Democritus Platonissans, OR, AN ESSAY UPON THE INFINITY OF WORLDS OUT OF Platonic PRINCIPLES. Hereunto is annexed CUPIDS CONFLICT together with THE philosopher's DEVOTION: And a Particular Interpretation appertaining to the three last books of the Song of the Soul.  
By H. More Master of Arts, and Fellow of Christ's college in Cambridge.  
{non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}  Plat. 
Pythagoras Terram Planetam quendam esse censuit qui circa solem in centro mundi defixum converteretur. Pythagoram secuti sunt Philolaus, Seleucus, Cleanthes, &c. imò PLATO jam senex, ut narrat Theophrastus.  Libert. Fromond. de orb terrae immobili. 
CAMBRIDGE Printed by ROGER DANIEL, Printer to the UNIVERSITE. 1646.   

To the Reader.  
READER,  
IF thou standest not to the judgement of thine eye more than of thy reason, this fragment may pass favourably, though in the neglectful disguise of of a fragment; if the strangeness of the argument prove no hindrance. Infinity of WORLDS! A thing monstrous if assented to, and to be startled at, especially by them, whose thoughts this one have always so engaged, that they can find no leisure to think of any thing else. But I only make a bare proposal to more acute judgements, of what my sportful fancy, with pleasure hath suggested: following my old design of furnishing men's minds with variety of apprehensions concerning the most weighty points of philosophy, that they may not seem rashly to have settled in the truth, though it be the truth: a thing as ill beseeming Philosophers, as hasty prejudicative sentence political judges. But if I had relinquishd here my wonted self, in proving dogmatic, I should have found very noble Patronage for the cause among the ancients, Epicurus, Democritus, Lucretius, &c. Or if justice may reach the dead, do them the right, as to show, that though they be hooted at, by the Rout of the learned, as men of monstrous conceits, they were either very wise or exceeding fortunate to light on so probable and specious an opinion, in which notwithstanding there is so much disficulty and seeming inconsistency.  
Nay and that sublime and subtle mechanic too, Descartes, though he seem to mince it must hold infinitude of worlds, or which is as harsh one infinite one For what is his mundus indefinitè extensus, but extensus infinitè? Else it sounds only infinitus quoad nos but simpliciter finitus. But if any space be left out unstuffd with Atoms, it will hazard the dissipation of the whole frame of Nature into disjointed dust. As may be proved by the Principles of his own philosophy. And that there is space wherever God is, or any actual and self-subsistent Being, seems to me no plainer than one of the {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}.  
For mine own part I must confess these apprehensions do plainly oppose what heretofore I have conceived; but I have sworn more faithful friendship with Truth then with myself. And therefore without all remorse lay battery against mine own edifice: not sparing to show how weak that is, that myself now deems not impregnably strong. I have at the latter end of the last Canto of Psychathanasia, not without triumph concluded, that the world hath not continued ab aeterno, from this ground: 
— Extension  
That's infinite implies a contradiction.  And this is in answer to an objection against my last argument of the soul's immortality, viz. divine goodness. Which I there make the measure of his providence. That ground limits the essence of the world as well as its duration, and satisfies the curiosity of the Opposer, by showing the incompossibility in the Creature, not want of goodness in the creator to have stayed the framing of the Universe. But now roused up by a new Pbilosophick fury, I answer that difficulty by taking away the Hypothesis of either the world or time being finite: defending the infinitude of both. Which though I had done with a great deal of vigour and life, and semblance of assent, it would have agreed well enough with the free heat of Poefie, and might have passed for a pleasant flourish: but the severity of my own judgement, and sad Genius hath cast in many correctives and coolers into the Canto itself; so that it cannot amount to more than a discussion. And discussion is no prejudice but an honour to the truth: for then and never but then is she Victorious. And what a glorious trophy shall the finite world erect when it hath vanquished the Infinite; a pygmy a Giant.  
For the better understanding of the connexion of this Appendix, with the Poem of the soul's immortality; I have taken off the last stanzas thereof, and added some few new ones to them for a more easy and natural leading to the present Canto. Psychathan. lib. 3. Cant. 4.  

Stanz. 33.  
But thou who e'er thou art that thus dost strive  
With fierce assault my groundwork to subvert,  
And boldly dost into God's secrets dive,  
Base fear my manly face note make m'avert.  
In that odd question which thou first didst start,  
I'll plainly prove thine incapacity,  
And force thy feeble feet back to revert,  
That cannot climb so high a mystery,  
I'll show thee strange perplexed inconsistency.   

34  
Why was this world from all infinity  
Not made? sayst thou: why? could it be so made  
Say I. For well observe the sequency:  
If this Out-world continually hath wade  
Through a long long-spun-time that never had  
Beginning, than there as few circulings  
Have been in the quick Moon as Saturn sad;  
And still more plainly this clear truth to sing,  
As many years as days or flitting hours have been.   

35  
For things that we conceive are infinite,  
One th' other no'te surpass in quantity.  
So I have proved with clear convincing light,  
This world could never from infinity  
Been made. Certain deficiency  
Doth always follow evolution:  
Nought's infinite but tight eternity  
Close thrust into itself: extension  
That's infinite implies a contradiction.   

36  
So then for aught we know this world was made  
So soon as such a Nature could exist;  
And though that it continue, never fade,  
Yet never will it be that that long twist  
Of time prove infinite, though ne'er desist  
From running still. But we may safely say  
Time passed compared with this long future list  
Doth show as if the world but yesterday  
Were made, and in due time God's glory out may ray.   

37  
Than this short night and ignorant dull ages  
Will quite be swallowed in oblivion;  
And though this hope by many surly Sages  
Be now derided, yet they'll all be gone  
In a short time, like Bats and Owls yflone  
At day's approach. This will hap certainly  
At this world's shining conflagration.  
Fayes, Satyrs, Goblins the night merrily  
May spend, but ruddy Sol shall make them all to fly.   

38  
The roaring Lions and dread beasts of prey  
Rule in the dark with piteous cruelty;  
But harmless Man is master of the day,  
Which doth his work in pure simplicity.  
God bless his honest useful industry.  
But pride and covetise, ambition,  
Riot, revenge, self-love, hypocrisy,  
Contempt of goodness, forced opinion;  
These and such like do breed the world's confusion.   

39  
But sooth to say though my triumphant Muse  
Seemeth to vaunt as in got victory,  
And with puissant stroke the head to bruise  
Of her stiff foe, and daze his fantasy,  
Captive his reason, dead each faculty:  
Yet in herself so strong a force withstands  
That of herself afraid, she'll not abye,  
Nor keep the field. She'll fall by her own hand  
As Ajax once laid Ajax dead upon the strand.   

40  
For thus herself by her own self's opposed;  
The Heavens the Earth the universal Frame  
Of living Nature God so soon disclosed  
As He could do, or she receive the same.  
All times delay since that must turn to blame,  
And what cannot He do that can be done?  
And what might let but by th' all-powerful Name  
Or Word of God, the world's Creation  
More suddenly were made than man's swift thought can run?   

41  
Wherefore that Heavenly Power or is as young  
As this world's date; or else some needless space  
Of time was spent, before the Earth did clung  
So close unto herself and seas embrace  
Her hollow breast, and if that time surpass  
A finite number then infinity  
Of years before this world's Creation pass.  
So that the durance of the deity  
We must contract or straight his full benignity.   

42  
But for the cradle of the Cretian Jove,  
And guardians of his vagient infancy  
What sober man but sagely will reprove▪  
Or drown the noise of the fond Dactyli  
By laughter loud? Dated divinity  
Certes is but the dream of a dry brain▪  
God maimed in goodness, inconsistency;  
Wherefore my troubled mind is now in pain  
Of a new birth, which this one Canto'll not contain.   
Now Reader, thou art arrived to the Canto itself, from which I have kept thee off by too tedious Preface and apology, which is seldom made without consciousness of some fault, which I profess I find not in myself, unless this be it, that I am more tender of thy satisfaction then mine own credit. As for that high sullen Poem, Cupid's Conflict, I must leave it to thy candour and favourable censure. The philosopher's Devotion I cast in only, that the latter pages should not be unfurnished.  
H. M.   

Nihil tamen frequentius inter Autores occurrit, quám ut omnia adeò ex modulo ferè sensuum suorum aestiment, ut ea quae insuper infinitis rerum spatiis extare possunt, sive superbè sive imprudenter rejiciant; ● in usum suum fabricata fuisse glorientur, perinde facientes ac si pediculi humanum caput, aut pulices sinum muliebrem propter se solos condita existimarent, eáque demum ex gradibus saltibunsve suis metirentur.  The Lord Herbert in his De Causis Errorum. 
De generali totius hujus mundi aspectabilis constructione ut rectè Philosophemur duo sunt imprimis observanda: Unum ut attendentes ad infinitam Dei potentiam & bonitatem, nè vereamur nimis ampla & pulchra & absoluta ejus opera imaginari: sed è contra caveamus, nè si quos fortè limites nobis non certò cognitos, in ipsis supponamus, non satis magnificè de creatoris potentia sentire videamur.  
Alterum, ut etiam caveamus, nè nimis superbè de nobis ipsis sentiamus. Quod fieret non modò, si quos limites nobis nullâ cognitos ratione, nec divina revelatione, mundo vellemus affingere, tanquam si vis nostra cogitationis, ultra id quod à Deo revera factum est ferri posset; sed etiam maximè, si res omnes propter nos solos, ab illo creatas esse fingeremus.  Renatus Descartes in his Princip. Philosoph. the third part.  

Democritus Platonissans.  
THE ARGUMENT.  

'Gainst boundless time th' objections made,  
And wast infinity  
Of worlds, are with new reasons weighed,  
Men's judgements are left free.   

1  
HEnce, hence unhallowed ears and hearts more hard  
Than Winter clods fast froze with Northern wind.  
But most of all, foul tongue I thee discard  
That blamest all that thy dark strait'ned mind,  
Can not conceive: But that no blame thou find;  
What e'er my pregnant Muse brings forth to light,  
She'll not acknowledge to be of her kind,  
Till eaglelike she turn them to the sight  
Of the eternal Word all decked with glory bright.   

2  
Strange sights do straggle in my restless thoughts,  
And lively forms with orient colours clad  
Walk in my boundless mind, as men ybourhgt  
Into some spacious room, who when they 've had  
A turn or two, go out, although unbad.  
All these I see and know, but entertain  
None to my friend but who's most sober sad;  
Although the time my roof doth them contain  
Their presence doth possess me till they out again   

3  
And thus possessed in silver trump I sound  
Their guise, their shape, their gesture and array  
But as in silver trumpet nought is found  
When once the piercing sound is past away,  
(Though while the mighty blast therein did stay,  
Its tearing noise so terribly did shrill,  
That it the heavens did shake, and earth dismay)  
As empty I of what my flowing quill  
In heedless haste elsewhere, or here, may hap to spill.   

4  
For 'tis of force and not of a set will.  
Ne dare my wary mind afford assent  
To what is placed above all mortal skill.  
But yet our various thoughts to represent  
Each genle wight will deem of good intent.  
Wherefore with leave th' infinity I'll sing  
Of Time, Of Space: or without leave; I'm brent  
With eager rage, my heart for joy doth spring,  
And all my spirits move with pleasant trembeling.   

5  
An inward triumph doth my soul up-heave  
And spread abroad through endless 'spersed air.  
My nimble mind this clammy clod doth leave,  
And lightly stepping on from star to star  
Swifter than lightning, passeth wide and far,  
Measuring th' unbounded Heavens and wasteful sky;  
Ne ought she finds her passage to debar,  
For still the azure Orb as she draws nigh  
Gives back, new stars appear, the world's walls 'fore her fly.   

6  
For what can stand that is so badly stayed?  
Well may that fall whose groundwork is unsure.  
And what hath walled the world but thoughts unweighed  
In freer reason? That antiquate, secure,  
And easy dull conceit of corporature,  
Of matter, quantity, and such like gear  
Hath made this needless, thankless enclosure,  
Which I in full disdain quite up will tear  
And lay all open, that as things are they may appear.   

7  
For other they appear from what they are  
By reason that their Circulation  
Cannot well represent entire from far  
Each portion of the Cuspis of the Cone  
(Whose nature is elsewhere more clearly shown)  
I mean each globe, whether of glaring light  
Or else opaque, of which the earth is one.  
If circulation could them well transmit  
Numb●●s infinite of each would strike our 'stonishd sight;   

8  
All in just bigness and right colours dight  
But total presence without all defect  
Belongs only to that trinity by right,  
Ahad, Aeon, Psyche with all graces decked,  
Whose nature well this riddle will detect;  
A Circle whose circumference nowhere  
Is circumscribed, whose Centre's each where set,  
But the low Cusp's a figure circular,  
Whose compass is ybound, but centre's everywhere.   

9  
Wherefore who'll judge the limits of the world  
By what appears unto our failing sight  
Appeals to sense, reason down headlong hurled  
Out of her throne by giddy vulgar might.  
But here base senses dictates they will dight  
With specious title of philosophy,  
And stiffly will contend their cause is right  
From rotten rolls of school antiquity,  
Who constantly deny corporal infinity.   

10  
But who can prove their corporality  
Since matter which thereto's essential  
If rightly sift's but a fantasy.  
And quantity who's deemed original  
Is matter, must with matter likewise fall.  
What ever is, is Life and energy  
From God, who is th' original of all;  
Who being everywhere doth multiply  
His own broad shade that endless throughout all doth lie.   

11  
He from the last projection of light  
Yclept Shamajim, which is liquid fire  
(It Aether eke and central Tasis hight)  
Hath made each shining globe and clumperd mire  
Of dimmer Orbs. For Nature doth inspire  
Spermatic life, but of a different kind.  
Hence those congenit splendour doth attire  
And lively heat, these darkness dead doth bind,  
And without borrowed rays they be both cold and blind.   

12  
All these be knots of th' universal stole  
Of sacred Psyche; which at first was fine,  
Pure, thin, and pervious till hid powers did pull  
Together in several points and did incline  
The nearer parts in one clod to combine.  
Those central spirits that the parts did draw  
The measure of each globe did then define,  
Made things impenetrable here below,  
Gave colour, figure, motion, and each usual law.   

13  
And what is done in this terrestrial star  
The same is done in every Orb beside.  
Each flaming Circle that we see from far  
Is but a knot in Psyche's garment tide.  
From that lax shadow cast throughout the wide  
And endless world, that lowest projection  
Of universal life each thing's derived  
What e'er appeareth in corporeal fashion;  
For body's but this spirit, fixed, gross by conspissation.   

14  
And that which doth conspissate active is;  
Wherefore not matter but some living spirit  
Of nimble Nature which this lower mist  
And immense field of Atoms doth excite,  
And wake into such life as best doth fit  
With his own self. As we change fantasies  
The essence of our soul not changed a whit,  
So do these Atoms change their energies  
Themselves unchanged into new Centreities.   

15  
And as our soul's not superficially  
Coloured by phantasms, nor doth them reflect  
As doth a lookingglass such imagery  
As it to the beholder doth detect:  
No more are these lightly or smeared or decked  
With form or motion which in them we see,  
But from their inmost Centre they project  
Their vital rays, not merely passive be,  
But by occasion waked rouse up themselves on high.   

16  
So that they're life, form, spirit, not matter pure,  
For matter pure is a pure nullity,  
What nought can act is nothing, I am sure;  
And if all act, that is they'll not deny  
But all that is is form: so easily  
By what is true, and by what they embrace  
For truth, their feigned corporality  
Will vanish into smoke, but on I'll pass,  
More fully we have sung this in another place.   

17  
Wherefore more boldly now to represent  
The nature of the world, how first things were  
How now they are: This endless large Extent  
Of lowest life (which I styled whileere  
The Cuspis of the Cone that's everywhere)  
Was first all dark, till in this spacious Hall  
Hideous through silent horror torches clear  
And lamping lights bright shining over all  
Were set up in due distances proportional.   

18  
Innumerable numbers of fair Lamps  
Were rightly ranged in this hollow hole,  
To warm the world and chase the shady damps  
Of immense darkness, rend her pitchy stole  
Into short rags more dusty dim than coal.  
Which pieces then in several were cast  
(Abhorred relics of that vesture foul)  
Upon the Globes that round those torches traced,  
Which still fast on them stick for all they run so fast.   

19  
Such an one is that which mortal men call Night,  
A little shred of that unbounded shade.  
And such a Globe is that which Earth is height;  
By witless wizards the sole centre made  
Of all the world, and on strong pillars stayed.  
And such a lamp or light is this our Sun,  
Whose fiery beams the scorched Earth invade.  
But infinite such as he, in heaven won,  
And more than infinite Earths about those Suns do run;   

20  
And to speak out: though I detest the sect  
Of Epicurus for their manners vile,  
Yet what is true I may not well reject.  
Truth's incorruptible, ne can the style  
Of vicious pen her sacred worth defile.  
If we no more of truth should deign t' embrace  
Then what unworthy mouths did never soil,  
No truths at all 'mongst men would finden place  
But make them speedy wings and back to Heaven apace.   

21  
I will not say our world is infinite,  
But that infinity of worlds there be.  
The Centre of our world's the lively light  
Of the warm sun, the visible deity  
Of this external Temple. Mercury  
Next placed and warmed more throughly by his rays,  
Right nimbly 'bout his golden head doth fly:  
Then Venus nothing slow about him strays,  
And next our Earth though seeming sad full sprightly plays.   

22  
And after her Mars rangeth in a round  
With fiery locks and angry flaming eye,  
And next to him mild Jupiter is found,  
But Saturn could wons in our utmost sky.  
The skirts of his large kingdom surely lie  
Near to the confines of some other worlds  
Whose Centres are the fixed stars on high,  
'Bout which as their own proper Suns are hurled  
Jove's, Earths and Satur's; round on their own axes twurld.   

23  
Little or nothing are those stars to us  
Which in the azure Evening gay appear  
(I mean for influence) but judicious  
Nature and careful Providence her dear  
And matchless work did so contrive whileere,  
That th' Hearts or Centres in the wide world pight  
Should such a distance each to other bear,  
That the dull Planets with collated light  
By neighbour suns might cheered be in dampish night.   

24  
And as the Planets in our world (of which  
The sun's the heart and kernel) do receive  
Their nightly light from suns that do enrich  
Their sable mantle with bright gems, and give  
A goodly splendour, and sad men relieve  
With their fair twinkling rays, so our world's sun  
Becomes a star elsewhere, and doth derive  
Joint light with others, cheereth all that won  
In those dim duskish Orbs round other suns that run.   

25  
This is is the parergon of each noble fire  
Of neighbour worlds to be the nightly star,  
But their main work is vital heat t' inspire  
Into the frigid spheres that 'bout them fare,  
Which of themselves quite dead and barren are.  
But by the wakening warmth of kindly days,  
And the sweet dewy nights they well declare  
Their seminal virtue in due courses raise  
Long hidden shapes and life, to their great maker's praise.   

26  
These with their suns I several worlds do call,  
Whereof the number I deem infinite:  
Else infinite darkness were in this great Hall  
Of th' endless Universe; For nothing finite  
Could put that immense shadow unto flight.  
But if that infinite Suns we shall admit,  
Then infinite worlds follow in reason right.  
For every Sun with Planets must be fit,  
And have some mark for his far-shining shafts to hit.   

27  
But if he shine all solitary, alone,  
What mark is left,? what aimed scope or end  
Of his existence? wherefore every one  
Hath a due number of dim Orbs that wend  
Around their central fire. But wrath will rend  
This strange composure backed with reason stout.  
And rasher tongues right speedily will spend  
Their forward censure, that my wits run out  
On wool-gathering, through infinite spaces all about.   

28  
What sober man will dare once to avouch  
An infinite number of dispersed stars?  
This one absurdity will make him crouch  
And eat his words; Division nought impairs  
The former whole, nor he augments that spares.  
Strike every tenth out, that which doth remain,  
An equal number with the former shares,  
And let the tenth alone, th' whole nought doth gain,  
For infinite to infinite is ever the same.   

29  
The tenth is infinite as the other nine,  
Or else nor they, nor all the ten entire  
Are infinite. Thus one infinite doth adjoin  
Others unto it and still riseth higher.  
And if those single lights hither aspire,  
This strange prodigious inconsistency  
Groweth still stranger, if each fixed fire  
(I mean each star) prove suns, and Planets fly  
About their flaming heads amid the thronged sky.   

30  
For whatsoever that their number be  
Whether by seven, or eighths, or fives, or nine,  
They round each fixed lamp; Infinity  
Will be redoubled thus by many times.  
Besides each greater Planet th' attendance finds  
Of lesser. Our earth's handmaid is the Moon,  
Which to her darkened side right duly shines,  
And Jove hath four, as hath been said aboven,  
And Saturn more than four if the plain truth were known.   

31  
And if these globes be regions of life  
And several kinds of plants therein do grow,  
Grass, flowers, herbs, trees, which the impartial knife  
Of all consuming Time still down doth mow,  
And new again doth in succession show:  
Which also 's done in flies, birds, men and beasts;  
Add sand, pearls, pebbles, that the ground do strew  
Leaves, quills, hairs, thorns, blooms, you may think the rest  
Their kinds by mortal pen can not well be expressed:   

32  
And if their kinds no man may reckon well,  
The sum of successive particulars  
No mind conceive nor tongue can ever tell.  
And yet this mist of numbers (as appears)  
Belongs to one of these opacous spheres.  
Suppose this Earth; what then will all those Rounds  
Produce? No Atlas such a load upbears.  
In this huge endless heap overwhelmed, drowned,  
Choked, stifled, lo! I lie, breathless, even quite confound.   

33  
Yet give me space a while but to respire,  
And I myself shall fairly well out-wind;  
Keep this position true, unhurt, entire,  
That you no greater difficulty find  
In this new old opinion here defined  
Of infinite worlds, than one world doth imply.  
For if we do with steady patience mind  
All is resolved int' one absurdity,  
The grant of something greater than infinity.   

34  
That God is infinite all men confess,  
And that the Creature is some realty  
Besides God's self, though infinitely less.  
Join now the world unto the Deity.  
What? is there added no more entity  
By this conjunction, than there was before?  
Is the broad breasted earth? the spacious sky  
Spangled with silver light, and burning Ore?  
And the wide bellowing seas, whose boiling billows roar,   

35  
Are all these nothing? But you will reply;  
As is the question so we ought restrain  
Our answer unto Corporeity.  
But that the fantasy of the body 's vain  
I did before unto you maken plain.  
But that no man depart unsatisfied  
A while this Universe here will we feign  
corporeal, till we have gainly tried,  
If aught that's bodily may infinite abide.   

36  
What makes a body saving quantity?  
What quantity unless extension?  
Extension if 't admit infinity  
Bodies admit boundless dimension.  
That some extension forward on doth run  
Withouten limits, endless, infinite  
Is plane from Space, that ever paceth on  
Unstoped, unstaid, till it have filled quite  
That immense infinite Orb where God himself doth sit.   

37  
But yet more sensibly this truth to show  
If space be ended set upon that end  
Some strong armed Archer with his Parthian bow,  
That from that place with speedy force may send  
His fleeter shafts, and so still forward wend.  
Where? When shall he want room his strength to try?  
But here perversely subtle you' l contend  
Nothing can move in mere vacuity,  
And space is nought, so not extended properly.   

38  
To solve these knots I must call down from high  
Some heavenly help, feather with angels wing  
The sluggish arrow. If it will not fly,  
Sent out from bow stiff-bent with even string,  
Let angels on their backs it thither bring  
Where you free mind appointed had before,  
And then hold on, till in your travelling  
You be well wearied, finding ever more  
Free passage for their flight, and what they flying bore.   

39  
Now to that shift that says Vacuity  
Is nought, and therefore not at all extent  
We answer thus: There is a distancy  
In empty space, though we be well content  
To balk that question (for we never meant  
Such needless niceties) whether that it be  
A real being; yet that there's parts distent  
One from another, no man's fantasy  
Can e'er reject if well he weight and warily.   

40  
For now conceive the air and azure sky  
All swept away from Saturn to the sun,  
Which eath is to be wrought by him on high.  
Then in this place let all the Planets run  
(As erst they did before this feat was done)  
If not by nature, yet by divine power,  
Ne one hairs breadth their former circuits shun  
And still for fuller proof, th' Astronomer  
Observe their heights as in the empty heavens they scour.   

41  
Will then their Parallaxes prove all one  
Or none, or different still as before?  
If so, their distances by mortal men  
Must be acknowledged such as were of yore,  
Measured by leagues, miles, stades, nor less nor more  
From circuit unto circuit shall be fowd  
Then was before the sweeping of the floor.  
That distance therefore hath most certain ground  
In emptiness we may conclude with reason sound.   

42  
If distance now so certainly attend  
All emptiness (as also mensuration  
Attendeth distance) distance without end  
Is wide dispersed above imagination  
(For emptiness is void of limitation)  
And this unbounded voidness doth admit  
The least and greatest measures application;  
The number thus of the greatest that doth fit  
This infinite void space is likewise infinite.   

43  
But what so e'er that infinite number be,  
A lesser number will a number give  
So far exceeding in infinity  
That number as this measure we conceive  
To fall short of the other. But I'll leave  
This present way and a new course will try  
Which at the same mark doth as fully drive  
And with a great deal more facility.  
Look on this endless Space as one whole quantity.   

44  
Which in your mind int' equal parts divide,  
Tens, hundreds, thousands or what pleaseth best.  
Each part denominate doth still abide  
An infinite portion, else nor all the rest  
Makes one infinitude.  
For if one thousandth part may be defined  
By finite measures easily well expressed,  
A myriad suppose of miles assigned  
Then to a thousand myriads is the whole confined.   

45  
Wherefore this wide and wast Vacuity,  
Which endless is outstretched through all,  
And lies even equal with the Deity,  
Nor is a thing merely imaginall,  
(For it doth far men's fantasies forestall  
Nothing beholden to our devicefull thought)  
This infine voidness as much our mind doth gall,  
And has as great perplexities ybourhgt  
As if this empty space with bodies were yfraught.   

46  
Nor have we yet the face once to deny  
But that it is, although we mind it not;  
For all once minded such perplexity  
It doth create to puzzled reason, that  
She says and unsayes, does she knows not what.  
Why then should we the world's infinity  
Misdoubt, because when as we contemplate  
Its nature, such strange inconsistency  
And unexpected sequels, we therein descry?   

47  
Who dare gainsay but God is everywhere  
Unbounded, measureless, all infinite;  
Yet the same difficulties meet us here  
Which erst us met and did so sore affright  
With their strange visards. This will follow right  
Where ever we admit infinity  
Every denominated part proves straight  
A portion infinite, which if it be,  
One infinite will into myriads multiply.   

48  
But with new argument to draw more near  
Our purposed end. If God's omnipotent  
And this omnipotent God be everywhere,  
Where e'er he is then can he easily vent  
His mighty virtue through all extent.  
What then shall hinder but a roscid air  
With gentle heat each where be 'sperst and sprent.  
Unless omnipotent power we will empair,  
And say that empty space his working can debar.   

49  
Where now this one supposed world is pight  
Was not that space at first all vain and void?  
Nor aught said; no, when he said, Let't be light.  
Was this one space better than all beside,  
And more obedient to what God decreed?  
Or would not all that endless emptiness  
Gladly embraced (if he had ever tried)  
His just command? and what might come to pass  
Implies no contradictious inconsistentness.   

50  
Wherefore this precious sweet ethereal dew  
For aught we know God each where did distil,  
And through all that hollow voidness threw  
And the wide gaping drought therewith did fill,  
His endless overflowing goodness spill  
In every place; which straight he did contrive  
Int' infinite several worlds, as his best skill  
Did him direct and creatures could receive  
For matter infinite needs infinite worlds must give.   

51  
The Centre of each several world's a sun  
With shining beams and kindly warming heat,  
About whose radiant crown the Planets run,  
Like reeling moths around a candle light.  
These all together, one world I conceit.  
And that even infinite such worlds there be,  
That inexhausted Good that God is height  
A full sufficient reason is to me,  
Who simple goodness make the highest Deity,   

52  
Als make himself the key of all his works  
And eke the measure of his providence;  
The piercing eye of truth to whom nought lurks  
But lies wide ope unbar'd of all pretence.  
But frozen hearts! away! fly far from hence,  
Unless you'll thaw at this celestial fire  
And melt into one mind and holy sense  
With Him that doth all heavenly hearts inspire,  
So may you with my soul in one assent conspire.   

53  
But what's within, uneath is to convey  
To narrow vessels that are full afore.  
And yet this truth as wisely as I may  
I will insinuate, from senses store  
Borrowing a little aid. Tell me therefore  
When you behold with your admiring eyes  
Heavens canopy all to bespangled o'er  
With sprinkled stars, what can you well devise  
Which causen may such careless order in the skies?   

54  
A peck of peasen rudely poured out  
On plaster floor, from hasty heedless hound  
Which lie all careless scattered about,  
To sight do in as seemly order stoned,  
As those fair glistering lights in heaven are found.  
If only for this world they were intended,  
Nature would have adorned this azure round  
With better art, and easily have mended  
This harsh disordered order, and more beauty lended.   

55  
But though these lights do seem so rudely thrown  
And scattered throughout the spacious sky,  
Yet each most seemly sits in his own Throne  
In distance due and comely Majesty;  
And round their lordly seats their servants hie  
Keeping a well-proportionated space  
One from another, doing cheerfully  
Their daily task. No blemish may deface  
The worlds in several decked with all art and grace.   

56  
But the appearance of the nightly stars  
Is but the by-work of each neighbour sun;  
Wherefore less marvel if it lightly shares  
Of neater Art; and what proportion  
Were fittest for to distance one from one  
(Each world I mean from other) is not clear.  
Wherefore it must remain as yet unknown  
Why such perplexed distances appear  
'mongst the dispersed lights in Heaven thrown here & there.   

57  
Again, that eminent similitude  
Betwixt the stars and Phoebus' fixed light,  
They being both with steadiness endued,  
No whit removing whence they first were pight,  
No serious man will count a reason slight  
To prove them both, both fixed suns and stars  
And Centres all of several worlds by right,  
For right it is that none a sun debar  
Of Planets which his just and due retinue are.   

58  
If stars be merely stars not central lights  
Why swell they into so huge bignesses?  
For many (as Astronomers do write)  
Our sun in bigness many times surpass.  
If both their number and their bulks were less  
Yet lower placed, light and influence  
Would flow as powerfully, and the bosom press  
Of the impregned Earth, that fruit from hence  
As fully would arise, and lordly affluence.   

59  
Wherefore these fixed Fires mainly attend  
Their proper charge in their own Universe,  
And only by the by of curtsy lend  
Light to our world, as our world doth reverse  
His thankful rays so far as he can pierce  
Back unto other worlds. But far aboven  
Further than furthest thought of man can traverse,  
Still are new worlds aboven and still aboven,  
In the endless hollow Heaven, and each world hath his sun.   

60  
An hint of this we have in winter-nights,  
When reason may see clearer than our eye,  
Small subtle stars appear unto our sights  
As thick as pin-dust scattered in the sky.  
Here we accuse our seeing faculty  
Of weakness, and our sense of foul deceit,  
We do accuse and yet we know not why.  
But the plain truth is, from a vaster height  
The numerous upper worlds amaze our dazzled sight.   

61  
Now sith so far as sense can ever try  
We find new worlds, that still new worlds there be,  
And round about in infinite numbers lie,  
Further than reach of man's weak fantasy  
(Without suspicion of temerity)  
We may conclude; as well as men conclude  
That there is air far 'bove the mountains high,  
Or that th'Earth a sad substance doth include  
Even to the Centre with like qualities endued.   

62  
For who did ever the earth's Centre pierce,  
And felt or sand or gravel with his spade  
At such a depth? what Histories rehearse  
That ever wight did dare for to invade  
Her bowels but one mile in dampish shade?  
Yet I'll be bold to say that few or none  
But deem this globe even to the bottom made  
Of solid earth, and that her nature's one  
Throughout, though plain experience hath it never shown.   

63  
But sith sad earth so far as they have gone  
They still descry, easily they do infer  
Without all check of reason, were they down  
Never so deep, like substance would appear,  
Ne dream of any hollow horror there.  
My mind with like uncurbed facility  
Concludes from what by sight is seen so clear  
That there's no barren wast vacuity  
Above the worlds we see, but still new worlds there lie,   

64  
And still and still even to infinity.  
Which point since I so fitly have proposed,  
Abating well the inconsistency  
Of harsh infinitude therein supposed  
And proved by reasons never to be loosed  
That infinite space and infinite worlds there be;  
This load laid down, I'm freely now disposed  
A while to sing of times infinity,  
May infinite Time afford me but his smallest fee.   

65  
For smallest fee of time will serve my turn  
This part for to dispatch, sith endless space  
(Whose perplexed nature well man's brains might turn,  
And weary wits disorder and misplace)  
I have already passed: for like case  
Is in them both. He that can well untie  
The knots that in those infinite worlds found place,  
May easily answer each perplexity  
Of these world's infinite matters endless durancy.   

66  
The Cuspis and the Basis of the Cone  
Were both at once dispersed everywhere;  
But the pure Basis that is God alone:  
Else would remotest sights as big appear  
Unto our eyes as if we stood them near.  
And if an Harper harped in the Moon,  
His silver sound would touch our tickled ear:  
Or if one hollowed from highest Heaven aboven,  
In sweet still Evening-tide, his voice would hither roam.   

67  
This all would be if the cusp of the Cone  
Were very God. Wherefore I rightly 't deem  
Only a creatural projection,  
Which flowing yet from God hath ever been,  
Filled the vast empty space with its large streem.  
But yet it is not total everywhere  
As was even now by reason rightly seen:  
Wherefore not God, whose nature doth appear  
Entirely omnipresent, weighed with judgement clear.   

68  
A real infinite matter, distinct  
And yet proceeding from the deity  
Although with different form as then untinct  
Has ever been from all eternity.  
Now what delay can we suppose to be,  
Since matter always was at hand prepared  
Before the filling of the boundless sky  
With framed Worlds; for nought at all debared, (Paired.  
Nor was His strength ungrown, nor was His strength 'em-   

69  
How long would God be forming of a fly?  
Or the small wandering moats that play i' th' sun?  
lest moment well will serve none can deny,  
His Fiat spoke and straight the thing is done.  
And cannot He make all the World as soon?  
For in each Atom of the matter wide  
The total deity doth entirely won,  
His infinite presence doth therein reside,  
And in this presence infinite powers do ever abide.   

70  
Wherefore at once from all eternity  
The infinite number of these Worlds He made,  
And will conserve to all infinity,  
And still drive on their ever-moving trade,  
And steady hold what ever must be stayed;  
Ne must one mite be minished of the sum,  
Ne must the smallest atom ever fade,  
But still remain though it may change its room;  
This truth abideth strong from everlasting doom.   

71  
Ne fear I what hard sequel afterwit  
Will draw upon me; that the number's one  
Of years, months, days, hours, and of minute's fleet  
Which from eternity have still run on.  
I plainly did confess awhile agone  
That be it what it will that's infinite  
More infinites will follow thereupon,  
But that all infinites do justly fit  
And equal be, my reason did not yet admit.   

72  
But as my emboldened mind, I know not how,  
In empty Space and pregnant deity  
Endless infinitude dares to allow,  
Though it begets the like perplexity:  
So now my soul drunk with divinity,  
And born away above her usual bounds  
With confidence concludes infinity  
Of Time of Worlds, of fiery flaming Rounds;  
Which sight in sober mood my spirits quite confounds.   

73  
And now I do awhile but interspire  
A torrent of objections 'gainst me beat,  
My boldness to repress and strength to tire.  
But I will wipe them off like summer sweat,  
And make their streams straight back again retreat.  
If that these worlds, say they, were ever made  
From infinite time, how comes 't to pass that yet  
Art is not perfected, nor metals fade,  
Nor mines of grimie coal low-hid in griefly shade.   

74  
But the remembrance of the ancient flood  
With ease will wash such arguments away.  
Wherefore with greater might I am withstood.  
The strongest stroke wherewith they can assay  
To vanquish me is this; The Date or Day  
Of the created World, which all admit;  
Nor may my modest Muse this truth gainsay  
In holy Oracles so plainly writ.  
Wherefore the world's continuance is not infinite.   

75  
Now lend me, Origen! a little wit  
This sturdy stroke right fairly to avoid,  
Lest that my rasher rhymes, while they ill fit  
With Moses pen, men justly may deride  
And well accuse of ignorance or pride.  
But thou, O holy Sage! with piercing sight  
Who readst those sacred rolls, and hast well tried  
With searching eye thereto what fitteth right  
Thyself of former Worlds right learnedly dost write:   

76  
To weet that long ago there Earths have been  
Peopled with men and beasts before this Earth,  
And after this shall others be again  
And other beasts and other human birth.  
Which once admit, no strength that reason beareth  
Of this world's Date and Adam's efformation,  
Another Adam once received breath  
And still another in endless repedation,  
And this must perish once by final conflagration.   

77  
Witness ye Heavens if what I says not true,  
Ye flaming Comets wandering on high,  
And new fixed stars found in that Circle blue,  
The one espied in glittering Cassiopy,  
The other near to Opbiuchus thigh.  
Both bigger than the biggest stars that are,  
And yet as far removed from mortal eye  
As are the furthest, so those Arts declare  
Unto whose reaching sight Heavens mysteries lie bare.   

78  
Wherefore these new-seen lights were greater once  
By many thousand times then this our sphere  
Wherein we live, twixt good and evil chance.  
Which to my musing mind doth strange appear  
If those large bodies than first shaped were.  
For should so goodly things so soon decay?  
Neither did last the full space of two year.  
Wherefore I cannot deem that their first day  
Of being, when to us they sent out shining ray.   

79  
But that they were created both of old,  
And each in his due time did fair display  
Themselves in radiant locks more bright than gold,  
Or silver sheen purged from all drossy clay.  
But how they could themselves in this array  
Expose to human sight, who did before  
Lie hid, is that which well amazen may  
The wisest man and puzzle evermore:  
Yet my unwearied thoughts this search could not give o'er.   

80  
Which when I'd exercised in long pursuit  
To finden out what might the best agree  
With wary reason, at last I did conclude  
That there's no better probability  
Can be produced of that strange prodigy,  
But that some mighty Planet that doth run  
About some fixed star in Cassiopy  
As Saturn paceth round about our Sun,  
Unusual light and bigness by strange fate had won.   

81  
Which I conceive no gainer way is done  
Then by the siezing of devouring fire  
On that dark Orb, which 'fore but dimly shone  
With borrowed light, not lightened entire,  
But halfed like the Moon.  
And while the busy flame did fieze throughout,  
And search the bowels of the lowest mire  
Of that Saturnian Earth; a mist broke out,  
And immense mounting smoke arose all round about.   

82  
Which being gilded with the piercing rays  
Of its own sun and every neighbour star,  
It soon appeared with shining silver blaze,  
And then 'gan first be seen of men from far.  
Besides that fiery flame that was so narre  
The planet's self, which greedily did eat  
The wastning mould, did contribute a share  
Unto this brightness; and what I conceit  
Of this star doth with that of Ophiuchus fit.   

83  
And like I would adventure to pronounce  
Of all the Comets that above the Moon,  
Amidst the higher Planets rudely dance  
In course perplex, but that from this rash doom  
I'm bet off by their beards and tails far strown  
Along the sky, pointing still opposite  
Unto the sun, however they may roam;  
Wherefore a cluster of small stars unite  
These meteors some do deem, perhaps with judgement right.   

84  
And that these tails are streams of the sun's light  
Breaking through their near bodies as through clouds.  
Besides the optic glass has shown to sight  
The dissolution of these starry crowds.  
Which thing if't once be granted and allowed,  
I think without all contradiction  
They may conclude these Meteors are routs  
Of wandering stars, which though they one by one  
Cannot be seen, yet joined, cause this strange vision.   

85  
And yet methinks, in my devicefull mind  
Some reasons that may happily repress  
These arguments it's not uneath to find.  
For how can the sun's rays that be transmisse  
Through these loose knots in Comets, well express  
Their beards or curled tails utmost incurvation?  
Beside, the conflux and congeries  
Of lesser lights a double augmentation  
Implies, and twixt them both a lessening coarctation.   

86  
For when as once these stars are come so nigh  
As to seem one, the Comet must appear  
In biggest show, because more loose they lie  
Somewhat spread out, but as they draw more near  
The compass of his head away must wear,  
Till he be brought to his least magnitude;  
And then they passing cross, he doth repair  
Himself, and still from his last loss renewed  
Grows till he reach the measure which we first had viewed.   

87  
And then far distanced they bid quite adieu,  
Each holding on in solitude his way.  
Ne any footsteps in the empty blue  
Is to be found of that far-shining ray.  
Which process sith no man did yet bewray,  
It seems unlikely that the Comets be  
Synods of stars that in wide Heaven stray.  
Their smallness eke and numerosity  
Increaseth doubt and lessens probability.   

88  
A cluster of them makes not half a Moon,  
What should such tennis-balls do in the sky?  
And few will not figure out the fashion  
Of those round fiery meteors on high.  
Ne ought their beards much move us, that do lie  
Ever cast forward from the Morning sun,  
Nor back cast tails turned to our Evening-eye,  
That fair appear when as the day is done.  
This matter may lie hid in the stars shadowed Cone.   

89  
For in these planet's conflagration,  
Although the smoke mount up exactly round,  
Yet by the sun's irradiation  
Made thin and subtle nowhere else it's found  
By sight, save in the dim and duskish bound  
Of the projected Pyramid opaque,  
Opaque with darkness, smoke and mists unsound.  
Yet gilded like a foggy cloud doth make  
Reflection of fair light that doth our senses take.   

90  
This is the reason of that constant site  
Of Comets tails and beards: And that their shows  
Not pure pyramidal, nor their ends seem straight  
But bowed like brooms, is from the winds that blow,  
I mean ethereal winds, such as below  
Men finden under th' equinoctial line.  
Their widend beards this air so broad doth strew  
Incurvate, and or more or less decline:  
If not, let sharper wits more subtly here divine.   

91  
But that experiment of the optic glass  
The greatest argument of all I deem,  
Ne can I well encounter nor let pass  
So strong a reason if I may esteem  
The feat withouten fallacy to been,  
Nor judge these little sparks and subtle lights  
Some ancient fixed stars though now first seen,  
That near the ruined Comets place were pight,  
On which that Optic instrument by chance did light.   

92  
Nor finally an uncouth after-sport  
Of th' immense vapours that the searching fire  
Had boiled out, which now themselves consort  
In several parts and closely do conspire,  
Clumpered in balls of clouds and globes entire  
Of curdled smoke and heavy clunging mists;  
Which when they've stayed a while at last expire;  
But while they stay any may see that lists  
So be that optic Art his natural sight assists.   

93  
If none of these ways I may well decline  
The urging weight of this hard argument,  
Worst is but parting stakes and thus define:  
Some Comets be but single Planets brent,  
Others a synod joined in due consent:  
And that no new found Meteors they are.  
Ne further may my wary mind assent  
From one single experience solitaire,  
Till all-discovering Time shall further truth declare.   

94  
But for the new fixed stars there's no pretence,  
Nor beard nor tail to take occasion by,  
To bring in that unlucky inference  
Which weaken might this new built mystery.  
Certes in raging fire they both did fry.  
A sign whereof you rightly may aread  
Their colours changeable variety  
First clear and white, then yellow, after red,  
Then bluely pale, than duller still, till perfect dead.   

95  
And as the order of these colours went,  
So still decreased that Cassiopean star,  
Till at the length to sight it was quite spent:  
Which observations strong reasons are,  
Consuming fire its body did empare  
And turn to ashes. And the like will be  
In all the darksome Planets wide and far.  
Ne can our Earth from this state standen free  
A Planet as the rest, and Planets fate must try.   

96  
Ne let the tender heart too harshly deem  
Of this rude sentence: for what rigour more  
Is in consuming fire then drowning stream  
Of Noah's flood which all creatures choked of yore,  
Saving those few that were kept safe in store  
In that well builded ship? All else beside  
Men, birds, and beasts, the lion, buck, and bore  
Dogs, kine, sheep, horses all that did abide  
Upon the spacious earth, perished in waters wide.   

97  
Nor let the slow and misbelieving wight  
Doubt how the fire on the hard earth may seize;  
No more than how those waters erst did light  
Upon the sinful world. For as the seas  
Boiling with swelling waves aloft did rise,  
And met with mighty showers and pouring rain  
From heavens' spouts; so the broad flashing skies  
Thickened with brimstone and clouds of fiery bane  
Shall meet with raging Aetna's and Vesuvius flame.   

98  
The burning bowels of this wasting ball  
Shall gullup up great flakes of rolling fire,  
And belch out pitchy flames, till over all  
Having long raged, Vulcan himself shall tire  
And (th' earth an ashheap made) shall then expire.  
Here Nature laid asleep in her own Urn  
With gentle rest right easily will respire,  
Till to her pristine task she do return  
As fresh as phoenix young under th' Arabian Morn.   

99  
O happy they that then the first are born,  
While yet the world is in her vernal pride:  
For old corruption quite away is worn  
As metal pure so is her mould well tried.  
Sweet dews, cool-breathing airs, and spaces wide  
Of precious spicery wafted with soft wind:  
Fair comely bodies goodly beautified  
Snow-limbed, rose-cheeked, ruby-liped, pearl-ted, star eyned  
Their parts each fair in fit proportion all conbined.   

100  
For all the while her purged ashes rest  
These relics dry suck in the heavenly dew,  
And roscid Manna rains upon her breast,  
And fills with sacred milk sweet fresh and new,  
Where all take life and doth the world renew;  
And then renewed with pleasure be yfed.  
A green soft mantle doth her bosom strew  
With fragrant herbs and flowers embellished,  
Where without fault or shame all living creatures bed.   

101  
Nero ought we doubt how Nature may recover  
In her own ashes long time buried.  
For nought can ever consume that central power  
Of hid spermatic life, which lies not dead  
In that rude heap, but safely covered;  
And doth by secret force suck from above  
Sweet heavenly juice, and therewith nourished  
Till her just bulk, she doth her life improve,  
Made mother of much children that about her move.   

102  
Witness that uncouth bird of Arabia  
Which out of her own ruins doth revive  
With all th' exploits of skilful chemistry,  
Such as no unlgar wit can well believe.  
Let universal Nature witness give  
That what I sing's no feigned forgery.  
A needless task new fables to contrive,  
But what I sing is seemly verity  
Well suiting with right reason and philosophy.   

103  
But the fit time of this mutation  
No man can finden out with all his pains.  
For the small spheres of human reason run  
Too swift within his narrow compassed brains.  
But that vast Orb of Providence contains  
A wider period; turneth still and slow.  
Yet at the last his aimed end he gains.  
And sure at last a fire will overflow  
The aged Earth, and all must into ashes go.   

104  
Than all the stately works and monuments  
Built on this bottom shall to ruin fall.  
And all those goodly statues shall be brent  
Which were erect to the memorial  
Of Kings Kaesars', ne may better' fall  
The boastful works of brave poetic pride  
That promise life and fame perpetual;  
Ne better fate may these poor lines abide.  
Betide what will to what may live no longer tide!   

105  
This is the course that never-dying Nature  
Might ever hold from all eternity,  
Renewing still the faint decayed creature  
Which would grow stark and dry as aged tree,  
Unless by wise preventing destiny  
She were at certain periods of years  
Reduced back unto her infancy,  
Which well framed argument (as plain appears)  
My ship from those hard rocks and shelves right safely stears.   

106  
Lo! now my faithful muse hath represented  
Both frames of Providence to open view,  
And hath each point in orient colours painted  
Not to deceive the sight with seeming show  
But earnest to give either part their due;  
Now urging th' uncouth strange perplexity  
Of infinite worlds and Time, then of a new  
Softening that harsher inconsistency  
To fit the immense goodness of the Deity.   

107  
And here by curious men 't may be expected  
That I this knot with judgement grave decide,  
And then proceed to what else was objected.  
But, ah! What mortal wit may dare t' aread  
Heavens' counsels in eternal horror hid?  
And Cynthius pulls me by my tender ear  
Such signs I must observe with wary heed:  
Wherefore my restless Muse at length forbear.  
Thy silver sounded Lute hang up in silence here.   
FINIS   

Cupid's Conflict.  Mela. Cleanthes. Cl. 

MEla my dear! why been thy looks so sad  
As if thy gentle heart were sunk with care?  
Impart thy case; for be it good or bad  
Friendship in either will bear equal share.   Mel. 

Not so; Cleanthes, for if bade it be  
Myself must bleed afresh by wounding thee.   

But what it is, my slow, uncertain wit  
Cannot well judge. But thou shalt sentence give  
How manfully of late myself I quit,  
When with that lordly lad by chance I strive.   Cl. 
Of friendship Mela! let's that story hear.  Mel. 
Sit down Cleanthes then, and lend thine ear.  

Upon a day as best did please my mind  
Walking abroad amidst the verdant field  
Scattering my careful thoughts i'th' wanton wind  
The pleasure of my path so far had tilled  
My feeble feet that without timely rest  
Uneath it were to reach my wonted nest.   

In secret shade far moved from mortals sight  
In lowly dale my wandering limbs I laid  
On the cool grass where nature's pregnant wit  
A goodly bower of thickest trees had made.  
Amongst the leaves the cheerful birds did fare  
And sweetly carroled to the echoing air.   

Hard at my feet ran down a crystal spring  
Which did the cumbrous pebbles hoarsly chide  
For standing in the way. Though murmuring  
The broken stream his course did rightly guide  
And strongly pressing forward with disdain  
The grassy flore divided into twain.   

The place a while did feed my foolish eye  
As being new, and eke mine idle ear  
Did listen oft to that wild harmony  
And oft my curious fancy would compare  
How well agreed the Brooks low muttering Base,  
With the birds trebles parched on higher place.   

But senses objects soon do glut the soul,  
Or rather weary with their emptiness;  
So I, all heedless how the water's roll  
And mindless of the mirth the birds express,  
Into myself begin softly to retire  
After hid heavenly pleasures to inquire.   

While I this enterprise do entertain;  
Lo! on the other side in thickest bushes  
A mighty noise! with that a naked swain  
With blue and purple wings straight rudely rushes.  
He leaps down light upon the flowery green,  
Like sight before mine eyes had never seen.   

At's snowy back the boy a quiver wore  
Right fairly wrought and gilded all with gold.  
A silver bow in his left hand he bore,  
And in his right a ready shaft did hold.  
Thus armed stood he and betwixt us twain  
The labouring brook did break his toilsome way.   

The wanton lad whose sport is others' pain  
Did charge his bended bow with deadly dart,  
And drawing to the head with might and main,  
With fell intent he aimed to hit my heart.  
But ever as he shot his arrows still  
In their mid course dropped down into the rill.   

Of wondrous virtues that in waters been  
Is needless to rehearse, all books do ring  
Of those strange rarities. But ne'er was seen  
Such virtue as resided in this spring.  
The novelty did make me much admire  
But stirred the hasty youth to rageful ire.   

As heedless fowls that take their perilous flight  
Over that bane of birds, Averno lake,  
Do drop down dead: so dead his shafts did light  
Amid this stream, which presently did slake  
Their fiery points, and all their feathers wet  
Which made the youngster Godling inly fret.   

Thus lustful Love (this was that love I ween)  
Was wholly changed to consuming ire.  
And eath it was, sith they're so near a kin  
They be both born of one rebellious fire.  
But he suppressed his wrath and by and by  
For feathered darts, he winged words let fly.   

Vain man! said he, and would thou wer'st not vain  
That hid'st thyself in solitary shade  
And spilest thy precious youth in sad disdain  
Hating this life's delight! Hath God thee made  
Part of this world, and wilt not thou partake  
Of this world's pleasure for its maker's sake?   

Unthankful wretch! God's gifts thus to reject  
And maken nought of nature's goodly dower  
That milders still away through thy neglect  
And dying fades like unregarded flower.  
This life is good, what's good thou must improve,  
The highest improvement of this life is love.   

Had I (but O that envious destiny,  
Or Stygian vow, or thrice accursed charm  
Should in this place free passage thus deny  
Unto my shafts as messengers of harm!  
Had I but once transfixed thy froward breast,  
How wouldst thou then— I stayed not for the rest;   

But thus half angry to the boy replied:  
How wouldst thou then my soul of sense bereave!  
I blinded, thee more blind should choose my guide!  
How wouldst thou then my muddied mind deceive  
With fading shows, that in my error vile,  
Base lust, I love should term, vice, virtue stile.   

How should my wicked rhymes than idolize  
Thy wretched power, and with impious wit  
Impute thy base born passions to the skies  
And my soul's sickness count an heavenly fit,  
My weakness strength, my wisdom to be caught  
My bane my bliss, mine ease to be o'rewraught.   

How often through my fondly feigning mind  
And frantic fancy, in my Mistress eye  
Should I a thousand fluttering Cupid's find  
Bathing their busy wings? How oft espy  
Under the shadow of her eyebrows fair  
Ten thousand Graces sit all naked bare?   

Thus haunted should I be with such feat fiends:  
A pretty madness were my portion due.  
Foolish myself I would not hear my friends.  
Should deem the true for false, the false for true.  
My way all dark more slippery than ice  
My attendants, anger, pride, and jealousies.   

Unthankful then to God I should neglect  
All the whole world for one poor sorry wight,  
Whose pestilent eye into my heart project  
Would burn like poisonous Comet in my spirit.  
ay me! how dismal then would prove that day  
Whose only light sprang from so fatal ray.   

Who seeks for pleasure in this mortal life  
By diving deep into the body base  
Shall lose true pleasure: But who gainly strive  
Their sinking soul above this bulk to place  
Enlarged delight they certainly shall find  
Unbounded joys to fill their boundless mind.   

When I myself from mine own self do quit  
And each thing else; then an all-spreaden love  
To the vast Universe my soul doth fit  
Makes me half equal to all-seeing Jove.  
My mighty wings high stretched then clapping light  
I brush the stars and make them shine more bright.   

Then all the works of God with close embrace  
I dearly hug in my enlarged arms  
All the hid paths of heavenly Love I trace  
And boldly listen to his secret charms.  
Then clearly view I where true light doth rise,  
And where eternal Night low-pressed lies.   

Thus lose I not by leaving small delight  
But gain more joy, while I myself suspend  
From this and that; for then with all unite  
I all enjoy, and love that love commends.  
That all is more than loves the partial soul  
Whose petty loves th' impartial fates control.   

Ah son! said he, (and laughed very loud)  
That trick'st thy tongue with uncouth strange disguise,  
Extolling highly that with speeches proud  
To mortal men that human state denies,  
And rashly blaming what thou never knew  
Let men experienced speak, if they'll speak true.   

Had I once lanced thy froward flinty heart  
And cruddled blood had thawn with living fire  
And pricked thy drowsy spirit with gentle smart  
How wouldst thou wake to kindly sweet desire,  
Thy soul filled up with overflowing pleasures  
Would due thy lips with honey-dropping measures.   

Then wouldst thou carol loud and sweetly sing  
In honour of my sacred Deity  
That all the woods and hollow hills would ring  
Reechoing thy heavenly harmony.  
And eke the hardy rocks with full rebounds  
Would faithfully return thy silver sounds.   

Next unto me would be thy Mistress fair,  
Whom thou might setten out with goodly skill  
Her peerless beauty and her virtues rare,  
That all would wonder at thy graceful quill.  
And lastly in us both thyself shouldst raise  
And crown thy temples with immortal bays.   

But now thy riddles all men do neglect,  
Thy rugged lines of all do lie forlorn.  
Unwelcome rhymes that rudely do detect  
The Readers ignorance. Men holden scorn  
To be so often non-plusd or to spell,  
And on one stanza a whole age to dwell.   

Besides this harsh and hard obscurity  
Of the hid sense, thy words are barbarous  
And strangely new, and yet too frequently  
Return, as usual plain and obvious,  
So that the show of the new thick-set patch  
Marres all the old with which it ill doth match.   

But if thy haughty mind, forsooth, would deign  
To stoop so low to harken to my lore,  
Then wouldst thou with trim lovers not disdeign  
To adorn the outside, set the best before.  
Nor rub nor wrinkle would thy verses spoil  
Thy rhymes should run as glib and smooth as oil.   

If that be all, said I, thy reasons slight  
Can never move my well established mind.  
Full well I wot always the present spirit,  
Or life that doth possess the soul, doth blind,  
Shutting the windows 'gainst broad open day  
Lest fairer sights its ugliness bewray.   

The soul than loves that disposition best  
Because no better comes unto her view.  
The drunkard drunkenness, the sluggard rest,  
Th' Ambitious honour and obeisance due.  
So all the rest do love their vices base  
'Cause virtues beauty comes not into place.   

And looser love 'gainst chastity divine  
Would shut the door that he might sit alone.  
Then wholly should my mind to him incline:  
And waxed straight, (since larger love was gone)  
That paltry spirit of low contracting lust  
Would fit my soul as if't were made for't just.   

Then should I with my fellow bird or brute  
So strangely metamorphised, either neigh  
Or bellow loud: or if 't may better suit  
Chirp out my joy parched upon higher spray.  
My passions fond with impudence rehearse,  
Immortalize my madness in a verse.   

This is the sum of thy deceiving boast  
That I vain lewdness highly should admire,  
When I the sense of better things have lost  
And changed my heavenly heat for hellish fire,  
Passion is blind, but virtues piercing eye  
Approaching danger can from far espy.   

And what thou dost Pedantickly object  
Concerning my rude rugged uncouth style,  
As childish toy I manfully neglect,  
And at thy hidden snares do inly smile.  
How ill alas! with wisdom it accords  
To sell my living sense for liveless words.   

My thought's the fittest measure of my tongue,  
Wherefore I'll use what's most significant,  
And rather than my inward meaning wrong  
Or my full-shining notion trimly scant,  
I'll conjure up old words out of their grave,  
Or call fresh foreign force in if need crave.   

And these attending on my moving mind  
Shall duly usher in the fitting sense.  
As oft as meet occasion I find.  
Unusual words oft used give less offence;  
Nor will the old contexture dim or mar,  
For often used they're next to old, thread bare.   

And if the old seem in too rusty hew,  
Then frequent rubbing makes them shine like gold,  
And glister all with colour gaily new.  
Wherefore to use them both we will be bold.  
Thus lists me fondly with fond folk to toy,  
And answer fools with equal foolery.   

The meaner mind works with more nicety,  
As spider's wont to weave their idle web,  
But braver spirits do all things gallantly  
Of lesser failings nought at all affred:  
So Natures careless pencil dipped in light  
With sprinkled stars hath spattered the Night.   

And if my notions clear though rudely thrown  
And loosely scattered in my poesy,  
May lend men light till the dead Night be gone,  
And Morning fresh with roses strew the sky:  
It is enough, I meant no trimmer frame  
Or by nice needlework to seek a name.   

Vain man! that seekest name 'mongst earthly men  
Devoid of God and all good virtuous lere;  
Who groping in the dark do nothing ken  
But mad; with griping care their souls do tear,  
Or burst with hatred or with envy pine  
Or burn with rage or melt out at their eyen.   

Thrice happy he whose name is writ above,  
And doth good though gaining infamy;  
Requiteth evil turns with hearty love,  
And recks not what befalls him outwardly.  
Whose worth is in himself, and only bliss  
In his pure conscience that doth nought amiss.   

Who placeth pleasure in his purged soul  
And virtuous life his treasure doth esteem;  
Who can his passion's master and control,  
And that true lordly manliness doth deem,  
Who from this world himself hath clearly quit  
Counts nought his own but what lives in his spirit.   

So when his spirit from this vain world shall flit  
It bears all with it whatsoever was dear  
Unto itself, passing in easy fit,  
As kindly ripened corn comes out of th' ear.  
Thus mindless of what idle men will say  
He takes his own and stilly goes his way.   

But the retinue of proud Lucifer,  
Those blustering Poets that fly after fame  
And deck themselves like the bright morningstar.  
Alas! it is but all a crackling flame.  
For death will strip them of that glorious plume  
That airy bliss will vanish into fume.   

For can their careful ghosts from Limbo ●ake  
Return, or listen from the bowed sky  
To hear how well their learned lines do take?  
Or if they could; is Heavens felicity  
So small as by man's praise to be increased,  
Hell's pain no greater than hence to be eased?   

Therefore once dead in vain shall I transmit  
My shadow to gazing posterity;  
Cast far behind me I shall never see't,  
On Heavens fair sun having fast fixed mine eye.  
Nor while I live, heed I what man doth praise  
Or underprize mine unaffected lays.   

What moves thee then, said he, to take the pains  
And spenden time if thou contemn'st the fruit?  
Sweet fruit of fame, that fills the poet's brains  
With high conceit and feeds his fainting wit.  
How pleasant 'tis in honour here to live  
And dead, thy name for ever to survive!   

Or is thy abject mind so basely bent  
As of thy Muse to maken merchandise?  
(And well I wot this is no strange intent.)  
The hopeful glimpse of gold from chattering Pies,  
From Daws and Crows, and parrots oft hath wrung  
An unexpected Pegascian song.   

Foul shame on him, quoth I, that shameful thought  
Doth entertain within his dunghill breast,  
Both God and Nature hath my spirits wrought  
To better temper and of old hath blessed  
My lofty soul with more divine aspires  
Then to be touched with such vile low desires.   

I hate and highly scorn that kestrel kind  
Of bastard scholars that subordinate  
The precious choice enduements of the mind  
To wealth or worldly good. Adulterate  
And cursed brood! Your wit and will are born  
Of th' earth and circling thither do return.   

Profit and honour be those measures scant  
Of your slight studies and endeavours vain,  
And when you once have got what you did want  
You leave your learning to enjoy your gain.  
Your brains grow low, your bellies swell up high,  
Foul sluggish fat ditts up your dulled eye.   

Thus what the earth did breed, to th' earth is gone,  
Like fading herb or feebly drooping flower,  
By feet of men and beast quite trodden down,  
The muck-sprung learning cannot long endure.  
Back she returns lost in her filthy source,  
Drowned, choked or slocken by her cruel nurse.   

True virtue to her self's the best reward,  
Rich with her own and full of lively spirit,  
Nothing cast down for want of due regard,  
Or 'cause rude men acknowledge not her merit.  
She knows her worth and stock from whence she sprung,  
Spreads fair without the warmth of earthly dung,   

Dewed with the drops of Heaven shall flourish long;  
As long as day and night do share the sky,  
And though that day and night should fail yet strong  
And steady, fixed on eternity  
Shall bloom for ever. So the soul shall speed  
That loveth virtue for no worldly meed.   

Though sooth to say, the worldly meed is due  
To her more than to all the world beside.  
Men ought do homage with affections true  
And offer gifts for God doth there reside.  
The wise and virtuous soul is his own seat  
To such what's given God himself doth get.   

But earthly minds whose sight's sealed up with mud  
Discern not this flesh-clouded Deity,  
Ne do acknowledge any other good  
Then what their mole-warp hands can feel and try  
By groping touch; thus (worth of them unseen)  
Of nothing worthy that true worth they ween.   

Wherefore the prudent lawgivers of old  
Even in all Nations, with right sage foresight  
Discovering from far how clums and cold  
The vulgar wight would be to yield what's right  
To virtuous learning, did by law design  
Great wealth and honour to that worth divine.   

But nought's by law to poesy due said he,  
Ne doth the solemn statesman's head take care  
Of those that such impertinent pieces be  
Of common-weals. Thou'd better then to spare  
Thy useless vein. Or tell else, what may move  
Thy busy Muse such fruitless pains to prove.   

No pains but pleasure to do the dictates dear  
Of inward living nature. What doth move  
The nightingale to sing so sweet and clear  
The Thrush, or Lark that mounting high above  
Chants her shrill notes to heedless ears of corn  
Heavily hanging in the dewy morn.   

When life can speak, it can not well withhold  
T' express its own impressions and hid life.  
Or joy or grief that smothered lie untold  
Do vex the heart and wring with restless strife.  
Then are my labours no true pains but ease  
My soul's unrest they gently do appease.   

Besides, that is not fruitless that no gains  
Brings to myself. I others profit deem  
Mine own: and if at these my heavenly flames  
Others receiven light, right well I ween  
My time's not lost. Art thou now satisfied  
Said I: to which the scoffing boy replied.   

Great hope indeed thy rhymes should men enlight,  
That be with clouds and darkness all overcast,  
Harsh style and harder sense void of delight  
The Readers wearied eye in vain do wast.  
And when men win thy meaning with much pain,  
Thy uncouth sense they coldly entertain.   

For wotst thou not that all the world is dead  
Unto that Genius that moves in thy vein  
Of poetry! But like by like is fed.  
Sing of my trophies in triumphant strain,  
Then correspondent life, thy powerful verse  
Shall strongly strike and with quick passion pierce.   

The tender fry of lads and lasses young  
With thirsty ear thee compassing about,  
Thy Nectar-dropping Muse, thy sugared song  
Will swallow down with eager hearty draught;  
Relishing truly what thy rhymes convey,  
And highly praising thy soul-smiting lay.   

The mincing maid her mind will then bewray,  
Her heartblood flaming up into her face,  
Grave matrons will wax wanton and betray  
Their unresolvedness in their wonted grace;  
Young boys and girls would feel a forward spring,  
And former youth to eld thou back wouldst bring.   

All Sexes, Ages, Orders, Occupations  
Would listen to thee with attentive ear,  
And easily moved with thy sweet persuasions,  
Thy pipe would follow with full merry cheer.  
While thou thy lively voice didst loud advance  
Their tickled blood for joy would inly dance.   

But now, alas! poor solitary man!  
In lonesome desert thou dost wander wide  
To seek and serve thy disappearing Pan,  
Whom no man living in the world hath eyed:  
For Pan is dead but I am still alive,  
And live in men who honour to me give:   

They honour also those that honour me  
With sacred songs. But thou now singest to trees  
To rocks to Hills, to Caves that senseless be  
And mindless quite of thy hid mysteries,  
In the void air thy idle voice is spread,  
Thy Muse is music to the deaf or dead.   

Now out alas! said I, and wele-away  
The tale thou tellest I confess too true.  
Fond man so doteth on this living clay  
His carcase dear, and doth its joys pursue,  
That of his precious soul he takes no keep  
Heaven's love and reasons light lie fast asleep.   

This body's life vain shadow of the soul  
With full desire they closely do embrace,  
In fleshly mud like swine they wallow and roll,  
The loftiest mind is proud but of the face  
Or outward person; if men but adore  
That walking sepulchre, cares for no more.   

This is the measure of man's industry  
To wexen some body and gotten grace  
To 's outward presence; though true majesty  
Crowned with that heavenly light and lively rays  
Of holy wesdome and seraphic love,  
From his deformed soul he far remove.   

Slight knowledge and less virtue serves his turn  
For this design. If he hath trod the ring  
Of peddling arts; in usual packhorse form  
Keeping the road; O! then 't's a learned thing.  
If any chanced to write or speak what he  
Conceives not't were a foul discourtesy?   

To cleanse the soul from sin, and still diffide  
Whether our reason's eye be clear enough  
To intromit true light, that fain would glide  
Into purged hearts, this way's too harsh and rough:  
Therefore the clearest truths may well seem dark  
When slothful men have eyes so dim and stark.   

These be our times. But if my minds presage  
Bear any moment, they can ne'er last long,  
A three branched Flame will soon sweep clean the stage  
Of this old dirty dross and all wax young.  
My words into this frozen air I throw  
Will then grow vocal at that general thaw.   

Nay, now thou'rt perfect mad, said he, with scorn,  
And full of foul derision quit the place.  
The sky did rattle with his wings ytorn  
Like to rent silk. But I in the mean space  
Sent after him this message by the wind  
Be't so I'm mad, yet sure I am thou'rt blind.   

By this the outstretched shadows of the trees  
Pointed me homeward, and with one consent  
Foretold the day's descent. So straight I rise  
Gathering my limbs from off the green pavement  
Behind me leaving then the slooping Light.   Cl. 
And now let's up, Vesper brings on the Night.  
FINIS.   

A Particular Interpretation appertaining to the three last books of the Platonic Song of the Soul.  

A  
ATom-lives. The same that Centrall lives. Both the terms denotate the indivisibility of the inmost essence itself; the pure essential form I mean, of plant, beast or man, yea of angels themselves, good or bad.  
Apogee, See Interpret. Gen. Autokineticall, Ananke, Acronycall, Alethea-land,  
Animadversall. That lively inward animadversall. It is the soul itself, for I cannot conceive the body doth animadvert; when as objects plainly exposed to the sight are not discovered till the soul takes notice of them.   

B  
BOdy. The ancient Philosphers have defined it, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. Sext. Emperic. Pyrrhon. Hypotyp. lib. 3. cap. 5. Near to this is that description, Psychathan, Cant. 2. Stanz. 12. lib. 2, Matter extent in three dimensions. But for that {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, simple trinall distention doth not imply it, wherefore I declined it. But took in matter according to their conceit, that fancy à Materia prima, I acknowledge none, and consequently no such corpus naturale as our Physiologist make the subject of that science. That {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} is nothing but a fixed spirit, the conspissation or coagulation of the Cuspidall particles of the Cone, which are indeed the Centrall Tasis, or inward essence of the sensible world. These be an infinite number of vital Atoms that may be wakened into diverse tinctures, or energies, into fiery, watery, earthy, &c. And one divine Fiat can unloose them all into an universal mist, or turn them out of that sweat into a dry and pure etherial temper. These be the last projections of life from the soul of the world; and are act or form though debil and indifferent, like that which they call the first matter. But they are not merely passive but meet their information half way, as I may so speak: are radiant ab intimo and awake into this or the other operation, by the powerful appulse of some superadvenient form. That which change of phantasms is to the soul, that is alteration of rays to them. For their rays are ab intrinseco, as the phantasms of the soul. These be the real matter of which all supposed bodies are compounded, and this matter (as I said) is form and life, so that all is life and form what ever is in the world, as I have somewhere intimated in Antipsychopan: But however I use the term body ordinarily in the usual and vulgar acception. And for that sense of the ancients, nearest to which I have defined it in the place first above mentioned, that I seem not to choose that same as most easy to proceed against in disproving the corporeity of the soul, the arguments do as necessarily conclude against such a natural body as is ordinarily described in physiology (as you may plainly discern if you list to observe) as also against this body composed of the Cuspidall particles of the Cone. For though they be Centrall lives, yet are they neither plastical, Sensitive, or rational, so far are they from proving to be the human soul whose nature is there discussed.   

C  
COne: Is a solid figure made by the turning of a rectangular triangle, about; one of the sides that include the right angle resting, which will be then the Axis of the completed Cone. But I take it sometimes for the comprehension of all things, God himself not left out, whom I term the Basis of the Cone or Universe. And because all from him descends, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, with abatement or contraction, I give the name of Cone to the Universe. And of Cone rather than Pyramid because of the roundness of the figure, which the effluxes of all things imitate.  
Chaos, See interpret Gen. Chronical, Clare,  
Circulation, The term is taken from a toyish observation, viz. the circling of water when a stone is cast into a standing pool. The motion drives on circularly, the first rings are thickest, but the further they go they grow the thinner, till they vanish into nothing. Such is the diffusion of the species audible in the strucken air, as also of the visible species. In brief any thing is said to circulate that diffuseth its image or species in a round. It might have been more significantly called orbiculation; seeing this circumfusion makes not only a circle, but fills a sphere, which may be called the sphere of activity. Yet Circulation more fitly sets out the diminution of activity, from those rings in the water which as they grow in compass, abate in force and thickness. But sometimes I use Circulate in an ordinary sense to turn round, or return in a circle.  
Centre, Centrall, Centrality. When they are used out of their ordinary sense, they signify the depth or inmost being of any thing, from whence its acts and energies flow forth. See Atom-lives.  
Cuspis of the Cone. The multiplied Cuspis of the Cone is nothing but the last projection of life from Psyche, which is {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} a liquid fire or fire and water, which are the corporeal or material principles of all things, changed or disgregated (if they be centrally distinguishable) and again mingled by the virtue of Physis or spermatical life of the world; of these are the sun and all the Planets, they being kned together, and fixed by the Centrall power of each Planet and sun. The volatile Ether is also of the same, and all the bodies of plants, beasts and men. These are they which we handle and touch, a sufficient number compact together. For neither is the noise of those little flies in a summer-evening audible severally: but a full choir of them strike the ear with a pretty kind of buzzing. Strong and tumultuous pleasure and scorching pain reside in these, they being essential and central, but sight and hearing are only of the images of these, See Body.  
eternity. Is the steady comprehension of all things at once. See Aeon described in my Expos upon Psychozoia.  
energy, It is a peculiar Platonical term. In my Interpret. Gen. I expounded it Operation, Efflux, Activity. None of those words bear the full sense of it. The examples there are fit, viz. the light of the sun, the phantasms of the soul. We may collect the genuine sense of the word by comparing several places in the Philosopher. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. For every being hath its energy, which is the image of itself, so that it existing that energy doth also exist, and standing still is projected forward more or less. And some of those energies are weak and obscure, others hid or undiscernable, othersome greater and of a larger projection. Plotin. Ennead. 4. lib. 5. cap. 7. And again, Ennead. 3. lib. 4. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. And we remain above by the intellectual man, but by the extreme part of him we are held below, as it were yielding an efflux from him to that which is below, or rather an energy he being not at all lessened. This curiosity Antoninus also observes, (lib. 8. Meditat.) in the nature of the sunbeams, where although he admits of {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, yet he doth not of {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} which is {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. The sun, saith he, is diffused, and his fusion is everywhere but without effusion, &c. I will only add one place more out of Plotinus. Ennead. 3. lib. 6. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. The natural energy of each power of the soul is life not parted from the soul though gone out of the soul, viz. into act.  
Comparing of all these places together, I cannot better explain this Platonic term, energy, then by calling it the rays of an essence, or the beams of a vital Centre. For essence is the Centre as it were of that which is truly called energy, and energy the beams and rays of an essence. And as the Radii of a circle leave not the centre by touching the Circumference, no more doth that which is the pure energy of an essence, leave the essence by being called out into act, but is {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} a working in the essence though it flow out into act. So that energy depends always on esence, as Lumen on Lux, or the creature on God; Whom therefore Synesius in his hymns calls the Centre of all things.  
Entelecheia. See Interpret. Gen.   

F  
FAith. Platonic faith in the first Good. This faith is excellently described in Proclus. where it is set above all ratiocination, nay, Intellect itself. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. But to them that endeavour to be joined with the first Good, there is no need of knowledge or multifarious cooperation, but of settledness, steadiness, and rest. lib. 1. cap. 24. Theolog. Platon. And in the next chapter; {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. For we must not seek after that absolute or first Good cognoscitively or imperfectly, but giving ourselves up to the divine light, and winking (that is shutting our eyes of reason and understanding) so to place ourselves steadily in that hidden unity of all things. After he prefers this faith before the clear and present assent to the {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, yea and the {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, so that he will not that any intellectual operation should come in comparison with it. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. For the operation of the Intellect is multiform and by diversity separate from her objects, and is in a word, intellectual motion about the object intelligible. But the divine faith must be simple and uniform, quiet and steadily resting in the haven of goodness. And at last he summarily concludes, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. See Procl. Theolog. Platonic. lib. 1. cap. 25.   

H  
HYle. See Interpret. Gen.   

I  
INtellect.. Sometimes it is to be interpreted Soul. Sometime the intellectual faculty of the soul. Sometimes Intellect is an absolute essence shining into the soul: whose nature is this. A substance purely immaterial, impeccable, actually omniform, or comprehending all things at once▪ which the soul doth also being perfectly joined with the Intellect. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. Plot. Ennead. 1. lib. 1. cap. 8. Ideas, or ideas, Sometimes they are forms in the intellectual world. viz. in Aeon, or On, other sometimes, phantasms or representations in the soul. Innate ideas are the soul's nature itself, her uniform essence, able by her Fiat to produce this or that phantasm into act.  
Idiopathy. See Interpret. Gen. Ia●   

L  
LOgos. See Interpr. Gen.  
Life. The vital operation of any soul. Sometime it is the soul itself, be it sensitive, vegetative, or rational.  
Lower man. The lower man is our enquickned body, into which our soul comes, it being fitly prepared for the receiving of such a guest. The manner of the production of souls, or rather their non-production is admirably well set down in Plotinus, See, Ennead. 6. lib. 4. cap. 14, 15.   

M  
MOnad. See Interpr. Gen.  
Mundane. Mundane spirit, Is that which is the spirit of the world or Universe. I mean by it not an intellectual spirit, but a fine, unfixt, attenuate, subtle, ethereal substance, the immediate vehicle of plastical or sensitive life.  
Memory. Mundane memory. Is that memory that is seated in the Mundane spirit of man, by a strong impression, or inustion of any phantasm, or outward sensible object, upon that spirit. But there is a Memory more subtle and abstract in the soul itself, without the help of this spirit, which she also carries away with her having left the body.  
magical. That is, attractive, or commanding by force of sympathy with the life of this natural world.  
Moment. Sometimes signifies an instant, as indivisible, as {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, which in motion answers to an instant in time, or a point in a line, Aristot. Phys. In this sense I use it, Psychathan. lib. 3. cant. 2. stanz.. 16. But in a moment sol doth ray. But Cant. the 3. Stanz. 45. v. 2. I understand, as also doth Lansbergius, by a moment one second of a minute. In Antipsych. Cant. 2. Stanz. the 20. v. 2. by a moment I understand a minute, or indefinitely any small time.   

O  
ORb. Orb intellectual, is nothing else but Aeon or the intellectual world. The Orbs general mentioned Psycathan. lib. 1. cant. 3. stanz.. 23. v. 2. I understand by them but so many universal orders of beings, if I may so term them all; for Hyle hath little or nothing of being.  
Omniformity, The omniformity of the soul is the having in her nature all forms, latent at least, and power of awaking them into act, upon occasion.  
Out-world▪ and Out-Heaven. The sensible world, the visible Heaven.   

P  
PErigee, See Interpret. Gen. Psychicall, Parelies, Parallax, Protopathy. Parturient. See, Vaticinant.  
fantasy. Lower fantasy, is that which resides in the Mundane spirit of a man, See Memory.   

Q.  
Quantitative. Forms quantitative, are such sensible energies as arise from the complexion of many natures together, at whose discretion they vanish. That's the seventh Orb of things, though broken and not filling all as the other do. But if you take it for the whole sensible world, it is entire, and is the same that Tasis in Psycozoia. But the centre of Tasis, viz. the multiplication of the real Cuspis of the Cone (for Hyle that is set for the most contract point of the Cuspis is scarce to be reckoned among realities) that immense diffusion of atoms, is to be referred to Psyche, as an internal vegetative act, and so belongs to Physis the lowest order of life. For as that warmth that the sense doth afford the body, is not rational, sensitive, or imaginative, but vegetative; So this, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} i. e. liquid fire, which Psyche sends out, and is the outmost, last, and lowest operation from herself, is also vegetative.   

R  
RHomboides. See Interpr. general.  
Reason. I understand by Reason, the deduction of one thing from another, which I conceive proceeds from a kind of continuity of phantasms: and is something like the moving of a cord at one end; the parts next it rise with it. And by this concatenation of phantasms I conceive, that both brutes and men are moved in reasonable ways and methods in their ordinary external actions.  
rays. The rays of an essence is its energy. See energy.  
Reduplicative. That is reduplicative, which is not only in this point, but also in another, having a kind of circumscribed ubiquity, viz. in its own sphere. And this is either by being in that sphere omnipresent itself, as the soul is said to be in the body tota in toto & tota in qualibet parte, or else at least by propagation of rays, which is the image of itself; and so are divers sensible objects Reduplicative, as light, colours, sounds. And I make account either of these ways justly denominate any thing spiritual. Though the former is most properly, at least more eminently spiritual. And whether any thing be after that way spiritual saving the divinity, there is reason to doubt. For what is entirely omnipresent in a sphere, whose diametre is but three feet, I see not, why (that in the circumference being as fresh and entire as that in the centre) it should stop there and not proceed even in infinitum, if the circumference be still as fresh and entire as the centre. But I define nothing.   

S  
spermatical. It belongs properly to Plants, but is transferred also to the plastical power in animals, I enlarge it to all magnetic power whatsoever that doth immediately rule and actuate anybody. For all magnetic power is founded in Physis, and in reference to her, this world is but one great Plant, (one {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} giving it shape and corporeal life) as in reference to Psyche, one happy and holy animal.  
Spirit. Sometimes it signifieth the soul, othersometime, the natural spirits in a man's body, which are Vinculum animae & corporis, and the souls vehicle: Sometimes life. See Reduplicative.  
Soul. When I speak of man's Soul, I understand that which Moses saith was inspired into the body, (fitted out and made of earth) by God, Genes. 2. which is not that impeccable spirit that cannot sin; but the very same that the Platonists call {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, a middle essence betwixt that which they call {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} (and we would in the Christian language call {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}) and the life of the body which is {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, a kind of an umbratil vitality, that the soul imparts to the body in the enlivening of it: That and the body together, we Christians would call {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} and the suggestions of it, especially in its corrupt estate, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. And that that which God inspired into Adam was no more than {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, the soul, not the spirit, though it be called {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} Spiraculum vitae; is plain out of the text; because it made man but become a living soul, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. But you will say, he was a dead soul before, and this was the spirit of life, yea the spirit of God, the life of the soul that was breathed into him.  
But if {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} imply such a life and spirit, you must acknowledge the same to be also in the most stupid of all living creatures, even the fishes (whose soul is but as salt to keep them from stinking, as Philo speaks) for they are said to be {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} chap. 1. v. 20. 21. See 1 Cor. chap. 15. v. 45, 46. In brief therefore, that which in Platonism is {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, is in Scripture {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}; what {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} in one, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}, the brute or beast in the other, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} the same in both.  
Self-reduplicative. See Reduplicative.   

To  
tricentreity. Centre is put for essence, so tricentreity must imply a trinity of essence. See Centre, and energy.   

V  
VAticinant. The soul is said to be in a vaticinant or parturient condition, when she hath some kind of sense and hovering knowledge of a thing, but yet cannot distinctly and fully, and commandingly represent it to herself, cannot plainly apprehend, much less comprehend the matter. The phrase is borrowed of Proclus, who describing the incomprehensibleness of God, and the desire of all things towards him, speaks thus; {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. Theolog Platon lib. 1. cap. 21. See Psychathan. lib. 3. cant. 3. stanz.. 12. & 14.    

The philosopher's Devotion.  

SIng aloud his praise rehearse  
Who hath made the Universe.  
He the boundless Heavens has spread  
All the vital Orbs has kned;  
He that on Olympus high  
Tends his flocks with watchful eye,  
And this eye has multiplied  
Midst each flock for to reside.  
Thus as round about they stray  
Toucheth each with outstretched ray,  
Nimbly they hold on their way,  
Shaping out their Night and Day.  
Never slack they; none respires,  
Dancing round their Centrall fires.   

In due order as they move  
Echoes sweet be gently drove  
Through Heavens vast hollowness,  
Which unto all corners press:  
Music that the heart of Jove  
Moves to joy and sportful love;  
Fills the listening sailors ears  
Riding on the wandering spheres.  
Neither Speech nor Language is  
Where their voice is not transmisse.   

God is Good, is Wise, is Strong,  
Witness all the creature-throng,  
Is confessed by every Tongue.  
All things back from whence they sprung,  
As the thankful Rivers pay  
What they borrowed of the Sea.   

Now myself I do resign,  
Take me whole I all am thine.  
Save me, God from Self-desire,  
Death's pit, dark hell's raging fire,  
Envy, Hatred, Vengeance, Ire.  
Let not Lust my soul bemire.   

Quit from these thy praise I'll sing,  
Loudly sweep the trembling string.  
Bear a part, O wisdoms sons!  
Freeed from vain religions.  
Lo! from far I you salute,  
Sweetly warbling on my Lute.  
Indie, Egypt, Arabia,  
Asia, Greece, and Tartary,  
Carmel-tracts, and Lebanon  
With the Mountains of the Moon,  
From whence muddy Nile doth run,  
Or wherever else you won;  
Breathing in one vital air,  
One we are though distant far.   

Rise at once let's sacrifice  
Odours sweet perfume the skies.  
See how Heavenly lightning fires  
Hearts inflamed with high aspires!  
All the substance of our souls  
Up in clouds of Incense rolls.  
Leave we nothing to ourselves  
Save a voice, what need we else!  
Or an hand to wear and tire  
On the thankful Lute or Lyre.   

Sing aloud his praise rehearse  
Who hath made the Universe.   
FINIS.