University of Virginia Library

What time Jehovah, Heaven & Earths Creator,
Had finisht this his foot-stool's vast Theatre.
He brings up Man, that all the World might see,
His all-wise Art in their Epitome.
His Body, his base part Earth represents,
His Heaven breath'd soul, Earth's soul, the Elements.
Th' Ingredients of the World are, water, air,
Earth, Fire, and even such Man's ingredients are.
Your leave, and thus the semblance I rehearse
Between the great and little universe.

His head's Orbicular, like the circular Skies,
Whose Lamps meet Rivals in his Orient eyes.
And as 'tis Heaven most like, 'tis Heaven most near,
Reason swayes her Majestick Scepter there.
That Divine guest that makes a man, thence all
The senses borrow their Original.
And, as their sole, and supream Court repair,
To manifest their virtues in that chair.
Nor may I here forget that comely front,
That even surprizes all that look upon't.
Those lovely Lineaments, those goodly graces,
Attend the sweets of well proportion'd faces.
What Wonders Nature in his Tongue commences,
The Instrument of his delicious senses.
Which we beyond expresse, oft times refresh
With Rapsodies from that small film of flesh.
How right here's Pan, and Phœbus whilst our ears
Are partial 'twixt our voyces and the Sphears.
Somtimes 'tis gentle, and again as loud,
As thunder roaring from the shattered Cloud.
His hair does with the piles of grass agree
Both, equal foot-steps of a Deity.
Both the effect of moisture, who so seeks
The Rose, and Lilly, they blow in his Cheeks.
Nay, what can You present, but he commands,
The lively trans-hope from his Protean hands?
His blood is like the streams, that to and fro,
Turning and winding are the centre through.
Should I here swell my story to present,
The Office of each Chord, each ligament.
The Nerves, then tendons, and the Arteries?
My Life would be too short to finish these.
Nay, there is nothing, but in it I see
A theme of wonder to Eternity.

And yet, this body we can't praise enough,
Compare it with the soul, 'tis sordid stuffe.
There's no such difference 'twixt the sorry case,
And Jewel, 'twixt the mask and the fair face.
Our bodies, doubtlesse, are a kin to all,
The very Beasts, and as those Beasts, they fall.
But by our souls, we are to Heaven ally'd,
Which, with our bodies shall be glorify'd.
Nature's appointed time of change revolves,
And Flesh into its Elements resolves.
His native heat does to the Fire repair,
Humours to water, breath to the next air.
The bones, and parts that are more solid, must
Lye Pris'ners, till they render dust to dust.
Mean while the soul her native station keeps
In Heaven, whilst nature in her causes sleeps.