 | Poems |  |
52
The World.
Js this that goodly Edifice
So gaz'd upon by greedy eyes?
A sceane where cruelty's exprest,
Or Stage of folly es at the best.
So gaz'd upon by greedy eyes?
A sceane where cruelty's exprest,
Or Stage of folly es at the best.
Who can the Musick understand
From the soft touch of Natures hand,
When man her chiefest Instrument
So harshly jarres without consent.
From the soft touch of Natures hand,
When man her chiefest Instrument
So harshly jarres without consent.
Do not her naturall agents too
Faile in their operations, so
That he to whom they best appeare
Sees but the Tombes of what they were?
Faile in their operations, so
That he to whom they best appeare
Sees but the Tombes of what they were?
Her chiefest Actions then are such
That no externall sense may touch;
Shown doubtfully to the minds sight
By the dark Phancy's glimmering light.
That no externall sense may touch;
Shown doubtfully to the minds sight
By the dark Phancy's glimmering light.
The Night indeed which hideth all
Things else discloseth the Stars pale
And sickly faces; but our sense
Cannot perceive their Influence.
Things else discloseth the Stars pale
53
Cannot perceive their Influence.
They are the hidden books of Fate,
Where what with paines we calculate
And doubt, is onely plainly known
To those assist their motion.
Where what with paines we calculate
And doubt, is onely plainly known
To those assist their motion.
The close conveyances that move
With silent vertue from above
Incessantly on things below,
Our duller eyes can never know.
With silent vertue from above
Incessantly on things below,
Our duller eyes can never know.
Nothing but colour, shape and light
Create their species in our sight:
All substances avoyd the sense
Close couched under accidents,
Create their species in our sight:
All substances avoyd the sense
Close couched under accidents,
In which attir'd by nature, we
Their loose apparell onely see;
Spirits alone Intuitive,
Can to the heart of essence dive.
Their loose apparell onely see;
Spirits alone Intuitive,
Can to the heart of essence dive.
Why then should we desire to sleep
Groveling like swine in mire, so deep,
The mind for breath can find no way,
Choak'd up, and crowded into clay.
Groveling like swine in mire, so deep,
The mind for breath can find no way,
Choak'd up, and crowded into clay.
54
Stript of the flesh, in the clear spring
Of Truth she bathes her soring wing
On whom do all Ideas shine
Reflected from the Glasse divine.
Of Truth she bathes her soring wing
On whom do all Ideas shine
Reflected from the Glasse divine.
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