The remaining medical works of that famous and renowned physician Dr. Thomas Willis ...: Viz I. Of fermentation, II. Of feavours, III. Of urines, IV. Of the ascension of the bloud, V. Of musculary motion, VI. Of the anatomy of the brain, VII. Of the description and uses of the nerves, VIII. Of convulsive diseases : the first part, though last published, with large alphabetical tables for the whole, and an index ... : with eighteen copper plates / Englished by S.P. esq.

ON THE AUTHORS Medical-Philosophical Discourses.

THE intricate and hidden cause of things, Both Peace and Strife by what means Nature brings, What various motions Bodies do inspire; What mixes with the Waters quenchless Fire? What Bonds the Elements together tye, Before this happyer Age unfolded lye: Things hid to former Ages, and unknown, The Secrets of the world to all are shown.

Metals dug from the Bowels of the Earth, Tho they from Phoebus boast their Heavenly birth, We without light, dark and obscure behold, And Splendor's found only in burnisht Gold. Iron unknown lay hidden without light, By Slaves wrought from the Mine grows dazeling bright. This to whole Troops confusion doth afford, Wit, which first fram'd, stoops to, the Victor Sword. We thus of old did Nature search in vain, Our Arts did only ith' outward bark remain, But now we her hid mysteries unfold, And the great secrets of the world behold. Better than us, herself can hardly tell, What Love doth far within high Mountains dwell. What flame first gives the Marble Quarry birth; To Metals forms blind Rudiments of Earth, And the hard child doth to perfection bring: Why Earth shows her rich Treasures in the Spring; And shines, made brave with her own Native flowers. What gentle gales, and what sweet moistning showers, Do on the pregnant Goddess Seed bestow; Whilst Heavenly Iris mounts the Cloudy Bow.

Why Ceres swells with watery Nymphs embrace, What Strife, what Wars spring from hot Bacchus race: What Vulcan doth th' Aetnean Fornace blow; What doth soft fires thorow all Bodies throw. What Spirit nimbly moves the human frame: Whence Milky juice here, there a Purple stream, Watering the Body: whence the Crimson flood; And the quick Circulation of the blood. What hidden fires in veins and intrals burn, Which do the boyling Blood to Feavers turn. What mixes freezing cold with parching heat, And makes the different Zones together meet. Whence comes the Pestilence with Stygian breath, Riding on blasting Winds, and arm'd with death. What Prophesying Humor through the Reins doth pass, What colour, and what odor in the Glass? All things lye open now: He did not know So much, to whom Prometheus did bestow His stollen fires: We now every part Of the whole Earth compass about with Art. He's happy who Causes of things can shew; Sacred to Nature and to Phoebus too; About his Temples Delphic Laurels spread, And flames of lightning ne'r shall blast his head. Whom Hermes doth with Sacred Arts imbue, Whose Labours, Learning out of Darkness drew, May all's days happy be, may he shine bright, And may he still enjoy Coelestial light: May no Disease infect with poysonous breath, Him, who gains Health from Sickness, Life from Death.