ODE XLII.
[Goe, make a Rape on Fancie; and bring downe]
1
Goe, make a Rape on Fancie; and bring downe
All formes disperséd in that Region,
Vnto our Common Light;
Then, with a cunning Hand, collect the Parts,
And make a Bodie, to astonish Arts.
Draw your owne Face aright;
Give common Man his Symmetrie, in all
Dimensions of the mind;
This were a worke to bind
The indebted world, a Slave perpetuall.
2
But what thin Shadowes flitt within the Braine?
What obscure notions move to entertaine
Men in their owne Conceite?
Wee looke at Passions through the Subtill glasse
Of Selfe-conceit; and follow them, in chase,
With the loud noise of witt.
Wee run our Selves aground vpon that Shelfe
Our Reason bids vs Shun:
How soone is man vndone,
Who carries his owne Ruine in Himselfe!
3
I cannot reach nor Span my Selfe within
My owne Dimensions. I have often bin
Busie to draw my owne
To my owne Power; and with all Diligence
The dispers'd Fragments of Intelligence
I gladlie would have knowne;
And vs'd, as in my Power, the Facultie
Of everie Sence. The Reach
Of Reason I would fetch
Into the Circle of Capacitie.
4
I would have seen my Selfe, as in a Sheath,
Within my Selfe; and, as my owne, bequeath
Each part to proper use;
My conquer'd Reason, to submit her Power.
My Sence, corrected in Exterior
Obiects, alone, to chuse
What I propose; then doe not aske, what part
I would have gvide the rest;
I would have everie brest
Capable of the rule of his owne Heart.
5
Thus could wee Draw our Selves, the worke were done;
Knowledge were perfected, and truth were won.
Then all our toyle had End,
Our Parts reduc'd Each to his Station;
And wee might live, in re-Creation.
But who shall yet ascend
That great Scientiall orbe, and bring away
The wreath of victorie?
What humane Industrie
Knowes how to Doe? What witt knowes what to Say?
