's the best sense To keep off filth in children of cold Night, Whose life is in dull matter; but the sunne's all Light.

19

Therefore full safely he may steddy stond, Unmov'd, at least not remov'd out of place. I'll not deny but that he may turn round On his own centre. So the steps we'll trace Of Essence, Plato's On, which steddy stayes And moves at once, that same Iao hight In that old Clarian Oracle, that sayes It is the sunne. This answer will aright To Jove or Plato's On as done those schools descry't.

20

That same first Being, Beauty, Intellect, Turns to his father (of whom he was born) In a brief instant. But who can detect Such hidden mysteries? back mine eyes I'll turn, Lest in this light like fluttering moth I burn. Enough is shown of correspondency Twixt this worlds sunne and centre of hid Morn, The radiant light of the deep Deity. Thus have I fairly prov'd the sunnes stability.

21

Then must the earth turn round, or we want day, Or never be in night. Now I'll descend Cloth'd with this truth. As wrathfull dogs do bay At spectres solemn Cynthia doth send; So now I backward to the senses wend: They'll bark at th' shape of my disguised mind, As stranger wights, they wrathfully will rend This uncouth habit. They no such thing find 'Mongst their domestick forms, to whom they are more kind.

22

And weaker reason which they wont misguide Will deem all this nothing mysterious, But my strong-winged Muse feeble to slide Into false thoughts and dreams vertiginous, And plainly judge us woxen furious, Thus in our rage to shake the stable earth, Whirling her round with turns prodigious; For she doth stedfast stand as it appear'th From the unshaken buildings she so safely bear'th.

23

If she should move about, then would she sling From of her self those fair extructed loads Of carved stone: The air aloud would sing With brushing trees: Beasts in their dark aboads Would brained be by their own caves; th' earth strowd With strange destruction. All would shatter'd lie In broken shivers. What mad frantick mood Doth thus invade wary Philosophy, That it so dotes on such a furious falsitie?

24

But still more subt'ly this cause to pursue, The clouds would alwayes seem to rise from th' East, Which sense and oft-experience proves untrue; They rise from all the quarters, South, North, West, From every part, as Aeolus thinketh best. Again the Earths sad stupid gravity Unfit for motion shows her quiet rest: Lastly an arrow shot unto the sky Would not return unto his foot that let it fly.

25

Adde unto these that contrariety Of motion, when as the self same things At the same time do back and forward hie: As when for speed the rider fiercely dings His horse with iron heel, layes the loose strings Upon his neck, westward they swiftly scoure, When as the Earth, finishing her dayly rings, Doth Eastward make with all her might and power, She quite hath run her stage at end of twice twelve houres.

26

These and like phansies do so strongly tye The slower mind to aged Ptolemee, That shamefull madnesse 't were for to deny So plain a truth as they deem this to be. But yet, alas! if they could standen free From prejudice, and heavie swaying sense That dims our reason that it cannot see What's the pure truth, enough in just defense Of Pythagore we find though with small diligence,

27

One single truth concerning unity Of sprights and bodies, and how on Form may Inact a various Corporeity, Keep't up together and her might display Through all the parts, make't constantly obey The powerfull dictates of its centrall spright, Which being one can variously play: This lore if we but once had learnd aright, All what was brought afore would vanish at first sight.

28

For that Magnetick might doth so combine Earth, Water, Air, into one animate, Whose soul or life so sweetly 't doth incline, So surely, easly, as none can relate But he that's exercis'd in every state Of moving life. What? Can the plastick spright So variously his branching stock dilate Downward to hell upward to heaven bright, And strangely figur'd leaves and flowers send into sight?

29

Can one poore single Centre do all this In a base weed that suddenly decayes? And shall not the earths life that is transmisse Through sea and air, and with its potent rayes Informs all this (all this on that life stayes) Shall't not obtain the like variety Of inward ruling motion? Your minds raise, O sluggish men! single centrality You'l find shall do, what ere's admit by phantasie.

30

Now see if this clear apprehension Will not with case repell each argument Which we rehears'd with an intention For to refute. The earths swift movement, Because 'tis naturall not violent, Will never shatter buildings. With straight line It binds down strongly each partic'larment Of every edifice. All stones incline Unto that Centre; this doth stoutly all combine:

31

Nor is lesse naturall that circular motion, Then this which each part to the centre drives: So every stone on earth with one commotion Goes round, and yet withall right stifly strives To reach the centre, though it never dives So deep. Who then so blind but plainly sees How for our safety Nature well contrives, Binding all close with down-propensities? But now we'll answer make to the loud-singing trees.

32

Walls, Towers, Trees, would stir up a strange noise, If th' air stood still, while the earth is hurled round As doth the switch oft shak'd by idle boyes That please themselves in varying of the sound. But this objection we with reason sound Have well prevented, while we plainly taught Earth, Water, Air, in one to be fast bound By one spermatick spright, which easly raught To each part: Earth, Sea, Air so powerfully hath it caught.

33

All these as one round entire body move Upon their common Poles; that difficulty Of stirring sounds, so clearly we remove. That of the clouds with like facility We straight shall chace away. In th' air they ly And whirl about with it, and when some wind With violence afore him makes them fly, Then in them double motion we find, Eastward they move, and whither by these blasts they're inclin'd.

34

What they pretend of the Earths gravity, Is nought but a long taken up conceit: A stone that downward to the earth doth hy Is not more heavie then dry straws that jet Up to a ring made of black shining jeat. Each thing doth tend to the loud-calling might Of sympathy. So 'tis a misconceit That deems the earth the onely heavie weight. They ken not the strange power of the strong centrall spright.

35

Were there a shiver cut from off the Moon And cast quite off from that round entire masse, Would't fall into our mouths? No, it would soon Make back to th' centre from whence forc'd it was: The same in Mars and Sol would come to passe, And all the stars that have their proper centres. So gravity is nought but close to presse Unto one Magick point, there near to enter; Each sympathetick part doth boldly it adventure.

36

Thus in each starry globe all parts may tend Unto one point, and mean time turn around; Nor doth that sway its circling ought offend: These motions do not at all confound One th' others course. The Earth's not heavy found, But from that strong down-pulling centrall sway, Which hinders not but that it may turn round, Sith that it moves not a contrary way. Which answre I will bend against the fifth assay:

37

An arrow shot into the empty air, Which straight returning to the bowmans foot, The Earths stability must proven clear. Thus these bad archers do at random shoot, Whose easie errour I do thus confute. The arrow hath one spirit with this sphere, Forc'd upward turns with it, mov'd by the root Of naturall motion. So when back't doth bear It self, still Eastward turns with motions circular.

38

So 'tis no wonder when it hath descended It falleth back to th' place from whence it flew, Sith all this while its circular course hath bended Toward the East, and in proportion due That arcuall Eastern motion did pursue: Nearer the earth the slower it must go; These Arks be lesse, but in the heavens blew Those Arks increase, it must not be so slow Thus must it needs return unto its idle bow.

39

Nor ought we wonder that it doth conform Its motions to the circles of the aire, Sith water in a wooden bucket born Doth sit it self unto each periphere, By hight or depth, as you shall change the sphere. So lowly set more water 't will contain, 'Cause its round tumour higher then doth bear It self up from the brims. So may't be sayen The lowlier man the larger graces doth obtain.

40

But now to answer to the last objection, Tis not impossible one thing to move Contrary wayes, which by a fit retection I strongly will evince and clearly prove. Take but the pains higher for to remove A clock with hanging plummet. It goes down At that same time you heave it high above Its former place. Thus fairly have we won The field 'gainst stupid sense, that reason fain would drown.

41

Now let's go on (we have well cleard the way) More plainly prove this seeming paradox And make this truth shine brighter then midday, Neglect dull sconses mowes and idle mocks. O constant hearts, as stark as Thracian rocks, Well grounded in grave ignorance, that scorn Reasons sly force, its light slight subtile strokes. Sing we to these wast hills, dern, deaf, forlorn, Or to the cheerfull children of the quick-ey'd Morn?

42

To you we sing that live in purer light, Escap'd the thraldome of down-drooping sense, Whose nimble spirit and clear piercing sight Can easly judge of every conference Withouten prejudice, with patience Can weigh the moments of each reason brought; While others in tempestuous vehemence Blow all away with bitter blasts. Untought In subtilties, they shew themselves in jangling stout.

43

I have the barking of bold sense confuted, Its clamorous tongue thus being consopite, With reasons easie shall I be well suited, To show that P••thagore's position's right. Copernicks, or whosever dogma't hight. The first is that that's wisely signifi'd By Moses Maymons son, a learned wight, Who saith each good Astronomer is ty'd To lessen the heavens motions vainly multiply'd,

44

And the foul botches of false feigned Orbs: Whose uselesse number reason must restrain, That oft the loose luxuriant phansie curbs, And in just bounds doth warily contain: To use more means then needs is all in vain. Why then, O busie sonnes of Prolemee! Do you that vast star-bearing sphere constrain To hurl about with such celerity, When th' earth may move without such strange velocity?

45

What needlesse phansy's this that that huge sphere In one short moment must thus whirl around, That it must fly six hundred thousand sheere Of Germane miles. If that will not confound, For pomp adde fourty thousand more, that 'bound; Three thousand more, if it were requisite, You might annex, and more if they have found The measure right; when as the earth's slow flight One sixteenth of a mile her scarcely doth transmit.

46

But if this All be liquid, pervious, One fine Ethereall (which reason right Will soon admit: for 'tis ridiculous Thus for to stud the heaven with nails bright, The stars in fluid sky will standen tight, As men do feigne the earth in the soft aire To be unmov'd) How will proportion fit? So vast a difference there doth appear Of motions in those stars that the same bignesse bear.

47

Besides that difficulty will remain Of unconceivable swift motion In the Equinoctiall stars, where some contain This earthy globes mighty dimension, Ten thousand times twise told. They hurry on With the same swiftnesse I set down before, And with more pains. A globes extension, The bigger that it grows, groweth still more Nigh to a flat fac'd figure, and finds resistance fore.

48

But now that all the heavens be liquid, hence I'll fetch an argument. Those higher stars They may as well in water hang suspense As do the Planets. Venus orb debars Not Mars, nor enters he with knocks and jars; The soft fi••e yielding Aether gives admission: So gentle Venus to Mercurius dares Descend, and finds an easie intromission, Casts ope that azu•• curtain by a swift discission.

49

That famous star nail'd down in Cassiopee, How was it hammer'd in your solid sky? What pinsers pull'd it out again, that we No longer see it, whither did it fly? Astronomers say 'twas at least as high As the eighth sphere. It gave no parallax, No more then those light lamps that there we spy. But prejudice before her self she'll tax Of holy writ & the heavens she'll make a nose of wax.

50

What man will now that's not vertiginous Hurrie about his head these severall lights So mighty vast, with so voracious And rapid course whirling them day and night About the earth, when the earths motion might Save that so monstrous labour, with lesse pains, Even infinitely lesse? But thoughts empight Once in the mind do so possesse the brains, That hard it is ••o wash out those deep ancient stains.

51

Two things there be whose reason's nothing clear: Those cool continuall breathings of East wind Under the line; the next high Comets are, In which Philosophers three motions find? Concerning which men hither to are blind, That have not mov'd the earth unto their aid; Diurnall and an annuall course they have mind Like to the sunnes, beside, by what they're sway'd To North or South. This myst'ry's easly thus display'd.

52

The Ecliptick course, and that diurnall moving, Is but apparent as the sunnes, not true: But that the earth doth move, that still wants proving, You'll say. Then if you will, these Comets shew One proof for her two motions. Whence issue Those meteors turnings? what shall hale them on, And guide their steps, that in proportion due They dance Sols measures? what occasion Or fruit can be of that strange double motion?

53

Nought but the Earths circumvolution Doth cause this sight, and but in outward show This sight of double Sunlike motion Seen in the Comets. For the winds that blow Under the Aequinoctiall, who doth know Any other cause, that still they breathe from th' East? That constant feat from whence else can it flow, Save from the Earths swift hurring from the West? Mid part is strongliest rouz'd the Poles do sleep in rest.

54

Wherefore men under th' Aequinoctiall, Where the earths course most rapid is and swift, Sensibly 're dash'd 'gainst that Aereall Pure liquid essence. That clear aire is left Not snatch'd away so fast, not quite bereft Of its own Nature, nor like th' other skie Unmoved quite; but slowpac'd is yeleft And driven close together; sensibly So feel we that fine aire that seems from East to flie.

55

Those parts be in farre greater puritie Devoid of earthy vapours. Thence it is They're not so easly turn'd by sympathie, The air there having lesse of earthinesse; So that they move not with one speedinesse, The earth and it. Yet curious men have fun Something like this, even in the mid-land Seas Ships foure times sooner the same stages run, When Westward they do flie, then when they there begun.

56

But that disgracement of Philosophie From flux and reflux of the Ocean main Their monethly and yearly change; this Theorie Might take't away and shew the causes plain. Some parts of th' Earth do much more swiftnesse gain, When as their course goes whirling on one way With th' annuall motion, which must needs constrain The fluid Sea with unexpected sway. Long time it were this mystery fully to display.

57

Wherefore I'll let it passse, my self betake Unto some reasons Astronomicall, To which if't please the nimble mind t' awake And shake off prejudice, that wont forestall The ablest wit, I fear not but he'll fall Into the same opinion, magnifie That subtile spirit that hath made this All, And hath half-hid his work from mortall eye, To sport and play with souls in sweet philosophie,

58

But with crabb'd mind wisdome will nere consort, Make her abode with a sowr ingenie; That harmlesse spright her self will nere disport With bloudy zeal, currish malignitie, With wrathfull ignorance, grave hypocrisie. Mirth, and Free mindednesse, Simplicitie, Patience, Discreetnesse, and Benignitie, Faithfulnesse, heart-struck Teneritie; These be the lovely playemates of pure veritie.

59

The Eternall Son of God, who Logos hight, Made all things in a fit proportion; Wherefore, I wote, no man that judgeth right In Heaven will make such a confusion, That courses of unlike extension, Vastly unlike, in like time shall be run By ••he flight stars. Such huge distension Of place shews that their time is not all one; Saturn his ring no'te finish as quick as the Moon.

60

Yet if the Earth stand stupid and unmov'd, This needs must come to passe. For they go round In every twise twelve houres, as is prov'd By dayly experience. But it would confound The worlds right order, if't were surely found A reall motion. Wherefore let it be In them but seeming, but a reall round In th' Earth it self. The world so's setten free From that untoward disproportionalitie.

61

For so the courses of the erring Seven With their own orbs will fitly well agree; Their Annuall periods in the liquid Heaven They onely finish then: which as they be Or lesse or greater, so the time they flie In their own circlings hath its difference. The Moon a moneth, Saturn years ten times three; Those have the least and bigg'st circumference. So all their times and o••bs have mutuall reference.

62

Next light's, the Planets dark opacitie, Which long time hath been found in the low Moon: Hills, Valleys, and such like asperitie Through optick glasses thence have plainly shone: By the same trick it hath been clearly shown That Venus Moon-like grows corniculate What time her face with flusher light is blown: Some such like things others have contemplate In Mercurie, about the Sunne both circulate.

63

When Venus is the furthest off from us. Then is she in her full. When in her full, She seemeth least; which proves she's exterous Beyond the Sunne, and further off doth roll. But when her circling nearer down doth pull, Then gins she swell, and waxen bug with horn, But loose her light, parts clad with darknesse dull She shows to us, She and Mercury ne're born Farre from the Sunne, proves that about him both do turn.

64

They both opake, as also is the Moon That turns about the Earth (so turn those foure 'Bout Jupiter, tend him as he doth run His annuall course) That Tellus so may scoure Th'Ethereall Plain, and have the self same power To run her circuits in the liquid skie About the Sunne, the mind that doth not lour, Drooping in earthy dregs, will not deny, Sith we so well have prov'd the starres opacitie.

65

About the great the lesser lamps do dance, The Medicean foure reel about Jove; Two round old Saturn without Nominance, Luna about the earth doth nimbly move: Then all as it doth seemly well behove, About the bigg'st of all great Phoebus hight With joy and jollitie needs round must rove, Tickled with pleasure of his heat and light. What tumbling tricks they play in his farre-piercing sight!

66

Next argument (could I it well expresse With Poets pen) it hath so mighty force, That an ingenious man 'twould stoutly presse To give assent unto the Annuall course Of this our earth. But prejudice the nurse Of ignorance stoppeth all free confession, Als keeps the way that souls have not recourse To purer reason, chok'd with that oppression. This argument is drawn from the stars retrocession.

67

Planets go back, stand still, and forward flie With unexpected swiftnesse: What's the cause That they thus stagger in the plain-pay'd skie? Or stupid stand, as if some dull repose Did numb their spirits and their sinews lose? Here 'gins the wheel-work of the Epicycle: Thus patch they Heaven more botch'dly then old cloths This pretty sport doth make my heart to tickle With laughter, and mine eyes with merry tears to trickle.

68

O daring phansie! that dost thus compile The Heavens from hasty thoughts, such as fall next; Wary Philosophers cannot but smile At such feat gear, at thy rude rash context. An heap of Orbs disorderly perplext, Thrust in on every hint of motion, Must be the wondrous art of Nature, next Here working under God. Thus, thus vain man Intitles alwayes God to his opinion;

69

Thinks every thing is done as he conceives; Would bind all men to his religion; All the world else of freedome he bereaves, He and his God must have Dominion, The truth must have her propagation: That is his thought, which he hath made a God, That furious hot inust impression Doth so disturb his veins, that all abroad With rage he roves, and all gainsayers down hath trod.

70

But to return from whence my Muse hath flown, All this disordred superfluity Of Epicycles, or what else is shown To salve the strange absurd enormity Of staggering motions in the azure skie; Both Epicycles and those turns enorm Would all prove nought, if you would but let flie The earth in the Ecliptick line yborn, As I could well describe in Mathematick form.

71

So could I (that's another argument) From this same principle most clearly prove In regresse and in progresse different Of the free Planets: Why Saturn should rove With shorter startings, give back lesse then Jove; Jove lesse then Mars; why Venus flincheth out More then Mercurius; why Saturn moves Ofter in those back jets then Jove doth shoot; But Mercury more oft then Venus and Mars stout,

72

And why the Sunne escap'd an Epicycle, When as th' old prodigall Astronomie On th' other six bestowed that needlesse cycle; Why Saturn, Jove, and Mars be very nigh Unto the Earth, show bigger in our eye At Eventide when they rise Acronicall; Why far remov'd with so vast distancy When they go down with setting Cronicall: All these will plain appear from th' earths course Annuall.

73

Many other reasons from those heauenly motions Might well be drawn, but with exility Of subtile Mathematicks obscure notions, A Poets pen so fitly no'te agree; And curious men will judge't a vagrancy To start thus from my scope. My pitched end Was for to prove the immortality Of humane souls: But if you well attend, My ship to the right port by this bow'd course did bend.

74

For I have clearly show'd that stout resistence Of the pure soul against the Mundane spright And body, that's the lower mans consistence; How it doth quell by force of reason right Those grosse impressions which our outward sight Seald in our lower life: From whence we see That we have proper independent might, In our own mind, behold our own Idee, Which needs must prove the souls sure immortality.

The Argument of PSYCHATHANASIA, OR, The Immortality of the Soul.

Book. 3. Cant. 4.

Justice, true faith in the first good, Our best perswasion Of blest eternity unmov'd, The earths conflagration.

1

IT doth me good to think what things will follow That well prov'd thesis in my former song; How we in liquid heavens more swift then swallow Do sail on Tellus lap that doth among The other starres of right not rudely throng, We have what highest thoughts of man desire: But highest thoughts of man are vain and wrong. In outward heaven we burn with hellish fire, Hats, envie, couetise, revenge, lust, pride and ire.

2

In the eighth sphear Andromeda from chains Is not releast; fearfull Orion flies The dreadfull Scorpion. Alas! what gains Then is 't to live in the bright starry skies? It no man can exeem from miseries. All you that seek for true felicity Rend your own hearts: There God himself descries Himself; there dwels his beautious Majesty; There shines the sun of righteousnesse in goodly glee.

3

And you who boldly all Gods providence Confine to this small ball, that Tellus hight, And dream not of a mutuall influence, And how that she may shine with beames bright At a farre distance clad with Sols lent light, As Venus and the Moon; O you that make This earth Gods onely darling dear delight, All th'other orbs merely for this orbs sake So swiftly for to run with labour never slack,

4

To dance attendance on their Princesse Earth In their quick circuits, and with anger keen Would bite him, that or serious or in mirth Doubts the prerogative of your great Queen! Best use of that your Theory, I ween, Is this; that as your selves monopolize All the whole world, so your selves back again You wholly give to God. Who can devise A better way? Mans soul to God this closely tyes.

5

But if the Earth doth thankfully reflect Both light and influence to other starres, As well as they to it, where's the defect? That sweet subordination it mars; Gods love to us then not so plain appears: For then the starres be mutually made One for another: Each all the good then bears Of th' Universe, for 't••s single labour paid With the joint pains of all that in the heavens wade.

6

Rare reason! why! then God would be too good. What judgeth so but envie, and vain pride, And base contract self-love? which that free floud Of bounty hath so confidently tied Unto it self alone. Large hearts deride This pent hypocrisie. Is he good to me? That grace I would not ere should be deny'd Unto my fellow My felicity Is multiply'd, when others I like happy see.

7

But if the rolling starres with mutuall rayes Serve one another; sweet fraternity And humble love, with such like lore we'll raise, While we do see Gods great benignity Thus mutually reflected in the skie, And these round-moving worlds communicate One with another by spread sympathy: This all things friendly will concatenate; But let more hardy wits that truth determinate.

8

It me behoves t' hold forward on my way, Leaving this uncouth strange Philosophy, In which my lightsome pen too long did play, As rigid men in sad seuerity May deem; but we right carelesse leave that free Unto their censure. Now more weighty thought Doth sway our mind, thinking how all doth flee Whatever we have painfully ytaught So little fruits remain of all my skill hath wraught,

9

O th'emptinesse of vain Philosophy! When thin-spun reason and exile discourse Make the soul creep through a strait Theory, Whither the blunter mind can never force Her self; yet oft, alas! the case is worse Of this so subtile wight, when dangers deep Approch his life, then his who learnings sourse Did never drink of, nere his lips did steep In Plato's springs, nor with low gown the dust did sweep.

10

Certes such knowledge is a vanity, And hath no strength t' abide a stormy stour; Such thin slight clothing, will not keep us dry When the grim heavens, all black and sadly soure With rage and tempest, plenteously down shower Great flouds of rain. Dispread exility Of slyer reasons fails: Some greater power Found in a lively vigorous Unity With God, must free the soul from this perplexity.

11

Say now the dagger touch'd thy trembling breast, Couldst thou recall the reasons I have shown To prove th' immortall state of men deceast? Evolved reason cannot stand at one Stoutly to guard thy soul from passion. They passe successively like sand i'th' glasse; While thou look'st upon this the other's gone. But there's a plight of soul such virtue has Which reasons weak assistance strangely doth surpasse.

12

The just and constant man, a multitude Set upon mischief cannot him constrain To do amisse by all their uprores rude, Not for a tyrants threat will he ere stain His inward honour. The rough Adrian Tost with unquiet winds doth nothing move His steddy heart. Much pleasure he doth gain To see the glory of his Master Jove, When his drad darts with hurrying light through all do rove.

13

If Heaven and Earth should rush with a great noise, he fearlesse stands, he knows whom he doth trust, Is confident of his souls after joyes, Though this vain bulk were grinded into dust. Strange strength resideth in the soul that's just. She feels her power how't commands the sprite Of the low man, vigorously finds she must Be independent of such feeble might Whose motions dare not 'pear before her awfull fight.

14

But yet my Muse, still take an higher flight, Sing of Platonick Faith in the first Good, That Faith that doth our souls to God unite So strongly, tightly, that the rapid floud Of this swift flux of things, nor with foul mud Can stain, nor strike us off from th' unity, Wherein we stedfast stand, unshak'd, unmov'd, Engrafted by a deep vitality. The prop and stay of things is Gods benignity.

15

Als is the rule of his Oeconomie. No other cause the creature brought to light But the first Goods pregnant fecundity: He to himself is perfect full delight; He wanteth nought, with his own beams bedight He glory has enough. O blasphemy! That envy gives to God or soure despight! Harsh hearts! that feign in God a tyranny, Under pretense t' encrease his sovereign Majesty.

16

When nothing can to Gods own self accrew, Who's infinitely happy; sure the end Of this creation simply was to shew His flowing goodnesse, which he doth out send Not for himself; for nought can him amend; But to his creature doth his good impart, This infinite Good through all the world doth wend To fill with heavenly blisse each willing heart. So the free Sunne doth 'light and 'liven every part.

17

This is the measure of Gods providence, The key of knowledge, the first fair Idee, The eye of truth, the spring of living sense, Whence sprout Gods secrets, the sweet mystery Of lasting life, eternall charity. But you O bitter men and soure of sprite! Which brand Gods name with such foul infamy As though poor humane race he did or slight, Or curiously view to do them some despight,

18

And all to shew his mighty excellency, His uncontrolled strength: fond men! areed, Is't not as great an act from misery To keep the feeble, as his life to speed With fatall stroke? The weak shak'd whisling reed Shows Boreas wondrous strong! but ignorance And false conceit is the foul spirits meed; Gods lovely life hath there no enterance; Hence their fond thoughts for truth they vainly do advance.

19

If God do all things simply at his pleasure Because he will, and not because its good, So that his actions will have no set measure; Is't possible it should be understood What he intends? I feel that he is lov'd Of my dear soul, and know that I have born Much for his sake; yet is it not bence prov'd That I shall live, though I do sigh and mourn To find his face; his creatures wish he'll slight and scorn.

20

When I breathe out my utmost vitall breath, And my dear spirit to my God commend, Yet some foul feigne close lurking underneath My serious humble soul from me may rend: So to the lower shades down we shall wend, Though I in hearts simplicity expected A better doom; sith I my steps did bend Toward the will of God, and had detected Strong hope of lasting life, but now I am rejected.

21

Nor of well being, nor subsistency Of our poor souls, when they do hence depart, Can any be assur'd, if liberty We give to such odde thoughts, that thus pervert The laws of God, and rashly do assert That will rules God, but Good rules not Gods will. What ere from right, love, equity, doth start, For ought we know then God may act that ill, Onely to show his might, and his free mind fulfill.

22

O belch of hell! O horrid blasphemy! That Heavens unblemish'd beauty thus dost stain And brand Gods nature with such infamy: Can Wise, Just, Good, do ought that's harsh or vain? All what he doth is for the creatures gain, Not seeking ought from us for his content: What is a drop unto the Ocean main? All he intends is our accomplishment. His being is self-full, self-joy'd, self-excellent.

23

He his fair beams through all has freely 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Purge but thy soul that thou mayst take them in. With froward hypocrite he never went, That finds pretexts to keep his darling sinne. Through all the earth this Sprite takes pains to winne Unto himself such as be simply true, And with malignant pride resist not him, But strive to do what he for right doth shew; So still a greater light he brings into their view.

24

All Lives in severall circumference Look up unto him and expect their food; He opes his hand, showrs down their sustinence: So all things be yfild with their wish'd good, All drink, are satisfi'd from this free floud. But circling life that yet unsettled is Grows straight, as it is further still remov'd From the first simple Good, obtains lesse blisse, Sustains sharp pains inflicted by just Nemesis.

25

But why do I my soul loose and disperse With mouldring reason, that like sand doth flow. Life close united with that Good, a verse Cannot declare, nor its strange virtue show. That's it holds up the soul in all her wo, That death, nor hell, nor any change doth fray. Who walks in light knows whither he doth go; Our God is light, we children of the day. God is our strength and hope, what can us then dismay?

26

Goodnesse it self will do to us this good, That godly souls may dwell with him for aye. Will God forsake what of himself's belov'd? What ever Lives may shrink into cold clay; Yet good mens souls deaths hests shall not obey. Where there's no incompossibility Of things, Gods goodnesse needs must bear the sway. You virtuous brood take't for sure verity, Your souls shall not fall short of blest eternity.

26

But yet bold men with much perplexity Will here object against this principle, Heaping up reasons (strange fecundity Of ignorance!) that goodly might to quell Of my last argument, so fairly well Set down, right strongly the unsettled spright To have confirmed at my last far-well: But contrair forces they bring into sight, And proudly do provoke me with that rout to fight.

27

Whence was't, say they, that God the creature made No sooner? why did infinite delay Precede his work? should God his goodnesse staid So long a time? why did he not display From infinite years this out-created ray? The mighty starres why not in habited, When God may souls proportion to their clay As well as to this earth? why not dispred The world withouten bounds, endlesse uncompassed?

28

Poore souls! why were they put into this cave Of misery, if they can well exist Without the body? Why will not God save All mankind? His great wisdome if it list Could so contrive that they'd at last desist From sinning, fallen into some providence That sternly might rebuke them that have mist Their way, and work in them true penitence: Thus might they turn to God with double diligence.

29

Why be not damned souls devoyd of sense, If nothing can from wickednesse reclaime, Rather then fry in pain and vehemence Of searching agony? or why not frame Another form, so with new shape and name Again to turn to life? One centrall spright Why may't not many forms in it contain, Which may be wak'd by some magnetick might, 'Cording as is the matter upon which they light?

30

For when too severall kinds by Venus knit Do cause a birth, from both the soul doth take A tincture; but if free it were transmit Uncloth'd with th' others seed, then it would make One simple form; for then they could not slake One th' others working. Why is the World still Stark nought, through malice, or through blind mistake? Why had the first-made-man such a loose will, That his innumerous of-spring he should fouly spill.

31

Why was not this unlucky world dissolv'd As soon as that unhappy Adam fell? I itch till of this knot I be resolv'd: So many myriads tumble down to hell, Although partakers of Gods holy spell. Beside, tis said, they that do not partake Of Christian lore, for ever they must dwell With cursed fiends, and burn in brimstone lake. Such drery drad designes do make my heart to quake.

32

One of a multitude of myriads Shall not be sav'd but broyl in scorching wo; Innumerous mischiefs then to mischiefs addes This worlds continuance if that be so: Ill infinitely more then good doth grow. So God would show much more benignity If he the ribs of heaven about would strow, Powder the earth; choke all vitality. Call back the creature to its ancient nullity.

33

But thou who ere thou art that thus dost strive With fierce assault my groundwork to subvert, And boldly dost into Gods secrets dive, Base fear my manly face no'te make m'avert. In that odde question which thou first didst stert I'll plainly prove thine incapacity And force thy feeble feet back to revert, That cannot climb so high a mystery. I'll shew thee strange perplexed inconsistency.

34

Why was this world from all infinity Not made? say'st thou: why? could it be so made Say I. For well observe the sequency: If this Out-world continually hath wade Through a long long spun-time that never had Beginning, then there as few circulings Have been in the quick Moon as Saturn sad; And still more plainly this clear truth to sing, As many years as dayes or fleeting houres have been.

35

For things that we conceive are infinite, One th'other no'te surpasse in quantity. So I have prov'd with clear convincing light, This world could never from infinity Been made. Certain deficiency Doth alwayes follow evolution: Nought's infinite but tight eternity Close thrust into it self: extension That's infinite implies a contradiction.

36

So then for ought we know this world was made So soon as such a Nature could exist; And though that it continue, never fade, Yet never will it be that that long twist Of time prove infinite, though nere desist From running still. But we may safely say Time past compar'd with this long future list Doth show as if the world but yesterday Were made, and in due time Gods glory out may ray,

37

Then this short night and ignorant dull ages Will quite be swallowed in oblivion; And though this hope by many surly Sages Be now derided, yet they'll all be gone In a short time, like Bats and Owls yflone At dayes approch. This will hap certainly At this worlds shining conflagration. Fayes, Satyrs, Goblins the night merrily May spend, but ruddy Sol shall make them all to fly.

38

The roaring Lions and drad beasts of prey Rule in the dark with pitious cruelty; But harmlesse man is maister of the day, Which doth his work in pure simplicity. God blesse his honest usefull industry. But pride and covetize, ambition, Riot, revenge, self love, hypocrisie, Contempt of goodnesse, forc'd opinion; These and such like do breed the worlds confusion.

39

But sooth to say though my triumphant Muse Seemeth to vaunt as in got victory, And with puissant stroke the head to bruize Of her stiffe foe, and daze his phantasie, Captive his reason, dead each faculty: Yet in her self so strong a force withstands That of her self afraid, sh••'ll not aby, Nor keep the field. She'll fall by her own hand As Ajax once laid Ajax dead upon the strand.

40

For thus her self by her own self's oppos'd; The Heavens the Earth the universall Frame Of living Nature God so soon disclos'd As he could do, or she receive the same. All times delay since that must turn to blame, And what cannot he do that can be done? And what might let but by th' all-powerfull Name Or Word of God, the Worlds Creation More suddenly were made then mans swift thought can runne?

41

Wherefore that Heavenly Power or is as young As this Worlds date; or else some needlesse space Of time was spent, before the earth did clung So close unto her self and seas embrace Her hollow breast, and if that time surpasse A finite number then infinity Of years before this Worlds Creation passe. So that the durance of the Deity We must contract or strait his full Benignity.

42

But for the cradle of the Cretian Jove, And guardians of his vagient Infancie What sober man but sagely will reprove? Or drown the noise of the fond Dactyli By laughter loud? Dated Divinitie Certes is but the dream of a drie brain•• God maim'd in goodnesse, inconsistencie; Wherefore my troubled mind is now in pain Of a new birth, which this one Canto 'll not contain.