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The Vision

or A Dialog between the Soul and the Bodie. Fancied in a Morning-Dream [by James Howell]

Howell, James (1594?-1666)

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Svmbolum Auth. Senesco, non segnesco.

To the knowing Reader

Man is the Worlds Abridgement, who enrouls
Within himself a Trinitie of souls;
He runs through all Creations by degrees,
First, he is onely Matter on the lees,
Whence he proceeds to be a Vegetal,
Next Sensitive, and so Organical:
Then by Divine infusion a third soul,
The Rational doth the two first controul:
But when this soul comes in, and where she dwels
Distinct from others no Dissector tells.
And, which no creture else can say, that state
Enables her to be Regenerate;
She then becomes a Spirit, and at last
A Devil or a Saint, when she hath cast
That clog of flesh, which yet she takes again
To perfect her beatitude, or pain;
Thus Man is first or last allied to all
Cretures in Heven, Earth, or Hells black hall

This Vision may conduce to let us know
Our present baseness, and our future bliss,
If it make any gentle souls to glow,
And mend their pace that way, I have my wish

JAM. HOVVELL.

Psalm 19. Vers. vlt.

1

O Lord my Saviour and support,
Grant that the words and cries
My heart doth vent, and toung report
Be pleasing in thy eys.

2

O let the notions of my mind
And words my mouth doth yield,
Still in thy sight acceptance find
My Saviour, strength and shield.

3

O Lord my Saviour strength and might,
Grant that the thoughts and words
Be always pleasing in thy sight
My mouth and heart affoards.

4

O let the words my lips prolate,
And plaints my heart doth pour,
Find favour at thy mercie gate
My Saviour, strength and tow'r.

Psalm. 51.

1

Some pitie, Lord,
To me afford
Of thy abundant grace,
For thy great love
My sins remove
And trespasses deface.

2

Wash off the slime
Of this foul crime,
And throughly purge the blot;
For I confess
My wickedness,
I always see the spot.

3

O Lord 'gainst Thee
And onely Thee
Have I committed ill,

That thy words might
Be counted right
And cleer when judged still.

4

Lo, in a frame
Of sin and shame
Were knit my flesh and bone,
When I, alas,
An' Embryon was
Of sinners I was one.

5

In the inmost parts
Of contrite hearts
Thou wisdom do'st demand,
And secretlie
Thou shalt make me
Tru wisdom understand.

6

With hyssop cleance
This foul offence,
And purge my soul from ill,
So shall I be
White in degree
To snow on Hermon hill.

7

O let me heer
News that may cheer
My trembling heart with joy,
May free from grones,
My shatterd bones,
Broke by Thee with annoy.

8

O turn aside
Thy face, and hide
It from my foul offence;
And throughly blot
This ugly spot,
Ere I be sumon'd hence.

9

Renew my heart
In every part,
Thy saving Grace inspire,
So that my brest
May be possess'd
With flames of heavenly fire.

10

Oh do not chace
Me from thy face,
Nor of thy spirit deprive,

For then should I
In misery
Be worst than thing alive,

11

Thy joyes once more
To me restore
Of thy salvation,
So shall I preach
And sinners teach
The way to Hevens throne.

12

O Lord from bloud
That cries so loud
For vengeance me defend,
So shall I still
With accents shrill
Thy noble deeds extend.

13

My lips unseal
For to reveal
Thy wondrous acts of old,
So shall my toung
The saints among
Thy righteousness unfold.

14

Nor bloud of lambs,
Or fat of rams
Are pleasing in thy sight,
Else would I come
With Hecatoms
Didst thou in them delight.

15

The sacrifize
Which God doth prize
Are hearts with sorrow bruizd;
A heart broke so
And split with wo,
Lord, thou hast nere refus'd.

16

On Sion hill
O Lord, distill
Thy gifts in a good hour;
Build Salems walls
And keep from falls
Thy temple and her towr.

Psal. 6.

1

Correct me not in rage,
Nor chastize me in ire,
But Lord thy wrath asswage,
And me with grace inspire,
For I am faint,
and all my bones,
are vex'd with grones
Of just complaint.

2

My soul doth also swell
For griefs that me torment,
But, Lord, how long, oh tell,
Wilt thou thy self absent?
Return O God,
Lord of all bliss,
For I do kiss
Thy smarting rod.

3

For in the shades of night,
No mortall can thee mind,
And in the pit what wight
To thank thee canst thou find?
Behold my teares,
wherewith I drown
each night my down,
For old arrears.

4

My beauteous daies are past,
For griefs that me dismay,
And like a flower I fade,
And wither quite away,
For fear of those
that me annoy,
and would destroy
Like deadly foes.

Psalm. 130.

1

Out of the fluds,
Out of the sudds
Of sin I roar and cry,
Lord bow thine ear,
'Tis time to hear:
My groans and agony.

2

If Thou observe
How oft we swerve
From thee, who can abide
To stand before
Thy judgement dore
To be arraignd and tri'd?

3

But there's with thee
Rich clemencie
And plenteous store of grace,
Which makes Thee Lord
To be ador'd
So much by human race.

4

My soul for Thee
Incessantlie
Waits as the Centinel
Waits for the day
And Phœbus ray,
Nights darkness to repel.

5

Let Israel
Then boldly dwell
And trust in God above.

For there's with Him
Up to the brim
Abundant store of love.

6

For it is He
Can onely free
And Israel forgive,
And of his crimes
Done at all times
An absolution give,

[For, lo, the golden Orientall gate]

For, lo, the golden Orientall gate
Of gray-fac'd Heaven 'gan to open fair,
And Phœbus like a Bridegroom to his mate
Came dancing forth, shaking his dewy hair
And hurles his glitt'ring beams through gloomy Air.

So Rest to Motion, Night to Day doth yeeld,
Silence to Noise, the Stars do quit the Field:
My Cinque Ports all fly ope, the Phantasie
Gives way to outward objects, Ear and Eye
Resume their office, so doth hand, and lip,
I hear the Carrmans wheel, the Coachmans whip;

The prentice (with my sense) his shop unlocks,
The milk maid seeks her pail, porters their frocks,
All crys and sounds return, except one thing,
I hear no bell for Mattins toll or ring.

Being thus awak'd, and staring on the light
Which silver'd all my face and sight,
I clos'd my Eyes again to recollect
What I had dream't, and make my thoughts reflect
Vpon themselfs, which here I do expose
To every knowing soul; And may all those
(Whose brains Apollo with his gentle ray
Hath moulded of a more refined clay)

That read this Dream, therby such profit reap
As I did plesure, Then they have it cheap.

Est sensibilium simia somnium.

I.H.

FINIS.