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A Farewell to POETRY, WITH A Long Digression on ANATOMY.
  
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
  
  


99

A Farewell to POETRY, WITH A Long Digression on ANATOMY.

Farewell, my gentle Friend, kind Poetry,
For we no longer must Acquaintance be;
Though sweet and charming to me as thou art,
Yet I must dispossess thee of my Heart.
On new Acquaintance now I must dispence
What I receiv'd from thy bright influence.
Wise Aristotle and Hippocrates,
Galen, and the most Wise Socrates;
Æsculapius, whom first I should have nam'd,
And all Apollo's younger brood so fam'd,
Are they with whom I must Acquaintance make,
Who will, no doubt, receive me for the sake
Of Him , from whom they did expect to see
New Lights to search Nature's obscurity.

100

Now, Bartholine, the first of all this Crew,
Does to me Nature's Architecture shew;
He tells me how th' Foundation first is laid
Of Earth; how Pillars of strong Bones are made;
How th' Walls consist of carneous parts within,
The out-side pinguid, over-laid with Skin;
The Fretwork, Muscles, Arteries, and Veins,
With their Implexures, and how from the Brains
The Nerves descend; and how they do dispence
To ev'ry Member, Motive Pow'r and Sence;
He shews what Windows in this Structure's fix'd,
How tribly Glaz'd, and Curtains drawn betwixt
Them and Earths objects; all which proves in vain
To keep out Lust, and Innocence retain:
For 'twas the Eye that first discern'd the food,
As pleasing to it self, then thought it good
To eat, as b'ing inform'd it wou'd refine
The half-wise Soul, and make it all Divine.
But ah, how dearly Wisdom's bought with Sin,
Which shuts out Grace, lets Death and Darkness in!

101

And because we precipitated first,
To Pains and Ignorance are most accurs'd;
Ev'n by our Counter-parts, who that they may
Exalt themselves, insultingly will say,
Women know little, and they practise less;
But Pride and Sloth they glory to profess.
But as we were expatiating thus,
Walæus and Harvey cry'd, Madam, follow us,
They brought me to the first and largest Court
Of all this Building, where as to a Port,
All necessaries are brought from far,
For sustentation both in Peace and War:
For War this Common-wealth do's oft infest,
Which pillages this part, and storms the rest.
We view'd the Kitchin call'd Ventriculus,
Then pass'd we through the space call'd Pylorus;
And to the Dining-Room we came at last,
VVhere the Lactæans take their sweet repast.
From thence we through a Drawing-room did pass,
And came where Madam Jecur busie was;

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Sanguificating the whole Mass of Chyle,
And severing the Cruoral parts from bile:
And when she's made it tolerably good,
She pours it forth to mix with other Blood.
This and much more we saw, from thence we went
Into the next Court, by a small ascent:
Bless me, said I, what Rarities are here!
A Fountain like a Furnace did appear,
Still boyling o'er, and running out so fast,
That one shou'd think its Efflux cou'd not last;
Yet it sustain'd no loss as I cou'd see,
VVhich made me think it a strange Prodigie.
Come on, says Harvey, don't stand gazing here,
But follow me, and I thy doubts will clear.
Then we began our Journey with the Blood,
Trac'd the Meanders of its Purple flood.
Thus we through many Labyrinths did pass,
In such, I'm sure, Old Dædalus ne'er was;
Sometimes i'th' Out-works, sometimes i'th' first Court;
Sometimes i'th' third these winding streams wou'd sport

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Themselves; but here methought I needs must stay,
And listen next to what the Artists say:
Here's Cavities, says one; and here, says he,
Is th' Seat of Fancy, Judgment, Memory:
Here, says another, is the fertile Womb,
From whence the Spirits Animal do come,
Which are mysteriously ingender'd here,
Of Spirits from Arterious Blood and Air:
Here, said a third, Life made her first approach,
Moving the Wheels of her Triumphant Coach:
Hold there, said Harvey, that must be deny'd,
'Twas in the deaf Ear on the dexter side.
Then there arose a trivial small dispute,
Which he by Fact and Reason did confute:
Which being ended, we began again
Our former Journey, and forsook the Brain.
And after some small Traverses about,
We came to th' place where we at first set out:
Then I perceiv'd how all this Magick stood
By th' Circles of the circulating Blood,
As Fountains have their Waters from the Sea,
To which again they do themselves conveigh.

104

But here we find great Lower by his Art,
Surveying the whole Structure of the Heart:
Welcome, said he, sweet Cousin, are you here,
Sister to him whose Worth we all revere?
But ah, alas, so cruel was his Fate,
As makes us since almost our Practice hate;
Since we cou'd find out nought in all our Art,
That cou'd prolong the motion of his Heart.
 

Having learned Latin by reading the Latin Poets.

My Brother.

The Three Humours of the Eye, and its several Tunicks.

Ad infimum ventrem.

Morbi in infimo ventre, Diarrhæa, &c.

Venæ Lactea.

Secundum Opinionem Galinist. contra receptaculum commune.

Per Diaphragma.

De cordis Structura.

My deceased Brother.

De Motu Cordis.

I.

But now, my Dear, thou know'st more than Art can,
Thou know'st the substance of the Soul of Man;
Nay and its Maker too, whose Pow'rfull breath
Gave Immortality to sordid Earth.
What Joys, my Dear, do Thee surround,
As no where else are to be found,
Love, Musick, Physick, Poetry;
And in each Art each Artist do's abound,
And all's converted to Divinity.

105

II.

No drooping Autumn there,
No chilling Winter do's appear;
No scorching Heat, nor budding Spring,
Nor Sun do's Seasons there divide,
Yet all things do transcend their native pride;
Which fills, but do's not nauseate,
No change or want of any thing,
Which time to periods or perfection brings;
But yet diversity of state,
And of Souls happiness there is no date.

III.

Should'st thou, my Dear, look down on us below,
To see how busie we.
Are in Anatomie,
Thoud'st laugh to see our Ignorance;
Who some things miss, & some things hit by chance,
For we, at best, do but in twilight go,
Whilst thou see'st all by th' most Transcendent light,
Compar'd to which the Sun's bright Rays are night:

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Yet so Cœlestial are thine Eyes,
That Light can neither dazzle nor surprize;
For all things there
So perfect are,
And freely they their qualities dispence,
Without the mixture of Terrestrial dross;
Without hazard, harm or loss;
O joys Eternal satiating Sence,
And yet the Sence the smallest part in gross.