The philosophers satyrs written by M. Robert Anton |
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THE PHILOSOPHERS SEVEN Satyrs, aluding to the seuen Planets.
And first of his Section of heauen. |
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 | The philosophers satyrs |  |
THE PHILOSOPHERS SEVEN Satyrs, aluding to the seuen Planets. And first of his Section of heauen.
There was a time before all time begun,
VVhen the proud Iennets of the radiant Sunne
VVere scarce deliuered from the wombe of night,
And backt by circular motion, when all light,
Soiourn'd with darknesse, and this glorious ball
Had neither forme nor soule Angelicall,
To moue those orbes aboue, as some propound
With rauishing musicke, or such heauenly sound,
As that great distance of those rowling spheares,
Barres from the organs of all humane eares,
VVhen neither Sea, nor bind coopt in a ring,
Keept their conseruatiue place, nor any thing
Had an essentiall forme, or element,
Circle or Center had true complement
Of Art or nature: but when heauen and earth
Had from confusions bowels knawne the birth
Of this faire Child nam'd Cosmos, the Mouers eie
Distinguisht this faire obiect of the skie
From his disordred masse with all this globe,
And suted it in farre more formall robe
Of quantitie and figure. Then began
All lights to light the Makers darling (MAN:)
For which indeer'd creation and respect
This Microcosme of man was made errect
With vpright speculation, lineally
To view this rich imbrodred Cannopie
Of those Cœlestiall bodies; and begin
To crie, Heauen is my Countrie, Earth my Inne:
But leauing him to Heauen, of Earth we sing,
As being of the world, the perfects thing
In the Creations wonder, and the end
Of our aspiring hopes, which we ascend,
As to our locall blisse, and naturall place,
To end euen there, where neuer ended grace.
VVhen the proud Iennets of the radiant Sunne
VVere scarce deliuered from the wombe of night,
And backt by circular motion, when all light,
Soiourn'd with darknesse, and this glorious ball
Had neither forme nor soule Angelicall,
To moue those orbes aboue, as some propound
With rauishing musicke, or such heauenly sound,
As that great distance of those rowling spheares,
Barres from the organs of all humane eares,
VVhen neither Sea, nor bind coopt in a ring,
Keept their conseruatiue place, nor any thing
Had an essentiall forme, or element,
Circle or Center had true complement
Of Art or nature: but when heauen and earth
Had from confusions bowels knawne the birth
Of this faire Child nam'd Cosmos, the Mouers eie
Distinguisht this faire obiect of the skie
From his disordred masse with all this globe,
And suted it in farre more formall robe
Of quantitie and figure. Then began
For which indeer'd creation and respect
This Microcosme of man was made errect
With vpright speculation, lineally
To view this rich imbrodred Cannopie
Of those Cœlestiall bodies; and begin
To crie, Heauen is my Countrie, Earth my Inne:
But leauing him to Heauen, of Earth we sing,
As being of the world, the perfects thing
In the Creations wonder, and the end
Of our aspiring hopes, which we ascend,
As to our locall blisse, and naturall place,
To end euen there, where neuer ended grace.
Of Heauen.
This glorious globe of heauens resplendent ball,Trapt richly with his lights pontificall.
Fountaine of motion, by which euery starre
Is whirld from East to West orbicular
In foure and twentie houres, as Shepheards say,
Trotting the circuite of the naturall day,
Is of no frame nor forme geometricall,
But round of body, and as Sphericall,
As the Egyptian Sages did compare
The winding Snake vnto the circled yeere:
For of all figures this doth best appeare,
Euery way shewing a iust hemispheare,
Bending vpon it selfe: most capable
To comprehend this frame so strong and able
To boulster vp this loade, and ponderous frame,
As it hath neither ioynts, but still the same:
As it is iointlesse, pointlesse, endlesse, round:
Now whether this pure quintessence of nature
Be euerliuing, or a dying creature:
Or whether that diuine intelligence,
That giues to heau'n his turning excellence
Giue essence, or assistance, as without,
The soule that moues it, it were still from doubt
Of what we call it now, as ships that scowre
The Oceans curled billowes, by the powre
And cunning of the Pilote: eu'n to that clime
Where that great idoll gold, Saint of the time,
To whom the Indian Pilgrimes sacrifice
Such three yeares Hecatombs of widowes cries,
Speaking in golden Oracles of drosse,
The Brusses murmure and the Mariners losse,
And yet at last returne with crazed slides,
With grasse-greene ribs furd with tempestuous tides
With two or three aliue, the Pilotes hand
Guiding the sickely vessell to the land,
By which we see his forme and name he saues,
Although the Pilotes motion plowes the waues
With card and compasse: so in naturall sense
Heau'n takes no forme from his intelligence,
Which onely, like a Pilote sweetly steeres
The harmony of nature in the spheares:
With powre assistent, and their motions carrie
With certaine lawes, and statutes voluntarie,
That as when euery element doth striue
To moue vnto his place conseruatiue:
As being so imperfect and so base,
That they must pine and die without a place
Of such a perfect quintessense of nature,
That it esteemes not place for conseruation,
But to another end of generation,
Moues with his powerfull influence: whence began
Our Schooles to ring the sun and man get man:
But leauing these to treade the thornie maze
Of Schoole-cram'd Sophistrie: againe we raise
Our haughtie Muse to flie with sollid wings,
And search with starres and subcelestiall things:
For since we see, that by the loadstones might
The yron age is drawne; where with delight,
The readers eye doth fansie, and mens wits
Like Bagpipes sound, no sound but pleasant fits:
We are resolu'd to plucke such fruits from schooles,
And once to please Physitians, knaues and fooles:
For to all these I know our booke shall come:
Packe Doctor to thy vrine, and be dumbe
The sottish Empericke, onely fooles haue land,
And so haue countrey-knights: these, these command
The Muses sonnes with an idolatrous knee
To pray to Angels, or a noble fee
Of some poore Pamphlet. Hence bastards to your sire:
Whilest we reuiue our quicke Promothean fire:
The number of these turning spheares of heauen,
Some say but nine, others affirme eleuen:
Which all Diuines more full of holy fire
Nam'd sacred Hirarchies: where the blest quier
Of heauenly Angels and true Martirs rides
That with triumphant wreaths shall iudge the tribes.
The order of the Orbes cœlestiall
Are numbred thus: the first imperiall
Most full of holy light and Angels grace,
Whose blessed soules from passion doe suruiue
Their substance onely being definitiue:
Not circumscriptiue as our bodies be,
With the aires cincture or concauitie,
Their bodies free from any locall span,
Of grose dimensions, or precinctes of man;
And therefore in one bodie spirits dwell
All in one place, more then large Art can tell:
For round about the iust mans life and merits,
Million of Angels, and bright flaming spirits,
Shall at one time, and in one place vnite,
Their most regardant powers infinite,
And vnextended in our bodies moue,
With subtill motion from their place aboue,
Either to saue with a protectors will,
Heauens glorious darling, or by their power distill,
With whippes of vengeance by their power diuine,
In Legions name possessing men and swine.
This Heauen the seate of those most happie soules,
Whose summum bonum all true blisse enrowles,
Was that third heauen, whose glorious excellence
Most sweetly rauisht Pauls admiring sence.
That steept in Lœthe of so blest a trice,
He prayes to be disolued to Paradice:
And gorg'd with holy raptures full of grace,
He sings th' Abysse blisse riches of that place.
The second, is the primum mobile,
So called by Sages in Philosophie,
Because, as from so cleare and christall spring
Proceeds the birth, death, motion of each thing,
Deriues all motion to each second Spheare,
And yet himselfe in golden meane doth ride
Equall in motion, like the sacred guide
Of some prime reuerent Prelat, whose great Sea
Is mou'd with hauenly Regularite,
Diuine in motion, and Diuine in place:
Free of his learned influence, rich in grace:
Oh pardon me dull age, if I proclaime
His venerable life, more then his name
Suparlatiuely gratious, barke Heriticks to see.
Such Metropolitan vniformitie,
VVhilest your great fisherman in Tibers flood
Shall moue in purple streames of royall blood,
And with disorderd orders turne the keyes
To locke young fooles in Limbo: and with ease
Martyr a fond Apostate, who reconcild
By a graue goate-like father liues exild,
In some Sulphureous troope of Iesuites:
Whose powder-treason-Collidges inuites
A Tiborne resolution: whether sent or come
Dies Traitors here, and halter Saints at Rome:
But with a certaine order, moues our heau'n,
Not swift nor slow, but paraleld and euen:
From whence we truly know, and can define
Her motion heauenly, and write it in the line
Of Orthodoxall faith: which moouing stands
On Peters rocke, and not on Peters Sands.
The third in order of these things Diuine,
Is that bright heauen transparent, Christaline,
Hauing no twinkling starre, or glistering pride,
But like some waterie body clarified,
And that great Elohim the globes bases laid,
Dispersing darkenesse, and the tenebrous night
To formes of beautie, and celestiall light,
That then his mightie Spirit heauen did moue
To seperate those waters from aboue
From these below: and to this element,
To place his likenesse in the firmament:
For since we see, that seaes with earth compare,
And heauen with earth in things that likely are.
The earth brings foorth the dog, the foamie maine,
And Heauen it selfe equiuocates the same,
When with his singing and canicular beames
He bakes the earth, and dries the Christall streames:
And therfore with Harmonious consent,
Heauen hath proportion to this Element.
And thus we reade in natures Characters
Like liues with like to shun intestine warres.
The fourth heau'n is that glorious spangled globe
Embost with starres, and like a gorgeous robe,
Purl'd ore with natures Ape, and Zany-art
Trailes downe his starrie traine, and doth impart
Day to black night, and with his groue of starres,
(Like candles) shine to wind wrackt Marriners,
Some fixt, some wandring in their tinsell'd Orbe:
Whose number fixt, Philosophers record,
To be one thousand two and twentie cleare,
Well knowne vnto the Sea-cuft Marriner.
By these the iocund Boateson at first sight,
Soust with the Ruffin seaes, and scratch with might,
Whistle a maine, and from the hatches skip,
The nimble squires of the dancing ship,
And fearelesse kick the billowes with disdaine,
Tearing the curled bowels of the maine.
And by their fatall influence and aspects
Besides that vniuersall prouidence,
On whose great nod depends each consequence
Of second causes: from their crittick powers
At Cæsars birth acts Cæsars tragick howers.
But if their kind coniunctions smiling meete
Our first natiuitie, and with a sweet
And Iouiall dalliance in a golden shower.
Kindly imbrace our first conceptions hower,
Then shall Augustus, though but meane by birth,
Sway seuen hill'd Rome, and taxe the verge of earth.
Foot-boyes shall pearch with Kings, & Tanners ride
On great Seianus courser side by side
With some most Lordly Consull: Rearemice flie
By daylight with the Eagles maiestie,
And will not reason mount Agathocles
(The Potters sonne) to the Piramides
Of honour and high state: what vertue marres,
And hates in fooles shall prosper by their starres:
Yet feare not thou, whose crabbed fate suspends
Thy fortune progresse, and whose learned ends
Aimes at eternitie, though whipt with need
And dogged censure; and whose wounds doe bleed
With times incision sterne authoritie
Dissecting Arts like an Anotomie,
Reading their physick lectures to the eares
Of our contempts to greatnesse, great in feares
And pale suspects, who iealious of deserts,
Doe Sepulcher aliue both Armes and Artes
For thou in spight of their maleuolent rage,
Times simony, and furie of the Age,
Ecclipses, and all Planetarie hate,
Like a Byssextile-yeere shalt leape thy fate:
Were made to rule, those onely rule the starres,
Nor can base Gypses tell them of their fate:
Impostors, with their figures calculate
Of blacke futuritie: Astrologie diuine
The ascendent fortune of their heauenly signe:
For wise men are not borne as Midwiues be,
To waite on luckie howres, or for the fee,
Of Bisket influence, their vertue barres
The superstition of such gossipping starres.
But more then man, his reason rules the skies,
His manhood shares a godhead, that is wise:
In this faire starrie Mirrour of the skie,
Damaskt with beautie and varietie
Of thousand constellations, whose cleare flames,
Are knowne in maps by their celestiall names:
For there the faire Oryon and the Beare,
Maior and Minor grace this hemispheare,
Swift Pegasus and Perseus (radiant light)
Burnish the tan'd face of the blackemores night:
Bright Cassiopeia and Ioues Eagles shines,
Besides the constellations of the signes,
Which euery foole in Physicke can make good,
Their vse in purges, pills, and letting blood.
And euery Almanacke druggest poorely read,
Can tell what witlesse signe raignes in his head.
But leauing these beyond their yearely date
To smoke an Indian sulphure, we create
Againe our hallowed Altars, and in fires
Of morrall vowes our sacred Muse aspires.
Tell me thou graue and mightie Stagerite
Oraculous Schooleman, whose deluding light
The lothsome Epicure and horrid sect
Of damned Atheisine follow with direct
To spread so large, such monstrous heresies,
That euen besides graue Orpheus, and the rest,
Proclus and Plinie, and the learned brest
Of sharpe Auerroes, Christian Atheists crie,
The world's eternall, and shall neuer die,
VVhen by the state of starres we may discrie,
The world's firme ruin and mortalitie.
And Platoes creature hauing life and breath
As they decline, shall languish vnto death.
And as a crazed bodie full of howers,
Renders his siluer head, and vitall powers,
(His radicall moisture spent, and euery part,
Gasping for motion, from the panting hart)
To natures disolution: so shall passe
Both heauen and earth vnto their pristine Mars,
Although some say, that this great Continent,
And all this glorious guilt-hatcht firmament
Shall change his forme, and accidentall frame,
Although the part substantiall be the same,
Alleaging for their weake Philosophie,
This sacred place of sweet diuinitie.
Yet by the fall of starres our reasons prooue
A totall wrack of earth and heauen aboue.
For first we see the Sunne, whose bright Carrier
Trots through the ring of time, and dates the yeer
In his diurnall progresse: now declines,
More neere the earth, then in the former times,
When learned Ptolome obserued the starres,
Their houses, signes, and different characters.
Cheering old Ops, now doting with long daies,
VVith cordiall flames, and charitable rayes,
That else in this consumption would exspire,
VVanting so bright a Nurse, whose cheering fire
Adding new life to her old temperature:
Besides infection of each element,
Corruption of the purest temperament:
Physitions now turne Satyrs, and complain,
That nature is a stepdame in the frame
Of this last Age: when croking Rauens sing,
Their liues large Charter merrier then a king.
The stately Stag a hundred yeares shall graze,
But man to wormes meate turnes in fewer dayes:
Pigmies for Gyants, that with Babell power
Were wont to scale the high Olympiade Tower,
And wrastle with the Gods: now dwarfes are borne,
Ne're made to fight, but made to natures scorne:
The Arcadian Kings two hundred yeares did liue,
But now the thriftie heauens doe scarcely giue
Halfe of that pension to the noblest man,
His graue but sixe foot long, his life a span:
VVhich shewes the world corrupted from his best,
Declines his setling progresse to the west;
For since all things from their sincere creation
Couet absurdities in generation:
And euery thing steales to his priuatiue end.
Starres fall from their degrees, Planets descend
To comfort the poore Centers feebled vaines
Drooping vnto his Chaos, with long paines
And aged barrennesse: man that noble creature,
Scanted of time, and stinted by weake nature,
That in foretimes saw Iubiles of yeares,
As by Endimions historie appeares:
Nay, which is more, euen silly women then,
Liu'd longer time, then our graue graye beard men:
Aged Terentia learned Tullies wife,
Aboue an hundred yeares spun out her life,
Shewd like a winters frost with snow-white haires
The great historian Plinie doth report
Of a Commedian vice, that in such sort,
Euen at a hundred yeares frosted with age,
In Pompeys Theater acted on the stage,
And with such spirited action grac't the Scean,
As without randing in a golden meane
The aged woman so performde her part,
That ruinde nature seem'd new borne by Art.
If then all parts of this great world decline,
Fond Atheist tell me, how the world's diuine:
Since starres remoue, and bodies stellified,
With an obortiue slip are quallified.
And all things with an vniuersall crie'
Feeles natures throwes proofes sensible to die:
Kings to their Sacrophagus shall returne,
As sure as Seriants with the world shall burne:
But now from fixed starres to wandring light,
Regents of day and harbingers of night,
On whose aspects each clubfoot wretch complaines,
We tune our Muses note to loftie straines
To whom the crooke fac't Indian & the Moore,
In orientall maiestie adore:
The prowd Exchangeman that with eager hate
Cuts the burnt line to gaine a golden fate
By the great Henchman of the glorious day,
Laden with Ingots plowes the brinie way
From three yeares stubborne labour to the port
Of his owne natiue soyle to sing and sport,
That to the humming Burss he may relate,
The sunne burnt pallace of thy easterne state,
Bright influence keepe time, that whilst I sing
Thy fierie stallions iet the Zodiakes ring.
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