Mundorum Explicatio or, The Explanation of an Hieroglyphical Figure: Wherein are couched the Mysteries of the External, Internal, and Eternal Worlds, shewing the true progress of a Soul from the Court of Jerusalem; from the Adamical fallen state to the Regenerate and Angelical. Being A Sacred Poem, written by S. P. [i.e. Samuel Pordage] |
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 | Mundorum Explicatio |  |
O avarice!
for Gold, and Silver's prize,
The golden Truth, thou 'ast turn'd to drossy Lyes!
Best things corrupted prove the worst of all:
By Rome's false Limbo, doth true LIMBO fall.
The Christian Churches first blest Founders sure,
Their Streams delated from the Fountain pure:
Heav'n put that breath into their mouths, which they
Inspired thus, to others did conveigh.
The holy Ghost upon them breath'd, nor was
Their Words corrupted by an humane glosse.
Then flourish'd Truth, and all our Hyerarchie
Rejoyc'd so pure a Church on Earth to see.
No pitchy clouds of error then did presse
'Twixt their eyes, and the Sun of Righteousnesse;
The Truth shon then as clear, as doth the Sun
Mounted in 's golden Chariot, at noon.
(Christs Church sees clearly still where e'r it be
Scatter'd, through others; and the Head is he)
But envious Sathan, when he saw Truth so
Extreamly spread, and o're the World to grow;
He sew'd his Tares of Errors, and did blind
With clouds of darknesse, Man's true eye, the Mind.
These faster than the true Wheat grew; this crop
Of evil weeds, did soon the Wheat o're-top.
Darknesse grew on apace; anon the Day
Could not its Light but here and there display,
Th'rough the small cranies of dark clouds: then 'twas
Pride, and Ambition in Rome's Church took place:
Then crept in all those Ceremonies; then
The Truth gave place unto the wiles of Men.
Then Avarice, with her hook'd Talons made
Such Laws, which turn'd Religion to a Trade,
And for the Love of Money did disguise
Fair Truth, and cloath'd her with a pack of Lies.
Something of precious Truth; something of Day,
Under disguise; under the clouds there lay.
Your Silver ISIS about Chelsy's not,
The same, as where his bubling springs do put
First forth their Crystal Heads near Thorlton, for
Churne's, Windrushe's, and Cherwell's waters there
And Tame's, Coln's, Brents, with his clear streams do run:
So on the other side he entertain
Doth Ock, Lad, Kennet, Surrie's Rivers too,
Whose severe Waters with his mingle do:
Yet with these may at Chelsy run the same
Pure waters, which from his clear spring-head came.
So pure Religion's streams, by this time had
With many of Hel's Stygian stream-lets spread,
Which were polluted with their Waters, yet
Amongst them Truth's pure Crystal streams did flit,
But so bemudded that they scarce were seen
But by those clear eyes who did dive for them.
The snowy flow'r is mixed with the Bran:
The chaff with Wheat; one sift the other fan
We must: not fling them both away, and make
Th' one uselesse for us, for the other's sake.
We must beware when that the Tares we cull,
Lest we with them the Wheat up also pull.
Fifteen Cent'ries, and two decades of years,
After Christ's death, from Isleben appears
A Light by which Rome's muddy streams were seen,
By which the Truth men strove to cull between
Error's black clouds; But Zeal them so possest,
They her rejected, 'cause by Rome's hands drest.
So fearful were they of a Romish dresse,
That Truth they 'ad rather leave, than her possesse
In that false Habit; many Truth's despis'd
Were thus, because by Rome they were disguis'd.
Among the rest, and not the least, this place,
This Region which thou now behold'st, one was:
And 'cause Rome's fopperies had obscur'd the Light
Of it, forsooth they it discarded quite:
And by the ears it from existence whorry,
For fear of entertaining Purgatory.
The golden Truth, thou 'ast turn'd to drossy Lyes!
Best things corrupted prove the worst of all:
By Rome's false Limbo, doth true LIMBO fall.
The Christian Churches first blest Founders sure,
Their Streams delated from the Fountain pure:
Heav'n put that breath into their mouths, which they
Inspired thus, to others did conveigh.
The holy Ghost upon them breath'd, nor was
Their Words corrupted by an humane glosse.
Then flourish'd Truth, and all our Hyerarchie
Rejoyc'd so pure a Church on Earth to see.
No pitchy clouds of error then did presse
'Twixt their eyes, and the Sun of Righteousnesse;
The Truth shon then as clear, as doth the Sun
Mounted in 's golden Chariot, at noon.
220
Scatter'd, through others; and the Head is he)
But envious Sathan, when he saw Truth so
Extreamly spread, and o're the World to grow;
He sew'd his Tares of Errors, and did blind
With clouds of darknesse, Man's true eye, the Mind.
These faster than the true Wheat grew; this crop
Of evil weeds, did soon the Wheat o're-top.
Darknesse grew on apace; anon the Day
Could not its Light but here and there display,
Th'rough the small cranies of dark clouds: then 'twas
Pride, and Ambition in Rome's Church took place:
Then crept in all those Ceremonies; then
The Truth gave place unto the wiles of Men.
Then Avarice, with her hook'd Talons made
Such Laws, which turn'd Religion to a Trade,
And for the Love of Money did disguise
Fair Truth, and cloath'd her with a pack of Lies.
Something of precious Truth; something of Day,
Under disguise; under the clouds there lay.
Your Silver ISIS about Chelsy's not,
The same, as where his bubling springs do put
First forth their Crystal Heads near Thorlton, for
Churne's, Windrushe's, and Cherwell's waters there
And Tame's, Coln's, Brents, with his clear streams do run:
So on the other side he entertain
Doth Ock, Lad, Kennet, Surrie's Rivers too,
Whose severe Waters with his mingle do:
Yet with these may at Chelsy run the same
Pure waters, which from his clear spring-head came.
So pure Religion's streams, by this time had
With many of Hel's Stygian stream-lets spread,
Which were polluted with their Waters, yet
Amongst them Truth's pure Crystal streams did flit,
But so bemudded that they scarce were seen
But by those clear eyes who did dive for them.
The snowy flow'r is mixed with the Bran:
The chaff with Wheat; one sift the other fan
We must: not fling them both away, and make
Th' one uselesse for us, for the other's sake.
221
Lest we with them the Wheat up also pull.
Fifteen Cent'ries, and two decades of years,
After Christ's death, from Isleben appears
A Light by which Rome's muddy streams were seen,
By which the Truth men strove to cull between
Error's black clouds; But Zeal them so possest,
They her rejected, 'cause by Rome's hands drest.
So fearful were they of a Romish dresse,
That Truth they 'ad rather leave, than her possesse
In that false Habit; many Truth's despis'd
Were thus, because by Rome they were disguis'd.
Among the rest, and not the least, this place,
This Region which thou now behold'st, one was:
And 'cause Rome's fopperies had obscur'd the Light
Of it, forsooth they it discarded quite:
And by the ears it from existence whorry,
For fear of entertaining Purgatory.
The Truth of it now testifie thou mayst
To others, now thy self thou seen it hast.
It is not such thou seest as Rome doth fain,
For th' all-corrupting Gold, and Silver's gain.
This is the middle Region, and doth hide
It self between four Worlds, on every side
They bound this place. Would'st thou know who those be
Who yonder up and down you wandering see?
They are departed Souls, who had begun
The holy Race to Sion's Hill to run:
Who had Hel's broad Rode left, and who in this
Heav'ns Path, some progress made had towards Blisse;
But e'r their Natures purified were,
E'r they attain'd had to that happy Sphear,
Which unto Paradise immediate leads,
Parca assunder cut their vital thread:
Their parted souls then to this Region flew,
Where they must perfect what they had to do,
VVhere they 'till purified must remain,
E'r they to Paradise admittance gain.
Th'rough Hel's deep Centre must the Soul first pass,
And th'rough a Sea of Fire to that of Glass,
Th'rough the first Principle (as thou anon
Shalt see) Now if the Soul's not cloath'd upon
With Christ's sanguinous Robe, the second and
Most holy Principle, she cannot stand,
But there is captivate, or beaten back
Unto the Crosse, t'endure the holy Rack,
By putting off the first, that so she may
With th' second Principle her self array:
Then may she passe, and not before; Those who
In flesh this holy Robe do not indue,
But dying hold by Faith's strong clue: are brought
Hither, to finish what remains unwrought.
To others, now thy self thou seen it hast.
It is not such thou seest as Rome doth fain,
For th' all-corrupting Gold, and Silver's gain.
This is the middle Region, and doth hide
It self between four Worlds, on every side
They bound this place. Would'st thou know who those be
Who yonder up and down you wandering see?
They are departed Souls, who had begun
The holy Race to Sion's Hill to run:
Who had Hel's broad Rode left, and who in this
Heav'ns Path, some progress made had towards Blisse;
But e'r their Natures purified were,
E'r they attain'd had to that happy Sphear,
Which unto Paradise immediate leads,
Parca assunder cut their vital thread:
Their parted souls then to this Region flew,
Where they must perfect what they had to do,
VVhere they 'till purified must remain,
E'r they to Paradise admittance gain.
Th'rough Hel's deep Centre must the Soul first pass,
And th'rough a Sea of Fire to that of Glass,
222
Shalt see) Now if the Soul's not cloath'd upon
With Christ's sanguinous Robe, the second and
Most holy Principle, she cannot stand,
But there is captivate, or beaten back
Unto the Crosse, t'endure the holy Rack,
By putting off the first, that so she may
With th' second Principle her self array:
Then may she passe, and not before; Those who
In flesh this holy Robe do not indue,
But dying hold by Faith's strong clue: are brought
Hither, to finish what remains unwrought.
The Way to Heav'n is not so easie, as
By poor beguiled Man imagin'd was:
Straight is that Gate, and narrow is that Way,
Which Mortals doth conduct to perfect Day:
He that to presse th'row this straight Gate would seek,
Must fling the World, and flesh from off his neck,
They cannot enter Heav'n with him; nor can
Some Notions prove a Saviour unto Man:
The Work must somewhere finish'd be; if on
The Earth, to Heav'n they go: if not 'till done
It fully be they here remain: But those
Wend straight to Hell, who Hel's high-way had chose.
By poor beguiled Man imagin'd was:
Straight is that Gate, and narrow is that Way,
Which Mortals doth conduct to perfect Day:
He that to presse th'row this straight Gate would seek,
Must fling the World, and flesh from off his neck,
They cannot enter Heav'n with him; nor can
Some Notions prove a Saviour unto Man:
The Work must somewhere finish'd be; if on
The Earth, to Heav'n they go: if not 'till done
It fully be they here remain: But those
Wend straight to Hell, who Hel's high-way had chose.
Man calls God merciful, yet makes the same
God, the third part of all mankind to damn.
Hard-hearted Man! dost thou not know there is
An armed Cherub 'fore the Gate of Blisse?
Dost thou not know that Paradise is kept,
By Armes unwearied, Eyes that never slept?
By a bright flaming Fauchon, which enough
Of terrour strikes to keep the wicked off?
Or tell me Man! hast thou yet never heard
That Imperfection cannot passe this Guard?
Nor flesh, nor blood can enter Heav'n, nor can
Ever come there the least imperfect man.
No Imperfections enter Paradise.
If Man's not perfect then before he dyes,
(A some by no means grant) where shall he then
Be perfect made, but in this Region?
'Tis true, degrees there in perfection are:
None throughly perfect is till he comes, where
Mortality of Immortality
Is swal ow'd up: where he beholds the Eye,
And Face of God without a Skreen: to this
None can attain whilst in the flesh he is.
How few are there that to a perfect State
Arrive, before Death Life doth terminate!
To such a State I mean, in which they may
To Paradise go, and make here no stay,
When their Souls fly their Bodies: Souls must clear
Be purg'd on Earth, from what they drunk in there.
It is not Notions that the Work must do,
It must be real, and done throughly too:
This Work not in the Head, but Heart doth lye,
That's most regarded by th' all-seeing Eye:
If they with Christ, are truly risen, they
When Dye, passe by this purging Region may.
God, the third part of all mankind to damn.
Hard-hearted Man! dost thou not know there is
An armed Cherub 'fore the Gate of Blisse?
Dost thou not know that Paradise is kept,
By Armes unwearied, Eyes that never slept?
By a bright flaming Fauchon, which enough
Of terrour strikes to keep the wicked off?
Or tell me Man! hast thou yet never heard
That Imperfection cannot passe this Guard?
Nor flesh, nor blood can enter Heav'n, nor can
Ever come there the least imperfect man.
No Imperfections enter Paradise.
If Man's not perfect then before he dyes,
(A some by no means grant) where shall he then
Be perfect made, but in this Region?
223
None throughly perfect is till he comes, where
Mortality of Immortality
Is swal ow'd up: where he beholds the Eye,
And Face of God without a Skreen: to this
None can attain whilst in the flesh he is.
How few are there that to a perfect State
Arrive, before Death Life doth terminate!
To such a State I mean, in which they may
To Paradise go, and make here no stay,
When their Souls fly their Bodies: Souls must clear
Be purg'd on Earth, from what they drunk in there.
It is not Notions that the Work must do,
It must be real, and done throughly too:
This Work not in the Head, but Heart doth lye,
That's most regarded by th' all-seeing Eye:
If they with Christ, are truly risen, they
When Dye, passe by this purging Region may.
But tell me Man! what shall those Pilgrim's do,
VVho in Heav'ns Way have gone, but come not to
Be dead, and risen with our Lord, when by
The Way they lose their mortal Life, and dye?
They are not fit for Paradise: What then?
Must they be hurled to the Stygian Den?
Must they be damn'd? with God's great Mercy rather
Doth it not stand, to bring their Spirits hither?
Where they may finish, what they had begun;
And to the end of Sion's Race may run?
Dost say 'tis by Christ's Blood they'r purg'd? we know't:
But dost thou know what time he'l take to do't?
'Tis he that doth it here; 'tis by his Blood,
And in this place that they are purifi'd.
VVho in Heav'ns Way have gone, but come not to
Be dead, and risen with our Lord, when by
The Way they lose their mortal Life, and dye?
They are not fit for Paradise: What then?
Must they be hurled to the Stygian Den?
Must they be damn'd? with God's great Mercy rather
Doth it not stand, to bring their Spirits hither?
Where they may finish, what they had begun;
And to the end of Sion's Race may run?
Dost say 'tis by Christ's Blood they'r purg'd? we know't:
But dost thou know what time he'l take to do't?
'Tis he that doth it here; 'tis by his Blood,
And in this place that they are purifi'd.
| Mundorum Explicatio | |