Philosophical poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

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

2

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

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3

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

4

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

5

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

6

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

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7

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

8

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

9

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

10

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

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11

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

12

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

13

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

14

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

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15

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

16

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

17

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

18

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

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19

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

20

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

21

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

22

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

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23

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

24

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

25

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

26

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

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27

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

28

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

29

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

30

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

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31

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

32

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

33

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

34

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