THE Sceptical Muse: OR, A PARADOX ON Humane Understanding.  
A POEM.  
Veri nihil: Omnia ficta  Lucil. 
Heu! quam praecipiti mersa profundo 
 Mens hebet!  Boet. de Consol. Philosoph. 
LONDON: Printed for R. Basset at the Goerge in Fleetstreet, and Sold by Fr. Hicks Bookseller in Cambridge, 1699.   

THE Sceptical Muse; OR, A PARADOX ON Humane Understanding.  

TO make a World, and stretch the bulky Frame  
Beyond where Thought or Fancy ever came:  
The great Creator's Fiat did suffice;  
Moved by one Word the Massy Sphere did rise.  
But when he did the World's great Lord Create,  
The Sacred Triad then in Council sat.  
Let us make Man, said God, whom we'll allow  
To rule the Globe, and be Vice-God below.  
Let us Create him too like us Divine:  
And on his Soul let our bright Image shine.  
So spoke th' Eternal, and was heard around:  
Loud Peals of Thunder did attend the sound;  
Nature obeyed, and lo! The teeming Earth  
Produced a Figure of Ignoble Birth;  
Of small account, till the Celestial Soul  
Informed the Clay, and so composed the whole.   

As first the Primogenial Light was hurled,  
And scattered through the yet unfinished World;  
Till God proceeding on his work did place  
The Lucid Atoms in one shining Mass;  
So those perfections which divided shone  
In Nature's works did yet unite in none;  
Till Man appeared, a Creature more complete:  
Where all those lively scattered graces met.   

This glorious Being thus Divinely made  
Exerts its powers, and wonders are displayed:  
The Soul which was of purest Angel-kind,  
The reflex Image of its Maker's Mind:  
At first unspotted by Polluting Sin,  
With vigour did the Race of Life begin;  
With all its Powers and Faculties complete  
Started with Joy, and no resistance met,  
Then th' Understanding without pain did climb:  
Capacious, Active, Lively, and Sublime,  
Clear as fair Fountains, and as pure as they,  
 as the Morn, and open as the day.  
The Will, which always followed Nature's Voice,  
Was ne'er deceived, but made a happy choice;  
Judgement was then convictive, and sincere;  
And all Discourse as Intuition clear.  
Then Truth, or God himself, whom Truth we name  
(For God and Truth are without doubt the same)  
Was always present, and uncourted came;  
That Immense Ocean which with Beauty flows;  
That utmost Thule of Extended Vows  
The Soul possessed, nor from the Object moved:  
But gazed, admired, contemplated, and loved.  
Love then, that swe●● procession of the Mind,  
Was from all Dross, and Earthly dregs refined:  
Winged with pure Zeal above the Clouds it road,  
And without Plato's Scale arrived at God.   

To what perfection must that Scholar reach  
Whom God's Immediate Discipline did teach?  
Man at the first in perfect state appears;  
Mature in Knowledge and mature in Years.  
From him We first Philosophy may trace:  
Parent of Wisdom, as of Human Race.  

O the Vast Riches of this Newborn Mind!  
To furnish this, Heaven proved excessive kind  
Lavished its Treasures, and left none behind.   
Since then, no Soul so brightly clad appears:  
Such Seraph's Robes, nor Heavenly Garments wears.  
Unstudied Knowledge only was designed,  
The rich Attire of Adam's glorious Mind.  
Through Nature's maze he knowledge could pursue;  
And no dark Object could contract his View.  
The Prospect lengthened, as the Mind advanced,  
While all before in beauteous Order danced.  
Creation stooped, and every Creature came,  
Displayed its Nature, and received a Name.  
Thus Knowledge first was without pains acquired:  
Man knew enough, but yet to more aspired;  
To be more knowing, and more like his God:  
Leaving the true, forbidden paths he trod,  
But O, Abortive hopes! O fickle Joy▪  
His vain Ambition God did soon destroy;  
For lo! A Cloud comes winged with sudden night,  
Man falls by Sin, and God withdraws his Light;  
No more he finds the use of shining day;  
But gropes for Knowledge, and mistakes his way.  
So Angels once a happy state could boast:  
O the bright Glories of that shining Host!  
But when th' Apostates fierce Rebellion dared:  
Sinned to be great, and with th' Almighty warred,  
Vengeance Divine did soon the fact pursue:  
And from Elysium sent the Godless Crew.   

Our mis'ry then from Adam first we date:  
Begun too soon, and ending very late.  
Life now does scarce one glimpse of light display;  
We mourn in darkness, and Despair of day.  
That Natural light, once dressed with Orient beams:  
Diminished looks, and now a Twilight seems:  
A Miscellaneous Composition, made  
Of Night, and Day, of Sunshine, and of Shade.  
Through an uncertain Medium now we look;  
And find that Falsehood, which for Truth we took;  
So Rays projected from the Eastern Skies,  
Show the false Day, before the true can rise.   

Unhappy Man who through successive years  
To Life's last Ebb, from early Childhood Errs!  
No sooner born, but proves a Foe to Truth:  
For Infant Reason is over poured in Youth;  
The Cheats of sense will half our Learning share:  
And Preconceptions all our knowledge are.  
Reason 'tis true, should over sense preside,  
Correct our Notions and our Judgements guide;  
But false Opinions, rooted in the mind  
Hoodwink the Soul, and keep the Reason blind;  
Reason's a Taper, which but faintly burns:  
A Languid Flame that glows and dies by turns:  
We see't a while, and but a little way  
We travel by its Light, as Men by Day;  
But quickly dying, it forsakes us soon;  
Like Morning Stars that never stay till Noon.   

The Soul can scarce above the body rise,  
And all we see is with corporeal Eyes.  
That little knowledge now which Man obtains,  
From outward Objects, and from Sense, he gleans.  
He, like the painful Bee, must plod and sweat:  
By day must toil, by night that toil repeat;  
And yet at last, what little Fruit he gains?  
A Beggar's Harvest, gleaned with mighty pains.   

The Passions still predominant will rule:  
Uncivil, rude, nor bred in Reason's School:  
Our Understanding they with darkness fill,  
Cause strange Conceptions, and pervert the Will.  
On these the Soul, as on some flowing tide,  
Must sit, and on the swelling Billows ride;  
Hurried away, for how can be withstood  
Th' Impetuous Torrent of the boiling blood?  
Be gone false hopes, for all our Learning's vain,  
Can we be free when these the rule maintain?  
These are the tools of Knowledge which we use,  
The spirits heated will strange things produce.  
Tell me who e'er the Passions could control,  
Or from the body disengage the soul:  
Till this is done, our best persuits are vain  
To conquer Truth, and unmixed knowledge gain.   

Custom the World's great Idol we adore:  
And knowing this, we seek to know no more▪  
What Education did at first receive  
Maturer Age confirms us to believe.  
The careful Nurse, and Priest is all we need  
To learn Opinions, and our Country's Creed;  
The Parent's precepts early are instilled  
And spoil the Man, while they instruct the Child.  
To what hard Fate is Humankind betrayed?  
When thus Implicit Faith's a Virtue made;  
When Education more than Truth prevails  
And nought is current but what Custom seals.  
Thus from the time we first begin to know  
We live and learn, but not the wiser grow;  
We seldom use our liberty aright,  
Nor Judge of things by Universal Light:  
Our prepossessions and Affections bind  
The Soul in Chains and lord it o'er the Mind.  
And if self Interest be but in the case  
Our unexamined Principles may pass.  
Good God that man should thus himself deceive,  
To learn on Credit, and on Trust believe:  
Better the Mind no Notions had retained,  
But still a fair unwritten blank remained.  
For now who Truth from Falsehood would discern  
Mu first disrobe the Mind, and all unlearn:  
Errors, contracted in unmindful Youth,  
When once removed, will smooth the way for Truth:  
To dispossess the Child the Mortal lives,  
But Death approaches e'er the Man arrives.   

Those who would Learning's glorious Kingdom find,  
The dear bought purchase of the trading Mind:  
From many dangers must themselves acquit,  
And more than Scylla and Charybdis meet.  
O what an Ocean must be Voyaged over!  
To gain a prospect of the shining shore:  
Resisting Rocks oppose the bounding Soul,  
And adverse Waves retard it as they roll.  
Does not that foolish deference we pay  
To Men that lived long since, our passage stay?  
O what preposterous paths at first we tread!  
And learn to walk by stumbling on the Dead.  
First we a blessing from the Grave implore,  
Worship Old Urns, and Monuments adore:  
The Reverend Sage with vast esteem we prise;  
He lived long since, and must be wondrous wise.  
Thus are we Debtors to the famous Dead  
For all those Errors which their Fancies bred,  
Errors indeed! for real Knowledge stayed  
With those first times, nor farther was conveyed;  
But light Opinions are much lower brought;  
While on the Waves of Ignorance they float:  
But solid Truth scarce ever gains the shore  
So soon it sinks, and ne'er emerges more.   

And now suppose this maze of dangers past:  
Will Knowledge dawn, and bless the Mind at last  
Ah! no, 'tis now environed from our Eyes,  
Hides all its Charms, and undiscovered lies.  
Truth like a point or line escapes the sight  
And claims Intention to perceive it right:  
But what resembles Truth is soon descried,  
Spread like a surface, and expanded wide:  
The first Man rarely, very rarely finds:  
The tedious search of long enquiring Minds.  
But yet what's worse, we know not when we err;  
What mark does Truth, what bright distinction bear?  
How do we know, that what we know is true?  
How shall we falsehood fly, and truth pursue?  
Let none then here his certain knowledge boast;  
'Tis all but probability at most:  
This is the easy purchase of the Mind,  
The Vulgar's Treasure, which we soon may find:  
But Truth lies hid, and e'er we can explore  
The glittering Gem, our fleeting Life is over.   

Through all the bulky Volumes of the Dead,  
And through those Books which modern times have bred  
The Soul may travel, as thro' Moorish ground:  
Where scarce one Useful Plant is ever found:  
O'er-run with Errors, which so thick appear,  
That searching Truth, we cannot find it there:   

Blessed Revelation but for thee we might  
Have travelled through a dark and tedious night;  
Thy wondrous force hath reached th' Imprisoned Mind,  
And loosed those Fetters, which her powers did bind;  
Now, now she's free, and can with Ease run o'er  
Those obvious Truths so much perplexed before  
Reason has little now to do but prove  
That some most perfect Being rules above,  
And this by little Inference we find:  
'Tis plain; 'tis bright, 'tis written on the Mind.  
If there's a God, it then must be believed  
He's no Deceiver, nor can be deceived;  
And if he spoke, as may be plainly proved;  
Then truth prevails, and every doubts removed.  
Here then at last my wearied Soul shall rest:  
With Heavenly light, and sacred knowledge blest.  
And now methinks bright Angels round me stand,  
And bid me welcome to a peaceful Land.  
Methinks I'm lifted to an higher Sphere  
Where all is mild, and all the Prospect clear:  
From hence I can behold contending Schools,  
Disputing Sects, Philosophers, and Fools;  
Now I can each Hypothesis despise,  
Laugh at Opinions, and be boldly wise:  
No more, Ye Dogmatists, your Wit shall harm  
My liss'ning Soul, no more my Reason charm;  
No more you shall my Faculties control:  
Suspicion guards, and Doubt defends my Soul,   
FINIS.