Clarastella Together with Poems occasional, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs. By Robert Heath |
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In Crumenâ Vacuum an non?
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 | Clarastella |  |
In Crumenâ Vacuum an non?
Nature as saies Philosophie
Admits no vacuum; yet I
(O the sad fate of Codrus curse!)
Find there's a Vacuum in my purse.
Or Nature errs sure, or the gold
VVhich my now empty purse did hold.
VVhen the last mite's exhausted, wou'll
You then perswade me yet 'tis ful?
VVhen Taverns and the Mercers book
Have pickt my pocket, shall I look
Then for gold there? I can't I tro
Both eat my cake and have it too?
Yet to make good this Axiome,
Here's one in charitie throwes some
Small crums of comfort in: he tels
Mee its ful of air, but nothing els:
Alas! I'm no Chamœlion,
Nor can I live by air alone.
If all thy gold dissolved be
To liquid and Petabile;
Wil not your strings stretch for one pint
Of Sack? all gone? is nothing in't?
Oh thou my dear and quondam friend
That in my need didst money lend,
How do I grieve thy skeliton
Reduc'd thus soon to skin and bone!
Sure some wil think that see thy thin
And aierie Corps, that thou hast bin
Some Poets purse, thus made refine
By th'Alchimie of wit and wine:
And that thy Angel gold may bee
Still there, though it we cannot see,
It is so sublimated, and
So pure; for since we understand
The Angels to be Spirits, then
Thou'rt become spiritual agen.
Admits no vacuum; yet I
(O the sad fate of Codrus curse!)
Find there's a Vacuum in my purse.
Or Nature errs sure, or the gold
VVhich my now empty purse did hold.
VVhen the last mite's exhausted, wou'll
You then perswade me yet 'tis ful?
VVhen Taverns and the Mercers book
Have pickt my pocket, shall I look
Then for gold there? I can't I tro
Both eat my cake and have it too?
Yet to make good this Axiome,
Here's one in charitie throwes some
Small crums of comfort in: he tels
Mee its ful of air, but nothing els:
Alas! I'm no Chamœlion,
Nor can I live by air alone.
20
To liquid and Petabile;
Wil not your strings stretch for one pint
Of Sack? all gone? is nothing in't?
Oh thou my dear and quondam friend
That in my need didst money lend,
How do I grieve thy skeliton
Reduc'd thus soon to skin and bone!
Sure some wil think that see thy thin
And aierie Corps, that thou hast bin
Some Poets purse, thus made refine
By th'Alchimie of wit and wine:
And that thy Angel gold may bee
Still there, though it we cannot see,
It is so sublimated, and
So pure; for since we understand
The Angels to be Spirits, then
Thou'rt become spiritual agen.
Well then Philosophie in truth,
I find thou speakst the naked truth;
For though for coine it empty be
Yet there is no vacuitie.
Though no bright Angel do appear
In this dispised Hemisphear;
Yet the Div'ls in't without all doubt
There's ne'r a crosse to keep him out.
I find thou speakst the naked truth;
For though for coine it empty be
Yet there is no vacuitie.
Though no bright Angel do appear
In this dispised Hemisphear;
Yet the Div'ls in't without all doubt
There's ne'r a crosse to keep him out.
De sunt nonnulla.
| Clarastella | |