Flosculum Poeticum Poems Divine and Humane, Panegyrical, Satyrical, Ironical. By P. K. [i.e. Peter Ker] |
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Eternity.
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 | Flosculum Poeticum |  |
Eternity.
What is Eternity? A thingThat's round in fashion, like a Ring,
It is a NOW, that endeth never.
It is a LINE, that lasteth ever.
'Tis semper Idem still the same.
An Abstract, only known by name.
A Point that cannot be decided;
Substracted, Added, nor Divided.
It is a round, long, endless Sphere,
And sister-twins with Every-where.
2
It laughs the Arts, and Sciences,
None can this clew of threed untwine,
Or it In terminis define.
'Tis absent still, yet In Præsentia.
No Genus, but all Differentia.
I trac'd it (by a Demonstration)
'Twixt Vacuum, and Penitration,
And though I did exactly mind it,
I lost my self, but could not find it.
I did conclude it once to call
A Forme, though not substantial:
But when I laid it to mine Eye,
It was a meer Absurdity.
I clad it with supposed Fictions,
And run my self in Contradictions:
For when my Phancie made a stand,
Thinking to catch it in my Hand;
I cast mine Eye, but could not see
Such Fruit, upon Porphyreu's Tree.
I can perceive some twi-light sky,
Of all our new Philosophy:
But this the Object of Objection,
Know not by first, nor last conception:
Only I think I hear it cry,
I'm Endless, Long, Eternity.
3
To know it's height, and see it's face.
But it no Parley, but Defie
Sounds unto such μωροσοφι.
'Tis still at Hand, and yet it flyes
Beyond the Horizon of Eyes.
I bent my Soul, and shot my Wit,
Thinking this Center-Mark to hit;
But it (like Arrows, shot in vain)
As Immanent turn'd back again.
I seriously did once design,
It to describe, but not define;
Yet got no further but to IT,
Which of no limits doth admit;
Of no Non ultra, or Non plus,
No Prius, nor Posterius.
It Time survives, and yet I'm told,
It self was ne'er a Minute old.
It is a VERB, that doth commence
No further, then the present Tense,
A NOUN abounding, yet doth fall
Objected, to no sense at all.
A PRONOUN sure, it needs must be,
For it includes Him, Thee, and Me,
A PARTICIPLE, that gives and takes,
Yet Less, or More it never makes.
4
Because it is an endless Cras.
A PREPOSITION, out of doubt,
For Circacircum's round about.
'Tis a Conjunction that doth draw
Forth endless long et cætera.
It needs must be an INTERJECTION,
Branched forth in Passion, and Perfection,
Because it hath, still to throw in
Evax, and Heu, and e'r begin.
The moment of our short time is,
ETERNITY'S Parenthisis.
Yet the Duration that's called time,
In it's own proper sense and clime,
Is all one with Eternity:
But 'cause all Mortals here must dye,
We change the Name, but not the Nature;
Terming our measure like the Creature.
It, none that lives but one doth know,
And can make it our Friend, or Foe.
Whom we alone can fully call
Heter, and Homogeniall.
A Parte ante, and a Post,
Whom chance, or change doth not accost,
Who did us save, when we were lost.
5
And all true hearted Christians be
Bless'd, unto all ETERNITIE.
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