 | Divine Fancies |  |
81. On the Story of Man.
The word was spoke; And what was Nothing, mustBe made a Chaos of confused Dust:
The word was spoke; The Dust began to thicken
To a firme Clay: The Clay began to quicken;
The grosser substance of that Clay thought good
To turne to Flesh; The moyster turn'd to Blood;
Received Organs; and those Organs, Sense;
It was imbellisht with the Excellence
Of Reason: It became the Height of Nature,
Be'ing stampt with th'Image of the great Creator:
But, Lord, that glorious Image is defac'd;
Her Beautye's blasted, and her Tablet's raz'd:
This Height of nature has committed Treason
Against it selfe; Declin'd both Sense and Reason;
Meere Flesh and Blood, containing but a Day
Of painted Pleasure, and but breathing Clay;
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Resolve, and leave him to his former Dust;
Which Dust, the utter object of our loathing,
Small time consumes, & brings to his first Nothing:
Thus, from this Nothing, from this Dust, began
This Something, turnd to Dust, to Nothing; Man.
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