Philosophical poems by Henry More ...

The Argument of PSYCHOZOIA, Or The life of the Soul.

CANT. I.

This Song great Psyches parentage With her fourefold array, And that mysterious marriage, To th•• Reader doth display.

1

NO Ladies loves, nor Knights brave martiall deeds, Ywrapt in rolls of hid Antiquitie; But th' inward Fountain, and the unseen Seeds, From whence are these and what so under eye Doth fall, or is record in memorie, Psyche, I'll sing Pfyche•• from thee they sprong. O life of Time, and all Alterity! The life of lives instill his n••ctar strong, My soul t' inebriate, while I sing Psyches song.

2

But thou, who e're thou art that hear'st this strain, Or read'st these rythmes which from Platonick rage Do powerfully flow forth, dare not to blame My forward pen of foul miscarriage; If all that's spoke, with thoughts more sadly sage Doth not agree. My task is not to try What's simply true. I onely do engage My self to make a fit discovery, Give some fair glimpse of Plato's hid Philosophy.

3

What man alive that hath but common wit (When skilfull limmer 'suing his intent Shall fairly well pourtray and wisely hit The true proportion of each lineament, And in right colours to the life depaint The fulvid Eagle with her sun-bright eye) Would wexen wroth with inward choler brent Cause 'tis no Buzard or discolour'd Pie? Why man? I meant it not: Cease thy fond obloquie.

4

So if what's consonant to Plato's school (Which well agrees with learned Pythagore, Egyptian Trismegist, and th' antique roll Of Chaldee wisdome, all which time hath tore But Plato and deep Plotin do restore) Which is my scope, I sing out lustily: If any twitten me for such strange lore, And me all blamelesse brand with infamy, God purge that man from fault of foul malignity.

5

Th' Ancient of dayes, Sire of Eternitie, Sprung of himself, or rather no wise sprong: Father of lights and everlasting glee, Who puts to silence every daring tongue And flies man's sight, shrowding himself among His glorious rayes, good Atove, from whom came All good that Penia spies in thickest throng Of most desireables, all's from that same, That same, that Atove hight, and sweet Abinoam.

6

Now can I not with flowring phantasie To drowsie sensuall souls such words impart, Which in their sprights, may cause sweet agony, And thrill their bodies through with pleasing dart, And spread in flowing fire their close-twist heart, All chearing fire, that nothing wont to burn That Atove lists to save; and his good Art Is all to save that wi••l to him return, That all to him return, nought of him is forlorn:

7

For what can be forlorn, when his good hands Hold all in lise, that of life do partake? O surest confidence of Loves strong bands! Love loveth all that's made; Love all did make: And when false life doth fail, it's for the sake Of better being. Riving tortures spight, That life disjoynts, and makes the heart to quake, To good the soul doth nearer reunite: So ancient Atove hence all-joyning Ahad hight.

8

This Ahad of himself the Aeon fair Begot, the brightnesse of his father's grace: No living wight in heav'n to him compare, Ne work his goodly honour such disgrace, Nor lose thy time in telling of his race. His beauty and his race no man can tell: His glory darkeneth the Sunnes bright face; Or if ought else the Sunnes bright face excell, His splend our would it dim, and all that glory quell.

9

This is that ancient Eidos omniform, Fount of all beauty, root of flowring glee. Hyle old hag, foul, filthy, and deform, Cannot come near. Joyfull Eternity Admits no change or mutability, No shade of change, no imminution, No nor increase; for what increase can be To that that's all? and where Hyl' hath no throne Can ought decay? such is the state of great Aeon.

10

Farre otherwise it fares in this same Lond Of Truth and Beauty, then in mortall brood Of earthly lovers, who impassion'd With outward forms (not rightly understood From whence proceeds this amorous sweet flood, And choice delight which in their spright they feel: Can outward Idole yield so heavenly mood?) This inward beauty unto that they deal That little beauteous is: Thus into th' dirt they reel.

11

Like to Narcissus, on the grassie shore, Viewing his outward face in watery glasse; Still as he looks, his looks adde evermore New fire, new light, new love, new comely grace To's inward form; and it displayes apace It's hidden rayes, and so new lustre sends To that vain shadow: but the boy, alas! Unhappy boy! the inward nought attends, But in foul filthy mire, love, life, and form he blends.

12

And this I wot is the Souls excellence, That from the hint of every painted glance Of shadows sensible, she doth from hence Her radiant life, and lovely hue advance To higher pitch, and by good governance May wained be from love of fading light In outward forms, having true Cognizance, That those vain shows are not the beauty bright That takes men so, but what they cause in humane spright.

13

Farre otherwise it fares in Aeons Realm. O happy close of sight and that there's seen! That there is seen is good Abinoam, Who Atove hight: And Atuvus I ween, Cannot be lesse then he that sets his eyen On that abysse of good eternally, The youthfull Aeon, whose fair face doth shine While he his Fathers glory doth espy, Which waters his fine flowring forms with light from high.

14

Not that his forms increase, or that they die: For Aeon-land, which men Idea call, Is nought but life in full serenity, Vigour of life is root, stock, branch, and all; Nought here increaseth, nought here hath it's fall: For Aeons Kingdomes alwayes perfect stand, Birds, Beasts, Fields, Springs, Plants, Men and Minerall To perfectnesse nought added be there can. This Aeon also hight Autocalon and On.

15

This is the eldest sonne of Hattove hore: But th' eldest daughter of this aged Sire, That virgin wife of Aeon, Ʋranore. She Ʋranora hight, because the fire Of Aethers essence she with bright attire, And inward unseen golden hew doth dight, And life of sense and phansie doth inspire. Aether's the vehicle of touch, smell, sight, Of taste, and hearing too, and of the plastick might.

16

Whilome me chanced (O my happy chance!) To spie this spotlesse pure fair Uranore: I spi'd her, but, alas! with slighter glance Beheld her on the Atuvaean shore. She stood the last; for her did stand before The lovely Autocal. But first of all Was mighty Atove, deeply covered o're With unseen light. No might imaginall May reach that vast profunditie.

17

Whiles thus they stood by that good lucid spring Of living blisse, her fourefold ornament I there observ'd; and that's the onely thing That I dare write with due advisement. Fool-hardy man that purposeth intent Far 'bove his reach, like the proud Phaeton, Who clomb the fiery car and was ybrent Through his fond juvenile ambition; Th' unruly slundring steeds wrought his confusion.

18

Now rise, my Muse, and straight thy self addresse To write the pourtraiture of th' outward vest, And to display it's perfect comlinesse: Begin and leave where it shall please thee best. Nor do assay to tell all, let the rest Be understood. For no man can unfold The many plicatures so closely prest At lowest verge. Things 'fore our feet yrold, If they be hard, how shall the highest things be told?

19

Its unseen figure I must here omit: For thing so mighty vast no mortall eye Can compasse; and if eye not compasse it, The extreme parts, at least some, hidden lie: And if that they lie hid, who can descry The truth of figure? Bodies figured Receive their shape from each extremity. But if conjecture may stand in truths stead The garment round or circular I do aread.

20

As for it's colour and materiall, It silken seems, and of an azure hiew, If hiew it have or colour naturall: For much it may amaz•• mans erring view. Those parts the eye is near give not the shew Of any colour; but the rurall Swains, O easie ignorance! would swear 'tis blew, Such as their Phyllis would, when as she plains Their Sunday cloths, and the washt white with azure stains.

21

But this fair azure colour's fouly stain'd By base comparison with that blew dust. But you of Uranore are not disdain'd, O silly Shepherds, if you hit not just In your conceits, so that you'r put in trust You duly do attend. If simple deed Accord with simple life, then needs you must From the great Uranore of favour speed, Though you cannot unfold the nature of her weed.

22

For who can it unfold, and reade aright The divers colours, and the tinctures fair, Which in this various vesture changes write Of light, of duskishnesse, of thick, of rare Consistences: ever new changes marre Former impressions. The dubious shine Of changeable silk stuffs, this passeth farre. Farre more variety, and farre more fine, Then interwoven silk with gold or silver twine.

23

Lo what delightfull immutations On her soft flowing vest we contemplate! The glory of the Court, their fashions, And brave agguize with all their Princely state, Which Poets or Historians relate This farre excels, farther than pompous Court Excels the homeliest garb of Countrey rate: Unspeakable it is how great a sort Of glorious glistring showes in it themselves disport.

24

There you may see the eyelids of the Morn With lofty silver arch displaid ••th' East, And in the midst the burnisht gold doth burn; A lucid purple mantle in the West Doth close the day, and hap the Sun at rest. Nor doth these lamping she••es the azur quell, Or other colours: where't beseemeth best There they themselves dispose; so seemly well Doth light and changing tinctures deck this goodly veil.

25

But 'mongst these glaring glittering rows of light, And flaming Circles, and the grisell gray, And crudled clouds, with filver tippings dight. And many other deckings wondrous gay, As Iris and the Halo, there doth play Still-pac'd Euphrona in her Conique tire; By stealth her steeple-cap she doth assay To whelm on th'earth: So School-boyes do aspire With coppell'd hat to quelme the Bee all arm'd with ire.

26

I saw pourtrai'd on this sky coloured silk Two lovely Lads, with wings fully dispread Of silver plumes, their skins more white then milk, Their lilly limbs I greatly admired, Their cheary looks and lusty lively bed: Athwart their snowy brest, a scarf they wore Of azur hew; fairly bespangeled Was the gold fringe. Like Doves so forth they fore: Some message they, I ween, to Monocardia bore.

27

O gentle Sprights, whose carefull oversight Tends humane actions, sons of Solyma. O heavenly Salems sons! you fend the right, You violence resist, and fraud bewray; The ill with ill, the good with good you pay. And if you list to mortall eye appear, You thick that veil, and so your selves array With visibility: O myst'ry rare! That thickned veile should maken things appear more bare!

28

But well I wot that nothing's bare to sense, For sense cannot arrive to th' inwardnesse Of things, nor penetrate the crusty fence Of constipated matter close compresse: Or that were laid aside, yet nathelesse Things thus unbar'd, to sense be more obscure. Therefore those sonnes of Love when they them dresse For sight, they thick the vest of Ʋranure, And from their centre overflow't with beauty pure.

29

Thus many goodly things have been unfold Of Uranures fair changing ornament: Yet farre more hidden lye as yet untold; For all to tell was never my intent, Neither all could I tell if I so meant. For her large robe all the wide world doth fill: It's various largenesse no man can depaint: My pen's from thence, my Book my Ink; but skill From Uranures own self down gently doth distill.

30

But yet one thing I saw that I'll not passe, At the low hem of this large garment gay Number of goodly balls there pendent was, Some like the Sun, some like the Moones white ray, Some like discoloured Tellus, when the day Discries her painted coat: In wondrous wise These coloured ones do circle, float and play, As those farre shining Rounds in open skies: Their course the best Astronomer might well aggrize.

31

These danc't about: but some I did espie That steddy stood, 'mongst which there shined one, More fairly shineth not the worlds great eye, Which from his plenteous store unto the Moon Kindly imparteth light, that when he's gone, She might supply his place, and well abate The irksome uglinesse of that foul drone, Sad heavie Night, yet quick to work the fate Of murd'red travellers, when they themselves belate.

32

O gladsome life of sense that doth adore The outward shape of the worlds curious frame! The proudest Prince that ever Sceptre bore (Though he perhaps observeth not the same) The lowest hem doth kisse of that we name The stole of Ʋranore, these parts that won To drag in dirty earth (nor do him blame) These doth he kisse: why should he b•• fordone? How sweet it is to live! what joy to see the S••nne!

33

But O what joy it is to see the Sun Of Aeons kingdomes, and th' eternall Day That never night o'retakes! the radiant throne Of the great Queen, the Queen Ʋranura! Then she gan first the Scepter for to sway, And rule with wisdome, when Atuvus old, Hence Ahad we him call, did tie them tway With nuptiall charm and wedding-ring of gold: Then sagely he the case gan to them thus unfold:

34

My first born Sonne, and thou my D••ughter dear, Look on your aged Sire, the deep abysse, In which and out of which you first appear; I Ahad hight, and Ahad onenesse is: Therefore be one (his words do never misse) They one became. I Hattove also hight, Said he; and Hattove goodnesse is and blisse: Therefore in goodnesse be ye fast unite: Let Unity, Love, Good, be measures of your might.

35

They straight accord: ••hen he put on the ring, The ring of lasting gold on Uranure; Then gan the youthfull lads aloud to sing, Hymen! O Hymen! O the Virgin pure! O holy Bride! long may this joy indure. After the song Atove his speech again Renews. My Son, I unto thee assure All judgement and authority soveraign He spake as unto one: for one became those twain.

36

To thee each knee in Heaven and Earth shall bow, And whatsoever wons in darker cell Under the Earth: If thou thy awfull brow Contract, those of the Aethiopian hell Shall lout, and do thee homage; they that dwel In Tharsis, Tritons fry, the Ocean-god, Iim and Ziim, all the Satyres fell That in ••mpse Ilands maken their abode: All those and all things else shall tremble at thy rod.

37

Thy rod thou shalt extend from sea to sea, And thy Dominion to the worlds end; All Kings shall vow thee faithfull fealty, Then peace and truth on all the earth I'll send: Nor moody Mars my metalls may mispend, Of Warlike instruments they plow-shares shall And pruning hooks efform. All things shall wend For th' best, and thou the head shalt be o're all. Have I not sworn thee King? true King Catholicall!

38

Thus farre he spake, and then again respired; And all this time he held their hand in one; Then they with chearfull look one thing desired, That he nould break this happy union: I happy union break? quoth he anon: I Ahad? Father of Community? Then they: That you nould let your hand be gone Off from our hands: He grants with smiling glee: So each stroke struck on earth is struck from these same three.

39

These three are Ahad, Aeon, Uranore: Ahad these three in one do••h counite. What so is done on earth the self same power (Which is exert upon each mortall wight) Is joyntly from all these But she that hight Fair Uranore, men also Psy••he call. Great Psyche men and A••g••ls dear delight, Invested in her stole aethereall, Which though so high it be, do••••n to the earth doth fall.

40

The externall form of this large flowing stole, My Muse so as she might above displaid: But th' inward triple golden film to unroll, Ah! he me teach that triple film hath made, And brought out light out of the deadly shade Of darkest Chaos, and things that are seen Made to appear out of the gloomy glade Of unseen beings: Them we call unseen, Not that they're so indeed, but so to mortall eyen.

41

The first of these fair films, we Physis name. Nothing in Nature did you ever spy, But there's pourtraid: all beasts both wild and tame, Each bird is here, and every buzzing fly; All forrest-work is in this tapestry: The Oke, the Holm, the Ash, the Aspine tree, The lonesome Buzzard, th' Eagle, and the Py, The Buck, the Bear, the Boar, the Hare, the Bee, The Brize, the black-arm'd Clock, the Gnat, the Butterflie.

42

Snakes, Adders Hydraes, Dragons, Toads, and Frogs, Th' own-litter-loving Ape, the Worm, and Snail, Th' undaunted Lion, Horses, Men, and Dogs, Their number's infinite, nought coth 't avail To reckon all, the time would surely fail: And all besprinkled with centrall spots, Dark little spots, is this hid inward veil: But when the hot bright dart doth pierce these knots, Each one dispreads it self according to their lots.

43

When they dispread themselves, then gins to swell Dame Psyches outward vest, as th' inward wind Softly gives forth, full softly doth it well Forth from the centrall spot; yet as confin'd To certain shape, according to the mind Of the first centro, not perfect circ'lar-wise, It shoots it self: for so the outward kind Of things were lost, and Natures good device Of different forms would hidden•• in one agguize.

44

But it according to the imprest Art (That Arts impression's from; Idea-Lond) So drives it forth before it every part According to true Symmetry: the bond And just precinct (unlesse it be withstond) It alwayes keeps. But that old Hag that hight Foul Hyle mistresse of the miry strond, Oft her withstands, and taketh great delight To hinder Physis work, and work her all despight.

45

The self same envious witch with poyson'd dew, From her foul eben-box, all tinctures stains, Which fairly good be in hid Physis hew: That film all tinctures fair in it contains; But she their goodly glory much restrains. She colours dims; clogs tastes; and damps the sounds Of sweetest musick; touch to scorching pains She turns, or baser tumults; smels confounds. O horrid womb of hell, that with such ill abounds.

46

From this first film all bulk in quantity Doth bougen out, and figure thence obtain. Here eke begins the life of Sympathy, And hidden virtue of magnetick vein, Where unknown spirits beat, and Psyche's trane Drag as they list, upon pursuit or flight; One part into another they constrain Through strong desire, and then again remit. Each outward form's a shrine of its magnetick spright.

47

The ripen'd child breaks through his mothers womb, The raving billows closely undermine The ragged rocks, and then the seas intomb Their heavy corse, and they their heads recline On working sand: The Sunne and Moon combine; Then they're at ods in site Diametrall: The former age to th' present place resigne: And what's all this but wafts of winds centrall That ruffle, touze, and tosse Dame Psyche's wrimpled veil?

48

So Physis. Next is Arachnea thin, The thinner of these two, but thinn'st of all Is Semele, that's next to Psyches skin. The second we thin Arachnea call, Because the spider, that in Princes hall Takes hold with her industrious hand, and weaves Her dainty tender web; far short doth fall Of this soft yeilding vest; this vest deceives The spiders curious touch, and of her praise bereaves.

49

In midst of this fine web doth Haphe sit: She is the centre from whence all the light Dispreads, and goodly glorious Forms do flit Hither and thither. Of this mirour bright Haphe's the life and representing might Haphe's the mother of sense-sympathy; Hence are both Hearing, Smelling, Taste, and Sight: Haphe's the root of felt vitality; But Haphe's mother hight all-spread Community.

50

In this clear shining mirour Psyche sees All that falls under sense, what ere is done Upon the Earth; the Deserts shaken trees, The mournfull winds, the solitary wonne Of dreaded beasts, the Lybian Lyons moan, When their hot entralls scorch with hunger keen, And they to God for meat do deeply groan; He hears their cry, he sees of them unseen; His eyelids compasse all that in the wide world been.

51

He sees the weary traveller sit down In the waste field oft-times with carefull chear: His chafed feet, and the long way to town, His burning thirst, faintnesse, and Panick fear, Because he sees not him that stands so near, Fetch from his soul deep sighs with count'nance sad, But he looks on to whom nought doth dispear: O happy man that full persuasion had Of this! if right at home, nought of him were ydrad.

52

A many sparrows for small price be sold, Yet none of them his wings on earth doth close Lighting full soft, but that eye doth behold, Their jets, their jumps, that mirour doth disclose. Thrice happy he that putteth his repose In his all-present God. That Africk rock But touch't with heedlesse hand, Auster arose With blust'ring rage, that with his irefull shock And moody might he made the worlds frame nigh to rock.

53

And shall not He, when his Anointed be Ill handled, rise, and in his wrathfull stour Disperse, and quell the haughty enemy, Make their brisk sprights to lout and lowly lowr? Or else confound them quite with mighty power? Touch not my Kings, my Prophets let alone, Harm not my Preists; or you shall ill endure Your works sad payment and that deadly lone; Keep off your hand from that high holy Rock of stone.

54

Do not I see? I slumber not nor sleep. Do not I hear? each noise by shady night My mirour represents: when mortals steep Their languid limbs in Morpheus dull delight, I hear such sounds as Adams brood would fright. The dolefull echoes from the hollow hill Mock howling wolves: the woods with black bedight Answer rough Pan, his pipe and eke his skill, And all the Satyr-routs rude whoops and shoutings shrill.

55

The night's no night to me: What? shall the Owl And nimble Cat their courses truly steer, And guide their feet and wings to every hole So right, this on the ground, that in the air? And shall not I by night see full as clear? All sense doth in proportion consist, Arachnea doth all proportions bear; All sensible proportions that fine twist Contains: all life of sense is in great Haphes lift.

56

Sense and consent, and all abhorrency, Be variously divided in each one Partic'lar creature: But antipathy Cannot be there where fit proportion Strikes in with all things in harmonious tone. Thus Haphe feels nought to her self contrair: In her there's tun'd a just Diapason For every outward stroke: withouten jarre Thus each thing doth she feel, and each thing easly bear.

57

But Haphe and Arachne I'll dismisse, And that fourth vest, rich Semele display: The largest of all foure and loosest is This floting flouring changeable array. How fairly doth it shine, and nimbly play, Whiles gentle winds of Paradise do blow, And that bright Sun of the eternall day Upon it glorious light and forms doth strow, And Abad it with love and joy doth overflow

58

This all-spread Semele doth Bacchus bear, Impregn'd of Jove or On. He is the wine That sad down-drooping senses wont to rear, And chearlesse hearts to comfort in ill tine. He 'flames chast Poets brains with fire divine; The stronger spright the weaker spright doth sway; No wonder then each phansie doth incline To their great mother Semel, and obey The vigourous impresse of her enforcing ray.

59

She is the mother of each Semele: The daughters be divided one from one; But she grasps all. How can she then but see Each Semels shadows by this union? She sees and swayes imagination As she thinks good; and if that she think good She lets it play by't self, yet looketh on, While she keeps in that large strong-beating floud That makes the Poet write, and rave as he were wood.

60

Prophets and Poets have their life from hence; Like fire into their marrow it searcheth deep, This flaming fiery flake doth choak all sense, And binds the lower man with brazen sleep: Corruption through all his bones doth creep, And raging raptures do his soul outsnatch: Round-turning whirlwinds on Olympus steep Do cast the soul, that earst they out did catch: Then stiller whispering winds dark visions unlatch.

61

But not too farre, thou bold Platonick Swain: Strive not at once all myst'ries to discover Of that strange School: More and more hard remain As yet untold. But let us now recover Strength to our selves by rest in duly houre. Great Psyches Parentage, Marriage, and Weeds We having song according to our power, That we may rise more fresh for morning deeds, Let's here take Inne and rest our weary sweating steeds.

The Argument of PSYCHOZOIA, Or, The life of the Soul.

CANT. II.

Here's taught how into Psychanie Souls from their centrall sourse Go forth, Here Beirons ingeny Old Mnemon doth discourse.

1

I Sang great Psyche in my former song, Old Atoves daughter, sister unto On, Mother of all that nimble Atom-throng Of winged Lives, and Generation. When Psyche wedded to Autocalon. They both to Ahad forthwith straight were wed: For as you heard, all these became but one, And so conjoyn'd they lie all in one bed, And with that four-fold vest they be all overspred.

2

Here lies the inmost Centre of Creation, From whence all inward forms and life proceed: Here's that acreall stole, that to each fashion Of Sensibles is matter for their weed. This is the ground where God doth sow his seed, And whilest he sows with whispering charms doth bid This flourish long, and that to make more speed, And all in order by his Word doth rid: So in their fatall round they 'pear and then are hid.

3

Beginning, End, Form and Continuance Th' impression of his Word to them doth deal, Occurrences he sees, and mindeth chance: But chance hath bounds. The Sea cannot o're swell His just precincts. Or rocky shores repell His foming force; or else his inward life And Centrall rains do fairly him compell Within himself, and gently 'pease the strife, Or makes him gnaw the bit with rore and rage full rife.

4

So fluid chance is set its certain bound, Although with circling winds it be yrost; And so the pilots skill doth quite confound With unexpected storms, and men have lost Their time, their labour, and their precious cost. Yet ther's a Neptune Soveraign of this Sea, Which those that in themselves put not their trust To rude mischance did never yet betray: It's He, whom both the winds and stormy Seas obey.

5

Now sith my wandring Bark so far is gone, And flitten forth upon the Ocean main, I thee beseech that just dominion Hast of the Sea, and art true Soveraign Of working phancie when it floats amain With full impregned billows and strong rage Enforceth way upon the boyling plain, That thou wouldst steer my ship with wisdome sage, That I with happy course may run my watery stage.

6

My mind is mov'd dark Parables to sing Of Psyches progeny that from her came, When she was married to that great King, Great Aeon, who just title well may claim To every soul, and brand them with his name. Its He that made us, and not our own might: But who, alas! this work can well proclaim? We silly sheep cannot bleat out aright The manner how: but that that giveth light is light.

7

Then let us borrow from the glorious Sun A little light to illustrate this act, Such as he is in his solstitiall Noon, When in the Welkin there's no cloudy tract For to make grosse his beams, and light refract. Then sweep by all those Globes that by reflexion His long small shafts do rudely beaten back, And let his rayes have undenied projection, And so we will pursue this mysteries retection.

8

Now think upon that gay discoloured Bow: That part that is remotest from the light Doth duskish hew to the beholder show; The nearer parts have colour farre more bright, And next the brightest is the subtle light; Then colours seem but a distinct degree Of light now failing; such let be the sight Of his farre spreaden beams that shines on high: Let vast discoloured Orbs close his extremitie,

9

The last Extreme, the farthest off from light, That's Natures deadly shadow, Hyle's cell. O horrid cave, and womb of dreaded night? Mother of witchcraft, and the cursed spell, Which nothing can avail 'gainst Israel. No Magick can him hurt; his portion Is not divided Nature; he doth dwell In light, in holy love, in union; Not fast to this or that, But free communion.

10

Dependance of this All hence doth appear, And severall degrees subordinate. But phancie's so unfit such things to clear, That oft it makes them seem more intricate: And now Gods work it doth disterminate Too farre from his own reach: But he withall More inward is, and farre more intimate Then things are with themselves. His Ideall, And Centrall presence is in every Atom-ball

11

Therefore those different hews through all extend So farre as light: Let light be every where: And every where with light distinctly blend Those different colours which I nam'd whilere The Extremities of that farre shining sphear. And that far shining sphear, which Centre was Of all those different colours, and bright chear, You must unfasten; so o'respred it has, Or rather deeply fill'd with Centrall sand each place.

12

Now sith that this withouten penetrance Of bodies may be done: we clearly see (As well as that pendent subordinance) The nearly couching of each Realtie, And the Creatours close propinquitie To ev'ry creature. This be understood Of differentiall profunditie. But for the overspreading Latitude; Why may't not equally be stretch'd with th' Ocean floud?

13

There Proteus wonnes and fleet Idothea, Where the lowest step of that profunditie Is pight; Next that is Psyche's out-array: It Tasis hight: Physis is next degree: There Psyche's feet impart a smaller fee Of gentle warmth. Physis is the great womb From whence all things in th' University Yclad in divers forms do gaily bloom, And after fade away, as Psyche gives the doom.

14

Next Physis is the tender Arachnee. There in her subtile loom doth Haphe sit: But the last vest is changing Semele: And next is Psyches self. These garments fit Her sacred limbs full well, and are so knit One part to other, that the strongest sway Of sharpest axe, them no'te asunder smite. The seaventh is Aeon with Eternall ray: The eighth Atove, steddy Cube, all propping Adonai.

15

Upon this universall Ogdoas Is founded every particularment: From this same universall Diapase Each harmony is fram'd and sweet concent. But that I swerve not far from my intent, This Ogdoas let 't be an Unitie One mighty quickned Orb of vast extent, Throughly possest of lifes community, And so those vests be seats of Gods vitality.

16

Now deem this universall Round alone, And rayes no rayes but a first all-spred light, And centrick all like one pellucid Sun; A Sun that's free, not bound by Natures might, That where he lists exerts his rayes outright, Both when he lists, and what, and eke how long, And then retracts so as he thinketh meet. These rayes be that particular creature-throng: Their number none can tell, but that all-making tongue.

17

Now blundring Naturalist behold the spring Of thy deep-searching soul, that fain would know Whether a mortall or immortall thing It be, and whence at first it 'gan to flow; And that which chiefest is where it must go. Some fixt necessity thou fain wouldst find: But no necessity, where there's no law, But the good pleasure of an unty'd mind: Therefore thy God seek out, and leave Nature behind.

18

He kills, He makes alive; the keys of Hell And Death he hath. He can keep souls to wo When cruell hands of Fate them hence expell: Or He in Lethe's lake can drench them so, That they no act of life or sense can show. They march out at His word, and they retreat; March out with joy, retreat with footing flow In gloomy shade, benumm'd with pallid sweat, And with their feeble wings their fainting breasts they beat.

19

But souls that of his own good life partake He loves as his own self; dear as His eye They are to Him: He'll never them forsake: When they shall dye, then God himself shall die. They live, they live in blest Eternity. The wicked are not so; but like the dirt, Trampled by man and beast, in grave they lye. Filth and corruption is their rufull sort: Themselves with death and wormes in darknesse they disport.

20

Their rotten relicks lurk close under ground: With living w••ight no sense or sympathy They have at all; nor hollow thundring sound Of roring winds, that cold mortality Can ••ake, ywrapt in sad Fatality. To horses hoof that beats his grassie dore He answers not: The Moon in silency, Doth passe by night, and all bedew him or'e With her cold humid rayes; but he feels not Heavens power.

21

O dolefull lot of disobedience! If God should souls thus drench in Lethe lake But O unspeakable torture of sense, When sinfull souls do life and sense partake, That those damn'd Spirits may them anvils make Of their fell cruelty, that lay such blows That very ruth doth make my heart to quake When I consider of the dre••y woes, And tearing torment that each soul then undergoes.

22

Hence the souls nature we may plainly see: A beam it is of th' Intellectuall Sun. A ray indeed of that Aeternity; But such a ray as when it first out shone, From a free light its shining date begun. And that same light when 't list can call it in; Yet that free light hath given a free wonne To this dependent ray: Hence comethsin; From sin dred Death and Hell these wages doth it win.

23

Each life a severall ray is from that Sphear That Sphear doth every life in it contain. Arachne, Semel, and the rest do bear Their proper virtue, and with one joynt strain And powerfull sway they make impression plain, And all their rayes be joyned into one By Ahad: so this womb withouten pain Doth flocks of souls send out that have their won Where they list most to graze; as I shall tell anon.

24

The countrey where they live Psychania hight, Great Psychany, that hath so mighty bounds, If bounds it have at all. So infinite It is of bignesse, that it me confounds To think to what a vastnesse it amounds. The Sun Saturnus, Saturn the Earth exceeds The Earth the Moon; but all those fixed Rounds; But Psychany those fixed Rounds exceeds, As farre as those fix'd Rounds excell small mustard-seeds.

25

Two mighty Kingdomes hath this Psychany, The one self-feeling Autaesthesia; The other hight god-like Theoprepy, Autaesthesy's divided into tway: One province cleped is great Adamah Which also hight Beirah of brutish fashion; The other Providence is Dizoia; There you may see much mungrill transformation, Such monstrous shapes proceed from Niles foul inundation.

26

Great Michael ruleth Theoprepia, A mighty Prince. King of Autaesthesy Is that great Giant who bears mighty sway, Father of Discord, Falshood, Tyranny, His name is Daemon, not from Sciency, Although he boasteth much of skilfull pride; But he's the fount of foul duality, That wicked witch Duessa is his bride: From his dividing force this name to him betide.

27

Or for that he himself is quite divided Down to the belly; there's some unity: But head, and tongue, and heart be quite discided; Two heads, two tongues, and eke two hearts there be. This head doth mischief plot, that head doth see Wrong fairly to o'reguild. One tongue doth pray, The other curse. The hearts do ne're agree But felly one another do upbray: An ugly cloven foot this monster doth upstay.

28

Two sons great Doemon and Duessa hath: Autophilus the one ycleeped is; In Dizoie he worketh wondrous scath; He is the cause what so there goes amisse, In Psyches stronger plumed progenies. But Philosomatus rules Beirah. This proud puft Giant whilom did arise, Born of the slime of Autaesthesia, And bred up these two sons yborn of Duessa.

29

Duessa first invented magick lore, And great skill hath to joyn and disunite; This herb makes love, that hearb makes hatred sore: And much she can against an Edomite; But nought she can against an Israelite, Whose heart's upright and doth himself forsake. For he that's one with God no magick might Can draw or here or there through blind mistake. Magick can onely quell natures Doemoniake.

30

But that I may in time my self betake To straighter course, few things I will relate, Of which old Mnemon mention once did make. A jolly Swain he was in youthfull state, When he mens natures gan to contemplate, And kingdomes view: But he was aged then When I him saw; his years bore a great date; He numbred had full ten times ten times ten: There's no Pythagorist but knows well what I mean.

31

Old Mnemons head and beard was hoary white, But yet a chearfull countenance he had: His vigorous eyes did shine like starres bright, And in good decent freez he was yclad, As blith and buxom as was any lad Of one and twenty cloth'd in forrest green; Both blith he was, and eke of counsell sad: Like winter-morn bedight with snow and rine And sunny rayes, so did his goodly Eldship shine.

32

Of many famous towns in Beïrah, And many famous Laws and uncouth Rites He spake: but vain it is for to assay To reckon up such numbers infinite. And much he spake where I had no insight, But well I wot that some there present had, For words to speak to uncapable wight Of foolishnesse proceeds or phrensie mad. So alwayes some, I wis, could trace his speeches pad.

33

But that which I do now remember best, Is that which he of Psittacusa lond Did speak. This Psittacuse is not the least, Or the most obscure Countrey that is found In wastefull Beïron: it is renown'd For famous Clerks yclad in greenish cloke, Like Turkish Priests. if Amoritish ground We call 't, no cause that title to revoke. But of this Land to this effect old Mnemon spoke.

34

I travelled in Psittacusa Lond: Th' Inhabitants the lesser Adamah Do call it; but then Adam I have found It ancienter, if so I safely may Unfold th' antiquity. They by one day Are elder then old Adam, and by one At least are younger then Arcadia. O' th' sixth day Adam had's creation; Those on the fifth, the Arcades before the Moon.

35

In this same Land as I was on the rode, A nimble traveller me overtook: Fairly together on the way we yode. Tho I gan closely on his person look; And eye his garb: He straight occasion took To entertain discourse, though none I raught, But unprovok'd he first me undertook: So soon as he gan talk, then straight I laught: The Sage himself represt, but thought me nigh distraught.

36

His concave nose, great head, and grave aspect, Affected tone, words without inward sense, My inly tickled spright made me detect By outward laughter; but by best pretence I purg'd my self, and gave due reverence. Then he gan gravely treat of codicils, And of Book-readings passing excellence, And tri'd his wit in praysing gooses quills: O happy age! quoth he, the world Minerva fills.

37

I gave the talk to him, which pleas'd him well: For then he seem'd a learned clerk to been, When none contrary'd his uncontrolled spell, But I, alas! though unto him unseen, Did flow with tears, as if that onyons keen Had pierc'd mine eyen. Strange vertue of fond joy: They ought to weep that be in heavie teen. But nought my lightsome heart did then annoy: So light it lay, it mov'd at every windie toy.

38

As we yode softly on, a Yongster gent With bever cock't, and arm set on one side (His youthfull fire quickly our pace out-went) Full fiercely pricked on in madcap pride, The mettle of his horses heels he tri'd, He hasted to his countrey Pithecuse. Most haste, worst speed: still on our way we ride, And him o'retake halting through haplesse bruize; We help him up again, our help he nould refuse.

39

Then gan the learn'd and ag'd Don Psittaco, When he another auditour had got, To spruse his plumes, and wisdome sage to show, And with his sacred lore to wash the spot Of youthfull blemishes; but frequent jot Of his hard setting jade did so confound The words that he by paper-stealth had got, That their lost sense the yongster could not sound, Though he with mimicall attention did abound.

40

Yet some of those faint winged words came near, Of God, of Adam, and the shape divine, Which Adams children have; (these pierc'd his eare) And how that man is lord of every kind Of beasts, of birds, and of each hidden mine Of natures treasures. He to Adams sonne The wide world for his kingdome doth designe: And ever naming God, he lookd aboven: Pithecus straight plac'd God a thought above the Moon.

41

Pithecus, so they call this gentle wight, The docible young man eas'ly could trace His masters steps, most quick and expedite. When Psittaco look'd up to holy place, Pithecus straight with sanctimonious grace Cast up his eyes; and when the shape divine, Which Adam had from God, he gan to praise, Pithecus draws himself straight from that line, And phansies his sweet face with heavenly hiew to shine.

42

He pincht his hat, and from his horses side Stretcht forth his russet legs, himself inclin'd Now here, now there, and most exactly eyed His comely lineaments, that he might find What ever beauty else he had not mind As yet in his fair corse. But that full right And vast prerogative did so vnbind His straighted sprights, that with tyrannick might He forc'd his feeble beast, and straight fled out of sight.

43

Then I and Psittaco were left alone; And which was strange, he deeply silent was: Whether some inward grief he from that son, Conceiv'd, and deemed it no small disgrace That that bold youngster should so little passe His learned speech; or whether nought to sain He had then left; or whether a wild chase Of flitting inconsistent thoughts he than Pursu'd, which turn'd and toy'd in his confused brain.

44

Or whether he was woxen so discreet, As not to speak till fit occasion. (To judge the best, that Charity counts meet) Therefore that Senior sad I gan anon Thus to bespeak: Good Sir, I crave pardon If so I chance to break that golden twist You spin, by rude interpellation, That twist of choicest thoughts, No whit I miss'd The mark I aimed at; to speak he had great list.

45

So then his spirits gan to come again, And to enact his corps and impart might Unto his languide tongue, and every vein Received heat, when due conceived right I did to him; and weend he plainly see't That I was toucht with admiration Of his deep learning, and quick shifting sight. Then I gan quire of the wide Behiron. Behiron, quoth that Sage, that hight Anthropion.

46

Anthropion we call't; but th' holy tongue (His learning lay in words) that Behiron Which we Anthropion, calls, as I among The Rabbins read: but sooth to say, no tone, Nor tongue, or speech, so sweet as is our own, Or so significant. For mark the sense: From 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 is Anthropion; And we are all of an upright presence; Nor I'll be drawn from this conceit by no pretence.

47

I prais'd his steddy faith and confidence, That stood as fast as trunk or rock of stone; Yet nathelesse, said I, the excellence Of stedfastnesse is not to yield to none, But stiff to stand till mov'd by right reason; And then by yielding, part of victory To gain. What fitnesse in Anthropion? Baboons, and Apes, as well as th' Anthropi Do go upright, and beasts grown mad do view the sky.

48

Then marken well what great affinitie There is twixt Ape, mad Beast, and Satyrs wild, And the Inhabitants of Anthropie, When they are destitute of manners mild, And th' inward man with brutishnesse defil'd Hath life and love and lust and cogitation Fixt in foul sense, or moving in false guile; That holy tongue the better nomination, So farre, I know, may give: 'Tis ghesse, not full perswasion.

49

Therefore, O learned Sir, aread aright, What may this word Behiron signifie? He wondrous glad to shew his Grammar-might, This same word Behiron doth signifie The bruti shnature, or brutallitie, Said he: and with his voice lift up his front. Then I his skill did gaily magnifie, And blest me, I an idiot should light on't So happily, that never was a scholar count;

50

And said, Then holy tongue is on my side; And holy tongue is better then profane. He angry at his courtesie, reply'd, That learned men ought for to entertain Discourse of learned tongues, and countrey swain Of countrey 'fairs. But for to answer thee, This I dare warrant surely to maintain, If to contrair the holy tongue should be Absurd, I find enough such contrariety,

51

Then I in simple sort him answered thus, I ken not the strange guize of learned Schools, But if Gods thoughts be contrair unto us, Let not deep wonderment possesse our souls, If he call fools wisemen, and wisemen fools. If rich he poore men term, if poore men rich, If crafty States-men, filly countrey gulls, Beasts men, men beasts, with many other such: God seeth not as man seeth, God speaks not in mans speech.

52

Straight he to higher pearch, like bird in cage, Did skip, and sang of etern Destiny, Of sight and foresight he with count'nance sage Did speak, and did unfold Gods secresie, And left untoucht no hidden mystery. I lowly louting held my cap in hond: He askt what meant that so sudden coursie. I pardon crave, said I, for manners fond; You are Heavens Privy-Counsellour I understond,

53

Which I wist not before: so deep insight Into the hidden things of God who can Attain unto, without that quickning spright Of the true God? Who knows the mind of man But that same spright that in his breast doth won? Therefore the key of Gods hid secresie Is his own spright, that's proper to the Son, And those of that second nativity, Which holy Temples are of the Divinity.

54

Therefore as th' sacred Seat o' th' Deity, I unto you seemly behaviour make, If you be such as you may seem to be. It is mans nature easily to mistake. My words his mind did quite asunder break: For he full forward was all to assume That might him gild with glory, and pertake With God; and joyed greatly in vain fume, And prided much himself in his purloined plume.

55

So that full loth he was for to undo My fairly winded up conclusion; Yet inwardly did not assent unto My premises: for foul presumption He thought, if that a private idiot man By his new birth should either equallize, Or else outstrip the bookish nation. Perhaps some foul deformities disguise Their life: tush! that to knowledge is no prejudice.

56

But he nould say so: for why? he was bent To keep the credit which he then had got, As he conceiv'd: for it had been yblent; It might have hazarded half of his lot, To wit his god-like hue withouten spot, If so be such deep knowledge could consist With wicked life: but he nould lose one jot Of his so high esteem, nor me resist. So I escap'd the souse of his contracted fist.

57

And here I think we both as dumb had been As were the slow-foot beasts on which we rode Had not Don Psittaco by fortune seen A place which well he knew though disallow'd; Which he to me with earnest countenance show'd Histing me nearer; nearer both we go And closely under the thick hedges crowd, Which were not yet so thick but they did show Through their false sprays all the whole place and persons too.

58

It was to weet, a trimly decked Close Whose grassie pavement wrought with even line Ran from the Morn upon the Evening-close. The Eastern end by certain steps they climbe To do their holy things, (O sight divine!) There on the middle of the highest flore A large geen turf squar'd out, all fresh and fine Not much unlike to Altars us'd of yore Right fairly was adorn'd with every glittering flower.

59

At either end of this well raised sod A stately stalk shot up of Torchwort high Whose yellow flames small light did cast abroad But yet a pleasant shew they yield the eye. A pretty space from this we did descry An hollow Oak, whose navell the rough saw Long since had clove: so standing wet and dry Around the stumped top sof•• mosse did grow Whose velvet hue and verdure cushion-like did show.

60

Within the higher hedge of thickn'd trees A lower rank on either side we saw Of lesser sh••ubs even-set with artifice. There the wood-queristers sac on a row And sweetly sung while Boreas did blow Above their heads, with various whistling As his blasts hap to break (now high, now low) Against the branches of the waving Pines And other neighbour plants, still rocking with the Winds.

61

But above these birds of more sightly plume With gold and purple feathers gayly dight Are rank'd aloft. But th' Eagle doth assume The highest sprig. For his it is by right. Therefore in seemly sort he there is pight Sitting aloft in his green Cabinet From whence he all beholds with awfull sight, Who ever in that solemne place were met, At the West end for better view, right stately set.

62

After a song loud chanted by that Quire Tun'd to the whistling of the hollow winde Comes out a gay Pye in his rich attire The snowie white with the black sattin shin'd, On's head a silken cap he wore unlin'd: When he had hopped to the middle flore His bowing head right lowly he inclin'd As if some Deity he did adore, And seemly gestures make courting the Heavenly powr.

63

Thus cring'd he toward th' East with shivering wings With eyes on the square sod devoutly bent. Then with short flight up to the Oak he springs Where he thrice congied after his ascent With posture chang'd from th' East to th'Occident, Thrice bowed he down and easily thrice he rose; Bow'd down so low as if 't had been's intent On the green mosse to wipe his swarthy nose. Anon he chatters loud, but why himself best knows.

64

There we him leave, impatient of stay My self amaz'd such actions to see And pretty gestures 'mongst those creatures gay: So unexpected Uniformitie, And such a semblance of due piety: For every Crow as when he cries for rain Did Eastward nod; and every Daw we see When they first entered this grassie Plain With shaking wings and bended bills ador'd the same.

65

O that the spirit of Pythagoras Would now invade my breast, dear Psittaco! Said I. In nature he so cunning was As both the mind of birds and beasts to know, What meant their voyces and their gestures too. So might we riddle out some mystery Which lieth hid in this strange uncouth show; But thy grave self may be as wise as he I wote. Aread then Psittaco what sights these be.

66

Certs, said he, thine eyes be waxen dim These be the people of wide Adamah These be no birds, 'tis true, they're sons of sin And vessels of Heavens ire, for sooth to say They have no faith, I fear nor ever may, But be shap'd out for everlasting shame, Thou ghthey deride us of Psittacusa: Yet well I wot, we have the onely name Above, and though all foul yet there devoyd of blame.

67

And that green spot which thou maist deem a Close It is to them no Close but holy place Ycleep'd a Church, vvhose sight doth well dispose Approaching souls. The rest thy self maist trace By true analogy, But I'll not passe One thing remarkable, said he to me. It was Don Pico took the preaching place A man of mighty power in his own See; A man, no bird, as he did fondly seem to thee.

68

Mn. Tell then Don Psittaco, what Pico ment By his three bowings to the setting Sun And single obesance toward th' Orient. What! were they postures of Religion? If so; why had those yellow flames but one? The Eagle three? That th'Eagle was his God It is, said he, a strong presumption, Whom he first slightly in that holy sod After ador'd more fully with a triple nod.

69

Certes, quoth I, such Majesty divine And seemly graces in the Eagle be That they the gentle heart may well incline To all respect and due civility. But if that worship civill be, said he, Certes, Don Pico can not well excuse Himself from fault of impious flattery His holy gestures streightway thus to use To mortall man, redoubling thrice the bold abuse.

70

But well observe, said I, the motion. While he draws lowly back his demure bill Making it touch the mossie cushion, His moving Karkas shrinketh nearer still Toward the sacred sod. What then, quoth he, was it in Pico's mind That solemn service with four ducks to fill But one before, the other three behind. My duller wit, said I, the mystery cannot find.

71

Ps. But I can find it. Superstition And flattery, have made Don Pieo blind. These interfare in fond confusion. But both conspire to hold up his swoln mind In supercilious pride and wayes unkind. For he doth dominere o're Psittacuse. Dear Psittacuse! when shalt thou once outwind Thy self from this sad yoke? who brings the news Of Sions full release from scorn and foul abuse?

72

O had we once the power in our hands How carefully the youth wee'd catechise, But bind Gods enemies in iron bands (Such honour have his Sainrs) and would devise Set forms of Truth, on Discipline advise That unto both all men might needs conform. Mn. But what if any tender heart denies? Ps. If he will his own fortunes overturn It cannot well be holp, we must be uniform.

73

Mn. Good reason too, said I. Don Pico grave The self same doctrine preacheth as I hear. But Reverend Psittaco, let me freedome crave To ask one question, Is't because 't's so clear That who so shall dissent shall pay so dear. Or will you in those things you do not know But be uncertain, certain mischief bear To them that due assent cannot bestow? It is in such, said he, that we for certain know.

74

But how know you those things for certainty? By Reason, Scripture, or the Spirit divine, Or lastly by Churches Authority? With that Don Psittaco cast up his eyen Brim ful of thoughts to solve this knot of mine. But in the fall of his high-gazing sight He spide two on the rode he did divine To be of his acquaintance, them we meet, Forthwith Don Psittaco the strangers kindly greet.

75

And he them both seemly salutes again. The one on a lean fiery jade did fit And seem'd a wight of a right subtile brain. Both cloth'd as black as jet. But he was fit With a dry wall-nut shell to fence his wit. Which like a quilted cap on's head he wore Lin'd with whire taffity, wherein were writ More trimly than the Iliads of yore The laws of Mood and Figureand many precepts more.

76

All the nice questions of the School-men old And subtilties as thin as cobwebs bet, Which he wore thinner in his thoughts yrold. And his warm brains, they say, were closer set With sharp distinctions than a cushionet With pins and needles; which he can shoot out Like angry Porcupine, where e're they hit. Certes a doughty Clerk and Champion stout He seem'd and well appointed against every doubt.

77

The other rod on a fat resty jade That neighed loud. His rider was not lean. His black plump belly fairly outward swai'd And pressed somewhat hard on th' horses mane. Most like methought to a Cathedrall Dean. A man of prudence and great courtesie And wisely in the world he knew to glean. His sweaty neck did shine right greasily Top heavy was his head with earthly policy.

78

This wight Corvino, Psittacus me told Was named, and the other Graculo. They both of his acquaintance were of old Though to near freindship now they did not owe. But yet in generalls agreed, I trow. For they all dearly hug dominion, And love to hold mens consciences in awe Each standing stiff for his opinion In holy things, against all contradiction.

79

But most of all Corvin and Psittaco Prudentiall men and of a mighty reach Who through their wisdome sage th' events foreknow Of future things; and confidently preach Unlesse there be a form which men must teach Of sound opinions (each meaning his own) But t' be left free to doubt and count••••••-speech Authority is lost, our trade is gone Our Tyrian wares forsaken, we, alas! shall mone.

80

Or at the best our life will bitter be: For we must toyle to make our doctrine good. Which will empart the firsh and weak the knee. Our m••nd cannot attend our trencher-food, Nor be let loose 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sue the worldly good. All's our dear wives, poore wenches! they alone Mustly long part of night when we withstood By scrupulous wits must watch to nights high Noon Till all our members grow as cold as any stone.

81

Heaps of such inconveniences arise From Conscience-freedome, Christian liberty. Beside our office all men will despise Unlesse our lives gain us Autority. Which in good sooth a harder task will be. Dear brethren! sacred souls of Behiron! Help, help as you desire to liven free To ease, to wealth, to honour, and renown And sway th' affrighted world with your disguized frown.

82

This is the Genius of Corvino sage And Psittaco falls little short in wit, Though short he fall of old Corvino's age, His steppings with the other footsteps fit. And heavens bright eye it will aware of it. But now me lists few passages to show Amongst us foure when we together met Occasion'd first by hardy Psittaco Who Corvin did accost and nutshell Graculo.

83

Brethren! said he, (and held by holy belt Corvino grave, ne did his hands abhor't When he the black filk rope soft fimbling felt And with his fingers milked evermore The hanging frienge) one thing perplexeth sore My reason weak and puzled thoughts, said he. Tell then, ye learn•••• Clerks, which of these foure To weet, from Scripture, Church authority, Gods Spirit, or mans Reason is Faiths Certainty.

84

For, well I wot, our selves must fully assent To points of Faith we rigidly obtrude On others, else there is no punishment Due to gainsayers. Corvin here indewd With singular gravity this point pursu'd, Saying that all belief is solv'd at last Into the Church, ne may the people rude Nor learned wit her honour dare to blast Nor scrupulous thoughts, nor doubtfull queres out to cast.

85

Strait Graculo with eyes as fierce as Ferrit Reply'd: If all mens faith resolved be Into each Church, all nations shall inherit For ever their Ancestours Idolatry. An Indian ever shall an Indian be A Turk a Turk. To this Corvin anon; I give not this infallibility To every Church, but onely to our own Full witnesse to her self of all the truths she'll own.

86

Gr. That then is truth what she will say is true. But not unlesse her the true Church thou hold. How knowst thou then her such, good Corvin shew. Friend Graculo in talk we be too bold. Let's go, I fear my self and horse take cold. But t' answer to that question, 'fore we go The Church is true as she her self me told. A goodly answer said Don Graculo. You dispute in a Circle as all Logicians know.

87

Here Psittaco could not but inly smile To see how Graculo Corvin did orecrow, And fair replying with demeanance mild, The truth, said he, the Scriptures onely show. Streight nimble Graculus; But who can know The sense of Scripture without reason sound? The Scripture is both key and treasure too It opes it self (so said that Clerk profound) This place with that compar'd. This is the strongest ground.

88

Gr But what with judgement doth them both compare? Is't reason or unreasonablenesse, I pray. To which grave Psittacus, you so subtill are, I list not with such cunning wits to play. Here I stept in and thus began to say. Right worthy Clerks, for so you be I ween, Your queint discourse your breedings doth bewray, Long time you have at learned Athens been And all the dainty tricks of Art and Science seen.

89

If me a stranger wight it may be beseem But homely bred, as yet unripe in years, Who conscious of his weaknesses doth deem Himself unfit to speak among his peers, Much more unfit for your judicious ears Whom Age and Arts do equally adorn And solemne habit no small semblance bears Of highest knowledge, might I be but born A word or two to speak, now would I take my turn.

90

Say on said Psittaco. There's a third, said I, Nor reason nor unreasonablenesse hight. Here Graccus. The disjunction you deny. Then I, There is a third ycleep'd Gods spright Nor reason nor unreasonablenesse hight. Corvino straight foam'd like his champing jade And said I was a very silly wight, And how through melancholy I was mad And unto private spirits all holy truth betray'd.

91

But I nould with like fury him invade But mildly as I mought made this reply. Gods Spirit is no private empty shade But that great Ghost that fills both earth and sky, And through the boundlesse Universe dothly, Shining through purged hearts and simple minds When doubling clouds of thick hypocrisie Be blown away with strongly brushing winds; Who first this tempest feels the Sun he after finds.

92

Thus wise and godly men I hear to teach, And know no hurt this doctrine to believe. Certes it much occasion doth reach To leave the world and holily to live. All due observance to Gods laws to give. With care and diligence to maken pure Those vessels that this heavenly dew receive. But most in point of faith sleep too secure And want this bait their souls to goodnesse to allure.

93

For they believen as the Church believes Never expecting any other light. And hence it is, each one so loosely lives, Hopelesse of help from that internall spright. Enough! said Graculo, Corvino's right. Let's hear, dispute in figure and in mood. And stifly with smart syllogismes fight That what thou wouldst may wel be understood, But now thou rovest out, and rav'st as thou wert wood.

94

Reason I say all Scripture sense must judge Do thou one reason 'gainst this truth produce: Reason, said I, in humane things may drudge But in divine thy soul it may seduce. Gr. Prove that. Mn. I prove it thus. For reasons use Back'd with advantage of all sciences, Of Arts, of tongues, cannot such light transfuse But that most learned men do think amisse In highest points divided as well you know, I wisse.

95

Here Graculo learing up with one eye View'd the broad Heavens long resting in a pause And all the while he held his neck awry Like listning daw, turning his nimble nose, At last these words his silent tongue did loose. What is this spirit, say what's this spirit, man! Who has it, answer'd I, he onely knows. 'Tis the hid Manna and the graven stone. He canteth, said Corvine, come Grac, let's be gone.

96

But Grac stayd still this question to move. Doth not, said he, reason to us descry What things soever reasonable prove? Not so. For the whole world that ope doth lie Unto our sight, not reason but our eye Discovers first, but upon that fair view Our reason takes occasion to trie Her proper skill and curiously pursue The Art and sweet contrivance Heaven and Earth do shew.

97

There's no man colour smels, or sees a sound, Nor sucks the labour of the h••••y-bee With's hungry lugs, nor binds a gaping wound With's slippery ey-balls. Every feculty And object have their due Analogy, Nor can reach further than it's proper sphear. Who divine sense by reason would descry Unto the Sun-shine listons with his ear. So plain this truth to me, Don Graco, doth appear.

98

How then, said Graco, is the spirit known If not by reason? To this I replyde, Onely the spirit can the spirit own. But this, said he, is back again to slide And in an idle Circle round to ride. Why so, said I, Is not light seen by light? Streight Graculo did skilfully divide All knowledge into sense and reason right. Be't so, said I, Don Graco, what's this reasons might?

99

If then said he, the spirit may not be Right reason, surely we must deem it sense. Yes sense it is, this was my short reply: Sense upon which holy Intelligence And heavenly Reason and comely Prudence (O beauteous branches of that root divine!) Do springen up, through inly experience Of Gods hid wayes, as he doth ope the ey'n Of our dark souls and in our hearts his light enshrine.

100

Here Graculus did seem exceeding glad On any terms to hear but reason nam'd, And with great joy and jollity he bad A dew to me as if that he had gain'd The victory. Besides Corvino blam'd His too long stay. Wherefore he forward goes Now more confirm'd his Nutshell-cap contain'd What ever any living mortall knows. Ne longer would he stay this sweet conceit to loose.

101

Thus Psittaco and I alone were left In sober silence holding on our way. His musing skull, poor man! was well nigh cleft By strong distracting thoughts drove either way; Whom pittying I thus began to say. Dear Psittaco what anxious thoughts oppresse Thy carefull heart and musing mind dismay? I am perplexed much I must confesse Said he, and thou art authour of my heavinesse.

102

My self Corvino's Church-Autority No certain ground of holy truth do deem. And Scripture the next ground alledg'd by me By Graco was confuted well, I ween. But thou as in these points farre deeper seen Than either Corvin or Don Graculo Yea than my self, assent doth almost win That Church nor Scripture, cast in reason too Can to our searching minds truth's hidden treasures show.

103

Wherefore a fourth, sole ground of certainty Thou didst produce; to weet, the Spirit divine. But now, alas! here is the misery, That left to doubt we cannot well enjoyn Nor this nor that, nor Faith-forms freely coyn And make the trembling conscience swear thereto, For we our selves do but ghesse and divine What we force other men to swear is true, Untill the day-star rise our eyes with light t' embew.

104

Which gift though it be given to me and you, Mn. (Not unto me, courteous Don Psittaco!) Ps. Yet certainly there be but very few That so sublime a pitch ascend unto. Mn. My self, alas! a silly Swain I know So far from solving these hard knots, said I, That more and harder my ranck brain o're grow And wonder that thy quick sagacity Doth not winde out a further inconveniency.

105

If light divine we know by divine light Nor can by any other means it see This ties their hands from force that have the spirit. How can, said Psittaco, these things agree? For without force vain is Church-Polity; Mn. But to use force 'gainst men that thing to do In which they 've not the least ability May seem unjust and violent; I trow, Gainst reason, 'gainst Religion, 'gainst all sence and law.

106

For 'tis as if the King of Arragon Who was well skilled in Astronomy, Should by decree deprive each Countrey Clown Of life, of lands, or of sweet liberty That would not fully avow each star in sky Were bigger then the Earth. Here Psittaco Though what I said did not well satisfie His grave judicious self, yet he did know Of whom this talk much 'plause would gain and kindnesse too:

107

And straight gan say. Dear Glaucis! hadst thou been At this discourse, how would thy joyous spright Have danc'd along. For thou art or well seen In these queint points, or dost at least delight Exceeding much to hear them open'd right. And, well I wot, on earth scarce can be found So witty girl, so wily female wight As this my Glaucis, over all renown'd; I mean for quicker parts, if not for judgment sound.

108

How fit an Auditour would she then prov'd To thee, young Mnemon? how had she admired Thy sifting wit, thy speech and person lov'd, Clove to that mouth with melting zeal all fired, And hung upon those lips so highly inspired? Mn. Certes she'd been a bold immodest wight To come so near when not at all desired, Ps. Alas! good Mnemon you mistake me quite I meant no fond salutes, bu what is just and right;

109

Her due attention on thy wise discourse, Though what thou deemst, and more then thou didst deem May fit you too. For why? by Natures course Like joyn with like: wherefore, right well I ween, Mought I but make the match 't would well beseem. For your conspiring minds exactly agree In points, which the wide world through wrath and teen Rudely divide, I mean free Liberty. Be 't so, said I, yet may our grounds farre different be.

110

For might I but repeat without offence What I have heard, ill symtomes men descry In this thy Glaucis, though the nimble wench So dexterously can pray and prophecy, And lectures read of drad mortality, Clasping her palms with fatall noise and shreeks, Inculcating approching misery To sad afflicted houses, when she strikes With brushing strokes the glassie doors and entrance seeks.

111

Nor doth her solemne looks much like her Sire Or native zeal which she did once derive From thee grave Psittaco! exalt her higher Then Earth and Nature: For men do conceive Black sanguine fumes my spouse do thus deceive Translating her into fools Paradise And so of sense and reason her bereave, And that that melting love which doth so please Her gulled soul, the thawing is of her own grease.

112

The naturall spright it self doth sweetly hug In false conceit and ill-deceiving guile, Sucking fond solace from it's own dear dug, Like the mistaken Cat that lick'd the file And drawing bloud, uncessantly did toyl To suck hat sweet, as if there Moses rock Had swet new milk. Thus Glaucis doth beguil Her likorish taste, als' doth delude her flock, Teaching them suck themselves, their empty souls to mock.

113

Thus they intoxicate with their own bloud Mistaken Elves! deem it no worse a thing Then pure Ambrosian Nectar fresh and good, In golden streams that from great Jove did spring: And count themselves His onely choice Ofspring Upon no count but that their count is so. O sweet conceit! full joy! Soul-ravishing Delight! Pure faith! Self-love keep close thereto. Allow but this to us, we'll any thing allow.

114

Besides the fixednesse of th' eternall Fates And Adamantine laws of Gods decree Whereby immutably he loves and hates May prove new grounds of Glaucis liberty. No danger then nor detriment can be To his own people whom of old he chose From the out goings of Eternity. No infecting poyson may them ill dispose. What worthlesse wit of man this puzling knot may loose.

115

Did not I tell thee what a wily lasse, Said Psittace, my daughter Glaux would prove? And well perceiving how averse I was From her strange manners, left all suits of love, And straight gan show me how she did improve Her principles to lewdnesse and excesse: Secure, no fault, no filth can ever move Her Maker to dislike, no unrighteousnesse Can hurt her soul, ne sorrow needs she to expresse.

116

Thus in the wicked wench rank fields do grow Of Rapine, Riot, Lust, and Covetize, Of Pride, of Sacriledge, and a thousand moe Disorders, which no mortall can devise, Said I, from ought, but that mistake t' arise Of naked Faith disjoyn'd from Purity. So with full bitter words he did chastise His absent child; but whether zeal it be, Or deep conceived hatred, I no'te well descry.

117

Nor stopt he here, but told me all her guise How law-lesse quite and out of shape she's grown Affecting still wilde contrarieties, Averse from what for good all others own. Preposterous Girl! how often hast thou thrown Thy self into dark corners at Mid-day, And then at dead of Night away art flown To some old barn, thereon to preach and pray Ending thy dark devotions just at Break of day.

118

When others sleep or weep, then dost thou sing In frosty night on neighbours chimney set, When others fast 'ginst thou thy revelling; Thy lustfull sparrows greedily dost eat, Which thou by bloud and violence dost get. When others eyes plainly can nothing see, Then thy prodigious lamps by night unwet And unblown-out, can read right readily Withouten spectacles, the smallest prints that be.

119

If chance or free election ever brings Thee to our Churches, then with hooting wild, Thou causest uproars, and our holy things Font, Table, Pulpit, they be all defil'd With thy broad mutings and large squirtings vilde. Mn. Phy; Psittaco! hide such infirmities From stranger wight: Who would his own dear child Thus shamefully disgrace? With mine own eyes Have I thy Glaucis seen, and better things surmise.

120

Good sooth, methinks, she is not so defac'd And all mishapen, and grown out of square, But that my self most evidently trac'd Thy comely feature in her visage bare. Spare then thy self, if her thou wilt not spare. Ill may it seem what thine own strength begot With foul reproach and shame thus to besmear, And through thy zeal thine own great name to blot: To two so worthy wights befall some better lot.

121

Thus in my youth, said Mnemon, did I use With Reverend Ignorance to sport and toy, And slily would obnoxius Age abuse; For I was a crank wit, a brisk young boy; But naturally abhorr'd hypocrisie, And craft the upshot of experienc'd Age; And more then life I lov'd my liberty, And much suspected all that would engage My heart to their own sect, and free-born soul encage.

122

For I ev'n at those years was well aware Of mans false friendship, and grown subtilty, Which made me snuf the wind, drink the free aire Like a young Colt upon the mountains high, And turning tail my hunters all defie. Ne took I any guide but th' innate light Of my true Conscience, whose voice to deny, Was the sole sting of my offended spright: Thus God and Nature taught their rude Cosmopolite.

123

I mean not Natures harsh obdurate light, The shamelesse eye-brows of the Serpent old, That arm'd with custome will not stick to fight With God and him affront with courage bold: But that sweet temper we may oft behold In virgin Youth as yet immaculate, And unto drudging Policy unsold, Who do without designe, now love, now hate And freely give and take withouten price or rate.

124

Dear lads! How do I love your harmlesse years And melt in heart while I the Morning-shine Do view of rising virtue which appears In your sweet faces, and mild modest eyne. Adore that God that doth himself enshrine In your untainted breasts; and give no eare To wicked voice that may your souls encline Unto false peace, or unto fruitlesse fear, Least loosened from your selves Harpyes away you bear.

125

Abstain from censure, seek and you shall find, Drink your own waters drawn from living well, Mend in your selves what ill elsewhere you mind, Deal so with men as you would have them deal, Honour the Aged that it may go well With you in Age: For I my self indeed Have born much scorn for these pranks, I you tell, By boyes oft bearded, which I deem the meed Of my abusive youth. But now I will pr••ceed.

126

By this we came into a way that did Divide it self into three parts; the one To Leontopolis; that in the mid Did lead straight forth out of wide Beiron, That was the way that I mought take alone; The third way led unto Onopolis, And thitherward Don Psittaco put on. With both these towns Alopecopolis Is in firm league, and golden Myrmecopoln.

127

For nothing they attempt without the aid Of these two Cities. They'll not wagen war, Nor peace conclude, nor permit any trade, Nor make decrees, nor slake the civil jar, Nor take up private wrongs, nor plead at bar, Nor Temples consecrate, nor Mattins say; They nought begin divine or secular, But they advisen with those Cities tway. Opotent Citizens that bear so great a sway!

128

No truth of justice in Beîrah lond. No sincere faith void of she subtilty, That alwayes seeks it self, is to be found; But law delusion and false Polity, False Polity that into Tyrannie Would quickly wend, did not stern Fear restrain And keep in aw. Th' Onites Democracy Is nought but a large hungry tyrant-train: Oppression from the poore is an all-sweeping rain.

129

A sweeping torrent that beats down the corn, And wasts the oxens labour, head-long throws The tallest trees up by the root ytorn, Its ranging force in all the land it shows; Woods rent from hence, its rowling rage bestows In other places that were bare before, With muddied arms of trees the earth it strows; The list'ning shepherd is amazed sore, While it with swift descent so hideously doth rore.

130

Such is the out-rage of Democracie, When fearlesse it doth rule in Beîrah: And little better is false Monarchy, When it in this same countrey bears the sway. (Is 't not a part of Autaesthesia?) So to an inward sucking whirl pools close They change this swelling torrents surquedry, Much treasure it draws in, and doth inclose In 'ts winding mouth, but whither then, there's no man knows.

131

O falsest Beironites, what gars you plain One of another, and vainly accuse, Of foul offence? when you all entertain Tyrannick thoughts. You all alike do muse Of your own private good, though with abuse Of those you can tread down with safety, No way to wealth or honour you refuse. False Oneple doth grudge, and grone, and cry, Because she is denied a greater tyranny.

132

Two of that City whylorn on the way, With languid lugs, and count'nance gravely sad, Did deeply sigh, and rudely rough did bray 'Gainst Leontopolis. The equall pad Of justice now, alas! is seldome trad, Said they; The Lions might is law and right. Where's love or mercy now? with that out strad A little dog, his dames onely delight, And ran near to their tails, and bark'd with all his might.

133

The surly irefull Onopolitan Without all mercy kickt with yron heel The little bawling curre, that at him ran; It made his feeble corse to th' earth to reel, That was so pierc'd with the imprinted steel, That it might grieve a heart of flinty stone. No herbs, no salves the breach could ever heal; The good old wife did then keep house alone, False hearted carles, is this your great compassion?

134

There's no society in Behirah, But beastlike grazing in one pasture ground. No love but of the animated clay With beauties fading flowers trimly crown'd, Or from strong sympathies heart-striking stound. No order but what riches strength and wit Prescribe. So bad the good eas'ly confound. Is H••••••esty in such unruly fit 〈…〉〈…〉 ••eld in no rank? they 'steem it not a whit.

135

But I am weary of this uncouth place; If any man their bad condition And brutish manners listeth for to trace; We may them read in the creation Of this wide Sensible; where every passion Of birds and beasts distinctly do display To but an ord'nary imagination, The life and soul of them in Behirah: This Behirah that hight the greater Adamah.

136

The swelling hatefull Toad, industrious Ant, Lascivious Goat, Parrot, or prating Py, The kingly Lion, docil Elephant, All-imitating Ape, gay Butterfly, The crafty Fox famous for subtilty, Majestick Horse, the beast that twixt two trees (A fit resemblance of foul gluttonny) When he hath fil'd his gorge, himself doth squeeze To feed afresh, Court Spaniels, and politick Bees;

137

With many more which I list not repeat; Some foul, some fair: to th' fair the name they give Of holy virtues; but 'tis but deceit, None in Beiron virtuously do live; None in that land so much as ever strive For truth of virtue, though sometimes they wont, As Swine do Swine, their own blood to relieve. Beiron's all bruits, the true manhood they want, If outward form you pierce with phansie fulminant.

138

So having got experience enough Of this ill land, for nothing there was new, My purpose I held on, and rode quite through That middle way, and did th' extremes eschew. When I came near the end there was in view No passage: for the wall was very high, But there no doore to me it self did shew: Looking about at length I did espy A lively youth, to whom I presently gan cry.

139

More willing he's to come then I to call: Simon he hight, who also's cal'd a Rock: Simon is that obedientiall Nature, who boysterous seas and winds doth mock; No tempest can him move with fiercest shock; The house that's thereon built doth surely stand, Nor blustring storm, nor rapid torrents stroke Can make it fall; it easily doth withstand The gates of Death and Hell, and all the Stygian band.

140

When I gan call, forthwith in seemly sort He me approch'd in decent russet clad, More fit for labour then the flaunting Court. When he came near, in chearfull wise he bad Tell what I would: then I unto the lad Gan thus reply; alas! too long astray Here have I trampled foul Behirons pad: Out of this land I thought this the next way, But I no gate can find, so vain is mine assay.

141

Then the wise youth, Good Sir, you look too high: The wall aloft is rais'd; but that same doore Where you must passe in deep descent doth lie: But he bad follow, he would go before. Hard by there was a place, all covered o're With stinging nettles and such weedery, The pricking thistles the hard'st legs would gore, Under the vvall a straight doore we descry; The wall hight Self-conceit; the doore Humility.

142

When we came at the doore fast lockt it was, And Simon had the key, but he nould grant That I into that other land should passe, Without I made him my Concomitant. It pleas'd me well, I mus'd not much upon't, But straight accord: for why? a jolly Swain Me thought he was; meek, chearfull, and pleasant. When he saw this, he thus to me again, Sir, See you that sad couple? Then I; I see those twain.

143

A sorry couple certainly they be. The man a bloudy knife holds at his heart With chearlesse countenance, as sad is she. Or eld, or else intolerable smart, Which she can not decline by any Art, Doth thus distort and writh her wrinkled face; A leaden Quadrate swayes hard on that part That's fit for burdens; foulnesse doth deface Her aged looks; with a strait staff her steps she stayes.

144

Right well you say, then said that lusty Swain: Yet this poore couple be my Parents dear; Nor can I hence depart without these twain: These twain give life to me, though void of chear They be themselves. Then let's all go yfere. The young mans speech caus'd sad perplexity Within my brest, but yet I did forbear, And faitly ask'd their names. He answered me: He Autaparnes hight; but she Hypomone.

145

I Simon am the son of this sad pair, Who though full harsh they seem to outward sight; Yet when to Dizoie men forth do fare, No company in all the land so meet They find as these. Their pace full well I weet, Is very flow, and so to youthfull haste Displeasing, and their counsels nothing sweet To any Beironite: but sweetest taste Doth bitter choler breed, and haste doth maken waste.

146

Nor let that breast impierc'd with weeping wound, An uncouth spectacle, disturb your mind. His blood's my food: If he his life effund To utmost death, the high God hath design'd That we both live. He in my heart shall find A seat for his transfused soul to dwell; And when that's done, this death doth eke unbind That heavie weight that doth Hypom'ne quell, Then I Anautaesthetus hight, which seems me well.

147

So both their lives do vanish into mine, And mine into Atuvus life doth melt, Which fading flux of time doth not define, Nor is by any Autaesthesian felt. This life to On the good Atuvus delt; In it's all Joy, Truth, Knowledge, Love and Force; Such force no weight created can repel't. All strength and livelyhood is from this sourse, All Lives to this first spring have circular recourse.

148

A lecture strange he seem'd to read to me; And though I did not rightly understand His meaning, yet I deemed it to be Some goodly thing, and weary of that land Where then I stood, I did not him withstand In his request, although full loth I were Slow-footed eld the journey should command; Yet we were guided by that sorry pair, And so to Dizoie full softly we do fare.

The Argument of PSYCHOZOIA, Or The life of the Soul.

CANT. III.

Strange state of Dizoie Mnemons skill Here wisely doth explain, Ida's strong charms, and Eloim-hill, With the drad dale of Ain.

1

BUt now new Stories I 'gin to relate, Which aged Mnemon unto us did tell, Whiles we on grassie bed did lie prostrate Under a shady Beach, which did repell The fiery scorching shafts which Uriel From Southern quarter darted with strong hand. No other help we had; for Gabriel His wholesome cooling blasts then quite restrain'd. The Lions flaming breath with heat parch'd all the Land.

2

Here seemly sitting down, thus gan that Sage, Last time we were together here ymet, Beirah wall, that was the utmost stage Of our discourse, if I do not forget. When we departed thence the Sun was set, Yet nathelesse we past that lofty wall That very Evening. The Nights nimble net That doth encompasse every opake ball, That swim's in liquid aire, did Simon nought apall.

3

When we that stately wall had undercrept, We straightway found our selves in Dizoie: The melting clouds chill drizzeling tears then wept; The mistie aire swet for deep agony, Swet a cold sweat, and loose frigiditie Fill'd all with a white smoke; pale Cynthia Did foul her silver limbs with filthy die, Whiles wading on she measured out her way, And cut the muddy heavens defil'd with whitish clay.

4

No light to guide but the Moons pallid ray, And that even lost in mistie troubled aire: No tract to take, there was no beaten way; No chearing strength, but that which might appear From Dians face; her face then shin'd not clear, And when it shineth clearest, little might She yieldeth, yet the goddesse is severe. Hence wrathfull dogs do bark at her dead light: Christ help the man thus clos'd and prison'd in drad Night.

5

O'rewhelm'd with irksome toyl of strange annoyes In stony stound like senselesse stake I stood, Till the vast thumps of massie hammers noise, That on the groning steel laid on such lode, Empierc'd mine ears in that sad stupid mood. I weening then some harbour to be nigh, In sory pace thitherward slowly yode, By eare directed more then by mine eye, But here, alas! I found small hospitality.

6

Foure grisly Black-smiths stoutly did their task Upon an anvile form'd in Conick wise. They neither minded who, nor what I ask, But with stern grimy look do still avise Upon their works; but I my first emprise Would not forsake, and therefore venture in. Or none hath list to speak, or none espies, Or hears; the heavy hammers never lin; And but a blue faint light in this black shop did shine.

7

There I into a darksome corner creep, And lay my weary limbs on dusty flore, Expecting still when soft down-sliding sleep Should seize mine eyes, and strength to me restore: But when with hovering wings she 'proch'd, e'remore The mighty souses those foul knaves laid on, And those huge bellows that aloud did rore, Chac'd her away that she was ever gone ••efore she came, on pitchy plumes, for fear yflone.

8

The first of those rude rascals Lypon hight, A foul great stooping slouch with heavie eyes, And hanging lip: the second ugly sight Pale Phobon, with his hedghog-hairs disguise. Aelpon is the third, he the false skies No longer trusts; The fourth of furious fashion Phrenition hight, fraught with impatiencies, The bellows be ycleep'd deep Suspiration: ••ach knave these bellows blow in mutuall circulation.

9

There is a number of these lonesome forges In Bacha vale (this was in Bacha vale) There be no Innes but these, and these but scourges; In stead of ease they work much deadly bale To those that in this lowly trench do trale Their feeble loins. Ah me! who here would fare? Sad ghosts oft crosse the way with visage pale, Sharp thorns and thistles wound their feeten bare: ••et happy is the man that here doth bear a share.

10

When I in this sad vale no little time Had measured, and oft had taken Inne, And by long penance paid for mine ill crime Methought the Sunne it self began to shine, And that I'd past Diana's discipline. But day was not yet come, 'twas perfect night: I Phoebus head from Ida hill had seen; For Ida hill doth give to men the fight, Of Phoebus form, before Aurora's silver light.

11

But Phoebus form from that high hill's not clear Nor figure perfect. It's inveloped In purple cloudy veil; and if 't appear In rounder shape with skouling dreryhed A glowing face it shows, ne rayes doth shed Of lights serenity, yet duller eyes With gazing on this irefull sight be fed Best to their pleasing; small things they will prise That never better saw, nor better can devise.

12

On Ida hill there stands a Castle strong, They that it built call it Pantheothen. (Hither resort a rascall rabble throng Of miscreant wights;) but if that wiser men May name that Fort, Pandoemoniothen They would it cleep. It is the strong'st delusion That ever Doemon wrought; the safest pen That e're held silly sheep for their confusion. Ill life and want of love, hence springs each false conclusion.

13

That rabble rout that in this Castle won, Is irefull-ignorance, Unseemly-zeal, Strong-self-conceit, Rotten-religion, Contentious-reproch-'gainst-Michael- If-he-of-Moses-body-ought-reveal- Which-their-dull-skonses-cannot-eas'ly-reach, Love-of-the-carkas, An Inept-appeal- T' uncertain papyrs, a-False-formall-fetch- Of-feigned-sighs, Contempt-of-poore-and-sinfull-wretch.

14

A deep self-love, Want of true sympathy- With all mankind, Th'admiring their own heard, Fond pride a sanctimonious cruelty 'Gainst those by whom their wrathfull minds be stird By strangling reason, and are so afeard To lose their credit with the vulgar sort; Opinion and long speech 'fore life preferr'd, Lesse reverence of God then of the Court, Fear, and despair, Evill surmises, False report:

15

Oppression-of-the-poore, Fell-rigourousnesse, Contempt-of-Government, Fiercenesse, Fleshly lust, The-measuring-of-all-true righteousnesse By-their own-modell, Cleaving unto-dust, Rash-censure, and despising- of the-just- That-are-not-of-their-sect, False-reasoning- Concerning-God, Vain-hope, needlesse mistrust, Strutting-in knowledge, Egre slavering- After hid-skill, with every inward uncouth thing.

16

These and such like be that rude Regiment, That from the glittering sword of Michae'l fly: They fly his outstretch'd arm, else were they shent If they unto this Castle did not hie, Strongly within its walls to fortifie Themselves: Great Doemon hath no stronger hold Then this high Tower. When the good Majesty Shines forth in love and light, a vapour cold And a black hellish smoke from hence doth all infold:

17

And all that love and light and offer'd might Is thus chok'd up in that foul Stygian steem: If Hells dark jawes should open in despight, And breath its inmost breath which foul'st I deem; Yet this more deadly foul I do esteem, And more contagious, which this charmed tower Ever spues forth, like that fell Dragons steem Which he from poyson'd mouth in rage did poure At her, whose first-born child his chaps might not devour.

18

But lest the rasher wit my Muse should blame, As if she did those faults appropriate (Which I even now in that black list did name) Unto Pantheothen; The self same state I dare avouch you'll find, where ever Hate Back'd with rough zeal, and bold for want of skill, All sects besides its own doth execrate. This peevish spright with wo the world doth fill, While each man all would bind to his fierce furious will.

19

O Hate! the fulsome daughter of fell Pride, Sister to surly Superstition, That clear out-shining Truth cannot abide, That loves it self and large Dominion, And in false show of a fair Union Would all encroch to 't self, would purchase all At a cheap rate, for slight Opinion. Thus cram they their wide-gaping Crumenall: But now to Ida hill me lists my feet recall.

20

No such inchantment in all Dizoie As on this hill; nor sadder sight was seen Then you may in this rufull place espy. 'Twixt two huge walls on solitary Green, Of funerall Cypresse many groves there been, And eke of Ewe, Eben, and Poppy trees: And in their gloomy shade foul grisly fiend Use to resort, and busily to seize The darker phansied souls that live in ill disease.

21

Hence you may see, if that you dare to mind, Upon the side of this accursed hil, Many a dreadfull corse ytost in wind, Which with hard halter their loathd life did spill. There li••es another which himself did kill With rusty knife, all roll'd in his own blood, And ever and anon a dolefull knill Comes from the fatall Owl, that in sad mood With drery sound doth pierce through the death-shadowed wood.

22

Who can expresse with pen the irksome state Of those that be in this strong Castle thrall? Yet hard it is this Fort to ruinate, It is so strongly fenc'd with double wall. The fiercest but of Ram no'te make them fall: The first Inevitable Destiny Of Gods Decree; the other they do call Invincible fleshie Infirmitie: But Keeper of the Tower's unfelt Hypocrisie.

23

What Poets phancies fain'd to be in Hell Are truly here, A Vulture Tytius heart Still gnaws, yet death doth never Tityus quell: Sad Sisyphus a stone with toylsome smart Doth roul up hill, but it transcends his art, To get it to the top, where it may lye, On steddy Plain, and never backward start, His course is stopt by strong. Infirmity. His roul comes to this wall, but then back it doth fly.

24

Here fifty Sisters in a sieve do draw Thorough-siping water: Tantalus is here, Who though the glory of the Lord ore-flow The earth, and doth incompasse him so near, Yet waters he, in waters doth requere. Stoop Tantalus and take those waters in. What strength of witchcraft thus blinds all yfere Twixt these two massie walls, this hold of sinne? Aye me! who shall this Fort so strongly fenced win!

25

I hear the clattering of an armed troup. My ears do ring with the strong prancers heels. (My soul get up out of thy drowsie droop, And look unto the everlasting Hills) The hollow ground, ah! how my sense it fills With sound of solid horses hoofs. A wonder It is, to think how cold my spirit thrills, With strange amaze. Who can this strength dissunder? Hark how the warlike Steeds do neigh, their necks do thunder.

26

All Milkwhite Steeds in trappings goodly gay, On which in golden letters be ywrit These words (even he that runs it readen may) True righteousnesse unto the Lord of might. O comely spectacle! O glorious sight! 'Twould easily ravish the beholders eye To see such beasts, so fair so full of spright, All in due ranks to prance so gallantly, Bearing their riders arm'd with perfect panoply.

27

In perfect silver glistring panoply They ride, the army of the highest God. Ten thousands of his Saints approchen nie, To judge the world, and rule it with his rod. They leave all plain whereever they have trod. Each Rider on his shield doth bear the Sun With golden shining beams dispread abroad, The Sun of righteousnesse at high day noon, By this same strength, I ween, this Fort is easily wonne.

28

They that but hear thereof shall straight obey; But the strange children shall false semblance make, But all hypocrisie shall soon decay, All wickednesse into that deadly lake, All darknesse thither shall it self betake. That false brood shall in their close places fade. The glory of the Lord shall ne're forsake The earth again, nor shall deaths dreadfull shade Return again. Him praise that this great day hath made.

29

This is the mighty warlick Michaels host, That easily shall wade through that foul spue Which the false Dragon casts in every coast, That the moon-trampling woman much doth rue His deadly spaul; but no hurt doth accrew To this strong army from this filthy steam. Nor horse nor man doth fear its lurid hew. They safely both can swim in this foul stream; This stream the Earth sups up cleft ope by Michaels beam.

30

But whiles it beareth sway, this poysons might Is to make sterill or prolong the birth, To cause cold palsies, and to dull the sight By sleepy sloth; the melancholick earth It doth increase, that hinders all good mirth. Yet this dead liquor dull Pantheothen Before the nectar of the Gods preferr'th. But it so weakens and disables men, That they of manhood give no goodly specimen.

31

Here one of us began to interpeal Old Mnemon. Tharrhon that young ladkin hight, He prayed this aged Sire for to reveal What way this Dragons poysonous despight, And strong Pantheothens inwalling might, We may escape. Then Mnemon thus gan say; Some strange devise, I know, each youthfull wight Would here expect, or lofty brave assay: But I'll the simple truth, in simple wise convey.

32

Good Conscience, kept with all the strength and mig! That God already unto us hath given; A presse pursuit of that foregoing light That egs us on 'cording to what we have liven, And helps us on 'cording to what we have striven, To shaken off the bonds of prejudice, Nor dote too much of that we have first conceiven; By hearty prayer to beg the sweet delice Of Gods all-loving spright: such things I you advise.

33

Can pity move the hearts of parents dear, When that their haplesse child in heavie plight Doth grieve and moan! whiles pinching tortures tear His fainting life, and doth not that sad sight Of Gods own Sonne empassion his good spright With deeper sorrow? The tender babe lies torn In us by cruell wounds from hostile might: Is Gods own life of God himself forlorn? Or was he to continuall pain of God yborn?

34

Or will you say if this be Gods own Sonne, Let him descend the Crosse: for well we ween That he'll not suffer him to be fordonne By wicked hand, if Gods own Sonne he been. But you have not those sacred mysteries seen, True-crucifying Jews! The weaker thing Is held in greot contempt in worldly eyen: But time may come when deep impierced sting Shall prick your heart, and it shall melt with sorrowing.

35

Then you shall view him whom with cruell spear You had transfix'd, true crucified Sonne Of the true God, unto his Father dear, And dear to you, nought dearer under Sun. Through this strong love and deep compassion, How vastly God his Kingdome would enlarge You'll easily see, and how with strong iron He'll quite subdue the utmost earthly verge. O foolish men! the heavens why do you fondly charge?

36

Subtimidus, when Tharrhon sped so well, Took courage to himself, and thus gan say To Mnemon; Pray you Sir vouchsafe to tell What Autaparnes and Hypomone And Simon do this while in Dizoie. With that his face shone like the rosie Morn With maiden blush from inward modesty, Which wicked wights do holden in such scorn, Sweet harmlesse Modesty a rose withouten thorn!

37

Old Mnemon lov'd the Lad even from his face, Which blamelesse blush with sanguin light had dyed; His harmlesse lucid spright with flouring grace His outward form so seemly beautified. So the old man him highly magnified For his so fit inquiry of those three; And to his question thus anon replyed, There's small recourse (till that Fort passed be) To Simon Autaparnes or Hypomone.

38

For all that space from Behirons high wall Unto Pantheothen, none dares arise From his base dunghill warmth; such Magicall Attraction his flagging soul down ties To his foul flesh: mongst which, alas! there lyes A little spark of Gods vitality, But smoreing filth so close it doth comprize That it cannot flame out nor get on high: This Province hence is hight earth-groveling Aptery.

39

But yet fair semblances these Apterites Do make of good, and sighen very sore, That God no stronger is. False hypocrites: You make no use of that great plenteous store Of Gods good strength which he doth on you pour. But you fast friends of foul carnality, And false to God, his tender sonne do gore, And plaud your selves, if 't be not mortally; Nor let you him live in ease, nor let you him fairly dy.

40

Like faithlesse wife that by her frampared guize, Peevish demeanour, sullen sad disdain Doth inly deep the spright melancholize Of her aggrieved husband, and long pain At last to some sharp sicknesse doth constrain His weakned nature to yield victory: His scorching torture then counts death a gain. But when Death comes, in womanish phrensie That froward femall wretch doth shreek and loudly cry.

41

So through her moody importunity From down right death she rescues the poore man: Self favouring sense; not that due loyaltie Doth wring from her this false compassion, Compassion that no cruelty can Well equalize. Her husband lies agast; Death on his horrid face so pale and wan Doth creep with ashy wings. He thus embrac'd Perforce too many dayes in deadly wo doth wast.

42

This is the love that's found in Aptery To Gods dear life. If they his Son present Half live, half dead, handled despightfully, Or sunk in sicknesse, or with deep wound rent, So be he's not quite dead they'r well content. And hope sure favour of his Sire to have. They have the signes how can they then be shent? The God of love for his dear life us save From such conceits, which men to sin do thus inslave.

43

But when from Aptery we were ygone, And past Pantheothens inthralling power; Then from the East chearfull Eous shone, And drave away the Nights dead lumpish stour: He took by th' hand Aurora's vernall hour; These freshly tripp'd it on the silver hills. And thorow all the fields sweet life did shower: Then gan the joyfull birds to try their skills; They skipt, they chirpt amain, they pip'd, they danc'd their fills.

44

This other Province of Dizoia Hight Pteroessa. On the flowry side Of a green bank, as I went on my way Strong youthfull Gabriel I there espide, Courting a Nymph all in her maiden pride, Not for himself: His strife was her to win To Michael, in wedlock to be tide, He promised she should be Michaels Queen, And greater things then eare hath heard, or eye hath seen:

45

This lovely Maid to Gabriel thus replide, Thanks, Sir, for your good news; but may I know Who Michael is, that would have me his Bride? Its Michael, said he, that works such woe To all that fry of Hell; and on his foe Those fiends of darknesse such great triumphs hath: The powers of sin and death he down doth mow. In this strong Arm of God have thou but faith, That in great Doemons troups doth work so wondrous scath.

46

The simple Girl believed every word, Nor did by subtile querks elude the might And proferr'd strength of the soul-loving Lord; But answered thus. Good Sir, but reade aright When shall I then appear in Michaels sight? When Gabriel had won her full assent, And well observ'd how he had flam'd her spright, He answered, After the complishment 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉

47

She willingly took the condition, And pliable she promised to be; And Gabriel sware he would wait upon Her Virginship, whiles in simplicity His masters will with all good industry She would fullfill. So here the simple Maid Strove for her self in all fidelity, Nor took her self for nothing; but she plaid Her part, she thought, as if Indentures had been made.

48

For she did not with her own self gin think So curiously, that it is God alone That gives both strengths when ever we do swink: Graces and Natures might be both from one, Who is our lifes strong sustentation. Impossible it is therefore to merit, When we poore men have nothing of our own: Certes by him alone she stands upright; And surely falls without his help in per'lous fight:

49

But we went on in Peteroessa lond. The fresh bright Morning was no small repas•• After the toil in Aptery we found, So that with merry chear we went full fast: But I observed well that in this haste Simon wax'd faint, and feeble, and decay'd, In strength and life before we far had past: And by how much his youthfull flower did fade, So much more vigour to his parents was repai'd.

50

For that old crumpled wight gan go upstraight, And Autaparnes face recovered blood! But Simon looked pale withouten might, Withouten chear, or joy, or livelyhood: Cause of all this at last I understood. For Autaparn that knife had from him cast, And almost clos'd the passage of that flood. That flood, that blood, was that which Simons taste Alone could fit; if that were gone the lad did waste.

51

And his old mother, call'd Hypomone, Did ease her back from that down-swaying weight, That leaden Quadrate, which did miserably Annoy her crasie corse; but that more light She might fare on, she in her husbands sight Threw down her load, where he threw down his blade, And from that time began the pitious plight Of sickly Simon: so we them perswade Back to retreat, and do their dying son some aid.

52

Though loth, yet at the length they do assent: So we return unto the place where lay The heavy Quadrate, and that instrument Of bleeding smart. It would a man dismay To think how that square lead her back did sway; And how the half-clos'd wound was open tore With that sharp-pointed knife: and sooth to say Simon himself was inly grieved sore, Seeing the deadly smart that his dear parents bore.

53

So we remeasure the way we had gone, Still fareing on toward Theoprepy. Great strength and comfort 'twas to think upon Our good escape from listlesse Aptery, And from the thraldome of Infirmity. Now nought perplex'd our stronger plumed spright, But what may be the blamelesse verity: Oft we conceiv'd things were transacted right: And oft we found our selves guld with strong passions might.

54

But now more feeble farre we find their force Then erst it was, when as in Aptery To strong Pantheothen they had recourse: For then a plain impossibility It was to overcome their cruelty. But here encouraged by Gabriel We strongly trust to have the victory. And if by chance they do our forces quell; It's not by strength of armes, but by some misty spell.

55

So bravely we went on withouten dread, Till at the last we came whereas a hill With steep ascent highly lift up his head: To th' aged-hoof it worken would much ill To climb this cliff; with weary ach't would fill His drier bones. But yet it's smooth and plain Upon the top. It passeth farre my skill The springs, the bowers, the walks, the goodly train Of faire chaste Nymphs that haunt that place, for to explain.

56

I saw three sisters there in seemly wise Together walking on the flowry Green, Yclad in snowy stoles of fair agguize. The glistring streams of silver waving shine, Skilfully interwove with silken line, So variously did play in that fair vest, That much it did delight my wondring eyne: Their face with Love and Vigour was ydrest, With Modesty and Joy; their tongue with just behest:

57

Their locks hung loose, A triple coronet Of flaming gold and star-like twinkling stone Of highest price, was on their temples set: The Amethist, the radiant Diamond, The Jasper, enemy to spirits won, With many other glorious for to see. These three enameld rimmes of that fair Crown Be these: the first hight Dicaeosyne, ••hilosophy the next, the last stiff Apathy.

58

I gaz'd, and mus'd and was well nigh distraught With admiration of those three maids, And could no further get, ne further saught; Down on the hill my weary limbs I laid, And fed my feeble eyes, which me betray'd Unto Loves bondage. Simon lik'd it not To see me so bewitch'd, and thus assay'd By wisest speech to loose this Magick knot: Great pity things so fair should have so foul a spot:

59

What spot, said I, can in these fair be found? Both spot in those white vests, and eke a flaw In those bright gems wherewith these Maids be crown'd, If you'll but list to see, I'll eas'ly show. Then I, both Love of man and holy law Exactly's kept upon this sacred hill; True Fortitude that truest foes doth awe, Justice and Abstinence from sweetest ill, And Wisedome like the Sun doth all with light o're spill.

60

Thanks be to God we are so well arriv'd To the long-sought for land, Theoprepy. Nay soft good Sir, said Simon, you'r deceiv'd, You are not yet past through Autoesthesy: With that the spot and flaw he bad me see Which he descry'd in that goodly array. The spot and flaw self-sens'd Autopathy Was hight, the eldest Nymph Pythagorissa, Next Platonissa hight; the last hight Stoicissa.

61

But this high Mount where these three sisters wonne, Said Simon, cleeped is, Har-Eloim. To these it's said, Do worship to my Sonne: It's right, that all the Gods do worship him, There's none exempt: those that the highest climbe Are but his Ministers, their turns they take To serve as well as those of lower slime. What so is not of Christ but doth partake Of th' Autoesthesian soil, is life Doemoniake.

62

His words did strangely work upon my spright, And wean'd my mind from that I dearly lov'd; So I nould dwell on this so pleasing sight, But down descended, as it me behov'd, And as my trusty guide me friendly mov'd. So when we down had come, and thence did passe On the low plain, Simon more clearly prov'd, That though much beauty there and goodnesse was, Yet that in Theoprepia did farre surpasse.

63

So forward on we fare, and leave that hill, And presse still further, the further we go, Simon more strength, more life and godly will, More vigour he and livelyhood did show; But Autaparnes wox more wan and wo: He faints, he sinks, ready to give up ghost, And ag'd Hypom'ne trod with footing slow, And stagger'd with her load; so ill dispos'd Their fading spirits were, that life was well nigh lost.

64

By this in fight of that black wall we came, A wall by stone-artificer not made: For it is nought but smoke from duskish flame, Which in that low deep valleys pitchy shade Doth fiercely th' Autopathian life invade, With glowing heat, and eateth out that spot. This dreadfull triall many hath dismaid; When Autaparnes saw this was his lot, Fear did his sense benum, he wox like earthly clot.

65

In solem silency this vapour rose From this drad Dale, and hid the Eastern sky With its deep darknesse, and the Evening-close Forestall'd with Stygian obscurity; Yet was't not thick, nor thin, nor moist, nor dry; Nor stank it ill, nor yet gave fragrant smell, Nor did 't take in through pellucidity The penetrating light, nor did 't repell Through grosse opacity the beams of Michael.

66

Yet terrible it is to Psyche's brood, That still retain the life Doemoniake; Constraining fear calls in their vitall flood, When the drad Magus once doth mention make Of the deep dark Abysse; for fear they quake At that strong-awing word: But they that die Unto self feeling life, naught shall them shake; Base fear proceeds from weak Autopathy. This dale hight Ain, the fumes hight Anautoesthesy.

67

Into this dismall Dale we all descend. Here Autaparnes and Hypomone Their languid life with that dark vapour blend. Thus perished fading vitality, But nought did fade of Lifes reality. When these two old ones their last gasp had fet, In this drad valley their dead corps did lie; But what could well be sav'd to Simon flet. Here Simon first became spotlesse Anautoesthet.

68

When we had waded quite through this deep shade, We then appear'd in bright Theoprepy: Here Phoebus ray in straightest ••••ne was laid, That earst lay broke in grosse consistency Of cloudy substance. For strong sympathy Of the divided natures Magick band Was burn't to dust in Anautoesthesie: Now there's no fear of Death's dart holding hand: Fast love, fix'd life, firm peace in Theoprepia land.

69

When Mnemon hither came, he leaned back Upon his seat, and a long time respired. When I perceiv'd this holy Sage so slack To speak (well as I might) I him desired Still to hold on, if so he were not tired; And tell what fell in blest Theoprepy; But he nould do the thing that I required, Too hard it is, said he, that kingdomes glee To show; who list to know himself must come and see.

70

This story under the cool shadowing Beach Old Mnemon told of famous Dizoie: To set down all he said passeth my reach, That all would reach even to infinity. Strange things he spake of the biformity Of the Dizoians; What mongrill sort Of living wights; how monstrous shap'd they be, And how that man and beast in one consort; Goats britch, mans tongue, goose head, with monki's mouth distort.

71

Of Centaures, Cynocephals, walking trees, Tritons, and Mermayds, and such uncouth things; Of weeping Serpents with fair womans eyes, Mad-making waters, sex transforming springs; Of foul Circean swine with golden rings, With many such like falshoods; but the streight Will easily judge all crooked wanderings. Suffice it then we have taught that ruling Right, The Good is uniform, the Evil infinite.