ODE LIV.
[Soe flitts the trembling Needle round about]
1
Soe flitts the trembling Needle round about
The Compasse, till it fall
Into its lovéd North; soe clings vnto't,
And will not move at all;
Then with a Mutuall Force these Lovers meet,
In a Magneticke Chaine.
Strange Simpathie! and though wee doe not see't,
'Tis in our Selves as plaine.
Nor let vs wonder why,
The Attractive Power should fixe
The Iron to its point; soe may wee vexe
Our Selves perpetuallye.
Rather see everie Creature pointing forth
Its proper obiect, as this meets the North.
2
'Tis seene by everie Eye, in Common things,
How apt and Eagerlie
They ioyne themselves; Everie occasion brings
Proofe to this Propertie.
'Tis not alone the Adamant can boast
This strange Affinitie;
Not Flowers, nor Trees, nor Birds, nor Beasts are lost;
But Each, respectivelie,
Have hidden Flames, and move
By a strange innate Cause,
To its cheife End; insensible what drawes
Soe neare a tye of Love;
But loose all Choice, and their Cheife Sence devour
In the strange force of this magneticke Power.
3
These secret workings in all Bodies are;
And All, at once, are mett
In Man, whose motion, more irregular
To all the points doth flitt;
Yet as Affection's obiects still propose,
Hee bends vnto the Point;
And though he varie much, and oft, in those,
Some Qvalitie of Constraint,
Vrges him to incline,
Hee knowes not how, nor why;
But Hee must bend to that darke Simpathie,
Which, yet vnseen, doth shine
Vpon his Heart; and passionat'lie move
Him to behold, or Seeke, desire, or Love.
