THE Original, Nature, and Immortality OF THE SOUL.   

THE Original, Nature, and Immortality OF THE SOUL. A POEM. With an Introduction concerning Humane Knowledge.  
Written by Sir JOHN DAVIES, Attorney-General to Q. Elizabeth.  
With a Prefatory Account concerning the Author and Poem.  
LONDON: Printed for W. Rogers, at the Sun against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleet street. 1697.   

To His EXCELLENCY The Right Honourable CHARLES, Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, One of the Lords Justices of England, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, etc.  
MY LORD,  
I Was obliged to Your Lordship for the first sight I had of this Poem; Your Lordship was then pleased to express some Commendation of it. Since that time I have waited an Opportunity of getting it Published in a more convenient and portable Volume; the Subject-matter being of that Importance to every Person, as required its being made a Manual for People to carry about them. Nor can my Pains and Care herein be unacceptable to Your Lordship, who are not only the Patron of the Muses, but of Public Good in all kinds.  
The Book has a just Claim to Your Lordship's Protection, both for the Solidity of Judgement, and extraordinary Genius that appear in it. 'Tis the Portraiture of a Humane Soul in the Perfection of its Faculties and Operations (so far as its present State is capable of,) which naturally directed me where I ought to present it.  
But as Justice engaged me in this Address, I must upon all Occasions confess my Obligations to Your Lordship, and particularly for placing me in His Majesty's Service; a Favour which I had not the Presumption to seek. I was conscious how short I came of my Predecessors in Performances of Wit and Diversion; and therefore, as the best means I had of justifying Your Lordship's Kindness, employed myself in publishing such Poems as might be useful in promoting Religion and Morality. But how little I have consulted my immediate Interest in so doing, I am severely sensible. I engaged in the Service of the Temple at my own Expense, while Others made their profitable Markets on the Stage.  
This, I confess, may seem improper in a Dedication, especially where I have so large a Field of Panegyric before me. But Your Lordship's Character, by Consent of Mankind, is above all our Encomiums; and Persons of greatest Worth and Accomplishments are always least fond of their own Praises.  
I shall therefore only mention the business of my present Waiting on Your Lordship. I have here got a useful Poem Reprinted, and beg to have it Recommended to every Body's perusal by Your Lordship's Acceptance of it; desiring only from its Readers the same Candour Your Lordship has been pleased to use, in making some Allowances for the time in which it was written. Nor will the Author often have Occasion for Favour; in the main he will need only to have Justice done him.  
But I will not forestall the business of the ensuing Preface, written by an Ingenious and Learned Divine; who has both done Right to the great Manes of the Author, and made some Amends for this Unpolished Address from me, who am only Ambitious of professing myself with utmost Zeal and Gratitude,  
MY LORD, Your LORDSHIP's Most Humble, most Obliged and Devoted Servant, N. TATE.   

PREFACE TO Sir John Davies' Poem.  
THERE is a natural Love and Fondness in Englishmen for whatever was done in the Reign of Q. Elizabeth; we look upon her Time as our Golden Age; and the Great Men who lived in it, as our chiefest Hero's of Virtue, and greatest Examples of Wisdom, Courage, Integrity and Learning.  
Among many others, the Author of this Poem merits a lasting Honour; for, as he was a most Eloquent Lawyer, so, in the Composition of this Piece, we admire him for a good Poet, and exact Philosopher. 'Tis not Rhyming that makes a Poet, but the true and impartial representing of Virtue and Vice, so as to instruct Mankind in Matters of greatest Importance. And this Observation has been made of our Countrymen, That Sir John Suckling wrote in the most Courtly and Gentlemanlike Style; Waller in the most sweet and flowing Numbers; Denham with the most Accurate Judgement and Correctness; Cowley with Pleasing Softness, and Plenty of Imagination: None ever uttered more Divine Thoughts than Mr. Herbert; none more Philosophical than Sir John Davies. His Thoughts are moulded into easy and significant Words; his Rhymes never misled the Sense, but are led and governed by it: So that in reading such Useful Performances, the Wit of Mankind may be refined from its Dross, their Memories furnished with the best Notions, their Judgements strengthened, and their Conceptions enlarged, by which means their Mind will be raised to the most perfect Ideas it is capable of in this Degenerate State.  
But as others have laboured to carry out our Thoughts, and to entertain them with all manner of Delights Abroad; 'Tis the peculiar Character of this Author, that he has taught us (with Antoninus) to meditate upon ourselves; that he has disclosed to us greater Secrets at Home; Self-Reflection being the only Way to Valuable and True Knowledge, which consists in that rare Science of a Man's Self, which the Moral Philosopher loses in a Crowd of Definitions, Divisions and Distinctions: The Historian cannot find it amongst all his Musty Records, being far better acquainted with the Transactions of a 1000 years past, than with the present Age, or with Himself: The Writer of Fables and Romances wanders from it, in following the Delusions of a Wild Fancy, Chimeras and Fictions that do not only exceed the Works, but also the Possibility of Nature. Whereas the Resemblance of Truth is the utmost Limit of Poetical Liberty, which our Author has very religiously observed; for he has not only placed and connected together the most Amiable Images of all those Powers that are in our Souls, but he has furnished and squared his Matter like a True Philosopher; that is, he has made both Body and Soul, Colour and Shadow of his Poem out of the Storehouse of his own Mind, which gives the whole Work a Real and Natural Beauty; when that which is borrowed out of Books (the Boxes of Counterfeit Complexion) shows Well or Ill as it has more or less Likeness to the Natural. But our Author is beholding to none but Himself; and by knowing himself thoroughly, he has arrived to know much; which appears in his admirable Variety of well-chosen Metaphors and Similitudes that cannot be found within the compass of a narrow Knowledge. For this reason the Poem, on account of its intrinsic Worth, would be as lasting as the Iliad, or the Aeneid, if the Language 'tis wrote in were as Immutable as that of the Greeks and Romans.  
Now it would be of great benefit to the Beau's of our Age to carry this Glass in their Pocket, whereby they might learn to Think, rather than Dress well: It would be of use also to the Wits and Virtuoso's to carry this Antidote about them against the Poison they have sucked in from Lucretius or Hobbs. This would acquaint them with some Principles of Religion; for in Old Times the Poets were their Divines, and exercised a kind of Spiritual Authority amongst the People. Verse in those Days was the Sacred Style, the Style of Oracles and Laws. The Vows and Thanks of the People were recommended to their Gods in Songs and Hymns. Why may they not retain this Privilege? for if Prose should contend with Verse, 'twould be upon unequal Terms, and (as it were) on Foot against the Wings of Pegasus. With what Delight are we touched in hearing the Stories of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, and Aeneas? Because in their Characters we have Wisdom, Honour, Fortitude, and Justice, set before our Eyes. 'Twas Plato's Opinion, That if a Man could see Virtue, he would be strangely enamoured on her Person. Which is the Reason why Horace and Virgil have continued so long in Reputation, because they have Drawn her in all the Charms of Poetry. No Man is so senseless of Rational Impressions, as not to be wonderfully affected with the Pastorals of the Ancients, when under the Stories of Wolves and Sheep, they describe the Misery of People under Hard Masters, and their Happiness under Good. So the bitter but wholesome lambick was wont to make Villainy blush; the satire incited Men to laugh at Folly; the Comedian chastised the Common Errors of Life; and the Tragedian made Kings afraid to be Tyrants, and Tyrants to be their own Tormentors.  
Wherefore, as Sir Philip Sidney said of Chaucer, That he knew not which he should most wonder at, either that He in his dark Time should see so distinctly, or that We in this clear Age should go so stumblingly after him; so may we marvel at and bewail the low Condition of Poetry now, when in our Plays scarce any one Rule of Decorum is observed, but in the space of two Hours and an half we pass through all the Fits of Bethlem; in one Scene we are all in Mirth, in the next we are sunk into Sadness; whilst even the most laboured Parts are commonly starved for want of Thought, a confused heap of Words, and empty Sound of Rhyme.  
This very Consideration should advance the Esteem of the following Poem, wherein are represented the various Movements of the Mind; at which we are as much transported as with the most excellent Scenes of Passion in Shakespeare, or Fletcher: For in this, as in a Mirror (that will not Flatter) we see how the Soul Arbitrates in the Understanding upon the various Reports of Sense, and all the Changes of Imagination: How compliant the Will is to her Dictates, and obeys her as a Queen does her King. At the same time acknowledging a Subjection, and yet retaining a Majesty. How the Passions more at her Command, like a well-disciplined Army; from which regular Composure of the Faculties, all operating in their proper Time and Place, there arises a Complacency upon the whole Soul, that infinitely transcends all other Pleasures.  
What deep Philosophy is this! to discover the Process of God's Art in fashioning the Soul of Man after his own Image; by remarking how one part moves another, and how those Motions are varied by several positions of each Part, from the first Springs and Plummets, to the very Hand that points out the visible and last Effects. What Eloquence and Force of Wit to convey these profound Speculations in the easiest Language, expressed in Words so vulgarly received, that they are understood by the meanest Capacities.  
For the Poet takes care in every Line to satisfy the Understandings of Mankind: He follows Step by Step the workings of the Mind from the first Strokes of Sense, then of Fancy, afterwards of Judgement, into the Principles both of Natural and Supernatural Motives: Hereby the Soul is made intelligible, which comprehends all things besides; the boundless Tracks of Sea and Land, and the vaster Spaces of Heaven; that Vital Principle of Action, which has always been busied in Inquiries abroad, is now made known to its self; insomuch that we may find out what we ourselves are, from whence we came, and whither we must go; we may perceive what noble Guests those are, which we lodge in our Bosoms, which are nearer to us than all other things, and yet nothing further from our Acquaintance.  
But here all the Labyrinths and Windings of the Humane Frame are laid open: 'Tis seen by what Pulleys and Wheels the Work is carried on, as plainly as if a Window were opened into our Breast: For it is the Work of God alone to create a Mind.— The next to this is to show how its Operations are performed.   

UPON THE Present Corrupted State OF POETRY.  
IN happy Ages passed, when Justice reigned,  
The Muses too their Dignity maintained;  
Were only then in Shrines and Temples found,  
With Innocence instead of Laurel crowned;  
Anthems and Hallelujahs did resound.  
In these Seraphic Tasks their hours they passed,  
Pious as Sybil's, and as Vestals, chaste  
They justly then were styled the Sacred Nine,  
Nor were the heaven-born Graces more Divine.  
Like them with Heaven they did Alliance claim,  
And wisest Kings their Votaries became:  
Who, though by Art and Nature formed to Reign,  
Their Homage paid amongst the Muse's Train:  
They thought Extent of Empire less Renown,  
And prized their Poet's Wreath above their Prince's Crown.  
heavens Praise was then the only Theme of Verse,  
Which Kings of Earth were honoured to rehearse.  
Their Songs did then fair Salem's Temple fill,  
And Zion was the Muse's Sacred Hill.  
At length, transplanted from the Holy Land,  
To Pagan Regions passed the Sacred Band;  
In Greece they settled, but with lessened Grace,  
And changed their Manners as they changed their Place.  
Here Poetry, beginning to decline,  
First mingled Humane Praises with Divine.  
Yet still they sung alone some Worthies Name,  
And only gave restoring Hero's Fame.  
But grew at last a mercenary Trade,  
The gift of heaven the price of Gold was made.  
Bribed Poets with Encomiums did pursue  
The worst of Men, and praised their Vices too.  
They gave destroying Tyrants most Applause,  
Who shed most Blood, regardless of their Cause.  
If merely to Destroy can merit Fame;  
Famines and Plauges the larger Trophies claim.  
But this and worse, with our licentious Times  
Compared, in Poets were but Venial Crimes.  
That Poetry which did at first inspire  
Celestial Rapture, and Seraphic Fire,  
Her Talon in Hell's Service now employs,  
The Prostitute and Bawd of Sensual Joys.  
On Mischief's side engages all her Charms,  
Against Religion her Offensive Arms:  
Whilst Lust, Extortion, Sacrilege pass free,  
She points her satire, Virtue, against Thee,  
And turns on Heaven its own Artillery.  
But Wit's fair Stream when from its genuine Course  
Constrained, runs muddy and with lessened Force.  
Our Poets, when Deserters they became  
To Virtue's Cause, declined as much in Fame.  
That Curse was on the lewd Apostates sent,  
Who, as they grew Debauched, grew Impotent.  
Wit's short-lived Offsprings in our later Times  
Confess too plain their vicious Parents Crimes.  
No Spencer's Strength, or Davies, who sustained  
Wit's Empire when Divine Eliza reigned.  
But sure, when Foreign Toils will time allow  
Our Age's Hydra-Vices to subdue,  
Victorious William's Piety will chase  
From these infested Realms th' Infernal Race;  
And, when Alarms of War are heard no more,  
With Europe's Peace the Muse's State restore.   

THE Author's Dedication TO Q. ELIZABETH.  

TO that clear Majesty, which in the North,  
Doth, like another Sun, in Glory rise,  
Which standeth fixed, yet spreads her Heavenly Worth;  
Loadstone to Hearts, and Load star to all Eyes.   

Like Heaven in All, like Earth in this alone,  
That though great States by her support do stand;  
Yet she herself supported is of none,  
But by the Finger of the Almighty's Hand.   

To the divinest and the richest Mind,  
Both by Art's Purchase, and by Nature's Dower,  
That ever was from Heaven to Earth confined,  
To show the utmost of a Creature's Power:   

To that great Spring, which doth great Kingdom's move;  
The sacred Spring ', whence Right and Honour streams,  
Distilling Virtue, shedding Peace and Love,  
In every Place, as Cynthia sheds her Beams:   

I offer up some Sparkles of that Fire,  
Whereby we reason, live, and move, and be,  
These Sparks by Nature evermore aspire,  
Which makes them now to such a Highness flee.   

Fair Soul, since to the fairest Body joined,  
You give such lively Life, such quickening Power,  
And Influence of such Celestial Kind,  
As keeps it still in Youth's immortal Flower:   

As where the Sun is present all the Year,  
And never doth retire his golden Ray,  
Needs must the Spring be everlasting there,  
And every Season like the Month of May.   

O many, many Years may you remain  
A happy Angel to this happy Land:  
Long, long may you on Earth our Empress' reign,  
ere you in Heaven a glorious Angel stand.   

Stay long (sweet Spirit) ere thou to Heaven depart,  
Who mak'st each Place a Heaven wherein thou art.   
Her MAJESTY'S Devoted Subject and Servant, JOHN DAVIES. July 11. 1592.   

THE CONTENTS.  

THE Introduction to Humane Knowledge. Page 1  
Of the Original, Nature, and Immortality of the Soul. 11  
Sect. I. That the Soul is a Thing subsisting by its self and has proper Operations without the Body. 16  
Sect. II. That the Soul is more than a Perfection, or Reflection of the Sense. 22  
Sect. III. That the Soul is more than the Temperature of the Humours of the Body. 26  
Sect. IU. That the Soul is a Spirit. 28  
Sect. V. Erroneous Opinions of the Creation of Souls. 33  
Sect. VI That the Soul is not ex Traduce. 35  
Sect. VII. Reasons drawn from Nature. 37  
Sect. VIII. Reasons drawn from Divinity. 40  
Sect. IX. Why the Soul is united to the Body. 48  
Sect. X. In what Manner the Soul is united to the Body. 49  
Sect. XI. How the Soul exercises her Powers in the Body. 51  
Sect. XII. The Vegetative Power of the Soul. 52  
Sect. XIII. The Power of Sense. 53  
Sect. XIV. Seeing. 54  
Sect. XV. Hearing. 56  
Sect. XVI. Taste. 58  
Sect XVII. Smelling. ibid.  
Sect. XVIII. Feeling. 59  
Sect. XIX. Of the Imagination, or Common Sense. 60  
Sect. XX. Fantasy. 61  
Sect. XXI. Sensitive Memory. 62  
Sect. XXII. The Passion of the Sense. 63  
Sect. XXIII. Local Motion. 64  
Sect. XXIV. The Intellectual Powers of the Soul. 65  
Sect. XXV. Wit, Reason, Understanding, Opinion, Judgement, Wisdom. 66  
Sect. XXVI. Innate Ideas in the Soul. 67  
Sect. XXVII. The Power of Will, and Relation between the Wit and Will. 68  
Sect. XXVIII. The Intellectual Memory. 70  
Sect. XXIX. The Dependency of the Soul's Faculties upon each Other. ibid.  
Sect. XXX. That the Soul is Immortal, proved by several Reasons. 73  
Sect. XXXI. That the Soul cannot be destroyed. 89  
Sect. XXXII. Objections against the Immortality of the Soul, with their respective Answers. 92  
Sect. XXXIII. Three Kind's of Life, answerable to the three Powers of the Soul. 105  
Sect. XXXIV. The Conclusion. 106    

THE Introduction.  

WHY did my Parents send me to the Schools,  
That I with Knowledge might enrich my Mind?  
Since the Desire to know first made Men Fools,  
And did corrupt the Root of all Mankind:   

For when God's Hand had written in the Hearts  
Of Our first Parents all the Rules of Good;  
So that their Skill infused surpassed all Arts  
That ever were before, or since the Flood.   

And when their Reason's Eye was sharp and clear,  
And (as an Eagle, can behold the Sun)  
Could have approached th' Eternal Light as near  
As th' intellectual Angels could have done;   

Even then to them the Spirit of Lies suggests,  
That they were blind, because they saw not Ill;  
And breathed into their incorrupted Breasts  
A curious Wish, which did corrupt their Will.   

From that same Ill they straight desired to know;  
Which Ill, being nought but a Defect of Good,  
In all God's Works the Devil could not show,  
While Man, their Lord, in his Perfection stood.   

So that themselves were first to do the Ill,  
E'er they thereof the Knowledge could attain;  
Like him that knew not Poison's power to kill,  
Until (by tasting it) himself was slain.   

Even so, by tasting of that Fruit forbid,  
Where they sought Knowledge, they did Error find:  
Ill they desired to know, and Ill they did;  
And to give Passion Eyes, made Reason blind.   

For than their Minds did first in Passion see  
Those wretched Shapes of Misery and Woe,  
Of Nakedness, of Shame, of Poverty,  
Which then their own Experience made them know.   

But than grew Reason dark, that she no more  
Could the fair Forms of Good and Truth discern:  
Batts they became, who Eagles were before;  
And this they got by their Desire to learn.   

But we, their wretched Offspring! What do we?  
Do not we still taste of the Fruit forbid,  
While with fond fruitless Curiosity,  
In Books profane we seek for Knowledge hid?   

What is this Knowledge, but the Sky stolen Fire,  
For which the Thief still chained in Ice doth sit;  
And which the poor rude satire did admire,  
And needs would kiss, but burned his Lips with it?   

What is it, but the Cloud of empty Rain,  
Which, when Jove's Guest embraced, he Monsters got?  
Or the false Pails, which oft being filled with pain,  
Received the Water, but retained it not?   

In fine; What is it, but the fiery Coach  
Which the Youth sought, and sought his Death withal?  
Or the BoysBoys Wings, which, when he did approach  
The Sun's hot Beams, did melt and let him fall?   

And yet, alas! when all our Lamps are burned,  
Our Bodies wasted, and our Spirits spent;  
When we have all the learned Volumes turned,  
Which yield men's Wits both Help and Ornament;   

What can we know, or what can we discern,  
When Error clouds the Windows of the Mind?  
The divers Forms of things how can we learn,  
That have been ever from our Birthday blind?   

When Reason's Lamp, which (like the Sun in Sky)  
Throughout Man's little World her Beams did spread,  
Is now become a Sparkle, which doth lie  
Under the Ashes, half extinct and dead;   

How can we hope that through the Eye and Ear,  
This dying Sparkle, in this cloudy place,  
Can recollect those Beams of Knowledge clear,  
Which were insused in the first Minds by Grace?   

So might the Heir, whose Father hath, in Play,  
Wasted a thousand Pounds of ancient Rent,  
By painful earning of one Groat a Day,  
Hope to restore the Patrimony spent.   

The Wits that dived most deep, and soared most high,  
Seeking Man's Powers, have found his Weakness  
" Skill comes so slow, and Life so fast doth fly; (such:  
" We learn so little, and forget so much.   

For this the wisest of all Moral Men  
Said, he knew nought, but that he nought did know.  
And the great mocking Master mocked not then,  
When he said, Truth was buried here below.   

For how may we to Other Things attain,  
When none of us his own Soul understands?  
For which the Devil mocks our curious Brain,  
When, Know thyself, his Oracle commands.   

For why should we the busy Soul believe,  
When boldly she concludes of that and this;  
When of her self she can no Judgement give,  
Nor how, nor whence, nor where, nor what she is?   

All things without, which round about we see,  
We seek to know, and have therewith to do:  
But that whereby we reason, live and be,  
Within ourselves, we Strangers are thereto.   

We seek to know the moving of each Sphere,  
And the strange Cause o' th' Ebbs and Floods of Nile;  
But of that Clock which in our Breasts we bear,  
The subtle Motions we forget the while.   

We that acquaint ourselves with every Zone,  
And pass the Tropics, and behold each Pole;  
When we come home, are to our selves unknown,  
And unacquainted still with our own Soul.   

We study Speech, but others we persuade;  
We Leech-craft learn, but others cure with it:  
W'interpret Laws which other Men have made,  
But read not those which in our Hearts are writ.   

Is it because the Mind is like the Eye,  
Through which it gathers Knowledge by degrees;  
Whose Rays reflect not, but spread outwardly;  
Not seeing itself, when other things it sees?   

No, doubtless; for the Mind can backward cast  
upon herself, her understanding Light;  
But she is so corrupt, and so defaced,  
As her own Image doth herself affright.   

As is the Fable of the Lady fair,  
Which for her Lust was turned into a Cow;  
When thirsty, to a Stream she did repair,  
And saw herself transformed she wist not how;   

At first she startles, than she stands amazed;  
At last with Terror she from thence doth fly,  
And loathes the wat'ry Glass wherein she gazed,  
And shuns it still, although for Thirst she die.   

Even so Man's Soul, which did God's Image bear;  
And was at first fair, good, and spotless pure;  
Since with her Sins, her Beauties blotted were,  
Doth, of all Sights, her own Sight least endure:   

For even at first Reflection she espies  
Such strange Chimeras, and such Monsters there;  
Such Toys, such Antics, and such Vanities,  
As she retires and shrinks for Shame and Fear.   

And as the Man loves least at Home to be,  
That hath a sluttish House, haunted with Spirits; lights.  
So she, impatient her own Faults to see,  
Turns from her self, and in strange things the.   

For this▪ few know themselves: For Merchants broke,  
View their Estate with Discontent and Pain;  
And Seas as troubled, when they do revoke  
Their slowing Waves into themselves again.   

And while the Face of outward things we find  
Pleasing and fair, agreeable and sweet,  
These things transport, and carry out the Mind,  
That with herself, the Mind can never meet.   

Yet if Affliction once her Wars begin,  
And threat the feebler Sense with Sword and Fire,  
The Mind contracts herself, and shrinketh in,  
And to herself she gladly doth retire;   

As Spiders touched, seek their Web's inmost part;  
As Bees in Storms, back to their Hives return;  
As Blood in danger, gathers to the Heart;  
As Men seek Towns, when Foes the Country burn.   

If aught can teach us aught, Affliction's Looks  
(Making us pry into ourselves so near)  
Teach us to know ourselves, beyond all Books,  
Or all the learned Schools that ever were.   

This Mistress lately plucked me by the Ear,  
And many a Golden Lesson hath me taught;  
Hath made my Senses quick, and Reason clear;  
Reformed my Will, and rectified my Thought.   

So do the Winds and Thunders cleanse the Air:  
So working Seas settle and purge the Wine:  
So lopped and pruned Trees do flourish fair:  
So doth the Fire the drossy Gold refine.   

Neither Minerva, nor the learned Muse,  
Nor Rules of Art, nor Precepts of the Wise  
Could in my Brain those Beams of Skill infuse,  
As but ' the glance of this Dame's angry Eyes.   

She within Lists my ranging Mind hath brought,  
That now beyond myself I will not go;  
Myself am Centre of my circling Thought;  
Only myself I study, learn and know.   

I know my Body's of so frail a kind,  
As Force without, Fevers within can kill:  
I know the heavenly Nature of my Mind,  
But 'tis corrupted both in Wit and Will:   

I know my Soul hath power to know all things,  
Yet is she blind and ignorant in All:  
I know I'm one of Nature's little Kings;  
Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall:   

I know my Life's a Pain, and but a Span:  
I know my Sense is mocked in every thing:  
And to conclude, I know myself a Man;  
Which is a proud, and yet a wretched thing.    

OF THE Original, Nature and Immortality OF THE SOUL.  

THE Lights of Heaven (which are the World's fair Eyes)  
Look down into the World, the World to see;  
And as they turn, or wander in the Skies,  
Survey all things that on the Centre be.   

And yet the Lights which in my Tower do shine,  
Mine Eyes, which view all Objects nigh and far,  
Look not into this little World of mine,  
Nor see my Face, wherein they fixed are.   

Since Nature fails us in no needful thing,  
Why want I Means my inward Self to see?  
Which Sight the Knowledge of myself might bring,  
Which to true Wisdom is the first Degree.   

That Power which gave me Eyes the World to view,  
To view myself infused an inward Light,  
Whereby my Soul, as by a Mirror true,  
Of her own Form may take a perfect Sight.   

But as the sharpest Eye discerneth nought,  
Except the Sunbeams in the Air do shine;  
So the best Soul, with her reflecting Thought,  
Sees not herself, without some Light Divine.   

O Light, which mak'st the Light which makes the Day!  
Which sett'st the Eye without, and Mind within;  
Lighten my Spirit with one clear heavenly Ray,  
Which now to view itself doth first begin.   

For her true Form, how can my Spark discern,  
Which, dim by Nature, Art did never clear?  
When the great Wits, from whom all Skill we learn,  
Are ignorant both what she is, and where.   

One thinks the Soul is Air; another, Fire;  
Another, Blood diffused about the Heart;  
Another saith, the Elements conspire,  
And to her Essence Each doth give a part.   

Musicians think our Souls are Harmonies;  
Physicians hold, that they Complexion's be;  
Epicures make them Swarms of Atoms,  
Which do by chance into our Bodies flee.   

Some think one gen'ral Soul fills every Brain,  
As the bright Sun sheds Light in every Star;  
And others think the Name of Soul is vain,  
And that we only well mixed Bodies are.   

In Judgement of her Substance thus they vary,  
And vary thus in Judgement of her Seat;  
For some her Chair up to the Brain do carry,  
Some sink it down into the Stomach's Heat.   

Some place it in the Root of Life, the Heart;  
Some in the Liver, Fountain of the Veins:  
Some say, She's all in all, and all in every part:  
Some say, she's not contained, but all contains.   

Thus these great Clerks their little Wisdom show,  
While with their Doctrines they at Hazard play;  
Tossing their light Opinions to and fro,  
To mock the Lewd, as learned in This as They.   

For no crazed Brain could ever yet propound,  
Touching the Soul, so vain and fond a Thought;  
But some among these Masters have been found,  
Which in their Schools the selfsame thing have taught.   

God only wise, to punish Pride of Wit,  
Among Men's Wits hath this Confusion wrought;  
As the proud Tower, whose Points the Clouds did hit,  
By Tongue's Confusion was to ruin brought.   

But (Thou) which didst Man's Soul of Nothing make,  
And when to Nothing it was fallen again,  
" To make it new, the Form of Man didst take;  
" And God with God, becamest a Man with Men.   

Thou that hast fashioned twice this Soul of ours,  
So that she is by double Title thine,  
Thou only knowst her Nature, and her Powers;  
Her subtle Form, thou only canst define.   

To judge herself, she must herself transcend,  
As greater Circles comprehend the less:  
But she wants Power, her own Powers to extend,  
As fettered Men cannot their Strength express.   

But thou bright Morningstar, thou Rising- Sun,  
Which in these latter Times hast brought to Light  
Those Mysteries, that since the World begun,  
Lay hid in Darkness, and Eternal Night.   

Thou (like the Sun) dost, with an equal Ray,  
Into the Palace and the Cottage shine;  
And show'st the Soul both to the Clerk and Lay,  
By the clear Lamp of th' Oracle divine.   

This Lamp, through all the Regions of my Brain,  
Where my Soul sits, doth spread such Beams of Grace,  
As now, methinks, I do distinguish plain,  
Each subtle Line of her Immortal Face.   

The Soul a Substance and a Spirit is,  
Which God himself doth in the Body make,  
Which makes the Man, for every Man from this,  
The Nature of a Man, and Name doth take.   

And though this Spirit be to th' Body knit,  
As an apt Means her Powers to exercise,  
Which are Life, Motion, Sense, and Will, and Wit;  
Yet she survives, although the Body dies.   

SECT. I.  
That the Soul is a Thing subsisting by its self, and has proper Operations without the Body.  

SHE is a Substance, and a real Thing;  
1. Which hath its self an actual, working Might;  
2. Which neither from the Senses Power doth spring,  
3. Nor from the Body's Humours tempered right.   

She is a Vine, which doth no propping need,  
To make her spread herself, or spring upright.  
She is a Star, whose Beams do not proceed  
From any Sun, but from a Native Light.   

For when she sorts Things present with Things past,  
And thereby Things to come doth oft foresee;  
When she doth doubt at first, and choose at last,  
These Acts her Own, without her Body be.   

When of the Dew, which th' Eye and Ear do take  
From Flowers abroad, and bring into the Brain,  
She doth within both Wax and Honey make:  
This Work is here's, this is her proper Pain.   

When she from sundry Acts, one Skill doth draw;  
Gathering from divers Fights, one Art of War;  
From many Cases like, one Rule of Law:  
These her Collections, not the Senses are.   

When in th' Effects she doth the Causes know;  
And seeing the Stream thinks where the Spring doth▪ rise;  
And seeing the Branch, conceives the Root below:  
These things she views, without the Body's Eyes.   

When she, without a Pegasus, doth fly  
Swifter than Lightning's Fire, from East to West;  
About the Centre, and above the Sky,  
She travels then, although the Body rest.   

When all her Works she formeth first within,  
Proportions them, and sees their perfect End,  
E'er she in Act doth any Part begin:  
What Instruments doth then the Body lend?   

When without Hands she doth thus Castles build,  
Sees without Eyes, and without Feet doth run;  
When she digests the World, yet is not filled:  
By her own Powers these Miracles are done.   

When she defines, argues, divides, compounds,  
Considers Virtue, Vice, and general Things;  
And marrying divers Principles and Grounds,  
Out of their Match, a true Conclusion brings.   

These Actions in her Closet, all alone,  
(Retired within herself) she doth fulfil;  
Use of her Body's Organs she hath none,  
When she doth use the Powers of Wit and Will.   

Yet in the Body's Prison so she lies,  
As through the Body's Windows she must look,  
Her divers Powers of Sense to exercise,  
By gathering Notes out of the World's great Book   

Nor can herself discourse or judge of aught,  
But what the Sense collects, and home doth bring;  
And yet the Powers of her discoursing Thought,  
From these Collections, is a divers Thing.   

For though our Eyes can nought but Colours see,  
Yet Colours give them not their Power of Sight:  
So, though these Fruits of Sense her Objects be,  
Yet she discerns them by her proper Light.   

The Workman on his Stuff his Skill doth show,  
And yet the Stuff gives not the Man his Skill:  
Kings their Affairs do by their Servants know,  
But order them by their own Royal Will.   

So, though this cunning Mistress, and this Queen,  
Doth, as her Instruments, the Senses use,  
To know all things that are felt, heard, or seen;  
Yet she herself doth only judge and choose.   

Even as a prudent Emperor, that reigns  
By Sovereign Title, over sundry Lands,  
Borrows, in mean Affairs, his Subjects Pains,  
Sees by their Eyes, and writeth by their Hands;   

But Things of weight and consequence indeed,  
Himself doth in his Chamber them debate;  
Where all his Counsellors he doth exceed,  
As far in Judgement, as he doth in State.   

Or as the Man whom Princes do advance,  
Upon their gracious Mercy-Seat to sit,  
Doth Common Things, of Course and Circumstance,  
To the Reports of common Men commit:   

But when the Cause itself must be decreed,  
Himself in Person, in his proper Court,  
To grave and solemn Hearing doth proceed,  
Of every Proof, and every By-Report.   

Then, like God's Angel, he pronounceth Right,  
And Milk and Honey from his Tongue doth flow:  
Happy are they that still are in his sight,  
To reap the Wisdom which his Lips do sow.   

Right so the Soul, which is a Lady free,  
And doth the Justice of her State maintain:  
Because the Senses ready Servants be,  
Attending nigh about her Court, the Brain;   

By them the Forms of outward Things she learns,  
For they return into the Fantasy,  
Whatever each of them abroad discerns;  
And there inrol it for the Mind to see.   

But when she sits to judge the Good and Ill,  
And to discern betwixt the False and True,  
She is not guided by the Senses Skill,  
But doth each thing in her own Mirror view.   

Then she the Senses checks, which oft do err,  
And even against their false Reports decrees;  
And oft she doth condemn what they prefer;  
For with a Power above the Sense, she sees.   

Therefore no Sense the precious Joys conceives,  
Which in her private Contemplations be;  
For then the ravished Spirit th' Senses leaves,  
Hath her own Powers, and proper Actions free.   

Her Harmonies are sweet, and full of Skill,  
When on the Body's Instruments she plays;  
But the Proportions of the Wit and Will,  
Those sweet Accords are even th' Angels Lays.   

These Tunes of Reason are Amphion's Lyre,  
Wherewith he did the Theban City found:  
These are the Notes wherewith the Heavenly Choir,  
The Praise of him which made the Heaven, doth sound.   

Then her self-being Nature shines in This,  
That she performs her noblest Works alone:  
" The Work, the Touchstone of the Nature is;  
And by their Operations, Things are known.    

SECT. II.  
That the Soul is more than a Perfection, or Reflection of the Sense.  

ARE they not senseless then, that think the Soul  
Nought but a fine Perfection of the Sense,  
Or of the Forms which Fancy doth inrol;  
A quick Resulting, and a Consequence?   

What is it then that doth the Sense accuse,  
Both of false Judgement, and fond Appetites?  
What makes us do what Sense doth most refuse,  
Which oft in Torment of the Sense delights?   

Sense thinks the Planets Spheres not much asunder:  
What tells us then their Distance is so far?  
Sense thinks the Lightning born before the Thunder:  
What tells us then they both together are?   

When Men seem Crows far off upon a Tower,  
Sense saith, they're Crows: What makes us think them Men?  
When we, in Agues, think all sweet things sour,  
What makes us know our Tongue's false Judgement then?   

What Power was that, whereby Medea saw,  
And well approved, and praised the better Course;  
When her rebellious Sense did so withdraw  
Her feeble Powers, that she pursued the worse?   

Did Sense persuade Ulysses not to hear  
The Mermaid's Songs, which so his Men did please,  
That they were all persuaded, through the Ear,  
To quit the Ship, and leap into the Seas?   

Could any Power of Sense the Roman move,  
To burn his own Right Hand with Courage stout?  
Could Sense make Marius sit unbound, and prove  
The cruel Lancing of the knotty Gout?   

Doubtless, in Man there is a Nature found,  
Beside the Senses, and above them far;  
" Though most Men being in sensual Pleasures drowned.  
It seems their Souls but in their Senses are.   

If we had nought but Sense, then only they  
Should have sound Minds, which have their Senses sound:  
But Wisdom grows, when Senses do decay;  
And Folly most in quickest Sense is found.   

If we had nought but Sense, each living Wight,  
Which we call Brute, would be more sharp than we;  
As having Sense's apprehensive Might,  
In a more clear, and excellent Degree.   

But they do want that quick discoursing Power,  
Which doth in us the erring Sense correct;  
Therefore the Bee did suck the painted Flower,  
And Birds, of Grapes, the cunning Shadow pecked.   

Sense outsides knows, the Soul through all things sees:  
Sense, Circumstance; She doth the Substance view:  
Sense sees the Bark; but she the Life of Trees:  
Sense hears the Sounds; but she the Concord's true.   

But why do I the Soul and Sense divide,  
When Sense is but a Power, which she extends;  
Which being in divers parts diversified,  
The divers Forms of Objects apprehends?   

This Power spreads outward, but the Root doth grow  
In th'inward Soul, which only doth perceive;  
For th' Eyes and Ears no more their Objects know,  
Than Glasses know what Faces they receive.   

For if we chance to fix our Thoughts elsewhere,  
Though our Eyes open be, we cannot see:  
And if one Power did not both see and hear,  
Our Sights and Sounds would always double be.   

Then is the Soul a Nature, which contains  
The Power of Sense, within a greater Power;  
Which doth employ and use the Sense's Pains,  
But sits and Rules within her private Bower.    

SECT. III.  
That the Soul is more than the Temperature of the Humours of the Body.  

IF she doth then the subtle Sense excel,  
How gross are they that drown her in the Blood?  
Or in the Body's Humours tempered well;  
As if in them such high Perfection stood?   

As if most Skill in that Musician were,  
Which had the best, and best tuned Instrument?  
As if the Pencil neat, and Colours clear,  
Had Power to make the Painter excellent?   

Why doth not Beauty then resine the Wit,  
And good Complexion rectify the Will?  
Why doth not Health bring Wisdom still with it?  
Why doth not Sickness make Men brutish still.   

Who can in Memory, or Wit, or Will,  
Or Air, or Fire, or Earth, or Water find?  
What Alchemist can draw, with all his Skill,  
The Quintessence of these out of the Mind?   

If th' Elements which have nor Life, nor Sense,  
Can breed in us so great a Power as this,  
Why give they not themselves like Excellence,  
Or other things wherein their Mixture is?   

If she were but the Body's Quality,  
Then would she be with it sick, maimed and blind:  
But we perceive, where these Privations be,  
An healthy, perfect, and sharp sighted Mind.   

If she the Body's Nature did partake,  
Her Strength would with the Body's Strength decay:  
But when the Body's strongest Sinews slake,  
Then is the Soul most active, quick and gay.   

If she were but the Body's Accident,  
And her sole Being did in it subsist,  
As White in Snow, she might herself absent,  
And in the Body's Substance not be missed.   

But it on her, not she on it depends;  
For she the Body doth sustain and cherish:  
Such secret Powers of Life to it she lends,  
That when they fail, then doth the Body perish.   

Since then the Soul works by herself alone,  
Springs not from Sense, nor Humours well agreeing,  
Her Nature is peculiar, and her own;  
She is a Substance, and a perfect Being.    

SECT. IV.  
That the Soul is a Spirit.  

BUT though this Substance be the Root of Sense,  
Sense knows her not, which doth but Bodies know:  
She is a Spirit, and Heavenly Influence,  
Which from the Fountain of God's Spirit doth flow.   

She is a Spirit, yet not like Air, or Wind;  
Nor like the Spirits about the Heart, or Brain;  
Nor like those Spirits which Alchemists do find,  
When they in every thing seek Gold in vain.   

For she all Natures under Heaven doth pass,  
Being like those Spirits, which God's bright Face do see;  
Or like Himself, whose Image once she was,  
Though now (alas!) she scarce his Shadow be.   

For of all Forms, she holds the first Degree,  
That are to gross, material Bodies knit;  
Yet she herself is bodyless, and free;  
And though confined, is almost infinite.   

Were she a Body, how could she remain  
Within this Body, which is less than she?  
Or how could she the World's great Shape contain,  
And in our narrow Breasts contained be?   

All Bodies are confined within some place,  
But she all Place within herself confines.  
All Bodies have their Measure, and their Space;  
But who can draw the Soul's dimensive Lines?   

No Body can at once two Forms admit,  
Except the one the other do deface;  
But in the Soul ten thousand Forms do sit,  
And none intrudes into her Neighbour's Place.   

All Bodies are with other Bodies filled,  
But she receives both Heaven and Earth together:  
Nor are their Forms by rash Encounter spilled,  
For there they stand, and neither toucheth either.   

Nor can her wide Embracements filled be;  
For they that most and greatest things embrace,  
Enlarge thereby their Mind's Capacity,  
As Streams enlarged, enlarge the Channel's Space.   

All things received, do such Proportion take,  
As those things have, wherein they are received:  
So little Glasses little Faces make,  
And narrow Webs on narrow Frames are weaved.   

Then what vast Body must we make the Mind,  
Wherein are Men, Beasts, Trees, Towns, Seas and Lands;  
And yet each thing a proper Place doth find,  
And each thing in the true Proportion stands?   

Doubtless, this could not be, but that she turns  
Bodies to Spirits, by Sublimation strange;  
As Fire converts to Fire the things it burns;  
As we our Meats into our Nature change.   

From their gross Matter she abstracts the Forms,  
And draws a kind of Quintessence from things;  
Which to her proper Nature she transforms,  
To bear them light on her Celestial Wings.   

This doth she, when, from things particular,  
She doth abstract the universal Kind's,  
Which bodyless and immaterial are,  
And can be only lodged within our Minds.   

And thus, from divers Accidents and Acts,  
Which do within her Observation fall,  
She Goddesses, and Powers divine abstracts;  
As Nature, Fortune, and the Virtues all.   

Again; How can she several Bodies know,  
If in herself a Body's Form she bear?  
How can a Mirror sundry Faces show,  
If from all Shapes and Forms it be not clear?   

Nor could we by our Eyes all Colours learn,  
Except our Eyes were of all Colours void;  
Nor sundry Tastes can any Tongue discern,  
Which is with gross and bitter Humours cloyed.   

Nor can a Man of Passions judge aright,  
Except his Mind be from all Passions free:  
Nor can a Judge his Office well acquit,  
If he possessed of either Party be.   

If, last, this quick Power a Body were,  
Were it as swift as is the Wind, or Fire,  
(Whose Atoms do the One down side-ways bear,  
And th' Other make in Pyramids aspire)   

Her nimble Body yet in time must move,  
And not in Instants through all places slide:  
But she is nigh and far, beneath, above,  
In point of Time, which Thought cannot divide:   

She's sent as soon to China, as to Spain;  
And thence returns, as soon as she is sent:  
She measures with one Time, and with one Pain,  
An Ell of Silk, and heavens wide-spreading Tent.   

As then the Soul a Substance hath alone,  
Besides the Body, in which she is confined;  
So hath she not a Body of her own,  
But is a Spirit, and immaterial Mind.   

Since Body and Soul have such Diversities,  
Well might we muse, how first their Match began;  
But that we learn, that He that spread the Skies,  
And fixed the Earth, first formed the Soul in Man.   

This true Prometheus first made Man of Earth,  
And shed in him a Beam of Heavenly Fire;  
Now in their Mother's Wombs, before their Birth,  
Doth in all Sons of Men their Souls inspire.   

And as Minerva is in Fables said,  
From Jove, without a Mother, to proceed;  
So our true Jove, without a Mother's Aid,  
Doth daily Millions of Minerva's breed.    

SECT. V.  
Erroneous Opinions of the Creation of Souls.  

THen neither from Eternity before,  
Nor from the Time, when Time's first Point begun,  
Made he all Souls, which now he keeps in store;  
Some in the Moon, and others in the Sun:   

Nor in a secret Cloister doth he keep  
These Virgin-Spirits, until their Marriage-day;  
Nor locks them up in Chambers, where they sleep,  
Till they awake within these Beds of Clay.   

Nor did he first a certain Number make,  
Infusing part in Beasts, and part in Men;  
And, as unwilling further Pains to take,  
Would make no more than those he framed then.   

So that the Widow- Soul, her Body dying,  
Unto the next-born Body married was;  
And so by often changing, and supplying,  
men's Souls to Beasts, and Beasts to Men did pass.   

(These Thoughts are fond; for since the Bodies born  
Be more in number far, than those that die,  
Thousands must be abortive, and forlorn,  
ere others Deaths to them their Souls supply:)   

But as God's Handmaid, Nature, doth create  
Bodies in time distinct, and Order due;  
So God gives Souls the like successive Date,  
Which Himself makes, in Bodies form new:   

Which Himself makes of no material thing;  
For unto Angels he no Power hath given,  
Either to form the Shape, or Stuff to bring  
From Air, or Fire, or Substance of the Heaven.   

Nor herein doth he Nature's Service use;  
For though from Bodies, she can Bodies bring,  
Yet could she never Souls from Souls traduce,  
As Fire from Fire, or Light from Light doth spring.    

SECT. VI  
That the Soul is not ex Traduce.  

ALas! that some who were great Lights of old,  
And in their Hands the Lamp of God did bear!  
Some Reverend Fathers did this Error hold,  
Having their Eyes dimmed with religious Fear.   

Objection.  
For when (say they) by Rule of Faith we find,  
That every Soul, unto her Body knit,  
Brings from the Mother's Womb the Sin of kind,  
The Root of all the Ill she doth commit.   

How can we say that God the Soul doth make,  
But we must make him Author of her Sin?  
Then from Man's Soul she doth Beginning take,  
Since in Man's Soul Corruption did begin.   

For if God make her first, he makes her ill,  
(Which God forbid our Thoughts should yield unto;)  
Or makes the Body her fair Form to spill,  
Which, of itself, it had not Power to do.   

Not Adam's Body, but his Soul did sin,  
And so herself unto Corruption brought;  
But our poor Soul corrupted is within,  
Ere she had sinned, either in Act, or Thought:   

And yet we see in her such Powers Divine,  
As we could gladly think, from God she came:  
Fain would we make him Author of the Wine,  
If for the Dregs we could some other blame.   

Answer.  
Thus these good Men with holy Zeal were blind,  
When on the other part the Truth did shine;  
Whereof we do clear Demonstrations find,  
By Light of Nature, and by Light Divine.   

None are so gross, as to contend for this,  
That Souls from Bodies may traduced be;  
Between whose Natures no Proportion is,  
When Root and Branch in Nature still agree.   

But many subtle Wits have justified,  
That Souls from Souls spiritually may spring;  
Which (if the Nature of the Soul be tried)  
Will even in Nature prove as gross a thing.    

SECT. VII.  
Reasons drawn from Nature.  

FOR all things made, are either made of nought,  
Or made of Stuff that ready made doth stand:  
Of nought no Creature ever form aught,  
For that is proper to th' Almighty's Hand.   

If then the Soul another Soul do make,  
Because her Power is kept within a Bound,  
She must some former Stuff, or Matter take:  
But in the Soul there is no Matter found.   

Then if her heavenly Form do not agree  
With any Matter which the World contains,  
Then she of nothing must created be;  
And to create, to God alone pertains.   

Again, if Souls do other Souls beget,  
'Tis by themselves, or by the Body's Power:  
If by themselves, what doth their Working let,  
But they might Souls engender every Hour?   

If by the Body, how can Wit and Will  
Join with the Body only in this Act,  
Since when they do their other Works fulfil,  
They from the Body do themselves abstract?   

Again, if Souls of Souls begotten were,  
Into each other they should change and move:  
And Change and Motion still Corruption bear;  
How shall we then the Soul immortal prove?   

If, last, Souls do Generation use,  
Then should they spread incorruptible Seed:  
What then becomes of that which they do lose,  
When th' Acts of Generation do not speed?   

And though the Soul could cast spiritual Seed,  
Yet would she not, because she never dies;  
For mortal things desire their Like to breed,  
That so they may their Kind immortalize.   

Therefore the Angels, Sons of God are named,  
And marry not, nor are in Marriage given:  
Their Spirits and ours are of one Substance framed,  
And have one Father, even the Lord of Heaven;   

Who would at first, that in each other thing,  
The Earth and Water living Souls should breed,  
But that Man's Soul, whom he would make their King,  
Should from himself immediately proceed.   

And when he took the Woman from Man's side,  
Doubtless himself inspired her Soul alone:  
For 'tis not said, he did Man's Soul divide,  
But took Flesh of his Flesh, Bone of his Bone.   

Lastly, God being made Man, for Man's own sake,  
And being like Man in all, except in Sin,  
His Body from the Virgin's Womb did take;  
But all agree, God formed his Soul within.   

Then is the Soul from God; so Pagans say,  
Which saw by Nature's Light her heavenly Kind;  
Naming her, Kin to God, and God's bright Ray,  
A Citizen of Heaven, to Earth confined.   

But now I feel, they pluck me by the Ear,  
Whom my young Muse so boldly termed blind;  
And crave more heavenly Light, that Cloud to clear;  
Which makes them think, God doth not make the Mind.    

SECT. VIII.  
Reasons from Divinity.  

GOd, doubtless, makes her, and doth make her good,  
And grafts her in the Body, there to spring;  
Which, though it be corrupted Flesh and Blood,  
Can no way to the Soul Corruption bring:   

Yet is not God the Author of her Ill,  
Though Author of her Being, and being there:  
And if we dare to judge our Maker's Will,  
He can condemn us, and himself can clear.   

First, God from infinite Eternity  
Decreed, what hath been, is, or shall be done;  
And was resolved, that every Man should be,  
And in his turn, his Race of Life should run:   

And so did purpose all the Souls to make,  
That ever have been made, or ever shall;  
And that their Being they should only take  
In Humane Bodies, or not be at all.   

Was it then fit that such a weak Event  
(Weakness itself, the Sin and Fall of Man)  
His Counsels Execution should prevent,  
Decreed and fixed before the World began?   

Or that one Penal Law by Adam broke,  
Should make God break his own Eternal Law;  
The settled Order of the World revoke,  
And change all Forms of Things which he foresaw?   

Could Eve's weak Hand, extended to the Tree,  
In sunder rend that Adamantine Chain,  
Whose golden Links, Effects and Causes be;  
And which to God's own Chair doth fixed remain?   

O, Could we see how Cause from Cause doth spring!  
How mutually they linked, and folded are!  
And hear how oft one disagreeing String  
The Harmony doth rather make, than mar!   

And view at once, how Death by Sin is brought;  
And how from Death, a better Life doth rise!  
How This God's Justice, and his Mercy taught!  
We this Decree would praise, as right and wise.   

But we that measure Times by First and Last,  
The sight of things successively do take,  
When God on all at once his View doth cast,  
And of all Times doth but one Instant make.   

All in Himself, as in a Glass, he sees;  
For from him, by him, through him, all things be:  
His Sight is not discursive, by degrees;  
But seeing the whole, each single part doth see.   

He looks on Adam, as a Root, or Well;  
And on his Heirs, as Branches, and as Streams:  
He sees all Men, as one Man, though they dwell  
In sundry Cities, and in sundry Realms.   

And as the Root and Branch are but one Tree,  
And Well and Stream do but one River make;  
So, if the Root and Well corrupted be,  
The Stream and Branch the same Corruption take.   

So, when the Root and Fountain of Mankind  
Did draw Corruption, and God's Curse, by Sin;  
This was a Charge, that all his Heirs did bind,  
And all his Offspring grew corrupt therein.   

And as when th' Hand doth strike, the Man offends,  
(For Part from whole, Law severs not in this)  
So Adam's Sin to the whole Kind extends;  
For all their Natures are but part of his.   

Therefore this Sin of Kind, not personal,  
But real, and hereditary was;  
The Gild thereof, and Punishment to all,  
By Course of Nature, and of Law doth pass.   

For as that easy Law was given to all,  
To Ancestor and Heir, to First and Last;  
So was the first Transgression general;  
And all did pluck the Fruit, and all did taste.   

Of this we find some Footsteps in our Law,  
Which doth her Root from God and Nature take;  
Ten thousand Men she doth together draw,  
And of them all, one Corporation make:   

Yet these, and their Successors, are but one;  
And if they gain, or lose their Liberties,  
They harm, or profit not themselves alone,  
But such as in succeeding Times shall rise.   

And so the Ancestor, and all his Heirs,  
Though they in number pass the Stars of Heaven,  
Are still but one; his Forfeitures are theirs,  
And unto them are his Advancements given:   

His Civil Acts do bind and bar them all;  
And as from Adam, all Corruption take,  
So, if the Father's Crime be capital,  
In all the Blood, Law doth Corruption make.   

Is it then just with us, to disinherit  
Th' unborn Nephews, for the Father's Fault;  
And to advance again, for one Man's Merit,  
A thousand Heirs, that have deserved nought?   

And is not God's Decree as just as ours,  
If he, for Adam's Sin, his Sons deprive  
Of all those native Virtues, and those Powers,  
Which he to him, and to his Race did give?   

For, What is this contagious Sin of Kind,  
But a Privation of that Grace within,  
And of that great rich Dowry of the Mind,  
Which all had had, but for the first Man's Sin?   

If then a Man, on light Conditions, gain  
A great Estate, to him, and his, for ever;  
If wilfully he forfeit it again,  
Who doth bemoan his Heir, or blame the Giver?   

So, though God make the Soul good, rich and fair,  
Yet when her Form is to the Body knit,  
Which makes the Man, which Man is Adam's Heir,  
Justly forthwith he takes his Grace from it:   

And then the Soul, being first from Nothing brought,  
When God's Grace fails her, doth to Nothing fall;  
And this declining Proneness unto Nought,  
Is even that Sin that we are born withal.   

Yet not alone the first good Qualities,  
Which in the first Soul were, deprived are;  
But in their place the contrary do rise,  
And real Spots of Sin her Beauty mar.   

Nor is it strange, that Adam's ill Desert  
Should be transferred unto his guilty Race,  
When Christ his Grace and Justice doth impart  
To Men unjust, and such as have no Grace.   

Lastly, The Soul were better so to be  
Born Slave to Sin, than not to be at all;  
Since (if she do believe) one sets her free,  
That makes her mount the higher for her Fall.   

Yet this the curious Wits will not content;  
They yet will know (since God foresaw this Ill)  
Why his high Providence did not prevent  
The Declination of the first Man's Will.   

If by his Word he had the Current stayed  
Of Adam's Will, which was by Nature free,  
It had been One, as if his Word had said,  
I will henceforth, that Man no Man shall be.   

For what is Man without a moving Mind,  
Which hath a judging Wit, and choosing Will?  
Now, if God's Power should her Election bind,  
Her Motions then would cease, and stand all still.   

And why did God in Man this Soul infuse,  
But that he should his Maker know and love?  
Now, if Love be compelled, and cannot choose,  
How can it grateful, or thankworthy prove?   

Love must freehearted be, and voluntary;  
And not enchanted, or by Fate constrained:  
Nor like that Love, which did Ulysses carry  
To Circe's Isle, with mighty Charms enchained.   

Besides, Were we unchangeable in Will,  
And of a Wit that nothing could misdem;  
Equal to God, whose Wisdom shineth still,  
And never errs, we might ourselves esteem.   

So that if Man would be unvariable,  
He must be God, or like a Rock or Tree;  
For even the perfect Angels were not stable,  
But had a Fall more desperate than we.   

Then let us praise that Power, which makes us be  
Men as we are, and rest contented so;  
And knowing Man's Fall was Curiosity,  
Admire God's Counsels, which we cannot know.   

And let us know that God the Maker is  
Of all the Souls, in all the Men that be;  
Yet their Corruption is no Fault of his,  
But the first Man's, that broke God's first Decree.    

SECT. IX.  
Why the Soul is united to the Body.  

THis Substance, and this Spirit, of God's own making,  
Is in the Body placed, and planted here,  
" That both of God, and of the World partaking,  
" Of all that is, Man might the Image bear.   

God first made Angels bodiless, pure Minds;  
Then other things, which mindless Bodies be;  
Last, he made Man, th' Horizon 'twixt both Kind's,  
In whom we do the World's Abridgement see.   

Besides, this World below did need one Wight,  
Which might thereof distinguish every part;  
Make use thereof, and take therein delight;  
And order things with Industry and Art:   

Which also God might in his Works admire,  
And here beneath yield him both Prayer and Praise;  
As there, above, the holy Angel's Choir  
Doth spread his Glory forth with spiritual Lay.   

Lastly, The brute, unreasonable Wights,  
Did want a visible King, o'er them to reign:  
And God himself thus to the World unites,  
That so the World might endless Bliss obtain.    

SECT. X.  
In what Manner the Soul is united to the Body.  

BUT how shall we this Union well express?  
Nought ties the Soul, her Subtlety is such;  
She moves the Body, which she doth possess;  
Yet no part toucheth, but by Virtue's Touch.   

Then dwells she not therein, as in a Tent;  
Nor as a Pilot in his Ship doth sit;  
Nor as the Spider in his Web is penned;  
Nor as the Wax retains the Print in it;   

Nor as a Vessel Water doth contain;  
Nor as one Liquor in another shed;  
Nor as the Heat doth in the Fire remain;  
Nor as a Voice throughout the Air is spread:   

But as the fair and cheerful Morning Light  
Doth here and there her Silver-Beams impart,  
And in an Instant doth herself unite  
To the transparent Air, in all, and every part:   

Still resting whole, when Blows the Air divide;  
Abiding pure, when th' Air is most corrupted;  
Throughout th' Air, her Beams dispersing wide;  
And when the Air is tossed, not interrupted:   

So doth the piercing Soul the Body fill,  
Being all in all, and all in part diffused;  
Indivisible, incorruptible still;  
Not forced, encountered, troubled, or confused.   

And as the Sun above the Light doth bring,  
Though we behold it in the Air below;  
So from th' Eternal Light the Soul doth spring,  
Though in the Body she her Powers do show.    

SECT. XI.  
How the Soul exercises her Powers in the Body.  

BUT as the World's Sun doth Effects beget  
different, in divers places every Day;  
Here Autumn's Temperature, there Summer's Heat;  
Here flowery Springtide, and there Winter-Gray:   

Here Even, there Morn; here Noon, there Day, there  
Night,  
Melts Wax, dries Clay, makes Flowers, some quick, some dead;  
Makes the Moor black, the European white;  
Th' American tawny, and th' East-Indian red:   

So in our little World, this Soul of ours  
Being only one, and to one Body tied,  
Doth use, on divers Objects, divers Powers;  
And so are her Effects diversified.    

SECT. XII.  
The Vegetative Power of the Soul.  

HER quick'ning Power in every living part,  
Doth as a Nurse, or as a Mother serve;  
And doth employ her Oeconomick Art,  
And buisy Care, her Household to preserve.   

Here she attracts, and there she doth retain;  
There she decocts, and doth the Food prepare;  
There she distributes it to every Vein,  
There she expels what she may fitly spare.   

This Power to Martha may compared be,  
Who buisy was, the Houshold-things to do:  
Or to a Dryas, living in a Tree;  
For even to Trees this Power is proper too.   

And though the Soul may not this Power extend  
Out of the Body, but still use it there;  
She hath a Power which she abroad doth send,  
Which views and searcheth all things every where.    

SECT. XIII.  
The Power of Sense.  

THis Power is Sense, which from abroad doth bring  
The Colour, Taste, and Touch, and Scent, and Sound,  
The Quantity and Shape of every thing  
Within Earth's Centre, or heavens Circle found.   

This Power, in Parts made fit, fit Objects takes;  
Yet not the Things, but Forms of Things receives;  
As when a Seal in Wax Impression makes,  
The Print therein, but not itself, it leaves.   

And though things sensible be numberless,  
But only Five the Sense's Organs be;  
And in those Five, all things their Forms express,  
Which we can touch, taste, feel, or hear, or see.   

These are the Windows, through the which she views  
The Light of Knowledge, which is Life's Load-Star:  
" And yet while she these Spectacles doth use,  
" Oft worldly Things seem greater than they are.    

SECT. XIV.  
Seeing.  

FIrst, The two Eyes, which have the Seeing Power,  
Stand as one Watchman, Spy, or Sentinel,  
Being placed aloft, within the Head's high Tower;  
And though both see, yet both but one thing tell.   

These Mirrors take into their little Space,  
The Forms of Moon and Sun, and every Star,  
Of every body, and of every place,  
Which with the World's wide Arms embraced are:   

Yet their best Object, and their noblest Use,  
Hereafter in another World will be,  
When God in them shall heavenly Light infuse,  
That Face to Face they may their Maker see.   

Here are they Guides, which do the Body lead,  
Which else would stumble in Eternal Night:  
Here in this World they do much Knowledge read,  
And are the Casements which admit most Light:   

They are her farthest reaching Instrument,  
Yet they no Beams unto their Objects send;  
But all the Rays are from their Objects sent,  
And in the Eyes with pointed Angles end.   

If th' Objects be far off, the Rays do meet  
In a sharp Point, and so things seem but small:  
If they be near, their Rays do spread and fleet,  
And make broad Points, that things seem great withal.   

Lastly, Nine things to Sight required are;  
The Power to see, the Light, the visible thing,  
Being not too small, too thin, too nigh, too far,  
Clear Space and Time, the Form distinct to bring.   

Thus see we how the Soul doth use the Eyes,  
As Instruments of her quick Power of Sight:  
Hence doth th'Arts Optic, and fair Painting rise;  
Painting, which doth all gentle Minds delight.    

SECT. XV.  
Hearing.  

NOW let us hear how she the Ears employs:  
Their Office is, the troubled Air to take;  
Which in their Mazes forms a Sound or Noise,  
Whereof herself doth true Distinction make.   

These Wickets of the Soul are placed on high,  
Because all Sounds do lightly mount aloft;  
And that they may not pierce too violently,  
They are delayed with Turns and Windings oft.   

For should the Voice directly strike the Brain,  
It would astonish and confuse it much;  
Therefore these Plaits and Folds the Sound restrain,  
That it the Organ may more gently touch.   

As Streams, which with their winding Banks do play,  
Stopped by their Creeks, run softly through the Plain:  
So in th' Ear's Labyrinth the Voice doth stray,  
And doth with easy Motion touch the Brain.   

This is the slowest, yet the daintiest Sense;  
For even the Ears of such as have no Skill,  
Perceive a Discord, and conceive Offence;  
And knowing not what's good, yet find the iii.   

And though this Sense first gentle Music found,  
Her proper Object is the Speech of Men;  
But that Speech chiefly which God's Heralds Sound,  
When their Tongues utter what his Spirit did pen.   

Our Eyes have Lids, our Ears still open we see,  
Quickly to hear how every Tale is proved:  
Our Eyes still move, our Ears unmoved be;  
That though we hear quick, we be not quickly moved.   

Thus by the Organs of the Eye and Ear,  
The Soul with Knowledge doth herself endue:  
" Thus she her Prison may with Pleasure bear,  
" Having such Prospects, all the World to view.   

These Conduit-pipes of Knowledge feed the Mind,  
But th' other three attend the Body still;  
For by their Services the Soul doth find,  
What things are to the Body good or ill.    

SECT. XVI.  
Taste.  

THE Body's Life with Meats and Air is fed,  
Therefore the Soul doth use the Tasting Power  
In Veins, which through the Tongue and Palate spread,  
Distinguish every Relish, Sweet, and Sour.   

This is the Body's Nurse; but since Man's Wit  
Found thouArt of Cookery to delight his Sense,  
More Bodies are consumed and killed with it,  
Than with the Sword, Famine, or Pestilence.    

SECT. XVII.  
Smelling.  

NExt, In the Nostrils she doth use the Smell:  
As God the Breath of Life in them did give;  
So makes he now this Power in them to dwell,  
To judge all Airs, whereby we breath and live.   

This Sense is also Mistress of an Art,  
Which to soft People sweet Perfumes doth sell;  
Though this dear Art doth little Good impart,  
" Since They smell best, that do of nothing smell.   

And yet good Scents do purify the Brain,  
Awake the Fancy, and the Wits refine:  
Hence old Devotion, Incense did ordain,  
To make Men's Spirits more apt for Thoughts Divine.    

SECT. XVIII.  
Feeling.  

LAstly, The Feeling Power, which is Life's Root,  
Through every living Part itself doth shed  
By Sinews, which extend from Head to Foot;  
And like a Net, all o'er the Body spread.   

Much like a subtle Spider, which doth sit  
In middle of her Web, which spreadeth wide;  
If aught do touch the utmost Thread of it,  
She feels it instantly on every side.   

By Touch, the first pure Qualities we learn,  
Which quicken all things, hot, cold, moist, and dry:  
By Touch, hard, soft, rough, smooth, we do discern:  
By Touch, sweet Pleasure, and sharp Pain we try.    

SECT. XIX.  
Of the Imagination, or Common Sense.  

THese are the outward Instruments of Sense;  
These are the Guards which every thing must pass,  
E'er it approach the Mind's Intelligence,  
Or touch the Fantasy, Wit's Looking-Glass.   

And yet these Porters, which all things admit,  
Themselves perceive not, nor discern the things:  
One common Power doth in the Forehead sit,  
Which all their proper Forms together brings.   

For all those Nerves, which Spirits of Sense do bear,  
And to those outward Organs spreading go,  
United are, as in a Centre, there;  
And there this Power those sundry Forms doth know.   

Those outward Organs present things receive,  
This inward Sense doth absent things retain;  
Yet straight transmits' all Forms she doth perceive,  
Unto an higher Region of the Brain,    

SECT. XX.  
Fantasy.  

WHere Fantasy, near Hand maid to the Mind,  
Sits, and beholds, and doth discern them all;  
Compounds in one, things different in their Kind;  
Compares the Black and White, the Great and Small.   

Besides, those single Forms she doth esteem,  
And in her Balance doth their Values try;  
Wheresome things good, and some things ill do seem,  
And Neutral some, in her fantastic Eye.   

This buisy Power is working Day and Night;  
For when the outward Senses Rest do take,  
A thousand Dreams, fantastical and light,  
With fluttering Wings, do keep her still awake:    

SECT. XXI.  
Sensitive Memory.  

YET always all may not afore her be;  
Successively she this and that intends;  
Therefore such Forms as she doth cease to see,  
To Memory's large Volume she commends.   

This Ledger-Book lies in the Brain behind,  
Like Janus Eye, which in his Poll was set:  
The Lay-man's Tables, Storehouse of the Mind;  
Which doth remember much, and much forget.   

Here Sense's Apprehension End doth take;  
As when a Stone is into Water cast,  
One Circle doth another Circle make,  
Till the last Circle touch the Bank at last.    

SECT. XXII.  
The Passion of the Sense.  

BUT though the Apprehensive Power do pause,  
The Motive Virtue than begins to move;  
Which in the Heart below doth Passions cause,  
Joy, Grief, and Fear, and Hope, and Hate, and Love.   

These Passions have a free commanding Might,  
And divers Actions in our Life do breed;  
For all Acts done without true Reason's Light,  
Do from the Passion of the Sense proceed.   

But since the Brain doth lodge the Powers of Sense,  
How makes it in the Heart those Passions spring?  
The mutual Love, the kind Intelligence  
'Twixt Heart and Brain, this Sympathy doth bring.   

From the kind Heat, which in the Heart doth reign,  
The Spirits of Life do their Beginning take;  
These Spirits of Life ascending to the Brain,  
When they come there, the Spirits of Sense do make.   

These Spirits of Sense, in Fantasy's high Court,  
Judge of the Forms of Objects, ill or well;  
And so they send a good or ill Report  
Down to the Heart, where all Affections dwell.   

If the Report be good, it causeth Love,  
And longing Hope, and well assured Joy:  
If it be ill, then doth it Hatred move,  
And trembling Fear, and vexing Griefs annoy.   

Yet were these natural Affections good,  
(For they which want them, Blocks or Devils be)  
If Reason in her first Perfection stood,  
That she might Nature's Passions rectify.    

SECT. XXIII.  
Local Motion.  

BEsides, another Motive-Power doth arise  
Out of the Heart, from whose pure Blood do spring  
The Vital Spirits; which born in Arteries,  
Continual Motion to all Parts do bring.   

This makes the Pulses beat, and Lungs respire:  
This holds the Sinews like a Bridle's Reins;  
And makes the Body to advance, retire,  
To turn, or stop, as she them slacks, or strains.   

Thus the Soul tunes the Body's Instruments,  
These Harmonies she makes with Life and Sense;  
The Organs fit are by the Body lent,  
But th' Actions flow from the Soul's Influence.    

SECT. XXIV.  
The Intellectual Powers of the Soul.  

BUT now I have a Will, yet want a Wit,  
T' express the working of the Wit and Will;  
Which, though their Root be to the Body knit,  
Use not the Body, when they use their Skill.   

These Powers the Nature of the Soul declare,  
For to Man's Soul these only proper be;  
For on the Earth no other Wights there are  
That have these Heavenly Powers, but only we.    

SECT. XXV.  
Wit, Reason, Understanding, Opinion, Judgement, Wisdom.  

THE Wit, the Pupil of the Soul's clear Eye,  
And in Man's World, the only shining Star,  
Look in the Mirror of the Fantasy,  
Where all the Gath'rings of the Senses are.   

From thence this Power the Shapes of things abstracts,  
And them within her Passive Part receives,  
Which are enlightened by that part which Acts;  
And so the Forms of single things perceives.   

But after, by discoursing to and fro,  
Anticipating, and comparing things,  
She doth all Universal Natures know,  
And all Effects into their Causes brings.   

When she rates things, and moves from Ground to Ground,  
The Name of Reason she obtains by this:  
But when by Reason she the Truth hath found,  
And standeth fixed, she Understanding is.   

When her Assent she lightly doth incline  
To either part, she his Opinion's Light:  
But when she doth by Principles define  
A certain Truth, she hath true Judgement's Sight.   

And as from Senses, Reason's Work doth spring,  
So many Reason's Understanding gain;  
And many Understandings, Knowledge bring,  
And by much Knowledge, Wisdom we obtain.   

So, many Stairs we must ascend upright,  
ere we attain to Wisdom's high Degree:  
So doth this Earth eclipse our Reason's Light,  
Which else (in Instants) would like Angels see.    

SECT. XXVI.  
Innate Ideas in the Soul.  

YEt hath the Soul a Dowry natural,  
And Sparks of Light, some common things to see;  
Not being a Blank where Nought is writ at all,  
But what the Writer will, may written be.   

For Nature in Man's Heart her Laws doth pen,  
Prescribing Truth to Wit, and Good to Will;  
Which do accuse, or else excuse all Men,  
For every Thought or Practice, good or ill:   

And yet these Sparks grow almost infinite,  
Making the World, and all therein, their Food;  
As Fire so spreads, as no place holdeth it,  
Being nourished still with new Supplies of Wood   

And though these Sparks were almost quenched with Sin,  
Yet they whom that just One hath justified,  
Have them increased with heavenly Light within;  
And like the Widow's Oil, still multiplied.    

SECT. XXVII.  
The Power of Will, and Relation between the Wit and Will.  

AND as this Wit should Goodness truly know,  
We have a Will, which that true Good should choose,  
Tho Will do oft (when Wit false Forms doth show)  
Take Ill for Good, and Good for Ill refuse.   

Will puts in practice what the Wit deviseth:  
Will ever acts, and Wit contemplates still:  
And as from Wit, the Power of Wisdom riseth,  
All other Virtues Daughters are of Will.   

Will is the Prince, and Wit the Counsellor,  
Which doth for common Good in Council sit;  
And when Wit is resolved, Will lends her Power  
To execute what is advised by Wit.   

Wit is the Mind's chief Judge, which doth control  
Of Fancy's Court the Judgements false and vain:  
Will holds the Royal Sceptre in the Soul,  
And on the Passions of the Heart doth reign.   

Will is as free as any Emperor,  
Nought can restrain her gentle-Liberty:  
No Tyrant, nor no Torment hath the power  
To make us will, when we unwilling be.    

SECT. XXVIII.  
The Intellectual Memory.  

TO these high Powers a Storehouse doth pertain,  
Where they all Arts, and gen'ral Reasons lay;  
Which in the Soul, even after Death, remain,  
And no Lethaean Flood can wash away.    

SECT. XXIX.  
The Dependency of the Soul's Faculties upon each Other.  

THis is the Soul, and these her Virtues be;  
Which, though they have their sundry proper Ends▪  
And one exceeds another in Degree,  
Yet each on other mutually depends.   

Our Wit is given, Almighty God to know;  
Our Will is given to love him, being known:  
But God could not be known to us below,  
But by his Works, which through the Sense are shown.   

And as the Wit doth reap the Fruits of Sense,  
So doth the quick'ning Power the Senses feed:  
Thus while they do their sundry Gifts dispense,  
" The Best the Service of the Lest doth need.   

Even so the King his Magistrates do serve,  
Yet Commons feed both Magistrates and King:  
The Common's Peace the Magistrates preserve,  
By borrowed Power, which from the Prince doth spring.   

The Quick'ning Power would be, and so would rest;  
The Sense would not be only, but be well:  
But Wit's Ambition longeth to the best,  
For it desires in endless Bliss to dwell.   

And these three Powers▪ three sorts of Men do make;  
For some, like Plants, their Veins do only fill;  
And some, like Beasts, their Senses pleasure take;  
And some, like Angels, do contemplate still.   

Therefore the Fables turned some Men to Flowers,  
And others did with brutish Forms invest;  
And did of others make Celestial Powers,  
Like Angels, which still travel, yet still rest.   

Yet these three Powers are not three Souls, but one;  
As One and Two are both contained in Three;  
Three being one Number by itself alone,  
A Shadow of the blessed Trinity.   

Oh! What is Man (great Maker of Mankind!)  
That thou to him so great Respect dost bear!  
That thou adorn'st him with so bright a Mind,  
Mak'st him a King, and even an Angel's Peer!   

Oh! What a lively Life, what heavenly Power,  
What spreading Virtue, what a sparkling Fire,  
How great, how plentiful, how rich a dower  
Dost thou within this dying Flesh inspire!   

Thou leav'st thy Print in other Works of thine;  
But thy whole Image thou in Man hast writ:  
There cannot be a Creature more divine,  
Except (like thee) it should be infinite.   

But it exceeds Man's Thought, to think how high  
God hath raised Man, since God a Man became:  
The Angels do admire this Mystery,  
And are astonished when they view the same.   

Nor hath he given these Blessings for a Day,  
Nor made them on the Body's Life depend:  
The Soul, though made in Time, survives for ay;  
And though it hath Beginning, sees no End.    

SECT. XXX.  
That the Soul is Immortal, proved by several Reasons.  

HER only End, is Never ending Bliss;  
Which is, the Eternal Face of GOD to see;  
Who, Last of Ends, and First of Causes is:  
And to do this, she must Eternal be.   

How senseless then, and dead a Soul hath he,  
Which thinks his Soul doth with his Body die:  
Or thinks not so, but so would have it be,  
That he might Sin with more Security?   

For though these light and vicious Persons say,  
Our Soul is but a Smoke, or airy Blast,  
Which, during Life, doth in our Nostrils play,  
And when we die, doth turn to Wind at last:   

Although they say, Come, let us eat and drink;  
Our Life is but a Spark, which quickly dies:  
Though thus they say, they know not what to think;  
But in their Minds ten thousand Doubts arise.   

Therefore no Heretics desire to spread  
Their light Opinions, like these Epicures;  
For so their staggering Thoughts are comforted,  
And other Men's Assent their Doubt assures.   

Yet though these Men against their Conscience strive,  
There are some Sparkles in their flinty Breasts,  
Which cannot be extinct, but still revive;  
That though they would, they cannot quite be Beasts.   

But whoso makes a Mirror of his Mind,  
And doth with Patience view himself therein,  
His Soul's Eternity shall clearly find,  
Though th'other Beauties be defaced with Sin.   

1. Reason.  

First, in Man's Mind we find an Appetite  
To learn and know the Truth of every thing,  
Which is co-natural, and born with it,  
And from the Essence of the Soul doth spring.   

With this Desire, she hath a native Might  
To find out every Truth, if she had time;  
Th' innumerable Effects to sort aright,  
And by Degrees, from Cause to Cause to climb.   

But since our Life so fast away doth slide,  
As doth an hungry Eagle through the Wind;  
Or as a Ship transported with the Tide,  
Which in their Passage leave no print behind;   

Of which swift little Time so much we spend,  
While some few things we through the Sense do strain,  
That our short Race of Life is at an end,  
ere we the Principles of Skill attain.   

Or God (who to vain Ends hath nothing done)  
In vain this Appetite and Power hath given;  
Or else our Knowledge, which is here begun,  
Hereafter must be perfected in Heaven.   

God never gave a Power to one whole Kind,  
But most part of that Kind did use the same:  
Most Eyes have perfect Sight, though some be blind;  
Most Legs can nimbly run, though some be lame.   

But in this Life no Soul the Truth can know  
So perfecty, as it hath Power to do:  
If then Perfection be not found below,  
An higher place must make her mount thereto.    

2. Reason.  

Again, How can she but Immortal be,  
When with the Motions of both Will and Wit,  
She still aspireth to Eternity,  
And never rests, till she attain to it?   

Water in Conduit-pipes, can rise no higher  
Than the Wellhead, from whence it first doth spring:  
Then since to Eternal GOD she doth aspire,  
She cannot be but an Eternal Thing.   

" All moving things to other things do move,  
" Of the same kind, which shows their Nature such:  
So Earth falls down, and Fire doth mount above,  
Till both their proper Elements do touch.   

And as the Moisture, which the thirsty Earth  
Sucks from the Sea, to fill her empty Veins,  
From out her Womb at last doth take a Birth,  
And runs a Nymph along the grassy Plains:   

Long doth she stay, as loath to leave the Land,  
From whose soft Side she first did issue make:  
She tastes all Places, turns to every Hand,  
Her flowery Banks unwilling to forsake:   

Yet Nature so her Streams doth lead and carry,  
As that her Course doth make no final stay,  
Till she herself unto the Ocean marry,  
Within whose watery Bosom first she lay.   

Even so the Soul, which in this Earthly Mould  
The Spirit of God doth secretly infuse,  
Because at first she doth the Earth behold,  
And only this material World she views:   

At first her Mother Earth she holdeth dear,  
And doth embrace the World, and worldly things;  
She flies close by the Ground, and hovers here,  
And mounts not up with her Celestial Wings:   

Yet under Heaven she cannot light on Aught  
That with her heavenly Nature doth agree;  
She cannot rest, she cannot fix her Thought,  
She cannot is this World contented be.   

For who did ever yet, in Honour, Wealth,  
Or Pleasure of the Sense, Contentment find?  
Who ever ceased to wish, when he had Health?  
Or having Wisdom, was not vexed in Mind?   

Then as a Bee which among Weeds doth fall,  
Which seem sweet Flowers, with lustre fresh and gay;  
She lights on that, and this, and tasteth all;  
But pleased with none, doth rise, and soar away:   

So, when the Soul finds here no true Content,  
And, like Noah's Dove, can no sure Footing take,  
She doth return from whence she first was sent,  
And flies to him that first her Wings did make.   

Wit, seeking Truth, from Cause to Cause ascends,  
And never rests, till it the first attain:  
Will, seeking Good, finds many middle Ends;  
But never stays, till it the last do gain.   

Now GOD the Truth, and First of Causes is;  
GOD is the last good End, which lasteth still;  
Being Alpha and Omega named for this;  
Alpha to Wit, Omega to the Will.   

Since than her heavenly Kind she doth display,  
In that to GOD she doth directly move;  
And on no mortal thing can make her Stay,  
She cannot be from hence, but from above.   

And yet this first true Cause, and last good End,  
She cannot here so well, and truly see;  
For this Perfection she must yet attend,  
Till to her Maker she espoused be.   

As a King's Daughter, being in Person sought  
Of divers Princes, who do neighbour near,  
On none of them can fix a constant Thought,  
Though she to all do lend a gentle Ear:   

Yet can she love a foreign Emperor,  
Whom of great Worth and Power she hears to be,  
If she be wooed but by Ambassador,  
Or but his Letters, or his Pictures see:   

For well she knows, that when she shall be brought  
Into the Kingdom where her Spouse doth reign;  
Her Eyes shall see what she conceived in Thought,  
Himself, his State, his Glory, and his Train.   

So while the Virgin-Soul on Earth doth stay,  
She wooed and tempted is ten thousand Ways,  
By these great Powers, which on the Earth bear sway;  
The Wisdom of the World, Wealth, Pleasure, Praise:   

With these sometimes she doth her Time beguile,  
These do by fits her Fantasy possess;  
But she distastes them all within a while,  
And in the sweetest finds a Tediousness.   

But if upon the World's Almighty King  
She once doth fix her humble loving Thought,  
Who by his Picture drawn in every thing,  
And sacred Messages, her Love hath sought;   

Of him she thinks she cannot think too much;  
This Honey tasted still, is ever sweet;  
The Pleasure of her ravished Thought is such,  
As almost here she with her Bliss doth meet:   

But when in Heaven she shall his Essence see,  
This is her sovereign Good, and perfect Bliss;  
Her Longing, Wish, Hopes, all finished be;  
Her Joys are full, her Motions rest in this:   

There is she crowned with Garlands of Content;  
There doth she Manna eat, and Nectar drink:  
That Presence doth such high Delights present,  
As never Tongue could speak, nor Heart could think.    

3. Reason.  

For this, the better Souls do oft despise  
The Body's Death, and do it oft desire;  
For when on Ground the burdened Balance lies,  
The empty part is lifted up the higher:   

But if the Body's Death the Soul should kill,  
Then Death must needs against her Nature be;  
And were it so, all Souls would fly it still,  
For Nature hates and shuns her Contrary.   

For all things else, which Nature makes to be,  
Their Being to preserve, are chiefly taught;  
And though some things desire a Change to see,  
Yet never Thing did long to turn to nought.   

If then by Death the Soul were quenched quite,  
She could not thus against her Nature run;  
Since every senseless thing, by Nature's Light,  
Doth Preservation seek, Destruction shun.   

Nor could the World's best Spirits so much err,  
If Death took all, that they should all agree,  
Before this Life, their Honour to prefer:  
For what is Praise to things that nothing be?   

Again, If by the Body's Prop she stand;  
If on the Body's Life, her Life depend,  
As Meleager's on the fatal Brand,  
The Body's Good she only would intend:   

We should not find her half so brave and bold,  
To lead it to the Wars, and to the Seas,  
To make it suffer Watchings, Hunger, Cold,  
When it might feed with Plenty, rest with Ease.   

Doubtless, all Souls have a surviving Thought,  
Therefore of Death we think with quiet Mind;  
But if we think of being turned to nought,  
A trembling Horror in our Souls we find.    

4. Reason.  

And as the better Spirit, when she doth bear  
A Scorn of Death, doth show she cannot die;  
So when the wicked Soul Death's Face doth fear,  
Even than she proves her own Eternity.   

For when Death's Form appears, she feareth not  
An utter Quenching, or Extinguishment;  
She would be glad to meet with such a Lot,  
That so she might all future Ill prevent:   

But she doth doubt what after may befall;  
For Nature's Law accuseth her within,  
And saith, 'Tis true what is affirmed by all,  
That after Death there is a Pain for Sin.   

Then she who hath been hood winked from he Birth,  
Doth first herself within Death's Mirror see;  
And when her Body doth return to Earth,  
She first takes care, how she alone shall be.   

Who ever sees these irreligious Men,  
With Burden of a Sickness weak and faint,  
But hears them talking of Religion then,  
And vowing of their Souls to every Saint?   

When was there ever cursed Atheist brought  
Unto the Gibbet, but he did adore  
That blessed Power, which he had set at nought,  
Scorned and blasphemed all his Life before?   

These light vain Persons still are drunk and mad,  
With Surfeitings, and Pleasures of their Youth;  
But at their Death they are fresh, sober, sad;  
Then they discern, and then they speak the truth.   

If then all Souls, both good and bad, do teach,  
With gen'ral Voice, That Souls can never die;  
'Tis not Man's flattering Gloss, but Nature's Speech,  
Which, like GOD's Oracles, can never lie.    

5. Reason.  

Hence springs that universal strong Desire,  
Which all Men have of Immortality:  
Not some few Spirits unto this Thought aspire,  
But all Men's Minds in this united be.   

Then this Desire of Nature is not vain,  
" She covets not Impossibilities;  
" Fond Thoughts may fall into some idle Brain,  
" But one Assent of all, is ever wise.   

From hence that gen'ral Care and Study springs,  
That Launching, and Progression of the Mind,  
Which all Men have so much of future things,  
That they no Joy do in the present find.   

From this Desire, that main Desire proceeds,  
Which all Men have surviving Fame to gain,  
By Tombs, by Books, by memorable Deeds;  
For she that this desires, doth still remain.   

Hence, lastly, springs Care of Posterities,  
For Things their Kind would everlasting make:  
Hence is it, that old Men do plant young Trees,  
The Fruit whereof another Age shall take.   

If we these Rules unto ourselves apply,  
And view them by Reflection of the Mind,  
All these true Notes of Immortality  
In our Heart's Tables we shall written find.    

6. Reason.  

And though some impious Wits do Questions move,  
And doubt if Souls immortal be, or no;  
That Doubt their Immortality doth prove,  
Because they seem immortal things to know.   

For he who Reasons on both Parts doth bring,  
Doth some things mortal, some immortal call;  
Now, if himself were but a mortal thing,  
He could not judge immortal things at all.   

For when we judge, our Minds we Mirrors make;  
And as those Glasses which material be,  
Forms of material things do only take;  
For Thoughts or Minds in them we cannot see:   

So when we God and Angels do conceive,  
And think of Truth, which is eternal too;  
Then do our Minds immortal Forms receive,  
Which if they mortal were, they could not do.   

And as if Beasts conceived what Reason were,  
And that Conception should distinctly show,  
They should the Name of Reasonable bear;  
For without Reason, none could Reason know:   

So when the Soul mounts with so high a Wing,  
As of Eternal Things she Doubts can move;  
She Proofs of her Eternity doth bring,  
Even when she strives the contrary to prove.   

For even the Thought of Immortality,  
Being an Act done without the Body's Aid,  
Shows, that herself alone could move and be,  
Although the Body in the Grave were laid.     

SECT. XXXI.  
That the Soul cannot be destroyed  

AND if herself she can so lively move,  
And never need a Foreign Help to take;  
Then must her Motion everlasting prove,  
" Because herself she never can forsake.   

But though Corruption cannot touch the Mind  
By any Cause that from itself may spring,  
Some outward Cause Fate hath perhaps designed,  
Which to the Soul may utter Quenching bring.   

Perhaps her Cause may cease, and she may die:  
God is her Cause, his Word her Maker was;  
Which shall stand fixed for all Eternity,  
When Heaven and Earth shall like a Shadow pass.   

Perhaps some thing repugnant to her Kind,  
By strong Antipathy, the Soul may kill:  
But what can be Contrary to the Mind,  
Which holds all Contraries in Concord still?   

She lodgeth Heat, and Cold, and Moist, and Dry,  
And Life, and Death, and Peace, and War together;  
Ten thousand fight things in her do lie,  
Yet neither troubleth, or disturbeth either.   

Perhaps for want of Food, the Soul may pine;  
But that were strange, since all things bad and good;  
Since all God's Creatures, Mortal and Divine;  
Since God himself is her eternal Food.   

Bodies are fed with things of mortal kind,  
And so are subject to Mortality:  
But Truth, which is eternal, feeds the Mind;  
The Tree of Life, which will not let her die.   

Yet Violence, perhaps the Soul destroys,  
As Lightning, or the Sunbeams dim the Sight;  
Or as a Thunder clap, or Cannon's noise,  
The Power of Hearing doth astonish quite:   

But high Perfection to the Soul it brings,  
T' encounter things most excellent and high;  
For, when she views the best and greatest things,  
They do not hurt, but rather clear the Eye.   

Besides, as Homer's Gods, 'gainst Armies stand,  
Her subtle Form can through all Dangers slide:  
Bodies are Captive, Minds endure no Band;  
" And Will is free, and can no Force abide.   

But lastly, Time perhaps at last hath power  
To spend her lively Powers, and quench her Light;  
But old God Saturn, which doth all devour,  
Doth cherish her, and still augment her Might.   

Heaven waxeth old, and all the Spheres above  
Shall one Day faint, and their swift Motion stay;  
And Time itself, in time shall cease to move;  
Only the Soul survives, and lives for ay.   

" Our Bodies, every Footstep that they make,  
" March towards Death, until at last they die:  
" Whether we work or play, or sleep or wake,  
" Our Life doth pass, and with Time's Wings doth fly:   

But to the Soul, Time doth Perfection give,  
And adds fresh Lustre to her Beauty still;  
And makes her in eternal Youth to live,  
Like her which Nectar to the Gods doth fill.   

The more she lives, the more she feeds on Truth;  
The more she feeds, her Strength doth more increase:  
And what is Strength, but an Effect of Youth,  
Which if Time nurse, how can it ever cease?    

SECT. XXXII.  
Objections against the Immortality of the Soul, with their respective Answers.  

BUT now these Epicures begin to smile,  
And say, My Doctrine is more safe than true;  
And that I fond do myself beguile,  
While these received Opinions I ensue.   

For, what, say they? Doth not the Soul wax old?  
How comes it then that Aged Men do dote;  
And that their Brains grow sottish, dull and cold,  
Which were in Youth the only Spirits of note?   

What? Are not Souls within themselves corrupted?  
How can there Idiots then by Nature be?  
How is it that some Wits are interrupted,  
That now they dazzled are, now clearly see?   

These Questions make a subtle Argument  
To such as think both Sense and Reason One;  
To whom nor Agent, from the Instrument,  
Nor Power of Working, from the Work is known.   

But they that know that Wit can show no Skill,  
But when she Things in Sense's Glass doth view,  
Do know, if Accident this Glass do spill,  
It nothing sees, or sees the False for true.   

For, if that Region of the tender Brain,  
Where th'inward Sense of Fantasy should sit,  
And th'outward Senses, Gath'rings should retain;  
By Nature, or by Chance, become unfit:   

Either at first uncapable it is,  
And so few things, or none at all receives;  
Or marred by Accident, which haps amiss;  
And so amiss it every thing perceives.   

Then, as a cunning Prince that useth Spies,  
If they return no News, doth nothing know;  
But if they make Advertisement of Lies,  
The Prince's Counsels all awry do go:   

Even so the Soul to such a Body knit,  
Whose inward Senses undisposed be;  
And to receive the Forms of Things unfit,  
Where nothing is brought in, can nothing see.   

This makes the Idiot, which hath yet a Mind,  
Able to know the Truth, and choose the Good:  
If she such Figures in the Brain did find,  
As might be found, if it in temper stood▪   

But if a Frenzy do possess the Brain,  
It so disturbs and blots the Forms of Things,  
As Fantasy proves altogether vain,  
And to the Wit no true Relation brings.   

Then doth the Wit, admitting all for true,  
Build fond Conclusions on those idle Grounds:  
Then doth it fly the Good, and Ill pursue;  
Believing all that this false Spy propounds▪   

But purge the Hamours, and the Rage appease,  
Which this Distemper in the Fancy wrought;  
Then shall the Wit, which never had Disease,  
Discourse, and judge discreetly, as it ought.   

So, though the Clouds eclipse the Sun's fair Light,  
Yet from his Face they do not take one Beam;  
So have our Eyes their perfect Power of Sight,  
Even when they look into a troubled Stream.   

Then these Defects in Sense's Organs be;  
Not in the Soul, or in her working Might:  
She cannot lose her perfect Power to see,  
Though Mists and Clouds do choke her Window-Light.   

These Imperfections than we must impute,  
Not to the Agent, but the Instrument:  
We must not blame Apollo, but his Lute,  
If false Accords from her false Strings be sent.   

The Soul in all hath one Intelligence;  
Though too much Moisture in an Infant's Brain,  
And too much Dryness in an old Man's Sense,  
Cannot the Prints of outward things retain:   

Then doth the Soul want Work, and idle sit,  
And this we Childishness and Dotage call;  
Yet hath she then a quick and active Wit,  
If she had Stuff and Tools to work withal:   

For, give her Organs fit, and Objects fair;  
Give but the aged Man, the young Man's Sense;  
Let but Medea, Aesons Youth repair,  
And strait she shows her wont Excellence.   

As a good Harper, stricken far in Years,  
Into whose cunning Hands the Gout doth fall,  
All his old Crotchets in his Brain he bears,  
But on his Harp plays ill, or not at all.   

But if Apollo takes his Gout away,  
That he his nimble Fingers may apply;  
Apollo's self will envy at his Play,  
And all the World applaud his Minstralsy.   

Then Dotage is no Weakness of the Mind,  
But of the Sense; for if the Mind did waste,  
In all old Men we should this Wasting find,  
When they some certain Term of Years had passed:   

But most of them, even to their dying Hour,  
Retain a Mind more lively, quick and strong;  
And better use their understanding Power,  
Then when their Brains were warm, and Limbs were young.   

For, though the Body wasted be, and weak,  
And though the Leaden Form of Earth it bears;  
Yet when we hear that half-dead Body speak,  
We oft are ravished to the heavenly Spheres.   

Yet say these Men, If all her Organs die,  
Then hath the Soul no power her Powers to use:  
So, in a sort, her Powers extinct do lie,  
When unto Act she cannot them reduce.   

And if her Powers be dead, than what is she?  
For since from every thing some Powers do spring;  
And from those Powers, some Acts proceeding be;  
Then kill both Power and Act, and kill the thing.   

Doubtless, the Body's Death, when once it dies,  
The Instruments of Sense and Life doth kill;  
So that she cannot use those Faculties,  
Although their Root rest in her Substance still.   

But (as the Body living) Wit and Will  
Can judge and choose, without the Body's Aid;  
Though on such Objects they are working still,  
As through the Body's Organs are conveyed:   

So, when the Body serves her turn no more,  
And all her Senses are extinct and gone,  
She can discourse of what she learned before,  
In heavenly Contemplations, all alone.   

So, if one Man well on the Lute doth play,  
And have good Horsemanship, and Learning's Skill;  
Though both his Lute and Horse we take away,  
Doth he not keep his former Learning still?   

He keeps it, doubtless, and can use it too;  
And doth both th'other Skills in Power retain;  
And can of both the proper Actions do,  
If with his Lute or Horse he meet again,   

So though the Instruments, (by which we live,  
And view the World) the Body's Death do kill;  
Yet with the Body they shall all revive,  
And all their wont Offices fulfil.   

But how, till then, shall she herself employ?  
Her Spies are dead, which brought home News before:  
What she hath got, and keeps, she may enjoy,  
But she hath Means to understand no more.   

Then what do those poor Souls, which nothing get?  
Or what do those which get, and cannot keep?  
Like Buckets bottomless, which all outlet;  
Those Souls, for want of Exercise, must sleep.   

See how Man's Soul against itself doth strive:  
Why should we not have other Means to know?  
As Children, while within the Womb they live,  
Feed by the Navel: Here they feed not so.   

These Children, if they had some use of Sense,  
And should by chance their Mother's talking hear,  
That in short time they shall come forth from thence,  
Would fear their Birth, more than our Death we fear.   

They would cry out, If we this place shall leave,  
Then shall we break our tender Navil-strings:  
How shall we then our Nourishment receive,  
Since our sweet Food no other Conduit brings?   

And if a Man should to these Babes reply,  
That into this fair World they shall be brought,  
Where they shall view the Earth, the Sea, the Sky,  
The glorious Sun, and all that God hath wrought:   

That there ten thousand Dainties they shall meet,  
Which by their Mouths they shall with pleasure take;  
Which shall be cordial too, as well as sweet;  
And of their little Limbs, tall Bodies make:   

This World they'd think a Fable, even as we  
Do think the Story of the Golden Age;  
Or as some sensual Spirits 'mongst us be,  
Which hold the World to come, a feigned Stage:   

Yet shall these Infants after find all true,  
Tho' then thereof they nothing could conceive:  
As soon as they are born, the World they view,  
And with their Mouths, the Nurse's Milk receive.   

So when the Soul is born (for Death is nought  
But the Soul's Birth, and so we should it call)  
Ten thousand things she sees beyond her Thought;  
And in an unknown manner, knows them all.   

Then doth she see by Spectacles no more,  
She hears not by report of double Spies;  
Herself in Instants doth all things explore;  
For each thing's present, and before her lies.   

But still this Crew with Questions me pursues:  
If Souls deceased (say they) still living be,  
Why do they not return, to bring us News  
Of that strange World, where they such Wonders see?   

Fond Men! If we believe that Men do live  
Under the Zenith of both frozen Poles,  
Though none come thence, Advertisement to give,  
Why bear we not the like Faith of our Souls?   

The Soul hath here on Earth no more to do,  
Than we have Business in our Mother's Womb:  
What Child doth covet to return thereto,  
Although all Children first from thence do come?   

But as Noah's Pigeon, which returned no more,  
Did show, she footing found, for all the Flood;  
So when good Souls, departed through Death's Door,  
Come not again, it shows their Dwelling good.   

And doubtless, such a Soul as up doth mount,  
And doth appear before her Maker's Face,  
Holds this vile World in such a base Account,  
As she looks down and scorns this wretched Place.   

But such as are detruded down to Hell,  
Either for Shame, they still themselves retire;  
Or tied in Chains, they in close Prison dwell,  
And cannot come, although they much desire.   

Well, well, say these vain Spirits, thought vain it is  
To think our Souls to Heaven or Hell do go;  
Politic Men have thought it not amiss,  
To spread this Lie, to make Men virtuous so.   

Do you then think this Moral Virtue good?  
I think you do, even for your private Gain;  
For Commonwealths by Virtue ever stood,  
And common Good the private doth contain.   

If then this Virtue you do love so well,  
Have you no Means, her Practice to maintain;  
But you this Lie must to the People tell,  
That good Souls live in Joy, and Ill in Pain?   

Must Virtue be preserved by a Lie?  
Virtue and Truth do ever best agree;  
By this it seems to be a Verity,  
Since the Effects so good and virtuous be.   

For, as the Devil, the Father is of Lies,  
So Vice and Mischief do his Lies ensue:  
Then this good Doctrine did not he devise;  
But made this Lie, which saith, it is not true.   

For, how can that be false, which every Tongue  
Of every mortal Man affirms for true?  
Which Truth hath in all Ages been so strong,  
As, Load-Stone-like, all Hearts it ever drew.   

For, not the Christian, or the Jew alone,  
The Persian, or the Turk, acknowledge this;  
This Mystery to the wild Indian known,  
And to the Cannibal and Tartar is.   

This rich Assyrian Drug grows every where;  
As common in the North, as in the East:  
This Doctrine doth not enter by the Ear,  
But of itself is native in the Breast.   

None that acknowledge God, or Providence,  
Their Soul's Eternity did ever doubt;  
For all Religion takes Root from hence,  
Which no poor naked Nation lives without.   

For since the World for Man created was,  
(For only Man the Use thereof doth know)  
If Man do perish like a withered Grass,  
How doth God's Wisdom order things below?   

And if that Wisdom still wise Ends propound,  
Why made he Man, of other Creatures, King;  
When (if he perish here) there is not found  
In all the World so poor and vile a thing?   

If Death do quench us quite, we have great wrong,  
Since for our service all things else were wrought;  
That Daws, and Trees, and Rocks should last so long,  
When we must in an instant pass to nought.   

But blessed be that Great Power, that hath us blessed  
With longer Life than Heaven or Earth can have;  
Which hath infused into our mortal Breast  
Immortal Powers not subject to the Grave.   

For though the Soul do seem her Grave to bear,  
And in this World is almost buried quick,  
We have no Cause the Body's Death to fear;  
For when the Shell is broke, out comes a Chick.    

SECT. XXXIII.  
Three Kind's of Life answerable to the three Powers of the Soul.  

FOR as the Soul's Essential Powers are three;  
The quick'ning Power, the Power of Sense and Reason;  
Three kinds of Life to her designed be,  
Which perfect these three Powers in their due Season.   

The first Life in the Mother's Womb is spent,  
Where she her Nursing Power doth only use;  
Where, when she finds defect of Nourishment,  
Sh'expels her Body, and this World she views.   

This we call Birth; but if the Child could speak,  
He Death would call it; and of Nature plain,  
That she would thrust him out naked and weak,  
And in his Passage pinch him with such Pain.   

Yet out he comes, and in this World is placed,  
Where all his Senses in Perfection be;  
Where he finds Flowers to smell, and Fruits to taste,  
And Sounds to hear, and sundry forms to see.   

When he hath passed some Time upon the Stage,  
His Reason then a little seems to wake;  
Which, though she spring when Sense doth fade with Age,  
Yet can she here no perfect Practice make.   

Then doth aspiring Soul the Body leave,  
Which we call Death; but were it known to all,  
What Life our Souls do by this Death receive,  
Men would it Birth, or Goal-Deliv'ry call.   

In this third Life, Reason will be so bright,  
As that her Spark will like the Sunbeams shine,  
And shall of God enjoy the real Sight,  
Being still increased by Influence divine.    

SECT. XXXIV.  
The Conclusion.  

O Ignorant poor Man! what dost thou bear,  
Locked up within the Casket of thy Breast?  
What Jewels, and what Riches hast thou there?  
What heavenly Treasure in so weak a Chest?   

Look in thy Soul, and thou shalt Beauties find,  
Like those which drowned Narcissus in the Flood:  
Honour and Pleasure both are in thy Mind,  
And all that in the World is counted Good.   

Think of her Worth, and think that God did mean,  
This worthy Mind should worthy things embrace:  
Blot not her Beauties with thy Thoughts unclean,  
Nor her dishonour with thy Passion base.   

Kill not her Quickn'ng Power with Surfeitings:  
Mar not her Sense with Sensuality:  
Cast not her serious Wit on idle things:  
Make not her Free Will Slave to Vanity.   

And when thou think'st of her Eternity,  
Think not that Death against her Nature is;  
Think it a Birth: And when thou go'st to die,  
Sing like a Swan, as if thou wentest to Bliss.   

And if thou, like a Child, didst fear before,  
Being in the dark, where thou didst nothing see;  
Now I have brought thee Torchlight, fear no more;  
Now when thou diest, thou canst not hood winked   

And thou, my Soul, which turn'st with curious Eye,  
To view the Beams of thine own Form divine,  
Know, that thou canst know nothing perfectly,  
While thou art clouded with this Flesh of mine.   

Take heed of Overweening, and compare  
Thy Peacock's Feet with thy gay Peacock's Train:  
Study the best and highest Things that are,  
But of thyself an humble Thought retain.   

Cast down thyself, and only strive to raise  
The Glory of thy Maker's sacred Name:  
Use all thy Powers, that blessed Power to praise,  
Which gives thee Power to be, and use the same.   
FINIS.    

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Dr. Claget's State of the Church of Rome when the Reformation began. Quarto.  
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Dr. Wake's Discourse concerning the Nature of Idolatry. Quarto.  
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Mr. Gee's History of the Persecutions of the Protestants in the Principality of Orange, by the French King. Quarto.  
Mr. Johnson's Impossibility of Transubstantiation demonstrated.  
Mr. Hodges' Sermon of the Necessity, etc. of Gospel-Ministers.  
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Molins of the Muscles, etc. Octavo.  
Mr. Perk's New and Easy Method to Sing by Book. Octavo.  
Erasmus' Weapon for a Christian Soldier. Twelve.  
Bulstrode's Reports, in Three Parts, the Second Edition. Folio.  
Bendloe and Dalison's Reports, published by Mr. Rowe, 1689. Folio.  
Fitz-Herbert's Natura Brevium, corrected and revised, Octavo.  
Two Dialogues in English between a Doctor and a Student, Octavo.  
Wentworth's Office and Duty of Executors, with the Appendix.  
Hind and Panther transversed, Quarto.  
Mr. Elis' Necessity of serious Consideration, and speedy Repentance. Octavo.  
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The Knowledge of Medals, or Instructions for those who apply themselves to the Study of Medals, both Ancient and Modern; from the French.  
Dr. Pelling's Discourse concerning the Existence of God. Octavo.  
Mr. Wilson's Discourse of Religion, showing its Truth and Reality; or the Suitableness of Religion to Humane Nature. Octavo.  
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Dr. Prideauxes Life of Mahomet, with a Letter to the Deists. Octavo.  
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Mr. Tate's Elegy on his Grace, John late Lord Archbishop of Canterbury. Folio.  
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