ΨΥΞΩΔΙΑ PLATONICA: OR A Platonical Song of the SOUL, Consisting of four several Poems; viz. 

ΨΥΞΟΖΩΙΑ  
ΨΥΞΑΘΑΝΑΣΙΑ  
ΑΝΤΙΨΥΞΟΠΑΝΝΥΞΙΑ  
ΑΝΤΙΜΟΝΟΨΥΞΙΑ    
Hereto is added a Paraphrastical Interpretation of the answer of Apollo consulted by Amelius, about Plotinus soul departed this life.  
By H. M. Master of Arts, and Fellow of Christ's College in Cambridge.  
Nullam majorem afferre solet ignaris inscitia voluptatem 〈◊〉 expeditum factidiosúmque contemptum.  Scal. 
CAMBRIDGE Printed by Roger Daniel, Printer to the University. 1642.   

To the Reader.  

But whom lust, wrath, and fear control,  
Scarce know their body from their soul,  
If any such chance hear my verse,  
Dark numerous Nothings I rehearse  
To them, measure out an idle sound  
In which no inward sense is found.  
Thus sing I to cragged cliffs and hills,  
To sighing winds, to murmuring rills,  
To wasteful woods, to empty groves,  
Such things as my dear mind most loves.  
But they heed not my Heavenly passion,  
Fast fixed on their own operation.  
On chalky rocks hard by the Sea,  
Safe guided by fair Cynthia,  
I strike my silver-sounded lyre,  
First struck myself by some strong fire;  
And all the while her wavering ray  
Reflected from fluid glass doth play  
On the white banks. But all are deaf  
Unto my Muse, that is most lief  
To mine own self. So they nor blame  
My pleasant notes, nor praise the same.  
Nor do thou, Reader, rashly brand  
My rhymes before thou them understand.   
H. M.   

ΨΥΞΟΖΩΙΑ, OR A CHRISTIANO-PLATONICALL display of LIFE, Written in the beginning of the year of our LORD 1640. and now published for all free Phisophers and well-willers to the true Christian Life.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  Trismeg. 
CAMBRIDGE Printed by Roger Daniel, Printer to the University, 1642.   

TO THE READER, upon the first Book of PSYCHOZOIA.  
THis first book, as you may judge by the names therein, was intended for a mere Platonical description of Universal life, or life that is omnipresent, though not alike omnipresent. As in Noah's Deluge, the water that overflowed the earth was present in every part thereof, but every part of the water was not in every part of the earth, or all in every part; so the low Spirit of the Universe, though it go quite through the world, yet it is not totally in every part of the world; Else we should hear our Antipodes, if they did but whisper: Because our lower man is a part of the inferior Spirit of the Universe.  
Ahad, Aeon, and Psyche are all omnipresent in the World, after the most perfect way that humane reason can conceive of. For they are in the world all totally and at once every where.  
This is the famous Platonical Triad: which though they that slight the Christian Trinity do take for a figment; yet I think it is no contemptible argument, that the Platonists, the best and divinest of Philosophers, and the Christians, the best of all that do profess religion, do both concur that there is a Trinity. In what they differ, I leave to be found out, according to the safe direction of that infallible Rule of Faith, the holy Word.  
In the mean time I shall not be blamed by any thing but ignorance and malignity, for being invited to sing of the second Unity of the Platonical Triad, in a Christian strain and Poetical scheme, that which the holy Scripture witnesseth of the second Person of the Christian Trinity. As that his patrimony is the possession of the whole earth. For if it be not all one with Christ, according to his Divinity (although their attributes suit exceeding well: For that second Unity in the Platonical Triad, is called Filius Boni, The Son of the Good; The Christian second Person, The Son of God; He, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 That, the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the first beauty or lustre; He, the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that, the first 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and sometime 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: As in Trismeg: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 He, the Truth; That, the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or true platform according to which every thing was made and ought to be made: That Aeon; He, Eternal life: He, the wisdom of God; That the Intellect: He 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.) Yet the Platonists placing him in the same order, and giving him the like attributes, with the Person of the Son in Christianity, it is nothing harsh for me to take occasion from hence to sing a while the true Christian Autocalon, whose beauty shall adorn the whole Earth in good time; if we believe the Prophets. For that hath not as yet happened. For Christ is not where ever his name is: 
* This opinion, though it have its moments of reason, yet every man's judgement is left free, and will ever be, where there is no demonstration to bind it to assent.  but as he is the Truth, so will he be truly displayed upon the face of the whole Earth. For God doth not fill the world with his glory by words and sounds, but by spirit, and life, and realty.  
Now this Eternal life I sing of, even in the midst of my Platonisme: for I cannot conceal from whence I am, viz. of Christ; but yet acknowledging, that God hath not left the Heathen, Plato especially, without witness of himself. Whose doctrine might strike our adulterate Christian professors with shame and astonishment; their lives falling so exceeding short of the better Heathen. How far short are they then of that admirable and transcendent high mystery of true Christianisme? To which Plato is a very good subservient Minister; whose Philosophy I singing here in a full heat, why may it not be free for me to break out into an higher strain, and under it to touch upon some points of Christianity; as well as all-approved Spencer sings of Christ's under the name of Pan? Saint Paul also transfers those things that be spoken of Jupiter, to God himself, Arat. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Those latter words he gives to the Christian God, whom he himself preached. I will omit the usual course of the Spirit of God in holy Writ, To take occasion from things that have some resemblance of divine things, under them to speak of the true things themselves.  
All this out of a tenderness of mind, being exceeding loath to give any man offence by my writings. For though knowledge and theory be better than any thing but honesty and true piety, yet it is not so good, as that I should willingly offend my neighbour by it.  
Thus much by way of preparation to the first piece of this Poem. I will now leave thee to thine own discretion and judgement.  

Upon the second Book.  
THis second Book, before we descend to particular lives, exhibits to our apprehension, by as fit a similitude as I could light upon, the Universe as one simple uniform being, from Ahad to Hyle: no particular straitened being as yet being made; no Earth or any other Orb as yet kned together. All homogeneal, simple, single, pure, pervious, unknotted, uncoacted, nothing existing but those eight universal orders,  
There God hath full command, builds and destroys what he lists.  
That all our souls are free effluxes from his essence, what follows is so plain that the Reader wants no direction.   

Upon the third Book.  
THere is no knot at all in this last Book if men do not seek one. I plainly and positive●…y declare no opinion, but show the abuse of ●…ose opinions there touched, crowding a number ●…f enormities together, that safely shroud themselves there, where all sinfulness surely may easi●…y get harbour, if we be not well aware of the ●…evil, that makes even true opinions oftentimes ●…rve for mischief.  
Nothing else can be now expected for the easy ●…nd profitable understanding of this Poem, but ●…e interpretation of the names that frequently ●…ccur in it. Which I will interpret at the end of ●…ese Books, (as also the hard terms of the other ●…oems) for their sakes whose real worth and ●…nderstanding is many times equal with the ●…est, only they have not fed of husks and shells, ●…s others have been forced to do, the superficiary ●…nowledge of tongues. But it would be well, that ●…either the Linguist would contemn the illiterate ●…r his ignorance, nor the ignorant condemn the ●…arned for his knowledge, For it is not unlearndnesse that God is so pleased withal, or sillines ●…f mind, but singleness and simplicity of heart.  
H. M.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHOZOIA. Lib. 1.  

This song great Psyche's parentage  
With her fourfold array,  
And that mysterious marriage,  
To th' Reader doth display.   

1  
NOr Ladies loves, nor Knights brave Marshal deeds,  
Ywrapt in rolls of hid Antiquity;  
But th' inward Fountain, and the unseen Seeds,  
From whence are these and what so under eye  
Doth fall, or is record in memory,  
Psyche, I'll sing, Psyche! from thee they spreng.  
O life of time, and all Alterity!  
The life of lives instill his nectar strong,  
And Psych ' inebriate, while I sing Psyche's song.   

2  
But thou, who e'er thou art that hearest this strain,  
Or readest these rhymes which from Platonic rage  
Do powerfully flow forth, dare not to blame  
My forward pen of foul miscarriage;  
If all that's spoke, with thoughts more sadly sage  
Doth not agree. My task is not to try  
What's simply true. I only do engage  
Myself to make a fit discovery,  
Give some fair glimpse of Plato's hid Philosophy.   

3  
What man alive that hath but common wit  
(When skilful limmer' suing his intent  
Shall fairly well portray and wisely hit  
The true proportion of each lineament,  
And in right colours to the life depaint  
The fulvid Eagle with her sun-bright eye)  
Would waxed wroth with inward choler brent  
Cause 'tis no Buzzard or discoloured Pie?  
Why man? I meant it not: Cease thy fond obloquy.   

4  
So if what's consonant to Plato's school,  
(Which well agrees with learned Pythagore,  
Egyptian Trismegist and th' antique roll  
Of Chaldee wisdom all which time hath tore  
But Plato and deep Plotin do restore)  
Which is my scope, I sing out lustily.  
If any twitten me for such strange lore,  
And me all blameless brand with infamy,  
God purge that man from fault of foul malignity.   

5  
Th' Ancient of days, sire of Eternity,  
Sprung of himself, or rather nowise sprung.  
Father of lights and everlasting glee,  
Who puts to silence every daring tongue  
And flies man's sight, shrouding himself among  
His glorious rays, good Hattove, from whom came  
All good that Penia spies in thickest throng  
Of most desired things, all's from that same,  
That same, that Hattove height and sweet Abinoam.   

6  
Now can I not with flowering fantasy  
To drowsy sensual souls such words impart,  
Which in their sprights may cause sweet agony,  
And thrill their bodies through with pleasing dart,  
And spread in flowing sire their close-twist heart,  
All-chearing fire, that nothing wont to burn  
That Hattove lists to save: and his good Art  
Is all to save that will to him return,  
That all to him return, nought of him is sorlorn.   

7  
For what can be forlorn, when his good hands  
Hold all in life, that of life do partake?  
O surest confidence of Love's strong bands!  
Love loveth all that's made; Love all did make  
And when false life doth fail, it's for the sake  
Of better being. Riving tortures spite,  
That life disjoints, and makes the heart to quake,  
To good the soul doth nearer reunite:  
So ancient Hattove hence all-joyning Ahad height.   

8  
This Ahad of himself the Aeon fair  
Begot, the brightness of his father's grace:  
No living wight in heaven to him compare,  
Ne work his goodly honour such disgrace,  
Nor lose thy time in telling of his race.  
His beauty and his race no man can tell:  
His glory darkeneth the Sun's bright face;  
Or if ought else the Sun's bright face excel,  
●…is splendour would it dim, and all that glory quell.   

9  
This is that ancient Eidos' omniform,  
Fount of all beauty, root of flowering glee.  
Hyle old hag, foul, filthy and deform,  
Can not come near. Joyful Eternity  
Admits no change or mutability,  
No shade of change, no imminution,  
No nor increase; for what increase can be  
To that that's all? and where Hill ' hath no throne  
●…n ought decay? such is the state of great Aeon.   

10  
far otherwise it fares in this same land  
Of truth and beauty, then in mortal brood  
Of earthly lovers, who impassioned  
With outward forms (not rightly understood,  
From whence proceeds this amorous sweet flood,  
And choice delight which in their spirit they feel:  
Can outward idol yield so heavenly mood?)  
This inward beauty unto that they deel  
●…at little beauteous is: Thus into th' dirt they reel.   

11  
Like to Narcissus, on the grassy shore,  
Viewing his outward face in watery glass;  
Still as he looks, his looks add evermore  
New fire, new light, new love, new comely grace  
To 's inward form; and it displays apace  
Its hidden rays, and so new lustre sends  
To that vain shadow: but the boy, alas!  
Unhappy boy! the inward nought attends,  
〈◊〉 in foul filthy mire, love, life and form he blends.   

12  
And this I wot is the Souls excellence,  
That from the hint of every painted glance  
Of shadows sensible, it doth from hence  
It's radiant life and lovely hue advance  
To higher pitch, and by good governance  
May wained be from love of fading light  
In outward forms, having true Cognisance,  
That those vain shows are not the beauty bright  
That takes men so, but that they cause in humane spirit.   

13  
far otherwise it fares in Aeons' realm.  
O happy close of sight and that there's seen!  
That there is seen is good Abinoam,  
Who Hattove height: And Hattubus I ween,  
Cannot be less than he that sets his eyes  
On that abyss of good eternally,  
The youthful Aeon, whose fair face doth shine  
While he his Father's glory doth espy,  
Which waters his fine flowering forms with light from hi●…   

14  
Not that his forms increase, or that they die.  
For Aeon Land, which men Idea call,  
Is nought but life in full serenity,  
Vigour of life is root, stock, branch, and all;  
Nought here increaseth, nought here hath its fall:  
For Aeons' kingdoms always perfect stand,  
Birds, beasts, fields, springs, plants, men and mineral,  
To perfectness nought added be there can.  
This Aeon also height Autocalon and On.   

15  
This is the eldest son of Hattove hore:  
But th' eldest daughter of this aged sire,  
That virgin wife of Aeon, Uranore.  
She Uranora height, because the fire  
Of Aethers essence she with bright attire,  
And inward unseen golden hue doth dight,  
And life of sense and fancy doth inspire.  
Aether's the vehicle of touch, smell, sight,  
Of taste and hearing too, and of the plastic might.   

16  
Whilom me chanced (O my happy chance!)  
To spy this spotless pure fair Uranore.  
I spied her, but, alas! with slighter glance  
Beheld her on the Hattubaean shore,  
She stood the last: for her did stand before  
The lovely Autocal. But first of all  
Was mighty Hattove, deeply covered o'er  
With unseen light. No might Imaginall  
●…ay reach that vast profundity.   

17  
Whiles thus they stood by that good lucid spring  
Of living bliss, her fourfold ornament  
I there observed; and that's the only thing  
That I dare write with due advisement.  
Foolhardy man that purposeth intent  
Far 'bove his reach, like the proud Phaeton,  
Who clomb the fiery car and was yshent  
Through his fond juvenile ambition:  
●…h ' unruly flundring steeds wrought his confusion.   

18  
Now rise, my Muse, and strait thyself address  
To write the portraiture of th' outward vest,  
And to display its perfect comeliness:  
Begin and leave where it shall please thee best.  
Nor do assay to tell all, let the rest  
Be understood. For no man can unfold  
The many plicatures so closely pressed  
At lowest verge. Things 'fore our feet yrold,  
●…they be hard, how shall the highest things be told?   

19  
It's unseen figure I must here omit:  
For thing so mighty vast no mortal eye  
Can compass; and if eye not compass it,  
The extreme parts, at lest some, hidden lie:  
And if that they lie hid, who can descry  
The truth of figure? Bodies figured  
Receive their shape from each extremity.  
But if conjecture may stand in truth's stead  
●…he garment round or circular I do aread.   

20  
As for its colour and material,  
It silken seems, and of an azure hue,  
If hue it have or colour natural:  
For much it may amaze man's erring view.  
Those parts the eye is near give not the show  
Of any colour: but the rural Swains,  
O easy ignorance! would swear 'tis blue,  
Such as their Phyllis would, when as she plains  
Their Sunday-cloths, and the washed white with azure sta●…   

21  
But this fair azure colour's foully stained  
By base comparison with that blue dust.  
But you of Uranore are not disdained,  
O silly Shepherds, if you hit not just  
In your conceits, so that you're put in trust  
You duly do attend. If simple deed  
Accord with simple life, then needs you must  
From the great Uravore of favour speed,  
Though you can not unfold the nature of her weed.   

22  
For who can it unfold, and read aright  
The divers colours, and the tinctures fair,  
Which in this various vesture changes write  
Of light, of duskishness, of thick, of rare  
Consistences: ever new changes mar  
Former impressions. The dubious shine  
Of changeable silk stuffs this passeth far.  
far more variety, and far more fine,  
Then interwoven silk with gold or silver twine.   

23  
Lo what delightful immutations  
On her soft flowing vest we contemplate!  
The glory of the Court, their fashions,  
And brave agguize with all their Princely state,  
Which Poets or Historians relate  
This far excels, farther than pompous Cour●…:  
Excels the homeliest garb of Country rate:  
Unspeakable it is how great a sort.  
Of glorious glistering shows in it themselves disport.   

24  
There you may see the eyelids of the morn  
With lofty silver arch displayed i'th' East,  
And in the midst the burnished gold doth burn;  
A lucid purple mantle in the West  
Doth close the day, and hap the Sun at rest.  
Nor do these lamping shows the azure quell,  
Or other colours: where 't beseemeth best  
There they themselves dispose; so seemly well  
●…th light and changing tinctures deck this goodly veil.   

25  
But amongst these glaring glittering rows of light,  
And flaming circles, and the grisell grey,  
And curdled clouds with silver tipping dight,  
And many other deckings wondrous gay,  
As Iris and the Halo, there doth play  
Still-paced Euphrona in her conique tire;  
By stealth her steeple-cap she doth assay  
To whelm on th' earth: So schoolboys do aspire  
●…ith coppelled hat to quelm the Bee all armed with ire.   

26  
I saw portrayed on this Sky-coloured silk  
Two lovely lads, with wings fully dispread  
Of silver plumes, their skin more white than milk,  
Their lily limbs I greatly admired,  
Their cheery looks and lusty livelyhed:  
Athwart their snowy breast a scarf they wore  
Of azure hue, fairly bespangoled  
Was the gold fringe. Like Doves so forth they fore:  
●…me message they, I ween, to Monocardia bore.   

27  
O gentle sprights, whose careful oversight  
Tends humane actions, sons of Solyma!  
O heavenly Salems' sons! you send the right,  
You violence resist, and fraud bewray;  
The ill with ill, the good with good you pay.  
And if you list to mortal eye appear,  
You thick that veil, and so yourselves array  
With visibility: O mystery rare▪  
That thickened veil should maken things appear more bare▪   

28  
But well I wot that nothing's bare to sense;  
For sense cannot arrive to th' inwardness  
Of things, nor penetrate the crusty fence  
Of constipated matter close compress:  
Or that were laid aside, yet nevertheless  
Things thus unbar'd, to sense be more obscure.  
Therefore those Sons of Love when they them dre●…  
For sight, they thick the vest of Uranure,  
And from their centre overflowed with beauty pure.   

29  
Thus many goodly things have been unfold  
Of Uranures fair changing ornament:  
Yet far more hiddenly, as yet untold;  
For all to tell was never my intent,  
Neither all could I tell if I so meant.  
For her large robe all the wide world doth fill:  
It's various largeness no man can depaint:  
My pen's from thence, my books, my ink; but skill  
From Uranures own self down gently doth distil.   

30  
But yet one thing I saw that I'll not pass,  
At the low hem of this large garment gay  
Number of goodly balls there pendent was,  
Some like the Sun, some like the Moons white ray,  
Some like discoloured Tellus, when the day  
Descries her painted coat: In wondrous wise  
These coloured ones do circle, float and play,  
As those far-shining Rounds in open skies:  
Their course the best Astronomer might well aggrize.   

31  
These danced about: but some I did espy  
That steady stood, amongst which there shined one,  
More fairly shineth not the world's great eye,  
Which from his plenteous store unto the Moon  
Kindly imparteth light, that when he's gone,  
She might supply his place, and well abate  
The irksome ugliness of that foul drone,  
Sad heavy night, yet quick to work the fate  
Of murdered travellers, when they themselves belate.   

32  
O gladsome life of sense that doth adore  
The outward shape of the world's curious frame!  
The proudest Prince that ever Sceptre bore  
(Though he perhaps observeth not the same)  
The lowest hem doth kiss of that we name  
The stole of Uranore, these parts that won  
To drag in dirty earth (nor do him blame)  
These doth he kiss: why should he be fordone?  
〈◊〉 sweet it is to live! what joy to see the Sun!   

33  
But O what joy it is to see the Sun  
Of Aeons' kingdoms, and th' eternal day  
That never night o'ertakes▪ the radiant throne  
Of the great Queen, the Queen Uranura!  
Then she 'gan first the Sceptre for to sway,  
And rule with wisdom, when Hattubus old,  
Hence Ahad we him call, did tie them twain  
With nuptial charm and wedding-ring of gold:  
●…n sagely he the case 'gan to them thus unfold:   

34  
My first born Son, and thou my ' daughter dear,  
Look on your aged Sire, the deep abyss,  
〈◊〉 which and out of which you first appear;  
〈◊〉 Ahad height, and Ahad oneness is:  
Therefore be one; (his words do never miss)  
They one became. I Hattove also height,  
●…id he; and Hattove goodness is and bliss:  
●…herefore in goodness be ye fast unite:  
●…nitie, Love, Good, be measures of your might.   

35  
●…hey strait accord: then he put on the ring,  
●…he ring of lasting gold on Uranure;  
●…en 'gan the youthful Lads aloud to sing,  
●…men! O Hymen! O the Virgin pure!  
●…holy Bride! long may this joy endure.  
●…er the song Hattove his speech again  
●…news. My Son, I unto thee assure  
〈◊〉 judgement and authority sovereign▪  
●…ake as unto one: for one became those twain.   

36  
To thee each knee in Heaven and Earth shall bow,  
And whatsoever won in darker cell  
Under the Earth: If thou thy awful brow  
Contract, those of the Aethiopian hell  
Shall lout, and do thee homage; they that dwell  
In Tharsis, Triton's fry, the Ocean-god,  
jam and Ziim, all the Satyrs fell  
That in empse Lands maken their abode:  
All those and all things else shall tremble at thy rod.   

37  
Thy rod thou shalt extend from sea to sea,  
And thy Dominion to the world's end;  
All Kings shall vow thee faithful fealty,  
Then peace and truth on all the earth I'll send:  
Nor moody Mars my metals may misspend,  
Of warlike instruments they ploughshares shall  
And pruning-hooks efform. All things shall wend  
For th' best, and thou the head shalt be o'er all.  
Have I not sworn thee King? true King Catholical!   

38  
Thus far he spoke, and then again respired;  
And all this time he held their hands in one;  
Then they with cheerful look one thing desired,  
That he nould break this happy union.  
I happy union break? quoth he anon:  
I Ahad? Father of Community?  
Then they: That you nould let your hand be gone  
Off from our hands. He grants with smiling glee:  
So each stroke struck on earth is struck from these same 〈◊〉   

39  
These three are Ahad, Aeon, Uranore:  
Ahad these three in one doth counite.  
What so is done on earth, the selfsame power  
(Which is exert upon each mortal wight)  
Is jointly from all these. But she that height  
Fair Uranore, men also Psyche call.  
Great Psyche men and angels dear delight,  
Invested in her stole ethereal,  
Which though so high it be, down to earth doth fall.   

40  
The external form of this large flowing stole,  
My Muse so as she might above displayed:  
But th' inward triple golden film to unroll,  
Ah! he me teach that triple film hath made,  
And brought out light out of the deadly shade  
Of darkest Chaos, and things that are seen  
Made to appear out of the gloomy glade  
Of unseen beings: Them we call unseen,  
Not that they be so indeed, but so to mortal eyes.   

41  
The first of these fair films, we Physis name.  
Nothing in nature did you ever spy  
But there's portrayed: all beasts both wild and tame,  
Each bird is here, and every buzzing fly;  
All forest work is in this tapestry:  
The Oak, the Holm, the Ash, the Aspen tree,  
The lonesome Buzzard, th' Eagle, and the Py,  
The Buck, the Bear, the Boar, the Hare, the Bee,  
The Breeze, the black-armed Clock, the Gnat, the Butterfly;   

42  
Snakes, Adders, Hydra's, Dragons, Toads, and Frogs,  
Th' own-litter-loving Ape, the Worm and Snail,  
Th' undaunted Lion, Horses, Men and Dogs;  
Their number's infinite, nought doth 't avail  
To reckon all: the time would surely fail:  
And all besprinkeled with central spots,  
Dark little spots, is this hid inward veil:  
But when the hot bright dart doth pierce these knots,  
Each one dispreads itself according to their lots.   

43  
When they dispread themselves, then 'gins to swell,  
Dame Psyche's outward vest, as th' inward wind  
Softly gives forth, full softly doth it well  
Forth from the central spot; yet as confin●…d  
To certain shape, according to the mind  
Of the first centre, not perfect circlar wise,  
It shoots itself: for so the outward kind  
Of things were lost, and Nature's good devise  
Of different forms would hiddenly in one agguize.   

44  
But it according to the impressed Art  
(That Arts impression's from Idea Lond)  
So drives it forth before it every part  
According to true symmetry: the bond  
And just precinct (unless it be withstand)  
It always keeps. But that old hag that height  
Foul Hyle mistress of the miry strand,  
Oft her withstands, and taketh great delight  
To hinder Physis work, and work her all despite.   

45  
The self same envious witch with poisoned dew,  
From her foul eben-box, all tinctures stains  
Which fairly good be in hid Physis hew:  
That film all tinctures fair in it contains;  
But she their goodly glory much restrains;  
She colours dims; clogs tastes; and damps the sounds  
Of sweetest music; touch to skorching pains  
She turns, or base tumults; smells confounds.  
O horrid womb of hell, that with such ill abounds.   

46  
From this first film all bulk in quantity  
Doth bougen out, and figure thence obtain.  
Here eke begins the life of Sympathy,  
And hidden virtue of magnetic vein,  
Where unknown spirits beat, and Psyche's trane  
Drag as they list, upon pursuit or flight;  
One part into another they constrain  
Through strong desire, and then again remit.  
Each outward form's a shrine of its magnetic spirit.   

47  
The ripened child breaks through his mother's womb,  
The raving billows closely undermine  
The ragged rocks, and then the seas entomb  
Their heavy corpse, and they their heads recline  
On working sand: The Sun and Moon combine,  
Then they're at odds in site diametral:  
The former age to th' present place resign:  
And what's all this but wafts of winds central  
That ruffle, touse, and toss Dame Psyche's wrimpled ve●…   

48  
So Physis. Next is Arachnea thin,  
The thinner of these two, but thinn'st of all  
Is Semele, that's next to Psyche's skin.  
The second we thin Arachnea call,  
Because the spider, that in Prince's hall  
Takes hold with her industrious hand, and weaves  
Her dainty tender web; far short doth fall  
Of this soft yielding vest; this vest deceives  
The spider's curious touch, and of her praise bereaves.   

49  
In midst of this fine web doth Haphe sit:  
She is the centre from whence all the light  
Dispreads, and goodly glorious Forms do flit  
Hither and thither. Of this miroir bright  
Haphe's the life and representing might  
Haphe's the mother of sense-sympathy;  
Hence are both hearing, smelling, taste and sight:  
Haphe's the root of felt vitality;  
●…ut Haphe's mother height all-spread Community.   

50  
In this clear shining miroir Psyche sees  
All that falls under sense, what ere is done  
Upon the earth; the deserts shaken trees,  
The mournful winds, the solitary won  
Of dreaded beasts, the Lybian Lion's moan,  
When their hot entrails skorch with hunger keen,  
And they to God for mea●… do deeply groan;  
He hears their cry, he sees of them unseen;  
●…is eyelids compass all that in the wide world been.   

51  
He sees the weary traveller sit down  
In the waste field ofttimes with careful cheer:  
His chafed feet, and the long way to town,  
His burning thirst, faintness, and Panic fear,  
Because he sees not him that stands so near,  
Fetch from his soul deep sighs with countenance sad,  
But he looks on to whom nought doth dispear:  
O happy man that full persuasion had  
Of this! if right at home, nought of him were ydrad.   

51  
A many sparrows for small price be sold,  
Yet none of them his wings on earth doth close  
Lighting full soft, but that eye doth behold,  
Their jets, their jumps, that miroir doth disclose.  
Thrice happy he that putteth his repose  
In his allpresent God. That Africa rock  
But touched with heedless hand, Auster arose  
With blust'ring rage, that with his ireful shock  
And moody might he made the world's frame nigh to roc●…   

53  
And shall not He, when his Anointed be  
Ill handled, rise, and in his wrathful stour  
Disperse and quell the haughty enemy,  
Make their brisk sprights to lout and lowly lour?  
Or else confound them quite with mighty power?  
Touch not my Kings, my Prophets let alone,  
Harm not my Priests; or you shall ill endure  
Your works sad payment and that deadly loan;  
Keep off your hand from that high holy rock of stone.   

54  
Do not I see? I slumber not nor sleep.  
Do not I hear? each noise by shady night  
My miroir represents: when mortals sleep  
Their languid limbs in Morpheus dull delight,  
I hear such sounds as Adam's brood would fright.  
The doleful echoes from the hollow hill  
Mock howling wolves: the woods with black bedight  
Answer rough Pan, his pipe and eke his skill,  
And all the Satyr-routs rude whoops and shoutings shrill.   

55  
The night's no night to me: What? shall the Owl  
And nimble cat their courses truly steer,  
And guide their feet and wings to every hole  
So right, this on the ground, that in the air?  
And shall not I by night see full as clear?  
All sense doth in proportion consist,  
Arachnea doth all proportions bear:  
All sensible proportions that fine twist  
Contains: all life of sense is in great Haphes' list.   

56  
Sense and consent, and all abhorrency,  
Be variously divided in each one  
Partic'lar creature: But antipathy  
Cannot be there where fit proportion  
Strikes in with all things in harmonious tone.  
Thus Haphe feels nought to herself cont raire:  
In her there's tuned a just Diapason  
For every outward stroke: withouten jar  
Thus each thing doth she feel, and each thing easily bear.   

57  
But Haphe and Arachne I'll dismiss,  
And that fourth vest, rich Semele display:  
The largest of all four and losest is  
This floating flowering changeable array.  
How fairly doth it shine, and nimbly play,  
Whiles gentle winds of Paradise do blow,  
And that bright Sun of the eternal day  
Upon it glorious light and forms doth strew,  
And Ahad it with love and joy doth overflow!   

58  
This all-spread Semele doth Bacchus bear,  
Impregned of jove or On. He is the wine  
That sad down-drouping senses wont to rear,  
And cheerless hearts to comfort in ill tine.  
He ' flames chaste Poets brains with fire divine;  
The stronger spirit the weaker spirit doth sway:  
No wonder then each fancy doth incline  
To their great mother Semel, and obey  
The vigorous impress of her enforcing ray.   

59  
She is the mother of each Semele:  
The daughters be divided one from one;  
But she grasps all. How can she then but see  
Each Semels shadows by this union?  
She sees and sways imagination  
As she thinks good; and if that she think good  
She lets it play by 't self, yet looketh on,  
While she keeps in that large strong-beating flood  
That gars the Poet write, and rave as he were wood.   

60  
Prophets and Poets have their life from hence;  
Like fire into their marrow it searcheth deep.  
This flaming fiery flake doth choke all sense,  
And binds the lower man with brazen sleep:  
Corruption through all his bones doth creep,  
And raging raptures do his soul outsnatch:  
Round-turning whirlwinds on Olympus steep  
Do cast the soul, that erst they out did catch:  
Then stiller whispering winds dark visions unlatch.   

61  
But not too far, thou bold Platonic Swain!  
Strive not at once all mysteries to discover  
Of that strange school: More and more hard remain  
As yet untold. But let us now recover  
Strength to ourselves by rest in duly hour.  
Great Psyche's parentage marriage and weeds  
We having song according to our power,  
That we may rise more fresh for morning deeds,  
Let's here take Inn and rest our weary sweeting steeds.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHOZOIA. Lib. 2.  

Here's taught how into Psychanie  
Souls from their central source  
Go forth. Here Beirons ingeny  
Old Mnemon doth discourse.   

1  
I Sang great Psyche in my former song,  
Old Hattoves daughter, sister unto On,  
Mother of all that nimble Atom-throng  
Of winged lives, and generation.  
When Psyche wedded to Autocalon,  
They both to Ahad forthwith strait were wed:  
For as you heard, all these became but one,  
And so conjoined they lie all in one bed,  
And with that fourfold vest they be all overspred.   

2  
Here lies the inmost centre of Creation,  
From whence all inward forms and life proceed:  
Here's that aereal stole, that to each fashion  
Of sensibles is matter for their weed.  
This is the ground where God doth sow his seed,  
And whilst he sows with whispering charms doth bid  
This flourish long, and that to make more speed,  
And all in order by his word doth rid:  
So in their fatal round they appear and then are hid.   

3  
Beginning, end, form and continuance  
Th' impression of his word to them doth deal.  
Occurrences he sees, and mindeth chance:  
But chance hath bounds. The Sea cannot ●…'reswell  
Its just precincts; or rocky shores repel  
Its foaming force; or else its inward life  
And central rains do fairly it compel  
Within itself, and gently ' pease the strife,  
Or makes it gnaw the bit with roar and rage full rife.   

4  
So fluid chance is set its certain bound,  
Although with circling winds it be ytossed;  
And so the Pilots skill doth quite confound  
With unexpected storms, and men have lost  
Their time, their labour, and their precious cost.  
Yet there's a Neptune Sovereign of this Sea,  
Which those that in themselves put not their trust  
To rude mischance did never yet betray:  
It's He, whom both the winds and stormy seas obey.   

5  
Now sith my wand'ring Bark so far is gone,  
And flitten forth upon the Ocean main,  
I thee beseech that just dominion  
Hast of the Sea, and art true Sovereign  
Of working fancy when it floats amain  
With full impregned billows and strong rage  
Enforceth way upon the boiling plain,  
That thou wouldst steer my ship with wisdom sage,  
That I with happy course may run my watery stage.   

6  
My mind is moved dark Parables to sing  
Of Psyche's progeny that from her came,  
When she was married to that great King,  
Great Aeon, who just title well may claim  
Of every soul, and brand them with his name.  
It's He that made us, and not our own might:  
But who, alas! this work can well proclaim?  
We silly sheep cannot bleat out aright  
The manner how: but that that giveth light is light.   

7  
Then let us borrow from the glorious Sun  
A little light to illustrate this act,  
Such as he is in his solstitial noon,  
When in the welkin there's no cloudy tract  
For to make gross his beams, and light refract.  
Then sweep by all those globes that by reflection  
His long small shafts do rudely beaten back,  
And let his rays have undenied projection,  
And so we will pursue this mysteries retection.   

8  
Now think upon that gay discoloured bow:  
That part that is remotest from the light  
Doth duskish hue to the beholder show;  
The nearer parts have colours far more bright,  
And next the brightest is the subtle light;  
Then colours seem but a distinct degree  
Of light now failing, such let be the sight  
Of his far spreaden beams that shines on high:  
●…et vast discoloured orbs close his extremity.   

9  
The last extreme, the farthest off from light,  
That's nature's deadly shadow, Hyles cell.  
O horrid cave, and womb of dredded Night!  
Mother of witchcraft and the cursed spell,  
Which nothing can avail against Israel.  
No Magic can him hurt; his portion  
Is not divided nature; he doth dwell  
In light, in holy love, in union:  
Not fast to this or that, but free communion.   

10  
Dependence of this All hence doth appear,  
And several degrees subordinate.  
But phansie's so unfit such things to clear,  
That oft it makes them seem more intricate:  
And now Gods work it doth disterminate  
Too far from his own reach: But he withal  
More inward is, and far more intimate  
Than things are with themselves. His ideal  
And central presence is in every atom-ball.   

11  
Therefore those different hews through all extend  
So far as light: Let light be every where:  
And every where with light distinctly blend  
Those different colours which I named whilere  
The extremities of that far shining sphere.  
And that far shining sphere, which centre was  
Of all those different colours, and bright cheer,  
You must unfasten; so o'respred it has,  
Or rather deeply filled, with central sand each place.   

12  
Now sith that this withouten penetrance  
Of bodies may be done: we clearly see  
(As well as that pendent subordinance)  
The nearly couching of each realty,  
And the Creators' close propinquity,  
To every creature. This be understood  
Of differential profundity.  
But for the overspreading latitude;  
Why may't not equally be stretched with th' Ocean flood▪   

13  
There Proteus wonnes and fleet Idothea,  
Where the low'st step of that profundity  
Is pight; Next that is Psyche's out array:  
It Tasis height: Physis is next degree:  
There Psyche's feet impart a smaller fee  
Of gentle warmth. Physis is the great womb  
From whence all things in th' University  
Clad in divers forms do gaily bloom,  
And after fade away, as Psyche gives the doom.   

14  
Next Physis is the tender Arachne;  
There in her subtle loom doth Haphe sit:  
But the last vest is changing Semele:  
And next is Psyche's self. These garments fit  
Her sacred limbs full well, and are so knit  
One part to other, that the strongest sway  
Of sharpest axe, them no'te asunder smite.  
The seventh is Aeon with eternal ray:  
The eighth Hattove, steady cube, allpropping Adonai.   

15.  
Upon this universal Ogdoas  
Is founded every particularment:  
From this same universal Diapase  
Each harmony is framed and sweet consent.  
But that I swerve not far from my intent,  
This Ogdoas let be an unity  
One mighty quickened orb of vast extent,  
Throughly possessed of life's community,  
And so those vests be seats of God's vitality.   

16  
Now deem this universal round alone,  
And rays no rays but a first all-spread light,  
And centric all like one pellucid Sun;  
A Sun that's free, not bound by nature's might,  
That where it lists exerts his rays outright,  
Both when it lists, and what, and eke how long,  
And then retracts so as it thinketh meet.  
These rays be that particular creature-throng:  
Their number none can tell but that all-making tongue.   

17  
Now blundring Naturalist behold the spring  
Of thy deep-searching soul, that fain would know  
Whether a mortal or immortal thing  
It be, and whence at first it 'gan to flow;  
And that which chiefest is where it must go.  
Some fixed necessity thou fain wouldst find:  
But no necessity, where there's no law,  
But the good pleasure of an untied mind:  
Therefore thy God seek out, and leave nature behind.   

18  
He kills, He makes alive; the keys of hell  
And death he hath. He can keep souls to woe  
When cruel hands of fate them hence expel:  
Or He in Lethe's lake can drench them so,  
That they no act of life or sense can show.  
They march out at His word, and they retreat;  
March out with joy, retreat with footing slow  
In gloomy shade, benumbed with pallid sweat,  
And with their feeble wings their fainting breasts they beat.   

19  
But souls that of his own good life partake  
He loves as His own self; dear as His eye  
They are to Him: He'll never them forsake:  
When they shall die, than God Himself shall die.  
They live, they live in blessed eternity.  
The wicked are not so; but like the dirt;  
Trampled by man and beast, in grave they lie:  
Filth and corruption is their rueful sort:  
Themselves with death and worms in darkness they disport   

20  
Their rotten relics lurk close under ground:  
With living wight no sense or sympathy  
They have at all; nor hollow thundering sound  
Of roaring winds, that cold mortality  
Can wake, ywrapt in sad fatality.  
To horse's hoof that beats his grassy door  
He answers not: The Moon in silency,  
Doth pass by night, and all bedew him o'er  
With her cold humid rays; but he feels not heaven's po●…   

21  
O doleful lot of disobedience!  
If God should souls thus drench in Lethe lake.  
But O unspeakable torture of sense,  
When sinful souls do life and sense partake,  
That those damned spirits may the anvils make  
Of their fell cruelty, that lay such blow●…  
That very ruth doth make my heart to quake  
When I consider of the dreary woes,  
And tearing torment that each soul than undergoes.   

22  
Hence the souls nature we may plainly see:  
A beam it is of th' intellectual sun,  
A ray indeed of that eternity;  
But such a ray as when it first out shone,  
From a free light its shining date begun.  
And that same light when't list can call it in;  
Yet that free light hath given a free won  
To this dependent ray: hence cometh sin;  
From sin dread death and hell: these wages doth it win.   

23  
Each life a several ray is from that sphere  
That sphere doth every life in it contain.  
Arachne, Semel, and the rest do bear  
Their proper virtue, and with one joint strain  
And powerful sway they make impression plain,  
And all their rays be joined into one  
By Ahad: so this womb withouten pain  
Doth flocks of souls send out that have their wone  
Where they list most to graze●… as I shall tell anon.   

24  
The country where they live Psychania height,  
Great Psychany, that hath so mighty bounds,  
If bounds it have at all: so infinite  
It is of bigness, that it me confounds  
To think to what a vastness it amounds;  
The Sun Saturnus, Saturn the earth exceeds  
The earth the Moon; but all, those fixed rounds;  
But Psychany those fixed rounds exceeds,  
〈◊〉 far as those fixed rounds excel small mustard-seeds.   

25  
Two mighty kingdoms hath this Psychany,  
The one self-feeling Autaesthesia;  
The other height godlike Theoprepy.  
Autaesthesy's divided into twain:  
One Province cleped is great Adamah,  
Which also height Beirah of brutish fashion;  
The other Province is Dizoia:  
There you may see much mongrel transformation,  
●…h monstrous shapes proceed from Nile's foul inundation.   

26  
Great Michael ruleth Theoprepia,  
A mighty Prince. King of Autaesthesy  
Is that great Giant who bears mighty sway,  
Father of discord, falsehood, tyranny,  
His name is Daemon, not from Sciency,  
Although he boasteth much in skilful pride;  
But he's the fount of foul duality,  
That wicked witch Duessa is his bride:  
●…m his dividing force this name to him betid.   

27  
Or for that he himself is quite divided  
Down to the belly; there's some unity:  
But head and tongue and heart be quite decided;  
Two heads, two tongues, and eke two hearts there be.  
This head doth mischief plot, that head doth see  
Wrong fairly to o'reguild. One tongue doth pray,  
The other curse. The hearts do ne'er agree  
But felly one another do upbray:  
〈◊〉 uggly clo●…en foot this monster doth upstay.   

28  
Two sons great Daemon of Duessa hath:  
Autophilus the one yclept is;  
In Dizoie he worketh wondrous scathe:  
He is the cause what so there goes amiss,  
In Psyche's stronger plumed progenies.  
But Philosomatus rules Beirah.  
This proud puffed Giant whilom did arise,  
Born of the slime of Autaesthesia,  
And bred up these two sons yborn of Duessa.   

29  
Duessa first invented magic lore,  
And great skill hath to join and disunite:  
This herb makes love, that herb makes hatred sore;  
And much she can against an Edomite;  
But nought she can against an Israelite,  
Whose heart's upright and doth himself forsake.  
For he that's one with God no magic might  
Can draw or here or there through blind mistake.  
Magic can only quell nature's Daemoniake.   

30  
But that I may in time myself betake  
To straighter course, few things I will relate,  
Of which old Mnemon mention once did make.  
A jolly Swain he was in youthful state,  
When he men's natures 'gan to contemplate,  
And Kingdom's view: But he was aged then  
When I him saw: his years bore a great date;  
He numbered had full te●… times ten times ten:  
There's no Pythagorist but knows well what I mean.   

31  
Old Mnemons head and beard was hoary white;  
But yet a cheerful countenance he had:  
His vigorous eyes did shine like stars bright,  
And in good decent freeze he was clad,  
As blithe and buxom as was any lad  
Of one and twenty clothed in forest green;  
Both blithe he was, and eke of counsel sad:  
Like winter morn bedight with snow and rind  
And sunny rays, so did his goodly eldship shine.   

32  
Of many famous towns in Beirah,  
And many famous laws and uncouth rites  
He spoke: but vain it is for to assay  
To reckon up such numbers infinite.  
And much he spoke where I had no insight;  
But well I wot that some there present had;  
For words to speak to uncapable wight  
Of foolishness proceeds or frenzy mad.  
〈◊〉 always some, I wis, could trace his speeches pad.   

33  
But that which I do now remember best,  
Is that which he of Psittacusa land  
Did speak. This Psittacuse is not the least,  
Or the most obscure Country that is found  
In wasteful Beiron: it is renowned  
For famous clerks clad in greenish cloak,  
Like Turkish Priests: if Amorilish ground  
We call't, no cause that title to revoke.  
●…t of this Land to this effect old Mnemon spoke.   

34  
I traveled in Psittacusa land:  
Th'inhabitants the lesser Adamah  
Do call it; but then Adam I have found  
It ancienter, if so I safely may  
Unfold th'antiquity They by one day  
Are elder than old Adam, and by one  
At least are younger than Arcadia;  
O'th'sixth day Adam had's creation;  
●…ose on the fifth, the Arcades before the Moon.   

35  
In this same land as I was on the road,  
A nimble traveller me overtook:  
Fairly together on the way we yode.  
Tho I 'gan closely on his person look,  
And eye his garb, and strait occasion sook  
To entertain discourse: He likewise sought,  
Though none could find; yet first me undertook:  
●…o soon as he 'gan talk, then strait I laughed:  
●…e sage himself repressed, but thought me nigh distraught.   

36  
His concave nose, great head, and grave aspect,  
Affected tone, words without inward sense,  
My inly tickled spirit made me detect  
By outward laughter; but by best pretence  
I pur'gd myself, and gave due reverence.  
Then he 'gan gravely treat of codicils,  
And of Book readings passing excellence,  
And tried his wit in praising goose's quills:  
O happy age! quoth he, the world Minerva fills.   

37  
I gave the talk to him, which pleased him well:  
For than he seemed a learned clerk to been,  
When none contrayred his uncontrolled spell,  
But I alas! though unto him unseen,  
Did flow with tears, as if that onions keen  
Had pierced mine eyes. Strange virtue of fond joy:  
They ought to weep that be in evil teen.  
But nought my lightsome heart did then annoy:  
So light it lay, it moved at every windy toy.   

38  
As we yode softly on, a youngster gent,  
With beaver cocked and arm set on one side  
(His youthful fire quickly our pace outwent)  
Full fiercely pricked on in madcap pride,  
The mettle of his horses heels he tried.  
He hasted to his country Pithecuse.  
Most hast worst speed: still on our way we ride,  
And him o'ertake halting through hapless bruise;  
We help him up again, our help he nould refuse.   

39  
Then 'gan the learned and aged Don Psittaco,  
When he another auditor had got,  
To spruce his plumes, and wisdom sage to show,  
And with his sacred lore to wash the spot  
Of youthful blemishes; but frequent jot  
Of his hard setting jade did so confound  
The words that he by papyr-stealth had got,  
That their lost sense the youngster could not sound,  
Though he with mimical attention did abound.   

40  
Yet some of those faint-winged words came near,  
Of God, of Adam, and the shape divine,  
Which Adam's children have; (these pierced his ear)  
And how that man is Lord of every kind  
Of beasts, of birds, and of each hidden mine  
Of nature's treasures. He to Adam's son  
The wide world for his kingdom doth design:  
And ever naming God, he looked aboven:  
●…thecus strait placed God a thought above the Moon.   

41  
Pithecus, so they call this gentile wight,  
The docible young man easily could trace  
His master's steps, most quick and expedite.  
When Psittaco looked up to holy place,  
Pithecus strait with sanctimonious grace  
Cast up his eyes; and when the shape divine,  
Which Adam had from God, he 'gan to praise,  
Pithecus draws himself strait from that line,  
●…nd fancies his sweet face with heavenly hue to shine.   

42  
He pinched his hat, and from his horse's side  
Stretched forth his russet legs, himself inclined  
Now here, now there, and most exactly eyed  
His comely lineaments, that he might find  
What ever beauty else he had not mind  
As yet in his fair corpse. But that full right  
And vast prerogative did so unbind  
His straited sprights, that with tyrannic might  
●…e forced his feeble beast, and strait fled out of sight.   

43  
Then I and Psittaco were left alone;  
And which was strange, he deeply silent was:  
Whether some inward grief he from that fone  
Conceived, and deemed it no small disgrace,  
That that bold youngster should so little pass  
His learned speech; or whether nought to say  
He had then left; or whether a wild chase  
Of flitting inconsistent thoughts he than  
●…rsu'd, which turned and toyed in his confused brain:   

44  
Or whether he was waxed so discreet,  
As not to speak till fit occasion.  
(To judge the best, that Charity counts meet)  
Therefore that Senior sad I 'gan anon  
Thus to bespeak, Good Sir, I crave pardon  
If so I chance to break that golden twist  
You spin, by rude interpellation,  
That twist of choicest thoughts. No whit I missed  
The mark I aimed at; to speak he had great list.   

45  
So then his spirits 'gan to come again,  
And to enact his corpse and impart might  
Unto his languid tongue, and every vein  
Received heat, when due conceived right  
I did to him; and weaned he plainly see't  
That I was touched with admiration  
Of his deep learning, and quick shifting sight:  
Then I 'gan choir of the wide Behiron.  
Behiron, quoth that sage, that height Anthropion.   

46  
Anthropion we call't; but th' holy tongue  
(His learning lay in words) that Behiron,  
Which we Anthropion, calls, as I among  
The Rabbins read: but sooth to say no tone,  
Nor tongue, or speech, so sweet as is our own,  
Or so significant. For mark the sense:  
From 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is Anthropion;  
And we are all of an upright presence;  
Nor I'll be drawn from this conceit by no pretence.   

47  
I praised his steady faith and confidence,  
That stood as fast as trunk or rock of stone;  
Yet nevertheless, said I, the excellence  
Of steadfastness is not to yield to none,  
But stiff to stand till moved by right reason;  
And then by yielding, part of victory  
To gain. What fitness in Anthropion?  
Baboons and Apes, as well as th' Anthropis  
Do go upright, and beasts grown mad do view the sky.   

48  
Then marken well what great affinity  
There is 'twixt Ape, mad Beast, and Satyrs wild,  
And the inhabitants of Anthropie,  
When they are destitute of manners mild;  
And th' inward man with brutishness defiled  
Hath life and love and lust and cogitation  
Fixed in foul sense, or moving in false guile;  
That holy tongue the better nomination,  
●…arre I know, may give: 'Tis guess not full persuasion.   

49  
Therefore, O learned Sir, aread aright,  
What may this word Beiron signify?  
He wondrous glad to show his grammar might,  
This same word Behiron doth signify  
The brutish nature, or brutality,  
Said he: and with his voice lift up his front.  
Then I his skill did gaily magnify,  
And blest me, I an idiot should light on't  
●…happily, that never was a scholar count;   

50  
And said, then holy tongue is on my side;  
And holy tongue is better than profane.  
He angry at his courtesy, replied  
That learned men ought for to entertain  
Discourse of learned tongues, and country Swain  
Of country fairs. But for to answer thee,  
This I dare warrant surely to maintain,  
●…f to contrair the holy tongue should be  
●…urd, I find enough such contrariety.   

51  
Then I in simple sort him answered thus,  
〈◊〉 ken not the strange guise of learned schools,  
But if God's thoughts be contrair unto us,  
Let not deep wonderment possess our souls,  
If he call fools wisemen, and wisemen fools.  
If rich he poor men term, if poor men rich,  
If crafty Statesmen silly country gulls,  
Beasts men, men beasts, with many other such:  
〈◊〉 seeth not as man seeth, God speaks not in man's speech.   

52  
Strait he to higher perch, like bird in cage,  
Did skip, and sang of etern destiny,  
Of sight and foresight he with countenance sage  
Did speak, and did unfold God's secrecy,  
And left untouched no hidden mystery.  
I lowly louting held my cap in hand:  
He asked what meant that so sudden curtsy.  
I pardon crave, said I, for manners fond;  
You are heavens privy counsellor I understand,   

53  
Which I wist not before: so deep insight  
Into the hidden things of God who can  
Attain unto without that quickening spirit  
Of the true God? who knows the mind of man  
But that same spirit that in his breast doth won?  
Therefore the key of Gods hid secrecy  
Is his own spirit, that's proper to his Son,  
And those of that second nativity,  
Which holy Temples are of the divinity.   

54  
Therefore as th' sacred seat o'th' Deity,  
I unto you seemly behaviour make,  
If you be such as you may seem to be  
(It is man's nature easily to mistake)  
My words his mind did quite asunder break:  
For he full forward was all to assume  
That might him gild with glory, and partake  
With God; and joyed greatly in vain fume,  
And prided much himself in his purloined plume,   

55  
So that full loath he was for to undo  
My fairly wound up conclusion;  
Yet inwardly did not assent unto  
My premises: for foul presumption  
He thought, if that a private idiot man  
By his new birth should either equalise,  
Or else outstrip the bookish nation.  
Perhaps some foul deformities disguise  
Their life: pshah! that to knowledge is no prejudice,   

56  
But he nould say so: for why? he was bend  
To keep the credit which he then had got,  
As he conceived: for it had been yblent;  
It might have hazarded half of his lot,  
To wit his godlike hue withouten spot,  
If so be such deep knowledge could consist  
With wicked life: but he nould lose one jot  
Of his so high esteem, nor me resist.  
●… I escaped the sauce of his contracted fist.   

57  
By this we came into a way that did  
Divide itself into three parts: the one  
To Leontopolis; that in the mid  
Did lead strait forth out of wide Beiron,  
That was the way that I moat take alone;  
The third way led unto Onepolis:  
And thitherward Don Psittaco put on.  
With both these towns, Alopecopolis  
●…in firm league, and golden Myrmecopolis.   

58  
For nothing they attempt without the aid  
Of these two Cities. They'll not wagen war,  
Nor peace conclude, nor permit any trade,  
Nor make dec●…ees, nor slake the civil jar,  
Nor take up private wrongs, nor plead at bar,  
Nor Temples consecrate, nor Matins say;  
They nought begin divine or secular,  
But they advisen with those cities twain.  
〈◊〉 potent citizens that bear so great a sway!   

59  
No truth of justice in Beirah land:  
No sincere faith void of sly subtlety,  
That always seeks itself, is to be found:  
But law-delusion and false policy,  
False policy that into tyranny  
Would quickly wend, did not stern fear restrain  
And keep in awe. Th' Onites democracy  
Is nought but a large hungry tyrant-train:  
●…ppression from the poor is an all-sweeping rain.   

60  
A sweeping torrent that beats down the corn,  
And wastes the oxens' labour, headlong throws  
The tallest trees up by the root ytorn,  
Its ranging force in all the land it shows;  
Wood rend from hence its rolling rage bestows  
In other places that were bare before,  
With muddied arms of trees the earth it strews:  
The listening shepherd is amazed sore,  
While it with swift descent so hideously doth roar.   

61  
Such is the outrage of Democracy,  
When fearless it doth rule in Beirah:  
And little better is false Monarchy,  
When it in this same country bears the sway.  
(Is't not a part of Autaesthesia?)  
So to an inward sucking whirlpools close  
They change this swelling torrents surquedry  
Much treasure it draws in, and doth enclose  
In'ts winding mouth, but whether then, there's no man kno●…   

62  
O falsest Beironites, what gars you plain  
One of another, and vainly accuse  
Of foul offence? when you all entertain  
Tyrannic thoughts. You all alike do muse  
Of your own private good, though with abuse  
Of those you can tread down with safety,  
No way to wealth or honour you refuse.  
Faise Onople doth grudge, and groan, and cry,  
Because she is denied a greater tyranny.   

63  
Two of that City whilom on the way,  
With languid lugs, and countenance gravely sad,  
Did deeply sigh, and rudely rough did bray  
'Gainst Leontopolis. The equal pad  
Of justice now, alas! is seldom trad,  
Said they; The Lion's might is law and right.  
Where's love or mercy now? with that out strad  
A little dog, his dames only delight,  
And ran near to their tails, and barked with all his might.   

64  
The sourly ireful Onopolitan  
Without all mercy kicked with iron heel  
The little bawling cur, that at him ran;  
It made his feeble corpse to th' earth to reel,  
That was so pierced with the imprinted steel,  
That it might grieve an heart of flinty stone:  
No herbs, no salves the breach could ever heal;  
The good old wife did then keep house alone.  
●…alse hearted carls, is this your great compassion?   

65  
There's no society in Behirah,  
But beastlike grazing in one pasture ground:  
No love but of the animated clay  
With beauties fading flowers trimly crowned,  
Or from strong sympathies heart-striking stound:  
No order but what riches strength and wit  
Prescribe. So bad the good easily confound.  
Is honesty in such unruly fit  
That it's held in no rank? they 'steem it not a whit.   

66  
But I am weary of this uncouth place;  
If any man their bad condition  
And brutish manners listeth for to trace,  
We may them read in the creation  
Of this wide sensible: where every passion  
Of birds and beasts distinctly do display,  
To but an ordinary imagination  
The life and soul of them in Behirah:  
This Beirah that height the greater Adamah.   

67  
The swelling hateful Toad, industrious Ant,  
Lascivious Goat, Parrot, or prating Pie,  
The kingly Lion, docil Elephant,  
All-imitating Ape, gay Butterfly,  
The crafty Fox famous for subtlety,  
Majestic Horse, the Beast that 'twixt two trees  
(A fit resemblance of full gluttony)  
When he hath filled his gorge, himself doth squeeze  
To feed afresh, Court Spaniels, and politic Bees;   

68  
With many more which I list not repeat;  
Some foul, some fair: to th' fair the name they give  
Of holy virtues; but 'tis but deceit,  
None in Beiron virtuously do live;  
None in that land so much as ever strive  
For truth of virtue, though sometimes they want,  
As swine do swine, their own blood to relieve.  
Beiron's all bruits, the true manhood they want,  
If outward form you pierce with fancy fulminant.   

69  
So having got experience enough  
Of this ill land, for nothing there was new,  
My purpose I held on, and road quite through  
That middle way, and did th' extremes eschew.  
When I came near the end there was in view  
No passage: for the wall was very high,  
But there no door to me itself did show:  
Looking about at length I did espy  
A lively youth, to whom I presently 'gan cry.   

70  
More willing he's to come than I to call:  
Simon he height, who alsoes called a Rock:  
Simon is that obediential  
Nature, who boisterous seas and winds doth mock;  
No tempest can him move with fiercest shock;  
The house that's thereon built doth surely stand:  
Nor blustering storm, nor rapid torrents stroke  
Can make it fall; it easily doth withstand  
The gates of death and hell, and all the Stygian band.   

71  
When I 'gan call, forthwith in seemly sort  
He me approached in decent russet clad,  
More fit for labour then the flaunting Court:  
When he came near, in cheerful wise he bade  
Tell what I would: Then I unto the lad  
'Gan thus reply, alas! too long astray  
Here have I trampled foul Behirons pad:  
Out of this land I thought this the next way,  
But I no gate can find, so vain is mine assay.   

72  
Then the wise youth, Good Sr, you look too high:  
The wall aloft is raised; but that same door  
Where you must pass in deep descent doth lie:  
But he bade follow, he would go before.  
Hard by there was a place, all covered o'er  
With stinging nettles and such weedery,  
The pricking thistle the hardest legs would gore,  
Under the wall a straight door we descry:  
The wall height Self-conceit; the door Humility.   

73  
When we came at the door fast locked it was,  
And Simon had the key, but he nould grant  
That I into that other land should pass,  
Without I made him my concomitant.  
It pleased me well, I mused not much upon't,  
But strait accord: for why? a jolly Swain  
Methought he was; meek, cheerful and pleasant.  
When he saw this, he thus to me again,  
〈◊〉, See you that sad couple? Then I, I see those twain.   

74  
A sorry couple certainly they be.  
The man a bloody knife holds at his heart  
With cheerless countenance, as sad is she.  
Or eld, or else intolerable smart,  
Which she cannot decline by any Art,  
Doth thus distort and writhe her wrinkled face;  
A leaden quadrate sways hard on that part  
That's fit for burdens; foulness doth deface  
●…er aged looks; with a strait staff her steps she stays.   

75  
Right well you say, then said that Iusty Swain:  
Yet this poor couple be my Parents dear:  
Nor I can hence depart without these twain:  
These twain give life to me, though void of cheer  
They be themselves. Then let's all go▪ yfere.  
The young man's speech caused sad perplexity  
Within my breast, but yet I did forbear,  
And fairly asked their names. He answered me,  
●…c Autaparnes height; but she Hypomene.   

76  
I Simon am the son of this sad pair,  
Who though full harsh they seem to outward sight;  
Yet when to Dizoie men forth do fare,  
No company in all the land so meet  
They find as these; their pacefull well I weet  
Is very slow, and so to youthful haste  
Displeasing, and their counsels nothing sweet  
To any Beironite: but sweetest taste  
Doth bitter'st choler breed, and haste doth maken waste.   

77  
Nor let that breast impierced with dropping wound,  
An uncouth spectacle, disturb your mind.  
His blood's my food: If he his life effund  
To utmost death, the high God hath designed  
That we both live. He in my heart shall find  
A seat for his transfused soul to dwell:  
And when that's done, this death doth eke unbind  
That heavy weight that doth Hypom'ne quell,  
Then I Anaut aesthetus height, which seems me well.   

78  
So both their lives do vanish into mine,  
And mine into Hattubus life doth melt:  
Which fading flux of time doth not define,  
Nor is by any Autaesthesian felt.  
This life to On the good Hattubus dealt:  
In its all joy, truth, knowledge, love and force;  
Such force no wight created can repeled.  
All strength and livelihood is from this source,  
All lives to this first spring have circular recourse.   

79  
A lecture strange he seemed to read to me;  
And though I did not rightly understand  
His meaning, yet I deemed it to be  
Some goodly thing, and weary of that land  
Where then I stood, I did not him withstand  
In his request, although full loath I were  
Slowfooted eld the journey should command;  
Yet we were guided by that sorry pair,  
And so to Dizoie full softly we do far.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHOZOIA. Lib. 3.  

Strange state of Dizoie Mnemons' skill  
Here wisely doth explain,  
Ida's strong charms, and Eloim-hill,  
With the dread dale of Ain.   

1  
BUt now new Stories I begin to relate,  
Which aged Mnemon unto us did tell,  
Whiles we on graffie bed did lie prostrate  
Under a shady beach, which did repel  
The fiery skorching shafts which Uriel  
From Southern quarter datted with strong hand.  
No other help we had; for Gabriel  
His wholesome cooling blasts then quite restrained.  
●…e Lions flaming breath with heat parched all the land.   

2  
Here seemly sitting down thus 'gan that Sage,  
Last time we were together here ymet,  
Beirah wall, that was the utmost stage  
Of our discourse, if I do not forget:  
When we departed thence the Sun was set,  
Yet nevertheless we passed that lofty wall  
That very evening. The night's nimble net  
That doth encompass every opake ball,  
●…hat swims in liquid air, did Simon nought appall.   

3  
When we that stately wall had undercrept,  
We straightway found ourselves in Dizoie:  
The melting clouds chill drizzeling tears then wept;  
The misty air sweat for deep agony,  
Sweat a cold sweat, and loose frigidity  
Filled all with a white smoke; pale Cynthia  
Did foul her silver limbs with filthy die,  
Whiles wading on she measured out her way,  
●…nd cut the muddy heavens defiled with whitish clay.   

4  
No light to guide but the Moons pallid ray,  
And that even lost in misty troubled air:  
No tract to take, there was no beaten way;  
No cheering strength, but that which might appear  
From Diane's face: her face then shined not clear,  
And when it shineth clearest, little might  
She yieldeth, yet the Goddess is severe.  
Hence wrathful dogs do bark at her dead light:  
Christ help the man thus closed and prisoned in dread nig●…▪   

5  
Overwhelmed with irksome toil of strange annoys  
In stony stound like senseless stake I stood,  
Till the vast thumps of massy hammer's noise,  
That on the groaning steel laid on such load,  
Empierced mine ears in that sad stupid mood.  
I weening then some harbour to be nigh,  
In sorry pace thitherward slowly yode,  
By ear directed more than by mine eye,  
But there, alas! I found small hospitality.   

6  
Four grisly black-smiths stoutly did their task  
Upon an anvil formed in conic wise:  
They neither minded who, nor what I ask,  
But with stern grimy look do still avise  
Upon their works; but I my first emprise  
Would not forsake, and therefore venture in.  
Or none hath list to speak, or none espies,  
Or hears: the heavy hammers never lin;  
And but a blue faint light in this black shop did shi●….   

7  
There I into a darksome corner creep,  
And lay my weary limbs on dusty flore,  
Expecting still when soft down-sliding sleep  
Should seize mine eyes, and strength to me restore:  
But when with hover wings she proched, e'rmore  
The mighty souses those foul knaves laid on,  
And those huge bellows that aloud did roar,  
Chased her away that she was ever gone  
Before she came, on pitchy plumes, for fear, yflone.   

8  
The first of those rude rascals Lypon height,  
A foul great stooping slouch with heavy eyes,  
And hanging lip: the second ugly sight  
Pale Phobon, with his hedgehog-haires disguise:  
●…elpon is the third, he the false skies  
No longer trusts: The fourth of furious fashion  
●…hrenition height, fraught with impatiencies,  
The bellows be yclept deep Suspiration:  
●…h kanve these bellows blow in mutual circulation.   

9  
There is a number of these lonesome forges  
●…n Bacha vale (this was in Bacha vale)  
There be no Inns but these, and these but scourges;  
In stead of ease they work much deadly bale  
To those that in this lowly trench do trale  
Their feeble loins. Ah me! who here would far?  
●…ad ghosts oft cross the way with visage pale,  
●…harp thorns and thistles wound their feeten bare;  
●…happy is the man that here doth bear a share.   

10  
When I in this sad vale no little time  
Had measured, and oft had taken Inn,  
And by long penance paid for mine ill crime  
Methought the Sun itself began to shine,  
And that I had past Diane's discipline.  
●…ut day was not yet come, 'twas perfect night:  
Phoebus' head from Ida hill had seen;  
●…or Ida hill doth give to men the sight,  
Phoebus' form, before Aurora's silver light.   

11  
●…ut Phoebus' form from that high hill's not clear  
Nor figure perfect. It's enveloped  
〈◊〉 purple cloudy veil; and if't appear  
〈◊〉 rounder shape with skouling dreary head  
〈◊〉 glowing face it shows, ne rays doth shed  
Of lights serenity, yet duller eyes  
With gazing on this ireful sight be fed:  
●…est to their pleasing, small things they will prise,  
〈◊〉 never better saw, nor better can devise.   

12  
On Ida hill their stands a Castle strong,  
They that it built call it Pantheothen.  
Hither resort a rascal rabble throng  
Of miscreant wights: but if that wiser men  
May name that fort, Pandaemoniothen  
They would it cleep. It is the strongest delusion  
That ever Daemon wrought; the safest pen  
That e'er held silly sheep for their confusion.  
Ill life and want of love, hence springs each false concl●…   

13  
That rabble rout that in this Castle won,  
Is Irefull-ignorance, Unseemly-zeal,  
Strong-self-conceit, Rotten-religion,  
Contentious-reproch-'gainst-Michael-  
If-he-of-Moses-body-ought-reveal-  
Which-their-dull-skonses-cannot eas'ly-reach,  
Love-of-the-carkas, An inept-appeal-  
IT uncertain papyrs, A-false-formall-fetch-  
Of-seigned-sighes, Contempt-of poore-and-sinfull-wretch.   

14  
A deep self-love, Want of true sympathy-  
With all mankind, Th' admiring their own heard,  
Fond pride, A sanctimonious cruelty-  
Against those, by whom their wrathful minds be stirred▪  
By strangling reason, and are so aseard-  
To lose their credit with the vulgar sort;  
Opinion and long speech 'fore life preferred,  
Less reverence of God then of the Court,  
Fear and Despair, Evil surmises, False report.   

15  
Oppression-of-the-poore, Fell rigourousnesse,  
Contempt-of-Government, Fierceness, Fleshly lust,  
The-measuring-of all-true righteousness  
Bytheir own-model, Cleaving unto-dust,  
Rash-censure, and despising-of-the-just-  
That-are-not-of-their-sect, False-reasoning-  
Concerning-God, Vain-hope, Needless mistrust,  
Strutting-in knowledge, eager slavering-  
After hid-skill, with every inward fulsome thing.   

16  
These and such like be that rude regiment,  
That from the glitering sword of Michael fly:  
They fly his outstretched arm, else were they shent  
If they unto this Castle did not high,  
Strongly within its walls to fortify  
Themselves. Great Daemon hath no stronger hold  
Than this high Tower. When the good Majesty  
Shines forth in love and light, a vapour cold  
●…d a black hellish smoke from hence doth all enfold.   

17  
And all that love and light and offered might  
Is thus choked up in that foul Stygian steem:  
If hell's dark jaws should open in despite,  
And breathe its inmost breath which foulest I deem;  
Yet this more deadly foul I do esteem;  
And more contagious, which this charmed tower  
Ever spews forth, like that fell Dragon's steem  
Which he from poisoned mouth in rage did pour  
〈◊〉 her, whose firstborn child his chaps might not devour.   

18  
But lest the rasher wit my Muse should blame,  
As if she did those faults appropriate  
(Which I even now in that black list did name)  
Unto Pantheothen; The self same state  
I dare a vouch you'll find, where ever hate  
Backed with rough zeal, and bold through want of skill,  
All sects besides its own doth execrate.  
This peevish spirit with woe the world doth fill,  
●…hile each man all would bind to his fierce furious will.   

19  
O Hate! the fulsome daughter of fell Pride,  
Sister to surly Superstition,  
That clean outshining truth cannot abide,  
That loves itself and large Dominion,  
And in false show of a fair Union  
Would all encroach to 't self, would purchase all  
At a cheap rate, for slight Opinion.  
Thus cram they their wide-gaping Crumenall:  
●…t now to Ida hill me lists my fear recall.   

20  
No such enchantment in all Dizoie  
As on this hill; nor sadder sight was seen  
Then you may in this rueful place espy.  
'Twixt two huge walls on solitary green,  
Of funeral Cypress many groves there been,  
And eke of Ewe, Eben, and Poppy trees:  
And in their gloomy shade foul grisly fiend  
Use to resort, and busily to seize  
The darker fancied souls that live in ill disease.   

21  
Hence you may see, if that you dare to mind,  
Upon the side of this accursed hill,  
Many a dreadful corpse ytossed in wind,  
Which with hard halter their loathed life did spill.  
There lies another which himself did kill  
With rusty knife, all rolled in his own blood,  
And ever and anon a doleful knell  
Comes from the fatal Owl, that in sad mood  
With dreary sound doth pierce through the death-shadow●… 〈◊〉   

22  
Who can express with pen the irksome state  
Of those that be in this strong Castle thrall?  
Yet hard it is this Fort to ruinate,  
It is so strongly fenced with double wall.  
The fiercest but of Ram no'te make them fall:  
The first Inevitable Destiny  
Of God's Decree; the other we do call  
Invincible fleshly infirmity:  
But Keeper of the Tower, Unfelt Hypocrisy.   

23  
What Poets fancies feigned to be in hell  
Are truly here. A vulture Tityus' heart  
Still gnaws, yet death doth never Tityus quell:  
Sad Sisyphus a stone with toilsome smart  
Doth roll up hill, but it transcends his art,  
To get it to the top, where it may lie.  
On steady plain, and never backward start:  
His course is stopped by strong Infirmity:  
His roll comes to this wall, but then back it doth fly.   

24  
Here fifty Sisters in a sieve do draw  
Through-sipping water: Tantalus is here,  
Who though the glory of the Lord o'erflow  
The earth, and doth encompass him so near,  
Yet waters he in waters doth reqire.  
Stoop Tantalus and take those waters in.  
What strength of witchcraft thus blinds all yfere  
'twixt these two massy walls, this hold of sin?  
●…ye me! who shall this Fort so strongly fenced win!   

25  
I hear the clattering of an armed troup:  
My ears do ring with the strong pransers heels.  
(My soul get up out of thy drowsy droop,  
And look unto the everlasting hills)  
The hollow ground, ah! how my sense it fills  
With sound of solid horses hoofs. A wonder  
It is to think how cold my spirit thrills  
With strange amaze. Who can this strength dissunder?  
●…rk how the warlike steeds do neigh their necks do thunder   

26  
All milk-white steeds in trappings goodly gay,  
On which in golden letters be ywrit  
These words (even he that runs it readen may)  
True righteousness unto the Lord of might.  
O comely spectacle! O glorious sight!  
'Twould easily ravish the beholder's eye  
To see such beasts, so fair, so full of spirit,  
All in due ranks to pranse so gallantly,  
●…aring their riders armed with perfect panoply.   

27  
In perfect silver glistering panoply  
They ride, the army of the highest God:  
Ten thousands of his Saints approach nigh  
To judge the world, and rule it with his rod:  
They leave all plain where ever they have trod.  
Each rider on his shield doth bear the Sun  
With golden shining beam dispread abroad,  
The Sun of righteousness at high day noon,  
〈◊〉 this same strength, I ween, this Fort is easily won.   

28  
They that but hear thereof shall strait obey;  
But the strange children shall false semblance make,  
But all hypocrisy shall soon decay,  
All wickedness into that deadly lake,  
All darkness thither shall itself betake:  
That false brood shall in their close places fade.  
The glory of the Lord shall ne'er forsake  
The earth again, nor shall deaths dreadful shade  
Return again. Him praise that this great day hath made.   

29  
This is the mighty warlike Michael's host,  
That easily shall wade through that foul spew  
Which the false Dragon casts in every cost,  
That the moon-trampling woman much doth rue  
His deadly spaul; but no hurt doth accrue  
To this strong army from this filthy steam:  
Nor horse nor man doth fear its lutid hew,  
They safely both can swim in this foul stream:  
This stream the earth sups up cleft open by Michael's beam▪   

30  
But whiles it beareth sway, this poison's might  
Is to make sterile or prolong the birth,  
To cause cold palsies, and to dull the sight  
By sleepy sloth; the melancholic earth  
It doth increase that hinders all good mirth.  
Yet this dead liquor dull Pantheothen  
Before the nectar of the God's preferr'th:  
But it so weakens and disables men,  
That they of manhood give no goodly specimen.   

31  
Here one of us began to interpeal  
Old Mnemon. Tharrhon that young ladkin height,  
He prayed this aged Sire for to reveal  
What way this Dragon's poisonous despite,  
And strong Pantheothens inwalling might,  
We may escape. Then Mnemon thus 'gan say,  
Some strange devise, I know each youthful wight  
Would here expect, or lofty brave assay:  
But I'll the simple truth, in simple wise convey.   

32  
Good Conscience, kept with all the strength and might  
That God already unto us hath given;  
A press pursuit of that foregoing light  
That eggs us on ' cording to what we have liven,  
And helps us on ' cording to what we have striven,  
To shaken off the bonds of prejudice,  
Nor dote to much of that we have first conceiven;  
By hearty prayer to beg the sweet delice  
〈◊〉 Gods all-loving spirit: such things I you advise.   

34  
Can pity move the heart of parents dear,  
When that their hapless child in heavy plight  
Doth grieve and moan? whiles pinching tortures tear  
His fainting life, and doth not that sad sight  
Of Gods own Son empassion his good spirit  
With deeper sorrow? The tender babe lies torn  
In us by cruel wounds from hostile might:  
Is Gods own life of God himself forlorn?  
〈◊〉 was he to continual pain of God yborn?   

34  
Or will you say if this be Gods own Son,  
Let him descend the cross: for well we ween  
That he'll not suffer him to be fordone  
By wicked hand, if Gods own Son he been.  
But you have not those sacred mysteries seen,  
True-crucifying Jews! the weaker thing  
Is held in great contempt in worldly eyes:  
But time may come when deep impierced sting  
●…all prick your heart, and it shall melt with sorrowing.   

35  
Then you shall view him whom with cruel spear  
You had transfixed, true crucified Son  
Of the true God, unto his Father dear,  
And dear to you, nought dearer under sun.  
Through this strong love and deep compassion,  
How vastly God his kingdom would enlarge  
You'll easily see, and how with strong iron  
He'll quite subdue the utmost earthly verge.  
●…foolish men! the heavens why do you fond charge?   

36  
Subtimidus, when Tharrhon sped so well,  
Took courage to himself, and thus began say  
To Mnemon, Pray you Sr. vouchsafe to tell  
What Antaparnes and Hypomene  
And Simon do this while in Dizoe.  
With that his face shone like the rosy morn  
With maiden blush from inward modesty,  
Which wicked wights do holden in such scorn,  
Sweet harmless modesty a rose withouten thorn.   

37  
Old Mnemon loved the Lad even from his face,  
Which blameless blush with sanguine light had died;  
His harmless lucid spirit with flowering grace  
His outward form so seemly beautified.  
So the old man him highly magnified  
For his so fit enquiry of those three;  
And to his question thus anon replied,  
There's small recourse (till that Fort passed be)  
To Simon Autaparnes or Hypomene.   

38  
For all that space from Behirons high wall  
Unto Pantheothen, none dares arise  
From his base dunghill warmth; such magical  
Attraction his flagging soul down ties▪  
To his foul flesh: amongst which, alas! there lies  
A little spark of God's vitality,  
But smoreing filth so close it doth comprise  
That it cannot flame out nor get on high:  
This province hence is height earth-groveling Aptery.   

39  
But yet fair semblances these Apterites  
Do make of good, and sighen very sore,  
That God no stronger is. False hypocrites!  
You make no use of that great plenteous store  
Of God's good strength which he doth on you pour:  
But you fast friends of foul carnality,  
And false to God, his tender son do gore,  
And plaud yourselves, is't be not mortally;  
Nor let you him live in ease, nor let you him fairly die.   

40  
Like faithless wife that by her frampard guise,  
Peevish demeanour, sullen sad disdain  
Doth inly deep the spirit melancholize  
Of her aggrieved husband, and long pain  
At last to some sharp sickness doth constrain  
His weakened nature to yield victory:  
His skorching torture then count death a gain.  
But when death comes, in womanish frenzy  
●…at froward female wretch doth shriek and loudly cry.   

41  
So through her moody importunity  
From downright death she rescues the poor man:  
Self-favouring sense; not that due loyalty  
Doth wring from her this false compassion,  
Compassion that no cruelty can  
Well equalise. Her husband lies aghast;  
Death on his horrid face so pale and wan  
Doth creep with ashy wings. He thus embraced  
●…rforce too many days in deadly woe doth waste.   

42  
This is the love that's found in Aptery  
To God's dear life. If they his son present  
Half live, half dead, handled despitefully,  
Or sunk in sickness or with deep wound rend,  
So be he's not quite dead they're well content.  
And hope sure favour of his sire to have.  
They have the signs how can they then be shent?  
The God of love for his dear life us save  
●…om such conceits, which men to sin do thus enslave.   

43  
But when from Aptery we were gone,  
And past Pantheothens inthralling power;  
Then from the east cheerful Eous shone,  
And drove away the nights dead lumpish stour:  
He took by th'hand Aurora's vernal hour;  
These freshly tripped it on the silvered hills,  
And thorough all the fields sweet life did shower:  
Then 'gan the joyful birds to try their skills;  
●…hey skipped, they chirpt amain, they piped they danced their fills.   

44  
This other Province of Dizoia  
Hight Pteroessa; on the flowery side  
Of a green bank, as I went on my way  
Strong youthful Gabriel I there espied,  
Courting a nymph all in her maiden pride,  
Not for himself: His strife was her to win  
To Michael in wedlock to be tie.  
He promised she should be Michael's Queen,  
And greater things than care hath heard or eye hath seen▪   

45  
This lovely maid to Gabriel thus replied,  
Thanks, Sir, for your good news; but may I know  
Who Michael is that would have me his bride.  
It's Michael, said he, that works such woe  
To all that fry of hell; and on his foe  
Those fiends of da●…knesse such great triumphs hath:  
The powers of sin and death he down doth mow.  
In this strong arm of God have thou but faith,  
That in great Daemons troops doth work so wondrous 〈◊〉   

46  
The simple girl believed every word,  
Nor did by subtle quirks elude the might  
And proffered strength of the soul-loving Lord;  
But answered thus, Good Sir, but read aright  
When shall I then appear in Michael's sight?  
When Gabriel had won her full assent,  
And well observed how he had flamed her spirit,  
He answered, After the complishment  
Of his behests, and so her told what hests he meant.   

47  
She willingly took the condition,  
And pliable she promised to be:  
And Gabriel swore he would wait upon  
Her virginship, whiles in simplicity  
His master's will with all good industry  
She would fulfil. So here the simple maid  
Strove for herself in all fidelity,  
Nor took herself for nothing; but sh●… played  
Her part, she thought, as if indentures had been made.   

48  
For she did not with her own self ginthink  
So curiously, that it is God alone  
That gives both strengths whe●… ever we do swink:  
Graces and natures might be both from one,  
Who is our life's strong sustentation.  
Impossible it is therefore to merit,  
When we poor men have nothing of our own:  
Certes by him alone she stands upright;  
And surely falls without his help in perilous fight.   

49  
But we went on in Pteroessa land.  
The fresh bright morning was no small repast  
After the toil in Aptery we found,  
So that with merry cheer we went full-fast:  
But I observed well that in this haste  
Simon waxed faint, and feeble, and decayed  
In strength and life before we far had passed:  
And by how much his youthful flower did fade,  
So much more vigour to his parents was repaid.   

50  
For that old crumpled wight 'gan go upstraight,  
And Autaparnes face recovered blood;  
But Simon looked pale withouten might,  
Withouten cheer, or joy, or livelihood:  
Cause of all this at last I understood.  
For Autaparn that knife had from him cast,  
And almost closed the passage of that flood.  
That flood, that blood, was that which Simons taste  
Alone could fit: if that were gone the lad did waste.   

51  
And his old mother, called Hypomene,  
Did ease her back from that down-swaying weight,  
That leaden quadrate, which did miserably  
Annoy her crazy corpse; but that more light  
She might far on, she in her husband's sight  
Threw down her load, where he threw down his blade.  
And from that time began the piteous plight  
Of sickly Simon: so we ●…m persuade  
Back to retreat, and do th●… dying son some aid.   

52  
Though loath, yet at the length they do assent:  
So we return unto the place where lay  
The heavy quadrate, and that instrument  
Of bleeding smart: it would a man dismay  
To think how that square lead her back did sway;  
And how the halfeclosed wound was open tore  
With that sharpe-pointed knife: and sooth to say  
Simon himself was inly grieved sore,  
Seeing the deadly smart that his dear parents bore.   

53  
So we remeasure the way we had gone,  
Still faring on toward Theoprepy.  
Great strength and comfort 'twas to think upon  
Our good escape from listlesse Aptery,  
And from the thraldom of Infirmity.  
Now nought perplexed our stronger plumed spirit,  
But what may be the blameless verity:  
Oft we conceived things were peracted right;  
And oft we found ourselves gulled with strong passions might▪   

54  
But now more feeble far we find their force  
Then erst it was, when as in Aptery  
To strong Pantheothen they had recourse:  
For then a plain impossibility  
It was to overcome their cruelty.  
But here encouraged by Gabriel  
We strongly trust to have the victory.  
And if by chance they do our forces quell;  
It's not by strength of arms but by some misty spell.   

55  
So bravely we went on withouten dread,  
Till at the last we came whereas a hill  
With steep ascent highly lift up his head:  
To th' aged foot it work would much ill  
To cl●…mb this cliff; with weary ache 'twould ●…ill  
His drier bones. But yet it's smooth and plain  
Upon the top. It passeth far my skill  
The springs, the bowers, the walks, the goodly train  
Of fair chaste nymphs that haunt that place for to explain   

56  
I saw three sisters there in seemly wise  
Together walking on the flowery green,  
Clad in snowy stoles of fair agguize.  
The glistering streams of silver waving shine,  
Skilfully interwove with silken line,  
So variously did play in that fair vest,  
That much it did delight my wondering eyen:  
Their face with love and vigour was ydrest,  
●…ith modesty and joy, their tongue with just behest.   

57  
Their locks hung lose. A triple coronet,  
Of flaming gold and starlike twinkling stone  
Of highest price, was on their temples set:  
The Amethyst, the radiant Diamond,  
The Jasper, enemy to spirits won,  
With many other glorious for to see.  
These three enamelled rimmes of that fair crown  
Be these: the first height Dicaeosyne,  
●…ilosophy the next, the last stiff Apathy.   

58  
I gazed, and mused, and was well nigh distraught  
With admiration of those three maids,  
And could no further get, ne further sought;  
Down on the hill my weary limbs I laid,  
And fed my feeble eyes, which me betrayed  
Unto love's bondage: Simon liked it not  
To see me so bewitched, and thus assayed  
By wisest speech to lose this magic knot:  
Great pity things so fair should have so foul a spot.   

59  
What spot, said I, can in these fair be found?  
Both spot in those white vests, and eke a flaw  
In those bright gems wherewith these maids be crowned,  
If you will but list to see I'll easily show.  
Then I, both Love of man and holy law  
Exactly 's kept upon this sacred hill;  
True Fortitude that truest foes doth awe,  
Justice and Abstinence from sweetest ill,  
And Wisdom like the sun doth all with light o'respill.   

60  
Thanks be to God we are so well arrived  
To the long-sought for land, Theoprepy.  
Nay soft good Sir, said Simon, you're deceived,  
You are not yet past through Autaesthesy:  
With that the spot and flaw he bade me see  
Which he descried in that goodly array.  
The spot and flaw self-sensed Autopathy  
Was height, the eldest nymph Pythagerissa,  
Next Platonissa height, the last height Stoicissa.   

61  
But this high mount where these three sisters won,  
Said Simon, cleped is, Har-Eloim.  
To these it's said, Do worship to my Son:  
It's right, that all the Gods do worship him,  
There's none exempt: those that the highest climb  
Are but his Ministers, their turns they take  
To serve as well as those of lower slime.  
What so is not of Christ but doth partake  
Of th' Autaesthesian soil, is life Daemoniake.   

62  
His words did strangely work upon my spirit,  
And weaned my mind from that I dearly loved;  
So I nould dwell on this so pleasing sight,  
But down descended, as it me behoved,  
And as my trusty guide me friendly moved.  
So when we down had come, and thence did pass  
On the low plain, Simon more clearly proved,  
That though much beauty there and goodness was,  
Yet that in Theoprepia did far surpass.   

63  
So forward on we fare, and leave that hill,  
And press still further; the further we go,  
Simon more strength, more life and godly will,  
More vigour he and livelihood did show;  
But Autaparnes wox more wan and woe:  
He faints, he sinks, ready to give up ghost,  
And aged Hypomne trod with footing slow,  
And staggered with her load; so ill disposed  
Their fading spirits were, that life was well nigh lost.   

53  
By this in sight of that black wall we came,  
A wall by stone-artificer not made:  
For it is nought but smoke from duskish flame,  
Which in that low deep valleys pitchy shade  
Doth fiercely th' Autopathian life invade,  
With glowing heat, and eateth out that spot.  
This dreadful trial many hath dismayed:  
When Autaparnes saw this was his lot,  
●…ear did his sense benumb, he wox like earthly clot.   

54  
In solemn silency this vapour rose  
From this dread dale, and hid the eastern sky  
With its deep darkness, and the evening close  
Forestalled with Stygian obscurity,  
Yet was't not thick, nor thin, nor moist, nor day;  
Nor stank it ill, nor yet gave fragrant smell,  
Nor dided take in through pellucidity  
The penetrating light, nor dided repel  
Through gross opacity the beams of Michael.   

55  
Yet terrible it is to Psyche's brood,  
That still retain the life Daemoniake;  
Constraining fear calls in their vital flood,  
When the dread Magus once doth mention make  
Of the deep dark abyss; for fear they quake  
At that strong-awing word: But they that die  
Unto self-feeling life, naught shall them shake:  
Base fear proceeds from weak Autopathy.  
This dale height Ain, the fumes height Anautaesthesy.   

56  
Into this dismal dale we all descend:  
Here Autaeparnes and Hypomene  
Their languid life with that dark vapour blend.  
Thus perished fading vitality,  
But nought did fade of life's reality.  
When these two old ones their last gasp had for,  
In this dread valley their dead corpse did lie;  
But what could well be saved to Simon flet.  
Here Simon first became spotless Anautaesthet.   

68  
When we had waded quite through this deep shade,  
We then appeared in bright Theoprepy:  
Here Phoebus' ray in straightest line was laid,  
That erst lay broke in gross consistency  
Of cloudy substance. For strong sympathy  
Of the divided natures magic band  
Was burnt to dust in Anautaesthesie:  
Now there's no fear of deaths dart-holding hand:  
Fast love, fixed life, firm peace in Theoprepia land.   

69  
When Mnemon hither came, he leaned back  
Upon his seat, and a long time respired.  
When I perceived this holy Sage so slack  
To speak (well as I might) I him desired  
Still to hold on, if so he were not tired,  
And tell what fell in blessed Theoprepy;  
But he nould do the thing that I required,  
Too hard it is, said he, that kingdom's glee  
To show; who list to know himself must come and see.   

70  
This story under the cool shadowing beach  
Old Mnemon told of famous Dizoie:  
To set down all he said passeth my reach,  
That all would reach even to infinity.  
Strange things he spoke of the biformity  
Of the Dizoians; what mongrill sort  
Of living wights; how monstrous shaped they be,  
And how that man and beast in one consort;  
Goats britch, man's tongue, goose head, with monki's mouth disto●…▪   

71  
Of Centaurs, Cynocephals, walking trees,  
Tritons and Mermaids, and such uncouth things;  
Or weeping Serpents with fair women's eyes,  
Mad making waters, sex trans-forming springs;  
Of foul Circean swine with golden rings,  
With many such like falsehoods; but the strait  
Will easily judge all crooked wander,  
Suffice it then we have taught that Ruling-right▪  
The good is uniform, the evil infinite.    

ΨΥΞΑΘΑΝΑΣΙΑ PLATONICA: OR Platonical Poem of the Immortality of Souls, especially Man's Soul.  
By H. M. Master of Arts, and Fellow of Christ's College in Cambridge.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  Empedocles. 
Omnia mutantur, nihil interit,  Ovid. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  Trismegist. 
CAMBRIDGE Printed by Roger Daniel, Printer to the University: 1642.   

THE PREFACE TO THE READER.  
THe very nerves and sinews of Religion is hope of immortality. What greater incitement to virtue and justice then eternal happiness? what greater terriculament from wickedness, than a full persuasion of after-judgement and continual torture of spirit? But my labour is superfluous. Men from their very childhood are persuaded of these things. Verily, I fear how they are persuaded of them when they become men. Else would not they, whom the fear of hell doth not affright, die so unwillingly, nor wicked men so securely; nor would so many be wicked. For even naturall-providence would bid them look forward.  
Beside, some men of a melancholic temper (which commonly distrust and suspicion do accompany) though otherwise pious, yet out of an exceeding desire of eternal being, think they can never have security enough for this so pleasing hope and expectation, and so even with anxiety of mind busy themselves to prove the truth of that strongly, which they desire vehemently to be true. And this body, which dissolution waits upon, helpeth our infidelity exceedingly. For the soul not seeing itself, judgeth itself of such a nature, as those things are to which she is nearest united: Falsely saith, but yet ordinarily, I am sick, I am weak, I faint, I die; when it is enough: but the perishing life of the body that is in such plight, to which she is so close tied in most intimate love and sympathy. So a tender mother, if she see a knife struck to her child's heart, would shriek and swoon as if herself had been smit; whenas if her eye had not beheld that spectacle, she had not been moved though the thing were surely done. So I do verily think that the mind being taken up in some higher contemplation, if it should please God to keep it in that ecstasy, the body might be destroyed without any disturbance to the soul. For how can there be or sense or pain without animadversion?  
But while we have such continual commerce with this frail body, it is not to be expected but that we shall be assaulted with the fear of death and darkness. For alas! how few are there that do not make this visible world, their Adonai, their stay and sustentation of life, the prop of their soul, their God? How many Christians are not prone to whisper that of the Heathen Poet, 
Soles occidere & redire possunt;  
Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux  
Nox est perpetua una dormienda.  
The Sun may set and rise again;  
If once sets our short light,  
Deep sleep us binds with iron chain,  
Wrapped in eternal Night.   
But I would not be so injurious, as to make men worse than they are, that my little work may seem of greater use and worth than it is.  
Admit then that men are most what persuaded of the souls immortality, yet here they may read reasons to confirm that persuasion, and be put in mind, as they read, of their end, and future condition, which cannot be but profitable at least.  
For the pleasure they'll reap from this Poem, it will be according as their Genius is fitted for it. For as Plato speaks in his Io, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or according to the more usual phrase 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. The spirit of every Poet is not alike, nor his writings alike suitable to all dispositions. As Io, the reciter of Homer's verses, professeth himself to be snatched away with an extraordinary fury or ecstacie at the repeating of Homer's Poesy, but others so little to move him that he could even fall asleep. So that no man is rashly to condemn another man's labour in this kind, because he is not taken with it. As wise or wiser than himself may.  
But this is a main piece of idolatry and injustice in the world, that every man would make his private Genius an universal God; and would devour all men's apprehensions by his own fire, that glows so hot in him, and (as he thinks) shines so clear.  
As for this present song of the immortality of the soul, it is not unlikely but that it will prove sung Montibus & Sylvis to the waste Woods and solitary Mountains. For all men are so full of their own fancies and idiopathyes, that they scarce have the civility to interchange any words with a stranger. If they do chance to hear his exotic tone, they entertain it with laughter, a passion very incident upon that occasion to children and clowns. But it were much better neither to embosomed nor reject any thing, though strange, till we were well acquainted with it.  
Exquisite disquisition begets diffidence; diffidence in knowledge, humility; humility, good manners and meek conversation. For mine own part, I desire no man to take any thing. I write upon trust, without canvasing; and would be thought rather to propound then to assert what I have here or elsewhere written. But continually to have expressed my diffidence in the very tractates themselves, had been languid and ridiculous.  
It were a piece of injustice to expect of others, that which I could never endure to stoop to myself. That knowledge which is built upon humane authority is no better than a Castle in the Air. For what man is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or at least can be proved to us to be so? Wherefore the foundation of that argument will but prove precarious, that is so built. And we have rather a sound of words signifiing the thing is so, than any true understanding that the thing is so indeed.  
What ever may seem strange in this Poem, condemn it not, till thou findest it dissonant to Plato's school, or not deducible from it. But there be many arguments, that have no strangeness at all to prove the soul's immortality; so that no man that is not utterly illiterate shall lose his labour in reading this short treatise.  
I must confess I intended to spin it out to a greater length; but things of greater importance then curious theory, take me off; beside the hazard of speaking hard things to a multitude.  
I make no question, but those that are rightly acquainted with Platonisme, will accept of that small pains, and make a good construction of my poetry. For I will assure thee (Reader) that it will be nothing but igorance of my scope, that shall make any do otherwise I fly too high to take notice of lesser flaws. If thou seest them, I give thee free liberty to mend them. But if thou regardest not lesser trifles, we be well met.  
Farewell.  
H. M.   


THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 1. Cant. 1.  

Struck with strong sense of God's good will  
The immortality  
Of souls I sing; Praise with my quill  
Plato's Philosophy.   

1  
Whatever-man he be that dares to deem  
True Poets skill do spring of earthly race,  
I must him tell, that he doth misesteem  
Their strange estate, and eke himself disgrace  
By his rude ignorance. For there's no place  
For forced labour, or slow industry  
Of flagging wits, in that high fiery chase,  
So soon as of the Muse they quickened be,  
At once they rise, and lively sing like lark in sky.   

2  
Like to a meteor, whose material  
Is low unwieldy earth, base unetuous slime,  
Whose inward hidden parts ethereal  
lie close upwrapt in that dull sluggish fime,  
Lie fast asleep, till at some fatal time  
Great Phoebus' lamp has fired its inward spirit,  
And then even of itself on high doth climb;  
That erst was dark becomes all eye, all sight,  
Bright star, that to the wise of future things gives light:   

3  
Even so the weaker mind, that languid lies  
Knit up in rags of dirt, dark cold and blind,  
So soon that purer flame of love unties  
Its clogging chains, and doth its spirit unbind,  
It sores aloft; for it itself doth find  
Well plumed; so raised upon its spreaden wing,  
It softly plays, and warbles in the wind,  
And carols out its inward life and spring  
Of overflowing joy, and of pure love dothsing.   

4  
It sings of purest love, not that base passion  
That fouls the soul with filth of lawless lust,  
And Circle-like its shape doth all misfashion;  
But that bright flame that's proper to the just,  
And eats away all dross and cankered rust  
With its refining heat, unites the mind  
With Gods own spirit, who raiseth from the dust  
The slumbering soul, and with his usage kind  
Makesed breath after that life that time hath not designed.   

5  
So hath he raised my soul, and so possessed  
My inward spirit, with that unfeigned will  
He bears to Psyche's brood, that I ne'er rest  
But ruth or rageful indignation fill  
My troubled veins, that I my life near spill  
With sorrow and disdain, for that foul lore  
That crept from dismal shades of night, and quill  
Steeped in sad Styx, and fed with stinking gore  
Sucked from corrupted corpse, that God and men abhorr●….   

6  
Such is thy putid muse, Lucretius,  
That fain would teach that souls all mortal be:  
The dusty Atoms of Democritus  
Certes have fallen into thy feeble eye,  
And thee bereft of perspicacity.  
Others through the strong steem of their dull blood,  
Without the help of that philosophy,  
Have with more ease the truth not understood,  
And the same thing conclude in some sad drooping mood.   

7  
But most of all my soul doth them refuse  
That have extinguished natures awful light  
By evil custom, and unkind abuse  
Of God's young tender work, that in their spirit  
He first 'gins frame. But they with heady might  
Of over-whelming liquor that life drowned,  
And reasons eye swell up or put out quite.  
Hence horrid darkness doth their souls confound,  
And foul blasphemous belch from their furred mouth resounds   

8  
Thus while false way they take to large their spirit  
By vaster cups of Bacchus, they get fire  
Without true light, and 'cording to demerit  
Infernal blasts blind confidence inspire:  
Bold heat to uncouth thoughts is their bad hire.  
Which they then dearly hug, and ween their feet  
Have climbed, whither vulgar men dare not aspire.  
But it's the fruit of their burnt sooty spirit:  
Thus dream they of dread death, and an eternal night.   

9  
Now in the covert of dame Nature's cell  
They think they're shrouded, and the mystery  
Of her deep secrets they can wisely spell;  
And 'pprove that art above true pretty;  
Laugh at religion as a mockery,  
A thing found out to awe the simpler sort:  
But they, brave sparks, have broke from this dark tie:  
The light of nature yields more sure comfort.  
Alas! too many souls in this fond thought consort.   

10  
Like men new made contrived into a cave  
That never saw light, but in that shadowing pit,  
Some uncouth might them hoodwink hither drove,  
Now with their backs to the den's mouth they sit,  
Yet shoulder not all light from the darn pit,  
So much gets in as Optic art counts meet  
To show the forms that hard without do flit.  
With learned quaere each other here they greet:  
True moving substances they deem each shadow slight:   

11  
When fowls fly by, and with their swapping wings  
Beat the inconstant air, and mournful noise  
Stir up with their continual chastisings  
In the soft yielding penitent; the voice  
These solemn sages nought at all accoyes.  
'Tis common; only they philosophise,  
Busying their brains in the mysterious toys  
Of flittie motion, wary well advise  
On'●… inward principles the hid Entelechyes.   

12  
And whereabout that inward life is seated,  
That moves the living creature, they espy  
Passing in their dim world. So they're defeated,  
Calling thin shadows true reality,  
And deeply doubt if corporalitie,  
(For so they term those visibles) were stroy'd  
Whether that inward first vitality  
Could then subsist. But they are ill accloyed  
With cloddy earth, and with blind duskishness annoyed.   

13  
If roaring lion or the neighing horse,  
With frisking tail to brush off busy flies,  
Approach their den, than haply they discourse  
From what part of these creatures may arise  
Those greater sounds. Together they advise,  
And gravely do conclude that from the thing  
That we would term the tail, those thundering neyes  
Do issue forth: tail of that shadowing  
They see then moved most, while he is whinneying.   

14  
And so the lions huge and hideous roar  
They think proceeds from his rugged flowing mane,  
Which the fierce winds do toss and tousell sore;  
Unless perhaps he stir his bushy train:  
For then the tail will carry it again.  
Thus upon each occasion their frail wit  
Bestirs itself to find out errors vain  
And useless theories in this dark pit:  
Fond reasoning they have, seldom or never hit.   

15  
So soon new shadows enter in the cave,  
New entelechias they then conceive  
Brought forth of nature; when they passed have  
Their gloomy orb (false shades easily deceive)  
Not only they that visible bereave  
Of life and being, but the hidden might  
And root of motion unlived unbeened they leave  
In their vain thoughts: for they those shadows light  
Do deem sole prop and stay of th' hidden motive spirit.   

16  
This is that awful cell where Naturalists  
Brood deep opinion, as themselves conceit;  
This errors den where in a magic missed  
Men hatch their own delusion and deceit,  
And grasp vain shows. Here their bold brains they beat  
And dig full deep, as deep as Hyles hell,  
Unbare the root of life (O searching wit!)  
But root of life in Hyles shade no'te dwell.  
For God's the root of all, as I elsewhere shall tell.   

17  
This is the stupid state of drooping soul,  
That loves the body and false forms admires;  
Slave to base sense, fierce against reasons control,  
That still itself with lower lust bemites;  
That nought believeth and much less desires  
Things of that unseen world and inward life,  
Nor unto height of purer truth aspires:  
But cowardly declines the noble strife  
Against vice and ignorance; so gets it no relief.   

18  
From this default, the lustful Epicure  
Democrite, or th' unthankful Stagirite,  
Most men prefer 'fore holy Pythagore,  
Divinest Plato, and grave Epictete:  
But I am so inflamed with the sweet sight  
And goodly beauty seen on Eloim-hill,  
That maugre all men's clamours in despite  
I'll praise my Platonissa with loud quill;  
My strong intended voice all the wide world shall fill.   

19  
O sacred Nymph begot of highest Jove!  
Queen of Philosophy and virtuous lear!  
That firest the nobler heart with spotless love,  
And sadder minds with Nectar drops dost cheer,  
That oft bedrencht with sorrows while we're here  
Exiled from our dear home, that heavenly soil.  
Through wand'ring ways thou safely dost us bear  
Into the land of truth, from dirty foil  
Thou keep'st our slipping feet oft wearied with long toil.   

20  
When I with other beauties thine compare,  
O lovely maid, all others I must scorn.  
For why? they all rude and deformed appear:  
Certes they be ill thewed and base born:  
Yet thou, alas! of men art more forlorn.  
For like will to its like: but few can see  
Thy worth; so night-birds fly the glorious morn  
Thou art a beam shot from the deity,  
And nearest art allied to Christianity.   

21  
But they be sprung of sturdy Giants race,  
Allied to Night and the foul Earthy clay,  
Love of the carcase, Envy, Spite, Disgrace,  
Centention, Pride, that unto th' highest doth bray,  
Rash labour, a Titanicall assay  
To pluck down wisdom from her radiant seat,  
With miry arms to bear her quite away.  
But thy dear mother Thorough-cleansing virtue height:  
Here will true wisdom lodge, here will the deign to light.   

22  
Come, Gentle Virgin, take me by the hand,  
To yonder grove with speedy pace we'll high:  
(It's not far off from Alethea land)  
Swift as the levin from the sneezing sky,  
So swift we'll go, before an envious eye  
Can reach us. There I'll purge out the strong steem  
Of prepossessing prejudice, that I  
Perhaps may have contract in common stream,  
And wary well wash out my old conceived dream.   

23  
And when I've breathed awhile in that free air,  
And cleared myself from tinctures took before,  
Then deign thou to thy novice to declare  
Thy secret skill, and hid mysterious lore,  
And I due thanks shall plenteously down pour.  
But well I wot thou'lt not envaffall me:  
That law were rudeness. I may not adore  
Ought but the lasting spotless verity.  
Well thewed minds the mind doth always setten free.   

24  
Free to that inward awful Majesty  
Height Logos, whom they term great son of God,  
Who framed the world by his deep sciency,  
The greater world. Als makes his near abode  
In the less world: so he can trace the trod  
Of that hid ancient path, when as he made  
This stately Fabric of the world so broad.  
He plainly doth unfold his skilful trade,  
When he doth harmless hearts by his good spirit invade.   

25  
O thou eternal Spirit, cleave open the sky,  
And take thy flight into my feeble breast,  
Enlarge my thoughts, enlight my dimmer eye  
That wisely of that burden closely pressed  
In my strait mind, I may be dispossessed:  
My Muse must sing of things of much weight;  
The souls eternity is my great quest:  
Do thou me guide, that art the souls sure light,  
Grant that I never err, but ever wend aright.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 1. Cant. 2.  

What a soul is here I define,  
After I have compared  
All powers of life: That stamp divine  
Show that brutes never shared.   

1  
NOw I'll address me to my mighty task,  
So mighty task that makes my heart to shrink,  
While I compute the labour it will ask,  
And on my own frail weakness I gi'en think.  
Like tender Lad that on the river's brink,  
That fain would wash him, while the evening ●…een  
With sharper air doth make his pores to wink,  
Shakes all his body, nips his naked skin,  
At first makes some delay but after skippeth in:   

2  
So I upon a wary due debate  
With my perplexed mind, after persuade  
My softer heart. I need no longer wait.  
Lo! now new strength my vitals doth invade  
And rear again, that erst began to fade,  
My life, my light, my senses all revive  
That fearful doubts before had ill paid.  
Leap in, my soul, and strongly fore thee drive  
The fleeting waves, and when thee list to th' bottom dive.   

3  
For thou canst dive full well, and float aloft,  
Dive down as deep as the old Hyles shade,  
Through that slight darkness glid'st thou sly and soft,  
Through pitchy cumbring fogs strongly canst wade,  
Nor in thy flight couldst thou be ever stayed,  
If in thy flight thou flewedst not from him,  
That for himself thine excellent might hath made.  
Contract desire, repulse strong Magic steem,  
Then even in foul Cocytus thou mayest fearless swim.   

4  
Like that strange uncouth fish Lucerna height,  
Whose wonne is in the brackish Seas, yet fire  
She easily carries and clear native light  
In her close mouth: and the more to admire,  
In darkest night when she lists to aspire  
To th' utmost surface of the watery main,  
And opes her jaws that light doth not expire,  
But lively shines till she shut up again:  
Nor liquid Sea, nor moistened air this light restrain.   

5  
Or like a lamp armed with pellucid horn,  
Which ruffling winds about do rudely toss,  
And felly lash with injury and scorn,  
But her mild light they cannot easily cross;  
She shines to her own foes withouten loss:  
Even so the soul into its self collected,  
Or in her native hue withouten dross,  
In midst of bitter storms in no●… ejected,  
Nor her eternal state is any whit suspected.   

6  
As Cynthia in her stooping Perigee,  
That deeper wades in the earth's duskish Cone,  
Yet safely wallows through in silency  
Till she again her silver face hath shown,  
And tells the world that she's the selfsame Moon,  
Not now more listlesse than I was whileare  
When I was hid in my Apogeon,  
For I myself alike do always bear  
In every circling race: blind ignorance breeds fear.   

7  
Nor being hid after my monthly wane,  
Long keppen back from your expecting sight,  
Dull damps and darkness do my beauty slain;  
When none I show then have I the most light,  
Nearer to Phoebus' more I am bedight  
With his fair rays. And better to confute,  
All vain suspicion of my worse plight,  
Mark aye my face, after my close salute  
With that sharp-witted God, seem I not more acute?   

8  
This is the state of th' ever-moving soul,  
Whirling about upon its circling wheel;  
Certes to sight it variously doth roll,  
And as men deem full dangerously doth reel,  
But oft when men fear most, itself doth feel  
In happiest plight conjoined with that great Sun  
Of lasting bliss, that doth himself reveal  
More fully then, by that close union,  
Though men, that miss her here, do think her quite undone.   

9  
But lest we rashly wander out too far,  
And be yblown about with wanton wind,  
Withouten stern, or card, or Polar star,  
In its round little list so close confined:  
Let the souls nature first be well defined;  
Then we'll proceed. But all the while I crave  
When e'er I speak 'cording to Plato's mind,  
That you my faultless drift do not deprave.  
For I the freeborn soul to no sect would enslave.   

10  
Divers conceits the wizards of old time  
Have had concerning that we here inquire,  
And would set forth in an eternal rhyme;  
But we list not our dainty Muse to tyre.  
In such foul ways, and plunge her in the mire.  
Strange dreams their drowsy scholars they have taught,  
The heart, the heartblood, brains, fleet air, hot fire  
To be the thing that they so presly sought,  
Some have defined, some temper, some a●…omes, some nought.   

11  
But I must needs decline this wand'ring path;  
For well I wot error is infinite,  
But he that simple truth once reached hath  
Needs not with every single shade to fight:  
One stroke will put all falsities to flight.  
So soon as Sol his fiery head doth rear  
Above the Eastern waves his glowing sight  
As angry darkness so long rule did bear,  
Strait all night trifling sprights doth chase away with fear.   

12  
Long have I swonk with anxious assay  
To finden out what this hid soul may be,  
That doth herself so variously bewray  
In different motions. Other we her see  
When she so fairly spreads the branching tree;  
Other when as she hath loosed herself from ground,  
And opes her root, and breaths in heaven free,  
And doth her wants in the wide air resound,  
Speaks out her joy, no longer whispers underground.   

13  
Such is the noise of cheerful chirping birds,  
That tell the sweet impressions of the Spring;  
Or 'fore some storm, when their quick sprights be stirred  
With nearer strong appulse and hid heaving,  
That fills their little souls, and makes them sing,  
Puffed up with joy and o'rflowing delight:  
Eftsoons with rattling winds the air doth ring.  
The sturdy storm doth make them take their flight  
Into thick bush or hedge to save them from heaven's spite.   

14  
From this same source of sense are murmuring moans  
Of bellowing bullocks, when sharp hunger bites;  
Hence whining dog so pitifully groans  
When as with knotted whip his Lord him smites;  
And every beast when with death pangs he fights.  
But senseless trees nor feel the bleaker wind,  
That nip their sides, nor the Sun's scorching might,  
Nor the sharp axe piercing their rugged rind;  
Yet have they soul, whose life in their sweet growth we find.   

15  
So plants spring up flourish and fade away,  
Not marking their own state: They never found  
Themselves, when first they ' pear'd in sunny day;  
Nor never sought themselves, though in the ground  
They search full deep: Nor are they waked by wound  
Of biting iron, to nought they are attended  
That them befalls, when cold humours abound  
And clog their vital heat, or when they're brent  
With Sirius flame, or when through eld they waxen faint.   

16  
Or whatsoever diseases them betid  
That hasten death, they nought at all regard:  
But when to plantall life quick sense is tied,  
And progging fancy, then upon her guard  
She 'gins to stand, and well herself to ward  
From foes she plainly feels, pursues her joy,  
Remembers where she well or ill hath ●…r'd,  
Or swiftly flies from that that doth annoy,  
Or stoutly strives her fierce destroyer to destroy.   

17  
Thus have we run thorough these two degrees  
Of the souls working seen in beast and plant;  
The third height reason, of common energies  
The best: of this the humane race doth vaunt  
As proper to themselves. But if we ska●…'t  
Sa●…s prejudice, it's not in them alone;  
The dog, the horse, the ape, the elephant,  
Will all rush in striving to make up one,  
And sternly claim their share in use of right reason.   

18  
But whether brutes do reason and reflect  
Upon their reasoning, I'll not dispute;  
Nor care I what brisk boys will here object  
Long task it were all foundlings to confute.  
But I'll lay down that which will better suit  
With that high heavenly spark, the soul of man;  
His proper character (I would he knew't)  
Is that which Adam lost by wily train  
Of th' old sly snake that Eve beguiled with speeches vain.   

19  
This was the Image of the highest God,  
Which brutes partake not of. This Image height  
True Justice, that keeps ever the even trod,  
True Piety that yields to man the sight  
Of heavenly beauty, those fair beams so brigat  
Of th' everlasting Deity, that shed  
Their sacred fire within the purer spirit,  
The fruit of ●…den wherewith souls be said,  
Man's awful majesty of eyery beast ydred.   

20  
Nor is that radiant force in humane kind  
Extinguished quite, he that did them create  
Can those dull rusty chains of sleep unbind,  
And rear the soul unto her priftin state:  
He can them so enlarge and elevate  
And spreaden out, that they can compass all,  
When they no longer be incarcerate  
In this dark dungeon, this foul fleshy wall,  
Nor be no longer wedged in things corporeal:   

21  
But raised aloft into their proper sphere,  
That sphere that height th' Orb Intellectual,  
They quiet sit, as when the flitting fire  
That Nature's mighty Magic down did call  
Into the oily wood, at its own fall  
Grows full of wrath and rage, and 'gins to fume,  
And roars and strives against its disquietall,  
Like troubled Ghost forced some shape to assume;  
But it its holding foe at doth last quite consume.   

22  
And then like gliding spirit doth strait dispear,  
That erst was forced to take a fiery form:  
Full lightly it ascends into the clear  
And subtle air devoid of cloudy storm,  
Where it doth steady stand, all-uniform,  
Pure, pervious, immixed, innocuous, mild,  
Nought scorching, nought glowing, nought enorm,  
Nought destroying, not destroyed, not defiled;  
Foul fume being spent, just 'fore its flight it fairly smiled.   

23  
Thus have I traced the soul in all its works,  
And several conditions have displayed,  
And showed all places where so e'er she lurks,  
Even her own lurk of herself bewrayed,  
In plants, in beasts, in men, while here she stayed▪  
And freed from earth how then she spreads on high  
Her heavenly rays, that also hath been said.  
Look now, my Muse, and cast thy piercing eye  
On every kind, and tell wherein all souls agree.   

24  
Here dare I not defineed, th' Entelechy  
Of organised bodies. For this life,  
This central life, which men take souls to be,  
Is not among the being's relative;  
And sure some souls at least are self-active  
Withouten body having Energy.  
Many put out their force informative  
In their ethereal corporeity,  
Devoid of heterogeneal organity.   

25  
Self-moving substance, that be th' definition  
Of souls, that longs to them, in general:  
This well expresseth that common condition  
Of every vital centre creatural.  
For why? both that height form spermaticall  
Hath here a share, as also that we term  
Soul sensitive, I'll call't form bestial,  
It makes a beast added to plantall sperin;  
Add rational form, it makes a man as men affirm.   

26  
All these be substances self-moveable:  
And that we call virtue magnetical  
(That what's defined be irreproveable)  
I comprehend it in the life plantall:  
Mongst trees there's found life Sympathetic;  
Though trees have not animadversive sense.  
Therefore the soul's Autocinelicall  
Alone. What ever's in this defining sense  
Is soul, what ever's not soul is driven far from heace.   

27  
But that each soul's Autocineticall,  
Is easily shown by sitting all degrees  
Of souls. The first are forms Spermaticall,  
That best be seen in shaping armed trees,  
Which if they want their fixed Centreities,  
By which they fairly every part extend,  
And gently enact with spread vitalities  
The flowering boughs. How Nature's work doth wend  
Who knows? or from what inward stay it doth depend?   

28  
Forty let first an inward centre hid  
Be put. That's nought but Nature's fancy tied  
In closer knot, shut up into the mid  
Of its own self: so our own spirits gride  
With piercing wind in storming winter tide  
Contract themselves and shrivel up together,  
Like snake the country man in snow espied,  
Whose spirit was quite shrunk in by nipping weather.  
From whence things come, by foman forced they backward thither   

29  
The rigid cold had forced into its centre  
This serpent's life; but when the rural Swain  
Placed her upon warm hearth, and heat did enter  
Into her ●…ummed corpse, she 'gan to strain  
And stretch herself, and her host entertain  
With scornful hiss, shooting her anchored tongue,  
Threatening her venomed teeth; so strait again  
She proved a living snake, when she along  
Her corpse free life had driven from centre steady strong.   

30  
So doth the gentle warmth of solar heat  
Easily awake the centre seminal,  
That makes it softly streak on its own seat,  
And fairly forward force its life internal.  
That inward life's th' impress imaginall  
Of Nature's Art, which sweetly flowreth out  
From that is cleped the sphere spermaticall:  
For there is placed the never fading root  
Of every flower or herb that into th' air doth shoot.   

31  
Fairly invited by Sols piercing ray  
And inward tickled with his cheering spirit,  
All plants break thorough into open day,  
Rend the thick curtain of cold cloying night,  
The earth's opakenes enemy to light,  
And crown themselves in sign of victory  
With shining leaves; and goodly blossoms bright.  
Thus called out by friendly sympathy  
Their souls move of themselves on their Centreitie.   

32  
But its more plain in animality,  
When fiery coursers strike the grassy ground  
With swift tempestuous feet, that far and nigh  
They fill men's ears with a broad thundering sound  
(From hollow hoof so strongly it doth rebound)  
What's that that twitcheth up their legs so fast,  
And fiercely jerks them forth, that many wound  
They give to their own mother in their haste?  
With eager steps they quickly meet the forest waist.   

34  
That outward form is but a neurospast;  
The soul it is that on her subtle ray,  
That she shoots out, the limbs of moving beast  
Doth stretch strait forth, so straightly as she may.  
Bones joints and sinews shaped of stubborn clay  
Cannot so easily lie in one strait line  
With her projected might, much less obey  
Direct retractions of these beams fine:  
So strait retreat they must of necessity decline.   

35  
But yet they follow in a course oblique,  
With angular doublings, as the joints permit:  
So go they up together, not unlike  
An iron candlestick the smith hath fit  
With many junctures, whom in studious sit  
Some scholar set a work: but to return,  
Lest what we aimed at we unwares omit;  
If souls of beasts their bodies move and turn,  
And wield at fancies beck, as we described before;   

36  
Then be the souls of beasts self-moving forms,  
Bearing their bodies as themselves think meet,  
Invited or provoked, so they transform  
At first themselves within, then strait in sight  
Those motions come, which suddenly do light  
Upon the bodies visible, which move  
According to the will of th' inward spirit.  
In th' inward spirit be anger, hate and love:  
Hence claws, horns, hoofs they use the pinching ill t' amove.   

37  
Thus have I plainly proved that souls of beasts  
And plants do move themselves. That souls of men  
Should be more stupid, and far less released  
From matters bondage, surely there's none can  
Admit of, though but slightly they do scan  
The cause. But for to put all out of doubt,  
Let's take again the same way we have run,  
Break down all obstacles that hinder might  
Our future course to make all plain all clear throughout.   

38  
If there be no self-motion in man's soul,  
That it nor this nor that way can propend  
Of its own self, nor can no whit control  
Nor will of its own self, who can offend?  
For no man●…self (if you do well perpend)  
Guilties of aught when nought doth from him flow.  
Whither do learning, laws, grave speeches tend?  
Speaks the rude carter to the waggon slow  
With threatening words, or to the beasts that do it draw?   

39  
Surely unto the beasts that easily go:  
For there's the principle of motion,  
Such principle as can itself foreslow,  
Or forward press by incitation:  
Which though it moves by commination,  
So stiffly strives, yet from itself it strives,  
Bears itself forth with stout contention,  
And ever and anon the whip revives  
That inward life, so bravely on the Rustic drives.   

40  
Again, all that sweet labour would be lost  
That God's good spirit takes in humane mind,  
So oft we courted be so often crossed:  
But nor that tender amorous courtship kind  
Hath any place, where we no place can find  
For a self-yielding love; Or if self-will  
Be not in us, how easily were declined  
All crosses? None could happen us until,  
How will I want, and want no cross passeth my skill.   

41  
Pesides when reason works with fantasy,  
And changeable conceits we do contrive,  
Purging and pruning with all industry,  
What's dead or useless, less demonstrative,  
What's dull or flaccid, nought illustrative,  
Quenching unfit phantasms in our brain,  
And for our better choice new flames revive;  
The busy soul thus doth her reason strain  
To write or speak what envious tongue ●…e may never slain:   

42  
Or when quite heedless of this earthy world  
She lifts herself unto the azure ski●…,  
And with those wheeling gires around is hurled,  
Turns in herself in a due distancie  
The erring seven; or a stretched line doth t●…e  
O'th' silver-bowed moon from horn to horn;  
Or finds out Phoebus' vast solidity  
By his diametre, measures the morn,  
Girds the swollen earth with linear list, though earth she scorn.   

43  
All this is done, though body never move:  
The soul about itself circumgyrates  
Her various forms, and what she most doth love  
She oft before herself stabilitates;  
She stiffly stayesed and wistly contemplates,  
Or lets it somewhat slowlier descend  
Down to the nether Night; she temperates  
Her starry orb, makes her bright forms to wend  
Even as she list: Anon she'll all with darkness blend.   

44  
Thus variously she doth herself invest  
With rising forms, and reasoneth all the way;  
And by right reason doth herself divest  
Of falser fancies. Who then can gainsay  
But she's self-moved when she doth with self-sway  
Thus change herself, as inward life doth feel?  
If not, than some inspiring sprights bewray  
Each reasoning. Yet though to them we deal  
First motion, yet ourselves ought know what they reveal.   

45  
But if nor of ourselves we moved be  
At first, without any invasion  
Of stirring forms that into energy  
Awake the soul; nor after-motion  
From its own centre by occasion  
Doth issue forth; then it's not conscious  
Of aught: For so 'twill want adversion.  
But nothing can animadvert for us:  
Therefore all humane souls be self-vivacious.   

46  
Thus have I proved all souls have centrallmotion  
Springing from their own selves. But they'll object  
'Gainst th' universalnesse of this clear notion,  
That whiles self-flowing source I here detect  
In plants, in brutes, in men, I ought reject  
No soul from wished immortality,  
But give them durance when they are resect  
From organised corporeity:  
Thus brutes and plants shall gain lasting eternity.   

47  
'Tis true, a never fading durancie  
Belongs to all hid principles of life;  
But that full grasp of vast Eternity  
Longs not to beings simply vegetive,  
Nor yet to creatures merely sensitive:  
Reason alone cannot arrive to it.  
Only souls Deiform intellective  
Unto that height of happiness can get;  
Yet immortality with other souls may fit.   

48  
No force of Nature can their strength annoy.  
For they be subtler than the silken air,  
Which fatal fire from heaven cannot destroy.  
All grossness its devo●…ing teeth may shear,  
And present state of visibles empare;  
But the fine curtains of the lasting sky,  
Though not of love, yet it perforce must spare▪  
If they could burn, each spark from flint would try,  
And a bright broad-spread flame to either Pole would hi●…   

49  
But if all souls survive their bulks decay,  
Another difficulty will strait arise,  
Concerning their estate when they're away  
Flit from this grosser world. Shall Paradise  
Receive the sprights of beasts? or wants it trees,  
That their sweet verdant souls should thither take?  
Who shall conduct those straggling colonies?  
Or be they straightway drenched in Lethe lake?  
So that cold sleep their shriveld life from work doth slake.   

50  
Or if that all or some of them awake,  
What is their misery? what their delight●…  
How come they that refined state forsake?  
Or had they their first being in our sight?  
Whither to serve? what is the useful might  
Of these spiritual trees? doth fearful hare  
Fly the pursuing dog? doth soaring kite  
Prey upon silly chickens? is there jar,  
Or be those sprights agreed, none to other contraire?   

51  
If some contraire; then tell me, how's their fight?  
What is the spoil? what the stout victor's meed?  
No flesh, no blood whereon to spend their spite,  
Or whereupon these hungry souls may feed.  
Or doth the stronger suck the airy weed  
Wherewith the other did itself invest?  
And so more freshly deck itself at need?  
An airy prey for airy spirit is best;  
Or do they want no food, but be still full and rest?   

52  
Die they again? draw they in any breath?  
Or be they sterile? or bring forth their young?  
Beat their light feet on the soft airy heath?  
Express they joy or sorrow with their tongue?  
Enough! who ere thou art that thus dost throng  
My tender Muse with rough objections stout,  
Give me but leave to tell thee thou●…rt wrong,  
If being of a thing thou call'st in doubt  
Cause its more hid conditions shine not clearly out.   

53  
Who questions but there is a quantity  
Of things corporeal, a trinall dimension,  
Of solid bodies? yet to satisfy  
All doubts that may be made about extension  
Would plunge the wisest Clerk. I'll only mention  
That quaere, of what parts it doth consist,  
Whether of Atoms; or what strange retention  
Still keepeth so much back, that if God list  
He could not count the parts of a small linear twist.   

54  
For his division never could exhaust  
The particles, say they, of quantity.  
O daring wit of man that thus doth boast  
Itself, and in pursuit of sciency  
Forget the reverend laws of piety.  
What thing is hid from that allseeing light?  
What thing not done by his all-potencie?  
He can discern by his clear-piercing might  
The close-couched number of each bigness comes in sight:   

55  
And so can count them out even part by part;  
In number, measure, weight, he all things made;  
Each unite he dissevets by his Art;  
But here this searching reason to evade,  
Each quantum's infinite, strait will be said,  
That's against sense. If it be infinite  
Of parts, then tell me, be those parts out-spread?  
Or not extent? if extended outright  
Each fly in summer even is higher than Heavens height.   

56  
If not extended, than that quantums nought.  
Some be extended, others not extent  
Already (answers a vain shifting thought)  
But those potential parts, how be they meint  
With those that now be actually distent?  
Even thus you grant, that those that actual be  
Be plainly finite, against your intent,  
Grant me but that, and we shall well agree.  
So must slight Atoms be sole parts of quantity.   

57  
But if't consist of points: then a Scalene  
I'll prove all one with an Isosceles:  
With as much ease I'll evince clear and clean  
That the cross lines of a Rhomboides  
That from their meeting to all angles press  
Be of one length, though one from earth to heaven  
Would reach, and that the other were much less  
Than a small digit of the lowest of seven  
So as she'pears to us, yet I could prove them even.   

58  
And that the moon (though her circumference  
Be far more strait than is the earthy ball)  
Sometime the earth illumineth at once  
And with her grasping rays enlights it all;  
And that the Sun's great body spherical  
Greater than th' earth, far greater than the moon,  
Even at midday illumines not at all  
This earthy globe in his Apogeon;  
So that we in deep darkness sit, though at high noon.   

59  
Of will, of motion, of divine foresight,  
Here might I treat with like perplexity.  
But it's already clear that 'tis not right  
To reason down the firm subsistency  
Of things from ignorance of their property.  
Therefore not requisite for to determ  
The hid conditions of vitaliti●…  
Or shrunk or severed; only I'll affirm  
It is, which my next song shall further yet confirm.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 1. Cant. 3.  

o'er whelmed with grief and piteous woe  
For fading life's decays;  
How no souls die, from Lunar how,  
A nymph to me displays.   

1  
IN silent night, when mortals be at rest,  
And bathe their molten limbs in slothful sleep,  
My troubled ghost strange cares did strait molest,  
And plunged my heavy soul in sorrow deep:  
Large floods of tears my moistened cheeks did steep,  
My heart was wounded with compassionate love  
Of all the creatures: sadly out I creep  
From men's close mansions, the more to improve  
My mournful plight, so softly on I forward move.   

2  
Ay me! said I, within my wearied breast,  
And fighed sad, wherefore did God erect  
This stage of misery? thrice, fouretimes blest  
Whom churlish Nature never did eject  
From her dark womb, and cruelly object  
By sense and life unto such baleful smart;  
Every slight entrance into joy is checked  
By that sour stepdames threats, and visage tart:  
Our pleasure of our pain is not the thousandth part.   

3  
Thus vexed I was 'cause of mortality:  
Her cursed remembrance cast me in this plight,  
That I grew sick of the world's vanity.  
Ne ought recomfort could my sunken spirit,  
What so I hate may do me no delight.  
Few things (alas) I hate, the more my woe,  
The things I love by mine own sad foresight  
Make me the greater torments undergo,  
Because I know at last they're gone like idle show.   

4  
Each goodly sight my sense doth captivate  
When vernal flowers their silken leaves display,  
And open their fragrant bosoms, I that stare  
Would not have changed but endure for aye;  
Nor care to mind that that fatal decay  
Is still recured by faithful succession.  
But why should aught that's good thus fade away?  
Should steady Spring exclude Summers' accession?  
Or Summer spoil the Spring with furious hot oppression?   

5  
You cheerful chanters of the flowering woods,  
That feed your careless souls with pleasant lays,  
O silly birds! cease from your merry moods:  
Ill suits such mirth when dreary deaths assays  
So closely press your sorry carcases:  
To mournful note turn your light verilayes,  
Death be your song, and Winter's hoary sprays,  
Spend your vain sprights in sighing Elegies:  
I'll help you to lament your woeful miseries.   

6  
When we lay covered in the shady Night  
Of senseless matter, we were well content  
With that estate, nought pierced our anxious spirit,  
No harm we suffered, no harm we meant;  
Our rest not with light dream of ill was blended:  
But when rough Nature, with her iron ho●…d,  
Pulled us from our soft ease, and hither hent,  
Disturbing fear and pinching pain we fou●…d,  
Full many a bitter blast, full many a dreadful stound.   

7  
Yet lifes strong love doth so intoxicate  
Our misty minds, that we do fear ●…o die.  
What did dame Nature brood all things of hate?  
And only give them life for misery?  
Sense for an undeserved penalty?  
And show that if she list, that she could make  
Them happy? but with spiteful cruelty  
Doth force their groaning ghosts this house forsake?  
And to their ancient nought their empty selves betake!   

8  
Thus in deep sorrow and restless disdain  
Against the cankered doom of envious fate,  
I clove my very heart with riving pain,  
While I in sullen rage did ruminate  
The Creatures vanity and woeful state;  
And night that ought to yield us timely rest,  
My swelling griefs did much more aggravate:  
The sighs and groans of weary sleeping beast  
Seemed as if sleep itself their spirits did molest:   

9  
Or as constrained perforce that boon to wrest  
From envious Nature. All things did augment  
My heavy plight, that foully I blamed the hest  
Of stubborn destiny cause of this wayment.  
Even sleep that's for our restauration meant,  
As execrable thing I did abhor,  
Cause ugly death to th' life it did depeint:  
What good came to my mind I did deplore,  
Because it perish must and not live evermore.   

10  
Thus wrapped in rueful thought through the waste field  
I staggered on, and scattered my woe,  
Bedewed the grass with tears mine eyes did yield,  
At last I am arrived with footing slow  
Near a black pitchy wood, that strongest throw  
Of starry beam no'te easily penetrate:  
On the North side I walked to and fro  
In solitary shade. The Moons sly gate  
Had crossed the middle line: It was at least so late.   

11  
When th' other part of night in painful grief  
Was almost spent, out of that solemn grove  
There issued forth for my timely relief,  
The fairest wight that ever sight did prove,  
So fair a wight as might command the love  
Of best of mortal race; her countenance shee●…  
The pensive shade gently before her drove,  
A mild sweet light shone from her lovely eyen:  
She seemed no earthly branch but sprung of stock divine.   

12  
A silken mantle, coloured like the sky  
With silver stars in a due distance set,  
Was cast about her somewhat carelessly,  
And her bright flowing hair was not ylet  
By Arts device; only a chaplet  
Of chiefest flowers, which from far and near  
The Nymph in their pure lily hands had set,  
Upon her temples she did seemly wear;  
Her own fair beams mad all her ornaments appear.   

13  
What wilful wight doth thus his kindly rest  
Forsake? said she, approaching me unto.  
What rage, what sorrow boils thus in thy chest  
That thou thus spendest the night in wasting woe?  
Oft help he gets that his hid ill doth show.  
Ay me! said I, my grief's not all mine own;  
For all men's griefs into my heart do flow,  
Nor men's alone, but every mourn full groan  
Of dying beast, or what so else that grief hath shown.   

14  
From fading plants my sorrows frshly spring:  
And thou thyself that comest to comfort me,  
Wouldst strongest occasion of deep sorrow bring,  
If thou wert subject to mortality:  
But I no mortal wight thee deem to be,  
Thy face thy voice immortal thee proclaim.  
Do I not well to wail the vanity  
Of fading life, and churlish fates to blame  
That with cold frozen death lifts cheerful motions tame?   

15  
Thou dost not well, said she to me again,  
Thou hurt'st thyself, and dost to them no good.  
The sighs thou sendest out cannot regain  
Life to the dead, thou canst not change the mood  
Of steadfast destiny. That man is wood  
That wittingly hastes on the thing he hates:  
Dull sorrow chokes the sprights, congeals the blood,  
The body's fabric quickly ruinates.  
Yet foolish men do fond blame the hasty fates.   

16  
Come, hasty fates, said I, come take away  
My weary life, the fountain of my woe:  
When that's extinct or shrunk into cold clay,  
Then well I wore that I shall undergo  
No longer pain. O! why are you so slow!  
Fond speech, said she, nor changed her countenance,  
No sign of grief or anger she did show;  
Full well she knew passions misgovernance,  
Though her clear breast fond passion never yet did lance.   

17  
But thus spoke on, sith friendly sympathy  
With all the creatures thus invades thy breast,  
And strikes thine heart with so deep agony  
For their decay, cording to that behest  
Which the pure source of sympathy hath pressed  
On all that of those lovely streams have drunk,  
I'll tell thee that that needs must please thee best,  
All life's immortal; though the outward trunk  
May changed be, yet life to nothing never shrunk.   

18  
With that she bade me rear my heavy eye  
Up toward heaven. I reared them toward th'East,  
Wherein a roscid cloud I did espy  
A Lunar rainbow in her painted vest;  
The heavenly maid in the meanwhile surceased  
From further speech while I the bow did view:  
But mine old malady was more increased,  
The bow 'gan break, and all the gaudy hue  
Dispeared, that my heart the sight did inly rue.   

19  
Thus life doth vanish as this bow is gone,  
Said I: That sacred Nymph forthwith replied,  
Vain shows may vanish that have gaily shone  
To feeble sense; but if the truth be tried,  
Life cannot perish or to nothing slide:  
It is not life that falleth under sight;  
None but vain flitting qualities are eyed  
By wondering ignorance. The vital spirit  
As surely doth remain as the Sun's lasting light.   

20  
This bow, whose breaking struck thy troubled heart,  
Of causeless grief, I hope shall thee recure,  
When I have well explained with skilful Art  
By its resemblance what things must endure,  
What things decay and cannot stand sure.  
The higher causes of that coloured Ark,  
What e'er becomes of it, do sit secure.  
That so (the body failing) lives fair spark  
Is safe, I'll clearly show if you but list to mark.   

21  
There be six Orders 'fore you do descend  
To this gay painted bow: Sols central spirit  
To the first place, to th' next we must commend  
His hid spread form, than his inherent light,  
The fourth his rays wherewith he is bedight,  
The fifth that glistering circle of the Moon,  
That goodly round full face all silver bright,  
The sixth be beams that from her visage shone;  
The seventh that gaudy bow that was so quickly gone.   

22  
The fluid matter was that dewy cloud,  
That failed as faithless Hyle wont to sail:  
New guest being come, the old she out doth crowd;  
But see how little Hyle did prevail,  
Or sad destruction in this deemed bale!  
Sols spirit, had form, fair light and outgone rays,  
The Moons round silver face withouten veil  
Do still remain, her beams she still displays,  
The cloud but melt, not lost, the bow only decays.   

23  
This number saits well with the Universe:  
The number's eight of the Orbs general,  
From whence things flow or wherein they converse,  
The first we name Nature Monadicall,  
The second height Life Intellectual,  
Third Psychicall, the fourth Imaginative,  
Fifth Sensitive, the sixth Spermaticall,  
The seventh be fading forms Quantitative,  
The eighth Hyle or Ananke perverse, coactive.   

24  
That last is nought but potentiality,  
Which in the lower creature causeth strife,  
Destruction by incompossibility  
In some, as in the forms Quantitative.  
All here depend on the Orb Unitive,  
Which also height Nature Monadicall;  
As all those lights and colours did derive  
Themselves from lively Phoebus' life central.  
Nought therefore but vain sensibles we see caducall.   

25  
And that the first Every-where-Unitie  
Is the true root of all the living creatures,  
As they descend in each distinct degree,  
That God's the sustentacle of all Natures;  
And though those outward forms and gaudy features  
May quail like rainbows in the roscid sky,  
Or glistering Parelies or other meteors;  
Yet the clear light doth not to nothing fly:  
Those six degrees of life stand sure, and never die.   

26  
So now we plainly see that the dark matter  
Is not that needful prop to hold up life;  
And though death's engines this gross bulk do shatter,  
We have not lost our Orb conservative,  
Of which we are a ray derivative.  
The body sensible so garnished  
With outward forms these inward do relieve,  
Keep up in fashion and fresh livelyhed;  
But this gross bulk those inward lives stands in no stead.   

27  
Nor can one inward form another slay,  
Though they may quell their present energy,  
And make them close contract their yielding ray  
And hide themselves in their centreity  
Till some friendly appulse doth set them free,  
And call them out again into broad day.  
Hence lives gush not in superfluity  
Into this world, but their due time do stay,  
Though their strong central essence never can decay.   

28  
In Earth, in Air, in the vast flowing Plain,  
In that high Region height Aethereal,  
In every place these Atom-lives remain,  
Even those that cleped are form●… seminal.  
But souls of men by force imaginall  
Easly supply their place, when so they list  
Appear in thickened Air with shape external  
Display their light and form in cloudy mist,  
That much it doth amaze the musing Naturalist.   

29  
Wherefore sigh life so strongly sealed is,  
Purge out fond thoughts out of thy weary mind,  
And rather strive that thou do nought amiss,  
Then God to blame and Nature as unkind  
When nought in them we blamable can find.  
When groaning ghosts of beasts or men depart,  
Their tender mother doth but them u●…ind  
From grosser setters, and more to ●…some smart.  
Blessed is the man that hath true knowledge of her Art.   

30  
And more for to confirm this mystery,  
She vanished in my presence into Air,  
She spread herself with the thin liquid sky;  
But I thereat fell not into despair  
Of her return, nor wailed her visage fair,  
That so was gone. For I was wo●…en strong  
In this belief, That nothing can empair  
The inward life, or its hid effenc●… wrong.  
O the prevailing might of a sweet learned tongue!   

31  
By this the Sun's bright waggon 'gan ascend  
The Eastern hill, and draw on cheerful day;  
So I full fraught with joy do homeward wend,  
And fed myself with that that Nymph did say,  
And did so cunningly to me convey,  
Resolving for to teach all willing men  
Life's mystery, and quite to chase away  
Mind-mudding mist sprung from low fulsome fen:  
Praise my good will, but pardon my weak faltering pen.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 1. Cant. 4.  

That Hyle or first matter's nought  
But potentiality;  
That God's the never-fading root  
Of all Vitality.   

1  
What I was wisely taught in that still Night,  
That Hyle is the potentiality  
Of God's dear Creatures, I embrace as right,  
And them nigh blame of deep idolatry  
That give so much to that slight nullity,  
That they should make it root substantial  
Of nimble life, and that quick entity  
That doth so strongly move things natural,.  
That life from hence should spring, that hither life should fall   

2  
That all that springs from hence should be resolved  
Into this mirksome source, first matter height,  
This muddy myst'rie they no'to well unfold.  
If it be only a bare passive might  
With Gods and Nature's goodly dowries dight,  
Bringing hid Naughts into existency,  
Or sleeping Somethings into wide daylight,  
Then Hyles plainly potentiality,  
Which doth not strait infer certain mortalitic.   

3  
For the immortal Angels do consist  
Of outgone act and possibility;  
Nor any other creature doth exist,  
Released from dreary death's necessity,  
If it potent●…alnesse so certainly  
Ensuen must. If substance actual  
They will avo●…ch this first matter to be,  
Fountain of forms, and prop fiducial  
Of all those lives and beings cleped Natural;   

4  
Then may it prove the sphere spermaticall,  
Or sensitive (if they would yield it life)  
Or that is next, the orb Imaginall,  
Or rather all these orbs; withouten strife  
So might we all conclude that their ●…elief  
And first existence from this sphere they drew:  
And so our adversaries, loath or lief,  
Must needs confess that all the lore was true  
Concerning life, that that fair Nymph so clearly show;   

5  
And that particular lives that beyborn  
Into this world, when their act doth dispear,  
Do cease to be no more than the snails ●…orn,  
That she shrinks in because she cannot bear  
The wanton boys rude touch, or heavy cheer  
Of stormi●… winds. The secundary light  
As su●…ely shineth in the heavens clear,  
As do the first fair beams of Phoebus' bright,  
Lasting they are as they, though not of so great might.   

6  
So be the efs●…uxes of those six orders,  
Unfading lives from fount of live●…ihood:  
Only what next to strifefull Hyle borders,  
Particular visibles deaths dreary●…ood  
Can seize upon. They pass like sliding flood.  
For when to this world's dregs lives downward high,  
They stroy one th' other in fell cankered mood,  
Beat back their rays by strong antipathy,  
Or some more broad-spread cause do choke their energy.   

7  
But to go on to that common conceit  
Of the first matter: What can substance do,  
Poor, naked substance, megre, dry, dull slight,  
Inert, unactive, that no might can show  
Of good or ill to either friend or so,  
All liveless, all formless? She doth sustain.  
And hath no strength that task to undergo?  
Besides that work is needless all in vain▪  
Each central form its rays with ease can well up-stayen.   

8  
What holds the earth in the thin fluid air?  
Can matter void of fixed solidity?  
But she like kindly nurse her forms doth cheer.  
What can be sucked from her dark dugs dry?  
Nor warmth, nor moistness, nor fast density  
Belong to her. Therefore ill nurse I ween  
She'll make, that neither hath to satisfy  
Young-craving life, nor firmness to susteen  
The burden that upon her arms should safely leen.   

9  
Therefore an useless superfluity  
It is to make Hyle substantial:  
Only let's term't the possibility  
Of all created beings. Lives central  
Can frame themselves a right compositall,  
While as they sitten soft in the sweet rays  
Or vital vest of the lives general,  
As those that out of the earth's covert raise  
Themselves, fairly provoked by warmth of sunny days.   

10  
And thus all accidents will prove the beams  
Of inward forms, their flowing energy;  
And quantity the extension of such streams,  
That goes along even with each quality.  
Thus have we dived to the profundity  
Of darkest matter, and have found it nought  
But all this world's bare Possibility.  
Nought therefore 'gainst life's durance can be brought  
From Hyles pit, that quenchen may that pleasant thought.     


THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 2. Cant. 1.  

Man's soul with beasts and plants I here  
Compare; Tell my chief end  
His immortality's to clear;  
Show whence gross errors wend.   

1  
BUt hitherto I have with fluttering wings  
But lightly hovered in the general,  
And taught the lasting durance of all springs  
Of hidden life. That life height seminal  
Doth issue forth from its deep root cent all,  
One only form entire, and no't●… advert  
What steals from it. Beast's life Fantastical  
Lets out more forms, and eke themselves convert  
To view the various fry from their dark wombs exert.   

2  
But man's vast soul, the image of its Maker,  
Like God that made it, with its mighty sway  
And inward Fiat (if he nould forsake he●…)  
Can turn sad darkness into lightsome day,  
And the whole creature 'fore itself display:  
Bid them come forth and stand before its sight,  
They strait slush out and her dread voice obey:  
Each shape each life doth leapen out full light,  
And at her beck return into their usual Night.   

3  
Of God himself here listeth to appear,  
Though not perforce yet of his own frank will  
Sheds his sweet life, dispreads his beauty clear,  
And like the Sun this lesser world doth fill,  
And like the Sun doth the foul Python kill  
With his bright darts, but cheereth each good spirit.  
This is the soul that I with presser quill  
Must now pursue and fall upon downright,  
Not to destroy but prove it of immortal might.   

4  
Nor let blind Momus dare my Muse backbite,  
As wanton or superfluously wise  
For what is past. She is but justly quit  
With Lucrece, who all souls doth mortalize:  
Wherefore she did them all immortalize.  
Besides in beasts and men th' affinity  
Doth seem so great, that without prejudice  
To many proofs for th' immortality  
Of humane Souls, the same to beasts we no'te deny.   

5  
But I herein no longer list contend.  
The two first kinds of souls I'll quite omit,  
And 'cording as at first I did intend  
Bestir me stiffly, force my feeble wit  
To rescue humane souls from deaths deep pit;  
Which I shall do with reasons as subtle  
As I can find: slight proofs cannot well fit  
In so great cause, nor fancies florid wile;  
I'll win no man's assent by a false specious guile.   

6  
I only wish that arguments exile  
May not seem nought unto the duller eye;  
Nor that the fatter fancy my lean style  
Do blame: it's fittest for philosophy.  
And give me leave from any energy  
That springs from humane soul my cause to prove,  
And in that order as they list to fly  
Of their own selves, so let them freely rove.  
That naturally doth come doth oft the stronger move.   

7  
Self-motion and central stability  
I have already urged in general;  
Als did right presly to our soul apply  
Those properties, who list it to recall  
Unto their minds; but now we'll let it fall  
As needless. Only that vitality,  
That doth extend this great Universal,  
And move th' inert materiality  
Of great and little worlds, that keep in memory.   

8  
And how the mixture of their rays may breed  
Th' opinion of uncertain quality,  
When they from certain roots of life do spreed;  
But their pure beams must needs ychanged be  
When that those rays or not be setten free  
Thinly dispersed, or else be closely meint  
With other beams of plain diversity,  
That causeth oft a strong impediment:  
So doth this body's life to the souls high intent.   

9  
The lower man is nought but a fair plant,  
Whose grosser matter is from the base ground;  
The Plastic might thus finely did him paint,  
And filled him with the life that doth a●…ound  
In all the places of the world around.  
This spirit of life is in each shapened thing,  
Sucked in and changed and strangely confound,  
As we conceive: This is the nourishing  
Of all; but spermall form, the certain shapening.   

10  
This is that strange-formed statue magical,  
That hover souls unto it can allure  
When it's right fitted; down those spirits fall  
Like Eagle to her prey, and so endure  
While that low life be in good temperature.  
That a dead body without vital spirit  
And friendly temper should a guest procure  
Of so great worth, without the dear delight  
Of joyous sympathy, no man can reckon right.   

11  
But here unlucky Souls do waxen sick  
Of an ill surfeit from the poisoned bait  
Of this sweet tree, yet here perforce they stick  
In weak condition, in a languid state.  
Many through ignorance do fond hate  
To be released from this imprisonmen●…,  
And grieve the walls be so nigh ruinate.  
They be bewitched so with the blandishment  
Of that fresh strumpet, when in love they first were meant.   

12  
Others disdain this so near unity,  
So far they be from thinking they be born  
Of such low parentage, so base degree,  
And flesh's foul attraction they do scorn,  
They be th' outgoings of the Eastern morn,  
Allied to God and his vitality,  
And pray to their first spring, that thus forlorn  
And left in mud, that he would set them free,  
And them again possess of pristine purity.   

13  
But seemeth not my Muse too hastily  
To soar aloft, that better by degrees  
Unto the vulgar man's capacity  
Might show the souls so high excellencies,  
And softly from all corporeities  
It heaven up unto its proper seat,  
When we have driven away gross falsities,  
That do assault the weaker men's conceit,  
And free the simple mind from fancies foul deceit.   

14  
The drooping soul so strongly's coloured  
With the long commerce of corporealls,  
That she from her own self awide is led,  
Knows not herself, but by false name she calls  
Her own high being, and what ere befalls  
Her grosser body, she that misery  
Doth deem her own: for she herself miscalls  
Or some thin body, or spread quality,  
Or point of quality, or fixed or setten free.   

29  
But whether thin spread body she doth deem  
Herself, dispersed through this grosser frame;  
Or doth herself a quality esteem,  
Or quaint complexion, streaming through the same;  
Or else some lucid point herself doth name  
Of such a quality, in chiefest part  
Strongly fixed down; or whether she doth claim  
More freedom for that point, in head nor heart  
Fast seated; yet, saith she, the body's brat thou art.   

16  
Thence thou arose, thence thou canst not depart:  
There die thou must, when thy dear nurse decays:  
But these false fancies I with reason smart  
Shall easily chase away, and the mind raise  
To higher pitch. O listen to my lays,  
And when you have seen fas●… sealed eternity  
Of humane souls, than your great Maker praise  
For his never fading benignity,  
And feed yourselves with thought of immortality.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 2: Cant. 2.  

Sense no good judge of truth: What's spirit,  
What body we descry:  
Prove from the souls inferior might  
Her incorp'reitie.   

1  
WHile I do purpose with myself to sing  
The souls incorporeitie, I fear  
That it a worse perplexity may bring  
Unto the weaker mind and duller ear;  
For she may deem herself 'stroyd quite and clear  
While all corporealls from her we expel:  
For she has yet not marked that higher sphere  
Where her own essence doth in safety dwell,  
But views her lower shade, like boy at brink of well;   

2  
Dotes upon sense, and its base energy,  
Busied about vain forms corporeal;  
Contemns as nought unseen exilities,  
Objects of virtue Intellectual,  
Though these of Substances be principal.  
But I to better hope would fainly lead  
The sunken mind, and cunningly recall  
Again to life that long hath liggen dead.  
Awake ye drooping souls! shake off that drousi head!   

3  
Why do you thus confide in sleepy sense,  
Ill judge of her own objects? who'll believe  
The eye contracting Phoebus' Orb immense  
Into the compass of a common sieve?  
If solid reason did not us relieve,  
The host of heaven always would idle stand  
In our conceit, nor could the Sun revive  
The nether world, nor do his Lords command.  
Things near seem further off; farst off, the nearst at hand.   

4  
The touch acknowledgeth no gustables;  
The taste no fragrant smell or stinking scent;  
The smell doth not once dream of audibles;  
The hearing never knew the verdant peint  
Of springs gay mantle, nor light from heaven sent  
That doth discover all that goodly pride:  
So that the senses would with zeal fervent  
Condemn each other, and their voice deride  
If mutually they heard such things they never tried.   

5  
But reason, that above the sense doth sit,  
Doth comprehend all their impressions,  
And tells the touch it's no fanatic sit  
That makes the sight of illustrations  
So stiffly talk upon occasions,  
But judgeth all their voices to be true  
Concerning their strait operations,  
And doth by nimble consequences show  
To her own self what those wise five yet never knew.   

6  
They never knew aught but corporealls:  
But see how reason doth their verdict rude  
Confute, by loosening materials  
Into their principles, as latitude  
Profundity of bodies to conclude.  
The term of latitude is breadthlesse line;  
A point the line doth manfully retrude  
From infinite process; site doth confine  
This point; take site away it's strait a spark divine.   

7  
And thus unloosed it equally respects  
The body's parts, not fixed to any one.  
Let't be diffused through all. Thus it detects  
The soul's strange nature, operation,  
Its independency, loose union  
With this frail b●…. So is this unity  
Great, but without that gross extension,  
Exceeding great in her high energy,  
Extended far and wide from her non-quantity.   

8  
If yet you understand not, let the soul,  
Which you suppose extended with this mass,  
Be all contract and close together roll  
Into the centre of the hearts compass:  
As the sun's beams that by a concave glass  
Be strangely strengthened with their straight constraint  
Into one point, that thence they stoutly pass,  
Fire all before them withouten restraint,  
The high arched roof of heaven with smouldry smoke they taint.   

9  
But now that grossness, which we call the heart,  
Quite take away, and leave that spark alone  
Without that sensible corporeal part  
Of humane body: so when that is gone,  
One nimble point of life, that's all at one  
In its own self, doth wonderfully move,  
Indispersed, quick, close with selfe-union,  
Hot, sparkling, active, mounting high above,  
In bigness nought, in virtue like to thundering Jove.   

10  
Thus maugre all th●… obmur●…urings of sense  
We have found an essence incorporeal,  
A shifting centre with circumference,  
But she not only sits in midst of all,  
But is also in a manner central  
In her outflowing lines. For the extension▪  
Of th' outshot rays circumferential  
Be not gone from her by distrought distension,  
Her point is at each point of all that spread dimension.   

11  
This is a substance truly spiritual,  
That reason by her glistering lamp hath shown:  
No such the sense in things corporeal  
Can ere find out. May this persuasion,  
O sunken souls, slaves of sensation,  
Rear up your heads and chase away all fear  
How (when by strong argumentation  
I shall you strip of what so doth appear  
Corporeal) that you to nought should vanish clear.   

12  
The naked essence of the body's this  
Matter extent in three dimensions  
(Hardness or softness be but qualities)  
Withouten self reduplications  
Or outspread circling propagations  
Of its own presence. This being's corporal,  
And what with this in such extension  
Singly's stretched out, is form material.  
Whether our soul be such we'll now bring unto trial.   

13  
If souls be bodies, or inanimate  
They be, or else endowed with life. If they  
Be liveless, give they life? if animate,  
Then tell me what doth life to them convey?  
Some other body? Here can be no stay.  
Strait we must ask whether that liveless be  
Or living. Then, what ' lives it. Thus we'll play  
Till we have forced you to infinity,  
And make your cheeks wax red at your Philosophy,   

14  
Again, pray tell me, is this body gross  
Or fluid, and thin you deem the soul to be?  
If gross, then either strongly it is crossed  
From entering some parts of th' outward body,  
And so they want their due vitality;  
Or if it penetrate this bulk throughout,  
It breaks and tears and puts to penalty  
This sorry carcase If't thin and fluid be thought,  
How pulls it up those limbs and again jerks them out?   

15  
Besides, if stretchen corporeity  
Longs to the soul, than Augmentation  
Must likewise thereto appertain. But see  
Th' absurdities that this opinion  
Will drag on with it: for effluxion  
Of parts will spoil the steady memory,  
And wash away all intellection,  
Deface the beauty of that imagery  
That once was fairly graven in her fantasy.   

16  
But oft when the weak body's worn and wasted  
And far shrunk in, the nimble fantasy  
(So far she's from being withered & blasted)  
More largely worketh, and more gli●…terandly  
Displays her spreaden forms, and cheerfully  
Pursues her sports. Again, the greater corpse  
Would most be filled with magnanimity:  
But oft we see the less hath greater force,  
To fight, or talk; the greater oft we se●… the worse.   

17  
All which if weighed well, must ill agree  
With body's natures, which merely consist  
In a dull, silent, stupid quantity,  
Stretching forth mirksome matter, in what list  
Or precincts no man knows. No Natura list  
Can it define, unless they add a form  
That easily curbs the thing that no'●…e resist,  
And after its own will can it inform.  
It still and stupid stands and thinks nor good nor harm.   

18  
The man is mad, that will at all agree  
That this is soul: Or if form bodily  
Non-replicate, extent, not setten free,  
But strait stretched out in corporeity  
(Betwixt these two there's that affinity)  
As little wit that man will seem to have.  
Which I shall plainly prove by th' energic  
Of sense, though that same force seem not so brave,  
Yet for the present I'll not climb to higher stave.   

19  
If souls be substances corporeal,  
Be they as big just as the body is?  
Or shoot they out to th' height Aethereal?  
(Of such extent are the sights energies)  
If they shoot out, be they equally transmisse  
Around this body? or only upward start?  
If round the body, Nature did amiss  
To lose her pains in half of the soul's part,.  
That part can finden nought that through the earth doth dart   

20  
Or will you say she is an hemisphere?  
But a ridiculous experiment  
Will soon confute it: list you but to rear  
Your agile heels towards the firmament,  
And stand upon your head; that part is bend  
Down through the earth, that erst did threat the sky:  
So that your soul now upward is extent  
No higher than your heels, yet with your eye  
The heavens great vastness as before you now descry.   

21  
You'll say, this souls thin spread exility  
Turns not at all. How doth it then depend  
Upon this body? It has no unity  
Therewith, but only doth of cur'sy lend  
It life, as doth the world's great lamp down send  
Both light and warmth unto each living wight;  
And if they chance to fail and make an end,  
It's nought to him, he shineth yet as bright  
As ere he did. This shows the soul immortal quite.   

22  
But if the soul be justly coextent  
With this strait body, nought can bigger be●…  
Than is our body, that she doth present;  
‛ 'Cording to laws of Corporeity  
So must she represent each realty.  
Thus tallest Giants would be oft defied  
By grovelling Pigmies: for they could not see  
The difference, nor meet his manly stride,  
Nor ween what matchless strength did in his arms reside.   

23  
For they must judge him just as their own selves  
Of the same stature, of the selfsame might;  
All men would seem to them their fellow Elves;  
Nor little curs would tremble at the sight  
Of greater dogs; nor hawks would put to slight  
The lesser birds. Th' impression of a seal  
Can be no larger than the wax; or right  
As big, or less it is. Therefore repeal  
This gross conceit, and hold as reason doth reveal.   

24  
Again, if souls corporeal you ween;  
Do the light images of things appear  
Upon the surface, slick, bright, smooth and sheen  
As in a lookingglasse? Or whether dare  
They pass the outside and venture so far  
As into the depth of the souls substance?  
If this; then they together blended are  
That nought we see with right discriminance:  
If that; the object gone, away those forms do glance.   

25  
Thus should we be devoid of memory,  
And be all darkness, till the good presence  
Of outward objects put in energy  
Our sleeping soul. But this experience  
Plainly confutes For even in their absence  
We do retain their true similitude:  
So lovers wont to maken dalliance  
With the fair shade their minds do still include,  
And wistly view the grace wherewith she is endued.   

26  
But now new reasons I will set on foot,  
Drawn from the common sense, that's not extense  
But like a centre that around doth shoot  
Its rays; those rays should be the outward sense  
As some resemble them. But by no pretence  
Would I the outward senses should be thought  
To act so in a spread circumference  
That the seat of their forms should be distrought,  
Or that by reach of quantities dead arms they wrought.   

27  
For see how little share hath quantity  
In act of seeing, when we comprehend  
The heavens vast compass in our straitend eye;  
Nor may the ox with the Eagle contend,  
Because a larger circle doth extend  
His slower lights. So that if outward sense  
In its low acts doth not at all depend  
On quantity, how shall the commonsense,  
That's far more spiritual, have thence l●…s dependence?   

28  
But still more presly this point to pursue;  
By th' smelling, odours; voices by the ear;  
By th' eye we apprehend the coloured hue  
Of bodies visible. But what shall steer  
The erring senses? where shall they compear  
In controversy? what the difference  
Of all their objects can with judgement clear  
Distinguish and discern? One commonsense;  
For one alone must have this great preeminence.   

29  
And all this one must know, though still but one;  
Elseed could not judge of all. But make it two;  
Then tell me, doth the soul by this alone  
Apprend this object that the sense doth show,  
And that by that; or doth it by both know  
Both objects? suppose this colour and that sound.  
If both knew both, than nature did bestow  
In vain one faculty, it doth redound:  
But if this that, that this, what shall them both compound,   

30  
And by comparison judge of them both?  
Therefore that judge is one. But whether one  
Without division, le●…s now try that troth.  
If it be any wise extent, you're gone  
By the same reason that afore was shown.  
Supposeed a line the least of quantity.  
Or sound is here, there colour, or each one  
Of the lines parts receive them both. If we  
Grant that, again we find a superfluity.   

31  
If this part this, and that part that receive,  
We are at the same loss we were afore,  
For one to judge them both, or we bereave  
Our souls of judgement. For who can judge more  
Than what he knows? It is above his power.  
Therefore it's plain the common sense is one,  
One individed faculty. But store  
Of parts would breed infinite confusion,  
When every part might claim proper sensation.   

32  
If not, nor all could exercise the Act  
Of any sense. For could a power of sense  
Arise from stupid parts that plainly lacked  
That might themselves. Thus with great confidence  
We may conclude that th' humane souls essence  
Is indivisible, yet every where  
In this her body. 'Cause th' intelligence  
She hath of whatsoever happens here:  
The aching foot the eye doth view, the hand doth cheer.   

34  
What tells the hand or head the toes great grief,  
When it alone is pinched with galling shoes?  
Do other parts not hurt call for relief  
For theirown fellow? Ill messenger of woes  
That grieveth not himself. Can they disclose  
That misery without impression  
Upon themselves? Therefore one spirit goes  
Through all this bulk, not by extension  
But by a total self-reduplication.   

35  
Which neither body, nor dispersed form,  
Nor point of form dispersed e'er could do:  
And bodies life or spirit for to transform  
Into our soul, though that might this undo,  
But yet so rash conceit to yield unto  
Cannot be safe: for if it propagate.  
It's self and 'tis passions, yet they free may go  
Unmarked, if sense would not them contemplate.  
So doth the mundane spirit not heeded circulate.   

35  
Besides, if from that spirit natural  
The nurse of plants, you should dare to assert  
That lively inward Animadversall  
To springen out, it would surely invert  
The order of the orbs from whence do start  
All several beings and of them depend.  
Therefore the orb Fantastic must exert  
All life fantastical; sensitive send  
The life of sense; so of the rest unto each end.   

36  
There's nought from its own self can senden forth  
Ought better than itself. So nought gives sense  
That hath not sense itself, nor greater worth  
Than sense, nor sense, nor better springs from thence.  
Nor that which higher is can have essence  
Less active, less reduplicate, less free,  
Less spiritual, then that's amoved from hence,  
And is an orb of a more low degree.  
Wherefore that central life hath more activity,   

37  
And present is in each part totally  
Of this her body. Nor we ought diffide,  
Although some creatures have vitality,  
And stir and move when we have them divide  
And cut in twain. Thus worms in sturdy pride  
Do wrigge and wrest their parts divorced by knife;  
But we must know that Nature's womb doth hide  
Innumerable treasures of all life;  
And how to breaken out upon each hint they strive.   

38  
So when the present actual central life  
Of sense and motion is gone with one part  
To manage it, strait for the due relief  
Of th' other particle there up doth start  
Another central life, and tries its art:  
But it cannot reign long, nor yet recure  
That deadly wound. The plantall lives depare,  
And flitten or shrunk spirit, that did procure  
Her company, being lost, make her she'll not endure.   

39  
And so at last is gone, from whence she came,  
For soon did fade that sweet allurement,  
The plantall life, which for a while d●…d flame  
With sympathetick fire, but that being spent  
Strait she is flown. Or may you this content?  
That some impression of that very soul  
That's gone, if gone, with plantall spirit meint  
The broken corpse thus busily may roll.  
Long 'tis till water boiled doth stranger heat control.   

40  
Thus have we proved 'cording to our insight  
That humane souls be not corporcall  
(With reasons drawn from the sensitive might)  
Nor bodies, nor spread forms material,  
Whether you substances list them to call  
Or qualities, or point of these. I'll bring  
Hereafter proofs from power rational  
In humane souls, to prove the self something.  
Mount up aloft, my Muse, and now more shrilly sing.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 2: Cant. 3.  

The souls incorporeitie  
From powers rational  
We prove; Discern true piety  
From bitterness and gall.   

1  
LIke Carpenter entered into a wood  
To cut down timber for some edifice  
Of stately structure, whiles he casts abroad  
His curious eye, he much perplexed ●…s  
(There stand in view so many goodly trees)  
Where to make choice to enter his rugged saw:  
My Muse is plunged in like perplexities,  
So many arguments themselves do show,  
That where to pitch my wavering reigned doth yet scarce know.   

2  
One taller than the rest my circling eye  
Hath hit upon, which if't be sound at heart  
Will prove a goodly piece to raise on high  
The heavenly structure of that deemed part  
Of man, his soul, and by unerring art  
Set his foundation 'bove the bodies frame  
On its own wheels, that it may thence depart  
Entire, unhurt. So doth the Scythian swain  
Drive his light moving house on the waste verdant plain.   

3  
I'll sing of piety, that now I mean  
That Trismegist thus wisely doth define,  
Knowledge of God. That's piety I ween,  
The highest of virtues, a bright beam divine  
Which to the purer soul doth sweetly shine.  
But what's this beam? and how doth it enlight?  
What doth it teach? It teacheth to decline  
Self-love, and frampard ways the hypocrite  
Doth trample in, accloyed with dirt and dismal night.   

4  
Not rage, nor mischief, nor love of a sect,  
Nor eating irefulness, harsh cruelty  
Contracting Gods good will, nor conscience checked  
Or choked continually with impiety,  
Faustered and fed with hid hypocrisy;  
Nor tyranny against perplexed minds,  
Nor forced conceit, nor man-idolatrie,  
All which the eye of searching reason blinds,  
And the souls heavenly flame in dungeon darkness binds.   

5  
Can wars and jars and fierce contention,  
Swollen hatred, and consuming envy spring  
From piety? No. 'Tis opinion  
That makes the riven heavens with trumpets ring,  
And thundering engine murderous balls out-sling,  
And send men's groaning ghosts to lower shade  
Of horrid hell. This the wide world doth bring  
To devastation, makes mankind to fade:  
Such direful things doth false religion persuade.   

6  
But true religion sprung from God above  
Is like its fountain full of charity,  
Embracing all things with a tender love,  
Full of good will and meek expectance,  
Full of true justice and sure verity,  
In heart and voice; free, large, even in finite,  
Not wedged in strait particularity,  
But grasping all in its vast, active spirit,  
Bright lamp of God that men would joy in thy pure light!   

7  
Can souls that be thus universalised,  
Begot into the life of God ere die?  
(His light is like the sun that doth arise  
Upon the just and unjust) can they sly  
Into a nothing? and hath God an eye  
To see himself thus wasted and decay  
In his true members? can mortality  
Seize upon that that doth itself display  
Above the laws of matter, or the body's sway?   

8  
For both the body and the body's spirit  
Doth things unto particulars confine,  
Teaching them partial friendship and fell spite.  
But those pure souls full of the life divine  
Look upon all things with mild friendly cyne  
Ready to do them good. Thus is their will  
Sweetly spread out, and ever doth incline  
The bent of the first Goodness to fulfil.  
Ay me! that dreary death such lovely life should spill!   

9  
Besides this largeness in the will of man  
And winged freeness, now let's think upon  
His understanding, and how it doth scan  
Gods being, unto whom religion  
Is consecrate. Imagination  
That takes its rise from sense so high ascent  
Can never reach, yet intellection  
Or higher gets, or at least hath some sent  
Of God, vaticinates, or is parturi●…nt.   

10  
For ask it whether God be this or that,  
A body infinite, or some mighty spirit,  
Yet not almighty, it condemns such chat;  
Whether all present, or in some place pight,  
Whether part here part there, or every whit  
In every point, it likes that latter well:  
So that its plain that some kind of insight  
Of Gods own being in the soul doth dwell,  
Though what God is we cannot yet so plainly tell.   

11  
As when a name lodged in the memory,  
But yet through time almost obliterate,  
Confusely hovers near the fantasy:  
The man that's thus affected bids relate  
A catalogue of names. It is not that,  
Saith he, nor that; that's something like to it,  
That nothing like, that's lik'st of all I wot,  
This last you named it's not like that a whit;  
O that's the very name, now we have rightly hit.   

12  
Thus if't be lawful lest things to compare  
With greatest, so ourselves affected be  
Concerning Gods high essence: for we are  
Not ignorant quite of this mystery,  
Nor clearly apprehend the Deity,  
But in mid state, I call't parturient,  
And should bring forth that live Divinity  
Within ourselves, if once God would consent  
To show his specious form and nature eminent:   

13  
For here it lies like colours in the night  
Unseen and unregarded, but the sun  
Displays the beauty and the gladsome plight  
Of the adorned earth, while he doth run  
His upper stage. But this high prize is won  
By curbing sense and the selfseeking life  
(True Christian mortification)  
Thus God will his own self in us revive,  
If we to mortify our straightened selves do strive.   

14  
But can aught bodily God's form receive?  
Or have it in its self potentially?  
Or can aught sprung of this base body have  
Itself so high as to the Deity  
To clamber? strive to reach infinity?  
Can aught born of this carcase be so free  
As to grasp all things in large sympathy?  
Can lives corporeal quite loosened be  
From their own selves, cashiering their centreitie?   

15  
These all ill suit with corporeity:  
But do we not amiss with stroke so strong  
All to dispatch at once? needed we fly  
So high at first? we might have chose among  
The many arguments that close do throng  
And tender their own selves this cause to prove,  
Some of a meaner rank, and then along  
Fairly and softly by degrees to move.  
My Muse ken no such pomp, she must with freedom rove   

16  
And now as chance her guides, compendiously  
The heads of many proofs she will repeat,  
Which she lists not pursue so curiously,  
But leaves the reader his own brains ●…o beat,  
To find their fuller strength. As the souls meat,  
Of which she feeds, if that she feed at all;  
She is immortal if she need not eat;  
But if her food prove to be spiritual,  
Then can we deem herself to be corporeal?   

17  
The souls most proper food is verity  
Got and digest by Contemplation.  
Hence strength, enlargement, and activity  
She finds, as doth this bulk by infusion  
Of grosser meats and drinks (concoction  
Well perfected) the body is strong by these;  
The soul by reasons right persuasion:  
But that truth's spiritual we may with ease  
Find out: For truth the soul from bodies doth release.   

18  
Next argument let be abstraction,  
When as the soul with notion precise  
Keeps off the corporal condition,  
And a naked simple essence doth devise  
Against the law of Corporeities,  
It doth divest them both of time and place,  
And of all individualities,  
And matter doth of all her forms uncase.  
Corporeal wight such subtle virtue never has.   

19  
Now shall the indivisibility  
Of the souls virtues make an argument.  
For certainly there's no such quality  
Resideth in a body that's extent:  
For, tell me, is that quality straight penned  
Within a point of that corporeal?  
Or is it with some spreaden part distent?  
If in a point, then longs it not at all  
To th'body: in spread part? then 'tis extentionall.   

20  
But that some virtue's not extentionall  
May thus be proved. Is there no science  
Of numbers? Yes. But what is principal  
And root of all: have we intelligence  
Of Unities? Or else what's sprung from thence  
We could not know: what doth the soul then frame  
Within herself? Is that Idea extense?  
Or indivisible? If not: we'll blame  
The soul of falsehood, and continual lying shame.   

21  
Again, if we suppose our intellect  
Corporeal, then must we all things know  
By a swift touch: what? do we then detect  
The truth of bigness, when one point doth go  
Of our quick mind? (It need not be o'reslow  
For infinite parts be found in quantity)  
Or doth it use its latitude? If so  
Remember that some things unspreaden be,  
How shall it find them out? Or if't use both we'll see.   

22  
That both be unsufficient I prove.  
A point cannot discern loos●… unity  
Freed from all site. That latitude must move  
On all the body that it doth descry.  
So must it be upstretched unto the sky  
And rub against the stars, surround the sun  
And her own parts to every part apply,  
Then swiftly fridge about the pallid moon:  
Thus both their quantities the mind hath strangely won.   

23  
Add unto these, that the soul would take pains  
For its destruction while it doth aspire  
To reach at things (that were her woeful gains)  
That be not corporal, but seated higher  
Above the body's sphere. Thus should she tyre  
Herself to 'stroy herself. Again, the mind  
Receives contrary forms. The feverish fire  
Makes her cool brooks and shadowing groves to find  
Within her thoughts, thus hot and cold in one she binds.   

24  
Nor is she changed by the susception  
Of any forms: For thus herself contraire  
Would be unto herself. But Union  
She than possesseth, when heat and cold are  
Together met: They meet withouten jar,  
Within our souls. Such forms they be not true  
You'll say. But of their truth lest you despair,  
Each form in purer minds more perfect hue  
Obtains, than those in matter we do daily view.   

25  
For there, they're mixed, soiled and contaminate,  
But truth doth clear, unweave, and simplify,  
Search, sever, pierce, open, and disgregate  
All ascititious clogging; then doth eye  
The naked essence and its property.  
Or you must grant the soul cannot define  
Aught right in things; or you must not deny  
These forms be true that in herself d●… shine:  
These be her rule of truth, these her unerring line.   

26  
Bodies have no such properties. Again,  
See in one cluster many arguments  
Comprised: She multitudes can close constrain  
Into one nature. Things that be fluent,  
As flitting time, by her be strait retent  
Unto one point; she joins future and past,  
And makes them steady stand as if present:  
Things distant she can into one place cast:  
Calls kinds immortal, though their singulars do waste.   

27  
Upon herself she strangely operates,  
And from herself and by herself returns  
Into herself; thus the soul circulates.  
Do bodies so? Her axletree it burns  
With heat of motion. This low world she spurns,  
Raiseth herself to catch infinity.  
Unspeakable great numbers how she turns  
Within her mind, like evening missed the eye  
Discerns, whose muddy atoms 'fore the wind do fly.   

28  
Stretcheth out time at both ends without end,  
Makes place still higher swell, often creates  
What God ne'er made, nor doth at all intent  
To make, free phantasms, laughs at future fates,  
Foresees her own condition, she relates  
Th' all comprehension of eternity,  
Complains she's thirsty still in all estates,  
That all she sees or has no'te satisfy  
Her hungry self, nor fill her vast capacity.   

29  
But I'll break off; My Muse herself forgot,  
Her own great strength and her foes feebleness,  
That she her name by her own pains may blot,  
While she so many strokes heaps in excess,  
That fond gross fancy quite for to suppress  
Of the souls corporal'ty. For men may think  
Her adversaries strength doth thus her press  
To multitude of reasons, makes her swink  
With weary toil, and sweat out thus much forced ink:   

30  
Or that she loves with trampling insultations  
To domineer in easy victory.  
But let not men dare cast such accusations  
Against the blameless. For no mastery,  
Nor fruitless pomp, nor any verity  
Of that opinion that she here destroys  
Made her so large. No, 'tis her jealousy  
Against witching falsehood that weak souls annoys,  
And oft doth choke those cheering ho●…es of lasting joys.     


THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 3. Cant. 1.  

The souls free independency;  
It's dreary dreadful state  
In hell; Its tricentreity:  
What brings to heaven's gate.   

1  
WEll said that man, whatever man that was,  
That said, What things we would we strait believe  
Upon each slight report to have come to pass:  
But better he, that said, Slow faith we give  
To things we long for most▪ Hope and fear rive  
Distracted minds, as when nigh equal weights  
Cast on the trembling scales, each ●…ug and strive  
To pull the other up. But the same sleights  
By turns do urge them both in their descents and heights:   

2  
Thus waves the mind in things of greatest weight;  
For things we value most are companied  
With fear as well as hope: these stiffly fight.  
The stronger hope, the stronger fear is fed;  
One mother both and the like livelyhead,  
One object both, from whence they both do spring,  
The greater she, the greater these she bred,  
The greater these, the greater wavering  
And longer time to end their sturdy struggling.   

3  
But is there any thing of more import  
Than the souls immortality? Hence fear  
And hope we striving feel with strong effort  
Against each other; That nor reason clear  
Nor sacred Oracles can strait down bear  
That sturdy rascal, with black fantasies  
Clad, and clouded with dread dismal cheer;  
But still new mists he casts before our eyes,  
And now derides our proved incorporeities,   

4  
And grinning saith, That labour's all in vain.  
For though the soul were incorporeal,  
Yet its existence to this bulk restrain,  
They be so nearly linked, that if one fall  
The other fails. The ear nor hears our call  
In stooping age, nor eye can see aught clear;  
Benumbing palfies shake the body's wall,  
The soul hath lost its strength and cannot steer  
Its crazy corpse, but staggering on reels here and there.   

5  
So plain it is (that though the soul's a spirit,  
Not corporal) that it must needs depend  
Upon this body, and must perish quite  
When her foundation falls. But now attend  
And see what false conceits vain fears do send.  
'Tis true, I cannot write without a quill,  
Nor ride without an horse. If chance that rend  
Or use make blunt, o're-labouring this kill,  
Then can I walk not ride, not write but think my fill   

6  
Our body is but the souls instrument;  
And when it fails, only these actions cease  
That thence depend. But if new eyes were sent  
Unto the aged man with as much ease  
And accurateness, as when his youth did please  
The wanton lass, he now could all things see.  
Old age is but this fading bulks disease:  
The soul from death and sickness standeth free:  
My hackney fails, not I; my pen, not sciency.   

7  
But as I said, of things we do desire  
So vehemently we never can be sure  
Enough. Therefore, my Muse, thou must aspire  
To higher pitch, and fearful hearts secure  
Not with slight fancy but with reason pure,  
Evincing the souls independency  
Upon this body that doth her imn ure,  
That when from this dark prison she shall fly  
All men may judge her rest in immortality.   

8  
Therefore I'll sing the tricentreity  
Of humane souls, and how they wake from sleep,  
In which ywrapt of old they long do lie  
Contract with cold, and drenched in Lethe deep,  
Hugging their plantall point. It makes me weep  
Now I so clearly view the solemn Spring  
Of silent Night, whose Magic dew doth steep  
These drowsy souls of men, whose dropping wing  
Keeps off the light of life, and blunts each fiery sting.   

9  
Three centres hath the soul; One plantall height:  
Our parents this revive in nuptial bed.  
This is the principle that hales o●… Night,  
Subjects the mind unto dull drow siehead:  
If we this follow, thus we shall be led  
To that dark straightness that did bind before  
Our sluggish life: when that is s●… riveled  
Into its sunken centre, we no more  
Are conscious of life: what can us then restore?   

10  
Unless with fiery whips fell Nemesis  
Do lash our sprights, and cruelly do gore  
Our groaning ghosts; this is the way, I wisse,  
The only way to keep's from Morpheus' power.  
Both these so dismal are that I do shower  
Uncessant tears from my compassionate eyes:  
Alas! ye souls! why should or s●…eep devour  
Sweet functions of life? or hellish cries  
To tender heart resound your just calamities?   

11  
Thus may you all from your dead drow finesse  
Be waked by inward sting and pinching woe,  
That you could wish that that same heaviness  
Might ever you o'represse, and Lethe flow  
Upon your drowned life. But you shall glow  
With urging fire, that doth resuscitate  
Your middle point, and makes itself to gnaw  
Itself with madness, whileed doth ruminatc  
On its deformity and sterile vexing state.   

12  
Continual desire that nought effects,  
Perfect hot glowing fervour out to spring  
In some good world: With fury it affects  
To reach the Land of life, then struck with sting  
Of wounding memory, despairs the thing,  
And further off it sees itself, the more  
It rageth to obtain: thus doth she bring  
More fuel to her flame that scorched sore  
With searching fire, she's forced to yell and loudly roar.   

13  
Thus she devours herself, not satisfies  
Herself, nought hath she but what's dearly spun  
From her own bowels, jejune exilties:  
Her body's gone, therefore the rising sun  
She sees no more, nor what in day is done,  
The sporting air no longer cools her blood,  
Pleasures of youth and manhood quite are gone,  
Nor songs her ear, nor mouth delicious food  
Doth fill. But I'll have this more fully understood.   

14  
Three centres hath man's soul in Unity  
Together joined; or if you will, but one.  
Those three are one, with a Triplicity  
Of power or rays. Th' highest intellection,  
Which being waked the soul's in Union  
With God. If perfectly regenerate  
Into that better world, corruption  
Hath then no force her bliss to perturbate.  
The low'st do make us subject to disturbing fate.   

15  
But low'st gins first to work, the soul doth frame  
This body's fabric, employed in one long thought  
So wholly taken up, that she the same  
Observeth not, till she quite hath wrought.  
So men asleep some work ●…o end have brought  
Not knowing of it, yet have found it done:  
Or we may say the matter that she taught  
And sucked unto herself to work upon  
Is of one warmth with her own spirit, and feels as one.   

16  
And thus the body being the souls work  
From her own centre so entirely ●…ade,  
Seated i'th' heart, for there this spirit doth lurk,  
It is no wonder 'tis so easily swayed  
A●… its command. But when this work shall fade,  
The soul dismisseth it as an old thought.  
'Tis but one form; but many be displayed  
Amid her higher rays, dismissed, and brought  
Back as she list, and many come that ne'er were sought.   

17  
The soul by making this strange edifice  
Makes way unto itself to exercise  
Functions of life, and still more waked is  
The more she has perfected her fine devise,  
Hath wrought herself into sure sympathies  
With this great world. Her ears like hollow caves  
Resound to her own spirit the energies  
Of the world's spirit. If it ought suffered have,  
Then presentifick circles to her strait notice gave.   

18  
We know this world, because our soul hath made  
Our body of this sensible world's spirit  
And body. Therefore in the glassy shade  
Of our own eyes (they having the same might  
That glass or water hath) we have the sight  
Of what the Mundane spirit suffereth  
By colours, figures, or inherent light:  
Sun, stars, and all on earth it hur●…eth  
To each point of itself so far as't circuleth.   

19  
And where it lighteth on advantages,  
Its circuling grow sensible. So hills  
That hollow be do audible voices  
Resound. The soul doth imitate that skill  
In framing of the ear, that sounds may swell  
In that concavity. The crystal springs  
Reflect the light of heaven, if they be still  
And clear; the soul doth imitate and bring  
The eye to such a temper in her shapening.   

20  
So eyes and ears be not mere perforations,  
But a due temper of the Mundane spirit  
And ours together; else the circulations  
Of sounds would be well known by outward sight,  
And th'ear would colours know, figures and light.  
So that it's plain that when this body's gone,  
This world to us is closed in darkness quite,  
And all to us is in dead silence drown.  
Thus in one point of time is this world's glory flown.   

21  
But if't be so, how doth Psyche hear or see  
That hath nor eyes nor ears? She sees more clear  
Than we that see but secundarily.  
We see at distance by a circular  
Diffusion of that spirit of this great sphere  
Of th'Universe: Her sight is tactuall.  
The sun and all the stars that do appear  
She feels them in herself, can distance all,  
For she is at each one purely presential.   

22  
To us what doth diffusion circular,  
And our pure shadowed eyes, bright, crystalline,  
But vigorously our spirit particular.  
Affect, while things in it so clearly shine?  
That's done continually in the heaven's sheen.  
The sun, the moon, the earth, blew-glimmering hell,  
Scorched Aetna's bowels, each bulk you can divine  
To be in Nature, every darn cell  
With fire-eyed dragons, or what else therein doth dweil:   

23  
These be all parts of the wide world's excess,  
They be all seated in the Mundane spirit,  
And show just as they are in their bigness  
To her. But circulation shows not right  
The magnitude of things: for distant site  
Makes a deficience in these circuling.  
But all things lie ope-right unto the sight  
Of heavens great eye; their thin shot shadowings  
And lightened sides. All this we find in Nature's springs.   

24  
The worlds great soul knows by Protopathie  
All what befalls this lower spirit; but we  
Can only know't by De●…eropathie,  
At least in sight and hearing. She doth see  
In our own eyes, by the close unity  
Of ours and the world's life, our passion,  
Plainly perceives our idiopathy,  
As we do hers, by the same union;  
But we cannot see hers in that perfection.   

25  
Fresh varnished groves, tall hills, and gilded clouds  
Arching an eielid for the glaring morn,  
Fair clustered buildings which our sight so crowds  
At distance, with high spires to heaven yborn,  
Vast plains with lowly cottages forlorn  
Rounded about with the low wayering sky,  
Cragged vapours, like to ragged rocks ytorn,  
She views those prospects in our distant eye:  
These and such like be the first centres mystery.   

26  
Or if you will the first low energy  
Of that one centre, which the soul is height,  
Which knows this world by the close unity  
Concorporation with the Mundane spirit,  
Unloosed from this she wants a certain light,  
Unless by true regeneration  
She be incorporate with God, unite  
With his own spirit; so a new mansion  
Sh'has got, oft sook with deepest suspiration.   

27  
But robbed of her first clothing by hard fate,  
If she fall short of this, woe' mel what pains  
She undergoes? when this lost former state  
So kindled hath life's thirst, that still remains.  
Thus her eternity her nothing gains  
But hungry flames, raging voracity  
Feeding on its own self. The heavens she stains  
With execrations and foul blasphemy.  
Thus in foul discontent and smothering fire they frie.   

28  
Vain man that strivest to have all things at will!  
What wilt thou do in this sterility?  
Whom canst thou then command? or what shall fill  
Thy gaping soul? O depth of misery!  
Prepare thyself by deep humility:  
Destroy that fretting fire while thou art here,  
Forsake this world's bewitching vanity,  
Nor death nor hell then shalt thou need to fear.  
Kill and cast down thyself, to heaven God shall thee rear.   

29  
This middle central essence of the soul  
Is that which still survives asleep or waking:  
The life she shed in this gross earthly moul  
Is quite shrunk up, lost in the bodies breaking,  
Now with slight phantasms of her own fond making  
She's clad (so is her life dry and jejune)  
But all flit souls be not in the same taking:  
That state this life's proportion doth tune,  
So as thou livest here, such measure must ensuen.   

30  
But they whose souls deiform summitie  
Is wakened in this life, and so to God  
Are nearly joined in a firm Unity  
(This outward body is but earthy clod  
Digested, having life transfused abroad,  
The world's life and our lower vitality  
Unite in one) their souls have their abode  
In Christ's own body, are eternally  
One with our God, by true and strong community.   

31  
When we are clothed with this outward world,  
Feel the soft air, behold the glorious Sun,  
All this we have from meat that's daily hurled  
Into these mouths. But first of all we won  
This privilege by our first union  
With this world's body and diffused spirit.  
I'th' higher world there's such communion:  
Christ is the sun that by his c●…earing might  
Awakes our higher rays to join with his pure light.   

32  
And when he hath that life elici●…ed,  
He gives his own dear body and his blood  
To drink and eat. Thus daily we are fed  
Unto eternal life. Thus do we bud,  
True heavenly plants, suck in our lasting food  
From the first spring of life, incorporate  
Into the higher world (as erst I showed  
Our lower rays the soul to subjugate  
To this low world) we fearless sit above all fate,   

33  
Safely that kingdom's glory contemplate,  
O'erflow with joy by a full sympathy  
With that world's spirit, and bless our own estate,  
Praising the fount of all felicity,  
The lovely light of the blessed Deity.  
Vain mortals think on this, and raise your mind  
Above the body's life; strike through the sky  
With piercing throbs and sighs, that you may find  
His face. Base fleshly fumes your drowsy eyes thus blind.   

34  
So hath my Muse according to her skill  
Discovered the soul in all her rays,  
The lowest may occasionate much ill,  
But is indifferent. Who may dispraise  
Dame Nature's work? But yet you ought to raise  
Yourselves to higher state. Eternity  
Is the souls rest, and everlasting days:  
Aspire to this, and hope for victory.  
I further yet shall prove her immortality.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 3. Cant. 2.  

From many arguments we show  
The independency  
Of humane souls: That all lives flow  
From a free Deity.   

1  
THree apprehensions do my mind divide  
Concerning the souls preexistencie,  
Before into this outward world she glide,  
So hath my Mule with much uncertainty  
Expressed herself, so as her fantasy  
Strongly enacted guides her easy pen;  
I nought obtrude with sour anxiety,  
But freely offer hints to wiser men.  
The wise from rash assent in darksome things abstain.   

2  
Or souls be well awake but hover,  
Not fixed to aught, but by a Magic might  
Drawable here and there, and so their wing  
Struck with the steem of this low Mundane spirit  
May lower flag and take its stooping flight  
Into some plantall man, new edified  
By its own plastic point. Or else (deep Night  
Drawn on by drooping fancy) it doth slide  
Into this world, and by its self that skill is tried;   

3  
Makes to itself this fleshly habitation;  
For this world's spirit hath provoked these rays:  
Then drown in sleep it works that efformation  
Of its own body, all its parts displays,  
As doth the senseless plant. The two next ways  
Are these: A real tricentreitie.  
First centre ever wakes, unmoved stays,  
Height Intellect. The next in sleep doth lie  
Till the last centre burst into this open sky.   

4  
And then the middle wakes. But the last way  
Makes but one centre, which doth sleep likewise  
Till its low life hath reached this world's glad day.  
A fourth we'll add that we may all comprise.  
Take quite away all preexistencies  
Of humane souls, and grant they're then first made  
When they begin this body's edifice,  
And actually this outward world invade.  
None of these ways do show that they must ever fade.   

5  
The first way might be well occasioned  
By what we feel in the souls energies.  
She works sometime as though she quite had fled  
All commerce with this bulks vitalities,  
Yet falls she down at last and lowly lies  
In this base mansion, is so close contract  
That sleep doth seize her actualities,  
Retains no memory of that strange fact,  
Nor of herself that soared in that high heavenly tract.   

6  
The second way that makes the soul tricentrall,  
The highest awake, the other with sleep drowned,  
May spring from hence. None would vouchsafe the entrall  
Into this life, if they were but once bound  
To that vast cintre where all things are found,  
Height Intellect. The lowest is not awake,  
Therefore the midst lies close in sleep upwound.  
Three centres made, that souls may quite forsake  
This base world when union with the lowest they break.   

7  
Again, because this body's fashioned  
Without our knowledge, reason doth suggest  
That it could no wise be thus figured  
From our own centre, and yet we not pressed  
To any adversion. Therefore we are dressed  
With this gross clothing by some plantall spirit  
Centred in Nature. So that glorious vest  
The Deiform intellect not by our own might  
Is made, But we have rays which each of these will fit.   

8  
Ardent desire, strong breathing after God,  
At length may work us to that better place,  
Body or clothing, that high sure abode  
That searching weather nor time can deface.  
But to go on in our proposed race,  
The third and fourth way have the same foundation,  
Not multiplying beings to surpass  
Their use. What needs that numerous closed centration,  
Like wasteful sand ytossed with boisterous inundation?   

9  
Let wiser clerks the truth dare to define  
I leave it lose for men to muse upon  
View at their leisure: But yet this call mine;  
Though we should grant the souls condition  
Before its deep incorporation  
Into dull matter to be nothing more  
But bare potentiality, yet none  
Can prove from thence that it must fade therefore,  
When to its earth this earth the trusty fates restore.   

10  
For though she and her body be at once,  
Yet of her body she doth not depend  
But it of her: she doth its members branch,  
Pierce, bind, digest, and after makes it wend  
At her own will, when she hath brought to end  
Her curious work, and hath consolidate  
Its tender limbs which erst did feebly bend  
Through weakness; then this world she contemplates,  
And life still blazing higher seeks an heavenly state.   

11  
Breathes after the first fountain of all life,  
Her sweet creator, thither doth aspire,  
Would see his face, nor will she cease this strife  
Till he fulfil her thirsty fierce desire:  
Nothing can quench this so deep rooted fire  
But his own presence. So she 'gins despise  
This body's pleasures, ceaseth to admire  
Aught fair or comely to these outward eyes:  
Or if she do, from hence she higher doth arise.   

12  
But can she higher rise then her own head?  
Therefore her spring is God: thence doth she penned,  
Thence did she flow, thither again she's fled.  
When she this life hath lost, and made an end  
Of this low earthly course, she doth ascend,  
Unto her circles ancient Apogie  
Lifted aloft, not again to descend,  
Nor stoups nor sets that sun, but standeth free  
On never shaken pillars of Eternity.   

13  
But still this truth more clearly to evince,  
Remember how all things are from one light,  
It shall thy reason forceably convince  
That nought but God destroys a central spirit.  
If he sucks in his beams, eternal night  
Seizeth upon that life, that it no'te flow  
In energy, and hath no being quite  
But Gods own power. He lets his breath out go,  
The selfsame things again so easily doth he show.   

14  
Let be noon day, the welk in clear, the moon  
I'th' nether world, reflecting the sun's rays  
To cheer the irksome night. Well! That being done,  
Call out some wondrous might, that listlesse stays  
In slower fancies. Bided break all delays;  
Surround with solid dark opacity  
The utmost beams that Phoebus' light displays,  
Softly steal on with equal distancy,  
Till they have close clapped up all his explendency.   

15  
All's now in darkness: tell me, what's become  
Of that infinity of rays that shone?  
Were 2. centres from whence out did come  
Other faint beams? what be they all quite flone?  
All perished quite? You stiflers now be gone.  
Let fall that smoring mantle. Do not strait  
All things return? The nether world the moon,  
The sun enlightens us. The self fame light  
Now shines, that shone before this deep and dismal night.   

16  
If not the same. Then like to flowing stream  
You deem the light that passeth still away,  
New parts ever succeeding. The sunne-beam  
Hath no reflection then, if it decay  
So fast as it comes forth: Nor were there day;  
For it would vanish 'fore it could arrive  
At us. But in a moment Sol doth ray.  
One end of his long shafts than we conceive  
At once both touch himself and down to us do dive.   

17  
Beside, this air is not the sustentation  
Of spreaden light; for then as it did move  
The light would move. And sturdy conflictation  
Of struggling winds, when they have fiercely striven,  
Phoebus' fair golden locks would rudely move  
Out of their place; and eastern winds at morn  
Would make more glorious days, while light is driven  
From that bright quarter: southern blasts do burn  
From midday sun, but yet northwinds like light have born.   

18  
What then must be the channel of this river,  
If we'll have light to flow as passing stream?  
So plain it is that Nature doth dissever  
The light and th' air, that those bright sunny beams  
Be not upheld by it, as the warm gleems  
Or heat that lodgeth there. From this firm might  
Nought leaning on the air, well may we're deem  
Some subtle body, or some grosser spirit  
Depending of fair Phoebus, of no other wight.   

19  
And when these rays were forced to retire  
Into their fountain, they were not so gone  
But that the same sprung out from their first fire.  
So fine spun glittering silk crumpled in one  
Changeth not ' ●…s individuation  
From what it was, when it was gaily spread  
In fluttering winds to th' admiration  
Of the beholder. Thus is nought so dead  
But God can it restore to its old livelyhead.   

20  
For all the creature's but the out gone-rayes  
Of a free sun, and what I meaned most  
Of him alone depend. He deads' their blaze  
By calling in his breath. Though things be tossed  
And strangely changed, yet nought at all is lost  
Unless he list. Nor then so lost but he  
Can them return. In every thing compost  
Each part of th' essence its centreity  
Keeps to itself, it shrinks not to a nullity.   

21  
When that compounded nature is dissolved,  
Each centre's safe, as safe as second light  
Or driven into the sun, or thence out-roled.  
So all depend on th' Universal spirit  
From height to depth, as they are ranked right  
In their due orders. Life's full pregnancy  
Breaks out when friendly sympathy doth smite.  
The higher rank the higher enegie,  
From nature's lowly lap to God's sublimity:   

22  
But well may man be called the epitome  
Of all things. Therefore no low life him made.  
The highest holds all in his capacity.  
Therefore man's soul from Gods own life outrayed,  
His outgone Centre's on that centre stayed.  
What disadvantage then can the decay  
Of this poor carcase do, when it doth fade?  
The soul no more depends on this frail clay,  
Then on our eye depends bright Phoebus' glistering ray.   

23  
But in this argument we'll no longer stay,  
Consider now the souls conversion  
Into itself. Nought divisible may  
Close with itself by revolution.  
For then or part in this reflection  
Is driven into a part, or part to th' whole,  
Or whole to part, or near compression  
The whole into the whole doth closely roll.  
But easily all these ways right reason will control.   

24  
If part turn into part, part into whole,  
Whole into part, the thing doth not convert  
Into itself; the thing itself is all  
Not part of't self: if all to all revert,  
Each part then into each part is insert.  
But tell me then how is their quantity  
If every part with each part is refert?  
Thus swallowed up, they'll have no distancy;  
So you destroy supposed divirsibilitie.   

25  
Wherefore that thing is individuous  
What ever can into itself reflect,  
Such is the soul as hath been proved by us  
Before, and further now we do detect  
By its four wheels: The first height Intellect,  
Wherewith she drives into her Nature deep  
And finds it out; next Will, this doth affect  
Herself found out. Herself then out doth peep  
Into these acts, she into both doth easily creep.   

26  
But this conversions from the body free;  
Begins not thence, nor thither doth return:  
Nor is the soul worse than its energy,  
If in its acts it be far higher born  
Than they should penned on this base bulk forlorn:  
Then also she hath no dependency  
Upon this body, but may safely scorn  
That low condition of servility,  
And blame all that aver that false necessity.   

27  
If she should issue from this nether spring,  
Nearer she kept to her original  
She were the stronger, and her works would bring  
To more perfection; but alas! they fall  
They fail by near approach. The best of all  
Wax weak and faint by too close union  
With this foul fount. Might intellectual  
Grows misty by this straight conjunction;  
The will is waxed weak, its vigour quite is gone.   

28  
But O! how oft when she herself doth cut  
From nearer commerce with the low delight  
Of things corporeal, and her eyes doth shut  
To those false fading lights, she feels her spirit  
Filled with excessive pleasure, such a plight  
She finds that it doth fully satisfy  
Her thirsty life. Then reason shines out bright,  
And holy love with mild serenity  
Doth hug her harmless self in this her purity.   

29  
What grave monitions and sure prophecy  
Have men in sickness left? a true testation  
Of the souls utter independency  
On this poor crazy corpse. May that narration  
Of Aristotle's move easy persuasion  
Of his Eudemus, to whom sic●… at Fere  
While sleep his senses bound, this revelation  
A gentle youth did bring with goodly cheer,  
And jolly blithe deportment, chasing needless fear.   

30  
Told him that sickness would not mortal prove,  
He should grow well e'er long, but deaths dread power  
On that towns tyrant should be shortly drove,  
Swift vengeance on his cursed head should shower:  
Both proved true. I could in plenty pour  
Such like examples, as of Pherecyde,  
Calanus, him of Rhodes, and others more;  
But it is needless, 'tis a truth well tried,  
The higher works the soul the more it is untied.   

31  
Then quite set loose from this bulks heavy chain  
She is in happiest plight, so far she is  
From being nought or perishing. Again,  
We find such utter contrarieties  
Betwixt the bodies and her energies,  
That we can no ways think she pends at all  
Of that with which she has such repugnancies.  
What thing doth fight with its Original?  
The spring and stream be always homogeneal.   

32  
But the high heavenborn soul sprung out from Jove  
Ever is clashing with the foolery  
Of this dull body, which the sense doth love,  
And erring fancy. It were long to try  
In every thing: O how 'twould magnify  
The height of pleasures that fall under sense.  
This well described would-prove its Deity.  
A vast round body clothed with th' excellence  
Of glorious glistering light through the wide air extense,   

33  
Bravely adorned with divers colours gay,  
Even infinite varieties that shine  
With wondrous brightness, varnished with the ray  
Of that clear light, with motion circuline  
Let turn about and stir up sounds divine,  
That sweetly may affect th' attentive ear.  
Add fragrant odours wast with gentle wind,  
Add pleasant taste, soft touch to Venus' dear;  
This is the bodies God, this is its highest sphere.   

34  
But from far higher place and brighter light  
Our reason checks us for this vanity,  
Calls to us, warns us that that empty sight  
Led not our soul unto Idolatry,  
Make us not rest in easy falsity.  
If thou be stirred up by working sire  
To search out God, to find the Deity.  
Take to thyself not what thine eyes admire  
Or any outward sense, or what sense can desire.   

35  
Behold a light far brighter than the Sun!  
The Sun's a shadow if you them compare,  
Or gross Cimmerian mist; the fairest Noon  
Exceeds not the meridian night so far  
As that light doth the Sun. So perfect clear  
So perfect pure it is, that outward eye  
Cannot behold this inward subtle star,  
But indisperst is this bright Majesty,  
Yet every where out shining in in finitie;   

36  
Unplaced, unparted, one close Unity,  
Yet omnipresent; all things, yet but one;  
Not streaked with gaudy multiplicity,  
Pure light without discolouration,  
Stable without circumvolution,  
Eternal rest, joy without passing sound:  
What sound is made without collision?  
Smell, taste, and touch make God a gross compound;  
Yet truth of all that's good is perfectly here found.   

37  
This is a riddle unto outward sense:  
And heavy fancy, that can rise no higher  
Than outward senses, knows no excellence  
But what those five do faithfully inspire  
From their great god, this world; nor do desire  
More than they know: wherefore to consopite  
Or quench this false light of bold fancies fire,  
Surely must be an act contrary quite  
Unto this body's life, and its low grovelling spirit.   

38  
Wherefore the body's not original  
Of humane soul when it doth thus resist  
That principle: which still more clearly shall  
Be proved. Oft when either drowsy mists  
Provoke to sleep, or worst of senses lists  
To ease its swelling veins, or stomach craves  
Its wont food, that it too long hath missed,  
Or our dry lungs cool liquor fain would have,  
Or when in war our heart suggests the fear of grave:   

39  
Yet high desire of truth, and deep insight  
Into God's mystery makes us command  
These low attractions; and our countries right  
Bids march on bravely, stout and stiffly stand  
In bloody fight, and tri't by strength of hand.  
Thus truth and honesty so sway our will,  
That we no longer doubt to break the band  
Of lower Nature, and this body kill  
Or vex, so we the Laws of reason may fulfil.   

40  
This proves the soul to sit at liberty,  
Not wedged into this mass of earth, but free  
Unloosed from any strong necessity  
To do the bodies dictates, while we see  
Clear reason shining in serenity,  
Calling above unto us, pointing to  
What's right and decent, what doth best agree  
With those sweet lovely Ideas that do show  
Some glimpse of their pure light. So Sol through clouds doth flow.   

41  
How oft do we neglect this body's life,  
And outward comely plight, for to adorn  
Our soul with virtuous ornaments? and strive  
To fat our mind with truth, while it's forlorn,  
Squalid, half-nasty, pallid, wan, deform?  
Can this desire from the base body spring?  
No sure such brave achievements be yborn  
Within the soul, tend to her perfecting,  
See th' independent mind in herself circuling!   

42  
Best plight of body hinders such like acts.  
How doth she then upon the body penned?  
To do those subtle, high, pure, heavenly facts?  
What? doth the Sun his rays that he out-sends  
Smother or choke? though clouds that upward wend  
May raised be by him, yet of those clouds  
That he doth congregate he no'te depend.  
Nor doth the soul that in this flesh doth crowd  
Herself rely on that thick vapour where she's shroud.   

43  
But still to prove it clearer: If the mind  
Without the body's help can operate  
Of its own self, than nothing can we find  
To scruple at, but that souls separate  
Safely exist, not subject unto fate,  
Nothing depending on their carcases,  
That they should fade when those be ruinate:  
But first perpend well both their energies,  
That we may better see their independencies.   

44  
The living body where the soul doth 'bide  
These functions hath, fancy, sense, memory.  
How into sense these outward forms do glide  
I have already told. Vitality  
And presentisick circularity  
Is spread through all: there is one Mundane spirit  
And body, vital corporality  
We have from hence. Our souls be counite  
With the world's spirit and body, with these herself she has dight.   

45  
Our body struck by evolution  
Of outward forms spread in the world's vast spirit,  
Our listening mind by its adversion  
Doth notice take, but nothing is empight  
In it. Of old God's hand did all forms write  
In humane souls, which waken at the knock  
Of Mundane shapes. If they were naked quite  
Of innate forms, though heaven and earth should rock  
With roaring winds, they'd hear no more than senseless stock.   

46  
Phansy's th' impression of those forms that flit  
In this low life: They oft continue long,  
When as our spirit more potently is hit  
By their incursions and appulses strong.  
Like heated water, though a while but hung  
On fiercer fire, an hot impression  
Long time retains; so forms more stoutly flung  
Against our spirit make deep insculption;  
Long time it is till their clear abolition.   

47  
Hence springeth that which men call memory,  
When outward object doth characterise  
Our inward common spirit; of when that we  
From our own soul stir up clear fantasies  
Which be our own elicited Idees,  
Springing from our own contrall life, by might  
Of our strong Fiat as oft as we please,  
With these we seal that under grosser spirit,  
Make that our notebook, there our choicest notions write.   

48  
But sigh it is not any part of us,  
But longeth unto the great world, it must  
Be changed; for course of time voraginous  
With rapid force is violently just,  
Makes each thing pay with what it was intrust.  
The common life sucks back the common spirit,  
The body backward falls into the dust;  
It doth it by degrees. Hence fancy, sight,  
And memory in age do not their functions right.   

49  
Often disease, or some hard casualty  
Doth hurt this spirit, that a man doth lose  
The use of sense, wit, fancy, memory;  
That hence rash men our souls mortal suppose  
Through their rude ignorance; but to disclose  
The very truth, our soul's in safety  
In that distemper, that doth ill dispose  
Her under spirit. But her sad misery  
Is that so close she's tied in a prone Unity.   

50  
Leans on this bodies false vitality,  
Seeks for things there, not in herself nor higher,  
Extremely loves this body's company,  
Trusts in its life, thither bends her desire.  
But when it 'gins to fail, she's left i'th' mire.  
Yet hard upon us hangs th' Eternal light  
The ever-live Idees, the lamping fire  
Of lasting Intellect, whose nearness might  
Illumine, were our minds not lost in that frail spirit.   

51  
That spirit and we are plain another thing:  
Which now I'll clearly show that we may see  
Our independence on its existing,  
Which I must prove by either's energy.  
That spirit hath no preceptibilitie  
Of her impressions: Fantasy nor sense  
Perceive themselves; often with open eye  
We look upon a man in our presence,  
And yet of that near object have no cognoscence.   

52  
And so of Fancies that be fresh enough,  
Even deeply sealed upon that lower spirit,  
Unless we seek them out and pierce them through  
With aiming animadversion, they in night  
Do lurk unknown to us, though they be bright  
In their own selves. Again, some object may  
In its great vigour, lustre, swaying might  
This spirit wound by its fierce riving ray;  
Our sight is hurt by th' eye of the broad blazing day.   

53  
Beside the senses each one are restrained  
To its own object: so ●…s Phantasie.  
That in the spirits compass is contained;  
As likewise the low natural memory.  
But sooth to say, by a strong sympathy  
We both are moved by these, and these do move.  
As the light spider that makes at a fly,  
Herself now moves the web she subtly wove,  
Moved first by her own web, when here the fly did rove.   

54  
Like spider in her web, so do we sit  
Within this spirit, and if ought do shake  
This subtle loom we feel as it doth hit;  
Most part into adversion we awake,  
Unless we chance into ourselves betake  
Ourselves, or listen to the lucid voice  
Of th'intellect, which these low tumults slake:  
But our own selves judge of what ere accloyes  
Our muddied mind, or what lifts up to heavenly joys.   

55  
All the five senses, Fancy, Memory,  
We feel their work, distinguish and compare,  
Find out their natures by the subtlety  
Of sifting reason. Then they objects are  
Of th' understanding, bear no greater share  
In this same act then objects wont to do.  
They are two realties distinguished clear▪  
One from the other, as I erst did show.  
She knows that spirit, that sprigh▪ our soul can never know.   

56  
Sense, Fancy, Memory, as afore was said  
Be hurt by stronger objects, or be spoilt  
By longer exercise: Our soul ne'er fades,  
But doth its spirit commiserate long toiled  
With agitation, when it feels it moild  
Descends to comfort it, and gives it rest;  
But she grows quicker, vaster, never foiled  
With contemplations that this spirit molest:  
The inward soul's renewed as cannot be expressed.   

57  
How soul and spirit be severed we see,  
But how't works by itself is not yet shown;  
I mean without this sprights assistencie,  
Though not quite by its self. High light doth crown  
Its summitie, when sleep that spirit doth drown  
Wrapped into highest heavens in ecstasy  
It sees such things as would low life confound,  
Enrage with a tumultuous agony,  
Burst this penned spirit for want of fit capacity.   

58  
Then it is joined with the Eternal Idees,  
Which move our souls as sights do here below:  
Joined with the spirit of God we gaze on these,  
As by the Mundane spirit th' outworld we know.  
Our soul hangs 'twixt them both, and there doth go  
Where either spirit doth snatch her. Either raise  
Her inward forms, which leap out nothing-slow  
When sympathy them calls. Thus she displays  
Her inward life, God's light views with her wakened rays.   

59  
When we confute a pregnant falsity  
Clothed with strong phantasms in our snared mind,  
As this suppose, The earth's stability,  
What help can we in our low fancy find,  
Possessed of this impression? what shall bind  
This stubborn falsehood so inveterate?  
That spirit so stiffly set can't be inclined  
By aught but by the soul that contemplates  
Truth by herself, brings out her forms that be innate?   

60  
Flies she to sense? sense pleads for Ptolemee?  
Flies she to her low fancy? that's so swayed  
By sense, and fore-imprest Astronomy  
By botched inculcate paradigmes made  
By senses dictate, that they'll both persuade  
That Philolaus and wise Heraclide  
Be frantic both, Copernicus twice mad.  
She cannot then this question well decide  
By aught but her own forms that in herself reside.   

61  
Which she calls out unto her faithful aid,  
Commands deep silence to fond fantasy,  
Whose odious prating truth I o'th' oft betrayed,  
And in its stead brought in rash falsity,  
Seated in sour inert stupidity.  
Then farewell sense, and what from sense hath sprung,  
Saith she, I'll contemplate in purity,  
And quit myself of that tumultuous throng:  
What then she finds shall be unfold in my next song.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 3. Cant. 3.  

That th' earth doth move, proofs Physical  
Unto us do descry;  
Add reasons Theosophicall,  
Als' ' add Astronomy.   

1  
Blessed souls first Authors of Astronomy!  
Who clomb the heavens with your high reaching mind,  
S●…al'd the high battlements of the lofty sky,  
To whom compared this earth a point you find;  
Your bodies less, what measure hath defined?  
What art that mighty vastness? Such high facts  
The ancient Giants swollen with raging wind  
Could not effect. A subtle Parallax,  
A dark Eclipse do quite obscure their braving acts.   

2  
O the great might of man's high Fantasy!  
That with a shade or a divided line,  
That nought, this but a thin exility,  
Can do far more than strength enraged with tine,  
Hoisted with haughty pride. That brood combine  
To clamber up to heaven. Hill upon hill,  
Ossa upon Olympus doth recline:  
Their brawny arms redoubled force doth fill,  
While they their spirits summon t' effect their furious will?   

3  
But all in vain they want the inward skill▪  
What comes from heaven only can there ascend.  
Not rage nor tempest that this bulk doth fill  
Can profit aught, but gently to attend  
The souls still working, patiently to bend  
Our mind to sifting reason, and clear light,  
That strangely figured in our soul doth wend  
Shifting its forms, still playing in our sight,  
Till something it present that we shall take for right.   

4  
The busy soul it is that thither hent  
By strength of reason, the true distancies  
Of the erring Planets, and the vast extent  
Of their round bodies, without outward eyes  
Hath viewed, told their proportionalities,  
Confounded sense by reasons strange report  
(But wiser he that on reason relies  
Then stupid sense low-sunken into dirt)  
This weapon I have got none from me may extort▪   

5  
O you stiff-standers for aged Ptolemee,  
I heart'ly praise your humble reverence  
If willingly given to Antiquity;  
But when of him in whom's your confidence,  
Or your own reason and experience  
In those same arts, you find those things are true  
That utterly oppugn our outward sense,  
Then are you forced to sense to bid adieu,  
Not what your sense gainsays to holden strait untrue.   

6  
Though contraire unto sense, though it be new  
(But sooth to say th' earth●… motion is of tried  
Antiquity, as I above did show:  
In Philolaus and in Heraclide  
Those subtle thoughts of old did close reside)  
Yet reason ought to bear away the bell.  
But ireful ignorance cannot abide  
To be outtopd, reproachfully 'twill yell,  
Calls mad, when it's own self doth with foul fury swell.   

7  
But let them bark like band-dogs at the moon,  
That mindless passeth on in silencie:  
I'll take my flight above this outward sun,  
Regardless of such fond malignity,  
Life myself up in the Theology  
Of heavenly Plato. There I'll contemplate  
The Archtype of this sun, that bright Idee  
Of steady Good, that doth its beams dilate  
Through all the worlds all lives and beings propagate.   

8  
But yet in words to tried I will deign  
A while: They may our mind fitly prepare  
For higher flight; we larger breath may gain  
By a low hover. These words they are  
All found in that old Oracle of Clare.  
That heavenly power which jao height  
The highest of all the Gods thou mayst declare,  
In spring named Zeus, in summer Helios bright,  
In autumn called jao, Aides in brumal night.   

9  
These names do plainly denotate the sun,  
In Spring called Zeus, from life or kindly heat;  
In winter, 'cause the days so quickly done,  
He Aides height, he is not long in sight;  
In Summer, 'cause he strongly doth us smite  
With his hot darts, than Helios we him name  
From Eloim or Eloah so height;  
In Autumn Jao, Jehovah is the same:  
So is the word depraved by an uncertain fame.   

10  
So great similitude 'twixt Phoebus' light  
And God, that God himself the Nations deem  
The sun. The learned Seventy have boldly pight  
A tent therein for the true Eloim,  
The sensible Deity you'll reckon him,  
If Hermes words bear with you any sway,  
Or if you Christian Clerks do ought esteem,  
In David's odes they make Gods Christ a day;  
His father's then the sun from whence this light doth ray.   

11  
Then by all the wide world's acknowledgement,  
The sun's a type of that eternal light  
Which we call God, a fair delineament  
Of that which Good in Plato's school is height,  
His T'agathon with beauteous rays be dight,  
Let's now consult with their Theology,  
And that Idea with our inward sight  
Behold, cashiering sensibility  
Then in clear reason view this correspondency.   

12  
One steady Good, centre of essencies,  
Unmoved Monad, that Apollo height,  
The Intellectual sun whose energies  
Are all things that appear in vital light,  
Whose brightness passeth every creatures sight,  
Yet round about him stirred with gentle fire  
All things do dance; their being, action, might,  
They thither do direct with strong desire,  
To embosomed him with close embracements they aspire.   

13  
Unseen, incomprehensible he moves  
About himself each seeking entity  
That never yet shall find that which it loves.  
No finite thing shall reach infinity,  
No thing dispersed comprend that Unity,  
Yet in their ranks they seemly foot it round,  
Trip it with joy at the world's harmony  
Struck with the pleasure of an amorous stound,  
So dance they with fair flowers from unknown root ycrownd.   

14  
Still falling short they never fail to seek,  
Nor find they nothing by their diligence;  
They find repast, their lively longings eke  
Kindled, continued, by timely influence.  
Thus all things in distinct circumference  
Move about him that satisfies them all.  
Nor be they thus stirred up by wary sense  
Or foresight, or election rational,  
But blindly reel about the heart of lives central.   

15  
So doth the earth one of the erring seven  
Wheel round the fixed sun, that is the shade  
Of steady Good, shining in this out-heaven  
With the rest of those stars that God hath made  
Of base matter, all which be arrayed  
With his far-shining light. They sing for joy,  
They frisk about in circuling unstay'd,  
Dance through the liquid air, and nimbly toy- cloy.  
While Sol keeps clear their spirit, consumes what may ac-   

16  
Better the Indigent be moved, than He  
That wanteth nought: He fills all things with light  
And kindly heat: through his fecundity  
Peoples the world; by his exciting spirit  
Wakens the plants, calls them out of deep night.  
They thrust themselves into his fostering rays,  
Stretch themselves forth stirred by his quickening might.  
And all the while their merry roundelays  
(As lightsome fancies deem) each Planet sprightly plays.   

17  
But sooth to say that sound so subtle is  
Made by percussion of th' ethereal fire  
Against our air (if it be not transmisse  
By its exility,) that none ought admire  
That we no'te hear what well we might desire  
Heaven's harmony. ' 'Cording to others lear  
The sound's so big that it cannot retire  
Into the windings of a mortal ear;  
So cannot the Egyptian Niles Catadupa bear.   

18  
There ought to be certain proportion  
Betwixt the object and the outward sense.  
Rash man that dost infer negation  
From thy dead ear, or non-experience.  
Then let them dance and sing, raise influence  
From lively motion, that preserves their spirit  
From foul corruption: motion's the best fence  
To keep off filth in children of cold Night,  
Whose life is in dull matter; but the sun's all Light.   

19  
Therefore full safely he may steady stoned,  
Unmoved, at least not removed out of place.  
I'll not deny but that he may turn round  
On his own centre. So the steps we'll trace  
Of Essence, Plato's On, which steady stays  
And moves at once, that same jao height  
In that old Clarian Oracle, that says  
It is the sun. This answer will aright  
To jehova or first essence, as Plato school deseryed.   

20  
That same first Being, Beauty, Intellect,  
Turns to his father (of whom he was born)  
In a brief instant. But who can detect  
Such hidden mysteries? back mine eyes I'll turn,  
Lest in this light like fluttering moth I burn.  
Enough is shown of correspondency  
'twixt this world's sun and centre of hid Morn,  
The radiant light of the deep Deity.  
Thus have I fairly proved the sun's stability.   

21  
Then must the earth turn round, or we want day,  
Or never be in night. Now I'll descend  
Clothed with this truth. As wrathful dogs do bay  
At spectres solemn Cynthia doth send;  
So now I backward to the senses wend:  
They'll bark at th' shape of my disguised mind,  
As stranger wights, they wrathfully will rend  
This uncouth habit. They no such thing find  
Amongst their domestic forms, to whom they are more kind.   

22  
And weaker reason which they want misguide  
Will deem all this nothing mysterious,  
But my strong-winged Muse feebly to slide  
Into false thoughts and dreams vertiginous,  
And plainly judge us waxed furious,  
Thus in our rage to shake the stable earth,  
Whirling it round with turns prodigious;  
For it doth steadfast stand as it appear'th  
From the unshaken buildings it so safely bear'th.   

23  
If it should move about, then would it sting  
From of itself those fair extructed loads  
Of carved stone: The air aloud would sing  
With brushing trees: Beasts in their dark abodes  
Would brained be by their own caves; th' earth strewed  
With strange destruction. All would shattered lie  
In broken shivers What mad frantic mood  
Doth thus invade wary Philosophy,  
That it so dotes on such a furious falsity?   

24  
But still more subt'lie this cause to pursue,  
The clouds would always seem to rise from th' East,  
Which sense and oft-experience proves untrue;  
They rise from all the quarters, South, North, West,  
From every part, as Aeolus thinketh best.  
Again the earth's sad stupid gravity  
Unfit for motion shows its quiet rest.  
Lastly an arrow shot unto the sky  
Would not return unto his foot that let it fly.   

25  
Add unto these that contrariety  
Of motion, when as the self same things  
At the same time do back and forward high:  
As when for speed the rider fiercely dings  
His horse with iron heel, lays the loose strings  
Upon his neck, westward they swiftly scour,  
When as the earth, finishing her daily rings,  
Doth eastward make with all her might and power,  
She quite hath run her stage at end of twice twelve hours.   

26  
These and like fancies do so strongly tie  
The slower mind to ancient Ptolemee,  
That shameful madnesseed were for to deny  
So plain a truth as they deem this to be.  
But yet, alas! if they could stand free  
From prejudice, and heavy swaying sense  
That dims our reason that it cannot see  
What's the pure truth, enough in just defence  
Of Pythagore we find though with small diligence,   

27  
One single truth concerning unity  
Of sprights and bodies, how one spirit may  
Enact a various Corporeity,  
Keep't up together and its might display  
Through all the bulk, make't constantly obey  
The powerful dictates of that central spirit,  
Which being one can variously play:  
This lore if we but once had learnt aright,  
All what was brought against us would vanish at first sight.   

28  
For that Magnetic might doth so combine  
Earth, Water, Aire, into one Animate,  
Whose soul or life so sweetlyed doth incline,  
So surely, easily, as none can relate  
But he that's exercised in every state  
Of moving life. What? Can the plastic spirit  
So variously it and its bulk dilate,  
Downward to hell upward to heaven bright,  
And strangely figured leaves and flowers send into sight?   

29  
Can one poor single Centre do all this  
In a base weed that suddenly decays?  
And shall not the earth's life that is transmisse  
Through sea and air, and with its potent rays  
Informs all this (all this on that life stays)  
Shall't not obtain the like variety  
Of inward ruling motion? Your minds raise,  
O sluggish men! single centrality  
You'll find shall do, what ever's admit by fantasy.   

30  
Now see if this clear apprehension  
Will not with ease repel each argument  
Which we rehearsed with an intention  
For to refute. The earth's swift movement,  
Because 'tis natural not violent,  
Will never shatter buildings. With strait line  
It binds down strongly each partic'larment  
Of every edifice. All stones incline  
Unto that Centre; this doth stoutly all combine.   

31  
Nor is less natural that circular motion,  
Then this that each part to the centre drives:  
So every stone on earth with one commotion  
Goes round, and yet with all right stiffly strives  
To reach the centre, though it never dives  
So deep. Who then so blind but plainly sees  
How for our safety Nature well contrives,  
Binding all close with down-propensities?  
But now we'll frame an answer to the loud-singing trees.   

32  
Walls, towers, trees, would stir up a strange noise,  
If th' air stood still, while the earth is hurled round.  
As doth the switch oft shaked by idle boys  
That please themselves in varying of the sound.  
But this objection we with reason sound  
Have well prevented, while we plainly taught  
Earth, water, air in one to be fast bound  
By one spermatick spirit, which easily reached  
To each part: Earth, sea, air so powerfully hath it caught.   

33  
All these as one round entire body move  
Upon their common Poles; that difficulty  
Of stirring sounds, so clearly we remove.  
That of the clouds with like facility  
We strait shall chase away. In th' air they lie  
And whirl about with it, and when some wind  
With violence afore him makes them fly,  
Then in them double motion we find,  
Eastward they move, and whither by those blasts they're inclined.   

34  
What they pretend of the Earth's gravity,  
Is nought but a long taken up conceit:  
A stone that downward to the earth doth hy  
Is not more heavy than dry straws that jet  
Up to a ring made of black shining jet.  
Each thing doth tend to the loud-calling might  
Of sympathy. So 'tis a misconceit  
That deems the earth the only heavy weight.  
They ken not the strange power of the strong central spirit   

35  
Were there a shiver cut from off the Moon  
And cast quite off from that round entire mass,  
will't fall into our mouths? No, it would soon  
Make back to th' centre from whence forced it was:  
The same in Mars and Sol would come to pass,  
And all the stars that have their proper centres.  
So gravity is nought but close to press  
Unto one Magic point, there near to enter;  
Each sympathetick part doth boldly it adventure.   

36  
Thus in each starry globe all parts may tend  
Unto one point, and mean time turn around;  
Nor doth that sway its circling ought offend:  
These motions do not at all confound  
One th' others course. The earth's not heavy found,  
But from that strong down-pulling central sway,  
Which hinders not but that it may turn round,  
Sith that it moves not a contrary way.  
Which answer I will bend against the fifth assay:   

37  
An arrow shot into the empty air,  
Which strait returning to the bowmans' foot,  
The earth's stability must proven clear.  
Thus these bad archers do at random shoot,  
Whose easy error I do thus confute.  
The arrow hath one spirit with this sphere,  
Forced upward turns with it, moved by the root  
Of natural motion. So when backed doth bear  
Itself, still Eastward turns with motion circular.   

38  
So 'tis no wonder when it hath descended  
It falleth back to th' place from whence itflew,  
Sith all this while its circular course hath bended  
Toward the East, and in proportion due  
That arcuall Eastern motion did pursue:  
Nearer the earth the slower it must go;  
These Arks be less, but in the heavens blew  
Those Arks increase, it must not be so slow.  
Thus must it needs return unto its idle bow.   

39  
Nor ought we wonder that it doth conform  
Its motion to the circles of the air,  
Sith water in a wooden bucket born  
Doth fit itself unto each periphere,  
By height or depth, as you shall change the sphere.  
So lowly set more water 't will contain,  
'Cause its round tumour higher than doth bea●…  
Itself up from the brims. So may't be say  
The lowlier man the larger graces doth obtain.   

40  
But now to answer to the last objection,  
'tis not impossible one thing to move  
Contrary ways, which by a fit retection  
I strongly will evince and clearly prove.  
Take but the pains higher for to remove  
A clock with hanging plummet. It goes down  
At that same time you heave it high above  
Its former place. Thus fairly have we won  
The field against stupid sense, that reason fain would drown.   

41  
Now let's go on (we have well cleared the way)  
More plainly prove this seeming paradox  
And make this truth shine brighter than midday,  
Neglect dull sconces mows and idle mocks.  
O constant hearts, as stark as Thracian rocks,  
Well grounded in grave ignorance, that scorn  
Reasons sly force, its light slight subtle strokes.  
Sing we to these waste hills, darn, deaf, forlorn,  
Or to the cheerful children of the quick-eyed Morn?   

42  
To you we sing that live in purer light,  
Escaped the thraldom of down-drooping sense,  
Whose nimble spirit and clear piercing sight  
Can easily judge of every conference  
Withouten prejudice, with patience  
Can weigh the moments of each reason brought  
While others in tempestuous vehemence  
Blow all away with bitter blasts. Untought  
In subtleties, they show themselves in jangling stout.   

43  
I have the barking of bold sense confuted,  
It's clamorous tongue thus being consopite,  
With reasons easy shall I be well suited,  
To show that Pythagore's position's right.  
Copernicks, or whosoever dogmaed height.  
The first is that that's wisely signified  
By Moses Maymons son, a learned wight,  
Who saith each good Astronomer is tied  
To lessen the heaven's motions vainly multiplied,   

44  
And the foul botches of false feigned Orbs:  
Whose useless number reason must restrain,  
That oft the loose luxuriant fancy curbs,  
And in just bounds doth warily contain:  
To use more means than needs is all in vain.  
Why then, O busy sons of Ptolemee!  
Do you that vast star-bearing sphere constrain  
To hurl about with such celerity,  
When th' earth may move without such strange velocity?   

45  
What needless phansies this that that huge sphere  
In one short moment must thus whirl around,  
That it must fly six hundred thousand shear  
Of German miles. If that will not confound,  
For pomp add forty thousand more, that ' bound;  
Three thousand more, if it were requisite,  
You might annex, and more, if they have found  
The measure right; when as the earth's flow flight  
In that time, of a mile goes but the sixteenth bit.   

46  
But if this All be liquid, pervious,  
One fine Ethereal (which reason right  
Will soon admit: for 'tis ridiculous  
Thus for to stud the heaven with nails bright,  
The stars in fluid sky will standen tied,  
As men do feign the earth in the soft air  
To be unmoved) How will proportion fit?  
So vast a difference there doth appear  
Of motions in those stars that the same bigness bear.   

47  
Besides that difficulty will remain  
Of unconceivable swift motion  
In the Equinoctial stars, where some contain  
This earthy globes mighty dimension,  
Ten thousand times twice told. They hurry o●…  
With the same swiftness I set down before,  
And with more pains. A globes extension,  
The bigger that it grows, groweth still more  
Nigh to a flat faced figure, and finds resistance sore.   

48  
But now that all the heavens be liquid, hence  
I'll fetch an argument. Those higher stars  
They may as well hang in fluid essence,  
As do the Planets. Venus' orb debars  
Not Mars, nor enters he with knock and jars;  
The soft fine yielding Aether gives admission:  
So gentle Venus to Marcurius dares  
Descend, and finds an easy intromission,  
Casts open that azure curtain by a swift discission.   

49  
That famous star nailed down in Cassiopee,  
How was it hammered in your solid sky?  
What pinsers pulled it out again, that we  
No longer see it, whither did it fly?  
Astronomers say 'twas at lest as high  
As the eighth sphere. It gave no parallax,  
No more than those light lamps that there we spy.  
But prejudiced minds before themselves they'll tax  
Of holy writ and the heavens they'll make a nose of wax.   

50  
What man will now that's not vertiginous  
Hurry about his head these several lights,  
So mighty vast with so voracious  
And rapid course whirling them day and night  
About the earth, when the earth's motion might  
Save that so monstrous labour, with less pains,  
Even infinitely less? But thoughts empight  
Once in the mind do so possess the brains,  
That hard it is to wash out those deep ancient stains.   

51  
Two things there be whose reason's nothing clear:  
Those cool continual breathe of East wind  
Under the Line; the next high Comets are,  
In which three motions Philosophers do find,  
Concerning which men hitherto are blind,  
That have not moved the earth unto their aid;  
Diurnal and an annual course they have mind  
Like to the suns, beside, by what they're swayed  
To north or South. This myst'ry's easily thus displayed.   

52  
The Ecliptic course, and that diurnal moving,  
Is but apparent as the suns, not true:  
But that the earth doth move, that still wants proving,  
You'll say. Then if you will, these Comets show  
One proof for her two motions. Whence issue  
Those Meteor's turnings? what shall hale them on,  
And guide their steps, that in proportion due  
They dance Sols measure? what occasion  
Or fruit can be of that strange double motion?   

53  
Nought but the earth's circumvolution  
Doth cause this sight, and but in outward show  
This sight of double Sunlike motion  
Seen in the Comets. For the winds that blow  
Under the Equinoctial, who doth know  
Any other cause, that still they breathe from th' East?  
That strange effect from whence else can it flow,  
Then from the earth's swift hurrying from the West?  
Mid partis strongliest roused, the Poles do sleep in rest.   

54  
Wherefore men under th' Equinoctial,  
Where the earth's course most rapid is and swift,  
Sensibly be dashed against that aereal  
Pure liquid essence. That clear air is left  
Not snatched away so fast, not quite bereft  
Of its own Nature, nor like th' other sky  
Unmoved quite; but slow paced is yclef:  
And driven close together; sensibly  
So feel we that fine air that seems from East to fly.   

55  
Those parts be in far greater purity  
Devoid of earthy vapours. Thence it is  
They're not so easily turned by sympathy,  
The air there having less of earthiness;  
So that they move not with one speediness,  
The earth and it. Yet curious men have fun  
Something like this, even in the midland sea;  
Ships four times sooner the same stages run,  
When westward they do sly, then when they there begun.   

56  
But that disgracement of Philosophy  
From flux and reflux of the Ocean main  
With its spread arms, we by this Theory  
Might take't away and show the causes plain.  
Some parts of th' earth do much more swiftness gain,  
When as their course goes whirling on one way  
With th' annual motion, which must needs constrain  
The sluid sea with unexpected sway.  
Long time it were this mystery fully to display.   

57  
Wherefore I'll let it pass, myself betake  
Unto some reasons Astronomical,  
To which if't please the nimble mind t' awake  
And shake off prejudice, that want forestall  
The ablest wit, I fear not but he'll fall  
Into the same opinion, magnify  
That subtle spirit that hath made this All,  
And hath half-hid his work from mortal eye,  
To sport and play with souls in sweet philosophy.   

58  
But with crabbed mind wisdom will ne'er consort,  
Make its abode with a sour ingeny;  
That harmless spirit itself will ne'er disport  
With bloody zeal, currish malignity,  
With wrathful ignorance, grave hypocrisy.  
Mirth, and free mindedness, simplicity,  
Patience, discreetness, and benignity,  
Faithfulness, heartstruck teneritie;  
These be the lovely play-mates of pure verity.   

59  
The Eternal Son of God, who Logos height,  
Made all things in a fit proportion;  
Wherefore, I wot, no man that judgeth right  
In heaven will make such a confusion,  
That courses of unlike extension,  
Infinitely unlike, in like time shall be run  
By the flight stars. Such vast distension  
Of place shows that their time is not all one;  
Saturn his ring no'te finish as quick as the Moon.   

60  
Yet if the Earth stand stupid and unmoved,  
This needs must come to pass. For they go round  
In every twice twelve hours, as is proved  
By daily experience. But it would confound  
The world's right order, if't were surely found  
A real motion. Wherefore let it be  
In them but seeming, but a real round  
In th' earth itself. The world so's setten free  
From that untoward disproportionalitie.   

61  
For so the courses of the erring Seven  
With their own orbs will fitly well agree;  
Their Annual periods in the liquid heaven  
They only finish then: which as they be  
Or less or greater, so the time they fly  
In their own circlings hath its difference.  
The moon a month, Saturn years ten times three;  
Those have the least and biggest circumference.  
So all their times and orbs have mutual reference.   

62  
Next light's, the Planets dark opacity,  
Which long time hath been found in the low moon:  
Hills, valleys, and such like asperity  
Through optic glasses thence have plainly shone:  
By the same trick it hath been clearly shown  
That Venus' moon-like grows corniculate  
What time her face with flusher light is blown:  
Some such like things others have contemplate  
In Mercury, about the Sun both circulate.   

63  
When Venus is the furthest off from us,  
Then is she in her full. When in her full,  
She seemeth least; which proves she's exterous  
Beyond the Sun, and further off doth roll.  
But when her circling nearer down doth pull,  
Then 'gins she swell, and waxen bug with horn,  
But lose her light, parts clad with darkness dull  
She shows to us. She and Mercury ne'er born  
far from the Sun, proves that about him both do turn.   

64  
They both opake, as also is the Moon  
That turns about the earth (so turn those four  
'Bout Jupiter, tend him as he doth run  
His annual course) Than Tellus so may scour  
Th' Ethereal plain, and have the self sane power  
To run her circuits in the liquid sky  
About the Sun, the mind that doth not lour,  
Drooping in carthie dregs, will not deny,  
Sith we so well have proved the stars opacity.   

65  
About the great the lesser lamps do dance,  
The Medicean four reel about Jove;  
Two round old Saturn without Nominance,  
Luna about the earth doth nimbly move:  
Then all as it doth seemly well behoove,  
About the biggest of all great Phoebus height,  
With joy and jollity needs round must rove,  
Tickled with pleasure of his heat and light.  
What tumbling tricks they play in his far piercing sight!   

66  
But my next argument (could I't well express  
With Poet's pen) it hath so mighty force,  
That an ingenious man 'twould stoutly press  
To give assent unto the Annual course  
Of this our earth. But prejudice the nurse  
Of ignorance stoppeth all free confession,  
Als keeps the way that souls have not recourse  
To purer reason, choked with that oppression.  
This argument is drawn from the stars retrocession.   

67  
Planets go back, stand still, and forward fly  
With unexpected swiftness: What's the cause  
That they thus stagger in the plain-paved sky?  
Or stupid stand, as if some dull repose  
Did numb their spirits and their sinews lose?  
Here'gins the wheelwork of the Epicycle;  
Thus patch they heaven more botch'dly then old clothes.  
This pretty sport doth make my heart to tickle  
With laughter, and mine eyes with merry tears to trickle.   

68  
O daring fancy! that dost thus compile  
The heavens from hasty thoughts, such as fall next;  
Wary Philosophers cannot but smile  
At such feat gear, at thy rude rash context.  
An heap of orbs disorderly perplexed,  
Thrust in on every hint of motion,  
Must be the wondrous art of Nature, next  
Here working under God. Thus, thus vain man  
Entitles always God to his opinion;   

69  
Thinks every thing is done as he conceives;  
Would bind all men to his religion;  
All the world else of freedom he bereaves,  
He and his God must have Dominion,  
The truth must have her propagation:  
That is his thought, which he hath made a God,  
That furious hot inust impression  
Doth so disturb his veins, that all abroad  
With rage he roves, and all gainsayers down hath trod.   

32  
But to return from whence my Muse hath flown,  
All this disordered superfluity  
Of Epicycles, or what else is shown  
To salve the strange absurd enormity  
Of staggering motions in the azure sky;  
Both Epicycles and those turns enorm  
Would all prove nought, if you would but let sly  
The earth in the Ecliptic line yborn,  
As I could well describe in Mathematic form.   

71  
So could I (that's another argument)  
From this same principle most clearly prove  
In regress and in progress different  
Of the free Planets: Why Saturn should rove  
With shorter start, give back less than Jove;  
Jove less than Mars; why Venus flincheth out  
More than Mercurius; why Saturn doth move  
Ofter in those back jets then Jove doth shoot;  
But Mercury more oft than Venus and Mars stout:   

72  
And why the Sun escaped an Epicycle,  
When as th' old prodigal Astronomy  
On the other six bestowed that needless cycle;  
Why Saturn, Jove, and Mars be very nigh  
Unto the earth, show bigger in our eye  
At eventide when they rise Acronycall;  
Why far removed with so vast distancie  
When they go down with setting Kronycall:  
All these will plain appear from th' earth's course Annual.   

73  
Many other reasons from those heavenly motions  
Might well be drawn, but with exility  
Of subtle Mathematics obscure notions,  
A Poet's pen so fitly no'te agreed;  
And curious men will judgeed a vagrancy  
To start thus from my scope. My pitched end  
Was for to prove the immortality  
Of humane souls: But if you well attend,  
My ship to the right port by this bowed course did bend.   

74  
For I have clearly showed that stout resistance  
Of the pure soul against the Mundane spirit  
And bulk, whereof's the lower man's consistence;  
How it doth quell by force of reason right  
Those gross impressions which our outward sight  
Sealed in our lower life: From whence we see  
That we have proper independent might,  
In our own mind, behold our own Idee,  
Which needs must prove the souls sure immortality.    

THE ARGUMENT OF PSYCHATHANASIA. Book 3. Cant. 4.  

justice, true faith in the first good,  
Our best persuasion  
Of blessed eternity unmoved,  
Th' earth's conflagration.   

1  
IT doth me good to think what things will follow  
That well proved thesis in my former song;  
How we in liquid heavens more swift than swallow  
Do sail on Tellus' lap. That doth among  
The other stars of right not rudely throng,  
We have what highest thoughts of man desire:  
But highest thoughts of man are vain and wrong.  
In outward heaven we burn with hellish fire,  
Hate, envy, covetise, revenge, lust, pride and ire.   

2  
In the eighth sphere Andromeda from chains  
Is not released; fearful Orion flies  
The dreaded Scorpion. Alas! what gains  
Then is't to live in the bright starry skies?  
It no man can exeem from miseries.  
All you that seek for true felicity,  
Rend your own hearts: There God himself descries  
Himself; there dwells his beauteous majesty;  
There shines the sun of righteousness in goodly glee.   

3  
And you who boldly all God's providence  
Confine to this small ball, that Tell us height,  
And dream not of a mutual influence,  
And how that she may shine with beamsbright  
At a far distance clad with Sols lent light,  
As Venus and the Moon; O you that make  
This earth God's only darling dear delight,  
All th' other orbs merely for this orbs sake  
So swiftly for to run with labour never slack,   

4  
To dance attendance on their Princess Earth  
In their quick circuits, and with anger keen  
Would bite him, that or serious or in mirth  
Doubts the prerogative of your great Queen!  
Best use of that your Theory, I ween,  
In this, that as yourselves monopolise  
All the whole world, so yourselves back again  
You wholly give to God. Who can devise  
A better way? Man's soul to God this closely ties.   

5  
But if the earth doth thankfully reflect  
Both light and influence to other stars,  
As well as they to it, where's the defect?  
That sweet subordination it mars;  
Gods love to us then not so plain appears:  
For then the stars be mutually made  
One for another: Each all the good than bears  
Of the Universe, for 'tis single labour paid  
With the joint pains of all that in the heavens wade.   

6  
Rare reason! why! then God would be too good  
What judgeth so but envy, and vain pride,  
And base contract self-love? which that free flood  
Of bounty hath so confidently tied  
Unto itself alone. Large hearts deride  
This penned hypocrisy. Is he good to me?  
That grace I would not ere should be denied  
Unto my fellow: My felicity  
Is multiplied, when others I like happy see.   

7  
But if the rolling stars with mutual rays  
Serve one another; sweet fraternity  
And humble love, with such like lore we'll raise,  
While we do see Gods great benignity  
Thus mutually reflected in the sky,  
And, these round-moving worlds communicate  
One with another by spread sympathy:  
This all things friendly will concatenate;  
But let more hardy wits that truth determinate.   

8  
It me behoves t' hold forward on my way,  
Leaving this uncouth strange Philosophy,  
In which my lightsome pen too long did play,  
As rigid men in sad severity  
May deem; but we right careless leave that free  
Unto their censure. Now more weighty thought  
Doth sway our mind, thinking how all doth flee  
Whatever we have painfully ytaught.  
So little fruit remains of all my skill hath wrought.   

9  
Oth' emptiness of vain Philosophy!  
When thin-spunne reason and exile discourse  
Make the soul creep through a straight Theory,  
Whither the blunter mind can never force  
Itself; yet oft, alas! the case is worse  
Of this so subtle wight, when dangers deep  
Approach his life, than his who learning's source  
Did never drink of, near his lips did steep  
In Plato's springs, nor with low gown the dust did sweep.   

10  
Certes such knowledge is a vanity,  
And hath no strength t' abide a stormy stoure;  
Such thin slight clothing will not keep us dry,  
When the grim heavens, all black and sadly sour  
With rage and tempest, plenteously down shower  
Great floods of rain. Dispread exility  
Of slyer reasons fails: Some greater power  
Found in a lively vigorous Unity  
with God, must free the soul from this perplexity.   

11  
Say now the dagger touched thy trembling breast,  
Couldst thou recall the reasons I have shown  
To prove th' immortal state of men deceased?  
Evolved reason cannot stand at one  
Stoutly to guard thy soul from passion.  
They pass successively like sand i'th' glass;  
While thou look'st upon this the other's gone  
But there's a plight of soul such virtue has  
Which reasons weak assistance strangely doth surpass.   

12  
The just and constant man, a multitude  
Set upon mischief cannot him constrain  
To do amiss by all their uproars rude,  
Not for a tyrant's threat will he ere slain  
His inward honour. The rough Adrian  
Tossed with unquiet winds doth nothing move  
His steady heart. Much pleasure he doth gain  
To see the glory of his Master Jove,  
When his dread darts with hurrying light through all do rove.   

13  
If heaven and earth should rush with a great noise,  
He fearless stands, he knows whom he doth trust,  
Is confident of his souls after joys,  
Though this vain bulk were grinded into dust.  
Strange strength resideth in the soul that's just:  
It feels the power how't commands the spirit  
Of the low man, vigorously finds it must  
Be independent of such feeble might  
Whose motions dare not appear before its awful sight.   

14  
But yet, my Muse, still take an higher flight,  
Sing of Platonic Faith in the first Good,  
That Faith that doth our souls to God unite  
So strongly, tightly, that the rapid flood  
Of this swift flux of things, nor with foul mud  
Can slain, nor strike us off from th' unity,  
Wherein we steadfast stand, unshaked, unmoved,  
Engrafted by a deep vitality.  
The prop and stay of things is God's benignity.   

15  
Als is the rule of his Oeconomie.  
No other cause the creature brought to light  
But the first Goods pregnant fecundity:  
He to himself is perfect full delight;  
He wanteth nought, with his own beams bedight  
He glory has enough. O blasphemy!  
That envy gives to God or sour despite!  
Harsh hearts! that feign in God a tyranny,  
Under pretence t'increase his sovereign Majesty.   

16  
When nothing can to Gods own self accrue,  
Who's infinitely happy; sure the end  
Of this creation simply was to show  
His flowing goodness, which he doth out send  
Not for himself; for nought can him amend;  
But to his creature doth his good impart,  
This infinite Good through all the world doth wend  
To fill with heavenly bliss each willing heart.  
So the free Sun doth ' light and ' liven every part.   

17  
This is the measure of God's providence,  
The key of knowledge, the first fair Idee,  
The eye of truth, the spring of living sense,  
Whence sprout God's secrets, the sweet mystery  
Of lasting life, eternal charity.  
But you O bitter men and sour of spirit!  
Which brand God's name with such foul infamy  
As though poor humane race he did or slight,  
Or curiously view to do them some despite;   

18  
And all to show his mighty excellency,  
His uncontrolled strength: fond men! aread,  
Is't not as great an act from misery  
To keep the feeble, as his life to speed  
With fatal stroke? The weak shaked whistling reed  
Shows Boreas wondrous strong! but ignorance  
And false conceit is the foul spirits meed;  
Gods lovely life hath there no entrance;  
Hence their fond thoughts for truth they vainly do advance.   

19  
If God do all things simply at his pleasure  
Because he will, and not because its good,  
So that his actions shall have no set measure;  
Is't possible it should be understood  
What he intends? I feel that he is loved  
Of my dear soul, and know that I have born  
Much for his sake; yet is it not hence proved  
That I shall live, though I do sigh and mourn  
To find his face; his creatures wish he'll slight and scorn.   

02  
When I breathe out my utmost vital breath,  
And my dear spirit to my God commend,  
Yet some foul feign close lurking underneath  
My serious humble soul from me may rend:  
So to the lower shades down we shall wend,  
Though I in heart's simplicity expected  
A better doom; sith I my steps did bend  
Toward the will of God, and had detected  
Strong hope of lasting life, but now I am rejected.   

21  
Nor of well being, nor subsistency  
Of our poor souls, when they do hence depart,  
Can any be assured, if liberty  
We give to such odd thoughts, that thus pervert  
The laws of God, and rashly do assert  
That will rules God, but Good rules not Gods will.  
What ere from right, love, equity, doth start,  
For aught we know then God may act that ill,  
Only to show his might, and his free mind fulfil.   

22  
O belch of hell! O horrid blasphemy!  
That Heaven's unblemished beauty thus dost slain,  
And brand God's nature with such infamy:  
Can Wise, Just, Good, do aught that's harsh or vain?  
All what he doth is for the creatures gain,  
Not seeking ought from us for his content:  
What is a drop unto the Ocean main?  
All he intends is our accomplishment.  
His being is self-ful, self-joyed, self-excellent.   

23  
He his fair beams through all has freely sent:  
Purge but thy soul that thou mayst take them in.  
With froward hypocrite he never went,  
That finds pretexts to keep his darling sin.  
Through all the earth this spirit takes pains to win  
Unto itself such as be simply true,  
And with malignant pride resist not him,  
But strive to do what he for right doth show;  
So still a greater light he brings into their view.   

24  
All lives in several circumference  
Look up unto him and expect their food;  
He opes his hand, showers down their sustinence:  
So all things be yfild with their wished good,  
All drink, are satisfied from this free flood.  
But circling life that yet unsettled is  
Grows strait, as it is further still removed  
From the first simple Good, obtains less bliss,  
Sustains sharp pains inflicted by just Nemesis.   

24  
But why do I my soul loose and disperse  
With mouldering reason, that like sand doth flow.  
Life close united with that Good, a verse  
Cannot declare, nor its strange virtue show.  
That's it holds up the soul in all its woe,  
That death, nor hell, nor any change doth fray.  
Who walks in light knows whither he doth go;  
Our God is light, we children of the day.  
God is our strength and hope, what can us then dismay?   

25  
Goodness itself will do to us this good,  
That godly souls may dwell with him for aye.  
Will God forsake what of himself's belov'd?  
What ever lives may shrink into cold clay;  
Yet good men's souls death hests shall not obey.  
Where there's no incompossibility  
Of things, God's goodness needs must bear the sway  
You virtuous brood take't for sure verity,  
Your souls shalt not fall short of blessed eternity.   

26  
But yet bold men with much perplexity  
Will here object against this principle,  
Heaping up reasons (strange fecundity  
Of ignorance!) that goodly might to quell  
Of my last argument, so fairly well  
Set down, right strongly the unsettled spirit  
To have confirmed at my last farewell:  
But contraire forces they bring into sight,  
And proudly do provoke me with that rout to sight.   

27  
Whence was't, say they, that God the creature made  
No sooner? why did infinite delay  
Precede his work? should God his goodness stayed  
So long a time? why did he not display  
From infinite years this out-created ray?  
The mighty stars why not inhabited,  
When God may souls proportion to their clay  
As well as to this earth? why not dispred  
The world withouten bounds, endless, uncompassed?   

28  
Poor souls! why were they put into this cave  
Of misery, if they can well exist  
Without the body? Why will not God save  
All mankind? His great wisdom if it list  
Could so contrive that they'd at last desist  
From sinning, fallen into some providence  
That sternly might rebuke them that have missed  
Their way, and work in them true penitence:  
Thus might they turn to God with double diligence.   

29  
Why be not damned souls devoid of sense,  
If nothing can from wickedness reclaim,  
Rather than fry in pain and vehemence  
Of searching agony? or why not frame.  
Another form, so with new shape and name  
Again to turn to life? One central spirit  
Why may't not many forms in it contain,  
Which may be waked by some magnetic might,  
Cording as is the matter upon which they light?   

30  
For when two several kinds by Venus knit  
Do cause a birth, from both the soul doth take  
A tincture; but if free it were transmit  
Unclothed with th' others seed, than it would make  
One simple form; for than they could not slake  
One th' others energy. Why's the world still  
Stark nought, through malice, or through blind mistake?  
Why had the first-made-man such a loose will,  
That his innumerous offspring he should foully spill.   

31  
Why was not this unlucky world dissolved  
As soon as that unhappy Adam fell?  
I itch till of this knot I be resolved:  
So many myriads tumble down to hell,  
Although partakers of Gods holy spell.  
Beside, 'tis said, they that do not partake  
Of Christian lore, for ever they must dwell  
With cursed fiends, and burn in brimstone lake.  
Such dreary dread designs do make my heart to quake.   

32  
One of a multitude of myriads  
Shall not be saved, but broyl in scorching woe;  
Innumerous mischiefs then to mischiefs adds  
This world's continuance if that be so;  
Ill infinitely more than good doth grow.  
So God would show much more benignity  
If he the ribs of heaven about would strew,  
Powder the earth, choke all vitality,  
Call back the creature to its ancient nullity.   

33  
But thou, who ere thou art, that thus dost strive  
With fierce assault my groundwork to subvert,  
And boldly dost into God's secrets drive,  
Base fear my manly face no'te make m'avert.  
In that odd question which thou first did 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? sayest 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, then there as few circuling  
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 tied 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  
Then 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 whither am I gone? The eager mind  
Impatiently expects I should proceed  
Unto the next objection; that defined,  
Then through on. His vote it must not speed,  
Danger of plenteous speech is the sure meed,  
And Cynthius pulls me by my tender care,  
Such signs I will observe with wary heed.  
Therefore my restless Muse at length forbear,  
Thy silver sounded Lute hang up in silence here.     

ΑΝΤΙΨΥΞΟΠΑΝΝΥΞΙΑ, OR A Confutation of the sleep of the SOUL after death; ΑΝΤΙΜΟΝΟΨΥΞΙΑ, OR That all SOULS are not one; A Paraphrase on Apollo's answer concerning Plotinus SOUL.  
By H. M. Master of Arts, and Fellow of Christ's College in Cambridge.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  Plotin. Ennead. 3. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  John 11. 
CAMBRIDGE Printed by Roger Daniel, Printer to the University. 1642.   

THE PREFACE TO THE READER.  
TO preface much concerning these little after-pieces of Poetry, I hold needless, having spoke my mind so fully before. The motives that drawn me to add them to the former are expressed in the Poems themselves. My drift is one in them all: which is to raise a certain number of well ordered Phantasms, fitly shaped out and warily contrived, which I set to skirmish and conflict with all the furious fancies of Epicurisine and Atheism. But here's my disadvantage, that victory will be no victory, unless the adversary acknowledge himself overcome. None can acknowledge himself overcome, unless he perceive the strength, and feel the stroke of the more powerful arguments. But the exility and subtlety of many, and that not of the meanest, is such (nor can they be otherwise) that they will (as that kind of thunder which the Poets do commonly call 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from it's over quick and penetrating energy) go through their more porous and spongy minds without any sensible impression.  
Sure I am that sensuality is always an enemy to subtlety of reason, which hath its rise from subtlety of fancy: so that the life of the body, being vigorous and radiant in the soul, hinders us of the sight of more attenuate phantasms. But that being suppressed or very much castigate and kept under, our inward apprehension grows clearer and larger. Few men can imagine any thing so clearly awake, as they did when they were asleep. And what's the reason, but that the sense of the body is then bound up or dead in a manner?  
The dark glasse-windows will afford us a further illustration for this purpose. Why is it that we see our own faces there by night? What can reflect the species (as they phrase it) when the glass is pervious and transparent? Surely reflection in the ordinary apprehension is but a conceit. The darkness behind the glass is enough to exhibit visibly the forms of things within, by hiding stronger objects from the eye, which would bury these weak idola in their ●…ore orient lustre.  
The stars shine and fill the air with their species by day, but are to be seen only in a deep pit, which may fence the Sun's light from striking our sight so strongly. Every contemptible candle conquers the beams of the Moon, by the same advantage that the Suns doth the Stars, viz. propinquity. But put out the candle, and you will presently find the moonlight in the room; exclude the moon, and then the feeblest of all species will step out into energy, we shall behold the night.  
All this is but to show, how the stronger or nearer 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 doth obscure the weaker or further off; and how that one being removed, the energy ' of the other will easily appear.  
Now that our comparison may be the fitter, let us consider what Aristotle saith of fancy, that it is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Thus much I will take of him, that Fancy is sense; and add to it that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 is also 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and what I have intimated in some passages of these Poems, That the soul doth always feel itself, it's own actual Idea, by its omniform central self. So that the immediate sense of the soul is nothing else but to perceive its own energy.  
Now sith that, that which we call outward sense, is indeed the very energy of the soul, and inward sense which is fancy can be but the very energy of the soul, there seems to be no real and intrinsical difference betwixt the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of any form; no more than there is betwixt a frog born by the Sun and mere slime, and one born by copulation: For these are but extrinsecall relations. Wherefore 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in the soul itself is all one.  
But now sith it is the same nature, why is there not the same degree of energy in both? I say there is, as appears plainly in sleep, where we find all as clear and energetical as when we wake.  
But here these 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (for I have proved them all one) do as greater and lesser lights dim one another; or that which is nearest worketh strongliest. Hence it is that the light or life of this low spirit or body of ours, stirring the soul into a perpetual sensual energy, if we foster this and unite our minds, will, and animadversion with it, will by its close nearness with the soul dim and obscure those more subtle and exile phantasms or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 risen from the soul itself, or occasioned by other men's writings. For they will be in the flaring light or life of the body as the stars in the beams of the Sun, scarce to be seen, unless we withdraw ourselves out of the flush vigour of that light, into the profundity of our own souls, as into some deep pit.  
Wherefore men of the most tamed and castigate spirits are of the best and most profound judgement, because they can so easily withdraw themselves from the life and impulse of the lower spirit of this body.  
Thus being quit of passion, they have upon any occasion a clear though still and quiet representation of every thing in their minds, upon which pure bright sydereall phantasms unprejudiced reason may safely work, and clearly discern what is true or probable.  
If my writes fall into the hands of men otherwise qualified, I shall gain the less approbation. But if they will endeavour to compose themselves as near as they can to this temper; though they were of another opinion then what my writings intent to prove, I doubt not but they will have the happiness to be overcome, and to prove gainers by my victory.  
To say any thing more particularly concerning these last I hold it needless. Only let me excuse myself, if any chance to blame me for my 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as confuting that which no man will assert. For it hath been asserted by some; as those Mauri whom Ficinus speaks of; and the question is also discussed by Plotinus in his fourth Ennead, where he distinguisheth of, all souls being one, after this manner, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The latter member is that, which my arguments conclude against. Though they were 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 yet were we safe enough; as safe as the beams of the Sun the Sun existing. But the similitude of Praxiteles broken glass is brought in, according to the apprehension of such, as make the image to vanish into nothing, the glass being taken away: and that as there is but one face, though there be the appearances of many; so though there be the appearances of many souls, by reason of that one's working in divers bodies, yet there is but one soul; and understanding sense and motion to be the acts of this one soul informing several bodies.  
This is that which both Plotinus and I endeavour to destroy, which is of great moment: For if one only soul act in every body, what ever we are now, surely this body laid in the dust we shall be nothing.  
As for the Oracles answer to Amelius, if any vulgar conceited man think it came from a devil with bats wings and a long tail, the Seventies' translation of the eighth verse of 32 chapter of Deuteronomie may make it at least doubtful. When the most high divided to the nations their inheritance, when he separated the sons of Adam he set the bounds of the people, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. He did not then deliver them into the hand and jurisdiction of devils, nor to be instructed and taught by them.  
But if Apollo who gave so good a testimony of Socrates while he was living, and of Plotinus after his death, was some foul fiend, yet 'tis no prejudice to their esteem, since our Saviour Christ was acknowledged by the devil.  
But I have broke my word, by not breaking off my speech before this. Reader, 'tis time now to leave thee to the perusal of my writes, which if they chance to please thee, I repent me not of my pains; if they chance not to please, that shall not displease me much, for I consider that I also with small content and pleasure have read the writes of other men.  
Yours H. M.   

THE ARGUMENT OF ANTIPSYCHOPANNYCHIA. Cant. I.  

Adam's long sleep, will, mind compared  
With low vitality,  
The fondness plainly have unbar'd  
Of Psychopannychie.   

1  
THe souls ever durancy I sung before,  
Ystruck with mighty rage. A powerful sire  
Held up my lively Muse and made her soar  
So high that mortal wit, I fear, she'll tyre  
To trace her. Then a while I did respire.  
But now my beating veins new force again  
Invades, and holy fury doth inspire.  
Thus stirred up I'll add a second strain,  
Lest, what afore was said may seem all spoke in vain.   

2  
For sure in vain do humane souls exist  
After this life, if lulled in listles sleep  
They senseless lie wrapped in eternal mist,  
Bound up in foggy clouds, that ever weep  
Benumbing tears, and the souls centre steep  
With deading liquor, that she never minds  
Or feeleth aught. Thus drenched in Lethe deep,  
Nor misseth she herself, nor seeks nor finds  
Herself. This mirksome state all the souls actions binds.   

3  
Desire, fear, love, joy, sorrow, pleasure, pain,  
Sense, fancy, wit, forecasting providence,  
Delight in God, and what with sleepy brain  
Might suit, slight dreams, all banished far from hence.  
Nor pricking nor applauding conscience  
Can wake the soul from this dull Lethargy;  
That 'twixt this sleepy state small difference  
You'll find and that men call Mortality.  
Plain death's as good as such a Psychopannychie.   

4  
What profiteth this bare existency,  
If I perceive not that I do exist?  
Nought longs to such, nor mirth nor misery,  
Such stupid beings write into one list  
With stocks and stones. But they do not persist,  
You'll say, in this dull dead condition.  
But must revive, shake off this drow sie mist  
At that last shrill loud-sounding clarion  
Which cleaves the trembling earth, rives monuments of stone.   

5  
Has then old Adam snorted all this time  
Under some senseless sod with sleep ydead?  
And have those flames, that steep Olympus climb,  
Right nimbly wheeled o'er his heedless head  
So oft, in heaps of years' low-buried:  
And yet can ken himself when he shall rise  
Wakened by piercing trump, that far doth shed  
Its searching sound? If we our memories  
And wit do lose by sickness, falls, sloth, lethargies;   

6  
If all our childhood quite be waste away  
With its impressions, so that we forget  
What once we were, so soon as age doth sway  
Our bowed backs, sure when base worms have eat  
His mouldering brains, and spirits have retreat  
From whence they came, spread in the common fire,  
And many thousand sloping suns have set  
Since his last fall into his ancient mire,  
How he will ken himself reason may well admire:   

7  
For he must know himself by some impression  
Left in his ancient body unwashed out:  
Which seemeth strange. For can so long succession  
Of sliding years that great Colossuses might  
Well moulder into dust, spare things ywrought  
So slightly as light phantasms in our brain,  
Which oft one year or month have wrenched out  
And left no footsteps of that former stain,  
No more then's of a cloud quite melted into rain?   

8  
And shall not such long series of time,  
When Nature hath dispread our vital spirit  
And turned our body to its ancient slime,  
Quite wash away what ever was empight  
In that our spirit? If bulk and soul unite  
Lose such impressions, as were once deep sealed  
And fairly glistered like to comets bright  
In our blue Chaos, if the soul congealed  
With her own body lose these forms as I revealed,   

9  
Then so long time of their disjunction  
(The body being into dust confract,  
The spirit diffused, spread by dispersion)  
And such Lethean sleep that doth contract  
The souls hid rays that it doth nothing act  
Must certainly wipe all those forms away  
That sense or fancy ever had impact.  
So that old Adam will in vain assay  
To find who here he was, he'll have no memory.   

10  
Nor can he tell that ere he was before:  
And if not tell, he's as if then first born.  
If as first born, his former life no store.  
Yet when men wake they find themselves at morn.  
But if their memory away were worn  
With one night's sleep, as much as doth respect  
Themselves, these men they never were before,  
This day's their birth day: they cannot conject  
They ever lived till now, much less the same detect.   

13  
So when a man goes hence, thus may he say,  
As much as me concerns I die now quite.  
Adieu, good self! for now thou goest away,  
Nor can I possibly thee ever meet  
Again, not ken thy face, nor kindly greet.  
Sleep and dispersion spoils our memory.  
So my dear self hence forth I cannot weet.  
Wherefore to me it's perfectly to die,  
Though subtler Wits do call't but Psychopannychie.   

12  
Go now you Psychopannychites! persuade  
To comely virtues and pure piety  
From hope of joy, or fear of penance sad.  
Men promptly may make answer, Who shall try  
That pain or pleasure? When death my dim eye  
Shall close, I sleep not sensible of aught:  
And tract of time at least all memory  
Will quite debar, that reacquainten might  
Myself with mine own self, if so myself I sought.   

13  
But I shall neither seek myself, nor find  
Myself unsought: Therefore not deprehend  
Myself in joy or wo. Men ought to mind  
What longs unto them. But when once an end  
Is put unto this life, and fate doth rend  
Our retinence; what follows nought at all  
Belongs to us: what need I to contend,  
And my frail spirit with present pain to gall  
For what I ne'er shall judge myself did ere befall?   

14  
This is the uncouth state of sleeping soul,  
Thus weak of its own self without the prop  
Of the base body, that it no'te out-roll  
Its vital rays: those rays death down doth lop,  
And all its goodly beauty quite doth crop  
With its black claws. Wisdom, love, piety,  
Are strait dried up: death doth their fountain stop.  
This is those sleepers dull Philosophy,  
Which fairly men invites to foul impiety.   

15  
But if we grant, which in my former song  
I plainly proved, that the souls energic  
Pends not on this base corpse, but that self-strong  
She by herself can work, then when we sly  
The body's commerce, no man can deny  
But that there is no interruption  
Of life; where will puts on, there doth she high.  
Or if she's carried by coaction,  
That force yet she observes by press adversion.   

16  
And with most lively touch doth feel and find  
Herself. For either what she most doth love  
She then obtains; or else with cross, unkind  
Contrary life since her decease she hath striven,  
That keeps her wake, and with like might doth move  
To think upon herself, and in what plight  
She's fallen. And nothing able to remove  
Deep searching vengeance, groans in this sad Night,  
And roars, and raves, and storms, & with herself doth fight.   

17  
But hearty love of that great vital spirit,  
The sacred fount of holy sympathy,  
Prepares the soul with its deep quickening might  
To leave the body's vain mortality.  
Away she flies into Eternity,  
Finds full accomplishment of her strong desire;  
Each thing would reach its own centrality:  
So Earth with Earth, and Moon with Moon conspire.  
Ourselves live most, when most we feed our central fire.   

18  
Thus is the soul continually in life  
Withouten interruption. If that she  
Can operate after the fatal knife  
Hath cut the cords of this bulks sympathy:  
Which she can do, if that some energy  
She exercise (immured in this base clay)  
Which on this bulk hath no dependency.  
For then the like she'll do, that done away,  
These independent acts, its time now to display.   

19  
All comprehending Will, proportionate  
To whatsoever shall fall by God's decree  
Or prudent sufferance, sweetly spread, dilate,  
Stretched out to embrace each act or entity  
That creep from hidden cause that none can see  
With outward eyes. Next Intellect, whose height  
Of work's then, when as it stands most free  
From sense and grosser fancy, deep empight  
In this vild corpse, which to purged minds yields small delight.   

20  
Both Will and Intellect-then worketh best,  
When sense and appetite be consopite,  
And grosser fancy lulled in silent test:  
Then Will grown full with a mild heavenly light  
Shines forth with goodly mental rays bedight,  
And finds and feels such things as never pen  
Can setten down, so that unexpert wight  
May read and understand. Experienced men  
Do only know who like impressions sustain.   

21  
So far's the soul from a dependency  
(In these high actions) on the body base.  
And further sign is want of memory  
Of these impressions wrought in heavenly place,  
I mean the holy Intellect: they pass  
Leaving no footsteps of their former light,  
When as the soul from thence descended has.  
Which is a sign those forms be not empight  
In our low proper Chaos or Corporeal spirit.   

22  
For then when we our mind do downward bend  
Like things we here should find: but all is gone  
Soon as our flagging souls so low descend  
As that strait spirit. Like torch that droppeth down  
From some high tower, hold steady clearly shone,  
But in its fall leaves all its light behind,  
Lies now in darkness on the grail, or stone,  
Or dirty earth: That erst so fully shined,  
Within a glowing coal hath now its light confined.   

23  
So doth the soul when from high Intellect  
To grovelling sense she takes her stooping flight,  
Falling into her body, quite neglect,  
Forget, forgo her former glorious sight,  
Gross glowing fire for that wide shining light;  
For purest love, foul fury and base passion;  
For clearest knowledge, fell contentious fight  
Sprung from some scorching false inust impression  
Which she'll call truth, she gains. O witless Commutation!   

24  
But still more clear her independent might  
In understanding and pure subtle will  
To prove: I will assay t' explain aright  
The difference ('cording to my best skill)  
'Twixt these and those base faculties that well  
From union with the low vitality  
Of this outworld, that when my curious quill,  
Hath well described their great disparity,  
To th' highest we may give an independency.   

25  
The faculties we deem corporeal,  
And bound unto this earthy instrument  
(So bound that they no'te operate at all  
Without the body there immerse and meint)  
Be hearing, feeling, tasting, sight, and sent.  
Add lower fancy, Mundane memory:  
Those powers be all or more or less ypent  
In this gross life: We'll first their property  
Set down, and then the others contrariety.   

26  
This might perceives not its own instrument.  
The taste discovers not the spongy tongue;  
Nor is the Mundane spirit (through all extent)  
From whence are sense and lower fancy sprung,  
Perceived by the best of all among  
These learned five, nor yet by fantasy:  
Nor doth or this or those so nearly throng  
Unto themselves as by propinquity  
To apprehend themselves. They no'te themselves descry;   

27  
Nor ever learnt they their own energy.  
The mind held somewhere else in open sight,  
What ever lies, unknown unto the eye  
It lies, though there its image be empight,  
Till that our soul look on that image right.  
Wherefore themselves the senses do not know,  
Nor doth our fancy; for each furious wight  
Hath fancy full enough, so fulled doth show  
As sense; nor he, nor's fancy doth that fancy know.   

28  
Age, potent objects, too long exercise  
Do weaken, hurt, and much debilitate  
Those lower faculties. The Sun our eyes  
Confounds with dazzling beams of light so that  
For a good while we cannot contemplate  
Aught visible: thus thunder deafs the ear  
And age hurts both, that doth quite ruinate  
Our sense and fancy: so if long we hear  
Or see, 't sounds not so sweet, nor can we see so clear.   

29  
Lastly, the Senses reach but to one kind  
Of things. The eye sees colours, so the ear  
Hears sounds, the nostrils snuff perfumed wind;  
What gross impressions the out-senses bear  
The fancy represents, sometimes it dare  
Make unseen shapes, with uncouth transformation,  
Such things as never in true nature are.  
But all this while the fancies operation  
Is bound to law of bodies: such is her figurat on.   

30  
This is the nature of those faculties  
That of the lower Mundane spirit depend.  
But in our Intellect far otherwise  
Wouldst see it, if we pressely will attend  
And trace the parallels unto the end.  
There's no self-knowledge. Here the soul doth find  
Herself. If so, then without instrument.  
For what more fit to show our inward mind  
Then our own mind? But if't be otherwise defined;   

31  
Then tell me, Knows she that fit instrument?  
If the ken not that instrument, how can  
She judge, whether truly it doth represent  
Herself? there may be foul delusion.  
But if she ken this organ; strait upon  
This grant, I'll ask how ken she this same toll?  
What? by another? by what that? so go on  
Till to infinity you forward roll,  
An horrid monster count in Philosophic school.   

32  
The soul than works by itself, and is self-lived,  
Sith that it acts without an instrument:  
Free energies from her own self derived  
Flow round. But to go on. The eyes yblent  
Do blink even blind with objects vehement,  
So that till they themselves do well recure  
Less matters they no'te see. But rays down sent  
From higher source the mind do maken pure,  
Do clear, do subtilise, do fix, do settle sure.   

33  
That if so be she list to bend her will  
To lesser matters, she would it perform  
More excellently with more art and skill:  
Nor by long exercise her strength is worn;  
Witness wise Socrates, from morn to morn  
That stood as stiff as any trunk of tree:  
What eye could bear in contemplation  
So long a fix'dnesse, none so long could see,  
It's watery tears would wail its frail infirmity.   

34  
Nor feeble eld, sure harbinger of death,  
Doth hinder the free work of th' Intellect.  
When th' eye grows dim and dark that it unneath  
Can see through age, the mind then close collect  
Into itself, such mysteries doth detest  
By its far-piercing beams, that youthful heat  
Doth count them folly and with scorn neglect,  
His ignorance concludes them but deceit;  
He hears not that still voice, his pulse so loud doth beat.   

35  
Lastly sense, fancy, though they be confined  
To certain objects, which to several  
Belong; yet sure the Intellect or mind  
Apprehends all objects, both corporeal,  
As colours, sounds; and incorporeal,  
As virtue, wisdom, and the higher spirit,  
God's love and beauty intellectual;  
So that its plain that she is higher pight  
Then in all acts to penned on any earthly might.   

36  
If will and appetite we list compare,  
Like difference we easily there discover,  
This penned, contract, yfraught with furious jar  
And fierce antipathy. It boileth over  
With fell revenge; or if new chance to cover  
The former passion. Suppose lust or fear.  
Yet all are tumults, but the will doth hover  
No whit enslaved to what she findeth here,  
But in a free suspense herself doth nimbly bear.   

37  
Mildred, gentle, calm, quick, large, subtle, serene,  
These be her properties which do increase  
The more that vigour in the body's vein  
Doth waste and waxen faint. Desires decrease  
When age the Mundane spirit doth more release  
From this straight mansion. But the will doth flower  
And fairly spread, near to our last decease  
Embraceth God with much more life and power  
Then ever it could do in its fresh vernal hour.   

38.  
Wherefore I think we safely may conclude  
That Will and Intellect do not rely  
Upon the body, sith they are endued  
With such apparent contrariety  
Of qualities to sense and fantasy,  
Which plainly on the body do depend:  
So that departed souls free energy  
May well exert, when they have made an end  
Of this vain life, nor need to Lethe Lake descend.    

The Argument of ANTIPSYCHOP ANNYCHIA. Cant. 2.  

Bondage and freedom's here set out  
By an inverted Cone:  
The self-formd soul may work without  
Incorporation.   

1  
FOuntain of beings! the vast deep abyss  
Of life and love and penetrating Will,  
That breaks through narrow Night, and so transmisse  
At last doth find itself! What mortal skill  
Can reach this mystery? my trembling quill  
Much less may set it forth; yet as I may  
I must attempt this task for to fulfil.  
He guide my pen while I this work assay  
Who All, through all himself doth infinitely display.   

2  
My end's loose largeness and full liberty  
To finden out. Most precious thing I ween.  
When central life it's outgone energy  
Doth spreaden forth, unsneeped by foeman keen,  
And like unclouded Sun doth freely shine.  
This is right Liberty, whose first Idee  
And measure is that holy root divine  
Of all free life, height Ahad, Unity:  
In all things He at once is present totally.   

3  
Each total presence must be infinite:  
So is he infinite infinity.  
Those infinites you must not disunite:  
So is he one all-spreaden Unity.  
Nor must you so out-spread this Deity,  
But that infinity so infinite  
Must be in every infinite: so we  
Must multiply this infinite single sight  
Above all apprehension of a mortal wit.   

4  
What is not infinitely infinite,  
It is not simply infinite and free:  
For straightness (if you do conceive aright  
Is the true daughter of deficiency.  
But sith there's no defect in Unity,  
Or Ahad, Ahad this first centre height  
In Poetry as yet to vulgar eye  
Unpublished) him first freedom infinite  
We may well style. And next is that eternal light;   

5  
Son unto Ahad, Aeon we him name  
(In that same Poem) like his father free,  
Even infinitely free I him proclaim  
Every where all at once. And so is she  
Which Psyche height: for perfect Unity  
Makes all those one. So hitherto we have  
Unmeasurable freedom. Semele  
Is next, whom though fair fluttering forms embrave,  
Yet motion and defect her liberty deprave.   

6  
Imagination's not infinite,  
Yet freer far than sense; and sense more free  
Than vegetation or spermatick spirit.  
Even absent things be seen by fantasy;  
By sense things present at a distancie;  
But that spermatick spirit is close consigned  
Within the compass of a stupid tree,  
Imprisoned quite in the hard rugged rind,  
Yet there defective reduplication we find:   

7  
Fare more defective then in fantasy  
Or sense; yet freer is the plastic spirit  
Then quantity, or single quality,  
Like quantity itself out stretched right  
Devoid of all reduplicative might:  
If any such like qualities there were  
So dull, so dead, so all devoid of light  
As no communicative rays to bear;  
If there be such to Hyle they do verge most near.   

8  
But Hyles self is perfect penury,  
And infinite straightness: Here we finden nought,  
Nor can do aught. If curiously we pry  
Into this mirksome corner quite distraught  
From our own life and being, we have brought  
Ourselves to nothing Or the sooth to say  
The subtlest soul herself hath never wrought  
Into so straight a place, could ne'er constrain  
Herself to enter, or that hag to entertain.   

9  
Lo! here's the figure of that mighty Cone,  
From the strait Cuspis to the wide-spread Base,  
Which is even all in comprehension.  
What's infinitely nothing here hath place;  
What's infinitely all things steady stays  
At the wide Basis of this Cone inverse,  
Yet it's own essence doth it swiftly chase,  
O'ertakes at once; so swiftly doth it pierce  
That motion here's no motion.   

10  
Suppose the Sun so much to mend his pace,  
That in a moment he did round the sky,  
The nimble Night how swiftly would he chase  
About the earth? so swift that scarce thine eye  
Could aught but light discern. But let him high  
So fast, that swiftness hath grown infinite,  
In a pure point of time so must he fly  
Around this ball, and the vast shade of Night  
Quite swallow up, ever steady stand in open sight.   

11  
For that which from its place is not away  
One point of time, how can you say it moves?  
Wherefore the Sun doth always steady stay  
In our Meridian, as this reason proves.  
And sith that in an instant round he roves,  
The same doth hap in each Meridian line;  
For in his instantaneous removes  
He in them all at once doth fairly shine,  
Nor that large stretchen space his freeness can confine.   

12  
The Sun himself at once stands ●…n each point  
Of his diurnal circle. Thus we see  
That rest and motion cannot be disjoint,  
When motion's swift even to infinity.  
Here contrarieties do well agree,  
Eternal shade and everlasting light  
With one another here do well comply;  
Instant returns of Night make one long Night.  
Wherefore infinity is freedom infinite.   

13  
No hindrance to aught that doth arrive  
To this free camp of fair Elysium:  
But nearer that to Hyle things do dive,  
They are more penned, and find much lesser room.  
Thus sensual souls do find their righteous doom  
Which Nemesis inflicts, when they descend  
From heavenly thoughts that from above do come  
To lower life, which wrath and grief attend,  
And scorching lust, that do the souls high honour blend.   

14  
Wherefore the soul cut off from lowly sense  
By harmless fate, far greater liberty  
Must gain: for when it hath departed hence  
(As all things else) should it not backward high  
From whence it came? but such divinity  
Is in our souls that nothing less than God  
Could send them forth (as Plato's schools descry)  
Wherefore when they retreat a free abode  
They'll find, unless kept off by Nemesis just rod.   

15  
But if kept off from thence, where is she then?  
She dwells in her own self, there doth reside,  
Is her own world, and more or less doth pen  
Herself, as more or less she erst did side  
With sense and vice, while here she did abide.  
Sterile defect and ne'er obtained desire  
Create a cone, whose Cusp is not more wide  
Than this world's Cone. Here close-contracted fire  
Doth vex, doth burn, doth scorch with searching heat & ire.   

16  
Nor easily can she here fall fast asleep  
To slake her anguish and tormenting pain:  
What drizzling mists may here her senses steep?  
What foggy fumes benumb her moistened brain?  
The flitten soul no sense doth then retain.  
And sleep ariseth from a sympathy  
With these low sprights that in this bulk remain.  
But when from these the soul is setten free,  
What sleep may bind her from continual energy?   

17  
Here they'll reply, It is not a gross sleep  
That binds the soul from operation.  
But sith that death all phantasms clean doth wipe  
Out of the soul, she no occasion  
Can have of Will or Intellection.  
The corpse do rot, the spirit wide is spread,  
And with the Mundane life fallen into one:  
So than the soul from these quite being fled,  
Unmoved of aught must lie, sunk in deep drowsihead.   

18  
Nought than she hath whereon to contemplate,  
Her ancient phantasms melt and glide away,  
Her spirit sucked back by all-devouring fate  
And spread abroad, those forms must needs decay  
That were therein imprinted. If they stay,  
Yet sith the soul from them is disunite,  
Into her knowledge they can never ray.  
So wants she objects the mind to excite:  
Wherefore asleep she lies wrapped in eternal Night.   

19  
To which I answer, though she corporate  
With no world yet, by a just Nemesis  
Kept off from all; yet she thus separate  
May oft be struck with potent rays transmisse  
From divers worlds, that with such mockeries  
Kindling an hungry fire and eager will,  
They do the wretched soul but Tantalise,  
And with fierce choking flames and fury fill,  
So vexed, that if she could in rage herself she'd kill.   

20  
If any doubt of this perplexity,  
And think so subtle thing can suffer nought:  
What's gnawing conscience from impiety  
By highest parts of humane soul ywrought?  
For so our very soul with pain is fraught,  
The body being in an easy plight.  
Through all the senses when you have presly sought,  
In none of them you'll find this sting empight:  
So may we deem this dart the soul itself to hit.   

21  
Again, when all the senses beybound  
In sluggish sloth, the soul doth oft create  
So mighty pain, so cruelly doth wound  
Itself with tearing torture, such a state  
Brings on herself, that none could tolerate.  
Which must be in herself; for once returned  
Unto her body new resuscitate  
From sleep, remembering well how erst she mourned,  
Marvels how all so soon to peace and ease is turned.   

22  
Wherefore the soul itself receiveth pain  
From her own self, withouten sympathy  
With something else, whose misery must constrain  
To deep compassion. So if struck she be  
With secret ray, or some strong energy  
Of any world, or lives that there remain,  
She's kept awake. Besides fecundity  
Of her own nature surely doth contain  
Innate Idees; This truth more fully I'll explain.   

23  
Strong forward bearing will or appetite,  
A never wearied importunity,  
Is the first life of this deep central spirit:  
Thus thrusts she forth before her some Idee  
Whereby herself now actual she doth see.  
Her mighty Fiat doth command each form  
T' appear: As did that ancient Majesty  
This world of old by his dread Word ●…Form,  
And made the soul of man thus divine Deiform.   

24  
Thus in a manner the humane soul creates  
The image of her will: When from her centre  
Her pregnant mind she fairly explicates  
By actual forms, and so doth safely enter  
To knowledge of herself.  
Flush light she sendeth forth, and live Idees:  
Those be the glass whereby the soul doth paint her.  
Sweet central love sends out such forms as please;  
But central hate or fear foul shapes with evil ease.   

25  
The manner of her life on earth may cause  
Diversity of those eruptions,  
For will, desire, or custom do dispose  
The soul to such like figurations.  
Propension brings imaginations,  
Unto their birth. And oft the soul le's fly  
Such unexpected eructations,  
That she herself cannot devisen why,  
Unless she do ascribe it to her pregnancy.   

26  
It is an argument of her forms innate  
Which blazen out, perchance when none descry  
This light is lost, sense doth so radiate  
With Mundane life, till this poor carcase die.  
As when a lamp, that men do sitten by,  
In some wide hall in a clear winter night,  
Being blown out or wasted utterly,  
Unwares they find a sly still silver light;  
The moon the wall or pavement with mild rays hath dight.   

27  
So when the oil of this low life is spent,  
Which like a burning lamp doth waste away;  
Or if blown out by fate more violent;  
The soul may find an unexpected ray  
Of light; not from full faced Cynthia,  
But her own fullness and quick pregnancy:  
Unthought of life her Nature may display  
Unto herself; not by forced industry,  
But naturally it sprouts from her fecundity.   

28  
Now sith adversion is a property  
So deeply essential to the rational soul?  
This light or life from her doth not so fly,  
But she goes with it as it out doth roll.  
All spirits that arround their rays extol  
Possess each point of their circumference  
Presentially. Wherefore the soul so full  
Of life, when it rays out with press presence,  
O'ertakes each outgone beam; apprends it by advertence.   

29  
Thus plainly we perceive the energy  
Of the departed soul: if we could find  
Strong reason to confirm th' innate idee,  
Essential forms created with the mind.  
But things obscure no'te easily be defined,  
Yet some few reasons I will venture at,  
To show that God's so liberal and kind  
As, when an humane soul he doth create,  
To fill it with hid forms and deep idees innate.   

30  
Well sang the wise Empedocles of old,  
That earth by earth, and sea by sea we see,  
And heaven by heaven, and fire more bright than gold  
By flaming fire, so gentle love descry  
By love, and hate by hate. And all agree  
That like is known by like. Hence they confess  
That some external species strikes the eye  
Like to its object, in the selfsame dress.  
But my first argument hence I'll begin to press.   

31  
If like be known by like, then must the mind  
Innate idolums in itself contain,  
To judge the forms she doth imprinted find  
Upon occasions. If she doth not ken  
These shapes that flow from distant objects, then  
How can she know those objects? a dead glass  
(That light and various forms do gaily slain)  
Set out in open streets, shapes as they pass  
As well may see; Lutes hear each foaming diapase.   

32  
But if she know those species outsent  
From distant objects; tell me how she knows  
These species. By some other? You ne'er meant  
To answer so. For strait the question goes  
Unto another, and still forward flows  
Even to infinity. Doth the object serve  
Its image to the mind for to disclose?  
This answer hath as little sense or nerve:  
Now reel you in a circle if you well observe.   

33  
Wherefore no ascititious form alone  
Can make us see or hear; but when this spirit  
That is one with the Mundane's hit upon  
(Sith all forms in our soul be counite  
And centrally lie there) she doth beget  
Like shapes in her own self; that energy  
By her own central self who forth it let,  
Is viewed. Her central omniformity  
Thus easily keepeth off needless infinity.   

34  
For the quick soul by itself doth all things know.  
And sith withouten apt similitude  
Nought's known, upon her we must needs bestow  
Essential central forms, that thus endued  
With universal likeness ever transmewed  
Into a representing energy  
Of this or that, she may have each thing viewed  
By her own central self-vitality  
Which is her self-essentiall omniformity.   

35  
If plantall souls in their own selves contain  
That vital formative fecundity,  
That they a tree with different colour stain,  
And divers shapes, smoothness, asperity,  
Straightness, acuteness, and rotundity,  
A golden yellow, or a crimson red,  
A varnished green, with such like gallantry?  
How dull then is the sensitive? how dead,  
If forms from its own centre it can never spread?   

36  
Again, an Universal notion,  
What object ever did that form impress  
Upon the soul? What makes us venture on  
So rash a matter, as ere to confess  
Aught generally true? when nevertheless  
We cannot ever run through all singulars.  
Wherefore in our own souls we do possess  
Free forms and immaterial characters.  
Hence 'tis the soul so boldly general truth declares.   

37  
What man that is not dull or mad would doubt  
Whether that truth (for which Pythagoras,  
When he by subtle study found it out,  
Unto the Muses for their helping grace  
An Hecatomb did sacrifice) may pass  
In all such figures wheresoever they be▪  
Yet all Rectangle Triangles none has  
Viewed as yet, none all shall ever see.  
Wherefore this free assent is from th' innate idee.   

38  
Add unto these incorporeity  
Apprehended by the soul, when sense ne'er saw  
Aught incorporeal. Wherefore must she  
From her own self such subtle idols draw.  
Again, this truth more clearly still to know,  
Let's turn again to our Geometry.  
What body ever yet could figure show  
Perfectly perfect, as rotundity  
Exactly round, or blameless angularity?   

39  
Yet doth the soul of such like forms discourse,  
And finden fault at this deficiency,  
And rightly term this better and that worse;  
Wherefore the measure is our own idee,  
Which th' humane soul in her own self doth see.  
And sooth to saye●… when ever she doth strive  
To find pure truth, her own profundity  
She enters, in herself doth deeply dive;  
From thence attempts each essence rightly to descrive.   

40  
Last argument, which yet is not the least,  
Wise Socrates dispute with Theaetete  
Concerning learning fitly doth suggest.  
A midwives son yclept Phenarete,  
He calls himself: Then makes a acquaint conceit,  
That he his mother's trade did exercise.  
All witless his own self yet well did weet  
By his fit questions to make others wise;  
A midwife that no'te bear another's birth unties.   

41  
Thus jestingly he flung out what was true,  
That humane souls be swollen with pregnancy  
Of hidden knowledge, if with usage due  
They were well handled, they each verity  
Would bringen forth from their fecundity,  
Wise framed questions would facilitate  
This precious birth, stir up th' inward idee,  
And make it stream with light from forms innate.  
Thus may a skilful man hid truth clicitate.   

42  
What doth the teacher in his action  
But put slight hints into his scholar's mind?  
Which breed a solemn contemplation  
Whether such things be so; but he doth find  
The truth himself. But if truth be not signed  
In his own soul before, and the right measure  
Of things proposed, in vain the youth doth wind  
Into himself, and all that anxious leisure  
In answering proves useless without that hid treasure.   

43  
Nor is his master's knowledge from him flit  
Into his scholar's head: for so his brain  
In time would be exhausted and void of wit,  
So would the sorry man but little gain  
Though richly paid. Nor is't more safe to said  
As fire breeds fire, art art doth generate,  
The soul with Corporeity 't would slain:  
Such qualities outwardly operate,  
The soul within; her acts there closely circulate.   

44  
Wherefore the soul itself by her idee,  
Which is herself, doth every thing discover;  
By her own central omniformity  
Brings forth in her own self when aught doth move her;  
Till moved a dark indifferency doth hover.  
But fierce desire, and a strong piercing will  
Makes her those hidden characters uncover.  
Wherefore when death this lower life shall spill,  
Or fear or love the soul with actual forms shall fill.    

THE ARGUMENT OF ANTIPSYCHOPANNYCHIA. Cant. 3.  

Departed souls by living Night  
Sucked in, for pinching woe  
No'te sleep; or if with God unite,  
For joys with which they flow.   

1  
MY hardest task is gone, which was to prove  
That when the soul by death's cut off from all,  
Yet she within herself might live and move,  
Be her own world, by life imaginall.  
But sooth to said, 't seems not so natural.  
For though a star, part of the Mundane spirit,  
Shine out with rays circumferential  
So long as with this world it is unite;  
Yet what 't would do cut off, so well we cannot weet.   

2  
But sith our soul with God himself may meet,  
●…nacted by his life, I cannot see  
What scruple then remains that moven might  
Lest doubt, but that she wakes with open eye,  
When fate her from this body doth untie.  
Wherefore her choicest forms do then arise,  
Roused up by union and large sympathy  
With Gods own spirit; she plainly then descries  
Such plenitude of life, as she could ne'er devise.   

3  
If God even on this body operate,  
And shakes this Temple when he doth descend,  
Or with sweet vigour doth irradiate,  
And lovely light and heavenly beauty lend.  
Such rays from Moses face did once extend  
Themselves on Sinai hill, where he did get  
Those laws from Gods own mouth, man's life to mend;  
And from Messias on mount Saron set  
far greater beauty shone in his disciples sight.   

4  
Als Socrates, when (his large Intellect  
Being filled with streaming light from God above)  
To that fair sight his soul did close collect,  
That inward lustre through the body drove  
Bright beams of beauty. These examples prove  
That our low being the great Deity  
Invades, and powerfully doth change and move.  
Which if you grant, the souls divinity  
More fitly doth receive so high an energy.   

5  
And that God doth illuminate the mind,  
Is well approved by all antiquity;  
With them Philosophers and Priests we find  
All one: or else at least Philosophy  
Linked with God's worship and pure piety:  
Witness Pythagoras, Aglaophemus,  
Zoroaster, thrice-mighty Mercury,  
Wise Socrates, nothing injurious,  
Religious Plato, and vice-taming Orpheus.   

6  
All these, addicted to religion,  
Acknowledged God the fount of verity,  
From whence flows out illumination  
Upon purged souls. But now, O misery!  
To seek to God is held a fantasy,  
But men hug close their loved lust and vice,  
And deem that thraldom a sweet liberty;  
Wherefore reproach and shame they do devise  
Against the braver souls that better things emprise.   

7  
But lo! a proof more strong and manifest:  
Few men but will confess that prophecy  
Proceeds from God, when as our soul's possessed  
By his allseeing spirit; als ecstasy  
Wherein the soul snatched by the Deity,  
And for a time into high heaven hent  
Doth contemplate that blessed Divinity.  
So Paul and John that into Patmos went,  
Herd and saw things inestimably excellent.   

8  
Such things as these men jointly do confess  
To be from God's immediate energy,  
But if that God ought on the soul impress  
Before it be at perfect liberty,  
Quite rend from this base body; when that she  
Is utterly released, she'll be more fit  
To be informed by that divine Idee  
Hight Logos, that doth every man enlight  
That enters into life, as speaks the sacred Writ.   

9  
Behold a fit resemblance of this truth,  
The Sun begetteth both colours and s●…ght,  
Each living thing with life his heat indew'th,  
He kindles into act each plastic spirit:  
Thus he the world with various forms doth dight,  
And when his vigour hath framed out an eye  
In any living wight, he fills with light  
That organ, which can plainly then descry  
The forms that under his far-shining beams do lie.   

10  
Even so it is with th' intellectual sun,  
Fountain of life, and all-discovering light,  
He frames our souls by his creation,  
Als he indews them with internal sight,  
Then shines into them by his lucid spirit.  
But corporal life doth so obnubilate  
Our inward eyes that they be nothing bright.  
While in this muddy world 〈◊〉  
They lie, and with blind passions be intoxicate.   

11  
Fear, anger, hope, fierce vengeance, and swollen hate,  
Tumultuous joy, envy and discontent,  
Self-love, vainglory, strife and fell debate,  
Unsatiate covetise, desire impotent,  
Low-sinking grief, pleasure, lust violent,  
Fond emulation, all these dim the mind  
That with foul filth the inward eye yblent,  
That light that is so near it cannot find.  
So shines the Sun unseen on a trees rugged rind.   

12  
But the clean soul by virtue purified  
Collecting its own self from the foul steem,  
Of earthly life, is often dignifyed,  
With that pure pleasure that from God doth streem,  
Often's enlightened by that radiant beam,  
That issues forth from his divinity,  
Then feelingly immortal she doth deem  
Herself, conjoined by so near unity  
With God, and nothing doubts of her eternity.   

13  
Nor death nor sleep nor any dismal shade  
Of low contracting life she then doth fear,  
No troubled thoughts her settled mind invade,  
Th' immortal root of life she seeth clear,  
Wisheth she were for ever grafted here:  
No cloud, no darkness, no deficiency  
In this high heavenly life doth ere appear;  
Redundant fullness, and free liberty,  
Easie flowing knowledge, never weary energy,   

14  
Broad open sight, eternal wake fullness,  
Withouten labour or consuming pain:  
The soul all these in God must needs possess  
When there deep-rooted life she doth obtain,  
As I in a few words shall maken plain.  
This body's life by powerful sympathy  
The soul to sleep and labour doth constrain,  
To grief, to weariness and anxiety,  
In fine, to hideous sense of dread mortality.   

15  
But sith no such things in the Deity  
Are to be found; She once incorporate  
With that quick essence, she is setten free  
From aught that may her life obnubilate,  
What then can her contract or maken straight?  
For ever moved by lively sympathy  
With Gods own spirit, an everwaking state  
She doth obtain. Doth heavens bright blazing eye  
Ever close, ywrapt in sleep and dead obscurity?   

16  
But now how full and strong a sympathy  
Is caused by the souls conjunction  
With the high God, I'll to you thus descry.  
All men will grant that spread dispersion  
Must be some hindrance to close union:  
Als must confess that closer unity  
More certainly doth breed compassion;  
Not that there's passion in the Deity,  
But something like to what all men call Sympathy.   

17  
Now sith the soul is of such subtlety,  
And close collectednesse, indispersion,  
Full by her central omniformity,  
Pregnant and big without distension,  
She once drawn in by strong attraction  
Should be more perfectly there counite  
In this her high and holy union  
Then with the body, where dispersions pight.  
(But such hard things I leave to some more learned wight)   

18  
The first pure Being's perfect unity,  
And therefore must all things more strongly bind  
Then lives corporeal, which dispersed be.  
He also the first Goodness is defined  
Wherefore the soul most powerfully's ●…nclin'd,  
And strongly drawn to God. But life that's here,  
When into it the soul doth closely wind,  
Is often sneeped by anguish and by fear,  
With vexing pain and rage that she no'●… easily bear.   

19  
far otherwise it fares in that pure life  
That doth result in the souls Unity  
With God: For there the faster she doth strive  
To tie herself, the greater liberty  
And freer welcome, brighter purity  
She finds, and more enlargement, joy and pleasure  
Overflowing, yet without satiety,  
Sight without end, and love withouten measure:  
This needs must close unite the heart to that hid treasure.   

20  
This plainly's seen in that mysterious Cone  
Which I above did fairly well descrive:  
There freeness and incarceration  
Were plainly setten forth. What down doth dive  
Into the straitened Cuspis needs must strive  
With stringent bitterness, vexation,  
Anxious unrest; in this ill plight they live:  
But they that do ascend to th' top yflown  
Be free, yet fast unite to that fair vision.   

21  
Thus purged souls be close conjoined to God,  
And closer union surer sympathy;  
Wherefore so long as they make their abode  
In Him, incorporate by due Unity  
They liven in eternal energy.  
For Israel's God nor slumbers, nor doth sleep;  
Nor Israel lost in dull lethargy  
Must listlesse lie, while numbing streams do steep  
His heavy head, overwhelmed in oblivion deep.   

22  
But here more curious men will strait inquire,  
Whither after death the wicked soul doth go,  
That long hath wallowed in the sinful mire.  
Before this question I shall answer to,  
Again the nature of the soul I'll show.  
She all things in herself doth centrally  
Contain; what ever she doth feel or know,  
She feels or knows it by th' innate Idee:  
She's allproportioned by her omniformitie.   

23  
God, heaven, this middle world, deep-glimmering hell  
With all the lives and shapes that there remain,  
The forms of all in humane souls do dwell;  
She likewise all proportions doth contain  
That sits her for all sprights. So they constrain  
By a strong pulling sympathy to come,  
And strait possess that fitting vital vein  
That belongs unto her, so her proper run  
She takes as mighty Nemesis doth give the doom.   

24  
Now (which I would you presly should observe)  
Though oft I have with tongue balbutient  
Prattled to th' weaker care (lest I should starve  
My style with too much subtlety) I ne'er meant  
To grant there's any such thing existent  
As a mere body: For all's life, all spirit,  
Though lives and sprights be very different.  
Three general sprights there be, ●…ternall light  
Is one, the next our World, the last Infernal Night.   

26  
This last lies next unto old nothingness  
Hight Hyle, whom I termed point of the Cone:  
Her daughter Night is full of bitterness,  
And straight constraint, and penned privation:  
Her sturdy ray's scarce conquered by the moon.  
The earth's great shade breaks out from this hid spirit,  
And active is; so soon the Sun is gone,  
Doth repossess the air shotten forth right  
From its hid central life, yclept Infernal Night.   

26  
In this dread world is scorching Phlegel●…n,  
Hot without flame, burning the vexed sense;  
There hateful Styx and sad Cocytus run,  
And silent Acheron. All drink from hence,  
From this damned spirit receiven influence,  
That in our world or poison do outspue  
Or have an uggly shape and foul presence:  
That deadly poison and that direful hue  
From this Nocturnal spirit these uggly creatures drew.   

27  
This is the seat of God's eternal ire,  
When unmixed vengeance he doth fully pour  
Upon foul souls fit for consuming fire:  
Fierce storms and tempests strongly doth he shower  
Upon their heads: His rage doth still devour  
The neverdying soul. Here Satanas  
Hath his full swing to torture every hour  
The grisly ghosts of men, when they have pass  
From this mid world to that most direful dismal place.   

28  
Did Nature but compile one mighty sphere  
Of this dark Stygian spirit, and close collect  
Its scattered being, that it might appear  
Aloft in the wide heaven, it would project  
Dark powerful beams, that solar life ycheckt  
With these dull choking rays, all things would die,  
Infernal poison the earth would infect,  
Incessant showers of pitchy shafts let fly  
Against the Sun with darkness would involve the sky.   

29  
Nor is my Muse wox mad, that thus gives life  
To Night or Darkness, sith all things do live.  
But Night is nothing (strait I'll end that strife)  
Doth nought impressions to the sense derive?  
If without prejudice you'll deign to dive  
Into the matter, as much realty  
To darkness as to coldness you will give.  
Both Night and Coldness have their energy,  
Both strike the sense, they both have real entity.   

30  
Again, 'tis plain that that nocturnal spirit  
Sends forth black eben-beams and mirksome rays,  
Because her darkness as the Sun his light  
More clearly doth reflect on solid place.  
As when a wall, a shade empighten has  
Upon it, sure that shade far darker is  
Then is the air that lies in the mid space.  
What is the reason? but that rays emisse  
From central Night the walls reflection multiplies.   

31  
The light's more light that strikes upon the wall,  
And much more strongly there affects the eye,  
Then what's spread in the space aereal:  
So 'tis with shadows that amid do lie  
In the slight air; there scarce we them descry,  
But when they fall upon the wall or ground,  
They gain a perfect sensibility.  
Scarce ought in outgone light is to be found  
But this Nocturnal rays with like endowments crowned.   

32  
But why doth my half-wearied mind pursue  
Dim skulking darkness, a fleet nimble shade?  
If Moses and wise Solomon speak true,  
What we assert may safely well be said.  
Did not a palpable thick Night invade  
The Land of Egypt, such as men might feel  
And handle with their hands? That darkness rayed  
From nether Hell, and silently did steal  
On th' enemies of God, as Scripture doth reveal.   

33  
The womb of Night then fully flowered cut:  
For that all-swaying endless Majesty  
Which penetrateth those wide worlds throughout,  
This thin spread darkness that dispersed doth lie  
Summoned by his dread voice, and strong decree.  
Much therefore of that spirit close u●…te  
Into one place did strike the troubled eye  
With horrid blackness, and the hand did smite  
With a clam pitchy ray shot from that central Night.   

34  
This central Night or Universal spirit  
Of woe, of want, of baleful bitterness,  
Of hatred, envy, wrath, and fell despite,  
Of lust, of care, wasting disquietness,  
Of war, contention, and bloodthirstiness,  
Of zeal, of vengeance, of suspicion  
Of hover horror, and sad pensiveness,  
This Stygian stream through all the world doth run,  
And many wicked souls unto itself hath won.   

35  
Lo! here's the portion of the Hypocrite,  
That serveth God but in an outward show.  
But his dread doom must pass upon his spirit,  
Where it propends there surely must he go.  
Due vengeance neither sleepeth nor is slow.  
Hell will suck in by a strong sympathy  
What's like unto itself: So down they flow,  
Devouring anguish and anxiety  
Do vex their souls, in piteous pains, alas! they lie.   

36  
Thus with live Hell be they concorporate,  
United close with that self-gnawing spirit:  
And this I wot will breed no sleeping state;  
Who here descends finds one long restless Night  
May this the dreaming Psychopannychite  
Awake, and make him seriously prepare  
And purge his heart, lest this infernal might  
Suck in his soul before he be well aware.  
Kill but the seeds of sin than are you past this fear.   

37  
Thus have I proved by the souls union  
With heaven and hell, that she will be awake  
When she from this mid Nature is gone.  
But still more curious task to undertake;  
And spenden time to speak of Lethe lake,  
And whether at least some souls fall not a sleep.  
(Which if they do of Hell they do partake)  
Whether who lived like plant or grazing sheep,  
Who of nought else but sloth and growth doth taken keep;   

38  
Whose drooping fancy never flowered out,  
Who relished nought but this gross body's food,  
Who never entertained an active thought,  
But like down-looking beasts was only moved  
To feed themselves, whither this drowsy mood  
So drench the lowering soul and inly sleep  
That she lies senseless drowned in Lethe flood;  
Who will let dive into this mystery deep:  
Into such narrow subtleties I list not creep.   

39  
But well I wot that wicked cruelty,  
Hate, envy, malice, and ambition,  
Bloodsucking zeal, and lawless tyranny,  
In that Nocturnal spirit shall have their wonne,  
Which like this world admits distinction.  
But like will like unto it strongly draw:  
So every soul shall have a righteous doom.  
According to our deeds God will bestow  
Rewards: Unto the cruel he'll no mercy show.   

40  
Where's Nimrod now, and dreadful Hannibal?  
Where's that ambitious pert Pellean lad,  
Whose pride swelled bigger than this earthly ball?  
Where's cruel Nero, with the rest that had  
Command, and vexed the world with usage bad?  
They're all sunk down into this nether hell;  
Who erst upon the Nations stoutly strad  
Are now the Devil's footstool. His dread spell  
Those vassals doth command, though they with fury swell.   

41  
Consuming anguish, styptic bitterness,  
Doth now so strangle their imperious will,  
That in perpetual disquietness  
They roll and rave, and roar and rage their fill,  
Like a mad bull that the sly hunter's skill  
Hath caught in a strong net. But more they strive  
The more they kindle that tormenting ill.  
Woe's me! in what great misery they live!  
Yet wot I not what may these wretched thralls relieve.   

42  
The safest way for us that still survive  
Is this, even our own lust to mortify;  
So Gods own Will will certainly revive  
Thus shall we gain a perfect liberty,  
And everlasting life. But if so be  
We seek ourselves with ardent hot desire,  
From that Infernal Night we are not free;  
But living Hell will kindle a fierce fire.  
And with uncessant pains our vexed soul will tyre.   

43  
Then the wild fancy from its horrid womb  
Will senden forth foul shapes. O horrid sight.  
Overgrown toads fierce serpents thence will come,  
Red-scaled Dragons with deep burning light  
In their hollow eye-pits: With these she must fight;  
Then thinks herself ill wounded, sorely stung.  
Old fulsome hags with scabs and skurf bedight,  
Foul tarry spittle tumbling with their tongue  
On their raw leather lips, these near will to her clung,   

44  
And lovingly salute against her will,  
Closely embrace, and make her mad with woe;  
She'd lever thousand times they did her kill,  
Then force her such vile baseness undergo.  
Anon some Giant his huge self will show,  
Gaping with mouth as vast as any cave,  
With stony staring eyes, and footing slow:  
She surely deems him her live-walking grave,  
From that darn hollow pit knows not herself to save.   

45  
After a while, tossed on the Ocean main  
A boundless sea she finds of misery;  
The fiery snorts of the Leviathan  
(That makes the boiling waves before him fly)  
She hears, she sees his blazing morn-bright eye:  
If here she scape, deep gulfs and threatening rocks  
Her frighted self do straightway terrify;  
Steel-coloured clouds with rattling thunder knocks,  
With these she is amazed, and thousand such like mocks.   

46  
All which afflict her even like perfect sense:  
For waxen mad with her sore searching pain  
She cannot easily find the difference,  
But toils and tears and tugs, 〈◊〉 all in vain;  
Herself from her own self she cannot strain.  
Nocturnal life hath now let open th' idee  
Of innate darkness, from this fulsome vein  
The soul is filled with all deformity.  
But Night doth stir her up to this dread energy.   

47  
But here some man more curious than wise  
Perhaps will ask, where Night or Hell may be:  
For he by his own self cannot devise,  
Sith cheerful light doth fill the open sky.  
And what's the earth to the souls subtlety?  
Such men I'd carry to some standing pool,  
Down to the water bid them bend their eye,  
They then shall see the earth possessed and full  
Of heaven, dight with the sun, or stars that there do roll.   

48  
Or to an hill where's some deep hollow cave  
Dreadful for darkness; let them take a glass,  
When to the pitchy hole they turned have  
Their instrument, that darkness will find place  
Even in the open sunne-beams, at a space  
Which measures twice the glasses distancy  
From the cave's mouth. This well discovered has  
How Hell and Heaven may both together lie,  
Sith darkness safely rays even in the sunny sky.   

49  
But cease, my restless Muse, be not so free;  
Thy chiefest end thou hadst accomplished  
Long since, shaked of the Psychopannychie;  
And roused the soul from her dull drousiehead;  
So nothing now in death is to be dread  
Of him that wakes to truth and righteousness:  
The bulk lies here, the soul aloft is fled  
Unto the fount of perfect happiness.  
Full freedom, joy, and peace she lively doth possess.    

The Argument of ANTIMONOPS YC HIA.  

The all-devouring Unity  
Of souls I here disprove;  
Show how they bear their memory  
With them when they remove.   

1  
WHo yields himself to learning and the Muse,  
Is like a man that leaves the steady shore,  
And skims the sea. He nought then can refuse  
What ever is designed by Neptune's power,  
Is fiercely drove in every stormy stoure,  
Slave to the water and the whistling wind:  
Even so am I, that whilom meant recover  
The wished land, but now against my mind  
Am driven fiercely back, and so new work do find.   

2  
What though the Rational soul immortal be,  
And safely doth exist this bulk being gone,  
And then existing hath full energy  
Perfectly wake, if all souls be but one?  
Or, though a number, if oblivion  
Of all things past, put them in such a state  
That they can no-wise guess that ere upon  
This earth they trod, even this seems to abate  
Their happiness. They'll deem themselves then first create.   

3  
Wherefore to ease us of this double doubt,  
With mighty force great Phoebus doth inspire  
My raving mind. He'll bear me strongly out,  
Till I have perfected his own desire;  
Nor will he suffer me once to respire  
Till I have brought this song unto an end.  
O may it be but short though a quick fire!  
Such rage and rapture makes the body bend,  
Doth waste its fading strength and fainting spirits spend.   

4  
Now comes the story of Praxitele:  
Into my mind, whom looking in a glass,  
With surly countenance, it did much displease,  
That any should so sourly him outface;  
Yet whom he saw his dogged self it was:  
Tho he with angry fist struck his own shade.  
Thus he the harmless miroir shattered has  
To many shivers; the same shapes invade  
Each piece, so he a many surly sad faces made.   

5  
These shapes appeared from the division  
Of the broken glass: so rasher fancies deem  
The Rational soul (whom they suppose but one)  
By the divided matter many to seem:  
Disjoined bulks broke glasses they esteem:  
Which if they did into one substance flow,  
One single soul in that one glass would sheen;  
If that one substance also were ygo,  
One only soul is left, the rest were but a show.   

6  
Well is their mind by this similitude  
Explaind. But now le's sift the verity  
Of this opinion, and with reason rude  
Rub, crush, touse, rifle this fine fantasy,  
As light and thin as cobwebs that do fly  
In the blue air, caused by th' Antumnall sun,  
That boils the dew that on the earth doth lie.  
May seem this whitish rag than is the scum,  
Unless that wiser men make't the field-spiders loom.   

7  
But such deep secrets willingly I leave  
To grand philosophers. I'll forward go  
In my proposed way. If they conceive  
There's but one soul (though many seem in show)  
Which in these living bodies here below  
Doth operate (some such opinion  
That Learned Arab held height Aven-Roe)  
How comesed to pass that she's so seldom known  
In her own self? In few she thinks herself but one.   

8  
Seems not this soul or Intellect very dull,  
That in so few she can herself discover  
To be but one in all, though all be full  
Of her alone? Besides, no soul doth love her  
Because she sucks up all: but what would move her  
Thus to detest herself, if one she be  
In all men's bodies? right reason surely dtove her  
Thus to condemn this lonesome Unity  
Of mind or soul: which reason's her own energy.   

9  
Thoughts good and bad that Universal mind  
Must take upon itself; and every ill,  
That is committed by all humane kind,  
They are that souls. Alas, we have no will,  
No free election, nor yet any skill,  
But are a number of dull stalking trees  
That the universal Intellect doth fill  
With its own life and motion: what it please  
That there it acts. What strange absurdities are these?   

10  
All plotted mischief that sly reason wrought,  
All subtle falsities that nimbly fly  
About the world, that soul them all hath brought;  
Then upon better thoughts with penalty  
Doth sore afflict herself, doth laugh and cry  
At the same time. Here Aristophanes  
Doth maken sport with some spruce Comedy;  
There with some Tragic strain sad Sophocles  
Strikes the Spectators hearts, makes many weeping eyes.   

11  
Such grief this soul must in herself conceive  
And pleasure at one time. But here you'll say  
We ought not grief nor pleasure for to give  
Unto the soul. To what then? This live clay?  
It feels no grief if she were gone away:  
Therefore the soul at once doth laugh and cry.  
But in this argument I'll no longer stay,  
But forward on with swifter course will high,  
And finden out some grosser incongruity.   

12  
Let now two men conceiven any form  
Within their selves, suppose of flaming fire;  
If but one soul doth both their corpse inform,  
There's but one only species entire.  
For what should make it two? The idee of fire,  
That is but one, the subject is but one,  
One only soul that all men doth inspire.  
Let one man quench that form he thought upon,  
That form is now extinct and utterly gone;   

13  
So that the other man can think no longer,  
Which all experience doth prove untrue.  
But yet I'll further urge with reason stronger,  
And still more clearly this fond falsehood show.  
Can contraries the same subject imbew?  
Yes; black and white, heat, cold may both possess  
The mind at once; but they a nature new  
Do there obtain, they're not gross qualities,  
But subtle sprights that mutually themselves no●…e press:   

14  
But contradiction, can that have place  
In any soul? Plato affirms Idees;  
But Aristotle with his pugnacious race  
As idle figments stiffly them denies.  
One soul in both doth thus philosophise,  
Concludes at once contradictoriously  
To her own self. What man can here devise  
A fit escape, if (what's sure verity)  
He do but grant the souls indivisibility?   

15  
Which stiffly is maintained in that same song  
Which is yclept Psychathanasie,  
And safely well confirmed by reasons strong:  
Wherefore I list not here that truth to try,  
But wish the Reader to turn back his eye,  
And view what there was faithfully displayed.  
Now if there be but one centrality  
Of th' Universal soul which doth invade  
All humane shapes; how come these contradictions made?   

16  
For that one soul is judge of every thing,  
And heareth all Philosopher's dispute;  
Itself disputes in all that jangling,  
In reasoning fiercely doth itself confute,  
And contradictions confidently conclude:  
That is so monstrous that no man can think  
To have least show of truth. So this pursuit  
I well might now leave off: what need I swink  
To prove what's clearly true, and force out needless ink.   

17  
Again, she would the same thing will and nill  
At the same time. Besides, all men would have  
The selfsame knowledge, art, experience, skill;  
The frugal parent might his money save,  
The Pedagogue his pains: If he engrave  
His Grammar precepts but in one boy's mind,  
Or decent manners: He doth thus embrave  
With single labour all the youth you'll find  
Under the hollow heavens, they'll be alike inclined.   

18  
And every man is skilled in every trade,  
And every silent thought that up doth spring  
In one man's breast, doth every man invade;  
No counsel-keeper, nor no secret thing  
Will then be found; They'll need no whispering  
Nor louder voice. Let Orators be dumb,  
Nor need the eager auditors make a ring;  
Though every one keep himself close at home,  
The silent Preachers thoughts through all the world will roam,   

19  
Find each man out, and in a moment hit  
With unavoided force: Or sooth to said  
They all begin at once to think what's sit,  
And all at once anon leave off again.  
A thousand such incongruities vain  
Will follow from that first absurdity,  
Which doth all souls into one centre strain,  
And make them void of self-centrality.  
Strange soul from whence first sprung so uncouth falsity.   

20  
Now all the arguments that I have brought  
For to disprove the souls strange solitude,  
That there is not one only soul, well might  
Be urged (and will with equal strength conclude)  
To prove that God his creature hath indewd  
With a self central essence, which from his  
Doth issue forth, with proper rays embewd,  
And that not all the very Godhead is:  
For that would strait beget the like absurdities.   

21  
For he is indivisibly one being,  
At once in every place, and knoweth all;  
He is omnipotent, infinite in seeing:  
Wherefore if Creatures intellectual  
(And in that order humane souls will fall)  
Were God himself, they would be alike wise,  
Know one another's thoughts imaginall,  
Which no man doth: such falsehoods would arise  
With many more, which any idiot might well despise.   

22  
Nor will men's souls that now be different  
Be God himself hereafter, and all one:  
For thus they were quite lost; their life ylent  
And subtle being quite away are flone.  
This is a perfect contradiction,  
They are all one with God, and yet they are.  
If they be one with God, than they alone  
Did make themselves, and every rolling star:  
For God alone made these, and God himself they are.   

23  
Before the Sun and all the host of heaven,  
The earth, the sea, and man's deep central spirit;  
Before all these were made, was not God even  
With his own self? what then him moven might  
To waste his words and say, Let there be light,  
If the accomplishment of all things be,  
That all be God himself. This is not right.  
No more perfection, no more energy  
There will be then, then at the former nullity.   

24  
Or will you say, that God himself delights  
To do and undo? But how can this stand  
With selfsufficiency? There's nought that might  
Add to his happiness (if I understand  
His Nature right.) But he with open hand  
Doth easily feed the Creature that he made  
As easily. Wherefore if the truth be scanned  
This Goodness would that nought should be decayed;  
His mind is all should live; no life he would should fade.   

25  
But if the final consummation  
Of all things make the Creature Deiform,  
As Plato's school doth phrase it; there is none  
That thence need fear to come to any harm:  
For God himself will then enact, inform,  
And quicken humane souls at the last day;  
And though the devil roar, and rage, and storm,  
Yet deaths dread power shall be done away,  
Nor living Night on men its poisonous beams shall ray.   

26  
He hasten it that makes that glorious day!  
For certainly it is no fearful thing  
But unto pride, and love of this base clay:  
It's their destruction, but the perfecting  
Of the just souls. It unto them doth bring  
Their full desire, to be more close unite  
With God, and utter cleansed from all their sin.  
Long was the world involved in cloudy Night,  
But at the last will shine the perfect Christian light.   

27  
Thus the souls numerous plurality  
I have proved, and showed she is not very God;  
But yet a decent Deiformity  
Have given her: thus in the middle trod  
I safely went, and fairly well have rowed  
As yet. Part of my voyage is to come,  
Which is to prove that the souls new abode  
In heaven or hell (what ever is her doom)  
Nought hinders but past forms even there again may bloom.   

28  
Which if they did not, she could never tell  
Why she were thus rewarded, wherefore ●…ll  
Or good she doth enjoy, whether ill or well  
She lived here. Remembrance death did spill.  
But otherwise it fares; as was her will  
And inclination of her thirsty spirit,  
Impressions of like nature then doth fill  
Her lively mind, whether with sad affright  
Disturbed, which she long feared; or in hoped-for delight.   

29  
The life that here most strongly kindled was  
(Sith she awakes in death) must needs betray  
The soul to what nearest affinity has  
With her own self; and likenesses do sway  
The mind to think of what ever did play  
In her own self with a like shape or form;  
And contraries do help the memory:  
So if the soul be left in case forlorn,  
Remembrance of past joy makes her more deeply mourn.   

30  
'Tis also worth our observation,  
That higher life doth ever comprehend  
The lower energy: sensation  
The soul some fitten hint doth promptly lend  
To find out plantall life; sense is retained  
In subtler manner in the fantasy;  
Als reason fantasies doth well perpend:  
Then must the highest of all vitality  
Contain all under life. Thus is there Memory.   

31  
This faculty is very intimate  
And near the Centre, very large and free,  
Extends itself to whatsoever that  
The soul peracts There is no subtlety  
Of Intellect, of Will, no energy  
Of Sense, nor uncouth strange impression  
From damned Night, or the blessed Deity,  
But of all these she hath retention,  
And of their former being makes a prompt agnition.   

32  
This memory the very bond of life  
You may well deem. If it were cut away  
Our being truly then you might contrive  
Into a point of time. The former day  
Were nought at all to us: when once we lay  
Ourselves to sleep, we should not know at morn  
That e'er we were before; nor could we say  
A whit of sense: so soon as off we turn  
One word, that's quite forgot. Coherence thus is torn.   

33  
Now sith it is of such necessity,  
And is the bundle of the souls duration,  
The watchman of the soul, lest it should fly  
Or steal from its own self, a sure fixation  
And central depth it hath, and free dilation,  
That it takes notice of each energy  
Of intellect, sense, or imagination:  
Wherefore this virtue no dependency  
Hath of this body, must be safe when it doth die.   

34  
But if dispersed life's collection,  
Which is our memory, safely survive  
(Which well it may, sith it depends not on  
The Mundane spirit) what can fitly drive  
It into action? In heaven it doth live  
So full of one great light, it hath no time  
To such low trifles, as past sights, to dive,  
Such as she gathered up in earthly slime:  
Foreknowledge of herself is lost in light divine.   

35  
But can she here forget our radiant Sun?  
Of which its maker is the bright idee,  
This is her shadow; or what she hath done  
Now she's rewarded with the Deity?  
Suppose it: Yet her life's Centralitie  
So sprightly's quickened with near Union  
With God, that now wished-for vitality  
Is so increased, that infinitely she has fun  
Herself, her deep'st desire unspeakably hath won.   

36  
And deep desire is the deepest act,  
The most profound and central energy,  
The very selfness of the soul, which backed  
With piercing might, she breaks out, forth doth fly  
From dark contracting death, and doth descry  
Herself unto herself; so thus unfold  
That actual life she straightways saith, is I.  
Thus while she were in this live bulk enfold,  
Of this low life, as of herself oft tales she ●…old.   

37  
In dangerous sickness often saith, I die;  
When nought doth die but the low plantall man,  
That falls asleep: and while Nature ●…oth tie  
The soul unto the body; she ne'er can  
Avoid it, but must feel the selfsame pain,  
The same decay, if hereto she her mind  
Do bend. When stupid cold her corpse ●…reran,  
She felt that cold; but when death quite doth bind  
The sense, than she herself doth dead and senseless find.   

38  
Or else at least just at the entrance  
Of death she feels that sly privation,  
How now it spreads o'er all: so living sense  
Perceives how sleep creeps on, till quite o'ercome  
With drowsiness, animadversion  
Doth cease: but (lower sense then fast ybound)  
The soul bestoweth her adversion  
On something else: So oft strange things hath found  
In sleep, from this dull carcase while she was unbound.   

39  
So though the soul, the time she doth advert  
The body's passions takes herself to die;  
Yet death now finished, she can well convert  
Herself to other thoughts. And if the eye  
Of her adversion were fast sixth on high.  
In midst of death 'twere no more fear or pain,  
Then 'twas unto Elias to let fly  
His useless mantle to that Hebrew Swain,  
While he road up to heaven in a bright fiery wain.   

40  
Thus naved stoutly rescued the soul  
From central death or pure mortality,  
And from the listlesse floods of Lethe dull,  
And from the swallow of dread Unity,  
And from an all-consuming Deity.  
What now remains, but since we are so sure  
Of endless life, that to true piety  
We give our minds, and make our conscience pure,  
Lest living Night in bitter darkness us immure.   
FINIS.   

A Paraphrastical Interpretation of the answer of Apollo, when he was consulted by Amelius whither Plotinus soul went when he departed this life.  

I Tune my strings to sing some sacred verse  
Of my dear friend; in an immortal strain  
His mighty praise I loudly will rehearse  
With hony-dewed words: some golden vein  
The strucken chords right sweetly shall resound.  
Come, blessed Muses, let's with one joint noise,  
With strong impulse, and full harmonious sound,  
Speak out his excellent worth. Advance your voice,  
As once you did for great Aeacides,  
Wrapped with an heavenly rage, in decent dance,  
Moved at the measures of Meonides.  
Go to, you holy choir, let's all at once  
Begin, and to the end hold up the song.  
Into one heavenly harmony conspire;  
I Phoebus with my lovely locks y●…ong  
The midst of you shall sit, and life inspire.   

Divine Plotinus! yet now more divine  
Then when thy noble soul so stoutly strove  
In that dark prison, where strong chains confine,  
Keep down the active mind it cannot move  
To what it loveth most. Those fleshly bands  
Thou now hast loosed, broke from Necessity.  
From body's storms, and frothy working sands  
Of this low restless life now setten free,  
Thy feet do safely stand upon a shore,  
Which foaming waves beat not in swelling rage,  
Nor angry seas do threat with fell uproar;  
Well hast thou swommen out, and left that stage  
Of wicked Actors, that tumultuous rout  
Of ignorant men. Now thy pure steps thou stayest  
In that high path, where God's light shines about,  
And perfect Right its beauteous beams displays.  
How oft, when bitter wave of troubled flesh,  
And whirl-pool-turning of the lower spirit,  
Thou stoutly strov'st with, heaven did thee refresh,  
Held out a mark to guide thy wand'ring flight,  
While thou in tumbling seas didst strongly toil  
To reach the steady Land, struckst with thy arms  
The deafing surges, that with rage do boil;  
Steered by that sign thou shunn'st those common harms.  
How oft, when rasher cast of thy souls eye  
Had thee misguided into crooked ways,  
Wast thou directed by the Deity?  
They held out to thee their bright lamping rays:  
Dispersed the misty darkness, safely set  
Thy feeble feet in the right path again.  
Nor easy sleep so closely ere beset  
Thy eyelids, nor did dimness ere so slain  
Thy radiant sight, but thou such things didst see  
Even in that tumult, that few can arrive  
Of all are named from philosophy  
To that high pitch, or to such secrets dive.   

But sith this body thy pure soul divine  
Hath left, quite risen from her rotten grave,  
Thou now among those heavenly wights dost shine,  
Whose wonne this glorious lustre doth embrave:  
There lovely friendship, mild-smiling Cupid's there,  
With lively looks and amorous suavity,  
Full of pure pleasure, and fresh flowering cheer;  
Ambrosian streams sprung from the Deity  
Do frankly flow, and soft love-kindling winds  
Do strike with a delicious sympathy  
Those tender spirits, and fill up their minds  
With satisfying joy. The purity  
Of holy fire their heart doth then invade,  
And sweet persuasion, meek tranquillity,  
The gentle-breathing air, the heavens nought sad,  
Do maken up this great felicity.  
Here Rhadamanthus, and just Aeacus,  
Here Minos wonnes, with those that lived of yore  
I' th' golden age; here Plato vigorous  
In holy virtue, and fair Pythagore.  
These been the goodly of spring of Great Jove,  
And liven here, and whoso filled the choir  
And sweet assembly of immortal Love,  
Purging their spirits with refining fire;  
These with the happy Angels live in bliss,  
Full fraught with joy, and lasting pure delight,  
In friendly feasts, and life-outfetching kiss.  
But, ah! dear Plotin, what smart did thy spirit  
Endure, before thou reach'st this high degree  
Of happiness? what agonies, what pains  
Thou underwent'st to set thy soul so free  
From base life? It now in heaven remains  
Mongst the pure Angels. O thrice-happy wight!  
That now art got into the Land of Life,  
Fast placed in view of that Eternal Light,  
And fitt'st secure from the foul body's strife.   

But now, you comely virgins, make an end,  
Break off this music, and deft seemly Round,  
Leave off your dance: For Plotin my dear friend  
Thus much I meant my golden harp should sound.    

The interpretation of the more unusual names or words that occur in the foregoing Poems.  
IF any man conceive I have done amiss in using such obscure words in my writings, I answer, That it is sometime fit for Poetical pomp sake, as in my Psychozoia: Othersome time necessity requires it, 
Propter egestatem linguae, & rerum novitatem,  as Lucretius pleads for himself in like case. Again, there is that significancy in some of the barbarous words (for the Greeks are Barbarians to us) that, although not out of superstition, yet upon due reason I was easily drawn to follow the Counsel of the Chaldee Oracle, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Not to change those barbarous terms into our English tongue. Lastly, if I have offended in using such hard names or words, I shall make amends now by interpreting them.  

A  
AHad. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, One, or, The One. The Platonists call the first Original of all things 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for these reasons: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or One, because the multitude or plurality of Being's is from this One, as all numbers from an unite: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 or The Good, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, because all things are driven drawn or make haste to partake of it. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Procl. Theolog. Plat. lib. 2. cap 4.  
Abinoam. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Pater amoenitatis, Father of delight.  
Autocalon, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The very beauty.  
Arachnea hath its name from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a spider.  
Adonai. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The Lord, or the sustainer of all things, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Basis or foot of a pillar.  
Autaestthesid, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Self sensednesse.  
Adamah. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Earth, The earthly or natural 〈◊〉 abode.  
Autophilus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a lover of himself.  
Anthropion, The same with Adamah: Only Adamah signifies earthliness; Anthropion from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, uprightness of body or looking up.  
Alopecopolis, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The fo●…es city or polity.  
Autaparnes, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Simon, Autaparnes and Hypomene are but the soul, thrice told over. Autaparnes is the soul denying itself; Hypomone the soul bearing the anguish and agony of this denial of itself: From these two results Simon, the soul obedient to the spirit of Christ. Now there is no self-denial where there is no corrupt or evil life to be suppressed and unsatisfied; nor any Patience or Hypomone, where there is no agony from the vexation of self-denial. So that the soul, so long as it is Autaparnes or Hypomone, is a thing complex or concrete, necessarily including the corruption of that evil life or spirit, which is the souls self for a time. Hence is that riddle easily opened, How the strength of Autaparnes is the weakening of Simon; and the destruction of him and Hypomone in the valley of Ain Simons consummation and perfection, or rather his translation or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Anautaesthetus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, One that feels not himself, or at least relisheth not himself.  
Aelpon, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, not hoping, or without hope.  
Apterie, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from a negative, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a wing. It signifies the want of wings.  
Apathy, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, To be without passion.  
Autopathie, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, denotates ●…he being self-strucken, to be sensible of what harms us, rather than what is absolutely evil.  
Ain, Not to be, To be nothing; from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Non, nihil, 〈◊〉 nemo.  
Anautaestthesie, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Without self-sensednesse, or relishing one's self.  
Aeon, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Eternity.  
Aether, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to burn. The fluid fier●… nature of heaven, the same that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 which signify as much. viz. a fiery fluour, or a fluid fire.  
Aides. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, It ordinarily signifies O●…cus or Pluto; here the▪ winter Sun: the etymon fits both, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Hell is dark, and the Sun in winter leaves us to long nights.  
Apogee, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is that absis or ark of the circle of a Planet, in which the Planet is further off from the earth, as the word itself intimates.  
Autocineticall, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, That which moves itself.  
Africa Rock. See Pompon. Mel. lib. 1. cap. 8. Rom. 9 33. 1. Cor. 10. 4. 1. Pet. 2. 5. Revel. 5. 10. Psal. 105. 15.  
Ananke, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The same that Hyle is. But the proper signification of the word is Necessity. See Hyle.  
Alethea-land, That is, the land of truth, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as the Platonists call it.  
Acronychall. See Cronychall.   

B  
BEirah or Beiron, The brutish life, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. brutum.  
Bacha, Weep. Bacha vale is the valley of tears; from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 flevit.   

C  
CHaos. In our blue Chaos, that is, In our corporeal spirit. For that is the matter that the soul raiseth her phantasmaticall forms in, as the life of the world doth bodily shapes in the heavens or air.  
Cronychall or Acronychall, that is, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, vespertine, or at the beginning of night. So a star is said to rise or set Acronychall when it riseth or setteth at the sunne-setting; For than is the beginning of night.  
Clare. Claros a city of jonia, famous for Apollo's temple and answers, amongst which was this, which I have interpreted in Psychathanasia: 

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
Macrob. Saturnal. lib. 1. cap. 18.     

D  
DIzoia, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Double-livednesse.  
Daemon, any particular life, any divided spirit; or rather the power ruling in these. This is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…ivido.  
Duessa, division or duality.  
Daemoniake, That which is according to that divided life or particular spirit, that rules for itself.  
Dicaeosyne, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Justice or moral righteousness.  
Diana, the Moon, by which is set out the dead light or letter of the law.  
Deuteropathie, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is a being affected at second rebound, as I may so say. We see the Sun not so properly by sympathy as deuteropathie. As the mundane spirit is affected where the Sun is, so am I in some manner; but not presently, because it is so affected, but because in my eye the Sun is vigorously represented. Otherwise a man might see the Sun if he had but a body of thin air.   

E  
EIdos, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Form or Beauty.  
Eloim. or Eloah, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 signify, properly the strong God.  
Entelechia, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: It is nothing else but forma, or actus, and belongs even to the most contemptible forms, as for example to Motion, which is defined by Arist▪ in the third of his Physics, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Scaliger in his 307 exercitation against Cardan descants very curiously upon this word: cum igitur Formam dixeris (that is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) intelliges immaterialitatem, simplicitatem, potestatem, perfectionem, informationem. Hoc enim est 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: quod innuit maximus Poetarum, Totósque infusa per artus. Hoc est, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: quia est ultima forma sub coelestibus, & princeps inferiorum, finis & perfectio. Hoc'est 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, posse. This goodly mystery and fit significancy seems plainly forced or fictitious, if you compare it with what was cited out of Arist, about Motion, so that when we have made the best of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, it is but the form of any thing in an ordinary and usual sense. If we stood much upon words, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 would prove more significant of the nature of the soul, even according to Scaligers own etymon, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: from its permeation and colligation or keeping together the body from defluxion into its ancient principles, which properties be included in 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 moves forward the body thus kept together: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 intimates the possession or retention of the body thus moved, that it is rather promoved by the soul then amoved from the soul. But of these words enough, or rather too much.  
Energy, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. It is the operation, efflux or activity of any being: as the light of the Sun is the energy of the Sun, and every phantasm of the soul is the energy of the soul.  
Euphro●…a, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The Night.   

G  
GAbriel, The strength of God; from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 robustus fuit, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Deus.   

H  
HYle, Materia prima, or that dark fluid potentiality of the Creature; the straightness, repugnancy and incapacity of the Creature: as when its being this, destroys or debilitates the capability of being something else, or after some other manner. This is all that any wary Platonist will understand by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. in Plutarch's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
Hattove, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the Good, or that eminent Good or first Good from whence all good is derived. See Ahad.  
Haphe, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The touch.  
Hypomone, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Patience. See Autaparnes.  
Har-Eloim, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. The mount of Angels, Genii, or particular Spirits.  
Helios, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The Sun.  
Heterogeneal, is that which consists of parts of a divers nature or form: as for example, a man's body of flesh, bones, nerves, etc.  
Homogeneal, That whose nature is of one kind.   

I  
IDea-Lond, The Intellectual world.  
Idothea, The fleet passage of fading forms; from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Forma, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, curro.  
Ida. See Pompon. Mel. lib. 1. cap. 17.  
Isosceles, A triangle with two sides equal.  
idiopathy, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is ones proper peculiar 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, mine or thine, being affected thus or so upon this or that occasion; as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is this or that man's proper temper. But this property of affection may also belong unto kinds. As an Elephant hath his idiopathy and a man his, at the hearing of a pipe; a cat and an Eagle at the sight of the Sun; a dog and a Circopithecus at the sight of the Moon, etc.  
jao. A corruption of the Tetragrammaton. Greek writers have strangely mashed this word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some calling it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, others 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, some 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. It is very likely that from this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 came Bacchus his appellation 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and the Maenades acclamations 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in his Orgia. Which suits well with the Clarian Oracle, which saith that in Autumn, the Sun is called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is the time of vintage.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. See Fuller's Miscel. 2. Book.   

L  
LOgos, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The appellation of the Son of God. It is ordinarily translated, the Word, but hath an ample signification. It signifieth Reason, Proportion, Form, Essence, any inward single thought or apprehension; Is any thing but matter, and matter is nothing.  
Leontopolis, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The Lion's city or Polity.  
Lypon, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, sorrow.   

M  
MOnocardia, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, single-heartednesse.  
Myrmecopolis, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The City or Polity of Pismires.  
Michael, Who like unto God? from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 similitudinis, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Deus.  
Monad, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is unitas, the principle of all numbers, an emblem of the Deity; And so the Pythagoreans call it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, God. It is from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, because it is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, stable and immovable, a firm Cube of itself. One time one time One remains still one. See Ahad.   

N  
NEurospast, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, a Puppet or any Machina thats moved by an unseen string or nerve.   

O  
ON, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The Being.  
Ogdoas, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, numerus octonarius, the number of ●…ight.  
Onopolis, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The ass' City or Polity.   

P  
PSyche, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Soul or spirit.  
Penia, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Want, or poverty.  
Physis, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Nature vegetative.  
Proteus, Vertumnus, changeableness.  
Psychania, The land of Souls.  
Philosomatus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, A lover of his body.  
Psittacusa, The land of Parrots.  
Pithecusa, The land of Apes.  
Pithecus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, an Ape.  
Phobon, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Fear.  
Phrenition, Anger, impatiency, fury; from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, frenzy or madness. Ira furor brevis est.  
Pantheothen, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, All from God. Which is true in one sense, false in another. You'll easily discern the sense in the place you find the word. This passage of Panthcothen contains a very savoury & hearty reproof of all, be they what they will, that do make use of that intricate mystery of fate and infirmity, safely to guard themselves from the due reprehensions and just expostulations of the earnest messengers of God, who would rouse them out of this sleep of sin, and stir them up seriously to seek after the might and spirit of Christ, that may work wonderfully in their souls to a glorious conquest and triumph against the devil, death and corruption.  
Pandemoniothen, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, All from the devil; viz. all false persuasions and ill effects of them.  
Panoply, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Armour for the whole body.  
Pteroessa, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The land of winged souls; from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a wing.  
Perigee, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Is that absis or ark of a Planets circle, in which it comes nearer the earth.  
Psychicall, Though 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 be a general name and belongs to the souls of beasts and plants, yet I understand by life Psychicall, such central life as is capable of Aeon and Ahad.  
Parelies, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, are rorid clouds which bear the image of the Sun.  
Psittaco, Don Psittaco, from Psittacus a Parot, a bird that speaks significant words, whose sense notwithstanding itself is ignorant of. The dialogue betwixt this Parot and Mnemon sets out the vanity of all superficial conceited Theologasters, of what sect soever, having but the surface and thin imagination of divinity, but truly devoid of the spirit and in ward power of Christ, the living wellspring of knowledge and virtue, and yet do pride themselves in prattling and discoursing of the most hidden and abstruse mysteries of God, and take all occasions to show forth their goodly skill and wonderful insight into holy truth, when as they have indeed scarce licked the outside of the glass wherein it lies.  
Plastic, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is that 〈◊〉 might in the seed that shapes the body in its growth  
Phantasm, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Any thing that the soul conceives in itself, without any present external object.  
Parallax, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, is the distance betwixt the true and seeming place of a star; proceeding from the sensible difference of the centre, and the height of the superficies of the earth in reference to the star, and from the stars declining from the Zenith.  
Protopathy, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. It is a suffering or being affected at first, that is, without circulation. If any man strike me I feel immediately; because my soul is united with this body that is struck: and this is protopat●…y. If the air be struck aloof off, I am sensible also of that, but by circulation or propagation of that impression unto my ear; and this is deuteropathy. See, Deuteropathy.  
Periphere, Peripheria, it is the line that terminates a circle.   

Q  
QUadiate, A figure with four equal sides and four right angles. The rightness of the ●…ngles, is a plain emblem of erectnesse or uprightness of mind: The number of the sides, as also of the angles, being pariter par, that is equally divisible to the utmost unities (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as it is in Aristotle) intimates equity or ●…ustice. The sides are equal one with another and so are 〈◊〉 angles; and the number of the sides and angles equal one with another. Both the numbers put together are a number pariter par again, and constitute the first cube which is eight: That adds steadiness and perseverance in true justice and uprightness toward God and man. Hypomone bears all this, that is, all that dolour and vexation that comes from the keeping our perverse heart to so straight and straight a rule.   

R  
RHomboides, is a parallelogrammicall figure with unequal sides, and oblique angles.   

S  
SPerm. It signifies ordinarily seed. I put it for the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, the ratio seminalis, or the invisible plastical form that shapes every visible creature.  
Solyma, or Salem from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Peace.  
Simon, intimates obedience from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, obedivit.  
Semele, Imagination; from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, imago.  
Scalen, a triangle with all sides unequal.   

T  
TAsis, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, extension.  
Tagathon, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, The Good; the same with Hattove.   

U  
URanore, The light or beauty of heaven, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 lux, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 pulchritudo.   

Z  
ZEus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Jupiter, from 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, ferveo, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, vivo.   
THus have I briefly run through the more obscure terms in my Poems, which I shall God willing hereafter, if men's acceptance of these my first endeavours invite me to it, and mine own occasions permit, expound more sully, and speak more determinately of those speculations, which I now have but proposed to men's more serious considerations, to weigh freely and warily, not so little a moment as the inconsiderable assent of the author cast in, to prejudice their judgements.  
The drift of the whole book is this, to stir men up to take into their thoughts, these two main points; The hearty good will of God to mankind, even in the life of this world, made of the commixture of light and darkness, that he will through his power rescue those souls, that are faithful in this their trial, and prefer the light before the dark; that he will, I say, deliver them from the power of living Death, and Hell, by that strong arm of their salvation, Jesus Christ, the living God enthroned in the heart of man, to whom all the Geni●… of the Universe, be they never so goodly and glorious shall serve. They and all their curious devices and inventions shall be a spoil, prey, and a possession to Him that is most just, and shall govern the nations in righteousness and equity. And that, beside this happiness on earth, every holy soul hereafter shall enjoy a never-fading felicity in the invisible and eternal Heaven, the Intellectual world. Which if it be not true, I must needs confess, it seems almost indifferent whether any creature be or no. For what is it to have lived suppose 70 years, wherein we have been dead or worse above two third parts of them? Sleep, youth, age and diseases, with a number of poor and contemptible employments, swallow up at least so great a portion: That as good, if not better, is he that never was, than he is, that hath but such a glance or glimpse of passing life to mock him.  
And although the succession of ●…ighteousnesse upon earth may rightly seem a goodly great and full spread thing, and a matter that may bear an ample correspondency even to the larger thoughts of a good and upright man; yet, to say the truth, no man is capable of any large inheritance, whose life and existence is so scant that he shall not be able so much as to dream of the least happiness once seized on by death.  
But there are continually on earth such numbers of men alive, that if they lived well it would be an heaven or Paradise. But still a scant one to every particular man, whose days are even as nothing. So that the work of God seems not considerable, in the making of this world, if humane souls be extinguished when they go out of it. You will say that those small particles of time that is thus scattered and lost among men in their successions, a●…e comprehended and collected in God who is a continual witness of all things.  
But, alas! what doth the perpetual repetition of the same life or deiform image throughout all ages add to Him, that is at once infinitely himself, viz. good, and happy?  
So that there is nothing considerable in the creation if the rational creature be mortal. For neither is God at all profited by it, nor man considerably. And were not the Angels a great deal better employed in the beholding the worth of their Creator, then to diminish their own happiness, by attending those, whom nothing can make happy? looking on this troubled passing stream of the perishing generations of men, to as little purpose almost, as idle boys do on dancing blebs and bubbles in the water.  
What design therefore can there be in God in the making of this world that will prove 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, worthy of so excellent a goodness and wisdom; but the trial of the immortal spirit of man? It seems the deepest reach of his counsel in the creation; and the life of this world but a prelude to one of longer durance and larger circumference hereafter. And surely it is nothing else but the heavy load of this body, that keeps down our mind from the reaching to those so high hopes, that I may not say from a certain sense and feeling of that clear and undisturbd state of immortality. I will close all with the praise of those two main endowments of the mind, viz. Charity and Humility, which certainly will make us meet eternal mansions for the everliving Deity. But without these, man's soul after this life becomes but a den of devils, a dungeon of dark and restless phantasms, being incorporate into the ever-gnawing and corroding spirit of Hell.   

An hymn in the honour of those two despised virtues, Charity and Humility.  

Fare have I clambered in my mind  
But nought so great as love●… find:  
Deep-searching wit, mount moving might  
Are nought compared to that good spirit.  
Life of delight and soul of bliss!  
Sure source of lasting happiness!  
Higher than Heaven! lower than hell!  
What is thy tent? where mayst thou dwell?   

My mansion height humility,  
Heaven's vastest capability.  
The further it doth downward tend  
The higher up it doth ascend;  
If it go down to utmost nought  
It shall return with that it sought.   

Lord stretch thy tent in my stra●… breast,  
Enlarge it downward, that sure rest  
May there be pight; for that pure fire  
Wherewith thou wontost to inspire  
All self-dead souls. My life is gone  
Sad solitude is my irksome wonne.  
Cut off from men and all this world  
In Lethe's lonesome ditch I am hurled.  
Nor might nor sight doth aught me move,  
Nor do I care to be above.  
O feeble rays of mental light!  
That 〈◊〉 be seen in this dark night,  
What are you? what is any strength  
If it be not laid in one length  
With pride or love? I nought desire  
But a new life or quite t' expire.  
Could I demolish with mine eye  
Strong towers, stop the fleet stars in sky,  
Bring down to earth the pale-faced Moon,  
Or turn black midnight to bright noon:  
Though all things were put in my hand,  
As parched as dry as th' Libyan sand  
Would be my life if Charity  
Were wanting. But Humility  
Is more than my poor soul durst crave  
That lies entombed in lowly grave.  
But if't were lawful up to send  
My voice to Heaven, this should it rend.   

Lord thrust me deeper into dust  
That thou ●…ayst raise me with the just.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   
FINIS.   

ERRATA.  
Psychozoia.  
P. 5. l. 16. read ybrent. p. 17. l. 36. rage full rise. p. 19 l. 24. with all. p. 39d. 31. drearyhead. p. 47. l. 7. counts.  
Psychathanasia.  
P. 1. l. 11. to spring. p. 6. l. 36. do. p. 17. l. 23. moved. p. 27. l. 291. where in. p. 63. l. 9 fell discontent. p. 71. l. 9 divisibility. p. 9 l. 22. lap, that. p. 100 l. 15. is.  
Antipsychopannychia.  
P. 5. l. 20. ruption, if. p. 9 l. 23. detect.  
Antimonopsychia.  
P. 43. l. 30. His.